Míril watched as Caranthir turned back to her, composed except for the flush of red in his cheeks. Still she frowned, unsure of what to do. But Caranthir finally broke the silence after a few minutes.
“My brothers did not know that Haleth and I joined together. A little too much wine led to a hasty marriage without the betrothal period.” He sighed and scratched his head in thought. “When she conceived a daughter, neither of us could afford to acknowledge her existence, so we entrusted her to a maiden Haleth trusted. It was the child's birth that convinced us to stay apart. According to her letters, there were always rumors amongst the Haladin that the half elf child had been ours, but no such rumors ever came to the ears of our house.”
Míril paused. Then she continued. “What was her name?”
Caranthir hesitated. “Ellothien.” He gave a rueful laugh. “As much as I despised Aikanáro… Aegnor as he was known later… I understood his love of the woman Andreth alone of our House, I think. Even Findaráto could not fully comprehend it, ever seeking to learn more from the wise woman.”
“So it's true then,” Míril whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “Some part of me always doubted, I think. Some part told myself it was all a lie.” As the tears fell, her face scrunched in an effort to stop them. “I am of the House of Finwë.”
Caranthir nodded. “So it would seem. We hate to be a disappointment.” Though sarcasm dripped from his tone of voice, his eyes stayed sad.
Mír choked on her tears. All her thought went to Tinneth. “Do not say that.”
“Ah, so you have learned not to hate us?” He shrugged, shifting in slight discomfort. “I suppose if you are one of us, you would wish not to hate your own bloodline.”
“Caranthir, I cannot hate you. If I hate you I must choose to also hate my daughter.”
Caranthir bit his cheek. He glanced to the floor, suddenly conscious of what she spoke. “I did not mean… I know of what you speak. For that I suppose I must also apologize.”
Míril stopped the tears for a moment, eyes widened. She looked at him and he at her.
“I can apologize. I have learned much after two ages in this place.” With a deep set frown, he looked her over. “A child of Haleth never would've been so brash and uncouth unless she had Fëanorian blood. So again, I apologize.”
“I have to hope- I have to hope that she can learn to love again as you have,” Míril admitted quietly. “As all of you have.”
Caranthir hesitated a moment before posing his biggest question. “Have you seen them? My brothers? When Maglor joined the Halls I wept, both in joy and despair. And at his release...”
Míril sniffled. “I owe Maglor everything.”
“He is well, then?” Caranthir hesitated again. “Míriel brings me news sometimes, but though she is family, I do not always know if she speaks truly, as she works for the Valar.”
“You still distrust them?”
Caranthir shook his head. “Not in the way we did before. Before it was fueled by hatred. Now I fear that Míriel and Ladies Vairë and Nienna seek to placate me in their overabundant care.”
“Maglor is well, at least as far as I can tell. He misses everyone terribly, though he has Fingon to spend time with, and I think it both destroyed him and invigorated him when Maedhros was released.”
Caranthir’s eyes widened in shock, and he backed up against the wall. He slid down the wall, head in his hands. He removed them to look at her. “What?!”
Míril frowned. “A few hours ago. Mandos said that Maedhros had been forgiven by Ilúvatar, and released him.” She stood, shifting from side to side, unsure what to do as Caranthir's outer shell seemed to crack into a thousand pieces under that knowledge. “He’s out.”
Caranthir hid his face, placing his forehead atop his arms which crossed his propped up knees. His muscles tensed. Caranthir bit his cheek hard to restrain the tears which threatened to fall.
After a moment’s hesitation, Míril sat next to Caranthir against his cell wall. She didn't not too close, or so she hoped. This elf still intimidated her, especially seeing such emotion from his usually sarcastic or stoic features. She didn't say anything.
After several quiet minutes, Caranthir raised his head and brushed his hair roughly out of his face. He didn't turn to face Míril, but his reddened face told her enough. “He is well? Last I heard of him… he… he had thrown himself into a fiery pit.”
Míril grimaced. “As well as can be expected. He needs to visit Lorien.”
