(no subject)

[nerdanel_the_wise]

The sound of Námo's and Lee's footsteps faded from the room as they were led away from the audience room. Finarfin's blue eyes then moved between his law-sister (because the divorce of his half-brother from her did not change that he loved her) and his nephew. A nephew he had not seen in... so very, very long. He stood from his throne and walked to Nerdanel, embracing her tightly, welcoming her to Formenos in a more personal manner. Then, when her arms loosened around him, he turned the Maglor.

It had been so many years, and yet, Finarfin could recall the child Maglor had been running through the halls of his home, of Fëanor's home, laughing as he played with his brothers and cousins. He held his arms open, inviting Maglor to embrace him if he chose, but he would not force the contact if the world-weary Elf did not desire it.

Nothing had changed here, or very little. The very hangings on the wall were still familiar; Maglor remembered a long and rambling discussion with Maedhros where the same tapestry that now hung on the left-hand wall had hung behind his brother, tempting Maglor's attention away from his brother's political arguments, and, strangely, towards music.

Now, interminable aeons later, after wandering the world of humans for more time than any of them could imagine, Maglor stood here again, and the tapestry wasn't even faded.

He embraced his uncle, a bit warily. "This is so surreal," he said (freshly coining the term in Sindarin as he did so). "I can hardly believe that I am finally here again, without dying, without major supernatural histrionics. The Lord Mandos just picked me up from a roadside diner, and all of a sudden, I am in Aman. I'll be very happy to see you, uncle, once I get used to the concept."

Finarfin hugged him tightly for a moment, then stepped back. "You will find the land and its people very little changed." He glanced to Nerdanel. "Your twins are most unhappy with you, Lady," he said with a small smile.

Nerdanel sighed. "They will be even more unhappy when I give them my news."

"What news?" he asked, but she only hung her head and looked sideways at Maglor.

Maglor stood and twiddled his thumbs. It was a silly human habit, but it did serve to slightly disconcert the other person. Seeing Finarfin's face, carefully controlled, when Nerdanel told him, would be amusing in a very strange way. The twins, he thought. His youngest brothers. He remembered them dying, long, long ago...

"What news?" he repeated, his tone a little sharper -- he was a king of his people and used to being answered.

Nerdanel lifted her head and let out a long breath. "I am pregnant."

Finarfin stood there.

And stood.

"... Pregnant? How did that happen?" he asked quietly.

Maglor smiled at his mother, then looked back at the tapestry. Saying 'The usual way, as far as she has told me,' would be entirely too trite. Finarfin had to realise that.

There was a pause in which Maglor did not say this; then he said "You might want to ask a more specific question, uncle. Like 'Who was it?' But you might regret it when you hear the answer."

Of course, saying that only led the elder Elf to ask that very question. "Who have you wed yourself to? Your family will be disappointed they were not there--" He looked at her right hand. "You do not wear a ring, thêl," he said very slowly.

"No, I do not," was her defiant reply. "I will be no man's wife again, tór; you know that."

This was an unusual concept. "A child... without a bonding?"

Maglor had seen that expression on human faces innumerable times, although luckily never aimed at him; on an Elf, this was a first. After so many millennia, there were still firsts for the elves. This was going to be good.

Nerdanel nodded. "I am five days into the pregnancy -- I bear another son."

"But-- Nerdanel-- who?" There went Finarfin's perfect control. This was unacceptable, and from Nerdanel of all Elves! Then again, as he thought further, of course it would be Nerdanel.

"The Lord Mandos."

The room became utterly and completely still as Finarfin blanched, forgot how to breathe.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" Maglor remarked, casually. "He fetched me from the seventh age of Arda Marred to see my mother again; in that place in-between worlds where we have been, he is a person almost like us."

He felt he had to say something supportive and distracting before this descended into a well-known scene that was only new to elves, and tedium set in over gasps and recriminations that were, always, the very first time ever.

Finarfin's eyes were on Nerdanel.

"You mean to tell me," he said, his voice almost deathly quiet, "that you carry the son of a Vala in your womb?"

The tone set Nerdanel's teeth on edge. "Yes."

"I am missing something here," Finarfin said stalking a few feet away from them. "You leave us for two years and come back... with this." He rounded on her. "Why?"

"Because of me," Maglor said, calmly. "He brought me to her, and that was the way to show her gratitude. I don't think it would cause you much of a problem."

He tried not to sound defensive.

Finarfin calmed himself. "The Lord Mandos brought you your lost son, and you decided that the best way to show your gratitude was to lay with him and conceive a child?"

"Yes." Nerdanel's chin was lifted proudly. She reached over and took Maglor's hand in her own, which was remarkably steady. "Maglor is with me again -- that is all that mattered to me. Now that the child grows, he matters as well. He is more than a means of repayment; he is my son."

"I hope we are still welcome here; things would be rather awkward if we had to go to my mother's house in Tirion right now, instead of staying here and sending the twins a message to come to us," Maglor said, trusting firmly that Finarfin would backpedal mightily from all insinuations that he might not make them welcome. Many a good night's rest under a proper roof had been secured in this way over the millennia.

The High King blinked, as if realizing how cruel he had begun to sound, and he quickly returned to Nerdanel, embracing her. "Forgive me, thêl." From over the red locks of Nerdanel's hair, he looked at his nephew. "You are both welcome here as long as you need to be here. I will send a messenger to Tirion this very afternoon to tell Amrod and Amras to come to Formenos."

"Thank you, uncle," Maglor said, with a genuine smile. Notwithstanding the amusing circumstance that this old technique worked on elves just as well as it always had on humans.