The Burden of Truth by Rhapsody

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Fanwork Notes

This story is firmly set within the Bard Rising universe (my Maglor novel series) & is connected to my drabble 'A Mother's Wish' and 'The Last Words', but is however written for the Silmarillion Writers Guild B2MEM '09: day 23 - Mercurial Monday: greatest sacrifice, day 24 - favourite quote and day 31 - Yesterday or Tomorrow.

 

Fanwork Information

Summary:

As she faces the concequences of her sons and husband's actions daily, Nerdanel must make a decision how to face tomorrow.

~ MEFA 2009: First Place in Genres: Drama: House of Finwë

 

Major Characters: Nerdanel

Major Relationships:

Artwork Type: No artwork type listed

Genre: Drama

Challenges: B2MeM 2009, New Beginnings, Strong Women

Rating: Teens

Warnings: Mature Themes

This fanwork belongs to the series

Bard Rising
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 783
Posted on 31 March 2009 Updated on 31 March 2009

This fanwork is complete.

The Burden of Truth

The first draft is superbly nitpicked by Darth Fingon at the Lizard Council, the final draft is proofread by Trekqueen. All mistakes that remain are mine.

Read The Burden of Truth

Let go. Why do you cling to pain? There is nothing you can do about the wrongs of yesterday. It is not yours to judge. Why hold on to the very thing which keeps you from hope and love?
-- Leo Buscaglia

Yesterday, oh what could it bring her? Memories of the early years with the warm breath of a babe snuggling close in her neck, his tiny fists clenching, using her hair as the needed anchor. Those first words, that later merged into the untamed adoration for their father. As the years went by, voices resounded through the hallway with quick footfalls, urgency betraying their mischief. Their voices upon being caught, a father’s voice booming, trailing behind them with that surety of thunder following the lightning... All of them were born to lead this rebellion.

Then there was that burning remembrance, which came unbidden: the fiery touches of love, the intoxicating smell of him, his warm hands exploring her, taking what she gave freely. Her thoughts of doubts gnawed at her as she yielded to him alone. Love for them came so easily; the rides on the waves of desire made her heart flutter, even now.

That mere thought of being wanted, needed, and the echoes of a house filled with confident children would forever stay with her. Such a sacrifice made in the name of love and loyalty for some. For others, in the name of honour and pride.

But what to think of tomorrow: another day in this empty house and even the thought to venture outside nearly suffocated her. The looks of those who would hold her to blame for what her spouse and seven sons had done, especially after what happened at the swan haven. Had she raised such sons, had there been any way to stop them? Nay, tomorrow or even today brings her a grief that could not be spoken. No matter where she would go or to whom she would talk. The living room or the kitchen, the city square, the palaces of her kin, the cold sheets of her bed, her husband’s forge: words of rebellion still seemed to linger. That day, they still speak of that day when they lit the flame, igniting anger in the hearts of her people. Every word, every gesture felt as a stab piercing her heart, adding to this pain of separation that goes on and on. How could she endure, how could she last if she wondered what that sacrifice was for, why so many had to die for the sake of one?

What was she to do, here standing at the cliffs in the distant west, so close to Qalmë-Tári’s halls? Could she repent for her son’s actions, no she would not dare to ask for forgiveness of her husbands deeds? Could the Mistress of Death teach her how to endure, be patient so that she could handle her future amongst those she shortly before had called her own kindred? She knew that her life was not over yet, there was still strength in her left and there was that faint memory of what once was, times that there was nothing she would not dare. Would she dare to embrace tomorrow? Could she create a life for herself on her own, where her memories of the past would serve as nothing more as stories from yesterday? There was so much work to be done and that she had to forge ahead to start anew.

Suddenly the wind picked up, tugging at her clothes as she stood there. The cold caress of air awoke her from her thoughts and with her eyes wide open she perceived the grey sea. As the waves pounded upon the cliffs relentlessly, Nerdanel felt as if she awoke from a bad dream where the aftermath of the tides of the sea left no choice. Had those same waves carried away her family to the other shore and away from her? Without giving it further thought, she stepped closer to the edge of the cliff and knelt down. Once her hands hit the rich soil, a sense of clarity washed over her.

It was their choice, not mine, she suddenly realised. I might have reared them with all I could give and with the knowledge I possessed, but the past will only bring me false hope. My answer and end to my pain lies in the future. I am the master of my fate, for too long have I let others determine it. With a deep sigh, she pressed her head to the ground and finally let go of her anguish rooted in the past. Oh my children please forgive me for others need me now even more…

Chapter End Notes

Author notes:
Qalmë-Tári: Quenya for Mistress of Death another name bestowed on the Valier Nienna (Book of the Lost Tales, p. 66)

Comments

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This is absolutely lovely. It seems entirely realistic that in the absence of Feanor and his sons, some of those left behind in Valinor would seek to blame Nerdanel and that she might even seek to blame herself. I like the realization that her children made their own choices and that she's strong enough to continue living. Really, really lovely!

