Nerdanel reaches over to pat her hand comfortingly.
"It's odd, isn't it? You go from no one important to suddenly all eyes on you. And for you, it's doubly so, I imagine, as this isn't your world at all! But my dear, you do better than I think you think you do. And my dear Makalaure would never wish you to be unhappy - so tell him so, if things get too much. People forget sometimes that my Feanaro wasn't the only restless one. We chose a life away from the palace as much for my sensibilities as his."
She squeezes her hand.
"And don't think being noble means you can't do your own thing! I still work, as you can see. Arafinwe has his gardens, Earwen still sails. If you want to go out and explore the world rather than being confined to the palace, then go! We're Noldor, we understand restlessness."
She's so kind. It's relieving and comforting, and Syeira isn't sure when she might truly become accustomed to such acceptance. Even after all this time away from her own world, the casualness still surprises her.
"It's not exactly odd. I've experienced it before. Once I only wished to become unremarkable, and the solitude with Maglor was soothing. But as long as no one comes for me with torches and pitch forks, I don't really mind.
I think it's more the.... the having of things. Not just things, but such extravagant things. I was never destitute, but you all live in such grandeur. I feel rather out of place. Like a weed in a rose garden."
"That too, I can understand." Nerdanel says ruefully. "Not much privacy, when one is married to the Crown Prince of the Noldoran. Maglor's standing is rather lower down in the chain, but he makes up for it by being entirely notorious."
In more ways than one. Nerdanel is very aware, and no doubt Syeira is too, of the way every music school from Valimar all the way to Alqualonde has been eyeing the returned bard hungrily, while Maglor has been ignoring all offers, to date.
"Nonsense." Nerdanel smiles at her. "You fit in perfectly well, my dear, and I must say it is terribly nice to have a daughter who shares my coloring, for once! All the flashy gems do take a little getting used to, but don't feel obliged to follow the fashion, if you don't like it. And don't let Makalaure boss you around in that regard either!"
She's aware, and has let the matter rest for a while. There's just too much on their respective plates to expect him to be ready to find a routine. The reality needs to truly set in that he's home, before she can feel all right in nudging him on such offers.
She would defend her husband, that he's not bossy and she likes letting him dress her up, if it makes him happy, but she's a bit caught up. Nerdanel has said something that has touched her to her core.
It's good she's sitting down, because she's not sure how steady her legs would be at this point. Just like when Maglor had told her he had feelings for her, this is hard to process as real.
"I- But. I'm still practically a stranger to you. I could be awful."
The irony of her saying such a thing is rather lost on her.
She's floored. To be accepted so completely, it's humbling. She's not sure how Maglor ever doubted his welcome home, with a woman like this for his mother.
"You're very kind. I'll do my best to be worthy of your good opinion, my lady."
Because it really mattered. To be called 'daughter' so easily, like it was natural. Not even her own foster father had referred to her as such. She had been his ward. He'd never truly taken up the full mantle of parent.
Syeira didn't cry often. Oh she was an emotional person, but tears, she'd been taught long ago, didn't serve a person. But sometimes, that was all you could do. Still, she ducks her head as her eyes fill, embarrassed at herself.
"Forgive me," she murmurs, her free hand raising to dash the tears away.
Nerdanel, you're making it worse. But Syeira is far too in need of such a thing to try to resist or refuse. Acceptance had ever been something she's craved, and here it seems so easy.
She returns the embrace, keeping it for a long moment. When she draws back is when she takes the offered handkerchief. Though when she makes another pass at her eyes, she ends up using the back of her finger, with the square of cloth held in her fist. It's the thought that counts.
"Thank you. Really I am sorry. I don't usually go all to pieces like this."
"It doesn't matter to me." She assures her. "I've been cried on in all sorts of situations, and this is one of the nicer ones! But never ever feel you're not welcome here, Syeira. Come to me, if you ever need anything. You're family now."
She's at risk of sobbing, with how Nerdanel just continues to layer on the warmth and generosity. Why is she reacting like this?
"You'd think I've never known a day's kindness, in my life." She's going to get a hold of herself if it kills her. She reaches for her cooling tea and takes a long swallow.
If she thinks about it, it would be obvious. It's not about kindness, really. It's about acceptance, and the offer of family. So easily given. As if to welcome her is completely natural. The only person she's ever felt this from is Imoen. And she misses her sister keenly in that moment.
"I wish my sister could've met you." The thought comes out of her mouth before she realizes it. It's true though. "She'd have like you."
You keep this up, Nerdanel, and your son is going to have a lot of questions about why his wife looks like a swollen crying mess.
But talking about Imoen, bittersweet as it is, is certainly an easier topic.
