(Disclaimer: All of the characters, places, and the main story line are JRR Tolkien’s wonderful creations. All references are from The Silmarillion, or HoME Vols 10 or 12. Nothing is mine except the interpretation and any mistakes, and in this chapter, and only in the sense he is derived from reading the works of Tolkien, the character ‘Gaerion’. Thank you again to Bellemaine and to Emalin for all your help in beta reading and ideas.)

“..she (Nerdanel) was not amongst the fairest of her people. But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge. “

(The Later Quenta Silmarillion. Morgoth’s Ring J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed C. Tolkien. P 272)

The house of Sarmo Urundil. Seventh Age.

Now my parents have noted that I work no longer at my sculpting; that I confine myself to my room, to the library or to wandering the gardens and orchard.

They are concerned. Long has it been since they beheld me thus. Though they realise the burden of my memories have become nigh unbearable to me in this present Age, they are of the same mind as Istyaro. They would have me endure to the End, for my own sake.

Yet my changing mood has affected them more than they wish to show; that my father, who speaks rarely of the days before the sun, has begun to speak again of his bitterness concerning Fëanáro.

“I know the fault and plan were Moringotho’s, but did your husband have no choice in the matter? Many a time there was when the prince should have followed a course other than he did, and so greatly confound the Enemy in his schemes. Prince Fëanáro should have been the one who stood most strongly against Moringotho on behalf of the Noldor – not the one who led our folk to fulfil that Vala’s dearest wish."

Always the same argument does my father make: that with the greatness given unto him by Eru, Fëanáro should have led us in discerning and rejecting the deceptions; led us to hold fast to the love and care of the Valar – not lead the rebellion himself. Even now my father cannot understand how Fëanáro was so misguided, so deceived that he began the forging of swords in secret; that he turned against Aulë, who loved him - against Manwë, who honoured him - against the one who taught him the most guarded lore of metalwork and deemed him as a son. And if it is not that matter he speaks of, then it is Fëanáro’s denying of the Silmarils to Yavanna for the re-kindling of the Trees. Though we all were to know shortly after that denial that the Silmarils were no longer his to give, yet many believe that had my lord been able to make that choice in Yavanna’s favour he would have cleansed his heart from the possessiveness which was destroying him – and matters may have been very different.

I know not! I ponder that with each choice my lord made, from the time of his arguments with the other Loremasters onwards, less freedom to truly choose did he have. That choice of handing the Silmarils to Yavanna – of unlocking them, was impossible for him to make, believing as he did that the Valar sought ever to control the Eldar.

I will not argue with my father over my husband’s deeds of ages past. Nor does he seek of argument, or anything that would cause me further distress. Soon will he not mention Fëanáro’s name at all. I have tried to explain my own thoughts on the matter, but I cannot give to another the insights of my heart and fëa. I cannot give them to my mother, though she understands a little better the predicament I find myself in.

“You have not endured for this length of time to turn away from the path you chose, daughter. Do you think it is the wish of the Valar, of your sons – of your husband? Nay – when in his right mind, Fëanáro loved your strength of spirit and body. He would not want you to languish and fade.”

I know her words are true. I know Fëanáro once loved me. But the strength I gave up for him in order to bear our children has not been renewed, as it would have been if they had remained with me. I have not had the joy of my children, and all my children’s children about me, as is usual. I have not had my husband’s continued love to delight in.

“Seek this pursuit of bright memories, and bathe your heart in their joy,” my mother says, “that in your writing you may again find peace and embrace of life.”

I understand. I have no wish to add any further burden to my parents, who long bore the weight of grief with me. I do not wish to pain those good friends of mine amongst the Aulenduri who have ever stood by me, nor those nissi who have become as daughters to me.

Though her visits to me are less frequent than once they were, Nolwen would be saddened to know of my conflict of thought. In the early years after the departure from Tirion we dwelt together in my house at Neldormindo, she and I. We shared our sorrow, shared our sense of loneliness and guilt; shared our endeavours to take up again our lives.  That wife of Curufinwë’s; she had enough sorrow of her own. Her heart was sundered at the loss of lord and son, and at the later deeds reported to her that she thought to never have known Curvo at all. Now despite Nolwen dwelling again in the city with her family, has she ever sought my company on occasion. This I honour her for; her continued friendship with one she regards as her second ‘mother’; and that though she has cause most deep, she has never spoken ill to me of my son.

