The Bride's Jewel by Scribe of Mirrormere

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Chapter 2 - Valinor

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The Minyar were the first to set out west, and following her family and kin, Indis was to be separated from Míriel and the others. The journey held perilous moments, times when they had witnessed the first inklings of a terrible battle which they were later told was a war against the foe who had been ailing their kind.

Indis didn’t realize just how much she was glad when they reached the western shore and boarded the isle set for Valinor, though she also had, when not terrified of the battle sounds, loved what new things she had encountered. She kept the farthest western regions, knowing that the Noldor settled at the other side. They both had agreed to travel with their own kin and meet again after reaching the western lands. Indis settled by the shore of the isle, looking out and feeling the wind upon her face. She watched a family near her, the two fathers lifting up their tiny daughter so she may see beyond the horizon. Máraharno and Vánevaryar, she recalled their names, and the child was Márawendë, whose parents had been lost in the east, taken by their foe.

Valinor loomed ahead, a vast land as they drew closer: towering mountains lining the long shores, and behind them a great light. Upon seeing the light for the first time, a sense of utmost serenity filled Indis’s heart, and she found herself wishing for the ships to sail faster.

It seemed to take an eternity before the isle at last reached the shores and her foot found its first step on the ground of Valinor. The scent of the sea here, she noted, was different somehow: less salty, kinder winds that blew through. Murmurs of awe and wonder filled the air about her, but Indis regarded her surroundings in silent bliss. There would be perhaps a day or two before the second host would reach the shores, but Indis was too caught up with her new home to think of much else.

I sense them, the deities, she thought excitedly. When do we meet them?

And as if answering her question, Ingwë’s voice rose out, “This way!” And the Vanyar followed him around the shores and turned westward towards the mountains. They slipped under an arch in the rocky walls, and when they stepped out, light of immense beauty greeted them. All gasped, having never encountered light of this intensity. The stars above disappeared amid the golden hue.

“Oh, what blessed light!” Indis said under her breath. “If only Míriel and Finwë were here now!”

A few paces away were tall beings, beautiful and their spirits pulsing with might. They regarded the Minyar with affection.

“Welcome, great Vanyar!” the leader of the Valar, Manwë, said, his voice heard by all. Indis almost wept with joy, glimpsing the deities who had, as Ingwë had described, co-created Arda. The Maiar dispersed to greet the Vanyar personally or to help them with any questions they had.

Indis just stood in silent wonder and bliss, her heart filled with the love of Oijâ Bálâ, or Eru Ilúvatar as she had heard one Maia utter, as well for the Ainur who had built this safe haven for them. And considering the excited cries of the children, such as Márawendë nearby, she wasn’t alone in her thoughts.

“I cannot wait for the others to reach the shore, so I may enjoy this with my wife!” Indis said happily to a Maia who had just passed her. The smile on the Maia’s face disappeared, replaced by confusion.

“I am sorry, but I do not understand. Did you say you have a wife?” Her words were gentle, curious and without a hint of scorn, and Indis went into detail about how she knew Míriel and of their life in the east. A crowd of other Ainur had gathered, all wearing the same concern on their faces, which soon drew a silence from her lips. One of the Valië, Nessa, approached.

“Ah, you must forgive us, then.” Nessa spoke with sincere kindness. “Some of your people’s practices in your former lands may not be accepted here. It is just that we go by what we have heard in the Music, and there was no Vala who wedded a Vala, or a Valië a Valië for we perceived none of it. I’m afraid your union cannot be recognized in these lands.”

Indis’s jaws dropped, but she tried to steady herself before all the eyes of the Vanyar. A single tear threatened to drip down her cheek, and it was a battle lost when Nessa spoke again.

“Do not weep, kind Vanya. But the laws of the Eldar were already put into place before your coming.”

Indis shook her head. “Let me go back!”

Among those who heard this were Máraharno and Vánevaryar who immediately came to Indis’s side.

“Oh, surely there is a misunderstanding,” Vánevaryar said. “A talk with the rest of the Ainur, I’m sure they’ll understand some of our situations.”

Nessa regarded him with forlorn. “We will see to that, and I will speak with Manwë and Varda as soon as I can. But you cannot live under the same roof as the man you married in the east. That union is not yet accepted by the Valar.”

Máraharno and Vánevaryar gave one another looks just as a sniffle was heard and all turned to Márawendë. Máraharno took hold of her hand.

“She is the daughter of my sister who was taken away by shadows,” he told Nessa. “She has a right to remain with me.” He nodded to Vánevaryar as if to assure him, then left with Márawendë to move closer to the light, leaving Vánevaryar to comfort Indis. He held her as she let the tears come.

