Chapter Text
After the whole ordeal in the healer’s ward, Nihal was escorted back to her room by Lady Nerdanel, who insisted that she took the day off and rest until dinner. Nihal didn’t object to that much. She was indeed feeling tired and sleepy. Perhaps a little nap before dinner could help her clear her mind and remember. Or better yet, wake up from this dream. Lady Nerdanel remained at the threshold of the room as Nihal stepped in and gave her a tired smile of reassurance before they said their temporary goodbyes and Lady Nerdanel closed the door, leaving the young woman alone with her thoughts.
Nihal looked around and surveyed her surroundings. The room was simply decorated, with a window that looked out at the gardens. She slowly walked over to it. The latches opened with a soft click, and the windowpane slid upwards smoothly. Taking a deep breath, she stuck her head out. She appeared to be on the second or third floor. She was high enough to see a great portion of the inner palace garden, where gardeners with bright green uniforms walked around and spoke to one another in pleasantly calm voices. What they were saying to each other Nihal could hardly hear. However, she was also close enough to the ground that she could only see the garden and not the city. She imagined that the crown prince and his sons occupied rooms within the highest levels of the palace, having a nice, almost bird’s eye view at the whole Tirion and the palace grounds. She wondered how big the palace actually was. So far, she had only seen two of its rooms: hers and the healer’s ward. If this really was a dream, it was very damn realistic. She sighed in frustration. There was so much to explore, to memorize. But then again, she had to assume that her stay here was temporary, so it was better not to get too caught up in it and form attachments to anything or anyone.
She lifted her head towards the sky, half-expecting to feel the sun’s glaring light assaulting her eyes. But it wasn’t there. The brightness in the sky was unfamiliarly pleasant. Soft golden hue mixed with a little silver that intensified in the direction of the west. Nihal never imagined to see the sky with this color combination. It felt alien, and yet the way the Trees glowed had a natural beauty to it, as if it had always been this way. As if they hadn’t been created by Yavanna and just existed ever since the world had first been created. As if they were a part of this world’s order, much like how the sun and the moon had been in Nihal’s world. It was a strange feeling, to say the least. Unfortunately, Nihal wasn’t in the state of mind to ponder over it or put it into words. She was tired, and she needed rest.
Yawning, she stepped away from the window, but didn’t close it. The breeze was pleasant enough to leave it open. She proceeded to look around her room. There was a small, wooden table and a chair next to the window. A few papers, notebooks and a quill occupied it. Nihal took one of the notebooks and went through its pages to see them all empty. If anything, both the table and its occupants looked hardly used.
Turning her back to the window, she stood facing the door. To her right was the bed, which looked surprisingly roomy. Nihal assumed that the standard beds of elves would be bigger than those of humans, since they were physically taller most of the time, especially those who live in Valinor under the holy light of the trees. There was a small bedside table with a few drawers. On the table, stood a strange metal cylinder with intricate and elegant glyphs at the sides and a handle at the top propped up on a tiny, wooden platform. Nihal made a mental note to check that out once she finished exploring the room.
To her left, there was a lacquered wooden wardrobe that had intricate designs painted on them. Swallows maneuvering through vines, flowers coloring the bottom. She walked over to it and opened its two doors wide to check inside. A couple of white dress-like clothes that Nihal assumed were nightgowns hung within, along with a travel outfit and plain but elegant clothes that were a little similar to that of a servant’s. A shirt and a skirt around which was tied an apron. A simple outfit for work. She wondered how often elves needed to change and wash their clothes. Did they get dirty often? She assumed they didn’t sweat as much as humans did. She snorted and shook her head at the ridiculous thought of elven sweat, pee and poop smelling like flowers. Given her new body, Nihal supposed she would soon find that out for herself. She closed the wardrobe with a chuckle.
Next, she turned to the door to its right. She turned the doorknob and opened it to reveal a small, but elegant bathroom/toilet. The small tub, the washbasin and the lavatory were all made of carved marble. Nihal raised an incredulous brow as she stepped inside. On the one hand, she knew that she shouldn’t be this surprised. The elves here lived with their gods in literal paradise. Of course they would’ve figured out the plumbing. She let out a soft scoff as she turned on the tap, and observed as cool water began to pour out of it. She turned it off and lifted her gaze upwards to find herself staring at her reflection through a glass mirror that hung just above the sink. Unable to get used to the way she looked, Nihal blinked slowly multiple times, turning her head left and right to take in her new appearance. Pale face, long, black hair, grey eyes, elegant eyebrows, button nose, small and pointy ears. Needless to say, it was an improvement from her human self, more or less. Though she did miss her short, chest-nut hair. All the elven-maids that she had seen so far, including Lady Nerdanel, were wearing elaborate braids. Having never spent so much time on her hair after her teenage years, Nihal wasn’t sure if she could find the energy or the will to try to style her hair like them. For now, though, her hair hung loose, long black curtains framing her face with a darkness that contrasted her white skin. So smooth, she thought as she touched her face with her fingertips. Elves were immune to infection or any kinds of bodily diseases, so she supposed pimples were off the table.
