For Love or Money by Lady MSM

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Fanwork Notes

I got a request from my fellow author Araloth the Random a while ago asking for a Feanor/Nerdanel story. After a long time of thinking (coupled with the fact that my computer's been broken for three months) I finally came up with one. Enjoy!

Notes:

1. Nerdanel and her family's accents and their village is sort of based on old-time Ireland. I couldn't resist.

2. As usual, everyone talks in a fairly modern way.

3. Everyone's ages are measured in the usual way. If you don't know what the usual way is, check out my other stories!

4. And don't forget to tell me what you think!

Funniest Feanorians

Fanwork Information

Summary: After an argument with his stepmother, Feanor runs away from home, adopts a new identity, and finds a new life with master craftsman Mahtan and his family. Everything is perfect...that is, as long as they don't find out who he really is. Major Characters: Fëanor, Finwë, Indis, Mahtan, Nerdanel, Original Character(s) Major Relationships: Genre: Humor, Romance Challenges: To Be Free Rating: Teens Warnings: Expletive Language
Chapters: 14	Word Count: 22, 469
Posted on 15 July 2010	Updated on 10 October 2010
This fanwork is complete.

I Run Away From Home

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For Love or Money

Chapter 1: I Run Away from Home

My father’s second wife is evil.

If she weren’t, I wouldn’t be out in the country on a horse I “borrowed” from my father in the pouring rain right now.

To be perfectly honest, I have no idea where I am. Usually I’m not allowed to leave Fish Hill (that’s my nickname for Tuna that I came up with myself, no matter who else would like to claim the honor), and I’m definitely not supposed to wander off into the countryside by myself. But I am nineteen—I think I’m old enough to look out for myself.

I wouldn’t even be here right now if it weren’t for my uptight drama queen of a stepmother. You see, last night I was supposed to look after my endlessly irritating half-brothers, since it was the nanny’s night off and apparently no one remembered that I might already have plans. Coincidentally, I did already have plans—some of the fellows and I were going to have a bonfire—and so I went to that. I figured the brats would be fine—after all, there were plenty of other servants around to look after them.

Then Indis found out. And Eru Almighty, was she angry. I don’t think I’m flattering myself when I say that I’m pretty scary when I’m mad, but I look like a mild-mannered sheep compared to my stepmother. What happened? She told me that I’m a spoiled, ungrateful brat who didn’t deserve to live under her roof, and when I told her that it wasn’t technically her roof and that I’d lived here longer than she had, she screamed, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

So I did.

I figure I’ll just ride around for a while, maybe stop at an inn or something, and then go back home once Indis has cooled off. It might take a while. Once when I made her angry she didn’t speak to me for a week. That was a good week.

As for Father, well, he’ll understand. I hope.

It’s been almost all day since I left home, I think, and I haven’t seen the slightest sign of civilization yet, which bothers me. I’m a city boy at heart, and going for too long without seeing another person kind of creeps me out. Then again, in this rain, I can’t really see anything.

Wait…is that a light ahead? Eru’s arse, I think it is! Actually, now that’s I’m getting closer, it looks like several lights. Probably a small farm village. Thank the Gods. At least I’ll be able to get something to eat and a place to stay. Although I hear you sometimes get fleas in the beds at country inns.

After trying to find my way around for a while, I finally park my horse in front of a small inn called the Sheep and Fiddle. I can’t help but smirk at the name. I swear, these country people are so…cute.

Inside, I’m hit with the smell of whiskey and mutton (that takes care of the sheep part, I suppose) and the sound of someone playing the fiddle (which takes care of the fiddle part). This place is certainly living up to its name. Judging from the accents of the people here, I rode way farther than I thought I did—I’m probably somewhere in the Northeast by now.

I go up to the landlady—a dark-haired woman in a stained apron who’s in the process of pouring someone a drink—and ask her if I can have a room.

“Sure and ye can’t, laddie,” she says. “We’re that full that there’s not a single room left in the place.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I’ve never been to an inn that didn’t have a room open before. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been in an inn before. “What should I do, then?”

“Ah, don’t ye worry, love. Ye look like a decent lad and so I’m sure one of the families around here will let ye board with ‘em for a few days. I’ll ask some of the girls that work here if they know of anyone that’s got room.”

“The poor bugger could stay with Mahtan’s family,” suggests a pretty brunette barmaid. “Eru knows they’ve got enough room in that big house for ‘im.”

Mahtan? The name sounds slightly familiar, but I don’t have time to think about it right now. Instead I just cross my fingers and pray to all the Gods that I’ll be able to find a room somewhere, because otherwise I’ll probably be sleeping in the street. And I’d rather not do that in this weather.

“Aye, that they do. Oy, Mahtan!” yells the landlady. “Do ye have room for a boarder in that mansion o’ yours?”

“What sort of boarder?” replies a guy from across the room…a slightly odd-looking gent, I have to say, what with his unusually red hair and slight beard. Evidently this is Mahtan.

“This here boy,” says the landlady. “He’s got money…ye do have money, don’t ye, love?”

“Of course I have money,” I say, a bit offended. I’m about to mention that no king’s son would ever leave home without some coins in his pocket, but then I remember that no one here knows I’m royalty. I think we should keep it that way for now.

“Right, then, he’s got money and he’s got nowhere else to stay, and he seems like a nice lad, so take him in for a few nights, would ye?”

Apparently I’ve gotten the landlady on my side. This is probably a good thing.

“Well, now, I don’t know…” says Mahtan. “I’m not sure that I’m wantin’ some young rapscallion in me house.”

“Oh, come off it, Mahtan,” says one of the fellows sitting next to him. “Ye know perfectly well that ye don’t care what this lad does as long as he keeps his hands off yer daughter!”

There’s a general roar of laughter, and Mahtan shakes his head. “Aye, that’s true enough. All right, laddie, two silver a night and keep yer hands off me daughter, and ye can stay as long as ye like, what do ye say?”

I think it over for a moment. Do I really want to board in some stranger’s house in Northeastern village I don’t know the name of, and what if I don’t want to keep my hands off Mahtan’s daughter?

But then I think, what have I got to lose? At least there probably aren’t fleas in his beds.

“I’m in,” I say.

I Lie Like a Rug

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Chapter 2: I Lie Like a Rug

On our way to Mahtan’s house, I learn the name of the village we’re in (Fana’s Crossing), how far it is from Tirion (pretty damn far), and why exactly there’s no room in the inn (all the farmers have come to the village to sell their crops and wool). I also remember where I’ve heard Mahtan’s name before…he’s actually quite well-known as a smith, and Father’s invited him to come to Tirion several times, but he always refuses.

“Why do you never come to Tirion?” I ask him. “You can’t beat Tirion as far as cities go. We’ve got everything. A tiny village like this…why do you stay here?”

Mahtan frowns. “Ye get to the point quickly, don’t ye, lad.”

I do get to the point quickly, and Indis is always telling me how true princes are more tactful than me. I usually ignore her.

“I was curious,” I explain. “I’m a smith myself, you see, and…”

“Ah, well, that’s different!” says Mahtan, slapping me on the back. “Well, ye see, lad, if I left Fana’s Crossing, no one would ever forgive me! I’m this town’s pride and joy, Eru bless ‘em. Sure if I wasn’t around, who’d make their pots and pans and horseshoes and all that? They’ve got plenty of fine smiths in Tirion. They can do without an old blighter like me.”

“Well, I suppose that makes sense,” I say, “but don’t you…”

Mahtan laughs. “Ah, yer just like me daughter. Always hankerin’ after life in the big city, that one. I tell her she can leave when she gets to be a bit older, but until she’s twenty-one she’s staying right where she is.”

This is another thing I frequently hear from Indis, and my current situation should be proof enough that I don’t listen to her on that either. Indis has no right to discipline me anyway.

“How old is your daughter?” I ask, just to make conversation.

“Eighteen. And yerself? I’m guessing yer not too much older than her.”

“I’m nineteen, actually.”

“What? So young and yer father lets ye wander around the countryside by yerself? Sure and these city folk don’t have an ounce of sense.”

I don’t bother telling him my father has no idea where I am. He probably won’t let me stay in his house if I do. I briefly imagine what’s going on at home: Father is pacing back and forth worrying about me, Indis is saying something like, “Darling, don’t worry. You know how that boy can be. I’m sure he’s at one of his little friends’ houses and he’ll be back tomorrow,” and the brats are being bratty. For a moment I feel guilty about worrying Father—he’s a good sort, really, and I like him—but it passes quickly.

“So, lad,” says Mahtan. “Tell me about yer family. I take it from yer clothes they’re wealthy.”

Quick, lie! I think to myself. Or, rather, selectively omit things. “Yes, we’ve got a bit of money—my father’s somewhat important in the city, I suppose. My—mother is Vanyarin. I also have two brothers. They’re younger than me.”

“Aye, me wife and I always wanted to have more children, but Nerdanel’s about all we can handle. Sure the women in me house are enough to drive any man mad. I may be the breadwinner, but me wife wears the trousers in the family, she does.”

I have to hold back a laugh at how he practically just described my family word for word. Except Father doesn’t know when to hold off on the kids, in my opinion.

“Well, here we are, lad…say, what’s yer name?” asks Mahtan, dismounting and looking at me curiously. I realize with a sinking feeling that I’m done for. If I tell him my real name, he’ll know who I am straight off.

“I’m called Ernil,” I say. This technically isn’t a lie because Ernil means prince, which people do call me, because it’s what I am. Hooray for rationalization!

“Well, Ernil, here we are. I hope ye’ll find me humble home comfortable.” Do I detect sarcasm in his voice? Yes, I think I do. Perhaps I should have given him a more humble-sounding name. I dismount and have a look around.

Mahtan’s house is a largish stone job with a big garden and a decent-looking forge out back. It doesn’t look bad at all, and I tell him so. He seems pleased. “I’m glad ye think so, lad. Probably not as grand as yer used to, eh? Come on in and ye can have a cup of tea.”

When he says this, I remember that it’s still raining outside, and I still haven’t had a chance to dry off yet. I shiver and nod.

Inside, Mahtan goes off to warn his wife that their house has been infiltrated by a nineteen-year-old city kid with a hoity-toity name, and I stand by the entrance, dripping on the floor and waiting for that tea I was promised. It doesn’t seem to be coming. Briefly, I miss the palace.

“Da says yer in need of something hot to drink, is that right?”

Well. That worked out.

The girl who’s talking is buxom and sturdy, and barely up to my shoulder. She’s got wild red hair and green eyes, and while she’s not pretty in the way of most Tirion girls, she’s cute. I guess this is Mahtan’s daughter. Damn it, what did he say her name was? It started with an M, didn’t it? Or was it N?

She snaps her fingers. “Hullo, city boy. I’m talkin’ to ye here. Do ye want some tea or don’t ye?”

“Yes, tea would be excellent, thanks,” I say. Nerdanel! That’s her name. “You’re Nerdanel, right?”

“Aye. And you’re Ernil, I suppose.”

Ernil. Lords, it’s going to be hard for me to get used to answering to that.

“Yes, that would be me,” I say. “I’m very grateful to your family for letting me stay here.”

Nerdanel nods. “So why are ye in Fana’s Crossing, then? Sure this place isn’t much, especially for a fine fellow like yerself.”

“I…I’ve come to study smithcraft with your father,” I say. Lies, lies, and more lies. Fortunately, this last one isn’t entirely false, since I wouldn’t mind studying with Mahtan at all.

“He didn’t say anything about that,” Nerdanel says, frowning.

“Well, I didn’t want to impose so soon…you see, I haven’t asked him if I can yet.”

“Huh!” she snorts. “Ye’ve got yer work cut out for ye then. Da doesn’t like surprises. Ye’d better be pretty good at what ye do.” My mind is frequently in the gutter, and this last sentence does nothing to discourage it. I quickly pull it out and get back on topic.

“I’m pretty damn good for my age, thank you,” I reply. “And I’m perfectly capable of paying your father for teaching me. I’m quite serious about my work.”

“I suppose training’s a fine thing,” Nerdanel says thoughtfully. “Sure I never had any…”

“Nerdanel!” trills a woman’s voice. “Are ye going easy on our guest?” Mahtan’s wife—I assume that’s who it is, at least—sweeps into the room. She’s about a head taller and a good deal sleeker than Nerdanel, with golden-brown hair and grey eyes. Honestly, she could be one of Indis’ friends—except this woman actually seems friendly and normal.

“Yes, Mam. I’m getting him a cup of tea,” says Nerdanel, busying herself with the kettle once again. Her mother glances at me and looks horrified.

“Goodness, I don’t know what me husband was thinking, keeping ye out here in the cold hallway! Come in, child, sit by the fireplace. We’ll soon get ye warmed up, not to worry! Nerdanel, hurry with the tea, dear.”

“Yes, Mam,” Nerdanel says again—a trifle sulkily, I do believe. “Anything else ye’d like me to do? Wash his bloody feet, perhaps?”

Her mother laughs—she’s obviously used to this. “Nerdanel, dear, yer as funny as ever. Come and sit with yer mam and our guest once ye’ve gotten the tea! Have a nice chat with us.”

Nerdanel just rolls her eyes, nods, and sets about preparing the tea. Fine, I think, be that way. I guess it won’t be that hard for me to keep my hands off you after all.

I follow Nerdanel’s mother, who tells me her name is Harma, into their sitting room, where a fire is roaring. I sigh with pleasure and throw myself onto an armchair, stretching my legs out over the side. Ahh, that’s nice and warm…

“Ye look like ye could use a fire, lad,” says Harma kindly. “Sure it’s raining cats and dogs out there! And ye’ve ridden all the way from Tirion in this weather, Mahtan tells me.”

