I remember the wind was harsh on that evening. Laurelin's fading gleam was
distant, and did not prevent the sea air from biting into my skin. I had
wandered further this time than was my wont, but I was enjoying the wilds
of Valinor. I imagined they must have looked like this even in the first
years of Arda. And I imagined they would continue to look like this until
the very end. That was why I liked to come here. It made me feel as though
I were completely alone, with naught but the sea, the earth and air.
"I did not know any others wandered so far along these shores."
I started, and turned to face the voice behind me. He was a Noldorin man, tall, with dark black hair that fell down only to his shoulders. My father was the only other Elda I knew who wore his hair short, and that was to prevent it from hindering his metalwork. He seemed almost like one born by the shores of Cuiviénen. Indeed he appeared in that moment more majestic even than Finwë. But I read that only through his eyes, for in appearance he was still young, and I deemed had not yet celebrated his coming of age. But the first thing I knew when I saw him was his name. I knew there could be no other more suited to the name: Fëanáro, Spirit of Fire.
"But it is no surprise to find the daughter of Mahtan here," he continued, and I was surprised to find he had identified me as quickly as I had him. "For this is a place for only the greatest of artists."
I could not help but notice, even then, that he managed to compliment both himself and me with the same phrase.
"I see that you wear my gift, Lady Nerdanel."
I touched the necklace: I had forgotten it was there. I knew it was time that I said something, but there was simply nothing I could say that would seem relevant. I knew I had met someone that I, and most others, could never hope to surpass in anything. It both frustrated and fascinated me. But if he was skilled with words, he was also skilled with silence. He must have noted that I had nothing to say, so he accepted this form of conversation just as willingly, saying: "Come, there is something I think you should see."
And he brought me to edge of a high cliff, where the waves beat against the hard stone walls, sending up sparks of salty sea spray. He began to climb down, his feet finding their way. I had been to this place many times, but I had always thought it impossible to descend the cliff, for it seemed sheer and steep. Yet he stepped down with such ease, that I had no choice but to follow and prove for myself that it was possible. And indeed it was. I found myself on a stony platform with him without slipping even once. When I looked back up, I was amazed that I had managed to climb down. He noticed my amazement and smiled slightly, explaining without a single word. Then he turned towards the ocean, and his gaze was lost in the furious dance of blue and white. But I did not watch the ocean. I watched his unflinching gaze as Telperion grew brighter, and the way his face softened as the sea began to subside and grow calm. And that was the first time in my life that I ever felt alone and complete. For I was one with air, water, earth, and fire.
~
As intent and alive as I had felt that night, I must have eventually fallen asleep for suddenly the ocean was still and the sky was bright. Finding that I was alone, I wondered if perhaps the surreal events of the evening had been naught but a vivid dream. But there was no doubt that they were not, for I could see him, Fëanáro, but a few paces away. Laurelin shone behind him and surrounded him in a golden glow, just as Telperion had done the night before with silver. He was looking intently at the ground, bending down now and then to pick up what appeared to be stones. He would then hold them up in the light, and then either discard them in the sea or place them in small pouch at his side. He went on in this way for a long while, and I simply watched, wondering what I could possibly say to this person whom I felt I had known for eternity, and yet whom I had not yet spoken a word to.
"Prince Fëanáro," I said finally.
"There are no Kings and Princes here. They are in Tirion," was the reply he gave me yet spoke to the stone he was holding in his hand.
"Fëanáro," I corrected myself, and surprisingly enough it felt natural to speak his name in that way. "I want to thank you for your gift. It is truly an honour to receive such an expert piece of craftsmanship."
"It is nothing. Only a perfect piece would be worthy of an Aulëndil." I was ready to become frustrated at him for praising himself again, but I realised it was only the truth.
He finally turned around and began walking towards me, holding a stone in his hand. "You see this?" he said. It was a simple enough rock, a dark grey, with rough edges.
"It is a stone. There are many of them here." I replied. He seemed to be rather amused by this.
"For a smith's daughter, you are not very observant of Aulë's gifts." I tried not to take offence at this, but I could hardly conceal the fact that I was not pleased, although he most obviously was. "Here, I will show you."
