The Bride's Jewel by Scribe of Mirrormere

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Chapter 5 - Faniel

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The third child of Indis and Finwë arrived as quietly as had her brother, but her most striking features were her fair skin and small curls of hair as white as freshly fallen snow. She curled about her mother for her first feeding, tiny mouth curled contently, happy to be alive though silent about it, and Indis could not tear away her eyes in amazement at how much lighter her daughter’s skin was against her own.

“A child of simple purity!” Finwë said happily. “We shall call her Fániel, a daughter of the gentle clouds above.”

The midwives smiled at his suggestion. “We’ve never seen a child like this in Valinor. She is indeed a beauty.”

“White hair,” Indis mused to herself, thinking of Míriel, whose own hair did not match her either her mother or father’s. Little Fániel opened her eyes then, which flickered pale blue for a moment until the light of Laurelin passed over her face, and the blue turned to a rare and elegant shade of violet. But directly within the light, Indis saw with a gasp, the eyes were almost red. After the initial surprise, Indis quickly recovered and found this trait endearing.

“Make up your mind,” Indis cooed to her daughter. “Are you like the waves of the ocean or the warm hearth, or are you as precious a jewel as the amethyst?”

Visiting later, Findis and Ñolofinwë were both delighted to meet their sister. Laughing heartily, Ñolofinwë lifted her from Finwë’s arms and carried her above his head. “And now you are indeed a cloud drifting above us!”

And laughing too, Findis leaned towards her mother and added, “Thank you for your contribution and hard work, mother. I will take Fániel now and make her my apprentice!”

Ñolofinwë gave a loud snort. “And what would you have her do? Fingerprint all over your blueprints, sister?”

Nerdanel had also come to visit, along with her husband and son, and she could not wait till Ñolofinwë handed over the little bundle of love. Laughing, Fániel’s tiny hand flailed, reaching for Nerdanel’s reddish hair. Indis smiled at the warm image, until Nerdanel turned to Fëanáro and showed him his youngest sister. His face blanched, and he took a step back.

“Is she not a little darling thing?” Finwë said upon seeing Fëanáro’s face.

“She’s sickly,” he said, taking in Fániel’s paleness. “I neither wish to touch nor look at her again.” And he grabbed Maitimo’s hand and pulled him away from the child, though the young elf kept looking back, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of his young aunt.

Fëanáro’s disgust with Fániel soon turned in his favor. The child always had a tendency to bury her face in her mother or father’s robes for reasons unknown, but as soon as she began to walk and was taken outside, her misery would begin. Relentlessly she would weep, squeezing her eyes shut as though the light of Laurelin seared them. And for no more than an hour could she stand out in the light before her skin burned.

To Fëanáro, this was a chance for him to feel vindicated of his initial assessment that the child was sickly. But he kept his glee hidden from Finwë, who wept when he saw how much pain his daughter was enduring. They took to dressing her in heavier clothing: long sleeves that covered past her hands and collars that reached up to her neck and a long veil to shut out the powerful light from burning her face.

“What a terrible thing, to reject the light of the Two Trees,” Fëanáro said when Indis was alone with the child.

“It is only Laurelin that harms her,” Indis said, the color rising to her cheeks. “She is fine with Telperion.”

“But is Laurelin not a Tree made by the Valar?” Fëanáro said, sneering. “Is she not rejecting the Valar themselves then? They may think to throw her back to the dark valleys where the savage Avari breed like maggots.”

“You know nothing of the Moriquendi,” Indis said. "Your mother and I both--”

But Fëanáro ignored her and left, having better things to tend to. He had taken to calling her Faniel, dropping the stressed sound so that her name now meant the veiled daughter, for her face was seldom seen during the hours of Laurelin’s bloom, and it was a name that ended up being taken by the rest of the family. Indis fought to use the proper name that Finwë had originally used for her, but soon she too fell in the habit of calling her daughter Faniel.

But Indis was not without support from her other children. Findis and Ñolofinwë reserved all outside activities for the hours when Telperion’s light filled the skies, though Finwë did lament that he missed sitting out and feeling the warm light of Laurelin. Nerdanel too kept them company, for she wished to have a daughter of her own, and regularly took Faniel with her to her workshop to show her all the statues she had been busy making on commission from the local cities.

