"What The Eye Sees" by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
burning_night
Mar. 20th, 2014 05:09 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
burning-night.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memTitle: What The Eye Sees
Author Name: burning_night
burning_nightPrompt: Use the following image to inspire your writing or artwork: Sunrise
Summary: There are many reasons that Foresight is commonly referred to as 'the Gift'; there are also many reasons to call it a curse. Finrod often finds himself leaning toward the latter description.
Summary: There are many reasons that Foresight is commonly referred to as 'the Gift'; there are also many reasons to call it a curse. Finrod often finds himself leaning toward the latter description.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: I just keep coming back to the visions and Foresight thing -_- This story contains references to and is linked to my story Going Down In Sight Of Land, but can easily be read as stand-alone.
/
The sand was warm underfoot as the small party made their way down the beach. Behind them Alqualondë sparkled with the brilliance of the thousand lanterns strung up all over the city, starting to come into their own now as the sun descended to kiss the waves, a ball of dully glowing fire on the distant horizon. The Teleri had been up celebrating the first day of their summer festival since sunrise, and the festivities would continue long into the night before spilling over into the next three days.
The thought made Arafinwë feel tired. Usually he loved the summer festival, but the return of his eldest son from the Halls only a month ago had thrown many things out of place. Helping Findárato adjust had needed a great dedication of energy on his part, which he would never begrudge, but the toll it had taken on him could not be ignored. He had caught mutters from others about 'not spending long enough in the Halls' and 'not being ready to come back', but he had spoken to the silent, mysterious Vala who ruled there, and he knew better. Some people, Mandos had told him, just could not heal properly in the Halls. They found no peace there, no solace in the calm and mediation on their lives. They needed action, interaction; through that, they could find peace - or if not peace, then some form of healing. It made sense to Arafinwë, especially in Findárato’s case. He had always been happiest talking to other people.
He had almost insisted that Findárato should stay at home, but his son had convinced him to relent. "I will not fall apart at a little celebration," he had said, an edge of hardness lingering quietly, so quietly, just on the edge of his voice.
He was with them now, the small group that had broken away from the celebration to take a calming stroll down the beach. Eärwen was walking ahead with one of her brothers and Anairë, laughing about something. The dying rays of the sun made her silver hair sparkle faintly, bringing a small smile to his lips.
More courtiers surrounded them, some Arafinwë knew and some he still didn't, even after all this time. It was one of his weaknesses; he had never had a good memory for faces. They laughed and chattered about things, happy, but he kept his silence. There was a sense of foreboding in him again.
Findárato, beside him, murmured something in answer to a question, but otherwise remained just as quiet. He cast a quick glance his way. Often he wondered what went on in his son's head; and at the same time, found it strange to wonder. Once, Findárato had been so open to him. He had silently mourned that loss of understanding every day since his son had returned.
A flash of unease was all the warning he got before Findárato was suddenly on his knees, his hands cupping something on the sand in front of him. Arafinwë stopped immediately, but most of the party walked on a few steps before they realized they were missing. "Your highness?" someone asked, their voice concerned.
Arafinwë waved a hand. "Go on without us." When no one in the group moved, he looked up and fixed his eyes on them intently, not quite glaring. "We need a moment alone."
Eärwen caught his eye, her look questioning. -What is it?-
- Something Seen, I suspect.-
-You and your thrice-accursed Gift.- He could almost hear her mental sigh. -Take as much time as you need.-
"Come, everyone," she said aloud, turning to continue walking. The group bowed almost as one, and followed her.
Arafinwë waited in silence. Findárato hadn't moved; he knelt in the sand, staring at whatever he was cupping in his hands.
Eventually he said quietly, "I have been here before."
Arafinwë didn't bother pointing out that of course he had, he had been on this beach a thousand times, practically lived here in summer. He knew Findárato didn't mean here, physically. He meant here as in now, this particular situation. "A vision."
"Yes. I was here but..." He looked up, stared out across the sand. "It was different. The light was from Laurelin, not Arien. There was no one but you and I, and you..." He glanced to the waves. "You were standing there, in the surf, in a simple white robe. Your hair was unbound...it was longer."
"Then what makes this the same?" Arafinwë asked.
"You know what makes this the same," Findárato snapped harshly. Arafinwë said nothing, and the tension left Findárato’s shoulders as his anger disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The feeling. There was always a feeling, if one found themselves experiencing a vision they had seen as a reality. It was unmistakable. "There's something else," Arafinwë said, indicating Findárato’s cupped hands.
