Fault Lines
...
"...and then he said – 'I do wonder what kinds of bizarre crossbreeds might result from that. If you do get her pregnant, I would like a sample of the results.'"
"He did not!"
"Oh yes he did! I told him that since we were talking about my future children, and not one of his hybrid pea plants, he'd have to ask their permission first before plucking out any of their hairs."
Though Arafinwe seemed determined to laugh it off, his brother did not find the matter he was relating particularly funny: "What on Arda is wrong with him? Why would he even say such a thing? Who in all of Ea would hear of their brother's marriage, and respond like that?"
Nolofinwe's disbelief bordered on the beginnings of wrath, but, the younger prince remained decidedly unperturbed: "Someone spends more time locked up in his workshop than in polite society, I would presume. Or maybe, someone who has been used to being regarded as an anomaly that is discussed in the journals to the point that he no longer finds it odd.
You know, if the two of you would just talk, I think you'd find that you have a lot more in common than you'd think."
"Ah, so I'm the one who needs to make an effort. You wouldn't think of asking this of Curufinwe."
"I'm asking you because asking him is pointless. You could start by not addressing him that way. I know you're just being polite, but, everybody knows he prefers 'Feanaro', so, if you go for the other one, he'll think you're ignoring his preference on purpose."
"So you want me to call him 'Feanaro'?"
"- if you were anyone else, yes, but if it's you or me, he'd probably think we were being too familiar."
"Too familiar! We're his brothers!"
"That's how you see it, and that's how I think, but he doesn't agree. He'll tolerate being addressed as our kinsman though – I've found that he responds best if I just go for 'Therindion'."
"Sure. Why not. Should I perhaps be performing a merry dance as well, or jump through a hoop?"
"I'm not asking that you talk the old way all the time, just when you're talking about him and the lady Miriel – or, if that's too much for your pride or your aesthetic sensibilities, perhaps you could just talk to him in Vanyarin, he won't be able to say that that's newfangled or incorrect."
"Seriously? Whose side are you even on?"
"There are no sides." by Arafinwe's standards, that was said in an uncommonly firm tone of voice, though he was no harsher than a mildly exasperated parent would be. "I'm just telling you a few simple, easy things you can do to avoid strife, because I know that you don't want it and because I have faith that you will listen to reason."
Still, it was enough to shake his brother out of his obstinacy.
Behind it, a certain exhaustion revealed itself, but all in all, his demeanor softened.
"So… you say he's been growing plants?"
Feanaro was still his brother. Nolofinwe was still interested in hearing what might be going on in his life.
"He's been dabbling in it, at least – once Tyelkormo was born, he marveled that his children were all so different from each other, though they were all his sons, and that got him interested in how different traits are inherited – after that, he spent some time pouring over various population records, but, generations of Quendi arise much too slowly for the limits of his patience, so, he got himself some plants so that he could confirm his speculation in a speedy manner. He says he thinks that all living things contain certain blueprints of information that are passed on to their children, and he'd done some clever mathematics to prove that we each have two copies of those, one from our fathers, and one from our mothers – He found that if he crosses the flowers, some traits are either there or not, others show intermediate stages, and some can be freely combined while others are always passed on together – but ultimately, they always appeared in certain ratios. So, if he crossed white and red flowers, sometimes the resulting flowers would all be red, or they would all be pink, but if he went and crossed those further, he would always get the same ratio of red to white to pink-"
Nolofinwe sensed that his brother believed this to be something very exciting, but he couldn't quite grasp its an appeal – mostly, it was the administrator in him that protested to what appeared like inefficiency:
"If he wants to know so badly how it works, why doesn't he just ask Lady Yavanna?"
"Well, he argues that the world, through its marring, has diverged from the original plans of the Valar, so that their initial designs would only be rough approximations. For example, he theorizes that these blueprints inside us were once meant to be eternal, but that they have in fact, become changeable, so that anomalies can occur. This is less the case here in Valinor, but he's got quite the collection of seashells and seeds that have washed onto the beaches of Eldamar from beyond. The first ones he got were probably gifted to him by King Olwe who'd brought some along from the journey, but since then he's gone and combed the beaches for any strange shells – I believe that's what he was doing when he first met Miss Nerdanel."
Nolofinwe furrowed his brow at this, as if he found it somewhat disturbing.
"Why would he collect broken, aberrant shells of all things, when we have proper ones all around?"
"First of all, I think, he's always been obsessed with anything and everything to do with the outer lands. I don't really understand, but, II guess he must have liked father's old stories as much as you… it's more than that, though. Most of those anomalous changes are mere errors, that would cause plants or creatures to be misshapen but, he found that in some rare cases, the changes could be impressive. He found plants that would grow especially large flowers or fruits, for example…"
"Now that at least seems like it might actually be useful for improving our harvests…"
"Not that there is any need of that, when Lady Yavanna already sees to making sure that we all have enough…"
"Maybe not right now, but our population's been increasing."
Arafinwe smiled. "Our people are very fortunate to have both of you in their midst. He just does whatever strikes his fancy, so, we can't leave it on him to follow through on applying his ideas for the common good."
"So, did he find some anomalous crops that could be useful?"
"Oh, he did more than that. Apparently, he went out to the very edge of Valinor's plain, where the light of the Trees barely reaches, and found an anomalous version of a common herb – as we know it, its juices contain some beneficial properties, but in the variant he found, the compounds in the leaves are much increased, to a degree where they would be harmful to most animals."
"Isn't that the opposite of useful?"
"By itself, yes, but Feanaro found that he could use the venom to deliberately cause errors and aberrations in other plants. As with the shells and seeds he found near the sea, most of those changes were just harmful errors and some of the seeds did not germinate at all – Even among those that had useful traits, most were still riddled with errors, which limited his options somewhat. For example, he would find a rose with much larger blossoms, but they'd be too heavy for the plant to bear, especially as it would be further weakened by the errors it had incurred.
But he kept breeding this, and experimenting with the growing conditions, until… - wait, it's best if I show you…
For reasons unknown to his brother, Arafinwe went rummaging through the layers of his robes.
