Chapter Sixteen: Nelyafinwë

After the wedding celebrations ended, Mahtan and Falassë said farewell and returned to their home by the Sea, but Nerdanel and I remained in my father's house for some time yet. Summer passed, and winter came. Nerdanel seemed to follow the retreat of the flowers and growing things into the chilled ground, growing more and more reticent with each passing week.

One morning in spring, made restless by my wife's caginess and the quiet of the house, I rode out alone upon the Calacirya. Nerdanel had declined to ride with me, as she had of late. I let my horse canter until he was spent, then aimlessly patrolled the flower-spangled fields, unsure and discontented of what life had presented me with that year.

When the light of Laurelin waxed, I returned to the house and found only Indis and Findis, working at a loom together, golden and dark heads bent in quiet discussion. Faniel sat in the corner, aloof from her kinswomen and the day's work alike, honey-colored hair falling over her childish face. She hummed a soft, haunting tune as she fingered the corner of her frock, shaping the fabric into small, crinkled mountains and vales. Even at eleven, she already showed a partiality to silence over talk.

Ingoldo, now the reckless age of twenty-one, was nowhere to be found, but I knew he was likely out frolicking among the people, as he so loved to do of late.

"Where is Nerdanel?" I asked immediately, and Indis turned her head, eyes blue and bright with laughter.

"Abed, Finwion," she said calmly, setting down her shuttle. Curious, Findis looked on, a length of turquoise yarn lying limp and forgotten in her hands.

Faniel seemed to ignore us, but her dancing hands grew still. Something told me that the youngest daughter of Finwë was listening, even though her eyes did not gaze directly upon us.

"Is she ill?" I demanded, irritated at Indis' oblique answer. Indis laughed, and I bristled even more at her amusement at my ignorance, even though she seemed not to mock me.

"No, young one!" She replied, still smiling. "Only weary, and expecting your child. Can you not tell?" Even Findis, always so solemn in my presence, smiled at that gentle, motherly prod at my masculine ignorance, but I only glowered at them and hurried through the winding corridors to the room Nerdanel and I shared.

Nerdanel was indeed in bed, and seeing her pale face, my heart instantly went cold with worry. What if she were to be like Míriel, and fade so that her child might live? I knelt at the bedside, feeling the tears start to well up, though they were more for my mother than my wife. As I frantically struggled to surpress the rising childish tears, Nerdanel stirred.

"Do not cry," she whispered, touching an elegant white hand to my brow, her fingers cool and soothing. "It is only our little one," she murmured, closing her eyes after she saw that it was I who had come to visit her.

"You are well?" I asked at last, in a quavering voice. Nerdanel shifted idly again, eyes remaining closed, fingers twined in my dark hair, but she smiled, showing me a brave side of her I had never seen before.

"Yes. I am well. Just--tired. I have two lives within me now, not one. I must care for the both of us. You too--the three of us." I saw a reflective glint from beneath her lashes, and knew her eyes were slightly open, so I smiled back at her, trying to reassure both of us at once. The glint brightened for a moment, then disappeared, and her hand dropped lifelessly from my hair.

For a moment, my heart clenched in fear. Not gone. Not gone. Had I lost her?

Then I heard the steady, even rhythm of Nerdanel's breathing, and knew she had only fallen asleep again. I watched her for a time, marveling on the sound peace she had found, the peace I could never find even in sleep, then left the room as soundlessly as I could.

The thought of Míriel, now returned to me after many years of dormancy, refused to leave.

I began to have nightmares, and what laughter had been brought to me began to fade. Even Nerdanel's pregnancy brought me no joy, for I wondered if any and all who were near to me were affected by me. In the darkest hours, I would wonder if Nerdanel and our child would both die, for both were touched by my fire, as Míriel had been.

But there was no way to tell yet, until Nerdanel gave birth, in the summer not too far away. Each day slipped through my fingers like grains of sand, try as I would to prolong them by sheer force of desperate fancy. Every sleepless night always gave way to a restless day, and the Trees waxed and waned with a malignant speed.

On the first anniversary of our wedding, Nerdanel went into labor, and a midwife was called. All I could do was wait outside the door of our chamber, pacing or sitting at intervals.

