Of Maitimo the Tall: Part Two.

(Disclaimer: The characters, world and timeline in which this story is set all belong to Tolkien. Only the interpretation, a few easily recognisable characters, (including Onónon and Gaerion) and any mistakes are mine.)

With thanks to Bellemaine

“.. the fire of life was hot within him (Maedhros), and his strength was of the ancient world..”

(Of the Return of the Noldor. The Silmarillion. J.R.R. Tolkien. Ed. C. Tolkien. p 125 )

Neldormindo. The first house of Curufinwë Fëanáro. Seventh Age

Truly, the fire of life burnt most brightly - most hot in that firstborn of our sons. As I gaze now upon the sculpture I made of him, I am reminded ever more of how charismatic his flame was; of those who were drawn irresistibly to him. Ai – even some amongst the Maiar! Think not that Elwë was the only one whose beauty and strength ensnared the heart of one of the people of the Valar.

But as yet my writing has spoken little of Maitimo’s existence. Of his birth and earliest childhood I will record a few of my memories.

- - - - - -

Now the second mingling of the lights of that day saw Fëanáro and I depart Tirion, heading east along the Calacirya to make visit with King Olwë. Little persuasion had my husband needed to accompany me on that journey. He had made plain that he was restless to be away from the city. Onónon was also satisfied with the arrangement; it meant he could join Narwasar at my father’s house in discussion concerning necessary quarrying – in the further planning that those two masters of their art so enjoyed. My father sister’s husband had every confidence in me, and in my husband’s ability as prince and as stonemason in his own right to explain the situation to Olwë most clearly. Even had Onónon made request of his former apprentice to pay special attention to the cliff path that passed behind Alqualondë, that it would needs be widened and supported by a structure of many high arches to give suitable approach for riders to the northern edge of the city, and to the harbour.

We thought to make journey to the place of proposed building before we made formal visit to King Olwë, that it was known precisely what form of work should be undertaken, and how, mayhap, the Teleri could support our crafts folk in the endeavour.

Though he had spoken of matters general and of the work to be undertaken, Fëanáro showed signs upon our travelling that his thoughts were still most occupied. As we approached the eastern edge of the Calacirya, that Erresëa lay directly before us and lantern lit Alqualondë came into sight beyond the opal and diamond strewn shores, he chose to divulge to me the generosity of his considerations. (Aye – Fëanáro could be nobly generous of spirit and possessions in those days before Moringotho’s lies took hold upon him. Rarely with Indis and her children, that was true – but with others who sought his aid, and with some who did not.)

“Here upon this journey it is in my mind that the Teleri would find more benefit in light they could control, than in a road. This starlit land of theirs holds the beauty of the unclouded stars our forefathers first gazed upon, but it is easier I deem, to work and to play under a constant light that is within one’s power to command at will. Though they are used to torch and lantern light, such items can be cumbersome and imprecise. Mayhap something smaller, yet more solid would add to their lives?”

Thrice had I visited the city of the Teleri. Each time I had been in awe of its beauty, that I felt myself as one born in the Hither Lands. I had oft pondered the contrast of the light under the stars, and the light of the Trees. If I had to chose to dwell in only one form of illumination, then of certainty it would be the light of the Trees; but the starlight held a rare enchantment for me that in some ways I envied the Teleri their ability to move between both qualities of light so freely. Not that we Noldor were in any way forbidden from travelling hence, but it was more usual for our folk to explore to the west and to the north of Valinor.

“To that end am I thinking on how to devise gems that blaze greater and brighter than any our masons have dug from the earth,” Fëanáro continued pointedly, with just a hint of annoyance in his thought to me, that he believed I was not paying him full attention. “For our own use I intend such jewels, to give us light when we explore the further regions, and for those times of the mingled light when we would continue with fine crafting. But now I look upon Alqualondë and I think that to gift King Olwë and his folk with gems more useful to them than diamonds and opals would be no bad matter, and bring pleasure to my father.”

At his mention of gems I moved my fingers to touch the fire opal, Nármirë, his wedding gift to me which I wore oft times on a fine chain around my neck. He smiled in a manner most warm – all sense of annoyance fading fast. His elegant fingers moved to touch Laicasar in a copy of my gesture.

