Chapter Six: Betrothals. Part One.


Decisions! It seems a lot of folk I know are at decision points, or 'moving on points' in their lives. Some have just come back from holidays in Egypt! One is back from China. Some are thinking of going on a cruise to Alaska? Many are considering changes of work or/and house.

For me it is work! I have sat at my desk today, working my way through a pile of essays from my advanced level students. They are supurbly written, and interesting to read. But I have had enough! My husband has spent yet another Sunday working in the garden and making 'things' in his study and the garage. I would rather have spent some time with him. I would rather WE planned to go to one of those 'exciting' places.

But I have mixed feelings. I know I should come out of teaching at the moment, for my own benefit, and that of my family. In many ways I will be pleased about it. Time to do those things I have kept putting off. Time to breath, and to relax! Yet, at the same time, I will miss the children. A group passed me in the corridor on Thursday asking if I would be taking their class next year. (These being some of those I lost when I was assigned to take over the classes of my colleague who left!) I should have said 'no'! I wanted to say: 'Yes! I am looking forward to teaching you next year!' It is hard to leave teaching, even knowing I can return in the future, if I want.

The indecision it is that drives me mad! Teach for another year, or make a break now?

Then there is church! What am I going to do about that? Maybe having the time off will help me to clarify that decision, as well!

Whatever I do, I think I drawing is not an option! As is evidenced by my last minute sketch, in lieu of being able to find a picture!





Nerdanel's Story. Chapter Six: Betrothals. Part One.


(Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and the main story line are JRR Tolkien’s wonderful creations. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Vols 1, 10 or 12. Nothing is mine, except the interpretation and any mistakes, and in this chapter, and only in the sense they are derived from reading the works of Tolkien, the characters ‘Gaerion’, ‘Tulcon’, ‘Mötamë’ and ‘Alcarin’. Narwasar is the character of my friend and beta reader, Bellemaine, and used with her permission.)



“In due time the betrothal was announced at a meeting of the two houses concerned, and the betrothed gave silver rings one to the other. According to the laws of the Eldar this betrothal was bound then to stand for one year at least. During this time it could be revoked by a public return of the rings…Such was the law; but the right of revoking was seldom used, for the Eldar do nor err lightly in such choices…..”


(The later Quenta Silmarillion. Morgoth’s Ring J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien.)



The house of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age.



Did I err in my choice? Should I have revoked my initial pledge at the time of our betrothal: put as naught that bond of love first acknowledged in the orchard at my father’s house? Many would say I should have so done, and for my own happiness. Choice did I have, for none there were who would coerce a nís into any union; neither parents, nor betrothed, nor king. But never did I doubt him! Never did I doubt that we were meant to be together! Neither did I approach our relationship with eyes clouded, save with lack of years. I knew Fëanáro bore scars of pain that none other born in Aman could understand.

That his pride was, even in his youth, a matter of renown some do say should have warned me further. But I knew from the second time we met, that he wore that pride more as well crafted armour than as a blazing insignia. A shield it was, in the early years, and one that he would allow but few to pass. But he would allow me to pass, for I would seek to bring him joy and wholeness again. Once I had met him upon that hillside was my future as set, for I would have wed with no other!



Some it seems do wonder if he sought to bring any joy to my life? But again, do many assume I lived with only the worst of my lord’s character in evidence. Truly happy was I, and that for many a year. In memory do a multitude of examples fill my thoughts, but a few there are, so etched into my heart and fëa, that often it seems I seek to live in them again. Those memories have long given me sustenance. As I again contemplate the earliest days, one particular occasion comes to mind, one early instance of, for me, profound love.

.
It was the day Maitimo was born! His birth had not been overly difficult, but I was tired. I was lying upon the bed, in that state between resting my mind in dream and full consciousness. Soft covers had been drawn over me, and the room was full with birdsong and with the heady fragrance of the roses that grew on the upper terrace of the garden. Beside the bed, a crib had been drawn up from which a small sound of gentle, rhythmical, breathing ushered forth. As I came out of dream and my eyes focused, I saw the tiny copper-brown downed head moving, and little hands twitching, as Maitimo dreamt also. My beautiful one, my ‘well-formed’ one, had I already named him. So much did I long to touch him, to hold him to me, but I would not disturb his rest. Dear to me beyond any words that I could utter was he! Such a feeling of warmth and love for him flooded me then, so full was my heart that it was nigh unbearable. I must have drifted in paths of rest again, though in the corners of my consciousness I was aware of the hushed movements of the midwife and of my own mother, watching over me; over us.

When I next came out of dream it was to a feeling of warmth against my back. I realised that Fëanáro was lying beside me upon the bed, his energy flowing through me, engulfing and restoring me in soothing waves. He brushed away my hair from my shoulders, and his lips caressed my throat, my cheek, my brow, so gently, with a tenderness that could have broken me more profoundly than any of his moods.

“I thank thee, my Lady, my love!” he had whispered to me. “He is so strong, so full of the fire of life, so very beautiful, this son of ours.”

“And he looks like my father!” I had spoken forth that one thing that concerned me, about which I wondered at Fëanáro’s reaction.
.
“A little, mayhap. But rather say he has much of you about him!” he replied, with a slight, but amused, laugh, that alleviated my worry. “He has your colouring, beloved; but he has my mother’s eyes and may yet be more like me in mood, I deem.”

I trembled a little at his words, for I was still weakened from the birth. Observing this, he wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me tightly, protectively, to him.

“All will be well, Nerdanel. Soon will you regain your full strength, for I will give you whatever support, whatever of mine own strength you need.” I trusted my husband completely, knowing he had the power within him to so aid me. So I had sought rest again, melting willingly into him.

Some time later, when I again focused my eyes, Telperion’s light was flooding the room. I was alone on the bed and the crib was empty. For the smallest of instants did concern for my child’s whereabouts fill me. Then I saw, sitting in the window seat, Fëanáro, cradling Maitimo to himself, and speaking softly to him, and gazing on his firstborn son with the delight and wonder of a new father.

And, knowing that I had given my husband a gift that was precious to him beyond words, I was filled with joy. I was so happy then!


There were other days, of course, many other days of great delight. But one particular day do I now turn my recollections to. A day before our betrothal do I ponder, and one that was to end in me attaining my heart’s desire --- eventually!


****


In my family’s absence had Tulcon sought betrothal to Mötamë. Though both were young, they were approaching that age when they considered their wish to be espoused in the near future. A betrothal should, by law, stand for a year at least, and in a year and a half would they both be over five*, so their families had happily agreed to make public their intentions.

There was still no message out of Tirion, but my heart was gladder than of late, as I considered often the words of Aulë and of Yavanna. Was my own betrothal a possibility, I had wondered? What answer would I give to one who asked of me to be at his side?

‘Aye, Lord: willingly’, had I replied to Aulë’s question, and I had known of what the Vala spoke, though I had demurred at acknowledging it. I was very young; we all were of that second generation, but I knew my own mind as well as any could. I knew what I wanted, and that to be Fëanáro’s love. If he asked of me, then would my reply be a most certain ‘yea’.

My parents and I continued with our work. Urundil had still to finish his crafting of the gem for Oromë, and he had received a request from one of the loremasters for an intricate device with which to more clearly observe the realm of Varda. Never before had a device so complex for this purpose been made, and the challenge brought a smile to his face. That he asked me, as well as my mother, to assist him in this work was no small honour.

Now the house of Tulcon’s family was close unto ours, and my father, though engrossed in this new venture, had offered to host the occasion of the betrothal, and to serve the families himself. There was much delight amongst our community at this suggestion, for both Tulcon and Mötamë were beloved by all, and our home could hold many guests.

My mother, Taurlotë, and I, offered to help out as best we could, and we were to assist with the preparation of food and the decoration. I also offered then to help with serving the wine and seeing that none went without refreshment. Always have I loved my study and my work, but I enjoyed merriment also, and would enter wholeheartedly into this celebration for those who were my friends.


So when the day arrived, many were the visitors who graced my father’s house, both from our own community and from other places. The tables had been set out upon our lawns; those that backed onto the house, but stretched to the apple orchard, and down hill to the stream. A good variety of food was laid out, and musicians stood by. All was ready for that merry crowd that assembled, laughing, and speaking eagerly in anticipation.

When Urundil saw that those who were invited had gathered, he held up a hand for silence. Unlike a wedding, a betrothal came before the feast. This was the first such ceremony I had witnessed, and I watched with much fascination, and no little wonder, as the families of Mötamë and Tulcon stood forth, and made the announcement of their children’s intentions with great solemnity and delight. The couple then exchanged those rings of silver that were to be symbols of their love and commitment until they wed. And then the date was set, two years hence, for the ceremony in which they would finally become united. For a moment, the light caught the silver rings, and they seemed to glitter as brightly as those stars over the eastern sea.

‘Gaerion,’ I thought, with a hint of pain that the silver haired Teler would wish such a ceremony for us, ‘where are you now, my friend?” But there was no time for further contemplation, for my father had signalled for the feast to begin.

The time passed quickly as my mother and I saw to the needs of the guests. I was aware of music in the background, of harps and flutes and lutes and viols and I observed many couples dancing, but even had I desired to join them (and I did not!), the partner for whom I yearned was not present.

No rush was there to finish this gathering, and more food was brought out, while some began a song. My mother joined in here, for sweet and strong was her voice, and much appreciated by all.

Suddenly, there was the sound of riders approaching! I have said before, we had naught to fear in the Blessed Realm in those days, so the celebrations were not disturbed as my father excused himself and made to find out what news was being brought; to offer the riders a welcome cup, and other refreshments, in our house.

I knew it was he, before any word was said! I knew Fëanáro had returned at last. My heart quickened in anticipation of meeting, but what a time for him to choose! I was occupied helping our guests and serving, and though it was an honour so to do, I was not truly at liberty to speak with him.

Even so, I heard the voices of the new arrivals, mingled with my father’s. More than his familiar, rich, voice did I hear, for more than one rider had arrived. Now both bold and hesitant did I become, and that because I wished to see Fëanáro most urgently, yet did I wish not to appear forward in manner, as I sometimes did. For I suspected, but knew not of certainty, the reason for his presence. I thought to work my way hesitantly towards the courtyard, exchanging pleasantries, and enquiring as to guest’s needs as I went. So close did I get to my goal, but then was I asked by Tulcon’s father if I would bring more wine, and decided this would be best achieved by crossing the courtyard. No further excuse did I need!

Their backs were turned towards me as I approached. Three lords there were, dressed in finery, with sweeping cloaks: one of green, one of red, and one of blue with gold and silver threads, and jewelled belts were about their waists, and jewelled circlets were upon their brows. I had seen lords so dressed before, and on occasion at my father’s house, and in Valmar. Never before had I beheld him so attired. I thought then that my hopes were set too high, for he was most evidently the son of the king, and a noble and high lord in his own right. I, also, was well attired for that event: as a servant!


I heard Fëanáro speaking with well-measured words, almost an apology for intruding at such an inopportune moment. He asked then that my father would accept he and his two companions, whom he named as Ecthelion and Alcarin, as his own guests. It was unlikely that any would turn away the son of Finwë from their festivity, but a betrothal was a private celebration, and Tulcon, at least, would never have invited Fëanáro at that time. Little liking did Tulcon have for one he viewed as ‘out of place’ amongst the Aulenduri. But my father was always hospitable, and that regardless of status. At great pain was he to make these unexpected visitors welcome, and he suggested that, if they wished, Fëanáro and his friends mingled discreetly amongst the other guests.

“I shall speak this moment with Tulcon.” Urundil said. “Do partake of food and of wine as you wish, and there will be dancing again soon, if any of you so desire.”

“No wish have I to interrupt a betrothal. My errand concerns Nerdanel.” Fëanáro came straight to the point, halting my father’s departure. “She it is with whom I would speak!”

