Title:
The Last Daughter of the Noldor
Disclaimer:
Despite what Jesse says in this story, I do not have any contacts with Christopher Tolkien, and J.R.R. Tolkien did not write this story. All recognizable characters are Tolkien's and I do not own them. I am not making money off this. This story was written purely for enjoyment only. I do not claim that Legolas, Fingolfin, Finarfin, or any other names or places invented by Tolkien are mine.
Series:
None
Spoilers:
A few minor ones for The Silmarillion
Feedback: LadyoftheRings35@hotmail.com
Summary:
Fëanor was the greatest of the Noldorin elves that had ever lived. He had seven sons who went with him to Middle-Earth to reclaim the Silmarils from Morgoth, a fallen Vala. The Noldor declared war on Morgoth, and in the end, he was driven from Middle-Earth and locked away with the aid of the Valar—now his only daughter, some thousands of years later, must help save Middle-Earth from Morgoth's return.
Chapter One
The Introduction
Jesse shut down his laptop and ran a hand through his hair, looking out his window over San Francisco. It was a beautiful clear day, and through the open window, he could hear the faint call of the seagulls.
"Daaad! Come on! I'm gonna be late for school!" Daniel yelled from the driveway, hopping up and down. Jesse smiled and stood up.
"Be there in a second, son."
His keys lightly jangling from one hand, the father of Daniel and Katie Tryems and husband to Suzie, could not help but wonder how the children of Daniel's fifth grade class would react to his profession. Katie was in eight grade, and luckily her "what does your parent do?" conference had been held the week before. Suzie would have gone to Daniel's conference, but she had to work today. So it was left up to Jesse to take a rather agitated Daniel to school and explain what he did for a living.
He got the feeling that he was going to get blank looks all around from the class, but so be it. After all, he was doing what he loved, and that was all that really mattered.
He locked the door and got in their Mitsubishi Sudan, started the car and backed down the driveway. Daniel looked straight ahead, his face tense with worry. Jesse glanced over at him briefly before concentrating on the traffic. "Don't worry, Daniel. I'm not going to do so something to embarrass you."
Daniel gave one of those you-can't-even-tell-when-you-embarrass-me sighs. Jesse had to hide a smile under one hand. Kids. "Really, I'll be careful Daniel."
"It's okay, dad," Daniel said gloomily.
Jesse chuckled. "My profession's not that bad, is it?"
"No, I love your profession. It's just…"
"You don't know how the other kids are going to respond?"
"Exactly."
Jesse patted his son's knee. "However they respond, I'm proud to be your father and proud to have you as my son. That should be all that is important."
"Uh huh." Daniel did not sound convinced, but Jesse let it drop since they had reached the school.
He dropped Daniel off and spent twenty minutes trying to find a parking space and another five locating his room. By the time he was in there, almost all of the other dads had gone. From Daniel's expression, they must have all be either the King of Siam or the CEO of IBM.
"And so working at IBM has been a great opportunity," one dad was saying as he finished up. Jesse was once again tempted to start laughing but stifled it for his son's sake.
"All right, thank you Mr. Peterson…and next up we have Daniel's father, Mr. Tryems! Lets all give him a big hand."
Drearily the class clapped, the kids looking bored silly. Daniel and Jesse went to stand at the front of the classroom.
"This is my dad, Jesse," Daniel began. One kid yawned. "He works for…he studies the languages of Middle-Earth."
There was a pause. The kids seemed a bit puzzled, slightly more awake. Sensing his son's uncertainty, Jesse smoothly took over.
"Good afternoon, class. My name is Jesse Tryems, and I am a scholar of Middle-Earth."
One fifth grader's eyes popped open wide and her hand shot into the air. "Can you speak elvish?" she asked breathlessly.
Jesse's smile widened. "You've read the books, I take it?"
"Twice," the girl declared, ignoring the annoyed looks from her fellow classmates.
"Good for you," he said warmly. "Yes, I can speak elvish, and a few other languages. I have been studying Middle-Earth since I was a fifth grader, and I've written some articles about J.R.R. Tolkien's works."
"Have you read the Silmarillion?" the girl asked, practically hanging off his every word.
"Yes I have. I've even read some things that Tolkien wrote that were never even published."
"Really?" The girl was half out of her desk. "Could you tell us one of them? Right now? Please?"
He glanced at the teacher who gave a slight nod. "I don't see why not." He leaned against the teacher's desk. "Ah, were to begin?" He snapped his fingers, making Daniel jump from nerves. "Aha, I have it. Why not the story of Náriel?"
"Náriel? Who was he?"
"She," Jesse corrected. "She was the greatest of all the elves, save her father only, and some say she surpassed even him."
"Who was her father?" one kid asked, half interested in spite of himself.
"An elf," Jesse said with a twinkle in his eyes, "by the name of Fëanor, the Fire Spirit. This is one of the tales that Tolkien never published; he never thought that it was worthy of publishing I guess, or maybe for some other reason. Anyway, it has never made it into print. It is just because I know Christopher Tolkien that I was allowed to read it.
"Anyway, a long time ago during the Seventh Age of men, three full Ages since the waning of the magic creatures, the Elves and the Dwarves and all other such folk, deep in the Undying Lands trouble was brewing once more for the Noldorin elves…"