Sighing, she stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Questions regarding the elven bodies could wait. She was extremely tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Her exhaustion surprised her a little. From what she gathered, she had been slacking off in the garden when the servants found her. Apart from the “concussion” that she had no memory over, she should’ve been fine. Ask questions later, she thought again as she shuffled her way to the bed.
As she sat down onto the mattress, the cylinder on the bedside table caught her attention once again. She reached over and took it into her hands, and began her superficial examination, turning it this way and that. The metal felt thin but upon applying pressure with her hand, it didn’t bend. There were some strange mechanisms at the top, though. Just below the handle. On the thin, light grey metal, intricate carvings of stars and constellations were visible. “What the hell is this thing? Just a fancy trinket?” she muttered as she traced her fingers on its edges. Then, it hit her.
This could be a lamp.
An image of an oil lamp with a closed lid appeared in her mind.
Her exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she lifted the cylinder in front of her face and inspected its every surface for something that could set the mechanism off, like a switch. She did find a small metal arm that could be slid alongside a wide slot. Upon pushing it along with her finger, the metal cylinder slid to the side to reveal the soft but strong blue light emanating from within a white crystal. She almost dropped the lamp in surprise, her breath caught at the sight of the invaluable gemstone that slightly hurt her eyes.
The crystal looked as if it was burning with an inner flame, emanating a soft but powerful blue flame. Nihal ran her fingers along the crystal’s edges, looking at the flame that was too far buried into the crystal to burn her. But it did give out a little warmth that was surprisingly soothing. She could not help but give out an impressed “Whoa”. For a world in which there was no such thing as cultivation of electricity, she was thoroughly impressed. But then, she reminded herself that she was in Valinor, and this was the House of Fëanáro. She was under the roof of the genius inventor, linguist, scientist and artist. And this thing she was holding, she realized, could very well be a Fëanorian lamp.
Chuckling, she shook her head. This was surreal. A damn realistic dream. She could feel the weight of the lamp in her hands, and the warmth it was radiating. She could see its blue glow as well, throbbing almost like a heartbeat. She lifted her gaze and looked at the wall in front of her, a sudden numbness overcoming her mind and making it short-circuit for a few seconds. She could feel the panic and despair looming just behind the serene restraint of her unprocessed emotions. She didn’t want to delve deep into them right now. She had no energy to deal with the possibility of this not being a dream, and that she was really there, in a room within a palace in Tirion.
Instead, she decided to focus on more immediate matters.
Like how to turn the damn crystal off.
She vaguely remembered reading about Fëanorian lamps. They could not be extinguished by neither water nor wind. Unless destroyed, it would just continue to shine. The only thing that could block the light was the metal cylinder, which she did by sliding the small metal bump in its socket to the opposite direction. The metal covered the crystal entirely, and the blue light disappeared. It was not extinguished, just hidden.
Shaking her head in a mixture of exasperation and amusement, she put the lamp back onto the bedside table. She walked over to the wardrobe and grabbed one of the sleeping gowns. Throwing her work-clothes onto the chair nearby, she put the gown over her head while she walked back to the bed. Eyes already beginning to close, she slid into the covers. She was asleep seconds before her head hit the pillow.
******
She was woken by an insistent knock on her door. Nihal opened her eyes groggily and sat up on her bed, smacking her lips and blowing her hair away from her face. She didn’t recognize the room at first, not remembering where she was. Once she did, her brows furrowed in confusion. She was still here? How could a dream continue even after losing consciousness?
But she didn’t have time to dwell on these things. Whoever was behind the door was not going to leave without an answer. She threw the cover off her legs and scrambled to wear her boots. “Coming!” she yelled at her stubborn visitor. The knocking ceased upon her shout.
Nihal ran to the door and swung it open, still in her nightgown, to find Lady Nerdanel waiting for her. “M-my lady,” Nihal said, dropping her gaze with a slight blush on her face. She wasn’t sure if she could get used to seeing actual fictional characters right in front of her, flesh and bone.
“Hello, dear,” Lady Nerdanel said, her voice slightly authoritative but also soft. “I apologize if I disturbed your sleep. I was wondering how you were faring. Also, it is almost time for dinner, and I would like you to join me and my son this time, if you’re comfortable.”
Dinner? Nihal furrowed her brows and turned to look out the window, half expecting to see a dark sky. Instead, she found the sky having taken a soft, golden-orange hue that almost looked like a sunset. But it lacked the diversity in color. She couldn’t help but miss all the yellows and pinks and purples and blues that came with it.
She turned back to her mistress. For a few seconds, Nihal didn’t know what to say. All she did was open and close her mouth like a fish out of water. Then, she managed to stutter, “I… uh… I wouldn’t want to impose…”
Lady Nerdanel shook her head firmly, “Nonsense. I would not have asked you otherwise. Besides, it’s going to be just you, me, and my fourth son Carnistir.”
Nihal blinked a few times as the elven lady’s words registered. So it wasn’t going to be the entire family. She couldn’t help but feel a little relieved upon hearing that. Meeting all of the seven sons of Fëanor at once would make her have an aneurism even if it was a dream. She couldn’t imagine how nervous she would be, knowing them and their future deeds.