But word spread fast of the odd veiled child, and eyes full of pity and mourning followed Faniel wherever she went. But perhaps the most damning moment was what occurred at her very home one evening. Nerdanel and her family were over for a visit. Indis, finding her daughter missing from her rooms, went searching and found her walking by herself in a corridor, humming happily to herself. The only other elf there was Maitimo, who stopped and gazed long at his aunt.

“Oh…hello,” he said kindly. Faniel stopped and gazed up at him, grinning from ear to ear and eyeing his own hair. “Do you want to go to the dining room? I’m heading there right now. I’ll accompany you.”

“Yes!” Faniel squeaked.

Maitimo smiled. He bent over at the waist, hand outstretched to ruffle her hair when suddenly Fëanáro appeared and gripped his wrist painfully tight, almost crushing the bone.

“Don’t touch something so ill and disgusting,” he hissed at Maitimo. “You do not want to contract whatever she has.”

And he dragged Maitimo away, Faniel’s watering eyes locked on them.

Indis spun around and hid herself behind a door, weeping.

“Eru, for what reason have you given me this child?” she whimpered. “I cannot handle more of the humiliation and the jeers from Fëanáro! What must I do?”

*

The gardens were as tranquil and green as Indis remembered them from the first time she came here. Songs of healing enchantment met her ears, as did the lullabies to lull the weary to a restful sleep. She led Faniel by the hand away from Irmo and to the lake where Estë sat still, her mind attuned to the sacred silence of the slumbers.

Indis motioned for Faniel to sit on the grass, and she approached Estë with a low bow.

“Esteemed Valië, I thank you for accepting my coming here,” she said.

Estë drew out of her reverie and regarded Indis warmly. “It is my pleasure, kind Vanya. For what reason do you come to me today?”

Indis told her of everything about Faniel, and when she was done, Estë requested to see the child. Indis held Faniel close to her, whispering tearfully to her that she would not be hurt, and settled the child on Estë’s lap. The Valië placed her hand on the child’s brow and uttered a prayer, but it was cut short, and she remained silent for several long moments, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

When she opened her eyes at last, she gave Indis an odd look. “I cannot cure her, for there is nothing to cure. She’s the healthiest child I have ever seen!”

“That is impossible! Do you not see her?” Indis said, breaking down into tears.

Estë brought one arm around Indis, kissing the top of her head with an affection and comfort that spread throughout her body, lifting the burden that crushed her heart.

“If she is well, then what can I do?” Indis said. “Laurelin’s light burns her skin, and she complains she cannot see.”

That was when her eyes fell on the bed a little ways off, half-obscured by the long branches of the willow tree. Indis had long stopped coming here, knowing a better way to reach her love. She approached Míriel’s bed again, studying her face with a sad smile. “With everything happening, I have not had a chance to visit her in the last few years. But I must.” She turned to Estë, who had followed with Faniel in her arms. “I know what I must do, though I will need to ask for more pardon from the Valar. And Finwë too I must speak with before I do this.”

She turned back to Míriel, her face still as radiant and healthy as when she had been alive, and Indis bent over and kissed her lips, knowing that Míriel would feel it in the Halls of Vairë.

*

“Ah, you bring me a third beauty!” Míriel said, grinning as she approached the doorway. “And don’t say you didn’t visit my body in the gardens -- I felt your kiss of co-- oh!” She froze upon seeing the long veil over the child’s head and gave Indis a silent but startled look.

Indis’s smile held a twitch. “I was hoping to ask you a favor…I was given pardon by the Valar to do this, but I wanted to…make certain I wouldn’t be…burdening you.”

Míriel embraced her tightly as Indis wept. The child, who held Indis’s hand, also began to weep.

“What is the matter?” Míriel asked when Indis had steadied herself.

“I do not know,” she said. “Estë says the child is full of health, but she cannot bear to see Laurelin’s light, and her skin burns if she is outdoors for too long. That is why we cover her, but what kind of existence is this?”

“Let me hold her.”

Nodding, Indis picked the child up and placed her in Míriel’s arms. She pulled back the veil and smiled at the child whose eyes were wide and still sparkling from the tears. At being unveiled, she looked about herself, noting the darkness about her and smiled, her shoulders relaxing.

