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Prologue
Arafinwë was looking at the four pieces of jewelry in front of him. They were laying on silver velvet in a wooden box.
He took out the first piece; a crystal pendant on a long thin golden chain. The crystal was the same greenish color as the ones he preferred to wear. The chain was old but well cared for.
Arafinwë's heart was beating fast, and his hands were slightly sweaty, so the metal stuck lightly to his skin. Finally, these crystals will be in use, he thought to himself. Oh, my beloved son, it has been too long.
He kept running his fingers over the fine chain. I will be able to return this to you now. The only piece of jewelry you left behind. The thought made him smile. His memory of Findaráto in all his bejeweled glory was still strong. Of course his firstborn had taken almost all of it with him. But he had been glad that a few pieces remained. They had been welcome mementos for him and Eärwen.
The pendant itself was his creation. It was built from the crystal technology which had developed in the hundreds of years since the end of the War of Wrath. Progress over the years had meant that he had added more and refined the existing layers on the crystal hundreds of times.
Not only on this crystal but also the three others still laying in the box. Each in a different setting for the stones. And each personal to one of his children.
A spear of hurt went through Arafinwë's gut when he thought about the ones he did not know when he would see next. But the joy to know that soon he would see Finrod again was stronger than the hurt for now.
The letter bringing this joyous news had arrived a few hours ago. It had been short and just advised Findaráto's family to prepare for his rebirth in the foreseeable future. Arafinwë knew that this could mean anything from a few months to several years, but anticipation had still shot through him like a bolt of lightning.
When some time later he had felt Eärwen's stone on his bracelet heat up, he knew she had been notified as well. He turned his attention to the crystal and enjoyed the moment with her.
Then he set the crystal in his hand on a contraption to his left. He grabbed the handles and put his forehead to the appointed spot. Concentration was showing on his face as he put the feeling of joy and anticipation onto the crystal as another layer.
Soon, he thought. Soon this gift will find its recipient.
Memories of Findaráto
"I will rule my own city one day!"
Arafinwë had heard this exclamation or variations thereof several times already in the last weeks. It seemed his eldest child had taken a fancy to being a ruler.
At first Findaráto had wanted to be king but when Arafinwë had educated him about the line of succession he had easily switched to just becoming ruler of one city.
Arafinwë found it interesting that his son had such a clear desire to rule. He never had aspirations to become King or anything similar. And seeing how his brothers behaved because of the desire to succeed their father he never wanted part of that.
Apparently, it had become a favorite pastime for Findaráto and Turukáno to play at being rulers of their own realms. Drawings were created of capital cities; crests and crowns designed. Findaráto had even composed an anthem. Arafinwë was impressed how many ideas the two Elflings had.
"So tell me more about this city of yours.", Arafinwë said and sat down next to his son on the divan. "Who will live there?"
"The city will be grand like Tirion, but also next to the sea like Alqualondë. Behind it there is a giant mountain where we will mine for gems and gold. All the best jewelry will come from it. We will use pearls and shells from the sea and precious stones from the mountain to make the most beautiful necklaces. Elves, and even the Valar, will come to us to get great works of art. There will be balls every three dusks and plays on the other ones. They will come to visit for celebrations and on days free from work." The eyes of Findaráto were filled with light as he spoke of his vision. Arafinwë enjoyed listening very much.
And through the words of his son he began to think about the intricacies of leading and ruling. He was a decent leader for ship excursions or hunting parties, but these had seldom more than 20 elves under his leadership. Being responsible for a whole city or even a whole realm required much more thought and capability. Of course as a prince of the Noldor he had learned some parts of statesmanship, but it had never been his passion.
"It does sound like a wonderful place, your city.", Arafinwë remarked. "But it would take a lot of work to get there. You will need people who you can trust to help build it."
"Atto, of course I will work hard. And at the beginning, we will start with wooden houses. Then we need to ..." As Findaráto continued talking, Arafinwë listened and asked more questions from time to time. He enjoyed this time together with his eldest.