Upon hearing those words did my face redden, and not wishing my feelings to show so plainly to the two strangers accompanying the prince, I decided to avoid the very one whose presence I most desired. I attempted to retreat back to the lawns, but to no avail! My father had seen me, and with his usual pride in me, called me over to him. Drawing the deepest of breaths, that I caused no dishonour by my dress or demeanour, I complied, bowing my head for a moment, and wishing mightily to be elsewhere. But ten steps did I take, and when I looked up, my father and the two new visitors were gone!

The prince bowed to me in a most elegant and precise manner. Yet he was smiling as he beheld my attire, and the colour of my face.

“Well met, Nerdanel! No servant are you I see: save unto Aulë!” he exclaimed in a manner of mild sarcasm, recalling my words to him on an earlier occasion. Then did it seem that his expression softened at my discomfort, and he continued most earnestly in something of a conspiratorial whisper.

“I must speak with you alone, Lady. It is time I gave of you my mother’s promised gift!”

Clever words had I rehearsed with which to reproach him for his long absence when I saw him again; those words died on my lips. “Where have you been, Fëanáro? We have missed you here!” I confessed to my dismay.

The smile returned to light his features. So sure was he of himself, then and always.
“Your father has already informed me as to your distress at my absence. But I have had much to ponder of late; letters to compose, and crafting to undertake.” He paused, assessing my mood, and the best manner in which, undoubtedly, to gain his desired response from me. “A sculpture for your parents have I made, to replace in a measure something of theirs and some work in silver have I undertaken. But of this, and more, would I speak of with you in private.” Here he attempted to take up my hand, but I was holding a serving tray and kept it firmly in my grasp.

Embarrassed by my own reactions, but determined not to succumb to more hope than his words warranted, I made bold to speak, “My thanks you have, my Lord, but I have other guests to attend, as you can see. Though honoured I am by your request of my presence, your gift and words will needs wait yet awhile, until all has been done for the feast.”

He raised his dark brows, questioning, I suspected, my interpretation of his words as a request. But he nodded understanding of my predicament. “I have no wish to disturb such a joyous event as this, and I may yet partake of the celebrations myself,” said he. “And when you are at liberty to be excused, come unto me.”

I curtseyed to him, as was proper, though not as deeply as mayhap I should, for I held still the tray.

“Come find me as soon as you may,” he reiterated, deftly taking the tray from me as I turned, and placing it aside as he now caught up one of my hands firmly in his own. “Thou art truly more to me than any other maid, Nerdanel, daughter of Urundil, servant of Aulë. Most pleasing do I find thy company to be!”

I gasped at his forthrightness: my heart pounding with longing to go with him then, that he would speak more such words to me. Yet, though my fëa sang with joy at what I had heard, still was I in control of myself, and would behave with dignity. He did not loose my hand, and neither did I wish him to so do. But I had duties to be about!

“I must go!” said I, full of the import of the intimacy with which he had addressed me. “But I shall find thee, my Lord, as soon as I may!” At my form of response, at the look he must have beheld in my eyes, did he nod acceptance, releasing his hold, and I returned to the celebrations.


In earnest I tried to still my thoughts, I tried to turn my mind toward the serving of our guests. For some hour or so I succeeded, but I found myself wishing the time away, and that was a most ungracious deed.

The green-cloaked, light haired, Lord Alcarin I noticed partaking freely of the wine, though less freely of the food or company. Eventually he walked away towards the herb gardens with a full goblet. The Lord Ecthelion seemed to me to be more courteous. (As in fact he so proved over long ages; he was one of the most honourable of those lords of Tirion, though I knew it not for certain at that time.) He had circulated amiably amongst the guests, and joined in the singing at one point. His voice one of the most beautiful I had ever heard. Now, however, he too had a half consumed flacon in his hand and was wandering off a little unsteadily, probably in pursuit of his friend. At that point more dancing began, to a quick and lively tune that I oft enjoyed. I smiled to myself, imagining that at some time, perhaps even later in the celebrations, I would willingly dance to that music

“You need to think carefully and swiftly, daughter, if you have not done so already.” My father had taken a moment from his role as host, to be at my side. “If I have any wisdom at all, I would say the prince has something on his mind other than wandering the hills. He likes you well, I deem!”

I knew my parents were hoping Fëanáro liked me well, for did they not like him? But they valued my happiness far beyond any connection with the king’s son, as any true parents would. Before I could give answer to my father, one of his apprentices approached me, made a short bow and inquired if I would accompany him in the dance. With a show of regret and of the tray I had reclaimed, I declined his kind offer. He smiled, unperturbed, and moved on to ask another.

Fëanáro was watching this under his, lowered, dark lashes, and he rose from the seat he had taken on the far side of the lawns and strode purposefully towards me.

‘Not yet!’ thought I, struggling to contain my wish that my ‘service’ was at an end. It was just as well, for a few tables from where my father and I stood, he broke into a grin and with an courtly bow and sweep of his cloak, asked the lady at whose side he now stood to grant him the dance. It was my mother! That Taurlotë was surprised I am certain, but my father smiled too, aware of the game Fëanáro was playing.

‘I shall not stand idle and watch you showing off your fine skills at the dance, my Lord’ I thought with amusement, and to my father I said, “I will take a walk in the gardens to clear my head, and see if any have wandered there that require more food or wine. Later shall I speak with that exhibitionist prince!”

Urundil smiled knowingly at my departure. “And I shall keep him informed as to your whereabouts, Lady,” he added pointedly. “Now I must also be about my duties here, and your mother’s also while she dances!”



Taking in empty platters as I left the celebrations, I allowed myself to indulge in a feeling of delight that he was returned, and had spoken so fairly to me. But my happiness was to be short-lived! As I passed the garden, I overheard the voices of Fëanáro’s companions speaking together in one of the bowers. Neither lord had then caught sight of me, and it was in my mind that I should speak with them, at least to introduce myself and see if they wished for anything further for their comfort. Before I could make my presence known, I heard what I believed to be a slur on my name. I stopped to listen; horrified that such could be said openly.

An eloquent voice that I believed to be that of the dark-haired Ecthelion, was answering the initial insult. “I know what you say about Nerdanel, of your concerns, and I agree in part. Yet is that not some of her attraction? You will not change his mind, you know! Once Prince Fëanáro has decided upon a course of action, that action he will take.”

“But she has little finesse, little beauty compared to those ladies we know; compared to Tiriniel!” exclaimed the other speaker, the one who had made the slur and who I assumed to be Alcarin. “And that copper tone in her hair and reddened complexion is so unbecoming in a maid. Ai! I still cannot see why is he interested in her?”

“That is for him to know,” countered Ecthelion. “For my part, I think he sees and feels more deeply than we. Mayhap he finds that which meets with your distaste to be a thing of beauty to him.”

Alcarin spoke mockingly. “The hair you mean! You are still making reference to her hair. Her brown hair turns to flame when she stands in the light of Laurelin, and I understand how, being so unusual, it may well fascinate him. But he cannot mean to wed her so he can behold the flame in her hair at will. Why does he not just ask her for a lock?”

“I doubt not that is part of the attraction, but if it were that alone, it would make him but shallow beyond the measure of any Elda, do you not think?”

“What other possible beauty does she have? What other attribute that could ensnare him?”

That this lord Alcarin thought little of me was obvious. Fëanáro was attracted by beauty of a certainty. Was it not one of the characteristics of all the Eldar, that we should be the fairest of creatures, and have and bring forth great beauty? I knew I was not amongst the fairest of the nissi, but the thought that Fëanáro would value me on just the appearance of my hair had not occurred to me. And had he had not said upon our travels that I had ‘rare beauty’; had that not been the moment I had first moved in hope and love to him?

“Well, of a certainty will I say that Fëanáro is not shallow!” Ecthelion stated. “ Neither is he weak of sight, so he must find the lady pleasing. And from what I have heard of Nerdanel, she is most skilled in crafting, and eager for knowledge. That, also, will he find attractive.”

“I have heard him so speak!” Alcarin conceded, pausing also for a moment in which I felt my heart rise to my throat at what I might yet hear. “But it cannot be enough to seek to wed with her? Who wishes for a wife with skills in the crafts of the neri?”

‘Wed’ had Alcarin said. And ‘Wife’! Yet did those ‘friends’ question Fëanáro’s choice!

“I have also heard him speak much more of the skills of her father.” Now was Alcarin in full flow of words. “Can he not learn what he needs from Urundil without paying court to his daughter? My belief it is that Sarmo Urundil’s are the skills he truly seeks, for Fëanáro will not become an Aulendur himself, and he will overlook Nerdanel’s shortcomings to that end.”

At that point did I creep forwards silently, though much did I dislike my manner of stealth. I was in a position to see Alcarin shake his head with disbelief. “Why could he not look to my sister? She has fair beauty, and elegance, and she knows what would be expected of her. A match between two noble houses that would be, and fitting children would it produce. Nerdanel seems most pleasant of manner, but she knows naught of the life of Tirion, of its lords and ladies. He cannot mean to take her there with him. An embarrassment she would be to the house of King Finwë. Many would wonder greatly at the prince making such a choice! Let her visit the city with her family if she will, and let him look for a wife amongst those of more noble lineage.”

The mention of ‘wed’ and of ‘wife’ were still playing in my thoughts, but by then was I angry, though I knew not whether it was at this careless and uncivil assessment of myself, or at the suggestion that Fëanáro had only sought my company to ingratiate himself with my father rather than commit himself to Aulë.

I put down the platters I was carrying, least I threw them at those ‘Lords’, and I moved openly into the garden to confront the two whose opinion of me was so low.

“Sorry I am to have overheard such denigrating conversation about any nís! You, who pride yourselves upon your nobility and lineage, are guests in my father’s house, and at this betrothal by his vouching, my Lords!” I said, strongly implying I considered neither to be behaving as such.

Ecthelion looked up at me, aghast, and Alcarin looked away, embarrassed “Lady Nerdanel! We knew not you were there,” the first stammered in horror.

“That much is obvious!” I retorted sternly. “I have heard a truthful account of your thoughts, unpalatable though they are, and I would that you leave this place as soon as you may, for I care not for your company!”

By this time, Alcarin was sliding into his seat with discomfort, but Ecthelion was trying to sober himself, and he held up a hand to interrupt my words. “Lady Nerdanel, I fear you have only heard the last moments of our discussion, and one which you should not have heard at all. It would anger Prince Fëanáro to discover you learnt of his intentions in such a manner.”

I would have none of it! Those two had shattered my dream, and on a day that should have been a glad one.

“In that you have done me a service,” I continued, my wrath fed on a growing sense of betrayal. “I will not be used, even by such as him! In this place, my Lords, am I accounted as nigh a princess, though I do not have the arrogance to speak as such. If Prince Fëanáro values me only as a means to my father, if he thinks to endure my plainness to gain such influence, he is contemptible, and no credit to his father or to our people”

Ecthelion winced under the barrage of words, but I had no mercy for his discomfort, so distraught was I.“I should not lower myself to wed with such as he! Prince though his title may be, yet finer and more honourable neri are to be found amongst my father's apprentices, and amongst the Teleri, for that matter. You may tell him that as you leave!” (And it is still thought that my sons inherited all of their hasty temper from their father. Much of it, aye! But not all!)

“Lady Nerdanel, please..” Ecthelion, realising the extent of harm done, made to stand, and although I knew him the less blameworthy of the two, I maintained my attitude of command.

“What you speak about once you leave this place is your own business. For my part, though I greatly enjoyed the company of the prince, never has he intimated that we are anything other than friends. And now I think we shall no longer even be that.”

I did not wait for a reply, but turned on my heels and made back to the house, head held high and restraining every impulse to run. I would not cry! Though hot tears were in my eyes, I would not give those nobles from Tirion the satisfaction of seeing they had wounded me so. This was a time of merriment, of celebration for Tulcon and Mötamë, and I would not ruin it, I would not take attention unto myself.

