Nerdanel's Story. Fëanáro. Part Three
Arghh...life! ;-) Just when I think all is under control, the rain starts coming through the roof - literally! I have had a day of juggling with buckets to try and catch all the 'drips', which were doing a passable impression of a bathroom shower.
The weather has been very unusual here -lots of high winds and rain instead of the cold. No snow so far! I have seen on the news that parts of the US ( California, Oklahoma, Texas!!) have been experiencing some awful weather - icestorms it says? I do hope folk are okay?
It has been very busy - and it will be very busy, I am afraid! I have relatives coming to visit from Scotland. They are great folk, and I am really looking forward to seeing them - but time....never enough of it. I know I should prioritise better..that would help .
But other than that, all is well.
As ever, I am saying "Sorry" to those whose e-mails / PMs I havn't yet replied to. :( I keep saying things will improve - and they will. It is just that, at the moment, I wonder how I managed when I was teaching; life is so full!
So by popular request - here is another picture of the 'dolls'. The message in this one - 'Though supremely gifted, Fëanor is not a hairdresser!' ;-) Maedhros looks resigned to his unruly hairstyle! :)
This is a much reworked version of an earlier chapter. I am posting it in its entirity, as the earlier part of the chapter has been changed again. That's me! Always changing things! :(
Nerdanel’s Story. Fëanáro. Part Three.
(Disclaimer: All belongs to Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Volumes 10 and 12. Nothing is mine, except the interpretation and any mistakes.)
With thanks to Bellemaine and Ellie
“She (Nerdanel) made images, some of the Valar in their forms visible, and many others of men and women of the Eldar, and those were so like that their friends, if they knew not her art, would speak to them; but many things she wrought also of her own thought in shapes strong and strange but beautiful.”
(The Later Quenta Silmarillion Morgoth’s Ring J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien. HarperCollins p272.)
The House of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age
Though I have oft dwelt at my father’s house during my long years, it was to that first of my homes as a wife that I retired for much of the First Age, in which I dwelt for a time with Nolwen, and to which I go when I would be alone with my memories.
That house it is which Fëanáro and I built together when our love was young, to be our dwelling place during the first years of marriage. Nowhere near as grand as the residence we later built upon the western slope of Túna is that isolated tower – Neldormindo - but it is the ‘home’ of my heart. Situated upon a wooded hill behind a high beech hedge, so as to give both privacy and a most glorious view over the nearby lake from the highest two of its five floors, it is extensive enough to accommodate several folk comfortably. A place of refuge from the demands of others, a place to ponder, study and to create in is that home of our youth; not a palace for receiving of lords and ladies or for grand councils of matters politic.
The statues are there; set in a row against the windows of the fountain room. I had them moved from the house in Tirion a few years after Fëanáro and Ambarussa were slain. I wanted my creations of our creations to be closer at hand, that I need not tread the road to the city whenever I would cast eye upon them.
So it has been that, prompted by my present mood and to lessen my father’s concern over my listlessness for all in life save my writing, I visited Neldormindo again. Though naught has blurred my memory of my lord or any of our sons, yet that place seems to resonate with their presence - with their laughter - more than any other.
During the week of my visit I wandered the tower and the grounds (which are in the care of Failië and Hlaron’s granddaughter - Meryë) taking note of the small alterations that had been made to the gardens and workrooms since my last visit. Ever considerate of my needs have the descendents of Failië been. Yet little have I wanted changed about the living areas. My room and study on the fourth floor is as it was; save that a few more recent works of craft from my apprentices have been added. The fifth floor, which was Fëanáro’s study, has not been altered at all. But it was not those places in which I spent most of my time – it was the fountain room on the ground floor.