Pulling his hands away, Findárato revealed a large conch shell. "This was there, sitting on the sand, just like it is now." Findárato stroked one finger along it. "I just glanced down. The feeling...I knew as soon as I saw it."
"Visions come at the strangest times," Arafinwë said quietly. "Their realizations in the world of the physical are often no different."
Findárato said nothing. They stood in silence for a while before Arafinwë looked out to sea and said, "I would stand in the waves for you and unbraid my hair, but I fear what your mother would do to me, should I ruin this fabric."
That drew a smile from Findárato. "I do not think the physical realization of this vision is supposed to tell me anything. When I Saw it, I picked up the shell and..." He trailed off, bringing the shell to his ear. After a moment he removed it again. "In the vision I heard the noise of battle. Resto's voice. I think that was the important part." He heaved a heavy sigh. "I didn't have a chance to heed it, however. It was, as ever, far too vague for me to know what it alluded to until after the fact."
"You malign your Gift again," Arafinwë said sorrowfully.
"Often I have not found it particularly helpful," Findárato said, sharpness back in his voice.
"Would you give it up?"
That, Arafinwë sensed, was not what Findárato had expected him to ask. "I-" He started, but paused. Arafinwë could see him furrow his brow.
"Do you think everyone with the Gift has not, at some point, wished to give it up?" Arafinwë asked quietly.
"You would never wish to not See," Findárato said, his voice full of stubborn surety.
Arafinwë smiled slightly. "You are so sure. You have always seen me as the epitome of perfection, where the Sight is concerned."
Slowly, Findárato turned to look at him. "That is not entirely true," he denied, but Arafinwë could tell he doubted his words; doubted himself. Findárato, it seemed, did not wish to acknowledge how deep his feeling of inadequacy ran in this matter.
He didn't push him. "I, of course, know when I have not Seen things that-"
"Sometimes we don't See everything. That is the way," Findárato interrupted him - repeating his own words back at him, Arafinwë realized. "You cannot blame yourself for what the Sight didn't choose to show you."
"I don't," Arafinwë said, but now it was his words that rang hollow. Findárato met his gaze, and he needed no words to tell him that Findárato knew he was lying. "Logically, I do not blame myself," Arafinwë amended.
"Logically, I know I See as much as I am able, and I should be content with that. But in my heart I wish for more. That is my weakness.”
“You wish for my Gift?” Arafinwë asked. Findárato’s gaze, which had wandered to the sand dunes, snapped back to his. “There is no shame in admitting you envy another, if you can do so without resentment.”
Findárato barked out a humourless laugh. “I do not believe that, Ata.”
“No, I am not sure that I do, either. But it was something Ata said. Ingwë, in contrast, would have counselled that one should learn to be content with what one has.”
“That would be easier. Me content with what I See and you with what you See.” Findárato heaved a sigh, and then got to his feet. “I have spent too long wallowing in the sand. The Sight ever looks forward, as should we.”
Arafinwë reached out and touched his arm. “If you wish to retire…”
"I am not an invalid," Findárato said, jerking away from him, a hardness in his eyes. "I do not need you to coddle me."
"I do not wish to coddle you," Arafinwë answered quietly.
Findaráto let out an exasperated sigh and closed his eyes. "I know you don't. That is why it is impossible to stay angry with you. You never appear to be in the wrong."
"If I am in the wrong I would have you tell me. Always. Never hesitate to correct me if I do something wrong, or offend you, Findárato." Arafinwë paused. “I know things have changed, in you and between us, since you returned-”
“I cannot-” Findárato began to snap but cut himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a few deep breaths. “I cannot talk about- about- over there,” he said tightly.
“And I do not want you to,” Arafinwë said gently. “Not until you are ready. I simply wish to acknowledge that things have changed, and we can never go back to the ways things were, before the Darkening. We are changed.”
“Don’t say that,” Findárato said quietly. “It is early – we can be happy again-”
“I am not saying we cannot be happy, Findárato.” Arafinwë laid a hand on his arm. “Just that we will not be the same.”
Findárato sighed and looked out to sea. “And I would not want to be the same,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “Many of the truths I learnt about myself were hard, and many I did not like, but they are the truth. And the truth about oneself is the one truth that can be changed.”
Arafinwë smiled slightly and ran his hand up to squeeze Findárato’s shoulder. “Ah, Findárato, what did they do to you in Endórë to make you so wise?” he asked lightly.