“I don’t understand,” she said sadly. “Why can’t I remain married to Míriel? Our love was blessed by Eru! It is no less than other unions!”

“It is only for a short time,” Vánevaryar replied. “The Valar do not hate us, but they are still learning of our kind. Give it time. They will speak with their leaders and we will explain everything to them. Keep faith in Eru, and it will be well, my lady.”

Indis wiped away the last of her tears and nodded, taking his hand in friendship.

*

Finwë had not stopped talking throughout their journey, and though at times Míriel was close to strangling him for it, she soon found it endearing enough to pass on a kiss to his cheek or lips. He was like an excited child, eager to show everyone the amazing thing he had discovered, and he spun tales of the Blessed Realm so vividly that Míriel could picture it perfectly when she went to sleep, imagining herself walking beneath golden leaves beside Indis and Finwë. Finwë, she was learning, held a spot in her heart right beside Indis. It was impossible not to fall in love with him, and by the time they had reached the shores, Míriel found herself aching for a physical intimacy with him.

Indis and her people had long been settled at the city of Tirion by the time the Tatyar reached the shores, and so Míriel saw none of Indis as they were received in welcome by the Valar and proclaimed as the Noldor. And Indis remained absent even as Finwë announced they were to wed at the next turn of the Trees. It did not bother Míriel, for that was their plan. Both eager to wed, they would find Indis later and repeat the ceremony with her and Finwë.

Finwë then took her instantly to his great stone house, which lay bare and incomplete, entire apartments still unconstructed, though Finwë promised it would rival all the homes of Cuiviénen once completed.

“I began the building myself,” he said excitedly, to which Míriel mumbled, “Is that why it leans to one side?” But Finwë did not hear her.

“There is more work to be done, but I wanted to wait until I could hire more to help me - masons, if you will. Oh, and look at this! In my spare time I have also started learning the art of sculpting!”

He led her to another room, where a large stone sculpture greeted her. She gave it one look before dissolving into hysterical laughter.

“I see you were lonely here with only two other companions!” she laughed, then noticed Finwë’s confused face. “What? Do you not see what you built, Finwë? And in the blessed realms, no less!”

“I do not understand!” Finwë said earnestly and turned to his sculpture. “I was not thinking of any shape in particular. What had I shaped it as?”

“You will find out on your wedding night,” Míriel said, glancing at the sculpture again. “Please, do not attempt sculpture again! Tell the others you were attempting to make a flower. The kind that grows from the earth, not a woman’s own personal flower!”

Laughing again, she ran out of the room.

*

Indis was still nowhere in sight when Finwë and Míriel wrote their names in a large bound book made by the Valar, their hands shaky as they got used to holding a writing implement in hand, the first among the elves to do so. Míriel grinned at the fresh ink displaying her and Finwë’s names, or however close they could make it as directed by the Valar themselves, then rushed back to their house to consummate their marriage, for both had grown eager for physical intimacy while spending much time close at the isle.

The following day they spent working on the house until both tired and agreed to tour the land and see if they could find Míriel’s wife.

They were strolling below the hill of Túna, the silver light of Telperion a soft companion to the stars above, when someone far behind them called out Finwë’s name. Excusing himself, he left Míriel’s side, his excited greeting still heard from a distance. She watched his retreating back, and when she turned around, it was to find Indis right in front of her, who immediately reached for her hands.

“There’s an urgent council about to take place,” she said. “Come!”

“What for?”

“You will see soon enough -- please, it’s important! The people who have come to the lands here are restless. I believe that is where Finwë was also taken, to be at the hearing.”

“A strife in these blessed lands? Already?”

“Oh, no, not a strife. The Valar do not mean anything by it. They just do not know -- now, come!”

*

Míriel sat a little away from Indis, for she was sitting with her family again as they had before at Cuiviénen. The hearing went on long but it was peaceful. A Noldorin father had come and, bowing to the Valar in utmost respect, told them of how his daughter had vowed to wed the daughter of another family once they had reached the shores. Míriel’s heart warmed instantly to the two young women, dark-haired and shy in the company of the Valar, as the father made his case.

The light of the Two Trees, beautiful and calming during this time, provided them all with an optimistic outlook as they pushed for the reformation of the Valarin law. Hearing of the Valar’s own account on their perception of marriage had not, as Míriel expected, angered her but amused her.

They are gods and yet like children! she thought, but it gladdened her heart to the prospect of the elves winning. The Valar were attentive, and the Vanyar and Noldor kind and respectful in their words. There were couples composed of two women or two men, or those who could not conceive, or those who outwardly appeared as one sex but whose fëar was of another, and the gwegwin, or those whose anatomy could not easily be defined as male or female. And when the Valar expressed confusion as to whether unions could be made between tribes, they described unions between Vanyar and the Noldor, and those who had been separated from their spouse due to the tarrying Teleri.