On the morning of the second day of my visit I had risen early and taken myself to the fountain room to contemplate – to ponder the choices before me with no other save the images of my sons for company. Always had I been tenacious; strong of body, heart and hope that it seemed as folly I should show such weakness as wishing to depart of life. Over the ages had I fulfilled what my nature and skills required of me; had I attained a place of quiet peace in my heart that I thought would endure. Yet I was to be shaken in my complacency, that my thoughts turned ever more to my family again. The weight of grief over my lord and sons had been but at the edges of my mind. Always had I prayed to the Valar for them, that they would seek and find of forgiveness – of healing. But since the return of Findekáno to his kin, the reality of my situation - of what I could possibly hope for as wife and mother of the ‘House Accursed’ - had struck me with a force. I had come to dwell overmuch upon the hopelessness of my plight.
Now as I sat in thought, I realised most clearly that the writing down of my memories had given me a new sense of purpose. That purpose was confirmed by two events that occurred at Neldormindo. Both happenings were most unexpected!
I had seated myself upon one of the stone benches facing the windows and the statues of my sons as the first, pale gold rays of Vása lit the room. The rich fragrance of the rambling, red roses I had planted shortly after Makalaurë’s birth reached out to me in my east facing retreat, carrying with it many happy and potent memories that it seemed I could hear again my second son, and his brothers lifting their voices one by one to join in his song. Even did I think to hear Carnistir, who less often gave expression in music. The sweet trill of thrush and blackbird in the nearby trees picked up the sounds of exquisite beauty as the immanent sense of my sons’ voices faded - creating a sense of continuity of joy in a world that resonated still with echoes of the Great Music. So did I find my heart strangely moved with anticipation of further beauty and joy. So did it prove!
I sat as Vása coursed the sky, feeling ever more determined that there was yet a reason for me to continue in hröa; to seek to set matters aright, to say in script what I should have said in spoken word. To utter: ‘Forgive me, Finwion! I am so very sorry I acted as I did – that I saw not through the lies aimed at driving us apart; that matters might have been otherwise!’ For I would that folk knew of the truth, that they considered the knowledge I had kept to myself over the ages; that they reconsidered some of their judgements upon my lord and sons. It was not that I could change of history! But I could, mayhap, change something of how history had been understood!
And as I so pondered, the hours passed until the full light of Rána bathed the night sky and an image was set before my eyes – a silver glow flickering over the seven statues before me, caused by the light of moon and stars glimmering through the trees. So did that light appear to me as the pure fëar of those lost sons, shining forth their radiance. As I looked closely upon those enlightened sculptures that had all the semblance of life I could give, save life itself, a greater measure of understanding did I gain.
Sitting as if in the presence of those seven it had appeared to me that their fëar were made whole and unmarred. And I recalled the words spoken to me in the Second Age by Manwë himself – that not all of my sons were beyond redemption. (So have I long known they were not condemned to the Everlasting Dark, as they had made oath!) Fully aware had I been that the Elder King spoke not that any would be returned – but if any were healed from the inner darkness that had so tainted them, I would count my years of vigil fully justified.
Of certainty did my fëa then join in Makalaurë’s song of the beauty of Valinor, and even did I sing aloud the words, that I had steadfast hope that what had once been marred may yet be made whole.
Yet what of Fëanáro? What of he who was my beloved?
Even if any of our sons are to be purged of their guilt, are to be healed, what forgiveness can there be for the Spirit of Fire? I understand so many reasons why he may never be allowed to return, and never can I conceive of him suing the Valar for pardon. Too proud – mayhap still too noble would he be to hide behind knowing lies and false promises, as did Moringotho.
But therein lies a strange hope for him. For I do believe that, lost in darkness though he was, not all light and love were extinguished in him, that mayhap Námo Mandos can rekindle the unmarred flame that once burnt so brightly, and even my lord may know of absolution and of healing.
Now I needs must ponder further upon the second event that caused me much consideration – the revelation that came to me as I stood in what had once been our room, before the likeness I had sculpted of him in the time before we were wed. The image of moon and starlight upon our sons I took as a sign of hope for the future, but no present reality. What I came to realise as I stood before the sculpture of my husband must be given much further thought before I make record of it.
So this day will I continue to set down my memories of the early years of our companionship; of our courtship, and continue to defy Moringotho’s legacy by showing forth aspects of Fëanáro’s character and life that are less well known.
