Welcome Back! Its been a while- university decided to give me an assignment in every module all due the same week. FFS! Anyway... work over and done with heres chaper 9. Enjoy!
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Tirion, First Age 505...
'F-I-N-W-Ë, M-Í-R-I-E-L SE-RI-N-DË, I-N-D-I-S O-OF TH-E V-AN-YAR!'
'So does that mean that really Míriel was the true Queen, since she was Finwë's first wife?' Siofra asked, sounding so genuine in her questioning.
You have no idea how proud Fëanáro would be of you for making such a statement...It took all of Nerdanel's willpower to answer 'No. The Valar allowed Finwë to wed Indis, after Míriel passed, thus she had as much power, and the same standing as Míriel had. In fact, since Míriel refused re-embodiment, technically Indis is the one who holds more power as regards Noldorin politics.'
Nerdanel could feel Fëanáro glaring at her, though she knew she was imagining it.
'C-UR-U-F-IN-W-Ë, FI-N-DI-S, N-OL-O-F-I-N-WË, L-AL-WEN-D-Ë, A-R-A-F-IN-WË.'
Nerdanel was impressed. They had only been a few hours at work and yet Siofra had already written out the alphabet successfully, as well as master the 'sound it out' method. Fëanáro knew what he was doing when he invented this system, for sure. If only Tyelko had tried as hard as Siofra...Valar, how is he coping without letters now? Perhaps Huan reads to him!
She smirked at the idea. There was something about Huan that gave her the feeling he knew more than what he let on, he was no ordinary hound for sure.
Having her granddaughter read and memorise the Noldo royal family tree seemed a good idea. To think she had mistook Nerdanel for Anairë! Valar, Nerdanel could not have Siofra mix up Indis and Míriel, or worse, Fëanáro and Nolofinwë, especially when the Games meant potential royal encounters, if Siofra proved herself as good a huntress as her Atto and Ammë.
Nerdanel stomped away the idea that she was doing this for Fëanáro, because he probably would have cancelled the Games to teach Siofra himself if he knew is own grandchild could barely tell the difference between he and his half brother.
'N-E-RD-AN-EL, AN-A-IR-Ë, E-ÄR-WEN'
'Valar, how many royals are there!? I am not even halfway through!' Siofra exclaimed.
'Blame Fëanáro and I if you wish.' Nerdanel muttered smugly.
Siofra comprehended the implication immediately, her eyes widening with mischief and a giggle escaping her lips. Nerdanel joined her, and felt like a young nís again, amused by nothing.
Siofra continued, silvery curls spilling over the page, casting shadows.
'NELYAFINWË, KANAFINWË, TURCAFINWË, MORIFINWË...wait why did you stick Finwë at the end of all your sons names?
Because a certain paranoid Crown Prince thought it necessary imply constantly, even through the names of our children, who was the heir of Finwë. Nerdanel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Herself and Fëanáro had always clashed when it came to naming their sons. Thank Eru the Noldo used two names!
'You do not want to know.' Nerdanel shook her head, how Fëanáro was able to test her patience still. 'Those are their father names, though the boys shortened them unofficially, by cutting out the 'Finwë', creating an epessë from the remainder. I had nothing to do with the excessive use of 'Finwë', believe me.' She raised her palms, claiming innocence.
Siofra continued 'C-UR-U-FINWË...another one?' She raised an eyebrow.
'Curufinwë is Fëanáro's father name, though he opted to use his mother name both as Prince and smith. He gave his father name to our fifth son, who resembled him greatly.'
'I see' said Siofra, her brow furrowed in thought. 'So younger Curufinwë's epessë would have been...? she asked casually.
'Curvo' replied Nerdanel, who watched Siofra freeze for a split second. 'Why do you ask?'
'Just curious', she shrugged, refusing to make eye contact.
Nerdanel had witnessed Írissë's manner of acquiring information too many times to not be suspicious of the tone Siofra took.
Nerdanel was going to leave it be, Siofra did not have to divulge everything to her if she did not wish to, she had only just met her after all.
However, said nís suddenly piped up 'What did Curvo look like?'
Well Írissë would have been much more discreet than that...she has as much patience as her Atar it seems.
Nerdanel raised an eyebrow, but answered nonetheless. 'He had raven hair, that fell straight and grey eyes. His build and height was smaller than his older brothers, save Kano perhaps, but he was as muscular as Tyelko, Turcafinwë that is, thanks to his work in the forge.'
Siofra's expression turned even more perplexed. 'He was a smith too?' Her eyes widened.
'Aye. If you don't mind me asking, why do you ask.?
Siofra seemed reluctant or uncertain to voice her mind, but Nerdanel could tell that at the same time, she needed to spill her thoughts.
Curiosity defeated her in the end.
'Sometimes my Atar would bring his brother along with him when he came to see me. He was a smith, and would gladly take orders from the elders for weapons and things they needed fixing. He had dark hair too.' Siofra appeared lost in thought, as if remembering intricate details she had forgotten.
