Golden Days by Lyra

Chapter 15

Wow, two years again? And all I have to show is this ridiculously short chapter. Oh well. Let's hope the words will come more easily for the next chapters...

Chapter 15

It took more than a week until I received note that my slab of marble had been delivered to the palace – time enough to recover, even time enough to get used to the idea of Prince Fëanáro as my ally. I was glad to have such an ally when I entered the palace again, and the first person I met was Master Alcaráco. He greeted me with a smile that was all teeth and condescension.
"Ah, young Nerdanel, there you are! How badly ill you must have been to miss a whole week of work, poor girl," he said.
"Thank you for your concern, Master Alcaráco," I said, trying to keep my voice friendly. Poor girl indeed! "I have been feeling reasonably well the past couple of days, but I had no work to do until I got the note from Alastondo. I got it yesterday, so here I am." I gave the most harmless smile I was capable of.

Master Alcaráco's expression turned into a frown of worried puzzlement. It reminded me of a rather disappointing play I had once seen perform in Tirion. It had been as dreadfully overacted as Master Alcaráco's face was now. The dismay in his voice was horribly exaggerated as well. "Oh my! I am certain I would have noticed if a sizeable piece of marble had been delivered here – unless you're planning a miniature?" In spite of his display of worry, there was no mistaking the smugness hiding underneath it.
For a moment, I lost my calm, instead feeling panic rise within me. But I had received the note! Had there been a mistake? I had been certain that I could trust Master Lotóreo and his experienced quarriers, but though I knew for certain that they hadn't delivered it to Father's house, maybe they had brought the marble to Master Carnildo's workshop instead of the palace? That made little sense, as Master Lotóreo had been so pleased to hear that I was working for the King, but maybe one of the ferriers ---

Then I managed to get my mind back under control. No, surely all was well. After all, Master Alcaráco expected me to work in the inner courtyard, behind one of the guest studies – where he, too, was working. No second slab of marble had been brought there, so he believed that I had been misinformed and would be disappointed. That didn't mean anything. Surely my marble was waiting for me up in Prince Fëanáro's studio. I almost grinned in relief, and quickly forced my brow into what I hoped would pass as an anxious frown.
"Oh dear," I said slowly. "There must have been some sort of mistake." My words sounded insincere to my own ears, but Master Alcaráco did not seem to notice or care.
"My goodness, how unfortunate," he said. "Such trouble for your examination piece. I hope it will not cost you too much time to find out what happened."
"Yes," I said with an awkward laugh. "I hope I can sort it out." I began to wring my hands a little, just for good measure, as if I was trying to figure out where to begin. "Well. Um. Thank you for warning me, Master Alcaráco."
This time, his smile was genuine. "Oh, very gladly, young Nerdanel. Good luck!"

My slab of marble was beautiful: A massive piece of promise, shining white except where Master Lotoréo or one of his assistants had scribbled for Nerdanel; to Finwë's palace in Tirion onto the roughly-hewn surface for the ferriers. It had been left underneath the pulley upon a sturdy wooden pallet, so that it could easily be brought out of the studio once I had finished my work. I let out a long sigh of relief. The encounter with Master Alcaráco had made me more tense than it should have, and I was glad to find that all was well. I rolled my shoulders and felt as though a heavy load was dropping from them.

I could not begin to work at once even though my fingers were itching. I simply had to see Prince Fëanáro first. I could not find Wintillo, so I asked a friendly maid I met on the corridor. I claimed that I had to make some urgent last-minute corrections to my sketches. The servant promised that she would find the Prince and send him my way, and indeed, after I had spent perhaps an hour drawing the outlines of my planned skulpture onto the rock surface, there was a knock on the door. I went to open it, and there he was.
"Last-minute corrections? You could have done that days ago," Prince Fëanáro noted by way of greeting.
"Good morning, my lord," I said, ignoring his reproof. "Please come in. Actually, that was only a pretext."
He raised an eyebrow and said nothing, and I felt my newly-found confidence flounder.
"What are we going to tell Master Alcaráco?" I asked with an awkward grimace.
"'We'?" he said.
"Well, I. Or you. One of us," I said, wringing my hands in earnest now. "I met him when I arrived. He noticed that no marble for me has been delivered to what's supposed to be our shared work-space. I told him that there must have been some sort of mistake and that I'd try and figure it out. He is happy to believe that right now, but he won't believe forever that my slab hasn't turned up. So what are we going to tell him? He's clearly expecting to see me at work in the courtyard soon."