They are truly like children! Míriel grinned to herself.

The words of those who spoke at the council were all very common knowledge to Míriel, who had seen the variety of elves before and the different marriages that took place before. But the Valar had only previously followed what they had gleaned from the Music, and listening in silent fascination, they learned much of what they had not previously understood.

At last Manwë stood and decreed, “The Eldar may love but one, but the identity of either partner need not matter in their union.” Though the laws of the Valar were as stated as before, the language was come to mean differently. Any could wed, for the reference of “wife” and “husband” were regarded as general terms instead of precise definition on physical sex. “To all whose marriages were considered invalid upon coming here, you may renew your ties.”

And yet Míriel no longer smiled, even as the couples who had come in worried were now embracing in celebration. There was one issue none had brought up, though Manwë had spoken of it, and realizing it, Míriel suddenly felt very cold and alone. All at the hearing had seemed to fall in love once. There was none who had brought two spouses or shown interest in marrying another.

But it is possible, Míriel thought, forlorn. Such unions took place! You can love once, twice, thrice…or give Elmo a run for his challenge even Elmo's considerable ambitions!

But leaning back, a coldness crept through her as she remembered having signed the wedding book with Finwë.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” Indis said as she plopped down next to Míriel. “We were dismayed with the news upon our arrival, but we could do little else before your kin came and added to our voices. Imagine if the Teleri were here as well, the poor things stuck back overland.”

“Indis…we cannot renew our vows or whatever they spoke of,” Míriel said. At Indis’s confused expression, she added, “Did you not hear Manwë? The Eldar only love and marry once, and I had already given my vow to Finwë. Our marriage is dissolved, and there is no chance for them to recognize and bless us at this point.”

The color drained from Indis’s face, but Míriel could not bear to look at her. “I’m sure they will understand if we speak with them,” Indis said.

“No one has fought for it,” Míriel said. “They have spoken with the Valar about everything else. Look around you. Is there any here who had given their hearts more than once?”

“It just means we must be the ones to speak up!” Indis said in desperate hope, and hopping back on her feet, she pushed her way towards the gathering of Valar and Maiar. Míriel could not help stepping closer to listen in, hoping perhaps Indis could persuade them when they had been so attentive and accepting before.

“Marry a second spouse?” one of the Ainur said. “Dear one, that seems very unlike nature’s intention for the Eldar. No other couple has come here with such a request!”

Another laughed. “Where do you get such odd thoughts? Do you not think it may make families more confusing?”

“It’s not common practice, but some have married multiple times in Cuiviénen!”

“Then leave that a tradition for the East. Such behavior here isn’t accepted.”

Turning around, Míriel fled as far as she could, not wanting to hear or see anything more. She was halfway towards her new home when she heard Finwë call her.

“That was certainly intense and illuminating!” he said happily. “I feel we’ve grown closer to them. Doesn’t hurt to begin our relationship with the Ainur by getting used to the other. They had no idea of how we live. Oh, let us celebrate! Do you know where your wife is staying? We can find her and bring her to --”

Míriel spun around. “My wife and I are no more because of you!”

Finwë jumped back, his jaw hanging open.

“Did you not hear Manwë?” Míriel spat. “No Elda shall marry more than once! And as my marriage to her was considered dissolved the moment we stepped onto this land, we cannot marry again because I have already bonded with you!”

A hand flew to cover Finwë’s mouth. “Ai! I am so sorry, Míriel. Let me speak with them! This is not fair for any of us!”

He made to embrace her in comfort, but she shoved him away roughly.

“Save us the trouble! Just do not talk to me! You do not deserve to see my wife, and I shall see to it! So long as I walk this world you will never have my bride!”

And she ran blindly the rest of the way home.

*

Míriel refused to bed Finwë again, and her own rooms she made in the house. A large loom was among the first fixtures erected, before even her own bed, and hours she spent without interruption, creating tapestries. They were soon high in demand once the first was sold and displayed proudly, and Míriel took the chance to distance herself from Finwë.

From the serving-woman Thámien, she learned that Finwë had spent the first few days in tears, having never meant to hurt either her or Indis. And upset as she was by not being able to enjoy the same victory as countless other elves, of being denied marriage still to Indis, she could not remain angry at Finwë. But memories of Indis still pained her. Even as she wore the wedding band that joined her with Finwë, her heart ached for Indis. The band had been made by Finwë and another smith, who Míriel suspected did most of the work after sensing Finwë’s lack of talent. She knew her husband was busy with the masons, their shouts carrying over to her locked room as they continued building and shaping the great house of Finwë.