"Look here! A blue rose!"
"Is this made out of crystal?"
"It's encased in crystal so as to preserve it, but it used to be a real actual Rose. He said I could keep it, since he would no longer be needing it."
"...surely he did not make it himself?!"
At this point, even Nolofinwe could not hide his awe.
The younger prince remained calm: "So he says, but if you ask me, that's overstating it. I don't doubt that a great deal of work has gone into this, but he did not make the noxious herb, nor the rose seeds that he used to begin with.
As for him, he says that this method is still rather crude, and that the best way would be to alter the blueprints directly so that you could pass on any trait to any plant, but I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for him to make that a reality – Miss Nerdanel thinks that he's been getting bored of it as of late – he hasn't the patience to wait for plants to grow, and living things don't bend to his will quite so easily as metal."
"But how could he stop now, when he is this close to completing something so useful?"
"Ah, dear brother of mine, I regret to inform you that you and Findis are the only responsible people in this family."
…
The two brothers had had many conversations like that, over the years.
This one took place near the pearly white docks at the Haven of Swans.
"So, have you decided yet?"
"I think, if I go with something like 'Findarato', that should hopefully shut up all the sides of the family."
"And Earwen?"
"I'm afraid she's insisting on 'Ingoldo junior'. I tried to dissuade her, but, she says she's got a feeling about it. Looks like we might be having another scholar in the family… like it wasn't already redundant back when I took my exams."
Nolofinwe, however, took issue with this.
So far, he had been making light conversation while bouncing his cheerful toddler, but now he had stopped, eliciting a few surprised noises from little Findekano.
"You should be proud of yourself, and Earwen is right to think so. I very much agree - you should have more confidence in yourself. No, honestly, I mean it. I truly think so. Everyone is going on about Curufinwe, how extraordinary he is, how brilliant, how eloquent, how good-looking. You are also good-looking. You are also eloquent. You are also brilliant, and if you weren't in Curufinwe's shadow, everyone would acknowledge that."
Oblivious of the serious topics being discussed, the child produced some displeased squeaks, demanding to be rocked some more.
His father obliged, sort of, but his attention remained largely fixed on his brother.
"I am honored that you have such great faith in me, but, don't you think that father already has more than enough brilliant sons to worry about?"
"You are too humble. You shouldn't have to hide yourself because of him."
"Your concern is touching, but I think Lalwen and I have rather grown past the days when we needed our overzealous Big Brother picking fights to defend our honor.
I can see how you and Feanaro might find this a little hard to understand, but I care nothing for accolades. All I truly desire is to lay back and watch my kids building sandcastles by the beach, and maybe help my father-in-law with writing his speeches once in a while. You can have your spotlight all to yourself~"
"Great. Now you're even more mature than me."
"Is that what this is about? Oh come on now brother, no one would doubt that you have many great strengths of your own."
"I know. It's just hard to remember sometimes when my brothers are all such handsome, eloquent geniuses…"
Clueless of what was being discussed, but very much sensing the dampening of the mood, little Findekano decided that they should all be doing something fun instead, and extended his little hands toward the clouds. "Up! Up!"
His father knew exactly what that meant from long experience, and swiftly proceeded to stand up from his place, pick up the child with both hands, taking care to arrange him securely on his shoulders.
Pleased by his newfound tallness, the little prince squealed with delight.
"Oh my, what a brave little adventurer we have here~
Say, brother, why don't you take him for a bit of a walk so he can burn off some of that energy? I think Anaire would appreciate it if she didn't have to run after him in her present condition."
…
On another occasion, the brothers were meeting in an archway overlooking a patio near the southern gate of the palace, when they noticed a familiar trail of people marching through the gate.
First there was one unmistakable presence marching proudly in the front, and not far behind, there was a scarce less conspicuous cloud of fluffy red curls and glimpses of simple work clothes.
The loud and fussy bundle they'd brought with them on their last visit was transformed into a leery dark-haired child with thick, fleshy limbs.
From past experience, the sons of Indis had no doubt that that boy would soon be arriving on his own two feet, yet another rough-hewn thing of the wilds much after the manner of his brothers, youths like chiseled marble, all gleaming hair, vigorous limbs and prodigious vitality, each one an immaculate specimen, each one, the coalesced image of power and strength and appetite, each one, carrying that same white-hot-metal blood.
No doubt that they would all be thoroughly washed, impeccably groomed and laden with baubles and precious clothes by the time they were presented in court, but marching in, they appeared just as they were, coming from the woods, chests bared, sharp wooden sticks in hand, with simple bands and cords for decoration, wrapped in leathers that they had stripped off their own catches and tanned by their own craft.
The herculean, pale-haired youth who had been all but running alongside his parents wasted no time jumping straight into the courtyard fountain, splashing water everywhere across the white tiles of the terrace, further spreading the muddy prints left by his bare feet, though his father made no move to discourage him:
"Listen up children – this is my father's house, which makes it yours by birthright – Never forget: Everything that you see here before you is yours to do with as you damn well please, and none shall deprive you!"
The rascal in the fountain, now thoroughly soaked, took that as an excuse to go frolicking all over the courtyard, tracking dirt all over the white stone floors.
Nerdanel might have said something, had she not had her hands full with her youngest trying to escape so that he might join his brother in his reckless merrymaking.
Feanor himself soon came to her aid, releasing the child from her sling and setting him down on the floor so that he might go where he would.
The older sons seemed more reluctant, less like princes coming home, and more like travelers marveling at a strange and foreign kingdom, though they would appear worthy and formidable even in the measliest of rags.
When the lords or courtiers wished to get into the good graces of the king these days, they might try praising the bearing and speech of those three, and the beautiful words they could choose when they cared to, without doubt, come from the lineage of great artists and orators, but even the praise was always just too much.
"There he comes again," surmised Nolofinwe.
In the presence of his younger siblings, he would still, at times, allow himself to be sour and bitter. Sometimes he found himself wishing that Arafinwe would be returning the favor:
"And before you know it, he'll be leaving."
