Copper is the color of my youth. My father always prized it above even gold
or silver. Just as he prized me, his only child. And it was no coincidence
that I shared his copper hair, a rare trait among the Eldar, and one that
was looked upon with admiration, second only to the golden tresses of the
Vanyar.
And on that evening, my father Mahtan returned from the forge carrying copper. The necklace seemed almost to shimmer in his hands as he stepped through the door. Perhaps it was but my own imagination, but the light of the mingling of the Trees made that piece of jewellery appear more beautiful than any other I had ever seen.
Beaming with pride, he brought it to me, and lay it down before me on the table with care that only a smith could demonstrate. I peered at it for a long while. There was nothing extraordinary about the simple chain, nor was there anything particularly original about the green jewel set in a frame of copper vines. And yet it was perfect. Anything else that had once appeared beautiful set beside it would now seem dull, flawed. This necklace almost seemed to emit a light of its own, although that was still thought to be something unachievable. It was a piece of absolutely flawless craftsmanship, and the first of many I was yet to see.
"You could not have made this yourself!" I exclaimed, glancing at my father, who was amused by my doubt, yet absolute correctness.
"Nay, I am afraid to say I could never create such a thing. It was one of my apprentices. But I can at least take pride in knowing that I was his teacher, although he has already surpassed me in skill."
I knew then that I must know who it was that had created such a wonder. If I had known then the name that I would hear, I may never have asked. "If there is such skill in Valinor, indeed in all of Arda, I must know who it is that possesses this talent. Or was it Aulë himself who created this?" I said, still carefully examining the necklace in my hands, afraid of destroying it with my touch.
"Did I not just say it was one of my apprentices?"
"You did so, but I can hardly believe that a Noldo could create this."
"Then you must begin to believe such things, for one did. A Noldo whom I am sure will become great among his people, although he has not yet come of age."
My amazement continued to increase. Not yet of age! Why the Noldo who created this must indeed have been blessed by Eru.
"A Prince of the Noldor," my father continued. "Of course you already know of whom it is I speak." I did not. "Fëanáro, the only son of the High King Finwë."
And that was the first time I ever had any real interest in that name. I had even seen him before, for my father was honoured and invited to the King's feasts often. And I must have seen him at my father's forge at times, but had paid no heed to him. Yet after that moment I would never be able to hear his name or see his face in the same way.
"He asked that I give this to you," I realised my father was talking, and stopped trying to search my mind for any memory of seeing him. "For he said it reminded him of you, the copper hair and the green eyes."
I scorned myself. He obviously knew me, and I was but a smith's daughter. He was the High King's son and I hardly remembered ever seeing him. And to think that he had given this flawless piece of craftsmanship to me, although I had never even bothered to ask his name or even smile at him. As if he could read my thoughts, my father added: "Do not be too startled. It is no great task for him to create such things. He could make another tomorrow if he pleased."
His words were well intended, but I had almost wished it wasn't simple for him to create such things. But that of course was a ridiculous thought.
"You must tell him that I am very thankful!"
"I think perhaps that you should tell him that yourself."
"I will, if ever I see him."
I know what my father was smiling about now, but then I thought he was being a puzzling fool and dismissed the grin without a thought.
~
As I was readying myself for bed that evening, I took the pendant from my pocket and examined it again. It truly was beautiful, both in golden and silver light. I placed it around my neck and looked up at myself in the glass. I had worn many wonderful things which my father and other great smiths, even Aulë himself, had crafted, but never before had I felt a power in the jewel. But once again I tend to believe that my youthful heart was merely imagining it all. Yet at that moment, whether it was my mind or my heart fooling me, I felt older, wiser, and fairer. I had always known that I possessed no great beauty in comparison to my people. And yet when I looked upon the jewel, and knew that someone had deemed me worthy enough, whether in appearance or otherwise, to give it to me, for once I was truly able to believe that I was beautiful.
~
As Laurelin's beams flooded through my window the next morning and the warm ocean breeze played in the curtains, I was eager to be off. I did not know where, but I knew I must go somewhere.
