Golden Hearts: Judgement

Judgement

“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.” –Fellowship of the Ring



Finarfin was surprised the palace guards had admitted him inside. If he was honest with himself, he was surprised he had been admitted into the city.

Tirion was the first place he had gone to after returning. Many of his people had followed him back home. But not his children. The hurt and anger in their eyes had made him sick.

No, that wasn’t true. It had made him desperately sad, but not sick. What had made him sick was the battle at Alqualonde. Slaughter, not battle.

As he had traveled farther north with his brothers, he realized that he needed to return to his wife. Earwen had not been in Tirion when he arrived, and Anaire said she had gone to Alqualonde. Finarfin had known he would need to confront Olwe, but he had hoped to wait, at least a little while. He gathered his courage along with a change of clothing and a horse, and rode back down to the sea.

The halls of Olwe’s palace were silent. There was no flute playing, or friendly laughter, or children’s running footsteps, as there usually was.

The guards walked beside him. They might have let him in, but they would not trust him. Not now. Finarfin arrived outside Olwe’s throne room. He only had time for one calming breath before the guards opened the doors. They did not announce him.

Olwe was slumped on his throne. The queen sat beside him holding a grandchild. Various family members, advisors, and courtiers were scattered about the hall, but Finarfin did not see Earwen.

The silence was oppressive as Finarfin walked toward the throne. He could hear his own heartbeat and feel the glares that followed him. Olwe did not look up until Finarfin stopped a few yards away. Both men froze, gazing at each other for a moment. Finarfin’s hands shook, but he not lower his eyes.

“Alagos,” Olwe beckoned to his youngest son. Finarfin noted his arm was in a sling. Alagos approached his father, knelt down, and took his hand. “Stay here,” Olwe ordered his son.

After a moment, Alagos apparently realized what the king meant. “Atar!” he whispered, dismayed.

“Stay,” the king repeated. Instead of arguing, Alagos nodded and stood up. He moved to stand beside the king’s throne, where the crown prince usually stood. Where he should have stood. Alagos was the king’s third and youngest son.

Finarfin choked back a sob when he realized the implications. Earwen’s eldest brothers had been murdered by Finarfin’s family.  

“What do you want, son of Finwe?” the king addressed him.  

Finarfin fell to his knees, bowing his head touching the marble floor.

“I am so, so sorry,” he said, not lifting his face. It was not enough. It would never be enough.

“Do you seek pardon?” Olwe spat, disgusted and angry.

Finarfin shook his head. “I do not ask pardon for that which was unforgivable.”

“Then why, are you here?” he shouted, standing up from his throne.

After several heartbeats, Finarfin straightened. He met the king’s eyes, but he remained on his knees. The king turned away.

“You deserve justice, your Highness. I am here to give you what little I can.”

Olwe paused and then looked back. “You offer me justice? Yet you were part of this…” he waved a hand to prevent from finishing the sentence.

“Yes, I do. It does not matter. They were my… my family. I am here in my brothers’ stead.”

The king frowned at his eyes at his son-in-law. “You offer justice?” he repeated. “What could you that could ever make this right? They took my sons from me!” he clutched his chest. “Would you give me yours? Blood for blood, you would do that?”

Finarfin tasted bile, not certain how serious the king was. “They left,” he said. “They chose exile.” The pain of that choice was far too fresh.

“Then what of you? Would you give your blood for the sake of justice?” Olwe demanded.

Finarfin raised his chin. He was grateful to give an honest answer. “I would give my very soul to erase the deeds of these past few days. Since I cannot, I will offer my life instead. If it would give you or your people an ounce of peace, I beg you to take it.” He hung his head.

The hall was silent for a long time. Finarfin would not look up, so he did not see the reactions to his statement. He did not hear the rustle of cloth before it was startlingly close.

He looked up as Olwe dropped to his knees in front of him. The ancient elf lifted Finarfin’s chin and looked into his eyes. “It would bring me no peace to lose another son.” He enveloped his son-in-law in a tight hug and whispered, “I am so glad you came home.”