"He shows up whenever he pleases, does whatever he likes, when it pleases him – with no regard for anyone other than himself."
Arafinwe, though observing the scene with some sense of concern, had nothing to add to this.
But his brother's displeasure was such that he went on and on and on:
"He is come to make us all miserable, since he has no joy in his life."
"Now you're overstating it. He delights in his craft. He has joy in his family, just like you and I. He likes traveling, being active, seeing new places, no different from Lalwen. He's just here to visit father, same as me."
"And here comes father!"
The king had come indeed, quicker than one might think likely, and speaking to his entourage of putting on a feast, though even that thought seemed vanished from his mind the moment he caught sight of his heir.
"Oh, Feanaro! It is so good to see you! You should have come sooner! I have missed you bitterly, you know you're the light of my life! And Maitimo – you've been growing so tall – and little Carnistir-"
"I'm sorry, your Majesty – I'm afraid this one hasn't been turning out all that sociable."
"Ah, but he has Miriel's eyes-" remarked the king, with that same, strange melancholy that he expressed when he first got to hold young Tyelkormo, or when he first witnessed prince Makalaure idly singing to himself – that drawn, heavy joy that seemed to be only for this Miriel person and all those who had come from her.
He took his sweet, sweet time to bestow each of the new arrivals with a tight, eager hug (apart from the youngest boy, who as of yet refused to be persuaded), swapping stories and letting the two youngest ones make a mess to their heart's content before thinking to lead them inside, where, one might presume, there would be more mess.
"It's always the same, over and over and over – He decides to drop in out of the blue, and right away, father drops everything to shower him with praise and throws him a feast! What has he ever done to deserve that?"
"Well, I suppose he's a respected leader among the scholars, and you've got to admit that his inventions have been a boon to the realm…"
"I am the one who has been by father's side day and night, supporting him in all affairs of the realm, while all of you have been going off doing whatever you please!"
Arafinwe knew better than to be offended. Once more, he kept to himself what he doubted would help.
"Do you resent it?" he asked calmly.
"That's not the point. When is the last time he threw a feast for me?"
"I believe it was on the occasion of your last begetting-day. No, wait, actually, that would have been the anniversary of your wedding."
"You know that's not what I mean. You know as well as I that he is father's favorite."
"And you are mother's. And Lalwen's. And everyone else's really. I'd get just a teetsy bit jealous, if you weren't my favorite too."
"Sometimes I do wonder how you can be so nonchalant!"
"I just don't see a point in getting worked up. It is what it is."
"So you say. But you know something? Sometimes I wish that father would make such a fuss about me. Just once."
"He doesn't have to, because you don't give him reason to worry. He doesn't have to celebrate and rejoice when he sees you, because he can see you as often as he pleases.
N ow come on. Let's get the kids so they can go and meet their cousins. My boys have been telling me all about Findekano's devious plan to get them to join in on one of their trips to the marketplace one of these days. Then again, I believe this might be a ploy to get them to tell them everything about their latest travels. "
...
But Nolofinwe could not say that he always found the company of his sisters much more comforting. Lalwen would tend to agree with him, yes, but she would agree with him so much that he'd just end up regrettably aware of his prouder moments.
"He was so rude! I can't believe how rude he was! Can you believe it? In front of the children, too! Has he no shame? Like – how does someone like that get counted among Tirion's greatest orators?"
"Having great skill is not the same as having the wisdom to know when to use it."
That was Nolofinwe being diplomatic.
"Nah. You know what I think, brother? I think that 'great eloquence' of his is all just hot air!"
"Now, Lalwen, I know as well as you how... frustrating he can be, but we shouldn't dismiss all his accomplishments simply because we do not see eye to eye."
"So, what you're saying is, he doesn't care to be civil. He could, if he wanted to, but we're just not worth it are we?"
"Be quiet." hissed Findis, who had been following along with them without saying very much of her own, up until this point. "We're going to be heard."
But her sister wasn't having it: "Yeah right – You think you're so above it, you and Ingo. You think you're too good for this."
"All I think is that before you concern yourselves with the shamelessness of Curufinwe, you ought perhaps consider your own."
"Ah, that's it! You're ashamed. You're ashamed of all of us, even father and mother-!"
"I would not need to be, if perhaps you would not shame yourselves with your disgraceful behavior." she responded, quiet, subdued, yet cold.
"You can't be serious-"
"Be quiet."
After all these years, during most of which they had long since been adult, it would seem that their older sister's displeasure still held the authority to silence them without the need for her to even raise her voice – and once they saw why she had bid them to be silent, as she went on to indicate with a slight gesture of her hand, neither of them could disagree with her judgment.
They felt shamed indeed, if perhaps not as shamed as she would want them.
On a flight of stairs, near the end of the hallway, there were three children playing, or doing something like playing – one was polishing a hide, another seemed to be stringing a bow and the last, just a little older than the other two, was engrossed in tinkering with something that resembled an assortment of metal chains.
The presence of children, at last, reminded them that they were supposed to have been adults, if not a prince and two princesses, leaving them mindful to slip into their roles.
It was Lalwen who addressed them first, leaning down a bit, donning her big, signature smile, which was, in this moment, truly more of a trademark performance that something genuinely felt.
"Hello children! Aren't you bored sitting around here by yourselves? Why don't we go find something nice for you to play."
"We can play by ourselves." replied one of the younger ones, standoffish and guarded.
"Ah. Alright then. Have a nice day, Telufinwe."
"What the heck? I'm Pityo!"
"Unbelievable!" chided the older one, in a child's idea of a dignified, disapproving tone, "Wait till our father hears about this!"
But no sooner than their elders had begun to look apologetic, one of the younger brothers burst out laughing. The one who had spoken first, with the slightly lighter hair.
"We got em!" He gave his brother a playful shove – the other twin, who it must be assumed, was actually Pityafinwe. "Their faces!"
They had just about the same haughty snorting laughter, though the one with the lighter hair – definitely Telufinwe – was smirking just a little wider.