Over the years, these conversations continued. At the dinner table, in the workshop or even when brushing his son's hair. Findaráto grew up, and the plans became more realistic and more detailed. And even though Arafinwë acted more as a sounding board than making his own plans, his understanding of ruling grew with his son, and even though he knew it not, it was knowledge worth a fortune when the worst happened.
Memories of Angaráto
When they had visited the crystal caves in the Pelori mountains with Angaráto for the first time, it did not surprise Arafinwë and Eärwen that their son was fascinated by the crystals and gemstones. Some years prior Findaráto had the same reaction. And like his oldest brother Angaráto wanted to buy all the stones he could get his hands on.
In the end, Angaráto had to constrain himself to the same amount spent as his brother before him. They were surprised, however, when it took Angaráto double the time to decide on the crystals he wanted. Arafinwë and Eärwen had sat down outside a tavern for some refreshments and were fascinated to watch their middle child decide.
Angaráto was going back and forth between market stalls. When he examined a crystal he held them in his hands and closed his eyes for a bit. Concentration was visible on his face as he did so with several stones. It seemed the decision for some smaller stones was made quite soon. But then he had trouble deciding between two larger crystals sold at different stalls.
After Angaráto had tried a few times, Arafinwë decided that he would try to help his son decide.
"Angaráto", Arafinwë called as he approached him. "May I offer you some help to make your decision?"
Angaráto lifted his head. Currently, he was holding an amethyst in his hand which he raised up, so his father could see.
"This crystal feels right.", he said. "But the turquoise one over there, does too. But it's different. And as both cost more than half of what you've given me, I can only buy one."
He put the crystal in his father's hand. "Can you feel it, too?", Angaráto asked. "The echo of the mountains?"
Arafinwë was surprised at the question. Nonetheless, he concentrated on the crystal in his hand and when he closed his eyes, he felt something there. Trickling water and rushing water. Creaking and cracking. And an echo of Aulë.
Astonished he opened his eyes. "Well, I've never felt something like this before. You seem to have a gift, Angaráto." Arafinwë smiled as he said this.
"You have to feel the other stone as well, Atto." Angaráto was already moving to the other stand. So Arafinwë quickly put the crystal in his hand down before following him.
When he arrived, Angaráto handed him an aquamarine crystal and said: "This one is different. But I like it, too."
So, Arafinwë closed his eyes again and concentrated on the stone. Angaráto was right, it felt distinctly different. Warm, metallic water depositing slowly on the crystal. Pressure all around. Then the pressure released slowly. No more water. Hidden in the dark for so long. But again a hint of Aulë and this time of Ulmo as well.
"I think I like this one even better.", Arafinwë said. He turned the stone in his hands. "And the color suits me more, too. That's why I often have aquamarines as part of my jewelry." He touched one of the stones hanging from his neck. "Like this one."
"I'm not that much interested in how they look, Atto.", Angaráto said. "I just want those that feel right. And I think the amethyst feels more like me."
He added, "I will get that one then. Thank your for helping me decide." Angaráto's face broke out into a grin and Arafinwë could see how content he looked.
"You know I will get this stone for myself in that case.", Arafinwë said. "It is really quite extraordinary."
Soon the two stones were purchased, and they returned to Eärwen. Angaráto spread his new acquisitions on the table to show his mother. At first, Eärwen was quite surprised at her son's choices. She had expected the most sparkling and precious stones to be bought.
But when Angaráto handed her the amethyst and explained, she understood. Holding it in her hand she could feel the mountain, too. A memory then came to her mind of her childhood. So, Eärwen took one of the seashells fixed to a small comb out of her hair.
"I always thought what I felt in these shells was the fancy of a child. Me dreaming about how it had been formed and lain under the sea for a long time. Feeling Uinen in them.", she said. "But Angaráto, it seems you've discovered that there actually can be an echo in things. Oh, this is marvelous."
And laughing, she took her son in her arms. Arafinwë joined them, and his heart sang with this unexpected discovery Angaráto had made.
Preparing for a break
After the joyous news of Finrod's due return had settled in Arafinwë's mind, he took to write to Eärwen, his separated wife. After the Flight of the Noldor she had returned to Alqualondë first to mourn and then to live with her family and old friends. The love between them had simmered down to warm affection. And so Arafinwë and Eärwen met every so often to enjoy their friendship.