"I think I have had enough of you showing me this and that. I came here to be alone, and I do not need a guide to show me everything." In truth, I really did like his company, for he did indeed reveal many wondrous things about this place which I never would have noticed on my own. But at that moment I was beginning to feel worthless under his godlike presence.
"Very well," he said, setting the stone down beside me. "I will not guide you. But if you feel the need of company, I shall not be too far ahead." And then he simply hopped right back up the cliff, and continued on his way.
I sat there, staring at the stone he had set by my side for a long while. I picked it up and examined it very closely in my hand. It still appeared to be no more than a simple grey rock. Yet I put it away anyhow. I would bring it back to my father, and he could prove that there was nothing extraordinary about it.
I clambered back up the cliff, and this time I did nearly slip a few times. When I reached the top, I was tired and frustrated; frustrated that I had failed to prove wise, something that I had praised myself for before. I took the stone from my pocket, and was about to cast it into the sea, but something stopped me. I knew I had to at least prove him wrong. I set back on the journey home, but I felt no joy in returning. I had found no inspiration whatsoever. I felt rather that I was returning in a worse state than I had left in.
~
Ossë was wrathful again that evening. I had come to a part of the shore where the cliffs became lower and lower, until they were eventually only sandy beaches. Instead of breaking upon the cliffs, I noticed that the waves came rolling over the sand, gaining size and speed and casting aside all that stood in their path. As I watched them I knew that nature was trying to speak to me. It was the inspiration I had been waiting for, and yet I could not, for all my supposed wisdom, decipher its message.
My intent gaze caused my eyes to glaze over, and my mind began creating strange pictures out of the waves. Then small beams from Laurelin as it was fading began to tangle themselves in the sea. The threads of blue and silver meshed together until they were a seamless tapestry. The waves leapt higher and higher, their tips crested in an orange glow. And then they would roll onto the shore, ever more furiously. And suddenly I knew what I saw. I no longer looked upon the ocean, but on a flood of untamed fire. The yellow flames grew brighter, and at last I closed my stinging eyes. When I opened them the ocean was the same as it had always been. Yet the words of nature, of the Valar, of Illúvatar, were clear.
Notes:
Aulëndil: Lover of Aulë, a name that the followers of Aulë (which Mahtan was one of) were known by.
Please leave you review! And thank you to all those who have!
"I did not know any others wandered so far along these shores."
I started, and turned to face the voice behind me. He was a Noldorin man, tall, with dark black hair that fell down only to his shoulders. My father was the only other Elda I knew who wore his hair short, and that was to prevent it from hindering his metalwork. He seemed almost like one born by the shores of Cuiviénen. Indeed he appeared in that moment more majestic even than Finwë. But I read that only through his eyes, for in appearance he was still young, and I deemed had not yet celebrated his coming of age. But the first thing I knew when I saw him was his name. I knew there could be no other more suited to the name: Fëanáro, Spirit of Fire.
"But it is no surprise to find the daughter of Mahtan here," he continued, and I was surprised to find he had identified me as quickly as I had him. "For this is a place for only the greatest of artists."
I could not help but notice, even then, that he managed to compliment both himself and me with the same phrase.
"I see that you wear my gift, Lady Nerdanel."
I touched the necklace: I had forgotten it was there. I knew it was time that I said something, but there was simply nothing I could say that would seem relevant. I knew I had met someone that I, and most others, could never hope to surpass in anything. It both frustrated and fascinated me. But if he was skilled with words, he was also skilled with silence. He must have noted that I had nothing to say, so he accepted this form of conversation just as willingly, saying: "Come, there is something I think you should see."
And he brought me to edge of a high cliff, where the waves beat against the hard stone walls, sending up sparks of salty sea spray. He began to climb down, his feet finding their way. I had been to this place many times, but I had always thought it impossible to descend the cliff, for it seemed sheer and steep. Yet he stepped down with such ease, that I had no choice but to follow and prove for myself that it was possible. And indeed it was. I found myself on a stony platform with him without slipping even once. When I looked back up, I was amazed that I had managed to climb down. He noticed my amazement and smiled slightly, explaining without a single word. Then he turned towards the ocean, and his gaze was lost in the furious dance of blue and white. But I did not watch the ocean. I watched his unflinching gaze as Telperion grew brighter, and the way his face softened as the sea began to subside and grow calm. And that was the first time in my life that I ever felt alone and complete. For I was one with air, water, earth, and fire.