“Yes, it’s been a pretty long day,” I say.

“So why have ye come to our little town? A bit out of the way, isn’t it?”

Damn it, what was my explanation? Being in a warm room has completely sucked all intelligent thought out of my head.

“Ernil’s come to study smithcraft with Da,” says Nerdanel, entering with the tea and greatly improving my opinion of her. “That is, if Da says it’s okay. I told him not to expect too much, since ye know Da doesn’t like surprises, and…”

“And what’s me surprise, then?” says Mahtan, entering and sitting down next to his wife. “If the well’s broken again, I swear to Eru, yer just going to have to figure it out on yer own, because I don’t have time to be doin’ repairs all day.”

“Actually, sir, I don’t mean to intrude, but the surprise is that…well, the real reason I came to Fana’s Crossing was that I wanted to study smithcraft with you,” I say.

To lessen the awkwardness during the silence that follows, I take a large gulp of the tea, which is entirely too hot to be consumed yet and almost results in me spitting in onto the floor. Thankfully, I manage to swallow it.

“Yer right,” says Mahtan after a while. “That is a surprise.”

“I should have mentioned it earlier, but I didn’t want to impose,” I say. “I’ve got enough money to pay you, and I’m a good student, and…” I trail off nervously. This may be the first time I’ve actually been nervous in my entire life. For some reason I really, really want to stay here and study.

“So what yer sayin’ is,” says Mahtan, “that ye’ll pay more than yer already paying for boarding with us, just for the privilege of lookin’ over me shoulder while I work.”

“Well,” I say, surprised. “Yes. That’s basically it.”

“Hmm,” says Mahtan. “Either ye’ve got more money that ye know what to do with, or yer desperate to learn. Either way, I don’t see a reason to charge ye for something that probably won’t take up too much of me time. After all, we’re already lettin’ ye stay here, aren’t we? Tell ye what, help out with the chores a bit and don’t talk too much while I’m working and ye can do what ye like.”

Nerdanel shakes her head. “Yer a lucky man and I hope ye realize that, Ernil. I’m off to bed.”

I consider calling “I’ll be along in a minute, darling” as she leaves, but I doubt her parents would appreciate that. Instead, I finish my tea, allow Harma to show me to their spare room, and flop down on the bed.

Cheap lodging. Free training. All with a family that seems about three thousand times less awful than mine. And all I have to do is pretend to be someone else for a while.

Goodbye, Feanor. Hello, Ernil.

I Have Issues with Clothing and Discuss Horses

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Chapter 3: I Have Issues with Clothing and Discuss Horses

I wake up bright and early the next morning and realize that I forgot to bring along a change of clothes.

This isn’t a huge deal, since I once went ten days without changing clothes when I was working on a big project, but I have no idea how long I’m going to be staying here and my clothes from last night are still pretty wet. At least I remembered to bring a nightshirt, but I can hardly go walking around town in that. People here aren’t used to my eccentricities.

I finally decide that the only way to solve this problem is to enlist the help of Nerdanel’s mother. She probably knows where I can buy or borrow some clothes. I’m going to have to be careful with my money though—I don’t have a ton, and most of that is probably going to go towards my food and shelter.

“Good morning, Ernil!” says Harma brightly as I step into the kitchen. “Oh, look at ye, yer still in yer nightclothes! Hadn’t ye better get dressed?”

“Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” I say. “I’m actually somewhat…short of clothes. Actually, all that I brought was this and what I was wearing yesterday.”

Harma frowns. “Ye were planning on staying up here, and yet ye didn’t bring along any clothes?”

Oops. She may be starting to suspect something. “Well, I left in a hurry…because I wanted to leave before it started raining, though that didn’t work out too well. And so I sort of…forgot to pack much.”

She frowns at me a bit more, and then shakes her head. “Yer a bit forgetful, aren’t ye, Ernil.”

I laugh in relief. Good, she bought it. “Yes, when I’m in a hurry. It’s really something I need to work on.”

“Well, I’m sure I can make a few things for ye. And until then, ye can borrow a few things of Mahtan’s. Yer about his height, though I think yer a bit skinnier than him.”

“Thank you, that would be excellent,” I say. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Nonsense, it won’t be that much work. After all, yer our guest, aren’t ye? I’ll go ask Mahtan if he’s got any clothes ye can borrow.”

Huh, I think. And here I was thinking that hiding my identity wouldn’t get me treated like a prince.

“Get some clothes on, Ernil. No one wants to see that.”

I look up and there’s Nerdanel, obviously just coming in from doing chores. She’s looking at me the way that Indis looks at other people’s shoes—with complete contempt. I really don’t need this first thing in the morning, so I sort of snap back.

“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry for offending you, madam,” I say. “I’m sure my feet and lower legs must be an incredibly traumatizing sight. What a good thing it is for both of us that you’re not as hospitable as your parents!”

Nerdanel shakes her head and heads off towards her room without another word.

Eventually I’m going to figure out what she has against me, and whatever it is, it had better be good.

She’s right, though—I really shouldn’t be standing around in my nightshirt, so I go back in my room. These small-town folk certainly get up early. It can’t be later than seven in the morning, and Nerdanel and Harma look like they’ve been up for at least an hour. I usually get up at nine or later.

My door is abruptly opened, and a bundle of clothing thrown at me. “There,” snaps Nerdanel. “Now get dressed and meet me outside. The horses haven’t been fed yet.”

I yawn, get dressed in Mahtan’s clothes (which are a bit short and wide on me, and have a slightly odd smell, not that I’m complaining) and less-than-enthusiastically follow her outside. Maybe if I try not to say anything she’ll stop yelling at me.

“Ye’ve got quite the nice horse here,” says Nerdanel admiringly when I get to the stable. She’s petting my dad’s horse’s nose, and actually smiling for once. “Ye can tell she’s got breeding.”

“Yes, she’s a great horse,” I say. “And since she’s brown, I can ride her in the woods and be practically invisible.”

Nerdanel chuckles a little. “And what’s her name, then?”

I look at the ground, a little embarrassed. “Her name’s…Chocolate.” Nerdanel raises her eyebrows. “Look, my father let me name her when I was about five, okay? I’ve come up with about sixty-seven better names since then, but unfortunately Chocolate’s what she responds to now.”

“That’s cute,” says Nerdanel, smirking. “Nice to meet ye, Chocolate.”

“So…you must like horses, then,” I say, as we go about letting the horses out to graze (They have two horses, and both of them seem to like me quite a bit, which is reassuring).

“I like most animals,” Nerdanel replies. “Dogs and horses are me favorites. I’ve never liked cats much, though. Rotten stuck-up little beasts.”

“My father loves cats,” I say. “He’s always got two or three of them around the house somewhere. Often they’re strays one of the servants just picked up off the street.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’d like livin’ in yer house, Ernil.”

“Well, I don’t mind the cats so much, they’re usually all right. But they get hair everywhere! And there’s a couple of rooms in our house that always smell like cats.” I’m sort of starting to have fun now. “And this one time, one of my little brothers, he sits down on the couch without looking where he’s sitting, and he sits on one!”

“He sat on a cat?” says Nerdanel. She grins. “Hey, that’s a poem.”

I nod. “Spontaneous poetry. Very nice.”

She laughs, and then frowns, like she’s remembered that she’s supposed to dislike me. “Well, I think the horses have had enough to eat, don’t ye? Let’s put ‘em back in the stable.”

We do this, and I’m just about to go back inside when Nerdanel calls, “Say, Ernil…”

“Yes?” I say, turning around.

“About earlier this morning…if yer going to live in this house, yer going to have to learn when I’m being serious and when I’m not.”

I think that may have been an apology.

“Of course,” I say. “And for the record, I’d probably be offended if you went around the house in your nightshirt, too.”

“So tell us about yer family, Ernil,” says Harma as we sit down to dinner that night. It’s time for some more lies (and selective omissions), but fortunately, I’m somewhat prepared for this.

“Well,” I say, “my father is…on the city council, and he’s a bit important, I suppose, so we’ve got some money. My…mother…”(I will never get used to calling Indis that) “…spends most of her time with my brothers or her friends. My brothers are twelve and nine, and they mostly like causing trouble.”

“So what are yer brothers’ names?” asks Mahtan.

“Um…Ambarhil and Randir,” I say, naming my two best friends from back home. They’re sort of like brothers to me, anyway. And they often act like they’re nine and twelve.

“And which one was it that sat on the cat?” inquires Nerdanel.

“That was…Randir,” I say. “The younger one. He never watches where he’s sitting.” (That’s actually quite true of my youngest brother Finarfin, who is probably going to accidentally sit on a wild boar someday).

“Me younger sister once got her leg stomped on by a horse,” remarks Mahtan. “She limps a bit to this day, poor girl.”

“How old was she when it happened?” I ask, glad we’ve gotten off the subject of my family. I haven’t thought up any detailed lies about them yet.

“She was thirteen. By that point, I was already married and moved away, so I wasn’t there to tell her not to go near Da’s horses!”

Harma laughs. “Sure and I’ve always liked yer sister. Bit of a bad influence on Nerdanel, though, I think.”

“Oh, ye just don’t like that she told me that I could get a proper education in the city,” says Nerdanel. “Which I could, by the way.”

“That’s not a choice for ye right now and ye know it,” says Harma. “Yer too young to go off to the city on yer own! Ye’ve got no one to stay with and no experience with cities. Once yer old enough, ye can do what ye like, but for now yer just going to have to stay here.”

“Oh, bosh. Ye just don’t want me to go because ye need me to help around the house! And Ernil’s barely older than I am but he’s off on his own…”

“Nerdanel, we are not going to have this argument in front of our guest,” says Mahtan sharply. “And if yer going to be disagreeable ye can go to yer room.”

Nerdanel scowls and goes back to eating. I sit back in my chair and reflect that no family’s perfect.

I Learn to Be Practical

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Chapter 4: I Learn to be Practical

I’m lying in bed and I’m planning.

When I left home originally, I thought maybe I’d just spend one or two nights here and then head home to take whatever’s coming to me. But that was back when I didn’t know I’d be living with Mahtan. Now, I kind of think that it would be wasting an opportunity to leave so soon. If I can keep up this other identity for a little while, I’ll be able to study with Mahtan and stay away from my stepfamily for that much longer. Because I know that if my hosts find out who I really am, the jig will be up. They’ll tell Father where I am and home I’ll have to go.

Do I feel bad about lying? Not a lot, no. I plan on telling them who I am right before I leave…or maybe even after I leave, in a letter or something. Maybe that would be best. I’d rather not be around when they find out I’ve been lying to them.

Anyway, that’s my plan. And once I’m done thinking of it, I go right back to sleep.

Like yesterday, I get up early and help Nerdanel with the horses before breakfast. Unlike yesterday, today there’s considerably less joking around and discussing our families. Nerdanel still seems to be sulking from the argument with her parents last night. I’m a bit afraid to ask her about it.

We finish up, and I’m about to go inside when she says, “Wait. Hold up.”

“Yes?” I say cautiously, turning around.

“Yer helping Da out today in the forge, aren’t ye?”

“Um…yes. Why?”

“Aye, that’s what I thought. Come on.” She goes into the shed next to the stable and I follow, somewhat mystified.

“Nerdanel,” I ask, “what exactly is going on?”

“Here,” she says, pulling a small stool in a corner to the middle of the room. “Sit on that and take yer hair out of that braid.”

“Why?”

“Because,” says Nerdanel. “Have ye noticed how me da wears his hair? Short, like. And why does he do that? Because he works in a forge and doesn’t want to set his head on fire, that’s why. It’s not safe to have yer hair all over the place.”

“Wait,” I say. “You’re going to cut my hair?”

“Ye came here to learn, didn’t ye? First lesson is that ye’ve got to be practical. It’s not about looks here. Now take yer hair out of the damn braid.”

Well, I think, if she cuts your hair short, maybe if Father sends someone here looking for you they won’t recognize you.

“Fine,” I say, unbraiding my hair. “Go crazy. Just don’t cut all of it off.”

Nerdanel picks up a pair of shears hanging on the wall, and I eye them suspiciously.

“Aren’t those the things you use on sheep?”

“Shut up and sit still.”

I shut up and close my eyes, wincing when I feel the first cut. I know it’s ridiculous, but long hair is somewhat of a status symbol in Tirion, and like most status symbols, it’s hard to part with. Briefly, I think about the absurdity of this situation…I’m a High Prince and yet here I am being sheared like a sheep. What would Indis say?

“All done! Go have a look at yerself.”

Nerdanel’s grinning like she’s pretty well pleased with herself. She hands me a bit of polished metal, and I nervously look at my reflection.

It’s not too bad, actually. My hair looks completely different, though —before it went past my shoulders, whereas now it just goes to my chin and there’s a bit of a fringe in front. Nerdanel’s got a good hand with the shears.

“Well, aren’t ye the handsome fellow!” says Nerdanel…I think she’s being sarcastic, but I can’t quite tell. “All right, that’s good enough. Let’s go get breakfast, I’m starvin’.”

It’s no big deal, I think, looking at my reflection again. Like my fake name and my many other lies, this hair thing is just another part of my disguise. And the less I am like Feanor, the more I’ll be able to be Ernil.

Breakfast is sausage and eggs, and I’m so hungry I eat five helpings and don’t even worry about what’s in the sausage. Harma and Mahtan seem especially pleased with my newly shortened hair and tell Nerdanel repeatedly how clever she is.

“Sure and it wasn’t like I did much!” Nerdanel keeps saying. “If it had been hair like mine, sure, that’d have been a challenge. His hair’s as straight as a stick.” To demonstrate this, she grabs a handful of my hair and yanks it forward.

