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Chapter Text

Vairë wove. Oromë the Hunter had just told the other Valar of the Firstborn and their Awakening. She was curious, but heeded his warning of them being easily intimidated after all their past experiences. Too many Valar crowding them was therefore probably the opposite of helpful.

So she had decided to weave a Maia to send in her stead. Of course the Valar Sung their Maiar into existence, yet every Vala had their own preferences. Vairë liked manifesting her Song as strings, enjoyed handling the tones and melodies on her loom, directly felt the Maia take form under her fingers. She chose a hint of curiosity so the new Maia would seek contact as well as a hint of stubbornness. Both of these strings she used to frame a vibrant pattern of empathy.

Much later the Firstborn would tell each other the Vala of Fate was impossible to surprise, but that was the consequence of them never witnessing her being surprised. Such as now, when the subtle framing tones of curiosity and stubbornness met as part of the pattern and complemented each other, lifting each other to be noticed much more intensely than she had intended. Still Vairë gave her weave a chance and finished the piece.

The newly woven Maia formed their fána to look like one of the Firstborn and decided to present as female. The name Vairë had given her Maia got lost in the other colours of the weave, as the Firstborn beheld her and gave her a new name to compliment her apparently lovely looks. And so this work of the Weaver became known as Míriel among the Firstborn she joined to learn about.

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the day when an attendant informed Finwë of a distraught Fëanáro urgently wishing to speak to him. Immediately he asked for all council meetings to be postponed and his son to be lead in. His son rarely attended court, he sought to avoid Indis and his half-siblings as well as his own little family needing his focus. Something bad had to have happened if he arrived without prior notice in the middle of the day, scarily pale and fidgeting.

“Did something happen to Maitimo? Or to Nerdanel?” Finwë urged before the attendant had even finished closing the door.

Fëanáro shook his head, but remained standing in front of his desk like he had as a child when he had been caught breaking a rule. He was even playing with the hems of his sleeves.
“We’re all healthy … it’s just, with Ñolo expecting his child … I had the line of succession talk with Maitimo … atar, are you planning to leave and be with ammë?”

“No!”
Finwë leapt to his feet, surrounded the desk and enveloped his son in a tight hug. This refusal had come immediately and forcefully from deep within, he hadn’t thought about what else to say. He felt Fëanáro tremble in his arms while he struggled for words.
“Who says that? Who gave you that idea? I have no intention to leave you behind, my sweet boy. No intention at all.”

“You did, in a way,” Fëanáro replied, his voice muffled as he buried is face in his father’s tunics. “We’re in the lands protected by the Valar, we don’t get sick and after death we may be reembodied when we’ve healed from what hurt us … so why do you need an heir? Why do we need a line of succession?”

Finwë tried to maintain the comforting hug even as he tensed up in shock at this revelation. Well, what was the reason? What was the right answer to this? How had he never thought of this?! The first time he tried to speak, his voice failed him and had him cough.
“I … I guess I don’t. We – no, I – didn’t think this through. Choosing someone to take care of your responsibilities after your death was a necessity before we reached these lands. In time it was just … it was just how things were done. And when we settled, we continued to do this thing how it was always done. I didn’t question what choosing an heir means until now … oh my sweet Náremíro, I am so sorry. I am not going to leave.”

If Fëanáro hadn’t been sobbing before, he certainly began to when Finwë called him by this special nickname. It was a combination of his amilessë and his mother’s name, a nickname only Finwë ever used for him. Back then he had wanted his tiny son to never doubt how fiercely he and his mother had wished for him.

For a while they stayed like that, he held Fëanáro as he cried, gently rubbed his back, was just there for him. They both needed this, and the time to calm down again. Finally, his son stepped back, out of his arms, with a sheepish (and slightly shaky) smile.
“It wasn’t me who noticed … but when Maitimo asked about it, I … I needed to know. And if … if that is not important and indeed of no consequence … uhm, do you think it’s possible to change an ataressë?” His eyes widened, his fidgeting grew more frantic again. “Oh no, I need to hurry back! Maitimo was inconsolable about both of us planning to leave him, I can't leave all of this to Nerdanel while I tarry here!”

Before his son could run out of the room Finwë firmly laid his hand on his shoulder.
“I'll come with you. It should work better with the both of us reassuring him we're not going to leave. We'll sort the ataressë later, when we've all calmed down.”

