AN: A note on names: I use mother names where they are available, except for Fingolfin and Finarfin, because they are both named the same as their sons, which is just irritating. (Yes, Argon doesn't exist in this fic, but it would still be confusing I think.)

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Chapter 2: Worry

Year 1450 of the Trees, Gardens of Lórien

Nerwen's heart was heavy with worry.

She did not trust Melkor. She did not trust him, and she felt like a fool.

The Elder King himself pardoned his brother and allowed him to walk through the lands of Aman freely, after he repented. She knew remorse was possible and that it was right to forgive in such situations.

So why, why did she not trust him?

In her more arrogant moments, she thought it was because she had no interest in trusting him, and so nothing clouding her judgement. Creating things was not her passion, so his advices were not so precious to her as they were to some others. Even her half-uncle, Fëanáro, occasionally listened to Melkor, and he hardly listened to anyone these days.

But even if her suspicions in this respect were true, it could hardly be the case of the Elder King. His trust should be enough for everyone. So why, why couldn't she accept it?

She was walking the Gardens of Lórien, trying to find peace of mind, but it was escaping her even here these days. That was why she was so joyous when she noted Lady Estë coming her way. If the Healer could not quieten her heart, then nothing could.

She bowed deep when the Valië approached, and said: "My lady."

"Nerwen, beloved child. I can feel how troubled you are. Let me ease your mind."

"Please, my lady. Worry weights on me heavily this day, and I do not rightly know why."

Estë touched her heart and her forehead, and said: "It is a premonition that weights on you, beloved, and I cannot easily help with that. I can only give you the assurance that what is to come, will come, and your heavy heart will not stop it. Find strength in the knowledge that it is Eru Illúvatar who guides our paths."

Nerwen had not realized before, but it had indeed been a premonition of something...perhaps not exactly bad, but certainly something world-changing happening soon that made her worry more pressing. Now this had been eased by Lady Estë's words, but the original source remained, and the Healer could feel it, too.

"That worry you have," she said, "is shared by some of us, too, and I do not know if I would do right in easing your mind in this regard. Sometimes, it can lend you carefulness. I will soften it a little, though."

Nerwen was caught by the beginning of the sentence: "There are some among the Great Lords and Ladies who share my misgivings? Then you do not believe I am foolish and presuming in not giving my trust?"

Lady Estë smiled. "My brother and his wife are as tight-lipped as ever, about the fates of the world, but I know Námo did not endorse Melkor's freedom, and that Ulmo and Tulkas, at the very least, do not trust him."

"And you, my lady?"

Estë shook her head. "It is not my gift to see the fates of the world or to wage wars. I can heal troubled minds, hearts, souls and bodies, but Melkor never asked for my help in this – Valar rarely do, in any case."

Nerwen nodded. She should have expected this. She knew the minds of the Valar did not work the same way as the minds of Elves. To an Elf, she would have said that surely she must have at least some sort of private opinion, but she was aware that Lady Estë simply did not.

If Estë couldn't help her – more than she already had, that is – there was only one other place to turn. "Is Lord Olórin here?"

"Not in our gardens, no." Nerwen sighed heavily. "I believe," the Valië continued, "that you might find him on Taniquetil, though."

Nerwen gave her a surprised look. "I cannot just go there..."

"You are troubled, beloved, and he can ease your mind without making you careless, as I would have if I had interfered more strongly. Go to him. Manwë will not deny you entrance."

Nerwen did not think he would, it just seemed impolite. Estë smiled at her. "Those are elvish concerns that you bother with. The King will recognize your need and will not mind in the slightest. In fact, he is already expecting you."

Of course he was. For all those years she had lived close to the Valar, she still sometimes forgot herself – they often showed themselves in forms that were similar to the elven ones, and so one was tempted, sometimes, to regard them as only a more powerful version of oneself, while they were so much more.

"Thank you, my lady," Nerwen said simply, and left for Taniquetil.

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Lord Olórin found her before she even reached the gates of Ingwë's house. "Your heart is troubled," he said in place of a greeting.

"It is. And Lady Estë sent me to you," Nerwen added.

"Are you sure you have not sent yourself?" Olórin asked with a smile.

Nerwen gave him a small one in return. "A combination of both, then." She paused. "You know what is on my mind, do you not?"

"Yes, you have hinted at it often enough in the past years – indeed, almost since he had been released."

"Can you free my mind from doubts, then?" She asked hopefully.

He frowned a little. "You spoke with Lady Estë. You should know I cannot."

Nerwen heaved a deep sight. "Am I right, then?"

"I do not know. I fear you might be," Lord Olórin admitted.

"Then why has the Elder King...?"

"He fears you might be right too. But understand, he does not have a single act of Melkor that would support that fear, and so he will not act against him."

