(no subject)
Title: Vibrant Black
Characters: Nerwen, Vairë, Nienna
Summary: Nothing escapes Nerwen's keen eye.
Rating: G.
Feedback: would be lovely.
Archive: My website. Others are welcomed, but please tell me where it is.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine; they belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and God knows who else. No disrespect intended. No profit made.
Author's notes: contrelamontre challenge: Someone has a secret; 45 minutes. fanfic100 prompt 018. Black.
~~~~~~
Valinor, Valian Years of the Trees 1400
Vairë wandered through her home in the city. No, home was not the right word. House would describe it better. When she thought of it, she couldn't quite recall where would she call home; certainly not her husband's halls. She was expecting a visitor, and yet she avoided the parlour. Perhaps the girl was there already, waiting for her. She would wait further.
It had been a while since she had charged herself with the tutoring of the Noldo girl, but still she found it odd. Eru's song always held a mystery or two for her and she could appreciate them. One of those mysteries was why she had let spite convince her to prove herself to the girl. She smiled, recalling Nerwen's harsh judgement of her, her thoughts of censure mixed with envy and frustration hanging around her like a woolly blanket. Maybe it was that - that even a silly girl who had never seen a thing beyond her belly button dared judge her as pale, insignificant and dull. Not that she wasn't all of those things now but there was always a residual annoyance at the realisation that her most prominent features should obscure the perception of her better self. She was more than they thought her to be. Nerwen was finding that out. Proving it to the rest of the world was too much hassle for her indolent manner, but at least one soul would know that the triteness of old sayings was nevertheless true, and that still waters did run deep.
She sighed. It was silly to let those feelings run free but they were there, no point in ignoring them either. Outside the sun was shining. Vairë smiled. She and Nerwen would take a stroll this day.
She went in search of her pupil and found her as always examining carefully one of her tapestries. It had become a habit of them to start talking about the events depicted there and then let the conversation roll toward other subjects. After months of tutoring, Nerwen was still a disgrace with the needle, but then again, she hadn't come to her for embroidery. She was developing promising skill with other tools. There was wisdom in letting each follow their own path, and while Vairë herself would always prefer using the rhythmic dullness of stitching to free her mind from earthly business and let it soar in search of knowledge, Nerwen seemed to prefer more immediate means. No one would ever call her subtle that was for sure. Moreover, Nerwen lived obsessed with the future. All her searching was forward. She had yet to understand that the present already holds all the answers one would ever need.
She stood by the door for a while longer, watching. She had started hoping that Nerwen saw more in her work than a simple retelling of other's lives and lately the girls questions had lead her to believe that she could indeed read some things that were not plainly stitched.
"She is always in your tapestries," the girl said without turning, startling her. She was momentarily pleased that her student had developed the awareness, but her satisfaction lasted only until Nerwen's following words. "She looks positively vibrant, unlike all your other works. See?" she asked, pointing to a tiny figure. "Even though she has black hair and is dressed in black, she is so vivid in this palette of faded colours that the eye is drawn to her. Why?"
Nerwen had turned to face her as they spoke. Vairë's heart had skipped a beat but she let nothing of her shock show on her face.
"She is a dear friend. It's natural that those whom I love best would come through in better colours in my work. This is, a work of love, as I've told you countless times. The truth will always shine here, even if the peoples chose to lie about the events. Come."
Vairë had hoped she had distracted Nerwen, but she should have known the girl was too much of a keen observer.
"I noticed that my Lord Námo is as dull as the others..."
Vairë pursed her lips. "Nerwen, it's a lovely day outside and if you want to continue your training with the water, we should go around to the back and do so. Otherwise I have other things to do."
She was pleased to watch the girl lower her head, but the truce wouldn't last long. The girl went through the preparing steps as usual, with her deep concentration and fierce determination showing in each movement, each word, but as soon as they looked over the water, Nerwen's thoughts pushed, surprisingly for the past. For her. The girl had always respected her boundaries. Vairë wasn't sure if she was dominated by her curiosity or if she had intentionally taken that direction, but there she was, going back in time, searching for her. She felt naked and tried to pull back. She was held to the basin, a stray lock of her hair disturbing the water's surface and filling the waters with more power than Nerwen's simple words ever could. It wasn't the girl's blossoming abilities that held her but her own regret for the past. She let it hold her for one instant too long, and Nerwen saw what she recalled clear as it was happening under their eyes all over again.
They were in this very garden under the sycamore tree. She sat with her back to the tree and her lover laid her head on her lap. They played with each other's hair. Vairë pulled back, a jolt of fear and pain coursing through her.
