Chapter Text
In Darkness:
Nerdanel
I was right. It was not madness that ruled me, nor paranoia preying on my thoughts. Truly did I name Melkor Morgoth, jail-crow, for he is worse than that, worse than all foulness, worse than even I dreamed -
Atar is gone, he is gone, and the fire burning in my soul is so great that sometimes I feel it has stolen all the air in the world to feed itself and I cannot breathe -
I have not forgotten your words when you left, nor do I doubt the strength of your convictions, but surely even you must concede that this changes things. Surely even you cannot trust the Valar as you once did; surely you can no longer blame me for seeking to leave these shores. Surely you can see - surely you want to - surely this changes - You must agree now, you cannot tell you me you do not agree -
The Tengwar looks so harsh in the light of this torch. I am not sure even your tact could soften it. I wooed you with letters once, but that was in a world with gentler light to guide us. I cannot seem to find the right ones now.
All my gentler words were always yours; you took them them with you when you left. I had not realized how much I missed them.
Perhaps if I can take back what remains of that gentler light, I can find my way back to those gentler words. Perhaps I can even find my way to the right words, and you will come back.
Feanaro
[Not delivered.]
In Imperfect Light:
Feanaro,
How dare you. How dare you, how dare you, how dare you -
I have lost track of how many times I have written those words and sent them fruitlessly after you into the void, you, you, you -
I cannot even think of what to call you, and you are not here to help me put my fury to words. That is another grievance I have against you; how dare you not be here for that?
How dare you take every last one of our children across that dark expanse of water? How dare you be such a father that they would want to; how dare you, being such a father, choose to lead them to this?
How dare you leave it to Nienna to tell me I have lost three of my children in a day? How dare you leave it to Nienna to tell me my premonitions were true, and I have lost both of the twins? How dare you leave it to Nienna to tell me that my Maitimo, my beautiful little Maitimo -
How dare you leave me to wait for news of my Makalaure alone?
How did you dare - all those years ago, how did you have the unmitigated gall to die?
There are a hundred songs raised in bitterness against you now, and I cannot even borrow words from them to express my rage with you because every time I hear them, I cannot help but think how pitiful, how paltry, you would find those cliched, commonplace insults to be.
You could find me better words; you could pour my rage onto this page until the ink caught fire with it and scorched the desk beneath; until the desk lit the room and burned down this house where I have waited and wept and tried in vain to turn to stone.
We could build a new house together, after that. We could sweep up the ashes and build a new house, and when it was done and we had lit a new fire together, safe in the hearth, we could call out together, and all our lovely little ones would come home -
I didn’t send that letter to Tambarie we wrote together all those years ago. Did I ever tell you that? I didn’t send it to her until she came marching back with Arafinwe’s army from Beleriand and sent to me what a shame it was that my well-formed one should be so Marred after all as to die in such a way.
I sent it to her then. I signed it with both our names. I am still quite good at your signature.
I wish I hadn’t sent it. I know she has her reasons. I know that even if she didn’t that all of Aman now would say she has the right.
And now I no longer have it; I no longer have it, and your words, which once seemed to threaten to force the library of Tirion to build a new wing, now no longer seem like enough; how shall I ration them out to last me until the world breaks? How could I afford to send any away?
I keep catching myself thinking that if I can only find the right words to express my rage that you will admit you were wrong, and you will come back.
I know I am centuries too late, but I keep thinking it anyway.
I think I may always think it, until the very breaking of the world.
Nerdanel
[Not delivered.]
[Yet.]