Chapter Thirteen: Wedding Gifts. Part Two.


I am aware that I have been letting my blog entries slide. That has not been my intent, and I really hope to get a grasp of more regular posting, and writing, as the summer progresses. I have a lot to think of at the moment, and it is just as well to record some of it, in the hopes that I will be able to look back and see a happy resolution.


I would say that my thoughts have been a lot on my family in Scotland. Although I travelled there recently under sad circumstances, I realy like their company. I really like Scotland! I am finding that, having just spent a week with them, I miss that 'family' feeling. I do have relatives in England, but they have never been particularly friendly or close, (apart from some of my husband's family), and if there is ever a real problem then it is the Scottish side who all pull together. I like that, though some might find it claustrophobic?

And the scenery is wonderful! The place where we live at present, in the South East, was once regarded as one of the most beautiful places in the country. But not any more! (North Yorkshire, Devon and Derbyshire have apparently knocked us down a few places, according to a recent survey.) The south East seems overcrowded to me, at least compared to the North, and the noise of busy roads is inescapable.

I would like to relocate. But my husband's work is fixed here. (Though one would sometimes think it was fixed in the U. S. A.!) So we have a lot of talking to do. He likes it a lot in the North, but a move is just not practical at the moment.
It is so strange, because I was born and raised in Southern England, yet whenever I visit Scotland it is as if I am going 'home'.


Chapter Thirteen: Wedding Gifts. 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, 11 or 12. Nothing is mine, except the interpretation and any mistakes, and in this chapter the characters Serewen and Tulcon. Narwasar is the character of my friend and beta reader, Bellemaine, and used with her permission.)




“While still in early youth Fëanor wedded Nerdanel, a maiden of the Noldor; at which many wondered, for she was not among the fairest of her people. But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge.”

(The Later Quenta Silmarillion Morgoth’s Ring. JRR Tolkien ed C Tolkien HarperCollins p 272.)




None save Eru, nay, not even the Valar, can totally perceive nor read the mind of another being*. For although not all fëar have the same original power, yet do all derive directly from Eru Ilúvatar alone; and so in that sense are all equal. Though to the Eldar is the ability to ‘speak’ in fëa often given, yet none among us can comprehend fully the mind of another, neither fully reveal, even of our own will, our deepest thoughts to another. With many a wedded pair does the affinity of fëar lead to great understanding, and many, though not all, do come to ‘hear’ with varying clarity those thoughts their spouse wishes to send. Much can be deduced from observation of course, and in this lies most of the skill I have with all, save that which I had with Fëanáro himself.

From shortly before we were wed did I know of that ‘gift’ of his to speak into my mind. Arrow sharp could he be if something was of import; but most times was he courteous to the extreme, and would speak not in such a manner to me unless I welcomed it. With him, did it also become a matter of receiving and mediating the power that emanated from him, strengthened by our marriage and by the unusual number of children we brought forth from our love.

Never did he seek to control me, or any of our family by that gift of his. Yet was he not, by nature, one who sought mastery over situations? A temptation it was to him, as to any mind of great power, to master and govern the will of others. A temptation it was, and sometimes well intended, and sometimes not so, to force another to reveal themselves as they were, most certainly to induce those of weaker minds and wills. But such an act, meant for good or for ill, was always a forbidden one. In the early years of our marriage, and in the years of the children, did he always control any desire to so use his might, or I sought to restrain him, and, at that time did he allow me to so do. But as the years passed, as the tension between he and Nolofinwë, both real and perceived, grew, did he at times abuse his gift. Now, most often did he seek to govern others by force of his personality, his eloquence or even by his temper alone. Aye, even as in the early days he rarely wore any great jewels or ornamentation, saying:

“Should it not be obvious to all that I am of noble blood? Wherefore do I need such symbols, save on those occasions to do honour to my father, or to the Valar?”

But as the influence of Moringotho made itself felt, did he not seek to adorn himself in more obvious manner? Likewise did he not seek to use whatever means he deemed necessary to maintain his rightful position amongst the Noldor, and that of our sons?

When he would, Fëanáro had the sight to penetrate the veils of illusion that those of even great power put about themselves. Did he not, when at last confronted in person with Moringotho at Formenos, see through the Vala’s pretence of friendship and know him for what he was? Did he not dismiss the Deceiver from the door of his house, and in no uncertain terms? Aye, my lord saw through him then, even to the dark depths of his mind. An Eldar he was, seeing further than many of the Valar had done of the true nature of the Enemy! Would that he had seen through Moringotho’s well-spun web of lies as easily. Would that any of us had!