Nerdanel felt panic rise in her chest. She did not know how she was to reveal Siofra's lineage, but she knew it would have to be done gently, after some time of getting to know her. Here and now was simply too much, too soon. And Siofra appeared to be more than half as much of a 'hasty riser' as her Atar.
'Well dark hair is quite common for the Noldor, and there are many smiths. It is probably a mere coincidence.'
Siofra finally made eye contact with her, and Nerdanel saw a flash of realisation, of the brilliance that Fëanáro had in his eye whenever he had formed a new idea, or worked out a problem.
Her gaze was fixed on Nerdanel, eyes sure but voice uncertain.
'I called him Uncle Curvo.'
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The Void, where time is irrelevant...
Cold dark empty void dark black cold torn dark torn lost nothing torn dark burnt dark torn...torn dark TORN TORN TORN!
He knew he was going insane, if he still had the capacity to do so.
Whatever I did in my previous life must have been horrific indeed.
This is the worst fate one can bring upon themselves.
Fate...fate...Fated
Fated...someone once called me fated...someone wise...
U...Um...Umbarto.
...and someone proud refused to believe those words...changed them
A..Ambarto.
But Umbarto was my true name...fated...
...Maybe this was always how it would end, regardless of what I did in life...There is always some truth in names...
...Names...I had many...
Excitement coursed through his pitiful existence...he had found a new game.
A memory game...
...of names...
Let's begin with me...Umbarto...
...I never used that name...there was another I used much more often...Little...Little...something...? Pit...ya..OUCH!...something?
Pitya and someone else's name at the end...
He gave up on that name. At least he had half of it guessed.
I shared a name also...with...AAAHHHGGHH OUCH!
A sharp pain ripped its way through his sorrowful fëa. Hot knives were piercing him slowly... it hurt hurt HURT!
It tore...
I shared a name with the one I am torn- TORN! -from...
Everytime his musings lingered on the tear in his fëa, the pain recommenced, each time more agonising than the last.
But he was not giving up that easily.
After a time, pain was better than nothing.
Torn torn torn Telv...TORN! AAAAGGHHHAGGGHH AAAAHHHHGGHH ERU PLEASE STOP!
Eru..that was another name...
Who is Eru?...not who I am looking for...I am looking for my...Aahhhgggh!
Eru had something to do with the fate he now endured. He knew it.
But he had more pressing matters at hand.
He tried again.
He refused to bend to the pain. His doomed fëa burned with a stubborn unyielding light, unbending in the face of agony, a brightness only seen before in his father and eldest brother. The pain would not defeat him! He was a child of...
AAAGGGHHHHHH STOP NO NO AHHHHHGHHHH AAAAAAHHHGGGGGHH!
I AM A CHILD OF FINWË!
Finwë! that was another name!...grandfather? AAAHHHGGHH
Grandfather....MAHTAN AAAAAAHHHGGGGGHH!
What other names do I know?
AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHH PLEASE AGGHHHHHHGHAAAA
REMEMBER DAMN IT! HURTS!
I AM THE SEVENTH SON OF NERDANEL ISTARNIË AND CURUFINWË FËANARO!
AAAAAAAGGGHHHH I BEG YOU STOP! ERU MAKE IT STOP.!...
I HAVE SIX OLDER BROTHERS...
The pain worsened, as if the knives were dipped in acid...
NELYAFINWË MAITIMO!
The pain increased tenfold. He did not know such suffering was possible.
KANAFINWË MAKALAURË!
He needed to stop. His fëa could not bear it. He entire existence was sheer agony, the nothingness seemed like bliss compared to this...
TURCAFINWË TYELKORMO, father of SIOFRA ARAN..YYAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!
He needed to stop. But he wanted to get answers.
MORIFINWË CARNISTIR!
He had come this far...no point stopping now...
CURUFINWË ATARINKË!
And finally...
As he tried to remember the final name, the final brother, he finally cracked. Little did he know the physical torment that overcame him was worse than what his eldest brother had suffered when tortured. However, it was not half as damaging, for how could a wretched soul as his become more damaged than it already was?
No no NOOOOOO! AAAAGGGHHHHAHHHAGGHHHHH AGGHHHHAAAA AAAAAAAHHHHHH! TORNTORNTORNTORNTORNINTWO!
My sixth brother...Tel...Aaaaagghhhaa AAAAGGGGGHHHHH WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE SEPARATED, TORN! OUR FËAR WERE CONNECTED ..WE...WERE...T..T..T
AAAAAAHHHGGGGGHH
He wept, bawled, cried - or would have had he been able.
TWINS! WE WERE TWINS!
Only Eru knew the extent of agony this fëa was in. Such was the cruel nature of the void. Torturous pain was used to prevent one remembering those they had loved, to make their suffering that little bit more harsh. It was a punishment meant for fallen Vala, perhaps Maia, not any Elda.
The fact that Pityafinwë Umbarto Ambarussa had managed to remember snippets of his old life, along with his family members, save the one he was closest to, the most painful one, was remarkable. Not even Fëanáro had achieved this in the all the time he had been trapped in the darkness.