His duties as King of the Noldor occupied most of Arafinwë's time meaning opportunities to leave Tirion had usually to be planned carefully. Fortuitously, every few years he took a longer holiday on the coast near Alqualondë and as it was soon coming up, he and Eärwen would get the chance to talk about the return of their firstborn in a quick fortnight.
After thousands of years of doing this it had become so routine that barely any further preparations were necessary for his holiday. The most important thing to bring this year were the new prototype crystals devised at the Royal Crystallariums of Tirion. They would be gifted to the Falmari Academy of Molmírë for further study.
The first day in Alqualondë would still be dominated by his royal duties. But then he would be free of them for three months.
Memories of Artaresto
The curtain had fallen after the tragic end of the play. The elleth leading her people on the Great Journey had chosen the path which had lead to the death of many including herself. During the play, multiple Elves had offered their ideas on which path to take and which paths to avoid. In the end the leader had followed the advice of a long-time companion who had much sway among her people and had spoken well. The companion herself had not tried to lead them wrong but had advocated for the option she had genuinely thought best.
The audience was applauding the great performance as did Arafinwë and Artaresto. Tonight father and son had spent the dusk hours together, first going out for a delicious dinner followed by a classic play. It was Arafinwë's wish to spend time with alone with all his children from time to time.
Artaresto was a pensive child, interested in many things, but often he listened more than he talked. The choice to go to a play together had been easy. Already, they spent their hours together discussing philosophy and art or reading quietly next to each other. So this suited their common interests.
The silver hours of Telperion were still warm, so they decided to walk home on a longer path through avenues and parks. Artaresto was holding Arafinwë's hand, something they often did when walking together.
They chatted about the play as they walked. Artaresto had enjoyed the costumes and how the stage had been arranged. Arafinwë had been impressed by the performance of the actress playing the old companion of the leader. Then they started to talk about the details of the story.
Artaresto asked about the different options presented to the leader. Was there a way that the story would not have ended in tragedy? So one by one they discussed all the options and what they thought was the likely result if they had been chosen. No option lead to a happy ending.
"I think I know what she should have done instead.", Artaresto mused after some time. "The wrong choice had already happened at the very beginning. She should have not followed the river but gone over the mountains. Her people would have met up with the other group of travelers and combined they would have succeeded."
"Yes, you are right", Arafinwë agreed.
"But why did the play not focus on that decision, then?", Artaresto asked. "Then there would have been a right decision."
Arafinwë smiled with sorrow. "But the point of a tragedy is that there is no right solution. The interest of the story lies in how we decide when every option is ill. All the people offering their advice to the leader had been convinced they had found the way out of their predicament. But only the leader had seen that their destiny was already doomed. In the end, she had chosen a path where she had hoped to save the most of her followers. Because if they had not left, all of them would be dead."
"Why are these old stories still performed then? Here in Aman such tragic decisions will never need to be made." Artaresto was not quite sure if that was actually true. But from all the stories he had heard that played here in Valinor none seemed to have this kind of predicament. "Surely the Valar will keep us safe? Wasn't that why we came here?"
Arafinwë did not have an easy answer to these questions. On the one side all he had been taught and most his lived experience had been free from predicament. On the other side his son's questions had brought the situation between his brothers to the forefront. There had been no simple solutions for that rivalry. Well, his solution had been to leave them to it as best as possible while he had left for Alqualondë.
"I'm certain that the Valar will protect us from a deadly choice. There is nothing here that can harm us as you know." Arafinwë was quite sure of that.
"But there can still be tension and situations where the only choices seem bad ones.", Arafinwë added. "For example the strain between my brothers means that your grandfather seldom has an easy choice in any matter that concerns them. And you are right, contemporary stories only seldom are tragedies."
Artaresto nodded. He had seen how his uncles behaved around each other and how strained grandfather Finwë looked because of it.
"I can give you a tragedy playing in Aman when we get home.", Arafinwë said. "Most people did not like it much, but I quite enjoyed it."