Findárato frowned even as a smile tugged at his lips. “I do not think you would want to know.”
“No, I expect not.” Arafinwë linked their arms. “Come, your mother has only a finite amount of patience when it comes to us and our ‘thrice-accursed Gifts’. We had better catch up to her before she becomes truly irritated.”
Findárato smiled, and they walked along in silence for a while. Eventually Findárato said slowly, “You know, Nerwen once said that she could See more when she had the proper instruction…”
“I have heard she studied under the Lady,” Arafinwë said, neither denying nor confirming.
Findárato, of course, was not to be denied. “Surely here there is someone…?”
“Well,” Arafinwë said, resigning himself silently to Findárato’s eagerness to improve, “unless you wish to return to the Halls and risk tutelage under Lord Mandos-”
“‘Risk’ his tutelage?” Findárato interrupted.
“Unfortunately for you, one of the vows I made upon becoming his student was not to reveal what he taught me, or how he went about teaching it,” Arafinwë said. “But suffice it to say, learning from a Vala is not always a comfortable experience. If you do not wish to try your luck with him, there are others in Valmar who would be happy to assist you, I am sure.”
“In Valmar?” Findárato frowned.
“That is where you will find the best Seers.”
“I never thought…they never seem to speak openly…”
“It is not that they do not speak of it openly, more that they regard it as less of wonder than it is among the Noldor. I think it is because most all of them can See, to a lesser or greater extent. It is not an oddity or a special gift.”
“Who then, would you recommend?”
“Ingwë would know better than I. I offended most of the Vanyar Seers when I snubbed them in favour of attaining the attention of Lord Námo.” Arafinwë sighed. “Nothing like hindsight to add extra bitterness to the follies of youth.”
“When did you study under Námo?” Findárato asked curiously.
“It was perhaps a century after Arien rose for the first time. Not the best time to leave my Kingship for years on end, really, but there was no one else to challenge my claim, and I believed I would be well-served by a better grasp of Foresight in the long-run. Whether I was or not in the end, I find it hard to decide. But still, as you said, there is no point in looking back.”
“No.” Findárato paused, then said, “There is mother. They are coming back this way.”
Arafinwë nodded. “Now the sun has set, the evening feast will soon be starting.”
“Ata, after the festival…”
“If you wish it, we can travel to Valmar. It is about time I paid a visit to Ingwë’s court. And you can, if you wish, find someone to teach you.”
Findárato drew slowly to a halt. “You do not believe I am ready.”
Arafinwë was silent for a long while. “I do not know whether you are ready or not,” he said eventually. “I worry for you, though. I cannot help that.”
“No.” Findárato glanced at the approaching party. “If I promise you I will return, if I am not yet up to the task, will that soothe you?”
“You do not have to-”
“No. I know. But I will.”
“Well,” Arafinwë shrugged. “That would probably be sensible.”
Findárato smiled slightly. “Then it is a promise.”
“Good.” Arafinwë smiled. “You know, as soon as I mentioned studying in the Halls, I thought you would be bursting to go and prove yourself worthy.”
Findárato laughed. “No, I have no wish to go back there.” He sobered. “Also, I heard what you were not saying, Ata. Studying under Námo is only for the truly exceptional.” He held up a hand when Arafinwë made to protest. “I know you do not wish to insult me, but that is not an insult. It is the truth. Only someone with a Gift as strong as yours would be able to complete such training. Would be worthy of it.”
“You must not believe you are unworthy, Findárato,” Arafinwë said quietly.
“I do not, in most things. I have, I hope, a good assessment of myself. I know I do not lack for qualities, and I am not overly prone to self-doubt, despite the way I have been acting for the past half hour. We all have our areas of weakness, though.”
Arafinwë smiled, nodding. “And at the moment, my area of weakness is my stomach,” he declared. “I wish your mother would hurry up, I don’t want to miss the best cuts of meat.”
Findárato laughed. “We could start back without her…?”
“And insult her? Never.”
Despite Arafinwë’s complaint, the party was nearly upon them. Eärwen’s brother, the younger of the twins, waved to them and called, “Done with the magic discussions, boys?” with a laugh.
“He infuriates me,” Arafinwë said under his breath.
Findárato just laughed.
