Chapter One: Tirion upon Túna
"Now it came to pass that Finwë took as his second wife Indis the Fair. She was a Vanya, close kin of Ingwë the High King, golden-haired and tall, and in all ways unlike Míriel. Finwë loved her greatly, and was glad again. But the shadow of Míriel did not depart from the house of Finwë, nor from his heart; and of all whom he loved Fëanor had ever the chief share of his thought. - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion
Fanamár
Fanamár was about to take her first bite of breakfast when her father announced King Finwë's impending marriage to Indis of the Vanyar.
Her mother dropped her spoon, scattering rye porridge across the table. "Surely not!" she said, sounding scandalized.
"It's true," her father said. "In fact, he's getting married soon. But to a Vanyar! They are proud Elves. To think the High King would marry into them. Such a surprise, isn't it?"
"You shouldn't gossip, Alcarcalimo," her mother said disapprovingly. "It sets a bad example for Melime."
"I don't mind," Fanamár said quickly, who had been keeping quiet in hopes of hearing more.
"I don't gossip. I heard it from Órecalo," her father said defensively. "He practically cornered me yesterday afternoon to ask if I knew anything about it."
"I can't believe Órecalo found out before you did," Fanamár mumbled.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Only that you usually have attentive ears, Atto," Fanamár said mildly, poking her table knife into a jar of marmalade. "Ow!"
"Use your butter knife, dear," her mother said sternly, having just knocked her spoon across her daughter's knuckles.
"Sorry, Amya." Fanamár picked up her butter knife. "Only, isn't it strange that you didn't hear of it at all, Atto? You practically have lunch with the King every day."
"First of all, I don't have lunch with him. I'm only a chancellor. And secondly, don't speak with your mouth full, or your mother will start exercising her spoon again."
"Quite right," her mother said. She rose from her seat and went to the small closet in the hall, taking out her daughter's cloak. "Do hurry, Melime, or you'll be late for your meeting with Elulindo."
"You'll be late home, Lótetári?" her father called from the table.
"Yes, I'm going to be busy at the forge today, I expect."
Fanamár swallowed the rest of her breakfast and bounced out of her chair. "Ready to go, Amya." She took the cloak from her mother's hand and pinned it carelessly into place. "Namárië. Please take care of the dishes, Atto."
"Such a loving, helpful daughter," she heard her father say in a dry tone as she careened out the door. She smothered a chuckle and set off in the direction of Galathilion. In the distance, the golden light of Laurelin had begun to mix with the silver of Telperion; it was already the sixth hour.
Her father, one of King Finwë's chancellors, would soon leave the house as well. Fanamár guessed that there would be much counselling to do this day if the rumors were true, given that Lady Indis was a favorite of her uncle, High King Ingwë.
The streets of Tirion sparkled in Laurelin's growing light. Fanamár hummed a soft tune to herself as she passed the countless white houses on her way to the Great Square, murmuring soft greetings when she spotted an acquaintance.
When she reached Galathilion, she paused and frowned. There were several Vanyarin Elves wandering about—one of them appeared to be reciting poetry to a flower—and two or three Noldorin Elves, but there was no flash of silver among the golden and dark heads.
"Not again," she muttered, and then jumped as someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Ai—oh, it's you," she said grumpily to the tall Telerin Elf who was smiling down at her. "I thought you'd forgotten about our meeting."
"Mára aurë, Fana." Elulindo's voice was a thing of beauty, solemn and deep, sonorous as a bell. High King Olwë often found excuses for his son to recite at festivals, whether it be a poem or an anecdote. Once, when he ran out of material, he asked Elulindo to read from Mahtan Aulendur's newest treatise on horseshoes. His son had politely refused.
"Mára aurë. Why do you look like you fell into a river on the way here?"
Elulindo looked down at his sodden robes. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."
"Don't tell me you actually fell into a river."
He gave her a sheepish look. "The bird I was following had a beautiful song, and I was rather distracted."
Fanamár sighed. "Do you really think that the Mindon Eldaliéva's Library will let in a soaked Telerin Elf to drip all over their precious manuscripts?"
He shrugged helplessly. "It really did have a beautiful song."
