Golden Days by Lyra

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Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

 

I made Erenwen promise that she would not mention that embarrassing evening to our parents or to anyone else of our acquaintance, hoping that it would soon be forgotten by those who had been present. She promised indeed, and as far as I knew she kept that promise, but I could not stop her from teasing me in private. Part of it was probably genuine puzzlement – she did not understand why I had refused to dance with Prince Fëanáro, nor why I did not wish to attend any future balls. She pestered me about it whenever I was not working on my sculptures. It was not often, for I had delved into my work as though my life depended on it, starting several projects at once – I had ideas enough, and the time to experiment, too. Erenwen had her own projects to mind; she was still in the busiest phase of her apprenticeship, studying painting and calligraphy under the tutelage of our mother and Tanárion the scribe. Nonetheless she used every chance to pester me, and she got more such chances than I liked. There were too many household chores that we had always done together, and I could hardly ask to change the schedule now without offering an explanation. So I had to listen to Erenwen’s teasing and advice while doing the dishes, weeding the vegetable garden, sweeping the hall: An additional chore on top of the usual.

“And he’s so pretty! I really don’t know what you were thinking,” she said while we were setting the table one day, more than two weeks after the event. “And a good dancer, too.” She gave a wistful sigh.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to take my place when he asks me again.”

Erenwen sighed again. “If only. But I doubt it works like that. At any rate I think you’ve really missed out. You shouldn’t have passed up on that chance. He probably won’t ask you again.”

“You think so?” I said, and couldn’t keep the hopeful tone out of my voice.

She gave me a hard stare. “Sis, I really don’t want to hurt you, but I doubt he’s going to run after you.”

I was not hurt at all; instead I felt relieved. What she had said made sense. I was probably worrying unduly. Why should Fëanáro bother, after all? I had refused him once, and he was proud; surely he did not care to have the shock of having a woman say no to him repeated. What had made me think that he’d ask me again? These thoughts cheered me up until I remembered our parting words.

“He said he wanted to dance with me the next time we met,” I said, sighing. “And I said yes, for some reason. I think I really wasn’t feeling well that evening.”

Erenwen rolled her eyes. “No, you really weren’t. But perhaps he was just being polite.”

“Annoying is what he was.”

“Ah, don’t worry. He’ll probably have forgotten all about it.”

She had a point, and I felt relieved again; but then I shook my head.

“What if he won’t take no for an answer? I’m a blemish on his list, after all…”

Laughing, Erenwen said, “Well, there are enough other ladies he hasn’t danced with yet, so you can assume you’re not his topmost priority. Why don’t you simply come along to the next ball so you’ll find out?”

“Erenwen! What if he does ask me again?”

“Well, then you say yes, and dance with him, and that’ll be that. Honestly I don’t see why you’re making so much of a fuss.”

“I told you that I can’t – not after what I said to our friends!”

“What a dilemma. I am certain they’d understand.”

Yes, they probably would, I thought. “Understand – but they’d mock me nonetheless.”

Erenwen snorted. “Well, if that’s enough to deter you from dancing, more’s the pity. I still think you worry without reason. He may yet leave you in peace, and you may yet dance with impunity.” And with that our conversation ended, for the first apprentices had returned from the forge for supper, and soon enough our parents and the rest of the household joined them and distracted us both.

 

- - -

 

Despite Erenwen’s assurances I did not go to the next ball, claiming when I was asked that I was on the brink of finishing a sculpture. And I made some headway on the peacock for Erenwen indeed, although, as the evening progressed and my hands grew heavy from the day’s work, I felt a little regretful about being in the studio alone while all the others were amusing themselves.

But in the next morning I learned that I had been right to stay away from the dances. I did not see Erenwen at breakfast – but she actually skipped her morning’s work in order to drop in on me. “You’ll never guess what happened,” she said by way of greeting, breathless from running.

“What happened, then? Judging by your grin and your blush it must be something good.”