The sand was warm underfoot as the small party made their way down the beach. Behind them Alqualondë sparkled with the brilliance of the thousand lanterns strung up all over the city, starting to come into their own now as the sun descended to kiss the waves, a ball of dully glowing fire on the distant horizon. The Teleri had been up celebrating the first day of their summer festival since sunrise, and the festivities would continue long into the night before spilling over into the next three days.
The thought made Arafinwë feel tired. Usually he loved the summer festival, but the return of his eldest son from the Halls only a month ago had thrown many things out of place. Helping Findárato adjust had needed a great dedication of energy on his part, which he would never begrudge, but the toll it had taken on him could not be ignored. He had caught mutters from others about 'not spending long enough in the Halls' and 'not being ready to come back', but he had spoken to the silent, mysterious Vala who ruled there, and he knew better. Some people, Mandos had told him, just could not heal properly in the Halls. They found no peace there, no solace in the calm and mediation on their lives. They needed action, interaction; through that, they could find peace - or if not peace, then some form of healing. It made sense to Arafinwë, especially in Findárato’s case. He had always been happiest talking to other people.
He had almost insisted that Findárato should stay at home, but his son had convinced him to relent. "I will not fall apart at a little celebration," he had said, an edge of hardness lingering quietly, so quietly, just on the edge of his voice.
He was with them now, the small group that had broken away from the celebration to take a calming stroll down the beach. Eärwen was walking ahead with one of her brothers and Anairë, laughing about something. The dying rays of the sun made her silver hair sparkle faintly, bringing a small smile to his lips.
More courtiers surrounded them, some Arafinwë knew and some he still didn't, even after all this time. It was one of his weaknesses; he had never had a good memory for faces. They laughed and chattered about things, happy, but he kept his silence. There was a sense of foreboding in him again.
Findárato, beside him, murmured something in answer to a question, but otherwise remained just as quiet. He cast a quick glance his way. Often he wondered what went on in his son's head; and at the same time, found it strange to wonder. Once, Findárato had been so open to him. He had silently mourned that loss of understanding every day since his son had returned.
A flash of unease was all the warning he got before Findárato was suddenly on his knees, his hands cupping something on the sand in front of him. Arafinwë stopped immediately, but most of the party walked on a few steps before they realized they were missing. "Your highness?" someone asked, their voice concerned.
Arafinwë waved a hand. "Go on without us." When no one in the group moved, he looked up and fixed his eyes on them intently, not quite glaring. "We need a moment alone."
Eärwen caught his eye, her look questioning. -What is it?-
- Something Seen, I suspect.-
-You and your thrice-accursed Gift.- He could almost hear her mental sigh. -Take as much time as you need.-
"Come, everyone," she said aloud, turning to continue walking. The group bowed almost as one, and followed her.
Arafinwë waited in silence. Findárato hadn't moved; he knelt in the sand, staring at whatever he was cupping in his hands.
Eventually he said quietly, "I have been here before."
Arafinwë didn't bother pointing out that of course he had, he had been on this beach a thousand times, practically lived here in summer. He knew Findárato didn't mean here, physically. He meant here as in now, this particular situation. "A vision."
"Yes. I was here but..." He looked up, stared out across the sand. "It was different. The light was from Laurelin, not Arien. There was no one but you and I, and you..." He glanced to the waves. "You were standing there, in the surf, in a simple white robe. Your hair was unbound...it was longer."
"Then what makes this the same?" Arafinwë asked.
"You know what makes this the same," Findárato snapped harshly. Arafinwë said nothing, and the tension left Findárato’s shoulders as his anger disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The feeling. There was always a feeling, if one found themselves experiencing a vision they had seen as a reality. It was unmistakable. "There's something else," Arafinwë said, indicating Findárato’s cupped hands.
Pulling his hands away, Findárato revealed a large conch shell. "This was there, sitting on the sand, just like it is now." Findárato stroked one finger along it. "I just glanced down. The feeling...I knew as soon as I saw it."
"Visions come at the strangest times," Arafinwë said quietly. "Their realizations in the world of the physical are often no different."
Findárato said nothing. They stood in silence for a while before Arafinwë looked out to sea and said, "I would stand in the waves for you and unbraid my hair, but I fear what your mother would do to me, should I ruin this fabric."
That drew a smile from Findárato. "I do not think the physical realization of this vision is supposed to tell me anything. When I Saw it, I picked up the shell and..." He trailed off, bringing the shell to his ear. After a moment he removed it again. "In the vision I heard the noise of battle. Resto's voice. I think that was the important part." He heaved a heavy sigh. "I didn't have a chance to heed it, however. It was, as ever, far too vague for me to know what it alluded to until after the fact."
