Forced Perspective by Grundy

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Chapter 1

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Anairë waited impatiently while Nerdanel finished reading.

“Well?” she demanded. “You agree, do you not?”

Nerdanel looked from the book to her law sisters.

Eärwen appeared slightly amused by the situation, where Anairë seemed equal parts worried about the potential scandal and exasperated with the impropriety of it all.

Such a little line to cause so much trouble, really.

The author dedicates this work to the most noble queen of the Noldor.

It was missing any of the modifiers that might have made the dedication less worthy of remark. Respectfully or humbly, for instance. And, of course, the women in this room were among the few who knew the author had been talked down from adding other words about the queen which would have put it beyond doubt for even the dullest wit.

Nerdanel reflected that while several of the prominent Noldor likely to be most vehemently and volubly scandalized were now on the far side of the Sea, so unfortunately were two of the people who would be Findis’ most stalwart defenders, Nolo and Irimë. (Most stalwart still living, at any rate. She rather hoped if Fëanaro’s spirit were indeed in Mandos and not in the Void, Namo was keeping him informed of current events.)

Indis could be little help, for she was still in Lorien, sick at heart at the loss of not only Finwë, but her stepson, grandsons, and the promise of Doom for her remaining descendants in Beleriand. It was not yet beyond doubt that she would avoid joining her husband in the Halls.

Arafinwë would no doubt take up for his older sister, but that meant less than it would have in the days before he chose to follow his brothers. The Repentant have found themselves second-class citizens in Tirion since their return, and no amount of proclamations from the Valar can change the feelings of the Steadfast. Finwë’s youngest son was grudgingly accorded the respect due his rank as the sole remaining prince of the Noldor, but little more.

“Has Findë actually seen it?” Nerdanel asked, painfully aware that the aforementioned Queen of the Noldor was well on the way to working herself to death. The days in which she kept up with scholarly works had ended with the Trees.

 “I very much doubt it,” Eärwen replied quietly. “All she reads anymore are reports. She only looks at histories if she’s searching for some particular piece of information.”

That had started almost immediately after the Darkening. It had been Findis who had determined how the Noldor had dealt with their dead before they came to the Undying Lands, just as it had been Findis who re-discovered how they had fed themselves in the days before they reached the light of the Trees.

“I don’t think she’s felt the need for historical information for some years,” Eärwen continued. “Certainly not since settling the question of how to make amends with Alqualondë.”

They had leaned heavily on Ingwë and the Valar to decide what was justice here in Aman, but there had been a time when the Tatyar had their own system of justice, and it had not been far removed from that of their good friends the Nelyar. Falling back to that had gone further toward repairing the breach with Olwë and his people than anything else the leaders of the Noldor had tried.

“Enough is enough,” Anairë declared. “This can’t go on any longer! Either Findis has to say something directly to this Elemmírë, or Ara needs to speak to his uncle.”

“What do you expect her to say?” Nerdanel asked.

She was honestly curious.

She had no idea where Anairë thought the scandal lay, and she wanted to know before they raised the subject with Findis. (She couldn’t see where involving Ingwë would be any help, since at this point even him ordering Elemmírë to return to Valimar would only make matters worse.)

“I don’t care what she says,” Anairë said impatiently, “so long as she resolves the situation. Either allow the poor besotted author to court her properly or say it’s hopeless firmly enough to put an end to all this ridiculous mooning about! If there hadn’t been so much else to occupy us in the years since the Darkening, it would have been the talk of the city long before now.”

Nerdanel nearly choked.

That the exodus of three quarters of the Noldor, the Kinslaying, the return of the Repentant with Arafinwë, the struggle to keep what remained of Noldorin society fed and functioning, the long process of repairing the grave damage to their friendship with the Teleri and rebuilding Alqualondë, not to mention the shock of the deaths across the Sea – a shock which they knew would continue for years yet to come – could be reduced to ‘so much else’ as if they’d simply had a very busy day or three was a bit much.

But she did hope that after nearly four hundred years of the Sun and Moon, the Noldor were beginning to put the worst of their hardships behind them. That they finally had the energy and attention to spare for gossip, much less scandal, might mean they were finally returning to something like normality.

“You are serious?” Eärwen asked, nearly as surprised as Nerdanel at the answer.

