The Bride's Jewel by Scribe of Mirrormere

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Chapter 4 - Findis and Ñolofinwë

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Indis visited soon after the wedding, beaming up at Míriel as she ascended the steps.

“So now’s my husband has met my wife at last,” Míriel said, pointing to the bride’s jewel before Indis and she embraced as tightly as before. “What did you tell him? ‘Remember when Míriel said you would not see her bride so long as she walked this earth? Well, Míriel’s dead and here I am!’”

“Míriel, that’s awful!” But Indis could help laughing along with her.

“Tell me everything,” Míriel said. “How was he?”

“He is so charming, but you are right, he is a bit of a fool at times.”

“That is not what I meant. How was he?”

Realizing what she was inferring, Indis’s face turned a bright red. “Ah! Well…different than what I was used to, but it was enjoyable, yes. Very much so, actually.”

“Really?” Míriel’s eyes narrowed. “Are you implying that that buffoon is a better lover than me?”

Indis studied the ground, rubbing one area with the tip of her toe. “Not exactly, but…”

With an annoyed humph, Míriel turned around and stormed off, but Indis laughed and chased after her. Míriel spun around and suddenly stopped her.

“Don’t! Not here. This path leads to Vairë’s Halls, but let me show you what parts of this house you may dwell in.”

Indis took in every piece with such excited delight that Míriel couldn’t help but grin.

“And how is Fëanáro?” Míriel asked. “Though he is almost an adult, I’m sure he’s glad to have a mother figure again, if for a little while.”

Indis’s eyes sparkled. “Yes! He’s been planning on marrying.”

“From which house?”

“House of Mahtan,” Indis said, then turned back towards the entrance.

“Ah, a Penni-Noldor family,” Míriel said. “That should be interesting.”

They kissed again and promised to see one another once again, but Míriel did not see when all the mirth in Indis’s face fell the moment she turned her back.

*

Fëanáro despised Indis from the moment he saw her, though Indis figured he was trying to adjust to the sudden change in his house. There was nothing she had done to hurt or offend him that she could recall. She treated him with utmost politeness, seeing a bit of Míriel in him, but he only regarded her with the bitterest of hate.

“The Valar changed their laws for you?” he spat at her one time.

“You father wishes to marry,” Indis explained kindly. “And your mother and I used to visit one another, don’t you remember?” she asked brightly. “I used to chase you around the house. Your mother and I…we have known each other since the days beside Cuiviénen.”

“Of course you did. Do not lie, woman! It was by your hands that my mother died!”

Indis opened her mouth to respond, but Fëanáro had already stormed off.

*

“There is nothing wrong about our marriage!” Indis said to Fëanáro brightly another time. “It was common practice in Endor. Some married several times even while their first spouse was still alive! Have you heard the story of Elmo? He went marrying as many as he could of every tribe!”

Fëanáro made a disgusted face. “What savages you are!”

“Fëanáro, your mother came from these people!”

“She’s nothing like you, thief!”

“Fëanáro, is it really that wise to disparage your father’s wife in front of your own fiancée?” came a soft, gentle voice as a young woman appeared behind him. “It does not show you in your kindest light.”

Color rose in his cheeks, but Fëanáro said nothing to Nerdanel. He shot another cold glare at Indis before leaving, muttering something about how Elmo sounded like the name of some frivolous fool in fairy tales.

Indis glanced at Nerdanel. The young woman was a few years older than Fëanáro, and she walked clumsily in her elegant dress, having been used to the work clothes she donned on every day. Her hair was still a bit of a disheveled mess, which Indis decided to busy herself over after helping Nerdanel with a few details of her dress.

“Thank you,” Indis wanted to say for fear of breaking into tears, but she didn't wish to appear weak to an elf so much younger than herself. Nerdanel just nodded and gave a comforting pat on Indis’s arm.

For the rest of the evening, Indis felt numb. She tried to keep her focus on Mahtan, who drank heartily and had a plethora of funny stories about his job, which he shared along with his wife Umbathë, a woman far taller than even Mahtan and just as muscular. Finwë held on to Indis’s hand in sheer adoration, but nothing could warm the coldness radiating from Fëanáro’s glare.