All that ended quickly though when they took note of their older brother's displeasure.
"What are you doing, you idiots! You're not supposed to tell people that we're pranking them while we're still pranking them! That's why I didn't wanna bring you babies! Why did Tyelkormo have to be busy today? Unlike you, he can actually act for five minutes!"
Though he had at first seemed the most aggressive one of the trio, the younger twin went quiet very quick – it was the older, the one with the slightly darker hair (Pityafinwe?) who proved not so easily cowed: "If you're just gonna complain about everything, then maybe you and Tyelkormo can do your stupid pranks yourselves, and leave us out of it! Mama is so gonna scold us…"
"So? You want your Mama, Ambarto? Are you gonna cling to your Mama's skirts like a baby?"
"Cut it out already! You're barely older than us!"
Being a father himself, Nolofinwe felt very much like he ought to intervene.
"Now, children, don't fight, and don't pick on your brothers. You may be young, but you must be mindful to conduct yourselves as it befits princes of the Noldor."
"And what's that got to do with it?" the older boy turned to him with a defiant, cold smile which, in later days, would come to be thought of as a characteristic expression of his. "My father's a prince of the Noldor, and he walks all over the lot of you."
Suddenly back to forming a united front, the three boys devolved into jeers and snickering.
As the one among their number who had the most experience with rambunctious children, Nolofinwe thought it best to refrain from dignifying this with an answer for now. Maybe he would speak to Nerdanel some other time, or perhaps, to Maitimo.
"Please do!" insisted Lalwen on the way out.
"Those kids scare me sometimes." confessed Findis once they had turned the corner. "Especially that one… you know, Nolofinwe, at times I wonder if you and Ingoldo should really be letting your children play with them so much…"
Except that both of her siblings were convinced that this would have been going too far.
"Nah, that's just how kids are sometimes. All they need is a serious scolding from someone they actually listen to, sooner rather than later, lest they end up taking after a certain someone."
Nolofinwe found that he wished to bring an end to this discussion: "I will speak to Nerdanel."
Someone would need to do it, after all.
...
The King was most pleased.
"Well done, Nolofinwe! Finally, a daughter! Isn't she just the ittiest, bittiest, most precious little girl that you have ever seen? She looks just like Lalwen as a baby! Don't you think so too, Indis?"
The queen's smile was radiant, first and foremost of course because of the tiny new family member, but, just as a bonus, this was one of the few times that she and her husband were actually sharing one of their firsts in perfect synchronicity.
High Prince Nolofinwe himself was measured about showing it, but, he was most certainly enjoying to find himself so suddenly at the center of attention for once.
"We're calling her Irisse, because she has fulfilled so many of our long-held desires."
"Oooh," asked the princess Lalwen in a mock conspiratory tone, "Do I detect a little homage?"
She rarely called herself 'Irime' unless she were introducing herself with her full titles at a high-profile event, but still, the similarity was too clear to be a coincidence. "Thanks, bro. I'm most honored. I can't wait to be a bad influence on her!"
"In moderation!"
"Sure, sure Anaire. No need to worry!"
The new baby's mother, still mildly exhausted but glowing with joy, was seated in a big chaise not far from her commotion, in the company of her own parents, and her two older sons who had flocked to her side almost as soon as the long wait had ended. They had already had a go at their new sister just a little while ago. Turukano, in particular, had immediately taken the tiny bundle into a great big protective hug, while Findekano had been wiggling his fingers to entertain her – but now, they were showing their gladness at having their mother returned to them at last after the exertions of the day.
"You know," mused the Queen, catching sight of the older boys, "We had thought that you two were pretty much done with your family planning."
"Oh no, we're actually thinking that we might have one more. We just wanted to wait until the boys were properly grown, so that we could give each of them their proper attention – there's no need to rush."
Lalwen, meanwhile, had turned to where her remaining siblings were standing, politely keeping themselves off to the sides of the commotion, Findis in her ceremonial robes, and Arafinwe, mild-mannered as ever, wearing light, informal clothes in the Telerin style, one arm around his gently smiling wife, her face full of joy for the fortune of her friend.
"You know, little brother, if your lady is carrying a girl as well, the number of ladies in this our house will see a sharp increase!"
"Who knows~ We did match last time." replied Earwen, referring to the last time that she and her sister-in-law had given birth in the same year.
Her husband looked pensive about that, furrowing his brows for a moment, until at last, he chose to say only this:
"There's no if about it – I've seen her."
"Whoha, really? How come you haven't told me!"
"...it was not a very clear vision," said the prince, grasping for words to describe his vague and nebulous premonitions to both his sister and wife. The latter at least could understand a bit, having felt some ripples of things to come upon the births of her older sons, so she knew enough to let her fingers seek her husband's hand – but his sister, oblivious of such things, was unperturbed in her curiosity: "Did you at least see what she's gonna look like?"
That, fortunately, turned out to be a safe subject: "I think she's going to be quite tall. She much resembled mother, in fact, except perhaps for being somewhat broader in stature."
"I won't lie, I'm kinda excited that I'm finally getting some nieces. I would have loved another nephew just the same, but, I already got plenty of those… Imagine Findis, " she added, turning to her sister for just a moment before speeding off to enjoy the rest of the festivities, "We're gonna be the busiest aunties in all of Tirion~"
That wasn't even so much of an understatement, especially if one were to count the record-breaking progeny of Feanaro.
Before her sister could run off, Findis managed to smile in return, but just about the proper, measured amount.
She of course also shared in her brothers' joy for their sake but, though she wouldn't say this in public, she wasn't much for children, or, indeed, for festivities – she knew to show up when she was expected, or that it should be an honor to officiate the newborn princess' naming ceremony not long from now. Sometimes, when she was particularly tired and had not seen to her duties in a while, she idly wondered if that was yet another fruit of the taint upon their house.
Right now, though, she felt secure enough to reject that thought – it's not like she didn't like her nephews – many of them had long since got to an age where they could participate in serious debate. She was especially fond of Turukano and Findarato, whom she had at times tutored and managed to interest in some Vanyarin philosophy.
On a few occasions, she'd even gotten some questions from Feanaro's children, usually when the boys had been tagging along with their cousins – for they had their own lessons with other tutors, when the eldest prince did not insist on instructing them himself.
She wasn't close with them, though -
Findis struggled to endure the most pleasant of small children, and she was convinced that Feanaro's offspring must be the worst of them all. It wasn't their fault, really, but it was to be expected that one such as Feanaro would utterly fail to put the fear of the Valar in them. What was he thinking, raising that over-sized flock of boys like wild creatures in the forest? It was evident in their behavior towards her that it had not been expected of them that they treat her with respect, not as their aunt, nor as their elder, and most certainly not as a member of the clergy.
She saw their mother as a wise, pious woman who was doing her best to remedy this, but, one couldn't overlook that her husband wasn't helping the issue very much at all, and with such disparate examples, one shouldn't be surprised when those boys ended up thinking that they might as well chose to do whatever they please, as if the presence of one upright and one questionable example had only served to muddy the distinction between the two.
It was pointless to complain of them to Feanaro, for they could do no wrong in the eyes of their father.
If they ever got into any sort of scuffle – which was often, especially for the middle three –, their father would take their side without fail and refuse to hear of it.
Though Findis noted (with a detached sort of pity that was near to disgust) that he was probably just passing on the great indulgence that he had received in his own upbringing.
Arafinwe for his part agreed that Feanaro was probably spoiling them more than he ought, but as was his wont, he had a softer, gentler assessment of the matter: "He's just trying to give them what he feels he didn't have."
Of course, in Findis' eyes, her little brother had always been far too patient, and much too indolent, in a way, not too different from their father.
Still, even she had been expecting that sending those wild boys to serve in the followings of either Aule or Orome would have straightened them out.
As for the seven sons themselves, they weren't here right now to see the new princess, and neither were their parents, though it was inevitable that they would come to know her when they next venture into the palace.
Who knows what the eldest prince himself might think – he'd often boasted that he had gifted the king with more heirs than both his other sons combined, but that was now due to be made untrue as soon as Earwen would be delivered of her baby… and much more so if Prince Nolofinwe should indeed make good on his plans to bestow his new daughter with an appropriately-sized playmate sometime soon. Anaire was only half-joking when she had remarked that she thought Feanaro perfectly capable of declaring that they were doing it purely to get on his nerves, though Nerdanel denied any whispers that they might get themselves an eight child out of sheer spite: "Nah, we're done, we got more than enough~
We agreed that the twins would be the last, and you know he would rather swallow his hammer than eat his own words. He even went and named the last one 'Telufinwe' and everything.
- Besides, we've been putting off a lot of ideas for projects that we couldn't do with a trail of small children behind us. For example, we've been thinking of climbing Mount Hyarmentir.
I expect that we're gonna end up burning through our list pretty quickly once the twins reach their manhood, now that we're gonna have all these splendid, strong young men to help us~"
She had said this, at the time, with the biggest, fondest of grins.
"Our boys are quite the handful sometimes, and they all share their father's great talents for driving me up the walls, but all things considered, I couldn't be more proud of my family."
Those were the days, when she could still say this wholeheartedly.
But sometime later that same evening, maybe Lalwen had said something in her never-ending quest to provide her brothers with all that which her brothers renounced in being too noble for their own good, or perhaps she had simply voiced some observation to her mother, if Indis had not picked up on the need for her presence all on her own, much like she used to anticipate her children's needs when they were but tiny babes not yet versed in the power of speech.
Maybe it was just the sort of thing that mothers could feel – or perhaps it was not so much mothers as certain empathetic personalities, or simply those older and wiser.
Whatever the specifics, she appeared at her younger son's side as the festivities were winding down, finding him thoughtfully looking out a window as the pure white of the mingled lights were slowly but surely overtaken by pure gold.
She didn't even make him say it, gently broaching the subject all on her own.
"So I've been told that you've seen your...daughter." she began, still getting used to the word.
Perhaps she knew very well that this alone would leave her youngest in need of her company.
She had guessed all too true: As he considered his answer, much of the levity drained from his features.
"I believe it was her – at least, I do not know who else it could have been. She looked too much like Findarato to be anyone else, though she was most certainly a lady. She was standing at the edge of a great mellyrn forest, in a place I didn't recognize in the slightest – and the wood itself was simply unknown to me, but the world around seemed to me very, very strange – a muddied, cold and wan place, brittle as the ashes of a fire long cooled.
I can only assume that this moment lay very far in the future, after all, the Valar have told us that most of the time allotted to our world in the great music is yet to come.
So that itself shouldn't surprise me – but she was standing there, great and tall and masterful, and yet bent with weariness and resignation, reaching her arms up to the skies, singing some desperate plea, in the presence of some...people, arrayed as travelers, which it seems were about to depart by ship. One of their number, I think, was a youth of Telerin lineage, but I knew not what to make of the others. I have not seen their like before - don't believe they were even of the Quendi.
My daughter, I think, was bidding them farewell, but in my dream, I could not make out her words, nor could I speak to her. I found myself standing in the shade of the canopy, but if I tried to step out of the trees so that I might go to her, I could not pass – it was as if the very air had turned into something thick, cold and foreign.
I saw myself calling her by the names that neither myself nor Earwen have even picked out yet, but she was too far off for my voice to reach her, and the people that I saw there around me did not seem to know who I mean, though they were clearly her entourage, carrying, in many cases, the banners of our house. But they had never heard those names, nor had they seen me."
"Perhaps she had taken another name?"
"Perhaps. Wherever it is, I must conclude that it's an important moment in her life, for it to have rippled all the way here. I imagine that place she was at must be dear to her as well, or it will be, or it was – for I saw it once more, in another vision, except it was all withered and abandoned, and all the leaves were fallen, and there was no one there – not even my daughter, or any travelers, strange or otherwise, except for one single, hooded figure, a lady I believe, who was weeping endless bitter tears into the soft brown earth, amid curled dry leaves and shriveling flowers.