“Ouch!” I yell. “That’s attached to my head, you know, Nerdanel!”

Harma laughs. “Will ye look at that! Ernil’s barely been here for two days and already he and Nerdanel are like siblings. It’s amazing, that’s what.”

It’s depressing, that’s what. Did I seriously escape from my annoying brothers only to find an annoying sister?

“Well, Ernil,” says Mahtan. “If yer all done eating we’d best get going. Got a lot of work to do.”

I nod, take one last bit of sausage (Varda, that’s good sausage—I wonder where they get it) and follow him out to the forge.

“All right, lad, we’ve got a couple of rules in here,” Mahtan tells me. “First, don’t talk too much. Second, watch what yer doing…I don’t want to be responsible for ye getting set on fire. And third, if ye’ve got any questions, ye can ask me. Now, what we’re doin’ today is, ye remember Regiel? The landlady? She’s in need of a new fryin’ pan for the inn, and so we’ve got to make one.”

“A master smith like you making frying pans for a country inn?” I say. “Seems a bit below you.”

Mahtan frowns. “Work is work, Ernil. It doesn’t matter who it’s for. Me job is to make things for people who’ll use ‘em.”

“Well, I suppose you are the only smith in the village,” I say diplomatically. “Things are a bit different in the cities.”

“Aye, that they are,” says Mahtan with a bit of a sigh. “All right, we’d best get started. Pay attention. We’re goin’ to have to use iron for this, since it’s going to be used a lot and it needs to be sturdy. Have ye ever had any of the bacon they make at the inn?”

“No,” I say. “I’ve only been in the inn once and that was for about five minutes.”

“Well, trust me, they give ye so much that we’re goin’ to have to make a very large fryin’ pan indeed!” He laughs. “Aye, but it’s delicious bacon. Anyway, watch closely.”

I do so, fascinated. I’ve seen some of Mahtan’s work back in Tirion—he made half of Indis’ jewelry—but it’s amazing to actually see him work close up, even if it is on something as ordinary as a frying pan. Everything he does is so precise. No wonder he’s so successful…he’s got a brilliant eye to detail. Lucky Nerdanel, getting to grow up in this house. I would kill to be able to be related to Mahtan.

Almost as soon as we’re done (ok, not we, exactly, since I mostly just watched), there’s a knock on the door and Mahtan grins.

“That’ll be Regiel already, that will. Sure and the woman always arrives exactly at the time I tell her something’ll be ready. Never gives me a margin of error at all.” He shakes his head and lets her in. “Afternoon, Regiel! Right on time as always, I see. Come in, come in, yer pan’s all ready.”

“Thank ye, Mahtan,” says Regiel briskly. “Ah, if it isn’t the young wanderer! I don’t think we were ever properly introduced, lad. I’m Regiel.”

“Ernil,” I reply. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Aren’t ye polite, then. Has he been behaving himself, Mahtan?”

“Oh, aye, he’s been a real help. He’s been helping Nerdanel out with the horses and he’s giving me a hand in the forge, and all in all it’s a real pleasure havin’ him here.”

“Ah, that’s nice,” Regiel beams. “Well, I must be off. What do I owe ye, Mahtan?”

“That’ll be seven pennies, and a pint of ale,” says Mahtan. “And I’m givin’ ye a bargain, I hope ye know. I could have asked for a plate of bacon, too.”

“Ah, ye’ll probably get one anyway. Well, goodbye, Mahtan, and it was nice to meet ye properly, Ernil. If yer ever in need of a better meal than yer likely to get in this house, drop by!”

“Goodbye, Regiel, and don’t ye insult me wife’s cooking!” He winks at me once Regiel’s gone. “Harma and Regiel have a bit of a rivalry going on as far as food goes. I pretend to take sides, but frankly, I have no idea which one’s better.”

“You’d almost think you were family, the way she was talking to you,” I muse.

“Well, that’s another way a small town like this is different from the big city,” agrees Mahtan. “Everyone in Fana’s Crossing is related, in spirit if not by blood. Everything is everyone else’s business.”

“It must be hard to keep a secret here.”

“That it is,” says Mahtan. “Sooner or later, everyone finds out what yer hiding.” He laughs. “So it’s a good incentive to be honest! Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use some dinner. Let’s head on inside.”

I follow him into the house with something brand-new to worry about.

Sooner or later, everyone finds out what you’re hiding.

So what does that mean for me?

Nerdanel Explains her Dilemma

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Chapter 5: Nerdanel Explains Her Dilemma

It’s been five days since I left home now. They’ve all been basically the same—I get up, I help Nerdanel with chores, I eat, I help Mahtan, I eat some more, I do more chores, I go to bed. You’d think I’d be bored, but I haven’t had a moment of free time since I got here. Harma’s made me some clothes, so I’m not constantly borrowing Mahtan’s, and though the new things still have that funny smell at least they fit.

Nerdanel and I are still on that fine line between hating each other and getting along. Honestly, there are a lot of things I like about her…she’s intelligent, and tough, and she says what she thinks. What I don’t like about her is that a lot of what she thinks seems to be that I’m an idiot, and so far she’s given me no reason for why she thinks this.

“And what are ye thinking about so intensely, Ernil?” asks Harma, smiling. “Ye’ve been staring at that wall for nearly ten minutes now!”

“Oh,” I say. “Sorry. Just…daydreaming, is all.”

“Well, if yer done, would ye mind going into town with Nerdanel and running a few errands for me? We’re in need of a few things from the butcher’s shop and that.”

“All right,” I say with a sigh. Will they ever run out of chores for me to do? And is it necessary for me to do them with Nerdanel all the time?

If Harma’s offended by my attitude, she doesn’t show it. “It’ll be good for ye to get to know the village, won’t it? Nerdanel can show ye around. I’m sure ye’ll have a good time.”

“Er…yes, I’m sure I will.”

“All right, Ernil, ye can stop being polite now,” says Nerdanel, entering with a basket in her hand. “Let’s just get going.”

Well. It’s good to see that she can read my mind.

“So how many people live in Fana’s Crossing, anyway?” I ask as we step out into the street.

“About two hundred. ‘Course, there’s more that live on the farms outside of town, but still, it’s small.”

“It must be nice, having such a close community like that,” I say thoughtfully.

Nerdanel looks at me sharply. “No. It’s not.”

“Why not?”

She sighs. “Because ye can’t make a single move in this town without someone watching it. Ye can’t do anything without the old gossips misinterpreting it seven different ways. I…” She looks at me and shakes her head. “It’s none of yer business. Come on, the butcher’s shop is right here. We need to get some more sausage.”

Needless to say, the prospect of delicious sausage immediately distracts me from what Nerdanel was saying.

“Ah, Nerdanel, me lovely rose!” cries the young man behind the counter as we enter. He’s thin and wiry, not too tall, and looks like he really needs to comb his hair. “And what can I do for ye today, milady?”

Nerdanel rolls her eyes. “A pound of sausage, please, Bril.”

“Anything for you, me dear.” He starts to wrap up the sausage, then frowns at me. “So who’s this?”

“I’m Ernil,” I say.

Bril nods curtly. “I’m Brilhen. Me da owns this store. So…yer not from around here.”

“No, I’m from Tirion. I’m studying with Nerdanel’s father.”

“I see.” He shakes his head. “And just when I thought this town had enough people. Has he been botherin’ ye at all?” he asks Nerdanel.

“No, Bril, he’s been fine,” says Nerdanel firmly.

“So…how do you and Nerdanel know each other?” I ask stupidly, hoping to smooth a bit of the tension.

“Nerdanel and I have been friends since we were children.” He briskly wraps up the sausage and places it in Nerdanel’s basket. “That’ll be six pennies, love.”

“Thank ye, Bril,” says Nerdanel, handing him the money. I’m sure I’m not imagining the tone of annoyance in her voice. “We’d best be on our way.” Brilhen nods and winks at her, and then scowls at me as we go.

“He’s certainly…interesting,” I say once we’re out the door. “Seems quite fond of you.”

“Like he said, we’ve been friends since we were children,” says Nerdanel tightly.

“Hmm. I wouldn’t call that being friendly, exactly. More like being a lovestruck suitor.”

“I do not,” she says, “want to talk about that.”

“Talk about what? I was just joking.”

“Never mind.”

“Nerdanel, you have to tell me what’s going on, otherwise I’m going to be bothering you about it for the rest of the time I’m here.”

“Yer incredibly nosy, has anyone ever told ye that?”

“Lots. Come on, we’re frenemies, at least, aren’t we? Or something.”

She laughs. “Frenemies? Did ye just make up that word now?”

“No, people have been using that word in Tirion for about three years now, and…hey, don’t try to change the subject. Tell me what’s going on with you and Brilliant Bril back there.”

There’s a brief silence, like she’s trying to figure out what to do, and then she finally nods. “All right. Let’s finish up our errands, and then we’ll go to the pub and get some cider and I’ll explain.”

Our other errands are fairly brief—we buy some bread and tea and pick up a pair of boots for Mahtan from the cobbler’s. Nerdanel doesn’t say a word about Bril, and I can tell she’s enjoying keeping me in suspense. Finally, we head into the Sheep and Fiddle and drop into a table in the corner. Regiel brings us each some cider and tells me to send my thanks to Mahtan for the frying pan. Once she’s gone, Nerdanel starts explaining.

“Well, like Bril said, he and I have been friends since we were children,” she begins. “He and I were like brother and sister until I was about sixteen. Then…he decided he wanted to marry me. And it’s been like this ever since.”

“I see. So that’s why he was calling you ‘love’ and acting all protective of you.”

“Exactly. He’s always trying to scare off the competition. But there isn’t any competition for him, not really.”

“So you want to marry him?” I ask, more than a little surprised. Bril doesn’t seem like Nerdanel’s type. Not that I know what her type is, but still…

“Not exactly,” she says with a sigh. “But the thing is…look, Ernil, I know I’m not particularly pretty and I know I’m too plainspoken and not charming enough. I don’t have much of a chance of finding a husband in this town and even once I come of age I’m not going to have the resources to go to Tirion. And Mam’s always telling me how Bril’s a nice boy with a good job and how I’ll learn to love him if I spend more time with him. So I feel like I owe it to Bril to at least try to fall in love with him. Sure and what other options do I have?”

“What?” I cry. I’m not sure why this makes me so angry, but it does. “Nerdanel, you’ve been friends with him for years! Don’t you think you’ve spent enough time with him by this point to know if you love him or not? You can’t make yourself like someone.” I think of Indis. “Trust me, I know.”

Nerdanel shakes her head. “It’s not that simple, Ernil. It never is.” She takes a drink of her cider and stares at the table for a few moments. “Anyway, we had better get going. Da and Mam will be wondering where we are.”

I want to say more about Bril, but every time I try to speak up on the way home Nerdanel changes the subject. Instead, she shows me a bit more around town and we wind up talking about the Harvest Festival in a few weeks that everyone in the village is preparing for. Apparently it’s the biggest event of the year in these parts, and even the people from the furthest-out farms come. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll be able to stick around long enough to go.

Just before we reach the door, Nerdanel turns around.

“Listen, Ernil,” she says. “I don’t know why I’m telling ye this, since ye get on me nerves whenever I’m around ye and ye don’t deserve to know any of me business, but…I want to be a sculptor.”

“Really?” I reply eagerly, my surprise that she’s telling me this briefly overcome by my interest in what she’s saying. “That’s great! So you like making things too, eh?”

“That’s the first time I’ve gotten that response,” says Nerdanel, smiling. “Most people think that if I’m going to be learning a trade it should be something useful, like Da does. Not much call for it around these parts. That’s why I have to go to Tirion, if I want to actually do something with it.”

“Are you any good?”

She snorts. “Am I any good? I’ll show ye me workshop sometime, then ye can see for yerself.”

“You’re on.”

We head inside, both of us smiling. I know it’s too soon to hope, and I certainly don’t want to jinx it, but I think Nerdanel and I might be on our way to becoming friends. Just as long as we can avoid Bril.

Nerdanel and I Go Down Below

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Chapter 6: Nerdanel and I Head Down Below

Lately it’s occurred to me that I’ve been away long enough for Father to basically confirm that I’m not in the city. As a result, he’s probably gotten quite worried about me. And while I’m not ready to come home and I don’t want anyone to know where I am, I would like to let my father know that I haven’t left him the way Mother did. Sending a letter directly to him would probably be too dangerous, but I could have someone pass on the message…

In a flash of inspiration, I grab a pen and dash off a note to my old friend Ambarhil.

Dear Ambarhil,

Yes, it’s me, Feanor, and no, I have not been killed or robbed or gotten lost. I am currently doing quite well and staying with some very good people in a town I can’t name.

I’m not in the mood to come home and I’d rather not have my family find out where I am, so you’ll have to excuse me if this letter is somewhat vague. Please let my father know that I am doing well and studying hard.

I don’t know when I’ll be coming home.

Yours,

Feanor

I fold it up, scribble Ambarhil’s address on the outside, and head into the kitchen. “Harma,” I say, “if I wanted to get a letter to my family, who should I send it with?”

Harma thinks for a moment. “I believe Mahtan’s sendin’ some things to Tirion in a few days. Sure and we could have yer letter delivered along with ‘em.” She smiles. “Missing yer family, are ye? I hope they at least know where ye are!”

I have a brief moment of panic—dear Gods, she’s on to me!—before I realize she was just joking. I have got to learn to control my paranoia.

To avoid continuing this conversation, I head back to my room, wondering when I’ll wash my clothes. My hair and my nightshirt and most of my other possessions have started to acquire that weird smell that the rest of this house has, and I’m not particularly fond of it. It’s some kind of combination of horses and wool and stew, and if I came back to Tirion smelling like this Indis would probably throw me out again.

