Chapter Text
Valinor First Age 505.
Two emerald eyes, filled with awe and wonder,gazed at the red, gold and rose coloured sky, laced with splashes of violet clouds as Anar sank into the horizon. Siofra sighed in contentment and peace, still amazed at the young -by elven standards- dusk and dawn. How her breath could be taken away by the ever changing sky.
She vaguely recalled the light of the trees, rare mornings with her Atto as he carried her on his shoulders through the forest she called home, remembered his smell leafy, earthy, his soft voice as he introduced her to a doe and her fawn, his laugh and smirk as he teased ...what was his name...the dark haired ner who always had a comeback to transform her Atto's look of triumph to one of slight annoyance. Oromë's woods were breathtakingly beautiful in those times, the days of glory in Aman. The years of the Trees.
Everything was too perfect she mused We grew so accustomed to our aesthetic lives, too much peace made us restless, life became tedious as we took what we held dear for granted...and did not realise until it was too late...She took a sharp intake of breath in frustration, subconsiously touching her small tattoo, just behind her pointed ear, her only link to her Atto and Ammë, who had left these shores long ago in loyalty to their houses and...had left her. Siofra scolded herself as she felt the familiar pang in her chest and sting in her eyes. Over five hundred years had past, yet she still felt abandoned, betrayed even.
For by being loyal to their leaders they betrayed their duty to me. Siofra shook her head, trying to force herself out of this melancholy. This is what happens when you are late and give me too much time to think, Kyelaeron!
She craned her neck,gracefully arching her back to look up, unafraid of falling from the ancient oak upon which she perched. Varda's lights were slowly appearing with the growing darkness.
She felt a rush of excitment through her at the thought. The veil of night made hunting all the more thrilling, the newfound shadow being both an ally and enemy, depending on the situation and there were new beasts to prey on, who previously would have hidden away due to discomfort in the blinding silver and gold light.
While Siofra understood the grief the majority of elves, especially her elders, felt at the loss of the trees, she could not deny that she preferred the newfound day and night, light and dark, stars and dusk or dawn.
Yes their world was now flawed, not even the Valar having the ability to restore what was lost, but with imperfection came excitement, new places to explore, constantly changing skies and seasons, nooks and crannies indented in the earth from the dark days after the infamous Flight of the Noldoli.
Everything being consistent and flawless was pretty for a while but then simply became plain boring to her. She loved Aman wild and untamed, like her.
Perhaps Atto and Ammë left out of boredom she thought dryly. I know if I was old enough at the time I probably would have, NOT for love nor duty, but for the prospect of exploring Arda, which I know to be full of peril and darkness and...adventure!
Save for Kyelaeron, who would understand, she would never dare mention these thoughts to ANYONE, not even her dearest family -as she called her fellow hunters and huntresses- and especially not to Oromë. One had to be careful when mentioning the time before the darkness to the Lord of the Hunt, saying the wrong words ability to put the Vala in one of his infamous 'moods' for days, sometimes weeks.
'He was not always like that', Kandāra, one of the eldest Avarin huntresses had told her, 'Not only did he fail along with Tulkas to catch Morgoth after the attack on Formenos, he also lost his most trusted and loved disciple in those dark days'
Kandāra sighed, a lost look in her eyes, 'we all wholeheartedly believed Tyelkormo would choose his father, family and home he had made here over his family by blood. 'We should have realised those damn Fëanorians are loyal and stubborn to a fault when it comes to each other, and Tyelkormo did not have the heart to leave his dear brothers to face 'dread, danger and doom itself' alone. I admire that, I do, but there is a fine line between brave and down right stupid, and I am afraid Tyelkormo crossed it that time'.
Siofra noticed Kandāra was skinning her catch of rabbit a bit too vigorously, burying her emotions in her work.
'Well at least he was loyal to his family, unlike my parents', Siofra replied bitterly.
Kandāra's eyes shifted from the rabbit to Siofra as she gave the young nís a strange look for a brief moment, eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it.
Siofra waited, hoping this would finally be the day she managed to get her parents identity to slip from the mouth of an elda who remembered them.
Kandāra was too sharp to be fooled that easily however. 'Hmmm' she muttered as she shrugged her shoulders, feigning indifference.
Siofra hung her head in disappointment, giving up her façade. Kandāra's brash but exsistent motherly instincts took over and she cupped the young nís' cheek.
Little does she know... Ai Valar... How I would love to tell her all she so dearly wishes to know. Alas I cannot, for I see same loyalty and stubborness within her as her father and her mother. If she learns of their fate and the doom should her Atar's mission fail,I know she will follow them to Arda's end...She is so loved among all who dwell in these woods, like her father...Perhaps we are all being selfish, but I know we must never allow her to swear the oath. We lost Tyelkormo. To lose her would be our undoing.
