Companions. Part One.

A/N I am so sorry about the long delay in adding to any of my stories. I have had a lot more happening in my life the last several months than I thought possible (including migraines), and now I am experiencing some form of RSI. The stories will be added to and completed, but probably at intervals and, as with this chapter, they may be divided into smaller sections than I had originally planned.

(Disclaimer: All the characters, the world they inhabit and the storylines belong to, or are inspired by Tolkien. All references are from The Silmarillion, and The History of Middle Earth Volumes 10 and 12. Only the interpretation and any mistakes are mine.)

"He (Fëanor) was tall, and fair of face, and masterful, his eyes piercingly bright and his hair raven-dark; in the pursuit of all his purposes eager and steadfast."

(Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor. The Silmarillion. J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed. C. Tolkien. P64)

The house of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age.

In his pursuit of me was Fëanáro most eager. I was already falling in love with him, and he knew it - even if I would admit it not fully to myself. By the time we parted after that second journey together, he had my heart's love ensnared in a trap of his making, as if he had been the master hunter in those days, rather than Oromë.

Like unto the strong friendship I had with Gaerion and the fascination I had held briefly for Tolfaen combined; and as so very much more were the emotions that fast bound me to the son of Finwë. Now desires of the body were part of the love that had arisen in me, yet strong though they were, they could of course be controlled. Does the fëa not have mastery over the hröa? But desires of the fëa are not so easily checked. It was the first awakening in me of the sense of closeness, the sense of belonging brought about by the recognition he was one with whom I had great affinity of spirit – and the sudden intensity of those feelings almost overwhelmed me. I wanted to know him, to be with him in all ways. I wanted to ride and walk and work with him; I wanted to converse and study and explore; I wanted to dance; to celebrate, to be in his arms, to feel the warm intensity of his lips upon mine.

Yet I also had certain reservations.

Though hröa and fëa drove me onwards to give fully and joyfully of myself to the emotions that, from their first awakening, include the desire for marriage; my mind mood was not that of one who would give away her independence without very much contemplation. I had not expected to feel irresistibly drawn to another so early in my life, but rather to have many a year to pursue my own interests without need to blend my chosen path with that of a husband. Much did I enjoy my own company and the following of my own will. But so strong of will was he; so insistent, so masterful of nature! I was not at all sure I wanted to be mastered by my own depth of feelings - let alone by him. Had I not determined upon our first encounter in my father's house that I could not, would not let him control me? Yet I knew that desire to be with him would ever mean to be in his power.

Seemingly complex was I in those days as I struggled to make my choice, and he the constant one. Too swift by far did I think he wished our relationship to progress, for he would have had us betrothed and wed in little over a year – we being hardly more than children. I did not understand him then as well as I came to. I did not understand the many reasons for his haste. And I did not truly know him!

Ai, that advantage he had of speaking of me with others before we had even met - of making clear and thoughtful study of his potential bride before allowing his heart to become vulnerable to her. He knew exactly what he was doing.

And I?

Fëanáro was beautiful; noble; strong; eloquent; learned and skilful far beyond his years. He spoke to me with a passion that none other ever had, (or ever has) and talked of matters that enthralled my mind with possibilities. The mere thought of him was enough to fill me with a delicious sense of excitement! How could I not love him?

In truth, it took time and experience for me to become as fiercely resolute as he that we should wed in early youth. Yet once my decision was made, it was unshakable. In those days I thought that nothing would ever divide us – for we stood together against all who would delay our union, and we chaffed at the impediment to married life of our unfinished apprenticeships.

As I now recall those early days we spent together, I wonder less at my present feelings. Such love as our union was made of – it may have been led by the design of Moringotho; by Fëanáro's pride and by my folly to estrangement; but it does not die, not even with death.

I love him still.

