She had endured much, this lady, when her only offspring was born. Long hours had she labored before his first cry was heard in Arda, only to see her worst fear realized when at last she beheld him.
There had been rumors and outright accusations regarding the elfling's paternity and these had deeply wounded her, for she had ever been true to her Lord. Yet she was not surprised. In a family of golden-haired, blue-eyed elves her son stood out in stark contrast. The fact that no elf had ever been born with hair and eyes the color of blackest night, fueled some dark speculation. Yet her lord had stood beside her, steadfast, despite the misgivings in his eyes.
Those first years had been very difficult for the family and the lady's heart had broken anew every time time she found her small son crying from the thoughtless teasing of other elflings. It was not until Erestor began to enter into adolescence that the worst of the rumors had died down, for it became apparent to all that with the exception of his coloring, he was the spitting image of his Ada. Then had come the day of his presentation to the court and with King Turgon's public acceptance, the last of the naysayers had been silenced. The Lady of the House of Willows finally felt the sadness constricting her heart ease away.
Until Erestor entered Fenneth.
Once again, fear and sadness held the lady in their grip as she saw her son withdraw into an internal struggle only she had an inkling of. And so she had taken her leave of her lord and with Erestor in tow, headed to the needed isolation of the countryside, clinging to any shred of hope she could against the outcome she feared.
Erestor had barely spoken through their journey, wrapped up as he was in his own misery. His Naneth also remained strangely quiet and their escorts murmured among themselves that the lady and her son seemed to be riding like condemned prisoners towards their doom, rather than as a family on a holiday outing.
Their dragging pace meant that their destination was not reached until just before Anor set on the eve of Erestor's majority. The lady dismissed their guards, bidding them to go enjoy themselves in the nearby village until her summons, an order eagerly obeyed after such a gloomy journey. So the lady was left alone with her son save for the caretaker, Lorantol, who had been in service to the Lady's family since their coming to Arda. Lorantol, who looked at her with knowing eyes.
That evening's meal was a strained affair and Erestor quickly excused himself, pleading exhaustion, before making his way up the stairs to his room; leaving his Naneth to fidget nervously with her napkin in the empty dinning room.
" My Lady."
A small gasp escaped her lips, then settled into a sigh. She looked at Lorantol, who came to kneel before her.
" My Lady," he said again " Is it as you fear?."
" I pray not." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
" How much does he know?" The faithful servant asked gently.
Now avoiding his gaze she said " Nothing."
" My Lady!..." he began, but she held her hand up.
" Nay, Lorantol. Speak naught of it. Just make the necessary preparations and be at the ready in case they are needed." Her voice became almost inaudible. " Let me cling to what little hope I have."
He nodded, understandingly, rising smoothly to his feet before bowing respectfully.
" As you will, my Lady." He said, leaving to make arragements he had hoped never to have to make again.
The lady sat alone, praying fervently to the Valar well into the night, before making her own tired way up the stairs.
TBC...