Thirty Day Character Challenge: Feanor by eris_of_imladris

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Prompt 22

Prompt 22: What Do They Think About You, Part One. How do characters close to the one you’ve chosen (family, friends, significant other…) see your character?

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** A/N: As an addition to the prompt, I wrote a scenario in which the friendly character would see Fëanor in a negative situation, tinged by positive recollections. This fic takes place in an AU where Nerdanel continues to support Fëanor later in life.

 

The ellith raced through the halls of the palace, trying to get to her destination before anyone else could reach it. She ran through the decadent rooms that had once amazed her, and completely ignored the elegant tapestries and tall vases that spoke of the two women in King Finwë’s life. For now, she had to reach her destination, and Sidhel knew better than to give up.

She checked the gardens first, and luckily, she saw a flash of red hair by the pillar, and heaved a sigh of relief. It struck her then that she knew what she needed to say to Nerdanel, but how could she ambush her oldest friend with this kind of news, especially considering she had seven (!) children to look after, and now she could be losing everything?

Sidhel kept moving forward only because she knew, if it was her husband who had committed such a crime, that she would want to hear the news from one of her friends, rather than some courtier looking to ambush her or take advantage of her first reaction. Nerdanel was kind, but rash, and she might give too much away, or not act in the correct way for the crown prince’s wife. The Nerdanel she knew was brash, often swore… she couldn’t leave Nerdanel to the mercy of these Eldar.

“Nerdanel?” she called out tentatively, and the red-headed woman turned, a worried look on her face as she held a chisel in her hand, working on one of her newer projects.

“Sidhel? What are you doing here?” She took a deep breath as Nerdanel continued, “Did something happen? I felt a sharp pang in my bond earlier, and I have not seen anyone since.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Sidhel said. “I thought… I thought you would want to hear from a friend.”

“It’s that bad?” Nerdanel said.

“You might want to sit down,” Sidhel replied, taking her old friend by the elbow, not minding the dried bits of clay. She led her to a bench and sat down opposite her, wondering how exactly to tell her what had happened.

“I know my husband is alive, for I feel his fëa strongly,” Nerdanel said, “but I must admit I am afraid.”

Sidhel hesitated. She knew that Nerdanel would only reveal a fear to such an old friend, but there was no way around it. “There was an… incident, earlier, with your husband, at the palace,” Sidhel said, as politely as possible.

“An ‘incident?’ Sidhel, you know I hate that kind of talk, just tell me,” Nerdanel snapped, but when Sidhel hesitated, she added, “Is it that bad?”

“I don’t know,” Sidhel said honestly. “I left shortly after the Valar arrived, because I was scared.”

“My husband is in trouble with the Valar?” Nerdanel yelped, and Sidhel placed a hand on her shoulder. “Go on,” she said after a few moments.

“I’m not sure exactly how much trouble he’ll be in, but apparently there’s going to be some kind of trial, that’s when I left. I don’t know what happened after,” Sidhel explained.

“But what happened before, to anger the Valar?” Nerdanel asked, and Sidhel gulped. “Just tell me – I need to know, in order to figure out my next steps.”

“I don’t know the context, but I saw your husband walking towards the palace, and Nolo – erm – Fingolfin was walking out the door towards the courtyard,” she said, hoping Nerdanel hadn’t noticed the slip of her tongue about Finwë’s second-born son. “He – Fingolfin – was accompanied by the king, and I’m not entirely sure what had happened, but some words had been exchanged.”

“My husband fights with his half-brother every day. None of these spats have taken him before the Valar,” Nerdanel said.

“Well, this time was different,” Sidhel said, preparing for the moment of truth. “I saw – everyone saw – as Fëanor pulled out his sword and held it to Fingolfin’s throat. He told him to… I think he said for him to leave and take his due place?”

Nerdanel gasped. “He threatened him with a sword? In front of his father?”

“And most of the court,” Sidhel said. “I had been there because I heard there was going to be some sort of announcement, and I thought you might be there, and we haven’t seen each other in some time. But when this happened and the next thing I knew I saw Manwë, I had to tell you. I don’t know what some of the more politically savvy Eldar could do with this, and I wanted to give you a chance to prepare.”

“Thank you,” Nerdanel said softly. “I must say, I felt a great burst of anger from our bond, but I was not at all expecting that. Usually his father’s presence is what stops their arguments from turning to blows.”

“They fight that often?”

“I still remember the day Fingolfin was born, and Fëanor was completely convinced he was going to be disowned by his father, and he spent many hours working in my father’s forge to try to convince my father that he was useful and should be given a home.”

“I wouldn’t think Fëanor would lack confidence like that,” Sidhel said, then quickly retracted. “I mean, I know I don’t know him like you do, but I have heard that he has no shortage of confidence – not that it’s a bad thing, of course, he uses it to do great things.”