“O-oh…” Nihal uttered. She was still unsure, but the expectant look on Lady Nerdanel’s face somehow managed to convince her that this would help set the older woman’s mind at ease. Besides, it was only her and Carnistir, whom she had never met before and barely knew anything about even with her knowledge from the Silmarillion. It wasn’t a big deal. Just a meal, Nihal thought. With an unsure tone, she at last murmured, “Alright. When are we eating?”
The older nís smiled warmly. Nihal couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, as if she had just given her the correct answer. “Right away. I came here to fetch you. Had you refused, I would have told the servants to bring some food to your chambers after checking up on you.”
“I see,” Nihal could only say. Was it too late to cancel the dinner plans?
“I will be waiting for you here. Go and change your gown, but you don’t need to bother with wearing anything fancy. It’s just a dinner between us.” Lady Nerdanel said calmly. Nihal nodded mutely and slowly closed the door.
For a moment, she just stood there, her back leaning against the door. She could feel her cheeks burning from trepidation. Her mind was strangely blanked out for a few seconds before anxious thoughts started to bombard her. What do I do now? I’m about to have dinner with THE Lady Nerdanel and her son Caranthir – I mean, Morifinwë Carnistir. Oh God, I should’ve refused! What if they realize that I’m not Eӓrien? I should’ve stayed out of sight and out of mind…
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself down. What was done was done. She had to go to that dinner. Besides, it was just one son of Fëanor. Not even a kinslayer yet. She won’t be alone with him either. His mother was going to be with them.
She stepped away from the door, slowly but surely. Heading for the chair she had thrown her work clothes on, she took off her gown and quickly wore her practical, baggy trousers with apron on. It looked clean enough. Then, she put on her white shirt that was simple but elegantly cut. It wasn’t anything boisterous, and Nihal decided that she liked it.
While she was looking for something to tie her hair with – because by God it was long, and she was sure as hell that it would get in the way while she’s trying to eat – she continued to think about her current situation. What would even happen if they knew who I am? Would they even believe me? I mean, magic IS a thing in this world but THIS… Would they not try to help me, at least? I’m sure they would want the old Eӓrien back… She looked around her chambers, eyes searching and hands groping. Although, they might not believe me… Eӓrien – I mean, I – had a concussion after all. But what if they notice that the memories aren’t coming back? Would they send me to the gardens? Would that be better? Maybe they could actually help me there… Or should I just fake it till I make it? Can I even keep this up? How do I stay out of trouble? …
Thoughts circling her head, she quickly went over to the bathroom. Opening the cupboards one by one, she at last found a simple wooden box that contained pearls and a modest amount of jewelry. Putting all of those aside, Nihal hurriedly continued to look for anything that could potentially keep her hair at bay. Finally, she pulled out a ribbon and a few simply ornated hairclips. Good enough. She clumsily tied her hair into a ponytail with the ribbon. She huffed as a few strands escaped from her grasp and fell forward. Oh how she would gladly give one of her pearls in that box for a simple hair-band. She collected the rebel-strands into her hand and pulled them all back from her face with one of the hairclips. Checking her reflection one last time through the mirror, she rushed to the door. She hoped she didn’t make Lady Nerdanel wait for too long.
The older woman was waiting for her on the other side, leaning against the wall opposite Nihal’s chambers. She lifted her gaze once she saw Nihal emerge from her chambers, and a small smile fell onto her lips. Gesturing to her attire, she said, “You’ve always been one for practicality, just like me and your mother.”
Nihal froze for a moment, her mind going blank again. Nervously chuckling, she absently brought a hand to her hair, fingers grazing over her makeshift ponytail and hairclip. “Heh, right… Thank you, my lady.” She assumed her way of addressing the mistress of the house was appropriate, as Lady Nerdanel made no attempt to correct her or address it any way. Even if she thought it strange, she didn’t let it show.
Nodding in satisfaction, Lady Nerdanel said, “Let us go, then. Follow me.”
Nihal followed behind her silently, never stepping ahead of her. She didn’t know these halls anyway, so she took care to properly look around her surroundings to remember the way back to her chambers. Aside from that, though, the castle interior was getting most of her attention. The walls were made of white marble that was carved elegantly with various designs at doors, gates, and windows. Blue and black veins on the stones looked by design instead of accidental, as if they were there in that shape on purpose. All of the pieces fit perfectly, and Nihal bet that the surface felt smooth and cool to the touch. The brightness of the white stones didn’t hurt her eyes either. The soft color was pleasant to the eye, healing even.
The walls were adorned with painted pictures of beautiful landscapes that were almost life-like. It was as if she was looking out the window to different worlds every few steps. Nihal could almost feel the cool wind of the misty mountains in one picture, and from another hear the sound of the waves crashing into the rocks. Some paintings were a little bit more abstract, though. They possessed an extra layer of creativity and imagination instead of the aim to depict a one-to-one likeness to real life views. The color of the sky was strange in one, for example. It reminded Nihal of sunsets. Though the sun was not present, the clouds were colored purple, dark blue, pink and orange. The vibrant colors were spread out quite chaotically, each of them fighting for dominance. They weren’t laid out in a pattern, and some color combinations were highly unusual, making the painting stand out among its life-like brethren. She found it strange to come across something like this here, since sunsets were not a thing yet.