Chapter Text

Strange happenings were taking place. It began when King Olwë of the Teleri received word of his lost brother Elwë, conveyed by Lady Estë. Olwë then notified Finwë who didn’t take the news well. A few days after receiving the news, the king of the Noldor sent for his firstborn to hurry to the palace. And now a worried Nerdanel and their sons were on their way to join Fëanáro at the palace at his urging. According to Makalaurë the news about Elwë weren’t even bad, apparently he had fallen in love with a maia when he got lost during the Journey and then stayed with her.

They were lead directly to Fëanáro’s suite in the palace when usually Finwë would take care to greet his grandsons personally. Her husband was pale, yet he smiled and hugged each of them when they arrived and bade them to sit down and have tea.
“I’m alright and father is with Indis … I’m just a bit shaken up and overwhelmed,” he said when Nerdanel took his hand.

Shaken up indeed if he forgot to insult Indis, she noticed. Or he had finally decided to stop that terrible habit. Their sons seemed to have noticed too, although no comment was made (Tyelkormo did open his mouth to do so but received an elbow to the ribs by Makalaurë).

“I would like to talk to your mother first. It’s not bad news, just difficult to grasp,” he asked and when Maitimo and Makalaurë promised to keep the rest in line, they went to the adjacent bedroom to have their privacy.

“What is it, Náro?” Nerdanel now urged him, took both of his hands.

He briefly looked away, but didn’t remove his hands, let her hold him instead of the pacing he undoubtedly wanted to do. Then he took a deep breath.
“Elwë married a maia and had a child with her. They rule their people together, protected by his wife’s powers. Atar … as you know, he didn’t take this well, but the reason for this … well, you know about how I came to be?”

She nodded slowly. “You were conceived during the Journey, and its toll was too much on Míriel. When she gave birth, she chose to give up her hröa to have you live.”

“Apparently, that’s not entirely correct. She didn’t give up her hröa, but her fána. My mother, she … she was not of the eldar. She never had a hröa, she had a fána. Míriel was a maia of Vairë and returned to her mistress,” Fëanáro told her quietly. “Father only told me now. He married Indis because of an agreement between the three of them. She was a close and dear friend to both of them, and Míriel wanted her to … to support us.”

“Oh Náro!” Nerdanel pulled him into a hug. This explained so much about Finwë, and even why Náro decided to refrain from insulting Indis further. Of course Finwë was reminded of Míriel, and knew now that there had possibly been a way for her to keep her fána. At her shoulder he cleared his throat.

“We need to tell the boys. This makes me half maia, and they are part maia. I mean, we did notice they are all able to use Song,” he said and gave her a light kiss to the cheek. “They should be taught by maiar.”

They shared another moment of comfort before they decided to rejoin their children. At least the boys seemed to have behaved somewhat. Maitimo had apparently brought a set of playing cards with him and distracted Carnistir and the twins with it. Makalaurë, Tyelkormo and Curufinwë seemed engrossed in a debate about the hearing qualities of dogs and the resulting taste in music. With the Ambarussat going through puberty and Curufinwë recently having reached maturity, their home was constantly engulfed in utter chaos. “Nothing broke during our absence” marked a good day.

“I’ll be direct, I guess,” Fëanáro muttered after the card game was cleared from the table and he had everyone’s attention. “My mother was a maia of Vairë, not as I long believed of the eldar. So the news of Elwë having a child with his maia-wife came as a shock to atar since he didn’t know a maia could stay after giving birth.”

“This means we’re going to ask Vairë to send her maiar to teach you, as you are part maia as well,” Nerdanel added and took her husband’s trembling hand.

“Are you also going to ask when haruni is going to return with a new fána?” Maitimo asked, slightly leaning forward, something ethereal shining in his eyes.

“Uhm, never? Because the marriage bond was severed,” Fëanáro replied quietly and Nerdanel squeezed his hand.

“But the statute refers to marriage bonds between fëar,” Maitimo argued and Makalaurë began to smile as if he had an important revelation.

