AN: Language issues continue to give me nightmares. Would Nerwen translate the Sindarin names in her head, when she knows the language? I've decided that probably not, but that she'd translate them when speaking with someone who doesn't know Sindarin very well. So I'll try to consistently keep to that approach, and the same goes for translating Quenyan names into Sindarin at this point in time – later, they'll all have their official Sindarin translation and use that whenever speaking Sindarin, but I think it's too early for that.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Chapter 6: Contentment?
Year 16 of the Sun, Hithlum
Nerwen looked over the lands of the Noldor, and her heart swelled with pride.
They had build much in the short time they had spent here, the time she knew would not even be two years in the Blessed Lands. And in spite of all the pain and guilt and betrayal, she found a lot of what she came for in Middle-Earth.
She was not so foolish as to think that the doom the Valar foretold them would not come to pass, and she had seen the towers of Thangorodrim and knew that against that enemy, they stood no chance. But for now, it was mostly quiet, and if she was not exactly happy, than she was at least, in many ways, content.
It was not unmarred, naturally. She did not think that was possible outside of Aman, and then, her happiness had not been so even there. It used to be unquiet that disturbed her, now, apart from the knowledge that darkness would yet come, it was other things. The guilt over her part in the suffering of the Ice never left her. She felt bad, too, for leaving Itarillë alone at the coast, only with Turukáno and Irissë for company. And sometimes, when she looked at Findekáno, she still saw him covered in blood, as he had stood in Alqualondë – and she knew Angaráto suffered from this memory even more, perhaps because he did not have the guilt she did to help him understand better. While Aikanáro still often came from their lands to visit his good friend, Angaráto rarely ever did, for he could not look him in the eyes.
And then, of course, there was what she saw as her uncle's betrayal.
She did not quite understand it, for Ñolofinwë made it clear that he valued her advice very much and needed her by his side. She was held important in the ranks of the Noldor and her council was heard, so why did he not give her her own piece of land, even a small one? Her initial anger had passed and she was speaking to her uncle again, but some of the cordiality was missing, and she was reminded a little of the time in Aman before Fëanáro's banishment. That gave her hope that their relationship would improve again, as it had before.
Another thing that had troubled her in Valinor did not leave her either: she was still lonely. In fact, with the estrangement of her uncle and, partly, of Findekáno as well, and Itarillë living so far, she was more lonely than before, even though she did grow closer to her eldest brother. Ingoldo had always been a little disapproving of her openly ambitious nature and was forever attempting to direct her – even, perhaps, to control her in some small measure. But now, being the head of the family and ruling his own land gave him more understanding of her, and did away with the traces of jealousy she saw in him sometimes, giving self-assurance enough that it became easier for him to accept her advice without rancour. So his company became more precious to Nerwen, but it did not entirely fill the emptiness she sometimes felt.
And she missed acutely, too, the soothing presence Aman had. Here there were no Gardens of Lórien to calm her mind and heart when it grew to heavy, no Lord Olórin to speak words of wisdom to her, no peaceful house of her Vanyar relations. For a large part, she was alone with her troubles, and sometimes they weighted heavily.
And yet she was content most of the time, seeing the Noldor flourish, seeing her advice come to fruition and bring good things about, and managing her own house, built according to her own wishes. It was spacious enough to allow room for people who came to visit her, seeking council and healing, and it had a magnificent view of Findekáno's lands. Work was beginning now on tunnels that would lead across the mountain ranges to the lands of her uncle and brother, so that she did not have to cross the mountains every time she went to see them.
Yes, Nerwen was content in this world. She gave the plains one last look before setting out on her journey to Nevrast.
She rode from one nobleman's house to another, welcomed everywhere and her services of healing and advice rendered willingly, and then she crossed Ered Lómin to Turukáno's land.
It was always more tightly guarded than the other Noldorin lands - Turukáno had always been careful in this way, and grew even more so since the death of his wife. Nerwen could see his guard watching her as she crossed the border, but they did not contact her and she continued to her cousin's house on the shore.
