Meril asked for a happy moment between Nerdanel and Fëanor. This obviously isn't anything of the sort, but I got dispensation to be angsty this time nonetheless. ;-)
Bellows heave, metal flows—liquid lead, burning in the belly, his rages that she couldn't quench. Etch carefully, swallow acid resentment—nevermind the pain. One day she'll vomit wisdom; she's but to sicken of love—or not, it doesn't matter. That's the consubstantial catch that forging teaches:
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.
Nerdanel pauses, breathes deep, then bends to work again.
Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.
—T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.
—T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding