Indis
Read Indis
The night she arrived in Tirion, Indis danced for them, a flying thing, golden and glittering like a swirl of embers. She relished in the attention and the praise, her heart hot as a coal on a fire. She also tried to ignore her soon to be step son- his absence, rather. After the night’s celebrations settled down enough for her to slip away unnoticed, she went to find him in the forge.
“Fëanaro?” She called lightly, peering in at the door. “May I join you?”
“If you wish.” He said. He did not turn to look at her. He sat on a bench before a dark, cold hearth, inky braids falling down his back. Indis came forward at once to stir the ashes to flame again. Then she sat beside him, rustling with ribbons and silk, glittering with a thousand beads and the heavy perfume of Summertide blossoms.
She looked at him, and found tears clinging to his eyelashes. She was so happy to have a child, and even if he was not hers she knew she would always love him as her own.
“I do not wish to replace her,” Indis clasped his hand. “I would never. But I hope you have room enough in your heart for me. You will always have a place in mine.”
He sighed.
“You sound very sure,” he murmured. “When I am still just a stranger to you.”
Indis met his sidelong gaze unwaveringly. The hurt in his eyes made her ribs ache.
“We don’t know each other yet, that is true,” she leveled. “But I am not much given to doubt.”
He nodded slightly, and quickly looked away. She could see the thoughts tumbling over each other in his mind, though he did not share them.
Let him doubt, she thought. Indis glowed beside the pallor of his mistrust, sure that she was fearless and generous enough for the both of them.