He smiled at her warmly when she arrived. "Nerwen," he said. "Itarillë has missed you."
"I know, and I have missed her as well. I love the wide open lands of Middle-Earth, but the distance they put between us is their one disadvantage." She neglected to mention that had Turukáno not insisted on building his capital in the furthest possible part of Nevrast, it would not have been so bad.
"You speak the truth." He sighed. "I wish my daughter would get on better with my sister."
Nerwen laughed at that. "You know well it is an impossibility. They are too different." She refrained, too, from pointing out that his sister hardly got on with anyone, excepting Turukáno and some of the sons of Fëanáro.
"Yes," he admitted. "Sometimes I think you have ruined her."
If Findekáno had said this, Nerwen would have known it was in jest. With Turukáno, she feared he was serious.
"You know it was the other way round, cousin," she replied carefully. "Only when I saw she was too much a Nolde to be after her mother's heart, and too much a Vanya to be after her aunt's, did I take her under my wing."
"Because she was like you," Turukáno replied with a touch of bitterness. Did he wish he had a daughter more like Elenwë, to better remember his wife by?
"Not entirely, no," Nerwen replied patiently, "but more like me than like your wife or Irissë, yes. Itarillë is chiefly her own, but I was able to understand parts of her that those of her closer kin could not. You would not withhold that from your daughter?"
"You know I would withhold nothing from her."
That was very true, and another reason why Nerwen was glad she had taken a hand in her cousin's education. She smiled at Turukáno now, and went in search of the lady.
Itarillë laughed brightly upon seeing her. "A joyous hour," she said. "I was beginning to think I would have to run away from my father to go and see you."
Nerwen shook her head. "You know you would never do that."
"No," she admitted. "But I was desperate to see you, nevertheless."
"And I you."
"What news from our king and my uncle?" Itarillë asked curiously. "My father rarely tells me much."
"To his great loss," Nerwen commented. She knew that after his wife's death, Turukáno tried to treat Irissë as the new first lady of his lands, but she was unsuited to this role and unwilling to conform to it, and she never could offer any sound advice. Itarillë, Nerwen knew, would have done much better. "But in his defence, there is not much to tell at this time. The Enemy keeps to his fortress for now, mostly, and all is well in the realms for Ñolofinwë and Findekáno, and my brothers."
"And how does your own house fare?"
Nerwen smiled, glad that Itarillë understood her so well. "Well, too," she said. "The main building is completed, though there is still some artist's work to be done on it, and of course the furniture needs a lot more attention. But I'm concentrating on the tunnels now."
"I wish you could build a tunnel to here, too, one that would make you closer," Itarillë said with a sigh.
"Only The One can change the shape of Arda, unfortunately," Nerwen replied. "And how have you been faring? I understood from your father that your aunt has been giving you a hard time."
Itarillë sighed. "Does she not always? She has irrepressible desire to wander the lands and insists I accompany her – not because she particularly likes my company, I think, more because she feels it would have good influence on me. I do not like it, however, not only for the company or because she likes to go to Fëanáro's sons, but because it upsets father. She never lets that worry her, though, and tells me that nissi are not the servants of neri whenever I try to convince her not to worry him so."
Nerwen laughed at that. "She must have very strange ideas about me, if she thinks I would have not taught you that."
Itarillë grinned. "Actually, astonishing as it is, she even used you in trying to convince me. 'Your beloved Nerwen,' she had said, with a sneer I am sure you can imagine, 'would not sit at home just because her father ordered her to.'"
"She is not wrong – but then I would not have refused an entourage to make him feel better. I would take his entire army with me if I thought it would help." In fact, she mused, I effectively did.
"I know, and I told her so, too, at which point she left alone – well, with Lord Laurefindil." Itarillë frowned. "You do not think less of me because I mostly stay here according to his wishes, do you?"