Enyalimë also spent time with me in the First Age. Alas, she was to be lost shortly before Artuiel was found. Another who questioned her decision to remain was she.  Did I not chide her silently in my heart for deserting my son – while knowing her loyalty to the Valar had torn her asunder as much as had mine? She disappeared from Eldamar at the time of the War of Wrath. Seeking Makalaurë was she. Though none knew of her plan at the time she left, her brother was to speak with me upon his return that she had travelled disguised as a nér amongst King Arafinwë’s archers. Varyaro had journeyed with her in her search, but they had become separated in the attack in which he was slain, that he knew not what had befallen her. Her parents hope ever that she return to them from the Halls of Awaiting. I like to believe she abides not with Námo Mandos; that she found again my son – that she abides with him still.

Artuiel, who returned with the exiles at the dawn of the Second Age, is amongst the Aulenduri more often than Nolwen. She travels to visit with her parents, and always makes time to speak with me. Though she dwells and works amongst those in Hyarmenosto, she oft seeks to discuss her skills and her apprentices with her master of old. Never has she sought to wed. Her love for Ambarussa has endured these ages without diminishing. And still she believes that before the end of all things they will be re-united. What endurance of hope! Is she not an example to me? I pray to Varda that she is right.

Rarely do I see Ondoriel. Since her return from the Hither Lands in the company of Lord Elrond’s folk, she has sought much of solitude. Her skill in broidery and weaving she yet pursues keenly, though amongst her mother’s kin. She is not one to be bowed down, but I know my son’s deeds as much as his death are a mighty grief to her. We should have been able to comfort each other more, for we were once much alike. But she cannot bear to be long amongst the Aulenduri, and I cannot bear to be long away.

Now I am become aware that my mother has sent letter to Nolwen, Artuiel and Ondoriel, requesting them to pay visit. She believes that to speak again with those who also love my sons will brighten me. That it will - though I would that my ‘daughters’ are not caught up in my present concerns or mood.

Until they give reply, I will continue with my recording of memories.

- - - - - -

My parents had noted my change of mood – that I had become less focused at my studies and training than was usual. There was one occasion when I had stood too close to my father that I was showered with white hot sparks, smoke and sand from his forging. He was aghast! Never had he feared for me in the forge before. Most children of the Aulenduri were not allowed through his door when he worked, but I was ever observant and somewhat solemn in my concentration that he allowed and enjoyed my company. But that day had my mind wandered elsewhere. Once my mother had tended to my burns, my father gave again of his lecture on caution when close to fire. He also sent Tulcon, his youngest apprentice, to Tirion with a message.

Now my father had intended to make visit to Tirion in the very near future. He had plans to discuss with Onónon, said he; plans of a most delicate nature. Though he showed forth those plans, designs for an aqueduct, yet did I suspect they were not the ‘delicate’ matter he referred to.

They wanted to be of help to me. My parents wanted to find out more about he whom I had met with in the hills. They wanted to know more of one who could so turn the head of their most sensible daughter that she seemed as in a dream. For my part had I tried to continue with my everyday life those ten days since I had been in his company – but oft did I ‘see’ again in thought those piercingly bright grey eyes, as if he were summoning me.

‘Is this love?’ I had wondered. But I was sensible, and knew that to be unlikely at such short an acquaintance. I knew it was more likely that my ‘Muinawë’ had some noble maid of the city with whom he was considering betrothal.

At times in those few days, did my mother look strangely at me, as if she knew something and was not best pleased.

“Come now, Mother!” said I, at a moment when we were working together in the gardens. “What vexes you? What secrets are you keeping from me?” I knew that my mother was gifted with more foresight than many nissi, and I would have her counsel whatever the matter was.

“No secret, Nerdanel,” she gave answer; then sighed. “It does but seem to me that the years of childhood pass swiftly. My child you are, yet soon to be a full grown nís.”

“Is such not the nature of things, Mother?”

“Your father has sent Tulcon to Tirion with the plans he has contrived for the new aqueduct. He is also to ask if Onónon and Nessimë will join us for a visit in the near future.”

“So you and father can ask them about my companion?” My voice rose in tone more than I had intended, and my mother raided an eyebrow, not surprised, I believed, by my protest.