PItyafinwë's resistance to pain is incredible...
Yet Eru had come to realise that when it came to the line of Finwë, nothing was impossible.
He had to admit, he was impressed. If this fëa could endure such agony, surely the oath would be nothing in comparison?
The death of Pityafinwë Ambarussa had been unique in that, in the history of the Eldar, his fate was the only one that Eru had not expected.
He knew Umbarto was indeed fated, as were all of his House, he thought he knew exactly how Fëanáro's youngest would meet said fate.
It was not ships and flames and a tragic, reckless accident I foresaw...it was a massacre, a planned attack, not on the sons of Fëanáro, but by the sons of Fëanàro...the ones that were left...
It turned into a battle.
The two eldest lost and found pair of twins that day...
The Ambarussa were lost that day...together.
I was so certain that was their fate...how could I have been mistaken? Something here is not right, Pityafinwë still has a role to play in the music...
The unexpected death of Pityafinwë Umbarto had resulted in an unpleasant discord indeed. Without him, would the fate of Arda be the same? Eru knew the smallest and most insignificant fëa could change the fate of the world. The smallest voice added to the melody could alter his song completely.
And the impact of a child of Fëanáro was by no means small, in any way.
A solution to this problem slowly made its way into Eru's mind. It was simple really...as easy as a four-bar tune.
Pityafinwë needed to return to Arda. He was never meant to be sent to the void...yet.
Why such an accident, an error, discord occured I do not know...Surely there must be a reason...All will be revealed...but for now surely...
...Surely a will so strong would be of better use away from this desolate place.
The Halls at least...
Or maybe...perhaps not the Halls...
Perhaps in the fight against darkness, against Eru's own fallen child. He showed enough resistance to prove himself here...
Eru watched a little longer. If this ner could remember the name of his twin...with whom he had a bond so deep that remembering him was a near impossible feat...if he could remember him then that settled it.
If Pityo could remember Telvo, Eru Ilúvatar was releasing him from the void.
Fated he may have been, may still be, but he was never meant to be torn from his twin...They were born together...
And they will die together...
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Tirion... First Age 505...
Nerdanel, for the first time in her life, was at a loss over what to say and do. Her wisdom flew away with the wind. Uncle Curvo... how in the name of the Silmarils does one attempt to cover up that?
She was silent for a brief moment, a moment which would have been longer had Mahtan not chosen that exact time to arrive into the sitting room, mended weapons in tow.
On seeing her weapons, Siofra seemed to forget her dilemma, and rushed over to inspect Mahtan's handiwork.
'Thank you so much! They are wonderful! Just like new! I didn't realise they could be that shiny! I really must clean them more!'
Mahtan still seemed to have lost his tongue.
She twirled her dagger expertly in the air...wait...no...thought Nerdanel...she is twirling the dagger just like...
'Speaking of Uncle Curvo, this is a trick he taught me. Ammë nearly had his head, I was only thirty years old at the time!'
Mahtan's eyes widened even more at this anecdote. Nerdanel desperately caught his gaze. Atar...help me here...she remembers Curvo...I do not know what to do...! '
That seemed to wake the master smith up. He stroked his beard for a moment. 'Curvo you say... I knew him...a brilliant craftsman. He was born and raised a few leagues outside the city, with his brothers. '
Siofras eyes widened for what seemed like the hundredth time, however, there was a twinge of relief in that gaze. 'You knew my uncle...?'
'Aye I did. He was a fellow smith. Though he and his brothers left in the ships during the Flight' Mahtan replied.
Nerdanel could not be more grateful for her Atar's quick thinking. He was telling the truth, but in a manner which made it seem that 'Uncle Curvo' was a completely different person to Curufinwë Atarinkë.
Siofra laughed, a real hearty, full laugh. 'For a minute there I paniced and thought my uncle was your grandson!I thought it was strange he had the same name as the Prince!'
Nerdanel giggled too, at how her Atar could tell the truth and yet a complete lie at the same time.
'Well Curvo was the epessë my grandson used, not his true name' was all Mahtan gave away in his reply.
'I see' Siofra nodded. 'Did you know my Atar, the brother of Curvo who was a hunter?' Valar, her voice sounded so desperate, and Nerdanel resisted the urge to spill everything there and then.
Mahtan too looked slightly sorrowful when he replied ' I know there was one brother who followed Oromë, however he was often gone to the woods. Curvo I knew better, and saw much more often.
'Oh' the young nís did nothing to hide her disappointment. Nerdanel felt such pity for her, she truly understood what is was to feel abandoned, alone. However unlike Nerdanel, this girl had no names, no explanations, no reasons to match to her Atar and Ammë and why they were not here.
She desperately wished to cheer her granddaughter up, and so, she ushered Siofra over to her again. 'You may as well finish our branch of the family tree, only two names left!'
Though there should be two others added...
Siofra's expression did indeed change as she remembered all she had achieved that afternoon. Mahtan looked on curiously as his great-granddaughter made her way to her seat beside Nerdanel, Fëanorian determination in her gait.