"Her name is Imoen. We were raised together, but we didn't know we were really sisters until we had long since left home. She was always the really good one between us. Always went to classes, when I'd skip and climb the ramparts to see over the walls of the keep. Always did her chores with half as much complaining. She snuck out to follow us, when my guardian took me away in the night, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to go back.
She was full of fun, jokes and harmless pranks. She'd give a beggar her last crust of bread with a smile, and slip a few coins in his pocket before she left. She'd tell me when she thought I was being foolish, and when she thought I was on the right track. You couldn't ask for a better person at your side. She's fully human, and if she's still alive, she's likely in the winter of her days."
Maglor can shush, girls need to bond, and sometimes that involves tears.
Nerdanel listens quietly, with the same intensity that Maglor has, as if she might one day create something from the tale told.
"She sounds lovely." She says wistfully. "I've never met any humans, you know. I can't make any comment on how different they might be to us, but I'd have loved to meet her."
"I've found that race is largely an arbitrary thing. We're all generally the same, with some physical uniqueness. We all laugh, cry, love, need. We all live and die. So what you might imagine is likely accurate. Just with rounded ears. And pink hair."
She laughs at her own little joke, feeling steadier.
"That's not actually common for humans. I think it might be a result of our shared parentage, same as my hair. I have drawings of her, if you'd ever like to see."
"Yours isn't pink though!" She giggles. "It's the most lovely shade of ruby. Not quite as flame-like as my Maitimo's, but closer to Ambarussa's."
Nerdanel nods.
"Oh, that would be nice! I could try and do a small sculpture for you off a picture, if you like? She sounds like such a wonderful person - I wish I could meet her."
"Well no, but mine also doesn't sun fade. It's less about the color and more about the unnaturalness of it."
Despite talking about her heritage, even in such innocuous ways, she's not unsettled. She's been having these conversations a lot. Just with the ones everyone here refuse to call gods.
"If I only we could all get so lucky. She'd charm everyone in an instant. Maybe I could paint her, so you could really see the details of her."
That's not how she heard it. She heard that Varda made actual stars. Also science is terrifying.
She lifts a shoulder, brushing some hair behind an ear, awkward.
"I've been trained as a bard, but I don't really hold a candle to Maglor. My only other real talent is with weapons, and it's rather an unnecessary skill here."
Well yes, but that's mostly maths and science, and they're just playing with the building blocks Eru gave them!
"Very few can." Says Maglor's mother with a fondly tolerant smile. "But that doesn't mean you're bad! And I'm sure you have plenty of songs we don't know! As for weapons, well - there are still the Warrior's Meets, and the Tourney once a year?"
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"It's odd, isn't it? You go from no one important to suddenly all eyes on you. And for you, it's doubly so, I imagine, as this isn't your world at all! But my dear, you do better than I think you think you do. And my dear Makalaure would never wish you to be unhappy - so tell him so, if things get too much. People forget sometimes that my Feanaro wasn't the only restless one. We chose a life away from the palace as much for my sensibilities as his."
She squeezes her hand.
"And don't think being noble means you can't do your own thing! I still work, as you can see. Arafinwe has his gardens, Earwen still sails. If you want to go out and explore the world rather than being confined to the palace, then go! We're Noldor, we understand restlessness."
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"It's not exactly odd. I've experienced it before. Once I only wished to become unremarkable, and the solitude with Maglor was soothing. But as long as no one comes for me with torches and pitch forks, I don't really mind.
I think it's more the.... the having of things. Not just things, but such extravagant things. I was never destitute, but you all live in such grandeur. I feel rather out of place. Like a weed in a rose garden."
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In more ways than one. Nerdanel is very aware, and no doubt Syeira is too, of the way every music school from Valimar all the way to Alqualonde has been eyeing the returned bard hungrily, while Maglor has been ignoring all offers, to date.
"Nonsense." Nerdanel smiles at her. "You fit in perfectly well, my dear, and I must say it is terribly nice to have a daughter who shares my coloring, for once! All the flashy gems do take a little getting used to, but don't feel obliged to follow the fashion, if you don't like it. And don't let Makalaure boss you around in that regard either!"
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She would defend her husband, that he's not bossy and she likes letting him dress her up, if it makes him happy, but she's a bit caught up. Nerdanel has said something that has touched her to her core.
"You...you really think of me like that?"
A daughter.
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"Why, of course! I've always wanted daughters, you know."
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"I- But. I'm still practically a stranger to you. I could be awful."
The irony of her saying such a thing is rather lost on her.
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"And he certainly would not have brought you home to me, presenting you shyly as if you were the finest gift he could bring - which you are!"