“What is your name, dear?” Míriel asked.

“Faniel,” the child replied before Indis could speak.

“You thought this child ill?” Míriel said, glancing at Indis. “Why, she but inherited your paleness and my hair! Clearly a child of our union rather than you and Finwë! Silly Vanya!”

She playfully swatted at Indis with one hand, and Indis broke into a laugh.

“I will take Faniel with me and raise her here,” Míriel said. “If it’s Laurelin she’s bothered by, then so be it. She can have a fruitful life here, for it is not only departed souls who reside here. Please, Indis! Do not weep! Your child is not dead nor will ever be considered among them! You know you can come and visit whenever you wish! You need not feel like you are abandoning her, for she’s with her mother.”

“Mother,” Faniel repeated, turning her head and body until she could look at Indis. “Mama?”

“Yes, she is Mother,” Indis said. “I am your Mama.”

“Mama,” Faniel said, smiling and cuddled closer to Míriel.

Indis gave Míriel a kiss. “Thank you. You’ve saved me and her. Thank you.”

Míriel nodded. “Now, go on! Get back out there, and let me catch up with our daughter!”

Laughing, Indis kissed her again, and this time also kissed Faniel before leaving.

*

“So, you have done it then?” Finwë said sadly. “Did the Valar agree? And Míriel too?”

“Yes,” Indis said. She and Finwë sat at the table with Findis and Ñolofinwë, the silence around them deafening. She could see her children’s faces crushed, but she repeated to them what Míriel had told her. Though it would not be counted as a death, Faniel was all but considered no longer part of the Eldar and would not be regularly counted in the family tree. The thought of it filled her with grief enough that she could not think getting pregnant again.

Excusing herself, she left the table and head for her rooms, but Findis and Ñolofinwë were not far behind her.

“Who was it that took her in again?” Ñolofinwë asked. “Can we trust her?”

“You can,” Indis said. She turned around and wondered how her children would react to knowing what she had gotten up to back in Cuiviénen. “She is the mother of your brother.”

“You have got to be jesting with us!”

Indis laughed. “I am a…very close friend to her.”

“Does Fëanáro know?”

“It seems he’d rather think we’re more likely to hate one another, Míriel and me.”

“Can we visit?” Ñolofinwë asked suddenly. “Faniel, and meet Míriel. You can visit them, can’t you? Can’t we come next time?”

“You…you want to visit with me?”

“Of course!” Findis said. “That’s our sister you threw in that Valarin house! Do not think we will forget her as easily as others will! And you’ve got to compensate me for losing my apprentice!”

*

Faniel looked tiny sitting at the table with the large bowl before her. She fed herself, though Míriel had offered to help her. After her initial reaction to being held by Míriel, her smile had faded under the shadow of the windowless house between the Halls.

At long last, Faniel looked up at Míriel. “Did…did my mama bring me here because…because she doesn’t love me anymore?”

She struggled to speak, and her lower lip trembled until she could no longer hold back the tears. The spoon slipped from her small fingers as she wept openly, her entire body shaking. Míriel watched with jaws open and her heart torn into pieces. The pain from the child spilled out like a mist which she could sense, its ill effects like sharp nails pressed against her soul. For a moment, Faniel flickered out of sight from her eyes, and she realized the pain was something she must have been bottling in for a very long time, and now threatened to fade her.

Remembering what she was instructed to do long ago, her heart shrieked out a plea for Nienna’s aid, and in moments the Valië appeared before her.

“This child,” Míriel wept. “There is so much pain in her…”

Nienna knelt beside Faniel, her large eyes misty as she took in the child’s appearance.

“It’s okay, little one,” she said, her words a comfort that lifted a little of the burden choking Míriel and Faniel both. She brought her hand under Faniel’s chin. “Do not hold it in any longer. Keep crying, and I will collect your tears and from them a tree will grow. Your burdens will be buried, and you can breathe easier.”

Faniel was still shaking, though perhaps it was fear of the sudden appearance of the Valië before her, but Nienna continued to speak softly, and in the end, Faniel breathed a sigh of relief, looking stronger and better than before, if a little tired.

