The World Will Know by Lotrfan

Chapter 1

The World Will Know

She finds herself outside, following the others in the street, the torchlight casting odd flickering shadows that the Tree light never had.

She has left Indis behind; not alone—she would never have left her alone, not now when she is still in the shock of mourning Finwë’s death. But Anairë is there with Eärwen, their strong arms around Indis, their soft voices likely more comfort that Nerdanel’s own.

She is drawn, as always, by his voice. Even at this distance she can see his profile, can see that face that haunts her dreams and still makes her heart race.

The beat of her heart stutters as she sees her sons gathered around Fëanaro, their faces shadowed and unfamiliar in this light. When had their visages grown so sharp, so severe, so afraid, she realizes as she draws close. Their faces are impassive, grim and stern, but she knows them better than anyone—better than their father. Their eyes tell a different story, one she can read even at this distance.

She is too far away. She pushes through as best she can but Nolofinwë and Arafinwë’s followers are pressed up close, ranks tight and she is brought to a halt too far from her sons but close enough to see and hear now.

It is not rage and grief alone that she hears in her husband’s voice. She knows both of those emotions well from him and this is more. 

She has been numb—cold dread at the dimming of the Trees, hollow grief at Finwë’s murder, dismay at the depth of Fëanor’s bereavement—but now his words bring a flash of heat and a flare of anger of her own.

This is not grief. This is not revenge. This is revolution. Defiance of the Valar and rejection of their protections. She pushes harder and breaks through the ranks in front of her but she is still too far to stop it. Her voice is drowned out by the cries of Fëanaro’s followers that surround her and she is silenced in shock as she hears her husband’s voice thunder above the rest—the cadence of an Oath stilling her voice until she hears her seven sons repeat his words, swords glinting brightly in the muted light. She lunges forward, the name of her eldest child on her lips but hands come around her waist and she is held in place, her words keening out despite the restraints.

Her shouts are drowned in the tumult that follows the Oath and she beats against the hands that hold her until she recognizes the voice that is speaking softly in her ear and she looks up into Arafinwë’s face. 

“It is no use, Nerdanel,” he says, his eyes reflecting the torches all around them. The sadness there is as deep as her own. “They cannot take those words back. Not now. Not ever. The Oath will drive them.”

“He cannot take my sons, Ingoldo—I cannot let him.”

“They are all of age, Nerdanel and swore with him willingly.” His hands loosen their hold on her as he feels her frantic movements stop. “You will not go with them?”

“I will not. Fëanaro’s path and mine parted years ago and I cannot follow him anymore. This is folly and you know it. It will end in bloodshed and this Oath will destroy them. I will fight to keep my sons from that fate.” Nerdanel’s eyes move to the figure still shouting imprecations at Morgoth at the center of the square.

“They will not go alone,” Arafinwë says, his eyes raking over the crowd jostling around them. “Many here will follow wherever he leads.”

“And you?” she asks.

He looks weary suddenly. “My father is to be avenged. I cannot deny that. My children yearn to see the lands beyond the sea. Yes, I will follow him.”

She grips his hands. “Eärwen?”

“I will speak to her but I know she will choose, like you, to stay. You must watch over her for me, Nerdanel.”

She pulls him into her arms, this brother of her husband's, who is gentle and thoughtful, who always has a smile and kind words. If even he is following Fëanaro what hope does she have to keep her sons from doing the same? 

He kisses her forehead. “Remember us, Nerdanel. Remember us when we are gone. I had to choose.” He looks across the square at his brother, still using his fierce words to persuade the crowd around them. “The world will feel this fire now, I fear.”