"You malign your Gift again," Arafinwë said sorrowfully.
"Often I have not found it particularly helpful," Findárato said, sharpness back in his voice.
"Would you give it up?"
That, Arafinwë sensed, was not what Findárato had expected him to ask. "I-" He started, but paused. Arafinwë could see him furrow his brow.
"Do you think everyone with the Gift has not, at some point, wished to give it up?" Arafinwë asked quietly.
"You would never wish to not See," Findárato said, his voice full of stubborn surety.
Arafinwë smiled slightly. "You are so sure. You have always seen me as the epitome of perfection, where the Sight is concerned."
Slowly, Findárato turned to look at him. "That is not entirely true," he denied, but Arafinwë could tell he doubted his words; doubted himself. Findárato, it seemed, did not wish to acknowledge how deep his feeling of inadequacy ran in this matter.
He didn't push him. "I, of course, know when I have not Seen things that-"
"Sometimes we don't See everything. That is the way," Findárato interrupted him - repeating his own words back at him, Arafinwë realized. "You cannot blame yourself for what the Sight didn't choose to show you."
"I don't," Arafinwë said, but now it was his words that rang hollow. Findárato met his gaze, and he needed no words to tell him that Findárato knew he was lying. "Logically, I do not blame myself," Arafinwë amended.
"Logically, I know I See as much as I am able, and I should be content with that. But in my heart I wish for more. That is my weakness.”
“You wish for my Gift?” Arafinwë asked. Findárato’s gaze, which had wandered to the sand dunes, snapped back to his. “There is no shame in admitting you envy another, if you can do so without resentment.”
Findárato barked out a humourless laugh. “I do not believe that, Ata.”
“No, I am not sure that I do, either. But it was something Ata said. Ingwë, in contrast, would have counselled that one should learn to be content with what one has.”
“That would be easier. Me content with what I See and you with what you See.” Findárato heaved a sigh, and then got to his feet. “I have spent too long wallowing in the sand. The Sight ever looks forward, as should we.”
Arafinwë reached out and touched his arm. “If you wish to retire…”
"I am not an invalid," Findárato said, jerking away from him, a hardness in his eyes. "I do not need you to coddle me."
"I do not wish to coddle you," Arafinwë answered quietly.
Findaráto let out an exasperated sigh and closed his eyes. "I know you don't. That is why it is impossible to stay angry with you. You never appear to be in the wrong."
"If I am in the wrong I would have you tell me. Always. Never hesitate to correct me if I do something wrong, or offend you, Findárato." Arafinwë paused. “I know things have changed, in you and between us, since you returned-”
“I cannot-” Findárato began to snap but cut himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a few deep breaths. “I cannot talk about- about- over there,” he said tightly.
“And I do not want you to,” Arafinwë said gently. “Not until you are ready. I simply wish to acknowledge that things have changed, and we can never go back to the ways things were, before the Darkening. We are changed.”
“Don’t say that,” Findárato said quietly. “It is early – we can be happy again-”
“I am not saying we cannot be happy, Findárato.” Arafinwë laid a hand on his arm. “Just that we will not be the same.”
Findárato sighed and looked out to sea. “And I would not want to be the same,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “Many of the truths I learnt about myself were hard, and many I did not like, but they are the truth. And the truth about oneself is the one truth that can be changed.”
Arafinwë smiled slightly and ran his hand up to squeeze Findárato’s shoulder. “Ah, Findárato, what did they do to you in Endórë to make you so wise?” he asked lightly.
Findárato frowned even as a smile tugged at his lips. “I do not think you would want to know.”
“No, I expect not.” Arafinwë linked their arms. “Come, your mother has only a finite amount of patience when it comes to us and our ‘thrice-accursed Gifts’. We had better catch up to her before she becomes truly irritated.”
Findárato smiled, and they walked along in silence for a while. Eventually Findárato said slowly, “You know, Nerwen once said that she could See more when she had the proper instruction…”
“I have heard she studied under the Lady,” Arafinwë said, neither denying nor confirming.
Findárato, of course, was not to be denied. “Surely here there is someone…?”
“Well,” Arafinwë said, resigning himself silently to Findárato’s eagerness to improve, “unless you wish to return to the Halls and risk tutelage under Lord Mandos-”
“‘Risk’ his tutelage?” Findárato interrupted.