“Of course I am,” Anairë said briskly. “If you think I put our sister’s happiness – or chance at happiness, at least – above stupid social conventions that treatise demonstrates we did not even have before we reached these blessed shores, you are mistaken – and I would be disappointed in you besides. Good manners and common courtesy are one thing, telling people who should be in their heart is quite another.”

Nerdanel reflected that she was learning as much about Anairë as she stood to learn of Findis from this affair. Perhaps she should be trying to learn a bit more about Elemmírë as well. She knew very little about the Vanya aside from the public details: a well-respected scholar who produced highly regarded learned works on historical matters, whose poignant lament for the Trees composed in the immediate aftermath of the Darkening was known to all Aman.

Or perhaps there had been more to Elemmírë’s feelings even then?

Nerdanel suspected Fëanaro would not have found the dedication much of a surprise – he’d been dancing around the subject since sometime before Atarinkë’s begetting. Sifting through years’ worth of offhand comments, she felt certain he’d known of Elemmírë’s feelings, and that he’d even sympathized with them. If he hadn’t outright approved – a pious Vanya for his little sister? Perish the thought! – he’d at least seen some hope that the match would make Findis happy.

The Queen of the Noldor chose that moment to enter her private library.

Findis blinked in surprise at seeing the three of them gathered there. Her face, which had once blended the beauty of both her parents, conveying both Indis’ caring nature and Finwë’s affability, now showed all too clearly that she ate little and slept less.

“I haven’t missed a meeting, surely? I thought today was Valanya,” she said, distractedly shuffling through the bundle of papers she carried in search of whichever one she’d jotted her schedule on.

“No meeting, dearest, just us girls,” Eärwen said reassuringly. “Dump those on the desk and settle yourself.”

“But-” Findis began.

“No buts,” Anairë cut in firmly, taking over the conversation as decisively as Fëanaro ever had. “You need a break. Queen or not, there is no call for you to work every hour of every day. There may have been a time when that was necessary, but it’s passed.”

Findis, for a wonder, did exactly as she was told, though she was normally no more tractable than her older brother.

She did not so much settle as sink into the couch nearest the fireplace, the one which had once been her father’s favorite when it was the King’s private library rather than the Queen’s. Her hands, unoccupied, had a tremor that Nerdanel had not noticed before. How long had she looked so frail?

“Findë,” Anairë began gently, “have you seen the dedication of Elemmírë’s latest work?”

Findis shook her head.

“No, though I have heard it was to the Queen,” she said, looking unhappy. “I wish she hadn’t written it as she did. We used to be friends, she might at least have used my name.”

“Used to be?” Eärwen asked, clearly trying not to too obviously pounce on the detail. “Did you have a falling out?”

“No,” Findis sighed. “It’s just I never have time anymore. I don’t spend hours in the Royal Library as I did before. So I never see her.”

“Darling, I think it would have been more of a scandal had Elemmírë used your name rather than your title,” Nerdanel interjected.

 “Why should it matter?” Findis frowned.

“Because, you silly goose,” Anairë burst out, “what’s left of the Noldor would be all aflutter if someone were so bold as to dedicate a treatise on Courtship and Marriage Practices Among The Eldar to you by name! They’re talking enough with it dedicated to the Queen!”

Findis looked as thoroughly confused as if they’d told her that the entire Darkening had been some elaborate practical joke.

“Why should it matter? Elemmírë knows perfectly well that when I had time, I would have found the topic interesting for its own sake.”

“Findis Finwiel!” Nerdanel exclaimed. “You can’t be serious!”

Anairë rolled her eyes to the heavens at her obtuseness.

“Dearest,” Eärwen said tentatively. “What would you think if some other scholar had penned the work with such a dedication? Rúmil, for example?”

Findis had to think on it for a minute.

“I suppose that might be inappropriate?” she ventured weakly. “But that is different! Rúmil is so much older than we are, one of the elves who made the Journey, and he is… well, he is a he and Elemmírë isn’t!”

“Why should that make a difference?” Nerdanel put in. “Fëanaro certainly didn’t seem to think it did. He’d been hoping you’d notice for quite a while.”

