Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth IV

'Across the gulf that divides our kindreds!' said Andreth. 'Is there no bridge but mere words?' And then she wept again.

'There may be. For some. I do not know,' he said. 'The gulf, maybe, is between our fates rather, for else we are close akin, closer than any other creatures in the world. Yet perilous is it to cross a gulf set by doom; and should any do so, they will not find joy upon the other side, but the griefs of both. So I deem.

'But why dost thou say "mere words"? Do not words overpass the gulf between one life and another? Between thee and me surely more has passed than empty sound? Have we not drawn near at all? But that is, I think, little comfort to thee.'

'I have not asked for comfort,' said Andreth. 'For what do I need it?'

'For the doom of Men that has touched thee as a woman,' said Finrod. 'Dost thou think that I do not know? Is he not my brother dearly loved? Ægnor: Aikanár, the Sharp-flame, swift and eager. And not long are the years since you first met, and your hands touched in this darkness. Yet then thou wert a maiden, brave and eager, in the morning upon the high hills of Dorthonion.'

'Say on!' said Andreth. 'Say: who art now but a wise-woman, alone, and age that shall not touch him has already set winter's grey in thy hair! But say not "thou" to me, for so he once did!'

'Alas!' said Finrod. 'That is the bitterness, beloved adaneth, woman of Men, is it not? that has run through all your words. If I could speak any comfort, you would deem it lordly from one on my side of the sundering doom. But what can I say, save to remind you of the Hope that you yourself have revealed?'

'I did not say that it was ever my hope,' answered Andreth. 'And even were it so, I would still cry: why should this hurt come here and now? Why should we love you, and why should ye love us (if ye do), and yet set the gulf between?'

'Because we were so made, close kin,' said Finrod. 'But we did not make ourselves, and therefore we, the Eldar, did not set the gulf. Nay, adaneth, we are not lordly in this, but pitiful. That word will displease thee. Yet pity is of two kinds: one is of kinship recognized, and is near to love; the other is of difference of fortune perceived, and is near to pride. I speak of the former.'

'Speak of neither to me!' said Andreth. 'I desire neither. I was young and I looked on his flame, and now I am old and lost. He was young and his flame leaped towards me, but he turned away, and he is young still. Do candles pity moths?'

'Or moths candles, when the wind blows them out?' said Finrod.

'Adaneth, I tell thee, Aikanár the Sharp-flame loved thee. For thy sake now he will never take the hand of any bride of his own kindred, but live alone to the end, remembering the morning in the hills of Dorthonion. But too soon in the North wind his flame will go out! Foresight is given to the Eldar in many things not far off, though seldom of joy, and I say to thee thou shalt live long in the order of your kind, and he will go forth before thee and he will not wish to return.'

Then Andreth stood up and stretched her hands to the fire. 'Then why did he turn away? Why leave me while I had still a few good years to spend?'

'Alas!' said Finrod. 'I fear the truth will not satisfy thee. The Eldar have one kind, and ye another; and each judges the others by themselves; until they learn, as do few. This is time of war, Andreth, and in such days the Elves do not wed or bear child; but prepare for death — or for flight. Ægnor has no trust (nor have I) in this siege of Angband that it will last long; and thenwhat will become of this land? If his heart ruled, he would have wished to take thee and flee far away, east or south, forsaking his kin, and thine. Love and loyalty hold him to his. What of thee to thine? Thou hast said thyself that there is no escape by flight within the bounds of the world.'

'For one year, one day, of the flame I would have given all: kin, youth, and hope itself: adaneth as I am,' said Andreth.

'That he knew,' said Finrod; 'and he withdrew and did not grasp what lay to his hand: elda as he is. For such barters are paid for in anguish that cannot be guessed, until it comes, and in ignorance rather than in courage the Eldar judge that they are made. Nay, adaneth, if any marriage can be between our kindred and thine, then it shall be for some high purpose of Doom. Brief it will be and hard at the end. Yea, the least cruel fate that could befall would be that death should soon end it.'

'But the end is always cruel — for Men,' said Andreth. 'I would not have troubled him, when my short youth was spent. I would not have hobbled as a hag after his bright feet, when I could no longer run beside him!'

'Maybe not,' said Finrod. 'So you feel now. But do you think of him? He would not have run before thee. He would have stayed at thy side to uphold thee. Then pity thou wouldst have had in every hour, pity inescapable. He would not have thee so shamed. Andreth adaneth, the life and love of the Eldar dwells much in memory; and we (if not ye) would rather have a memory that is fair but unfinished than one that goes on to a grievous end. Now he will ever remember thee in the sun of morning, and that last evening by the water of Aeluin in which he saw thy face mirrored with a star caught in thy hair — ever, until the North-wind brings the night of his flame. Yea, and after that, sitting in the House of Mandos in the Halls of Awaiting until the end of Arda.'

'And what shall I remember?' said she. 'And when I go, to what halls shall I come? To a darkness in which even the memory of the sharp flame shall be quenched? Even the memory of rejection. That at least.'

Finrod sighed and stood up. 'The Eldar have no healing words for such thoughts, adaneth,' he said. 'But would you wish that Elves and Men had never met? Is the light of the flame, which otherwise you would never have seen, of no worth even now? You believe yourself scorned? Put away at least that thought, which comes out of the Darkness, and then our speech together will not have been wholly in vain. Farewell!'

Darkness fell in the room. He took her hand in the light of the fire.

'Whither go you?' she said.

'North away,' he said: 'to the swords, and the siege, and the walls of defense — that yet for a while in Beleriand rivers may run clean, leaves spring, and birds build their nests, ere Night comes.'

'Will he be there, bright and tall, and the wind in his hair? Tell him. Tell him not to be reckless. Not to seek danger beyond need!'

'I will tell him,' said Finrod. 'But I might as well tell thee not to weep. He is a warrior, Andreth, and a spirit of wrath. In every stroke that he deals he sees the Enemy who long ago did thee this hurt. But you are not for Arda. Whither you go may you find light. Await us there, my brother—and me.'