“As of thy crafting of this gem, and mine of Nármirë would I work,” said he, “but not merely through cleaving and polishing – through pouring will and form into an existent stone; rather to make one from skill. It takes great heat and pressure over much time to create natural stones, but my thoughts are to copy the workings of nature in far less than a year – aye, and to better them.”

I was enthralled by the possibility. (We had no knowledge of created gems at that time; Fëanáro being the one who discovered the means of such work. Neither were there smithies capable of forming gems before the one built under my lord’s workrooms in Tirion.) Most attentive I strove to be, adding comment where I could; speaking of my own crafting with the Maia Aratë, and the knowledge of the lore of Aulë I had been taught by my father. Not that there was much of import I could add to my husband’s knowledge, even in those early days.

We rode north at a canter into the twilight, still discussing gemstones with much enthusiasm until we reached the narrow path that curved up and behind the city of the Teleri. Then, as we slowed the pace of our horses, we again focused thought upon the task at hand. Both of us made much note of the lay of that land, and of the concerns of Onónon in seeking to carry the road along the ridge that jutted out under the sheer eastern sides of the towering Pelóri Mountains. The path was narrow indeed, that at many places only one rider could traverse it in safety. But although he paid close attention to his task, although he had spoken most thoughtfully of crafting gems, I perceived that Fëanáro’s mind was still on matters more personal – as indeed was mine.

He pointed to a spot where the path widened. There was a grassy incline from which a most wondrous view of the city and the Bay of Eldamar might be had.

“We will take rest here for a space, Nerdanel.”

A strange choice of places I first thought, in that unlike the stillness of the sea I was accustomed to, there appeared to be a place of wildness immediately below that cliff, that sea spray was sent hurtling into the air as myriad droplets of silver in the lantern light to rival the quantity of stars. I wondered if it were some special place where Ossë dwelt, or another who delighted in tumult and the roaring of waves?

But long had we ridden, and I was hungry. So we both dismounted, leaving our horses to wander and graze while I made to take out some of the provisions from our travel packs: bread, smoked meat and dried fruit, (though we always carried waybread for such journeys), and set them out upon a shared platter. We drank a little from our water bottles, and Fëanáro pulled forth from his pack a smaller bottle of amber limpë.

“We travel most well equipped, my lord!”

“We travel as is needful, and as befits us,” he replied, taking out also a silver goblet, filling it with the limpë, and offering it to me

Not often did we partake of such indulgence upon our travels, but that day was becoming almost a celebration. It seemed that in the act of departing Tirion, the weight of tension was lifted from my husband, and he was become of far merrier mood.

“To journeying, Fëanáro!” I took a sip of the rich and refreshing wine, passing the goblet back to him.

“To freedom!” His comment was most heartfelt, and rather unexpected. I knew not then in what manner he felt constrained? “To journeys in places unknown,” his brilliant grey eyes met mine over the rim of the goblet, “and to she who is my chosen companion, and my love.”

Even before partaking of the limpë, a strange and most contented mood had come upon me. My plan was developing as I had hoped. All that remained was for me to convince my husband there was no need for further delay – that I was more than willing for us to create a life together - that I would not be taken from him by childbirth. In the rooms accorded us by King Olwë, far from any mention of Nolofinwë’s forthcoming betrothal, I had hope of conceiving the much-wanted child, that Fëanáro had the gift he so desired and could inform his father of a grandchild-to-be upon our return to Tirion.

We sat upon the sward to enjoy our feast, conversing awhile longer over what we both thought the unsuitability of seeking to bring a road directly to the harbour from the narrow path we had followed. Though it could be done, we believed it preferable to take the way directly along the coast, with a spread of lesser roads reaching into the Swan Haven itself.

It was so beautiful – Alqualondë - I thought. The entrance to the harbour was a sea-carved arch of living rock, lit by a multitude of lanterns that reflected in the darkened water and on the pearl encrusted buildings: most especially on the many halled mansion of King Olwë. A number of White Ships were in the harbour, made in the likeness of swans with beaks of gold. I wondered for the briefest of moments if the Uinenlindë was amongst those moored there?