She almost regretted saying it, because Findis’ eyes began to water, and her lip trembled. Mention of any of her siblings but Ara was chancy at the best of times these days, and this was hardly the best of times…

“Naro?” she whispered. “But… I thought…”

What exactly she’d thought, Nerdanel didn’t know, but she didn’t believe it would help any of them to have it spoken aloud. Too many of Findis’ certainties about her family had been shattered in the Darkening. They couldn’t give her brothers back to her, but this much at least Nerdanel could do.

“Naro thought you’d see it eventually,” she said. “And he didn’t want to ruin things by having you think he was needling you on the subject. He wanted the best for you, you know.”

“Is that what he meant when he said there was at least one who sees me?” Findis murmured, more to herself than to any of her sisters.

“I should think so,” Anairë said, relieved to take the opening Nerdanel had created. “And you should read Elemmírë’s work before you speak to her about it. Some parts may surprise you.”

The bits about how marriage being only ner to nis had not been true prior to Aman, and that ner-ner and nis-nis pairings (along with still more shocking combinations involving more than two) had been accepted in Cuvienen and beyond, at least until the time of the Great Journey, for instance.

“I don’t have the time,” Findis told them raggedly, her shoulders sagging. “There’s-”

“There’s no reason the rest of your Council shouldn’t do the jobs you gave them,” Nerdanel cut in tartly. “You don’t need to try to hold the kingdom together alone. If you don’t look after yourself, you’ll be joining your father sooner rather than later.”

None of them mentioned what effect that would have on her mother.

“We can announce that you are taking a long needed week of rest now that Tirion is so stable,” Eärwen  added smoothly. “No one can argue, not when the whole city knows how ceaselessly you’ve worked since the Darkening.”

Nerdanel could see Findis trying to form arguments for why that would not work, but she would have none of it. Her husband had destroyed enough, she would not let him drag Findë down with him as well.

“I think that would be quite sensible, don’t you agree, Anairë dear?” she said, pausing only long enough for Anairë to nod before she plowed on. “You should probably sleep the first day or two. I’ll bring Courtship and Marriage up to you after you’ve slept and eaten a decent meal.”

She’d have words with the kitchens about what that meal would be – the cooks should draw from dishes Findis was known to prefer, preferably choosing the heartiest among them.

“Surely that’s moving a bit quickly?” Findis murmured, her cheeks coloring. “And perhaps we’re misinterpreting anyway…”

Eärwen tried to smother her laughter at that idea, but didn’t do a very good job of it.

“Well, that’s one worry down, at least – you’re not rejecting poor lovesick Elemmírë out of hand for being a nis,” Nerdanel said briskly, doing her best to chivvy Findis to her feet, and appealing mutely to Anairë when it became clear that Eärwen’s mirth meant she could expect no help from that quarter.

“She’s a dear friend,” Findis said defensively, “and I would not see her hurt.”

With Anairë managing Findis’ other elbow, Nerdanel managed to get her on her feet and moving toward her bedroom. Eärwen, useless though she’d been at getting Findë moving, redeemed herself by darting ahead of them to open doors and shoo any curious servers on about their business.

“Findë,” Nerdanel replied when they were safely in Findis’ own rooms, with the door shut and no one but the four of them to hear, “you need a good long rest, and a think, before you decide what sort of friend she is.”

“She might have just told me,” Findis murmured.

“I think she tried, in many subtle ways,” Eärwen said soothingly. “But you kept not noticing.”

“Naro could have said something,” Findis protested. “You said he knew. He could have said…”

She trailed off, her tired mind having doubtless furnished her at least one example of Fëanaro suggesting she take her nose out of a book, or take more care with her dress on a day when she was heading to the Library, or take a holiday with her friend...

“You really think she thinks of me in that way?”

Nerdanel relieved her law-sister of her shoes, and stood out of the way as Anairë let down her hair from its ruthlessly sensible style with a brisk efficiency born of years dealing with Irissë.

“She’s just told all Aman she thinks of you in that way, Findë,” Eärwen replied. “As gestures go, it was difficult to miss.”

“Gesture?” Anairë sniffed. “More like last ditch gambit. She has to have known someone would say something in terms you couldn’t ignore, even if she didn’t know someone would be us.”

“I should go talk to her,” Findis gulped, her cheeks flaming.

“You should sleep,” Nerdanel insisted, in a tone that once had kept seven sons, as many nephews, and two remarkably unruly nieces in line. “If Elemmírë hasn’t given up on you yet, another day or two will hardly make the difference.”