By Love or at Least Free Will by grey_gazania

Though They Be Dim, Yet She Is Light Enough

The title is from John Donne's "Elegy II: The Anagram." Story inspired by the Silmfic Prompt Generator: spring flowers

 “The Eldar wedded only once in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either part. Even when in after days, as the histories reveal, many of the Eldar of Middle-Earth became corrupted, and their hearts darkened by the shadow that lies upon Arda, seldom is any tale told of deeds of lust among them.” — "Laws & Customs Among the Eldar", Morgoth's Ring

It’s been a never-ending string of dull, polite visits, this marriage business, and I’ve never felt more like a piece on a chess board than I have these past few months. My father loves me. I know this. But with Turgon hidden away in his secret city, my father also needs me wedded; he needs his heir to have an heir. The life of a king is too easily lost in this place.

Today we go to see Annael, one of Mithrim’s lords, and his eldest daughter. Her name, I’m told, is Ianneth, and Atto sees this as an auspicious sign. I only hope that she isn’t like the others I’ve met, either mild and meek or full of vain ambition, for I desire neither quality in a wife.

In truth, I do not desire a wife at all. I love my cousin. It is secret, and shameful, for he is both a man and my kin. But I’ve loved him all my life, loved his kindness, his humor, his unyielding will and, yes, his beautiful form.

If I wed, I will have betrayed him in the cruelest of ways. But if I confess the truth, I’ll have done the same to my father. And so I ride to the home of Annael.

He greets us at his door, leading us inside to sup with his family — his wife and his daughters, all as lovely as the others I have met, with honeyed skin and hair black and shiny as beetle shells. Annael and the older daughter — clearly Ianneth, for her sister is no more than a child – are graced with eyes of clear green, uncanny in this grey place.

As much as I've grown to love the deep woods and the tall pines in this land, I still miss the bright sun and rich colors of Tirion. Mithrim may be my home, but I can’t deny that it’s well-named. Grey skies, grey lakes, grey mist — many of the Sindar who live here even favor grey clothes. Annael and his family are no different; all their garments have a touch of smoke in the colors. Our cobalt robes seem to stand out like gems in comparison.

Dinner is delicious, but is accompanied by the same conversation that I've had with every other women. Does Ianneth have a craft? Why, yes, she's an herbalist. And my lord Fingon? Of course he does, dear — statecraft, and I laugh as though Annael is a great wit, as though I haven't heard the same joke a dozen times before. All too soon, the talk turns to politics and I can feel myself being slowly roped into the discussion.

Then Ianneth speaks. “Perhaps you would like to join me in a walk around the garden?”

“Of course, my lady,” I say, rising with a short bow. There’s something in her eyes, a hint of mischief that intrigues me, and so I follow her out the door with gratitude. I notice as we near that garden gate that she’s barefoot, a practice she shares with my cousin Artanis, and I smile to myself.

It grows into a grin of pure joy when she leads me in, for when she opens the gate, I feel for a moment as though I’ve returned to my aunt's garden Valinor.

Cherry peppers grow along the walls, startlingly red against the green leaves. Bright-eyed daisies line the garden path, and orange and burnished copper fish swim lazily in a small pond off to my left. Deep pink rhubarb stalks, sweet peppers in all colors, bushes dotted with deep black and red berries, clumps of crocuses and daffodils… They’re a balm to my eyes, and I turn to them like a flower to the sun.

“I’ve heard that many of the Noldor find Mithrim dull,” I hear Ianneth say, her voice gently teasing. “Is your highness among them?”

I laugh, and I think, then, that I could learn to care for this woman.