Bloody silmarils, book I by Dilly

---

Chapter 3 : Idril Ironfoot

---

 

Turgon was not an elf to shy away from a challenge. His approach to life was a slow and steady burn, and in spite of his sadness, the fire was still there. He would try to solve any problem he was faced with.

So, he went to his daughter's apartments that morning, determined to deal with a certain ongoing problem. Young Idril, who had the same golden hair as her Vanyarin mother, but with the high cheekbones and melancholy eyes of her father, was resting in her parlour, a brightly lit room with floors covered in a thick green carpet which was a perfect likeness to grass. Three very learned Noldor craftsmen had worked for several years to achieve this marvel - elves sometimes had rather unusual ideas.

"Good morning, Atar. What brings you here?"

"I have a present for you, Idril," Turgon answered.

He had his servants open the boxes they were carrying and leave the contents on Idril's table of blue marble.

"These magnificent shoes, made by the best bootmaker in the city. The buckles were forged at my request by Enerdhil himself, so go on and admire them ! I had them done from a molding of your foot so they should be a perfect match."

The girl came forward with small, careful steps, as if the shoes were alive and might attack her.

"What is this material?" she asked, tracing a taupe slipper decorated with gold.

"Vair. Aren't they adorable?"

Idril sighed. "Father, you know my aversion to shoes. They make me feel like a prisoner and they cause all sorts of corns and callouses."

"That can't be worse than having a centimeter-thick sole," said Turgon in his exasperation, "do you know what they call you in the city ? Idril Ironfoot. Because they say the soles of your feet are so thick they could stop an orcish arrow. And what elf prince will want to marry you with such feet ? You know what the Noldor look for in a mate ? Brilliant hair, melodious voice, long neck, small breasts, big thighs, and delicate feet."

Princess Idril burst into tears.

"Why? Why shouldn't I have the right to walk barefoot as a free woman? My aunt-"

"Do not use your aunt as an example. She is also unmarried, and why do you think Celegorm didn't offer her marriage ? Because like everyone else, he is saving himself for a beautiful, refined woman with delicate feet. Lately your aunt resembles a Telerin fishmonger. Besides, going barefoot is an Avarin practice and even they have the sense to put on boots before walking on gravel."

"Oh father, that is cruel! You are a mean elf."

"I am not mean. I'm sensible."

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, at an inn near the barracks, the White Lady of the Noldor placed her muddy boots on a coffee table. The she-elf, dressed in white trousers and a simple tunic, was telling a childhood story to the soldiers crowded around her, with a large glass of liquor in her hand.

"And that was my vengeance. I snuck into his bedroom as he slept and cut off his braids, ribbons and all. I can tell you that when he woke, Fingon the Valiant did not look so tough."

The soldiers called for a toast, "to Aredhel, the best teller of tales this side of the Sea!"

 

* * *

 

Back in the palace, Turgon was still lecturing Idril.

"And she dared to demand that our father include women in the line of succession! I mean really-"

 

* * *

Unaware of her brother's ranting, Aredhel continued to expound to her soldier companions, "it's true, I do not see why only men could rule. We women have the same skills. My brother loathes to admit it, but when we lived in Valinor, Galadriel always beat him at the sporting tournaments."

The soldiers nodded in agreement.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Turgon's lecture continued, "can you imagine your aunt ruling? Think of the problems she would cause, what with the men she brings home."

 

* * *

 

Back the inn, Aredhel got on with her tale, "and then Turgon said to me, 'you, Queen? So that you could give the throne right back to the Fëanorians?' So I answered him, 'if I am to be Queen, even if I get married, I shall keep the rule of the Noldor for myself. And I'll kick Morgoth's ass, for good measure."

The soldiers cheered their racuous approval.

 

* * *

 

Back at the palace, Turgon was sharing his perspective on that story. "And then, she actually said to me that she would 'kick Morgoth's ass.' I was reduced to giggles for the first time in ten years!"

 

* * *

 

And back at the inn, Aredhel finished her tale. "And then my brother started laughing, and said to me that even if women were included in the line of succession, if he died the throne would pass to his daughter, not to me."

"And how did you answer him?" One of the soldiers called out.

"I withdrew my demand," Aredhel said, and tossed back the rest of her liquor.

Women ruling was one thing, but a woman who walked around barefoot was another story entirely.

 

 

---

Chapter End Notes

Every kind of feedback is welcome :)