This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended.
In my stories, Glorfindel (LaurŽfindil) is Findis’ son, and he is the same age as Amrod, Amras, and ArakŠno.
I wrote this for the LotR community “Back garden of a Dream” challenge. My element was Orchard.
Indis sat on a beautifully carved bench in her orchard, waiting for her eldest daughter to return. Findis had gone to FŽanŠro’s house to speak with him and try to understand why LaurŽfindil was leaving. It was true that Findis’ son was following NolofinwŽ and TurukŠno, but FŽanŠro’s speech in Tirion had been so powerful that it had reminded Indis of days long gone when FinwŽ had spoken to the Tatyar, asking them to follow him to the Blessed Lands.
He had been so passionate about it back then that Indis had been even more motivated to follow OromŽ. The Minyar were leaving too, all of them, following IngwŽ. He had delivered a powerful speech too, less passionate than FinwŽ’s, but equally effective; part of the Nelyar were coming too, but not Elmo and his followers.
Indis had been in love with FinwŽ since they were Elflings, but she had known that his heart was moving in another direction. She had caught the now Lord of the Tatyar looking at IngwŽ with loving eyes. They had never acted on this impulse, not fully, and they had drifted far apart after what happened to ErelfinŽ.
Then MŪriel had come, and FinwŽ had fallen in love with her, and they had been happy until FŽanŠro was born and consumed his mother’s strength. It was not his fault, Indis knew, but FinwŽ’s eldest child had an inner fire that burned so bright that those who cared for him followed him to the end. FŽanŠro had lost all control when his father died.
He was lost.
Indis sighed, thinking of her husband, killed by Morgoth while trying to keep FŽanŠro’s household safe. He was in the Halls, and their children were returning to EndorŽ, following FŽanŠro. Even Lalwen was leaving. Only Findis and MorifindŽ would stay thorn as they were because their son was leaving.
Indis looked around at her orchard. It was not so dark anymore because the servants had brought Elven lamps, but she could feel the sadness in the place enveloping her. It was as if the land knew that no Elfling would ever come to play among the rows of orange trees, or grab strawberries and blueberries to eat them until their stomachs hurt. No young couple would look for some privacy when Laurelin’s light dimmed. Only Indis was there now.
She smiled, remembering ItarillŽ and Artaresto playing among the trees; even TelpŽrinquar would join them in their merriment. They had been so young, they were so young still, and yet they would march out of Tirion with their parents. Indis wanted to cry, but she could not fall apart now. She needed to be strong; she owed it to her people.
She stood and walked toward the apple trees, watching carefully the still green fruits. Would they ripen now that there was no light? Would her orchard die?
It will not, she decided.
She would keep it safe. She would keep everyone safe, and pray that those who were leaving returned one day.