- - - - -
Upon departing my father’s house we rode west across the Calaciryandë, then turned south, heading for the vast woodlands wherein the Vala, Oromë, dwelt. With but three days absence granted me from my training we knew that reaching those distant glades, and visiting the halls of their mighty lord was out of the question. So would we needs make do with a lesser journey. Though of a somewhat serious mind mood as a result of his disagreement with my father - as I then thought - Prince Curufinwë seemed eager to make the most of the time we had, that he was not to be disappointed at the change in our plan.
“Oft does Oromë ride abroad with his folk. We may yet come across him,” he stated, with more confidence of success than I thought the situation warranted.
“It would seem that you are acquainted with Oromë as well as with Aulë, my Lord Prince?” I questioned in return.
I thought to know better the extent of my companion’s dealings with the Mighty Ones. Though we abode in their land as newly invited guests – as the beloved children of Ilúvatar; yet were the Valar far beyond any of us. True Immortals are they and the Maiar alike, who existed long before Arda, rather than belonged to it. (As many do say we Quendi belong to Arda!) Though oft did our folk keep company with the Maiar for purpose of learning, a few - such as the kings of the three kindred, my father, and Istyaro - knew certain of the Valar very well.
At my question, the prince turned his head to face me, to fix his eyes directly upon me in a kind of wondering stare. I, who was unused to such intense study being made of me, fought not to colour of cheek under his gaze, nor to turn away.
He spoke then with an oddly softened tone. “I have visited with Oromë but once, my lady; and that in the company of my instructor, the Lord Tulcavaryar. Aulë I have visited several times in the company of Onónon, and thrice with my father.”
And still he looked to me, as if in that moment I alone of all creation held interest for him. Most disconcerting it was! I knew that those who found another interesting would oft look to them – secretly, shyly. I had done so myself the first few days of Tolfaen’s visit to my parents. But there was nothing secret or shy about the prince’s approach. Forthright of gaze was he as if searching in my eyes for something he dearly sought. I could be silent no longer.
“I trust something fascinates you about the way I have braided my hair, or the necklace I wear, that you keep your eyes upon me so, my Lord Prince!” I enquired archly.
He laughed - and his eyes shone with amusement. But he deliberately kept his gaze upon me for a moment longer.
“Much about you fascinates me. Why else would I have sought of your company, Lady Nerdanel?”
At that comment I blushed furiously, annoyed with myself for such a lack of self-control. None had spoken so to me before. Why, even Gaerion who had long known me had never been so bold.
“And you only notice that I look, because you look to me!”
The slightest of smiles still curled my companion’s lips, but he was noble enough to realise my discomfort - to turn his attention back to our path and away from my reddened face.
Until that point had we been following the oft-travelled path to Valmar. Then we came to a place where the trail split in two. The prince turned our course south west, to follow along the iris-laden banks of one of the many streams that cascaded down from the mountain heights. My own wanderings thus far had been to the hills of the north and to the eastern coast. Once away from the path to Aulë’s halls I was upon land unknown.
But still the thought that my companion was so confident of my attention brought me embarrassment. I sought to explain. (I was very young!)
“Though at present I learn of all the skills my father asks, that I seek to become a true Servant of Aulë, it is my wish to become a sculptress,” I ran a hand through the white mane of my mare, as if demonstrating my desire to feel of form; my words a matter of well-known fact. “I do make study of many folk and creatures to that end. Mayhap I do but make study of you, Prince Curufinwë, because I would make of your likeness upon my return home!”
Though his eyes were then turned upon the smoothed pebbles lying in the shallow stream, that shone forth almost as pearls, I still felt as if he was looking to me. My effort at sensible explanation but drew from him a further, knowing smile.
“As you will, lady!”
Such confidence was there about him! Such – arrogance! I determined then that I would capture his likeness, and with all the skill I possessed. I would have him impressed by my works and my potential, as my father and even Aulë were impressed. And I would have that likeness of him kept in my study, to act as muse for my further creations.