There was commotion for a few days, the house buzzing with excited shouts, that did not draw Míriel out of her room until there came a knock at her door. Thinking it to be Thámien, Míriel opened the door to find Finwë grinning warmly.

“Look at what we’ve found -- jewels! Just as there are jewels in the sea, so there also are in the earth! I picked this one for you!”

Míriel would have sent him back out with the large lump of earth, but something, perhaps the effect of the Two Trees, thawed her heart. Finwë held a large chuck of rock under which a rich violet gem gleamed in beautiful hues.

She accepted the gift with a warm thanks, and he nodded his head before leaving her be. At first, she displayed it in one corner of her room, then stood up to examine how it fit with everything else. Tapestries, ones she could not part with, lined the walls, and the violet hues stood well against the threads of gold, blues, and greens. There were tapestries of Cuiviénen, of a young Vanya and a young Noldo playing near a shore, and one Míriel would never part with: of the tree by a precipice, a single red fruit shining brightly high above the sea.

Light of the Two Trees poured into her room, bathing her in warmth and a light that seemed to switch on her imagination and fuel her fingers to work faster than she ever had before, but she occasionally shut out the light by pulling the tapestries over like curtains, and with the light shining through tiny spaces in the tapestries, it felt like she was back creating under the pure starlight of her homeland.

*

It was years later when Míriel and Finwë shared a bed again. Míriel was comforted to hear that Indis at least was coping well, having spent much time praying to Eru till she felt a sense of hope burning bright in her soul. Finwë too was happier, knowing Míriel was not angry at him, though they both also wished the situation had been easier for all involved. But his heart soon ached with another yearning: the absence of his Telerin friends, and Míriel was happy for him on the day when they arrived to Valinor.

Soon, Finwë desired also to become a father. He constantly looked to his friends and others, delighting in the very sight of a small child passing by or seeing one cradled in the arms of a loving parent.

But Míriel was hesitant. Beyond Mírindis, Míriel had no other plans for child-rearing. Her own interests lay in the work of her hands and all she could create. It was not until one morning at the shops near Taniquetil, while buying more thread for her creations and seeking merchants to buy her latest batch of tapestries, that she felt the first inkling of desire for motherhood.

“Elemmírë! What have I told you about wandering off?” cried out an annoyed mother. Míriel looked about herself to catch sight of a tiny elfling, not more than two years old. She jogged past Míriel while happily singing, “I’m coming, mother, do not fret! I only wished to sample this bread!”

Chuckling to herself, Míriel imagined what her own child would be like. The thought lingered with her all the way back home. Later on, under the silverly light of Telperion, the desire arose as such she could not ignore it further, and kissing Finwë while caressing her hands down his back and over his buttocks, listening as it elicited a gasp from his lips, she lured him into bed.

They laid together several times in the course of a week, and one morning at the turn of Laurelin’s light, Míriel awoke and felt a tiny fluttering in her womb, which brought a soft smile and a sense of achievement, knowing she had conceived.

*

Míriel never forgot about Indis, and the memory of her often assailed her at the least expected moment as she worked, and she would pause and dwell on the past.

She had Thámien seek out Indis’s new address, as the Vanyar had left Tirion for Taniquetil several years ago. Conversing with her wife by letter first was a good first step, Míriel thought, to ease them back into correspondence without a sudden assault of emotions and tears at their cruel twist of fate. She was sure to let Finwë know, and he was glad to know the two were beginning to heal. But to meet Indis was something Míriel was still against, feeling Indis was only hers and none of Finwë’s concern.

Months into her pregnancy Míriel headed out to finally meet Indis. Her heart hammered in her chest on the entire ride to Taniquetil, and she felt partly unsure if she was ready to see Indis again and partly impatient to finally be reunited.

Indis wasn’t at the house of Ingwë when Míriel arrived, but a servant told her that Indis was at the temple. By the time Míriel reached the temple, the praying ceremony had ended and Vanyar were spilling outside, chatting amongst each other.

Indis appeared towards the end. Míriel had forgotten how to breathe for a moment, as Laurelin’s rays bathed Indis with golden light, and with the manner in which she seemingly glided on the ground after prayer, it appeared she was not made of the earth but of pure spirit and love.

Her eyes, full of a light Míriel had never seen in there before, turned towards her. Grinning, Indis ran right into Míriel’s arms. An instant thought came to Míriel’s mind, to kiss Indis before all of the Vanyar and the Ainur of the temple, but she held herself back.

