Golden Days by Lyra

Chapter 20

„Wake up, wake up, sleepy sister!“
Erenwen's words tore me from restless sleep. My eyes were heavy, as if I'd only just gone to bed. My head was equally heavy, still half-caught in dreams and half-waking to reality. It didn't help that Erenwen drew the curtains of our room open with rather more verve than necessary. Golden light streamed in without warning. I blinked, trying to dispell the feeling of exhaustion.
„What time is it?“ I said.
„Time for a very late breakfast,“ Erenwen said with a reproachful note to her voice. „Don't worry, everybody has slept in. Well, almost everybody. But as Lisanto and I took the pain of rising and setting the table, we feel that it is now time to wake you all up. This isn't a holiday!“
I managed to wrest myself from the enticing embrace of my bedcovers. Unbidden, I remembered how Prince Fëanáro had embraced me the day before. Hmm. That had also been very warm and pleasant and comfortable... I shook my head, annoyed at myself.
„You disagree?“ Erenwen said, putting on a pout.
„Just trying to clear my mind,“ I lied. „I should have gone to bed much earlier.“
„Always the voice of reason!“ Erenwen rolled her eyes. „What a sad thing it would be to go to sleep early, when there is an occasion to celebrate and dance!“
„Well, I didn't, did I?“
Erenwen smiled. „No, you didn't. I noticed that even you couldn't resist the charms of your dancing partner.“
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I made my way to our chest of drawers, dipped my hands in the bowl of water and washed my face. If only I could have scrubbed the blush away! At least the water was cold, driving away the last bit of drowsiness.

Erenwen hadn't exaggerated when she'd said that everybody had slept in. As I came down the stairs, only five others were already present: Erenwen and Lisanto, who had prepared breakfast, Roitariel, who tried to stifle a huge yawn, Helyanwë, looking uncomfortable, and Prince Fëanáro. Somehow he managed to look cheerful and wide awake. „Good morning, Mistress Nerdanel,“ he said brightly as I entered the hall. My cheeks threatened to flare up again.
„'morning, Mistress Nerdanel,“ Roitariel, Helyanwë and Lisanto echoed dutifully. I managed to regain my composure.
„Good morning. Don't call me that all the time, it makes me feel old,“ I told them. I turned towards Prince Fëanáro, who was already occupying the chair next to mine. I gave him the most disapproving look that I could muster. „You're sitting in the wrong place.“
„Oh?“ He said, innocent and wide-eyed. „I was told that this was Alcarincë's seat.“
„Yes – because Alcyo was Father's best and senior student. So now, it is Helyanwë's place.“ I nodded towards Helyanwë, who was pretending to be distracted by something in the garden.
Prince Fëanáro tilted his head. „Is it? Why didn't Helyanwë tell me so?“
Helyanwë didn't answer right away, but eventually he reacted to my pointed stare.
„I didn't know if it was proper to do so,“ he mumbled.
„Well, is it your place?“ Prince Fëanáro asked, a slight frown marring his brow.
„It should be, with Alcyo gone,“ Helyanwë said, then turned to me, „but I don't know – what with him being the king's son...“
„Oh, the king's son is going to follow the customs of Master Mahtan's house,“ Prince Fëanáro said, getting up and flashing me a smile, which did nothing to improve my mood. „It won't take me long to win this place back, I'm sure,“ Prince Fëanáro added and, with great deliberation, sat down at the lower end of the table.
„We will see,“ I said stiffly.

I had been worried that the argument preceding my examination would be a topic at our breakfast table, but fortunately, neither my parents nor any of the others mentioned it again. Instead, Father merely asked what I was planning to do, now that I was a fully accredited sculptress. „Will you nonetheless continue your smithying apprenticeship? Or have you decided to work as a sculptress full-time?“
I took a sip of my tea, pondering the question. „Both, if possible,“ I said. „I'd like to become a smith as well as a sculptress, but if I get a commission, I'll definitely put that first. But I don't have any apprentices to train, so I hope I'll have enough time for the forge.“ I allowed myself a little grin.
Father raised his eyebrows. „Should you want to train apprentices, I'll be happy to let you practice on some of mine. With you as an assistant, I could take on a new apprentice sculptor or two. I wouldn't have to split my time between forge and studio so much, so additional students wouldn't be a problem.“
I bit my lips. Part of me was excited about Father's idea. I had agreed not to train any apprentices of my own, but nothing had been said concerning assistant teaching. Nominally, these would be Father's apprentices, yet I would get to do all a master craftswoman's work, including handing on the skills of the craft.

