Title: Winter's Song
Prompt: 028. through long December nights, we talk in words of rain or snow; while you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go
Summary: Nellas isn't the only one to seek solitude in the winter weather, but Túrin can't find peace in it – not yet, anyway. Sometimes it's just a matter of keeping the faith.
Author's Notes: It is rather cold right now, and it's been raining solidly for the past week. The world needs more Nellas fic, although this was only meant to be a drabble. Morwen and Nienor insisted on getting a mention.
But Morwen would not depart from her house, for her heart was yet unchanged and her pride still high; moreover Nienor was a babe in arms. Therefore she dismissed the Elves of Doriath with her thanks, and gave them in gift the last small things of gold that remained to her, concealing her poverty; and she bade them take back to Thingol the Helm of Hador. But Túrin watched ever for the return of Thingol's messengers; and when they came back alone he fled into the woods and wept, for he knew of Melian's bidding and he had hoped that Morwen would come. This was the second sorrow of Túrin.
- Unfinished Tales
It was very cold, and Nellas was even prepared to admit as much, but she seemed to have the forest to herself. Midwinter was several weeks gone, but the snow was still thick on the ground, and the evenings still fell quickly. She had passed a group of elflings playing in the snow earlier that day, but they had disappeared, no doubt called inside by anxious parents. The marchwardens would be lounging in their lodges, and most of the Laiquendi were in the southern part of Doriath. Winter weather could be punishing, Nellas reflected, and she certainly wasn't looking forward to the weeks of sleet and snowmelt that were soon to come, but silence and stillness calmed her, and the clouds, in many shades of blue and grey in the late afternoon light, were lovely to see.
Yet someone else had come seeking tranquil surroundings. A slight movement drew her eye towards a clump of pine trees, where a figure was sitting propped against their trunks. It was too small to be an elf, and even elflings did not need to wear so many warm clothes… 'Túrin!' she cried, realising suddenly who it must be. 'Túrin!' There seemed to be no response. Alarmed, she began to sprint towards the trees. What if he was hurt? What if he was sick? She knew that Men could die from the cold. Oh, Valar, what if he was dead?
Her latest fear at least was proved to be unfounded when Túrin waved at her, although her heart didn't stop pounding until she had confirmed that he was neither hurt nor freezing to death. 'What are you doing here?' she asked.
'Do they want me to come inside?'
'I haven't heard anyone asking for you,' Nellas said tactfully. He shouldn't stay outside for much longer, but she could well understand if Túrin simply wanted to escape the noise and the heat and the crowded space that was Menegroth in winter. If that was all it was, but she could feel distress in the boy, like a current running under the surface of a river. There was something else troubling him.
She was about to ask him again, but Túrin evaded her with his own question. 'Aren't you cold?' he asked, gesturing at her light shoes and thin clothes.
'I don't mind it,' she replied, more lightly than she felt. What is troubling you, Túrin?
'I know you don't live in Menegroth. Don't you ever get cold?'
'Well, the Girdle shelters us from the worst of the storms,' Nellas explained. 'I sleep in a tree during winter, and I'll light a fire when the weather is truly horrible.' Túrin didn't reply, but she felt prompted to add, 'I know that Men do not like winter, and there are even many elves who think it has no use. But it's a time of rest and peace for the world.'
'But it's so bare!' Túrin protested.
'On the surface, yes. It's subtle, but there's beauty to be found in the shades of grey of a stormcloud, or on snow coloured red at dawn, or in the pattern of tree branches against the empty sky. Winter brings serenity.' When Túrin didn't answer her, she said quietly, 'I have spoken of rest and peace and serenity, but I fear that winter has not brought these things to you.' She felt the boy beside her tense, and hoped that she had guessed right.
Several minutes passed before Túrin broke the silence. 'The messengers the king sent to my mother returned today. Everyone's all right. I've got a baby sister now. Her name's Nienor.'
'That seems like good news.' Nellas was careful to keep her voice neutral. She had learnt that Túrin became sullen and reluctant if pressed with questions, but he would often admit things without being prompted if there was silence to fill.
'I might never see her,' the boy said bluntly. 'And I might never see my mother again. The queen asked her to come and live here,' he continued suddenly. 'They didn't want me to know, but I heard them talking about it. I hoped she would come, but she won't leave her home. There are evil men in Dor-lómin now, but she won't leave. It's not safe, but she won't leave. Why won't she leave?' he asked pleadingly.
Nellas herself had no idea why Túrin's mother would choose to stay in that land, but she knew what others might say. 'Perhaps the roads are blocked, and she's waiting for them to clear. Perhaps it's too cold, and she's waiting for spring. Perhaps she's waiting for her baby to grow old enough to walk, so they can leave together.'
'That's what the advisors said,' Túrin muttered.
Nellas touched his arm. 'I know it's hard,' she said gently, 'but you'll just have to wait and trust your mother. She's a wise woman and I'm sure she has a reason to stay, but you have to have faith in her.' She glanced up to see the sun set over the woods. 'I'm sorry, Túrin, but you should be inside by now. We'd better get back to the caves.'
Túrin got to his feet quicker than she expected, which sent a stab of guilt into her – had she kept him outside longer than he had wanted? They made the trip back to Menegroth in silence. The sun had only just set by the time they reached the caves, but from the way Túrin was hustled inside, she guessed that a search had been going on for some time. The doorwards certainly looked at her mistrustfully, as though she had deliberately kept Túrin out in the cold – or perhaps they saw her as an uncultured and primitive wood-elf who had no business with the king's foster-son. They kept their faces expressionless, however, when Túrin paused in the doorway to ask her if they could meet again. 'Not inside,' he elaborated, seeing her glance at the thick doors and carved stone walls. 'Can I meet you where we were sitting today?'
Nellas smiled at him. If he wanted to keep the exact location a secret between them, she had no objections. 'If you visit that spot often enough, I'm sure you'll see me again.' She turned to walk away.
'Wait!' she paused and looked over her shoulder. 'How will I know when you'll be there?' Túrin asked.
'You'll just have to trust me, Túrin. And have faith.' Nellas winked at him, and disappeared into the darkening forest.