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b2mem2012-03-07 12:19 pm
engarian.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2012-03-07 12:19 pm
O-67 - Erulisse - Time Out
B2MeM Challenge: O-67 – Sons of Feanor - Curufinwë and Nerdanel, Landscape – Canyon, Art Supplies - Pencils
Format: Fictlet
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Nerdanel, Curufinwë, Fëanáro
Pairings: None
Summary: While roaming her deserted home after the Noldor have left for the East, Nerdanel remembers happier times when she comes across a treasured drawing.
Time Out
Nerdanel was wandering through the dark hallways, entering rooms randomly. The flickering candlelight teased her with shadows of the past, loved ones now gone appearing in the hidden darkness, her life before its destruction winking from the far ends of the halls.
Entering Fëanáro’s study, she stopped abruptly in front of his desk. The surface was still strewn with papers and plans for his journey East, away from Aman, away from her. A quick glance at the tabletop convinced her that she did not want to look at the debris in detail. Quickly shifting her eyes, she saw some pictures on the wall behind her husband’s chair; there were seven framed works. Moving closer she saw that they were by her sons, one piece from each of them. There was a beautifully rendered architectural drawing by Maitimo next to a page of a musical composition by Macalaurë. At the bottom were two complimentary watercolors, one in blues and the other in greens, painted by the twins when they were very young. The three pieces making up the center row were a drawing of a hound worked in pastels by Tyelkormo, a glade of trees, lit by the golden light of Laurelin by Carnistir, and the final piece was a canyon wall depicted in multicolored stripes by Curufinwë. It was a piece that she remembered well.
She had been taking a well-deserved time out...
-0-0-0-0-
Nerdanel was taking a time out. She thought laughingly to herself that time out for her children had an entirely different connotation than it did for her. Indeed, just the previous week she had insisted that Carnistir sit in a quiet and darkened room for a full candle mark after he had fastened a bag of mud to the tail of one of the horses, then led the horse around the courtyard, tickling it with a branch. The horse had swished its tail in an attempt to rid itself of the irritant, and mud had been splashed on every wall as a result. Even though Nerdanel admired the scope of the joke and the depth of planning that Carnistir had done, his actions had resulted in a lot of extra cleaning work for everyone. After he had helped to wash the walls, she had banished her young son to sit in a darkened room and to think about how his practical joke had impacted the other people living in the home.
Now it was time for her own time out. But that did not mean that she was condemned to sit in a darkened room. It meant that she had retreated to her secondary studio, the one that was at the far end of the family lands, where she worked on her larger sculptures.
Fëanor and she had agreed long before, that at least two times a year she could escape to her secondary studio to focus on her large pieces without interruptions. She would usually spend a month in the studio, but there was no fixed time limit. If she had a commission, she would often stay until it had been completed. But if she just needed a rest to regain her strength and remember the beauty of silence, she might take as short a time as a week before returning to the main house.
This time she had been working on a large sculpture for Lord Námo. It was an unusual commission that he had requested for his Lady wife, and it required her to incorporate some metals and woods in combination with her stonework. She was finding it a suitable challenge for her artistry. She was engrossed in planning the next stage when a knock came on the door.
She opened it to find her husband standing outside with Curufinwë holding his hand.
“Neddy, I am so sorry to disturb you during your time out,” her husband said, blurting the words out so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to do more than make a small squeak. “Father has ordered a hunt and the four older boys and I have been commanded to meet him at the lodge tomorrow at First Mingling.”
“Curufinwë is still too young for a formal hunting party. Indis volunteered to keep him with her but he threw a fit and spit in her face. I’m afraid he won’t be welcome at the palace for a few weeks, maybe even a few months.” Fëanáro’s face broke out into a broad grin and he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately.
“Anyway,” he continued. “Your father said he could stay and learn some basics of the forge with him, but not for two days because he had to finish a project first. Can you take him for two days? Mahtan’s apprentice will come and collect him as soon as possible.”
The combination of Fëanáro’s pleading look and the disheveled appearance of her youngest worked its magic and her heart melted once again. She never was very successful in saying no to her husband, her five sons was ample evidence of that fact.
Kneeling down, she opened her arms and Curufinwë ran into them. She knew he would never have acted this young in front of his brothers, but suspected that he was feeling a bit like an unwanted piece of mud that someone was trying to shake off a boot.
“Of course he can stay with me.” She reached down and turned his face up to look her in the eyes. “I have colored pencils and paper, also picture books for inspiration. We’ll have fine meals and you can help me make cookies tonight.” She tweaked his nose affectionately. Looking down at her son, she saw a small smile ghost across his face.
“You’re a life saver, Neddy. What would I ever do without you?”
“Just remember that the next time you stand against me in an argument, you Finwëan scion.” She accepted a kiss that held future promises and closed the door behind her husband.
Turning back to her son, she said “Well, it’s a good thing I have more than one desk here, isn’t it? Let’s get you set up, and if you do something beautiful on paper, perhaps someday you can also replicate it in stone and metal. I can show you how to slice and shape stone and your grandfather Mahtan can show you how to shape metal.”
A few years later Curufinwë handed her a finely formed box as a birthing day gift. She opened it to fine a finely layered stone pendant reminiscent of the canyon walls her son had drawn while sharing her time out.
-0-0-0-0-
A tear fell onto the drawing. Then, shaking her head for being so silly as to fall into sentimentality, she wiped off the protective glass covering and, placing the drawing onto the desktop, turned and left the room. She could no longer spend time in the past; instead she had to concentrate on what future may exist for those who had remained in Aman. Closing the door behind her she resumed her examination, leaving the past behind her in the darkened room.