Now I have pondered again of late upon the torment he must endure these long ages. I know not all of the methods by which Mandos seeks to purge those in his care of their guilt, or to heal those who are damaged and in anguish; for few who return can remember their stay – those who do will speak of it not. But this I know – to be in Mandos' care is to be a spirit unhoused. So Fëanáro has likely been held these seven ages as if but a character in a book - reliving the incidents of each chapter of his life, time and again, yet not able to do anything, create anything - change anything. To be limited to a condition so wholly unsatisfactory to his nature - what greater punishment could have been inflicted upon one so restlessly active? Some have said (though not directly to me) that he deserves such a trial for the wickedness he caused. But even Moringotho was forgiven his early wrongdoing! It seems to me to be excessive chastisement for any Elda, that if I knew not better, I would doubt the love and care of Manwë. But for Fëanáro to be forced to endure inactivity for so very long - does the thought not pain me greatly, that I who have shed so many tears would weep anew?

Aye – though I abhored his deeds at times, there is no doubt I love him still!

And what now? Now does my tired heart beat fast again, as I think upon all which has occurred of late. With the passing of each day I do most earnestly believe that my sons – that some of them at the least – will soon know of healing. Mayhap even will one or more be restored to me? The memory of my visit to Neldormindo has begun to take on a life of its own, as if I expect the door to open and Maitimo, Carnistir, or Ambarussa to enter - to give me greeting as if they had just returned from a hunt. Was it a dream that I experienced at our home of old this last week; a vision of one who is so worn with living that she sees in changing patterns of light upon statues the living forms of her lost family? Was it but in my memories that I heard his voice as I once had - "Nerdanel; shed not tears. Never did I leave thee, lady. In memory art thou ever mine …."

'Finwion, forgive me for failing thee!' my heart cries out in remembrance of the event at which he uttered those words - the event of his impending death.

Was he speaking to me again – was it real, as that brief touch of thought had been real?

I know not the answer, nor if there is some plan or scheme of the Valar afoot, or that I am exhausted beyond any reckoning and have lost all my powers of discernment? But I have learnt so much of patience that it will cost me little to consider further that encounter. Sorrow and joy; are either foreboded us? And I have experienced abundant sorrow. If I may not feel full joy, I would at least feel fully alive again; I would feel excitement that I embrace the possibility of hearing Fëanáro's voice as a draught of the sweetest water.

Now my father is still more disturbed by my recent behaviour and writing than I like. Would that I could tell him this is for the best. Happier am I in the pursuit of recording my memories than I have been throughout this present age. Mayhap I have lost much of the peace I thought to have gained - I cannot deny that is so. But in that peace I was never truly healed. Mayhap it is the writing that causes me to hear again my lord's call? But whatever it is, whatever transpires – no longer is every day the same.

So it is that I welcome the forthcoming visit of Artuiel, and she riding out from Hyarmenosto in the company of another whom she has named not, save as 'friend'. I wonder what her visit will bring? I wonder what tomorrow will bring? But for now shall I turn again to the memories that, while bittersweet, yet warm my heart and bring a smile to my lips.

- - - - - - -

"So be it!" Fëanáro (for having been told by him to address him as such, so must I do) had said to me with a satisfied smile at my use of his chosen name.

Filled with overflowing energy and joy, he had turned the head of his dark brown stallion and headed down the slope at great speed, to meet with the approaching host of Oromë.

I could do naught but give chase.

That image of him; raven-dark hair and grey cloak flying back in the wind; full of delight in his life and strength; single minded in reaching his goal – it fixed itself in my thoughts with an intensity that I longed to portray through my developing skills in crafting. That was how I wanted to sculpt him, whether our relationship grew or no. That was the image I would make to present before Aulë as an example of my endeavours, and to later stand in my room as my muse. Each detail of him that I found so captivating was etched indelibly upon my memory for my future use.

And so single minded upon watching him was I, that I was almost in the presence of Oromë and Vána before I knew it.

Now meeting with Oromë and speaking with him of the Great Journey had been the reason I gave to Fëanáro for our journey. I had wanted to gain a fuller understanding of why the Eldar had left Cuiviénen. Although my parents and some others of those who had made the March into the West had spoken to me of their thoughts, I wanted to know more. It was in my mind that Eru Ilúvatar had caused all of the Quendi to awaken in the Hither Lands for a purpose. If that was the case, I did not fully understand why the Valar seemed to have questioned that purpose.