While I think upon the gift of speaking in fëa, I must mention the relationship with our sons. With our sons did I have the mother’s gift of knowing when I was needed; of knowing those few occasions when, as children, they were in any distress. But such a link fades with growth, and once at their fourth year, at the most, all save for Ambarussa the younger, save for Telvo*, had outgrown that need of me. With the youngest of my children did I have a closeness of fëa that lasted for well over fifteen years. I see him now in memory as a child sitting with his friend, Artuiel, in the scriptorium of my father’s house, pouring over books while she plagued him to go and play; and again, I watch him, as the years pass and the relationship between he and Tulcon’s daughter blossomed into a much closer thing. Strange I thought, that my link of fëa was with the younger twin only, but then did he spend more time with me than any other of his brothers. More like me in mood was Ambarussa, even as he grew, than all save Makalaurë*. With Maitimo* was I always close, for great understanding did we have, he and I. With Carnistir* also was I close, more than any writing would betray. But never could I fathom Carnistir’s mind; nay, most often was it a mystery to me!

A gift indeed, is the ability to speak in fëa with others. A gift I enjoyed, that I long delighted in. But a time came when I sought, in the worsening of days, to be estranged from my lord, and did I not find solace for a space in that act of will whereby neither of us so spoke with the other? Sorrow does that memory now bring me, for since I knew of his death was I not filled with remorse at my choice of being parted from him for any time at all? Death of a deathless one, of my husband; it had a way of clarifying my feelings.

Though some few have spoken of a sense of perceiving, albeit briefly, the thought of a slain spouse’s fëa from its rest in the Halls of Awaiting, indeed, did Finwë himself not perceive something of Míriel’s stubbornness, it is forbidden to seek communication with the unhoused*. So for long has my mind been stilled in that means of conversation. For though I know well others, friends and family, with none other have I ever had such a bond. Nor do I desire one!


****


Now do I come in my tale of memories, to the day of our wedding. I do not wish to dwell overmuch on that occasion, for much of it is of a most private nature and will remain so. It was a day of the greatest joy for me, regardless of what came to follow! Yet within that day were a few events that, mayhap, show something of Fëanáro that few have ever known; that it would be as well were better known. Of those events will I now write.


The weddings of the Eldar follow a well-known pattern. It is a uniting of two, who have freely and lovingly so chosen, but also of their families, of their houses. So is it, at least in Aman, an occasion of much festivity and celebration. Although two may be wed with none other as witness, save only the exchange of blessings, and the naming of the One, yet would it be viewed as most churlish. None would willingly act so contemptuously of kin, less the situation was most dire. And such situations did not occur in the Blessed Realm.

First in the celebrations is a feast, and dancing, and this may go on for many a day. (Though in our case did Fëanáro express his wish that it would be for one day only, and did his father, with desire to please him, so contrive.) Then there are the vows, and exchange of silver rings for ones of gold. The vows are most solemn, and once made, may never be revoked. Neither, save for few instances, would there be any desire so to do. By nature are my people most constant in their affections. So it is by inclination, as well as by law, that marriage is forever. The vows are made in a manner that involves calling upon Manwë and upon his spouse, Varda, as witnesses. Also, as I have given mention, is this one of the few occasions on which we call upon the name of Eru.

Gifts are given to families and often to guests, and jewels are exchanged in the manner I have earlier spoken of. These jewels may be given at the start of the feast, or immediately before the vows, as was the case in our wedding. The jewels are also tokens of the love and esteem each of the couple has for the other, though family members present them.

All of this is well recorded in books of lore, and in many a tale from the Hither Lands that I have read, so I need write no further explanation of marriage, I deem.

Our ceremony and feast took place in the gardens of King Finwë’s house; and family and close friends did attend. The High King, Ingwë, and his family had been invited, out of friendship with Finwë, out of recognition of the import of the wedding, and as he was Indis’ uncle. Though Fëanáro had issue with Indis herself, he had no such issue at that time with Ingwë. Indeed, was he on good terms with the High King in those days. Also were King Olwë of Alqualondë and his growing family invited. Both kings were to stay in Tirion for some days, to Finwë’s delight, while their attendants made camp around the city. A range of bright and beautiful pavilions bearing the emblems of many lords there were without our city walls.