“Did I blush? Oh my.” She brought her hands to her cheeks, there doubtlessly felt the tell-tale heat, and let them sink. “Anyway, it is something good indeed – and I’m saying that even though it forces me to admit that I was wrong.” She leaned in close and whispered in a conspiratorial manner, “Fëanáro did enquire after you, and he didn’t seem happy at all when I told him that you were too busy to come.”

I was silent for a while; what should I say? I hugged myself as though I were cold before I noticed what I was doing. I tried to laugh it off. “My goodness! Who would have thought he’d be so desperate to fill his list! Well, that settles that. Now don’t you have an assignment to complete, or something?”

She shrugged as though her assignments really didn’t matter very much to her. “I do, but I thought I’d tell you the news first.”

“Well, that’s kind of you. But if that’s all…”

“Oh, it isn’t all at all! I told you it was something good, didn’t I? This was just the introduction.”

For some silly reason I suddenly felt afraid. Erenwen leaned even closer as if she wanted to kiss me; all I could see were her eyes: large, brown, and bright with happiness. I tried not to frown. “Well, since I’ll never guess, why don’t you tell me?” I said. The corners of her eyes creased, and I knew that if I could see her lips I’d see them curved in an absurd smile.

“Well, you’d said that I was welcome to take your place, should he ask for you again, remember?” she said.

“Yes. So?”

“So I told him you’d said that.”

I groaned. “You told him? In so many words?”

“Well, I put it a little differently. I said I was standing in for you, and I said it so he’d know it was a joke, but.” She made a dramatic little pause; and then she no longer managed to whisper but half-shouted, triumphantly: “He asked me for another dance!”

 

I don’t know why I didn’t feel happy. Erenwen clearly was, and I should have shared her joy. For my own sister to be so singled out, that was great news, was it not? So far as I knew she was the first woman who had danced with him more than once. To be honest the prince had never actually announced that he would dance with no-one twice, but it had so far been a rule to which he seemed to keep himself. And now: Erenwen! Probably she was the talk and envy of all the fashionable young ladies by now. I should have been thrilled for her. Yet I wasn’t.

I suppose I may have been a little disappointed that he had not been more perseverant, that he had accepted the proxy without hesitation; but certainly that should have been no surprise. In fact I should have been glad to be rid of him so quickly, both my and his pride unharmed! What reason did I have to pine? Surely I was not jealous of Erenwen!

 

I managed a smile eventually, and put more enthusiasm into my voice than I felt. “Erenwen! That’s brilliant news! What an honour for you!”

“I know!” she exclaimed. “How envious Lanyalossë will be, and Morniël and the others!”

She seemed so overcome with excitement that I thought it advisable to caution her. “Don’t make too much of it, Erenwen, or you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

She clucked her tongue. “Oh, I know, I know. It will all come to nothing. I am no fool, Nerdanel.” She sighed. “But let me enjoy my little triumph for a while! And truly he is so beautiful, I count myself blessed to have held his hand more than once. How you can be blind to his charms I will never understand. I wonder whether you’ve ever actually looked at him.”

 

I snorted. “I’ve seen as much of him as I could ever wish to,” I said, recalling that day by the lake, his naked body in the mingled light of evening. Now as then my hands moved involuntarily, as if they, too, recalled the shape and longed to reproduce it. I clenched them to fists.

Erenwen, who did not know my thoughts, must have believed that I clenched them in anger. “I can’t believe that. No woman who ever saw him could possibly resist him," she said.

I wondered whether I should finally tell her about my chance encounter with the Prince, but again I decided against it. Her mind already was too full of him; it would not do to add to her obsession. “I should hope there’s more than just his looks that make a man irresistible, or not,” I admonished Erenwen instead. “An ugly but honest man would be indefinitely preferable to that pretty player, who only wants to make me another figure on his list of exploits. Give me the ugliest you can think of - as long as he is serious and intelligent, and asks me for love, not sport, I’d gladly dance with him and more.”

