Betas Istarnie, Alassiel

Disclaimer: I’m just playing in Tolkien’s sandbox and make no money from this.

Notes: This story won second place in the long story category in the Silmarillion Writers’ Guild’s ‘30th Anniversary of the Silmarillion’ writing contest.

Terms: nis/nissi - (Quenya) woman/women

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The stars cast their weak, empty light upon the garden as the ladies sat upon a semi-circular stone bench, silently pondering their memories. Long tresses, once fiery russet brown, rich silky sable and shining gold, once lusciously inviting to the touch, hung dully down their backs in lank lackluster shades of brown and yellow.

At one time, each lady had longed for the chance to stroll in what had been the lavish gardens of the king’s house, to bathe herself in the scents of the myriad blossoms, to be likewise enfolded in the powerful embrace of her beloved. But now all that remained for these three were cherished memories of secret caresses and passionate kisses, tainted by a deep abiding longing for what had once been – and in all likelihood would never be again.

Mercilessly plucking wilted petals one by one from yet another drooping flower in her hand, the dark haired Anairë wondered aloud to the interminable night, “Where did we err?”

Nerdanel looked up from her contemplation, her once piercing grey eyes glimmering dimly in the darkness. “The Valar say it was the lies of Morgoth that wrought the grief and strife which have led us here. They place no blame upon any of the Noldor who remain.” She sighed heavily, slumping her life-weary shoulders.

“But I agree with your thoughts my sister. I feel I am partly to blame. Where did we go wrong, we wives of the House of Finwë?”

“Once that Vala was set loose amongst us, was there even a hope we could change them? Was there ever the possibility we could help our lords to conquer the poison taking root in their hearts?” Anairë asked, letting the remnants of the flowers fall through her elegant fingers to the ground.

Nerdanel smiled sadly for a moment. Then at last she spoke, “I tried. Oh in those last years I tried so hard. I did not want to lose him. I would have done anything to keep him as the noble prince I had wed. But while I could restrain and redirect the fire of his passions, I could do little about his possessiveness, his cruelty, and his distain of the Valar. So greatly was he misled, that it was beyond my love and strength to change his mood.”

Anairë nodded with understanding. “I encouraged my husband’s strengths and tried to help him fortify his weaknesses. I looked for opportunities to help him see himself as the high prince I, and many others perceived. But despite his nobility, all he ever saw was what he lacked. All he could ever see was what Fëanáro had that he did not. And the one thing he wanted most of all, Fëanáro somehow managed to horde to himself in such great store that only meager shadows ever fell upon my Nolofinwë.”

Lowering her head further in a gesture of shame, Nerdanel began to mindlessly twist the gold ring on her right forefinger.

It was the yellow haired lady who then broke the silence. “I know,” Indis meekly conceded from her place on the bench opposite the other two. “I know. And that which Nolofinwë desired above all else was something that even I could never hope to gain in half of the measure with which it was poured forth upon Fëanáro.”

She smiled sadly. “The shadow of Míriel never left Finwë’s heart and his love for her and the son she gave him was greater than what he ever felt for me or for the children I bore to him.”

Pausing a moment, she twirled the fading blossom resting in her own hand. “I thought I could heal him after he lost Míriel. It was supposed to be forever, their parting, and he was so very alone. I truly believed I would one day receive back from him the love that I so abundantly, so freely gave to him…But I was wrong.”

The other two looked up at her in surprise, but she raised a placating hand to stop them from commenting. “Let me explain, I beg of you. It is not that Finwë had no love for me, for he would not have married me without the bond of love. But…” She pressed her lips tightly together and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes and spoke again, her voice trembled slightly.

“The love he bore me was not the same as the love he bore Míriel. I knew from the beginning that it was not the same, but I believed all would come to be well. I erred because I failed to consider what the difference in his love for me would do to his relationship with any child I bore him. Yet how could I have known what would befall? Why would I have ever wondered about the implications, for a remarriage had never before occurred among our kind? I always had faith. I trusted and I believed and I loved him. So very much did I love him.”

Gentle, wise Indis crushed the flower in her hand then, as Anairë had done, letting its remains fall to the ground. Her daughter-in-law and the wife of her step-son continued to stare at her with compassion and growing understanding.

“My daughters were hurt by this knowledge, yet they looked to me for reassurance and followed my lead as dutiful nissi of the House of Finwë. But my Nolofinwë, my poor, beloved Ingoldo. He could never accept his doom was to be second to Fëanáro in everything – that for all his might, where Fëanáro led in word or deed or father’s love, he could only follow. Never could he accept that no matter what he did, he could never please his father in the same way or be cherished like his half brother was. And with the making of the Silmarils, Fëanáro placed himself beyond any of us in stature. It was almost as if my son had to compete with a Maia for acknowledgement! Why, Finwë did not even reprimand his beloved son when Fëanor threatened my son at sword point!” She looked away, bowing her head, though she trembled with emotion.

Still toying absentmindedly with her wedding ring, a single tear ran down Nerdanel’s cheek as she stated that which they all knew well.