Prince Fëanáro looked out of the window for a short while. Then he shrugged. "Why not stick with your story? There has been a mistake – clearly, the ferriers or servants thought that such a splendid piece of marble must be for me. So of course they had it brought it to my studio." He thoughtfully began to pick at the markings with his thumb. The clay-dyed wax flaked off easily. Prince Fëanáro stopped, frowning in disgust at the red smear that had caked under his thumbnail. "Well, you'll chop off the writing soon enough, anyway," he said with another shrug. "At any rate, somebody must have thought that it read 'for the Prince'*. Sarati can be so tricky."
I tilted my head, looking at the smeared script. For Aranel; to the palace in Tirion - it really looked like that, if you didn't look too closely. It was a little shock how easily Prince Fëanáro had come up with such a lie, but I couldn't deny that I was relieved.
"I suppose it might work," I said. "And then?"
He heaved a great sigh. He was probably tired of having to think for me. "Then I'll say that in my boundless generosity, and having seen how much you're already struggling, I have decided to let you work here. Instead of forcing you to remove that heavy slab, you see. It's your lucky day today, Nerdanel."
"Mahtan's daughter," I immediately added, to show that I had figured out why he was helping me. He gave me an inscrutable look, saying nothing. It made me feel uncomfortable again, and suddenly I wanted him to go far away, now that the problem was solved.
"Boundless generosity indeed," I said with a curtsy. "Thank you for your kindness, my lord."
Again he sighed, exaggeratedly. "I have my lucid moments, you know."

Laurelin was already at her most golden when I finally took up hammer and chisel. Then I worked as though intoxicated. I only stopped when the need to pee had become so urgent that I could no longer ignore it. I put down my tools and realised that the lights were already past mingling. Hours had passed and I hadn't even noticed, working without pause. Now, I sorely felt that my shoulders wer aching, and that my throat was parched, my stomach empty. My bladder, on the other hand, was full to the brim.
When I returned from a most undignified but absolutely necessary dash to the lavatory, which was fortunately not too far off, I saw a woman standing in front of the studio door. I thought that a servant had come to ask whether I would attend dinner, but when I called out "I am here, wait a moment!", it was Queen Indis who turned to look at me. Embarrassed and out of breath, I did not know what to say next.

Fortunately, I did not need to say anything.
"I assumed that you had succumbed to the Noldorin condition," the Queen said kindly, "so I took the liberty of informing your parents that you would be staying here for the night."
My parents! Of course I had forgotten them too, absorbed as I had been in my work. I felt my cheeks redden even as Queen Indis continued, "Fëanáro said that I am being absurd and that they would naturally understand that you might not return home until your work was done, being craftsfolk themselves. But he is young and does not realise how parents worry. So I sent a messenger anyway. I do not mean to suggest that you have done wrong, but I hope you will not take it amiss either."
"Not at all!" I managed to say. "Not at all. I am very grateful. They would worry. I don't know what came over me."
Queen Indis smiled, her eyes sparkling almost mischievously. "I do. I call it the Noldorin condition. I have observed it many times – in Finwë, in the children, in any Noldo I have ever seen at work. Getting so involved with your work that you forget everything around you. I think it is why great inventions are made by Noldor – because you are your work. You live it, you breathe it, and you think of it day and night. You are never satisfied unless you create something new, something better. Your entire being rests upon your work, and that is why you excel at it, and why you improve your crafts beyond anything even the Valar may imagine."