As they weaved their way through the castle corridors, Nihal could not help but ask, “The paintings on the walls are lovely. Who is the artist?”
Turning to her slightly with a small smile on her face, Lady Nerdanel replied, “I painted some of them. Like the southern mountains of Pelóri and that small bay in Alqualondë.”
“I see,” Nihal murmured, her voice indicating that she was thoroughly impressed.
After a beat of silence, Lady Nerdanel said, “I can take you to those places, if you want. They really are as beautiful as I depicted in the paintings. If not more.”
Nihal turned to the mistress of the house fully, eyes wide, “You would?”
The older woman chuckled, “Of course, child. You can come with us on our next family expedition. Or, if you prefer, we can go there just the two of us.”
Unable to contain her excitement, Nihal allowed a grin to appear on her face, “I’d like that very much.”
Mirroring her mood, Lady Nerdanel nodded firmly, “It’s settled, then.”
As they continued to walk, Nihal couldn’t help but point at the painting with the colorful sky, “That’s a strange one. I’m curious about the choice of colors.”
Lady Nerdanel’s face took a proud expression upon Nihal’s mention of the painting. “Ah. That you will have to ask my eldest son Maitimo, for he was the one who’s painted it.”
Nihal’s brows shot up in surprise. This was new. “He paints?” Up until now, all Nihal knew of the eldest son of Fëanor – aside from the plot – was that he was a good fighter, general, tactician and diplomat. She certainly hadn’t known that he had an artistic side. But then again, even before she came to this world, she had had a feeling that the Silmarillion was a pretty one-sided, and she daresay, biased book that nitpicked and even possibly glossed over some facts. Her lack of knowledge was not surprising in that regard. The Silmarillion itself was an in-universe book after all, which meant that it was going to be written by an elf at some point as a semi-historical semi-lyrical text that would document the happenings of the first ages of Arda.
Lady Nerdanel nodded, “Occasionally, yes. He picked it up after I taught him. He sculpts as well, when he has time from attending to the court matters.”
“Fascinating.” Nihal mumbled, impressed by both the new information and the painting. She wasn’t sure if she would have the mental courage to ask the prince in person if the opportunity ever presented itself, but that didn’t stop her from admiring the extraordinary painting.
The rest of the walk towards the dining hall went in a comfortable, contemplative silence. As they approached the gate that led to the royal family’s dining hall, Nihal was once again reminded that she was about to have dinner with Lady Nerdanel AND one of her sons, Caranthir. Carnistir Morifinwë, Nihal corrected herself mentally. She needed to be careful not to accidentally speak out their Sindarin names. It was much too early for that, and it would make her seem odd. Nihal couldn’t help but give out a little nervous sigh. She was not familiar with the naming customs of the elves, as in she didn’t know which name of the several was the official and safe one to use. How was she to address the princes? Well, I guess I’ll just have to pay attention and listen.
Lady Nerdanel pushed the winged doors open, and they stepped inside the dining hall. Nihal’s eyes immediately went for the young elf sitting at the table, waiting for them. The knowledge that she was about to meet a son of Fëanor made her anxiety spike a little again. Just like the first time she met Lady Nerdanel, she found this moment quite surreal. And yet here he was, sitting at the table with his arms crossed, one finger tapping impatiently. His dark, long hair was falling neatly onto his shoulder. He had sharp, but elegant features, and Nihal couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly upon seeing that he had indeed inherited his mother’s ruddy complexion. In fact, it could be said that it was even more intense than Lady Nerdanel’s. It gave him a permanent blush, and made his features even sharper.
“Ah, Carnistir. You’re here already.” Lady Nerdanel greeted her fourth son with an upbeat yet authoritative tone.
Upon noticing Nihal and Lady Nerdanel come in, he got off from his seat to greet them appropriately, “Hello, Mother.”
Lady Nerdanel gazed at both Nihal and Carnistir as she gestured in an introductory way, “Eӓrien, this is my fourth son, Morifinwë Carnistir. Son, this is my ward Eӓrien.”
As they took their seats at the table, with Lady Nerdanel to Nihal’s left and Carnistir to her opposite, the fourth son of Fëanor said, “Yes, I know, mother. We’re already acquainted.”
His mother said in a serious tone, “That may very well be, but Eӓrien is currently suffering from amnesia.”
Carnistir’s brows shot up in slight surprise, “Is that so?” he asked, looking at Nihal as if looking for confirmation.
Nihal nodded, confident because she was partially telling the truth. She really did not remember him. Lady Nerdanel supported her verbally by saying “Indeed. She had a concussion earlier today. She couldn’t recognize anyone when she first woke.”
As the servants brought in the food, Carnistir looked at Nihal with a curious glint in his eyes, “I see. So I assume you don’t remember meeting me, or any of my brothers?”