'T-E-LU-FINWË AND PI-T-YA-FINWË...' Her reading becoming more certain and fluent with each Finwë-ending name she mentioned.
'Very good Siofra! I must say for someone who never rea -...
'PITYO and TELVO! THE AMBARUSSA!' she exclaimed like a child on her begetting day.
Nerdanel and Mahtan were taken aback. Siofra knew the twins? Well they did train with Tyelko for a while. And they visited the woods at least once every year. Nerdanel remembered those days well, the whole of Tirion would have peace from outrageous pranks for a few glorious weeks!
'You knew them?' Mahtan questioned, sincerely hoping he would not have to come up with an explanation for an 'Uncle Pityo' and 'Uncle Telvo' too.
'How could I not know them! The entire woods was complete havoc and chaos when they visited. The elders would be fit to kill them by the time they left, but those of us who were only children would count down the days until they returned. I was only a little girl, and they would rope me into pranks of all sorts, but on my Atar in particular! '
They knew... Nerdanel spoke to Mahtan in osanwë.
Of course they knew, replied Mahtan, there was nothing one could keep from those rascals for long!
'It's funny, I was their favourite, much to the annoyance of my fellow elflings. They would come with little gifts for me every time, little carved wooden animals, or sometimes sweets. They'd always say 'Don't tell your Atar, but make sure you tell all of your friends to make them jealous!' Once they even gave me a beautiful bracelet with an eight pointed star."
THEY DID WHAT! Nerdanel had to restrain herself from half laughing, half shouting in horror as a mystery which had gone on for over four hundred years had finally been solved.
That bracelet was a begetting day gift to her from Fëanáro. It had vanished from a very secure safe in the forge on the eve before she was to receive it, and Fëanáro threatened the Helcaraxë to each of his sons, presuming one of them had taken it to woo some maiden. Of course all, especially the twins, had claimed to be innocent. Fëanáro was in a mood for a good month or so. Nerdanel was too, as the ordeal had ruined her special day.
She saw Mahtan struggle to restrain his laughter from the corner of her eye. She threw him a discreet warning.
Well, at least it was a very worthy maiden who got the jewellery in the end.
'What did your Atar have to say to all this? ' Nerdanel questioned, curious as to whether Tyelko knew the twins were onto his secret.
'I am not sure to tell you the truth.' She frowned. 'Now that I think about it, he always seemed distant to me whenever the Ambarussa were about. He would go hunting with the Princes, including Tyelkormo, during the day. At night he would busy himself doing odd jobs. The elders would always tell me to leave him be whenever I would ask for him, I guess he was busy both accommodating for and keeping the two troublesome princes from going too far with their humour. I was busy too those nights, blindly completing whatever mischief the Ambarussa put me up to, bribed by their favour and gifts!'
So Tyelko was trying to hide the truth from them... and the Ambarussa were better at keeping their relation to Siofra secret than he.
'They are missed much in our woods, especially by my generation. They are almost as missed as Tyelkormo. They were truly special, having the ability to make a whole forest echo in laughter.' Siofra concluded sadly.
'They had the gift of laughter and now, when us heartbroken need it most, they are gone. I am sure that, had things been different, the Ambarussa would be competing with the hunters, alongside you in the Games.' Nerdanel replied, eyes distant.
Siofra jumped in surprise 'The Games! The opening ceremony! Ai Eru I am late!'
Sure enough, the light of Anar had almost disappeared, and the ceremony was set to begin at sunset.
'Ai we lost track of time! You'll never make it on foot! Leave your weapons here, you can come back tomorrow, an excuse for another reading lesson!' Nerdanel offered quickly.
'Aye! Take my mare, just drop her in the stables two streets from the square, tell them Mahtan sent you, I will look after the price.' Mahtan added.
'Thank you both very much, for everything' Siofra answered, racing out the front door and leaping onto Mahtan's loyal steed, who grazed in the garden. 'I will have your money tommorow Mahtan!'.
'In Tirion, we do not charge fam-'...Nerdanel shoved him firmly in the ribs...- friends'
Luckily Siofra, in her haste, did not seem to notice his slip of tongue. As she raced away, she called back; 'Do not worry about the stables, I will tell Tambë here to make her way back home as soon as I reach the square!'
With that, she was gone, in a blur of silvery blonde curls, leaving Nerdanel and Mahtan in speechless.
'Did she just?'
'Yes'
'You didn't tell her the horse's name?
'No'
'She resembles Tyelko so much it scares me...'
'What scares me is the inner Miss Írissë we have yet to see...'
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The opening ceremony had already begun by the time Kyelaeron reached backstage, a little flushed after running a good league and a bit from Vayelya's workshop. Anya was going to kill him. He never was good at keeping time.
Therefore, it was much to his surprise when he saw that Anya had yet to arrive. He smirked, he would make sure to give her a taste of her own medicine.
He gazed around, everyone was here, ready to go except his osellë. He saw the warriors, from a distance, make their way to the stage.