Moving to aid my mother in bringing more wine to the guests, I studiously looked away from where I believed Fëanáro to be sitting. Neither did I care if he had received my instructions. But my change of manner was not so well hidden. Nay, not from him!

“Nerdanel?” Alas, he had seen my distress, and moving through those still engrossed in the dance, he crossed over the grounds to me.

I could not speak with him, so distraught was I. “No, my Lord Prince! I have not time nor mood for your company.” My voice echoed more sharply than I had intended, for he had done no wrong to me directly. But my mind was full of thoughts on my unsuitability; of what an embarrassment some considered me to be. In the heat of anger, did I resolve that I would not give anyone further chance to mock me. I would end this relationship that could not be, and now!

Moving to my side, he reached out to me, to touch, to offer support. “Tell me what has happened to distress you so, Nerdanel,” said he, though with some note of agitation in his voice.

“What has happened, my Lord? I have considered the words of your ‘friends’! I seek not to be numbered amongst the noble and beautiful of Tirion. An Aulendur I will become, and great in my own right; though that weighs of little value with some. Now must I bid you farewell. I have much to do both now and after the celebrations and have no further time to speak with you!”

I did not wait for his response, nor for him to dismiss me, as certainly he had the right so to do. But I mingled determinedly amongst those other guests. I kept my face as devoid of all emotion as I could, but heavy, indeed, were my hands about the serving for the rest of that time. I heard, a short time later, the sound of horses departing at a gallop, and knowing that my words and manner had driven him away, my heart nigh broke. But so be it, I had thought! I would not be mocked nor used! (So foolish was I then, to be concerned with my pride. I learned better thereafter however, and was not again to be so distressed by opinions that I had not reflected well upon.)

As we waved farewell to the guests, and the betrothed pair made their way back to the homes of their families, my mother spoke with much concern. “What has happened, Nerdanel? Why did Prince Fëanáro leave in such a temper? I saw him speaking with you, then his companion, Alcarin, spoke but a few words with him, and his demeanour changed almost instantly! He made the briefest excuse to your father and to Tulcon, and then was gone.”

“He does not love me, Mother!” I replied, but now the tears did run down my cheeks. “And no true friend is he to think as he does of me. We will speak no more of this, and if he visits my father, he will not see me.”


My parents had the wisdom then to let me be. That may well have been the end of my dreams, but I had in truth not heard all of those lords’ discussion, and I had wronged Ecthelion’s intentions, if not Alcarin’s. Most certainly had I wronged and underestimated Fëanáro.



All time is in Valinorian years.

Chapter Five: Aulë.

I am beginning to realise what a commitment it is to keep up to date with a blog. First thing in the morning is always a rush, with both my husband and I trying to get to work, and, invariably, both wanting use of kitchen, bathroom etc at the same time. In the evening I need to mark, and do preparation, and then it is time for bed! What a life! But I WILL get better organised. To that end, I have had news today that my application to have the rest of the summer term off school has been accepted. So Thursday 11th May will be my last teaching day! I shouldn't be so excited, because I love teaching, but I have been so stretched with work of late that all I can think of is having a few days to just sleep.

The next matter for consideration is whether I go back in September? Some of my colleagues keep telling me I am a 'natural', and the last thing I should do is leave education. Then my husband just wants me out of the school system. 'Do a Phd; do a writing course,' he says! I am not quite sure what I want. Therein lies the problem!


But at least I can absorb myself in my fiction writing at the moment. After a hard days marking of coursework, it is bliss to lose myself in Valinor again. LOL



Nerdanel's Story. Chapter Five: Aulë


(Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and the main story line are JRR Tolkien’s wonderful creations. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Vols 10 or 12. Nothing is mine, except the interpretation and any mistakes, and in this chapter, and only in the sense they are derived from reading the works of Tolkien, the characters ‘Gaerion’ and ‘Tulcon’. Narwasar is the character of my friend, Bellemaine, and used with her permission.)


“Aulë it is who is named the Friend of the Noldor, for of him they learned much in after days, and they are the most skilled of the Elves; and in their own fashion, according to the gifts which Iluvatar gave to them, they added much to his teaching, delighting in tongues and in scripts, and in the figures of broidery, of drawings and of carving. The Noldor also it was who first achieved the making of gems; and the fairest of all gems were the Silmarils, and they are lost.”

(Of the beginning of days. The Silmarillion J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien)



The house of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age.



I contemplate what lies before me, in the none-too-distant future. For I allow my fëa to consume my hröa, and this is unusual for one who has always dwelt in the Blessed Realm. I do not mean to bring anyone’s heart low with my talk of such. None have so chosen to do in many a year, not here, at least. If I choose to seek release from bodily form, it is not quite that same fading that my kindred in the Hither Lands have experienced. There indeed, did all of the remaining Quendi*, both Eldar* and Avari* alike, grow weary in hröa after much passing of time, and they were consumed eventually by their own fëa, so that the body remained only in love and in memory. Most, if not all, that linger in that which was called Middle Earth, are now so consumed. They are still there, those very few, but invisible to the eyes of the Secondborn will they be.

I speak of something else! In Aman, does the blessing of continuity of hröa and fëa exist. Once we who were born here reach fullness of being, reach our full strength, we remain in that state, aging only with the slow speed with which Arda ages. I may endure here in full strength until the End, as may all of my people. It is a choice I speak of when I talk of fading! Not a wish to ‘not be’, as was Míriel’s first intention, but a wish to be free of the pain and the burden of memory that in this Age ever presses upon me. While in the passing of the Ages, many have been returned to their kin, most of those who took part in the rebellion who so wished, (even Angaráto* and his son, though Aikanáro* will not return!), such is not possible for my family. Nay, it is said, not until the End may Fëanáro return! Sundered from my lord and our sons too long have I been. I, who have lived through so much, seek rest and healing, and consider evermore that only in the company of Námo Mandos will I find such.

Not that all my life has been sorrow. Far from it! Much of those first years, the years of the children, were ones of delight. Those years remain in my memory as the most happy, of times. And even after all of my sons had rebelled against the Valar and left Aman, all of my sons were under curse, there were times when joy again touched me. For there was much that my nature still compelled me to fulfil. I did not 'fade' when they departed Valinor, departed from my life, nor did I 'fade' when he died, though for long did I wish that I had died with him. In those years after that greatest grief, I was sustained by my own will and hope that one at least of my family would return to me. Sustained also, was I, by my parents and friends, and by Aulë.

****


Now it had happened that, due to my despondency regarding the absence of Fëanáro, and my realisation of Gaerion’s thoughts and hopes concerning me, my father recommended we rode out to the Great Court of Aulë, which bordered on the north of the open vale, in Valmar. Urundil wished to consult with Aulë regarding the crafting of a particular gemstone, intended as a gift for Oromë. He also wished for me to speak with that master of crafts concerning my own further training, and my desire to enter his service. With my parents and I, at that time, rode the highly skilled Narwasar, another of my father’s apprentices, and our most promising stonemason.

We spoke lightly together upon that journey through the Calacirya of plans and works we had in mind, but that had not yet been realised. For all four of us had eager minds and hands for the making of things, and it was our delight so to do, and to seek whatever guidance from our lord, Aulë, we wished. Aulë was, in those times, ever the friend of the Noldor, and would lead us in exploring and developing those gifts given to us by Ilúvatar to the fullest. As we journeyed on, past familiar landmarks, streams and rocks and hills that spoke to me already of many memories of my few years, of my many visits to Aulë, I found to my consternation that my thoughts turned often to him with whom I had last ridden this way. I had intended to befriend Fëanáro, (I allowed myself to think!), to be a companion who could ease his distress, but foolishly, I then thought, had I allowed my feelings for him to grow. And as it had been long since his last visit to me, I desired to put those feelings and hopes he had inspired aside, and pursue my life as I had before we had met. Yet he was not at all easy to dismiss from my thoughts.


Glad was I to arrive in Aulë’s Halls again. That wondrous house had been full of beauty for me from my earliest memories. The high vaulted roofs, and many of the walls, were covered with gossamer-fine webs woven with great craft from the glint of the stars, or from threads of gold and silver and iron and copper; all portraying some aspect of the themes of the Great Music, picturing many things that were, and some that shall be. (And some things pictured in Aulë’s house are yet to come to fulfilment, even as we speak!) I had always looked upon those webs with fascination, and endeavoured to see if the tales of any I knew were illustrated therein. But I had not at that time fully understood the design, so my mind had not grasped some of that which plainly lay before me.


My father spoke first with he from whom we held in such love and honour, and heard much praise from the Vala for his own recent accomplishments. As to Urundil’s request for aid, Aulë said that they would walk together in much discussion in the coming days, and all help and advice would be freely given. Then did the dark haired Narwasar stand forth, and make his request, at which Aulë nodded with approval and spoke encouragement. Narwasar was accepted as an Aulendur from that meeting onwards, and he received from Aulë’s own hands the band of copper to be worn about his head as the sign of his loyalty and devotion. At last, did the Vala turn to me, though in no manner did he make me feel the least of that group.

“I hear from Urundil that thou also wish to become an Aulendur, Nerdanel?” Aulë, greeted me that day with a foreknowledge of that which I sought. “ No small thing is this for thou to ask, for first among the maids of the Noldor art thou to seek such of thine own accord.”

I curtsied deeply to Aulë, whom I trusted beyond all. “But never has it been said that nissi* may not do that in which neri* delight! For are we not equal in all things? In inclinations and interests do we often differ, but even that is not always so, my Lord!” I stated with boldness.

Aulë smiled at me, almost with fatherly affection, and I was well pleased with his attention. (Always did Aulë desire to love and teach others, so they may better understand the wonders of Eä.)

“Indeed, both are equal, save in the bringing forth of children,” he replied. Then he paused for a moment in consideration. “From birth have I known thee, little maid, and seen thy progress. Thou doest honour me by thy request! Thou would I trust with those secrets of lore that only those most devoted to me know. And other things also do I hope for thee.”

My father stepped forward again, to speak more praise of me and to elaborate upon my growing skills with metalwork. Aulë allowed Urundil to indulge himself in this boasting, though it made me feel rather uncomfortable, but at last, seeing my discomfort, the Vala raised a hand for my father to pause.

“Peace, Urundil! Of thy love and pride of thy child do I know in detail. But tell me now of that other child of the Noldor who has been paying visit.”

I must have looked startled at this turn in the conversation, and I glanced sideways to my father. Surely Aulë meant Fëanáro?

“The son of Finwë has had occasion to visit with us, although he has not done so of late. He rides out or walks in the hills with Nerdanel, rather than visit with me, however.”

Aulë smiled, rather too knowingly to my mind. It seemed to me then that the master smith had already heard much of Fëanáro’s visits, and from whom but the prince himself?

“That is good to hear, for he has much in common with her. He also speaks most highly of thy daughter to me.” With those words did Aulë confirm my suspicions, and quicken my heart. “And his works, his skills; how doest thou find them, Urundil?”

Here did my father pause, reflecting upon the honest answer that he would of course give. He had only spoken of crafting with the prince a few times, and they had spent some time in the forge, but it was little on which to deliver such an assessment. At last Urundil raised his head.

“My Lord, he is the most perceptive Elda I have ever spoken with on matters of crafting. The delight of creation is in him, and the desire of mind to make things new and wonderful. Great skill has he already in mind and in hand, and if he will learn to use his knowledge well and to take counsel and instruction from others then I deem that few if any will surpass him.”

“That is well!” Aulë spoke thoughtfully. “Indeed, it is more than well! Greatly do I love the son of Finwë, for I see in him more skill like unto mine own than in any other that is, or that will ever be. Much may he do for the glory of Arda in the fullness of time. I would have him learn from me, so do thou teach him, when and as he wills, with my blessings. If he asks for mine own aid, even that will I give unto him. But a warning I give also, for I tell thee now, great though thou art, Urundil, he will yet surpass thee by far!”