I couldn't even begin to guess who she was."
"Did she perhaps resemble anybody that we know?"
"I honestly can't say – perhaps there was a distant resemblance. At times I looked at her face and thought that she might be Telerin, other times, I doubted that she is an Elf at all. And just once, I was almost convinced that she marked my presence – just very briefly, before she must have dismissed me as a phantom, perhaps an afterimage of the former dwellers in that country.
Of course, she couldn't have, and even if she could, she seemed in such a state of grief that I doubt she could have noticed much of anything, even if I had been there with her. She kept crying out or mumbling, saying things like 'Oh beloved, how could you leave me here like this', or, 'Oh father, why didn't I listen?' She can't have been speaking to me, but, my heart felt heavy as if she was."
The golden-haired prince was trying as best as he could to maintain an even tone, but who if not his mother would have noticed the swell of concern building beneath as he described this upsetting scene, which to the denizens of the blessed realm would have been unspeakably foreign?
Without his asking, she had moved to take hold of his hand.
"I had a vision too, only once, when I was expecting your brother…" she at last revealed, with a notable reluctance that had still not overcome her wish to comfort her son.
He could imagine why she had not spoken of this very often – she preferred to look at the brighter side of things, situations, or people. Usually (if not always), a wise attitude that served her well.
"It wasn't quite so strange as what you describe. Perhaps not as far in the future… but I saw an unknown place as well, a wide, flat plain of nothing but cinders far and wide. And in that place, riding like the wind, whipping up the black dust, there was a shining, majestic apparition – a warrior arrayed in glittering armor, riding atop a great stallion, like a specter of great wrath made flesh, speeding undeterred towards darkness.
When you brother was first born, he was such a dear and lovely babe, and I doubted for a while if he could truly be the one I saw, but he has now come to look exactly like that mighty warrior from my dream, apart from the armor – I have not seen swords or armor since the later days of the great journey, so I cannot imagine what he would ever need it for.
I wished so much that I could know what had him so upset, that I could go and comfort him, perhaps… how is it that I'm not with him when he seems to be in such great pain? Where is your father? Where are Anaire and their children?"
Mother and son shared a pair of drawn, pained looks.
"We'll just have to wait until it happens. Until then, all we can do is to show them that they are loved..."
…
But for all the scattered moments chafing feelings and quietly festering, unspoken things, here's an illustration of Before and After:
Before the lies, the wives of all three princes were good friends, and they in turn close in friendship with the queen, and when they all sat together in the unfading gardens, under the ancient light that shone bright but did not burn, perhaps watching the children playing nearby, discussing each of their latest exploits, or engrossed in discussing the seating arrangements for the next royal feast, there was no strife there.
At most, there might have been slight exasperation, or perhaps mild concern.
The Queen, quill in hand, thoughtfully regarded the scroll on which a sketch of the tables already accounted for a great plenitude of quarrelsome nobles. That was had kept her busy enough as it had, though she feared that appeasing her own house would be no lesser task – which is why she had enlisted the help of her daughters-in-law: "So, Angarato and Aikanaro get along with Tyelkormo and Curufinwe junior, but they don't get on with Carnistir?"
"Alas, no such luck." lamented Nerdanel in a playful imitation of a long-suffering tone. "I'm beginning to fear that those three are something of a lost cause… They do get along with each other, though, so you maybe you could put Tyelkormo and Curufinwe in the middle, and then place Carnistir on the other end?"
Anaire soberly shook her head, "That might work for a rectangular table, but I'm afraid we're looking at a circular situation here. We've already picked out all the decorations, and to change it up at this point would be a pain."
This explanation was necessary because unlike the other ladies, Nerdanel and her band of children had only just arrived the day before.
The queen spread the paper further on the garden table, so that the paper rolls at each side obscured less of it with their shadows, so that all of them might take a closer look.
"...do you think Findekano would be fine sitting next to Makalaure?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. Don't worry about that. Findekano gets along with everyone."
"Seriously, how do you do it, Anaire? Yours are all so sweet and well-behaved! Compared to them, my boys are basically wild animals!"
"Honestly Nerdanel, I'd say yours turned out pretty well, considering what a supreme grouch their father is-"
They could all laugh about that, back then. It was just a benign little joke with limited consequences, gently poking fun, without any sharp edges or coiled springs of old resentment.
Even Earwen chuckled a bit, though she was gentler, more reserved and more sensitive than the others. They still had things to laugh about – that was the rule, not the exception, hardly even worth noting, such that their thoughts soon returned to matters of business.
"Could we split them up between three tables?" proposed the Queen. "Five seats each, maybe?"
Anaire's mind immediately set to work: "Hm. That might work. Even Feanaro won't find anything to complain about if we just sort them by age. If we cushion the twins between Irisse and Arakano, and then put Artanis between them…"
Nerdanel was in swift agreement: "She would make sure that they don't run off on their own, and I'm sure the twins would love to impress their little cousins with the latest tale tales from our travels… and I don't think we need to worry about the older ones fighting, either."
Earwen still had some doubts: "Uh, but, are you sure that it's a good idea to put Carnistir with Angarato and Aikanaro?"
"Curses! You're right!" exclaimed Anaire, noting the hole in her plan. "The middle table still presents a bit of a problem."
"They're big tables though," suggested the Queen. "There's no reason why we couldn't have a table with six people at it. Maybe we could have Turukano or Findarato watch over them so they don't argue?"
"Uh, that- that won't be possible." stated Anaire flatly.
Earwen smiled shyly as she attempted an explanation: "It's just- Findarato and Turukano. The two of them are such good friends, and they really, really wanted to sit next to each other, so we promised that they could. They're always being so responsible at home, so, I'd hate to take this away from them…"
"No argument there…" agreed Nerdanel. "But you know, I think you're worrying about the wrong one. I'll be the first to admit that Carnistir has a bit of a mouth on him, but he's got a good heart. The one to watch out for is Atarinke. As of late, he keeps talking his brothers into all sorts of inadvisable schemes."
