All the More Did He Seek Their Friendship by StarSpray

All the More did he Seek Their Friendship

Now in his heart Melkor most hated the Eldar…Therefore all the more did he feign love for them and seek their friendship, and he offered them the service of his lore and labor in any great deed that they would do. The Vanyar indeed held him in suspicion, for they dwelt in the light of the Trees and were content; and to the Teleri he gave small heed, thinking them of little worth, tools too weak for his designs. But the Noldor took delight in the hidden knowledge that he could reveal to them; and some hearkened to words that it would have been better for them never to have heard.
- The Silmarillion, “Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor”

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Silver light poured through the windows, catching and refracting on the crystals hung about the room, twinkling like tiny stars. The court of Tirion was particularly splendid that evening, Indis thought as she sat upon the dais beside Finwë, watching the dancing. A rare event: all of their children and grandchildren were present, and even Fëanáro seemed to be in good spirits as he twirled about the floor with Ëarwen.

But still Indis felt uneasy. It was not unusual for Ainur to flit in and out and around such gatherings, taking on a fana to join in the dancing, or to laugh and converse with the Eldar. Aulë’s folk in particular often came to visit Tirion; she could see Curumo now in animated conversation with Curufinwë near the punch bowl. But also in the room was Melkor, passing from conversation to conversation with smiling ease. His fana was a handsome one, tall and dark of hair and keen of glance, and Indis had heard many tales of the marvelous things that he had taught the craftsmen of the Noldor, and the knowledge that he had imparted to them. He was welcomed at Finwë’s court with all honor and courtesy due to one of the Valar, of course; Finwë listened to Indis’ concerns, but he had to balance them against the enthusiasm of those who hearkened to Melkor’s knowledge, and the decrees of Manwë himself.

In this, Indis knew, she and Fëanáro were uniquely united. He made no secret of his distrust and dislike, to which many wondered, for of all the Noldor he was the most hungry to learn. She watched as Melkor sauntered by the cluster of younger elves where Turukáno stood with Elenwë on his arm, and she watched as Melkor glanced at her grandson and then looked again, a strange shadow passing over his face before he moved on without speaking. Turukáno, for his part, did not seem to notice; his attention was on Findaráto and whatever outrageous story he was telling; he flung out his arms in a wide gesture and nearly knocked a crystal sconce off the wall.

At last Melkor reached the dais, and bowed to Finwë and to Indis. “May I have the honor of the next dance, O Fair Queen Indis?” he asked, voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey. Behind his eyes Indis could see a whisper of shadow, like storm clouds gathering in the instance, though it was swiftly hidden—and were she unused to speaking with Ainur she might have thought she imagined it. But she graced him with a smile as false as his own, and rose from her seat.

“Certainly, my lord,” she said, sliding her hand into his. His skin was too smooth beneath her fingers, missing the ridges and textures of real skin, though it felt solid enough, and warm as a hearthstone. It would do no one any good to snub one of the most powerful of the Ainur, even if he did make her feel like a cat with its hackles up. All she could do was watch and wait, and give Finwë the wisest counsel that she could.

She could, also, take quiet pleasure in the fact that, great in knowledge and power as he was and claimed to be, Melkor was no dancer, and was easily outshone in this, at least, by Indis of the Vanyar.