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"You're very kind. I'll do my best to be worthy of your good opinion, my lady."
Because it really mattered. To be called 'daughter' so easily, like it was natural. Not even her own foster father had referred to her as such. She had been his ward. He'd never truly taken up the full mantle of parent.
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That's because Maglor is an idiot coughNerdanel squeezes her hand.
"I try to be! But you make it easy, Syeira. You're everything I could have wanted in a daughter."
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Just like his fatherSyeira didn't cry often. Oh she was an emotional person, but tears, she'd been taught long ago, didn't serve a person. But sometimes, that was all you could do. Still, she ducks her head as her eyes fill, embarrassed at herself.
"Forgive me," she murmurs, her free hand raising to dash the tears away.
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truth"Ah my dear."
Nerdanel gets up and comes around to hug her, offering her a handkerchief.
"There's nothing to forgive, daughter. You've made me so happy, Syeira, in so many ways."
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She returns the embrace, keeping it for a long moment. When she draws back is when she takes the offered handkerchief. Though when she makes another pass at her eyes, she ends up using the back of her finger, with the square of cloth held in her fist. It's the thought that counts.
"Thank you. Really I am sorry. I don't usually go all to pieces like this."
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Nerdanel smiles at her fondly and pats her hand.
"It doesn't matter to me." She assures her. "I've been cried on in all sorts of situations, and this is one of the nicer ones! But never ever feel you're not welcome here, Syeira. Come to me, if you ever need anything. You're family now."
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"You'd think I've never known a day's kindness, in my life." She's going to get a hold of herself if it kills her. She reaches for her cooling tea and takes a long swallow.
If she thinks about it, it would be obvious. It's not about kindness, really. It's about acceptance, and the offer of family. So easily given. As if to welcome her is completely natural. The only person she's ever felt this from is Imoen. And she misses her sister keenly in that moment.
"I wish my sister could've met you." The thought comes out of her mouth before she realizes it. It's true though. "She'd have like you."
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"I suppose it's the shock, as much as anything." she muses, and gentles even further, when she says that.
"A sister! Tell me about her?"
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But talking about Imoen, bittersweet as it is, is certainly an easier topic.
"Her name is Imoen. We were raised together, but we didn't know we were really sisters until we had long since left home. She was always the really good one between us. Always went to classes, when I'd skip and climb the ramparts to see over the walls of the keep. Always did her chores with half as much complaining. She snuck out to follow us, when my guardian took me away in the night, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to go back.
She was full of fun, jokes and harmless pranks. She'd give a beggar her last crust of bread with a smile, and slip a few coins in his pocket before she left. She'd tell me when she thought I was being foolish, and when she thought I was on the right track. You couldn't ask for a better person at your side. She's fully human, and if she's still alive, she's likely in the winter of her days."
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Nerdanel listens quietly, with the same intensity that Maglor has, as if she might one day create something from the tale told.
"She sounds lovely." She says wistfully. "I've never met any humans, you know. I can't make any comment on how different they might be to us, but I'd have loved to meet her."
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She laughs at her own little joke, feeling steadier.
"That's not actually common for humans. I think it might be a result of our shared parentage, same as my hair. I have drawings of her, if you'd ever like to see."
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Nerdanel nods.
"Oh, that would be nice! I could try and do a small sculpture for you off a picture, if you like? She sounds like such a wonderful person - I wish I could meet her."
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"Well no, but mine also doesn't sun fade. It's less about the color and more about the unnaturalness of it."
Despite talking about her heritage, even in such innocuous ways, she's not unsettled. She's been having these conversations a lot. Just with the ones everyone here refuse to call gods.
"If I only we could all get so lucky. She'd charm everyone in an instant. Maybe I could paint her, so you could really see the details of her."
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Because the Valar get all horrified and immediately correct them if anyone does!
"A collaborative project!" She hums eagerly. "Ooh but yes I would love a picture of her, if you don't mind?"
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"I wouldn't. It'll be nice to have something to do."
Not having a job, or chores, to do is remarkably boring. How ironic a change from her youth, where she would steal idleness to daydream.
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"I'll look forwards to it!" Nerdanel smiles at her. "You know, you should look into picking up and Art of your own. Just as a hobby, even."
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She lifts a shoulder, brushing some hair behind an ear, awkward.
"I've been trained as a bard, but I don't really hold a candle to Maglor. My only other real talent is with weapons, and it's rather an unnecessary skill here."
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"Very few can." Says Maglor's mother with a fondly tolerant smile. "But that doesn't mean you're bad! And I'm sure you have plenty of songs we don't know! As for weapons, well - there are still the Warrior's Meets, and the Tourney once a year?"
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