in the wreck of all we burnt stands our piano like a wound (i play our song to see if it's still in tune) by softmoonlightmelody  

0. A letter

Nerdanel Mahtaniel,
Greetings. I am not quite sure how to write this letter. All those years of speechwriting and linguists and still, still words fail me.
I suppose I should start with what I must say: I am sorry. For my actions, for how everything ended, for everything. I cannot apologize for marrying you first, for our sons are still bright spots in the endlessness of Arda, but I can apologize for everything thereafter.
The truth of it is that I do not know what else to say.
Goodbye,
Fëanáro Þerindion

Nerdanel does not send a letter back.

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1. A festival

As loathe as Fëanáro is to attend, Ingoldo had begged him - something about easing diplomatic tensions, and Fëanáro owes his brother anyway. Ingoldo is still angry about the Exile and Fëanáro leaving him to be High King in Valinor.

It is a lovely festival. The Meren i Elenion, at the solstice of winter, as the night is at its longest. It had always been Fëanáro's mother's favourite festival, from what he remembers before the final years before his adulthood, when Míriel Þerindë grew weaker.

And so she is at his side now, as they walk a slow procession towards the festival. None are eager to see Fëanáro, he thinks, except perhaps Findis, who has yet not seen him since his reembodiment.

At least he doesn't need to apologize. He had an official one, and in the spirit of reunification amongst the Eldar, they have judged him unneeding of any punishment. Ingwë put it most succinctly - "For what punishment could we doll that would not just be vengeance? For what punishment could we give when the guilty has already understood his wrongdoing?". Even Olwë Ciriáran did not protest, and even though there was unrest, Fëanáro did not have any punishment but Ages spent in the Halls.

And now Fëanáro is at the Meren i Elenion. He wears the appropriate colours - deep black, with only hints of purple, embroidered silver stars. A single Fëanárean star.

"Ready?" Míriel asks, as together as always, the sort of regal quality to here that Fëanáro has always lacked shining through.

Míriel wears the star of her son, too, and Fëanáro can find pride in perhaps just that.

As they round the corner into the area of the festival, Fëanáro can see Nerdanel in the distance, the way his eyes still always betray him, the way his eyes still find her.

Throughout the course of the festival, Fëanáro does not reach out and speak to her once.

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2. A dinner

Six of Fëanáro's sons are reembodied, the seventh across the sea and never coming back. They speak to him, often, in different ways than what they used to.

One time, though, Fëanáro overhears a conversation between them.

"He's so young," Telufinwë tells Morifinwë. "Atto, I mean. Compared to us, at least."

"I know," Morifinwë replies. "But he is our atar. And he's trying."

Fëanáro doesn't know how to tell them that he wants to help. He wants to help them get better, to heal, but it can't work. There are caricatures of him, he knows, as someone who is so angry all the time, and he was, but now he just wants to let his sons know that he wants to support them and wants to help them and wants to love them.

Fëanáro does not know if he can help, though.

The first time they all have dinner together, it is achingly stiff, all those years and nothing to say. Even Turkafinwë, the heir of Fëanáro's word-smithing and lingustics, says nothing. Even Nelyafinwë, who could motivate anyone with his speeches, says nothing. Even Curufinwë, silver-tongued, says nothing. Even Morifinwë and Pityafinwë and Telufinwë say nothing.

Fëanáro wonders if it is because they are all trying not to look at the empty chair where Kánafinwë should be sitting, or the chair reserved for Nerdanel that she has never sat in.

Fëanáro knows little of his sons now. He does not know if they prefer their ataressi any more, or if Nelyafinwë wants to be called Maedhros and Morifinwë Caranthir. He would give them new ataressi, for the new people they are, but he is not sure if that is an overstep. He is not even sure what he would name them now. He does not know them well enough.

He wants to know them now, but he says nothing, for he feels anything would be an overstep.

The second time Fëanáro has a large family dinner is rather with the entire House of Finwë. Nerdanel is invited.

They are on, perhaps, opposite sides of the table, and so Fëanáro does not speak to her for the entirety of dinner. Instead, he discusses Nelyarin linguistics with Lalwendë, Findis, and Findaráto.

Only at the end of dinner does Nerdanel approach him. He tries not to notice that everyone else is pointedly not paying attention to them.

"A good dinner, no?" she asks him, and he hates the way that it is achingly small talk rather than what they used to discuss, mineral deposits and debating stone and gems and philosophy and everything in between.

"Yes," Fëanáro replies, and he immediately hates that reply. It's all too awkward.

"It is good to see you again," she says, and pauses.

Fëanáro waits.

She does not say anything more, and they stand next to each other until Fëanáro leaves.

(The journey to Formenos is not a matter of days, only of hours, and Fëanáro, Míriel, and his sons return as the moon sets. Fëanáro misses Nerdanel, truth be told, but he cannot focus on it, or it feels like he cannot breathe at all.)