Nihal shook her head, “Nope. Nothing. For me, this is our first meeting. Is there anything I should remember from the previous time?” She hoped real Eӓrien was not as socially awkward as Nihal had been back in her youth in her own world.
Carnistir shrugged, “Not really. We met once before, and I barely saw you again after that.”
Nihal looked down at the food in front of her. It was soup. A classic opener that never failed, as her mother would often say. As if trying to shove the thoughts relating to her other life away, she lifted her gaze abruptly back up and said, “Well, that’s a shame. We are all living in the same house after all. Might as well get to know each other a little better, right, your Highness?” Nihal said, hoping that her tone came across as light and her attitude easy-going. Upon seeing him blink rapidly in confusion, she quickly added, “I mean, from what I’ve gathered about the time before I lost my memories, I hardly know anyone here. And what better way to remedy that by beginning with my surroundings, right? The more I know about this place and its people, the better, even if I don’t become friends with all of them.”
After a beat of silence, Nihal’s eyes darted to the older nís to see her reaction. Her heart did a little nervous flip upon seeing Lady Nerdanel’s eyes to be widened with mild shock. Her expression soon turned into that of a proud one. “I tend to agree. You need to know your surroundings, and that includes the people. And who knows, your memories might thus come back to you.”
Nihal gave out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. For a moment, she thought she had said something wrong or addressed the prince incorrectly. She smiled at the mistress of the household appreciatively, nodding along with her in understanding. As they ate their soup – which coincidentally was tomato-soup, Nihal’s favorite – Lady Nerdanel said, “I must admit, though. Your attitude and personality have taken a complete turn since the incident.”
Nihal chuckled nervously, her eyes darting between mother and son, “Really? How so?”
“Well, you used to be a lot more shy, for one. More timid.” Carnistir said quite blandly. “At least, that’s the impression I got upon meeting you.”
“Carnë,” came the warning tone of Lady Nerdanel from across the table. But Nihal shook her head, and smiled reassuringly at both of them.
“It’s quite alright. I must admit, I did feel shy upon meeting the people here, but you have to understand that one does not meet a royalty every day. It’s quite the pressure to always think about what to say or not to say to them.”
“And now you know better?” asked the young elven prince, raising a brow. When he saw his mother’s scathing look from the corner of his eye, he involuntarily winced a little. Nihal had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. She made a humming sound to appear as if thinking to cover it.
“It’s not that I know better, but I’ve decided to take the risk to learn, so to speak. And learning means making mistakes along the way. It’s only natural.” She turned her head to the mistress of the house sitting beside her, and gave her the best tentative, polite, good-girl smile she could manage. “I trust that you will correct me if I say anything wrong. It would be better than staying ever mute, don’t you think?” Communication. Nihal figured that at some point she would have to find a way to fearlessly ask questions about even the simplest things without raising suspicions. The fact that Eӓrien was relatively new to this place and that she had a recent “concussion” proved to be the perfect cover for that. Besides, who knew for how long she would be stuck in this (dream)world. Might as well make the most of it and have some fun. It was no time for social anxiety or cowardice. In this context, her mistakes would hardly matter.
“I know how overwhelming it could be to suddenly start living in a royal setting,” Lady Nerdanel said softly, nodding in confirmation, “and I am glad that you aren’t afraid to make mistakes for the sake of adapting. I will not say that it won’t be challenging, but there would be no progress at all if there were no mistakes along the way. It is… quite refreshing to see you take the initiative in this.” Nihal couldn’t help with the warmth that slowly blossomed in her chest at the mistress’ praise. She also realized that Lady Nerdanel must have gone through a similar phase herself, for she had married into a royal house all those years ago. Nihal remembered having read about how Fëanor had chosen her over a-many royal ladies of the court, a commoner nís whose father, Mahtan, worked under the Vala Aulë. Still not a bad status, Nihal thought. They had probably met during his apprenticeship under the skilled blacksmith.
As roasted duck with boiled potatoes were served as the main dish, Lady Nerdanel said, “Why don’t you tour the palace tomorrow, Eӓrien? My son could show you around, isn’t that right, Carnistir?”
Said elf cleared his throat to hide his displeasure and opened his mouth to say, “I am actually quite busy, mother –”
“I wouldn’t want to impose, Milady. I could just ask… uh… the nís who was with me at the healer’s ward this morning. I think she was my friend –” said Nihal hastily at the same time as Carnistir.
But Lady Nerdanel was having none of it. She shook her head and held out her hand sternly for both of them to stop. Thus, their ramblings came to an abrupt end. She first turned to Nihal, “Vórilotsë is quite busy during the day. So no, she cannot escort you. I, too, have quite a few projects I need to get back to at the workshop.” She turned towards her son and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I know for a fact that you’re taking a break from your studies, conveniently timing it with the hunting expeditions with the excuse of working on private projects.”
“Hunting expeditions?” Nihal couldn’t help but ask.
“My father and my brothers go on them occasionally, to hunt and to do some mining,” Caranthir replied with a sigh and an eyeroll, clearly expressing his ennui towards said actions.
“I take it that you don’t enjoy outdoors, my Prince?” Nihal asked, a smile appearing on her face.
