Aspects of Nerdanel 1 - Fractures in the Dark by Erulisse
Fanwork Notes
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Summary:
A series of short drabbles exploring the life of Nerdanel after she moved away from Feanor.
Major Characters: Nerdanel
Major Relationships:
Genre: Drama
Challenges:
Rating: General
Warnings:
Chapters: 5 Word Count: 530 Posted on 2 February 2014 Updated on 2 February 2014 This fanwork is complete.
Chapter 1 - Transformation
Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
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Transformation
When newlywed she had been certain her marriage was as durable as the scattered diamonds reflecting the light of the Trees.
Time passed and their family increased. Inclusions entered their lives, darkening and coloring it, making it more fragile, more like blood drops upon the gemstone sands.
Now they were leaving her, going to lands unknown. They chased a dream of Light entrapped by talons of Darkness. She sighed and began marking the stone preparing her next sculpture. Brushing the chalk from her hands, she wondered how the early strength of love had transformed into dust like this soft stone.
Chapter End Notes
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Chapter 2 - Tripping Over Memory
Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
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Tripping Over Memory
Nerdanel backed away from the chalked marble block. Catching her foot on the raised edge of a slate floor tile, she fell backward. Prone, she looked upward at the vaulted roof.
She saw her sons' signatures inscribed on a beam. Each one had labored to build her studio when she had moved away and they often visited her. I must ask Curufinwë to reset this tile when he visits again. It's not the first time I've tripped over it.
Then memory struck heavily and she recalled their Oath and their flight. An unacknowledged tear streaked its way down her cheek.
Chapter End Notes
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Chapter 3 - Busy Hands
Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
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Busy Hands
Nerdanel chose her tools and began roughing out the sculpture she had chalked onto the red marble. She stroked down the stone, loving its cool satin smoothness. Fine grained with a scattering of pyrite, it sparkled with subtle splendor.
Exhaustion finally hit, and she blew out the hanging lamps wishing for the brilliant light of Laurelin. Gathering some of the smaller shards and several sheets of sanded paper, she sat at her kitchen table. She began to round some marbles from the statue's cast-offs. Although her own sons were now gone, there were other children who would appreciate the gift.
Chapter End Notes
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Chapter 4 - Pressure Point
Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
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Pressure Point
Sleep was difficult to attain and swift to leave. Only a few hours had passed before her studio lanterns were alight again. Because the remainder of the household were still abed, she waited to work on the larger marble statue; instead using antler tines to shape sharpened obsidian blades for the harvest. Without the Trees' light the plants would grow no more. All ripened crops must be harvested to avert famine.
She studied the blade carefully before pushing another flake from the edge. The integrity of the stone could be defeated with a single pressure point. It mirrored her life.
Chapter End Notes
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Chapter 5 - Armor
Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
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Armor
Nerdanel sat quietly, her whirling thoughts deeply hidden, and then stood to return to her studio. The household was beginning to stir; now the noise of her hammers would be welcomed, not intrusive. Stepping onto the stone pathway through the small garden sudden pain struck. She found herself awakening in her father's arms amidst the hydrangeas.
"He is dead, father," she gasped. Sitting up she hugged her knees and wept briefly, for what had been and could never be again. Regaining her feet, her features resolved themselves into an emotionless granite mask as she resumed walking towards the workshop door.
Chapter End Notes
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