Oromë had been most reluctant to leave the Hither Lands, it was said; yet he had been the one to guide those willing to follow him to Aman. I had for some time desired to speak with the Lord of Forests. But at the moment the opportunity lay before me, all I could do was ungraciously wish that the Vala had not been journeying along the verdant line of the forest's edge that particular day – that instead, I had more of the precious three days allotted by my father to spend with Fëanáro alone. So much for my desire for knowledge and understanding! Could Nerdanel the Wise not be as unwise as any other maid in matters of the heart?

So were my thoughts focused upon Fëanáro, rather than the Valar, as I galloped across the flower-strewn plain towards the forest's edge.

Then, of a sudden I was struck as if by a wave of immense power that made even Fëanáro seem as a babe - of an ancient, righteous anger yet restrained by love. I shuddered involuntarily for the second time in that day, though for a very different reason. No chill of spirit, as in the encounter with Lord Valdon was it – rather an awe that claimed my attention in entirety. I slowed my mare to a walk. Ahead of me, Fëanáro had already drawn his horse to a halt.

Oromë approached us upon the mighty stallion, Nahar. He rode to the fore of a somewhat grand procession; the horn that we had previously heard - the Valaróma - still clutched in his left hand. Riding close by his side, garbed in pale green and with a circlet of golden roses about her hair, was Vána the Ever-Young. Songbirds followed in her train, and white and golden flowers sprung up around her horse's hooves as she passed. The two Valar were accompanied by many green clad Maiar – some wearing the pale, fresh green of the Valië; others garbed in the deeper green and brown hues of the Hunter himself. Some were mounted upon black horses, though many walked, or danced and sang. There were a number of the Tavari, the fays of the woodlands amongst that group; several rider-less horses, and a large pack of hounds that leaped and bound and investigated the edge of the trees. The hounds wagged their tails and barked excitedly at us; but it was obvious even to my inexperienced eyes that it was no hunt we had come across.

Raising his right hand to halt the merry procession, Oromë gave greeting. "Hail, and welcome to our company, Prince Curufinwë" the large, rich voice of the Vala was like the song of the deepest, greenest forests to my ears. "Hail and welcome, Lady Nerdanel."

I was a little taken aback that Oromë knew me at first glance; but thought mayhap my colouring had given away my lineage. Then again, who was I to know the extent of any Vala's knowledge?

Fëanáro dismounted; walked forward a few steps, then bowed most earnestly in acknowledgement of our welcome.

"Hail and well met, my Lord Oromë; my Lady Vána. Greeting I also bring thee from my father in Tirion. Most happy am I at our meeting, and most honoured at thy welcome. I would ask of thee permission to journey in thy company for a space this day. My lady companion has heartfelt wish to ask thee of thy thoughts on the Hither Lands, and it would please us both if thou wouldst give us of thy aid in this matter."

I had thought the prince magnificent in the way he bested Lord Valdon; now my admiration grew further. So valiant was he to face one of the Ainur without flinching, while I was yet trembling with wonder.

Turning to face me, Fëanáro gestured that I should also dismount – that I should move to stand at his side.

What to do, when my pride in being who I was; when my experience even of Aulë was not enough to still my shaking that I would be an embarrassment? But I thought upon what I knew of the Valar; that for all their might they were as we – creatures of the All-Father. We were as kin, albeit kin of vastly different form, knowledge and strength. It was for we Eldar to love and honour the Holy Ones - not for us to fall down and worship them. Neither would they have had us so do. (Save one of their number! But my tale as yet does not touch upon him.)

So I did as Fëanáro wished, stealing myself for the encounter that I be not robbed of speech. Mighty though my master Vala was, yet had I known him since before I could walk, whereas Oromë I had only viewed from a distance. I had ever been in awe of Aulë, and of Yavanna, but awe of Oromë, (if not of Vána), was of another kind. There was a wildness in his hazel eyes that spoke of a quick and lively temper; of things seen that should not have been, not even by one such as he. He knew of darkness and the measure of its dread more than many, I believed. And he abhorred its continued existence!