"Go now, Nerwen, and don't come back," she said, shivering. The girl looked at her hesitatingly.
"I didn't mean to... Was that Nienna?"
"Go!"
Nerwen left hurriedly, glancing back once or twice. Vairë knelt in the ground and shut her eyes. She had been reckless, maybe because she missed so badly those days gone by. She knew Nerwen would return with more questions. She couldn't bear it, she couldn't think of the past, that part that was utterly destroyed by Manwë's sense of propriety, by Nienna's too tiny love and most of all by her own weakness that had let her be pushed into Námo's arms and to all that their kin thought it was right.
An ancient pain crushed her chest but she did not sob, nor did she weep. She sat back and let the rest of the afternoon go by. Námo found her there. He rarely sought her there and she felt apprehensive, but it had been just one of those moments when he forgot his own frustration at a love that would never come, and instead gave, just gave. She leant her head into his shoulder and sighed.
"I wish you hadn't taken her under your care. It is taxing upon you," he said.
Námo could be so caring. She felt real tenderness for him, but never would it be but a pale shadow. She had been made to love another sibling, the one who had forgotten her.
"She's a good pupil. She will do things in this Arda," Vairë said. In a way, she understood that Nerwen would be her ultimate display of strength. She could very well see all that shone under her rough edges. Nerwen would be great and shine for long in another world. Maybe she would even create her own world. Yes, that seemed to be her fate. She would stitch it as every thing else and they would see what had come from her hands.
Námo simply nodded and helped her rise from the cold ground. "Come inside. Let us dine."
Vairë agreed to that. She felt exhausted and his warm arm holding her gave her the strength she needed. Not for the first time she wished she had more to give.
"It is enough," she heard him say. She hadn't realize she had been so unshielded and his acceptance of so little hurt her.
She closed her eyes. "We will be alone...?"
"Irmo is coming after dinner. We converse for a while."
That would be nice. Vairë smiled her sad smile that she reserved for Námo only. Irmo was sweet, not as sombre as his siblings were. He always brought a note of joy to her house, but with such delicacy that it never sounded incongruent amidst all those tales of loss, death, failure on the wall and on their faces.
Yes, if she could never have the comfort of Nienna's arms, at least she would have the best of the comfort her brothers could give. And Nienna would grieve alone, as she had chosen too. Vairë was, for a brief moment, almost pleased.
Finis
December 2005
Characters: Nerwen, Vairë, Nienna
Summary: Nothing escapes Nerwen's keen eye.
Rating: G.
Feedback: would be lovely.
Archive: My website. Others are welcomed, but please tell me where it is.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine; they belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and God knows who else. No disrespect intended. No profit made.
Author's notes: contrelamontre challenge: Someone has a secret; 45 minutes. fanfic100 prompt 018. Black.
~~~~~~
Valinor, Valian Years of the Trees 1400
Vairë wandered through her home in the city. No, home was not the right word. House would describe it better. When she thought of it, she couldn't quite recall where would she call home; certainly not her husband's halls. She was expecting a visitor, and yet she avoided the parlour. Perhaps the girl was there already, waiting for her. She would wait further.
It had been a while since she had charged herself with the tutoring of the Noldo girl, but still she found it odd. Eru's song always held a mystery or two for her and she could appreciate them. One of those mysteries was why she had let spite convince her to prove herself to the girl. She smiled, recalling Nerwen's harsh judgement of her, her thoughts of censure mixed with envy and frustration hanging around her like a woolly blanket. Maybe it was that - that even a silly girl who had never seen a thing beyond her belly button dared judge her as pale, insignificant and dull. Not that she wasn't all of those things now but there was always a residual annoyance at the realisation that her most prominent features should obscure the perception of her better self. She was more than they thought her to be. Nerwen was finding that out. Proving it to the rest of the world was too much hassle for her indolent manner, but at least one soul would know that the triteness of old sayings was nevertheless true, and that still waters did run deep.
She sighed. It was silly to let those feelings run free but they were there, no point in ignoring them either. Outside the sun was shining. Vairë smiled. She and Nerwen would take a stroll this day.
She went in search of her pupil and found her as always examining carefully one of her tapestries. It had become a habit of them to start talking about the events depicted there and then let the conversation roll toward other subjects. After months of tutoring, Nerwen was still a disgrace with the needle, but then again, she hadn't come to her for embroidery. She was developing promising skill with other tools. There was wisdom in letting each follow their own path, and while Vairë herself would always prefer using the rhythmic dullness of stitching to free her mind from earthly business and let it soar in search of knowledge, Nerwen seemed to prefer more immediate means. No one would ever call her subtle that was for sure. Moreover, Nerwen lived obsessed with the future. All her searching was forward. She had yet to understand that the present already holds all the answers one would ever need.