“Oh,” Erenwen quipped, “but would an intelligent man ask you for love?”

 

She did not mean to hurt me, I knew. She never did. Surely it was an innocent joke, and I had invited it by criticising her. She had told me that she wasn’t stupid, and I still had patronised her, spoiling her joy. She deserved some little revenge, I told myself, and swallowed my anger. I could not bring myself to laugh, but I could snort disdainfully.

“Indeed, probably he wouldn’t. Well, I feel disinclined to marry anyway. All the young men here are so tedious.”

“He isn’t,” Erenwen insisted. “And I don’t know about serious, but he must be intelligent, too. Remember that he is studying with Aulë, who does not teach fools, prince or not!”

“Would that Aulë kept him at his work, then, instead of letting him dance!”

Erenwen studied me earnestly then. “You truly hate him, don’t you?”

I scowled. “I don’t hate him, I just don’t care for him, and yet I am constantly forced to hear about him! ‘Oh, he is so beautiful’, ‘oh, he is such a good dancer’, ‘oh, he is so intelligent’. Well, maybe he is - but above all he’s overrated.”

 

Erenwen finally saw fit to change the topic. “Well, you are not normally adverse to beauty,” she said, indicating my unfinished work. “That peacock is splendid. If it weren’t marble-white one might believe it were alive – like it would fan its tail any second! Will you paint it when it is done?”

I looked at the peacock again. I would have to put some more work into the plumage, I noticed now that I was less tired; it did not look soft nor light enough yet. Erenwen was too easily impressed. And of course I still had to give it feet; so far it seemed to grow out of the rock. Still, even in its unfinished state I thought it looked better as it was than it would if I painted it, no matter how realistically.

I shook my head. “No, I think not. I think that would ruin it.”
”Pity,” Erenwen said. “It would look truly alive then.”

“Maybe I’ll give it eyes of ruby - then you can claim that it’s an albino,” I suggested, and she laughed. “Yes, do! That would be quite an oddity,” she said, and then she gave me a wry glance. “Like you.”

I stuck my tongue out at her. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes, yes, and now I lag half a day behind, but I just had to tell you – even though you’re an awful spoilsport. By the bye, have you seen that Father put your fox in the front yard?”

I hadn’t. As I hadn’t left our grounds in the past week, I had not set foot in the front yard either.

“Well, he has,” said Erenwen. “You should go and have a look; it’s quite startling.”

With that, she finally left me.

 

And I felt cold and lonely. I stared at my clenched hands, at my tools, at the marble peacock. I was tempted to smash it to pieces, folding my arms as a precaution until my bout of anger passed. I knew that I would get no work done here today, and with a sigh I tidied my workplace and left the studio. Perhaps my father had some work for me in the forge, either helping him directly or supervising one of the newer apprentices. I was still an apprentice myself, being not yet ready for the final examinations, but Father gladly employed me as an assistant teacher when my time allowed it. He maintained that the best way of remembering the basics of any craft was teaching it, and indeed I had found teaching just as helpful as practicing – sometimes more so, for sometimes I had not realised why something was done in a certain way – it just was – until someone made a mistake that illustrated nicely why it was not done in another way. Today I would not get on with my own projects, but I might yet turn it into a successful day by helping someone else with their work.