The rest of the way, they barely talked as both were lost in their thoughts. Arafinwë tried to shake the unease the thought of his brothers had sparked. Instead, he tried to focus on the warm feeling of closeness from this time spent with his son.
At the seaside
Walking down the small path to the sea, Arafinwë was still smiling. He had just come from an engaging dinner with Eärwen. The feeling of friendship and the great company they'd enjoyed was still lingering warm in his gut.
Every time they came together there were two reasons: remembering their children and helping each other over the hurt of missing them. This year however they had mostly talked about Finrod's impending return. The spark of hope and expectation had made it a much lighter evening than other years.
Arafinwë walked along the beach between bushels of tall grass. He was barefoot and enjoyed the warmth of the sand even though night was approaching. Dusk colored the sky and the sea in reds, yellows and blues.
He was breathing deeply every so often. Smelling the salt of the sea and a slight hint of sea tang.
Even though there was still a golden spark in his breast the loneliness and grieve started to take more and more space. And Arafinwë let it come. This was the reason he came out here every few years. To remember and grieve and miss the people he lost.
After so many of the Noldor had gone, he had been left scrambling with the ones that remained. A crown of his father's was handed to him, and he had been nudged into a position he never expected.
Only one fifth had remained so Tirion had been emptied of life. The palace was even more desolate because almost all its inhabitants had left. He had gotten used to Fëanor and his family missing from time to time. But now it was eerily silent. Of the royal family only his mother, one of his sisters, and his and Ñolofinwë's wives remained. Gone were almost all courtiers and servants as well.
Everything fell into disarray because how could a town continue existing when so many were missing? The smiths had been mostly aligned with Fëanor and thus gone. For every position or profession there were either too few or too many people, and it became his responsibility to balance it again.
People in Tirion moved closer together, leaving empty houses on the skirts of town.
Despite all the challenges Arafinwë had done his best and when the sun had risen for the first time, a lot of the problems had been dealt with.
But there had been one thing he had not been dealing with, his own feelings. Grief and anger and hurt. So when things had calmed down and Arafinwë had taken time off for the first time in many long years, it all had come crashing down.
He had chosen to visit a small isolated house near the coast where he had planned to spend a few calm weeks alone.
It had taken two days, and he was sobbing in bed, the tears just kept coming, and his chest felt like it was tearing apart. Flashes of memory came back and with it a whole host of emotions - the light of the trees disappearing, his father lying dead in Formenos, the oath of Fëanor, him urging for caution but not being heard, following his brothers and arriving to see blood on the beach, the ships disappearing on the horizon and later the great fire, his children deciding to join the trek across the Helcaraxë, returning to Tirion and finding it dark and almost empty, Eärwen staying in Alqualondë, being king.
Arafinwë barely got up from his bed. He was either sleeping or crying. Thirst got him up to refill the jug he kept on his bed stand. Sometimes he ate a bit.
Arafinwë almost lost himself in his emotions. It was fortunate that Eärwen came to visit him after two weeks. They had already been separated then but as he was using her little cottage she had planned to bring him the provisions he needed herself.
Once Eärwen had realized what was happening to Arafinwë she was able to calm him down and get him a numbing tea. Then she rode as fast as she could for the healer who had helped her handle her grief.
In the end it took Arafinwë a year to return to Tirion and several more to learn to manage all that had happened. One big part of his routine now were the trips he took every few years to allow his grief and his loneliness room.
Arafinwë was glad that he had found ways to deal with this grief. But standing here on the beach and imagining having one of his children back in his arms, gave rise to a conflicting mix of emotions: longing, hurt, unspeakable joy and worry.
The crystals in his hair were pulsating with his emotions. And he could at least feel Angaráto and Ambaráto. There were also crystals for Eärwen, his mother and Findis. For this night he had removed the crystals stabilizing his emotions, however - that would have been against the purpose of this ritual visit.
And so tears came, and he stood there hugging the wind until night had truly and properly fallen.
Memories of Galadriel
Beleriand was a shock.
Going to war was a shock.