Then I shook my head. If I was honest with myself, I mostly liked the idea because it would be getting my own back on Master Alcaráco and his supporters. A rather petty motivation. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to the apprentices, unless they were in on the scheme.
„I don't think it would be right to have people sign up to train with Master Mahtan if Master Mahtan does not train them,“ I said. „And truth be told, I'd be sorry to give up forgecraft altogether.“
„Well, you're welcome in the forge anytime you like,“ Father said soothingly. „And we don't have to take on new students at once. Certainly not before the harvest. We can talk again afterwards.“
„Actually, I was hoping that I could travel to Alqualondë after the harvest,“ I admitted. Yesterday, I'd had no time to further think about seeking out Volabrandë, the artist whose driftwood sculpture had worked such a spell on me, but with Father talking about the time after the harvest, the thought came back to me. I would not leave home at the busiest season of the year, of course – during the harvest, all hands were needed, either to help on the fields or to craft and mend the necessary tools – but afterwards, when everything slowed down for the resting season, the time would be right.
Or not. „Alqualondë?“ Father raised an eyebrow before plunging his spoon into his porridge. „What do you want there?“
„Learn about driftwood sculptures, of course,“ I replied.
Mother smiled wryly. „I had the impression that you already knew everything about them.“
Father nodded his agreement.
„Far from it,“ I protested. „Everything I said yesterday, I made up. I was just lucky that it was correct – or that my examiners didn't know any better. But it has really convinced me that Telerin sculpture is worth studying.“
Father glanced to my still-smiling mother, then shrugged. „Well, if you think so. It's your decision, of course.“

Prince Fëanáro, who had so far been busy stuffing himself with Yavanna's good bread, now spoke up without even swallowing first. „I reawwy don'k think thak's a goog igea.“ He gulped down the bite he'd been chewing on. „I mean, just now.“
„I wasn't talking about 'just now',“ I pointed out. My voice had gone hard and cold without my volition. Of course, everybody was welcome to voice their opinions at my parents' table – we didn't hold with 'silence until you're spoken to' as some masters did – but butting into a conversation with your mouth full was rude even by our relaxed standards, prince or no. I threw an affronted look at Father, but he was just looking amused, probably finding it funny that someone who commonly dined with the king and his nobles would have such poor manners.
Prince Fëanáro didn't seem to notice. „After the harvest. Whatever. You need to make a name for yourself, fast.“
Erenwen laughed at him, openly. „Did we attend the same exam yesterday? It looked as if she already had a name.“
„That will wear out quickly, if she doesn't follow up on it.“ Prince Fëanáro now bent forwards to catch my eyes, his tone imploring. „Do you think Alcaráco will be happy just to withdraw his own son from your father's tutelage? He'll go on to pour his poison into the ears of any who will listen, and the longer you wait, the more people will do that. Right now, some may be curious to find out what the fuss is all about, and will give you a chance to prove yourself. A few months from now? If you haven't delivered a couple of splendid commissions by then, nobody will ask you for one again.“
„Nobody has asked me for one yet.“
„No, but if anyone is looking for a sculptor anytime soon, you'd be wise to apply.“
„I hate to disappoint your travelling plans, but Prince Fëanáro has a point,“ said Mother.
„Just 'Fëanáro', please, Mistress Istarnië,“ Prince Fëanáro said in a voice so mild that it seemed to belong to another person. „And thank you.“
I scowled at him, but unfortunately, he did have a point.

Against my original plans, I spent the next days in the studio. While there were no commissions to be had, I had thought of another way of increasing people's interest in my work. Harvest time was approaching, and after the harvest, there always was a solemn celebration and a far less solemn fair. The fair was mostly an excuse for feasting and dancing, but it was also an occasion for craftsmen and merchants to showcase and sell their goods. I had decided that I would put up a stall among them, if only I managed to create enough small but desirable items by then. This was, of course, the tricky part. What did people like? What would make them decide that they my work was something they wanted? And how could I create it on such short notice, in such quantities that it warranted a market stall and in such quality that people would trust me with their business?
In the end, I focused on small animals, like the squirrel I had made for Sarnië or the birds I had gifted to Yavanna (but without the stone pool). I had many sketches of such creatures, and while making them well took easily as long as a bust, they offered the advantage of not requiring large blocks of stone. Although Father would probably not mind if I took the materials from his store as long as I replaced them in good time, I would have felt guilty about it. With my planned collection of small animals, I could use up chunks of rock left over from other projects – the kind we always kept because they were too good to throw away, but rarely ever did anything with, until they ended piled up in the garden. Another good reason for making small sculptures was that they could easily be transported to the fair.
I exploited the fact that Alcyo no longer needed his workbench, so I had twice the room for my projects. Using my old sketches, I made models from wax rather than clay – if there was enough time, I could use the wax shapes to make molds, and add metal versions to my collection of statuettes in order to show versatility. For a plan made up more or less on the spot, I felt it was quite promising.