“He’s right! When Arien taught me Song, she told me the maiar don’t have fëar just like they have a fána instead of a hröa. So the bond between Finwë and Míriel wasn’t between two fëar, therefore she should be able to return, shouldn’t she?”
Makalaurë gesticulated widely, as he often did when he was excited. Usually Tyelkormo would bat his hands away would they come too close to his face. This time however, Tyelkormo merely evaded the flying hands, caught up between his older brothers’ revelations and the fact Huan had risen and trotted over to a paling Curufinwë.

“We’re part maia?” Curufinwë all but whispered and Huan shuffled his nose under the noldo’s hand.

“Yes. I wonder what Vairë is going to say about seven part-maiar to teach,” Nerdanel mused, but instead of lightening the mood Curufinwë looked at her like a deer.

“Uhm … atar, ammë? It’s going to be eight part-maiar …”

Chapter Text

“I don’t know what to do! This is weird! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! How anything is supposed to be!” Tyelko whined without so much as a greeting.

His favourite cousin looked at him, then around him, her smile faltered and gave way to a frown.
“Did something happen to Huan? Where is he?” Írissë asked him, reminding him how unusual it was to see them apart.

And just at that moment his elder brother joined them and tugged on his sleeve, forced him to prioritise who to answer first. As usual Findekáno followed behind him, not unlike Huan followed Tyelko.
“Huan is keeping an eye on Curvo. Russo, what is it? And don’t think I didn’t notice how much you asshole enjoy this!”

Russo rolled his eyes at him with a grin that Tyelko could only believe to be mischievous.
“Of course I do! I finally get to pay you back for all the times I had to babysit you! We need to tell them about the news. They’re the only ones who don’t know, and they need to be told. I mean, with Artanís to watch the Ambarussat, uncle Arafinwë is going to know soon.”

Upon being delivered this exchange without any context whatsoever Írissë and Káno seemingly didn’t know whether to look for reassurance in each other or to watch out for their cousins. Bringing more people into the mix certainly didn’t help Tyelko feel less overwhelmed.
“And why don’t you just tell uncle? What are you telling me for?”

Somehow Russo’s grin widened.
“Because that’s what babysitting means, you heard ammë.”

“You don’t have to take it this literal, you know exactly what she meant.”

“Yes, but I want to. So make a decision.”

“Wait, are you two implying Tyelko is here to babysit Russo? Not the other way round?” Írissë chimed in and Káno nodded in agreement.

Tyelko threw his hands as he groaned.
“Yes, I was asked to keep an eye on him. Ammë took atar with her to Vairë because he’s all out of it, Laurë keeps Moryo calm, Huan watches Curvo and ammë asked Artanís to watch the Ambarussat. It’s all terribly stupid and this idiot over there is now taking the opportunity to torture me! I’ve been told he’s the worst of them, a repeat offender even, and he just won’t stop nagging!”

“And why would Fëanáro, Russandol, Moryo, Curvo and the Ambarussat need babysitters after you leave the palace?” a new voice inserted itself into the mix, startling Tyelko.

“Oh, hey uncle Ñolo! There, now you can explain it, Russo. No, wait, wait, terrible idea! I’ll do it.”
Did Russo always feel like this when babysitting his brothers and cousins? By now Tyelko was fighting hard to not pull at his hair from frustration. If so, how did Russo still have any hair? The worst thing about this was Tyelko knowing he had been this bad and worse towards his babysitters. Russo was indeed paying him back in the same way. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head to see his uncle gently guide him inside. Like overgrown ducklings the rest followed them.

They were gathered in the family room, supplied with cans of tea and Tyelko was fairly certain his eldest brother wouldn’t keep up his childish teasing during the important explanation. During a brief moment among themselves they had decided to only relay what they knew for fact and to keep Curvo’s matters secret. Their younger brother had to sort that one out himself.

“So you mean to tell me the famous Míriel Serindë was a maia of Vairë. Which is why atar has been this shaken, Fëanáro needs Nerdanel to calm down and Russo, Moryo, Curvo and the Ambarussat need someone to keep an eye on them lest they use powers without knowing?” Ñolofinwë summed up.

“Yes. Laurë is Vána’s student as I am Oromë’s, we know how to use our powers and we’re able to notice others changing the Song. Huan and Artanís also have this ability. And according to ammë Russo has used his powers at least twice without knowing,” Tyelko added.

“I’d just love to know what she was talking about,” Russo muttered and crossed his arms. “And why I’ve been forced to take vacation time.”