Kyelaeron felt butterflies in his stomach. There was so many people out there, at least... actually he was unsure of the number.
'... over ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND in the audience along with the KING, QUEEN, DOWAGER AND PRINCESSES and YOU Oromë have the nerve to tell me YOUR FOLLOWERS are not ready! I do not care if this nís can dance as well as your dear sister or sing as well as Makalaurë! If she has not arrived by the time the warriors leave the stage...'
A pretty nís with curly chestnut hair and warm hazel eyes scolded Oromë as though he were a child, not a mighty Vala. She threw him a death glare, which seemed too deadly for her lovely, freckled face.
'Calm down Tanwë! She will be here soon enough... it will not kill the crowd if they have to wai-
'Calm down!? CALM DOWN!? Do you know whose fault it will be if your hunters do not have their asses out on that stage immediately after the end of this number? Hmmm...? Not little Miss Late, not you Oromë... It will be ME who gets blamed!'
'There is no need to make such a fuss, it...
'It is the FIRST GAMES SINCE THE FLIGHT! OF COURSE IT IS A BIG FUSS! I HAVE NOT SLEPT IN A MONTH! DO YOU REALISE THE AMOUNT OF ACCOUNTS AND CALCULATING I HAVE HAD TO DO TO MAKE THIS EVENT FEASIBLE, TO ENSURE EVERYTHING GOES OFF SMOOTHLY? AND THIS TIME, I DO NOT HAVE THE PRINCE TO HELP ME! I WILL NOT HAVE MY PLANNING SABOTAGED BY ONE NÍS SIMPLY BECAUSE SHE CANNOT READ THE SKY!'
With that, Tanwë spun on her heel and stormed away.
Kyelaeron watched, in shock at how much sass and temper this seemingly harmless young nís possessed. Oromë raked a hand through his hair, in all his years, Kyelaeron had never seen him knocked off his pedestal in such a manner, by an Elda no less.
The Lord of the Hunt turned pleadingly to Lady Vána, who simply raised her hands and said 'Do not look at me, I warned you to have everyone assemble an hour early.'
Oromë's mood was worsened by this and he mumbled something about how Vána sent Siofra to a smith as far away as possible.
Kyelaeron shook his head. Anya will not like to have missed the drama. Then again, if she was here there would not have been any. His thoughts strayed to the fiery nís, he was unsure if he admired her boldness or scorned her lack of courtesy. Tanwë...why does that name sound familiar.
A voice sounded behind him 'My Eru, I knew she had a temper but that...'
'You obviously do not remember her in the challenge that won her the Games. That was nothing in comparasion.'
Kyelaeron turned to face Tyeliër and Mára, 'That nís is an Aráto champion?' This girl seemed full of surprises.
'She is indeed. Champion of the last Games before the darkening.' replied Tyeliër. 'A warrior of course. Though not the strongest, she was the smartest. She won using strategy, meticulously calculated, playing to her strengths. They say she analysed each and every competitor, summed up their strengths, weaknesses, common moves, and weapons of choice.'
'Her signature move was exerting only the bare minimum amount of energy needed to defeat her opponent until she reached the final, by which time the other competitors were worn out, and she was able to explode her full potential- and anger- on the field and, lets just say, the hunters that year were obliterated.'
'There was much controversy over her win' added Mára. 'I remember the hunters complaining for weeks when I was a child, eventually Tyelkormo had to vouch for Tanwë and her fellow champion, simply so she could celebrate in peace!'
'Why was it controversial?' Kyelaeron asked, vaguely recalling a book he had read which had accounts of all the Aráto Games and Champions.
'Some claimed that her husband, who was not a competitor, helped her with her strategy, and that this was unfair. To be honest, it was a load of nonsense really, invented most likely by sore loser hunters and wagers. And even if it was true she would not have been breaking the rules.' Tyeliër explained.
'And I think it is quite clear that she is perfectly capable of creating a strategy on her own, if what she said was true about her essentially organising the whole Games.' Mára chipped in.
'Indeed' Kyelaeron agreed.
The warriors had been on stage for a good few minutes now. Where was Anya? It is not like her to be late...mostly.
As if on cue, a blur of silvery blonde skidded to a halt in front of him. Kyelaeron blinked, Aranya had arrived and was currently keeled over, panting. He was not the only one who lost track of time a fair distance away, it seemed
'Well it is about time Siofra! You have no idea the drama you've missed.' Mára exclaimed.
'You mean the drama she has caused. Why is it that whenever some sort of trouble happens, it is always you Siofra, even when you are not physically present!' Tyeliër teased. He received a whack at the back of his head from both níssi. 'OWW!'
'I will be able to talk to the air before you, Anya are capable of being on time.' Kyelaeron relished being able to use his osellë's own words against her.
He received a glare that would probably scare off even Tanwë.
However, before Siofra had a chance to explain herself, Tanwë reappeared, announcing that it was showtime. She half ushered , half shoved each of them out into the crowd.