"Of course not. Your father suffered a great loss, and his worry, at this point in time, is understandable. And I know you do not need wide open fields to be happy – in this you have the advantage over your aunt. You have gardens to delight you here, and your spirit is free, and I know that is enough for you." Nerwen paused. "Have you composed a new song?"
"Several, in fact. That is one of the many reasons I have been looking forward to your visit – I want to hear them sung in your voice."
Nerwen smiled in assent and accompanied her cousin deeper into the house.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Nerwen's house was almost done, everything in Noldorin lands seemed to be running well, her brothers and cousins were all at home at the moment, and she realized that if she ever wanted to visit Doriath, this was her opportunity.
And she did want to visit, very much so.
After all, it was the biggest realm in Middle-Earth, and its king was her great-uncle, and married to a Maia. She did not particularly like travel for travel's sake, but was very curious in this case, and so she joined Angaráto on his next journey. She truly believed Ingoldo should go and visit soon, but she trusted him the most of all her siblings and did not dare to have both herself and him absent. So she contended with bringing a note from him, with an apology and an explanation, and set out.
The realm of Doriath did not start far from Ingoldo's lands, and so it took them only a short while to feel the protective magic envelop them. Doriath guards appeared only a moment later.
"What brings you to our kingdom?" One of them asked.
"We're here to visit the king, our great-uncle," Nerwen said. "I'm Dirwen, daughter of Aerwen, your king's niece."
He bowed to her upon hearing this, reminding her of Ambë. "Then welcome, my lady, to the woodland realm, and allow us to accompany you to the halls of Thousand Caves."
As Nerwen walked deeper into the forest, a feeling started to spread through her, a feeling that filled her with the ache of longing. Even if she had not known a Maia lived in this kingdom, she could have told because of this feeling, because it was a more modest and weaker impression of what she knew from the Gardens of Lórien. At that moment, she fully admitted to herself what she had been trying to deny: that even though she was content in Middle-Earth and many of her dreams were fulfilled, she missed Aman almost painfully, missed the calm that it provided, the freedom from most cares. Here, in this forest, she felt a shade of it again, and it was a balm to her soul.
She walked like in dreams through the trees, drinking in the peace, forgetting her brother at her side and the guard who walked in front of them. As hours went by, her very soul seemed to settle. She was drinking in the beauty of the fall trees and bright flowers, and was almost startled when they came to a bridge that led to gates cut into a stone wall. It looked very unlike a dwelling she would have imagined for her mother's people, even though she had known from her brother, of course, that the king dwelt in caves.
They crossed the bridge and entered the city, and Nerwen had to admire the artful carvings there, the beauty that was created underground. She had heard it was made by dwarves, and her desire to meet this strange new race grew, seeing that they built such wonders. Perhaps some of them could be convinced to do work on the tunnels from her house?
They were led to the Hall of Elwë, and the beauty of that was such that Nerwen even consider it might, perhaps, bear comparing to some of Tirion's halls, even though it was very different. Passing over the paintings and tapestries, her eyes finally alighted on the king, sat on his throne. In looks he was very much like her grandfather Olwë, his hair like molten silver falling down his shoulders, but where on Olwë's face there was always a pleasant, slightly abstracted smile, on King Elwë's, there was a mild frown. "Welcome, my brother's grandson," he said to Angaráto. "I've hoped you would bring your elder brother with you on your next visit."
Nerwen's brother smiled, that smile that was an echo of Olwë's, and their mother's. "And I, instead, bring my sister," he said. "My lord, allow me to present Artanis Nerwen, the only daughter of ArafinwëIngoldo and your niece." He wisely allowed her to speak for herself after this short introduction, and Nerwen took the word.
"Please forgive my eldest brother, my lord," she said, seeing the displeased look in the king's eyes, "he wished to come and see you very much, but I begged to be allowed to go and he didn't wish to deny me this." Sometimes, she thought, it was an advantage to be a nis after all.
"Couldn't you have both gone?" The king asked doubtfully.
"He didn't wish to leave our lands with the direction of both of us either," Nerwen explained.