“Because you seem to use your powers to question customs and traditions. You did it at the palace when you requested ammë to ask Vairë your question. And she said you did it when you indirectly abolished the position of Crown Prince. And since that is your duty as a councillor, you can’t work without being taught by maiar,” Tyelko relayed and startled when his uncle choked on his tea and coughed loudly. Why did his uncle scare him so often today?!

Aunt Anairë patted his back to help him, and when he was able to breathe without coughing again, he stared at Russo and blinked like an owl.
“You were a toddler at that time!”

Russo shrugged.
“I don’t remember anything too weird about that incident. Atar explained to me what ‘being heir to the Crown Prince’ meant and I freaked out because haru and atar would need to leave for me to become king. After a while atar pushed me onto ammë and hurried to the palace. Then in the late afternoon he returned with haru and they both reassured me nobody was going to leave and having heirs was indeed unnecessary.”

“I guess that does explain his change in behaviour after that … he was a bit less competitive and even much less so after Laurë’s birth. Ah, what did you mean Nerdanel needs to calm him down?”

“We thought he was taking it surprisingly well. And then just before ammë wanted to leave Curvo found him having a breakdown in the library muttering something about ‘not knowing how to be a grandchild’. Uhm, Tyelko, would you please explain his thoughts? If I do it you might accuse me of changing the fabric of society again.”

Tyelko sighed.
“Thank you for your consideration. Apparently he said if Vairë Sang haruni into being, and atar is her son, that might make him Vairë’s grandchild. Oh, good news by the way! He decided not to be insulting towards Indis any more!”

Chapter Text

Nerdanel liked to invoke memories of textures to soothe herself, a somehow literal (yet entirely mental) way of grounding herself. Touch was important to her, touch was how the most intense memories remained in her mind. Right now, she invoked the feeling of touching marble as she did when she chose a material for her next sculpture. The coolness, the promise of smoothness and yet the marble needed to be willed from the earth with tools, a material not easily swayed. Steady she wanted to be, so her shaken husband could find the same solace in her as she sought in the stone.

Just like she helped him off his horse upon arriving at the Halls of Mandos, where the Weaver dwelt. Fëanáro was uncharacteristically silent and Nerdanel had to push away a new wave of worry. A Maia appeared, the form of a wide, flowing green dress with a veil, apparently only made of the fabric that fluttered around them as they took the reins of the horses with a glove-seeming hand. A vaguely elven silhouette, but clearly not elven. Náro’s hand trembled in hers, and she squeezed it gently. He needed her now, so it wouldn’t do to get too distracted by fussing over him. This visit was the way to soothe him and she would be there for him at every step of the way.

Another Maia moved towards them, this one serving Námo, she guessed. They had chosen a fána looking like a tall Noldo with dark hair. Their robes were a single shade of grey, their movements carried no lightness. They beckoned the visitors to follow and entered the Halls in front of them. Nerdanel’s attention dwelt with her family, she spared no thought to gaze at the mystical Halls of Mandos. Also, she probably wouldn’t have to find her own way back to the entrance, she assumed.

Finally, they seemed to have arrived at what looked like a huge salon? Tapestries adorned the walls, there was a cosy-looking fireplace and chairs arranged like the thrones of the Valar at the Máhanaxar. When the elves beheld the ones seated in the salon, stunned by surprise, the Maia gave them a light shove into the room.
As soon as they were in the room the Maia of Vairë in form of a green dress returned and began to tug at Náro’s arm, as if to lead him away. Worriedly Nerdanel looked up at the Valier and was met with a smile and a nod from the Weaver. Yet Fëanáro refused to let go of his wife’s hand.

“No, please! Wait!” he said in this stressed tone she recognized from the times she had given birth, nearly a squeak. A new wave of fear then seemed to set in when he understood who would have given the Maia this task. “Uhm, esteemed Powers, please, please do not think me ungrateful for the opportunity to finally meet my mother! But, please … wait? For now?”
He peeked at Nerdanel, to which she squeezed his hand and nodded.
“Before Eru Ilúvatar Nerdanel and I are one, and then bound in love seven times more in bringing forth our children. I simply wish for my mother to meet all of me, not only the part I am without my beloved wife who completes me.”