“Míril Fëanoriel.” Caranthir paused and looked straight ahead. “You and your husband and his brother have saved us. We now have a chance for redemption. A chance to see our mother, and our brothers.”
She didn't respond. Instead she stared at her hands, which knew would've been stained with innocent blood had Maglor not intervened. She had saved no one.
Caranthir flashed a tiny smile, facing her. “And you still have three great children back in Middle Earth. I cannot wait to hear more tales of their exploits.” Míril turned to him happily as he continued, “Círeth and Fëalas seem so much like the Ambarussa. I wish they could meet.”
“Perhaps someday,” reminded Míril. “There is hope.”
He nodded immediately. “If any of us deserve to leave the Halls, it is them. They were still young when we swore the Oath.” Caranthir sighed. “Did Mandos tell you why Ilúvatar is releasing so many?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can sense the spirits leaving the Halls. There are many, and if Maedhros got to leave, it must be for a purpose.”
Míril shook her head. “I recall only that he said he was 'unsure’ about Ilúvatar’s plan. That it had not been revealed to him.”
“Strange.” Caranthir mused over his own thoughts.
“Caranthir…”
He cocked an eyebrow at her in question.
Míril sighed. “Could you tell me more about you?”
Caranthir’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I just.” She sighed. “I apologize, that was a stupid question.”
But after a pause, he shrugged. “What did you want to know?”
“Uh… what’s your favorite color?” She chuckled and hid her face. “I don't know!”
He snickered, but nodded. “Black.” After a pause he turned to her. “And you?”
“Copper,” came the muffled response.
Caranthir continued, “And your favorite memory as a child?”
Míril looked over at him. “Being trained by Glorfindel for the first time. And for you?”
A ghost of a smile passed his lips. “Meeting the Ambarussa.”
“You care deeply about family, do you not?” Míril didn't intend her statement to come out sounding surprised, but she guessed it did seeing as Caranthir seemed to draw back. “I just mean… you speak fondly of them.”
After a brief pause, he sighed. “Nearly three ages alone will change your perspective on many things. I regret much, not least of all leaving Ellothien and her descendents with the Edain. But it is for the best, I suppose. You and your parents and their parents would've been targets of Sauron’s from the beginning then. Probably slaughtered alongside Telperinquar… Celebrimbor.”
A voice to their right caused them both to jump to their feet. Míriel, a small smile on her face, passed through the bars. “Hello, Moryo.”
“Míriel.” He nodded a bow quickly. “It is time, I suppose?”
“Yes. She must return to the living.” Míriel gestured for Míril to approach. “Come, child.”
But Míril frowned and looked at Caranthir. When he shook his head sadly, she walked over to the weaver. “May I return?”
Caranthir looked at Míriel hopefully, and when the weaver nodded, explaining that Vairë and Mandos both thought it beneficial that Míril visit the brothers, he actually smiled.
Míril nodded. “I look forward to returning!”
“Visit Celegorm next, perhaps?” Caranthir glanced at Míriel. “Bring it up with the Lord and Lady. He is likely the most troubled of us all.”
Míriel agreed. “You are correct.”
“I’ll be back soon, Caranthir. I promise.” Míril grabbed him in a hug before he could protest, and then backed away with Míriel to grab the bars of the cell.
“Farewell,” murmured Caranthir. As they went to touch the bars, he continued, “Míril, tell my mother and brothers that I miss them. And that I am terribly sorry for all I did. And that someday, the sun will shine on all of us together.”
He wasn't sure how much they caught towards the end. But he hoped they'd caught enough. Turning away from the shrouded barred window, he stared intently at the back wall. With a sigh, Caranthir fell to his knees and allowed himself to weep.
Author's Note:
FEEELS
I enjoyed writing this chapter. It's super enjoyable to be writing young, brash Moryo in the Airequalmë series and then old, worn out, repentant Caranthir here. What a difference three ages will do to a person.
I don't have much to say, other than I really hope you enjoyed this second look into the Halls of Mandos. We will be visiting again, I assure you.
So, why DO you think Ilúvatar is allowing the release of so many elves, even the Fëanorians? Any guesses?
Let me know down below, and don't forget to vote. Love you guys!