Summary: Nerdanel shares about a vision of a stranger who changed one of her sons' fates.
(Author's note: This idea came while writing The Heart of Autumn, so this is technically related to my Maglor x reader series.)
Warnings: angst, Nerdanel being a mourning mother, description of certain characters' deaths, visions, hurt to comfort (in a way), and mention of Maglor still never returning to Valinor, but Nerdanel being okay with it this time.
The garden was filled with sounds today. Birds were on their daily activities, perching in the trees, pecking seeds on the ground, and bathing in the nearby fountain, all while singing their songs. Bees, butterflies, and other kinds of insects flew among the flower beds, filling the air with the buzzing of their wings and releasing pollen wherever they went. Wind chimes echoed from a corner of the roof, adding melody to the atmosphere.
Seated on a garden stool, Nerdanel watched the birds and insects as they went about their day, her mind deep in thought. Though the garden was far from silent, it was missing certain sounds—the bickering of her sons, the distant hammering from her husband’s forge, and the melody of a harp drifting from Makalaurë’s window whenever he worked on a new song.
Oh, the things she would do to hear her gentle Makalaurë's songs again.
The absence of those sounds grieved her deeply, along with the memories of the darkening and the events that followed, leading to that absence.
“You seem different today,” a voice snapped out of her thoughts.
“Hm?” Nerdanel turned toward Anairë, her husband’s half-brother’s spouse, who also visited her from time to time. Today, they decided to have some tea in the garden.
“The sadness that usually follows you does not seem to be present today. Has something changed?” Anairë asked.
“No,” Nerdanel replied with a shake of her head. “I still do feel the sadness. It is not something I can let go of easily.”
“Every day, I still mourn my sons. I mourn the sons they used to be and how they were led to a path they could never return from,” she spoke, her gaze falling distant. “And I mourn that they might never return to the Blessed Realm — to forever stay where their father’s quest had led them.”
“Still… something has changed. Something that has lifted little of the sadness in your heart.” Anairë stated.
Nerdanel thought about it. “You’re right. Something has changed,” she murmured.
Anairë’s eyes glimmered with curiosity. “What is it? If I may ask.”
Nerdanel looked at her. “Are you aware that mothers sometimes can gain foresight on their children’s fate?” she asked.
“I am, “Anairë nodded, then looked mournful. “I’ve seen how each of my children will meet their end.”
“I saw my youngest shredded to pieces in a battle upon the ice. I saw my daughter’s heart pierced by a poisoned javelin. Findekáno I saw crushed beneath axes of fire and shadow,” Anairë revealed.
“And my Turukáno…” She paused. “…him I saw falling within a tower in a city of flames.”
“Terrible ends,” Nerdanel said sympathetically.
Anairë sighed. “Three of them have already come true. I dread the day I hear Turukáno had arrived in the Halls of Mandos,” she said.
Nerdanel took a sip from her tea, remembering the darkening and what followed.
“One of my twin sons’ fates came true the moment Fëanaro took the boats and all our sons to the other side of the sea,” she began. “It was upon their birth I saw how one of them would meet an end in fire.”
She released a sigh.
“Even today, I wish I begged Fëanaro harder to leave one of my twins behind, or perhaps go against my nature and take one of them in secret, “ she continued.
“I barely held myself together when I heard my poor young son had burned alive under his own father’s orders,” she uttered, recalling that moment of grief when the maia shared the news.
Anairë hummed sympethically before meeting her gaze. “Did you receive any visions of how the rest of your sons would meet their end?” she asked.
Nerdanel slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“I saw Carnistir, Tyelkormo, and my Atarinkë die under the caves beneath the great green woods,” she shared. “The last of my twins fell upon the shores of a haven.”
“Maitimo, I saw end his life within the flames of the earth, and my Makalaurë… “ she nearly hesitated to continue. “He… became lost to the endless fogs of the sea.”
“Oh, how terrible…” Anairë said with sympathy in her eyes.
“But what is it that had changed?” she asked.
Nerdanel met Anairë’s gaze. “Today. When I was gazing at the statues I had made of them, I touched Makalaurë’s statue, and gained a new vision of his fate,” she revealed.
Anairë’s eyes widened. “What did you see?”
Nerdanel recalled the moment. “I saw… snow.”
