Chapter 13

          The following morning, Laurelin's blossoms were not as bright as usual. A thick blanket of rain fell from the sky, a gift to the plants of Yavanna. In days of peace, rain was always looked upon with love. It was the blending of the powers of Ulmo and Manwë, and a blessing for Kementarí. I woke to these liberating tears of the earth, the subtle scent of damp flowers and the rhythmic fall of water. I smiled, breathing deeply. The first thing I planned on doing was walking outside for a while, as many others were sure to do. I put on some older clothing, as I did not plan on hindering the rain from soaking me right through. Not to mention rain in Valinor was never cold, though I have heard otherwise of the lands to the north and across the sea.

          I stepped outside in my bare feet, something even the Eldar were not wont to do in the rain. My mother, and even my father who was rarely outdoors, were sitting beneath a large willow, droplets of water falling from its thin branches. They invited me to come and sit with them, but I was not ready to seek shelter of any kind just yet.

          I walked in our gardens for a while, far enough away from the home to know I was alone. However, my solitude was short-lived. As he often managed to do at moments like these, Fëanáro appeared. Perhaps we had become one already, and we could not be alone without each other. A haunting thought to ponder now, if there is any truth in it.

          He was riding again, but this time with several bags, as if he meant to journey somewhere for a long while. He dismounted, splashing slightly as he hit the ground. His hair, now well past his shoulders, clung to his face where small drops of water collected. He might as well have just returned from diving from a cliff in all his clothing. I knew I must have looked the similar.

          He looked at me, contemplating for a moment, like an actor remembering the lines he has rehearsed. Only this actor wrote his own scripts as he spoke.

          "I came to say farewell," he began. "I am leaving for the mountains."

          He was waiting for my question. "How long will you be?"

          "It could be several days, perhaps a year. I cannot be certain of anything."

          I was having trouble trying to take everything in. I suppose then I thought he would be gone for only a few days.

          "Farewell then, until our next meeting." Was all I managed to say.

          He stared at me sadly, a thin veil of rain between us. Perhaps he had been expecting me to say more, but for whatever reason his strong gaze became softer at that moment. I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw a tear that was not of the earth fall down his face. He turned away without another word. He paused as he was about to mount his horse, but kept his eyes away from mine. Suddenly, something told me I could not let him leave. A strange desperation crept over me, and grabbed at his arm.

          "No!" I said. Startled by own actions, I quickly let go. He turned back to face me. "I mean to say you shouldn't go. Something tells me, I do not know what, that you must stay. There is a shadow over Valinor."

          He smiled sympathetically. "Nerdanel, it is raining." I gave up. I could not make him understand something I couldn't explain. I just embraced him and tried not to cry. "I told you, I love you." He affirmed.

          After a long while, he moved away. "Farewell." I let him climb onto his horse and watched him ride away, disappearing in the mist. I didn't notice my mother walking towards me as I stared into the distance.

          "Nerdanel? Are you alright?" she questioned.

          I could lie, tell her I was fine. But I had never seen the need to lie to her before, so I didn't now. "No, mother. He left."

          She nodded understandingly and reached out to take my hand. "Yes, we saw him riding away. We were surprised he did not come to take you with him."

          The thought actually had not occurred to me until now. I remembered just before his arrival when I had mused that perhaps we could only be alone together. The weight on my heart seemed to tell me this was true.

          "You know," began my mother, "perhaps it is better that he leaves alone. Only then will you know the true extent of your love." She sighed. "A love, I must admit, that frightens me. And yet," she paused, "if it is a deep enough love, it will be one that will be stronger than many others. You both are great among your people, be careful lest your love turn to rivalry. If I am indeed gifted with any motherly foresight, you need to leave him be for a while."

          I was trying desperately not to cry now, and my mother must have noticed this. "Cry, my child. It is a blessing."