As it seemed he had regained some of his composure, his words spoken insecurely yet his argument masterfully formed. They remained standing in front of the assembled Valar, holding hands, waited for an answer.
The clear, bright voice Varda rang in the silence as the Queen of the Valar replied: “So you choose to stay, to wait for this gathering to end before meeting with your mother?”

Fëanáro lowered his head.
“Yes, I choose to wait for the chance to meet Míriel together with Nerdanel, my Lady.”

“And your choice shall be respected,” were the words given by Lord Manwë to a swift breeze to carry to their ears. “Alas, we have gathered for another reason: To discuss which guidance to offer the members of your family who have not yet received it.”

“Fear not, daughter of Mahtan,” the familiar low rumble of Aulë chimed in. “It is not as dire as you believe, for I have taught Fëanáro and Atarinkë well.”

“Then … then I believe I owe you my gratitude Lord Aulë, and Lord Oromë and Lady Vána as well for guiding Tyelkormo and Makalaurë. I thought a mentor needed to be of your own entourage, Lady Vairë,” Nerdanel offered and lowered her head to sneakily try to blink away the tears of relief.

“A child’s future is not determined by their inheritance, but by their own choices on how to use it. You may remember the Maia Melian, who asked her Lady Estë to comfort Olwë with news of his brother’s safety? She was counted among my helpers before she departed, only one example of a maia exploring their gifts.”
Instead of seeing flowers bloom as Vána spoke, Nerdanel felt as if something bloomed within her own chest. A warm feeling, not the current of relief washing over her. No, it was hope, it was love for her children (and soon her first grandchild!) to be able to find their own ways reawakening. This time it was Náro who squeezed her hand.

“Still I wish to offer Carnistir my tutelage. The embroidery on the sleeves of your robe intrigue me, dear Nerdanel, so I hope he agrees.”
Quiet was Vairë’s voice, yet easily discernible. Just like silk: fine, soft and unexpectedly strong.

“And since his other endeavours lie in law and economy, his way to my Halls to explore the ways of my tutelage is not far,” spoke Námo, and this time Fëanáro and Nerdanel squeezed the hand they each held at the same time as a shiver ran down their spines.

“I remember well the time you brought Ambarussa to our home to introduce them to us. Young Pityafinwë got lost during their exploration of our lands, only to be found in my gardens, listening in on a lecture about the properties of various herbs. To him I shall extend my offer,” Yavanna said, conjuring the memory of them searching everywhere for the small child until the Lady herself found him and had brought him back to his parents.

“Just as Pityafinwë Ambarussa got lost looking at the herbs at the Pastures of Yavanna, Telufinwë Ambarussa likes to get lost finding places from which to gaze at the stars. Therefore I wish to offer him my insight, as he might find it valuable combined with the lessons in glass-blowing he enjoys receiving from Aulë,” Varda’s offer again lightened up the room.

Tulkas’ fingers tapping the arms of his chair sounded like drums, calling them to attention.
“This is all nice and fair, but we need to talk about the eldest. His gift of sowing doubt is concerning, and the one of powers alike who could act as his mentor has been banished. For good reason, I may add!”

“What is your suggestion?” a gust of wind shared Manwë’s question with them.

“We should bind his powers. Curufinwë Fëanáro, the word-smith, has taught him well. Maitimo is not going to find himself lacking in his aspirations as a politician or diplomat without this questionable blessing.”

Next to her, Fëanáro breathed in sharply. This challenge Tulkas gave rise to terrified her more than Námo’s voice, she found as she linked her arm with her husband’s, seeking for more contact. He put his free hand onto hers, both of his now keeping her hand. Even more surprisingly, the challenge was taken up by the Lady of the Fëanturi, it seemed.

“They are alike and not. Take a closer look at Maitimo’s deeds, Tulkas. Doubts he may plant, but his harvest is not discord. I do see your concerns, and so I ask for Nelyafinwë Maitimo to be made my pupil. He too deserves a choice, and however he decides: a politician does well with lessons in compassion.”

Silence followed Nienna’s words. Not entirely voluntarily, as Náro tried to give his thanks but only succeeded in voicelessly moving his lips. The feeling of relief like a river washing over her was then joined by a breeze picking up when the King of the Winds and the Valar gave his decision.
“Nelyafinwë Maitimo is to be given the choice between a life without the gifts of his maiarin lineage or being guided by Nienna in their usage. If he is found to use his gifts with malicious intent, they are to be taken from him and he is to stand trial for his actions. This concludes the gathering.”

