'Lover Boy' by Makalaure

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

B2MeM Challenge: (Prompt by heartofoshun) I am an absolute sucker for anything Feanor/Nerdanel. The story itself does not have to be a conventional romance. Doesn't even have to be het. Anything goes for me with these two. Foreshadow dark if you must, but I would just love some sweet early relationship something or another.
Format: Short Story
Genre: Romance, Family
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Fëanor, Nerdanel
Pairings: Fëanor/Nerdanel
Creators' Notes (optional): For simplicity, I have used the characters' Sindarin names. Un-beta'd.
Summary: Fëanor struggles with his feelings.


The markets of Tirion give Fëanor comfort in a way that his family does not. It lies in the bright colours that almost burn his eyes, in the cloying smells of fried food that hang in the air. At a stall piled with a motley collection of clothes, he holds up a long, sage-green skirt and inspects it for holes. Behind the stall, the pedlar, a woman with a nose-ring, tells him how flattering it would look on his pretty daughter.

"I do not have children," he says, without looking at her. The pedlar stutters an apology, but Fëanor offers the money for the skirt. He turns back to the street lined with makeshift stalls and shades his eyes with his hand. Perhaps he should buy some bangles, as well. The thick wooden sort would be a good choice; the delicate clack, clack sound they make is soothing.

Just as he spots an adequate stall, someone catches his upper arm. "I found you," says Nerdanel with a grin. "You just disappeared." She has slung her satchel across her torso. Laurelin's Light catches in her braided hair, and her face is damp with sweat. Fëanor blinks twice and tries to remember how to smile. She is the most wonderful woman in the world. She is driven, and clever, and artistic, and...

"I forgot to tell you earlier today," she says, eyes glittering. "I am taking part in an art festival organised by Lady Indis next month. And a scholar from one of the Vanyarin schools will give a talk on my sculptures! You will come with me, won't you?"

...and she ruins everything. Fëanor stares at her, jaw slack. "What?"

She tilts her head to one side. "I said – "

"I know what you said. Nerdanel, you cannot go to that festival."

"Why ever not?" she says with surprise. "It is open to all artists, reputed and new. It will be a wonderful way for more people to know about my work."

"I never took you as someone who cared about mere reputation," Fëanor returns, scowling. He knows he is not being rational, but he cannot bring himself to care. "I thought your mind was on higher matters."

"I need to eat, Fëanor," she says, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think that happens by magic? I am an artist by profession. I sell my work, and will starve if I don't." She crosses her arms over her chest and looks him square in the eye. "But this is about Lady Indis, is it not?"

Fëanor glares at her. "I don't see why you should not respect my wishes. Can you not see this hurts me?"

"I can. But you have the diplomacy of a sack of stones, and it would do you good to show your face at one of Lady Indis' events. Or any events, for that matter. Do you plan on becoming a hermit?"

He scoffs and averts his gaze. Why is she making this so difficult for him?

After a long, tense silence Nerdanel sighs and says, "What is that in your hand?"

Fëanor feels his face grow hot. "I bought it for you." He thrusts it at her, still avoiding her eyes. Nerdanel blinks, clears her throat, and takes it, muttering a thanks. She turns it over in her hands. "It's so charming." She rolls it up and tucks it into her satchel. Then she fiddles with her hair and says that it is getting late and that she needs to leave. It is barely afternoon.

Fëanor watches her figure disappear into the crowd, and then trudges back to his father's house.

***

When Finwë gave him the painting of his mother, Fëanor made a wooden frame for it and put on his desk. But soon he found he could not concentrate on his work with her gaze on him, so he locked the portrait in a coffer by his bed.

He takes it out now, and sits on the edge of his mattress, looking at it. He strokes her cheek. She is like a study in silver. Her hair is tied in a knot behind her head, and clear gems are strung about her slender neck. Finwë had painted the portrait himself, using bold hues and a sure hand.

"You will always be the queen of the Noldor," Fëanor whispers. "No other woman deserves the title." He lies on his back and searches his mother's dark eyes, which seem so far away. Laurelin's fading Light eases through the window and warms his belly.

There is a knock on his door, and he jolts up, turning the painting face down on the covers. "Yes?" he calls.

The door opens and Indis steps in, shoulders hunched and lips pursed. Fëanor clenches his jaw. "What is it?"

Indis tucks a curl behind her ear and says, "Your father wishes to know if you will be present at dinner today. I told him you might be with Nerdanel, but – "

"I will be present." He gets up and goes to his desk, and begins to shift his books from one side to the other. After a moment he hears the door close softly, and plumps down in his chair. A headache throbs behind his eyes, and he groans.

If he lives in this house any longer, he will go mad.