"Reminds me of someone," quipped Anaire with a slight, playful smirk – but soon she was back to focusing on the business at hand: "So, do you think the others will behave themselves if we banish him to the kid's table?"
They might have. But the ladies would never find out, for as soon as this plan came to the ears of the young prince himself, he was most unhappy.
"I don't have to sit at the kids table, do I, father? I mean, I'm about as far ahead in my studies as Carnistir, and he doesn't have to sit at the kid's table. So how is that fair? I don't wanna sit with Ambarussa, they're practically babies. So it makes no logical sense for me to sit at the kid's table, right? Right?"
One could have mentioned that the gap between Little Curufinwe and the twins was not all that big, or that the young princess Artanis (another resident of the kid's table) was also further advanced in her studies than was usual, but somehow, neither of those facts did get mentioned.
Instead, Feanaro had warmly placed a hand on the shoulder of his much-displeased son.
"Of course you don't have to. Come on Curvo, let's go and see the king. I shall speak with him. Surely, this has got to be an oversight."
And that was that.
During their next joint teatime in the gardens, the ladies found themselves sent back to the drawing board.
Earwen, at least, was making a feeble attempt to keep up the hope:
"Couldn't we just talk to Feanaro about this? Or perhaps to the king?"
But Anaire dismissed this out of hand, growing more and more aggravated with the situation:
"That would be futile. The whole thing was forced to begin with. Having five kids per table was at least logical, symmetrical and consistent, but the moment we change that up, it becomes arbitrary. So why couldn't be changed on a whim?"
At last, the Queen made a valiant effort to soothe everyone's nerves: "...perhaps we could just seat everybody with their siblings? Turukano and Findarato might be sad, but, if it's the same rules for everyone, maybe they won't mind as much..."
"Nerdanel's kids will be awfully cramped." thought Anaire, not really feeling the suggestion.
Still, Earwen was willing to stay hopeful:
"What if we use four tables? We could push them together in pairs of two, and then we have all of Nerdanel's kids on one pair of tables, and all of ours around the other two – and of course, we'd put Findarato next to Turukano… what do you think, Nerdanel?"
The famed mother of seven considered this. "I don't think my boys would mind, but I'm afraid Feanaro might take it the wrong way, like we were being singled out or something. Besides, I want them to spend some time with other kids their age – they don't get very many opportunities for that, and it would really do them some good."
The Queen sighed in a somewhat ambivalent manner when she heard this. "It might, right? The King tried the same with their father, though he says that he didn't have much luck with that. From what I've heard, Feanaro used to grow bored with the other youths fairly quickly, and few of them were interested in hearing him go on and on about nothing but advanced linguistics or the physics of light…"
"Once a showoff, always a showoff, huh?" quipped Anaire.
Nerdanel begged to differ, shaking her head. "I don't think that's what it is – not that he isn't a showoff, or that he wouldn't do better if he could muster up more patience for other people's interests if he wants them to return the favor, but I wouldn't say that showing off is the main part of it – It's just that he can be really passionate about things. He really is, there's no pretense about it. I've never met another person with such strong feelings about the fine distinction between artistic movements, or the mechanisms of nature – maybe that overwhelms people sometimes. That, or they get convinced that he must know what he is doing, even if they do not – you can win many followers that way, but finding real friends is harder…"
The Queen smiled wistfully.
"I'm glad that he has at least one person who understands him so well…"
Nerdanel chuckled fondly. "Feanaro might not be the easiest person to understand, but you know me – I like a challenge. Besides…" she added, taking note of that brief, downcast flicker of the eyes that the Queen had let slip through, "I don't think that it's really you whom he resents. What he begrudges is the very injustice and imperfection inherent in the very world we live in. I'm certain that the Valar labored long and hard to give us the world we live in and make it as pleasant and beauteous as they could, but, as a fellow artist, I know very well that no project ever quite turns out like you planned it…"
"I'm not sure I believe such humility from the woman who invented several genres of art singlehanded." replied Anaire in mild amusement.
Nerdanel took it all in good sport: "That is only because you've never seen what my ideas look like in my head before I go and pick up my chisel!" but once the ensuing laughter had died down, she went back to being serious: "The thing about Feanaro is, for better or for worse, he's got the heart and mind of a scholar. He tends to look at things as action and reaction, cause and effect. For an inventor or a craftsman, that's a very useful mindset to have. But when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail, and not everything is best understood in those terms.
Sometimes things are just sad, or unfair, without there being anything that you can change, or anyone being at fault – or even if there was a cause, that isn't the same as blame. He just wants something tangible to be mad at, because he can't exactly take the very concept of unfairness and debate it into submission, or beat it into shape with a hammer."
"That's a lot of words to say that he's a child," joked Anaire succinctly, "It's like when Turukano couldn't reach some toy on the top of a table as a little boy, and threw a tantrum at the table for being this way rather than accept that it was beyond his limitations to reach it. He outgrew this long ago."
"Surely, " added Earwen with a good-natured chuckle, "I doubt that there is any table left in this world that he cannot reach."
Nerdanel sighed. "You know, I'd even agree with you that Feanaro doesn't know his limits, but that hasn't been from a lack of trying to find them. Most obstacles are to him as high shelves are to Turukano. And if you can't feel your limits, how can you confirm your own existence? We realize it only at the boundary between ourselves and the world, and the place where we end and others begin – one day we all notice that we are separate from our parents, and that's how we know we exist. We look at the sum of the differences and similarities that we notice between ourselves and our peers, and that's how we find out what characteristics we have – by brushing against our boundaries, we find out the shapes of our bodies and our minds. That's why I keep making sculptures, even if I know that they'll never turn out the way I pictured them in my mind. And that's why Feanaro is so restless in finding ever new challenges to occupy himself and always aiming for ever bolder feats. He doesn't know any other way to feel that he is, in fact, alive."
"That is all well and good, and actually kind of fascinating," conceded Anaire, "but, it still doesn't solve our table problem…"
With that, the conversation came crashing back down to earth with all the suddenness of a clumsily dropped teapot.