Between working on the sculptures, I worked on finding my way back into Father's household. Having been absent or busy with important exam preparation so often in the past year, my parents had exempted me from the rota of weekly duties, but things couldn't go on like that. I didn't enjoy doing the dishes, weeding the garden, mucking the stables or any of the other many duties that a household like ours brought with it, but how often had I preached to the apprentices that everybody had to do their part? It would not do to hide in the studio and put my project above those of everyone else, even though I was half-tempted to do so. But reason won out. My help was all the more necessary because with Alcyo gone, we were missing not only a friend, but also a diligent worker. „Just Fëanáro“ might have taken his place at the table – it had taken him half a day to prove himself worthy of the place of best student, sending Helyanwë back to his old seat and compromising my calm at every meal – but no matter how brilliant he was in the forge, he was utterly useless with chores. He affected a great willingness to perform them, never once saying that a job was beneath him; but he needed to be watched and guided with almost everything. When polishing glasses, he did it with such enthusiasm and force that some of them splintered. When asked to bring in herbs from the garden, you could be certain that he would pick the wrong ones. He did not know how to scrub soot and other stains from clothing, nor how to hang it up to dry. The first time he tried, he didn't wring out a single item, so naturally, the clothesline snapped under the weight. Everything landed on the ground and had to be washed again. He could not even handle a broom properly. I couldn't believe that he hadn't at least wrung a wet cloth or swept the floor of Aulë's forge, so I began to suspect that he was in fact acting up in order to get us others to do his work without him asking. We were sorely tempted. Everything took twice as long when Fëanáro „helped“. And instead of being taught, as Sarnië or the younger apprentices were, he would then begin an argument over how it wasn't his fault that he had not learned all these vital skills until the ripe age of five-and-fourty. But he insisted on learning how it was to be done now, and demanded elaborate instructions for the most basic tasks. It would have been laughable if it hadn't been so frustrating. It was a total contrast to his purported skill at the anvil, which Father and the other apprentices – even Helyanwë! – kept on praising.

As a result, I was less than thrilled when I saw on the blackboard of chores that I (of all people!) had been assigned to go to the woods to produce charcoal with (of all people!) Fëanáro. Presumably, it was too much to ask that Aulë had at least taught him how to do that. Presumably, Aulë never bothered with charcoal, and instead just... just created the more precious black coal that we had to dig painstakingly from the earth, and used only rarely and in small quantities. Presumably, that would mean not only explaining to Fëanáro how to take every single step in the process of making coal, but also discussing why these steps had to be taken, and why we couldn't simply do as Aulë did. Charring always took a long time – time that I had been depending on to get my sculptures finished! - but it would take even longer if I had to do it with someone who had never done it before, and who never simply accepted orders. Of course it was important to question things that one didn't understand, but it was just as important to know what just wasn't worth arguing about. Fëanáro was excellent at questioning things, but horrible at choosing what was worth the bother.

Aside from these practical considerations, I had my personal reasons why I did not want to spend a day alone in the woods with Fëanáro. As I had feared, I had fallen under his spell in the aftermath of my examination. After that exhausting day, my defenses had clearly been too low; no matter how much I now reminded myself that it had meant nothing, I couldn't shake off the intense memories of that night. It had probably been the magic of the ball – the relief of having passed the exam, the joy of being celebrated, the lights, the music. When we had danced, it had felt as though we were the only people in the world. Normally, I would surely have been able to shake off that silly feeling; but it was so inextricably linked to my passage into life as a master craftswoman that it belonged to the new, adult (if only!) me. At night, before falling asleep, I could feel the firmness and warmth of his lips on my hand. I recalled the closeness of the dance, how we had stepped and turned and twirled in unison, and felt heat surge through my loins. Whenever our legs accidentally touched under the table, my stomach seemed to twist in a knot so that I could barely go on eating. I longed for the eager fire in his eyes, yet had to avoid looking at his face. I feared that I would be led astray by that light, like the grey butterflies of Endorë that purportedly died in our ancestors' campfires*, unable to resist their allure until it was too late.
In short, I had truly and well fallen in love. With Fëanáro of all people! Of course, I would waste such passion on someone who was safely out of reach. I hated myself for it, knowing that it was vain and absurd; and I also hated him, who continued to fan the fires of my infatuation with his warm voice and handsome smile and strange tendency to turn up in exactly the places where I happened to be. I didn't know whether he had guessed my feelings and amused himself by discomforting me, or whether it was coincidence. It didn't matter, because it didn't change the turmoil in my mind. How I would manage not to make an absolute fool of myself when out on my own with him, I honestly did not know.