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2.5. Another letter

To Nerdanel,
Dear Nerdanel,
To Nerdanel,
Sometimes I wonder if you ever think of me. I saw you at the marketplace the other day, and I want you to know I miss you and I still love you. and I hope you're doing well.
I suppose you're conflicted You must be conflicted about me, I know, but if you want to talk to me, I'll be open at any point I'll reply.
Love, Goodbye,, Thank you, Sincerely,
Fëanáro Curufinwë.

Fëanáro does not end up sending any letters.

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3. A random day

Fëanáro hasn't stepped into the forge since he was reembodied. It's been three years of the sun, yet he cannot seem to bring himself to make something of metal, to make jewels, to do anything in the forge except stand at the entrance, paralyzed.

Instead, Fëanáro has picked up embroidery. He had always been terrified of approaching it in his first life, when it was always a memory of his mother. Míriel had taught him while she still lived, but Fëanáro was too young to understand its value and found it boring, and so in his adult life, he was terrified to mess up a skill so ingrained in his memory of his mother. Would he disappoint her?

Now, though, Míriel teaches him how to embroider whiel Morifinwë sits to the side. She is patient and never disappointed, and Fëanáro understands that she loves him.

Now, though, Fëanáro stands at the entrance to the forge again, the memory of his past life still haunting him. He can hear Curufinwë inside, with Tyelperinquar, reconnecting and trying again.

He misses Curufinwë. He sees Curufinwë every day, but now Fëanáro can't go into the forge at all, and he needs some other way to connect with Curufinwë.

Curufinwë was never his favourite son, even though he tried not to have favourites. Curufinwë, for all he inherited Fëanáro's forge prowess, was never Fëanáro's true heir. That honour went to Kánafinwë, who inherited Fëanáro's prodigious skill, the skill that truly set him apart from everyone else, and so Fëanáro found himself favouring his second son, and for all that favour Kánafinwë has yet never come back.

Nerdanel, Fëanáro knows, had her favourites too - more specifically, Nelyafinwë. Míriel's favourite is Morifinwë, Fëanáro knows, and Finwë's favourite was Curufinwë. Indis, herself, prefers Turkafinwë.

And the Ambarussat, well, they were clearly Nelyafinwë's favourites, even if Nelyafinwë was a brother and not a parent or grandparent. Kánafinwë and Morifinwë were each other's favourite, and Curufinwë and Tyelkormo each other's, too. Only Nelyafinwë did not have a brother who had him as their favourite.

Nelyafinwë had Findekáno, at least.

And so Fëanáro regrets, and he takes one step towards the forge entrance, only halting once more.

He stands like that, staring at the door, unable to open it.

"You should open it," Nerdanel says, to his surprise. He did not know she had even come to Formenos.

"Nerdanel?"

"Fëanáro." Nerdanel moves to stand next to him, and he can see her auburn hair out of the corner of his eye. Had she always been so beautiful? "You should work in the forge again."

He takes a deep breath, and turns towards her.

"After the Darkening," Nerdanel continues, "I didn't sculpt for years and years, not until the sun rose again in the east did I pick up a chisel. My father thought I was fading."

That was how it ended with Míriel. In the last years of her first life, as Fëanáro approached adulthood, Míriel had stopped embroidering and weaving.

"The first thing I made again was crude," Nerdanel tells him. She still looks towards the door, and she does not turn to face him. Instead, she closes her eyes. "It was a figure, a small figure, of you. I smashed it. I had smashed all my other sculptures, when we recieved news of Kinslaying at Alqualondë. My sculptures of you, of our children, of me, of my father, of the Valar, of people I had seen just in the street.

"It was years after that I finally stopped smashing everything I made. I was later told that that year was the precise year that the Dagor Aglareb was fought.

"Just start, Fëanáro. Destroy the first few things you make, if you have to."

Fëanáro does not say anything.

Nerdanel does not open her eyes, either, but the next day, Fëanáro is in the forge.

(True to what she said, he does melt down the first things he makes. He destroys them. But eventually, on the fifth year anniversary of his reembodiment, he does not burn the little bauble that he made.)

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4. Kánafinwë's homecoming

The last ship from the Havens has been spotted, and Fëanáro, at least, recieved a letter for who was on it.

Kánafinwë, his son, finally back. All of them, finally back.

And so they all are there, Fëanáro and Nerdanel and their six sons who are not Kánafinwë. They are a little ways away from Alqualondë - Fëanáro is not permitted to go to Alqualondë - but Elrond is here too, and his wife Celebrían, and Altáriel. He knows Altáriel's husband is on the ship, and Elrond and Celebrían's two sons.

There are many Falathrim also, Círdan's people awaiting him, and between them all, they make a fine party.

Elladan and Elrohir, named both elf-men, step off the shining ship first, and immediately run to their parents, who embrace them, Celebrían cradling their heads in her hands. Elrond had translated their names to Quenya as Elenatan and Eleroquen, just as he had changed his mortal daughter Arwen's name to Arawendë and translated his own to Elerondo before Fëanáro had clarified that he did know Þindarin. Their ataressi remained untouched, and none but the family itself know their ataressi.

Then Círdan steps off, and he immediately addresses his people, and in his wake, finally, Kánafinwë steps forward.