All this ceremony did little to calm my sense of disquiet, that I was still perceived by some as an unfitting bride for the prince because of my lack of great beauty. Most apprehensive was I, as I left the house and descended the steps unto the upper lawns, accompanied by my mother and by Serewen. Though I had confidence that I was garbed most appropriately, that my hair had been tamed to near perfection, yet, daughter of Urundil and Aulendur myself, was I keenly aware that I was moving in high and noble company! But this was to be the last day I so doubted myself. Yavanna, if indeed it was she, and Fëanáro saw to that.


Upon my entrance to the gardens did all stop their conversation, and turn their eyes upon me. With much determination to give cause for nothing but honour upon my parents, and upon the house of the king, I walked with measured step to where Finwë stood. First did I pay respect to Finwë as King of my people, and to the tall, golden haired Ingwë as High King of all the Eldar. My well-practiced curtsy before them was met with acknowledging short bows and pleasing words of greeting. And for a moment it came to my thought most strongly that, if such a curtsy was fitting for Aulë, then of certainty was it fitting for kings! There was a moment’s silence, then conversations amongst those groups already gathered on the lawns resumed.


Next should I, still accompanied by my escort of my mother and Serewen, pay respect to Fëanáro as our prince, if not as my husband-to-be. This was I hesitant to do, for I knew full well that I would blush with emotion should our eyes meet, and wished not to be so embarrassed on this day until necessary. Fëanáro stood then but a short distance from his father, and had been engaged in conversation with King Olwë, but he turned from his companion at my entrance to the garden, and I could feel him watching my every move. Both he and Olwë swept me most elegant bows of acknowledgement as I approached them.

“My Lord Prince; my Lord King!” I kept my eyes averted from his face for as long as I could.

“My Lady!” said he in warm reply. King Olwë would have also given response, but I heard him not, as I looked for the first time that day fully upon Fëanáro. Always was he most beautiful to my eyes, and that day was no exception. Clad in lightly embroidered blue robes over a silver coloured tunic was he, with belt embossed with silver design and encrusted with pale, milk-white gems, about his narrow waist. And a plain circlet of silver was upon his brow.

I think Olwë was smiling with understanding as he stepped back, to let us have a moment alone. My escort stepped back, also.

“More pleasing to look upon than ever do I find thee this day,” said he, putting pay to my concerns of what any others thought. But I blushed most furiously at his words. So did he take up my hand for but a moment. “I know the grandeur of this ceremony is not what thou doest desire, and that thou doest participate most graciously as needs must. But it is only for these few hours, beloved, and at the waning of Laurelin, and the mingling of the light, shall it just be us, and no other.”

Again did he make effort to catch my glance directly, and with a most mischievous look in his eyes. “My wife-to-be art thou, and none shall gainsay that! Do but enjoy the festivities our parents have provided, and I will seek of thee later, at the appropriate time, when the feasting is done.”

So was he away, to mingle with our guests. For he had folk to speak with, and Indis to avoid, and he liked greatly to be the centre of attention at times. And so he was, and I left him to it!

I went then to the long table set to the left of the garden for my kin, and at which my father and some companions already sat. My father had previously spoken with Finwë, for the two seemed mightily pleased with this event. Though we were not of the high lords ourselves, yet was a union of the house of the king of the Noldor with the house of one known to be most dear to our mighty Valar, something to be desired. And, more importantly, did not both our families behold that Fëanáro and I were happy with each other?

Soon enough had all gathered who had been invited, and Silwë, steward of Finwë gave call for silence. King Finwë made formal welcome, gave thanks for the many gifts given to the betrothed couple, and stated that the feast was to begin. Tables there were set out for those who would help of themselves, but we, as the honoured guests, and the tables at which the kings and their families sat, were waited upon for our every need. Not that I had much appetite! But most warm was my heart at beholding the joy of those around me. My father had news that King Finwë had asked of his help in crafting a gift for Manwë. A sceptre it was to be, with sapphires of brilliant hue. Though my father said not, did I guess that this sceptre was intended to be a gift to Manwë at Finwë’s own forthcoming wedding. My mother was joyous in her happiness for me, and was speaking most enthusiastically with Serewen’s parents. Tulcon and his betrothed, Mötamë, were sitting close to the lone, but ever-observant Narwasar, and several other of the Aulenduri were talking about the wondrous site of the diamond dust strewn city streets and anticipating further delights.


