the wise & the lovely by Agelast

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Chapter 1

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“Mark now, Nerwen, your young suitor comes!” Aikanáro sang out as he passed by her door.

Artanis sighed and put down her quill. She had hoped to finish the household accounts and then indulge in a novel, the only one in Mithrim. But instead she sprang up from her cozy chair and looked in despair at the looking glass, hung over the mantle. She looked tired and shabby, and there were holes in her housecoat.

Artanis sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before she scrabbled to get ready.

By the time Telperinquar was shown to her rooms, Artanis was back in her armchair besides the fire, dressed reasonably well, with a novel in her hand. He stood at the door for a moment and cleared his throat. Artanis looked up from the page with a welcoming smile on her lips. “How goes it, Tyelpo?”

“Hello, Artanis. You’re looking -- lovely,” he said breathlessly, crossing the room so quickly that he almost stumbled. Telperinquar still had a coltish look about him, knobby knees and hands too big for his body. Though he was, as he took pains to mention every time they met, of age now.

He bent down on one knee and took her silently proffered hand, but did not shake it as she had wanted him to. Instead, he held for an awkward period of time -- too long to be proper, but not long enough for her to grow annoyed.

She withdrew her hand from his -- leaving him grasping at air -- and took pity on him. “Have you brought me another book?”

Telperinquar blinked, and his hand fell to his side. “Oh. Oh! Yes, I have. It isn’t a novel this time, but one of my grandfather’s -- you don’t mind it, do you? It’s a fairly complete survey on the metallurgy of Aman. Not very useful now, I suppose.”

“I don’t see why not. I know many a smith who would be dying to compare their notes against those of your grandfather, especially now...  Thank you, Telperinquar. I do appreciate your efforts to keep me entertained.”

She rose from her chair, and so did he. She looked down at him -- for all his growing up, Telperinquar was still shorter than she was -- and asked if he fancied going for a walk. Telperinquar nodded, his eyes wide.

As soon as they walked out of Artanis’ rooms, Aikanáro pounced on them, an unholy light in his eyes.

Artanis warned him off with a dark glance, but that did not stop her brother from saying, “My, my, Tyelpo! How much you have grown! Doesn’t it seem like yesterday, Artanis, that he was but a squalling infant in his mother’s arms? Whatever happened to her, anyway?”  

“Aiko, don’t you have to go feed the chickens?” Artanis said, taking Telperinquar’s arm and leading him down the hall and outside.

Aikanáro’s voice seemed to follow them out, saying, “I was only trying to be polite, as our dear eldest brother had requested!”

“He is angry that Findarato has chosen Angaráto to represent us in Doriath. I do not think he wished to go himself, but he is angry not to have been asked.” Artanis led them down the path into the woods, deeper than she would go in her own private rambles.  

“I see,” Telperinquar said. “My mother stayed behind, you know. In Tirion. She wanted to keep me there, but my father -- well, he felt otherwise.”

“I am sorry,” Artanis said, and she was.

She hadn’t felt guilty, at first, about these visits. Telperinquar had come with Makalaurë to see Maitimo. Well, Makalaurë had seen Maitimo, while Telperinquar had lingered uneasily at the door of Maitimo's sickroom, unable to look anyone in eye.

Artanis saw him and decided to do something about it. She did not blame Tyelpo for the actions of his father nor that his grandfather. After all, he had been a mere babe in arms when Fëanáro had been exiled, and a child in the chaos of Aqualondë.

It was entirely with a clean heart that Artanis had sought his friendship. To be blunt, the Fëanorions were richer and better provided for than those who followed Nolofinwë. It did not seem so very bad to befriend a friendless boy, if it meant a book or two a week -- books were ready fuel, in the chilly crossing of Helecraxë -- or pretty cloth, or a pot of honey.

Most weeks they would simply walk around the woods and talk. She listened to his problems and gave him advice. He would listen and look at her. It should have been clear sooner that he was in love with her.

But Artanis knew what to do -- she always did. She cleared her throat and said, "Tyelpo, I must talk to you."

He looked at her. Young though he was, Telperinquar was no fool. "What about?"

"I'm afraid we must stop our little tête-à-têtes. I am to go soon to my great-uncle's house in Menegroth. It is hoped that my presence should soften his heart to us, since he too has a daughter. She is older than I, I have heard, but much cosseted."

"Cousin Artanis," Telperinquar said, taking her hand. He sank to one knee, and Artanis closed her eyes for a moment. Telperinquar cleared his throat, and she opened them again.

"Dearest cousin, Artanis. You are fairest of the house of Finwë. Go not to Menegroth and live with strangers. Marry me instead."

"Oh Tyelpo, do get up," Artanis said, caught between absolute irritation and guilt. "I'm not going to marry you."