“It is obvious that you like him, Nerdanel. The first it is that you have behaved in such a manner, that we know it for stirrings of your heart. While not all such stirrings lead to anything further, let us at least be certain of this ‘mystery’s’ name and family.”

Though I wanted more than anything to talk to her of him, to tell her more of how highly I regarded him, I also wanted not to so speak. (If you have felt this early stirring of the heart, mayhap you will understand?) I did not want this strange feeling to rule my life, to alter the existence I had hitherto enjoyed. As I felt my face beginning to warm with colour, I tried to change the subject of conversation.

“Father does think I am over fond of Gaerion.”

The rose bushes we were planting were laid carefully on the grass, as my mother stood up to look with more compassion upon me.

“So he believed. But I have never observed such a reaction in you to Gaerion’s presence as you are now displaying. I know Gaerion to be your friend, and friend only. Tolfaen I thought to be another matter; until these last few days.”

I rose swiftly to my feet, stung into denial by a sudden image of the quiet, pale, ash-brown haired Tolfaen – who it was true, I had rather liked - alongside the dark-haired intensity, the fiery energy of he who held my thoughts captive.

“Nay, mother! Tolfaen do I admire, but I can scarce say I am fond of him compared to ….”

My mother smiled broadly, her point made. “Let us see what news Tulcon returns with, or what Nessimë can tell us.”

We continued to work in the garden together, moving through the more formal rose and lavender walled garden - shooing away the playful young cat that had strode over to rub herself against our gowns and feet.

“It is not that I fear you growing up, dear one. It is that love can be one of the few things to cause pain. And you are still very young. Had this nér given you his name it would have been more promising. As it is, either he is arrogant beyond measure, or playing a game that is unsuitable in noble society. But a sense of foreboding have I, and would rather you contained your enthusiasm until we know more.”

I had laughed at this; no real concept of hurt, or fear, or loss had I. But I prayed to the Valar for Tulcon’s swift return!

- - - - - -

The following day I had a visitor. I had watched his approach from a considerable distance, as I had been in my room in the high tower, looking out along the Calacirya towards Tirion and the sea. A thin figure dressed in grey and blue; a Teler it was, for those of the third kindred are generally of a shorter and lighter stature than we Noldor. (Though that particular Teler was not short.) I hurried down the winding marble staircase and called to my father, but he was engrossed in a work he was crafting for the Lord Essilon, and answered me not. My mother was visiting with a friend. So when Failië answered the door, I alone of my family greeted Gaerion.

The Teler looked somewhat drawn and concerned. As I invited him into the main hall to offer him the welcome cup, he explained the reason for his presence.

“I did not know why you came no more to the sea, Nerdanel. I thought that mayhap, in some way unknown to me, I had caused you offence?”

We Noldor are not a folk given to openly affectionate touch that readily. I was no exception to the rule. Though the fire of my spirit oft burnt most hot within me that I was capable of great passion, I did not easily embrace strangers, even friends! But so lost and unsure did that friend of mine appear that I took up his hand and held it fast, reassuringly. His oval, grey-green eyes widened considerably at my gesture, and he seemed unable to speak clearly for a moment.

“Lady, is all well with you?” he almost whispered. “Is there aught I can do to help you?”

I smiled at his most considerate words; glad to see him was I.

“I am well, Gaerion. And most certainly have you done naught at which I could take offence.”

A bright smile broke over his thin face in response. His shoulders relaxed from their tense posture and he placed a warm hand over mine.

“I have been overly busy with my training, and about the house of late,” I continued, thinking that it did me little good to use that excuse to keep watch for news from Tirion. Better it would be to avail myself of my friend’s company, and a new journey. “I have not had the time to visit. But now you are here, and I will not be lacking in my duties if I take a walk with you this day and the morrow. Most pleasing would I find it to smell the sea air again, and to hearken to the waves breaking upon the shore.”

He was beside himself with eagerness, that silver-haired Elda.

“Then change quickly; fetch your cloak, and let us be away!” said he, making as if to head back to the main doors. “I have provisions for a few days with me, as I had thought to walk back and visit Tirion if you would receive me not, nor walk with me.”

“Receive you not? Never shall that be!”