Formalities before the Powers be damned, Nerdanel pulled her husband into a strong hug. She didn’t notice the Valar leaving until she re-emerged from their comfort-seeking to find the atmosphere in the room less … saturated with power. Only Vairë had remained, even her husband Námo had left this salon. The Weaver smiled at them.
“We held the gathering here to give you the opportunity to meet Míriel as soon as possible as we tell you about the teaching of your children. I suppose you impressed Aulë with your request to wait. Now go on, Míriel awaits you eagerly. You have much to talk about.”

Chapter Text

They desperately sought comfort from the other as they followed Vairë’s gesture to the door at the side of the salon and stepped through. It was a workshop, adorned with tapestries of all stages of progress. Only one loom clacked, worked by the swift hands of a nís-shaped maia. Simple braids held her hair the colour Telperion’s shine back, just like their Tyelkormo liked to wear it. Her delicate fingers wove not unlike Makalaurë moved the strings of his favourite harp. The gowns she wore were of simple design, yet subtly adorned with intricate embroidery like Carnistir liked to do to challenge himself. Yet for all the elegance she embodied she was tall, probably rivaling Finwë or Mahtan. Her Fëanáro looked nothing like her, but he had given all of their sons something of her. He gripped Nerdanel’s hand stronger, possibly understood the same as her as he sharply breathed in. The nís at the loom paused and turned to face them. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she beheld them.

“Bond-mother,” Nerdanel said quietly to break the silence.

“Nerdanel Mahtaniel,” the famed Míriel spoke at last. “You are my son’s One, as you proclaimed to the council just now.”

“Not really,” Nerdanel answered with a nervous chuckle. “If you witnessed the council, you also heard my Náro proclaim I am his Half, for we wouldn’t miss the completion we bring each other.”

“If anything she is my Better Half,” Fëanáro joined in, then suddenly lost part of the tension in his muscles. “Oh that one is great! I need to make it part of the general vocabulary! Anyone who fails to see your wisdom is indeed the greatest fool in all of Arda!”

He withdrew his hand from hers in order to rummage through a bag on his belt he always took with him. From it he procured a notebook and a piece of coal (wrapped in a piece of old cloth) and began scribbling. Nerdanel’s chuckle turned amused.

“It is alright, bond-mother. People say his craft is in the forge, when in fact it is linguistics. He cannot stand the possibility of forgetting a great addition to the dictionary he invented to keep track of the development of language. Even under Aulë’s tutelage he combined forge work with linguistics to form enchantments.”

“It’s only logical! If we are one in the eyes of Eru, then we should rightly refer to a single person of this bond as a half!” Náro announced fiercely, his passion easing him into the situation and himself.

“I see I named you well. I wished for so long to know you. Only now I understand Finwë was too distraught to recount what happened back then, his grief accidentally keeping you from visiting here,” Míriel said and stood up from the loom to walk up to them. “Hush, my child. I do not blame him. We loved deeply and he lost deeply and suddenly. Oh but I did wish to meet you desperately, and later your Half, and then your children. May I hug you?”

Like raindrops on the fire of his passion, tears fell as Fëanáro nodded hesitantly. He held her close and Míriel took her right arm from his side to beckon to Nerdanel to join them. It was beautiful to join their love for him, to hold and be held at the same time. She guessed they stayed like that for quite a while, but who knew how time worked in the realms of the Weaver and the Doomsman? Or rather, only in the realm of the Weaver for she felt anything but doomed, blessed beyond belief.

“Let us sit down,” Nerdanel suggested then. “And drink some water to replenish what we shed in tears.”

Again Fëanáro nodded, and Míriel smiled at them (no, with them!) and they arranged to sit on a settee. Naturally, he ended up between them.

“Why didn’t you return?” he asked hoarsely and accepted the glass of water he was offered.

“Ever since I returned to my Lady’s halls I work on a new fána as fast as I can. It is no easy work, to weave a whole fána, and without I cannot leave to rejoin you. But it will be ready soon.”
Míriel sighed and stroked his back.

