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.