Yet as I spoke, my heart leapt at the mention of Tirion – at the thought of he whom I associated with that city. Gaerion was not the one whose eyes I ‘saw’ in dream, but he was kind and considerate, and had always acted as the best of friends in the regard he showed to me. And he was a welcome diversion from the recent days of contemplation I had been struggling with. If any news were to come from Tirion – pleasing or otherwise – it would most certainly keep for a day.

I raced up the stairs again to my room, changed into my usual walking garb of thin, belted tunic over trousers, and picked up my boots and cloak. Meeting again with Gaerion at the front of the house, we headed to the workrooms where I gave call of my intentions to my father. Seeing some of his apprentices take note of my words, I waited not upon his reply.

So it was that Gaerion and I set out upon that walk which would take us to the Shadowmere and the sea, rather than that which went past the green hill of Túna. We had intended to wander through the valley and then turn north along the coast, far enough to catch sight of Alqualondë. We never got that far, however.

We had not drawn anywhere nigh the Shadowmere when, from a distance we heard a horseman riding after us. A dark-cloaked rider upon a golden horse was swiftly covering that distance and we halted to greet him, to hear what message he bore. As he drew closer I recognised Tulcon, and wondered why he was seeking us, rather than returning to my father’s house.

“Hail, Lady Nerdanel!” he called with more tension in his voice than I was accustomed to hearing. “You are to return home immediately.”

“Indeed, Tulcon! And what of the reply from my family in the city? What of your return home?”

With a nod of greeting to Gaerion - a friendly nod, for those two enjoyed each other’s company - Tulcon continued to explain.

“I have already returned home. Your father sent me straight out again without rest. A new horse, aye, but not a new messenger! My Lord Urundil finds himself in a position of some embarrassment, he says. I had company on my ride back from Tirion, and there is someone wanting to see you - to give you a gift. You are to return straight away.”

In no way did I wish to be a cause of embarrassment to my father, and strange was the news that a gift be brought me from the city. I was not expecting anything. It was neither anniversary nor celebration of mine.

“Do you know whom the gift is from? What it is?” I asked, while Gaerion began stroking the horse and talking to it in that calming way he always had, that it seemed a friendly conversation was begun between nér and beast.

Tulcon looked most uncomfortable. He fidgeted on the horse in a manner that made me suspicious that something far more than usual was afoot. “Nay, Lady Nerdanel. I know not what the gift is or whom it is truly from. But he who brought it seems in no good humour that you were not there to receive it.”

Thus there was naught for me to do but to return. I made sincere apologies to Gaerion, who had surely known from Tulcon’s arrival that our plans for the day would not come to fruition. Gaerion was not overly disappointed; at least he did not so appear.

“I shall turn to Tirion as I had first thought to do, Nerdanel. I should like to see the city of the Noldor, and to do so before you manage to gives me much amusement.” He gave the horse a last stroke, then bowed to me. “As long as we are still friends, my heart is not sad.”

“We are friends, Gaerion,” I replied with genuine feeling. “Always, we are friends.”

(I did not know at that time that I was to break his heart. I did not know that already, Gaerion loved me. Would it have made any difference in what followed? Though it pains me to realise I caused another grief, I am certain it would not have changed a thing. Though always has Gaerion been most dear to me, my doom was set as other than wife to a kindly seafarer.)

“Let me have the horse, Tulcon! For if the matter is truly urgent, I must needs be swift. One can be carried more swiftly than two.”

Tulcon frowned, unhappy at the thought of walking back to the house. But he could not argue with me - even now he finds it difficult - and so it was, that I was galloping back along the valley to my home, to my visitor and gift, before Gaerion had even waved farewell.

- - - - -

My father had hurried out to meet me as I rode into the courtyard and dismounted. Artaro made to take the horse, and I was ushered unceremoniously into the house, my father informing me of the cause of haste as we walked.

“Prince Curufinwë!”

I could not believe it! The son of King Finwë was waiting upon me? He it was who had brought me a gift.

I had expected the visitor who had ridden with Tulcon to be a messenger - mayhap even one from a son of a noble house - from ‘Muinawë’, and that thought had set a greater urgency to my return home than I had cared to admit. But it was the prince? I could not totally hide my disappointment, even under my curiosity. The prince had never paid visit to the dwellings of the Aulenduri, though I knew he was apprenticed to my uncle in Tirion, and had great skill in smith craft. And what was this that he brought me a gift?

