Chapter 11

I was in Tirion several days later, delivering a message that my father had for the King. I was rather unsure of whether or not I wanted to go, but eventually decided it was best not to be worried. King Finwë had been kind enough to me in the past; I should not begrudge him my courtesy simply because I was afraid of seeing his son. Not to mention that I had no reason to be afraid, as I kept reminding myself. It was cowardly. This was what I was contemplating as I travelled up the many stairs to Finw's palace, admiring the view despite the fact my mind was elsewhere. I came to the magnificent doors, where two attendants were standing. There was no need to be wary in those times, so they opened the doors at once, smiling kindly. I didn't get far inside when I was asked by yet another attendant what my errand was.

"I am to deliver a message to the King, from my father, lord Mahtan." I replied.

"He is fairly occupied at the moment; may I take it to him?"

"Nonsense!" Came another voice. "Leave her be, I am not occupied in the least." The attendant bowed and smiled, leaving me with Finwë. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you again." Finwë said as soon as he had finished travelling the length of the hall. "I hear you father sends a message. He ought to have come himself; it has been too long since I have had speech with him. It is wonderful to see you though." Whatever troubles his son might be having, Finwë was obviously very pleased with the circumstances. Of course he should be, for his privilege was not one that had never been given, and never would be given again.

"My father spends most days in his forge, but I will give him your respects, my Lord." I handed him the sealed message.

"Very well. Would you like to stay a while? You must be weary from your journey." He gestured down the hall with his hand.

"Thank you, my lord, but I think I shall return." I had promised myself I would not purposely avoid Fëanáro, but that was no reason to go out of my way to see him. So I left after saying farewell and promising to return soon.

The journey home went much as I had expected it, and I was very much enjoying the beautiful city. I smiled and stopped to greet all those whom I knew, and it wasn't until I was on the outskirts of the city that I finally had the road to myself. I had been going in this manner for quite a while when I noticed another figure on horseback coming down the path the other way. So I would be meeting him, I thought. I might have known I could not avoid it. He didn't appear to notice me until he was only a few paces away, when he looked down from the broad sky ahead of him and saw me.

I had expected this meeting to be rather awkward, but instead he seemed to not even remember that anything had passed between us.

"Nerdanel!" He dismounted and took a small pouch out of the pocket in his cape. "You must see what I found, near the roots of those hills there." He pointed to the very base of the mountains, where there were many small, rocky hills. He pulled out a rather dusty stone, which he cleaned with his cape to reveal a translucent green gem, still rough and unpolished. "There were hundreds of them, just scattered along the hillside, many different types too. There must be a magnificent mine beneath that mountain." His eyes were alight, almost like a small child who has just discovered he can climb a tree all by himself. When he saw that my expression was one of detached excitement and worry, his face fell.

"Nerdanel, why must you dwell in the past? It seems no one is willing to let me ignore this crooked world, always giving me sympathetic yet hopeful smiles, saying how strange it must seem, and then telling me to think of how wonderful it will be to have another mother. I am not a child, and I already have a mother."

"I was not going to say that, Fëanáro. I know how much you loved- love –your mother. I was only going to say that it is not necessarily wise to close the world out. I am not dwelling in the past, Fëanáro; I am dwelling in the present." It was all I could think to say, although I knew it was not a terribly convincing argument.

"I suppose you are going to tell me to speak with my father now?" He looked at me disdainfully.

"It would be wise."

He sighed, both our arguments spent. It was useless to repeat what had already been said.

"Let us let the matter rest. Come, I will take you home." He leapt back onto his horse and held a hand down for me to join him. I had no choice but to agree.

The silence as we rode to my home was not an uncomfortable one, as I might have expected. He seemed deep in thought, turning his horse once in while instinctively, as though it were as easy as walking. It was the same way he did everything, as if he was born knowing it all. As I pondered the matter, I realised that despite the fact I had seen him in a state of weakness, I had never seen him err in anything he did. He never tripped, never marred what he made, never fumbled with anything. Perhaps it was this that set him apart from the rest. This divine way of carrying himself, of moving, of thinking, was what made him appear so much greater. I said appear, and yet I had my doubts as to whether it was simply his appearance or if he was indeed something far greater than I knew.

We reached my home sooner than I had expected, although already Laurelin's light was a dim golden glow. He dismounted first, and then stepped aside to leave room for me to come down. Whereas most would have held out an arm to help, he left it to me to make my own way down. That trait, considered impolite by many, was part of why I found myself falling in love with him. He was watching the Trees, his dark silhouette framed with gold facing me.

"They never cease to amaze me." he said in a detached manner. "To create a light so beautiful, so pure, then capture it and set it aloft for the world to see." I stepped up beside him and realised he was looking at one of the stones he had found, reflecting Laurelin's dying rays in the glistening green. "You see that?" he said to me. "How the light makes the stone so bright?" Telperion was now becoming much brighter, and he tilted the stone so the silver light would shine on it. "If only there were another Tree, where gold and silver were forever blended together." he mused.

"Will you be returning home?" I asked. It seemed a shame to interrupt the artist as he was creating, but I felt it necessary to have him return to a regular being, rather than this god-like figure that appeared every so often. If not necessary for him, than for myself.

"My father will want me home tonight." His answer surprised me. If he was in truth only pretending to have forgotten the grievance that lay between he and Finwë, he was doing it well. Yet I thought it possible that perhaps he wasn't pretending at all. He loved his father, that much was clear. It may be he was simply incapable of becoming angry with him, no matter what he did. He sighed. "He wants me to write invitations. His scribe's script is not of the highest quality." So the god-like being had not left yet. His capability of mentioning the matter that had so impassioned him only days before with such a light heart truly astonished me. He must have been thinking even more than I had believed on the way here. Only the One Himself could anticipate his actions or decipher his thoughts.

"Will I be seeing you ere long?"

"I should think so." He smiled sadly at me, and then rode off without another word. It would take one until the last days of Arda to understand him.