The Lindar, as the Telerin called themselves, were all Elves of song, but Elulindo's voice and love of singing were unrivalled even amongst his people. As he stared at her pleadingly, Fanamár relented. "I suppose we could go to the Library another day."
"You don't really need me in the Library," Elulindo said, sounding relieved. "Do you, future Lambengolmo?"
"I was hoping you'd help me with some research on the Nandor, as you well know," Fanamár said, "but obviously that won't be happening today. Or ever, if you keep chasing after every songbird that catches your attention."
"I didn't think you were serious. Why would you even choose to write on such a topic?"
"Master Rúmil asked me to. It will be a part of my studies with him."
"The Nandor are boring," Elulindo said dismissively. "If you ask me, the Úmanyar must have no great culture. They were not even open-minded enough to complete the journey to Aman."
"Were you there to see them, Great Prince?" Fanamár said politely.
He reddened. "Well, that's just what my father says."
Fanamár remained tactfully silent.
"How is Lady Lótetári?" Elulindo said hastily.
"My mother is very well, thank you. She says you need to come by sometime in order to try her newest recipe for apple pie." Fanamár gestured to a nearby marble bench, and without waiting, sat down.
Elulindo joined her. "And Lord Alcarcalimo?"
"Also well. I expect he'll be busy today."
"Ah, yes. The marriage is going ahead, then?"
"Has everyone heard of this marriage?" Fanamár demanded.
"I heard of it only yesterday," Elulindo said. He glanced around, mindful that they were very close to King Finwë's house, and lowered his voice. "My father isn't happy about it."
"I'm guessing that many people won't be. Apart from King Finwë. And maybe King Ingwë. And Lady Indis."
Elulindo's voice lowered further. "And the worst of it, I hear, is that King Finwë wants his son in attendance at the marriage feast."
Fanamár felt her eyes widen at the mention of King Finwë's son. Fëanáro. The mere mention of his name invoked awe and respect. Even Master Rúmil had gruffly recommended that she look for an opportunity to study with the Noldorin Prince. "His appetite for knowledge is enormous," Rúmil had commented during a dusty afternoon spent on writing the Annals of Valinor. "And his amount of accumulated knowledge is famous."
Equally famous, of course, was the fact that Prince Fëanáro had a quick temper and an enduring love for his mother, Þerindë, whose fëa now rested in the Halls of Mandos. Fanamár had a feeling that this combination would not appreciate the announcement of King Finwë's remarriage.
"That would be a terrible idea," Fanamár whispered.
"It is," Elulindo agreed. "I don't think Fëanáro would be very happy to attend. I've only met him on some occasions, but he has changed since his mother's…departure. He would not take the idea of a remarriage lightly."
"Let us hope that all will go well."
"But this is all speculation, of course." Elulindo sat back and pulled his wet sleeve from his arm. "We don't know if the marriage will actually happen."
"I suppose," Fanamár said. She shivered, despite the day being quite warm. "And I suppose we don't know if the marriage feast will be as bad as we imagine it to be."
As it turned out, it was.
A/N
Introduction to Fanamár (Sindarin: Fanbâr)
Father-name: Fanamár (lit. "house of veils"), sometimes shortened to Fana
Mother-name: Melime (lit. "beloved")
Character Guide:
Alcarcalimo (lit. "bright splendor") - Fanamár's father, chancellor to Finwë *
Lótetári (lit. "queen of flowers") - Fanamár's mother, a smith *
Elulindo (lit. "blue singer") - son of Olwë
Fëanáro - Finwë's son, High Prince of the Noldor
Finwë - High King of the Noldor
Indis - second wife of Finwë
Ingwë - High King of the Vanyar, uncle of Indis
Mahtan - Fëanáro's father-in-law and greatest smith of the Noldor
Olwë - High King of the Teleri
Órecalo (lit. "mind-light") - chief librarian at the Mindon Eldaliéva Library *
Rúmil - a Loremaster of the Noldor
Þerindë - first wife of Finwë
* fictional characters
Quenya Guide:
Aman - blessed land
Atto - dad
Amya - mom
Fëa - spirit
Lambengolmo - loremaster
Mára aurë - good day
Namárië - farewell
Nandor - those who go back (refers to the the Telerin Úmanyar)