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In the blue of Anaire’s eyes, she saw the waves of Ulmo, forever rising but never crashing. As her eyes welled up Nerdanel saw the tears that would run rivers into oceans that led to salvation. She saw the last remnant of the trees, the last remnant of a time far gone, lost within the deep blue ocean. In the grey of her eyes, Nerdanel saw the helcaraxe, the snow that rained down upon them. The skies weeping for those who became too weary to continue, their bodies sinking softly into the snow, faces frozen timeless in the ice her children trod in. And in her own brown eyes, Nerdanel saw the earth, no longer green with the benevolent gift of Yavanna but dark from the smoke of Thangorodrim. She saw it stained red with the blood of thousands.
Nerdanel would never forget the fearful look in the tearful eyes of the Ambarussa as she screamed curses and pleas to their father who would hear nothing of the sort. The fire that once burned in the eyes of the one she loved had now turned into an uncontrollable blaze no amount of tears could extinguish. There was no emotion. Nothing. She looked towards her sons, each one unmoving. Yet still, she could see through each one of them and wept bitterly at the look in their eyes.
Maitimo, who had nothing but love and loyalty in his eyes, her heart warmed as she stared into the beautiful and unmarred eyes of her firstborn. She worried not for him, as he had always been the diplomat, the one who listened to all of his father’s rages and madness. In Macalaure’s she saw fear, guilt, disgust and uncertainty. He was never a warrior, and the fear of his safety pulled at her heartstrings like the strings of a harp. She could only hope and pray for Endor to be kind. Not that it would, life had already been so cruel to the undying.
In Tyelko’s, his hunter’s eyes held wildness, savagery and hurt. The most unlike her, tears welled in her eyes for him. The unloved son of Feanor. Too wild for his father, too dangerous to his mother. Guilt racked at her chest, guilt for loving him too little, guilt for loving him too much. Nerdanel wished she could travel back to a simpler time, and tell him that he was enough. That he was loved. Tears fogged her vision again as she stared into her fourth son's eyes. Too quick to anger was he, she pleaded with the world that was powerless to give him peace. But too much did Nerdanel the Wise know. That there was only love, death and tragedy in her future. Not peace. For there is no peace for a kinslayer.
She could barely look at Curufinwe. Too close he was to Feanor. She wished him life and kindness but that was all she could muster. Prayed for him to be a better father than his own. To Tyelpe, she wished him the world. As she stared at matching copper heads, Nerdanel felt her heart completely shatter, cracked it was before, now shattered even finer than the vases they had knocked down. Nerdanel dropped to her knees, screamed and pleaded once more, for them to remain with her.
“They are children! Do not taint them with your doomed quest!” but her pleas fell on deaf ears.
“They would prove their loyalty to their father, Nerdanel. Or they are no son of mine.” Feanor’s words were harsh and cruel, each one of them driving his bloodied sword deeper and deeper into Nerdanels heart. Twisting it as he turned away, leaving a tearful Ambarussa to follow him.
In her old rooms in the palace, she could think only of her son’s. I should’ve pleaded for them all!” Nerdanel’s voice echoed through the hall that had once bustled with people but was now empty, a stark opposite to what Nerdanel had seen in her last visit. The white walls were now dark without the golden and silver light from the trees. The light embodied in those damn gems that drove her people into darkness, into war. As if you could find light here. Nerdanel mutters curses to Feanor under her breath.
As Nerdanel curses and mourns for her sons, another wife of the sons of Finwe weeps.
It was so dark. Anaire could not remember life so dark since Cuivienen. The stars which had twinkled and danced to her as a child now seemed so lonely and miserable. Her footsteps rung out and echoed throughout the barren marble walls of the palace she used to live in. The white marble, a homage to the tombstone her children would be buried under.
“Why was it always white?” her voice trembled slightly. White now held so many broken memories and pain. White ships, white stones, white dresses. White, the colour of purity, hope, innocence was now the colour of distance, emptiness and loneliness.
Anaire sits in what used to be Finno’s room, she weeps as she sees walls lined full with old belongings, so much he has left behind. So much she has let go. Her tears fall harder as she thinks of her children. Her baby Arakano, a full-grown ner but forever a baby elfling to her. She prays to the Valar to keep him safe, not that the Valar would listen to her, the wife of a cursed prince. She thinks of Turno, along with his beloved wife, she prays for them too and pleads to the God’s for their safety. And for Itarillë, her only grandchild, a soft beautiful flower-like her would never survive such a winter. So she prays, not for life as there was never any hope but for a peaceful death. She prays too for Irisse, her daughter who was so different, so strong, so wild. She prays for them all. As the tears fog up her eyes like rain on glass panes she knows that it will end in tragedy. She can feel it. So she prays for strength and tries desperately, one last time to pass it on to her children, to tell them that she, their mother had not forgotten nor forsaken them.
“Was I a bad mother?” Anaires lips tremble as she whispers to the wind, half-hoping for it to reach her children. What irony is it that now it is the mother, not the child in need of comfort, in need of reassurance. But it is true, and that is the tragedy. Anaire knows already that she has failed- failed to protect her children. She barely even begged for them. She knew they would leave her. Finno for his friend, Turno for his father, Irisse for adventure and Arko because he so desperately looked up to them. So Anaire says unspoken goodbyes to the sea breeze and takes peace in the solace that it will one day reach her children’s ears.
When she looks up at the sky, the stars twinkle down at her. Her mind drifting off to Nolofinwe. Fresh tears roll down her cheeks. She had loved him throughout the feud that consumed him and Feanaro, but she could not support him in this. She wonders whether he too is looking up at the same stars and thinking about her. But he would not. He is lost to her. And she weeps with that thought. Because in the end, she still loved him.
Alone and desperate the wife of Fingolfin sought out the wife of Feanor
A knock on the door startled Nerdanel, she wasn’t expecting anyone, apart from perhaps those cursing her for her sons -and husband. She did not expect to see tearful grey eyes begging for advice. So the younger comforted the elder with open arms
Together they mourned for those they lost.
· ──── ·𖥸· ──── ·
Anaire holds Nerdanel in her arms as Amrod burns. She comforts her through her own tears. They weep together, for no mother should ever have to grieve alone.
~
When Arakano - no Argon dies, Nerdanel does the same.