Sparks by Independence1776

For Pity's Sake

Nerdanel receives the news Maglor has returned from Middle-earth. Rated General.

This was written on March 1, using the following prompts from the B2MeM bingo game: market day (Economy) and "for pity's sake" (In a Manner of Speaking).

Nerdanel swiped her hair off her face. No matter how tightly she bound it, strands always slipped free. She put her hands on her hips and stared down into the large leather satchel. What else? She’d packed her portfolio, full of sketches of her metal and stone work. Blank paper and pencils, in case of inspiration or commission. Her smaller works had already been packed into their crates and loaded onto the cart. All that was left was this, which wouldn’t leave her side.

She looked up when someone knocked on her studio door. It was barely past dawn, and only those vendors heading to the seasonal art market and other people whose jobs required them to be up early would be awake. And she couldn’t think of anyone who would be needing to talk to her at this hour.

Nerdanel brushed her hair off her face for the seventh time, resigning herself to a long day of fighting with it. (Maybe she’d cut it short again. It had been a few decades.) She pulled open the door, not bothering to peer through the curtain. She tilted her head, unable to recognize her visitor. “I’m sorry; how may I help you?”

The blonde woman in a gray dress-- where had she seen that color of gray before?-- said, “I bring important news, and I would rather discuss it in private than in the street for anyone to overhear.”

Nerdanel didn’t budge. “News from who?”

“Lady Estë.”

Oh. That’s where she’d seen that color. She stepped aside. It wasn’t often the Valar approached her. The Maia walked into the center of her shop and clasped her hands together while Nerdanel shut the door. “What is the news? It must be of some importance for you to come to me so early.”

The woman looked slightly nervous. “I am not the only one carrying tidings this morn. It is of grave importance--”

Nerdanel barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “You’ve already said as much. What is it?”

“Makalaurë has returned from Middle-earth.”

Nerdanel’s mouth dropped open. She hurriedly shut it, but kept staring at the Maia. Káno, here? “So Elrond found him.”

“He did indeed. Your son stood trial in the Máhanaxar last night. At dawn, his sentence was pronounced. He is remanded into Lord Elrond’s custody.”

Nerdanel snorted. “Is that all? His father was exiled for pulling a sword on his half-brother. My son--”

“Spent thousands of years in exile, with no hope of return, living among Men.”

“So his punishment is over?”

“Hardly. He has strictures he must follow. He cannot leave Lord Elrond’s lands, and if he does so with permission, he will be accompanied by guards. He is not free.”

Nerdanel nodded, thoughts racing. Should she see him? Did she even want to? Did he want to see her? What were the reactions of her friends going to be? Would she be forced to leave Alqualondë for her own safety, even though she’d lived there for millennia? How would this affect politics, or art, or the other thousands of strands that made up daily life here? “Thank you for informing me. Who else knows?”

“The kings and other rulers of the various lands. Within hours, the news will spread to the general populace. It cannot be kept secret.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to.” She paused. “But how did he reach the Máhanaxar without anyone recognizing him?”

“The Valar.”

Nerdanel bit back a grin. She did love a well-executed plan. Better to present something as accomplished than announce it beforehand and start a riot upon his arrival. She remembered far too well the whispers and outright attacks-- both verbal and physical-- Elrond had received when he announced the reason for his departure to Middle-earth. But people really shouldn’t have been surprised; she hadn’t been. He had, after all, always called Makalaurë Father.

Nerdanel sighed. “Thank you, again. If there was anything else?”

The Maia shook her head and vanished with a small crack of air. Nerdanel sighed and looked down at the satchel laying open atop her counter. Manning her booth at the market would be… interesting… today. But she couldn’t not go. Never let it be said that Nerdanel was a coward. Better to face everyone, knowing they’d be talking, rather than have people come to her shop looking for gossip.

And she would have one answer for them. No, she would not see her son. Not until she was ready, and that time was not now. She knew some would call her cruel, that others would tell her that she needed to do it for pity’s sake. But she did not pity her son, and not speaking to a person she disliked was not cruel. And while she may love Makalaurë, she did not want to give even an appearance of condoning his actions.

She would not avoid the market. She would not let what others thought rule her day. She had wares to sell, friends to see, different foods to eat, artists to converse with, and inspiration to gain.

Plus, she needed the money.