So did time pass, and most pleasantly. But one occurrence I wish to write of, as it had the effect of binding not only my heart further to the son of Finwë, but my parents and the Aulenduri also.

Now as the main part of the feast was drawing to a close, did Fëanáro rise from his seat at his father’s side, and cross the lawn to my table. I had thought it would not be until the dancing began that he would come to me, and so was somewhat surprised.

It was to my parents that he first spoke. “My Lord Urundil; Lady Taurlotë, a gift I have for you.” He looked well pleased with himself, aye, arrogant even, but he bowed to my father and mother. “It is one that I have made as a token of my esteem for your daughter”

Taken aback was I at him so speaking, for ever had his words of affection to me been private in occurrence. But it was to get worse!

“Though this work of mine cannot replace what I take from your household, yet may you look upon it when your daughter is in my house and know how highly she is treasured.”

My father rose to his feet immediately, and bowed in return to the prince. “I thank you for your consideration. But I know that you care for her, Prince Fëanáro. In that am I content.”

Then did Fëanáro turn and signal to two attendants who had just emerged from the open doors of the house, and his sculpture was brought forth. Again did much chatter cease as the work he had made was carried across the lawns, and many looked upon that creation with much admiration. A little over three feet in height it was; intended to stand upon a plinth or in a niche in a wall. I gasped when I beheld it! A figure poised gracefully in a motion of descent, her arms reaching forwards in a welcoming gesture, her gown and cloak billowing back as upon a strong breeze. Her hair was loose, and flowing with movement as if the sculpture were nigh alive. And she was beautiful, so very beautiful.

“Who is she? It is not I!” Confused did I feel, and I uttered those words without due thought. Surely Fëanáro had used another nís as a model?

“Aye, it is!” my mother spoke, and now did she look up to my betrothed with something akin to wonder. “It is how he sees you.”

Fëanáro turned his gaze upon me as if with some confusion of his own, and I was swiftly aware that he understood not why his work was displeasing to me. “Of course it is you, Lady! What other treasure would I be taking from the house of your father?”

Then did his eyes narrow with purpose, and he spoke softly, as if to me alone: but not so softly that many of those seated nearby, and those whose attention was still upon his gift, could not overhear his words. Indeed, did I realise it was his intent that others overheard!

“Nerdanel, you only ever see yourself as a reflection within a mirror or water, or in whispered words of others, but I behold you as you truly are. No misrepresentation is this work, for from the first have I seen into your heart. You must believe me in this matter, for you seem to know not how much you please me!”

My father’s hand was upon mine in a confirming gesture. He nodded to me. Overwhelmed was I at this new understanding, and that Fëanáro would make such a statement to those gathered. I felt my face warm again with a reddened hue as I had known it would.

“Aye, my Lord!” I struggled with my words, but raised my chin that I could look at him fully and have him know I understood his intent. “I believe thee!”, said I, with much pride.

With a nod of satisfaction and another, shorter bow, Fëanáro turned and headed back to his father, but his eyes held mine upon that turn until the last instant, and he was smiling that he had caused me such joy, such embarrassment, and on that day.

We at the table sat silently for a few moments, looking upon this sculpture that had been set before us.

“It is excellent workmanship, my Lord Urundil!” Tulcon spoke up. His estimation of Fëanáro changed at that moment also. Tulcon had always held some dislike of my betrothed for, as he saw it, driving away Gaerion, whom he liked well. “None of your apprentices could better it!”

Narwasar was also casting his most critical eye over the form. “If that crafting is not the work of his heart, then I know not what is?”

At last my father spoke, and with a voice raw with emotion. “Whatever the son of Finwë asks of me, will I give him. Whatever help he would have is his already! I need not the request of Aulë, for nothing will I withhold from one who sees my daughter thus!”

****

Now we had still not recovered from Fëanáro’s surprise when the musicians began to play music for the dance, and he returned, to lead me to the lower terrace, that we might begin the next stage of the celebrations. For while the feast with our own kin was in memory of our childhood days, now did we move to that which celebrated our courtship and betrothal.