'Have faith child', Kandāra encouraged. 'I know your Atar and Ammë did not make the decision of leaving you here lightly. They knew you would be safe here,but they could not say the same for their other loved ones who were to venture across the sea'.
Kandāra paused as Siofra's curious eyes begged her for to continue. 'They were both fierce and strong warriors and both had the ability to turn the tide in a battle, have you considered that they may have left you here to protect you? For in the dark days there was much fear and uncertainty, and if we did not fight back, what was to stop Melkor from striking our home again?'.
Kandāra mused I can at least hope that Siofra's protection was a factor in their decision, although rumours tell me otherwise.
'Kandāra, please, what were their names?'
You are a chancer child, just like him!
The elder nís simply shook her head. 'Enough questions!Discussing the entire history of Arda and Aman will not set these traps'. She ran a finger along the string, testing her creation to painlessly capture rabbit. 'Now run along and find that rascal Kyelaeron and tell him I know it was him who laced the edge of the lake with algae and that he will pay for my humiliation in front of the elflings!
Please let that be enough to distract her from the truth she seeks!
Siofra's expression did indeed change dramatically as she remembered Kandāra falling head first into the water while instructing the younglings how to construct fishing traps. She laughed and ran off to find her dearest friend. Little did Kandāra know that this prank was hers, and Kyelaeron was completely innocent.
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'Will I ever find out the truth?' Siofra whispered to the sky.
'I know you can coverse with more creatures than the average nís, but do not tell me you now posess the ability to talk to the air!' a voice behind her sniggered.
Siofra rolled her eyes as she sensed a familiar presence below. She gracefully jumped to the ground, landing in front of a tall, dark ner whose jet black hair was currently sopping wet over his contrasting silver eyes. 'I will be able to talk to the air before you, Kyelaeron are capable of being on time!'. She crossed her arms and gave her dearest friend a stern look, betrayed by the mirth in her eyes.
'It is not my fault I swear!' the ner pleaded, 'there I was,well before the sun was setting, making my way to you, innocently, as always'(Siofra rolled her eyes) 'when out of nowhere I was ambushed by hundreds of elflings!'.
'Kyelaeron you know there are no more than twenty elflings in the woods! Siofra noticed the slight blush to Kyelaeron's face.'Stop trying to exaggerate, it will not heal your wounded ego! Let me guess, these savage, scary elflings are the reason you currently remind me of a drowned rat?'she teased.
'YES!' Kyelaeron continued his rant, 'they hid in the trees and poured buckets upon buckets on my head! And do you know the worst part? I could not say a word to them because, you will never guess...'
'Kandāra led her students in ambush and declared yet another prank war against you?" Siofra answered sweetly. 'She blames you for setting up a prank which resulted in her falling into the lake. It must have been someone else then...' the smug look on her face told Kyelaeron exactly who was the grand architect of the days mishaps.
'Why you scheming little...' Siofra let out a squeal followed by giggles as she was flung upside down over the ner's shoulder. 'You are going to confess to Kandāra AND apologise to me in front of Lord Oromë himself as soon as we take home our catch tonight! Kyelaeron demanded as Siofra thrashed in his arms, still laughing.
'Y-You hh-haa-have n-no p-pro-proof!' she blurted inbetween her cries of mirth, her laughter reaching the stage where she could not stop.
'Fine then' Kyelaeron replied too happily for comfort.
The ner stooped, picked up a feather from the forest floor and lightly rubbed it against his friend's neck,smirking as she both screamed for him to stop and laughed at the tickles the feather provided.
'I give up, I will confess! just stop!' Siofra managed to choke out.
'Sorry what?' Kyelaeron laughed, amused at how ticklish his friend was.
'I WILL CONFESS! I AM SORRY! STOPPPPP!'
Kyelaeron set Siofra down on the forest floor and the two laughed until the humour had left their systems.
'We are now even' Siofra exclaimed as she stood ,giving her hand to Kyelaeron as she pulled him up also. 'Now we better start this hunt or else all of the hunters will want to go to war with us!'
'Hang on' Kyelaeron challenged, 'we are NOT even until you confess to Kandāra in front of Oromë. That was the deal...'
'Yes but think about it my simple friend', Siofra began, 'Oromë and Kandāra like me, which makes my position here much more favourable'. Kyelaeron raised an eyebrow, suspicious at what his friend was plotting. 'No doubt, if I confess to them and admit I am in the wrong, they will still to blame you for it, since you have not yet been forgiven for the hound incident.
Kyelaeron scowled, yet again regretting tying meat scraps to certain elders garments becore letting the hounds loose, thus creating chaos in the camp. 'Fine you win, I do not fancy facing an alliance of you, Kandāra and all those pesky elflings'.
Siofra grinned triumphantly. 'You have more brains than I thought Kyelaeron!'
'Says the one who cannot read' Kyelaeron countered.
'I learn by experience, not by words of other elves I do not know', Siofra kept up the banter.