“Thank you,” Míriel said, bowing low to Nienna. “I did not know there was so much pain inside her.”

Nienna’s smile was slight but full of wisdom. “Indeed, we can never fully guess the storm that rages inside someone when the body has decided to keep the pain locked deep within.”

Míriel thanked her again and turned to Faniel, wrapping her arms protectively around the small child. Just then Vairë stepped in, having sensed Nienna at work nearby and wanting to check on Míriel.

“I want to take her to the Halls of Vairë, for I want to show her something,” Míriel said.

“I’m afraid no one can enter my Halls in bodily form,” she said, and Míriel’s heart fell.

“Then she will weep every night,” she said sadly. “I cannot leave my work, but I cannot also leave her.”

Vairë motioned for her to follow into one of the rooms, a guest room with a bed and small table. The Maiar who came were permitted to settle in one of these rooms if they felt weary or wished a brief rest before a meeting. Míriel looked questioningly at Vairë. Although she would gladly help Indis with anything, she was beginning to wonder how wise of a decision it was bringing a young child into the Halls.

“Have her drink from the cup beside the bed and then lay her down,” Vairë instructed. “She can enter my Halls with you then.” At the look of panic across Míriel’s face, Vairë chuckled. “She will not die, and her body will not decay. She will be alive but asleep, and her spirit can travel to whatever part of the Halls she wishes, and she will return instantly back to her body when she awakens.”

Míriel looked down at Faniel. “Would you like to do that? Travel with me in spirit to my work place?”

Faniel nodded shyly.

Míriel settled her on the bed and gave her the cup, the clear liquid, as Faniel reported, tasting sweet and refreshing. She tucked Faniel into bed, placing the blankets on her as though she were merely tucking her own child to sleep, and kissed Faniel’s brow. When she sat back, Faniel’s body had already fallen asleep, but Faniel herself was sitting up on the bed, smiling at Míriel. In spirit form, Míriel could see the patches of her soul still healing from her hurts.

Such a shame for one so young to suffer so much, she thought as she took Faniel’s hand and, led by Vairë, out of the room and towards the Valië’s Halls.

Faniel’s eyes lit up when they entered, her tiny body jumping on the balls of her feet excitedly. Long lines of colorful tapestries lined the walls, the history of her people and all of Eä there before her.

“This is the best place ever!” she said happily. “And I can see everything!”

Vairë parted with them then, heading to her own private quarters, but Míriel ushered Faniel towards the large loom.

“I can see the entire world from here,” she told Faniel. “I sometimes watch your mother, or the busy streets, but I’m more interested in what’s happening in the place where I was born.”

“You were not born in Valinor?” Faniel asked, scooting closer to her.

“No, the land I was born in had no sharp light. The dark skies were full of stars,” Míriel said. “And even now, the light of the Trees does not reach them.”

“Can we go live there?” Faniel asked.

Míriel smiled sadly. “I cannot leave these Halls, but I would take you if I could, though there’s a mighty sea separating us. Are you willing to face the waves? You could fall off the ship and get the biggest bath of your life!”

Faniel shrunk back, shaking her head while grinning. “No. I hate baths.”

Míriel couldn’t help grinning in return. “In recent weeks I’ve noticed something, well, interesting. Let me show you.”

She commanded the window to appear, and gingerly she maneuvered it to the same mountain she had been studying for the last month. A grin spread over her face when she saw them.

“Here, see them?” she pointed to the small beings who were slipping in and out of the mountain. Their appearance were nothing like the elves, not even the Nandor who were smaller in size than the other tribes. Their bodies were short and stout, and though Míriel and Faniel could not hear them, they appeared to be arguing amongst themselves while pointing at the nearby river.

“See these silly little men with hair on their chin like a goat’s beard?” Míriel said. “I never came across them while I lived in the east. They’ve been arguing about that river for weeks. I’ve been watching them. The river offends them for some odd reason.”

“They don’t like baths either,” Faniel concluded, and Míriel laughed.

“I believe you are correct! Though everything outside of their mountain sets them off. They must be still a young race. Perhaps Eru made them to fill the gaps left by our leaving.”