“It’s not that I don’t like hunting, per se, but it’s not a fixed hobby,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it gets a little tedious to tolerate and deal with the chaos my brothers wreak in these expeditions.”
“So they have gone hunting this time as well?” Both the mother and her son nodded in unison. “Then didn’t we eat a little early? Maybe we should’ve waited for them?” Nihal wasn’t overly fond of the idea of meeting Fëanor and the rest of his sons right away, and despite her efforts to keep her voice even and unbothered, she could hear her trepidation subtly leaking through her words.
“No, dear. They are usually gone for a while. They will be back in seven days, approximately,” said Lady Nerdanel.
“Seven days more for rest and relaxation from family, then.” Nihal said, a little smirk appearing on her face as she looked up from her food towards Carnistir. Then, she tilted her head to the side in contemplation. “Well, almost 7 days. Will you be so kind to spare me some time to show me around, my Prince? I will be out of your hair after that if you want me to, I promise.” Her tone was light, but not condescending. She had an extremely introverted sibling back in her world, so she knew how much they valued their privacy and time alone to themselves. Of course, just because she understood them, didn’t mean she could always tolerate them. However, she did practice patience with them occasionally.
The prince frowned in confusion. “What do you mean ‘Out of my hair’?” he demanded.
“Hmm?” Nihal’s stomach dropped a little. She almost entirely forgot the half-finished duck piece on her plate. Did she say something wrong? Was she disrespectful? Then, a thought occurred to her. “Oh, are you asking the meaning of the statement?” When the elf nodded, she said “It means I will not bother you anymore. It’s a… a saying from where I came, is all.” She presumed that this saying hadn’t existed in this world. Until now, that is.
“And a strange one at that, certainly,” said Lady Nerdanel, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t remember your mother ever saying such a thing. Though, I am well aware that there are many differences in speaking between Aman and Tol Eressëa.”
“Y-yeah… M-maybe it was quite a recent one,” Nihal tried to cover with a shrug of her shoulder. Even if they were suspicious, the mother and son didn’t show. They continued with their dinner in pleasant everyday talk. Nihal mostly listened as the two of them interacted. They talked about their projects, and their upcoming schedule once the other members of the family are back. In the meantime, Nihal got lost in her own thoughts. She wondered about how she came here, and how all of this seemed surreal and real at the same time. She heard the clinking of the tableware, and the distant conversation between Lady Nerdanel and Caran – Carnistir, she could taste the roasted duck, and see everything in vivid detail. Too vivid for her liking, if she had to be honest. She had been using glasses for the majority of her life, so suddenly not needing them anymore was a bit disconcerting, to say the least. Also, her sense of hearing had significantly improved. She could hear the servants walking around beyond the sounds of the conversation at their table, and even hear the rustle of the trees from the wind outside.
“…. about this, Eӓrien?” she heard Lady Nerdanel speak, the eerie silence that came after the question startling Nihal out of her state of contemplation. It took her a while to realize that she was talking to her. This whole new name concept had started to confuse her.
“Uh… about what, my Lady?” she asked, lifting her face and looking at the elder nís sitting beside her, her eyes blinking with confusion.
The Mistress of the house looked at her with a concerned expression on her face. “Perhaps you ought to get some rest after dinner, dear.”
Nihal nodded abruptly, “I will, my Lady, have no fear. But… what is it that you were asking me again? I apologize, my thoughts have wondered away…”
Lady Nerdanel pursed her lips, and regarded her charge with uncertainty. Then, she gave out a small sigh, and seemed to decide to continue. “I was asking how you are feeling about your upcoming apprenticeship with me. I was just telling Carnistir about it.”
Nihal’s eyes darted at the fourth son of Fëanor, who was silently looking at her with a raised brow, a slightly bored expression on his face. “I… I look forward to it,” Nihal managed to say, turning back towards the nís. “I don’t know if I’ll pick up the craft or not, but I’d like to think that I could at least help you out in the workshop.”
The matriarch of the House of Fëanor waved her hand dismissively, “You do not have to worry yourself about that. There is no pressure to like or master sculpting. You could always try other things. And I always appreciate the extra help in the workshop. After you are trained properly for it, of course,” she added at the last second. Nihal had the impression that Lady Nerdanel was an extremely disciplined and orderly person when it came to work, with a strict schedule and workshop rules. She wasn’t going to lie to herself and say that she wasn’t intimidated, but it was always better to work with someone who gives clear instructions and is predictable in the sense that they have a certain program. That is, if her assumptions about the older nís were right. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, Nihal mused inwardly. If I somehow do not get out of this world by then. There were certainly worse dreams to get stuck in.
But for now, Nihal opted to pay more attention to those who were sitting at the table with her. Carnistir mostly looked indifferent, but he had eventually agreed to show her around the palace. Or rather, he was forced by his mother, because let’s face it, he didn’t have much of a choice since all his brothers were away and he was in the palace all day, reading and embroidering. But Nihal had to give him props for how well he managed to hide his ire at the situation.
As they slowly rose from the table, Lady Nerdanel declared, “We would be glad if you could join us for breakfast tomorrow as well, Eӓrien. Afterwards, Carnistir can show you around the palace and the gardens.”