“Míriel!” she cried happily. “It’s been so long! Ah! Is that the little one? What a darling!”

“The child is but a bump -- you haven’t seen it yet!”

“With your and Finwë’s combined beauty I have no fear for this child,” Indis said.

She led Míriel back to her house, asking her constantly if she had wished to be carried.

“I can do it, you know,” Indis said. “I’ve carried entire crates of stone all the way up that mountain.”

“I am fine on my feet,” Míriel said. “And beside, my child seems to prefer me up and about. He always kicks me when I’ve been at the loom for too long.”

“The child will love using his feet -- maybe we will jog together!”

They reached the front porch, and Indis wasted no time fussing over Míriel, taking her to the comfiest sofa and calling for tea from the servants.

But the careful loving attention only saddened Míriel when she reminded herself again of what she and Finwë had done, for her own bond with Indis was left unrecognized by the Valar, and now her dear bride tended to her as though she were her maid.

“Indis, don’t. Please,” Míriel said softly. “You are my wife. Sit with me.” And getting up, she embraced Indis and brought her lips to hers. When the kiss at last ended, Indis studied Míriel, distraught.

“We can’t,” she said. “The Valar…”

“I have no care for what they say,” Míriel said. “You are my wife. I have loved you far before Oromë knew of our existence. You are written in my bones, Indis.”

Indis smiled, though Míriel noted it was also sad.

“I pray for us, every day,” she said. “The One will find a solution for us, and we could all be happy.”

Míriel sighed, not letting go of Indis. “Oh, how I wish for that day to come!”

*

The vast lands called out to Míriel. Straddling a horse, she traveled as far north and south as she was able to with the child growing inside, taking the memories of all she saw as inspiration for her new work.

There was a tree Míriel found while traveling far west of Valinor, and upon its boughs grew the plumpest red plum. Seeing it, she smiled as she recalled the tree back at Cuiviénen. None seemingly had ever come across this tree, for there was no indication of anyone having tread upon the path. But there was just one fruit, rich and inviting, and Míriel was growing hungry.

She settled herself by the tree, enjoying the golden light of Laurelin, faint as it was at this distance. She decided she would bring Indis here when she next had the chance, for the far western shore was just as pleasant as Cuiviénen’s eastern shore.

The lone plum she picked and gave a tentative bite, then finding the nectar within incredibly sweet and satisfying, she devoured the rest of the plum happily. But after she took the final bite, an odd sharp pain swept over her, a flicker of fire shooting through her abdomen. But the pain was gone as soon as it had come, and Míriel thought nothing more of it.

But she never did return to the tree, though if she had ever sought for it she would have found it gone, for the tree had long been planted by a future enemy of her kin, the tree dressed in a coat of beauty and innocence, hidden away in plain sight from the Valar but waiting for whoever would take a bite. And the curse within took hold of the unborn child in Míriel’s womb, forging a being the enemy would later seek to befriend and eventually to dominate.

But all thoughts of the incident by the far western shore escaped Míriel’s mind, and for the remainder of her pregnancy, she was content and unbothered.

*

Twelve months after the conception of her firstborn, Míriel now lay to give birth, but the midwives had seen no labour in all of history as violent as the one of Míriel. The labor pains had sprung up so violently that she needed to be carried to her bed despite her protests. The birthing chair had been abandoned and she was made to lie down.

“Míriel?”

Míriel hardly noticed Finwë holding her hand or the midwives or Thámien speaking to her. She had been perfectly alert and energetic moments before, but now her energy seeped out of her.

Finwë called her again, and Míriel wept, wishing Indis was here beside her, for her singing would bring comfort. And then she no longer remembered Indis’s face, and she cried out in fright, desperately willing the memory back to herself. She thought Finwë was squeezing her hand, and she returned it.

She sought for comfort, in memories of her childhood at the eastern shores, of the tree with the fruit Indis and she loved so much, and she gasped suddenly as her mind recalled the tree, not the one under starlight but the just out of reach from Laurelin’s rays. The memory of the odd flame that swept through her rekindled in her mind. Unknowing that she had brought a curse upon herself, she nonetheless thought it odd, even amidst her pain, that there should be so much pain and violence in a land so hallowed.

And in her mind’s eye she saw the western tree again, its branches and roots turning black, and the entire world became pitch dark as the stars themselves went out. And from the dark she saw sharp teeth and claws reaching out for her.

And Míriel’s very soul was punctured, and she could only watch helplessly as her own spirit left her and passed into the child she was struggling to push out.

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Chapter End Notes

The sculpture Finwë shows Míriel was inspired by this episode from Everybody Loves Raymond (link is a little NSFW.)