“What’s with that expression on yer face, Ernil? Sure and if ye keep it up yer face will freeze like that. Not but that I’m sayin’ it wouldn’t be an improvement.”

“Nerdanel,” I say without turning around, “while you’re very funny, would you mind keeping the insults to a minimum this morning? I’m a bit too distracted to think of any good replies.”

“Oh, I was bein’ serious,” she says. “Anyway, if yer in the mood to see me workshop now’s yer chance, seeing as it’s the only free time I’m likely to have today.”

My nosy-craftsman instinct (yes, that’s a real thing) kicks in, and I immediately forget about everything else that’s going on. “I’d love to see your workshop, but would you mind not being horribly rude to me while we’re there? Remember, you and I are frenemies now.”

“That remains to be seen, now doesn’t it.” She’s smiling, so I figure I must have done something right. “Come on,” she continues, picking up a candle. “Hope yer not afraid of the dark.”

“Have you noticed that you’re incredibly cryptic about everything?” I ask her as we head outside.

“Oh, if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. Yer not exactly the most forthcoming lad in Arda, ye know.”

Well, that’s because I’m lying about almost every single aspect of my life, I think. You have no excuse.

I’m fairly surprised when we enter the forge. It’s a small building, and I hadn’t noticed anything unusual about it last time I was in here. “Your workshop’s in here?”

Nerdanel smiles slyly. “Not quite. Just a moment.” She lights the candle and bends down to the floor, illuminating what looks like a small handle built into the floorboards. When she pulls back on it, a small door built into the floor (another spontaneous poem) comes with it.

“Be careful when yer climbin’ down here,” she warns me. “This ladder’s pretty old.” With that, she disappears below the floor. I hesitate—darkness and ladders both make me nervous—before realizing that if I freak out Nerdanel will torment me nonstop. So down I go.

When I get to the bottom I’m standing in a small, dark room with a table, some tools, and a stool in it. I can’t really see much else, since Nerdanel’s candle is the only light we’ve got right now.

“Ye may not know this, Ernil, but me family didn’t always live here,” says Nerdanel. “We only moved to this house after Da started making a bit more money—I was about seven at the time. Anyway, one day I was exploring and I found this room. I think the people that lived here used it as a wine cellar.” She deftly leaps up onto the stool and lights a lamp hanging from the ceiling. “And now it’s all mine.”

Once I blink a few times to get used to the light, I can actually see what’s in the room. And the first thing I see is an angry dog snarling at me.

Of course I immediately jump back, causing Nerdanel to snort with laughter. “Relax, Ernil,” she says, tapping the dog on the head. “I told ye I was good, didn’t I?”

“Wait. You made that?” On closer look, I can see that the dog is, indeed, a statue sitting on a shelf. I allow myself a moment of embarrassment before doing the obligatory gushing over the work. “Nerdanel, you’re brilliant! You weren’t joking when you said you were good at this. I’m actually jealous!”

Nerdanel smirks. “That’s not even me best. I’ve made all sorts of animals. People, too. Those two are Mam and Da, see?” She indicates two perfect likenesses of her parents (at least from the shoulders up—I don’t think she has enough material to make anything more).

I shake my head. “Look at the workmanship on those. I swear, you’re as talented as your father. You could make a fortune doing this, Nerdanel.”

“Sure and I’m flattered, Ernil,” says Nerdanel sadly, “but I don’t think I could.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I suppose the people here might not be sophisticated enough to appreciate your talent, but…”

“It’s not that they’re not sophisticated,” she interrupts. “It’s that people around here don’t have much money and they’re not going to spend it on things they don’t need, and who are ye to criticize them for that?”

“Well, all right. But in Tirion…”

“I can’t just move to Tirion, Ernil. Sure and ye may not know this because yer a spoiled rich boy, but it’s not easy for a lone country girl to move to the city with no money and no one to stay with.”

“Why can’t you ask your parents for help? I’m sure they’ve got some extra money to set you up as an apprentice.”

“No, they don’t. Don’t ye think I’ve asked them?” Nerdanel snaps. “Da may get a lot of business, but he doesn’t charge much for anything he makes. And he’s got a house to take care of, and land, and a family, and animals, and you! Ye do realize what we’re sacrificin’ to keep ye here? We’re givin’ ye cheap room and board, and free training, and even when yer money runs out Da’s still going to let ye stay here! Ye think Da took ye in because he wanted to make a profit? No, it was because yer just a kid and ye showed up in the middle of the night in the pourin’ rain and ye didn’t have a place to stay. We wanted to help ye, Ernil. Ye didn’t seem like anything but a poor runaway.”

I take a step back in horror. Have they known this entire time what I am? But no, Nerdanel keeps going.

“Ye’ve probably noticed, Ernil, that I haven’t been as nice to ye as me parents are. Want to know why that is? It’s because ye go around with this sense of entitlement. Like yer a real prince and we’re all yer subjects, and ye deserve to get everything ye want when ye want it. Me mam’s been up all night makin’ clothes for ye because ye were too stupid to bring yer own. Da’s working at half his usual pace so he can teach ye. Ye do yer chores wrong half the time and I have to clean up after ye, but do ye ever apologize or try to make anything more than the least effort? No!” She shakes her head, her eyes full of fury. “After all we’ve done for ye, ye still think yer superior to us. But yer not, Ernil. Yer no better than me or anyone else here. If anything yer worse off than us because at least we know our place. And ye don’t ever think about anything ye say. Coming in here and tellin’ me I ought to go to Tirion and reminding me of all the things I can’t have…” She shakes her head. “Listen, I’m sorry. I thought after yesterday—when we were talkin’ in town—that we could really be friends. But I don’t think we can. I don’t think we can even be frenemies. I just…I just wish ye’d leave me alone.”

An unfortunate thing about me is that when someone loses their temper, I tend to lose it right back at them—only worse.

This is one such time.

“Fine,” I hiss. “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll never speak to you again, if that’s what you’d like. But first, since you’ve been so damn honest with me, the least I can do is return the favor.” I’m starting to see red and I know I’ll say something I’ll regret, but I don’t care. “I’m sick of the way you’ve been treating me. Ever since I got here, even when you had no reason to hate me, you called me names and insulted me. You’re a malicious, vindictive girl and what’s more, you’re a quitter. You’re willing to give up on leaving this town before you’ve even tried! All you do is make excuses and whine about how miserable you are. Know what I think? I think you deserve to stay in Fana’s Crossing, and I think you deserve to marry Bril. You and he are the only people I’ve met here who haven’t treated me as a friend.”

Nerdanel’s giving me a look not unlike the one the statue of the dog has. Under normal circumstances it might make me a little nervous, but nothing makes me nervous when I’m angry. I open my mouth to say one last thing, but before I’m able to Nerdanel punches me in the jaw. Hard.

“Get out of here before I have to do that again,” she says, her voice eerily calm.

Without another word (not by my choice—I think she’s knocked my mouth out of place) I scramble up the ladder and run back to my room, where I sit on my bed and desperately try to calm down. I know I’ll have to see Nerdanel again today and I don’t want to go nuts and hit her—I’m pretty sure Mahtan won’t count that as keeping my hands off her.

I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry at anyone before. Not at my father, not at my friends, not at my brothers, not even after I had that huge fight with Indis (what was that about, anyway?). And along with it, I’m experiencing another emotion that I can’t remember ever having before.

I feel guilty.

Or maybe it’s just the pain in my jaw. Nerdanel sure can throw a punch.

The Harvest Festival gets Prepared For

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Chapter 7: The Harvest Festival Gets Prepared For

Harma and Mahtan eye the bruise on my jaw and Nerdanel’s red face curiously the next time we’re all in the same room, but since neither of us is willing to discuss what happened they refrain from asking questions (although Mahtan manages to ascertain that Nerdanel did not punch me because I wasn’t keeping my hands off her. He sure cares about that a lot). Meanwhile, Nerdanel and I avoid each other like crazy, and when we’re forced to be in the same room—like when we’re doing chores—we don’t speak or even look at each other.

I know she wants me to apologize. I’m not going to. She’s just as much at fault as I am. And I have more important things to worry about than what some plain, stubborn country girl thinks of me.

Life here has gotten a good deal busier in the last few days, due to the fact that everyone in the village is spending all their time getting ready for the Harvest Festival next week. It’s been practically all that’s on anyone’s mind—except the ever-practical Mahtan’s.

“Dancing and drinking!” he snorts whenever the subject’s mentioned. “That’s all folks in this town have been thinking about lately. Especially the young people,” he adds, looking significantly at Nerdanel and I. “I’ll do me bit, sure, but ye won’t catch me bein’ distracted from me real job.” This philosophy seems to apply to anyone who works with him, as well, since he’s been keeping me so busy that I would be too exhausted to do any running around even if I had time to.

Mahtan does, however, let me in on the details of the festival. Apparently it’s spread out over a period of three days, with the usual array of food, music, drinking, games, and all the rest. Honestly, I’m not that impressed. We’ve got a Harvest Festival back in the city, too, and the finest musicians and actors in Valinor are there, and it goes on for a week and the Valar themselves come. After that, anything else is probably going to seem a little…pathetic.

But on the other hand, I’ve always gone to things like this as the son of the king of the Noldor, not as a normal kid. I suppose the Fana’s Crossing festival will give me a chance to see what it’s like for ordinary people. I only hope it’s not too boring.

The most important part of the whole deal is the Hill Race on the third day. See, the village is divided into eight sections called “wards” (Mahtan’s family is in Ward Seven), and everyone in each ward works together to build an elaborately decorated cart (apparently the bigger and gaudier it is, the better). Then, on the last night of the festival, the men of each ward compete to see which group can get their cart to the top of the hill behind town first—and then burn it. It sounds easy, but Mahtan tells me that since the hill’s heavily wooded and everyone’s trying to sabotage each other it’s actually very difficult. The winning ward gets all the beer they can drink free of charge at the inn. Apparently Ward Seven lost last year after a three-year winning streak, and the ward’s pride has never recovered from the blow.

On the first weekend before the festival, Mahtan and I meet up with the rest of the men from our ward at Ararast’s house—he owns the bookshop and is sort of the head of Ward Seven. He’s also Regiel’s brother, though he makes sure to tell us that his sister isn’t going to assist us in any way.

“Sure and it’s the same way every year,” he says mournfully. “I says to her, I says, ‘Regiel, me dear sis, won’t ye help yer poor brother’s team just a bit?’ But no, she says she’s got to be neutral. Sure, family doesn’t mean anything anymore.”

“And what would Regiel be able to do for us, then? Besides get us even drunker than we already are,” jokes Angaring, Bril’s cousin. He’s a few years older than me and quite the rascal. I like him a lot better than his cousin.

“Enough joking, lads,” says Mahtan sternly. “Haven’t we got work to do? We’ve got a duty here, ye know. If we lose again this year our shops will go bankrupt, our wives will never speak to us again, and our children will disown us!”

“Oh, come on,” I say incredulously. “It can’t be that important, can it?”

They all turn and look daggers at me. Ararast shakes his head.

“It’s been the only…ah, yer from the city, ye wouldn’t understand,” he says disapprovingly. “Mahtan, I assume ye’ll be in charge of the blueprints this year again?”

“Aye, that I will. And Ernil will be helping me,” Mahtan replies.

“Ye sure he’s up to it?” asks Marnil, who is someone’s relative, I just can’t remember whose. “Sure and I wouldn’t think he’d have much experience in the matter. Maybe we should just put him with the rest of the girls.”

They all roar with laughter, and I look down, my face burning. What right do they think they have to tease me? If they knew who I really was…

If they knew who I really was then my cover would be blown and I’d have to go home. No thank you.

“Ernil’s been me apprentice for longer than any of ye,” says Mahtan, frowning at everyone. “So I think he’s up to it.”

“Aye, I suppose,” says Ararast. “Now, in more important business, how are we going to keep Ward Two from sabotagin’ us again like they did last year?”

“Maybe by not bein’ so easily distracted, eh, Angaring?” shouts one of the men. Angaring calls him a couple of things I’ve never even heard before and looks angrily at his feet.

“What happened?” I whisper to Mahtan.

“Last year one of the lads from Ward Two got his sweetheart to flirt with Angaring and distract him, and since Angaring’s unable to resist a pretty girl the plan worked and Ward Two won the race. Needless to say, no one’s letting him live it down.”

I shake my head. I would really hate to make a mistake in this town.

“Maybe we could pull the same trick on them,” Angaring finally manages to suggest. “Have one of the Ward Seven girls distract them.”

“Nah, that wouldn’t work,” says Marnil. “I doubt any of our daughters or sweethearts would be willin’—or capable, really.”

“What about me Nerdanel?” asks Mahtan, looking offended.

Ararast laughs. “I think she’d be more likely to punch ‘em!”

“I can confirm that,” I say. “Last time I talked to her she punched me in the jaw. It still hurts to talk.”

“And what were ye doin’ that made her do that?” asks a guy whose name I forgot. I shake my head and don’t reply.

The rest of the meeting consists of brainstorming ways to sabotage Ward Two, deciding that most of these ideas are stupid, someone getting offended over someone saying their idea is stupid, old jokes and insults being thrown around, the older men shouting at the younger ones to shut up, the younger men telling the older ones to shut up, and me occasionally trying to talk and usually getting ignored.

What fun!

“Why do I get the feeling that none of them trust me?” I ask Mahtan on our way home.

“Because they don’t,” he replies frankly.