Like my father, I was an artist. Ever since an early age he had taught me to work with metals and stones, something that few women of the Eldar ever learned. But my father was not going to let a daughter stop him from passing on his joy in life. So I often found myself creating something in my father's forge or elsewhere, chiefly out of stone which I preferred. I often created statues of people I knew. I must admit that at that age I was no extraordinary artist, but I did enjoy doing it, and I was becoming better with every project.
Yet recently there had been little inspiration or motivation for me to begin anything new. But on this morning, I suddenly felt that it was time I looked for inspiration, rather than waiting for it to find me. So I would journey along the sea, alone except for the soft lapping of the waves and the gentle caress of the wind. I had often done this before, and had discovered wondrous things by simply observing nature. This is what I did when I grew tired of observing people, as I had now.
Feeling joyful and refreshed, I slipped on a light gown, and hung the pendant on my neck. It felt almost weightless. Running down the stairs with light feet, I found my mother, Istarnië, seated at her loom already, working on a tapestry she had begun several nights ago. It was to be a gift for the High King, the next time he held a feast.
"Nerdanel," she said to the tapestry when I entered the room, "Would you mind if I put you in this tapestry?" She turned to me, smiling.
"Of course not. But what do I have to do with King Finwë?"
"Nothing. But you have a lot to do with me, and I am creating it."
She was awfully persistent in her flattery, my mother. But I suppose that was what mothers did.
"Mother?"
"Yes?" She muttered, already intent on her weaving again.
"I think I am going to leave on a journey again today."
"Oh? And you have decided to tell me this now?"
"I only just decided that I was going to now."
"I do not doubt it." She smiled. "Come and go as you please. I do hope my company isn't that tedious."
"No, of course not," I said, laughing. "I am merely restless. That is all."
I was not aware of it then, but I was not to be alone at all on the journey I was about to embark on. I was about to journey to a place much farther, and far more dangerous than anywhere I had ever gone before.
~
Notes:
The character of Nerdanel: All information of Nerdanel that is not found in Silmarillion I have either invented or taken from Morgoth's Ring and The Peoples of Middle-earth.
Mahtan as Fëanor's teacher: The Silmarillion does say this, but one get the impression that he did not teach him until after his marriage to Nerdanel. However, for the purposes of this story, I have interpreted that differently.
Istarnië: A name that was considered for Nerdanel. Since I needed name for her mother, I thought it best to use this one. It prevents me from creating incorrect Elvish names myself.
And on that evening, my father Mahtan returned from the forge carrying copper. The necklace seemed almost to shimmer in his hands as he stepped through the door. Perhaps it was but my own imagination, but the light of the mingling of the Trees made that piece of jewellery appear more beautiful than any other I had ever seen.
Beaming with pride, he brought it to me, and lay it down before me on the table with care that only a smith could demonstrate. I peered at it for a long while. There was nothing extraordinary about the simple chain, nor was there anything particularly original about the green jewel set in a frame of copper vines. And yet it was perfect. Anything else that had once appeared beautiful set beside it would now seem dull, flawed. This necklace almost seemed to emit a light of its own, although that was still thought to be something unachievable. It was a piece of absolutely flawless craftsmanship, and the first of many I was yet to see.
"You could not have made this yourself!" I exclaimed, glancing at my father, who was amused by my doubt, yet absolute correctness.
"Nay, I am afraid to say I could never create such a thing. It was one of my apprentices. But I can at least take pride in knowing that I was his teacher, although he has already surpassed me in skill."
I knew then that I must know who it was that had created such a wonder. If I had known then the name that I would hear, I may never have asked. "If there is such skill in Valinor, indeed in all of Arda, I must know who it is that possesses this talent. Or was it Aulë himself who created this?" I said, still carefully examining the necklace in my hands, afraid of destroying it with my touch.
"Did I not just say it was one of my apprentices?"
"You did so, but I can hardly believe that a Noldo could create this."
"Then you must begin to believe such things, for one did. A Noldo whom I am sure will become great among his people, although he has not yet come of age."
My amazement continued to increase. Not yet of age! Why the Noldo who created this must indeed have been blessed by Eru.
"A Prince of the Noldor," my father continued. "Of course you already know of whom it is I speak." I did not. "Fëanáro, the only son of the High King Finwë."
And that was the first time I ever had any real interest in that name. I had even seen him before, for my father was honoured and invited to the King's feasts often. And I must have seen him at my father's forge at times, but had paid no heed to him. Yet after that moment I would never be able to hear his name or see his face in the same way.