So did we lead, Fëanáro and I, and many came to join with us upon the dancing lawn as Laurelin waxed full. At one point did I make excuse to stand to one side, that I could observe a while as well as participate, and he escorted me to a shaded place under a tree laden with ripe, golden fruit. So content was I to just be at his side, but then a young maid, a child of well under two years of age came running to where we stood. Concealing something was she, with both hands behind her back. She smiled shyly at Fëanáro, and bobbed her head of golden brown curls as she curtsied to him,

“My Lord Prince, I have a gift for your Lady!”

He smiled indulgently at one so young, and so she turned to me, and drew from behind the back of her green gown a garland of flowers and berries to be worn upon the hair.

“My Lady Nerdanel. While the prince has a circlet of silver, yet do you go without any such adornment. It is the wish of my Lady that you accept this as her gift, and as a sign of her blessings, and those of her Lord, upon your marriage”

Leaning forward a little to be nearer her level, I took hold of her proffered gift with much pleasure. “I thank thee, little one! And thy Lord and Lady also.”

Though I could have worn the copper circlet of my status as an Aulendur about my brow, had I decided not to so do. It had seemed to me better that I should go to my wedding unadorned, than wearing a symbol worn only by neri, save for me. Very much had I wanted to appear as a nís! But strange did the wendë seem, as one much older than her years, and she smiled, curtseyed again to me, and to Fëanáro, and then ran, laughing happily, back to the upper lawn to disappear amongst the crowds.

With great care did my husband-to-be take that garland from me and place it upon my head.

“Do you know the child?” he enquired pointedly.

“Nay, Fëanáro! I thought she was of one of the families known to your father?” I had a feeling that, if I knew not the child, I should of certainty know the Lord and Lady of whom she spoke.

“Well then!” he addressed me with something which, for him, was close to awe. “It seems to me that she is a messenger from thy liege-lord and his Lady and I have crowned thee as my equal, beloved. For as a princess art thou truly, beloved also of Aulë and of Yavanna as evidenced by this their gift!”

****

Later still, as Laurelin was on the wane, and we approached that hour of softer, mingled light, did we stand forth, my mother and I, for the exchange of jewels, for the vows, and for the end of the ceremony. The whole company had moved from the gardens of King Finwë’s house to the courts beneath the Mindon, for it was before the image of Telperion we were to make our most solemn promises. Finwë was to present me with a finely crafted necklace of silver, woven in the shape of exquisitely formed leaves and bearing a single stone; an opal, yet with orange-red lights within, like unto the rich, full berry of a rowan. As my eyes alighted upon it, did the power that had been pored into its creation engulf me as a wave; hold me to it, and hold me to him.

“Nerdanel?” Again did Fëanáro speak into my thoughts, and to bring me back to the occasion. I knew without a doubt whose work the jewel was.

“The stone, Nármirë*, as a gift of welcome from my House to you, Nerdanel, daughter of Urundil!” Finwë looked upon me most kindly as he so spoke, and with much pride of his own at his son’s craftsmanship, and choice of bride. “May it ever remind you of the joy of this day, and bring you fair hope and delight throughout the ages to come.”

I bowed my head for the king to place the chain about my neck, and said my heart-felt thanks in return. Though Nármirë was presented as a gift of welcome, yet did I know that Fëanáro had pored much more than ‘welcome’ into its being, as I had pored of my all into my gift to him.

So then was it my mother’s turn to gift Fëanáro in similar manner, and most honoured was she at so doing. The chain of the Green Stone was of a much simpler design than that of Nármirë. But I had set the stone in such manner that it could also be easily worn as a broach, and its setting was wrought also in silver, in the form of an eagle with outspread wings.

Fëanáro, aye, and Finwë also, knew of that moment whose work Laicasar was, and who had given the craftswoman of their aid.

“The stone, Laicasar, as a gift of welcome from the House of Urundil to you, Fëanáro, son of Finwë. May it ever remind you of the joy of this day, and of the honour and love in which you are held,” my mother stated, and Fëanáro lowered his head to receive of my gift. His eyes widened, just slightly, as he felt the echo of the Great Music I had so endeavoured to pour into it. And I was content that he was pleased, if not somewhat surprised, by my show of skill.


At the mingling of the light did we make our vows, those words which I will not repeat, but which were ever binding upon us. To Manwë and to Varda, and to Eru did I call as witness to my choice and to my love. Our rings did we exchange, and each receive back from the other those first rings of silver, to keep and treasure henceforth. And by so doing was the ceremony at an end!