Now our ride had been at a steady canter, rather than ground covering, yet it seemed to me that the further we rode from the dwellings of the Aulenduri, the merrier my companion became. Or mayhap it was the further from Tirion? By the time of the second mingling of the light of the Trees we halted to partake of a small meal. He unclasped his silver-grey cloak, placing it upon the grass for us to sit upon. So we took brief rest by a grove of Alder trees, sharing the provisions he brought forth, and saving my supplies and our waybread until later. As we ate of the fruit, honeyed bread and smoked venison he had brought with him from his father’s kitchens, and drank from the nearby rippling stream, I questioned him further as to his visit; as to his riding in the company of Tulcon to my father’s house.
Prince Curufinwë made of his former response: “How else was I to prevent much enquiry being made after me in Tirion?”
Then, after finishing the remainder of the venison, he explained further.
“Barely had I returned to the city from the journey upon which we met, when I found Onónon at the doors of my father’s house – and not to further my tuition in smithying! This apprentice, Tulcon, whom your father sent, had made much of our encounter to the Aulenduri of Tirion that your uncle knew of an instant whom you had met! Though Onónon did but make polite enquiry of his apprentice, rumour was spreading concerning me – and that I would avoid; particularly at this time.”
I could picture what happened as he gave of description, and was sorry – and surprised – to have been the cause of any rumour concerning him. Yet was I not also glad at the outcome?
“So much does it seem I impressed you that had I not given reply of that instant, I suspect a stream of your father’s apprentices and servants would have been sent to find me. To ride back to your dwelling with Tulcon did but silence his overactive tongue in the city, and loosen it in my company.” The prince’s turn was it to speak archly. “Why, even did I learn that you bested him in contest with a staff! How very unusual you are for a nís!”
I could not believe that Tulcon – whom I considered my friend - had divulged such knowledge. But then the prince did seem to have a way of getting what he wanted from others!
“A true contest it was! Think not that I make habit of brawling with apprentices, my lord!” I protested.
Laughing softly, he rose to his feet and made a mock bow; so I realised he was but baiting me.
“I would not have thought that you did – my lady.”
At those words we both laughed. I knew Tulcon was young - hardly older than I - and tended to lack of subtlety, though not of good nature. Prince Curufinwë seemed to have concluded likewise.
So we packed of our provisions, sought again our horses and resumed our journey - at a slightly faster pace. My companion kept eye on the subtle hues of the waxing golden light, as if he knew of something that lay ahead and at a specific time. We rode along a ridge overlooking a broad valley in the foothills, my mare keeping easy pace with his dark brown stallion. Many sheep there were upon that hillside – white, black, and golden ‘clouds’ amidst a sea of verdant grass. They raised their heads at our passing, some calling out to their wandering young, but they ceased not to chew over their own provisions.
Now I would have turned our conversation back to the prince’s visit, and to the supposed rumours concerning him. I would know of their nature – I would know if he made habit of riding out with nissi he met, or if there were any in Tirion of whom he was enamoured. But he would speak of his high esteem for those two of his tutors, Tulcavaryar and my uncle. At this later revelation I was much surprised, recalling my father’s words that Onónon found the prince challenging.
Slowing the pace of his horse momentarily to a brisk trot, the prince leant most close to me, that I could feel his breath upon my cheek.
“Your uncle finds me challenging!” he whispered, as if he had plucked a secret thought from my mind.
I knew not then just how perceptive he could be, but sought immediately to guard my more personal musings.
His smile broadened mischievously as he continued.
“But he is one to enjoy the challenge. I do ponder if any of his kin in the dwellings of the Aulenduri would enjoy such a challenge as seeking to instruct me?”
Now we had traversed the ridge, descended to the next valley passing close to the small village of Mámarmasto (of which I had heard much, for Tulcon had been born there) and entered the gold leafed woodland beyond when of a sudden, the prince’s demeanour changed. He held his head high, as if sensing something untoward; so did I too become alert to the unexpected. Indeed, of that instant a group of four neri appeared, riding swiftly through the trees towards us.