"But surely, if Angrod had stayed instead, he would have been more than enough of a substitute for you." Then again, sometimes it was not. Nerwen could sense her brother cringing by her side.
"I learned many things while I lived in Aman, from the Ladies of the West," she answered diplomatically, thinking of Ambë's obscure warnings, and of how, though they were clearly different, this relative of her mother's was likely to become no more of her favourite than her grandfather Olwë ever had. "Lady Estë taught me healing and I learned wisdom in her gardens. My brothers didn't have that benefit."
Before the king mustered an answer to that, a voice sounded from behind the throne: "You learned with my lady Estë? Then you're doubly welcome here, Nerwen, daughter of Eärwen."
The Queen came forward from the shadows, and Nerwen almost dropped into a deep bow before she realized King Elwë would likely take offence that she did not offer him the same courtesy, and so she only inclined her head very deep. "My lady Melian," she said, "it's a great honour."
The queen of Doriath took one look at the scene before her and said: "Come. I'd like to speak with someone who remembers the gardens well, I'll be happy to recall them. If you'll excuse us, my love?"
"Yes, go, I wish to speak with Angrod. There'll be a feast tonight, so I'll see you there."
The Queen only inclined her head and led Nerwen away.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Nerwen liked talking to Lady Melian. In her presence, the memory of Aman seemed more real and she could feel some of the calm Lórien had provided return to her. They remembered it together in detail, as well as the wisdom of Lady Estë.
She liked King Elwë less, markedly so. As she had guessed, he was very different from his brother across the Sea. Where grandfather Olwë was all serenity and peace, like her mother was, and it took something truly extraordinary to raise his anger – though when provoked, that anger could be terrible – King Elwë seemed to be nothing but short temper and impatience and pride. It was a mystery to Nerwen how someone so mild-tempered and wise as Lady Melian could have given her heart to such an Elf, Flame of Eru or not.
The evening feats had turned into a bit of a chore for her because of that, and she once again appreciated the advantages being a nis gave her, for here, it meant she was not expected to talk to the King much, and could instead devote her time to the Queen. And there was one other person she was wholly enchanted to meet as well. The royal daughter, Princess Lótien, or Lúthien, as her name went in Sindarin.
Her beauty seemed to be too much for this shore and her power was easy to spot, shimmering just under the surface, and if Nerwen had not known the Valar in the Blessed Lands, she would have been too much in awe to speak to the princess, who was sat next to her. As it was, she expressed her pleasure at the meeting, and Lúthien, after returning the pleasantries, said: "Tell me of Aman, please."
"Hasn't your mother told you all there can be told?" Nerwen replied, surprised.
"She has, but she left it many years ago, before the Elves came there. What is it like now?" The Doriath princess asked. "Do the same flowers bloom in Lórien? I know you talked to her about it."
Nerwen hesitated, considering how much to tell. "It's been hit by darkness, too, though the Lords of the West drew it away again. The Trees your mother remembers are no more."
Lúthien's face took on the expression of immeasurable sadness, one Nerwen knew was mirrored in her own. "We believe," she continued, "that the Sun and the Moon are the last fruits they gave, for in them we see an echo of their light." And sometimes, when Nerwen looked upon the Sun, she thought she could see the brightness of Lady Arien in it as well, but that was probably only her fancy, and her homesickness.
"So I'll never see them now, except in Mother's memory," Lúthien said. "I always dreamed of that. I love our forest, but such trees..."
Queen Melian, who sat on Princess Lúthien's other side, joined their conversation now. "So that's why Valar sent you to help us at this time..." She said. "We've wondered."
Nerwen stayed silent, and the Queen looked at her. "Didn't they?"
"The Valar didn't send me," Nerwen replied slowly. "The decision was my own."
"Are you the only one who went out of their own will?" The Queen asked.
"No," Nerwen was forced to admit.
"But why?" the Queen insisted.
"Every Elf had different reasons, I believe," Nerwen answered evasively.
There was a short silence. "There's something you aren't telling me, isn't there?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, my lady, but there are loyalties I have that make me hold my tongue."
