A Golden Hour

[grundyscribbling]

Summary: Finrod pays a visit to his Aunt Nerdanel. He's not without an agenda...
Bingo Number: G57, N39
Prompts (Cards): Finrod & Nerdanel (Finwean Friendships), Nerdanel (Fun with Fëanorians)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1500ish
Notes: As with most of my Fourth Age fic, this one is in the DoC 'verse, but if you squint, you can pretend it's not. There's only one small detail that isn't canon.

Nerdanel looked up from her lastest work to find her nephew lounging against the doorframe.

There was no telling how long Finderato had been standing there – he had both the patience and the politeness to wait however long it took for her to reach a point he judged it would not be a risk to interrupt. It could easily have been half an hour if not more.

“Ingo! You should have sent word you were coming,” she sighed, setting her tools aside and pulling a canvas dropcloth over the half-finished sculpture.

For many years, she had hoped that her second son would return when Elrond sailed, but there had been no news of his coming. She had reluctantly concluded that if he was not dead, he had chosen to remain in exile. If that were the case, her current work was the closest to him she would ever be.

“I would have, had I had any notion earlier in the day that I would want to come,” he grinned, coming over to give her a hug now that her hands were free.

He was for once on his own, neither of his sons or his daughter tagging along. She wondered what he meant to discuss that he had denied them the trip. Artalissë was always eager to visit, curious to see her studio and what she might be working on at the moment.

“Well, let’s go sit down in the kitchen,” Nerdanel suggested. “I’m not sure when I last ate, so if you’re not hungry, you can nibble on something small while I have lunch.”

He sighed, and Nerdanel could see her nephew biting back the perennial suggestion that she please, please take on at least one servant, if only to make sure that meals appeared in her studio at regular intervals. When all three women of the house were occupied at their crafts, meals could become a bit… haphazard.

Nerdanel was unsurprised to find the kitchen empty. Lindë was away at the Academy for the day, critiquing a performance for a master candidate, and Silmë was most likely in her own studio. She set the kettle on the stove to boil, and brought out greens to make herself a salad.

“Will you eat, Ingo dear, or just have a morsel with your tea?” she asked.

“Just something small, Auntie,” her replied, settling onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “And only if it’s no trouble.”

Nerdanel shot him a look.

“You’re never trouble, Ingoldo,” she told him sternly. “You know that.”

“Some may beg to differ, Auntie, but nevermind,” he replied, accepting the shortbread she passed him. “Thank you.”

The salad didn’t take long, and Nerdanel found that someone had baked bread that morning, so lunch became salad with a sandwich of cold meat and cheese.

“Now, Ingo dear, what brings you to see me? It hasn’t been very long since your last visit.”

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the news he had delivered at his last visit. The Sauron part was clear enough. She had been fiercely – viciously in truth – glad to hear the monster who had tortured and killed her only grandson was defeated, brought so low it was unlikely he could ever rise again. Any who thought she didn’t have the same urge for vengeance that had driven her husband would have been surprised. But the Sauron part wasn’t the problem.

“I came to invite you to ride down to Alqualondë with me,” Ingo said.

Oh. Oh, dear. She really should have seen that coming.

“Their ship is expected in the next few days. Emmë and Aunt Anairë are already there, of course. But I’m going, and I thought you might like to go as well.”

“It’s sweet of you to offer, Ingo, but I really couldn’t.”

“But you could! I mean, if you wanted to, Auntie. You needn’t feel obligated to keep away if you wish to go.”

Ingo’s earnest blue-grey eyes were full of concern.

“Your sculptures are displayed in the city, there’s no reason you cannot go there. My grandfather has said you are welcome in his house. And I would be with you – no one would dare be rude.”

He had clearly been thinking on possible objections.

“Ingoldo, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Quite aside from the question of whether or not any of the elves arriving from Middle-earth would welcome her presence – and she had her doubts on that score – she could not be sure how she would feel on the day. Her good days far outnumber the bad by now – it’s been an Age since Tyelpë’s death, and even longer since her sons, though Makalaurë choosing exile still felt fresh.