“Quickly, daughter,” my father urged, turning me away from the main hall towards the stairs; calling on Failië to assist me. “Go freshen yourself and change into something more appropriate. The prince is in poor humour at you not being here to receive him. Thankfully he shows more than a passing interest in the seeing glass I craft for Lord Essilon, that I can divert him for a short time.”

Though my parents had always been happy with the way in which I presented myself, given the status of our visitor I was determined that I should appear as a true and high-ranking maid of the Noldor, rather than some wandering discoverer of sights unseen. I willingly complied with my father’s command. Such an attitude was right and proper. But I still did not understand the meaning of the visit.

“I know not the prince, Atar, nor have I ever even met with him.” I questioned that which seemed to me something inexplicable. “Is it not you he is here to see? Now that I could understand!”

As we reached the landing of the fifth level, upon which my room was situated, my father stood back that Failië rushed ahead of us, a most amused grin upon her face.

“The prince is here to see you, Nerdanel. Of that have no doubt! And an honour it is for us to have the son of King Finwë in our house. But remember – you also are of noble status, beloved of your family and of Aulë. Let him not speak to you as if it were otherwise.”

He took hold of my hands then, and looked me in the eyes. Such an unusual gesture it was for him. “Here, among the Aulenduri, are you held as a princess.”

To my father was that statement most true. He would not appreciate any speaking disrespectfully to his daughter, and would have shown the door to a visitor whom he knew had offended me – prince or no!

As my father turned to descend again the stairs – to entertain our most noble guest, the thought suddenly came to me.

“Queen Míriel’s gift!” I laughed with embarrassment, as realisation dawned on me. “The prince brings the gift his mother promised me. That must surely be it? My companion in the hills those days ago, he said that the queen had given my sculpture to her son, before she died. Mayhap she also laid it upon him to bring her gift to me?”

From his expression it was obviously not what my father had concluded. He hesitated, as if unsure of what to tell me. “No mention has the prince made of Queen Míriel, or of her gift; but of you has he made much and detailed enquiry. It seems to me from the astuteness of his questions that, though you claim to know him not, he already knows you well, daughter.”

Then did I know, with the same certainty that, in those times the light of Laurelin would follow that of Telperion. “It was Prince Curufinwë with whom I walked in the hills! And you knew this? You and mother, you knew who it was, yet told me not?”

My father nodded, with the slightest hint of red upon his face.

“We thought it to be him from the start – from the appearance and manner you described. But we knew not of certainty, and had sent to Nessimë and Onónon for confirmation. So did we say naught to you. Your mother has had much disturbed rest since your meeting. A reputation this prince already has, of the highest standing; yet is he also known for his difficult moods, his restlessness, that many do say it is as if a secret fire burns within him.”

Pondering for a moment, my father drew a deep breath before continuing. “But for my part I find him uncommonly learned and of great potential. You should see what he wants of you, if the thought brings you joy.”

“The strong willed, hot tempered prince!” I exclaimed, though my heart felt as if it were in my throat at that sudden revelation of just how high I had set my hopes of love. “He whom you wished not to have as an apprentice! Yet you want me to see what he wants?” I spoke in feigned temper of my own, yet did my father know the thought of meeting with Prince Curufinwë again, of certainty brought me joy. And my fëa was moved with anticipation of what lay ahead, for surely to so visit, the prince had taken pleasure in my company, even as I had in his.

- - - -

With Failië’s aid, it was less than quarter of one hour before I again descended the stairs. She had seen him, she said. She was most impressed! But for once I knew not what to say to my friend and childhood confidante, that my thoughts were on him alone – and on what I considered to be the folly of my desire.

Robed in a white silk gown, with my hair brushed out and a copper circlet my father had made upon my brow, I entered the main hall and looked around.

“Atar?”

But of neither my father, our guest, nor of any of our servants, was there sight or sound. The long, brightly lit room seemed empty. No one was there.

So did I think my father had taken the prince to his forge, to speak with him further of matters that interested them both while they waited upon me. I should have gone hence myself; then something most unusual caught my eye. A book it was, laying a top the oaken table to the western end of the room. Most rare and precious were books at that time - for Rúmil’s script was suited more to carving and engraving, and it was many years before that same prince who waited on me was to devise the Tengwar - so I crossed the floor with interest, to make touch of the thick, gem encrusted cover. Reverently I turned through the illuminated pages. A book on the Valar it seemed to be, giving some detail about their city, Valmar, and their halls, and a short history of their deeds in Arda. Again did I glance around the room and call back to my father, but there was no reply.

