Mischief Un-managed [Winter 3009-3010][Fenion]
Jun 11, 2018 16:53:55 GMT -5
Post by MITHIEL on Jun 11, 2018 16:53:55 GMT -5
Mithiel frowned at the mention of Ruivo’s boots on the table.”I have told him countless times. He would not dain to put his boots on a table in my presence” firm in her tone. Ignoring that Ruivo was brazen enough. That in years past he’d put them on the table and smirk at her. Given her a challenging look with his blue eye and dare her to say something. The exchange always had ended up with her against the table and his lips upon hers. In that moment, Mithiel would have been more than happy to chastise Ruivo for his boots on the table, had he been sitting in Fenion’s place instead. To be kissed by him again. The valar knew how much she wished he was home. Having him home, just to be at odds with him would she have accepted. She missed him. Ruivo had been gone almost a full year. He had left last winter, was barely home in the fall and then left once more after the moon of autumn. In dream had she asked him to come home soon, Mithiel doubt he would, Ruivo was stubborn. Fingers went to the edge of her braid to release the long strands. Strands of dense and luxurious tawny strands.
“Should you dwell in these chambers with him, you would have all manner of chances to inform him of where his boots do and do not go. May be it that you should move in here. Perhaps you would desire my assistance in moving your belongings. Surely he desires company… companionship... as we do all. And do not say that Ruivo has no such desires for you know yourself that the Valar placed that need within all of us. Surely, from what I have now seen, there is no way Ruivo would deny to me that he cares not for you. I have well seen it. I have seen it documented. Quill to paper,”
Waved tendrils were worked free, the kinks in her hair deep from braided sleep. Fenion’s words made her pause. “Ruivo and I lived together...as you suggest, An age ago.” she shook her head at the memories.
She could see Ost-in-Edhil, the great rooms of alabaster stone that gleamed in the moonlight. Mithiel could see the moonlight slipping through a window and resting on a red haired elfling’s sleeping face. She could see herself sitting at the edge of the young ellon’s bed, brushing his hair back as he rested. Mithiel’s eyes saw Ruivo leaning against the door frame, looking upon both ellon and elleth. His face dirty and hair oil coated from sweating. She saw the image of him beckoning her to him, to come rest in bed with him before he returned to the depths of the forges to work more on a secret project. Images of Lothlorien flooded her mind and filled her thoughts, shifting from the stone city of the noldor to the high treetop city of the silvan elves. Of living in a tree, of the telan they had shared after their move. The one she resided in once he left her for Imladris.
“Ruivo has no desire to live with me again in such a way Fenion. Please understand that. No longer are we vellyn, Ruivo and I…” Mithiel’s eyes misted over and she looked as if she could cry at that harsh reality. Fenion over the course of months and weeks dismantled the wall she had built to keep those of Imladris out. Now there was nothing but raw sight. The ugly truth behind the beautiful facade. “I assure you, he has had my companionship, I am no longer desired as his companion in the way you insist such Fenion”
“The valar placed a need in us all, and I… have come to accept the bitter reality of what I face” Mithiel’s face crumpled into a look of tormented expression.”I can no longer do this with you any longer Fenion...not any more” Mithiel whispered, her voice barely raised above the lowest tone as she wrestled with her emotion. Mithiel’s heart ached as the winter wind howled and fought against the warmth of spring that was coming. Refusing to yield. As Fenion finished his drawing. Squeezing was the feeling in her heart as salt was rubbed into the wound, lemon juice seeping into an exposed cut. Her eyes shifted to Fenion’s drawing that he worked on.
“He once made a drawing of me. I can remember the day. I was painting the seashore and I looked over my shoulder to see him with charcoal in his fingers and he had a book open” Mithiel swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I am sure that book was lost ages ago” Though she frowned at the thought. “Ruivo’s care for my well being only extends thus far out of his obligation. My life saved by Ruivo’s hand. Only reason he cares is because of that.” Quiet was her response that Fenion did only as Ruivo would bid him, to keep her warm and comfortable within his chamber. His rooms of ice, devoid of care. Mithiel was beginning to see through the haze, the fog clearing from her mind and eyes. Ruivo these long years had just been doing his duty to her. She had taken it further than he ever intended. Mithiel felt her heart say that though her fëa and hröa cried out otherwise, whispering that what she felt from him in their moments of passion was true. They were vellyn, just separated by something. Her mind tormented her. His words of the past echoing in her head. “You do not know me”
“I have seen the sea; at Lindon only, very few times, though someday I will see it again, and you as well. Perhaps together, when we go west. I have heard Aradath's Naneth speak often of the sea; though her Adar would not leave behind Lord Elrond, and neither would my own. They wait for when he has decided it is his time; Aradeth and I wait for them.”