“Thou dost think upon the Teler friend of thy youth, or upon the Silversmith?” Fëanáro was reading my thoughts, though little skill it took to guess them.

“Upon Gaerion, Finwion,” I replied. “I hope his life is a good one, and that the Valar have blessed him with as much joy as they have blessed me.”

My husband’s eyes narrowed momentarily, but he had always known it was him that I loved – that there had never been need of jealousy on his part. Neither Tolfaen nor Gaerion could have ever competed with the son of Finwë for my heart’s love.

And we sat; looking up at the stars as the first Quendi to awaken had looked to the stars.

“It is so beautiful here that I am filled with inspiration!” I said in thought.

Again he smiled in an affectionate manner. “Aye, the stars of Varda’s hands are a work most wonderful. Some time it may take me to better them! But is it not said that nissi should look first with love upon their lords, and only after with love and reverence upon the wonders of Arda?”

“I hear thee, beloved!”

My plan had been to talk with Fëanáro once in the city, but it came to me as he moved an arm to encircle my shoulders, to draw me closer, that we were Noldor – that it would be most fitting if our child be brought into being in such a place of primeval beauty and wildness.

“Finwion – thou hast spoken with me of thy desire to create gems; I would tell thee of my desire and deepest hopes in this place, if thou wouldst hear them?”

He drew a deep breath, retracting not his arm from about my shoulders, that I lay my head against his chest.

“Speak then, if it is of such import to thee.” There was humour in his words; dry humour, that I would oft speak of my hopes to him at moments he wished for my attentions as wife. “Tell me thy plans and what thou hast withheld from me thus far!”

Now I had rehearsed in my mind my argument – my way of persuading him to do what he truly wanted. It was so important to him that we had a child – it was so important to me! I made quick prayer to Yavanna for her support, and then began.

“Of late have I made study of the Namna Finwë Míriello concerning the nature of thy parent’s union.”

The indulgent smile faded from his face in an instant. I knew I trod on ground most perilous, but I would make my case.

“I have noted that which the Valar spoke forth, each one of them in turn. Though some most interesting and enlightening comments were made, yet does one, of now, hold my thoughts. For Námo Mandos said of the sundering of thy parent’s marriage that Indis the fair would be made glad and fruitful, that her children would also be great and Arda more glorious because of them.”

Ai – near the edge of the void were my words carrying me. My husband withdrew his embrace; his demeanour became one of barely suppressed irritation.

“I speak to thee of the love which is natural between a husband and wife,” he said rather sharply, “and thou doest speak to me of Indis!”

Swiftly I raised a hand to caress his face, putting forth that aura of love – of the great love I had for him – that he trust me to finish my words.

“Námo Mandos has said that Indis will be glad and fruitful, such is truth. But Yavanna spoke on a similar matter to me.”

Fëanáro continued to focus an agitated gaze upon me. He suspected I would make further comment on his father’s second wife, but it was not so. The words of Yavanna Kementári to me; the words I had hidden in my heart, that I had pondered in my fëa – it was time to share them with my lord and husband, to bring him the joy I was at last certain the Valië had intended.

“These words did Yavanna say unto me before even our betrothal: ‘Thou shalt bear much fruit Nerdanel, whichever of the two roads ahead of thee thou chooseth to take. Thy creations will be renowned in this land, and in others.’

“Two roads?”

He was most interested! The irritated gaze was replaced in that instant by a gleam of enquiry in his eyes.

“Aye, Finwion - two roads! That of an Aulendur, or that of thy wife.”

“But thou art both!” he stated.

From the touch of our fëar I knew he was already thinking as I had hoped. He was thinking of ‘much fruit’, and that the renowned creations could as well be our children-to-come, as any skill of hand. Now was the time to make my point.

“Devoted am I to Aulë. But know this, Finwion - I will call upon the Queen of the Earth to give her blessings upon me as a forger of children before a forger in metal or stone, that thy children be renowned in this land and in others. My love for thee is my first love, even as Tatië’s was for Tata. Know that I fear not to bear thee children – strong am I, and if I am to bear much fruit then I am not to share thy mother’s fate.”