They had left in beautifully wrought armor with weapons that shone in the sun. None except the ones who had been in Beleriand before had any experience of fighting like this. And even the ones who had made the Great Journey had never fought against the creatures of Morgoth before. No one in the host had been on a battlefield before, had fought time and again while living in tents. No time to take their mind off the enemy, little time to regenerate and rest properly.
At first, Arafinwë had been sad that he could not see his only remaining child. By now, he was glad that Artanis was safe with her husband in Eriador. All his other children had died in battle and if there was any chance he would not have the same happen to his beloved Artanis. He knew she could hold her own, but surviving in this kind of war was more chance than competence.
He thanked the Valar every day that he was still alive. Though his perception of and faith in them had been shaken hard once he had seen what they had allowed Melkor to do to Elves and Men and even Dwarves. But the ritual of it helped him to hold on.
At the moment the troops he led were regrouping near Himring. Battles had been few the last months as both sides were struggling to keep their people fed. It gave them time to mend armor and spirits, however.
Even though the smithy had been his half-brother's realm, he was handy enough at it to make smaller odds and ends. Arrow tips, horseshoes, nails and whatever else kept an army running.
Currently, he was working on buckles for bridles. Smelting scraps of metal to cast into different forms. It was hot work, and he preferred it to the icy cold they had been having the last weeks. He was sweaty and full of soot, and he knew that there would not be an opportunity to wash it off properly until the weekly bathing day. Or unless he was required to appear in a kingly fashion. One amenity of that position at least.
There was a lot of commotion going on every day. Troops coming in and heading out. Food and livestock being delivered. Hunting parties leaving early and coming back late.
The smithy was an open structure of beams with a basic roof surrounding the ovens. He could see most of what was happening in the camp.
Just now a few riders arrived, looking astonishingly clean and hale in comparison to most of the Elves and Men around. They were leading their horses and followed one of the camp masters who was looking around for someone. His eyes fell on Arafinwë, and he pointed at him.
"There is the King of the Valinorean Noldor.", he heard him say. And so Arafinwë stood tall. It looked like he would be required to do some diplomacy. He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself.
When he opened his eyes, one of the riders was already running towards him. "Atto, Atto", he heard her cry, and then he understood. He opened his arms, his tools fell on the floor, and his daughter was in his arms.
"Artanis", he said and held her. Tears were flowing down his face and he heard her sob as well. His strong and noble daughter. Who barely ever cried.
His soul was singing out to her. The first physical touch in hundreds of years allowed to re-establish their bond, and then he could feel her again. Oh, he had missed her so. His shining child. Always so determined in what she wanted. It did not surprise him that she had come even though he did not want her here in this place of peril.
"Melseldë, how I have missed you. Dearest daughter, I am so glad to see you."
"Atto, so did I. I could not miss this opportunity when I heard you had come. I saw that this would be the right time to be here else I would have come earlier."
Artanis was looking down on him, tears still in her eyes. Joy mixed with a mixture of emotions. One side of her face was blackened from where she had pressed it against his. Her hair was up in the crown braids she had already worn in her youth. She looked the same as when she had left, but he could feel the changes in her. His daughter had grown and learned things. She was not so innocent anymore, had probably seen worse things long before he did. He was still her father, but they now were truly equals.
Artanis leaned slightly down to press her forehead against Arafinwë's. "I love you, Atto", she said. "I need to tell you as much as I can while I'm staying here. I sense we will not see each other even longer after this meeting."
"Dearest Artanis, I love you as well. You are so precious to me.", Arafinwë replied. "I'm just glad to see you. I wish Eärwen had come as well."
He knew for all the joy they would take from sharing this time together, there would be much hurt to talk about as well. But he would take it all, whatever good memories he could get, and hopefully the grief would be halved by sharing it.
Arafinwë did not know how many days they would have together. All other responsibilities could wait though. A few quick instructions to the relevant people was all that was needed; then he was free to share time with his daughter.
///
"I have something to give you", Galadriel said (she had told him that she preferred to go by the epessë given to her by her husband). "They are some of Angrod's last experiments and quite extraordinary."