“Unfortunately for you, one of the vows I made upon becoming his student was not to reveal what he taught me, or how he went about teaching it,” Arafinwë said. “But suffice it to say, learning from a Vala is not always a comfortable experience. If you do not wish to try your luck with him, there are others in Valmar who would be happy to assist you, I am sure.”
“In Valmar?” Findárato frowned.
“That is where you will find the best Seers.”
“I never thought…they never seem to speak openly…”
“It is not that they do not speak of it openly, more that they regard it as less of wonder than it is among the Noldor. I think it is because most all of them can See, to a lesser or greater extent. It is not an oddity or a special gift.”
“Who then, would you recommend?”
“Ingwë would know better than I. I offended most of the Vanyar Seers when I snubbed them in favour of attaining the attention of Lord Námo.” Arafinwë sighed. “Nothing like hindsight to add extra bitterness to the follies of youth.”
“When did you study under Námo?” Findárato asked curiously.
“It was perhaps a century after Arien rose for the first time. Not the best time to leave my Kingship for years on end, really, but there was no one else to challenge my claim, and I believed I would be well-served by a better grasp of Foresight in the long-run. Whether I was or not in the end, I find it hard to decide. But still, as you said, there is no point in looking back.”
“No.” Findárato paused, then said, “There is mother. They are coming back this way.”
Arafinwë nodded. “Now the sun has set, the evening feast will soon be starting.”
“Ata, after the festival…”
“If you wish it, we can travel to Valmar. It is about time I paid a visit to Ingwë’s court. And you can, if you wish, find someone to teach you.”
Findárato drew slowly to a halt. “You do not believe I am ready.”
Arafinwë was silent for a long while. “I do not know whether you are ready or not,” he said eventually. “I worry for you, though. I cannot help that.”
“No.” Findárato glanced at the approaching party. “If I promise you I will return, if I am not yet up to the task, will that soothe you?”
“You do not have to-”
“No. I know. But I will.”
“Well,” Arafinwë shrugged. “That would probably be sensible.”
Findárato smiled slightly. “Then it is a promise.”
“Good.” Arafinwë smiled. “You know, as soon as I mentioned studying in the Halls, I thought you would be bursting to go and prove yourself worthy.”
Findárato laughed. “No, I have no wish to go back there.” He sobered. “Also, I heard what you were not saying, Ata. Studying under Námo is only for the truly exceptional.” He held up a hand when Arafinwë made to protest. “I know you do not wish to insult me, but that is not an insult. It is the truth. Only someone with a Gift as strong as yours would be able to complete such training. Would be worthy of it.”
“You must not believe you are unworthy, Findárato,” Arafinwë said quietly.
“I do not, in most things. I have, I hope, a good assessment of myself. I know I do not lack for qualities, and I am not overly prone to self-doubt, despite the way I have been acting for the past half hour. We all have our areas of weakness, though.”
Arafinwë smiled, nodding. “And at the moment, my area of weakness is my stomach,” he declared. “I wish your mother would hurry up, I don’t want to miss the best cuts of meat.”
Findárato laughed. “We could start back without her…?”
“And insult her? Never.”
Despite Arafinwë’s complaint, the party was nearly upon them. Eärwen’s brother, the younger of the twins, waved to them and called, “Done with the magic discussions, boys?” with a laugh.
“He infuriates me,” Arafinwë said under his breath.
Findárato just laughed.
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no subject
Date: 2014-03-30 10:33 pm (UTC)ETA: Ah, yes! I did read the other story before and liked it. You say, "I just keep coming back to the visions and Foresight thing . . . ." I think there is reason for that. I think you still have more of this story to share. Don't stop here.
no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 01:48 am (UTC)I hope you'll go on with his story at some point, I'd like to see what happens next, get a chance to watch his growth.
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Date: 2014-03-31 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 03:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-31 07:45 am (UTC)It is a fascinating idea that Finarfin's foresight might be so strong that it needs schooling by Namo.
I find myself wondering whether there is some connection with Finarfin, later, going to Middle-earth and what it might be.
I'm a bit puzzled about this particular vision--but then I guess so is Finrod. Is he, maybe, foreseeing (or forehearing) the battle of Tumhalad and Orodreth's death? Or is he saying he foresaw something like that in an earlier vision?
no subject
Date: 2014-04-01 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-04-02 01:34 am (UTC)