The Queen slowly nodded. "I understand. Can you at least tell me why you came?"
"Yes. I dreamt of a land of my own."
Lúthien laughed at that. "I believe only one from Aman can have such dreams. I've seen my father shoulder the burden of ruling for centuries, and I wouldn't want it for anything."
Nerwen shook her head. "I don't believe it's a matter of being from Aman. Itarillë, my dear friend and the daughter of my cousin, would agree with you. We understand each other well, in all but one thing: that she doesn't particularly want to have responsibility for people. She sees it as a great burden, and is happy that her father is the second son, not the first."
"But surely even if he was the first, she'd not rule, being a woman?" The princess asked, frowning.
Unfortunately, that was true enough. "You're correct in that. But her mother perished during our hard journey here, she has no siblings, and her aunt is very unsuited to the role of a queen. If her father was the king, she'd be his queen, by her role if not by her title. She doesn't wish for that."
"And you?" The Queen asked sharply.
Nerwen laughed. "My father's the younger brother of our king, and I have three brothers, all older than me, and one of them already married and with a son. No, there's no queenship waiting for me."
"But didn't you go to Middle-Earth for that purpose?" Queen Melian insisted.
Yes. Yes, I did. "My council's heard here, and I have much influence over what happens in the realms of Noldor. It's enough to make me content."
"But not quite what you desired, still," the Queen pointed out.
Nerwen laughed again, to cover her ache. "You see me too well, my lady. Yes, it's not quite what I desired, but then I'm not in the Blessed Lands. I can't expect things to be perfect."
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Nerwen was content because she tried hard to be content, and she had to admit the Feast of Reuniting truly helped with that.
It paled in comparison with any celebration they had had in Aman, but for how new in this land they were, it was magnificent, and the guests did their best to be merry and friendly towards each other, something that had not been true during feasts in Tirion for Valian decades. Surely, that was better than all possible finery and sophistication?
Nerwen tried to use the time of the feast to speak with those she saw little in normal circumstances, and so she was looking for Maitimo, but to her frustration, could not find him, even though she had seen him arrive. She spotted Atarinkë and Tyelkormo instead, speaking with Irissë, Lord Laurefindil standing to the side in what would be awkward in most – but then, Nerwen did not think Lord Laurefindil had ever been awkward in his life.
"Good evening," she said, approaching him.
"Good evening, my lady," he returned.
"I find you in rather unexpected company."
He grimaced. "My lord Turukáno gave me the task of guarding his sister this eve, as he often does."
"Does my cousin feel there is danger on this joyous occasion?"
Lord Laurefindil simply cast a telling glance to the sons of Fëanáro.
"Ah," Nerwen said. "But surely she goes to visit them often?"
"Yes – and my lord sends me with her then as well."
"He always sends you?" Nerwen asked, surprised.
He inclined his head. "Almost always, yes."
"That seems rather hard on you," Nerwen mused. She liked Lord Laurefindil, liked him a lot, and had at one point hoped Itarillë would feel love for him. It did not come to pass, she was still waiting for her soul mate and so was Lord Laurefindil, but that did not lessen Nerwen's sympathies. This guard duty would not sit too well with him, for one because he thought his skills could be better employed elsewhere, and for another, because he found Irissë's company as trying as Nerwen did.
"Well, I believe it is because..." he paused. "My father died in the Ice, and my lord believes that ensures I will...remain vigilant."
Nerwen winced. "I am sorry," she said. She had known Lord Laurefindil's father had perished, of course. It had been attempting to save Elenwë, his lady and cousin to his wife, but even if it had not been for that, the House of the Golden Flower was great enough that she would have known its fate. She simply had not expected that Turukáno would use it against one of his close companions in such a way.
"I do not blame him, really," Lord Laurefindil said. "Not much, at least. He fears for his loved ones, and Lady Irissë keeps company that makes him wary."
There was a lull in the conversation next to them just now, and Irissë heard him and said: "The company you mention is standing right next to you, Laurefindil. Mind your tongue."
