rockrose & thistle by hanneswrites

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rockrose & thistle

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Eärwen had shown up on the doorstep of her little cottage not thirty minutes ago, looking worn and tired. She offered Nerdanel a small bundle of jam with a bright little smile that didn’t quite seem right. Nerdanel had taken it anyway - had led her into her home, to the low tea table in her small sitting room, and had offered her tea. And she did not ask why Eärwen made the long, steep trek to her home, nested deep in the pinewood forest on her father’s estate.

 

Nerdanel's hands curl around her mug of tea. She watches, intently, as Eärwen’s delicate fingers flex against the smooth porcelain of her teacup. 

 

"He was there and he didn't try to stop them. " Eärwen breathes, and Nerdanel can hear the pain, the betrayal in her voice. It isn’t clear if she's referring to Arafinwë stopping her children from following Fëanáro East, or stopping the slaughter of Eärwen's kin at Alqualondë. 

 

But it doesn't matter - Nerdanel knows. She understands - knows how even the smallest details can twist and turn and hook themselves deep into one's mind, until all you can do is play each interaction over and over and wonder what exactly you could have done to change it . 

 

But that's not how it works is it? The fates are as the fates will.

 

Nerdanel sighs, her brow furrowing in concern as Eärwen twists her cup in her hands. She's biting hard at her bottom lip, eyes lowered and staring intently into the agitated surface of her tea.

 

She says nothing, but calmly sips her tea and listens as Eärwen pours everything out to her, unyielding as the warm winds of the coast. Eärwen has likely heard all manner of platitudes at this point. That's not why she's here. She has not made the trip out to Nerdanel’s home to have her breathe saccharine words into the air around her, to offer empty promises and unbidden words of pity. 

 

No, no, that is not why she is here.  

 

Nerdanel watches her fingers begin to shake, she can hear the barely-kept ire in her voice, cloaked within words that hedge her meanings and feelings so heavily it sounds as if she’s speaking in solely theoretical terms. And Nerdanel wonders in that moment, just how many have told her over the years that her anger is undesirable.

 

Nerdanel reaches out, fingers curling over Eärwen's own. Her gaze is intense as they lock eyes - staring into each other in silence for a long moment.

 

Nerdanel moves first - shuffling around the corner of the table and kneeling beside her. She takes Eärwen's hands fully in her own - noting only briefly just how soft the delicate lines of her fingers are - and she holds her. Eärwen's voice breaks in her throat - soft and unbidden - and she shifts closer to Nerdanel, leaning in to her until her head rests heavy on Nerdanel's shoulder. She's warm, pressed against her like this. 

 

Nerdanel curls her other arm around Eärwen's shoulders, cradling her in her arms as Eärwen's breath beats quick and heavy through the thin linen of her robes. Nerdanel holds her how she would have liked to be held, all those years ago. In the wake of Fëanor’s sentencing, the first loss of her sons, of her family - to the exile in Formenos. 

 

Her mother had been there for her then - had made her tea and spoken with her - but what Nerdanel had missed most was this closeness - this tangible, physical connection that she had come to know for so long - and it had just been gone. That trust, that bond built upon years and years of patience and understanding and love , forgone in a matter of moments. 

 

Nerdanel weaves her fingers into Eärwen's hair and marvels at how it falls effortlessly through her fingers, like flowing water. 

 

"He's returned , and the way he looks at me is almost as if nothing has happened. As if our children are not--" She breaks off, fingers tightening around Nerdanel's, "I almost wish he hadn't come back at all." Her voice is a soft venom, then. Tired and frustrated, and after it crosses her lips, Nerdanel can feel the built-up tension bleed from her muscles. She leans more heavily into Nerdanel’s embrace. 

 

She tenses a moment later, lifting her head to just barely meet Nerdanel’s eye. Her face is flushed, eyes wet with clinging tears, red-rimmed and angry . 

 

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't, I know that's likely not true, it's just--" 

 

Nerdanel cuts her off, "You do not need to mince words with me, Eärwen." She places a soft, lingering kiss to Eärwen's brow, "I do not begrudge you your feelings, nor do I think you need apologize for voicing them." 

 

Eärwen's jaw sets, her teeth biting down hard on the plush of her bottom lip. 

 

"Thank you," She says, and she buries herself back in Nerdanel's neck.

 

"My home is open to you, you know this" Nerdanel kisses Eärwen's forehead one more time, "Have you tried speaking with him?"

 

"No."

 

"Arafinwë has never struck me as being particularly cruel. He will listen to you."

 

Eärwen is silent for a long while, still against Nerdanel's breast. It's long enough that Nerdanel begins to worry she's overstepped - until she hears a soft, forlorn sigh.

 

"I am not quite sure that will be enough."

 

No, Nerdanel thinks, as she continues smoothing her fingers through Eärwen's silk-soft hair, I imagine it wouldn't be.

 

Nerdanel hums, a gentle murmur of acknowledgment. And she holds her, until the shaking stops and her tears have dried, until the wind blowing through the open window has gone cold and the sun sets in the west.