Mithiel thought of going west. The look on his face that night in her room, the look she had said nothing upon. His hand on his leg and his face resting on his palm. The look that had told her that Ruivo was thinking of something. The way he said “You have decided” and how tormented he looked that she wished to stay on this side of the ocean. That she would be on a ship with him when he landed in Aman. Mithiel’s thoughts during the winter while he was gone last year had played that image, over and over. Mithiel had said nothing when he returned to her in the fall from having been away. She said nothing of her thoughts. Though she was suspecting there was something he did not wish her to know. Did not wish for her to be seen with him. It slowly came to her. He had another.
Valar be how many secrets was he keeping? How long had everyone else known about the other woman he was in love with. Mithiel tortured herself with images of Ruivo walking with a black haired woman in Tirion. She taunted her heart with the thought of him proposing to the woman. Mithiel’s hands reached into her hair, clutching her temples on either side. Pressing hands into her head. Trying to stop her thoughts from spinning. He loved someone else. To Fenion’s eye, it would look like she was just about to run her hands through her hair.
“I lived as did Aradath’s naneth on Balar. For years we lived there. There it was Ruivo and I would walk along the shore in Tilion’s light. Where he taught me how to find pearls in the seabed. I remember him showing me how to eat an oyster from the shell...I care not to do that again...I crave to go west, I grow weary of this land here. The west calls to me. I wait for Ruivo”
“I saw those pictures in the beginning… of Balar. But Ruivo either must dream the same; or have a memory of astounding detail for those which were drawn more recent. I would think him a sea-elf if I knew not better. The way the light of water is captured upon the page. Yet, I shall try, my Lady. Perhaps I can draw your dream for you… maybe it will get you by until April. And as it is my offer stands to move your rooms. Perhaps if Ruivo should find his bed decorated with you as I have found it; he would be more inclined to stay the next winter over.”
A brow quirked. “You have seen pictures of Balar? Where?” asking with timid tones. “Ruivo loves the water, in Balar we often walked in the waves, when Lady Celebrian was a child, he often took us out on the water of the great lake. I can remember in Ost-in-Edhil, New Tirion as we called it. Ruivo and I would take a canoe down the river. I have known no other elf to love the water as he does. I would think him one of Lord Cirdan’s kin, if I knew not that he was Noldor”
Her fingers picked up the drawing that Fenion had placed in her lap. “I do not make that face” complaining in protest at the image while her heart hurt at the thought of Ruivo’s lost sketchbook. Of the lost images of Norochil as an elfling. Norochil. Mithel’s eyes flicked to Fenion, only just a bit older than Fenion was Norochil by elven standards. Mithiel was filled with anguish at the loss of her elfling. He belonged to Ruivo and her. While she had not borne the red haired elfling in her own womb. He had given breath in Ost-in-Edhil during the final two centuries they lived there, she had raised him. Took care of him, taught him all he had know. She was his Ammë. Ruivo had been there beside her and took on the duty as well. Norochil was their son, he was not their blended blood. Not an alloy of they two, but he was a blend of their skills joined in parenting. In raising him, Mithiel had fallen deeper in love with Ruivo, cementing that she wanted to wed him, to have their own family...Forcing the thought away.
“Ruivo does not want me in his bed.” Mithiel’s tone sad as she tried to hide the breaking in her voice. Ruivo did not want her. How did she say the words that Ruivo had, had her in his bed. Had her there more than enough time to be his wife a hundred times over. How did she not scream those words at Fenion that Ruivo finding her in his bed would not make him stay. Not after having been there before and nothing ever came from it. She sighed and did the only thing that she knew to do.