He was silent; a different matter now for him to brood upon than Nolofinwë and Anairë – than creating gems, or building roads.

“So! Thou hast kept such words from me for a purpose? Thou hast known my heart is to bring forth children, but my mind has been clouded by my mother’s departure – yet thou spoke not to lighten my concern?”

And had I not pondered that point myself?

To my shame I knew I had hoped in part that the works of renown would be works of my hands, even as Fëanáro made works of great skill – but it had been in the garden on the previous day that I had known beyond any possible doubt where my greatest love lay.

“I would be a mother, Finwion! I would form our children before any further works of stone.”

There was the lightest touch of his thoughts, as he sought to fully know my heart – his displeasure was gone, his expression one of wry amusement - and he was satisfied!

“So be it, beloved!”

He reached for me, that I went willingly to his embrace and we lay together upon the grass on the hillside above Alqualondë in the manner of husband and wife, with the intent to create between us a gem most true – a new life.

- - - - -

Wise Olwë! Was he not the father of four at that time? He must have known what Fëanáro and I were about.

King Finwë had earlier sent messenger to enquire of Olwë’s thoughts on a road between the two cities. The Teler king now listened carefully to my husband’s explanation of the work proposed, and to his reasons for rejecting the first plan. He listened to me further expounding the virtues of swift travel between the cities, and of the skills of those Aulenduri who would oversee the building.

Most hospitable was he, most accommodating. But I am sure Olwë was well aware that we looked and smiled oft to each other, that we wanted to be away from all company. Ever was Fëanáro one to focus intently upon his work, and he was focused intently then upon me, and that tiniest spark of life that was forming within me.

Strange it was, as I remember it now; those first tugs upon my fëa, those first faint stirrings of life. Like children ourselves in our joy were we, that we were to be parents. We returned soon enough to Tirion, but spent much time at Neldormindo while our child grew to term, that I might have rest and the attention of husband and mother as needed.

With the due passing of time, Nelyafinwë was born in our house in Tirion – as Fëanáro himself had been born in Tirion. Maitimo, did I name the babe. For me was it love at first sight. For Fëanáro too, though few would know of it. That day of the birth he had been with me, he had taken our newborn son in his arms and gazed upon him as upon the wonders of Arda entire.

And I was happy - so very happy!

- - - - - -

It has been said by some who knew us not well, that Fëanáro cared little for our sons or that at the most, Curvo was his favourite and Ambarussa the elder was dear to him. Do not the Eldar love their children? Do not love and a deep feeling of kinship hold our houses together? It was even so with my family! So much has been made of my lord and sons’ later deeds that some find such statements hard to understand.

With all the love he could give forth did Fëanáro love his sons, but less openly than I, and in a different manner. Curvo was most like him in appearance; in mood, in skill, and so he could understand our fifth son mayhap better than the others. But in Maitimo burnt a flame second only in brightness to his own. It was to Maitimo he looked to act in his stead. As soon as he was of an age, Maitimo was ever the foremost of his father’s lords and advisors.

‘Nelyafinwë’ did Fëanáro name our firstborn - ‘Third Finwë’ - and that all knew of his great import; that he was the son of the elder house descended of Finwë. Nelyo was Fëanáro’s son, and so better than, and before Nolofinwë and Arafinwë in all things as far as he was concerned.

Now it is well known and easily told from his epessë, ‘Russandol’, that Maitimo had rare copper-brown coloured hair. A rich and deep shade it was, like unto my father’s hair rather than my own. My hair required the light of Laurelin to set alight any flame in its usual brown, but it was not so with my father and my firstborn son. From birth my son had much of my father’s look about him, both in face and in colouring. As he grew older he also demonstrated much of my father’s mood of enquiry and thoughtful consideration.

Fëanáro seemed not overly concerned with this, for he was a proud father. Did Maitimo not demonstrate much of his eagerness, his physical strength and sharpness of mind? In time this son was to be the tallest of the descendents of Finwë, and this he certainly inherited from his sire, for those of my father’s kin are but of average height amongst the Noldor. And like his sire, Maitimo was great in valour, in endurance, in beauty and in skill. And a flame as of white fire burnt in him.