“You might want to hurry more,” Nerdanel muttered and then cleared her throat as the Maia raised a brow in question. “As it appears I did name Atarinkë well, just like you named Fëanáro. Like his father he became too adventurous during his courtship, so we are now to prepare for the arrival of our first grandchild.”

“I’ll ask my Lady what can be done,” Míriel promised.

“How … what … please, what happened back then? I need to know. We need to know. In case something happens during the birth.”
His voice was a mere whisper, and he was readying the notebook in trembling hands.

Nerdanel laid her hands on his cheeks and gently turned him to face her.
“Look at me,” she ordered him sternly. “I carried and birthed all seven of our children. Look at me. Feel my hands on your skin. Take your own hand and feel for the beat of my heart. I birthed us seven children, and I am alive. You are alive. All of them are alive and well. We are in Lady Vairë’s realm, and we are all alive and healthy. Soon we shall return to them. All is well. Everyone is well.”
During this calming speech she tried to reach out to Míriel with her fëa. She wasn’t talented in osanwé like her bond-brother Arafinwë and his family, but she felt an answer. Since this kind of reaching out was more primal than thought, she hoped to convey her message by showing several short memories.

She held Náro’s hand in her crushing grip. He sat next to her, terribly pale, shivering, silently shedding tears as he voicelessly mouthed prayers to Estë for them. When the midwife handed her the baby, Náro all but collapsed in sobs and held them close, begging again and again please not to leave him.

This time the child had been somewhat fussy during the pregnancy. Náro had relaxed the tiniest bit during her pregnancies with Makalaurë and Tyelkormo, but his fears had returned in full strength. Finwë was watching the little ones, so Russandol was now with them to make sure his father wouldn’t hinder the midwife and her helpers. Just like she was told to breathe, he made his father breathe, encouraged him to pray to Estë together, remained steady in a difficult situation.
Then, finally, the newborn screamed healthily. The midwife made a point of loudly announcing Nerdanel and the child were perfectly healthy and only in need of the usual post-birth rest and bonding. Still she knew he would need about a week to be completely convinced no fading would be happening, as she watched Russo again remember his father to breathe evenly. As stealthily as she could she asked the servants to make Russo’s favourite dishes for dinner the next few days.

This was it! No more trying for a girl! With Náro’s terrible fear, it was akin to having one pregnancy, two births and three children to take care of! Although she was immensely grateful for her two eldest sons to help out, she felt guilty about it ever since Russo had helped calming Náro down for Carnistir’s birth. Again Finwë was watching the other children and Russo was watching his trembling father. Laurë sat in a distant corner of the room with his harp, alternating between calming and encouraging tunes on the midwife’s command.
“Let’s hope for granddaughters instead,” she said as they held their twins and ignored Laurë’s coughing.
“Then you shall be Pityafinwë and you shall be Telufinwë,” Náro decreed. “At least for this generation.”
“As much as I love our children, I can’t bear to see you this terribly scared, never could,” she said and kissed him.

In her presence Fëanáro calmed down, and she held him close. Míriel nodded.

“I suppose you need to hear of it, no matter how embarrassed I am to tell. But first, let me tell you I heard Lady Estë mention a need to hurry back to talk to a special visitor to her realm. If this is your fifth-born, you needn’t worry. He’s already avoiding the mistake I made,” she said and watched Náro settle in Nerdanel’s embrace.
“When your kin awoke on the shores of the lake, my Lady wished to learn more about you. She bid me come, wove me a fána with her Song, and sent me to walk among those who chose to travel to these lands. During the Journey Finwë and I bonded, friendship turned to love turned to marriage. He loves children, I saw how longingly he would look at them, how he liked playing with them. So I proposed this idea to him, and he agreed. They took great care of me, my closest friends Finwë and Indis. So it was them I called upon when I noticed the time to give birth had arrived. Now which mistake had I made? As I said, my fána was woven into being, I had no experience with pregnancy and in my pride I hadn’t asked any follower of Lady Estë or Lady Yavanna or anyone else who would’ve known. Dutifully and lovingly I nurtured your fëa, but I hadn’t thought about you needing a hröa. I simply hadn’t thought about how a young fëa would be provided with a hröa! When I learned of this, I had to do something, for your fëa longed to be born and would fade without a hröa, or by being held back! Thus I asked Indis, my dearest female friend, my confidante, to take care of the two of you, and swaddled your fëa in my fána, from which you succeeded to form a hröa for yourself. It seems you formed your hröa in Finwë’s image, and he too named you aptly, my crafty one.”

