Aftermath by Lyra

VI.

There are Consequences (O3). Not necessarily the ones everybody expected.

Arafinwë did not need to come.

Arafinwë did spend a week in the Máhanaxar, recounting what he had done and seen since the Flight. The enormity of his tale drove him to his knees, and the proceedings had to be interrupted frequently because he, or his audience, were sobbing so badly that the account of events became unintelligible. Námo made Arafinwë go through every detail, accepting no vagueness and no circumlocution. Telerin survivors were questioned in witness. Nienna had wept. Manwë had wept. Everybody had wept, except for Námo, who had remained unimpassioned and detached the entire time. It must have been a proper sea of tears, Nerdanel thought when her mother told her all about the sensational hearing.

Still, it had transpired that Arafinwë and his followers had not actually taken part in the Kinslaying. They were not held guiltless – Arafinwë himself admitted that he would quite likely have been drawn into the ongoing battle, and had only escaped the stain of murder by arriving too late – and had to answer for never questioning how the Noldor had come to own the Telerin ships. But their repentance had been convincing, and in the end, the anguish of their hearing and their inescapable shame were judged punishment enough. Manwë had raised Arafinwë from his prostration and kissed his brow in demonstration of absolution. To many people's surprise, Arafinwë emerged from the trial not as an exile, accursed and dispossessed, but as King of the Noldorin Remnant (possibly, Nerdanel thought in a rare moment of bitterness, the worst punishment of them all).

„If he has been forgiven, so can you be,“ Indis said encouragingly.
„That may be,“ Nerdanel said after a moment's deliberation, „but I will not pretend that a little intercourse at an inappropriate time deserves the same level of scrutiny as actively ignoring a Kinslaying for well-nigh a year.“
Indis bit her lips, looking at her hands. „I hope that you will come back to Tirion, regardless. When the child is born and your transgression can no longer be seen, maybe? We would find somebody to raise the child. It need never be mentioned again. We need your insight. Arafinwë agrees. He would be glad to have you on his council. You could speak for the House of Mahtan.“ She gave a tense smile.
„We will see,“ said Nerdanel, putting a protective hand on her belly. In spite of the child's now-disreputable lineage, she did not like the thought of denying that it was there.

That lineage continued to be subject to speculation, she learned when her mother next visited. „I will come to live here when the time draws near,“ Istarnis announced. „This child should never have been conceived, of course, but I cannot leave you alone for the birth.“
Nerdanel raised an eyebrow, feeling half touched and half irritated. „You should have brought a change of clothing, then,“ she suggested.
Istarnis looked at her with a start. „I did not mean now,“ she said, and then, with a frown, added, „That seems somewhat early.“
„The usual term, I should think.“
The disapproval in Istarnis' voice was tangible. „You... saw another man before Fëanáro was even gone?“
„You shouldn't believe everything that's said in the streets,“ Nerdanel simply said.

In the event, the birth was uncomplicated. Her labour was brutal but brief, and within a few hours, Nerdanel and Istarnis got to admire the small, dark-haired girl who, in high indignant wails, declared her displeasure at being brought into so cold a world in so abrupt a manner.
„It is a marvel, every time,“ Istarnis said reverently, clearly forgetting her earlier reservations.
„It is that,“ Nerdanel agreed. „And a girl, at last. Who would have thought.“ She certainly had not. After so many boys, she had more or less assumed that this union could not yield anything else.
The little girl managed to latch onto Nerdanel's breast, and instead of wailing, began to suck greedily. They sat in silence for a while.
„I reckon that it has been a year since... that Oath,“ Istarnis finally said.
„Yes,“ Nerdanel agreed, „I expect it would be.“

Her mother looked at the infant, fallen asleep after her earlier exertions. She carressed the soft black tufts of hair. „She looks like her father, I suppose.“