Much as I wished to see again Prince Curufinwë, I thought the book to be his gift. And that he had left it there, while himself at the forge, was but to invite me to look through it. Mayhap that was his intent I naively assumed? No harm would it do to make a quick study that I knew of what I spoke when he returned to the house and could give proper thanks. I drew up a chair and bent my head over the pages of the gift, intensely engrossed in the minutiae of the illustrations and explanations.

For some time must I have sat and studied. As the light of the Trees changed to the second mingling of silver and gold, I heard faintly the sound of some of my father’s apprentices leaving the forge to return to their own dwellings, and in the distance they called ‘farewells’ to each other. I knew I should go in search of my visitor; my heart raced again at the very thought - but still I would read of one more page.

“If you will not come up to Tirion to seek knowledge lady, then I am duty-bound to bring it to you; for so my mother would have wished. But I thought not that you would seek to read of the whole volume in one sitting, and that while you have a guest!”

So sudden and unexpected was the sound of that familiar, yet somewhat sarcastic, voice that I jumped involuntarily and almost dropped the book from my hands. The high backed settle in the far corner of the room which was placed to overlook the forge, moved. He who had been my companion in the hills, rose to his feet and turned to face me.

Though I was aware that he had deliberately allowed me to believe myself alone in that room, yet painfully ashamed of my own lack of attention, my apparent lack of desire to meet with him was I. Hurriedly striving to regain my composure and put order to my thoughts, I made a deep curtsy to him.

“Prince Curufinwë! Forgive me; for I noticed you not.”

Now with hindsight, they were not the wisest of words with which to welcome one such as he! How to speak further? For I would have his good opinion, though not be drawn further into his game with me - if game he was playing? He gave me no answer so, without rising from the gesture of acknowledgement, I tried again.

“Forgive me, I beg of you, my Lord Prince. I do bring shame upon my parents by my behaviour. I had thought you well occupied with my father, and not waiting in this room upon me, unannounced. No excuse have I for being so self-absorbed, save that your gift could not have been better chosen, and by it am I greatly honoured”

But that was enough entreaty on my part. I ever sought to be considerate of manner, yet I had pride of my own.

As I rose from the curtsy, that gaze that had so mesmerised me when first I had beheld him ensnared me again. So deep and brilliant were his eyes, yet somewhat cooler than at the time we had walked together. Not particularly amused was he at that moment, and a touch impatient or disappointed, it seemed to me. Matters had not developed in the way he had planned, and that he was one used to being in control of situations I had known from our first meeting. Ai, I liked him very well; for most intriguing was he of character, most different from any other I knew; most pleasing to behold. But his realm of control would not include me, I then determined. If we were to have any form of relationship, I could not, would not let him control me.

“Honoured!” The word was uttered in a dismissive tone, as he drew in a deep breath. “So you know me now!” he continued dryly. “Better did I like it when you did not; when you addressed me as Muinawë. Then were you of nature most eager to please. Then did you behave as a free-spirited lady, rather than as my servant.”

As a challenge to me, as a test of sorts, seemed those last of his words. Though I knew them to be but a continuation of his ‘game’, I could not let them pass unanswered. “Though I honour you now as prince of our people, no servant am I, save unto Aulë. Yet do I seek to please you, my lord, if you will but tell me more of the purpose of your visit?”

“My purpose was to seek your company on another journey, that your father sends not further enquiry after my family to the city,” he stated bluntly as he cast an appraising eye over my attire. “But I see you are now transformed into the daughter of the house, who would doubtlessly prefer to plan for festivals, make music and indulge in idle talk with her friends.”

“Not so!” I protested with a laugh, but his expression changed not a whit. “I thought you knew me better than that from our earlier meeting, my lord. And from whatever questions you put to my father.”

The slightest of smiles touched his eyes

“Your father tells me little I did not already know from my own observations and from my enquiries made of Onónon. But still do I say you have a different manner to that upon our earlier meeting. There were you warm of nature and most free of speech. Now I consider you will simply do as I bid. If I ask for your company, or for to bring me refreshment or to show me of your crafting, you would hurry so to do, though out of duty. Such folk are plentiful in Tirion. I thought you to be more free of mind.”

