inundated with the fated thought of you by hanneswrites

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of old regrets & new beginnings

Nerdanel knows her mother is up to something the moment she suggests traveling into Tirion for a day trip without her father, but she goes along with it anyway. They arrive in the city in the late morning and spend a majority of the afternoon wandering through the shops that line the white-bricked streets. Nerdanel finds herself tense as they wander - for it seems that each street they turn upon and each building they pass by carries with it some remnant of memory for her, both pleasant and not. They hurt the same in the end - the now old uneasiness of her memories of Fëanáro chill her just as the fond, faint echoes of her sons call her to longing. 

 

She thinks of Maitimo and Makalaurë when they pass by the small park in the center of the city, of Carnistir as they walk across the street from what used to be his favorite tea shop, of Atarincë and Tyelkormo when she hears a group of children laughing in the square, of her twins --

 

Nerdanel’s chest tightens and she stops abruptly in the middle of the street. She stands there, frozen for a good moment before her mother wraps her hand around her arm and leads her to a quiet alcove off to the side of the street. Sende cradles her face in both of her hands and wipes the single tear from her cheek; she pulls her daughter to her, tight and secure, and strokes her hair. And Nerdanel swallows and leans into her mother’s touch, letting it ground her as the city passes by around them.

 

 

It becomes apparent that they will be staying overnight in the city as Sende leads her up the long staircase to Tirion’s palace. While it is not particularly somewhere she wants to be, she trusts her mother enough to follow her - as there must be a good reason she’s dragged her all the way here. The guards welcome them through the threshold and an attendant ushers them through the halls, and Nerdanel thinks that perhaps they will be visiting Arafinwë, though she knows not for what purpose.

 

She is proven incorrect when the attendant leads them to a section of private chambers on the second floor - rooms that Nerdanel knows quite well. 

 

Indis. 

 

Her former step-mother-in-law’s hair is done up in a myriad of complicated braids and clasps and she looks utterly stunning sitting amongst the fine silk pillows laid out around the low tea table. She smiles as she greets them, beckoning them in with a polite wave. Nerdanel and her mother join her and a bemused smile of her own creeps across Nerdanel’s face when she finds a teapot containing her favorite blend of floral tea. It’s been so long since she’s seen Indis - so long since she’s been to Tirion, let alone the palace, and yet--

 

Indis meets her eye and gives her a grin, “Of course I remembered, darling. Did you think I would forget?” 

 

Indis takes her hands in both of her own across the table and smooths her thumbs over Nerdanel’s skin. She exudes warmth in a way that Nerdanel has always admired, like the comforting embrace of a fire on a cold winter’s day. Nerdanel quickly finds herself at ease in her presence.  

 

“I am glad to see you again. It has been far too long, in my opinion,” Indis says, and Nerdanel agrees with her. She’s missed this. Long has she held Indis in fond regard and the time she used to spend with her when she lived in Tirion are fond, treasured memories now. The three of them spend a long while catching up, drinking tea, and eating an assortment of biscuits Indis has delivered later on in the evening. 

 

It is only when the sun begins to set, casting long shadows in from the open terrace behind them, that Indis broaches the subject that Nerdanel suspects her mother brought her here to talk about.

 

“I have heard that you’ve grown fond of someone,” Indis says, her eyes sparkling conspiratorially, “A vanya, even.” 

 

Nerdanel quickly side-eyes her mother, who is very conveniently not looking at her and is instead admiring the flowering trees framing the terrace. She huffs and meets Indis’ gaze, hesitating only a moment before coming to the conclusion - as her mother likely knew she would - that of anyone in Valinor, Indis would likely be the most sympathetic and knowledgeable person to talk to about the situation she’s found herself in. 

 

“His name is Lindómo -  we have been…courting,” Nerdanel admits, and she realizes as the words leave her mouth that this is the first time she’s spoken those words aloud - the first time she’s acknowledged to someone else the feelings that have grown between them. The words flow from her as effortlessly as breathing. The pressure that has long built inside her released in a cathartic flood, the dam broken beyond repair. And Indis sits and listens until she’s finished, that fond smile never leaving her face. 