At that point the pathway narrowed, that no more than two horses could pass comfortably between the edges of the lower branches. There was no room to turn; neither did the oncoming riders show inclination of slowing their pace or giving way. We were two riders, and they four - all four, from their appearance and manner, ones who had made of the Great Journey. The prince, who had been riding at my left hand, drew his horse to an immediate halt, and then turned it’s head to the right, blocking the approach to me.
His voice cut through the air as a sharp knife “Lord Valdon; you will halt!”
The face of the foremost of the green-clad riders – a heavily built nér with small, lively eyes, showed only too clearly of his annoyance. But he slowed to a halt, his companions doing likewise.
“Ill-met, Curufinwë! Now, get out of my way. Can you not see I am in a hurry?”
I drew of breath at the insult – never had I heard any speak so derisively to another. Never had I expected to hear a lord so address a prince! The first time it was that a chill shadow passed over me – that I shuddered involuntarily. So did I become aware that not all of the Noldor were in manner like the Aulenduri!
The second rider, one with over wild, unbound black hair, and the coldest, sullenest eyes I had ever beheld, made to speak. But the Lord Valdon held up his hand for silence.
“I have no time to play games with you, son of Finwë. I would be at Ettelendil’s halls before the change of light, and you know of my mood from the time of our last encounter.” Valdon made to push forwards, to force us from the path, hard against the trees. But Prince Curufinwë was not one to give way!
“And you know of my mood, my lord!” the prince spoke with much command, turning his mount again, that our horses remained close together, that he was between me and those ill-graced neri. “No wish have I to halt your departure from my presence, but neither will I allow you to ride down my companion and I!”
The atmosphere was most tense. I was unused to such conversation between any of the Noldor or Teleri I knew. But I did know from talk amongst the families of the Aulenduri of the Lord Valdon and his three sons – that they kept mostly to themselves on their estate beyond the woods. My mother and Tulcon had both made mention that they attended not any festival or celebration, save at the Valar’s command.
“You have not the watchful eye of the Lord Silwë upon you this day, in this place, that you could prevent me from doing as I wish!” The lord’s reply was spat with contempt. And the other riders closed in upon us.
Nodding acknowledgement of my presence, though looking not truly at me, Lord Valdon continued to address the prince with much despite. “I see you have found of Urundil’s daughter - your brood mare - as your mother instructed you to do! Does she know how she is to be used?”
The son with the cold eyes snorted derisively, that though my mind told me to keep silent, I was constrained to speak.
“Urundil’s daughter will be used by no one, my lord! Who are you to so speak? Who made you spokesman of insult and of ignorance before your prince and one favoured of Aulë?”
They all laughed as if at some secret, and at the prince’s obvious discomfort at my outburst.
“A fitting lady, indeed!” Then Valdon addressed me, but still did not see me. “A word of warning, daughter of Urundil! This ‘prince’ is but son of the one who led us hence to the promised land! Who led us from what we knew and loved to become lesser folk and to emptiness! I and my sons acknowledge not his father’s leadership of our people”
That was more than enough for Prince Curufinwë. Though he was but a child compared to that company, he fixed his beautiful, unflinching eyes directly upon the Lord Valdon – the mind behind them demanding obedience - the words spoken now equally menacing.
“Your lack of acknowledgement matters not. My father is King of the Noldor! You will mind your manners in my presence, and in that of the Lady Nerdanel, or you will find the outcome of our last encounter is but repeated, my lord.”
For a few seconds they stared into each other’s faces; then it was the Lord Valdon who dropped his gaze. He turned away, riding past us close to the trees, muttering: “A curse be upon you, son of Finwë. Your father betrayed our inheritance, and you will destroy us all!” Clear it was that he feared to confront the prince any further at that time.
With a glance at us both, the three sons of that lord followed in single file, close on his heels. So in a moment were they gone, save for the fading sound of the pounding of their horses hooves.