Indis passed in and out of the room like a wan ghost, saying nothing to me as she left my quarters or as she returned with a cloth or a ewer of water. Findis would enter the room as well at times, and left always none too late after, face pale and growing paler as she heard Nerdanel's rare but alarming shrieks, but never with a word for me. Finwë would come by to see me at times, with words of comfort, but his visits grew less and less as the night grew deeper.

I could not bring myself to sleep, for worry ate at my heart, and as the hours stretched to midnight, I was in a state of half-sleep and despair.

Sometime, in the hours before morning, I felt a hand touch mine, but I could not look up, head weighed down by the hunger for news that burned in me and the anxious misery that strangled my insides.

Slowly, though, I began to feel the comforting warmth in the touch of the hand, and the quiet, patient love that lay there. Like the light of day, it chased away my wretched grief and concern, and pervaded the darkest corners of my soul. Grateful, I looked up, words of thanks rising to my lips, but the words did not leave my mouth when I was surprised by who I saw.

It was Faniel, her delicate face serene and lenient, her eyes shining as quietly as the stars. Where Findis pitied me, I saw in Faniel only trust, a boundless faith that believed in all the world, forgiving all crimes and wrongs in the blueness of her eyes.

A torrent of emotions rose up in me, hate mixed with gratitude, kinship mixed with resentment, but before I could say anything, the door of my chamber flew open and Indis called my name. Faniel lifted her hand from mine, saying nothing, and watched me hasten into the room.

Before my mind could take in anything of the scene before me, a swaddled infant was thrust into my arms, and a sourceless voice said, "Your son, Finwion."

Feeling my knees buckle, I clutched the child close to me, looking down on a pale, sleeping face that looked rather like my own, even if the coppery hair that crowned his head was entirely Nerdanel's.

But it would not have made any difference at all--even if the child had been the weakest, ugliest thing on the earth, I would have loved him just as much as I loved him in the form in which he had been given to me. I loved him because he was blood of my blood, and that blood had been joined with Nerdanel's in a way that Nerdanel and I ourselves could never attain. I loved him in every way possible, and for every reason possible.

"Nelyafinwë, Third Finwë--my son, and grandson of my father," I murmured through my tender smile, tentatively lifting a hand to stroke the downy tufts of subdued crimson. The baby stirred in his sleep, rubbing his eye with a tiny fist, but gave no other sign of waking. If I had been given all the time on earth in that hour, I would have spent it gazing upon my beautiful son, marveling and admiring and loving. He was more perfect than any statue Nerdanel could have created, more perfect than anything I could have devised in the forge

"Let me see him again, Finwion," I heard Nerdanel say, and reluctantly looked up. She lay in the bed, face shining with sweat but also with happiness, pale arms outstretched to me. Still smiling giddily, I walked to the bedside, kneeling beside her as she took our son in her arms, glancing up at me with dark eyes that shone with delight. I smiled back at her, a little dazed, and kissed her on the brow.

"You have given him a father-name?" She asked breathlessly, and I nodded and told her what it was.

"Nelyafinwë. It is beautiful, but such a long name for so little a babe," Nerdanel remarked, looking down at the small body nestled against hers, "So little, but so handsome already. Maitimo. I shall name him Maitimo."

Not long after the naming of Nelyafinwë was announced publicly to the families, I came of age at fifty years old, and the time came for me to choose my own names in the ceremony of Essecilmë, or Name-Choosing. Customarily, I would have chosen my name at ten years old--as Nerdanel and other Eldar had--but when I had reached that age, I had told my father to wait, until I was ready. My entreaty was accounted strange among my people, but now, with a wife and a son, I felt the time was ripe.

In autumn, when the days grew short, I met with my father, Nerdanel, and Nelyafinwë in the main hall in the empty gray hours before Laurelin's light truly began to shine forth. It was exactly as I had planned it--I was surrounded by the people most dear to me, in the season that seemed fitting, in the place I still loved best, despite how estranged I had become in past years.

Regardless of the early hour, the other three were wide-awake, even Nelyafinwë, who looked about at everything with wide dark eyes, and was just learning how to smile. The significance of the moment was great enough to rouse even the most somnolent, and I for one was awake enough to feel slightly nervous.