History, even in my family sadly enough, has shown that those who are left behind are the first victims to blame when something goes wrong. I think especially the period after the first kinslaying has happened, the emotions of the victims were immensely raw. To me I think that she as a mother would first seek the blame for all of it by herself, as if she missed something crucial during the upbringing of their sons (trust me, I sometimes have that feeling). But her sons are grown ups now, although I do envision that parents and children share a bond, but in order to move on, a sacrifice has to be made...

Thanks for your wonderful review!

Oh Rhaps! This is so beautifully written! I was very much looking forward to reading your new story and this was so worth the wait. I love the emotions you portray in this. They feel so real, and the shift between her doubts, her fears, and finally determination. For a moment there I was scared she would actually jump!This is amazing work. You haven't lost you touch in the least! "huggles and snuggles".

Hi Lady Roisin, I am so happy that I managed to give Nerdanel a different feel than in the book, more like a 'normal' woman like me and you, dealing with fears, pain and worry as we would. Yet she remains the wise woman she is, however we can't just be strong all the time. That was one of my aims with this piece. There is a tad more backstory as to the why she would never jump, it just takes a bit more before she can let her sons go to focus on others who need her very muchly. Now finding the time to write that short story! Thanks for your wonderful review, I am so happy you liked it and that in a way you could connect to her!

Just want to put my LJ review here:

Very moving and emotional. The words you have used just paint pictures in my head. She is one of the saddest characters in the book--how forsaken she must have felt when they left her.

My favorite part:
As the years went by, voices resounded through the hallway with quick footfalls, urgency betraying their mischief. Their voices upon being caught, a father’s voice booming, trailing behind them with that surety of thunder following the lightning... All of them were born to lead this rebellion.

I could so imagine to see Celegorm running like that and then his dad going like: Turkafinwë Tyelkormo Fëanorion get back here! In the mean time Caranthir is sniggering as well because he took part as well. :D The contrast from a busy home to a silent one must have been huge for her.

And thanks for telling me at two places how much you loved it! *hugs*

I should not have mentioned yesterday that I wanted to read this after lunch. Not too long after, my coworker came in with a stack of warrants for me, and the day conspired ever after against having any time for fun. Booo! I should know better. :)

This piece is so intense and evocative ... it is hard to know where to begin with what I enjoyed about it. (Although "enjoyed" is a tricksy word here and hard to imagine jiving with such an emotional piece! :) Let's see, the untamed adoration for their father ... I love this! What a beautiful way to put it! It suggests, to me, a certain wildness from the start, something that defies control ... but at the same time, it feels natural, as though it must need be that way. I have in my mind's eye a wild tangle of brambles--untamed--that grow that way because they must. And so the Feanarions became that way because they must. (Yes, I got all of that from one word! :)

Likewise, "the cold sheets of her bed": this stands in such contrast to the preceding paragraph and definitely shows such a sense of loss and loneliness. It is one of those sharp details that says so much.

I love how you show her reaction at the end. That her revelation comes as she kneels to the earth seems just perfect to me, like she is coming out of dream and delusion and re-establishing a connection with the world. This is underscored with those final lines, when I feel somehow that Nerdanel has a lot ahead of her. And that makes me very happy. :) It seems, sometimes, in Silmfic, that Nerdanel as a character is defined by her role in the lives of her sons and husband before the rebellion, and then she is a character who embodies loss and is owned by that. Of course, this is what JRRT has given us to work with, but I love that you've given her something more here, the chance to establish an identity and become something beyond what her husband and sons have made her. Beautiful work, Rhapsody. I'm so glad you got the chance to write this. :)

This is very emotional, nearly heart-breaking. I said nearly, because this piece also gives hope. I think that the saddest thing about Nerdanel is that she grieved her lost husband and children, but also was very unsure as to what would happen if she saw them again. How could she face them again, knowing all she knew and feeling the blame (and shame) for their doings upon herself. I'm very glad to see that you have made her realize that she wasn't responsible for what they did. Her reaction to that relief is very believable and most poignant.

Thank you for sharing! :)

Thanks Binka for this wonderful review. I think Moms will always feel responsible for those who once depended on her in the past and the fact that none of the seven wanted to stay and follow their dad like that, I hope I managed to convey that in this piece how Nerdanel found peace with that at last. I think she now deserves more happiness! *nidges a muse*

I'll echo what Darth said in his picking session  -  your characteristically lyrical prose reads like a poem.  Nerdanel's introspection is intense and carries a realism to it, not just a figure from myth, but a real woman, ruminating over her loss and facing those around her who will (unjustifiably) blame her.  She seems to second guess herself here..."If I had only done more" in essence.  So much like any one of us.  Yet at the end, she comes to a resolution and takes the first step toward healing.

A lovely piece, Rhapsy, and it is so good to see you "back in the saddle." :^)

Oh, and I loved the "Mistress of Death" reference from BoLT1!

The language is wonderful. I agree with others who have emphasized this. The story is a lovely balance between loss and hope. I always think that the period Feanor's exile in Formenos without Nerdanel must have been a preparation for her losing him and their sons when they left Aman, but then nothing really could be. It all becomes so much more final. But in a real sense she had already made her choice; your vignette underlines her realization of that.