A Broken Fate

After this...

Nerdanel's eyes slowly clear. The vacancy of sleep leaves the grey depths. She notes that the room is chill, the fire having fallen to nothing but glowing embers. The drapes are open and she smells fragrant, rich tea and something sweet. It was that sweetness that had brought out of her contented sleep. She rubs her eyes and sits up, the counterpane pools in her lap, her long, copper hair falling over her shoulders to mask some of her nudity.

She frowns to see a maid dressed in the pale greys and greens of the kitchen uniform. The young woman is feeding the dying fire, coaxing it from its deathbed into a raging inferno of warmth. Nerdanel watches her curiously until the woman stands and turns. She smiles at the Lady, bowing shallowly.

"My Lady," she says softly as she picks up a tray from a nearby table. "I was instructed to bring you breakfast."

Nerdanel glances at the tray filled with tea, cheese, scones, and thick cream for the scones. "Who instructed you?" she asks. No one, in all her life, had ever... ever... had her morning meal sent to her.

"The dashing pilot," the maid replies as she smoothes the creases of Nerdanel's bedsheets. "He asked your breakfast to be sent after he left." The maid finished tidying up the room, picking up Nerdanel's dress from the floor on her way out.

The Elf looks at the pillow beside her and notices the flowering rosemary with the little note. She smiles as she reads it, then sets them in the drawer of her side table. Nerdanel snuggles into the thick down pillows and picks up her spiced tea, sipping the hot liquid. She finds herself quite happy.

Content.

And without regret.

"I look forward to that day, Master Dunharrow," she whispers to no one.

Then her door is thrown open and Gabriel rushes in, dragging a tottering Kelly behind him. "Ammë!" he cries, undertaking the monumental feat of scaling his mother's bed.

Nerdanel laughs, sets her tea and tray aside, then helps her children up by her side.

The Elf Queen was happy.

He hadn't spent time in his Halls yet. Instead, he had taken up residence in Nerdanel's home.

It was awkward, to put it mildly.

Maedhros, still an awkward growing adolescent, watched the Vala whenever he could. This morning found the odd family together in the kitchen. Nerdanel brings them food, cakes and fruits and meat, before sitting beside Gabriel with his small bowl of hot oats and mashed fruit. She talks to him, assuring him his Ada still loved him and would visit soon, and no, he had to eat because Ada would be very unhappy to come and discover his boy as thin as himself.

By the fifth statement of what Ada would or would not like, Námo sits his glass aside. "Gorlim will come when he wants, if he wants," he says sharply to the child. "You carrying on about it or refusing to eat will not change anything, Gabriel. Now, eat your breakfast and stop pestering your mother."

Maedhros' eyes remain wide. Námo had been short with all three of them since they had arrived, and the young man was not happy about it. He was opening his mouth to tell the god just where he could go with that attitude when his mother gave him a very stern Look.

"Ion," she says quietly, in a voice the Elf vaguely remembered from a previous life. It was a tone he knew it was best avoid. "Go outside and find your other brothers. I want to speak with Lord Mandos for a moment."

She didn't have to ask twice. The copper-haired child was out the door in a blink.

Nerdanel wiped Gabriel's mouth, his large, solemn eyes fixated on his father.

"Námo," she begins, using his name for the first time in all their association. "You will not speak about Gorlim like that. I don't know what's happened, or why you've come here with me, but we are not to be used as some sort of punishment. We're not to be mistreated or snapped at. You chose Gorlim as Feaho's father." Her eyes fall to the ring on Námo's hand. "You've chosen him for far more than that. You owe him, and Feaho, far more respect than you give. Than you have ever given." Nerdanel's sharp eyes lock onto his, defiant in the lift of her chin and it's now that the Vala sees the woman Feanáro had chosen. A woman with a spirt just as fiery as his own. "You are a selfish man, Námo. You want and you want and you want, but you don't know just what it is you want, and you try various things, never happy with the results. You wanted Gorlim. You have him. His love. His devotion. His heart. His body. His mind. His spirit. You wanted a child. You now have two, one adopted and one of your own blood. Even that wasn't enough. You desire another, even before the first is grown. You find little pleasure in what your son does, in his growth and abilities." The tone was sharp, full of anger and disappointment, but it was still gentle and very quiet, which allowed Gabriel the ability to continue eating without becoming upset.

"You, for a god, are impatient. What has he done now, hmm? Did he not look at you long enough? Did he not say just the right thing? Did you not get some desired reaction from him?" She was wise. Very astute. Nothing was missed when Nerdanel was present. "You are an idiot, Námo. You have what mortals and Elves spend lifetimes grasping for, and you lament that it isn't more."