My parents loved their grandson beyond measure. Only good did they ever see in him. That Maitimo was to follow my father in developing fine skills with copper, and eventually becoming an Aulendur himself, only bound further in love one who was already bound fast.

And Finwë! Ai, how proud was Fëanáro when his father came to see his first grandchild - how full of joy at what life had brought him!

Great was the love between us in those days.

- - - - -

Ai, my beloved son, they told me, those who returned from exile at the dawn of the First Age, how Moringotho had deceived thee, and how he had bound thee in hate and contempt to the face of a precipice with a hell-wrought band of steel. My mother’s vision became the horror thou didst endure. I cannot bear to think of it! I cannot bear to think of thy suffering before Findekáno cut thee free…

… I cannot bear to think that thou didst allow two further Kinslayings to take place – nor that the murder of the guards of the Silmarils in Eönwë’s tent was at thy suggestion.

Maitimo – dearest one, would that thou couldst hear me – that thou didst know my pride in thee was sorely challenged, but never did my love depart from thee – nor my hope.

- - - - - -

After such thoughts I deem it wise to return to a memory most happy – to one of the early days of Maitimo’s life when there was no hint of sorrow in my world. A memory I would record of a day of joy - and this is the telling of it:

Now Maitimo would take not of rest.

No matter what I tried, he was intent on staying fully conscious and waving his arms at the flickering shadows on the walls as the light of Laurelin waxed full. He should have been tired, for we had been most active that day in visiting friends. But he was always full of life and energy, always wanting to be involved in what was going on around him.

I walked around the room with him cradled in my arms. He laughed at me, and pulled on my hair.

I sat with him, singing a softly comforting song that my mother had sung to me as a babe. He waved his arms and legs with even more fervour. Mayhap he found my singing amusing!

I should have laid him in his crib and got on with my own work; at least, that is what Fëanáro had told me. But I could not bear for him to be out of my sight for long in those earliest days of his childhood.

So I had taken up implements with which to make elementary sketches of him, for most certainly did I wish to record his likeness in all forms of my art.

And then he spoke!

I believe the first words of any babe are precious to their parents. The young reach mastery of language at a very early age, but I had not expected to hear anything so clearly pronounced for many a day. Putting down the paper on which I had intended to sketch his likeness, I moved over to the crib.

“Maitimo, what is it thou dost say, dear one?” I bent over him with an encouraging smile, though I knew well enough what his first word had been.

He stopped moving, and looked back at me with wide and questioning eyes.

“Atar?”

“Thy father will be with thee soon,” I replied, with an answer I hoped would not become commonplace. “He is still about his work, but much does he love thee.”

My hand was on the edge of the crib. Maitimo sighed, and grasped hold of my finger tightly.

I recall that I felt a little saddened he had not called first upon me. But then, our son ever held his father in the highest regard.

Then did Fëanáro himself cry out to me, in a loud and impatient voice that echoed though the stillness of our house.

“Nerdanel! Come; behold my work!”

I would always endeavour to swiftly attend my husband, for he loved to show off his skills to those few whose opinions he valued. At that time he had been working for several days without rest on creating gems - small, pale crystals - trying to form them that they glowed with reflected light as of the brightness of Varda’s stars.

But Maitimo was still wide-awake. I would not leave him lying alone, nor seek Arnónë to care for him.

Picking up our son whose thick, cooper-brown hair was by then curling at the nape of his neck in the warmth, I left the house and crossed over the wide upper terrace to the workrooms. Clad only in a white shift was I, for I had thought to take rest myself once Maitimo had succumbed to slumber. I passed Arnónë, who was heading for the scriptorium but shook my head at her offer to care for my son. (Did she not love to tend to Maitimo, as she had once given aid to Míriel with Fëanáro!)

In the second of the workrooms – the one above the new smithy - my husband was all activity; moving from the shadows of the room to the full light of Laurelin with clear, white stones in his hand, then back again to the shadows to make further observation.

“Nerdanel, I have the answer!” he exclaimed. “Though these gems are not fully as I envisage, yet will they give of a silver-blue light when under the stars. Come, lady wife; see their beauty!”