“Why not? I’ve never done anything to them!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that yer an outsider. This is a small town, Ernil. Not many people from the outside world come here. And so naturally, we’re going to be a bit suspicious of the ones that do. Especially when they’re obviously from the city like yerself…and obviously don’t understand us.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

Mahtan sighs. “Listen, Ernil, yer a good lad, all right? It’s just that…sometimes ye don’t seem to have much respect for people that are different from ye. Like…what ye said about the race. Ernil, the cart race is one of this village’s most time-honored traditions. Ye may think it’s silly but I can assure ye it’s not. It’s important to us.”

I look down at my feet, a little ashamed. I trust Mahtan—if he’s saying I’m a disrespectful moron, I’m inclined to believe him.

“I’m just suggestin’ that ye talk a little less and listen a little more, ye understand?” Mahtan continues. “I know things are different here. I know Fana’s Crossing takes a little getting used to. But I think people would be a lot more likely to accept ye if ye tried to understand the way we think up here.”

As he’s saying this, we’re walking up the path to the house, and Nerdanel is outside hanging some clothes up on the line. I meet her eyes for a brief moment, and then she quickly looks away.

“Fine,” I say. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Wake up, darling.”

I open my eyes to see Nerdanel sitting on my bed. Her red hair is blowing around her face (which is odd, since there’s no wind in the room) and she’s wearing a filmy white nightgown that leaves very little to the imagination.

“I thought you hated me,” I whisper.

Nerdanel giggles. “I could never hate you, Feanor.” She leans forward (giving me an excellent view down her neckline, by the way) and runs her fingers through my hair. I’m about to put my arms around her, but then I pause.

“Wait,” I say. “What did you call me?”

She giggles again. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to know that, was I? Looks like the spell’s broken, sweetheart.”

And then I wake up.

Needless to say, I’m relieved.

I Screw Up Completely, and Bril Helps

Sorry it's taken me so long to post a new chapter! I've been insanely busy lately. Anyway, enjoy.

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Chapter 8: I Screw Up Completely, and Bril Helps

Nerdanel’s been spending more and more time with Bril lately. He’s been over for dinner a few times, and I see them together around town constantly. I guess she’s taking what I said in her workshop seriously.

I’ve got mixed feelings about the whole situation. On the one hand, Bril’s horribly annoying and I don’t think Nerdanel’s going to be able to make herself love him and I think she’s wasting her time. On the other hand, if she married him I probably wouldn’t have to see her so often.

Meanwhile, preparations for the festival continue. Ward Seven’s been meeting every other day now to devise strategies to beat Ward Two. Today’s meeting is at Angaring’s house, which is, coincidentally, connected to Bril’s house—their mothers are sisters and their families sort of live together (although, oddly, Bril’s family is in Ward Six. I asked Mahtan why this was and he said the line went right through the part where the two houses are connected). This might be tolerable if the house was three times the size it was. As it is, I’m stuck seeing Bril and hearing him say something horribly annoying (usually about Nerdanel) every ten minutes.

“All right, so let’s go over what we know about Ward Two,” says Ararast. “Their ward is the furthest south…”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but…” I glance at Bril, who’s in the adjoining room and in complete earshot of our discussion. “Do we want people from Ward Six overhearing us?”

“Ah, Ward Six doesn’t care about our plans,” says Ararast. “They’re probably too busy comin’ up with their own ways to sabotage Ward Two. Anyway, Two’s ward captain is Soron, who owns the largest farm in the village, and their women are considerably more charming than ours. Don’t look at me like that, lads; it’s just the truth. Has anyone thought of anything?”

“What can we do, eh?” asks Marnil. “Sure and they’ve got twice the resources we do.”

“Ah, hogwash,” says Angaring. “We’ve got Mahtan, haven’t we? He’s worth twice any of those damn Ward Two rotters.” I grin when I see Mahtan straighten up a little in his seat next to me. “Me question is, why are we concentratin’ so hard on sabotaging Ward Two when we could be fixin’ up our own team so they’ll have no chance of beating us.”

“Because we know Ward Two won’t play clean,” says Lomelind (he’s Marnil’s son, and he doesn’t usually talk much). “They didn’t last year and they won’t this year. Let’s face it, playing clean isn’t the way to win this.”

“Well,” says Bril, walking in the room uninvited (again), “Nerdanel told me…”

That does it. “Shut up, Bril,” I snap. “We’re trying to have a discussion right now—one that you’re not even part of. Since when are you in Ward Seven? And shut up about Nerdanel!”

Bril looks confused. “What did I say?”

“You think you’re being clever, coming in here every ten minutes and dropping your new girlfriend’s name? Wake up, Bril, she doesn’t love you! She’s only spending any time with you because she’s given up on going to Tirion! Otherwise she’d never waste time talking to you.”

“Hey!” says Angaring angrily. “Don’t ye talk to me cousin that way!”

“Yer a fine one, tellin’ me what a girl I’ve known since childhood wants,” snaps Bril. “She couldn’t stand bein’ friends with ye for more than two days! “

“So? She was more honest with me in those two days than she’s ever been with you.”

“Even if she was, what does it matter? Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’s realized from hanging around ye that living in the city just makes ye angry and rude and boring!”

“All right, lads, that’s enough…” says Ararast, but neither of us listens to him.

Well, actually, it’s mostly me that doesn’t listen to him. Instead, I shove Bril backwards, causing him to trip over someone’s foot and fall flat on the floor. He doesn’t seem to be hurt, but everyone looks at me like they’re going to kill me anyway.

“I think,” Ararast says slowly, “that this meeting should be over.”

“Aye,” says Angaring. He scowls at me. “And Ernil, if ye ever push around another member of me family again, I’ll run ye out of town. Understand?”

“He understands, he understands,” says Mahtan, standing up. “Come on, Ernil. Sure and we’ve got to finish up the cart anyway.”

I expect him to lecture me on not following his advice and alienating the people I’m supposed to be making friends with on our way back to the house, but we walk home in silence. It seems like Mahtan’s finally given up on me.

When I head into the house, still fuming, Harma is in the kitchen, washing some dishes. She glances at me as I enter.

“So it looks like ye haven’t had much luck making new friends,” she remarks, her tone neutral.

“I haven’t,” I say. “They hate me. I thought I was making progress, and then everything just fell apart. I can’t understand why.”

“I think I might,” says Harma thoughtfully. “It’s because of Nerdanel.”

“Excuse me? I thought it was mostly because I yelled at Angaring’s cousin.”

“Aye, that’s probably part of it. But I know the reason ye don’t like Bril is because ye feel like he’s holding Nerdanel back.”

“Why would you think that?” I ask incredulously. Can Harma read minds now or something? If so, I’m in trouble.

Harma smiles. “We mothers are a pretty observant bunch. But don’t try to change the subject. Ye feel like ye know what’s best for Nerdanel’s future, and yer angry at Bril for spoiling it.”

“Well, I do think she’s making the wrong choice,” I admit. “But it’s not like I care what she says. She insulted me.”

“Sure and she was right, wasn’t she? About ye needing to understand where ye are a little more?”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“Aye, she was. Mahtan gave ye the exact same advice a few days later, remember? And ye followed it. So Nerdanel must have been right.”

“She wasn’t right. She practically bit my head off for no reason. And she may have had a point, but it’s not like it makes a difference now.”

“Doesn’t it? I thought ye might understand a little more why she’s hurt now. She feels like ye don’t have any respect for her.”

“Why should I have any respect for her at all?” I snap. “She’s the one who hated me as soon as she met me, for no reason at all.”

“She had a reason. Didn’t she tell ye that? Something about goin’ about with a sense of entitlement? Or did she just tell me that?”

“No, she explained that to me. But that was at least a week after she’d met me.” I sit back and fold my arms. “She’s the one who needs to apologize. I may be at fault, but I’m not as bad as her.”

Harma shakes her head. “That’s exactly what she said about yerself. Anyway, I give up. If ye both want to carry on yer silly little feud, that’s yer choice. But I expect ye to be civil to each other at me dinner table. And if this keeps up, ye may find yer welcome here worn out a bit sooner than ye’d like.”

“You’d throw me out because I don’t get along with your daughter?”

“Oh, of course I wouldn’t. Yer our guest, after all. But being stubborn and refusin’ to talk to a member of the family that’s sheltering ye doesn’t exactly make ye a pleasant one. And remember, Nerdanel’s me daughter. I’m far more likely to take her side than I am to take yers.”

“So what are you saying exactly?”

“I’m sayin’ that this may reach a point where ye want to leave,” says Harma. She smiles kindly. “Oh, don’t ye worry, Ernil. I’m sure Regiel will let ye stay at the inn if there’s any room—and if ye’ve got any money left. And if ye don’t, well, I’m sure yer family would love to see ye again. Ye’ve probably learned all ye can here anyway.” She goes back to the dishes. “Hadn’t ye better be doin’ yer evening chores?”

I get up, sort of in a state of shock. I can’t believe someone just threatened to throw me out. I especially can’t believe that it was kind, motherly Harma doing the threatening.

For a moment, I miss Tirion. Miss having a fireplace in my room on rainy days. Miss having friends who I’ve known for years and having everyone respect me. Miss my father.

But then I think of Indis, and my half-brothers, and the constant noise, and everyone constantly sucking up to me because I’m royalty. I think of how people here aren’t afraid of me, and how it’s a challenge here to actually earn people’s respect instead of being born with it. And Eru knows, I love a challenge.

I can’t leave. Not yet.

I’ll just have to think up a solution.

I close my eyes and concentrate. Let’s see, Ward Two, Ward Two…their captain has a big farm, they’re in the south, Ward Two, Ward Two, Ward Two! Why is it always them we’re hearing about?

What was it that Ararast said about Bril? Ah, Ward Six doesn’t care about our plans. They’re probably too busy comin’ up with their own ways to sabotage Ward Two.

I open my eyes and grin. If all the other teams are trying to sabotage Ward Two…well, we can use that, can’t we?

I may be arrogant, bad-tempered, stubborn, and snobbish, but no one ever said I’m not brilliant.

Chapter End Notes

Yes, once again, Feanor punches or gets punched by someone. He never learns.

An Attempt at Reconciliation is Made

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Chapter 9: An Attempt at Reconciliation is Made

I’m up most of the night figuring out my plan, so needless to say, I’m not in the best mood when Mahtan gets me up at seven to finish up the cart the day before the festival begins. My plan for today goes as follows: Apologize to Mahtan for not listening to him. Finish cart. Present cart to Ward Seven. Apologize to Ward Seven for acting like I’m better than them. Apologize to Angaring for pushing his cousin. Hit Ward Seven with my brilliant idea. Bask in praise.

Oh, and if I see Bril, I guess I’ll have to apologize to him too. I am not looking forward to that one.

Mahtan doesn’t seem to be in a good mood, either. “Sure and ye’d better wake up now, Ernil,” he says. “We wouldn’t want ye to make a mistake and ruin all our hard work now.”

All right, time for today’s first apology, I think. “Mahtan, I’m sorry.”

“I forgive ye,” he says calmly. “Here, get that red paint and get to work on the wheels.”

That was almost too easy.

A couple of hours later, the other Ward Seven lads show up at our house. I’m treated to more than a few evil looks, and everyone else just ignores me. I hold my tongue for now, and let Mahtan do the talking.

“Well, lads,” he says, “we’ve finished the cart and I have to say it’s the best one we’ve ever had. It’s going to be damn hard to burn this one. Nevertheless, here it is!” With that, he steps aside and reveals our work.

It’s a damn fine job, I have to say. The cart’s plenty big but not too thick, so it’ll be pretty easy to destroy once we get to the top of the hill. It’s lightweight enough that we’ll be able to pull it without much difficulty, and to top it off, Mahtan and I painted the whole thing with red and yellow flames (that was my idea. Mahtan told me that it wouldn’t blend in with the woods, but I told him, “That’s the point”).

There’s a brief silence, then Ararast nods. “Sure and that’s the handsomest cart I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Aye, and perhaps we’ll be able to win the race earlier, seein’ as it’s already on fire,” says Marnil. He glances around. “Oh, come on, no one’s going to laugh at that? Sure and it’s no worse than some of the jokes yerselves make.”

“It’s a fine job, Mahtan,” says Angaring. “No one but you could’ve done it.”

“Ernil helped quite a bit,” says Mahtan, nodding in my direction. I see what he’s doing—giving the others a reason to trust me again. Little does he know that I’ve got a better one.

“Oh, come off it, Mahtan,” I say. “You know perfectly well that I only did maybe five percent of the work! I certainly can’t take credit for something as brilliant as this.”

Mahtan gives me a surprised look. I just smile mysteriously and don’t say another word.

“Well, lads, it’s the day before the festival,” says Ararast. “Has anyone thought of any plans at all?”

There’s some shuffling and looking at feet. I let this go on for a minute, and then raise my hand.
“I have an idea,” I say.

Every eye in the room fixes on me.

“You?” says Lomelind.

“Aye, me,” I reply. “But before I say it, Angaring, I’m sorry I shoved your cousin. I was out of line. It won’t happen again.” He nods, and I continue. “Ararast, you said yesterday that it didn’t matter if anyone from another ward overheard our plans because they’d be too busy coming up with their own, didn’t you? Every single ward in this town wants to sabotage Ward Two. And that’s what they’re going to be concentrating on. They won’t even remember we exist. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“While they’re all goin’ after Ward Two, we give ‘em the slip,” says Mahtan slowly. “It could work.”

“Exactly,” I say. “After last year, no one will expect us to beat Ward Two. We’ll be completely off the hook. Angaring, you were right after all.” Angaring doesn’t say anything, but he smiles and looks pretty pleased with himself.

“Sure and it’s not a bad idea,” says Ararast thoughtfully. “And more importantly, it’s the only real idea anyone’s come up with so far.” He frowns at me. “But Ernil, if we use yer idea, will ye promise to shape up and stop hitting people?”