It had been arranged that at that point all the guests would return to the gardens for further refreshments, and presentations from some of our bards. Sometimes do folk continue to celebrate, and those wed leave discretely to go to where they will finalise their union. Other times do the guests then leave, equally discreetly, knowing that their presence is no longer suitable. With our wedding was it a mixture of both options, for the celebrations continued, and amongst the folk of the city in general, as Finwë had made request that all celebrated this day of happiness if they would. Food had been sent out to the concourses, upon which many had gathered, and musicians sent also amongst the people that all would remember the day. But Fëanáro and I were to be left standing before the silver tree, that we would depart at will.

Finwë returned first to the gardens, and with Indis. She had not sought to speak with me that day, and had kept herself out of much of the celebrations. Wise enough was that noble lady to know that any intervention on her part could turn the course of the day’s events, and she wished that not upon me, nor upon Finwë. Nay, she wished it not upon Fëanáro either, though by then she knew there was naught she could do that would be pleasing to him. Ingwë and Olwë followed Finwë’s departure, and then my parents also, my mother with a single backward glance to the daughter of whom she was so proud. Soon were Fëanáro and I standing alone in the court, and strange did it seem to me, who had at the start of the day found the crowd a strangeness. But he took up my hand and led me away also, not to the house, not to the rooms I had thought were prepared for us, but through the side gate, and down broad steps that were, as the streets, covered in the dust of diamonds.

“Where are we to go, my lord?” I wondered for a moment if we were to go to the great gate and take horses and ride out from the city to one of those places we had so enjoyed. But it was another place Fëanáro had made ready.

****

I looked with amazement around the great hall, for it was to our part built house that he led me. Now did his wish for me to be not involved in the initial building of our home, his secret, become apparent. Although much of the building was as yet far from finished, the great hall itself was near complete. The high beams and copper webs were in place, the diamonds reflecting both the softened light of the Trees and the multitude of candles placed upon the floor. And that floor! It was like unto the one in his father’s house, and yet different. A blue and green and gold marbled design it was, portraying Valinor, all the places we had visited and those unknowns yet to be explored. In one corner was a compass, showing direction, and the edges were softened in hue, as if suggesting other possibilities in the lands beyond. Now did I know why Narwasar and the others that my father had sent always looked so grim! There was so much work already accomplished and in little time.

Few furnishings were there of yet. Against the eastern wall of the room was a long table, laden with fruit and flacons of water and limpë, which looked like the work of Tavardil, the carpenter who was responsible for much of that which graced King Finwë’s house. Some of the copperware and silverware, the plates and goblets and knives, which Fëanáro and I had crafted together were upon a side table, as was a crystal container of míruvórë, and that which was needful for the making of coimas, (thought I, with no great concern!). Two, high backed, chairs were set by the table, of the same standard of workmanship, while the white covered and curtained bed was set upon the dais at the head of the hall.

Fëanáro had stood back as I entered the room; waiting was he for my approval of what he had planned and accomplished. But I was silent; so overcome by this work, by this act of care. Removing my shoes, I had walked, as I preferred, barefoot across the warm marble floor, attempting to note each detail of the place wherein, soon enough, I would dwell. Then did I notice upon the white covers of the bed, a single sprig of the wildflower that he had given to me upon our early travels, and full memory of his words and my feelings on that occasion flooded me. I cannot say what I felt to behold such a simple gift; more precious than anything save the jewel, save the sculpture, save himself, was that flower to me.

“Is it to thy liking, lady? “ he asked at length, with a touch of impatience that I gave no response.

“It is more wonderful than anything I could have imagined, my lord.” I whispered in awe, and crossed the room to one of the opened windows, to the upper terrace. “Truly is this a gift beyond my expectations, and this our home to be!”

He was satisfied then, and, pouring some of the míruvórë into the engraved and bejewelled wedding cup we had forged, came to stand before me upon the terrace. From that cup arose an aroma rich and strong, as of the first fruits of what promised to be a most bounteous harvest.

“To you, my lady and my love!” Fëanáro raised the cup in courteous gesture to his lips, and over its rim, his eyes met and held mine. Drinking of half its contents, he passed it to me.

“To you, my lord, and to our future happiness!”

