Memory of joy by Aprilertuile

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Chapter 1

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Nerdanel looked downcast, as she walked along the house's silent rooms to get to what had been Feanor's office.

She had wrecked the office in a fit of anger after the tragedy of Alqualondë and she left the house, swearing high and low she would never come back to this place... And later on, she had eaten her words.

They may have done terrible things... but Feanor was still her husband, and Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod and Amras were still her children... And she missed them so much...

She had refused to rebuild Feanor's office. She had however converted it into a sort of memorial. She stored there belongings that her children and husband had left behind. Portraits, beloved objects left behind for some reason... Craft they made.

Things that, some days, she couldn’t bear to look at, or use. Maybe someday those things would be back at their original place…

She wouldn't see any of them in so long if ever before the breaking of the world... She knew it. And that room was her way to grieve for them and honor them.

The house was so silent it was eerie, though she started to get used to it now.

Not that she lacked of occupation. They had had so many things to do since the exile, and more so, since the exiled started to come back... Smoothing fractured relationships wasn't that easy, as she well knew.

As soon as she entered the room, her attention was taken by an instrument placed carefully under a glass panel, under a window.

One of Makalaurë's instruments. The first string instrument he ever played.

It was a child size instrument, able to fit on one's laps. The base of it was wood. Wood, silk and pearl. Crafted by Feanor, of course. That elf could be infuriating when he wished to or more to the point when he refused to listen to reason, but he'd have given anything to his family. How many instruments had he crafted for Makalaurë all those years ago... ?

Nerdanel remembered perfectly the first time she ever saw that instrument.

*     *     *Memory*     *     *

Maglor had always been a bright child. And much to his brother's amusement, he kept singing and humming wordless tunes whenever he was free of lessons.

And Feanor had picked up on this early on and gifted the child all kind of little child size instrument. And to her joy, the child always took to them like a duck to water.

It was cute to see his eternal enthusiasm every time Feanor gave his son a new instrument to play with.

And that day made no exception.

Little Maglor was 8 at the time, when he came running to his mother, a new instrument in hands, his brother following him at a more sedate pace, smiling, his eyes showing bright enjoyment of the situation.

"Mother, Mother ! Look what father gave me !

-I see, Little Bird, I see." Nerdanel answered with a smile.

And the little one had sat down at her feet and placed the dark wooden instrument on his laps.

The bottom of the instrument was a thick dark wood sounding box, on one side the 7 strings were attached to a crossbar, and on the other side, the strings were secured to a tail piece.

And little Maglor ran his fingers along the strings, picking a somewhat disjointed melody, before settling into an easy rhythm that seemed to delight him.

"It's beautiful, Little Bird, but I am busy. Can you stay with your brother and show him what you can do ?" Asked Nerdanel gently.

Her youngest son looked sad a moment, but her eldest kneeled next to his brother and murmured something into his ear that brightened the child's face immediately... And picked him up, instrument included, receiving giggles as he lifted his younger brother.

"We'll see you at meal time, mother." Smiled Nelyo, kissing her cheek before waltzing out of the room with an enthusiastic child giggling and murmuring in his brother's ears.

*     *     *Memory*     *     *

That instrument had, of course, been perfected over the years and has been replaced by Feanor as his son grew.

She had many memories of peaceful evening spent listening to Malgor playing that instrument, nimble fingers flying from string to string. Creating a particular atmosphere out of every note. Often joyous, sometimes melancholic, sometimes sad.

And how many times did he put his brothers to sleep with this very instrument ?

This instrument... This instrument has been at the heart of the family for many years... As much as the harps that Maglor had later favored.

And to say that the same hands that had played on this instrument for the delight of others now wrecked havoc and brought pain and tears to others...

To say that her baby boy had now destroyed so many lives...

How could life have turned so badly ? How ?

Annoyed at herself, she slapped her tears away and ran from the room, taking refuge in her workshop instead. Carving stones would serve well to spend her anguish at what her sons have become and would at least be able to pass for constructive.