Oromë spotted Siofra and appeared relieved. On hindsight, he realised he ought to have hoped Siofra did not make it on time, if only to keep her away from the eyes of the royals a little longer, a sentiment which had Vána smirking softly and hence on the receiving end of another 'hmmmph' and scowl.
Where were you osellë? Kyelaeron asked in osanwë It is not like you to arrive anywhere after me.
You would not believe the afternoon I have had, and what I have learned, otorno! was the reply he received.
Kyelaeron smirked, nerves instantly eased now Aranya was by his side. That makes two of us Anya!
They followed the line which slowly grew smaller and smaller, until the two found themselves face to face with Tanwë. Kyelaeron braced himself for a none-too-gentle shove. However, something strange happened when the ill-tempered nís locked eyes with Siofra.
'Tyelko..?' all signs of annoyance fell from Tanwë's face, replaced with shock. Her eyes grew wide. Siofra's head sharply turned to face the nís, her expression mimicking that of Tanwë's.
'Excuse me?' Siofra asked, voice slightly shaky. Kyelaeron had no idea what was going on.
As soon as Tanwë's surprise came, it left. She shook her head. 'Forgive me, just a flashback.' She proceeded to push the two of them together, twice as hard onto the stage.
The little incident was soon forgotten by Kyelaeron as the two found themselves in front of thousands of people, centre stage, ready to perform.
However, Siofra felt unease deep in the pit of her stomach, and it was not because of the crowd.
It was because she had just been mistaken for Tyelkormo.
Too many hints had been thrown at her today, she could not stop the ideas that spread like the shipburning in her head.
Atar and I were very alike...
Atar had a brother called Curvo...
The Ambarussa treated me as their own.
Atar laughed when I asked who Tyelkormo was...
Atar could talk to animals...so could Tyelkormo...
They do not talk about Atar in the woods...they do not talk about him to me...
They only ever speak of Tyelkormo with great pain...they try to avoid the subject as much as possible...
Siofra shook her head. It could not be possible. No way. If she was Tyelkormo's daughter, she would be a princess. She was not a princess. Nerdanel would have known...she...
Did Nerdanel know? She had opened up about her family an awful lot to Siofra. One did not simply do that for a stranger.
This is nonsense! I am simply seeing things I want to see! No way a Noldo princess would be kept a secret!
It is mere wishful thinking! I am so naive! The first motherly person I meet outside the woods and I immediately begin to conspire that we are blood relatives! Enough of this madness!
Siofra pushed her ridiculous theories aside as the music began, Kyelaeron sweeping her off her feet in an intricate lift.
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Anairë's scowl deepened after the warriors left the stage.
Their performance had been decent, however mediocre at best. Not one of them had mastered music the way her Findekáno had.
Now, as those reckless, disgraceful hunters began their performance, her disapproval and dissatisfaction increased tenfold.
Her eyes were directed to the center of the stage, where that bold nís from the parade was stood, accompanied by...by Valar... was that ..no!?
Her gaze fell on the ner who stood behind the bold one...one name came to mind..
Turukános dearest friend...the respectable Lord she had wanted Írissë to wed...
...This ner was identical to him.
It was not him however, for the Lord had left, he followed her husband and son, across the ice.
The resemblance was too great to be a mere coincidence.
The flute confirmed her suspicions.
The music-loving Lord she once knew had not been so respectable after all...here was his lovechild son.
And to think that such a decent, well mannered ner would leave his son with those savages!
Her eyes flicked to the nís once more. She could not help the anger that rose within her because, speaking of resemblance, this girl looked exactly like that arrogant, rude, ignorant son of Fëanáro who took her daughter, her little girl and changed her beyond redemption.
Anairë closed her eyes briefly. She must not show emotion. Ladies and Princesses and Royalty do not show emotion. Curse Turcafinwé Tyelkormo for all he had taken from her!
Was this nís his? The result of one of the many scandalous affairs he had in his youth? Did he even know? Or did he know and hide the child in his precious woods? Perhaps humility had finally gotten the better of him. Perhaps it was something to do with his idiotic ideologies about 'freedom', which in reality spelled 'royalty, running around wherever they like, abandoning duties and disgracing their honour.'
Anairë had no doubt that this girl was indeed Tyelkormo's daughter. Just like her dance partner the resemblance to her father was too great to be coincidental and she had already proven herself pigheaded enough by the way she had winked last night.
She is the child of Tyelkormo and some whore, nothing else. I need not think about her any more.
Anairë pushed away a secret she had held deep down which, after years, threatened to re-emerge. No, it is not possible...how DARE I even think such a thing possible!
The secret in question was one which had been the final straw in her attempt to reconnect with Írissë. One she had not uttered to another soul, though every value and rule she held dear required her to. The secret had destroyed Anairë's opinion of her daughter at the time,had destroyed it until Anairë realised how much she missed her girl, when it was too late.
