I own nothing.
Irissë and Artanis are never educated so stringently as their brothers. True enough, they are educated well, given better educations than many of the girls of their city can hope for, but not to the extent of their brothers. To their parents, it is simply a matter of cutting their losses. Unlike their brothers, they are never expected to inherit anything, let along rule over the Noldor as their brothers might—however remote a likelihood that is. It's simply not practical to teach their daughters the same things as their sons.
Irissë notices, of course, notices that her older brothers are educated more extensively than she is, and, when it comes down to it, her younger brother is as well. It's irksome, the idea that because she is her father's daughter, less is expected of her, and she is considered less capable. But Irissë knows that there is far more to be learned in the wide world than there is in a dusty schoolroom, so she ventures into the wide world, to learn.
The daughter of Nolofinwë learns to ride a horse and how to care for one properly, checking shoes and teeth and ears. She learns to swim in deep, fast waters without being caught by the currents. She learns how to hunt, and how to set traps, and how to look for signs of the presence of animals in the forests. How to gut them, skin, them joint them, cook them when she has naught but a campfire. Irissë learns how to carve bone and wood into intricate shapes from a woodsman, and from a nís in a neighboring town, learns how to bleach wool and linen. She learns how to tell which plants are edible and which are not, which have medicinal properties and which are poisonous, and how to check. Irissë learns a bit of sculpting from her aunt, and she listens to what her uncle and her cousins tell her when they emerge, soot-stained and sweaty, from the former's forge. She learns how to read a map, and how to read the stars when she has none, so that Irissë will never get lost no matter where she is in Aman.
What Irissë considers her greatest achievement, however, is in the art of bow-making. She sets her mind diligently to it for years, and at the age of forty-two, makes her first bow. It is a recurve bow that young nissi many of her age could not use, but Irissë is much stronger than many young nissi of her age, and she can string it and use it with ease. Irissë goes to show her parents, quite excited, and is put out when their reaction is one of indifference. But the next day, she uses her bow in hunting for the first time, bringing down a hart in the dense forests of Eldamar. Next to her, Tyelkormo whoops in appreciation, and she allows herself a satisfied smile.
Artanis notices as well that her brothers are taught more than she is, and the revelation angers her. Is she truly considered less than her brothers because she is her father's daughter, and not his son? Are her capacities deemed lesser than those of Findaráto, Angaráto, Aikanáro and Artaresto purely on account of her sex? Artanis won't let anyone, her parents or anyone else, tell her that she can not do as much, on account of being her father's daughter, and not his son.
She labors long in the library, reading histories and the chronicles of years, coughing and rubbing at her eyes from the dust. Artanis reads as much as she can, does research into history, into the political structure of the Noldor, the Minyar, the Lindar. She learns of statecraft. Her maternal grandmother, Ránelindë of the Lindar, is a surgeon, so Artanis learns from her. Among the Lindar, she also learns how to swim, how to fish, how to play a flute, and her uncles teach how to sail small ships. Her aunt Anairë has precise, beautiful handwriting, so Artanis learns from her how to write gracefully. She learns how to ride a chariot, how to race. She learns to sing, and though she has always been told that her voice is too deep to be lovely, those who hear her pause in wonder. She studies magic in Taniquetil, learns the deep lore of the world and how to put power in song.
At the same time, Artanis learns how to sew and embroider and weave. This is considered by many a soft art, an art fit only for nissi. But Artanis does not see how any craft can be considered less worthy than others, so she learns. She produces striking images on cloth, weaves them into life. She produces vivid images, so lifelike that when they are presented to her, her grandmother Indis gasps and runs her hand over the stitches wonderingly. At this, Artanis smiles slightly, pleased, as so many are, to have her work praised.
There's much in the world to be learned beyond literature and mathematics and science, much beyond political theory and administration. Irissë and Artanis, denied much of that, went out into the wide world and learned what they would, away from the dust of the schoolroom.
Irissë—Aredhel
Artanis—Galadriel
Nolofinwë—Fingolfin
Tyelkormo—Celegorm
Findaráto—Finrod
Angaráto—Angrod
Aikanáro—Aegnor
Artaresto—Orodreth
Minyar—the original name of the clan that would become the Vanyar; a name still used by many among the Minyar themselves (singular: Minya) (adjective form: Minyarin)
Lindar—'Singers'; the name the Teleri of Aman use to refer to themselves
Nís—woman (plural: nissi)