"That is the famous Vanyar courtesy," Atarinkë sneered.
"Lord Laurefindil did not say anything that was untrue," Nerwen interrupted, "and neither was he expressing his own opinion. I am certain you know what Turukáno thinks of you, cousins, and you do not much care, so there is no need to pretend offence."
Atarinkë gave her an unfriendly look, and Tyelkormo laughed. "Well, opinion on Turukáno is one thing you share with us," he said, "though it might be the only one."
"Oh, I am quite certain there are others we could agree on," Nerwen replied, thinking of Elwë.
"Why are you here?" Irissë asked, irritated.
"Forgive me, cousin, I did not mean to interrupt your friendly conversation. There was a reason I came over, besides compassion with Lord Laurefindil." She turned back to the sons of Fëanáro. "Have you seen your eldest brother? I would like to talk to him."
Atarinkë sneered again. "He sulks somewhere in the shadows," he replied. "Well, no wonder, I-"
"Thank you," Nerwen interrupted him firmly. She was almost certain she had been about to hear something of Atarinkë's opinions on Maitimo giving up his kingship, and she had no desire to spoil the feast by an argument. "I believe I will go looking for him now. A pleasant evening to you, cousins, Lord Laurefindil."
She stepped away from them and, realizing her eyes would not serve her, sent out her mind in search instead. That was a more successful venture, and she tracked the sense of Maitimo she had into the shadows by a grove of trees. "Maitimo?" She called softly. "Are you here?"
After only a moment, he appeared before her, with Macalaurë at his side. "How do you do that?" She asked, amazed.
"It is Macalaurë who does. He can...pass unnoticed, and so can those he includes in the deception."
"Can you teach this ability?" Nerwen asked with interest. "It would be very useful to scouts."
"I have had limited success," Macalaurë admitted. "You have to be suited to it, so...none of my brothers have been able to learn."
Nerwen laughed. "I can imagine! I do not think I would be apt at it either," she added ruefully.
"No, probably not." He paused. "I will leave you in privacy with my brother. If you go a little deeper into the trees, no one should see you even without my little trick." And he departed.
"Why are you hiding here?" Nerwen asked.
"I cannot look the Sindar in the eye," Maitimo replied. "They do not know what we have done, and I..." He shook his head. "My brothers have no shame, but I cannot do this. I came wishing to see you and Findekáno, but..."
"Then let me call Findekáno. We can spend some time here, in privacy," Nerwen suggested.
"He is the Crown Prince. He would be missed. Besides, I did try to speak with him, but he seemed fully engaged in a conversation with a Sindarin lady, so..." Maitimo shook his head. "How can he do it? He was there, with us, in Alqualondë..."
"My cousin can shake most things off," Nerwen replied, "but he is also good at pretending nothing is the matter, and this, I believe, is more likely to be the latter case. You know as well as I do he is not half as careless as most believe him to be."
"I do know, this is why I wonder. The guilt plagues me and Macalaurë day and night." He paused. "He composed a lament...he will never sing it publicly, it is not that kind of song, but if you wish to hear...it would help me now, I think, to sing it."
"I do. Very much so. I have my own guilt, though it is different from yours. Let us go further away from the crowd, and you will teach me, and then we will sing together."
And they did.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
AN: ...Dirwen and Aerwen are Sindarin variations of Nerwen and Eärwen, in case it was unclear, in accordance with what I said in the AN at the beginning. Nerwen uses these names when speaking with the border guards, while when talking to Thingol, she uses the "normal" Quenya versions, because Thingol is old and still remembers Quenya, or proto-Quenya, and should have no trouble understanding. He could call Angrod Angaráto perfectly well, too, but he's just the kind of person who will insist on accommodating your name to their language. That is, in my hc, how all of the sons of Finarfin got their "official" Sindarin names: Thingol insisted on calling them that, so they just accepted it. Nerwen was lucky to be bellow his notice for a time, and then of course she got her Sindarin name from a different source...