However, despite how sickened and horrified Anairë felt when she learned the truth, she could not bring herself to divulge the secret, an act which would have ruined her daughter. She would never stoop that low, no matter how many stupid protocols or laws she broke. She did not even tell Nolo. On second thoughts, Nolo would be the last person she'd have told, if she wished to avoid a premature kinslaying.
Anairë had learned the secret, the true relationship Írissë and Tyelkormo had, shortly after the Games the pair had won. She saw them in the gardens as she walked, out for a breath of fresh air. They had chosen a good hiding place, she gave them credit for that, but they obviously did not know the secluded path was one she tread almost everyday.
Her hands shook with rage as she saw her daughter propped against a tree, his hands under her skirts, hers raking through his. She moaned with pleasure and threw her head back in satisfaction as he caressed her neck, her breasts, returning to her lips for a passionate kiss she gladly returned.
Then the two became one...
What stayed Anairë's voice that day she did not know, but before she knew it, she had left the clearing in a run, neither of the forbidden lovebirds noticing.
She could not breathe, she simply turned numb in disbelief. She was not herself for a good month after the incident. Suddenly, she realised how insignificant her troubles were yesterday. Now she would give anything for a wild, troublesome, unladylike daughter, as long as she did not make love to her own cousin.
Half cousin was the only words of light Anairë could find to this situation.
Anairë could not stand to look at Írissë afterwards. Írissë naturally thought this to be out of annoyance for her partaking (and winning) of the Games. Their relationship took one of many turns for the worse.
She could not bring herself to spill the truth either. She hated to admit it, but she herself was unsure if this was entirely for Írissë's sake. Was it also for her own?... perhaps both...
However, now in glaring at this huntress in front of her, she could not help but fear something that was possible, even if she did not wish for it to be so.
Especially with the evidence she recalled.
Írissë refused to drink at Kanafinwë's wedding. A month later, her and Tyelkormo left to go hunting...for over a year.
When she returned, she sang lullabies in her sleep...
I once heard her give Elenwë advice on how to discipline both the child and the father.
As soon as the skies grew dark she was gone, faster than Moringotto fleeing across the ice, desperately needing to reach the woods, an almost insane look of worry in her eyes...
...A mother's worry...
One final piece of evidence came to her as she looked again at the huntress who happily danced center stage. Yesterday, at the parade, Anairë's head had snapped in the direction of the few giggling hunters as if she had spotted her family in the corner of her eye. Why? It was not the playful, but disrespectful banter, it was not the silvery Míriel curls, it was not even the outrageous wink. It was the laugh, such a beautiful, melodic, yet full and hearty laugh.
She has Írissë's laugh...
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Vayelya absentmindedly applauded the warriors as their opening performance ended. If she were honest, and not at all biased, standards of musical ability and dance had fallen terribly since her hanno had left the warriors.
Well perhaps I am a little biased...and there's the fact that my Kyelaeron is with the hunters...
She had not planned on attending tonight, but no more than ten minutes after her nephew had left, she found herself hitching a lift on the jaunting cart of a supplier.
She watched as the hunters made their way onto the stage, her chest swelled with pride as a familiar tall handsome ner took centre stage, a beautifully wild nís at his side. That must be Aranya...
The melody began and by Eru, she was overwhelmed. He outshone everyone. He twirled his dance parter in the air so quick, yet so elegantly. Watching made her feel dizzy, yet she dared not look away.
The music was far more lively than the warriors too. No sooner had the dance ended when Kyelaeron was already on his new flute, the crowd gasping collectively at his brilliance and mastery of the instrument.
Hanno would be so proud.
She had tears in her eyes.
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Work done for the day, Tanwë allowed herself to breathe for a brief moment.
From the edge of the stage she stood, arms crossed, leg up, forming a triangle with the wall. Hidden from the crowd she had a unique view of the performance.
Memories of the last Games, her Games flooded her mind. She could not say she missed dancing to such a crowd, in fact, she recalled having more nerves about the damn dance than she had for the actual trials.
When standing still ,as she was now, there was nothing to keep her thoughts from straying. Guilt for her earlier rage- to a Vala nonetheless- began to creep up. She shoved it away, as she had shoved the current crowd of performers into their current place. She should not feel guilty for losing her cool. Her anger was her strength, the only thing that kept her going through her daily heartbreak. Her work kept her mind from straying to him. Thus keeping her temper at bay...mostly.
Forced to stand idle until the end of the blasted flute rendition performed by Tirion's next heartthrob, she decided to be productive with her time. She planned her night. She was an expert at planning after all.
I will go home, review tommorows plan, finish the alterations for tommorows dress, Change the number of hunters accounted for by two, how the blast a Vala could miscount his own followers Aaahghh! If I have time I might run through my swordplay exercises. I am sure there is still a dummy somewhere I haven't hacked to bits...
She yawned. She was not exaggerating when she said she had not slept in a month. She did not like dreams, they took her back in time to a place she could not return to, to a person who was never coming back.
What a bastard he was to leave! The one time in is life his over-logical mindset was crucial, somehow he allowed himself to be ruled completely by emotions.