I blinked. What she said rang true and made sense, but I had never given it any thought. Perhaps one had to come from outside to think about it so clearly, to analyse what came over us when we tackled a project that just wouldn't let go of us. Yes, we did get obsessed with every piece of work, though different people dealt with it differently. My mother, for instance, never neglected us or our household, although she hardly ever stopped talking about whatever project she was working on. Others – myself included – indeed had a tendency to lock themselves in their workshop until they were done, and then fretted until they had something new to work on. I briefly wondered whether this Noldorin condition was a curse or a blessing.

The Queen seemed to have read my thoughts, for she said, "It makes your work great, but it can be hard on the people around you. Even if they are Noldor themselves. I am not, so I sometimes wring my hands when Finwë will not close a council meeting before they have found the perfect decision. But I have come to understand that it cannot be changed; it is how you have been made, or how you have been taught. Do not worry, young Nerdanel, I do not mean to tear you away from your work. It would only make you unhappy, which is not my intent. But I've had a few things delivered to your working space that I hope you will make use of, before you drop from exhaustion, starvation or both." She winked at me, and I returned her smile. I could not for the life of me understand how Prince Fëanáro could believe that she was foolish.
It was this thought that made me more forward than I had any right to be. "You may not be a Noldië, but wise you are²," I said.
I saw her eyes widen in surprise and fully expected that she would point out that she hardly required my opinion, but instead, she gave me a smile that appeared almost grateful. "You are kind."
"As are you," I said warmly, relieved that my cheekiness hadn't given her offense. "I thank you for all that you have done for me."

And she had done a lot for me, I thought when I returned into the workshop. Prince Fëanáro might consider himself a great ally, but he was not the only one who supported me. He'd probably snort in disdain, but I owed his stepmother as much as I owed him. Without her, King Finwë would likely have sent me right back to Aulë, never giving me a chance to work on his commission. Competing against Master Alcaráco was terrifying, but I was beginning to enjoy the challenge – the game, as Prince Fëanáro called it. Although the thought was unbecoming, I had to admit that I believed that I could win. What a start to my career as a master craftswoman that would be! And it was entirely the Queen's doing. On a smaller scale, she had also done what I had forgotten to do and set my parents' mind at ease. Of course they would guess that it was only work, no accident or illness, that kept me from home – but they would nonetheless worry, and I really should have thought of informing them in time. Last but not least, she had taken care that even though I had missed dinner, I would not go through the night hungry. Sweet summer apples, redcurrants, rich buttery cheese and cold ham were waiting for me. A covered basked contained a loaf of bread, still warm, which filled the studio with its appetizing smell of roasted grain, coriander and cumin seeds when I removed the cloth cover. There were hard-boiled quails' eggs and some leftover pastries. My stomach rumbled greedily.

Queen Indis had performed a miracle: I did no more work that day. I did not light any of the candles that had been supplied plentifully. Telperion's silver gleam was too soft for complicated work, but it was perfectly sufficient for supper. As I ate in solitude, I felt a warm and comfortable tiredness settle on me; and as a camp bed had also been delivered to the workshop, I lay down when I had finished my meal. I did not draw the curtains, for I had planned to rest just a little, but I fell into a deep sleep and did not wake until the light of Laurelin was bright in my face and tore me from my slumber.

Chapter End Notes

*Strictly speaking, Quenya aranel is glossed only as "princess", with no direct male equivalent to be found; however, the Sindarin word ernil - clearly derived from aranel - is translated only as "prince", with no female equivalent. So I'm guessing that both aranel and ernil can be used for either sex. Literally, it can be translated as "king-offspring", so there's no reason why it shouldn't go either way. (There are other Quenya words for "prince", but it's impossible to misread Nerdanel as cundu or haryon, however you look at it. Aranel is reasonably feasible.)

²The Quenya words for wisdom, nolwë (for insight) and nolë (for book-learning), are of course closely related to the name of the Noldorin people. Nerdanel is making a little play on words that gets lost in translation.