“The Maid and the Smith together by the sea… ah never can I draw as well what I have not witnessed. I should be drawing Aradeth here in our chambers, and Ruivo should be here to draw you… I did not realize before this winter what an artist he was...perhaps you should pose for me. Sit up on the bed, turn your back to me. I'll draw you from behind. You wore white always at the sea, hm? None of the pictures were shaded…
Mithiel froze as she turned to face Fenion sitting at the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about...pictures. Ruivo has no pictures of me. Not…” not since they had been Vellyn her soul whispered. “Tis time you know the truth, Ruivo has another waiting for him in Aman, You are right...I have pined after him for many long years...I felt his affection once and I feel his distance between us now. Long have been the years I have waited. Waited and nothing but heartbreak to show for them. I know this to be true, for as I have said we are ill fated. I believe he waits to be reunited with the one he loves in Aman”
“Should you dwell in these chambers with him, you would have all manner of chances to inform him of where his boots do and do not go. May be it that you should move in here. Perhaps you would desire my assistance in moving your belongings. Surely he desires company… companionship... as we do all. And do not say that Ruivo has no such desires for you know yourself that the Valar placed that need within all of us. Surely, from what I have now seen, there is no way Ruivo would deny to me that he cares not for you. I have well seen it. I have seen it documented. Quill to paper,”
Waved tendrils were worked free, the kinks in her hair deep from braided sleep. Fenion’s words made her pause. “Ruivo and I lived together...as you suggest, An age ago.” she shook her head at the memories.
She could see Ost-in-Edhil, the great rooms of alabaster stone that gleamed in the moonlight. Mithiel could see the moonlight slipping through a window and resting on a red haired elfling’s sleeping face. She could see herself sitting at the edge of the young ellon’s bed, brushing his hair back as he rested. Mithiel’s eyes saw Ruivo leaning against the door frame, looking upon both ellon and elleth. His face dirty and hair oil coated from sweating. She saw the image of him beckoning her to him, to come rest in bed with him before he returned to the depths of the forges to work more on a secret project. Images of Lothlorien flooded her mind and filled her thoughts, shifting from the stone city of the noldor to the high treetop city of the silvan elves. Of living in a tree, of the telan they had shared after their move. The one she resided in once he left her for Imladris.
“Ruivo has no desire to live with me again in such a way Fenion. Please understand that. No longer are we vellyn, Ruivo and I…” Mithiel’s eyes misted over and she looked as if she could cry at that harsh reality. Fenion over the course of months and weeks dismantled the wall she had built to keep those of Imladris out. Now there was nothing but raw sight. The ugly truth behind the beautiful facade. “I assure you, he has had my companionship, I am no longer desired as his companion in the way you insist such Fenion”
“The valar placed a need in us all, and I… have come to accept the bitter reality of what I face” Mithiel’s face crumpled into a look of tormented expression.”I can no longer do this with you any longer Fenion...not any more” Mithiel whispered, her voice barely raised above the lowest tone as she wrestled with her emotion. Mithiel’s heart ached as the winter wind howled and fought against the warmth of spring that was coming. Refusing to yield. As Fenion finished his drawing. Squeezing was the feeling in her heart as salt was rubbed into the wound, lemon juice seeping into an exposed cut. Her eyes shifted to Fenion’s drawing that he worked on.
“He once made a drawing of me. I can remember the day. I was painting the seashore and I looked over my shoulder to see him with charcoal in his fingers and he had a book open” Mithiel swallowed down the lump in her throat. “I am sure that book was lost ages ago” Though she frowned at the thought. “Ruivo’s care for my well being only extends thus far out of his obligation. My life saved by Ruivo’s hand. Only reason he cares is because of that.” Quiet was her response that Fenion did only as Ruivo would bid him, to keep her warm and comfortable within his chamber. His rooms of ice, devoid of care. Mithiel was beginning to see through the haze, the fog clearing from her mind and eyes. Ruivo these long years had just been doing his duty to her. She had taken it further than he ever intended. Mithiel felt her heart say that though her fëa and hröa cried out otherwise, whispering that what she felt from him in their moments of passion was true. They were vellyn, just separated by something. Her mind tormented her. His words of the past echoing in her head. “You do not know me”
“I have seen the sea; at Lindon only, very few times, though someday I will see it again, and you as well. Perhaps together, when we go west. I have heard Aradath's Naneth speak often of the sea; though her Adar would not leave behind Lord Elrond, and neither would my own. They wait for when he has decided it is his time; Aradeth and I wait for them.”