Yet as he focused his eyes upon me, the sense of wildness retreated, that he was one who was just and beneficent to the children of Eru – and touched with a dry sense of mirth.

"Thy father is oft in my thoughts, and most high in my regard, son of Finwë. It is my will that we all halt awhile, and partake of refreshment and song and dance. And we will sit together, thou and thy lady companion and I and mine - and speak of the matters you ask. " He smiled directly at me; a smile that warmed my heart and dissolved my fears. Aye – he was kindly; but still was he wild.

Soon enough were we seated upon the sward in the company of those Valar and several of the Maiar, while a single white robed Maia served us a welcome cup of ruby rich wine. The aroma of that wine was like that of the most bounteous harvest, deeply invigorating of hröa and fëa alike. Not used to such heady drink was I, and took but a sip before I found myself spluttering in a most unbecoming manner. Fëanáro smiled knowingly at me but said naught. Yet did I notice that he drunk but sparingly himself.

Then others of the Maiar served us with honeyed fruits and woodland faire of nuts seeds and berries made into a form of bread that melted upon the tongue. There were dried meats, boar and venison, and more of the wine for those who wished. A pitcher of clear, sweet spring water was set before me. The Tavari hovered at the edges of the group, some producing hand harps and flutes from their garments of flowing green-gold hues, and they started up a joyful song. The dogs whined a little at first, but at a glance in their direction from the Vala, they settled down in a group, waiting expectantly for treats at the end of the meal.

No surprise was it to me to eat and drink with the fair spirits whose land we lived in. I had partaken of many meals with Aulë, and many more with his servants. I knew that the Valar and Maiar needed not such sustenance (neither do the Tavari eat and drink as we Eldar do), but also that from their generosity of nature they acted oft almost as one of us. I think also they enjoyed the sensations that physical being gave them – a different, more intimate perspective of the world they had laboured to form.

With the meal finished, Fëanáro gifted Oromë with a gold circlet in which was set fine cut emeralds, and Vána with a goblet encrusted with pale rubies, opals and emeralds so as to take uncanny appearance as of blossoms upon the bough. Pleased were the Valar with such gifts, and enquired if they were of the prince's own device.

I had seen their like before - at the hands of my father, of Narwasar, of several of the most skilled Aulenduri – but not at the hands of so young an apprentice. I wondered at first if they were the works of my uncle? But Fëanáro claimed sole responsibility, showing neither humility nor pride in the statement. He had made them as gifts, intending them to be items of beauty that were a pleasure to behold and to use; and so they were! Again, he smiled knowingly at me, this time almost seeking for me to acknowledge his extraordinary skill.

It was not the time for me to speak to him of such. But my heart sang with pleasure that my companion could already imbue such energy and workmanship into objects. From him even I could learn much. Skilled son of Finwë indeed!

Then Oromë turned his gaze upon the Tavari, who ceased their music and made to sit in a semi-circle behind Vána. The Maiar also sat upon the sward, as if all were preparing to hear a much-loved tale recalled - as picture words spoken by a parent to encourage their child into dream. I had expected our audience with the Valar to be in some privacy – I had not expected such a crowd.

"Well then, Nerdanel, of the House of the Copper-Oak – what is it thou wouldst know from me?"

All looked to me! Fëanáro looked to me!

I drew deep of breath, for I could do naught but continue. I would not shame my father's house, nor would I disappoint the prince. He had brought me to the place where my questions could be answered. Now all I need do was ask them.

Then a sense of warmth and strength was about me, as if a cloak of protection had been settled about my shoulders. I glanced fleetingly at Vána, who had spoken but little at that point. She smiled encouragingly, but she was not the source of the warmth.

And emboldened by the knowledge of who encouraged me to speak forth, I found that I could all but fly!

- - - - - -

Moringotho – Morgoth

Maitimo – Maedhros

Carnistir – Caranthir

Ambarussa – The Twins. In this case, Amras.

Finwion – Son of Finwë. Childhood name of Fëanor, sometimes used by Nerdanel as a term of affection.