I was aghast! I was astounded! What an encounter! Though I had wandered of the hills and shores in naught but my own company, never had I felt any sense of threat. Not that I was a feared by that lord - such was not my nature - but never until that day of such happiness did I know of such bitterness.
Prince Curufinwë watched after the figures until they disappeared over the ridge. His body was tense, his eyes narrowed and glittering with rage, but he controlled of his temper – just! Both our horses danced nervously, sensing the intensity of his mood. Then he made gesture that we should ride on from that place.
So much was there I would say, so much to ponder upon! I wanted to know what had previously perchanced between he and that lord. I wanted to understand the pointed references made to me being a ‘brood mare’, to me being ‘used’. But at that moment I mostly wanted to rebuke of the curse made. I had heard blessings a plenty, on the Valar, on family on friends and even on animals – but not open curses. I wanted to say that such a curse had no power if there was naught of truth in which it could find root. I wanted to pledge of my loyalty and belief in the prince, rather than in one that was obviously no friend to him. And yet - he who was but a youth had subdued of four full-grown neri by his strength of will alone. Was he not magnificent!
So we rode on for a short space in silence - I, doing battle with my growing admiration for him, and he doing battle with his hot temper.
At last he spoke; measured words, still with a touch of anger about them.
“Shall the Lord Valdon not make answer for his insult to you, Nerdanel! Most sorry am I that you witnessed such an exchange, and on a day we should both be happy.”
“But why is he so embittered, my Lord Prince? His eyes speak of a lively mind – what happened that he sees only that which displeases him? He speaks of us becoming lesser folk, of Aman as being empty!”
The prince urged his horse forwards apace, as if he would put even those woods behind him. Could it be that he was running from the memory of that meeting? Nay! In no way could that have been so. Yet the thought remained lodged in my mind that part of the reason for our journey was that he ran from that which pursued him.
“Have you not heard that Valdon has no wife? Three grown sons, but no lady wife nor mother!”
Nay, I had not! I shook my head in answer. Though none had mentioned of a wife, I had not thought the situation to be other than that of a family. So the prince explained – unfolding a tale of sorrow before me.
“Ai, Nerdanel, from what Onónon has told me of you, you know not of grief, and may that ever endure. But for some of those who made the Great Journey following my father’s advice and Oromë’s lead, this land of bliss is as a curse. Some were sundered from those they loved, because they were unwilling to leave the land of their birth; even accusing my father, Ingwë, Olwë, and initially Elwë of deserting them to make struggle against the menace that still prowled the land. Some were lost upon that journey. The Lord Valdon lost part of his family at Cuiviénen, in that they would leave not the land; he lost of his wife and youngest son in the crossing of the Towers of Mist, that they fell to their doom from the terrible heights. He does not forgive my father for his loss, nor for claiming that he alone is deprived of joy.”
And I began to have some understanding of that nér’s mood, though it did not excuse him his behaviour, nor fully explain his contempt for the son of Finwë. More was there to the situation than I was being told, for the prince had recalled the tale with some understanding of the other’s predicament, yet had greeted him with little love.
“But your father is right in that he alone in Aman knows of bereavement. And do we not now know that the fëar of the slain reside with Námo Mandos They may in time return?”
As soon as I had spoken those words, I wished I had not. But the prince took no slight, nor altered again in mood at thought of his mother’s death.
“Let us speak no more of the matter, Nerdanel, I ask of thee.”
Again, he made use of the more intimate form of address that had me look upon him questioningly. He smiled; a little of his merriment restored, but then returned to his silence.
We rode on under the golden canopy of leaves, the trees whispering their own songs of joy to us, the rustling of branch and around root speaking of squirrels and birds, of foxes and mice. Then, as we broached another hillcrest, my companion signalled we should halt. From that vantage point we looked down across the plain of Valinor, upon a welcoming country of gold, and a distant greenness and brightness that was edge of the woods of Oromë.
“It is so beautiful!” said I, overcome by a nigh tangible sense of strength and mirth that seemed to fill the very air. I had seen many a wood, but none that seemed so vast, so ‘alive’ as that one. And the light of Laurelin brooded upon each treetop, upon each leaf, giving it of a golden cast that the woods were I no way touched by gloom.