Galadriel opened a pouch and dropped several crystals into Arafinwë's palm. They were different sizes and hues, some almost glowing in the darkness of his tent.
Arafinwë pulled the light closer to inspect them. When he took a lavender one, suddenly, he felt him. Angrod. It was like an echo coming from the crystal.
Arafinwë's eyes shot up at Galadriel. "Yes, that is Angrod you're feeling right now.", she said. "He found a way to bind some of his energy to it."
"He did it then. You have to tell me how. I have not tried it again since you left.", Arafinwë replied with a shaky voice.
"Unfortunately, I don't know much, but there are some notes he left, and I have written down all I remember or others have told me." Galadriel pulled out a collection of writings wrapped into a leather folder. "I'm sure you will figure it out though."
She added: "The yellow crystals are Aegnor. Angrod was able to capture his essence as well. All the lavender ones are Angrod. The other ones I can't tell. Probably Elves I've never met or failed attempts. I do have one of each, so you can have the rest."
Arafinwë could hear the grief in her voice. He knew she wished for stones like this from her other brothers as well. For a memory of Orodreth, but especially one of Finrod. But to have at least Angrod and Aegnor, was an unmeasurable treasure as well.
///
Galadriel and Arafinwë spent the remaining days together in a tumult of emotions. There were tears of joy and grief. Hours just holding each other. Brushing each other's hair. Going on long rides. Laughter and silence.
Soon enough though Arafinwë was needed again in the war. And Galadriel returned to Eriador.
Arafinwë was glad that she had not decided to become involved in the fight. A few times it had looked liked Galadriel was thinking about throwing her previous decision to the wind when she saw how every warrior was needed. In the end though, she felt that her duties were with the people she and Celeborn were leading.
And so it came that at the end of the war, Arafinwë returned with the writings of his son and new ardor for long buried experiments.
Memories of Ambaráto
"Why is Findaráto always away or busy?" Ambaráto's light voice sounded quite miffed. "He is always playing with Amarië and never me."
A small body had thrown itself against Arafinwë's side who was sitting at his desk reading some letters. When he glanced down, Ambaráto's bright eyes looked up at him with annoyance.
"He's always giggling, but I don't understand what's so funny.", his youngest son added while pressing himself against his side. Arafinwë lifted his left arm to put it around Ambaráto's shoulders.
"Your brother is infatuated.", Arafinwë said. "At the moment, Amarië is like Laurelin for him. So bright and shining that he can't look away."
"But Amarië is just another elleth, Atto." Ambaráto was trying to climb up Arafinwë, so he lifted his son into his lap. "And my hair is brighter than hers.", Ambaráto said sincerely.
Arafinwë laughed. "That is true, Ambaráto. But what Findaráto is experiencing is more a matter of fëa then hroä. He has reached an age where his fëa starts to look for someone he can share his life with."
"But Findaráto has us to share his life with. Why does he need anyone else? You and Amil, me, Artaresto, Angaráto and Artanis, are we not enough?", Ambaráto asked.
"Well, most elves want to have a family of their own one day. Become a parent. Have children.", Arafinwë said.
"But Findaráto is still a child himself!", Ambaráto protested.
"So he is. But soon he will be grown up and able to marry. I was about the same age when I fell in love with someone for the first time. And a few years later I met your mother and behaved more like a fool than Findaráto is doing now."
Ambaráto was still not convinced: "But you are not staring at Amil all the time. Or always giggling when she is around. You have time for me and my siblings, and reading, and so much boring stuff."
Arafinwë was amused by his son's reaction to Findaráto's infatuation. "True. But there was a time I was doing exactly that." He chuckled. "But this state will pass for Findaráto, too."
"Maybe you can tell him that you miss playing with him?", Arafinwë asked. "I'm sure he didn't notice that he has not done that in a while." Then he whispered: "Next time Amarië is over, you can also ask him why he is staring at her so much. I bet his reaction is going to be gold."
Ambaráto was not sure why his father thought that such a question would get a reaction, but he decided to try anyway.