My mother touched my arm, and we both looked to my father’s expression, for these could be bitter words to one in his position. Proud of his skills my father was, and he took his responsibility seriously, though also with much joy. But this was Urundil, who had watched Aulë take counsel from and praise others, and who would always listen to others himself.

(Indeed, often did my father speak of humility as a virtue; something that not all Noldor seemed to consider! I grew up most familiar with the account of how Aulë, in his humility, had been prepared to destroy the work of his hands, the Dwarves, because he had fallen into folly. Though such an account was, most likely, but a tale, such an example from a Vala was one I held dear for many ages. I should have liked to meet with a Dwarf, with one of Aulë’s strong and stubborn children. One there was who came to Tol Eressëa in the Fourth Age, a friend of a Sinda Prince, and of she whom is known to many as Galadriel, but I know as Artanis. He died long ago, that Dwarf!)

My father bowed before Aulë. “It will be joy to aid one who so has your favour, my Lord! Though first was I concerned about his mood, now that I have met with him, and spoken freely, do I see him differently. When he surpasses me in skill, which cannot be many years hence, then it is all to the good, all to the glory of Eru!” (At that name did I bow my head for a moment. We spoke not often of Eru, understand. To speak aloud the name of Iluvatar, the Father of All, was a solemn matter.)

“And thou will help him also? Thou wilt be at his side if he so asks?” questioned the Vala.

It took a moment before I realised Aulë now spoke to me, and I was reminded of that request from Míriel to give her aid. Prompt was my response. “Aye, Lord, willingly, if I can! My skills exceed his only in stonework at the moment, however.”

Aulë laughed then, deep and rich, a sound of the earth itself. “Thou knowest well of what I speak, Nerdanel. It is not of stonework!”

Colour rushed to my face, as it had not for some time. “Dost thou find Fëanáro pleasing to thee, lady?” Aulë asked, more kindly.

“Aye, my Lord! I find him exceedingly pleasing,” was my soft spoken reply, and no truer words could I have said. But bold daughter of Urundil though I was, self-consciousness threatened to overcome me, and with a curtsy, I begged to take leave of Aulë for the moment, to walk amongst the trees of the Court.

The Vala looked at me with good humour for a moment more. “With him, thou could create works beyond thy dreams,” he said, “If it is thy will also! But take thy leave now, and reflect upon what has been said. I welcome thy fealty at any point thou dost choose to give it, Nerdanel, but think well upon what it will entail.”

****

As I wandered under the green canopy of the trees, I thought to lose the redness in my face, but the mere recall of Aulë’s question and statement caused me to blush anew. Fëanáro liked me well enough to speak of me with Aulë, and the Vala’s implications were that, far from being at an end, our relationship had only just begun.

“It may be,” I said aloud, believing myself to be alone, “that nothing will come of this,” though my heart wished otherwise. “And Aulë will take me into his service and in that will I be content.”

“And thou will follow not where love leads? The affinity of fëa is a sacred matter, and not easily set aside,” replied a musical voice.

Were the look on Yavanna Kementári’s face not so sympathetic, I would have nigh perished of humiliation! The tall, green clad, spouse of Aulë motioned for me to come and walk beside her and, with a face as hot as fire, I complied. In spite of my determination to speak not of Fëanáro before I had time to ponder Aulë's words, I soon found myself relating to her all that was in my heart, all my hopes, not only concerning the prince, but of becoming a chosen servant of her spouse.

Yavanna patiently listened to all, offering me a golden fruit that had fallen from one of her trees as we walked. We paused at the edge of a small clearing, and she looked at me thoughtfully, as if seeing my future unfold. “Think well before thou dost make any vow, Nerdanel, either to he who would be thy life’s companion or to my husband’s service. Both vows would be binding upon thee, and may not be broken! And if thou doest promise to serve Aulë, sincere though thou art, I see a time when thy loyalty to him will be put sorely to the test. And thy heart will be pierced with sorrow.”

I did not dare ask her what she saw. Had I known the answer, I would have had to abandon hope of ever being Fëanáro’s bride or Aulë’s vassal, and I would do neither!

But then Yavanna took on a happier frame of mind. “Thou doest honour my spouse by thy sincerity, lady. He knows that thou would willingly be viewed as different in order to serve him.” She smiled. “This I honour in turn, and say to thee truly: thou shalt bear much fruit, whichever of the two roads ahead thou chooseth to take, and thy creations will be renowned in this land, and mayhap in others.”

I bowed my head in reply, stubbornly determined to travel both roads. Of the folly of that decision have I long ago repented!



*
Quendi = Original name for Elves of every kind.
Eldar = ‘People of the Stars”. Used here to refer to the Three Kindreds only; the Vanyar, Noldor and Teleri.
Avari = ‘The Unwilling’. Name given to all those Elves who did not originally journey West.
Angaráto and his son = Angrod and Orodreth.
Aikanáro = Aegnor
Neri = He Elves
Nissi = She Elves

Chapter Four: Wanderings.


Time flies, it really does! I was on a two week break, and thought I had the luxury of doing almost anything. Now I am back at school! Where does the time go? When you do something you really enjoy, there is never long enough to enjoy it! When something becomes a pain, it lasts almost forever.

Not that school is a pain, but the lack of time is always frustrating. And I came back to heaps of marking of coursework! So much for chapter three!

No news from the hospital, so I think they are happy with my brain. Good for them!


Nerdanels Story: Chapter Four: Wanderings.


(Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and the main story line are JRR Tolkien’s wonderful creations. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Volumes 10 or 12. Nothing is mine, except the interpretation and any mistakes and in this chapter, the characters Gaerion and Tulcon.)


“Finwë lived in sorrow; and he went often to the gardens of Lórien, and sitting beneath the silver willows beside the body of his wife he called her by her names. But it was of no avail, and Finwë alone in all the Blessed Realm was bereaved of joy. After a while he went to Lórien no more, for it increased his grief to see the fair form of Míriel that would not hear his call”


(The Later Quenta Silmarillion. Morgoth’s Ring J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien.)


The House of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age


Estrangement! What a simple word it is. What agony it was and is, for one who should still be with her lord and her love.

It is recorded in certain writings of me, that: “.. after long endeavouring to change Fëanáro’s mood, she became estranged. For her kin were devoted to Aulë.”

Just a sentence; in any works I have read that mention me is the agony of my decision expressed in just a sentence. No more! How does a sentence do justice to the bittersweet memory of such passion and sorrow? How does it do justice to enduring a near eternity, parted from him?

Now marriage is the natural course of life for all of the Eldar. There are exceptions. Some very few never find the one they desire to espouse. Some others have the misfortune of loving one who cannot return their love in the manner they wish; or love yet another. And often do such as these remain solitary for a time, even as Indis first thought to do. Yet most of those who so suffer do wed eventually. No honour is there in spending a life in longing for what might have been. But a waste of joy it is! To give of one’s heart’s love to someone who returns it not must be a terrible anguish; yet only when love is accepted, and returned, does the bond between a couple become fixed in their fëar. Only with the bodily union of love, that achieves marriage, does that bond become indissoluble.

But to be sundered forever from one who has returned that love for many a year, and though a deep sense of companionship, through the union of love and the bearing of many children; that is a pain few understand.

Not as Finwë was, am I! To what end should I wish to wed again? Am I, after the events in my life, to bear more children or to seek another’s embrace? By no means! I have no desire to wed again, for to Fëanáro was my heart’s love given, once and for always.

And my marriage, it is not sundered. Despite what many believe, never have I sought that pronouncement from the Valar to end our union.

“But he may not return,” others say unto me. “By Mandos’ Doom are you sundered. It is no true marriage that cannot be resumed in hröa during the life of Arda.”

There is truth to their words. Yet marriage is more than of the hröa. Marriage proceeds from the will of the fëa, and while that will remains, it cannot be ended. I will no such ending, and neither, do I believe in the more profound of my moments, does Fëanáro.”

I, who love the Valar, will give no aid in their condemning of him to be forever disembodied. I will not add my doom on him to theirs! Even though I believe there can be no forgiveness for his deeds, that I can be with him only in memory, yet in my heart do I have a measure of peace that I have not condemned my husband as Finwë condemned his first wife. I chose not the path of justice, but of hope!

“You chose to become estranged from him, to dwell apart and become as those who knew each other not. You would not go with him into exile, nor would you go with him to the Hither Lands! You knew he was become rebellious; fierce and fell of mood.”

Aye! My choice it was! But those who speak do not understand.

Wrong was I to leave him when I did. Wrong to walk away, when he had such need of me. And I can never put right that betrayal.

He did not want me to leave him. Little to Fëanáro’s liking was my refusal to accompany him to Formenos. Even less to his likening was my request of him that I might dwell with Indis. Many do think that he loved me not, nor had time for me once his heart was bound to the Silmarils. They do not understand the different forms of love, those who so speak. So much of his skill, of himself did he pour into their crafting that his heart was bound to the Silmarils, and he loved them as himself! As if they were his very heart, it was; and when asked to give of them to Yavanna, to break them, was it as if he was asked to break his own heart, and so be slain. I understood that. But he who thought he possessed the Great Jewels was yet possessed by them. And because of Moringotho, he was blinded to the truth and could not see clearly to free himself from the entrapment.

I should have gone with him to Formenos. I should not have given up on him so soon. Long did I endeavour to change his mood, but not long enough! For was I also influenced by the deceits of Moringotho, that Fëanáro be isolated from all and any who could bring him wise counsel.

Those last few days we spent together, when I went to him at Manwë’s bidding; did we not come to an understanding then, he and I, that would have seen our love fully renewed? So should it have been, and we would not have parted; nay, never again would we have been as strangers.

And he wanted me to go with him to the Hither Lands! Even, in that mood of angst hardened heart, did he attempt to use our sons as bait, saying that if I wanted to be with them, then must I needs be with him! False wife did he name me; never false mother, for it was of himself he was thinking, and that he could understand not my disloyalty to him. That in the time of his greatest pain he understood not how I could withhold a wife’s love and comfort from him.

Estranged! How I detest the word.

For I miss him so! I miss the overwhelming sense of his presence: his unfailing energy, his sharpness of mind, his voice, his touch. I miss his love for me! Though I have said there is no honour in living a life in longing for what might have been, do I not, in the case of my husband, sometimes do just that? His deeds grieved me more than he ever knew. I wept when I left him to dwell with Indis. And I wept when he left Valinor: for him, for our sons, for our people. But after the oath, I could not have gone with him.

In my memories is he ever that brightest of our folk. Though it is oft said that he epitomised the worst traits of the Noldor, yet did he epitomise the best, also. Far less has ever been recorded of that side of his nature, for few are the loremasters who would so write. So will I attempt to redress the balance in this account of mine.

And though I abhorred the rebellion, the oath, the kinslaying; though the horror of his later actions weighs most heavily upon me, never, ever have I stopped loving him.


****


So we rode to the halls of Oromë! What to say to one who has visited them not?

Right was Fëanáro to give me of warning. There was much boisterousness and mirth in that place of the Lord of Forests: a veritable celebration of life and strength and prowess. Much feasting were we to partake of, and wine that was golden-red rich with an aroma of bounteous harvest invigorating of fëa and hröa alike. Not used to such heady drink was I, and took but a sip before I found myself spluttering in a most unbecoming manner. Fëanáro had smiled knowingly at me but said naught. Yet did I notice that he drunk but sparingly himself.

He had gifted Oromë shortly after our arrival with a belt in which was set fine cut emeralds, and a goblet encrusted with rubies and emeralds so as to take uncanny appearance as of berries upon the bough. Pleased was the Valar with such gifts, and enquired if they were of the prince’s own device. Of course they were! And I had not seen skill their like before: with beauty and detail that all but took away my breath. I had not realised earlier quite what the naming of Fëanáro as the skilled son of Finwë meant. Skilled beyond any of our apprentices were those works. Beyond even my father, mayhap?