She stood by the door for a while longer, watching. She had started hoping that Nerwen saw more in her work than a simple retelling of other's lives and lately the girls questions had lead her to believe that she could indeed read some things that were not plainly stitched.
"She is always in your tapestries," the girl said without turning, startling her. She was momentarily pleased that her student had developed the awareness, but her satisfaction lasted only until Nerwen's following words. "She looks positively vibrant, unlike all your other works. See?" she asked, pointing to a tiny figure. "Even though she has black hair and is dressed in black, she is so vivid in this palette of faded colours that the eye is drawn to her. Why?"
Nerwen had turned to face her as they spoke. Vairë's heart had skipped a beat but she let nothing of her shock show on her face.
"She is a dear friend. It's natural that those whom I love best would come through in better colours in my work. This is, a work of love, as I've told you countless times. The truth will always shine here, even if the peoples chose to lie about the events. Come."
Vairë had hoped she had distracted Nerwen, but she should have known the girl was too much of a keen observer.
"I noticed that my Lord Námo is as dull as the others..."
Vairë pursed her lips. "Nerwen, it's a lovely day outside and if you want to continue your training with the water, we should go around to the back and do so. Otherwise I have other things to do."
She was pleased to watch the girl lower her head, but the truce wouldn't last long. The girl went through the preparing steps as usual, with her deep concentration and fierce determination showing in each movement, each word, but as soon as they looked over the water, Nerwen's thoughts pushed, surprisingly for the past. For her. The girl had always respected her boundaries. Vairë wasn't sure if she was dominated by her curiosity or if she had intentionally taken that direction, but there she was, going back in time, searching for her. She felt naked and tried to pull back. She was held to the basin, a stray lock of her hair disturbing the water's surface and filling the waters with more power than Nerwen's simple words ever could. It wasn't the girl's blossoming abilities that held her but her own regret for the past. She let it hold her for one instant too long, and Nerwen saw what she recalled clear as it was happening under their eyes all over again.
They were in this very garden under the sycamore tree. She sat with her back to the tree and her lover laid her head on her lap. They played with each other's hair. Vairë pulled back, a jolt of fear and pain coursing through her.
"Go now, Nerwen, and don't come back," she said, shivering. The girl looked at her hesitatingly.
"I didn't mean to... Was that Nienna?"
"Go!"
Nerwen left hurriedly, glancing back once or twice. Vairë knelt in the ground and shut her eyes. She had been reckless, maybe because she missed so badly those days gone by. She knew Nerwen would return with more questions. She couldn't bear it, she couldn't think of the past, that part that was utterly destroyed by Manwë's sense of propriety, by Nienna's too tiny love and most of all by her own weakness that had let her be pushed into Námo's arms and to all that their kin thought it was right.
An ancient pain crushed her chest but she did not sob, nor did she weep. She sat back and let the rest of the afternoon go by. Námo found her there. He rarely sought her there and she felt apprehensive, but it had been just one of those moments when he forgot his own frustration at a love that would never come, and instead gave, just gave. She leant her head into his shoulder and sighed.
"I wish you hadn't taken her under your care. It is taxing upon you," he said.
Námo could be so caring. She felt real tenderness for him, but never would it be but a pale shadow. She had been made to love another sibling, the one who had forgotten her.
"She's a good pupil. She will do things in this Arda," Vairë said. In a way, she understood that Nerwen would be her ultimate display of strength. She could very well see all that shone under her rough edges. Nerwen would be great and shine for long in another world. Maybe she would even create her own world. Yes, that seemed to be her fate. She would stitch it as every thing else and they would see what had come from her hands.
Námo simply nodded and helped her rise from the cold ground. "Come inside. Let us dine."
Vairë agreed to that. She felt exhausted and his warm arm holding her gave her the strength she needed. Not for the first time she wished she had more to give.
"It is enough," she heard him say. She hadn't realize she had been so unshielded and his acceptance of so little hurt her.
She closed her eyes. "We will be alone...?"
"Irmo is coming after dinner. We converse for a while."
That would be nice. Vairë smiled her sad smile that she reserved for Námo only. Irmo was sweet, not as sombre as his siblings were. He always brought a note of joy to her house, but with such delicacy that it never sounded incongruent amidst all those tales of loss, death, failure on the wall and on their faces.
Yes, if she could never have the comfort of Nienna's arms, at least she would have the best of the comfort her brothers could give. And Nienna would grieve alone, as she had chosen too. Vairë was, for a brief moment, almost pleased.
Finis
December 2005