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.