~
As intent and alive as I had felt that night, I must have eventually fallen asleep for suddenly the ocean was still and the sky was bright. Finding that I was alone, I wondered if perhaps the surreal events of the evening had been naught but a vivid dream. But there was no doubt that they were not, for I could see him, Fëanáro, but a few paces away. Laurelin shone behind him and surrounded him in a golden glow, just as Telperion had done the night before with silver. He was looking intently at the ground, bending down now and then to pick up what appeared to be stones. He would then hold them up in the light, and then either discard them in the sea or place them in small pouch at his side. He went on in this way for a long while, and I simply watched, wondering what I could possibly say to this person whom I felt I had known for eternity, and yet whom I had not yet spoken a word to.
"Prince Fëanáro," I said finally.
"There are no Kings and Princes here. They are in Tirion," was the reply he gave me yet spoke to the stone he was holding in his hand.
"Fëanáro," I corrected myself, and surprisingly enough it felt natural to speak his name in that way. "I want to thank you for your gift. It is truly an honour to receive such an expert piece of craftsmanship."
"It is nothing. Only a perfect piece would be worthy of an Aulëndil." I was ready to become frustrated at him for praising himself again, but I realised it was only the truth.
He finally turned around and began walking towards me, holding a stone in his hand. "You see this?" he said. It was a simple enough rock, a dark grey, with rough edges.
"It is a stone. There are many of them here." I replied. He seemed to be rather amused by this.
"For a smith's daughter, you are not very observant of Aulë's gifts." I tried not to take offence at this, but I could hardly conceal the fact that I was not pleased, although he most obviously was. "Here, I will show you."
"I think I have had enough of you showing me this and that. I came here to be alone, and I do not need a guide to show me everything." In truth, I really did like his company, for he did indeed reveal many wondrous things about this place which I never would have noticed on my own. But at that moment I was beginning to feel worthless under his godlike presence.
"Very well," he said, setting the stone down beside me. "I will not guide you. But if you feel the need of company, I shall not be too far ahead." And then he simply hopped right back up the cliff, and continued on his way.
I sat there, staring at the stone he had set by my side for a long while. I picked it up and examined it very closely in my hand. It still appeared to be no more than a simple grey rock. Yet I put it away anyhow. I would bring it back to my father, and he could prove that there was nothing extraordinary about it.
I clambered back up the cliff, and this time I did nearly slip a few times. When I reached the top, I was tired and frustrated; frustrated that I had failed to prove wise, something that I had praised myself for before. I took the stone from my pocket, and was about to cast it into the sea, but something stopped me. I knew I had to at least prove him wrong. I set back on the journey home, but I felt no joy in returning. I had found no inspiration whatsoever. I felt rather that I was returning in a worse state than I had left in.
~
Ossë was wrathful again that evening. I had come to a part of the shore where the cliffs became lower and lower, until they were eventually only sandy beaches. Instead of breaking upon the cliffs, I noticed that the waves came rolling over the sand, gaining size and speed and casting aside all that stood in their path. As I watched them I knew that nature was trying to speak to me. It was the inspiration I had been waiting for, and yet I could not, for all my supposed wisdom, decipher its message.
My intent gaze caused my eyes to glaze over, and my mind began creating strange pictures out of the waves. Then small beams from Laurelin as it was fading began to tangle themselves in the sea. The threads of blue and silver meshed together until they were a seamless tapestry. The waves leapt higher and higher, their tips crested in an orange glow. And then they would roll onto the shore, ever more furiously. And suddenly I knew what I saw. I no longer looked upon the ocean, but on a flood of untamed fire. The yellow flames grew brighter, and at last I closed my stinging eyes. When I opened them the ocean was the same as it had always been. Yet the words of nature, of the Valar, of Illúvatar, were clear.
Notes:
Aulëndil: Lover of Aulë, a name that the followers of Aulë (which Mahtan was one of) were known by.
Please leave you review! And thank you to all those who have!