Nerdanel, however, seemed to have thought of a solution – in a gesture of triumph, she slapped her right fist into her left palm:
"You know what? I think I've got it! I'm just gonna tell Tyelkormo and Atarinke that I am counting on them to prevent any incidents. Let them think they're supposed to mind Angarato and Aikanaro. That'll make them keep Carnistir in check, if only because they wouldn't want me to tell their father how they failed at a Certified Big Boy task! See? With a little persuasion, you can solve everything!"
And then, the conversation dissolved into pleasant laughter, to which even Earwen contributed a few shy giggles – you know, back when all four of them still had things to laugh about.
…
Many eons later, the queen would find herself lying awake in the royal bed-chamber, still located in that same, light-filled room, with the great glass windows, looking out at the garden, and westward beyond that, to where the white column holy mountain stretched up from the horizon so far into the heavens that its summit was beyond the upper bounds of the panoramic window, for all it's wide view of the downward sloping hill of Tuna below, or the wide silver sky stretching above -
The room was filled with the gentle light of Telperion, its soft beams falling in through the square window panes, still leaving refuge for pleasantly cool shade – and yet, somehow, the Queen could not seem to stifle her disquiet.
"...darling?"
"Hm?" The King did not seem to be suffering from those same troubles. She could tell that he must have been just about to doze off when her voice had called him back into wakefulness. – whatever strange, worrisome tension she was feeling in the air, he seemed just about oblivious to it… She couldn't fault him for being inattentive here, he had every reason to be tired given that they'd only just returned from their long journey that had been the tail end of their visit to Valimar.
Indis knew better than to be resentful or disappointed – if her beloved was at peace, then that was good. But some part of her had hoped that he had sensed it too, that it wasn't her alone in all of this great city.
Everything around her suggested that there was absolutely no reason for her to feel doubt – everything she saw, everything she heard, everything she could touch with the surface of her body.
For eons on end now, her life had been a long, glorious rondo of nigh-uninterrupted bliss – there were a few things she regretted, chiefly to do with her stepson and the long absence of her best friend, but for the most part, even her most far-fetched, unlikely dreams had come to her unlooked-for – She woke up every day next to the love she had once thought unattainable; She lived in a place that was unmatched in all the world in its bliss and its beauty, under the watchful eyes of the very stewards of the One; She spent all her days bringing smiles to people's faces. Her brother and his children were always glad of her visits; And even her children's children were long since grown into fine, accomplished men and women, and some of them even had children of their own.
On all counts, there was not very much reason for her to experience any sense of unease.
And yet...
"Say, my love,… what did you think of Lord Manwe's brother?"
"-Lord Manwe's brother?"
The king was all awake now, all at once, all the heralds of sleep had gone out of him – it might have been the topic itself, or the marked absence of his lady's usual mirth.
He made a point of sitting up, turning to look at her face – For a moment, she hoped that, perhaps, he was not untouched at all… but that was soon dispelled by the awkward confusion evident in his speech:
"He was… not at all what I expected. You might see a kinship in the sense of majesty about them, but, if there is, it would be a majesty of a different nature. I don't know what it really means for them to be brothers, since they have no mother, and no father but the One, but then again, I suppose I should know that siblings can be very different from each other sometimes…
Maybe this was different at one time, but, if I hadn't known it, I never would have thought that the one we met is Lord Manwe's brother…
He was certainly… fascinating, I'd say. If nothing else, he had some intriguing things to say..."
He paused here and there to search for words. That was unusual for him.
"You didn't forget that it's his fault what happened to Miriel, did you?"
"Of course not." assured the king, his countenance much darkened. There was no hesitation there, like this was what had been lurking beneath his earlier reluctance. It returned when he tried to amend his words. "I'm just… trying to keep an open mind..."
"Don't listen to him!" insisted the queen, surprised by her own urgency. "Not once. Not ever."
On her next inhale, she found herself upright, and by the time she exhaled, her fingers had found themselves attached to the king's silken sleep-robes.
Before she knew it, she was curled up against his chest, crying in desperate sorrow. "I just have – the most horrible feeling."
The King blinked. Unsure of what to do, he figured that he couldn't go wrong with putting his arms around his wife.
"Indis, what's the matter? What vexes you so?"
"Can't explain it- It's just -"
This was as far as her weepy voice would serve her.
She gathered her wits for a moment, and then, asked only one thing:
"Darling, where is Arakano?"
"Arakano?"
"Yes- where do you think he is?"
"...in his suite, I would presume. Or possibly still in his study… Excuse me, but I'm surprised that you would ask about him of all people."
"Why is that?"
Why indeed.
"...It's just that he seems like the least likely person for you to ask about. Feanaro is often traveling abroad; Arafinwe spends much time in Alqualonde now, Findis often visits your kin on the holy mountain, and Lalwen greatly loves the hills, fields and woodlands around the Calacirya – but Arakano? He rarely leaves Tirion at all. We see him almost every day. We just saw him a few hours ago when we first arrived. Where would he even go?"
But the Queen was already climbing out of their bed, so her husband followed behind her.
Her eldest son was much surprised to find his parents knocking on the door of his study at this time of day, and yet more amazed to find his mother near tears, still in her nightgown, with her golden hair still braided off to the side to keep in in order while she slept.
No sooner than he had the time to take in her unkempt appearance, he found her arms thrown around his chest.
He was taller than her now, and significantly broader, though she was herself of a tall, athletic build.
The high prince shot a questioning look at his father once he spotted him trailing after her, but the king only shrugged.
The queen cupped her son's face with her hands.
"You know that you are loved, right? You know that you are beloved by everyone in this city, right?"
He knew not how to respond.
"Promise that you won't forget that. You are wonderful just as you are, and you don't have to prove anything to anyone, alright? Don't you ever, ever doubt that."
Aggrieved to see his mother so distressed, Prince Nolofinwe nodded firmly, more out of reflex than anything else.
But in the light of later events, one must assume that the meaning behind her words failed to percolate through down to the deeps of his soul.
Please stay tuned for the next chapter, in which there is Melkor.