Kyelaeron flashed another smile 'I am too afraid to argue with you, now come, the evening meal will not catch itself. Siofra grinned, the two friends could feel the thrill of the hunt already pulsing through their veins.
'By all means, Otorno, lead the way'.
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Nerdanel the Wise, wife to Fëanaro, mother of the famous, or now infamous seven, technically the Queen of the Noldo, or perhaps Dowager Queen, she was unsure, daughter of Mahtan, Master Smith and herself a Master Sculptress, sat in her workshop in Tirion surrounded by her seven sons.
She ignored them for now, focusing on the piece in front of her as she transformed a block of white marble into a figure so lifelike that from a distance, even the most sharp elven eyes would be fooled into believing they were looking at a real ner.
Her sons were quiet,which she hated because it made it all the more harder to fool herself into believing nothing had changed. She despised the peace and quiet and calm, perfect work conditions which prevented her from escaping reality, because she knew that if her sons were really here her workshop would be a scene of chaos.
Never before in her life was she so productive in her craft, with more time on her hands than ever before, and no daft, frustrating, often pathetic distractions every few minutes, sometimes seconds. She could not believe she was saying it...
-no not saying, thinking, there is no one here to say anything to-
...but she would give anything to have to flee from her chisel as Maitimo burned down the kitchen while making breakfast for the twins.
To unwillingly get pulled away from her hectic day as Makalaurë's breathtaking, golden melodies drifted into her workshop and transported her far away.
Scream in rage at Tyelkormo after Huan knocked over, smashed and marked territory on the piece she had been working on for Turukáno's wedding, threatening the Helcaraxë for the boisterous hound pup.
Rise from her sketches and physically block the entrance as Carnistir's temper got the better him.
Let out a sigh in frustration as she sought after Atarinkë, who although he had his own, insisted on borrowing her tools without returning them.
Move her statues and unfinished pieces to create hiding places for the Ambarussa, as they sought sanctuary with her after pranking one, two or five of their older brothers.
She...she tried with every ounce of willpower in her body...tried with the determination and strength that helped her bring seven elflings into the world...tried with all the grief pain and hate she could muster...
...but in spite of herself, she still missed him, with all her heart...
She wanted to forget him. Hate him. Sometimes kill him for the pain and suffering, death and destuction he had rained down, not only on her, but on so many innocents. For making the boys swear the terrible oath, dooming them...forever.
For taking the innocence and wonder out of the Ambarussa's eyes, Valar for taking the Ambarussa at all. The others were well aware of the consequences of their actions, were of age, well past their majority, able to make their decisions independently ( well she sincerely hoped they did), but Ai Valar Pityo and Telvo were still only elflings in her eyes! Her motherly instincts screamed at her as the dread and worry once again took over.
I must stop, there is nothing I can do...what if there was and I FAILED! What if I had remained with them in Formenos? Or perhaps if I had not spoke my disagreements with Fëanaro about the petty things...like the banishment...and the hatred of the Valar...If I had not antagonised him with those contradictions, opinions, would he have more eagerly listened to my protests about his flight, perhaps if I had been a better wife instead of craftswoman...No I must stop this! It is no ones fault but Melkor's!
Nerdanel, hysteric now, took deep, long breaths, forcing herself to calm down.
It was not her fault and not Feanaro's. Melkor was to blame, there was nothing more she could have done. Nothing would have changed Fëanaro's mind, had she stepped in his way she would have met his sword.
No, Fëanaro her husband, father to her children, the ner she longed for every night and day, the young rebellious and brilliant prince she fell in love with, that Fëanaro did not do those dreadful things.
That Fëanaro was gone and she had every right to mourn him.
He had been changed, turned into a monster by madness and grief. She knew her husband like she knew her own mind. When he loved, he loved so dearly, with so much passion, so much fire that was his soul that, when he had lost his father, his sorrow consumed him, destroyed him. However, he was too stubborn to fade, still had too much to live for, so instead he fed on his anger and rage, obsessing over the reason his father was murdered... the Silmarils...and the rest is history.
The Fëanaro she loved would never have chosen three white gems over his greatest creations.
Their sons, too stubborn to admit that their Atar could be wrong, too loyal to not follow him to the ends of the earth, swore the oath, killed for ships,burned the ships and... that was all she knew. The Valar had withheld any information about the happenings on the hither shores, leaving the relatives of those under the doom in the dark.
How Nerdanel regretted not leaving with her family, or even crossing the Helcaraxë. Full of self loathing she broke down in tears, for all in the name of pride and holiness, she was so, so ,so alone.
She clung to the scuplture she was creating like a lifeline and, for the briefest moment, she was in Fëanaro's arms, their children wrecking havoc around them.
The moment was gone as soon as it came, and Nerdanel sat alone in her workshop in tears, surrounded by eight cold, stone statues.
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