Nerdanel nodded. “That is true, but he does have his weaknesses, and that is one of them,” she said. “Perhaps the sight of his half-brother and his father together set him off, but he’s seen them together so many times, I can’t imagine what could have made this time different.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Sidhel said. “I just know what happened after.”

“Do you think he’s still there?”

“I’m not sure,” Sidhel said. “I left when Manwë…”

“Right,” Nerdanel interrupted. “I’ll need to go find him and see if there’s anything I can do to help rectify the situation.” She kicked the chisel into a convenient hole at the base of the statue where she kept her supplies. “Will you… would you be willing to come with me?”

“To Fëanor’s rooms?”

“It’s not nearly as intimidating as it looks,” Nerdanel said. “Fancy, but I’ve seen every one of his pieces from the time it was just an idea.”

“He won’t mind?” Sidhel asked.

“I don’t think so, he knows who you are… perhaps don’t say much of what you saw, but I think I may need backup.”

“Backup? He doesn’t… he doesn’t hurt you, does he?”

“Never,” Nerdanel said emphatically. “He has never hurt me a day in his life, nor would he ever – but then again, I thought his fight with Fingolfin would never turn physical in that way, and it has. I suppose I’m nervous,” she admitted.

Nerdanel’s admission reached her friend’s heart in a way that nothing else had, and Sidhel nodded. “I can come with you, but I don’t think I can actually do much to help the situation.”

“I’m not expecting you to,” Nerdanel replied as she slung a bag over her shoulder. “I just need a friend in all of this.”

“I’m here,” Sidhel said, and together with Nerdanel, she made her way to the crown prince’s personal chambers. Along the way, she heard the tittering of gossip that only got louder as they kept going, and she kept a continuous stream of commentary to Nerdanel on what she had truly seen and what was exaggerated.

When they got to their chambers in the palace, Nerdanel pushed the door open slowly and called out, “Fëanor?” When she got no response, she looked through the rooms, only to walk out and shake her head at Sidhel. “He’s not here.”

“Not here? Where could he have gone?”

“His forge, or – ” Nerdanel stopped mid-sentence. “He might be in his mother’s gardens. That’s a place he calls a refuge, and not many Eldar know about it.” She looked over at Sidhel. “And I hope that information will stay between us.”

“Of course,” Sidhel reassured her, and they set off for the gardens, passing several of Míriel’s impressive tapestries along the way. “This way,” Nerdanel said, going through a seemingly unused corridor before finding her way over to an open-air garden with a small gazebo in the center, and on the lone bench beside the gazebo, her husband’s sword rested. The ellon himself was pacing back and forth through the gazebo, taking quick steps and having to turn around nearly immediately.

Nerdanel crept closer before she raised her voice. “Fëanor?”

He opened his eyes wide, like a startled deer, then relaxed slightly when he noticed who it was. “Come to yell at me, too?” His voice sounded angry, but there was definitely something else Nerdanel could detect through their bond: grief, sorrow, and perhaps even a bit of shame, masked behind the anger. She didn’t fail to notice Sidhel stiffening by her side.

“Not at all,” Nerdanel said, and she gave Sidhel’s hand a quick squeeze as she walked forward. “I came to see if you were well.”

“I don’t know,” Fëanor said, his slip into the vernacular showing Nerdanel that he truly was out of sorts.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about? The way Fingolfin reproached me before the whole court, begging my father to scold me like a small child, or the way I responded, and somehow turned everything into my fault?”

Nerdanel hissed through her teeth. “What do you mean, he reprimanded you before the court?”

“He told Atar that I was too far gone, that I was deplorable and needed to be treated as who I truly was, rather than favored for no reason at all – and in front of everyone, not even treating the situation with honor, as I have told Atar about him in the past,” Fëanor ranted. “Then he turned to me and challenged me, and…”

“I understand,” Nerdanel said. “There is fault on both ends.”

Fëanor held up his hand, and Nerdanel fell silent. “Who is that behind you?”

“My friend Sidhel,” Nerdanel said. “I have known her since I was a girl. Surely, I have introduced you two before.”

“My lord prince,” Sidhel said, unsure of how to proceed.

Fëanor moved his hand again, a looser motion. “And why is she here?”

“She’s the one who told me what happened, and told me to find you.”

“Does the whole city know already?” Fëanor grunted.

“No, my lord,” Sidhel said. “I had come to visit Nerdanel, and I happened to see the king and Nolo – er – Fingolfin leaving the palace.”

“Nolofinwë,” Fëanor muttered. It was a name he so rarely spoke that a look of plain shock crossed Nerdanel’s face. “Atar’s little wise one, and no doubt the people are already saying he was wise to speak rather than use blades, but they do not know he used blades of a different kind. He’s a viper, and he sought to poison my own father against me, and will now take this incident in which no blood was shed and turn it into his great tragedy and use it for whatever pitiful cause he pretends he has.”