But bad days do still happen, and on bad days she can’t abide more than a handful of people she knows well, nevermind the crowds that will be gathering for this ship.

Her nephew’s face fell.

“Auntie, you can’t possibly think they wouldn’t want to see you!” he protested. “Gildor certainly will. He was close to Tyelpë, you know – they got to know each other in Nargothrond. I should imagine Artë will be happy to see you as well. And Elrond certainly will be pleased to meet you – Atto has long said he suspects both Eärendil’s boys thought of you as a grandmother.”

“That’s as may be, Ingo, but I am sure their actual grandmothers will be there, and may not appreciate me taking their grandson’s attention away from them.”

“Rillë won’t begrudge you your fair share of time with Elrond,” Ingo replied. “And so far as I know, Cousin Nimloth is still in Mandos, so I don’t think we are expecting to see her.”

“I’m sure Elrond will eventually make his way to Tirion, and he will have no trouble finding me when he does, should he wish to meet me,” Nerdanel said firmly. “If you’re craving company on the road, I know perfectly well Lissë can barely sit still for excitement about her big brother arriving at long last. If the boys are any better, it’s only because they think they’re too grown up to be so excited.”

Ingo was visibly disappointed, and looked to be preparing for another round of hopeful persuasion.

“You won’t change my mind on this one, Ingoldo,” she pre-empted him. “Though it’s very kind of you to try, and I do appreciate that my favorite nephew comes to visit me so often of late.”

Ingo looked slightly abashed.

“It’s no trouble, really, Auntie.”

“Obviously it is,” she replied with a slight bite, speaking before she thought. “Turvo hasn’t managed a single visit since he returned from the Halls.”

At that, Ingo visibly sought for a way to excuse his cousin. Nerdanel wasn’t inclined to let him squirm long.

“It’s all right, dear, you don’t need to tell me he’s still holding grudges. It didn’t take any great leap to work it out.”

At that, Ingo was uncharacteristically quiet.

“I do read the histories,” Nerdanel said gently. “So I know that Atarinkë and Tyelko behaved rather badly to you. I’m not sure what happened between him and Turvo, but I don’t doubt that something did. Perhaps he’ll tell me someday.”

“It’s not you, Auntie,” Ingo sighed. “It’s…complicated. But I’m sure you’ll see him soon. He’s written that he’ll come to Tirion to see Elrond and Artë.”

“You don’t need to press him to do anything he doesn’t want to do, Ingo. If he wants to be a stranger in this house, that’s his decision.”

“No, Auntie, he should visit. He knows his quarrel is not with you, you had no more say in what Curvo did in Beleriand than we did! But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll soon have allies to enlist in getting Turvo to remember he has family in Tirion who would like to see him.”

Nerdanel raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Well, if he doesn’t make a bit more effort, he will have to explain to not only Elrond but Elrond’s daughters why he isn’t on better terms with the rest of the family. I don’t think that would go very well for him, do you?”

Anyone who thought Finderato Ingoldo was all sweetness and light would have been rather surprised at the smile on his face as he said that.

Nerdanel smothered a smile herself. It seemed Ingo was for once prepared to play dirty when it came to his best friend. (A best friend that had once been one of two...)

“You’re terrible, Ingoldo, really!”

She caught herself before she could say ‘throwing him to the wolves’.

“Letting your poor cousin get into such trouble! But you’d best be on your way, Ingo. You’ve finished the shortbread, and if the ship is really expected so soon, you’ll want to collect Lissë and the boys and be on your way.”

“You’re really sure you don’t want to come, Auntie?” Ingo wheedled. “We would be happy to have you travel with us, truly.”

“Positive, dear. But I’ll be eager to hear all about how excited Anairë and Eärwen are when you get back.”

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[grundyscribbling]

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