He glanced up from his considerations briefly to look to me, as I stood in the doorway with Maitimo balanced precariously on one hip. Our son’s eyes were still wide open, but unfocused in dream as his fëa ran in that field of delight and innocence that was the preserve of the very young. Resting at last was he, and at the very moment he would have wished to be awake.

“Fëanáro! Nelyafinwë was asking for thee,” said I, with a pride in the babe’s early mastery of a word. But my husband had not heard my words, so engrossed was he in his accomplishment.

So I sat upon the bench nearest the table, Maitimo held carefully upon my lap, that my husband placed in front of me the two crystals he had been holding.

“Behold!” he announced with much satisfaction, then stood back, as if seeking my spoken acknowledgement of his considerable skills. “They will give of far more radiance under the stars, but are they not the most wonderful of my creations?”

So very pleased with himself was he; so proud of his abilities.

But he was wrong!

I studied the crystals carefully, noting the beauty and energy he had poured into their form.

“Aye, my love!” said I. “These gems thou hast made blaze with such light, they are truly a wonder - but I disagree with thee ”

He heard that comment, and looked surprised. After such a discovery it was certainly not what he had expected. And rarely did I disagree with him at that time. Rarely did I have the need!

“Nerdanel?”

Rising to my feet, I placed the sleeping Maitimo in his arms.

“Here is the most wonderful of thy creations, Finwion!” I announced with conviction.

There was a strange expression upon my husband’s face, an almost faraway look, as he heeded my words. He took our son without any complaint or disagreement, but then directed a most searching gaze at me.

“I had forgotten!” he said, his voice suddenly lower and softer in tone.

With great satisfaction I watched him cradle Maitimo to himself in a manner that showed me that he indeed held his child to be something of the greatest value to him.

“What didst thou forget, my lord?” asked I, in a mood to banter, for never did he forget anything.

“In all the recent activity, of thine as well as of mine, I had forgotten how much I love thee!”

Those words had a most warming effect upon me. Instantly disarmed was I from any further wish to provoke. Not that I had doubted him, but he had been so engrossed in his works those recent days he had little time for me or for our son. Then I thought further upon what he meant by ‘my’ activity.

“In my delight with our son, have I ignored thee, husband?” Dawning realisation was upon me that Fëanáro worked in part, because he felt excluded. “Art thou jealous of a babe?” asked I incredulously.

He smiled warmly. “Jealous? Nay, Nerdanel - save that he is ever at thy side or in thy arms! Then the smile lit also his eyes. “He was asking for me, thou didst say! He spoke?”

“His first word was ‘Atar,’” I informed him, pride mixed with a tinge of ruefulness that Maitimo’s first word had not been ‘Amillë’.

That knowledge pleased my husband considerably. So very proud did he appear, so very full of love for the son of our love.

“Come then, wife!” he laughed. “Let us both put this most wonderful of our creations to rest in his crib.”

The jewels he had made were a wonder, but his mind was on our child and I again, and his work was left as it was - for a time.

- - - - -

Notes:

One day of the Trees - 84 hours.

Maitimo / Nelyafinwë - Maedhros

Calacirya – Cleft of light in the Mountains of Valinor.

Eressëa - Tol Erresëa. Island in the Bay of Eldamar lit on the western side by light from the Calacirya.

Aulendur – Servant of Aulë

Curvo - Curufin

Ambarussa – The twins. In this case, Amrod.

Epessë - Aftername, or nickname, given mostly as a title of admiration or honour

Nolofinwë - Fingolfin

Findekáno - Fingon

Atar - Father

Amillë - Mother

Namna Finwë Míriello - The Statute of Finwë and Míriel. Taken from the debate of the Valar concerning the sundering of Finwë and Míriel’s marriage in Morgoth’s Ring.

Tatië and Tata – I am referring to the story of the awakening of the Quendi in ‘’Quendi and Eldar’ The War of the Jewels J. R. R. Tolkien Ed C. Tolkien. Tata was one of the first three Elves to awaken at Cuiviénen, and he and Tatië were the parents from whom the second clan sprang. (The clan from whom the Noldor were descended.)