I can’t help grinning. “Damn right I will.”

“And don’t ye go spreading this around to all yer friends, Harma,” Mahtan warns his wife at dinner. “I know how you women like to gossip.”

Harma sniffs in mock offense. “Oh, please, men gossip just as much as women do. Don’t ye remember back when we were younger and that lass showed up in the village, and ye were all convinced she was a princess and she turned out to be a merchant?”

“Aye, and ye haven’t let ever let us forget it, either,” mutters Mahtan. “But me point is, if any of the other wards find out about this we’ll be humiliated for the second year in a row.”

“It actually isn’t a bad plan,” remarks Nerdanel (I guess Harma had the be-civil-at-the-dinner-table talk with her, too).

“I’m glad you think so,” I say. “And please, don’t let Bril in on this.”

“I would never tell Bril something like that,” she snaps, and furiously stabs a potato with her fork. I guess that’s all the interaction I’m going to have with her tonight.

“Well, me advice is, forget all about this for the next two days and just have a good time,” says Harma calmly. “And then go and win.”

I have mixed results taking her advice for the next two days. Sure, I manage to have a bit of fun drinking and gaming with Angaring (who seems to have mostly forgiven me—I guess they forget fights pretty easily in this town) and Lomelind, and there’s not much discussion of the race or our plan. But that doesn’t mean I forget about it. My mind is racing every moment of every day with worries, ideas, and frustration. But mostly excitement.

I’m up half the night before the race—which is not a good idea, since I’m going to need rest for tomorrow, but you try sleeping when you know your reputation and the reputations of all your friends depend on an idea you came up with on a whim. Please, Eru, I think, don’t let us completely humiliate ourselves. Help us focus and move quickly.

Oddly, my last thought before I fall asleep is, I wonder if Nerdanel will talk to me if we win.

Ward Seven Heads Off to the Races

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Chapter 10: Ward Seven Heads Off to the Races

At twilight on the third day of the festival, everyone meets up at the foot of the hill (which, incidentally, does not seem to have a name—I guess they never thought it needed one). The wards are all in line and glaring at each other—yes, even the women and the kids. I ask Mahtan what everyone else does while the men are racing and he says they go up to the top of the hill and start the fire, and then wait for us to get there. Exciting.

I have to say, it looks like most of the murderous glares from the various wards are aimed at Ward Two. Good, I was right—they are the least popular ward. Our plan’s got a decent chance of working.

“All right, lads, ye know the rules!” cries Regiel, who’s acting as referee. “First team to get up to the top of the hill and burn their cart wins. If anyone knocks anyone else out, breaks one or more of their bones, or makes ‘em bleed, then their team’s disqualified. Any questions? No? All right, on me signal, then…three, two, one, GO!”

And with that, we grab our cart and plunge into the woods.

It’s dark in here…really dark. The trees block out most of the daylight, which is dying anyway, and in a few minutes it’ll be pitch-black. We’ve got two choices when that happens: light a lamp and risk being seen by everyone else, or bump into a lot of trees. I expect we’ll do the latter.

“Any idea where any of the other teams are?” I whisper to Ararast, who’s next to me.

“The teams usually branch out around the hill at the beginning of the race,” he whispers back. “I’d say we won’t be meeting up with anyone else for a good ten minutes.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Aye, that’s good. Now keep yer mouth shut.”

“Oy! Ararast, is that yer team?”

We all cautiously turn around to see who’s talking. It looks like it might be Soronto, Soron’s nephew from Ward Three.

“What do ye want?” Ararast asks.

“I just wanted to let all of ye in on the plan,” says Soronto, grinning. “I’ve been talking to all the wards, and we’re agreed that we’re all going to sneak up on Ward Two and smash their cart. They’ll have a time getting a bunch of pieces up the hill, I can tell ye!”

“Is that legal?” I ask.

“Oh, aye, just as long as we don’t steal any of the pieces.”

“How can ye be sure that the other teams will help ye with this?” says Mahtan.

“Well, it’s not like we won’t go back to beatin’ on each other once we’re done with Ward Two! Everyone just wants to get those rotters out of the way. So, are ye in?”

“Thank ye for letting us in on this, Soronto,” says Ararast, nodding. “We’re just as keen to defeat Ward Two as the rest of ye are, I can tell ye!”

Soronto grins even wider. “I thought ye’d help. After all, after last year…well, never mind that. One of us’ll whistle when we spot ‘em; just follow that.” With that, he turns around and disappears into the darkness.

“Yer an honest bastard, I’ll give ye that,” says Marnil to Ararast. “Never could lie to someone’s face, could ye?”

“It’s the tender heart of me,” says Ararast mournfully. “Anyway, let’s keep goin’ straight. Hopefully we’ll avoid everyone else that way.”

Almost as soon as he says this, a shrill whistle pierces the silence, followed by a few yells and the sound of running footsteps. I can feel people go whooshing by me as the other teams race to the source of the sound. It looks like Soronto was right…everyone does want to beat Ward Two.

“So where is Ward Two right now?” asks Angaring.

“I think they’re about thirty feet to the right of us,” I say, pointing. “Judging from how much cursing is coming from over there.” As I say this, I can hear someone yelling “Back off, ye bastards!” Definitely Ward Two.

“Damn!” says Lomelind. “How are we going to sneak away from this? We’re in plain sight!”

“It’s night in the woods, Lomelind,” says Mahtan. “No one’s in plain sight of anyone. Come on.” We begin to tiptoe up the hill, whatever noise our feet are making covered up by the sound of wood smashing (and more cursing).

“Shit!” hisses Marnil. “Looks like Ward Six’s gotten wise to us.” I glance over my shoulder and can barely make out Ward Six’s blue-and-white wagon rapidly catching up to us.

“How far do we have until we get to the top?” I ask.

“It can’t be far now,” whispers Ararast. “I think I’m seein’ some light up ahead. Just keep going!”

Still trying to keep as quiet as we can (although I don’t see what good it’ll do; Ward Six obviously sees us) we pick up speed, jogging towards the sliver of light that keeps getting wider…

…and suddenly we’re out of the trees and ten feet away from the largest bonfire I’ve ever seen, surrounded by the village’s women and children (many of whom start cheering as soon as they see us). Ward Six bursts out of the woods a split second after we do. We both pause briefly and stare at each other.

“Go!” screams Angaring.

With an insane roar, our entire team grabs hold of the cart and gives it one shove into the fire. And at almost the exact same time, Ward Six does the same.

There’s a deafening silence, during which Regiel carefully eyes the fire (obviously trying to figure out which cart went in first), and a couple of the other teams come out of the woods and shove their own carts into the fire. Ward Two, I notice, is not among them.

“All right, ladies and gents,” Regiel says finally. “This here’s one hell of a close finish. But I’m going to say, just goin’ from me own judgment and woman’s intuition here, that the team that got their cart in the fire maybe half a second earlier was…” She pauses dramatically. “Ward Seven!”

She barely finishes talking before we all start screaming. Harma runs out of the crowd and kisses Mahtan, Angaring and Lomelind hug each other and jump up and down, and I swear I see tears in Ararast’s eyes. Me, I just shake my head and smile. I knew this would work.

“Congratulations to Ward Seven!” cries Regiel. “Bad luck to the other lads. Cheer up—there’s plenty of beer for ye; ye’ll just have to pay for it!”

The defeated wards manage a chuckle at that one, although they’re looking more than a little put out. With all of us champions still in extremely high spirits, we start to head back down the hill (picking up Ward Two on the way, the members of which are still staring at the pieces of their smashed cart and shaking their heads sorrowfully. That ought to teach them).

Back down in the square, they’ve set up tables outside the Sheep and Fiddle and the free beer starts flowing as soon as we get there. We settle into a table (the very best one, in view of everyone, of course) and get celebrating.

“Gentlemen!” cries Marnil, jumping up onto the table. “I just want to say: We are, without a doubt, the greatest ward this town has ever seen!” We all roar in agreement. “And of course we owe more than a little thanks to our brilliant craftsman Mahtan, and to our clever young Ernil for comin’ up with our strategy this year!” There’s more roaring, and everyone who’s near enough to reach slaps me on the back (or, I assume accidentally, on the head).

“Aye, Ernil’s been the best apprentice a man could hope for,” says Mahtan. “To Ernil, gents: the newest member of me family!”

“Newest member of yer family, is he?” says Angaring (who, I might add, is already pretty drunk). “What’d he do, marry Nerdanel? Ye poor lad, I’m not wantin’ to be in yer shoes if ye did.”

That reminds me, I haven’t seen Nerdanel for a while. I glance around and pick her out on the steps of Ararast’s shop, talking with a group of girls—and Bril, of course, hanging around the edge as usual. As I watch, she laughs and tosses her head, the lamplight turning her hair bright red and making her green eyes sparkle. And in spite of myself, I smile.

“Would you lads excuse me?” I say. “You just reminded me that I have some business to take care of.” Ignoring the rude jokes (and there are plenty of those, I can assure you), I stand up and walk over to where Nerdanel is sitting.

“Hullo, Nerdanel,” I say.

She looks up, nods briefly, and goes back to talking to the girl next to her.

“Nerdanel, I want to talk to you.”

She doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken this time. Screw it, it’s time to bring out the princely demeanor.

“Nerdanel, I’ve got something to say to you, damn it! So stop ignoring me and let me say it!”

That gets her attention. “What?” she snaps, her face livid (I can’t help but notice how pretty she looks when she’s angry). “Why should I let ye say anything to me?”

“Oh, let him speak, Nerdanel,” says one of the girls. “What harm will it do?”

“Knowing him, plenty,” Nerdanel mutters.

“Please, Nerdanel, just give me two minutes,” I say. “I’ll try not to say anything offensive.”

“Fine. Ye’ve got two minutes. Go.”

“All right, listen. I know you hate me right now and we’ve got some kind of idiotic feud going because we were both immature and acted stupidly and I think it’s time for that to end. I’m sorry I’m an arrogant ass and I’ll try to stop, and if you’re sorry for calling me names I’ll forgive you for that. And I do wish that you wouldn’t give up on your dreams so easily, but that’s your choice to make and I won’t pressure you about it. And right now I think you need to come dance with me and we can start acting like friends again. Because I actually like you, Nerdanel. I really do.”

There’s a pause. The girls are giving Nerdanel encouraging looks, whereas Brils’ expression is clearly saying, You’re not actually listening to this maniac, are you? I can only hope she is.

Finally she stands up.

“Very well, I will,” she says. “But no funny business or I’ll have ye turned into mincemeat.”

“Don’t worry about it. Didn’t I promise your father I’d keep my hands off you?” I take her hand and lead her to where the other couples are dancing. “I just hope he doesn’t kick me out of the house for this.”

“I don’t think dancing counts,” Nerdanel assures me with the first smile she’s given me in almost two weeks. “Besides, Da and Mam have been telling me for days that I ought to make up with ye. So, I may as well try. I suppose we were both right.”

“You know,” I say, putting my hand on her waist, “I never did thank you properly for my haircut. I’m planning on keeping it this way.”

“Even when ye go back to Tirion?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Who says I’m going back?”

She laughs too, and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Aye, who says?”

Amid the whoops coming from Ward Seven’s table, we dance. Lords, how we dance.

Nerdanel Makes her Choice

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Chapter 11: Nerdanel Makes her Choice

I wake up late the next morning, with more of a headache than I like to admit (oh, please, it was free beer and we were celebrating—any young gent worth his salt would have done the same). Harma and Mahtan have been kind enough to let me sleep most of it off, but hangovers are never pleasant.

Nerdanel isn’t around the house when I get out of bed—Mahtan says she’s out back washing clothes with Harma. Poor girl, she had to deal with the horses alone while I was lying around in bed recovering from my drunken revelry. Although she did participate in some of that. I almost don’t want to hear what she has to say about our sort-of reconciliation last night. Honestly, there’s always so much weirdness between that girl and I that thinking about it gives me a headache.

To clear my head, I decide to take a bit of a walk. Mahtan’s taking the day off (he’s almost as hungover as I am) and there’s really no work for me to do until this evening, so I run a comb through my hair and head off into town.

“Morning, Narie,” I say to Ararast’s wife, who’s manning the bookshop when I come in. “Where’s Ararast?”

“Where the rest of ye spent most of the morning, I suppose…dead to the world!” Narie laughs. “Ye did our ward proud yesterday, Ernil, all of ye did. I’m that proud that I’ve been bragging about me husband’s team to everyone who comes in here! Soron’s wife, now, she won’t even talk to me,” she adds, satisfied.

“I’m sure she won’t,” I reply, smiling. “Anyway, I should be getting on my way…I just stopped in to say hello. Tell Ararast good afternoon for me when he wakes up.”

“Sure and it’ll probably be afternoon when he wakes up, too. I’ll tell him ye called.”

Having concluded that bit of important business, I head back out into the street. My headache has mostly alleviated by this point, so I figure I should start getting home, since I don’t want to miss lunch…

“Hullo, Ernil.”

I look around and there’s Bril, sitting outside his father’s shop looking utterly dejected. Well, I’d look dejected too, if my ward had lost the race by half a second.

“Oh, hullo, Bril,” I say. “Er…are you all right?”

“I swear, sometimes I wonder if yer as clever as they say ye are,” he snorts. “Do I look all right?”

“Listen, if this is about the race, we…”

“No, it’s not about the race, ye bloody idiot. Ward Six has only won twice this year and we certainly weren’t expectin’ to this year. No, I think ye know full well what I’m really mad about.”

I frown. What is he on about?

“Bril,” I ask, “what are you on about?”