“Arafinwë never succumbed to the jealousy that rent your eldest son’s heart, Lady Indis- your husband’s heart, Anairë” she nodded briefly to her companions in sorrow before continuing, “and Finwë neglected Arafinwë even more than he did Nolofinwë.”

Anairë managed a knowing half-smile. “My husband’s little brother is wiser than either of his elder brothers, and his pride, his…his sense of self-worth never rested upon the opinions of his father. Not as much was expected of the youngest son of Finwë, so he had far more freedom to be whom and what he desired to be. And ever the peacemaker of the family, he sought to calm and council rather than grow angry or retaliate. I know from Eärwen that he hated the strife between his brothers and escaped from the tensions in the city whenever he could. Even in the days before Morgoth’s release, he hated the mood of the king’s house when both of his brothers were present. Why do you think Arafinwë married a Telerin princess? What better way to escape the problems than to go to sea on a fast ship with a beautiful nís in his arms?”

“But he will see precious little of the sea now,” Nerdanel interjected quietly. “And perhaps precious little of his beautiful wife now that …Now that…that…” Turning away, she stubbornly wiped at the trails of wetness upon her cheeks.

“It is unjust,” Anairë whispered.

“Is it? Is it really?” Indis asked bitterly. “We failed them. If we had tried a little harder, a little longer. If we had been more forceful with them, had not become estranged from them. If Nerdanel, you and I had accompanied our husbands to Formenos rather than abandoning them to their own devices. If…” Blinking furiously in her anguish, she paused, taking a deep breath.

“Perhaps, my daughters, perhaps this,” she gestured to the unending darkness and the dying garden surrounding them. “This is the punishment for our sin of loving them too much to be able to do what was needed - to really help them – if indeed anything could have been done.”

“They are all beyond our help now, except the help of prayer!” Nerdanel exclaimed. “Finwë is slain, and my husband has taken my sons, my grandson and most of our people with him! They have abandoned Valinor! In spite of all we did and all we tried to do …they are gone.”

Silence settled again, disturbed only by quiet sobs as the cold stars gazed at them from an indifferent sky.

Still weeping, Anairë eventually choked, “So what is left to us now but silent houses, cold beds, and empty arms?”

Indis looked up, the light in her dull blue eyes suddenly flickering to life again.

“It is left to us to continue the work we began with our husbands. In the end we could not help them, could not bring sight to their blinded eyes… but it may be that we can bring healing to those who, like us, remain in this land, left to cope alone after the madness fled from Tirion.”

“Us?” Nerdanel questioned in shock. “We are naught but the remnant of the volatile House of Finwë. Few Noldor will heed us; no Teler ever would!”

“Nerdanel is right.” Anairë agreed. “How can we who are shunned by others do this?”

Indis reached for a fist full of flowers from the nearby dying bush, willing life and wholeness to that which seemed beyond recall. Then she shook the flowers angrily at her companions.

“Because we have to! Because we have no choice in the matter! We have to be strong as we have always been!” Her fist fell into her lap. Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks. Taking a shaky breath, she continued, her voice almost a whisper. “I wish dearly for the peace and tranquility of the halls of the Vanyar. If I could, I would go to my brother’s house now, with Findis. But we have to set the example for how the remnant of the Noldor should continue living. We have to go on, for we are all that is left. We may be the wives and mothers of Finwë’s House, and our husbands and children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren-to-be may never return to us. But how many other families are torn apart by the madness that came upon us? If we do not take leadership in this matter, who will?”

Discarding the dead blooms, Indis reached out and took the nearest hand of each of the two princesses before her. “We have a choice, dear ones. We can either sit here beating our breasts, bemoaning our failures and our lonely fates, or we can continue the healing work at which we labored for so long with our husbands. Like roses over a fence, we can reach out beyond the boundaries of these palace walls, of the walls of our homes and try to bring hope and encouragement to those who are left and bereft just like us.”

Joining hands with Anairë, too, Nerdanel softly said, “Wise words, my friend. But where do you suggest we even begin such an endeavor?”

Indis looked thoughtful a moment, then replied. “As with the roses that were once abundant in this place, we must make good the land and bring the bush to blossom on this side of the fence first. I believe we need to start by offering our services to Arafinwë for he has had little training for the kingship he has inherited, while two of us have served as queens, and the third has served Aulë to the best of her ability and knows the court well. We also need to talk to Eärwen for she has suffered as much as we with the loss of her children, and more so with the slaying of so many of her kin and folk at the hands of our kin and folk. From there, we shall go as seems fitting, and as the Valar offer guidance.”

Nerdanel nodded in agreement. “I am not one to sit in idleness. My father is already seeking to give aid in the building of tall lanterns in the streets and concourses that everyone may see more clearly. It is time I took up the tools of my trade; of smith craft and of counsel.”

“I never liked my hands to be idle, either,” Anairë confessed. “This nurturing of fair flowers you propose, it will be a start to better things perhaps!”

As the three ladies rose from the bench and made their way to the king’s halls, the garden no longer seemed empty to them, nor the continuous night so bleak.