Format: Fictlet
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Characters: Nerdanel, Curufinwë, Fëanáro
Pairings: None
Summary: While roaming her deserted home after the Noldor have left for the East, Nerdanel remembers happier times when she comes across a treasured drawing.
Time Out
Nerdanel was wandering through the dark hallways, entering rooms randomly. The flickering candlelight teased her with shadows of the past, loved ones now gone appearing in the hidden darkness, her life before its destruction winking from the far ends of the halls.
Entering Fëanáro’s study, she stopped abruptly in front of his desk. The surface was still strewn with papers and plans for his journey East, away from Aman, away from her. A quick glance at the tabletop convinced her that she did not want to look at the debris in detail. Quickly shifting her eyes, she saw some pictures on the wall behind her husband’s chair; there were seven framed works. Moving closer she saw that they were by her sons, one piece from each of them. There was a beautifully rendered architectural drawing by Maitimo next to a page of a musical composition by Macalaurë. At the bottom were two complimentary watercolors, one in blues and the other in greens, painted by the twins when they were very young. The three pieces making up the center row were a drawing of a hound worked in pastels by Tyelkormo, a glade of trees, lit by the golden light of Laurelin by Carnistir, and the final piece was a canyon wall depicted in multicolored stripes by Curufinwë. It was a piece that she remembered well.
She had been taking a well-deserved time out...
-0-0-0-0-
Nerdanel was taking a time out. She thought laughingly to herself that time out for her children had an entirely different connotation than it did for her. Indeed, just the previous week she had insisted that Carnistir sit in a quiet and darkened room for a full candle mark after he had fastened a bag of mud to the tail of one of the horses, then led the horse around the courtyard, tickling it with a branch. The horse had swished its tail in an attempt to rid itself of the irritant, and mud had been splashed on every wall as a result. Even though Nerdanel admired the scope of the joke and the depth of planning that Carnistir had done, his actions had resulted in a lot of extra cleaning work for everyone. After he had helped to wash the walls, she had banished her young son to sit in a darkened room and to think about how his practical joke had impacted the other people living in the home.
Now it was time for her own time out. But that did not mean that she was condemned to sit in a darkened room. It meant that she had retreated to her secondary studio, the one that was at the far end of the family lands, where she worked on her larger sculptures.
Fëanor and she had agreed long before, that at least two times a year she could escape to her secondary studio to focus on her large pieces without interruptions. She would usually spend a month in the studio, but there was no fixed time limit. If she had a commission, she would often stay until it had been completed. But if she just needed a rest to regain her strength and remember the beauty of silence, she might take as short a time as a week before returning to the main house.
This time she had been working on a large sculpture for Lord Námo. It was an unusual commission that he had requested for his Lady wife, and it required her to incorporate some metals and woods in combination with her stonework. She was finding it a suitable challenge for her artistry. She was engrossed in planning the next stage when a knock came on the door.
She opened it to find her husband standing outside with Curufinwë holding his hand.
“Neddy, I am so sorry to disturb you during your time out,” her husband said, blurting the words out so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to do more than make a small squeak. “Father has ordered a hunt and the four older boys and I have been commanded to meet him at the lodge tomorrow at First Mingling.”
“Curufinwë is still too young for a formal hunting party. Indis volunteered to keep him with her but he threw a fit and spit in her face. I’m afraid he won’t be welcome at the palace for a few weeks, maybe even a few months.” Fëanáro’s face broke out into a broad grin and he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately.
“Anyway,” he continued. “Your father said he could stay and learn some basics of the forge with him, but not for two days because he had to finish a project first. Can you take him for two days? Mahtan’s apprentice will come and collect him as soon as possible.”
The combination of Fëanáro’s pleading look and the disheveled appearance of her youngest worked its magic and her heart melted once again. She never was very successful in saying no to her husband, her five sons was ample evidence of that fact.
Kneeling down, she opened her arms and Curufinwë ran into them. She knew he would never have acted this young in front of his brothers, but suspected that he was feeling a bit like an unwanted piece of mud that someone was trying to shake off a boot.
“Of course he can stay with me.” She reached down and turned his face up to look her in the eyes. “I have colored pencils and paper, also picture books for inspiration. We’ll have fine meals and you can help me make cookies tonight.” She tweaked his nose affectionately. Looking down at her son, she saw a small smile ghost across his face.
“You’re a life saver, Neddy. What would I ever do without you?”
“Just remember that the next time you stand against me in an argument, you Finwëan scion.” She accepted a kiss that held future promises and closed the door behind her husband.
Turning back to her son, she said “Well, it’s a good thing I have more than one desk here, isn’t it? Let’s get you set up, and if you do something beautiful on paper, perhaps someday you can also replicate it in stone and metal. I can show you how to slice and shape stone and your grandfather Mahtan can show you how to shape metal.”
A few years later Curufinwë handed her a finely formed box as a birthing day gift. She opened it to fine a finely layered stone pendant reminiscent of the canyon walls her son had drawn while sharing her time out.
-0-0-0-0-
A tear fell onto the drawing. Then, shaking her head for being so silly as to fall into sentimentality, she wiped off the protective glass covering and, placing the drawing onto the desktop, turned and left the room. She could no longer spend time in the past; instead she had to concentrate on what future may exist for those who had remained in Aman. Closing the door behind her she resumed her examination, leaving the past behind her in the darkened room.
no subject
no subject
- Erulisse (one L)