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@nxrdanel
♛ legendarium characters
Nerdanel the Wise (*Years of the Trees)
Nerdanel was the daughter of the Noldorin smith Mahtan and the wife of Fëanor. She was strong of body and mind, desired knowledge and among other things pursued crafts more commonly practiced by men.
慕う for PAF magazine No. 14 winter 2013
Model Nina // Heartbreak Management Styling, make-up & hair Liv Røhling
He turns when she takes his hands and if his fingers do not quite curl around hers as they might have when he was only a decade younger, he also does not pull away. Her hands are strong, and callused by her work, rough against his own and yet comforting in their strength as they have ever been. He feels grounded by the touch, despite himself. Carnistir sighs, and looks down at his mother — and when did she become so small? she has ever been an outsized presence in his life; it seems so wrong to look down to see her! — and at last lets his hands cling to hers just as he would once have, in childhood.
”I seek simplicity,” he says slowly, trying to understand it himself as he explains. “No voice save my voice. No thought save my thought. The mountain, the air, and me. I am ——- only myself, in those moments, only who I myself choose to be.”
Her smile is equal parts understanding as it is sad. She can see the yearning in his eyes to go, leave behind the intricate weaving of Tirion’s society, the politics, the expectations, if only for a day. To push and test himself against the elements and find himself victorious (he is not her first nor her last son who will have this hunger in his heart). Sighing, she grips his hands, not gently. It is a mother’s right to wish for her children to be protected and cherished, and such an instinct would have her keep all her children here, in the relative safety of their great city. But she cannot deny him this, would never think of doing so.
“Then you must go.” She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I can only hope you will wish to return, when you have found what it is you seek in the mountains.”
Regret, by definition, comes too late. Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.
❇ Indie Tolkien RP blog for Morifinwë Carnistir Fëanárion, aka Caranthir ❇ 10+ years roleplaying experience ❇ Mun is of age and NSFW (gore/smut) friendly. ❇ Well-read on Tolkien canon; Silm, HoME, Unfinished Tales ❇ Para and novella preferred; some short chats ❇ Multiverse/ multiship, crossover and AU friendly ❇ Semi-selective; OC friendly (see rules) ❇ Skype to mutuals on request
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What inspired you to rp Nerdanel? :D
outofpeace ; 99,9% of my muses tend to be male. i don’t know why that is, it just happens, and it has been this way for almost all of the 13 years that i’ve roleplayed online (i myself am female). obviously, in tabletop roleplaying my characters have always been female. the only exception during my childhood and youth was whenever my brother and i roleplayed – as in did world building together and weaved stories in said worlds – as we never really felt moved to have characters with the same gender as ourselves.
anywho. i’d felt like picking up an online female muse for quite a long time, but could never quite find the right fit. likewise for finding a non-third age character in tolkien’s legendarium (and i had been occasionally glancing at the first age for a while). in the end it was re-reading 'of fëanor and the unchaining of melkor', as well as inspiring blogs like curufinwefeanaro, oathsayer and quicktoanger that had me create nerdanel and take her on as a muse. i also have a thing for obscure/minor characters. i quite like the tiny bit of foundation that's handed to me in canon, but with more than enough flexibility to do my own thing with the character, their story, and their development.
----and that was that, really!
What's your favourite thing about Nerdanel?
out of peace ; There are many (superficial) things that I love about Nerdanel, such as the fact that she is not your typical elven maiden, nor does she even look typically elf-like. I think we are all, to some degree, drawn and fascinated by such differences from an otherwise very rigid norm in Tolkien’s descriptions.
But my very favorite thing about Nerdanel – and, do keep in mind that this is 99% personal construction based on very little canon information – is her strength. She has a very specific sort of strength. It is not the usual kind, easily observed and categorized. It is quieter, more focused on maintaining peace and harmony, in herself, in her family, in Tirion when all things go to bloody hell. I have a personal distaste for playing women as either too soft or too hard, too much like the damsel in distress or the warrior queen. Nerdanel is a noblewoman, a daughter, a lover, a mother, a sculptress. She has great knowledge of the arts, and has learned much about Tirion’s politics for obvious reasons. She is neither soft-spoken, nor unnecessarily brass so that she can be heard.