“Ye really don’t know? Fine, then let me tell ye what happened to me this morning. Almost as soon as Da and I open up shop, in comes Nerdanel wantin’ to speak to me privately. ‘Huzzah,’ I think, ‘she’s finally going to say she’ll marry me.’ Ha!” He shakes his head. “No, she tells me that no matter how much time she spends with me she’ll never love me like I love her, and so she’s very sorry but she’ll never be able to marry me. She dumped me, Ernil. Dumped me before she was ever me girlfriend.”

Partially out of pure shock and partially because my headache’s come back, I have to sit down. Bril gives me a disgusted look and scoots a few paces away.

“Do you know what brought this on so suddenly?” I ask.

“She only hinted at it, but I’ve got it figured out,” Bril replies. “She’s got her eye on someone else. I know I really should have figured it out last night after the race…sure, she barely talked to me.”

“She’s got her eye on someone else?” I say, desperately trying to sound like I don’t care. “Do you have any idea…who?”

Bril hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, I’ve got no idea. Now could ye please get out of here? The fewer people I talk to this morning the happier I’ll be.”

I nod and stand up. “Well, I hope things work out for you, Bril. Good morning.” He doesn’t reply, and I start walking home. As soon as I know I’m out of his sight, I run.

Nerdanel’s not out back washing clothes when I get home. Harma tells me that she’s in her workshop (she gives me a slightly odd look when she sees how out of breath I am, but she doesn’t ask what’s going on, which is good because I doubt I would be able to give her a straight answer).

I dash into the forge, somehow managing not to trip over anything, swing open the trapdoor, and jump down into Nerdanel’s workshop without even touching the ladder.

“Nerdanel!” I say considerably louder than I intended to, causing Nerdanel, who is hard at work on something, to jump in surprise and then turn around and scowl at me.

“Why don’t we try that entrance again, this time without scarin’ the daylights out of me,” she says irritably.

I sigh, climb back up the ladder, and re-enter the room. “Nerdanel,” I say. “Is it true what Bril told me?”

“That he can hold his breath for a full minute underwater? Aye, it’s true, but it’s not that impressive a feat.”

“I don’t mean that,” I say exasperatedly. “He never even told me that.”

“So what did he tell ye, then? Ye can’t expect me to know every conversation ye have with him. I’m a busy woman.”

“He said you told him this morning that you could never marry him.”

“That’s also true,” says Nerdanel calmly, not looking up from her work. “I should think ye’d be pleased.”

“Well, I am, if that’s what you want,” I reply. “But…he also said he thought you rejected him because you’re interested in someone else.”

“Sure and I guess he’s a bit sharper than I gave him credit for,” she remarks.

“So you are interested in someone else.”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Well,” I say, “well, in that case, who is it?”

Nerdanel lets out a scream of frustration and throws her chisel across the room. She whirls around and looks at me with pure fury. “Oh, honestly, Ernil, who the hell do ye think? Haven’t ye got a brain in yer head? Ye know damn well that there’s only one person in Fana’s Crossing I could ever have me eye on!”

When I don’t say anything, she lets out another shriek and swings up the ladder out of the room. I sigh and shake my head. Why did I think that I would ever get a straight answer out of Nerdanel?

Then I see what she was working on.

It’s me.

Like the sculptures of her parents, it’s just my head and shoulders, and it’s obviously not finished. But it’s me, all right. She got everything—from the haircut she gave me to the burn scar on my cheek to the smart-arse smile I get when I think I’m being funny.

And I know, with absolute certainty, that Nerdanel loves me.

Without another thought, I climb up the ladder and dash back into the house like a madman. Nerdanel’s in her room, sitting on the bed. I storm in and slam the door behind me.

“Get…” she starts to say, but I don’t let her finish. Instead, I pull her to her feet and kiss her.

The kissing goes on for some time (and is not at all unpleasant, I might add) before Nerdanel puts her hands on my chest and pushes me away.

“So ye’ve figured it out, have ye?” she says, obviously trying to be sarcastic but not quite managing it. “Ye certainly took yer own sweet time.”

“We stopped kissing just so you could make some funny little comment?” I ask. “What a waste. I was really enjoying the kissing.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to figure this out a bit. So I take it that yer a bit fond of me as well?”

“A bit fond?” I laugh. “Nerdanel, I am extremely fond of you. In fact, there is a high probability that I love you.”

“Really? After the way I treated ye? And even though we only made up last night? Sure and I didn’t think hate changed to love so quickly.”

“I never hated you. I was certainly angry at you, but that’s not the same thing.”

“I think I was pretty fond of ye all along,” Nerdanel admits. “Well, maybe not in the very beginning, when ye were goin’ about telling everyone to make yer tea and sew ye some clothes, but when we were feeding the horses and talking about our families…aye, that’s what did it for me.”

“I think I knew I liked you after you cut my hair. That was a very intimate moment, you know.”

“Aye, I do know. Sure and it was all I could do to keep me hands from trembling.”

“You’re joking, right?”

She shrugs. “A little.

I’m not really sure what to say in reply to that. So I just laugh and kiss her again. Fortunately, this time she doesn’t interrupt.

Chapter End Notes

All hail the stupid couple.

Everything Screeches to a Halt

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Chapter 12: Everything Screeches to a Halt

Towards the beginning of my stay here, Mahtan told me that I’d be expected to pay my rent every two weeks—two weeks’ board here costing 28 silver. I’ve been here four weeks and I brought along five gold, ten silver, and ten copper, meaning that I can stay here for…

Six more days.

Damn.

Honestly, is this fair? Are the Valar messing with me? I finally sort out my Nerdanel problems and get most of the people in Fana’s Crossing to like me, and then I run out of money? I’m not going to lie, this is incredibly depressing.

So I go to Harma, who’s been considerably warmer to me ever since she found out that Nerdanel and I don’t hate each other anymore.

“Sure, that’s not up to me,” she says when I explain my monetary woes. “I’d love to have ye stay, but Mahtan’s the breadwinner and it’s really his choice. I advise ye to ask him real politely if ye can stay. He’s got fond of ye and perhaps ye can work something out.”

With a sinking feeling, I head off to Mahtan’s forge. I really doubt he’s going to let me stay. Didn’t he say right at the beginning that I could only stay as long as I paid my rent and kept my hands off his daughter? But I have to give it a try, I suppose. I enter the dark room and take a deep breath.

“Mahtan, I’m out of money,” I say, deciding not to beat around the bush.

“Are ye now,” he says, barely glancing up.

“Yes,” I say. “But I don’t want to leave. And so I just want to know if there’s any other way I can pay my rent.”

“Yer nothing if not honest, Ernil, I’ll give ye that,” Mahtan replies. “Do ye happen to remember what I said about payin’ for yer lessons? Do some chores and don’t talk too much and ye can do what ye like. Since ye work hard and have helped me make a bit more money, and since ye finally learned to do yer chores and yer not nearly as much trouble as ye used to be, I see no reason why we can’t extend that plicy to yer rent.” He smiles. “Sure and I’m not particularly eager to get rid of a good helper like yerself.”

“What did I tell ye?” says Nerdanel when I tell her all of this. “Da will never kick ye out, even if ye lose all yer money and break both yer legs. The only way he wouldn’t want ye around was if yer hands stopped working.”

“And here I thought he considered me a surrogate son!” I shake my head. “My hopes are dashed.”

“Why would he want a surrogate son? He’s already got me, and I’m as good as two boys.”

“You’re certainly as stubborn as two boys,” I agree, and have to duck a blow.

So now, I’ve broken both the provisions Mahtan set out at the beginning of my stay here. Especially the one about keeping my hands off Nerdanel—that one’s out the window. These days, Nerdanel and I spend a good portion of our time making out in her workshop. Don’t worry, though, we’ve been good (mostly). I don’t think Mahtan knows, or else he probably wouldn’t have let me stay, but Harma’s certainly suspicious.

I don’t care. I love Nerdanel, and I love Fana’s Crossing too. There’s no point in me leaving now. I’ve got a home, a family, a job, a girl, and even a sort-of enemy (in the form of Bril, who definitely knows about Nerdanel and I and gives me dirty looks whenever I’m around him).

I barely remember my old life. I can’t remember what Indis’ shrieking sounds like or the smell of my bedroom or our butler’s name (I think it started with a T, but I can’t be sure). Sometimes I wonder if any of it ever really happened.

Two days after Mahtan agreed to let me stay I’m in the stable, feeding Chocolate a carrot. She sure doesn’t seem to mind living here. She’s been getting plenty of exercise, too—Nerdanel and I often take rides on her out in the countryside (try kissing a girl while riding a horse and see if you don’t have trouble keeping your balance).

Speaking of Nerdanel, in she comes now, with a letter in her hand and a grave expression on her face.

“Feanor,” she says. “Can I talk to ye?”

“Of course,” I say absently, patting Chocolate on the nose.

Then what she said sinks in, and I whirl around to face her.

“What did you call me?” I whisper, cold dread creeping up my spine.

“This letter came today,” says Nerdanel, handing it to me. “It was addressed to Da, but I opened it since he’s not about.”

I look at the front of the letter. It’s on fine parchment. The address is written in my father’s handwriting. The seal is broken, but I can tell it’s royal.

They’ve found me. After all this time, they’ve tracked me down.

“Well, go ahead. Read it.” Nerdanel gives a small half-smile. “Sure and I always thought there was something odd about ye, but I never suspected we were harborin’ a runaway prince.”

Wordlessly, I unfold the parchment and stare at my father’s familiar writing.

Finwe High King of the Noldor to Mahtan of Fana’s Crossing

Hello, Mahtan! I trust you and your family are well. Remember, if you are ever in the mood to come to court, my invitation stands.

I am writing to find out if you’ve seen or heard anything of my oldest son Feanor lately. He left home quite abruptly about a month ago and, unfortunately, neglected to tell us where he was headed. He is not staying with anyone in Tirion, and I have not heard from any of my contacts in Alqualonde and Valimar that he is in either of those cities, either. One of his friends received a very brief note from him stating that he was studying somewhere, and I wondered if he might be staying with you as he has always been an admirer of your work.

Please, if he is with you, tell him that his family is very worried about him and misses him greatly. His stepmother has not been able to sit still since he left, and his brothers ask about him every day.

The Valar keep you and yours.

With a thump, I sit down on the stable floor. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe three words in a letter I sent to my friend gave me away.

“So…?” says Nerdanel.

I look up at her. “What?”

“Tell me the truth, Er…Feanor. I want to hear the whole story. All of it.”

“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Fine! I’m a filthy, rotten liar. I’ve been lying to everyone here this entire time. My name’s not Ernil. My father’s not an ordinary nobleman. I didn’t come here to study with your father. I didn’t even know your father lived here. My name’s Feanor, my father’s the King, and I ran away from home because I had a fight with my stepmother.” I sigh. “And I’m sorry.”

“Hmm,” says Nerdanel, sitting down next to me. “And the story about yer brother sitting on the cat. Was that a lie?”

“What? No, that really happened.”

“And yer horse. Is she really named Chocolate?”

“Um…yes.”

“And is yer father really a bit of a pushover? And are yer brothers really spoiled brats? And does yer stepmother like to overreact to things? And are ye really an arrogant perfectionist who loses his temper when one of his shirts gets slightly wrinkled?”

“Yes, yes, all of those things are true! Although the last one is a bit of an exaggeration,” I say. “Nerdanel, I don’t understand why you’re asking me all this. Aren’t you angry with me for lying about who I am?”

Nerdanel laughs. “Don’t ye get it, Ernil? Ye didn’t lie about who ye were. Ye lied about yer name and what yer father does for a living. If ye’d been hiding who ye really were, would I have had to punch ye in the face for acting like a prince? I don’t think so. Sure and I’m not exactly pleased with ye—I really wish ye would have told me, I’m not bad a keeping a secret—but I understand yer reasoning.”

Honestly. Why was I not in love with her two seconds after meeting her?

Oh, right. Because she hated me.

“Thank you,” I say, kissing her on the cheek. “So what should I do now?”

“Well,” says Nerdanel, “that’s up to you, really. I mean…I love ye, Ern…Feanor, and I’d like ye to stay here. But I know I’ve got no right to say that. Yer home and family, they’re in Tirion. They miss ye. Ye can’t abandon them just because you and yer stepmother don’t always get along. So if ye say it’s all right, I’ll show this letter to me parents and we’ll make the arrangements to send ye back. And if ye don’t, I’ll give ye the letter and ye can go home when yer ready. It’s yer choice.”

I look down at my feet and think. On one hand, how can I leave Fana’s Crossing? How can I leave Nerdanel and Mahtan and Harma and all my Ward Seven friends? Where will I get sausage half as good as the kind from Bril’s da’s shop?

But on the other hand, how can I really stay here? Yes, Fana’s Crossing is a beautiful town. The people here are wonderful. Mahtan and his family have treated me like one of their own. Most importantly, this town gave me a chance to drop out of my complicated aristocratic life for a whole month, for which I’ll always be grateful.

But Fana’s Crossing is not my home. Tirion is, and always has been.

I look up at Nerdanel and smile.

“Show that letter to your parents,” I say. “I think I should be getting home.”

Feanor Returns, Somewhat Triumphantly

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Chapter 13: Feanor Returns, Somewhat Triumphantly

Well, Nerdanel did show the letter to her parents like I asked her to (during which I stayed in the forge in case someone got the urge to throw something at my head), and now we’re sitting around the dinner table trying to sort things out.

“This explains a lot,” remarks Harma.

“Aye,” says Mahtan, still sounding like he’s in shock. “Like how he didn’t seem to know who I was at first.”