‘And I found you enlivening and delightful company when we met earlier. Now do I consider you most arrogant and ill mannered,’ I thought guardedly. I felt devastated – angry that the one I had held in high esteem could speak in such a way. What had changed?

Then the idea came to me that, now I knew him for whom he was, he was assuming I would behave towards him as did others. But there was more to contemplate. It had been said by some of those who travelled to and from the city that, though many admired Prince Curufinwë, he had few close friends; partly because he did not want them, and partly because most, save the Lords Ecthelion, and Alcarin, could not long tolerate his temperament. His father loved him beyond measure, even more so since the death of Queen Míriel, and would have naught said against him. Free was the prince to indulge his moods to the full. None there were who could curb the excess passion of his reputed fire, or help soften his manner: no one since Míriel, who could speak wisdom and peace to his fëa and give him respite from his own intensity.

“I would do the things you ask out of courtesy, my lord; as one who is noble shirks not at giving of their aid. And as to my warmth and freeness of thought; if we travel hence again, then shall you know if you are in error or not.”

So boldly did I speak, yet did I take up again the book from the table, without thinking, and hold it before me, almost as a shield for my own desires.

At my gesture rather than my words, his expression became warmer.

“Indeed, your gift is most pleasing to me, and much there is within that I would like to speak of with others.” I tapped the cover of the book, as if to imply that its value was my reason for holding it so. I think not that he was fooled, for the warmth then touched the corners of his mouth as he smiled with some satisfaction.

“You like my company!” stated he.

Choosing to ignore his comment for the moment, for I, also, could play a game; I continued with my suggestion. “For example: it speaks much of Oromë and shows portrayals of his halls. Never have I visited his woods or dwelling, though much has he to do with our people. Would that I could travel to meet with he and his people, to seek understanding and answers to the questions I have?”

Unsure was I of that idea’s reception, of what thoughts were going on in that ‘uncommonly learned’ mind; but Prince Curufinwë seemed to consider my request. He relaxed in stance; his remaining coolness melting into a look of growing amusement, and he took up a goblet, which must have been beside him on the settle, to drain the last of the wine it contained.

“I had thought of a different place,” said he, with a touch of lordly indulgence in his tone. “I should have thought the house of Oromë too boisterous for the likes of a maid. And his wine too rich and potent!” he added with a grin. He knew I would not deny him my fellowship; he knew I liked him. In that moment it seemed his game of indifference was abandoned – that he was ‘himself’ again.

“Maid am I, but not one to cower in the corner when there is knowledge to be sought. Though will I be guided by your experience, of course, my lord.” Such words had a balance about them. For though he was most certainly beyond me in learning and exploration, neither was I unlearned, nor daunted by the unknown - or by him.

“But I have thought oft on a certain question,” I persevered, “One I had considered asking Oromë, though it is in my thoughts that you may well answer it in his stead, Prince Curufinwë, as you have so much knowledge to hand.”

He should have rebuked my attempt at baiting, but he did not. So did I know that he liked my company well. Ai, had I not known it from the start! And I met his gaze fully with my own stubbornness of will, beholding something in him I had not expected. Though in no manner was he ever shy, yet until that time had he been unsure of my response. For all his self-will and confidence, he had been unsure I would show further interest in him, knowing who he was. In that moment we both understood each other a little better, and he made to sit again upon the settle, beckoning me to sit with him.

“Speak on, Nerdanel. I hear you!”

“Though I love well this land of Aman,” said I, taking that seat as I would have sat beside a well-known friend, “I oft wonder why our people forsook the land of their birth? Why they truly left Cuiviénen, as that was where Eru caused them to awaken?”

The prince lowered his gaze at mention of the One and I bowed my head. Rarely did we utter that name, then as now - it must be understood. Then he gave answer: “Our people left the land of their awakening to seek of the Light. To dwell in the sight of the Trees and in the presence of the Valar, as is said at the festivals and inscribed upon the doors to my father’s halls.”

“I understand the wisdom of your answer, my lord. Yet is something still amiss! For some do say we travelled hence to be safe from taint, or from some evil of the Vala Melkor’s design. Yet are our people no cravens, nay, neither the Vanyar nor Teleri! Mayhap it was our purpose to bring light unto those Hither Lands? I have spoken with my parents, with some others of the Aulenduri who made the great journey and also with Aulë. But little does our mighty Vala say on the subject other than he is most glad the Noldor answered the call. I would ask of Oromë; he being one who loves the lands of our birth and journeys there still.”