 

“It is not easy,” She says, as she sips delicately at her red jasmine tea, “But things of worth are hardly ever easy, hmm?” Indis chuckles to herself and props her head up on her hand, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. 

 

“You have never been one to back down from a challenge, my dear. I doubt you would have found yourself with Fëanáro if you were,” Indis taps her perfectly manicured nails against the side of her teacup, her eyes focused on Nerdanel with an old fondness, “What I do not doubt is that you will make the choice that is right for you - whatever that choice may be.” 

 

 

When they go to part ways for the night, Indis leads Nerdanel to her room and pulls her into a tight embrace outside of the door. 

 

“Do you regret the decision you made?” Nerdanel asks and for a moment Indis does not answer her and she thinks she might need to clarify what she’s referring to - but then Indis sighs and smooths a gentle hand through Nerdanel’s hair.

 

“No.” Indis does not continue and Nerdanel does not ask her to, she simply presses a soft kiss to Nerdanel’s forehead and gives her one last hug before disappearing down into the shadows of the hall.  

 

 

Her head rests softly on Lindómo’s shoulder as they gaze up at the stars. The night is pleasantly cool around them and Nerdanel finds herself content in their familiar and easy silence. Lindómo’s fingers entwine with her own and she feels something warm and smooth press into the skin of her palm. She turns her head to look him in the eye and is met only with that warm smile of his that makes her heart flutter in her chest like she’s young again. 

 

Nerdanel’s breath hitches as her fingers curl around the object in her hand - round and solid and very clearly a ring.  

 

“Marry me,” He asks, voice quiet in the night air between them. Crickets chitter in the distance and Nerdanel turns the ring between her fingers, feeling the delicate metal of the band and the small inlaid stones along the surface. She cannot see it well in the darkness, but even from just feeling it, she can tell it is already so different from the one she’d worn before. 

 

She wonders, absently, as she slips it on her finger, if Lindómo had bought it, if he’d forged it himself, if he’d asked her father for help with it. In the end, she supposes it doesn’t matter. 

 

It fits her perfectly, she thinks, even if it is just a bit too big. 

 

She moves closer, her forehead coming to rest against his, and meets his gaze steadily in the stilled darkness. 

 

“Yes.”   

 

 

Nerdanel smooths her hands down the front of her dress and takes a deep breath, trying and failing to not let her nerves get the best of her. Lindómo stands beside her as they wait, a comforting hand placed gently on her upper back. His thumb rubs small circles into the tense cords of her shoulder and she takes small solace in the calm and easy confidence he’s projecting to her. 

 

The great doors that lead to Manwë’s throne creak open before them, beckoning their entrance, and Nerdanel stands tall, takes Lindómo’s hand firmly in her own, and they make their way inside. 

 

Manwë and Varda sit in twin thrones at the far side of the room, just as tall and as intimidating as she remembers them being the last time she was here. Lindómo squeezes her hand in his and they soon find themselves standing before Manwë’s throne. Manwë’s birds flutter all around them, perched and singing from nearly every surface in his hall. Nerdanel glances quickly over to Varda and finds, surprisingly, a gentle smile gracing her delicate lips. Lindómo speaks, and Nerdanel does not hear what he says as she stares curiously into the dark void of the Queen’s eyes. The Queen’s smile widens. 

 

Nerdanel feels Lindómo move next to her and her concentration snaps back to him - to the determination written so plainly on his face, to the warmth of his hand in hers, to the love wrapped in a tittering nervousness exuding through their tentative bond. Manwë’s face is impassive and distant as he looks down upon them but Nerdanel meets his gaze all the same. She holds it, and stands her ground before them even if some part of her expects the worst - that the judgment placed upon them will be a resounding no . She knows not what she would do then. And then - Manwë grins. 

 

“Yes,” Manwë says, unmoving as stone as one of his doves comes to rest on his shoulder, “We have taken counsel with Mandos and we have decided that your request may be granted. The Valar will not stand in the way of your bond, should you wish to form one, nor will we reject it.” 

 

Nerdanel’s breath stills in her chest, her heart dancing with astonishment and barely contained joy.

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