Perhaps what pained her heart the most was to think that this child who despised her came from the woman she loved above all else in all of Eä.

*

Míriel sat among the Valar, though it was not for any hearing concerning her. One of the Avari from the eastern lands, a Hwenti woman whose face was still worn with the agony of her life, stood on the dais. They were in the Halls of Mandos, and one of the elves had healed enough to speak. Thinking of the speed at which she had healed, Míriel was grieved to see it had taken so long for one to reach a point where she could speak with the Valar.

“Child of Eru, what has happened in your life?” Mandos asked. “Why did you come here?”

The soul looked about herself timidly, perhaps unaware that she was going to have such a wide audience. Her eyes fell on Míriel, the sole elf among the attendants, and Míriel gave her a small nod in encouragement.

“I was slain when I did not submit,” she replied sadly.

“Submit to who or what, kind soul?”

“To do evil,” she said and quickly added, “But judge not harshly those who have submitted! We were tormented, some killed and risen back up from the dead, killed and risen again repeatedly until we became slaves! We were forced to breed new generations of monsters to wreak havoc in the lands of our kin!”

“And where did this take place?”

“I shudder to say it.”

“You are safe here. Tell us.”

“Angamandu.”

“The Iron Mountains,” Mandos said, sighing. “We had already cleared out what we could find. They should not trouble your people from here on.”

“He haunts my thoughts still.”

“Who?”

“The Dark Hunter we call him. I would not underestimate him. He finds a way to break everyone eventually, even when clad as a thing of beauty.”

Cold prickled against Míriel’s skin just as a hiss issued from Mandos. “Melkor, damn him! How could he manage to inflict more damage upon Arda while chained?”

The Valar continued to consult with the Hwenti woman, but Míriel soon lost focus, thinking back to the fair sweet plum that led to her death.

*

Indis visited again not long after, her face flushed with excitement and nervousness.

“What is it this time?” Míriel said, smirking. “Has he at last shown you the art project he has been working on?”

“I’m with child,” Indis said breathlessly. At the look of Míriel’s stunned face, she added, “I know, it’s such a shock! It happened so soon after our wedding! I am four months along already, Estë told me. I had not noticed until the last few weeks. But isn’t this wonderful, Míriel?”

Míriel nodded, but she could not keep the cold from filling her heart. The hearing with the Hwenti woman had occurred just a few days previous, yet the questions raised still haunted her. Though locked away in punishment, Melkor had somehow reached her, wrecked her even in the Blessed Realm of Valinor under the golden and silver lights of the Two Trees. The poison-tree was nowhere to be found, as she had searched using Vairë’s loom, and she sometimes had moments of doubt, wondering if she had gone mad with trying to make sense of her peculiar situation.

And watching Indis now brought a terrible fear upon her, as though the Dark Hunter was among them, his claws clutching Indis, threatening to crush her.

Grabbing Indis’s arm, Míriel pulled her close for a long sweet kiss; then, hiding the tremor of her own lips she gently guided her love to one of the smaller rooms of the house. Indis clung to her, whispering sweetly how very much Míriel seemed as she had in their homeland, and smiling, Míriel continued with her kisses down Indis’s neck and shoulder.

“Am I being rewarded?” Indis asked, giggling. Míriel’s response was a kiss behind her ear.

“I hope this is all right with you?” she said. “I am not interfering between you and Finwë?”

“Are we not also bond by love?” Indis said, bringing Míriel’s hand to cup her breast. “You need not compete with your own husband!”

“A husband he no longer is to me by the will of the Valar,” Míriel said sadly. “But our situation is a little more complicated.”

Chuckling, Míriel kissed her cheeks and chin before traveling lower. “How I wish I could hold just a little of your optimism.”

It was the same as their time in Cuiviénen, though Míriel soon learned that, though Indis’s body responded to her touches and tender love, Míriel’s own felt nothing below the waist. That ecstasy was replaced by a rapture bursting in her heart. The pleasure came differently when she felt their souls fusing as they had done countless times before. She was hoping for that moment, for unbeknownst to Indis, Míriel used this opportunity to put a little of her own life’s energy into Indis, just in case should the curse that befell her should also befall her beloved.