We turned of that moment to look over our part created garden, the city and the slopes of Túna, into the West, into the light. Taking back the cup, and putting it aside upon a ledge, he took up my hand in a warm, reassuring grip, and so we stood in silence for a while, both lost in thought. The air was heavy and still, and full of the scent of the sweet-smelling fir wood on the nearby hills, and time seemed strange in passing, as if we had stood thus, together, for eternity. A moment to treasure it was, and then he spoke:

“I will not have any other that is mine taken from me!” His statement was thoughts spoken aloud, breaking the mood, and I felt the slight flicker of his pain. “Yet those I love greatly, do I lose.”

I knew his concerns over his father’s second marriage, his anguish still at the loss of his mother, but on this day I would not indulge him in such a mood; neither do I think he truly wished me to so do.

“You will not lose me, Finwion!” I affirmed with certainty, and, turning to face him, I took hold of both his hands and drew him most close.

He made a mock sigh at my boldness, but his lips met mine most eagerly, nonetheless.


*****


“Elen!”

I heard Fëanáro’s voice, whispering pointedly to me, though if it was a spoken word, or one in fëa I was not certain, and I stirred in my sleep, pushing aside the covers of the bed. I had been in dream, and one of the beauty of standing upon Ezellohar, and being engulfed in the light of both Trees so that my skin tingled with a myriad of sensations and I shone forth with a radiance of my own. To wake from that dream was to come into greater bliss, however. He was there, in my life, and not to fade in any way at all, as would the dream. Watching me closely and with an amused tenderness had be been. Reaching up without further thought, I wrapped my arms about his neck to draw him again in close embrace.

“What would thou have me behold, Finwion?”

“Dost thou know not, my lady wife?” he questioned with a full smile, taking up and tightening the pressure about my right hand slightly, as if he were about to rise from the bed and help me to my feet.

Then did I understand! “Ah, thou wouldst awaken me as was first done by our people in Cuiviénen!” stated I with confidence, learning that tale of the first awakening as I had learnt to first count as a child. For had the neri of the Second Kindred, of the Noldor, not awoken their spouses to life by crying to them ‘Elen’, behold the beauty of the stars? And it is said by our people that it was thus that the first thing a nissi beheld was her spouse, and her love for him was her first love, and only later did she have love for the wonders of Arda.

With the slightest of nods did he acknowledge my words.

“And do I not have me a wife who loves me first, beyond all the wonders of Arda, yet is also filled with an eagerness and desire for adventure; and who will be my companion therein?”

Now was he making reference to the second part of the tale; that the neri beheld their spouses at second sight, though one most welcome to them. The first thing the neri beheld was the stars, and it was oft said, that sight had filled them with an eagerness and desire for adventure in strange places.

“It is very true,” said I, filled with a sense of wonder at the path my life had taken. “Know that I love thee beyond all of creation, Finwion, and will keep thee company on thy journeys until the end of time, if it is thy wish.”

He smiled again, and kissed my brow then my lips as if it were a seal of promise: taking my words as a solemn oath. I meant them as such at the time, for did not everything in my nature tell me it would be thus? Then, in my thoughts, he spoke with greater clarity than before:

‘And though I think I shall not rest until I have explored all land, and all knowledge, even unto the stars themselves, be it possible, that I may oft need to do so alone, yet ever will I seek of thee and return to thee, my heart’s love. For beautiful to my eyes art thou, and of thy depths and thy wisdom will I never tire. ”


So he then said, and at times thereafter. For, indeed, did he love me well, though ever would he be known for his greater love of his father and his consuming love for the Silmarils. How could I compete as interest, for the writers of later lore, for Secondborn such as you, Firya, to the glory of the Silmarils or to King Finwë? No Melian, no Lúthien am I! But my lord and I were friends and companions from the start of our relationship, as is recorded in some works of lore. He wed me even though many greatly wondered at his choice, and though ours was not a love that was recorded in song or poetry that has survived, nor was spoken of through the Ages because of what came to pass, yet was it, for it's all too brief duration, something most passionate and beautiful.

And in my memories does that beauty never fade!




None save Eru, nay, not even the Valar, can totally perceive nor read the mind of another being*. – This and the following ideas are taken from ‘Myths Transformed’ in Morgoth’s Ring
Telvo - ‘Father name’ of Amras
Pityo -‘Father name’ of Amrod
Makalaurë - Maglor
Maitimo - Maedhros
Carnistir -Caranthir
Unhoused. – Those fëa without hröa. In this case, those in the Halls of Mandos.
Nármirë - ‘Fire jewel’ (I think!)