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