The prince sat in thought for a moment, though I believe none of my ideas were new to him. Then he nodded. “As you wish, Nerdanel! For I have wondered about the lands to the east of the sea. Though I know much of my father’s thoughts, both of the lands themselves and of the Great Journey, I would hear the words of Oromë on this matter.”

And so was I content. For what had started off that day as an encounter most tense was become more the relationship I had hoped for. Never did I wish to control him, for was not his tempestuous nature part of his attraction? But I would show him that I was made of strong stuff; that I would not quail beneath his moods but be a true friend and speak my mind, though always with the gentleness of touch that he surely missed from his mother.

“We have an understanding then?” I replied with quiet and growing confidence that matters were progressing well. “That I do not offer to be your servant, Prince Curufinwë, but your companion, if that is what you seek?”

He smiled openly at those words, his features lit with that charisma that he rarely chose to show, but which could be with him in such abundance. “Mayhap I seek neither servant nor companion!” he exclaimed, making to rise to his feet. “But I take your present offer at this time, Nerdanel. I ask only that you be yourself. Enough fine ladies there are in Tirion who are interested in idle chatter. Be thou unto me something different.”

My gasp of surprise must have betrayed my thoughts at his suggestion and last form of address, for it was the more intimate, affectionate term he had used. Such was not customary between those who hardly knew each other.

“Now, to that end of being my companion, get you changed back into clothing more suitable for our purpose, while I inform your father of my intent.” he spoke light-heartedly. Then, with an elegant, sweeping bow to me, he turned straight to the door and to my father’s forge.

It transpired that my father had left the prince in the main hall at the prince’s own request. That Prince Curufinwë had wanted to speak with me alone had not been of great concern – for we had already been alone in each other’s company, and needed no real introduction. But less readily did my father agree to us riding out together for the several days the prince proposed.

In travelling garb again, and with much lightness in my own heart, I came upon them both in my father’s workroom, their discussion, alas, turning to near confrontation.

“Three days, and no more! Nerdanel is training to become an Aulendur and has work to be about. I cannot agree to a longer journey with you at the moment, Prince Curufinwë.” My father spoke with the respect due to so highborn a personage, but with determination that my immediate future be not cast aside by my newfound passion.

I noticed the prince’s eyes narrow in response, his jaw tighten and lips thin in a manner I was soon to learn was a warning sign best not ignored. But he spoke courteously, if dryly in return.

“No wish have I to interrupt the apprenticeship of your daughter, my Lord Urundil. I hold her training to be of great import. Three days it shall be – this time!”

With that agreement, and a look of curiosity at me, my father gave us his blessing and farewell.

Late it was in the day that we rode west, though neither the prince nor I were tired, or would seek of rest in the three days we had been granted. Straight for the woods of Oromë did we head, fired with the enthusiasm of exploration – with the enthusiasm of being in each other’s company.

As my dappled mare cantered alongside his high-spirited, dark brown horse, a thought came into to my mind that I would share.

“What if my father had denied us this journey, my lord? By your countenance before him I almost thought you would have carried me off without his permission?”

“You begin to understand me well, Nerdanel,” he replied with a smile, “and that I like to have my own way in all things.”

I had not realised at the time that he spoke in earnest.

- - - - - -

Moringotho - Morgoth

Curvo – Curufinwë - Curufin

Makalaurë – Maglor

Arafinwë – Finarfin

Ambarussa – The twins. In this case, Amras.

Muinawë – secret or hidden ‘one’. The name Nerdanel calls Fëanor before she knows who he is.

Nís / nissi – She Elf / Elves

Nér / neri – He Elf / Elves.

Regarding the sons of Fëanor and their wives – I am taking up a reference in note 7 to the essay ‘Of Dwarves and Men’ in HoME 12, where it says:

“Maedros the eldest appears to have been unwedded, also the two youngest (twins, of whom one was by evil mischance burned with the ships); Celegorm also, since he plotted to take Lúthien as his wife. But Curufin, dearest to his father and chief inheritor of his father’s skills, was wedded, and had a son who came with him into exile, though his wife (unnamed) did not. Others who were wedded were Maelor, Caranthir.