Wrought of Silver and Silk
Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of the chisel against the hard marble resonated around the room. Each tap of the metal against the rock sent a little chip flying downward toward a growing pile on the floor. Like the heartbeat of some aged creature, steady and constant.
"My lady, Alassiel Sinwien is here to see you." The tapping stopped as Nerdanel laid her chisel on the cluttered work bench. A few curses ran through her mind, and quickly she pushed them away. She had all but forgotten about this meeting, arranged weeks ago though it may have been. Hardly a good first impression for her would be daughter.
The door creaked open again and a nis stepped tentatively through.
She curtsied deeply, so that the tips of her silver hair nearly swept the dusty floor. "My Lady Nerdanel." She remained such, bent nearly double, clearly waiting for some sign that she should rise.
Nerdanel stood, dusting chalky hands on her faded apron. "Rise please."
"Of course, my lady."
"You need not call me that, we are to be family after all." For the first time Nerdanel saw clearly the face of nis with whom her son was so enamored. Silvery eyes looked out from a small almost childish face. All was framed by a waterfall of silver white curls. Teleri blood to be sure. It would have been untrue from Nerdanel to say she had not hoped to see more of herself in the girl. But her's and Feanor's marriage had been by all accounts extraordinary. As like to he was to his father she could not expect the same circumstance of Atarinke.
"I am sorry you must see me in this state," She gestured around the cluttered workshop, "no doubt you expected to be meeting with a great lady this afternoon."
"It is no trouble at all to me, Curvo has told me much about you and your work." It sounded strange to hear the nickname on this stranger's tongue, like hearing a foreigner unexpectedly speaking your tongue. Just another reminder that her son whom she had comforted as a child was no longer her's alone, he had his own life beyond the confines of the house. "It is an honor to see where he first discovered his trade."
Casually Nerdanel untied the chord that had bound up her hair, allowing it to fall in a spray of copper frizz.
"I fear if you wish to see where Curvo learnt his craft then you must visit my husband's forges."
Sinwien smiled, flashing white teeth. "Indeed I have visited them, but Curvo tells me he used to watch you sculpt here as a child."
We have no secrets from her. Nerdanel realized. "Then I am happy to receive you here." Carefully she undid the leather apron, folding it, and hanging it on a hook by the window.
The nis steped forward. Nerdanel wondered if she did everything so timidly or if she was merely nervous. She sincerely hoped for the later. No meek nis would be able to tame Atarinke.
"My La—Nerdanel, may ask what you are sculpting."
"Ah," She turned back to the pillar of white shot red marble, as of yet it was still rough, an unidentifiable humanoid shape. Running one hand across the rough surface Nerdanel could feel the shape beneath, as if it was only covered with a thin gauze and she might tear it back to reveal the true form. "It shall be a sculpture of my son."
"Of Curvo?"
"No, of my eldest Maitimo. I thought the colors of the stone suited him. Unfortunately this particular stone is rendered difficult due to the harness and composition of the veins. We shall be lucky if it turns out looking remotely like him at all." She glanced back at Sinwien to see that the young nis' eyes had glazed over. In her eagerness to share her work Nerdanel had forgotten that very few new of or understood sculpture in the same way as she, nor took as much pleasure.
Taking a sheet of white cloth she hastily covered the unfinished sculpture. "Come, we shall not linger here any longer. The day is bright and there are many things for us to speak of."
Sinwien looked instantly relieved.
It was only a short walk to the gardens. Their shoes echoed on the marbled floors. As they walked Nerdanel allowed herself to glance sideways and examine the nis further. Nerdanel was not tall but this nis stood a good inch shorter than she. It was quite short for one of the eldar. She wore a gown of light spring green crusted all-round the neck and sleaves with pearls and bits of hammered silver, a gift most likely from her betrothed. Feanaro had told her that Sinwien was the daughter of one of the house guards. Certainly her family would not have been able to afford such a luxury.
Two great doors opened up into the gardens. The air was crisp and clean, everything awash in Laurenlin's golden glow.
A table had been set for them beside a flowering whisteria. They sat on the cushioned metal chairs and Sinwien poured chilled summer wine for them both.
Nerdanel sighed. She very rarely visited the gardens. Her work rarely allowed for it. Indeed they suffered the neglect of the whole family. The twins had played in them when they were younger, but now they spent their days with the tutors.
It was a very normal thing, she supposed, to sit with one's daughter-to-be in the garden, enjoying afternoon refreshments. They might be any two noblewomen, from any noble family. But they were not. They were of the house of Finwe, or one day would be. In this family nothing might be normal.
"I think that you already suspect this but I wished to talk with you of my son."
The nis swirled her cup, one hand shading her eyes against where—beyond the hills—Laurelin's rays fell down like tendrils of water over the land. "What is it you wish to know? I am sure he confides more in you than in me."