Prince Curufinwë dismounted, making to the side of my dappled mare to aid me down. Not that I had need of his help, but an act of graciousness it was that he should so do, and that I should so accept.
For the first time he touched me – his hands, warm and strong about my waist - that I felt reassured, that all was well and good – that all was as it should be. And again I felt longing that I did not fully understand – save I wished him to remove not of his touch.
Mayhap he felt likewise, for once my feet were set upon the ground, he took my hand. So we walked together to the very edge of the hilltop.
“My mother thought highly of both your parents, Nerdanel. She spoke to me of the Lady Taurlotë in particular, and that she deemed her a wise, strong and steadfast friend.”
I believed he sought to explain away the Lord Valdon’s disconcerting comments regarding me. But I saw there was pain upon his features as he spoke of Míriel, and I wanted him to be happy.
“There is no need …” I began. But he interrupted me, laying his other hand upon my shoulder to turn me to face him.
“Aye, there is need! I would have no misunderstandings come between us, lady. Not now – not ever! My mother spoke highly of you to me, and that I should seek of you if I needed wise and steadfast company. To find you was in my mind the day we met, though I had thought to wander awhile in the mountains before paying visit to your father’s house.” Taking hold of both my hands, he raided them thoughtfully to his lips. As if he were pondering still just how much he would say to me in that moment, it seemed.
Now, that our first encounter had been no accident but a deliberate act on his part had never even occurred to me. Amazed was I that he had thought to find me before we had met!
“So you sought me upon your mother’s advice because you had need of a steadfast friend! But my Lord Prince – surely you have many steadfast friends.”
He grinned, but his eyes were compelling me to understand something – that the first meeting of ours had been in some way ordained - that we were meant to be more than friends. A sense of warm intimacy seemed to settle upon us, like a net enveloping us both in a shimmering thread of glory, drawing us inexorably closer to each other.
“I have friends! But it is more than a friend that I desire. Did I not suggest as much at your house?”
“You said you wanted not a servant, my Lord Prince!”
He drew me close, so that for a moment we were breast to breast. His voice held again that strange, deep, softened tone.
“Nerdanel; my chosen name is Fëanáro! I would that you addressed me as such! And I have need of wisdom, not least in what has recently transpired with my father. I have need of your wisdom and of your lo…”
He finished not those words that had my heart beating as a wild creature running free before the wind for the pure joy of life. A sound had pierced the air; a sound that once heard, could never be mistaken for any other.
“The horn of Oromë!”
With a wistful look, he drew me back towards the horses, and helped me to remount, before swinging himself eagerly upon his stallion’s back.
“I knew we would meet of him this day,” said he with his usual certainty about matters unknown to others, “but would that it had been a little later!”
The implication was not lost on me. Only to those most close to him would he give permission to use of his chosen name. And what had he almost said – that he needed my love? Too soon for us to be in love, thought the most sensible daughter of Urundil – thought Nerdanel the Wise. Too late for things to be otherwise, sung my heart!
“As do I wish it had been later – Fëanáro!” So I made affirmation of the honour he had bestowed upon me, and confirmed his feelings were most welcome.
He smiled. “So be it!”
Then the fiery energy in him would no longer be contained, and he was away - urging his mount to great speed down the slope of the hill, his raven-dark hair and silver-grey cloak flowing back. And the pure joy and passion in his laughter resounded in my ears.
That was how I wanted to portray him! That was how I wanted to remember him – always!
- - - - - -
Ambarussa – The twins. In this case, Amras.
Findekáno – Fingon
Vása – The Sun
Makalaurë – Maglor
Carnistir- Caranthir
Finwion – Son of Finwë. Fëanor’s childhood name.
Rána – The Moon
The Elder King – Manwë
Moringotho – Morgoth / Melkor
Towers of Mist – The Hithaeglir
Labels: Nerdanel's Story.(Revised)
posted by Nerdanel_Istarnië | 8:29 PM
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