When their lovemaking drew to an end, Míriel leaned back to study her wife, noting that her own body felt the lack of energy within herself, making her feel weaker, as she had been months before. “I hope I was not hurtful in any way?”

Indis drew into a sitting position, panting, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittering with a new burst of energy. “No, not at all! I did not realize one could still…while with child…oh, I feel silly confessing this, but I never felt so…rejuvenated!”

“Not silly in the least bit, beloved,” Míriel said, winking at her. “But of course you feel this way! Is it not me you just made love with?”

*

The fear in Míriel's heart still remained long after Indis left. She sought out Vairë and at last told her of the plum, shaking as she recounted the birth of Fëanáro. The Valar took her story to heart and combed the western lands, but there was no sign at all.

“But we will keep a watchful eye,” Vairë said, still angry at the thought of Melkor of possibly poisoning their land.

“Please do,” Míriel begged. “Watch over my son, and my husband, and Indis and her family especially.”

*

The first of the children of Finwë and Indis born was Findis, whose sharp cries irritated Fëanáro enough to storm out of the room. Nerdanel stayed with them, desperate to learn as much as she could of childbirth and the first few months of childrearing.

“Bless her voice!” they laughed, as Indis tried not to let Fëanáro ruin her moment. “She’s so cranky already!”

“I had a rude awakening too, little one,” Indis cooed. “I awoke just to have you!”

Findis was sharp-minded and even sharper tongued, and even as a small elfling, she marched down halls as though she were a mighty elvenqueen of her own realm. A true child of the Noldor, her mind was obsessed with all she could create with her hands. She was given clay blocks to build with, and she mastered use of them while still learning how to walk.

Fëanáro’s disgust with Indis soon turned to Findis, though unlike her mother, Findis had refused to attempt any peace with him. They were caught arguing one day, with Findis gripping onto a satchel of worker’s tools and Fëanáro looming over her like a shadow. Finwë and Indis tried to gently pry the case from her arms, but she wouldn’t let go.

“Sister, return my supplies at this moment!” Fëanáro’s cried out, exasperated.

“Nuh-uh, they are not yours and never were!”

“Can you not read! It is my name etched on the straps!”

“They are in my house, so of course they are mine!”

He made to grab for them, but Findis was quicker and bit his hand.

“Damned child!” Fëanáro screamed, stomping his foot. “You are the stuff of nightmares!”

“Your face is the stuff of nightmares!” Findis retorted in a shrill voice, still not letting go of her brother’s satchel.

Nerdanel quietly went from Fëanáro to Findis and then chuckled to herself. Fëanáro shot her a look, but she did not quiver at his glare. “Really, fighting with a toddler? Or did I marry a child myself? Shall I prepare a bottle for you?”

Color rose to his cheeks, and Fëanáro’s eyes dropped to the ground, as he visibly deflated before Finwë and Indis.

“Why, she’s just as spirited as you are!” Finwë laughed, though Indis was torn between being horrified and amused, wondering how Míriel would react to the sight. She related the story to Míriel on her next visit, though she was careful not to say anything too harsh about her stepson. As she had expected, Míriel laughed till she wept at the story.

“She reminds me of myself!” she said happily, “I was like Fëanáro in many ways!” Suddenly her face darkened and she leaned forward, studying Indis carefully. “But you are well, I hope?”

“Oh, I have no problem running after her, if that’s what you mean,” Indis said. “She fights with her brother a lot, but she’s no wild beast in the palace. Once she’s settled on her project, she falls utterly silent and works until I shake her away from her work. That cannot be normal?”

“I see no problem in that,” Míriel said. “She is wise in that she knows what she wishes to do already, and does it now rather than tarrying away in silly childhood activities.”

Indis gasped. “But what is life without a proper childhood?”

“Indis, dear silly Vanya, you have not yet grown used to the Noldorin love for crafting with their hands?”

*

Findis’s attention eventually boiled down to architecture, starting with demolishing a section of the palace and building it anew by herself before turning thirty. Finwë himself was concerned for the state of the palace until he saw the final result, a design so elegant yet making better use of space, widening the wing in a way that wasn’t possible before. She was soon contracted to upgrade the entire palace, joined by a group of other elves and even some Maiar who were drawn to her design and ideas. It was not long before she was commissioned even to Taniquetil.