"He asked that I give this to you," I realised my father was talking, and stopped trying to search my mind for any memory of seeing him. "For he said it reminded him of you, the copper hair and the green eyes."
I scorned myself. He obviously knew me, and I was but a smith's daughter. He was the High King's son and I hardly remembered ever seeing him. And to think that he had given this flawless piece of craftsmanship to me, although I had never even bothered to ask his name or even smile at him. As if he could read my thoughts, my father added: "Do not be too startled. It is no great task for him to create such things. He could make another tomorrow if he pleased."
His words were well intended, but I had almost wished it wasn't simple for him to create such things. But that of course was a ridiculous thought.
"You must tell him that I am very thankful!"
"I think perhaps that you should tell him that yourself."
"I will, if ever I see him."
I know what my father was smiling about now, but then I thought he was being a puzzling fool and dismissed the grin without a thought.
~
As I was readying myself for bed that evening, I took the pendant from my pocket and examined it again. It truly was beautiful, both in golden and silver light. I placed it around my neck and looked up at myself in the glass. I had worn many wonderful things which my father and other great smiths, even Aulë himself, had crafted, but never before had I felt a power in the jewel. But once again I tend to believe that my youthful heart was merely imagining it all. Yet at that moment, whether it was my mind or my heart fooling me, I felt older, wiser, and fairer. I had always known that I possessed no great beauty in comparison to my people. And yet when I looked upon the jewel, and knew that someone had deemed me worthy enough, whether in appearance or otherwise, to give it to me, for once I was truly able to believe that I was beautiful.
~
As Laurelin's beams flooded through my window the next morning and the warm ocean breeze played in the curtains, I was eager to be off. I did not know where, but I knew I must go somewhere.
Like my father, I was an artist. Ever since an early age he had taught me to work with metals and stones, something that few women of the Eldar ever learned. But my father was not going to let a daughter stop him from passing on his joy in life. So I often found myself creating something in my father's forge or elsewhere, chiefly out of stone which I preferred. I often created statues of people I knew. I must admit that at that age I was no extraordinary artist, but I did enjoy doing it, and I was becoming better with every project.
Yet recently there had been little inspiration or motivation for me to begin anything new. But on this morning, I suddenly felt that it was time I looked for inspiration, rather than waiting for it to find me. So I would journey along the sea, alone except for the soft lapping of the waves and the gentle caress of the wind. I had often done this before, and had discovered wondrous things by simply observing nature. This is what I did when I grew tired of observing people, as I had now.
Feeling joyful and refreshed, I slipped on a light gown, and hung the pendant on my neck. It felt almost weightless. Running down the stairs with light feet, I found my mother, Istarnië, seated at her loom already, working on a tapestry she had begun several nights ago. It was to be a gift for the High King, the next time he held a feast.
"Nerdanel," she said to the tapestry when I entered the room, "Would you mind if I put you in this tapestry?" She turned to me, smiling.
"Of course not. But what do I have to do with King Finwë?"
"Nothing. But you have a lot to do with me, and I am creating it."
She was awfully persistent in her flattery, my mother. But I suppose that was what mothers did.
"Mother?"
"Yes?" She muttered, already intent on her weaving again.
"I think I am going to leave on a journey again today."
"Oh? And you have decided to tell me this now?"
"I only just decided that I was going to now."
"I do not doubt it." She smiled. "Come and go as you please. I do hope my company isn't that tedious."
"No, of course not," I said, laughing. "I am merely restless. That is all."
I was not aware of it then, but I was not to be alone at all on the journey I was about to embark on. I was about to journey to a place much farther, and far more dangerous than anywhere I had ever gone before.
~
Notes:
The character of Nerdanel: All information of Nerdanel that is not found in Silmarillion I have either invented or taken from Morgoth's Ring and The Peoples of Middle-earth.
Mahtan as Fëanor's teacher: The Silmarillion does say this, but one get the impression that he did not teach him until after his marriage to Nerdanel. However, for the purposes of this story, I have interpreted that differently.
Istarnië: A name that was considered for Nerdanel. Since I needed name for her mother, I thought it best to use this one. It prevents me from creating incorrect Elvish names myself.