The Book of Short Tales by Lyra

B2MeM '12 - O67 - As long as you need me

Written for three O67 prompts:
- "Silmarillion Fanon", Death of grief = fading;
- "Sons of Fëanor", Curufin and Nerdanel;
- "Women of Arda", Míriel.

In the middle of the night, Nerdanel has to convince young Curufin that she is not going to follow the example of his grandmother.

As long as you need me

Nerdanel was exhausted. Her head and back were aching fiercely, and she was wishing for nothing but her soft bed, but on the way to the bedroom the sound of stifled sobbing made her stop. Listening on the doors of her sons' chambers, she decided that it was Atarincë who was crying. She knocked on the door, softly, and came in.
Atarincë was rocking back and forth in his bed, his pillow lodged in his lap; his face was buried in it. The sobbing was urgent and desperate, suggesting a misery that could not have been sparked by a simple nightmare.
Nerdanel snuck closer on tiptoes so as not to awake Carnistir and Tyelkormo, who appeared to be still blissfully asleep.
"Hey," she said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Atarincë threw away his pillow and buried his face in her bosom instead, wrapping his arms tight around her.
She held him and rocked him gently, stroking his hair and whispering, "All is well, Curvo, all is well, my dear," until the tears stopped. Finally, Atarincë peered up at her, his tear-drenched little face serious, his eyes gleaming wetly in the silvery twilight. Seeing her young son so distressed made Nerdanel's stomach constrict painfully. Exhaustion and headache were forgotten.
"Nana?" Atarincë said in a small, choked voice.
"Yes, my dear?" she whispered.
"Are you going to fade?"

The question caught her by surprise. She hadn't begun to guess what might have caused the little boy such despair, but she certainly would not have guessed that he was afraid of her fading.
"No, sweetie," she said truthfully. "What makes you worry about that?"
Atarincë sniffed, and Nerdanel let go with one hand to pull a handkerchief out of the pocket of her dress. Atarincë blew his nose noisily, and his mother looked around: But the older two boys were oblivious of their brother's affliction and slept on.
"You are so unhappy," Atarincë said in an almost reproachful tone when he had thoroughly emptied his nose.
Nerdanel's eyes widened. "I am unhappy? I'm a bit exhausted. But that's just because the five of you are keeping me quite busy, darling. I'm not going to fade."
"Oh, good," Atarincë said with a sigh of true relief. "I thought you were." The misery returned to his voice. "Everyone says I'm so much like Atto, and he made his mother fade..."
Where had Atarincë picked that last bit up, Nerdanel wondered? The children knew why they had only one grandmother, but nobody had ever blamed Fëanáro for that. Maybe Atarincë had deduced it from bits and pieces he had heard. His little mind was always at work.
"Your father did not make his mother fade," Nerdanel said firmly. "She laid down her life because she was worn out." She bit her lip immediately. What an unwise thing to say, after she had assured Atarincë that she was 'a bit exhausted'!
"I thought his birth made her so unhappy," Atarincë said.
"Unhappy!" said Nerdanel. "No, my dear, I don't think so. It was hard work, and it exhausted her so much that she could not live on. But she was not unhappy. People do not fade just because they're a bit unhappy."
"But Nelyo told me a story of a woman in Cuiviénen who died of grief because her husband disappeared in the woods," Atarincë insisted. Nerdanel decided to have some Words with Nelyo tomorrow. He really should know better than to tell such stories to his impressible little brothers.
"That is something different," she said out loud. "That lady was probably heartbroken, and she lost her will to live. Fading is different – you grow weary of the world..." Her voice faltered. This really was no matter to discuss with such a young child. How to explain it, anyway? She barely understood it herself. Even at her most exhausted or most depressed, she could not imagine wanting to lay down her life – either for weariness or for grief.

"Anyway," she said decisively, hoping to distract and reassure him, "it is true that you are much like your father. But I am not like his mother."
Atarincë did not look convinced, so she spoke on. "See, your father was her first child, and his birth was very difficult for his mother. But when you were born, I already had four sons, so I knew how it worked." And compared to Carnistir's birth, yours was easy, she thought to herself – but that thought went unvoiced.
"And Grandmother Míriel was a seamstress, while you are a sculptress," Atarincë said, sounding more thoughtful than miserable now. "A thread is much easier cut than rock."

Nerdanel was not entirely certain that this sort of logic applied to people, but at least Atarincë seemed to believe her now, so she nodded in encouragement.
"So you see, my dear, you need not worry about my fading," she said. "Is that why you were crying?"
Atarincë nodded with a somewhat sheepish look. "I was so frightened that you would follow Míriel, and leave me alone," he whispered.
Nerdanel gave him her biggest, brightest smile. "Do not be afraid of that, Curvo," she said. "I will always be there for you – as long as you need me."
"Good," Atarincë said, hugging her tightly. "I love you, Nana."
"And I love you, my little man," she said and kissed his brow, smoothing away the last traces of a frown.

Chapter End Notes

Oh yay, name confusion! It's only proper Silmarillion fanfic if there's some name confusion. ;)
Atarincë is Curufin's mother-name, so Nerdanel thinks of him as Atarincë. However, the nickname used for him in everyday life is Curvo, shortened from his father-name, Curufinwë. So Nerdanel addresses him as Curvo.
In direct address, I've used the Quenya terms "Nana" (proper Quenya for mother would be amillë or ammë (the latter reminds me awfully of the German word for "nurse", Amme; I am certain this is no coincidence), but little Curufin is young enough to use the childish nana yet) and "Atto" (properly atar, but again, Curufin is young enough for "Daddy" rather than "Father"). However, when the characters refer to someone indirectly, they use the English terms. That is because few things annoy me more than random "your naneth" or "the ellon" or what-have-you, and I'm certainly not going to start that sort of thing myself.