"Curvo confides in no one, save maybe his father and elder brother. And I see him very rarely these days." Like Feanaro he spent most of his time in the forges. Indeed she had been surprised to learn of his betrothal. It was as if he had pulled the nis from thin air.
"Yes he is quiet, even among his brother." She admitted.
"He always has been, but do not mistake his silence for complacency. Curufinwe Atarinke has always been very like his father and his temper runs hot beneath his cool exterior."
Sinwien looked troubled. "Curvo has never been anything less than kind to me."
"Nor would I expect him to be." She had raised all her sons to be considerate at least. "No, I am sure he loves you very dearly. But I must warn you, that if you marry my son there will come times when you will not understand him, or when his tempers may frighten you. I have been married to Feanaro for many decades but still there come times when I cannot understand him, or else his passions run too hot for me to contain."
"Nerdanel, I do not mean to disregard your warning but I love your son and he loves me. If you are concerned for our happiness then you should not be."
Foolish girl. Upon meeting Atarinke's bride she had so dearly hoped that she would be like Maglor's wife Ilinde, tall and stately with a nerve of steel. When that failed she assumed the girl held some sort of inner strength beneath her soft exterior. Nerdanel considered herself strong of will, and even she seemed to be losing her ability to temper Feanaro's rage these days. The conflict with Arafinwe inflamed his pride and drowned his reason. Atarinke was not his Feanaro, but of all her seven sons his blood ran the truest to his father. His loyalties also. No meek nis would be able to contend with his iron will and silver tongue. That more than anything weighed on Nerdanel's heart.
"You truly believe you are ready to marry Curvo, you are prepared to enter into this family?"
She bowed her head, "I am."
There was a long pause.
"I know you think I do not understand what I am putting myself in for. My own mother said many similar things, but she also named me Sinwien, the certain one. This I am certain of." Sinwien's face was earnest. "It is true I am not strong like you, but I will make Curvo happy. And whatever may pass I will endure." The nis might have been made of silver and silk but maybe there was a scrap of iron in her too. She would need it.
Nerdanel smiled and took the girl's hand tenderly. "I believe you, and I give you my blessings. But I also want you to walk into this marriage with your eyes open. Open wide. We are not the happy family my son may have you believe."
"Thank you." A small smile touched Sinwien's lips, "And no family can be entirely happy."
If only she knew.
They sat in comfortable silence and watched Laurelin's light become mingled with that of Telperion. The wisteria released a sweet scent on the breeze.
There came a crunch crunch on the pathway. They turned together to see Curvo striding towards them. The silver star on his red surcoat caught the light, gleaming.
"Mother." He inclined his head and the formality of it stung her heart. When was the last time she had sat down with her fifth son? When had they talked as a mother and child ought? The answer to both was too long. The child who had snuck into her studio to watch her sculpt was long gone.
"Telperiel." He looked expectantly at his betrothed. She wondered if it was an epesse he had given her. Crowned in silver, it certainly fit.
"Curvo." Sinwien stood, and Curvo brushed his lips against her outstretched hand. The set of his mouth seemed somewhat relaxed when he looked at her, softer and more childlike.
He turned back to his mother still sitting at the table, "I trust your meeting was productive."
"Yes," She smiled "Your bride is very lovely my son."
"I am glad that you two agree. It would be inconvenient to divide our house over this marriage." Sinwien clung to his hand tightly. "Mother, I hope you will excuse us. Tyelkormo and Irisse were going hunting and I thought Telperiel should go along."
"Yes of course." She rose with a rustle of cloth to face them both. "I look forward to meeting you again Alassiel Sinwien. My son take care of her."
Sinwien curtsied then turned to follow Curvo, tagging at his hem like a puppy. They were nearly to the doorway of the house before a thought occurred to her.
"Atarinke!" She saw him turn, "Do not let your brother's dog eat your betrothed!"
"I won't!" The couple disappeared into the shadows of the house and Nerdanel sank back into her seat.
Watching the light filter from gold to silver she thought about the girl that would be wedded to her most challenging son. She seemed like a good, normal nis. Maybe a bit of normalcy was what their family needed after all. What a thing that would be.
Silently she raised a toast to them both.
May their years together be long and happy.
Wow so I always feel so unworthy to write about the Silmarillion, but I do love my feanorians. As for Sinwien I took me some time to come up with a plausible wife for Curufin. Canonically Maglor, Caranthir, and Curufin were all married, however, Tolkien left us no information about their wives save the fact they existed. I very much like Canonical gap filling so this was great fun for me. I hope you also enjoyed the story. Please forgive any typos. If you would like more Curufin I would suggest my story All the Stars in the Sky. Thanks for reading!
