#indis

by EmberOfTheSea (@seaemberthesecond)

A dead man and a former queen bid each other farewell. Neither is sorry to see the other go. Or, Fëanor and Indis, in the aftermath.

General, No Archive Warnings

1. Finwë(Noldor)+Indis(Vanyar)

2. Finarfin(Noldor with Vanyarin ancestry)+ Eärwen(Teleri)

3. Turgon(Noldor with Vanyarin ancestry)+Elenwë(Vanyar)

4. Finrod(Noldor with Vanyarin and Telerin ancestry)+Amárië(Vanyar)

5. Oredreth(Noldor, with Vanyarin and Telerin ancestry) + Sindarin lady of the North

Finrod left his wife in Valinor and had no children in exile. Angrod’s son was Artaresto, who was beloved by Finrod and escaped when Angrod was slain, and dwelt with Finrod. Finrod made him his ‘steward’ and he succeeded him in Nargothrond. His Sindarin name was Rodreth (altered to Orodreth because of his love of the mountains His children were Finduilas and Artanáro = Rodnor later called Gil-galad. (Their mother was a Sindarin lady of the North. She called her son Gil-galad.) Rodnor Gil-galad escaped and eventually came to Sirion’s Mouth and was King of the Ñoldor there.

- The Peoples of Middle-earth: Shibboleth of Fëanor

6. Voronwë's parents: Aranwë(Noldor)+ Grey-elven lady of the Falas, and akin to Círdan himself in the Unfinished Tales

7. Pengolodh's parents: Noldor+Sindar

Of the School the most eminent member after the founder was, or still is, Pengolodh, an Elf of mixed Sindarin and Ñoldorin ancestry, born in Nevrast, who lived in Gondolin from its foundation.

- The War of Jewels: Quendi and Eldar

8. Aredhel(Noldor with Vanyarin ancestry) + Eöl(Sindar in the silm)

9. Galadriel (Noldor with Vanyarin and Telerin ancestry)+Celeborn(Sindar in the silm or Telerin prince, grandson of Olwë in the Unfinished Tales)

10. Eärendil(Elven ancestry: Noldor+Vanyar) + Elwing(Elven ancestry: Sindar)

by octopus_fool (@ridiculoussquid)

Finwë yearned for the day when Fëanor would be able to walk by himself.

General, No Archive Warnings

by AnnaRobots (@annarobots)

“You’ve always baited me with this body,” Fëanáro murmured, sliding his hands all around, dragging the lace against her skin with aching slowness.  “The gown you wore at your engagement, hugging you like a glove.  Did you think I would not remember?” Or, Indis tries to make peace, and finds herself in a compromising position. Fëanáro gets ideas.

Explicit, Rape/Non-Con

I’m specifically thinking of a post-flight context, when vague rumors of one of the princes returning reach Tirion, and Indis flees to the outskirts of the city, flees her own pride because gratitude washes through her anger and pain. The world is darkness, the stars barely outline the tall and noble figure walking toward her with bowed head. Her son! Her beloved son!

And then, at last! He truly stands before her.

(Not a ship post. Just in case)

So, I have this very soap-opera kind of headcanon that little Fëanáro got to know Indis before she became Finwë’s wife — and actually liked her.

It’s easy to imagine Fëanáro as an unusual child. A child, in many ways too intellectually advanced to easily connect with peers, partly withdrawn into himself after his mother’s death, and certainly separated from other children by the social distance that naturally forms around a prince. I think he became aware of that status-caused isolation (later) in his youth and made a conscious choice to overcome it.

At the same time, Fëanáro’s interests and youthful scholarly pursuits suggest (to me) that he spent a great deal of time alone with his thoughts, reading dense and terribly sophisticated literature. To me, this does not contradict what we know of his charisma and natural gift for rhetoric, which would make themselves known later.

I suppose not many people (well, royalty do not really consider servants) were close to Fëanáro in his childhood. I like to imagine that during the early stages of courting Finwë, Indis could be.

So she comes to sit with Fëanáro in the library. She asks him about his readings and hobbies. She teaches him embroidery and sewing (“Is this how my mother used to do it? Show me!”). She walks with him through the gardens and weaves flower crowns into his hair.

Sometimes she catches him sad and timidly tries to comfort him. Realizing that he is not a particularly tactile child, Indis asks whether she may hug him, whether he would like to rest his head in her lap. And when Fëanáro, knowing how much such questions hurt Finwë, asks Indis to tell him about his mother, she always agrees.

He grows accustomed to her presence, her scent, that unfamiliar tenderness that feels almost, almost maternal.

And Indis develops genuine maternal affection for Fëanáro. She feels warmth and joy at the thought that she can care for the child of the man she loves. Unconsciously, she also soothes her own guilt about the fact that the man she loves already had a wife, already has a child. Because Fëanáro truly needs her, does he not? Because she takes care of him, helps him through the grief, does she not?

Indis tells herself that she will love the boy so very much. Indis imagines that she will give him little brothers and sisters to play with. Indis dreams that her own future son might be as clever, charming, and bright as Fëanáro.

And then one day Fëanáro asks when she will come again. Deeply moved, Indis asks softly, “Do you truly want me to come back?” Fëanáro informs Indis that she is his friend. She had been his mother’s friend. She was his father’s friend. She has become Fëanáro’s friend.

Several years later, Finwë tells him the wonderful news: Indis will not be leaving anymore.

Fëanáro feels betrayed. Deceived. He feels that Indis gained his trust through false tenderness and sympathy. Just as she must have lulled his father into trust in order to quietly creep into their family and replace Míriel.

“You lied to me,” he tells her. “You are vile and hypocritical. What kind of friend are you?”

After that, he never allows Indis to speak with him in private again, and dismisses every attempt to explain that “I could not help loving Finwë” as yet another lie.

He learns not to show weakness. Not to open himself enough for others to wound him like this. He wants to become less foolish and naive. He learns suspicion. He learns distrust. And when Indis brings her son into the world, he learns to project onto him everything he learned about Indis, too.