"So, my son," Finwë said, smiling at me, "What is your name?"

I felt Finwion gather at the tip of my tongue, instinctively ready to be spoken, but I clamped my mouth shut.

I would be Finwion no longer.

I looked at all of them--my father, my wife, my son, feeling pride and love and trust glow like bright embers in my heart.

"I am--my name is, I mean--Fëanáro Curufinwë, my father."

"Fëanáro Curufinwë," Finwë murmured, pleased as I was with the sound of it, and Nerdanel smiled at me over Nelyafinwë's head as he tugged restlessly at her fingers.

I looked up to the gray ceiling, ornately carved, but forced myself to see through it, to the skies above.

Aulë, can you hear me? I have taken the name you gave me--Curufinwë.

But I knew that Aulë was not the only one to whom I owed my gratitude. Tears leapt to my eyes as I thought of the other.

Mother, I have taken the name you gave me, because I love you. I shall be Fëanáro, always.

Author's Note:

Who else here wants an angelic little son like Maitimo? I myself wouldn't mind in the least, even if it does mean having to forget my desperate dream of marrying darling Pete Doherty of Libertines and Babyshambles fame, for wedding another bad boy, Fëanor, so that those magic Elven genes are in the mix.

Thanks to Mizamour and Ellfine for their characteristically nice reviews. I am so indebted to you both. If anything of yours needs a review, please tell me! I feel like this deal (however lovely it is for me to receive such thoughtful reviews) is rather one-sided. All of you shouldn't hesitate to self-promote; you're all worth whatever outrageous claims you make and more! ;-)

Unsung Heroine: Yes, Caranthir will be quite the gallant gentleman once I'm done rewriting his character! Or at least, quick-tempered in a way that is attractive. His originally angry nature won't be missed; his father certainly has got enough of the angry delinquent in him to go around.

RavenLady, I promise I won't let you guys down! To drop this story right as it's gathering the first bits of momentum towards its inevitable end would be simply atrocious. You're all welcome to reprimand me if I show any sign of hesitation, because as I said, it's mostly written out and there's no real reason to balk at the notion of a 30-minute editing/adding/posting job.

Belated but heartfelt thanks to Shemyaza1! Gotta love those Silmarillion bad boys, no? As strong and as inaccessible as Tolkien made them, even they have to have some pre-nuptial jitters.

Dawn Felagund, thank you so much for your kind reviews; I'm glad that I made a canon marriage proposal so surprising! (By the way, who doesn't occasionally indulge in FanFiction at the workplace or somewhere else where it is equally illicit?) Thanks also for catching another one of my infamous 'look-it's-the-sun' errors. I can't believe I haven't had such a problem with the moon yet. . . I guess the sun is just there to forever thwart my efforts.

You also (very wisely, might I add) raised the question of why Finwë would bother with appointing an heir if he's immortal and living in a 'deathless' land. . . I can't exactly give you a perfect reason, because it's quite a valid point that the naming of an heir is completely futile if the king is never going to actually fall ill or die.

My only justification is a not-very-relevant memory I have of playing some imaginary game with my brother quite a few years ago. He was a peasant boy who had slain the dragon or some such, and I was the queen. As a reward for his heroic feat, I offered to make him the Duke of the Other Half of the Backyard, but he refused. When I asked him why, he replied, "I like it over here better."

Finwë was chosen by the Valar to speak for his people; but maybe (like my brother) he had had plans for another life before this unexpected appointment. The Valar, decent beings that they are, would have probably given him and the other Elven-kings the option of choosing an heir to rule after they themselves grew weary of the post. With the approval of the Valar, the heir could take over so the original king could 'retire' and go farm immortal sheep in the hinterlands, like he'd initially planned. It's not much of an answer, and I'm sorry, but it's all I've got. :-) Best of luck in the ice cream biz!

Stay tuned y'all; Maglor is on the way! Hope you're enjoying the summer or the respective southern-hemisphere season.

Best,

Blodeuedd

p.s. Does anyone know if there's some sort of limit as to how many chapters a story can have here? I hope I don't have to turn my singular epic into a drama in two acts, but I have no idea how much is too much by FanFiction's standards.