Waste Paper by Himring

Chapter 2: Nerdanel

Nerdanel glared at the formless lump of clay, gave another vicious twist to the crumpled piece of paper in her hand, scrunched it into a ball and hurled it into the far corner where two dozens of its ilk already lay assembled.

‘Nerdanel?’ Mahtan’s quiet voice came from the doorway.

‘Yes, Father. Is it time for lunch?’

‘Nerdanel,’ her father said again, ignoring her reluctance to discuss the subject this time. He had been watching her proceedings without comment for weeks. ‘Why now? For thousands of years, you’ve sculpted the Valar, you’ve sculpted men, women, children, animals and plants. Why now, when at last there is a live flesh-and-blood son awaiting you in Tirion? Why does there need to be a statue of Feanaro now, right now, when you have felt no need to try, it seems, since he died?’

Nerdanel stared at the lump of clay on her worktable.

‘For thousands of years, Father, it did not matter. It did not matter whether I should never have married Feanaro in the first place, whether I should have seen his madness coming and done something to prevent it, whether I should have refused to bear his children. Or whether I should have fought him harder for them—for every single one! Or whether I should have stayed with him and gone to Formenos with them, whether I should have followed them to Middle-earth…

It did not matter. It was over and done with. To continue to ask these questions would have been pointless, mere self-indulgence.

But now I have a live flesh-and-blood son awaiting me in Tirion. And I need to know, I need to know how I feel about these things, I need to know what my position is. I cannot just go to Tirion and stand in front of Maitimo and let my feelings overwhelm me—whatever they happen to be!

I do not even know whether this lump of clay wants to be a statue of Feanaro. But before I have found out what it wants to be, before I have finished this piece of sculpture, I will not know and I cannot go to Tirion and face Maitimo.’

‘Very well, Nerdanel’, said Mahtan, heavily. ‘But I myself have a flesh-and-blood grandson awaiting me in Tirion, you know. I have questions, too, but I won’t get any answers to them until I go and see him face-to-face. I don’t at all wish to have to explain to Maitimo why I am here and his mother is not. But if it takes you much longer, I won’t wait for you. I will go to Tirion by myself.'