After the welcome cup and gifting we sat nigh the Vala in that low, wide, tree-supported hall, listening to his many tales of many years. And at times, when he recalled a particular fell deed, did the building reverberate around us with the depths of his anger. A formidable presence was Oromë and all the more so when he took upon himself the raiment of physical form. Far more formidable to my mind was he than my Lord Aulë. Mighty though the Master of Crafts is, yet had I known him since I was a babe, whereas Oromë I had only ever viewed from a distance. Though I liked not to admit any weakness in being a wendë, glad was I that Fëanáro kept me close company in that place.

“What means this? That thou dost visit me in company of a maid; prince of the Noldor?” Oromë had asked of my escort. A knowing look had been in his sharp, amber eyes.

“It means that I chose her company upon my travels, my Lord Oromë,” Fëanáro had answered simply. Yet the knowing look did not fade from the Vala’s expression, and he made much regard of me.

“Thou art welcome in my halls, Nerdanel, daughter of the House of the Fox! Of thy reputation for pursuit of knowledge and understanding have I heard from Aulë. May it be that thy understanding is put to good use! Yet would thou not rather withdraw to the gardens, to the company of my spouse and her ladies?”

I had risen to my feet before him, and given curtsy most proper. “Nay my lord. Though I thank you for your concern. I would remain with the prince, and hear what he would hear; else of what purpose is my company to him?”

Oromë laughed loud and long. “Of much purpose, I deem. But valiantly said, little one.”

So did we learn more of Oromë’s meeting with the Quendi and of the wonder he had felt at beholding the first of our people. Did not such a realisation cause us wonder in turn? It was one of those things spoken of by some who had lived in those times, by King Finwë, had Fëanáro said to me; yet to hear it for ourselves brought new meaning to the histories.

Of the dread of our fore-bearers upon meeting with the Hunter we also knew, and that was something Oromë spoke of with much understanding: with more than a hint of stern temper at the lying whispers of Melkor. And did I not learn something hitherto unknown to me concerning Aulë; that he was grieved at the war made by the Valar for our deliverance out of misgiving of the hurts of the world that would result!

In answer to our questions, did we hear again the reasons for the bringing forth of the three kindred to Aman; and that for our protection, but even more so because the Valar were desirous of our company.

“Thy people were brought hence after Melkor was subdued. Yet do creatures and servants of his still remain in the darkest of places, in the hidden vaults and caverns of the north and in the wastes of Arda. So still do I venture forth at times, that less of them there will be to confound us.”

Three days we spent with Oromë and his people, and a most enlightening time it was. But upon our departure, before we rode north from his halls and woods, one of the Vala’s servants, Pallando, brought forth a gift from his master for my companion. A small, intricately carved wooden box it was, which when opened revealed a single leaf, untouched, as was all in Aman at that time, by decay.

“From a tree that stood by the waters of Cuiviénen,” offered Pallando. “To gift your noble sire upon your return to Tirion as a remembrance from my lord.”

A gift did Oromë also give to Fëanáro, and of one of his own horses. Alone in Valinor in those days did Oromë keep a stable of fine, black horses to hand; but it was a silver-white creature, Tyelperocco, fleet of foot and untiring in any pursuit, that he gifted the prince.

To me was given a cutting from a rose that grew in the gardens of Vána, the spouse of Oromë. A colour of deepest red touched with golden dew was its bloom, and with a fragrance like unto the richness of Oromë’s wine. An interesting choice of gift!

“My lord is much impressed with your loyalty and tenacity, Lady Nerdanel. Yet does he seek to remind you that there can be many forms of knowledge and understanding that are of value to nér and nís, and they not always the same.”

With heartfelt thanks did we depart that place. I thought we would return to the Calacirya and my home, but a form of wildness and desire for further exploration was upon Fëanáro that he would have us ride northwest. Happy was I to accompany him further.

“Most impressed am I with your tenacity, lady,” Fëanáro said as we had ridden north through the forest glades. “I had thought it only a matter of time before you sought refuge in the gardens of Vána, even as that Valie oft does!”

Almost had I bushed at his insinuation, but not quite. I turned the conversation to that with which I felt more at ease.

“While we are about the exchange of compliments; most impressed am I with the skill of your hands, Prince Fëanáro. Never have I beheld work so exquisite.”

Never would he have blushed! He smiled a little, but his expression was not easy to read. “A compliment on crafting from one who would serve Aulë! Is that not a compliment indeed!”

He was playing of games again, and yet his words were not unkind. As we reached the edge of the forest line, he urged his mount to a gallop.

“Let us see if you ride as well as you pronounce judgement upon other’s works, Lady Aulendur!” he called back to me. Though my dappled mare was not one of Oromë’s stock, yet was she willing and eager, and I gave what challenge in race that I could.



****


Upon our leaving of the woods, Fëanáro and I rode northwest, further across the plain of Valinor than I had ever been. We came upon the edge of the domain of Irmo Lórien, a land of tall, fragrant firs and many lakes and streams. Mighty rocks there were, and waterfalls cascading down deep gullies in the hillsides like pale, silver threads. The colours of that land were rich and deep; greens and purples and blues, all shimmering in the sublime glory of gathered light from the Trees. And the air, heavier than in the Calacirya, was permeated with dewdrop radiance. A place of bliss it was and of profound beauty that filled the fëa with desire to give forth of song in praise of creation, and challenged one to explore further.

We thought from our previous knowledge, and from Oromë’s descriptions that the place must be similar to the land in which our fore-parents had awoken. As Cuiviénen must have been, but embraced by the fullness of light, it seemed. Leaving the horses to roam as they saw fit until we called for them, we wandered, and I was lost in wonder at what I beheld. Mayhap it was the awe of beauty beyond anything I had seen that was upon me; mayhap it was the first stirrings of a longing for my companion far beyond the desire of any friendship; but my heart was moved as never before. And as I watched, it seemed that delight in discovery took hold of Fëanáro also that, to me, his earlier arrogance was as naught; that I journeyed with one in whom I found little fault at all.

That time, that place; it is still in my mind with clarity of detail. We do not forget, however small, any memory. Those were still the early years, and though the Noldor were ever wanderers and discoverers, but a small part of Aman had been explored. Fëanáro and I wandered in a land upon which no child of Eru had then set foot. As two children re-living the awakening at Cuiviénen were we, though the shadow of the shadow of evil was again drawing nigh.

Most courteous was my companion towards me upon that journey, and treated me from the start as a maid to be escorted and assisted at need, rather than another seldor; yet did he set a most demanding pace. It seemed that he expected much of me; for though he kept close watch he did not make to indulge me as something overly delicate and he asked of my thoughts and opinions and of my advice even on matters of craft, as I had rarely seen any noble lord so do with a lady. And I pondered upon our developing relationship, that it was almost as if I were his close friend, the companion he had implied he wished me to be. Almost! For all my inexperience and youth did I realise that he kept a most close watch upon me, and when I was in no possible danger, and when he thought I knew not what he was about!

He had smiled openly at my attempts to climb the hillside as swiftly as he, for he was truly swift of movement in most of what he did. But I, too, had cause to smile when his recklessness induced him to stumble on a loose shale incline, and I was left to catch hold of him, least he tumbled into the gully below.

“So strong of arm are you, Nerdanel! All that working with metal and stone has made you most formidable,” he had addressed me with some amusement.

I must have given the impression that I was insulted by his words, for he held his peace after that, walking a short distance from me until we came to the green slopes again, and there he took up a wildflower and placed it in my hair. “Strong and tenacious, aye, and that is no bad thing. For all the beauty of the roses of Vána, do I find the wildflowers of Yavanna to be more to my liking. A rare and subtle beauty do they show forth, like unto yourself.”

Though I had been pondering his attitude towards me, those words of his struck me with unexpected force that near claimed my breath. He thought me beautiful? I had never thought that of myself, because it had not occurred to me as a small child, and because after that highborn lady’s words, which I was meant not to hear, I knew it for truth. Pleasant of feature was I, mayhap? But I was no beauty; less all mirrors I had looked in gave lie. Yet as I looked in his eyes I beheld no deceit, no game, no wish to mislead. Always one to speak as he felt was he, and that time was no exception. Now was I the one to hold my peace, though I managed a blushing acknowledgement of his gift. He walked much closer at my side after that, and spoke to me in as gentle a manner as he could. (So hard did he find it to be gentle in word and nature, so hard to make slower a pace with his wishes, but noble was he, and knew well the behaviour expected of courtship.) But he must have known in that moment that he had me nigh snared; that little more would it take to win me, if such was truly his intent.

That moment it was when I first imagined being at his side in ways other than as companion; I wondered what it would be like to be his lady? Though the differences in our status made me think such an outcome unlikely, yet would he not have so spoken to me unless he had more interest than a friend. So did my heart move further in hope and in longing towards the son of Finwë.

Twice did we take of rest on that journey, lying upon our cloaks, which we had spread out under trees in places that had particularly appealing views. When I had thought him in dream, had I looked to him most observantly, for aware was I of his growing power over my heart and much as I liked him, would I not consider most carefully my future?


His unfocused eyes were turned towards the twilight sky of the gardens to the west, but then, without seeming to regain full consciousness, he spoke.

“Strange it is, that Aman is more astonishingly beautiful when viewed with another. That it seems to me the wandering and exploring I had done hitherto alone was but as the first course of rich and inviting banquet.” The manner of his words left me unsure whether to give him of answer or no? But he wanted answer!

“What are your thoughts, Nerdanel?”

Fully awake was he, and turned from lying upon his back, to his side; to face me directly. It was proper for me to hesitate, to ponder my reply, but he asked again. “How do you find this journey of ours, lady?” Not his usual commanding tone it was, but a softened whisper, reminiscent of the precise delicacy of his mother’s voice. I believed him to be speaking from a heart full of emotion, and that much connected with the pain of separation he had suffered.


“I find it is as if I am awaking from dream. As if the beauty I have lived in is but a shadow world and only now do I fully perceive the vibrant glory of this land. I feel more alive than I can ever remember, Prince Fëanáro.” Though there were many times when we were to make game with each other, and that a manner of the showing of love, yet then did I give him the truth of my thoughts, because I already knew such was his by right.

His brilliant eyes held mine for a moment more and I met that gaze openly, steadily, for what else could I do?

“Alive!” again came that soft whisper, and a smile that held great warmth. “Aye! More alive do I feel than any day since my mother departed.” But then he turned again onto his back, to look to the west, to that place wherein his mother’s body lay.


****


The bliss of that journey drew to an end as we drew nearer my father’s house. Fëanáro had again assumed a serious manner, and spoke but little as we rode across the Calaciryandë into the western end of the Calacirya. Something lay ahead of him in Tirion that pleased him not I had suspected, and so it proved.

“My Lord Prince; sad would it be to lessen the joy of these last days as we return east. Yet do I think that in some way I have disappointed you, that you keep such close council of your thoughts?” Though I was bold to make such a point, did I know he had no issue with me. The matter was something else entirely.

He glanced at me, thoughtfully, wondering if I was old enough and wise enough to hear of his news. Then, slowing the pace of Tyelperocco to a walk, he drew closer to my own horse, though none there were that could possibly overhear our conversation.

With little more than a whisper did he who was so masterful in voice speak forth, that by such did I realise his coming words were ones that caused him much pain.

“My father grows embittered in mood, and has forsaken his vigils by my mother’s body. No longer does he call upon her to return to him, but wanders the hills in his loneliness.”

Fëanáro was speaking of two matter: of his own loneliness, as well as of his father’s, I perceived. It seemed to me that he must have felt as if both parents were lost to him. And did I not know, did we all not know, that great was the love of our prince for his parents?

“Loneliness must be a sorrowful thing, my lord; though young am I, and know not such anguish.”

I did something then that mayhap I should not have, for though we were friends, he was the son of the king, and I but the daughter of a smith, albeit a great smith! I reached over to lay a hand upon his arm, in a gesture of comfort and warmth.