Fëanáro can tell the exact moment that he sees them.

"Atto?" he asks, and Fëanáro almost runs to him.

"Kánafinwë," he returns, and brings both of Kánafinwë's hands into his. "Oh, look at you."

Kánafinwë drops his hands and buries his head into Fëanáro's neck, and Fëanáro holds him for a little, and Nerdanel too - when did she get there? - and then Kánafinwë finally looks up and runs to his brothers, leaving Fëanáro and Nerdanel to watch.

"All of our sons are home," Nerdanel says, softly.

"They've changed," Fëanáro replies, "so much."

"Ah, but what is everlasting love but to love someone as they change?"

Fëanáro looks at her. "I don't know. I am glad for it, though."

Nerdanel smiles, briefly, but she does not look at him.

(Kánafinwë moves back to Formenos, and Fëanáro's house is full of song again. He missed Kánafinwë, truly, and he ignores the snippet that he hears of Nelyafinwë telling Kánafinwë that he and Nerdanel are not married once more, and Kánafinwë's accompanying bit of disappointment.)

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5. Seven letters

Fëanáro,
I may hate you. Bastard. Asshole. How dare you come back, how dare you! How dare you live and curse us once more!
I hate you. I will never stop hating you until the world is Remade, until the seas are in upheaval.
You cursed our sons.
Nerdanel
Never sent.

Fëanáro,
I got your letter. An apology! It is barely sufficient; it will never be enough. I have smashed every statue I made of you, again, again and again and again, and now they are simply dust in my studio. I hate you.
Why did you have to come back?
Nerdanel
Never sent.

Fëanáro,
I saw you at the festival.
Nerdanel
Never sent.

Fëanáro,
I am to visit Formenos. You will never recieve this letter.
Nerdanel
Never sent.

Fëanáro,
Makalaurë is coming home. He's coming home. All of our sons.
They visit me once a month, you know, always speaking a little of you. I heard that you are working in the forges once more, and I am glad for it, I suppose.
I miss you. I miss your smile, your eyes, the way your fingers never stopped moving, the way you always wanted to know more of the world.
Nerdanel
Never sent.

Dear Fëanáro,
I am sick of missing you. I'm coming to Formenos.
Nerdanel
Sent.

Dear Nerdanel,
I await your arrival.
Fëanáro
Sent.

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+1. A festival, again

Nerdanel arrives to Formenos on the solstice of winter. She has been to Formenos before, of course, but never like this. There is snow on the ground, candles lit in preparation for the Meren i Elenion later, once the moon sets.

Nerdanel wore the proper clothing, of course, ink-black embroidered with stars. Although it is almost improper, her ink-black has glances of purple anyway. She did not deliberately choose one of her garments with the Fëanárean star on it, she promises, despite the fact that she burned all that clothing after the Kinslaying at Alqualondë.

Eru, she wants to see Fëanáro. She wants to see his smile, his eyes, the way he barely complies with Ñoldorin decorum. She wants to see him like she did when they first got married - eloped, with no one as witness. She wants to see him like she did went they met - two youths utterly obsessed with their work. She wants to see him.

She remembers the scandal of their marriage, for a brief moment. The prince of the Ñoldor, epitome of Ñoldorin beauty, running off and marrying the plain daughter of Mahtan Aulendur, without a wedding and certainly without parental approval.

She walks through the house. She knows their seven sons are visiting Tirion for its Meren i Elenion, but Fëanáro and Míriel have stayed in Formenos. It is just her and Fëanáro, somewhere, in the house.

She finds him embroidering something, but upon seeing her, he sets it to the side, and stands up, and she leads him out to walk in the forest surrounding Formenos, on well-worn paths with the snow climbing around them.

"Nerdanel," he says, and stops.

"I have missed you," she tells him. "I have missed you, Curufinwë Fëanáro, and I am sick of missing you."

He smiles at her, and oh, how did Nerdanel ever think she could forget him?

"I have missed you too," Fëanáro says carefully. "In my first life, I would oft think of you in Formenos, wondering why you could leave. I would think I could not miss you in day, but as night approached, I would think of you once more."

"Oh, cut the sweet words," Nerdanel tells him. "We're too old for that."

Fëanáro rolls his eyes. "You're too old for that, Nerdanel. I, however, have lived only ten years under the sun."

Nerdanel laughs at him. "Ah, but we do not count your time in the Halls?"

"Since when do I remember my time in the Halls?"

"Well, you certainly changed enough."

Fëanáro frowns, a little. "And could you still love me as I stand changed, Istarnië?"

"All the more for it," Nerdanel tells him, and it is true, at least. His voice around her amilessë, and the way he smiles, so hopeful, makes Nerdanel want to have him back. She could never have loved him as she left him, that first time, but she can love him now.

He offers her his hand, and she takes it.

(When they finally arrive back, the Meren i Elenion has already began. They walk the candle-paths together, and Nerdanel spends most of the time looking at Fëanáro rather than the candles or the stars the festival is in honour of.)

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