Faniel leaned against her, her eyes steady on the silly goat-men. Míriel wrapped her arms around her, a warmth spreading through her at the contact, realizing how much she enjoyed motherhood when it did not pain her. As Faniel continued watching, Míriel set about her work, creating for her and Indis’s child a tapestry to capture the innocent and amusing first tales of the goat-men and the river.

*

Indis visited as soon as she could, and her eyes widened when a very vibrant and happy Faniel ran into her arms. The child talked excitedly about her adventures with Míriel in the Halls of Vairë, of all the things she saw in Míriel’s loom, and of the odd creatures they were keeping an eye on.

“And one time some elves tried to kill them, but then one stepped up and stopped them!” she said excitedly. “They declared him their hero! Each time he passes by, they run out to hug him! But, Mama, these elves, their skins are darker than yours or Mother’s!”

“Yes, they are of the tribes who remained in our lands while the rest left,” she said. “Goodness, talk more and I’ll be hit with a deep nostalgia of the good old days!”

“Oh! And I’ve been making a tapestry too! Mother helps me! Let me get it from my room!”

After she scuttled off, Indis flung her arms around Míriel and pushed her against the counter, spreading hungry kisses around Míriel’s neck and lips.

“One kiss is enough to show your gratitude to me,” Míriel said, grinning. “Or are you trying to butter me up for something else?”

“I…Findis and Ñolofinwë wish to visit,” she said breathlessly. “They refuse to be parted from their sister.”

“You’re really pushing the Valar’s pardon,” Míriel said. “But let them come! What of Fëanáro or Finwë?”

“Fëanáro is busy and lives far from us,” Indis said. “He’s always traveling with his family. And Finwë I haven’t yet talked with about visiting. Would you be all right with him coming?”

“As long as he does not kiss you in my presence, I will tolerate him,” Míriel said with a smirk, and their attention was drawn back to Faniel, who had returned with the small tapestry, eager to tell Indis about it.

*

Faniel did not always accompany Míriel to the Halls of Vairë. Her mother was seemingly always there until Indis visited, and Faniel didn’t like the idea of sleeping all the time in order to visit the Halls. But as she grew more comfortable in her new home, she ventured around, eyeing the Maiar or the Valar who passed by.

There were other rooms like hers, and larger rooms for meetings. It was in one of these rooms that one day she stepped inside to find Nienna. The Valië was accompanied by a dozen other Maiar, who all settled in a circle. Their voices were heavy with grief, and Faniel nearly stepped out before Nienna called back.

“Would you like to join us, Lady Faniel?”

Faniel paused. She was never addressed as a lady, but she nodded, then decided to bow politely and thank her. One of the Maiar smiled and motioned for her to settle beside him. He was as tall as her father, and his beard was similar to the goat-men, though his was longer and silvery grey.

“I am Faniel,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Nice to meet you, Faniel,” the Maia said, smiling warmly. “They call me Olórin.”

The meeting with Nienna turned out to be a lecture, and though she did not understand everything, Faniel left with a feeling of greater wisdom and understanding. She thought of her older brother Fëanáro and how much he had hurt her, and she resolved she would find a way to forgive him. The tree Laurelin, too, she resolved to make peace with.

*

“Where is she?” Fëanáro asked during one visit. “Have the Valar finally disinfected this household of disease? That is great news!”

Indis checked to make certain Finwë was away before speaking. “She’s still alive, but she resides with Míriel your mother. I asked her myself if she would take in the child, and she gladly accepted! Calls Faniel her own daughter!”

At Indis’s grin, the color drained from Fëanáro’s face. “You lie! You have no business with her!”

“Then ask your mother yourself,” she said. “And she is my business, as she was my wife before she was Finwë’s.”

Fëanáro gave a sharp gasp.

Indis pointed to the jewel she wore around her neck. “What do you suppose this is? A pearl from the eastern shores of Cuiviénen. Your mother gave this to me to claim me as her bride. Did she never tell you this?”

Fëanáro glared at Indis for several long moments, before turning his back and leaving her alone in the corridor without saying another word.

Perhaps she had gone too far, and she would come to regret it later, Indis thought. But Faniel was happy, as was Míriel, and Indis was not going to let that knowledge go unknown to Fëanáro.