***

Fëanor does not see Nerdanel till the festival, which takes place in a wide city square. Soon after he arrives, he gets lost among the stalls and the crowd, and shuffles towards a large wooden platform that is probably a stage. A whiff of incense from a nearby counter stings his nose, and he coughs and rubs his watering eyes.

When he looks up he catches sight of Nerdanel some distance away, chatting with a couple of other artists. He draws a sharp breath when he realises she is wearing the skirt he bought her. It suits her, complements her hair, he thinks with satisfaction. He had been right.

Suddenly she looks in his direction and raises her eyebrows, looking surprised. Then she mutters something to the others and strides to him. "Fëanor," she says, "I am so glad you are here. What made you change your mind?"

He massages his forehead with a hand. "I did not come here because I have made peace with Indis. I will not make peace with her."

Nerdanel releases a deep sigh. "You never change," she says, and begins to turn away.

"I came because you are more important than my disputes."

Nerdanel blinks, and her jaw goes slack. She clears her throat, fiddles with the hem of her tunic, and says, "Thank you?"

Fëanor laughs, and she stares at him. Then she takes his hand in hers and smiles and smiles, eyes shining.

Yes, Fëanor thinks, as a man steps up on the stage and begins to speak about Nerdanel's contributions to sculpture. Yes, they can make this work.

- finis -

Comments

[curiouswombat.livejournal.com]

Sometime I think Nerdanel was the only adult in that whole family...

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Same here. :)

[zdenka]

This made me smile. I enjoyed Feanor's stubbornness and awkwardness.

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Lignota. :)

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

OMG! I loved this so much. I loved the feeling of your world (kind of fits right together with my own views of them like missing puzzles locking together--the tone of this story is so right for me).

I loved the entire setting. I loved how Feanor falls in love with a piece of used clothing and buys it for Nerdanel because he imagines it is perfect for her. Coming from him that's a bigger gift than a entire necklace of priceless stones.

He had good taste--in used clothing and in women. The heartbreak of Feanor and Nerdanel is that one sees how they are so good for one another. It worked for a long time, which makes the breaking apart all that much more painful.

You present, for our examination, young-and-in-love Feanor and Nerdanel fabulously. I loved it! You don't try to twist our arm. You lay it out there simply as though say, "Here it is. This is how they were." And e believe you. The POV is so much fun--we see all kinds of things squirming around in Feanor's head, but despite the distractions, Nerdanel is the center.

Nerdanel is my favorite Silmarillion character, despite how much I love Maedhros and Fingon and all of the crazy Finweans. There she amongst them all and all their glory and is as smart and gifted as any except Feanor (one can never be quite sure how much seven children might have drained her!) and wiser than them all because she knows when to stop and think for moment, instead of jumping on a runaway train. Your interpretation of quiet confidence and determination is so appealing to me in this story.

What a pouty little adolescent brat too! I still cannot help but love him.

Thanks for taking this prompt and making such a beautiful story.

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much for the wonderfully detailed review, Oshun! You're totally right about Feanor. Actually, I deliberately didn't describe Nerdanel's appearance in detail because it didn't seem like something Feanor would judge her by at all, even if he appreciated her looks.

Haha. In my head-canon, he remains a brat forever. :)

[heartofoshun.livejournal.com]

I did pick up on the lack of physical description! He loves her for who she is and all the marvelous things she can do! He's probably very vain about the fact that his head is not turned by any pretty face or curvy or graceful body. He's looking for more and different. Maybe that red hair might have stopped him or a second or two and caught his attention. It's brains and skill before any of that for him and most of that she stands up to him and calls him on his bullshit.

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Oh yeah, definitely. In my headcanon he scoffs at anyone who wants to marry a woman only because of her beauty. But basically Nerdanel just complements him so well, and yes, she calls him out on his bs. :)

[huinare.livejournal.com]

I really liked these characterizations.

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Huinare. :)

[lindahoyland.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed this. You really brought the characters to life.

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much, Linda. :)

[dreamflower]

I really like this. You show us that even more than his prickly pride, Feanor was young and awkward once. I love how Nerdanel's blunt and honest outspokenness is what can draw him out.

And I really like her. I'd never thought much about her save as a mother who. Was abandoned by her children. This shows a different side altogether.

Plus it was really fun.

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much, Dreamflower. :) I'm glad I was able to portray Nerdanel in an interesting light. :)

[zopyrus.livejournal.com]

I really like this--it's sad to think about what will happen to them later, when their feelings now are so straightforward and so sweet!

[maglor-20.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Zopyrus. :)

[zopyrus.livejournal.com]

I really like this--it's sad to think about what will happen to them later, when their feelings now are so straightforward and so sweet!