Of this both Indis and Finwë were very proud, but Fëanáro, though envious, said nothing.

Indis shared the news of Findis with Míriel, who then surprised her with a tapestry she had woven capturing all of Findis’s style.

“It seems fitting, as she is single-handedly changing the look of Valinor,” Míriel said. "I needed to capture this.”

“Ah, I love it!” Indis said happily, studying the tapestry with deep admiration. “And to think she’s still so young, though she is almost an adult. The years seemed to have passed so quickly. And yet, though I am so proud, I also miss when she was small enough to fit in my arms. If I could catch her, that is. Finwë and I have been thinking of trying for another child.”

Míriel nodded as she silently set the tapestry aside. She leaned forward and captured Indis’s lips in a kiss. And again when Indis left, her heart and soul shined with a newfound energy. Míriel watched her depart, the last fifty years of regained strength having depleted again. But, she told herself, it was for the better.

*

Ñolofinwë, their second child, was not born with lungs full and ready to shout out, making his first breaths known to all of Valinor, but his cries were crisp and clear and brief. He was a content infant, an easy sleeper, and always loved the company of his family. He was also not alone in his crib, for after hearing of their plans of a second child, Fëanáro had urged Nerdanel to consider embarking on motherhood. She had kept postponing it for fear of it getting in the way of her work, which Indis thought was not an unfounded worry, considering how Findis had gone.

But at last she agreed, and Nelyafinwë, who later used his mother-name Maitimo, was born just three days prior to his uncle. The meaning of his father-name was not lost on Indis, whose heart only ached painfully at the thought of how much her wife’s son meant to compete with her. It was, though she loathed to admit this, a reason for her giving her son the mother-name of Aracáno, or the high chieftain, as he was rightly to be as the son of Finwë.

Ñolofinwë loved his father deeply and enjoyed sitting on his lap to hear all his stories, but Fëanáro forced himself between the two, distracting his father with the first grandson of the House of Finwë. Maitimo was equally as quiet and polite as his uncle, but unlike his father he hated none of Indis’s children nor Indis herself. During their visits, Indis caught little Maitimo seeking out Ñolofinwë to play, only to be dragged away by his father.

The situation was worse whenever Findis was in the picture. Her voice would drown Fëanáro’s own in their screaming match until both Ñolofinwë and Maitimo were reduced to tears. Finwë alone could break up such a fight, but it saddened Indis to see him turn more to Fëanáro than his daughter.

“He just feels Fëanáro needs to calm the fire within him,” Nerdanel comforted Indis, holding her hand. “He does not mean to favor him above all his children.”

But the more attention Finwë gave him, the more Fëanáro reveled in his victories. As for Maitimo, it seemed that he was ordered to remain silent during visits unless his father gave him permission to speak to anyone who was not his grandfather. It sickened Indis to see how much of a puppet Maitimo became in the hands of his own father, and more so when she realized Fëanáro only showed this side of himself when Finwë was no around. Nerdanel often went against him, allowing Maitimo all the time to play with Ñolofinwë that he wished, but the moment she or Finwë had their backs turned, Maitimo was pried away.

Nerdanel must have noticed Indis’s discomfort, for she privately comforted her in several instances.

“My husband feels threatened by his half-brother - an infant!” Nerdanel sighed. “I will see that Ñolofinwë and Maitimo get some time to play together next week. How does that sound?”

But Indis could not find it in her to confess that she worried for Míriel’s reaction the most, should she ever know, for Indis only bothered her with the sweetest and kindest news.

But it was difficult to keep the misery from her tone forever, which Míriel did notice in time. She took it upon herself to shower Indis with love, perhaps as a means to make her happy again, and indeed the love that seeped into her very core left her feeling strong enough to contend with life and Fëanáro. Hungry for more of Míriel’s love, Indis sought her several times, each time feeling more rejuvenated than before.

Fifty calendar years of the Eldar, or five years of the Valar, since the day of Ñolofinwë’s birth, Indis conceived again.