Nerwen frowned, and Olórin smiled at her. "He knew he could not be certain when he decided to release his brother. But he cannot hold anyone a prisoner only because he is not certain. Melkor showed every sign of honest remorse, and has been on his best behaviour ever since. There are many in Aman who do not fully trust him, but no one will move against him before the Elder King does, and he will not do so unless Melkor actually does something to deserve it."

Nerwen contemplated this. "You say there are many in Aman who do not trust him...so why do I feel like such a fool with my suspicions?"

"Because, in spite of your open-mindedness, you still move mostly among the Noldor. He is the greatest friend to them, and so they trust him the most." Nerwen remembered her theory about self-interest clouding the judgement of her relations, and felt pride in her clear sight. "If you spoke to your Vanyar relations, you would find they share your views."

"Truly?" She never dared to bring it up with them. She never dared to bring it up with anyone, except her closest friends, in hints – and of those, only Olórin listened in understanding, it seemed. Her brother, cousin and uncle all told her she had a suspicious mind, or refused to understand her at all. She never mentioned it in front of other Noldor because they seemed too devoted to Melkor, and she never mentioned it in front of the Vanyar because they seemed too untouched by the cares of Tirion for her to spoil it.

"Yes, truly. You can ask your great-uncle directly. In fact, I recommend it. Talking to someone else will do you good."

Nerwen raised her eyebrows at him. "You realized you have not precisely laid my worries to rest, do you not, my lord?"

He chuckled. "At least you are not alone. And remember what Lady Estë said – our steps are guided by Illúvatar, and what is to pass shall pass."

And he left her like that, wondering.

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She met her father in Ingwë's palace, to her surprise. "You left Mother alone with the wedding planning?" She asked.

"I was actually sent here to consult about appropriate song contest topics," Arafinwë explained.

"Does Angaráto even want a song contest?" Nerwen asked tiredly.

"Beloved, I do not think Angaráto cares about anything except being married to Eldalótë already. He leaves everything up to her," her father described the situation fittingly.

"That has less to do with my brother's deep love and more to do with his deep-ingrained unwillingness to actually push for what he wants, whatever it is." Arafinwë gave her a chiding look, but she withstood it. "You know it is true, Father. Even in their courtship, from what I know, she had to be the one who took the active role."

"There is nothing wrong with being conciliatory, beloved," he replied and sighed. "Why are you here?" He asked then, changing the topic.

"I came to see the High King...about some worries I have had," she explained.

"Are you sure you should be bothering him with it?"

It was Nerwen's turn to sigh. She knew her father did not mean to sound condescending, but intentions were not everything, after all. Fortunately, at this point, they were interrupted by the High King himself, who welcomed them warmly and immediately promised to listen to what she had to say.

"It is about Melkor," she explained once they were in his rooms.

"I do not think you should-" Finarfin started, only to be shocked into silence by the High King's response.

"So he worries you as well?" He asked.

"Yes," she admitted. "I would not bother you with this, but Lord Olórin advised me to speak to you. It has been troubling me for years now."

"You are not alone in that, I assure you, though we are not graced with his presence as often as you are in Tirion." her great-uncle paused. "What exactly is it that bothers you?"

And so Nerwen talked, and the High Kind listened, very attentively, it should be said. Unfortunately, before they got too far, they were interrupted by a messenger arriving with news. "Fëanáro made some new wonder," he said, "and all are coming to Tirion to see it – including the Valar!"

As Nerwen rose with the king and her father to hurry to the Noldorin city, her premonition rose again, stronger, though thanks to Lady Estë with less dread attached to it. There was a crowd already gathered on the main square before the palace when they arrived – it seemed everyone from Tirion and quite a lot of those from Valimar and Alqualondë were there, and Nerwen's mother even tore herself and her son from the planning, clearly. The sea of people parted before them, however, and Nerwen, spotting her eldest brother standing with Turukáno, rushed to his side. "What is it that makes this new creation so special that it receives so much attention?" She asked.

"No one knows," Ingoldo replied. "I am as curious as you are. It must be truly something amazing for the Valar themselves to come – all of them, even, except for Lord Ulmo!"

"I bet there are some who do know," Turukáno muttered, casting a not very friendly glance to where the sons of Fëanáro were standing. Irissë was there as well, talking to Tyelkormo and Atarinkë, no doubt the source of Turukáno's irritation.

Elenwë, who was standing next to her husband and leaning on him, in late stages of pregnancy, lightly touched his forearm. "They are her friends, my love," she said. "Do not begrudge her that."

Turukáno turned his gaze to her, and it softened immediately. Aikanáro had been right, as astonishing as it was: Elenwë truly was good for their cousin.

Irissë gave Nerwen an idea, however, as much as she disliked being inspired by her only female cousin in anything, and she walked through the crowd until she was on the other side of the group around Fëanáro. "Maitimo," she muttered, and he turned to her, a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth that stood for a welcoming smile with him.

"Nerwen," he said. "I did not see you arrive. I am glad you are in time."

"Do not say you would have started without me," she smirked.