///
Ambaráto was giggling with delight now. The family was sitting at the table for dinner and Amarië had come as well. And so he had asked Findaráto the question his father had suggested. Findaráto's face had turned an amazing color, his jaw had dropped. His eyes kept looking at Ambaráto and then Amarië and back. Then he hid his face in his hands but his bright pink ear tips were still visible. It was very funny, Ambaráto thought.
Arafinwë at the top of the table had to hold back his laugh. The innocent voice of Ambaráto when he asked the question made the scene even more delicious.
///
That night Arafinwë was putting Ambaráto to sleep. The little one was still laughing from witnessing the embarrassment of his eldest brother.
"Findaráto's face was so funny.", Ambaráto puffed between laughs. "He was pinker than Amarië's gown!"
"You did a great job, Ambaráto.", Arafinwë said. "I'm wondering who will embarrass you like this when you fall in love."
"I will not fall in love.", Ambaráto declared. "Elves are only worth staring at for so long when they have food on their face or wear funny clothes. There is no one in the whole of Aman who I would ever want to marry."
Ambaráto was yawning and soon drifted off to sleep. And Arafinwë was glad that it would still take years until all his children left home for good.
Molmírë
The months after the return from the War of Wrath had been filled feasts and with wakes. Many of the Host of the West had fallen but many more returned. The ones who returned had a hard time to adjust to peaceful life again. New ways had to be found to heal bruised bodies and souls.
These new treatments came in useful when Elves started to return from the Halls of Mandos. Society in Aman had changed once again.
Arafinwë had suffered some physical injuries during the war, but the damage to his soul was more substantial. Due to the techniques he had learned after the Flight of the Noldor he already knew ways to deal with some consequences of being in a war.
One of the things he had learned was that doing handiwork helped with the intrusive thoughts and with balancing his emotions. So he sat down and experimented with crystals again. Angrod had made some major discoveries in Beleriand: how to make an imprint of a person's essence and how to store feelings in a crystal.
Arafinwë then worked out further things. Storing memories in a crystal - a variation of storing a person's essence. He used it to hold dear memories like his time with Galadriel when she visited the war camp in Beleriand. However, it was also possible to store bad memories and because most Elves wanted them gone they transferred almost completely leaving a much more manageable memory behind. This allowed for a way to treat trauma that had happened in the war.
From the storing of feelings, Arafinwë derived a way to feed back those feelings to an Elf wearing the crystals. This allowed him to create mood stabilizing crystals, another boon for Elves fighting with depression, bursts of anger and other aftereffects of war.
He founded the Royal Crystallariums of Tirion where more uses of crystals could be discovered and developed. Scholars from all over Aman came to study there and then brought their knowledge to every city in Aman.
Many uses for crystals were found. Arafinwë tried to stay involved as well as was possible besides his duties as King. He knew once Angrod returned, his son would be delighted to learn all about Molmírë, the art of Crystal-Work.
It was wonderful, how Aman was changing, Arafinwë thought. Compared to the Years of the Trees living in Aman felt livelier and swifter in this Second Age of Arda.
Epilogue
The Arafinwëans stood at the dock near Alqualondë. They were waiting for the last ship to arrive. Galadriel was finally coming back to Valinor.
Arafinwë's heart was beating heavily in his chest. It had been so long since he last saw her. Eärwen stood next to him, and he knew for her, it had been even longer.
His grief and longing had calmed down much compared to a few thousand years ago. Only two of his children were still missing from Valinor, Galadriel and Aegnor. For the first this would change today, for the second he knew that it would take until the Dagor Dagorath. He understood why his son had chosen as he did to remain in the halls. Finrod and Angrod had told of his love of Andreth in detail. He still missed Aegnor though, as they all did.
First Finrod had returned. Then Angrod quite soon after. Orodreth had taken his time but had been back for hundreds of years now.
And he had gained so much more family, so many grandchildren. One in particular was full of joy today, standing at the front of the crowd. Her mother and her husband were returning after all.
A blinding smile shone across his face. His jewelry jingled in the wind. Arafinwë was looking forward for the time to come: embraces, conversations, laughter, feasts, discoveries, dancing. He was sure his days would never grow dull.