The Kite. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

The Kite. 

Amarië watched as the arrow cut the kite-string. The kite, unleashed, soared up to the Trees on the constant wind, then, gradually tilting, it twitched like a shying horse, then began to tumble down into the waiting crowd below. The archer shouted in triumph, while all around the spectators cheered. The three other kites still slid smoothly to and fro across the bright sky, while the next archer readied her bow. 

 The winning arrow had been fished from the Lake, the boats looked tiny from the hilltop, but the two rowers cut a sparkling line across the empty waters. Finrod, who was judging the contest, had turned to congratulate the winner, and the sight of his glowing face and blinding smile stirred a poignant longing in her. 

 It had long seemed to her that since she and Finrod, childhood friends, made such sweet music together, her family, and his, presumed that they would eventually marry. She was not displeased at the notion, for Finrod was beautiful, wise, strong and kind, and an ideal match for her. She had always been fond of him, and he of her. At feasts, they were seated together, they often, and increasingly, found themselves alone together, and although no word or question had been uttered by any of their kin, she could feel the thick vines of their expectations coiling around her, while all the time her heart cried "wait !"

 For there was something missing, some feeling, some flame that would set them alight, and make a haven of the trap she seemed to face. She felt more yearning at the sound of his harp than his voice. The words she sang, of love so powerful that it consumed the world, seemed to be false, else the love between herself and Finrod were nothing more than a childhood warmth. 

But she could do nothing to hurt him. If he himself felt this great passion, she would accept him, and bring joy to all, while yet she yearned for that spark to kindle within her, and set her flesh alight. But her doubt was real, she had seen no hint of the love the poets describe in the calm, steady eyes of Finrod Finarfinion, he was as warm with her as with a favoured hound, or any friend, but she had never felt that he was pained by separation, or troubled by yearning. For long she had striven with such thoughts, but the freed kite showed her the truth of herself; she knew, in the sanctuary of her heart, that there was nothing between them to bring them together but the weight from the hopes of others, pushing them into collision.

 The fresh wind on the hilltop seemed to blow the valley heat from her, leaving her mind unusually clear, as one who has taken a draught of stimulating herbs. Finrod smiled at her, his jewels sparkling as brightly as his eyes, but in an instant she saw the truth, for the pools of black in his eyes were as narrow as though she were merely a friend of old, rather than the one he adored. She smiled back, but gritted her teeth. She would find out, she would discover, she would know, what was truly in the heart of Finrod.

Beside her, Orodreth was sipping wine. She smiled to herself, and considered how best to pose her questions, how to learn the heart of Finrod without alarming his shy brother. She thought of Orodreth, as wise as any of his House, yet mocked for his blundering ways with words. She knew that he dreaded conversation, and would choose to flee rather than gossip, but the serious step she was being asked to consider required a serious course of action. She thought of Orodreth, boldly scaling cliffs so sheer that they overhung at the top, leaving the climbers hanging in the air, and wondered again why they were driven to risk themselves so. Orodreth, she decided, would prefer that she simply asked him directly. 

 'What does he say of me, Orodreth ?' she asked with a gentle smile. But Orodreth frowned in puzzlement 

 'Who ?' he said bluntly, then thought for an instant, before continuing 'Oh ! Oh, you mean Finrod, oh...'

 But she held up her hand with a smile that did not reach her eyes 'Thankyou, Orodreth, I believe that you have answered my question. Please excuse me, I would take my leave.'

 When next Finrod turned to smile at her, she was gone; he frowned for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to the kite-shooting.