"Why not?" Telperinquar said, rising. His left knee was spotted with mud. "I am of age!"

"You are barely of age, and besides -- I do not love you."

"But I love you!"

"You do not love me. You are infatuated with me, and you lack the experience to tell one feeling from the other."

"I suppose you do!" Telperinquar said hotly, with a fearsome expression on his face.

Artanis almost laughed aloud. Had she really thought Telperinquar looked nothing like Fëanáro? In anger, he resembled his grandsire almost perfectly.

But she was perfectly candid when she said, "I have been infatuated many times, yes. But I have never been in love. Not the love one marries for."

"Perhaps, if we could meet more often, see each more than a few times a month... Artanis, I do love you. I think of no one but you. You may say it is calf-love, but I will not love another."

"Oh, ridiculous! Do you suppose I came all the way to Beleriand to find a husband? New lands and new people are what I seek."

"I would not stand in your way. I agree with my uncle, the House of Fëanáro is dispossessed. I would put all my energy, all my talents into helping you rule, wherever you chose."

"Tyelpo, do not tempt me. Remember, if nothing else, that we are kin too near to wed."

"Kin too near! It would be no objection if you loved me."

"But I do not," Artanis said, taking a step away from him. "Such words I would expect from your father, not you."

"But you do not," echoed Telperinquar. "I -- am sorry. I must go."

He turned and ran.

She did not stop him.

 

 *

 

Afterward, Artanis' days filled up with the preparations for her journey to Menegroth. There was much to consider, much to do. She spent most of her time ripping up clothes -- hers, and her cousin Írissë's, and their aunt Lalwendë's -- to construct dresses that would impress the court in Menegroth, so they would not regard the Noldor with a lowly eye.

Other times she would practice her Sindarin with anyone she could, drilling herself until she could speak it perfectly, albeit with a Noldorin accent.

She hardly thought of Telperinquar at all, except to remember to send back his book, with a note of apology tucked into it.

If any awkwardness still existed between them, she decided, it was not her fault.

"Hold still, Nerwen, I swear, you are almost as bad as Írissë," said Lalwendë, almost pricking her with a needle. Artanis made an unhappy sound. They were putting the final touches on the dress in which she would be introduced to Thingol and Melian. The collar was so wide and jeweled with bright, white stones that she could hardly turn her head.

Her hair had been woven together with strands of pearls, and she looked at her reflection distrustfully, and then dropped her eyes. In Aman, she had worn even finer things and felt nothing worse than a little too much pride. But now, in Beleriand, such finery felt false in a way that she could not quite name.

She looked up again to tell Lalwendë that the bodice was too tight, when she saw behind her Telperinquar.

"Tyelpo! What are you doing here?" she said, surprised, and looked around to see where Lalwendë had gone off to.

"She went to get more thread," Telperinquar said. "Cousin, please allow me to speak to you. I will not renew the attentions that were so distressing for you last time. Indeed, I came to apologize. I acted like child, denied his toy. Will you forgive me?"

"Of course, I accept. And I thank you for your apology. Help me down?" She had been standing on a footstool so Lalwendë could adjust the hem. Telperinquar helped her down and she thanked him, smoothing down her dress, adjusting her ribbons, anything to avoid Telperinquar's eye.

"Well, how do I look?" She raised her eyes to his.

He swallowed, and said, "All hearts would turn towards you -- Menegroth is yours for the taking."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on conquering the place," Artanis said lightly. "Not yet, and not in these shoes."

He gave her a lopsided, sad smile, and that, Artanis claimed later, was what made her suddenly reach over to him, and press her mouth lightly against his. He was shorter than she was -- she had to lift his chin a little to kiss him.  His eyes fluttered close for a moment, like he was going to swoon. She wrapped her hands around his waist, to steady him.

Then she pulled away and let him go.

He looked at her, bewildered and bewitched.

"My dear cousin," said Artanis said, with not a little tenderness. "You looked so woebegone, I could not help it! I am sure you will someday find the person you truly love. And you look back on this as a passing dream."

"My dearest cousin," Telperinquar murmured, his cheeks pink, "you are often right, but I dare say, not in this."

 

*

 

An Age and a sunken continent later, Galadriel saw her cousin Celebrimbor in Eregion, when the holly trees were in flower. She paused to pluck some of the fragile white buds and offered them to him. He took them and examined them with a master-jeweler's exacting eye, before tucking them into his pocket.

"Cousin," he said, after a while. "I have not changed."

"But I have," she said, smiling.

"It is as impossible as ever?"

"Oh, yes. Impossible, as ever."

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Chapter End Notes

Thanks to my beta, Grey Gazania!