“But most noble are you, and your sire also. And do not all in this land hold you both in great esteem. Your people do share in your sorrow, for what it is worth, and ever wish for healing for your father. May it be that your mother is soon restored in hröa. May it be that your father’s loneliness is lessened; and yours, also.”

He willed his horse to a halt, and mine also. For an instant did I fear he would berate me for speaking so to him. But his eyes shone most brightly, and he reached over to take up my hand in turn.

“Why Nerdanel: you care for me!” said he openly, as if surprised at the discovery.

No game was he playing with me, neither was his mood one of lightness. As if my words had touched his heart did it seem, that I began to wonder on what love and council had been given him by others. But had I not thought to be of aid to him, to lift up his heart if he would but allow. So did I wish to do.

“Of course, my Lord Prince. Am I not one of your father’s people? Am I not your companion?” I kept the tone of warmth in my voice.

He released his hold on my hand, looking at me most questioningly; then again we urged our horses forward though at a more ambling pace.

“But I understand not that your father is bitter? How can there be bitterness in love?” Hesitant was I to continue along that line of conversation. Yet it occurred to me that, as many did but obey the prince without a thought, so, mayhap, did many shy away from speaking of matters that weighed upon his heart.

“Surely, given enough time to regain of strength, your mother will return to her lord and to her son? Surely your father realises that, while Queen Míriel misses the later years of your childhood, and early years of your youth, she will wish again for the use of her body, and return?”

He seemed to stiffen of back, and drew breath, as if I had touched upon that which he struggled with. “My father says not! He says he knows of my mother’s stubbornness in this matter, and that she will never return. And the Valar also say it is not her will. But to my mind, they have not given her time enough. Never is long indeed, and it is in my thoughts that at some point she will recant that doom they believe she has chosen, and seek to be among us again.”

So therein lay the heart of the problem! While we had thought our king to be deprived of his lady wife’s company for some years, yet did he and his son have different points of view. Míriel was never to return? I could not encompass such a thought at the time.

I was presumptuous enough to urge Fëanáro to be supportive of Finwë through the trial that affected them both. “No room is there in Aman for despair”, had I said to him, thinking myself far wiser than I was. “Will not the Valar seek to redress your father’s pain?”

Fëanáro listened to my counsel, though he took it not. At last he sighed. “It is a complicated matter, Nerdanel. You are right in that you are yet young, and though you mean to be of cheer, you understand not what may ensue.”

I did not understand then, that he was speaking of his father’s cry for justice! That Finwë was not content to endure and grow in patience and full love, but wanted another path made for him, whereby he could yet get more children that he so desired. But soon enough, as years are accounted, was I to be amidst the strife in the House of Finwë.


****


My mother had returned from her visiting. She was grim faced, indeed, as we rode into the courtyard of my home. But polite; never could it be said that Taurlotë was impolite to visitors! She it was who offered Fëanáro the welcome cup, though her complexion was nigh as grey as her gown as she did so. Fëanáro stayed but a short time; enough to speak with my father about a sculpture he was thinking of working on, and with my mother about our travels, and the works of Rúmil. I watched her demeanour change as he deliberately sought to speak with her of that which held most her interest. So eloquent and persuasive was he that, by the time we watched him depart, my mother was, to my surprise and pleasure, quite captivated by him! That high opinion of him was not to change, even in the times of trouble.

“And what of his arrogance now, Mother?” I had said to her.

She smiled warmly “Now do I understand your interest, Nerdanel. Few have I ever met who could favourably compare with this Prince. Fëanáro is more like his father in appearance than his mother, I think, and in his skills with language. Yet is there not also much of her about him? But to find so much learning in one so young, and one who has such presence! If only--!”

“If only what, Mother? Are you still, vexed about something?” So happy was I with the way events were developing, that I did not, initially perceive her mood change.

She shook her head, but then attempted to explain. “From the first that you returned from meeting with him, have I had dreams. Dreams of a consuming fire over the sea, and of one hanging from a towering precipice, alone---for all time!”

Her words set a chill in my heart, for my mother was given to foreseeing certain things. But then she smiled again. “Spirit of Fire, indeed! He is clever, and he is noble." She paused, considering. "If fire is to be set, then it will not be without good reason, and he who hung from the precipice, though I could not see him clearly, it was not Fëanáro.”

(Maitimo*, my son! That your suffering was another result of my failure, though also of the evil of Morgoth, taunts me still.)

****

Fëanáro returned to our dwellings within seven days. For him to so act left little doubt in the minds of some of the Aulenduri* as to his intentions. Far too forward was such behaviour unless he intended to pay court to me, they had said. My parents exchanged knowing looks that did not escape me, as again we rode out to the north, but this time headed even further west, as if we sought the dwellings of Námo Mandos himself. A wild ride was that, and more solemn than our previous journey, for was Fëanáro not of a most serious frame of mind. But we rode, and walked in the green hills, and spoke more of our hopes and dreams, and I began to find in him many echoes of my own desires. Far more powerful and determined than I, was he, yet his very ‘being’ resonated through my fëa with a sense that we were of the same kind. Still, I thought, he is the son of the king and I the daughter of a smith, though of a great smith! Surely he will look for lasting companionship amongst those of noble birth? No matter what his actions appeared to suggest, what future could there be for us other than as friends? So was I both happy and saddened when that journey was over, and no firm conclusion had I reached in my mind and heart.

****

On the return journey this time did Tulcon greet us! “Another gift for you, oh favoured one!” taunted my father’s chief apprentice from a distance, but upon seeing Fëanáro’s countenance, he made haste to be back at his work.

The gift was a pearl of extraordinary beauty. It had been delivered a short time earlier to my parents, with a note from its sender. I needed no note to tell me who the sender was.

My father had moved over to see that the horses we had ridden were watered before they wandered off again. He said something out of my hearing to Fëanáro, something I thought to the effect that the gift was from an old friend, and nothing more. For as I watched Urundil and the prince together, did I perceive that Fëanáro was everything my father hoped for in a husband for his daughter. Fëanáro’s quick mind and skilled hands far outweighed that reputed hot temper, which he had hardly shown us. Strong-willed he was, but that in itself was no bad thing, and not exceptional amongst the Noldor. I saw as they spoke together that he was listening, appearing to be taking counsel from my father, and at that realisation, my heart was very glad. They would soon be at the forge together thought I, discussing some new ideas, some new tools to improve upon finesse of skill. I would join them later, and contribute my share, for I was not to be ignored, nor outdone in matters of craft, I knowingly deluded myself.

But Fëanáro was in no hurry to move on that time, and the pearl intrigued him.

“And who has gifted you thus, Nerdanel? It looks like something a Teler would send.”

“Indeed it is!” I had replied, hastily opening the seal on the scroll in my hand.

I read the note silently. It was from Gaerion, of course. He told me that he was away to sea with his father, that he was excited about sailing a White Ship and would tell me of his adventures upon his return. Also did he say he would introduce me to the sights of my city, referring to his own explorations of Tirion, which still seemed to cause him much amusement.

“A gift of the sea for my everfriend, until we meet again,” he had written. I smiled as I read those words, thanking him silently for his consideration and thinking of all that I had to tell him when next we met.

“Everfriend?” Fëanáro asked quizzically.

“You are reading my letter!” I protested in mock annoyance.

“Nay! Only your lips, Lady!” he replied, but there was the barest glint of fire in his eyes.

****


And after that visit Fëanáro came no more! A great many days passed, and neither rider nor word came out of Tirion to the dwellings of the Aulenduri. Often did I head for the high tower, and look to the east, but there was nothing to be seen. At last did I begin to understand how Gaerion must have felt when I no longer walked to the shores with him. With that understanding came the belated realisation of Gaerion’s love for me, even as I then knew with certainty of my feelings for Fëanáro.

My parents noticed my despondence! Now it was they who made excuses, who came to Fëanáro’s defence. Mayhap he was involved in a work that was all consuming. Mayhap his father needed him, or again, there could be some event at court we knew naught of! When a visit to Tirion was suggested. I spoke against this idea, saying I would go there in my own time. I did not wish to appear over eager for the prince's company, much as I longed for it.

I poured my distress into my works. Distress for Gaerion, that I would injure him, as much as for the absence of Fëanáro. It was then that I began to consider my commitment to Aulë anew, and spoke much with my parents of seeking to serve that Vala with my skills. “We shall visit the Great Court of Aulë!” my father announced. “I would speak with him on matters of work concerning creation of gems, and you may speak with him of your wishes, Nerdanel. May the journey bring us all much needed cheer!”



Firya = Mortal
nér = He-Elf
Maitimo = Maedhros
Aulenduri = Servants of Aulë

Chapter Three: Fëanáro. Part Two.


I am either really late or really early with this post. I am not sure which? It has been a full sort of day with a lot of time spent chating with my father. Now it is past midnight, I am trying to chill. It is that sort of evening / morning when you feel too tired to sleep and don't want to just lie there trying to relax and be calm, and count sheep!

I had an MRI scan yesterday. It was interesting! No problem , as anyone who has ever had one will know, (unless you are claustrophobic), and all in all, quite a positive experience. But I made a serious error. I was told the machine would make a lot of noise, like roadworks, and what sort of music would I like to listen to on the headphones while I was being 'scanned'? 'Noisy,"they said. So I thought, 'Bat out of Hell'! As one would!

Now you try lying absolutely still for 15 minutes while Meatloaf is played at loud volumne in your headphones. I was joking! They knew I was having difficulties because they smirked when they came to get me out of the machine.

"Was it okay?"

"Yes," said I . "Apart from the music!"

So I like dancing to Meatloaf. But not in an MRI scanner.

And supprisingly they found I did have a brain!



Nerdanel's Story. Chapter Three: Fëanáro. Part Two.


(Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and the main story line are JRR Tolkien’s wonderful creations. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Vols 10 or 12. Nothing is mine, except the interpretation and any mistakes, and in this chapter, and only in the sense he is derived from reading the works of Tolkien, the character ‘Gaerion’. Thank you again to Bellemaine and to Eru_Melin for all their help in beta reading and ideas.)



“The Eldar wedded once only in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either part. Even when in after days, as the histories reveal, many of the Eldar in Middle-earth became corrupted, and their hearts darkened by the shadow that lies upon Arda, seldom is any tale told of deeds of lust among them.”

(The Later Quenta Silmarillion. Morgoth’s Ring J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C Tolkien)



The house of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age.


Last night did I dream of singing. An impassioned and joyful song of the beauty of Valinor it was; one of those written long before the time of strife between the sons of Finwë. I heard Makalaurë again, sweet and strong of voice, and his brothers, one by one raising their voices to join with his. Even did I hear Carnistir, who less often gave expression in song. Ai! I miss them all so very much!


“Time it is, and past time, that you did let go of grief, least it consume you, and the rest of your years are but void!”


So spoke Istyaro to me as the Second Age progressed. That close friend and trusted advisor, that sage of our people, had never led me false, nor advised me ill. And right was he, for even I could see that, in loving too well the fruits of my body, which were never mine to possess, but only to hold dear, and to nurture, was I coming perilous close to the same flaw as my husband. In loving too well the works of his hands and the devices of his heart, did he who created, become he who destroyed. Love, when it becomes obsessive, becomes tainted, and but a shadow of its true glory. Fëanáro, who saw so much, could not see that as a fault, not in the later days! And for a time, neither could I. But it is of my love for my sons that I speak.


So it was, that my heart towards my children long remained true, for did I not seek to let go of that which would have bound me to anguish, and to no purpose? I did not want my love and memory of them to become increasingly tainted by my bitterness. At least, such was my fervent hope. But a mother does not forget her children, even though the fellness of some of their deeds is as sharp as a knife blade in her! As this Seventh Age progresses does the weight of facing still the parting ‘forever’, as well as of memory, rest upon me; that knowledge that none of my sons will return to me directly in hröa, and none will return from Mandos’ company until the End. And what then? What healing will there be for a mother who has been sundered from her family through all the Ages of Arda? What joy is there to be, after the End? Yet, for that end, must I rest upon estel: must I hope and trust in Eru.