Silence reigned after her confession. Nerdanel could do nothing but stare at her bond-mother. Náro hadn’t even taken notes, so stunned was he.
“So what you’re saying is … you wanted to do something to share Finwë’s happiness for children, but didn’t know what it entailed and were too stubborn to ask until it was too late?” she finally brought out.

Míriel looked down and nodded.
“I certainly learned my lesson about asking for help, about pride, about humility. Going so long without being able to see you certainly was a heavy punishment. I’ll do everything in my power to finish my new fána so I can meet my grandchildren and be there for you when you welcome your grandchild. I never wished for my loved ones to suffer like this.”

How long they stayed in the resulting hug this time no one would be able to say. How weird it was, to be held so tightly and feel so liberated at the same time.

Chapter Text

In the beginning Coivenquamë appreciated his apologies when her beloved had stumbled into her home. However, this had happened hours ago, and he had apparently lost the ability to talk about anything else. Maybe she would’ve tried to practice patience, if they hadn’t embarked on a day-long journey to the gardens of Lórien with the prospect of the subject not changing anytime soon. They weren’t exactly hurrying either, having taken neither horse nor carriage. She sighed and decided to put an end to the next wave of apologies before it even began.

“Alright, this is enough,” she said and Curufinwë stopped in his tracks. “I know well enough you promised me we would tell your family about the pregnancy together. But please believe me dear, I am not mad at you for breaking this promise! Huan, please help me out. You know the way: one bark for yes, two for no.”

She turned around in order to stand in front of him as she addressed his brother’s loyal (and surprisingly understanding!) dog. Huan sat down next to her, all ears, looking not unlike he did on a hunt. “Huan, you were there when he told them, right?”

One bark.

“Was he anxious when he did?”

One loud bark and a Look. Curvo kept glancing between both of them.

“Was he panicking when he did?”

A soft bark.

“Was he overwhelmed with the entire situation when he told them?”

Again a soft bark.

“So did he do it on purpose?”

Two loud barks and a Glare. Curvo’s eyes widened, he began to sputter, probably to defend his self-depreciation she guessed.

“You see? It was an accident, Curvo. And I am not angry because this accident happened. Nobody got harmed of it. I mean, you tell him, Huan: Was he allowed to feel overwhelmed and panicky?”

This time Huan seemed to nod as he answered, giving an air of finality to it. That being barked, he got up to continue showing the way. Coivenquamë took his hand as they followed the hound.

“I suppose your family really wants to meet me now. Apart from that, there’s no reason to deviate from what we planned: We wanted to seek Lady Estë’s guidance anyway to make sure everything’s fine. And we even got the best boy to guide us there!”

Finally, finally a smile found its way through his worry. “That’s true. I suppose I could ask Moryo to make him some nice new bedding. We’ll probably meet up with him anyway to discuss blankets for our little spark. I wouldn’t want to be ungrateful.”

Their guide didn’t answer audibly to that, but he sure showed his appreciation with a wagging tail. She giggled and roped Curvo into a discussion on nursery decorations.

The gardens were a place so calm and peaceful, even Curvo’s tension faded the longer they stayed. Lady Estë welcomed them herself and lead them to the shore of her favourite lake. Together they sat down beside her, in the soft shadow of a silver willow. Even Huan came with them instead of going to hunt for himself, waiting for their return. He laid his head in Curvo’s lap, ever the warm, fluffy reminder he wasn’t alone. As was Coivenquamë’s hand in his.

“It is alright, child. You are doing fine. Both of you,” Lady Estë said. “Your child is growing well and healthily. And you made the right decision to ask for advice in uncertainty.”

Coivenquamë felt him tense up. Curvo cleared his throat, spoke with a rasp: “Do I need to leave to learn from Lady Vairë’s entourage, then?”

Lady Estë leaned forward to pet Huan and made a gesture for him to do the same. “Since Aulë already taught you, this isn’t necessary. You’re always invited should you want further lessons, though,” she told him soothingly. “So you are free to focus on welcoming your little one. Feel free to send word if you have questions. Come, rest before you make your way back.”