Within the darkened halls of her home, Nerdanel stood among the statues she had created of her sons. Stone fragments and rubble lay scattered beneath her feet, renmants of statues she had struck down in anger long ago. Most of them had been statues of her husband, as she couldn't control the anger she felt after learning what he had done. The hammer she had used still lay where it had fallen that day, untouched.
Lines of dried tears dressed her face as she had wept once more, the yearning for her sons' presence and a husband she once loved having overwhelmed her again.
The statues stood like ghosts. Their lifelike resemblance felt almost mocking, a constant reminder of what she had lost. She had long since stopped counting how many times she had mistaken them for the living. At times, it made her wish she were not such an excellent sculptor.
Nerdanel turned her gaze toward her eldest son’s statue and placed her palm over his stone-cold cheek. Visions of fire entered her mind, causing her to pull back and inhale as tears threatened to fall again. Despite her attempts, her heart was stricken with further grief.
Maitimo’s fate hadn’t changed. None of their fates had changed.
Years have already passed, yet the visions remained the same, and every day she dreaded the moment they would come true. She did not even know why she still tried to look and see if something had changed. Perhaps it was out of a small hope that Illuvatar might grant her mercy and change one of her sons’ fates.
But no. All their fates have remained the same.
Nerdanel turned toward Makalaurë’s statue, the stone face looking back at her with an unchanging expression. Despite already knowing what she might see, she placed her palm on the statue's cheek.
A familiar vision of the sea and fog entered her mind. She silently released more tears as the familiar sounds of the waves and the regretful song of her son reached her ears.
Something then caught her eye.
She looked up when she saw something glimmering fall slowly from the sky. A single white snowflake appeared before her, landing on her hand. Confusion replaced her grief as she stared at the snowflake. This wasn’t in her vision before.
Then, suddenly, she heard a distant cry of what she could only describe as an elk echoing through the fog.
A strong wind suddenly brushed against her, making her raise her hands in cover as snow pelted against her. When the wind died down, she looked up in shock as the landscape around her had changed from the foggy seashore to a forest in wintertime.
When music reached her ears, she turned around and held her breath when she saw Makalaurë beneath a tree. Despite the years, he hadn't changed much in appearance.
Nerdanel looked at him with a soft expression as he played his harp, then she noticed a figure beside him. Her heart began to pound in alarm when she saw the figure's appearance.
Sitting beside her son was a stranger, dressed in shadow-like cloak and upon their head rested a mask that resembled a skull of an animal.
Nerdanel felt unnerved by the sight, but when she looked at her son, she saw no fright on his face. He was softly looking at the skull-masked stranger as they listened to him play.
The world shifted around her again.
Now she stood within the garden of an unfamiliar fortress, its walls pale beneath a clear sky. There, she watched Makalaurë walk beside the masked figure, who held fast to his forearm. Affection shone plainly in her son’s eyes, and something in Nerdanel’s chest tightened as she understood.
The vision changed once more.
Nerdanel stood within an autumn forest. Children’s laughter filled the air as two identical boys ran past her, their joy bright and unburdened. Makalaurë followed soon after, accompanied by the masked stranger. Nerdanel stood frozen, her thoughts racing as she watched them regard the children with shared tenderness.
Seasons blurred and shifted.
Winter gave way to spring, spring to summer, and through it all she saw her son and the masked stranger stay together. At last, it was summer. The twin boys were grown, and the land that was once ruled by Morgoth lay drowned beneath the sea. Standing on the shore, Nerdanel watched Makalaurë and his skull-masked companion walking eastward, headed toward the lands in the east.
The fear she had once felt toward the masked stranger slowly ebbed away. In every moment she had witnessed, her son had been happy. That truth warmed her heart, easing an ache she had carried for ages. She knew that whoever lay beneath the mask was dear to him. And that through them, his fate had changed.
The vision ended, leaving Nerdanel gasping. Tears streamed down her eyes but not out of grief, but relief and joy. Her son. Her Makalaurë. He was no longer bound to wander the endless shores beneath unbroken fog.
“And then… I saw him depart the lands to the east, accompanied by the skull-masked stranger. ” Nerdanel finished.
Anairë looked in awe. “Who could this skull-masked companion be?”
“I do not know.” Nernadel shook her head. “Its presence was cold yet warm. Dangerous yet safe. Like two beings in one.”
Nerdanel released a sigh. “I might never know. But they have saved Makalaurë from his determined fate,” she smiled softly, then looked toward the ocean.
“Even if he might not return to Valinor. I will be at peace knowing that he’s not alone, or lost to the world. ”