Of late, have the older memories returned apace, powerful and vivid: of the innocent days, and the tainted days alike. Dreams, also, have I had, and of my sons speaking with me, or calling out to me, as they sometimes did as babes. And of he, also, have I dreamt, and he calling to me, longingly, as in the early days of our marriage.


“I hear thee, Finwion! Though dream alone it is that I experience, and no reality. Yet, for the sake of the great love I bore thee, that I bear thee still, will I continue with my task before I seek to leave this life for that seeming death, that is existence in fëa alone.”


But he is not with me; neither, do I ponder, can he hear my words, or know of my efforts to, at last, set things aright.


****


You at least are still with me then, reader, whether you are Elda or no! It is in my thoughts that this writing of mine may come more into the hands of the Second People than even my own kind. As most of our stories of old, and less old, times found their way into the writings of Men, so, mayhap, will this; though I doubt not without much alteration by scribes. So do I think of you, reader, as Firya: my companion as I tread softly this path of golden memories, and some not so golden. Much do I long to wander Eldamar again, the silvered strands of the coastlands, the wooded valleys and the high hills. I would walk a final time those paths of my youth, with my memories and dreams, and even tread again the streets of Tirion the Fair, and of Valmar. Mayhap you will be my companion on my travels, for it is pleasing to walk with a friend?


Fëanáro was my companion in those days that hold fast my thoughts! Friends we were before we wed, and after.


Now this is how it came to pass! At times, in those days after I returned from my first meeting with -- unknown to me -- the son of King Finwë, in the hills, did my mother look strangely at me, as if she knew something, and was not best pleased.


“Come now, mother!” said I, at a moment when we were working together in the herb gardens. “What vexes you? What secrets are you keeping from me?” I knew that my mother was gifted with more foresight than many nissi, and I would have her counsel, whatever the matter was.


“No secret, Nerdanel,” my mother answered. “But a sense of foreboding I have, and would rather you stayed close to the houses of the Aulenduri for the time being.”


I had laughed at this; no concept of danger, or fear, or real loss had I. But I was a considerate daughter, and not yet five years of age, so I followed her request, and did not wander away at all in that time.


I worked in the house and in the gardens, and at the forge, and I studied much with my father. Somewhere, however, in the recesses of my thoughts, a longing to visit Tirion was kindling.


One day, I had a visitor. I had seen him coming from a considerable distance, as I had been in my room, in the high tower, looking out along the Calacirya towards the sea. A thin figure, dressed in grey and blue, a Teler it was, for those of the third kindred are generally of a shorter and lighter stature than we Noldor, though this particular Teler was not short. I hurried down the winding marble staircase, and called to my father, but Urundil was engrossed in a work he was crafting for the Lord Essilon, and answered not, and my mother was visiting kin. So, when Failië answered the door, I, alone of my family, greeted Gaerion.


The Teler looked somewhat drawn and concerned. As I invited him into the main hall and offered him the welcome cup, he explained the reason for his presence.


“I did not know why you came no more to the sea, Nerdanel. I thought that, mayhap, in some way unknown to me, I had caused you offence?”


We Noldor are not a folk given to affectionate touch that easily. Though the fire of our spirit does often burn most hot within us, and we are capable of great passion, we do not readily embrace strangers, even friends! But, so lost and unsure did that friend of mine appear, that I took his hand and held it fast, reassuringly. His oval, grey eyes widened considerably at my gesture, and he seemed unable to speak clearly for a moment.


“Lady, is all well with you? Is there aught I can do to help you?”


I smiled at his most considerate words; glad to see him I was! “I am well, Gaerion. And most certainly, you have done nothing at which I could take offence.” A broad smile broke over his thin face in response. “I have been overly busy about the house of late,” I continued, “and have not had the time to visit. But now you are here, and I will not be lacking in my duties if I take a walk with you this day, or for some few days. I would like to smell the sea air again, and hear the waves break upon the shore.”


He was beside himself with eagerness, that silver-haired Elda. “Then change quickly; fetch your cloak, and let us be away!” said he. “I have provisions for a few days with me, as I had thought to walk back and visit Tirion, if you would receive me not.”


At that mention of Tirion, my heart leapt momentarily. Gaerion’s were not the brilliant grey-blue eyes that I ‘saw’ in dream, (for even then was I dreaming of him), but he was kind and considerate, and had always acted as the best of friends in the regard he showed me. And he was a reason for walking, and a safeguard against whatever vexed my mother. I gave call of my intentions to my father, and, seeing some of his apprentices take note of my words, waited not upon his reply.


So it was that Gaerion and I set out upon that walk which would take us most directly to the sea, rather than that which went past the green hill of Túna. We had intended to wander through the valley and then turn north along the coast, far enough to catch sight of Alqualondë We never got that far, however.


We had not drawn anywhere nigh to the coast when, from a distance, we heard a horseman approaching. (The Eldar did not keep horses in stable or field in those days. For the most part horses roamed the land, but willing they were to carry us where we wished. Some horses, indeed, had special relationships with individuals, and would graze and run the land nearby the dwellings of those with whom they had such a rapport.) A dark-cloaked rider upon a golden horse was swiftly covering the distance between us, and we halted to greet him, and see what message he bore. As he drew closer, I recognised Tulcon, a leading apprentice of my father’s, whom I sometimes worked alongside. Good friends were we, though he was more serious even than I, and took to heart all of my father’s comments and suggestions for improvement of his skills.


“Lady Nerdanel, you are to return home immediately.” He spoke the order with some hesitancy, knowing that, while I would take advice, I would not take command from another easily.


“Indeed, Tulcon! And what can be so urgent, pray, that you interrupt your training, and are sent to ride after me?”


“Your father has been put in a position of some embarrassment, he says. A gift has arrived for you, and he knew not where to find you,” Tulcon continued, knowing I would not ignore a request from Urundil. “Your father bids you return straight away.”


We are not naturally disobedient to our parents, we Eldar, for, particularly in our youth, we know them to be wiser, and to have more experience of life. In no way would I ever have sought to dishonour my father, and I was grieved that my carelessness had caused him embarrassment.


“Do you know who the gift is from? What it is?” I asked, curiosity beginning to get the better of me, for I was not expecting anything. But such is often the nature of gifting amongst our people. A surprise gift is a gift indeed!


Tulcon looked most uncomfortable, and he fidgeted on the horse in a manner that made me suspicious that something more than usual was afoot. “Nay, Lady Nerdanel! I know not what the gift is. But it is brought from the city.”


My eyes widened at that comment, but still could it be anything. “Is the messenger who brought the gift still at the house, that I may return my thanks to the sender?”


Tulcon squirmed, more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him, “He is there!”


Then there was naught to do but to return. I made sincere apologies to Gaerion; only for the sake of courtesy, and my father, did I forego the trip to the sea. Gaerion was not overly disappointed; at least he did not so appear.


“I shall turn to Tirion, as I had first thought to do, Nerdanel. I should like to see the city of the Noldor, and to do so before you, gives me much amusement.” The Teler bowed to me. “As long as we are still friends, my heart is not sad.”


“We are friends, Gaerion,” I replied with genuine feeling. “Always, we are friends.”


I did not know at that time that I was to break his heart. I did not know that, already, Gaerion loved me. Would it have made any difference in what followed? Though it pains me to realise I caused another grief, I am certain it would not have changed a thing. Though always has Gaerion been most dear to me, my doom was set as other than wife to a kindly seafarer.


“Let me have the horse, Tulcon! For if the matter is truly urgent, I must needs be swift. And one can be carried more swiftly than two!”


Tulcon frowned, unhappy at the thought of the time he would take in walking back to the house. But he could not argue with me -- even now he finds it difficult -- and so it was, that I was galloping back along the valley to my home, and to my mystery gift, before Gaerion had even waved farewell.


****


“Fëanáro!” I could not believe it; the son of King Finwë was at my father’s house. He it was who had brought me the gift.


My father took one look at me as I walked through the entrance hall, clad, as I oft was for travel, in boots and a belted green leather jerkin over a long, silken russet shift. “Quickly, daughter,” he murmured under his breath, “go freshen yourself, and change into a gown more appropriate for meeting with our noble guest.” He ushered me to the lesser hall wherein we took meals, save at festival, avoiding the main hall, and towards the stairs, calling on Failië to bring fresh water, and to assist me.


Though my parents had always been happy for me to present myself as I would, my father was determined that I should appear to our visitor as a true, and high-ranking maid of the Noldor, rather than some wandering discoverer of sights unseen. Such an attitude was right and proper, and it was not with my inappropriate attire that I took issue.


“But I know not the prince, Atar! Nor have I ever even met with him.” I protested against, what seemed to me, something inexplicable, as we reached the landing of the third level, upon which my room was situated. “Is it not you he is here to see?”


Urundil took hold of my hands then, and looked me in the eyes. Such an unusual gesture it was, for him. “The prince is here to see you, Nerdanel! He is here to visit with my daughter, he says. An honour though this is to us, remember that, here among the Aulenduri, are you held as a princess, and so also of noble status.”


I could not think of what Prince Fëanáro had said to my father to provoke such a reaction. Of course I knew I was held in high regard in my father’s house. Yet I had never thought of myself in any sense a ‘princess’; for, though favoured of Aulë, ours was not one of the noblest families, nor was I of that delicate beauty that characterised most of the highborn ladies. Then I thought I understood! I remembered what this could be about.


“Queen Míriel’s gift!” I laughed with embarrassment, as realisation dawned on me. “The prince brings the gift his mother promised me. That must surely be it! My companion in the hills that time ago, he said that the queen had given my sculpture to her son, before she died. Mayhap she also laid it upon him to bring her gift to me?”


From his expression, that was obviously not what my father had concluded. “No mention has the prince made of Queen Míriel, or of her gift, but of you has he made much and detailed enquiry. It seems to me, from the astuteness of his questions, that he already knows you well, daughter!”


Then did I know, with the same certainty that, in those times, the light of Laurelin would follow that of Telperion. “It was Prince Fëanáro with whom I walked in the hills? And you knew this! You and mother, you knew who it was, yet told me not?”


My father nodded: willing me to understand why the information had not been offered me. “We thought it to be him, though knew not of certainty. So did we say naught to you. And your mother has had much disturbed rest over your meeting. A reputation this prince already has, and of the highest standing; yet is he also known for his difficult moods, his restlessness, and many do say it is as if a secret fire burns within him. But for my part, I think him uncommonly learned, and of great potential, and that you should see what he wants of you, if the thought brings you joy?”


“The strong willed, hot tempered, prince!” I exclaimed. “He whom you hoped not to have as an apprentice! Yet you want me to see what he wants?” I spoke in some temper of my own, yet did my father know the thought of meeting with Fëanáro again, of certainty, brought me joy.


“He has asked if he may spend time with me; that I discuss with him some matters of skill with stone and with metal. But if I have any wisdom about me, I say that it is you who hold his interest, and that he will visit with me to visit with my daughter. ” My father had sighed, his love, and pride in me overcoming any sense of obligation; even to King Finwë. “But if you would rather not see him,” -- here did he look grim, considering no doubt how he would attempt to deny the will of our visitor -- “I will say you are unavailable.”


“Nay! Nay, that will not be necessary, father. I will see what gift he has brought, and find out why he seeks of me.”


I spoke with determination, but I was perplexed at this matter. As children, did seldor and wendi play together, and befriend each other and be companions in all sorts of games and works and discoveries. But as we drew nearer to our fifth year, as early youth and some maturity of hröa approach, we do not indulge in careless relationships. Not easily do neri or nissi deceive each other over their intentions, which are always honourable, for it is not the intent of any to wound another’s heart. Friendship is friendship, but from it can grow the affinity of fëa from which develops love, and the desire to be wed. My naïveté concerning Gaerion had arisen in part because we had been friends from very young, but this deliberate seeking of me by Fëanáro was another matter. And was my heart not moved with anticipation at the possibilities that lay ahead of me, for I believed that the prince must have taken pleasure in my company, even as I had in his.