“R-right.” Nihal managed to say. The idea that she would have to pretend again first thing in the morning caused a wave of weariness wash over her. She sincerely hoped that she won’t be here to deal with it tomorrow. “It will be here as well, I assume?”
The mistress of the house nodded curtly in confirmation. Nihal turned to Carnistir with an upbeat smile on her face, “Well, I will see you tomorrow, then, Prince Morifinwë.”
“Hmm,” the young prince pursed his lips and nodded. “See you.” And with that, he left the dining hall.
Well, he’s a charmer for sure, Nihal thought sarcastically. Though, she could not help but find his reluctance and ennui endearing. Her own sister valued her alone time as well, and was not so good at making new friends. So this was familiar ground for her. Besides, as stoic as Carnistir was, his attitude was not hostile. Just… indifferent, which was something Nihal could work with.
“Will you be able to find your way back to your room?” asked Lady Nerdanel softly, a slightly worried look on her face.
“Um…” Nihal bit the inside of her cheek and directed her gaze upwards, trying to remember the corridors they had taken to get here. But she knew it was a lost cause. She had never been good with directions, even back in her own world. Besides, she thought, you would need Google Maps just for the palace, nevermind Tirion.
Lady Nerdanel said quickly, “I can escort you. And next time, you can come here on your own.” Nihal nodded gratefully, and so they were off. They walked past the paintings hanging on the walls in a comfortable silence.
“Well then,” said Lady Nerdanel, coming to a halt in front of Nihal’s chambers. “I will see you tomorrow. Sleep tight, and if something happens, you can find me in the workshop, three stories up.
“Wait, you won’t sleep?” Nihal asked, her eyebrows knitting together for a small frown.
Lady Nerdanel chuckled, “No, dear. Not yet. I still need to work on my project.”
Nihal opened her mouth to argue, to insist that she needed sleep as well. But then she remembered that elves did not need as much sleep as humans. They even slept with their eyes open. I shouldn’t be surprised that they can easily pull all-nighters, she scoffed internally. Being “perfect" and all. So Nihal clopped her mouth close, and nodded in understanding. She wasn’t an elf (even though she seemed to be inhabiting the body of one), but being a student and all, she thought she could relate with the necessity to stay up late and forego sleep in favor of finishing up assignments.
“You, on the other hand,” Lady Nerdanel continued, pulling Nihal out of her thoughts. “need sleep. You’ve had a very challenging day. You need your rest. Let’s see… It’s almost the Eleventh Hour, by the looks of it,” Nihal raised a brow at Nerdanel being able to tell the precise time by only looking at the Light of the Trees outside. “So how about I see you at the Third Hour? You will have plenty of time to rest, surely.”
“The uh… the Third Hour?” Nihal suddenly became nervous. How was she supposed to tell the time in a world where the Sun and the Moon didn’t even exist yet? And even in her world, Nihal had needed to set an alarm on her phone if she wanted to wake up at a specific hour. So even if she could tell the time, there was a possibility that she could not wake up on time. “How… how am I supposed to tell the time?” she asked, smiling sheepishly. Her hand came up to the back of her neck to scratch it awkwardly.
Lady Nerdanel pursed her lips in worry, looking at Nihal up and down. Suddenly conscious, Nihal put her hand down abruptly. She anxiously waited for the older nís’ reply.
“It seems like some vital information has also been erased, along with your memories,” she said slowly, her voice soft and gentle. “The Third Hour is when Telperion, the silver tree, reaches its greatest bloom.”
“Oh,” Nihal breathed. The silver tree at full bloom. Easy enough, right?
But she still looked unsure, which did not go unnoticed by her lady. Lady Nerdanel sighed, “May I come in?”
Taken aback by the question, Nihal could only nod. Not wasting any time, the matriarch strode in, and went straight to the table by the window, pulling out a piece of paper and a quill. She was dipping the tip of the quill into ink as Nihal walked in behind her. The young elf peered over her lady’s shoulder to see her drawing a simple time chart, all the while explaining to her about how time works in Valinor. “There are twelve hours a day,” she said, parting the page into twelve lines. She began writing in what Nihal assumed to be Quenya. “At Hour Three, Telperion reaches his greatest bloom. At Hour Six, Laurelin begins to bloom – this is when the lights of the two trees mingle. Telperion’s light diminished after this hour. At Hour Nine, Laurelin reaches her greatest bloom. We usually eat dinner between the Ninth and Tenth, so that we still have some time to work afterwards. And finally, at the Twelfth Hour,” she said, scribbling at the bottom of the page where the last divided part was, “Telperion begins to bloom again, and the lights of the trees intertwine once more. This is when the day ends. By the end of the hour, Laurelin ceases.”
She looked up at Nihal to see if she understood. The young nís had been listening intently, nodding along occasionally. She had stopped trying to follow her on paper – for the words Lady Nerdanel wrote swam and blurred every time she focused on them – instead, she concentrated on what the nís was saying. Hours Three, Six, and Nine. Got it.