I did not tell Father that when I asked him to assign Fëanáro another partner, of course. It was embarrassing enough to admit these things to myself; speaking of them to anybody else was out of the question. Instead, I explained about my plans of stocking a stall for the fair, and about all the work I had to do towards that end. Father was sympathetic, but he couldn't help me. „It has to be done; we will need a lot more coal in order to prepare for the harvest season. Already we have orders for dozens of sickles, on top of our usual business. And Fëanáro urgently needs to learn making coal; he didn't even know that it doesn't grow by itself! It's a shame that he has nearly mastered most aspects of the crafts, yet is completely ignorant of others. I don't know what my lord Aulë was thinking. At any rate, Fëanáro has volunteered to help make new coal, which is just as well; he has gone through a lot of our stores by himself. But I cannot abandon the forge at this time of the year; and aside from myself, only you have enough authority to teach him. He doesn't take Lindo seriously, and he won't listen to Helyanwë, either.“ Father put his hands on my shoulders for reassurance. „I fully understand that it is inconvenient, and I am sorry for it, but I must ask you to do this for me. Please take it as a vote of confidence.“
I closed my eyes in despair. „I doubt he'll listen to me any more than he'll listen to Helyanwë,“ I protested. „You know how he is! He thinks he's always right and everybody else is foolish.“ I had overheard the discussions that Fëanáro liked to get into – with the other apprentices, but even with my parents, in the evening, when all the household sat together for stories or songs or talk. Fëanáro had opinions on everything and everybody, and he wasn't shy in sharing them – or rather, in trying to impose them on others. I was grateful for my work, which allowed me to leave the dinner table instead of sticking around to listen to his self-important talk. I couldn't see why Father humoured Fëanáro instead of reminding him that he was not omniscient, unless maybe Father worried about offending the king's son, „just Fëanáro“ or no.

„He is rather sure of himself, isn't he,“ Father said now. There was altogether too much fondness in his voice for my taste. Of course, the apprentices were very nearly like Father's own children, but then, they normally spent the better part of their childhood and youth in our house, which did make them part of the family. Fëanáro had been with us for a mere week. „Just this morning, he declared that he had thought of a way of improving the sickles we're making.“
„Improve them? In what way?“ I said sceptically.
„Oh, I don't know yet.“ Father smiled, as though it didn't bother him at all that one of his apprentices was suffering from delusions of grandeur. „He's still testing his ideas. But I'll find out soon enough if there's anything to it. He'll be eager to share the story of his success, no doubt.“ He sounded amused and, yes, a little proud. Now he sobered. „But I am certain he will accept your guidance,“ he continued. „He always speaks very highly of you, you know.“
Damn that foolish tingle in my stomach, damn the sudden tightness in my throat! „He doesn't,“ I managed to say.
Father was smiling again. „You're never sitting with us in the evening, so you don't get to hear it. Maybe he wouldn't say it if you were there. But it is my impression that he holds you in very high respect. So if anyone but myself can teach him, it is you.“
„Nobody but you can teach him,“ I insisted, but it was useless, and I knew it.

Fëanáro and I set off that evening after dinner. The argument began as soon as I told him to bring a blanket as well as his cloak, because it could get cold in the woods.
„I thought we were going to work with fire,“ he protested.
I sighed. „Most of the time, the fire will be underground, and we won't profit from its warmth,“ I said. „Take a blanket along.“
A frown appeared on his brow. „Underground? Why will it be underground?“
„You'll find out later,“ I said. „Now, get your blanket.“
Suddenly, the frown gave way to a rakish grin. „Maybe we can share yours.“
I had to turn away so he didn't see my red cheeks. „Most assuredly not. If you don't listen to good advice, you deserve to be cold.“ I left without waiting to hear more, going to the shed to pick up the old spade and the axe.
Fëanáro joined me outside after a while, a blanket and sheepskin rolled up under his arm. Without looking at his face, I held out the spade for him to carry. Father stuck his head out of the window. „Goodbye, you two! May the night be mild and the draft on your side.“ After the traditional farewell, he turned to Fëanáro. „Now, I expect you to listen to Nerdanel and not give her any trouble. She knows what she's doing, and you can trust her to teach you well.“
„Yes, of course, Master,“ Fëanáro said meekly. He couldn't possibly be sincere. But Father didn't seem to notice. Instead, he smiled, called „Good luck!“ and closed the window.
I shouldered the axe and my bundle and trotted off, Fëanáro following close behind.

Chapter End Notes

* Moths are drawn to the light – and often die in candles and the like – because for their night-time orientation, they choose the brightest light in the sky as their point of reference. Which is just fine if said light is the moon, but a real problem if pesky humans light a candle or lantern. Unlike the moon, the light is approaching the moth rather quickly; in their attempt to stay true to their course, moths spiral around the source of light (believing that they are still parallel to the moon or chosen star), until at last they get too close and burn. In the age of the Trees, Valinor may not be a good place for nocturnal insects, so I'm assuming that moths are no more than a story from the old days to Nerdanel.