The Snakes and the Flowers by Lyra

Chapter 1

„Well?“ he asked, his eyes bright with excitement. „How did you like it?“

Amárië had to suppress a giggle. She had expected to be invited to a theatrical performance, or a concert, or a walk through a pleasant garden. Instead, Findaráto had asked her to accompany him to a session of the Noldorin council. As far as she was aware, that was a rather unusual pastime for a rendez-vous, although perhaps things were different among the Noldor. They had not even spent the past hour close together: She had been sitting on one of the cushioned benches for observers, and he had taken his place among the junior members of the royal family. He had watched the proceedings and made the occasional respectful remark, while she had watched his lovely profile, the elegant manner in which his hand cupped his chin, the attentive way in which he leaned forward, the sparkle in his eyes as his focus shifted from one speaker to the next. The discussions among the king and his councillors – about Noldorin matters, like the appointment of craftsmen for repair work on the city's sewage and the building of a new guild hall, about a mining expedition to the northern mountains, about improvements to be made to the postal system – had for the most part bored Amárië, though she had enjoyed observing Findaráto's enthusiasm. And now, he asked her how she had liked it, as if it had been a celebrated new play or a poetry recital.

She wanted to give a clever answer – the Noldor prized cleverness, that much she knew – but all she could think of was, „It was very educative.“ She tried to remember anything specific that had been said, something that might be quoted and elaborated upon, but the most striking thing that came to mind was the mood among the councillors, the invisible lines between different factions, the animosity that had occasionally drifted to the surface of their otherwise cultured discourse. „It was strange to see the enmity between the lords Nolofinwë and Fëanáro,“ she finally said, deciding to treat them like characters in a play whose actions and motivations were open for discussion. „I had the impression that even when they held the same opinion, they needed to fight about it. Whenever one of them made a point, the other had to make it better. And whenever one of them disagreed, he needed to annihilate the other's reasoning altogether. As if they couldn't be in the same room without fighting. If that's how they act when there are only minor things to discuss, I shudder to imagine what it would be like when there is some seriously controversial matter.“

„Ah, yes,“ Findaráto said, sighing. „You are touching upon a sore spot. My half-uncle – is that even a word? - just can't bear it when my uncle is right; he always needs to be more right.“
The giggle that Amárië had earlier bitten back forced its way outside now. „But it also works the other way around,“ she couldn't help pointing out. „Your uncle always wanted to have the last word, too. And everybody else trying to accomodate them, and your father trying to keep them from tearing each other to pieces...“ She shook her head. „It must be quite exasperating for the King. They remind me of two snakes fighting about the same prey, like...“ She had been about to say 'a marmot', because she had indeed seen two snakes fight over a marmot on the slopes of Taniquetil once, but then she realised that comparing the commonwealth of the Noldor to a furry little burrower might be a little insulting. How did you signify a nation, anyway? „A crown,“ she said at last, and because she couldn't imagine why snakes should fight over jewellery, she added, „of flowers. Whenever one of them has hold of it, the other tries to devour it.“ It was a silly story – snakes ate other animals, not flowers – but it was an amusing metaphor nonetheless. She went on, „and Lord Arafinwë is the snake charmer, I suppose.“ Suddenly, she remembered that she was not talking about characters in a play or archetypes in a poem, but the very real family of the young man who had only just begun to court her. She bit her lip, embarrassed, and peered at him to figure out whether he was much offended.

But Findaráto, whose good cheer had temporarily flagged at the topic of his competitive uncles, was smiling broadly again. „You are a true poet, Amárië,“ he announced, his face suddenly very close to hers. She had looked into his bright, gentle eyes for a moment; and then they had finally kissed.