“Right,” Nihal gave a curt nod to show that she understood. Well, mostly. She would still appreciate clocks to help her tell the time, but she guessed batteries were not a thing yet. Oh well. “Thank you, my Lady. I appreciate your explanation.” She still had to find a way to wake herself up and not be late for breakfast, though, which ignited another wave of stress within her. It reminded her of going back to school after a long period of holiday. She would never be able to sleep the night before the first day of the semester. She doubted things would be different this time. But this was something she had to deal with on her own.
Lady Nerdnel seemed to be somewhat satisfied with that reaction, so she stood straight again and nodded, smiling down at her. “I will see you in the morning at the Third Hour, then. You remember where the Dining Hall is, I presume? Good. I will leave you to rest now,” she said, and made her way to the door. Nihal saw her off, and in a few seconds, she was alone in her chambers again.
For a long moment, Nihal just stood there, in the middle of the room, gazing at nothing in particular. An odd, pressuring feeling settled on her chest. It wasn’t fear or sadness, she surmised. She knew those feelings. It was more like… a void growing inside of her. She felt empty. And as her gaze fell down in front of her, at the floor where she could see her feet on the smooth, stone bricks of the palace, she experienced something she could only call something akin to dissociation. She didn’t feel like any of this was real. Like she wasn’t actually there – couldn’t actually be there.
She had occasionally experienced the same thing back at home, but a quick shake of the head and getting her feet moving again had always made that feeling go away in an instant. Now, though, it was stronger than ever, threatening to swallow her whole. Her sense of self was beginning to slip, and soon her mind would be lost. She had to move. She had to distract herself with life. It didn’t matter to whom that life belonged at that moment. She had to think, she had to do something. Anything.
She took a tentative step forward. She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders, and looked around, exhaling shakily.
“Sleep will do me good,” she murmured to herself. Then, she slowly nodded as if in a conversation, “Yes, sleeping will do me some good.”
She made her way to the bathroom. For a moment, she just looked around silently, not knowing what to do next. Then, she decided to look at the shelf beside the mirror to see if it contained anything she could use to cleanse her mouth with. She had recognized the soap in the corner of the sink, but she could hardly use that to brush her teeth.
“Let’s see…” she murmured as her eyes skimmed through the contents of the shelf. There wasn’t much, only a lotion and a bottle of something she couldn’t discern. The dark tone of the glass bottle prevented her from seeing its contents clearly. But there was a label on it. What she got from a mere glance at the writing told her that it was an herbal mouthwash. She frowned upon the realization that she could actually read it, but when she squinted her eyes to take a closer look at it, the words turned into nothing but undecipherable, elegant-looking runes.
“How in the hell…” she mumbled, turning the bottle this way and that to look at the writing in Quenya from different angles. The letters swam, and although they looked oddly familiar, she could not read them anymore.
She sighed in defeat, shaking her head in a “Nope!” gesture as she unplugged the bottle and sniffed its contents primly. She could instantly recognize the heavy smell of mint. She tilted the bottle closer to her eyeball to see a green-blue liquid. Shrugging, she took a gulp and rinsed her mouth thoroughly. The taste of it reminded her heavily of the Listerine back in her world, albeit a little milder. She almost spat out the liquid upon the thought of “Listerine in Middle-Earth”, presented as a television ad, doing her best to keep herself from snorting and laughing.
Once she was done, she made a beeline for the discarded nightrobe she had hastily thrown onto her bed when Nerdanel had come to fetch her for dinner, and changed into it again. When she finally slipped into the covers of her bed, though, her tired mind snapped awake at the prospect of sleeping in a completely strange environment. This feeling of uneasiness reminded her of how some people in her world – including her – found it hard to sleep when they were alone in their house, especially when they had just moved in. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in her surroundings and listening to the sounds of trees rustling with the wind, the chirping and hooting of the birds, and occasional soft voices of the servants.
Nihal was grateful that it wasn’t completely dark outside. Although the golden light of Laurelin had begun to dim a while ago, it still seeped through the half-open curtains. She wouldn’t have been able to bear having to sleep in the dark, even with the soft and yet powerful glow of the Fëanorian lamp on her bedside table. It all felt so… alien, too uncanny for her to just let her guard down and sleep, even with the consideration of all of this being a fever dream. She knew that if this really was Valinor, then there was nothing out here that could hurt her. Well… she grimaced, remembering the possibility of Morgoth being on the loose. But then again, even he wouldn’t waste his time with an ordinary elf-woman.
She pulled the covers all the way up to her nose. The unfamiliar environment aside, she also didn’t know how she was supposed to wake up and go to the Dining Hall at the right hour. It wasn’t like there were alarm clocks here! Was she to trust her biological clock, then? Which was another matter, since this body was not even hers…
Sighing in exasperation, she turned to her side and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. It was going to be a big day tomorrow for Eӓrien. Whoever the hell she is, she added in thought. She constantly tried to tell herself that things will get clearer in the morning, that maybe she would be out of this world and she would wake up in her own body. With that hope, her tout body relaxed a little, and with a little exhale, she let the sounds of perpetual daytime slowly lull her to sleep.