Then again I was always more logical, even in anger I could control it, hence I did not get kicked out of the warriors like him, the idiot... His logic could in split seconds be completely thrown out the window by his emotions...
His emotional side and his logical side were fifty-fifty in the end. Able to flip from one to the other in seconds. A coin toss...
...And I lost the toss...
Our tempers were equally dreadful...
I wish there was more work for me to do... I hate this thinking. I do not want to think...
Since her husband left, Tanwë's life had been a mixture of hard work, meticulous plans, excessive crafts, rage, fury, temper and aggressive sword fights with dummies she would pretend were him.
She fucking hated him for it.
How could he have done it to her?He knew the odds. Sooner or later he was going to die...and she would never see him again.
Tanwë sighed and shook her head as the song finally ended. She sneaked off the stage discreetly, ensuring she ran into no one she knew, she did not trust herself to not roar in the face of anyone who dare so much as blink at her.
It was just one of those nights.
She briskly walked and arrived at her little house a few minutes later.
She absently fiddled with the chain around her neck, on which still hung her wedding ring, in spite of everything.
I do not love him anymore, it is just that it would be a shame to throw away a ring crafted by the greatest smith that ever lived...so great that his jewels are worth eternal damnation...My husband means nothing to me now...I hate him. I DO NOT LOVE HIM!
She had allowed herself to think too long. She lost the plot, one of many times since the flight.
'CURSE YOU MORIFINWË CARNISTIR TO THE FUCKING VOID! GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE! HOW DARE YOU FORFEIT EVERYTHING WE HAD! HOW DARE YOU CHOOSE YOUR FAMILY JEWELS OVER ME! LEAVE ME LIKE THIS, ALONE FOR ETERNITY!. I HATE YOU HATE YOU HATE YOU! I WISH WE NEVER FUCKING MET! I DO NOT LOVE YOU I...
She screamed and raged until the walls shook, until it felt as though she would never speak again. She smashed ornaments, kicked doors, punched the floor and wished he could hear her, see the insanity he had caused in her. She wished her words could inflict as much pain to him as he had to her.
Finally, defeated, she slumped against the wall, hugging one of the detailed tapestries they had worked on together.
...I still love... 'NO! I DO NOT LOVE YOU ANYMORE!'
She repeated these words over and over, until she half believed them.
sSssSSSSsSSsssSSsSsSs
Translations:
Tambë : Copper
Tanwë : Craft woman
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My ideas for the plot of this story expand each chapter. So here we have another OC!. Tanwë the bad tempered. Moryo's wife. Similar to him and yet different (hence she is in Valinor, not Endor) I picture them as one of those couples who are fiercly screaming at each other one minute, fiercly making love the next.
Also I know Tanwë's anger is a little psychotic at the moment, while she naturally is short tempered, her grief has caused her to act in such a way. There were times in another life where her lovely face had a lovely smile and she worked to live, not to forget.
And, as you may have noticed, I am following the storyline that Maglor, Caranthir and Curufin all had wives.
'Tirions next Hearttrob'... Indeed Kyelaeron, indeed - Keep dancing!
Siofra's likeness to a certain Turcafinwë Tyelkormo is beginning to be noticed. There were a few close calls there for her figuring the puzzle out. Thank Eru for Mahtan's wise way with words! However, I think the main reason the penny has not yet dropped for Siofra is because she does not believe herself capable of being a princess. Compared to Kyelaeron, who knew and had evidence he was technically a Lord, we can see why her lineage might be a little harder to work out.
Kinda cringing for Anaire coming across Tyelko and Írissë rolling in the mud...well at least she didn't tell anyone.
Pityo is in PAIN AAAGGGHHHAA (Literally half the wordcount for his piece is just 'AAAGGHH TORN AHHGGHHH HURTS) Eru is very depressing in his judgement...'I am gonna bring this poor boy back to arda...TO DIE !'
Also a little psychotic just watching him in excrutiating pain, almost amused in a way huh Eru?
I am LOVING the Ambarussa as uncles. Like make them be real. Let them be my uncles. I wanna hug them and do pranks.
Tyelko just there with the Ambarussa pretending the little girl who calls him Atar, looks exactly like him and has the star tatooed on her neck has NOTHING to do with him. 'Oh look a child I do not know, why is she calling me Atar? That's crazy! *nervous laugh* HAHA *low whisper* Siofra I am not your Atar when the Ambarussa are here remember!'
Siofra just blowing Nerdanel and Mahtans minds one anecdote at a time.
Siofra: 'Why is there a 'Finwë ' at the end of everyones name? Fëanor: Well Siofrafinwë, as the true heirs to the Noldor throne it is vital, for protection against the spawn of the usurper Queen...' Nerdanel and sons : *face-palming* 'Here we go...'
Reading lessons are still super cute.
Siofra 'Why are there so many royals?' Fëanor 'Well in our youth Nerdanel was a seductive little temptress ...' Nerdanel *Whacks him*
Anyway hope ye all are enjoying it, I will try to have the next chapter up within two to three weeks but I will not promise anything!
SiofraMarina x