Title: Lanëa Nyérë

Meaning: Lanëa Nyérë is the Quenyan translation for Weaving Sorrow.

Author: BittenBuggy

Rating: Soft R

Fandom: Silmarillion

Disclaimer: All characters/events that follow are the property of Tolkien.

Warnings: Marital Sex (not graphic), Character Death

Beta: Saralitazie and Psychomare125

Cast: Feanor/Nerdanel, Finwe/Indis, Mahtan, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras

Timeline: Eldar Days through the end of the Second Age
Summary: What is it to lose your husband to madness? To lose your sons to an oath? What comfort in the world is left to you when all that you love has passed? The story of Nerdanel.

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"In her youth she loved to wander far from the dwellings
of the Noldor, either beside the long shores of the Sea or
in the hills; and thus she and Fëanor had met and were
companions in many journeys." Morgoth's Ring

Alqualondë: Year 1182 of the Trees

The Sea.

Tumbling clear waters crashed against white rocks. The sun glinted off each drop that fell from the ocean onto the sand. Bright eyes scanned the horizon, not searching, only savouring. Such vastness, such beauty, such power... It made the Elf-maiden's heart swell within her breast. Bare feet ran over to sink into the moist sand, arms upraised in bliss. Cool, salty water caressed slender ankles making the maid giggle and run farther in. The sound of the tide beat in rhythm with her heart, the sense of freedom tempting her senses and swirling them in a whirlwind of elation.

'Thy heart belongest to these waters, fair maiden.'

A deep, solemn voice was heard above the gentle roar. Surprised to be caught at such a moment, the maid turned quickly before a smile stole across her face.

'Thou knowest not where mine heart lies, Fëanáro!' She called, looking back over her shoulder once more before lifting her skirts and gliding out of the ocean. The bright light of Ninquelótë warmed her as she approached the lone elf.

'Mine heart though, weeps to see thy fair face again. Thou hast changed not, Istarnië.' Fëanor said in a tone akin to awe as she stood before him. 'For that I am glad.' His hand rose up to touch the skin of her cheek as he spoke, his knuckles brushing up towards her pointed ear.

Nerdanel leaned into his hand, gazing up at him fondly. Fëanor had long been her companion, through both childhood adventures and chastisement alike. His love of exploration coupled with her sense of mischief had seen them no mercy at the long end of the rod. But oh, how worthwhile it had been.

'Thou hast missed my company then?' She asked, a coy smile brightening her face.

'As Nahar misses his open fields, my love.' Fëanor answered as the maid giggled.

'Thou hast become no more charming.' Nerdanel said, slipping away from him and skipping with swift feet on the soft sand. 'Pity.' She called over her shoulder. Filled with the need to run, she made it a game of chase. She would let him get within inches of her and then dance gracefully out of his reach.

He was neither as fleet nor as light upon his feet as she and she did nothing to stifle giggles as he missed her time and again. The warm sand soon turned to cool grass, cushioning their feet with kind fingers. As Nerdanel ran, she spread her arms out wide, her hair flowing behind with her skirts, her eyes closed in delight.

She slowed as the chase approached the forest. Fëanor was allowed just enough advantage to slip his arms around her waist and twist so they both fell to the ground, the soft earth seeming to come up and catch the pair.

A contented aura settled itself around Nerdanel as her companion pulled her up to lie against his chest. Sweet sighs escaped their lips as their fingers laced and laid themselves against the elf's heart.

'Thou hast come to see Atar then? He has traveled to Alqualondë.' She asked, now curious as to the true purpose of his visit. She let her chin prop itself on his shoulder so she could look at him.

‘Could I have not just returned to be close to thee?' Fëanor replied with a roguish grin. But Nerdanel could see the hesitation in his eyes, hesitation that he was trying hard to conceal.

'One does not make such a journey to hold a friend, son of Finwë.' The maiden replied, a playful reproach in her voice. A darkness immediately saturated his features and Nerdanel did not understand her mistake. 'Thou art troubled.'