There’s also a nasty assumption (I feel) that, simply because a woman is quiet or does not feel the need to speak up loudly, that she does not have an opinion or has knowledge of the situation, or the strength necessary to add to it or change it. This is absolutely untrue, and also kind of absurd??? So bless darling husband for turning to her and listening to her counsel when he would listen to no one else. <3
In my opinion, Nerdanel is the rock of the family (for which she wants zero credit, it is simply who she is). And that constancy, that quiet strength, is what I love about her the most.
He pauses. He knows she will recognize the hesitation for what it is; not hesitation at all, but a moment taken to collect himself up into himself. She taught him this, or tried to. Frustration tightens his jaw, and hot guilt also. Does she mean to make him feel such guilt for desiring absence, solitude? An ugly little voice inside his thought whispers to him that she does.
”If you insist upon it, Amillë.”
She smiles, if not for joy. The struggle is written clearly in his eyes, though his features are carefully held under control. Many have been the moments in which she has watched Caranthir and wondered if she had done well, teaching him restraint, teaching him patience. Never did she mean for any of these things to become like chains but to him, but rather ways to reach others, for others to reach him. Sighing now, she steps forward, taking both his hands in hers. Already he towers above her, as all her sons did in time (and she is not so small a creature, herself).
“I insist upon nothing but your happiness,” she speaks, quietly but firmly, as is her way. “If I wish you near, it is because I love you, and I am worried. Will you not help me understand what it is you seek out there?”
oathsayer
Two Valian Years, since the banishment of Fëanor and his sons from Tirion. Two Valian years, since Nerdanel had received anything but her husband’s words on parchment, skillfully and carefully brought to her in secret, during the dark of night. How she ached to rest her eyes upon the eight of them, to reach out and touch and pull them into loving embrace. Restless were most of her nights, her days spent in solitude as she focused all her time and efforts into the art of creating. She could not think, for if she were to think, she would feel, and if she were to feel, she would be lost. And so she drew, and sculpted, her hands as lost as her mind and heart, for where now were the objects of her deepest affection, ever reflected in her creations?
Far to the north, where hills cradled a stronghold city.
She had woken abruptly, a thing not so unusual these days. But she had stilled, sitting up in her bed, for it was not a night as any other. The doors leading to her balcony were ajar, allowing a soft breeze to enter and caress her cheeks. Had she not closed and locked them both, before she had retired for the night? Slipping out of bed, she found and draped her robe about herself as she walked towards and through the doors, onto the balcony. It was a gentle night, a few stars come out to greet her between thin slivers of clouds.
His scent assaulted her senses before anything else. She did not hear him – she never could, not for a long time now – but the smell of wilderness and freedom was as familiar to her as the sight of his feline grin and the sound of his cynical chuckle had ever been. Her hands, resting upon the balustrade, gripped a little tighter. Some moments passed this way, as she gathered her strength to turn and look upon her thirdborn, standing so silent and motionless in the doorway. For all her careful control, a gasp escaped her lips even so at the sight of him, and for a moment, she thought her legs might fail her. But there was no time for such foolishness, for her Tyelko had come home, and she would not allow another moment of separation. The small distance between them was covered with no small degree of joy and despair, before motherly arms wrapped around his large form, and held on.
seven devils all around you ----♥
“——— What reason?” He keeps his tone as level as is possible but a frustrated whine creeps in about the edges despite all his best efforts to prevent it. He is tired of this place and he wishes only her blessing for a trip. Alone.
"No more than a mother's selfishness." Her expression is open and honest as she regards him, and though her eyes are warm with affection, there is a touch of motherly concern in them.
"You have ventured into the mountains so often of late, Carnistir. Will you not spend some time with me, instead?”
; eremandu
Charcoal moves swiftly across parchment, staining the tips of her fingers black. "Sit still, little love," she chides gently, as only a mother could. "Lest I put an ear where your nose is meant to be."
quicktoanger
"------ No." Her tone is warm and patient, shaded heavily by how familiar the use of that word is by now. It is another moment before she looks up from her work, her lips softly curving as she looks at her fourth son.
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Mahtan is a Noldorin smith of Tirion, the father of Nerdanel the Wise. He was named Aulendil because of his tutelage with the Vala Aulë; he was also noted for his copper-coloured hair, and was one of few elves who had a beard (along with Círdan the Shipwright).