 

I took a detour to the front yard first, however, to see where my fox had gone. I did not find it immediately. As we lived a good way outside the city, we had a lot of room around our house, so what we called our front yard might well have passed for a proper garden within the city walls - as far as space was concerned. But we had put a lot of thought and effort into making it look half-wild, so travellers would not find the transition from forest road to garden too jarring. We had put some sculptures among the shrubbery to give people who came to commission a statue a first impression of what they could expect, and we had tiled the path with cream-coloured stones, but the rest was all untrimmed growth. There was a grove of wild plum trees and a hedge of dog-roses (the only roses my mother got to grow at all) and brambles, there were climbing vines and wisteria in the trees and water-lilies and rush-grass around the pond; there were shrubs with many-coloured blossoms lining the path to our door, and chamomile, juniper bushes and small willow trees to make remedies for the most common illnesses. City folk often believed that our front yard was entirely untamed, ignorant of our constant battles against brambles and nettles and other plants that threatened to spread everywhere and suffocate everything else. In truth, keeping it all in check while still making it look wild and natural was as much work as was keeping the kitchen and the flower garden behind the house in order, and far more work than the fruit orchard.

My father had cunningly put the fox amongst the bushes near the pond, clearly visible from the path but not easily identifiable as a creature of stone. Even I, who should have known, was in the first second surprised that a fox should come so close to the house; then, having tricked myself, I laughed. It looked as though the fox had snuck up on the house, and then been startled by a sound on the path. I was pleased with the effect; I don't think I could have made the sculpture any better if I'd known it would be put in this place.

 

My curiosity satisfied, I made my way to the forge, welcomed by heat and hammerfalls. Father looked up in surprise when I entered. He stood at the anvil with Helyanwë, who nodded in greeting. They both appeared quite absorbed in their work, but Father smiled nonetheless. “Nerdanel! Have you finished another marvellous animal, then?”

I grimaced and shook my head. “Not yet, and I don’t think I’ll do any good there today. I feel a little uninspired. Can I help you instead?”

“One moment,” he said. “Helyanwë, will you re-heat that, please? We’ll have to bend it a bit further, but it’s cooled down too much.” Helyanwë returned the piece they’d been working on to the furnace.

Father wiped his forehead, smearing sweat and soot on his brow. “There we go. You couldn’t have picked a better time, dear – we’re quite swamped with this chandelier that King Ingwë commissioned. I’d like to have it finished before the next feast-day, and I need Helyanwë to help me, so I’ve set the other apprentices to dull routine exercises. Perhaps you could take a look whether they’ve grown tired of twisting wires yet, and come up with something more interesting for them to do? I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only one grateful for that.”

“Yes, certainly,” I said, smiling. “I’ll think of something. Good luck with that chandelier!”

“Thank you, dearest. Sorry I am so curt. – Helyanwë, that should be enough!” Helyanwë took the arm of the chandelier out of the fire and brought it back to the anvil while I made my way towards the workshop. Already the hot air had driven away the cold I’d felt earlier, and my mood had recovered from Erenwen’s thoughtless remark. Father’s apprentices expressed their relief at seeing me although I made them work hard, and that, too, was gratifying. Aside from a short break for lunch I was busy in the workshop all day.

 

Father had more time for talk when we had cleaned up and gathered around the table for our evening meal. "Did you see your fox in the garden?" he asked me when everybody was busy eating.

"I did," I replied with a smile. "You've chosen a good place for it."

"Maybe not," Father said. "Already we've had three warnings about the supposed danger to our chicken."

"One was mine," admitted Lisanto, one of Mother's apprentices, to the laughter of all. "Well, nobody told me! I thought there really was a fox sneaking about the house."

"I cannot blame him," said my mother. "If I had not been forewarned I would have thought the same."

I could not help but be proud, but I was also embarrassed to be praised in front of everybody. "Well, you have to be prepared for all kinds of sculptures around a sculptor's house," I said somewhat lamely. Father shook his head.

"Not that kind of sculpture. You've surpassed your masters," he said. "Perhaps it is time to take your final exams in this field? Not in smithcraft perhaps, not yet; but I doubt there's anything we – or Carnildo, for that matter – can still teach you about sculpture." Carnildo was my other sculpting tutor: In those days we all had two teachers at least, so any over-ambition or partiality on the side of one would be balanced (hopefully) by the other's prudence.

 

"No," I said quickly, terrified by the suggestion, and half-angry that Father had made it before the assembled apprentices. He always did that, reasoning that everybody was relaxed and at ease during supper, that the day's work and the evening's wine lulled people's doubts and made even rivals look at each other more kindly. Normally I saw no mistake with that policy; but then normally I wasn't the one singled out before the entire household. I hastily filled my mouth with food so I could not be asked to speak. But eventually I had chewed and swallowed meat and peas, and Father was still watching me.

"Why not, Nerdanel? I daresay you are quite ready. Remember that you do not need to be perfect in order to be allowed to take the exam – though I cannot think of any sculpture, by anyone, that could best your fox. It just serves to confer upon you the title of master craftswoman, and to make it generally known that you are no longer an apprentice, but a craftswoman in your own right. You could still continue improving, if that is possible, afterwards. And you could take on apprentices of your own."

"No," I said again. "I am much too young, Father! Whoever heard of an underage master of crafts?"

 

"You are almost of age, dear," my mother reminded me. So I could expect no help from that quarter, I thought grimly. "And your father is quite right; you are ready. I assure you Aulë will not count the missing years, but your merits."

Just then I was convinced that I had no such merits whatsoever. The mere thought of having my craft and work examined by Aulë made my stomach turn into a lump of ice; suddenly the smells of the food made me feel nauseous. I pushed my plate away. "I really don't think I'm up to that," I said weakly. Helyanwë gave me a lopsided sympathetic smile, and I knew that he saw himself in my position. It was a question of a few months only until my father would bring up the topic of exams with Helyanwë, here, at the dinner-table. His sympathy was some small consolation.

Father, too, saw my discomfort. "If you absolutely think you're not ready, nobody is going to force you to finish your degree ," he said gently. "But I think that it's something you should consider. Why don't you show Master Carnildo one of your projects when you're done, and see what he says? That doesn't commit you to anything, and it will give you a second opinion – maybe one you'll trust more than that of your partial parents." He gave me a reassuring smile, but I could not feel reassured.

"I'd second Father's opinion," Erenwen said, "if you thought I was any less partial."

Alcarincë, too, spoke up. Like Helyanwë, he was likely to finish his apprenticeship soon, but unlike Helyanwë he apparently did not find the thought daunting. Perhaps it was his age that let him look at the prospect of exams without fear; after all he was seven years older than I. Or maybe just didn't find the thought of my examination daunting, and his own would be a different matter altogether?

"Perhaps I am a little less partial, Nerdanel? Yet my advice would be the same."

I glared at him and at Erenwen, but it was Father whom I addressed. "I'd much rather take the exams in sculpting and smithcraft both at once."

Father tilted his head, frowning. "Then you will have to do twice the work in the same time. Splitting it up would give you more leisure to complete your assignments."

 

He was right, of course, but I could not imagine bringing up the courage to face an examination by Aulë and his Maiar more than once. Much better to have twice the work, I thought, than to have twice the anxiety! But I did not want to discuss my nerves in front of all the apprentices. So I nodded my head, slowly, and sighed. "All right, I'll think about it." I could not muster the strength to fake enthusiasm.

Father reached out across the table to squeeze my hand. "That's all I ask. You'll know best what you want."

With that, conversation finally turned to less distressing things – the chandelier for Ingwë, tomorrow's chores, the latest play Sailatulco and Lindanolvion had seen in Tirion. As everyone's attention wandered away from me my stomach unclenched, but my appetite did not return. Although I had managed to escape having to agree to anything just now, I knew that it was only a matter of time until the question would be raised again. I would have to take the exams eventually, I knew; although I was perfectly happy to assist my parents and had neither need nor desire to be 'a craftswoman in my own right', as Father had put it, I knew that this was not enough, not on the long run. But the idea of ending my comfortable subsistence so soon, so suddenly, was too terrifying to consider. No matter how much I'd think about it, I couldn't imagine that I'd find it within me to follow Father's advice anytime soon.