Fëanor did not speak for long moments, but Nerdanel did not pressure him. 'It is my atar.' He said finally and then continued with a hiss in his voice, 'He is taken court with Indis. She is naught but a fulsome gamester!'Nerdanel rubbed her cheek against his shoulder in sympathy. The reassuring touch seemed to do a bit to relax him. 'Thou forspeak in anger and untruth. Fëanáro, deprive him not of such joy. Both the company of Indis and thy love.'

Fëanor immediately pushed her away. 'Nay! Speak not to me if thou art to speak against me.' Fëanor broke his gaze with her as soon as the words left his mouth, instead staring down at the grass accusingly.

Nerdanel was undaunted. She was used to his frequent tantrums, and found them intriguing in their passion. 'Jealousy shant change your atar's heart, nor that of Indis. Embrace her Fëanáro; she is a good quendi.. Thy heart groweth dark with such thoughts of hatred.'

'This new woman seeks to usurp the place of my amil! She steals the sight of my father with her pretty gaze and high house. I would not embrace her for all the love of the Eldar!' Fëanor's voice was husky with emotion.

'But thou seekest not the love of all the Eldar,' Nerdanel looked at him fondly amidst his tantrum. He was so young, like she, neither even being of full stature yet. Despite his age, she saw such fire in him. His spirit burned within his eyes; a terrible energy. Clear as virin and hard as the stone of Oioloseë. The cold flames licked at the icy blue, boring through deceit and falsity. As intent upon his craft as an eagle is to its prey; what Nerdanel would not give to be the focus of such eyes.

Her heart sighed as she gazed upon him with love, secretly. Always secretly. They were companions, as close as siblings yet as far as strangers in love. He loved none but his father and his craft, yet Nerdanel understood. She herself was filled with the desire to make new things, things beautiful and previously unthought. Eager and fervent, Mahtan had described her as the greatest pupil save Fëanor only. Nerdanel's heart swelled with pride whenever a boast was made about him, as if he were already hers.

But right now his eyes were reddened with unshed tears. His father's love for this new elf hurt him greatly. She could see the change in him already; if sudden, and her heart did not yet perceive what an effect it would have on the lives of all the Noldor and Arda entire.

'The Valar have granted their union.' Nerdanel said standing and then leaning down to kiss her companion on the forehead. 'Such choice has never been within the grasp of his son.'

With that, she stood and walked away through the tall grass towards the woods. The light of The Trees was now beginning to mingle, casting a silver-gold glow across the sky. A sense of calm came over the land as Telperion began to wax. Senda-lúmë had come and Nerdanel longed to sleep under the stars tonight rather than return to her atar's guest house in the city.

A time later, she lay on the softened forest floor, a clear view through the branches as she submerged herself into the land of meditation. In the stars, she saw the face of Feanor. He was her beloved, though he knew it not and perhaps would never guess. Nerdanel was too proud to speak her words to him for fear he would turn her away, albeit gently, and claim never a lover for devotion to his craft.

Nerdanel knew her beauty was not among the greatest of her people. The reddened hair of her house had been her curse, set her apart from the exotic beauties. The quendu had ever gazed at her sisters who had inherited the dark hair of their mother. Yet Nerdanel did not dwell on such shallow thoughts. Her mind was sharp and her fingers skilled, more so than any of her sisters. Moreover, her skill was not limited to the professions of quendi; her father had kept her long hours in the forge, fashioning finer objects with her delicate hands than any quendu was capable of.

It was in this way that she admired Fëanor and come to love him. He had surpassed her throughout her childhood. In the first year of her life she had built a dam with small sticks to stop the flow of a tiny river that ran through white rocks on the shore. She had labored hours, laying down upon that rock and yet Fëanor had come and in mere minutes had constructed such a thing as to stop the water before it even reached her attempt.

All thought of jealousy of his superior skill had fled when she looked upon him, so confident, clever beyond his years. Instead of smirking at her pitiful attempts, he had lain beside her and instructed her.

After that day, Nerdanel had returned to her atar and told him of the boy. Fëanor had been summoned and Mahtan had seen his promise in the strong form of such a youth. This pleased Finwë greatly and allowed his son to live among Mahtan's house for a time and learn under one of the greatest craftsmen of the Noldor.