"Of course not. We would have naturally asked all of the Valar to wait until Princess Artanis could deign us with her presence," he deadpaned.

"I rather thought so, yes," she replied in an equally dry tone and waved at Findekáno to come over.

He did, disengaging from a talk with his father. "Are you trying to get some information out of him?" He asked.

"Yes, very subtle, thank you, Findekáno. That had been my intention, but I would have chosen a less obvious way to go about it. But now, it appears, only one road is open to me." She turned to Maitimo, raising her eyebrow, and asked: "What is this about?"

Maitimo only raised his own eyebrow in return. "Wait and see. My father has really outdone himself this time."

Fëanáro heard him – no wonder, when they were standing just next to him – and turned. He was not smiling, but the fire in him seemed to be brighter than usual, and less contained somehow, even less controlled – so much so that Nerwen had to make a conscious effort not to step back.

"Artanis," he said. "You denied me a strand of your hair, and yet I have captured their radiance nevertheless – and more."

This did nothing to ease Nerwen's worry either, but she replied: "You know I never begrudged you that attempt, Uncle. But I do not give anything of myself."

He smiled at her, quite unexpectedly. It was not a kind smile, exactly, but there was pride in it – and not a selfish pride, for once. "And you do well not to," he replied. "I did not see it before, but I do now. Never give anything of yourself to anyone. Only your own creations, your own blood and tears, or flesh and blood, are worthy of that." His eyes strayed to the covered case in front of him, and Nerwen's curiosity grew.

All of the Valar were gathered now, on the opposite side of the square than where Fëanáro and his family were standing, and finally, he approached the case...and opened it.

When she laid her eyes on the jewels, her breath stopped for a short moment. She could not believe such beauty could be fashioned by elvish hands. They were gold like Laurelin and yet silver like Telperion at the same time, and the light they emitted seemed almost as strong as that of the Trees at mingling. She was amazed and charmed, caught in the beauty of it, wishing to be able to gaze on them forever, for she knew she would never get tired of them.

Nevertheless, she made herself tear her eyes away and look around. She saw amazement in every face around her, and her worry stirred again.

"These," Fëanáro said, "are the Silmarils, and they will be the heirlooms of my house. The light of the Trees is in them, and they shine like Varda's stars."

Nerwen's breath caught again at such blasphemy, but the Queen of Arda, she saw, did not seem angered. On the contrary, she stepped forward and looked at the jewels carefully. "Brighter than how my stars seem from the distant lands of Middle-Earth they are," she said, "and no mortal hand or evil shall touch them without burning, and they will not be destroyed by anything to be found in Arda."

Fëanáro was blazing even more brightly now, looking more powerful than ever before, and his light was visible even in the presence of the Valar. Then, however, Lord Námo approached and made his own pronouncement: "The fates of the world will be intertwined with these jewels you made."

It seemed to make Fëanáro even prouder, but Nerwen knew this was what her premonition concerned, and she did not think Lord Námo's prophecy was a good thing. Changing the fate of the world sounded like a great matter, but it was was not likely to be pleasant, she imagined. After all, they all lived mostly happily in the blessed lands for now. If the fates were to change, could it really be for the better?

Maitimo was standing by his father now, in silent pride as Fëanáro received fully deserved admiration from the rest of the Valar, so she turned to Findekáno. "This is...quite incredible," she said.

"I concur. I knew our half-uncle was talented, but this..."

"It is a special blessing," she agreed. "And yet I worry."

"You always worry," he pointed out.

"You sound like Aikanáro!"

He chuckled. "A harsh criticism indeed! Do not forget that I consider him my friend."

"Yes, and you know I am happy for that, but he is supposed to be taking you as his model, not the other way around."

"Influence is always mutual, you should know that, oh wise cousin of mine," he replied, smirking. "And now if you will excuse me, I have to get back to father, I really escaped from him quite rudely before – but where is he?"

Nerwen looked around as well, to seek her uncle and the rest of her family, but she could only find Angaráto. She headed to him and asked: "Where is everyone?"

"Elenwë caught sight of the jewels and the baby moved within her," her brother answered. "They are all with her now."

Nerwen turned without a word and rushed to Turukáno's house, with Findekáno by her side. She might have had many objections against him, but he was still her cousin and she should be present at the birth of his first child. Besides, Elenwë truly was a good influence on him. In those years with her, he gained in wisdom and lost some of his hard-headedness, to Nerwen's great pleasure.

When they arrived to her cousin's house, however, they found out they were too late – Ñolofinwë met them at the door, and announced: "Elenwë gave birth to a girl, one they named Itarillë. She is a beautiful child, with hair like the gold of Laurelin and skin like the silver of Telperion. Go inside and meet her."

And Nerwen did, happy that this turned out to be a truly joyous day after all.

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AN: Nelyafinwe Maitimo – Maedhros, Turkafinwe Tyelkormo – Celegorm, Curufinwe Atarinkë – Curufin, Angaráto - Angrod