Námo stares at her in utter disbelief. "You do not--"

"What? Understand? Speak to you in such a way? Please. I have been through hell and come through it. I always have found contentment. When I discovered a husband who could not be what I had hoped, I found pleasure in my family. When my family ran and left me behind, I found pleasure in friends. I never complained, and I still don't. Because I recognize that, no, life is not perfect, but dammit, it gives opportunity and so much joy as to make my head spin. And yet, with all you have -- children who adore you, partner who worships you, friends who would move worlds to see you smile -- you still find all of it lacking." She frowns, standing and picking Gabriel up. "I feel very sorry for Feaho and Kelly, and very, very sorry for Gorlim. They will never be what you seem to want. And neither will the next child I carry, will it? None of it will make you happy..."

She left him in the kitchen, alone with her words.

It was enough.

[OOC: Written with Maglor and Maedhros muns in Writely!]

( Family )

Nerdanel whimpers, curled up on her side as she waits for her son to return with as many of their family as he could locate. She had also sent him to find Guppy.

She tenses with a particularly painful contraction. This had been going on, more or less, for the last two days. The contractions were spaced far apart for most of the labour, but now... now they were closer and she knew something was off. She was so tired. She had vomitted both attempts at meals, and she had forbidden her son to leave her side until now.

Now, though, she is exhausted, nauseous and hungry, and everything hurt.

Against her better judgement, she begins to quietly cry when the next contraction slams into her.

Nerdanel's eyes opened slowly, and the vision that greeted her brought a tired, bright smile to her lips.

"Gwador," she says, her voice rough with disuse.

Ecthelion crouches beside her, brushing back her hair. "Oh, Sunset, you look terrible," he remarks with a dry chuckle.

"Thank you," she groans, shifting to make herself more comfortable. "You try being this pregnant and looking your best."

He stood, bringing a tray over as she sat up. Carefully, Ecthelion plumped pillows and propped her up before setting the tray on her thighs. "You know you look glorious on any normal occasion, but dearest, you are pale and too slender."

"Slender?" she asks with a laugh, gratefully sipping the hot tea. "Ecthelion, I believe we should have Guppy examine your eyesight."

Ecthelion shook his head, spreading the honey-butter onto a thick slice of warm bread for her. "All that is large about you is your belly -- and once that child leaves your body, you will see how slim you are. When I last saw you, before here, you were perfectly proportioned."

She munches on the bread for a little while, staring at the last few bites before letting out a long breath. "I know. You can see the bones in my hands and wrists. I eat." She looks up. "I eat everyday. If you do not bring me food, then Glorfindel or Gorlim or Lee or Gil and Sooty; someone is always bringing me food. And I eat most of it. Then I sleep. All I do now is eat and sleep."

"I think that is best," Ecthelion murmurs. "What happened in Imladris--"

"Was not normal," she hastily says.

He holds up his hands. "I know. What I was saying was that what happened in Imladris means you should remain abed. Don't overtax your body. The closest thing to this pregnancy was Melian's, but she was no Elf. No Elf has carried the child of an Ainu, but you're strong, gwathel. I think it is best you only eat and sleep until your time arrives." He tilts his head. "When is that, by the way?"

She smiles at him, diving into the cold meats. "Sometime in June. All the trips into Aman have thrown off the timing, but I think it should be mid-June."

"Not long, then." Ecthelion nods, starting in on an apple.

"It's long enough," she retorts. "It means two and a half more months in this bed."

Ecthelion's smile became wicked. "Then perhaps Glorfindel and I will have to don your dresses once more."

Nerdanel laughs at the image that rises in her mind from her long memory. "That would be amusing."

"Then I shall have to speak with our golden Lord about such entertainment for our bedridden Sunset." He tweaks her nose, before settling back to continue eating his apple.

After another lengthy pause in their conversation, Nerdanel finally asks, "Why did you not ask me to wed you?"

Ecthelion blinks several times at her, then frowns. "Wed you? Sunset, you were always at Feanáro's side. Wanding the lands of Aman -- besides, you are like a sister to me. Even though Glorfindel calls you cousin, I am certain he thinks of you the same way."

"But Glorfindel is my blood kin, you're not," she says.

"Nerdanel," he sighs, putting his half-eaten apple aside. "You are a lovely woman. You have courage and love and pride that is tempered with compassion and humility. You are a great woman. Wise and kind. There is no other I call my sworn-sister, no other but Glorfindel I am so close to." He shrugs. "You were meant for greater things than a warrior."

She smiles at him before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she murmurs before sitting back and returning to her meal.

She was asleep.

Uncomfortably so, but asleep just the same.

The knock was insistant, though, and she drew her robe on as she trudges to the door. When she opens it, all remnants of sleep are gone.

"Glorfindel!" she gasps. She looks from him to the cold, stoic face of the Vala, who she hadn't seen for days. "What happened?"

Námo steps in.

"He is in need of warmth and attention," he says, laying Glorfindel on the sofa.