Playing With Fire by liruinielfeanoriel

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Chapter 1

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I should have known better-

You were smiling at me, warm and friendly (As pretty as a maiden’s dream, Atarinkë had sneered, and Tyelkormo had laughed along mockingly); I was undoubtedly smitten. Golden locks had fallen into your eyes and I raised my hand to tuck it behind a pointy ear. Your smile turned even brighter (as though it were possible) and harp by your side, lithe fingers danced upon silver strings as your golden voice rose in a serenade, soothing and welcoming.

 

I did know better.

Under the lure of music, slumber came peacefully, and my eyes fluttered close, swept to the arms of Lorien. A small, insistent part of my heart berated, for falling so doubtlessly under your charm. A larger part of me does not care. Absently, I reminded myself of your inevitable departure- perhaps not today, nor tomorrow, but you would leave me all the same, and sail for your golden shores, for your people, for your love hallowed and unforgotten.

 

But I was drawn to him, you see.

To the laughing blue eyes, to the calloused hands (so tender and gentle on my flesh), to the generous heart and to the furrowed concentration on your brow. A most unhealthy obsession, I knew, but I was determined to commit your features into memory- After all, you will be Amarie’s one day, for Amarie was better and you deserved the best of both worlds. (Not that I was any good.)

 

He was addictive.

What am I to you? You had asked on an icy day as I made my nest on your bed, lazy smile and golden eyes. Addiction, I said, peeking from my nest of furs. Addiction, you had smiled, bemused and unbelieving. Addiction, I insisted. And you laughed, sending warmth to my frozen heart. As Milady wishes, you teased. My heart clenched, my stomach fluttered, and I could not glance away from your smile. I settled for burrowing further into my nest. You exhaled, part fond part exasperated, and held me in your arms, duvet and all. An involuntary smile lingered on my face. See? Addiction. It is not so bad, I tell myself. You can always make me smile; a gentle nudge, a kind word, a comforting embrace; you’d always find a way to brighten my day.

 

Like nicotine was to smokers.

A too-sweet poison (You know what they say- the sweetest are the deadliest). I downed the poison anyway. If I explained, you would understand. I know, but I cannot bear to refuse you. Too kind, too gentle, too otherworldly. You burnt me like Apollo burnt Icarus. (You burnt me, though you did not know, and I made no sound.) To love a God, I pondered sadly. Icarus. I thought him a fool then. I understand now.

 

And we were helpless-

Another night. Another nightmare. You shook me awake. You were crying, you said, voice slurred with traces of sleep, but lingering with fondness. Breathe, you murmured soothingly, a warm hand rubbing the small of my back. My body obliged, eager to please you. You made me weak and helpless, and I wanted nothing more than for you to leave, but I craved your touch as much as I despised it. You were safety and comfort, helplessness the unspoken price. It was not your fault, I knew, shivering. Only moments ago, I lived in the reality of my mind, watching as I lived a life without you. I was miserable. Do you think I will let you leave so easily? You asked, amused, when I had stuttered out my question. Doubt fled from my mind, breathing became easier; you leant down to place a chaste kiss upon the crown of my head. All was well.

 

Moths drawn to an overly bright fire.

You were talking of some upcoming political debate in Nargothrond, eyes passionate and glinting with a fire unrivalled by even the fruit of Laurelin. I had watched, mesmerized. There was so much to do- sort through the ledgers, manage the household, entertain the ladies... But at that moment, nothing mattered but you, for you were a star, and I was merely another planet orbiting around you.

 

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I should not have hated her.

Amarie was friendly and sweet and gentle, and you loved her, for she was your childhood friend, you told me. You uttered no lie, and I trusted you, so for a while, I let it be. (You were not lying, merely ignorant.) We were on the path to friendship and girl-bonding, then I saw her regard for you three months into her stay in our white-fenced home by the edges of Valinor, undisguised gestures of love, unconcealed glances of longing, and everything changed after that.

 

I did not hate her.

One night, I mustered the courage and asked about her. We were lovers once, you told me, but it is over now. I did not pry. You had respected my privacy and you would return the courtesy. It was only fair, and my one principle in life had always been equality. I pitied her. You were oblivious to her advances, to her adoring gaze. Fool you were, yes, but mine all the same. All would be well, I had thought, and drifted off to a sleepless slumber. It was only later that I realised we were both of us fools.

 

We were both moths, you see.

How had you not seen the regard she held you in? She loved you, and she was so much better than I was, so much better than I ever would be. Had you not seen the way I purveyed the cruellest of truths to others, delighting in the agony in their gaze, the way I betrayed my closest relatives without thought of kinship? (Granted, all unspeakable actions were all done for you, done to ensure more of your safety and less of mine.)

 

We were enthralled

I was jealous, though I told myself the opposite. Arguments, once a foreign concept, replaced what had once been playful banter. Your smiles, once so bright and often seen, seemed to have disappeared entirely. You were my rock, my anchor, and I could oft depend on you to soothe my ruffled feathers. That midsummer night, with Tilion soaring high above, discord reared again its ugly head. Lines are crossed, and I remembered words spoken by both you and I that I was certain neither of us meant. Fate had breathed life to my darkest nightmare (You had been by my side all those nights ago, shaking me awake. You were crying, you had said. You swore you would be there for me.). 

 

Like Icarus to the Sun

I remembered your defeated, worn frown when I drove the dagger home. It was true, as was every word I spoke against him. But even I myself knew it was cruel. I watched the fight drain from you. I wanted to much to come to you, I wanted so much to return to the past where I was ignorant. It was bliss then. (Ignorance isn’t bliss, Atarinkë had told me harshly as he found me in Tyelkormo’s messy, disorganised hunting lodge, wishing for a reprieve. It’s waste.) I had won.

 

And we were resigned

She too had won. I had won the argument, and she, your heart. Winning was a cold realisation, I found. Failure had left a bitter tang in the hollows of my mouth. When had the lines of failure and victory blurred? I had once loved winning. That moment of triumph, that glitter of joy when I won another duel. (I love you, I told you once. But I love winning more. You had smiled fondly at me. Life was good.) It seemed as though nature itself went through an evolution. Life had been a dream come true then, a paradise- it is dark and merciless now, dark as the confines of my mind, merciless as the thorns that remain when roses have wilted. Victory had been honey-sweet and fulfilling- it is sour now, sour and bitter and unwelcome.

 

Slaves chained to an unforgiving master.

One week. One week of moping around, of taking up residence in Tyelkormo’s semi-home, of taking in Tyelkormo’s stares of pity and Atarinkë’s awkward attempts of comfort,  then I returned to Tirion- to the Noldor Courts. An unmistakable sadness took root in my heart- our love had lived through the wars, through separation, through death and grief. 

 

But I could not help it.
Life was dull- ah, Findarato, how I wish I remained ignorant.

 

-You were the first and last thing on my mind every night-
Ignorance is bliss.

 

-But had I ever been on yours?-
(No, you fool. Ignorance is waste.)