“And how he didn’t know our village’s name,” adds Harma.

“And how he forgot to bring any clothes.”

“And why he tried to get a room at the in first instead of coming straight to our house.”

“And how we hadn’t known he was coming—isn’t it the usual thing to write someone a letter before ye come and study with them?”

“And why he changed the subject whenever we asked about his family.”

“And how he’d always hesitate before calling the queen his mother,” Nerdanel puts in. She looks at me. “What, ye thought we didn’t notice?”

“I swear, it’s amazing we didn’t figure this out sooner,” says Harma, shaking her head. “We must be the completely daft.”

“But Ern…Feanor, why on earth didn’t ye tell us sooner?” asks Mahtan, sounding rather betrayed.

I sigh. “Can you deny that if you had known earlier who I was, you would have turned me in and made me go home?”

Harma and Mahtan look at each other and shake their heads. “No,” says Mahtan. “I suppose I can’t.”

“Exactly. I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to disappear for a while.”

“But yer done disappearing now?” asks Harma.

“Aye, I need to go home. My family misses me, and honestly, I miss them. But I want to thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me this month—and all the good advice you’ve had to pound into my head.” I turn to Nerdanel. “Nerdanel, if you’re at all serious about being a sculptor—which I think you are—please come to Tirion and stay with my family. We’ll get you the best training anyone could want.”

“Can I, Da?” Nerdanel asks pleadingly. “I’ll be good, I promise, and I’ll work hard, and I’ll…”

“If yer mam says it’s all right,” Mahtan sighs.

“I do, but I expect ye to concentrate on yer studies,” says Harma, looking at me significantly. I guess she does know about Nerdanel and I.

“Well, Feanor…” says Mahtan, finally getting my name right. He hesitates for a second, then chuckles. “Yer welcome.”

Two days later, there’s a sort of farewell party for me in the village square. Word’s gotten out about my secret identity, and I’m surprised at how little everyone’s attitude towards me has changed. Sure, there’s some of the “I can’t believe we had a real prince staying in our town!” But mostly, people are just struggling to remember my real name.

I spend most of the morning before the feast going all over Mahtan’s property saying goodbye to things, like the forge and Nerdanel’s workshop and the stable. Chocolate’s saddled up and ready to go and, if I had to guess at what she’s thinking, I’d say she’s sorry to be leaving.

The last place I pause before we head off to the party is my room. It’s amazing I didn’t go out of my mind in such a tiny bedroom—I mean, at home I’ve got an entire suite and each of its rooms are twice the size of this one. But the thing is, I barely even spent any time in my room here. Most of my time was spent in Mahtan’s forge or running around outside. And for a place to sleep, this room wasn’t half bad.

Shaking my head, I turn away. I’m starting to feet a bit choked up.

Before we start the feast, Mahtan stands up and makes a toast that makes me feel even worse.

“Ladies and gents,” he says, “the reason we’re all here is because our very own prince is leaving town and we want to see him off right. Now, I can assure ye, I was just as ignorant of his real identity as the rest of ye were. But then again, even if we didn’t know his real name, we all knew he acted like a prince, didn’t we?” That gets some laughs. “Anyway, Feanor’s a good lad and it’s been a real honor bein’ his teacher, no matter what he calls himself.”

There’s a bit of clapping, and then I stand up.

“Everyone,” I say. “I just want to tell you how grateful I am to all of you for your hospitality, especially Mahtan and his family for giving me a place to live. And I know that if my father, the king…” there’s some clapping and whistling at that “…were here, he would thank you too. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of this, especially this incredible feast. Let me assure all of you that Fana’s Crossing will forever have the gratitude of the royal family of the Noldor.”

Amid thunderous applause, I bow dramatically and plop back down in my seat. Nerdanel rolls her eyes, and I wink at her. Playing up the royal demeanor does have some benefits.

The feast is over all too soon, even with the Ward Seven lads yelling out a new toast every five minutes. Before I know it, I’m hugging everyone and saying goodbye.

“Ararast, you were a brilliant leader…Angaring, Lomelind, no one can drink like you two…Enjoy your new frying pan, Regiel, and thanks for setting me up with a place to live…Bril, I’m sorry I shoved you, you’re really a decent bloke…Harma, Mahtan, Nerdanel…”

I have to stop for a moment before I can go on. It’s started to drizzle, but I know it’s not the rain making my face wet (although it does a fine job of hiding the truth).

“I’ll miss you all so much,” I whisper. I don’t have to say anything else—we all know it’s all been said already. Each of them hugs me, and I wipe my eyes and am about to swing myself up into Chocolate’s saddle when I think of one last thing I need to do.

“Nerdanel,” I say, turning to her. “You’ll marry me, right?”

Her eyes widen, and she shrugs. “Probably.”

“Great,” I say, and kiss her (yes, in front of everyone). Then, with a grin at her parent’s stunned faces, I jump into the saddle.

“Goodbye, everyone!” I shout.

And with that, I turn Chocolate to the southwest, and we ride off into the rain.

It’s got to be nearly midnight by the time I get home. The servants are all asleep, so I put Chocolate in the stable and let myself in. My footsteps echo in the marble foyer that’s bigger than Mahtan’s entire forge, including Nerdanel’s cellar.

“Hey, everyone!” I yell at the top of my lungs. “I’m home!”

There’s a moment of silence, and I hold my breath. What if they don’t recognize me and I get fined for trespassing? I hear a clatter of footsteps, and suddenly the doors are thrown open and I’m looking into the surprised faces of our butler and nanny and maids and pages and cook. And last of all, my family.

My brothers are the first to speak. “You stupid freak!” says Fingolfin. “You’re home!”

“Did you bring us anything?” asks Finarfin (greedy little bugger, that one is).

“Just this!” I reply, sweeping them both into a huge hug. They squirm and try to get away, but I don’t care. Even my irksome little brothers are a welcome sight right now.

“Feanor,” says Indis hesitantly. “Is that…really you? You look so…different.”

“Oh, this?” I say, tossing my hair and grinning. “This is the new fashion up north. I expect everyone will wear their hair the same way here soon enough.”

“I see,” Indis says. She sounds a bit miffed—I suppose she’s the one who usually sets the new styles. “Well, I must say, Feanor, I really feel like I may have overreacted a bit…

“You overreacted?” I laugh. “You overreacted? Indis, I’ve been living under a false identity with another family for a month because we got into a fight! I’m sorry, but I think in the field of overreacting, I’ve got you beat.”

She smiles at that, so I turn to Father, who’s still rubbing his eyes like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“I thought…” he begins, but I cut him off (I’m not letting anybody finish their sentences tonight).

“Whatever you thought, it’s not true and I’m fine. And I’m sorry. And I missed you.” I throw my arms around his neck, and we hug for at least a minute straight. I don’t care if my father made a bad choice in his second marriage and that he spoils my half-brothers and is busy all the time—as long as he’s around I’ll have a real family.

“All right,” I say when we’ve finished. “It’s wonderful to see all of you again. But now I think I need to go to bed. Oh, and to get some dry clothes on. It’s started raining pretty hard out there. And yes, I promise I’ll explain everything tomorrow, but right now I’m exhausted.”

“Of course,” says Father, smiling. “Welcome home, Feanor.”

“Thank you. Oh, and by the way, I’m engaged. I assume that’s all right?”

More than one jaw drops open, and some of the maids start urgently whispering to each other. Fingolfin and Finarfin yell “Who’d marry you?” in unison. Indis just shakes her head.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, young man,” she says.

“Tomorrow,” I say. “Good night!”

I Bring Things to a Conclusion

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Epilogue: I Bring Things to a Conclusion

It’s been six months since I got back to my city-boy life.

I’m not going to say everything’s completely different because it’s not. My brothers are still spoiled. Indis is still bossy and overly sensitive. Father’s still a pushover and I’m still not particularly modest. And my city friends still aren’t exactly mature.

But other than that—yes, everything is completely different.

Nerdanel and I are getting married in the fall, on the anniversary of the day I first showed up in Fana’s Crossing (that was her idea). In the meantime, she’s splitting her time between living with her parents and staying with my family in the city while studying. Don’t worry; we’re being good. Mostly.

I still visit Fana’s Crossing now and again. Everyone there is glad to see me, even Ward Two (they did eventually forgive us for destroying their cart and now are concentrating even harder on beating us this year). Mahtan and I talk about work, and Harma and Regiel still compete to see who’s the better cook. Bril—well, he’s still giving me some dirty looks, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m sure he’ll get a girl of his own eventually. He’s got a good job, and besides, he can hold his breath underwater for a full minute. What girl wouldn’t want him?

It took some time for my city friends to get used to Nerdanel, but I made them promise not to comment on her hair or her accent and now they get along fine. My friends are mostly just shocked that I’m getting married so young. Ambarhil told me I’d have to stop running around and flirting with other girls. I said, “Why should I care?”

What else has changed? Mostly small things, I suppose. I still occasionally say “aye” and “come off it,” and people in Fana’s Crossing now use the word “frenemies” with almost alarming frequency. Oh, and Ambarhil and Randir both have their hair cut like mine now. I was right; it did become the new fashion. So all in all, things are going fairly well.

Anyway, I have to get going. Nerdanel just arrived, and we have to go over the plans for the house Father’s giving us as a wedding present. I can tell you this: it had better have a proper workshop for Nerdanel. No wife of mine is going to have to work in a cellar.

Chapter End Notes

Nice short epilogue, eh? Hope you liked this. See you next time.

Comments

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(1) Comment by whitewave for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

I'm enjoying this very much! Feanor and Nerdanel in their teens is quite irresistible. I hope Feany succeeds in keeping his hands off her though. I'm staying tuned.

Re: (1) Comment by whitewave for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

Please, you know Feanor. Do you honestly think he's going to succeed in that? :)

(2) Comment by Himring for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

Very promising! And thank you very much for that audacious pun! I badly needed a laugh just then... (I mean "Fish Hill".)

Re: (2) Comment by Himring for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

It can't be a good story if it doesn't have any bad puns!

(3) Comment by Araloth the Random for For Love or ... [Ch 1]

Crap, I'd totally forgotten I'd sent anything to you. Then again, I forget a lot of things these days. I lost my USB stick and found it in a shoe last year. O.o Anyways, I am so happy to see you writing this! I absolutely adore your Feanor. I can so see him causing mayhem in Mahtan's house. Especially if he "doesn't want to keep his hands off Mahtan's daughter". Which I know he won't. :P (And wow, I'd go mad if my computer broke down for three months. I can't stay off for a few hours, let alone months.) Thanks for writing! I can't wait to see how this all turns out!

Ara

Re: (3) Comment by Araloth the Random for For Love or ... [Ch 1]

Yes, it was ultra-depressing to not have a computer! I was reduced to using the ones at the public library, which suck. :0 But thank you very much for suggesting I write something like this and I hope you like it!

(4) Comment by Angelica for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

Cute teen Feanorians in your other stories can only have super cute parents. What lovely characters!

Father doesn’t know when to hold off on the kids, in my opinion.

Premonitory, isn't it?

Re: (4) Comment by Angelica for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

Like father, like son, you know. I'm so glad you like the characters!

(5) Comment by Araloth the Random for For Love or ... [Ch 3]

Feanor's horse was named Chocolate? =D =D And the possibility of Finarfin accidentally sitting on a wild boar made me crack up so bad. No family's perfect, indeed. Feanor had better think up some more detailed lies soon, methinks. Changing the subject all the time must get tiring even for him. ;)

(6) Comment by Lyra for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

What an amusing take at Nerdanel's and Feanor's youth! I'm curious how long Feanor can keep on fooling his kind hosts. Looking forward to the next instalments!

(7) Comment by Araloth the Random for For Love or ... [Ch 6]

Wow, Feanor's really living up to his name. I like that Nerdanel's not afraid to stand up to him. Sure and she's got spunk. ;)

(8) Comment by Lyra for For Love or Money [Ch 8]

Yes, once again, Feanor punches or gets punched by someone. He never learns.

Well, at least he hasn't drawn a sword against Bril ;)

Yay, a new chapter! I really enjoy this story, it's so completely different from all the other "Young Nerdanel and Fëanor falling in love" stories (including my own) and extremely entertaining. Very curious to see how the race will turn out, and what will happen when eventually "Ernil's" identity is revealed...

(9) Comment by Araloth the Random for For Love or... [Ch 13]

How incredibly like Feanor, just rocking up at Tirion in the middle of the night! The nonchalance and sheer randomness you've given him are so funny and for me, very in-character. I don't think there's a single chapter I've read so far that didn't make me giggle uncontrollably.

(10) Comment by Angelica for For Love or Money [Ch 1]

So in the end they didn't need to run away...

Beautiful story. Congratulations! I'm looking forward to NewlyWeds in Tirion;)

(11) Comment by Aerlinn for For Love or Money [Ch 3]

"She’s looking at me the way that Indis looks at other people’s shoes" asdfgh. Finarfin accidently sitting n a bear. I'm so glad I'm not done with this fic yet - it really is dangerously funny, espeically dangerously so when eating.

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For Love or Money by Lady MSM

Fanwork Notes

I Run Away From Home

I Lie Like a Rug

I Have Issues with Clothing and Discuss Horses

I Learn to Be Practical

Nerdanel Explains her Dilemma

Nerdanel and I Go Down Below

The Harvest Festival gets Prepared For

I Screw Up Completely, and Bril Helps

Chapter End Notes

An Attempt at Reconciliation is Made

Ward Seven Heads Off to the Races

Nerdanel Makes her Choice

Chapter End Notes

Everything Screeches to a Halt

Feanor Returns, Somewhat Triumphantly

I Bring Things to a Conclusion

Chapter End Notes

Comments