****


With Failië’s aid, it was less than quarter of one hour before I again descended the stairs. Robed in a white silk gown, with my hair brushed out and the copper circlet I had made upon my brow, I entered the main hall and looked around.


“Atar?”


But neither of my father, nor of any of our servants, was there sight or sound. The long, brightly lit room seemed empty. No one was there! So did I think my father had taken our visitor to his forge, to speak with him of matters that interested them both while they waited upon me. I should have gone hence myself, but then something most unusual caught my eye. A book it was, laying a top of the carved, oaken table to the western end of the room. Most rare still were books at that time, so I crossed the floor with interest, and touched the thick, gem encrusted cover, turning through the illuminated pages with great curiosity. A book on the Valar it seemed to be, giving some detail about their city, Valmar, and their halls, and a short history of their deeds in Arda. A book of lore then it was, written, of course, in Rúmil’s brush-stroke script, and illustrated with glorious detail. Again did I glance around the room, and call back to my father, but there was no reply. Much as I wished to see again Fëanáro, did I not think this book to be his gift? And that he had left it there, while himself in the forge, was but to invite me to read of it. Mayhap that was his intent? So while I waited upon he and my father to return, I drew up a chair, and bent my head over the pages of the gift, intensely engrossed.


For some time must I have sat and studied, for the light of the Trees changed, and we were in that mingling of the golden and silver beams once more. I heard the sound of some of my father’s apprentices leaving the forge to return to their own dwellings, and in the distance they called ‘farewells’ to each other, but still I read on. None disturbed me, not any of our servants, or my father’s apprentices: not my father, not Prince Fëanáro. Neither did my mother return.


“If you will not come up to Tirion to seek knowledge, lady, then I am duty-bound to bring it to you; for so my mother would have wished. But I thought not that you would seek to read of the whole volume in one sitting, and that while you have a guest!”


So sudden and unexpected was the sound of that familiar, and somewhat sarcastic, voice that I jumped involuntarily, and almost dropped the precious book from my hands. The high backed settle in the far corner of the room, that was so placed to overlook the forge, moved. He, who had been my companion in the hills, rose to his feet and turned to face me.


Though I was aware that he had deliberately allowed me to believe myself alone in that room, yet painfully ashamed of my own lack of attention, was I. Hurriedly striving to regain my composure and put order to my thoughts, I made a deep curtsy to him.


“Prince Fëanáro! Forgive me, for I noticed you not.” With hindsight, they were not the wisest of words with which to welcome one such as he! Nothing would prevent the rosy hue from colouring my cheeks, but he would think it embarrassment at my being taken unawares, rather than simply emotion at beholding him again, thought I. How to speak further? For I would have his good opinion, though not be yet be drawn further into his game with me, if game it was? He gave me no answer, so, without rising from the gesture of acknowledgement, I tried again.


“Forgive me, I beg of you. I do bring shame upon my parents by my behaviour. No excuse have I for being so self-absorbed, save that your gift could not have been better chosen, and by it, am I greatly honoured”


But was that enough entreaty on my part. I ever sought to be gentle of manner, yet I had some pride of my own. As I rose from the curtsy, that piercing gaze that had so mesmerised me when first I had beheld him, ensnared me again. Deep and brilliant were his eyes, yet somewhat cooler than in those days we had walked together. Not particularly amused was he at that moment, and a touch impatient, or disappointed, it seemed to me. Matters had not developed in quite the way he had planned, I believed, and that he was one used to being in control of situations I had known from our first meeting. Ai, I liked him well; for most intriguing was he of character, most different from any other I knew, most pleasing to behold. But he would not control me, I then determined. If I were to have of his company, I could not, would not let him control me.


“Honoured!” The word was uttered in a dismissive tone, as he drew in a deep breath. “So you know me now!” he continued dryly. “Better did I like it when you did not; when you addressed me as Muinawë, for then did you seek most eagerly to please. Then did you behave as my companion, Nerdanel, rather than as my servant.”


As a challenge to me, as a test of sorts, seemed those last of his words. I could not let them pass unanswered. “Though I honour you now as prince of our people, no servant am I, save unto Aulë!” And I met his gaze fully, with my own stubbornness of will, beholding something I had not expected. Though in no manner was Fëanáro ever shy, yet, at that time, was he almost nervous of me! So did I begin to understand the reason for his game. “Yet do I seek to please you still, my lord, if you will but tell me the purpose of your visit?” I added in a softer tone of voice.


“My purpose was to seek your company on another journey,” he stated bluntly as he cast an appraising eye over my attire. “But I see you are now transformed into the daughter of the House, who would doubtlessly prefer to plan for festivals, and make music and indulge in idle talk with her friends?”


“Not so!” I protested with a laugh, but his expression changed not a whit. “I thought you knew me better than that from our earlier meeting, my lord. And from whatever questions you put to my father!”


The slightest of smiles touched his eyes. “Your father tells me little I did not already know from my own observations, lady. But still do I say you have a different manner to that upon our earlier meeting. There were you warm of nature and most free of speech. Now do I consider you will simply do as I bid. If I asked for your company, or for to bring me of refreshment or to show me of your crafting, you would hurry so to do, though out of duty. Such folk are plentiful in Tirion. I thought you to be more free of mind.”


‘And I found you enlivening and delightful company when we met earlier, and now do I consider you most arrogant and thoughtless’ I could not speak forth such ideas to him, for he was right that I would show deference, as I should. I sought to understand; what had changed? Then the thought came to me, that, now I knew him for who he was, he was assuming that I would behave towards him as did others. But there was yet more to contemplate! It had been said by some of those who travelled to and from the city that, though many admired Prince Fëanáro, he had few close friends; partly because he did not want them, and partly because few, save Ecthelion, and the Lord Alcarin, could tolerate his temperament. His father loved him beyond measure, and even more so since the death of Queen Míriel, and would have naught said against him. Free was Fëanáro to indulge his moods to the full, with none who could curb the excess passion of his reputed temper or help soften his manner: no one since Míriel, who by gentle counsel could speak wisdom and peace to his fiery fëa.


He suffered from his loss and loneliness I then saw clearly, and that touched my heart more than his thoughtless words. His inner anguish called to me, and I wanted to help him! I wanted to see what could be done to soften that shield of arrogance he was putting around himself: to lift up his heart in joy, if only he would allow it.


“I would do the things you ask out of courtesy, my lord; as one who is noble shirks not at giving of their aid. And as to my warmth, and freeness of thought; if we travel hence again, then shall you know if you are in error or not!”


So boldly did I speak, yet did I take up again the book from the table, without thinking, and hold it before me, almost as a shield.


At my gesture, rather than my words, his expression became warmer.


“Indeed, your gift is most pleasing to me, and much there is within that I would like to speak of.” I tapped the cover of the book, as if to imply its value was my reason for holding it so. I think not that he was fooled, for the warmth then touched the corners of his mouth, as he smiled with some satisfaction.


“You like of my company!” said he.


Choosing to ignore his comment for the moment, for I, also, could play a game, I continued with my suggestion. “For example: it says much of Oromë, and never have I visited his woods or halls. Much has he to do with our people, yet I know little of him. Would that I could travel to meet with he and his people, to seek answers to the questions I have?”


Unsure was I of that idea’s reception, of what thoughts were going on in that clever mind; but Fëanáro seemed to consider my request. He relaxed in stance; his remaining coolness melting into a look of growing amusement, and he took up a goblet, which must have been beside him on the settle, to drain the last of the wine.


“I had thought of a different place!” said he, with a touch of indulgence in his tone. “I should have thought the house of Oromë too boisterous for the likes of a lady. And his wine too rich and potent!” he added, now with a grin. He knew I would not deny him my fellowship; he knew I liked him.


“Lady am I, but not one to cower in the corner when there is knowledge to be sought! Though will I be guided by your experience, of course, my lord.” Such words had a balance about them, thought I. For though he was beyond me in learning and exploration, neither was I unlearned, nor daunted by the unknown.


“But I have thought often on a certain question,” I persevered, “One I had considered asking Oromë, though it is in my thoughts that you may well answer it in his stead, Prince Fëanáro, as you have so much knowledge to hand.”


He should have rebuked my attempt at baiting, but he did not. So did I know that he liked my company well. Ai, had I not known it from the start, and that for all of his strength of character, he had been unsure that I would consider befriending him once I had known of certainty who he was. In that moment did we both understand each other better, and he made to sit again upon the settle, and beckoned me to sit with him.


“Speak on, Nerdanel. I hear you!”


“Though I love well this land of Aman,” said I, taking that seat as I would have sat beside a well-known friend, “I wonder why our people forsook the land of their birth? Why they truly left Cuiviénen, as that was where Eru caused us to awaken?”


Fëanáro lowered his gaze at mention of the One, and I bowed of my head. Rarely did we utter that name, it must be understood. Then he gave of answer: “Our people left the land of their awakening to seek of the Light! To dwell in the sight of the Trees and in the presence of the Valar, as is said at the festivals, and inscribed upon the doors to my father’s halls.”


“I understand the wisdom of your answer, my lord, yet is something still amiss! For some do say we travelled hence to be safe from taint, or from some evil of the Vala Melkor’s design. Yet are our people no cravens, nay, neither the Vanyar nor Teleri! Mayhap it was our purpose to bring light unto those Hither Lands? I have spoken with my parents, and with some others of the Aulenduri who made the Great Journey, and also with Aulë. But little does our mighty Vala say on the subject, other than he is most glad the Noldor answered the call. I would ask of Oromë, he being one who loves the lands of our birth, and journeys there yet.”


Fëanáro sat in thought for a moment, though I believe none of my ideas were new to him. But then he nodded. “As you wish, Nerdanel! For I, also, have wondered about the lands to the east of the sea. Though I know much of my father’s thoughts, both of the lands themselves, and of the Great Journey, I would know the thoughts of Oromë on this matter.”


And so was I content. For what had started off that day as an encounter most tense, had become the relationship we had both hoped for. Friends we were; and most good friends we became as the days passed. Never did I wish to control Fëanáro, for was not his tempestuous nature part of his attraction, but I would show him that I was made of strong stuff, that I would not quail beneath his moods, but be a true friend, and speak my mind, though always with the gentleness of touch that he surely missed from his mother.


“We have an understanding, then?” I replied with quiet, and growing, confidence. “I do not offer to be your servant, Prince Fëanáro; but your friend and companion, if that is what you seek?”


He smiled openly at those words; his features lit with that charisma that he rarely chose to show, but which could be with him in such abundance. “I have not quite decided what I seek!” he exclaimed, making to rise to his feet. “But I take your present offer at this time, Nerdanel. I ask only that you be yourself. Enough fine ladies there are in Tirion who are interested in their dress, in dance, in song and chatter. Be thou unto me something different!”


My gasp of surprise must have betrayed my thoughts at that last form of address, for though certainly not affectionate, it was more intimate than was customary between those who hardly knew each other.


“Now, to that end of being my companion, get you changed back into clothing more suitable for our purpose, like that worn when you rode in earlier.” he spoke light-heartedly, then, with an elegant, sweeping bow to me, turned and headed straight to the door and to my father’s forge.


We rode out together later that very day, heading further into the Calacirya, and across the plain of Valinor towards Valmar, the city of the Valar, the city of bells, and then to the southern woods, wherein dwelt Oromë the hunter. My father had farewelled us with words of approval, and I confess that I was most glad to be at the side of one who made me feel so alive.




Makalaurë – Maglor
Carnistir – Caranthir
Finwion – Son of Finwë. Name of Fëanor from his early childhood.
Firya - Mortal
Atar - Father
nissi - She-Elves
seldor – Boys. Young he-Elves.
wendi – Girls. Young she-Elves.
neri - He-Elves
All years are Valinorian years.