Honeysuckle by Independence1776

Honeysuckle

Míriel stepped away from the wall and crossed the tile floor, greeting several other guests as she did so. But they were always brief conversations and she swiftly moved on. When she reached the window and the woman gowned in pale green standing in front of it, Míriel smiled. Indis leaned down and kissed her cheek, brief enough for propriety's sake and therefore would be classified by almost everyone as an inconsequential greeting between friends. 

“Will you be joining us for dinner?”

Indis nodded and turned to look out the window. “I will indeed. I see Finwë more often than I see you and I miss conversing with you.”

Míriel held back a blush only through long practice. It was not due to give the court more gossip as the latest scandal-- involving a nobleman cheating a merchant, among other things-- had died down. And there were always those who wished to spin innocent things into maliciousness. What Finwë, Míriel, and Indis were doing was neither innocent or easily explained without scandal and repercussions for themselves as well as Valinorian society as a whole.

Their relationship needed to remain private.

Míriel stared into the garden and Indis quietly said, “Would you care to take a walk with me?”

Míriel nodded and they walked arm-in-arm outside into Laurelin's light. They meandered down the white gravel paths of the formal garden, pausing here and there to smell honeysuckle, roses, and irises. The soft music drifted out from the ballroom and the buzzing of the bees and other insects made an odd harmony. Finally, they reached a stone bench in a more secluded part of the garden and Indis released Míriel's arm and sat down with a rustle of her skirts. Míriel sat next to her and looked at the babbling fountain set across the path from the bench.

“It's difficult, pretending that I'm hiding my longing for your husband as unrequited love.”

“It is no more difficult than pretending that we do not care for you as deeply as we do.”

Indis clasped Míriel's hand. “I wish there were another path for us. But you are as beautiful as Finwë is handsome and to deny that-- to deny all of our attraction for each other-- would be wrong.”

“Many would say that denying it would be the proper thing to do,” Míriel replied. “But they seem to be content with what they have, and what is right for them is not right for us.”

“They should be glad we are content to keep our relationship private,” Indis muttered. “But the time for upheaval would have been on the journey and we agreed to live by the Valar's laws when we accepted land from them.”

“The question is whether laws that are just for beings who need no bodies and can change them at will are just for us.” Míriel sighed. “But I am not ready for that debate. I am happy as we are.”

Indis smiled and kissed her cheek again, longer now that no one was around. “As am I, dear one.”

*****

After they returned to the party and spent the next hour circulating, they made their excuses to their host and returned to the king's house. Míriel welcomed Indis into her private workroom and showed her her latest blanket: a green only slightly darker than the color of Indis' dress and a blue that was slightly lighter than the navy of Míriel's own, woven in a herringbone design. Indis brushed her hand over the soft wool. “It's lovely.”

Míriel picked up her thread and smiled. “Would you sing for me?”

“Of course.”

That was where Finwë found them not an hour later. Míriel kissed him on the cheek and went back to her weaving. Indis stepped forward and he pulled her into what was only possible here in the king's house: a deep kiss. He pulled back and whispered into her ear, “I am so glad you could visit.”

“So am I. Now, I take it, supper is ready?” Finwë nodded. “Well, then.”

They waited for Míriel to finish her row and Finwë pulled her into an embrace of the three of them. But Indis' stomach growled and she stepped back with an embarrassed smile. The three of them left Míriel's workroom and walked down the hall to the small, informal dining room. Indis sniffed the air in appreciated: roast pork, squash of some kind, and fresh bread.

The conversation over the meal was light and dealt mostly with their lives during the period since they had last seen each other. Indis sipped her white wine and smiled. Conversation that would not tip off a servant that they were any more than close friends and yet it allowed them to renew their relationship in ways they otherwise could not. Letters could only convey so much. Finwë, during dessert, leaned over. “Will you be staying the night?”

As her suite was just down the hall, she nodded. “It will be a nice change.” She glanced at the mountainous landscape painting hanging on the wall. “As much as I enjoy a place to myself, I do miss Tirion occasionally.”

More than occasionally, but they understood that. As a member of Ingwë's family, she had more reason to travel here than most. But a good reason was not cause enough to move here. And to dwell in Finwë's house instead of a separate, embassy-owned building would cause its own scandal-- and may reveal the real one.

After dinner, Finwë retired to his study, Míriel to her workroom, and Indis returned to her suite. She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, sat down at the desk set under the open east-facing window, the scent of honeysuckle wafting in on the gentle breeze, and continued working on the collection of poems she'd begun earlier in the season. When she was done, she'd turn the major ones into songs-- but she'd gift the collection to her lovers. 

An hour after the Mingling, she stood up, closed the window and the curtains, and prepared for bed. After the maidservant turned down her bedcovers, Indis climbed in and deliberately tossed and turned for a few minutes to rumple her bedding. When she was sure that the maid was out of earshot, Indis slid out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown, locked her door behind her, and crept down the hall to the royal chambers. She let herself in with the key they'd given her and gently closed the wooden door behind her, making sure to lock it.

She straightened up, brushed her hair behind her shoulders, and made her way into Míriel and Finwë's bedroom. They smiled at her and Finwë waited until she was snuggled under the covers between them to turn off the bedside lamp. He nestled behind her and wrapped his arm around her, brushing her breasts as he did so. Míriel kissed her softly on the lips and enfolded her hands in her own.

Indis sighed and relaxed against Finwë. This was as close as they were comfortable most nights to breaking the letter of the law, not just the spirit. But they could not risk consummation. It would be a scandal that would not only tear the social fabric of the Noldor and the Vanyar, but it would cause problems with the Valar themselves. That was nothing they were willing to do. 

But the rare nights when they were able to sleep together, the three of them in the same bed, cuddling-- they were worth the uncertainty.