This had been both a blessing and a curse to young Nerdanel. She longed for him, sneaking secret glances at him as they worked in the forge together, yet she counted it as a great sanctity. Fëanor was not oft to play with the other children so he depended on her companionship. A warm glow heated her heart as she thought of this, his time spent with no other, only her.

'Yea,' She supposed. 'If he does naught but look upon me in friendship, I shall be well pleased.' In her heart, she knew this would never be the case but such sweet fantasies came so seldom.

A peace rested upon her heart as she gazed up unseeingly at the stars. Such was the land of Aman, her home, her world. Yet greatly did she desire to see the Hither Lands that her father spoke about. The peril and uncertainty fueled her need for adventure; seemingly a thing forbidden among the elves of Valinor. Long did she wish to look upon those who had remained behind, those blessed with freedom. Aman was wont for nothing, whether beauty or wisdom or happiness, yet in her heart she could find none of these within the walls of flawlessness.

Such was her curse, to live among perfection and be malcontented.
With a frustrated sigh, Nerdanel turned sharply to her side and gasped.

'Thou doth not assume I would leave thee alone to fend for thyself?' A repentant, albeit hesitant, look was on his face. She could see the apology in the crease of his brow and the slight downward turn of his lips. She knew not how long he had lain next to her.
'Thy voice rues but thy soul doth not. Shroud not such a noble heart with shadows. There is much love in this world to be had.' She saw no acquiescence, but she reached up with her thumb to rub the frown gently from his mouth.

'Thou art one to know of such love.' His voice was slow and careful, as if to drive home the reason behind such words.

Nerdanel met his gaze, her will to guard her heart slipping past like water over a smooth shell. Her lips parted slightly, willing them to speak but her breath was caught cruelly in her chest.

'Hush... Speak not to me of it until thee deem thyself ready and myself worthy.' His voice was as the whisper of a bird's flight, solemn and gentle against her ear.

He knew.

He knew of her love, her longing. Had she stumbled so far into transparency? That she was to let herself be read as easily as the scripts of Rumil?

He had not shared his feelings, to spare hers perhaps. The thought made Nerdanel's heart sink into her stomach. They remained confidants, nothing more within his eyes. And yet, a flicker of hope kindled as she looked on his words. He had professed nothing, but he could have withheld everything.

An unbidden sigh of doubt escaped her. His head tilted slightly at her sudden melancholy but he said nothing. Nerdanel felt the need to reach out and caress his face, feel his skin beneath her fingertips. The beauty that lay before her tempted the fires of her youth that burned all the more brightly in his presence.

‘Get thee home, Nerdanel. Tempted as an elf is to stay close to thee, I would not deprive thy atar of such company.’

Nerdanel stood with a glance towards the lit city. He still lay on the ground, his head propped under his hand. ‘Thou art to call upon me on the morrow?’

‘If it pleases thee.’ He acquiesced with small nod. Nerdanel smiled faintly and turned to leave but Fëanor spoke again, ‘I have a prize to ask of thy atar and would have him know it before I leave.’

‘There is naught he can give thee that thou doth not already possess.’ Nerdanel’s heart hammered in her chest. The complete truth had not been spoken from her lips.
There was but one thing Fëanor would ask.

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A/N
1. Ninquelótë is another name for Telperion, the Silver Tree of Valinor.
2. Istarnië is another name for Nerdanel that Tolkien rejected, but I am using it as her ‘mother-name.’ 3. Rumil’s scripts: Rumil was a Noldorin Elf who developed the first formal writing (alphabet)

Translations

Amil: Quenya for ‘mother’
Virin: A substance Aulë devised for the vessel of the Moon
Oioloseë: The highest peak of the Pelori on which Tanquetil sits
Senda-lúmë: This is not canon, it is something I made up that means ‘Resting Time.’ Since it was never completely dark in Aman, I figured there would be a communal ‘resting’ time.
Atar: Quenya for ‘father’