Mithiel thought of going west. The look on his face that night in her room, the look she had said nothing upon. His hand on his leg and his face resting on his palm. The look that had told her that Ruivo was thinking of something. The way he said “You have decided” and how tormented he looked that she wished to stay on this side of the ocean. That she would be on a ship with him when he landed in Aman. Mithiel’s thoughts during the winter while he was gone last year had played that image, over and over. Mithiel had said nothing when he returned to her in the fall from having been away. She said nothing of her thoughts. Though she was suspecting there was something he did not wish her to know. Did not wish for her to be seen with him. It slowly came to her. He had another.
Valar be how many secrets was he keeping? How long had everyone else known about the other woman he was in love with. Mithiel tortured herself with images of Ruivo walking with a black haired woman in Tirion. She taunted her heart with the thought of him proposing to the woman. Mithiel’s hands reached into her hair, clutching her temples on either side. Pressing hands into her head. Trying to stop her thoughts from spinning. He loved someone else. To Fenion’s eye, it would look like she was just about to run her hands through her hair.
“I lived as did Aradath’s naneth on Balar. For years we lived there. There it was Ruivo and I would walk along the shore in Tilion’s light. Where he taught me how to find pearls in the seabed. I remember him showing me how to eat an oyster from the shell...I care not to do that again...I crave to go west, I grow weary of this land here. The west calls to me. I wait for Ruivo”
“I saw those pictures in the beginning… of Balar. But Ruivo either must dream the same; or have a memory of astounding detail for those which were drawn more recent. I would think him a sea-elf if I knew not better. The way the light of water is captured upon the page. Yet, I shall try, my Lady. Perhaps I can draw your dream for you… maybe it will get you by until April. And as it is my offer stands to move your rooms. Perhaps if Ruivo should find his bed decorated with you as I have found it; he would be more inclined to stay the next winter over.”
A brow quirked. “You have seen pictures of Balar? Where?” asking with timid tones. “Ruivo loves the water, in Balar we often walked in the waves, when Lady Celebrian was a child, he often took us out on the water of the great lake. I can remember in Ost-in-Edhil, New Tirion as we called it. Ruivo and I would take a canoe down the river. I have known no other elf to love the water as he does. I would think him one of Lord Cirdan’s kin, if I knew not that he was Noldor”
Her fingers picked up the drawing that Fenion had placed in her lap. “I do not make that face” complaining in protest at the image while her heart hurt at the thought of Ruivo’s lost sketchbook. Of the lost images of Norochil as an elfling. Norochil. Mithel’s eyes flicked to Fenion, only just a bit older than Fenion was Norochil by elven standards. Mithiel was filled with anguish at the loss of her elfling. He belonged to Ruivo and her. While she had not borne the red haired elfling in her own womb. He had given breath in Ost-in-Edhil during the final two centuries they lived there, she had raised him. Took care of him, taught him all he had know. She was his Ammë. Ruivo had been there beside her and took on the duty as well. Norochil was their son, he was not their blended blood. Not an alloy of they two, but he was a blend of their skills joined in parenting. In raising him, Mithiel had fallen deeper in love with Ruivo, cementing that she wanted to wed him, to have their own family...Forcing the thought away.
“Ruivo does not want me in his bed.” Mithiel’s tone sad as she tried to hide the breaking in her voice. Ruivo did not want her. How did she say the words that Ruivo had, had her in his bed. Had her there more than enough time to be his wife a hundred times over. How did she not scream those words at Fenion that Ruivo finding her in his bed would not make him stay. Not after having been there before and nothing ever came from it. She sighed and did the only thing that she knew to do.
“The Maid and the Smith together by the sea… ah never can I draw as well what I have not witnessed. I should be drawing Aradeth here in our chambers, and Ruivo should be here to draw you… I did not realize before this winter what an artist he was...perhaps you should pose for me. Sit up on the bed, turn your back to me. I'll draw you from behind. You wore white always at the sea, hm? None of the pictures were shaded…
Mithiel froze as she turned to face Fenion sitting at the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about...pictures. Ruivo has no pictures of me. Not…” not since they had been Vellyn her soul whispered. “Tis time you know the truth, Ruivo has another waiting for him in Aman, You are right...I have pined after him for many long years...I felt his affection once and I feel his distance between us now. Long have been the years I have waited. Waited and nothing but heartbreak to show for them. I know this to be true, for as I have said we are ill fated. I believe he waits to be reunited with the one he loves in Aman”