Summary: On their first meeting, Turukáno is enchanted.
A/N: The beginnings of second-generation Finwëan marriages continue to be irresistible to me – I'm probably starting to repeat myself but I don't care because this was easy and fun to write, and it feels good to post something today.
Tolkien wasn't completely clear on how Indis was related to Ingwë, King of the Vanyar. I subscribe to the view that she was his sister. Quenya names used because this takes place in Valinor during the blissful years. Turukáno/Turno=Turgon, Arakáno/Arko=Argon, Findekáno/Finno=Fingon.
Joy and lightness
Turukáno hears Elenwë's laughter before he ever sees her.
He has been working with his grandfather the king and sent by him to have lunch with his grandmother ('You have been working and studying so hard, Turukáno, she says she never sees you anymore except rushing from library to council hall'). So he makes his way to the queen's chambers, and already outside them, in the hallway, he hears laughter, the sound of one woman's merriment rising above the rest.
It is not delicate maidenly laughter that poets say sounds like little silver bells, but an exuberant, heartfelt expression of mirth; Turukáno is certain it is someone he doesn't know, because he would remember a beautiful laugh like that.
When he steps in to the room he sees that everyone in the room is laughing, and the woman laughing loudest is one of his grandmother's ladies-in-waiting. Not one of the stately and elegant ladies he has known all his life, but a young Vanyarin woman Indis brought with her when she recently returned from visiting her own kin.
The young Vanya is shorter than the tall queen but has hair of even brighter gold. With that hair, and garbed in pale yellow, she gleams brilliantly among the dark locks and jewel-toned dresses of the other ladies and servants gathered in the centre of the room. None of the women notices his entrance, so focused are they on something in their midst. When Turukáno steps further into the room, his great height allows him to see that what has the women so entranced and amused is his own youngest sibling, sitting on the floor and grinning widely.
Turukáno clears his throat and greets his grandmother.
'Turukáno, my dear!' Indis smiles warmly at him. 'Your grandfather managed to persuade you to lay aside your work for a moment, then.' The queen gets up from the floor where she has been crouching with her youngest grandchild, and comes to receive a kiss from Turukáno.
Little Arakáno rises as well and runs to hug his brother's legs. 'Turno! I learned to do a cartwheel.'
'No you didn't, Arko darling', says Indis fondly. 'You tried to do a cartwheel and came up with something new.'
'His own, very original version of the cartwheel', adds the young Vanyarin maiden who stands a step behind Indis. She is no longer laughing, but she smiles at the high-spirited toddler still clutching Turukáno's knees, and while he ruffles Arko's already-messy hair, Turukáno thinks her smile is the lovely thing, too wide and warm and sparkling.
Indis turns to the younger golden-haired woman. 'Oh, Elenwë, I am so sorry. This little rascal is making me quite forget my manners, and that you haven't been formally introduced to all of my grandchildren yet. Elenwë, this is Turukáno, Nolofinwë's second-eldest. He is taking a break from helping Finwë with the new trade agreements and will share our midday meal. Turno, Elenwë is my newest lady; I trust you will show her a warm welcome, like your brother has done.'
'This brother?' Turukáno picks up Arakáno who has been reaching up his arms as a sign that he wants to be held. Then Turukáno realises that he hasn't bowed to Elenwë like he should have when being introduced.
It is very difficult to manage a dignified bow while holding a squirming toddler, and Turukáno doubts he succeeds very well. Elenwë's answering curtsy is far more graceful, but thankfully her smile is still warm, not mocking, and he finds himself smiling back at her over Arakáno's messy curls.
'I drew her a picture', Arakáno informs his brother. 'Of our family, so she knows who we are. Mama and papa and Finno and you and Írissë and me. So she already knew who you were.'
Turukáno raises his brows – his little brother's drawings are not yet very informative – but wanting to encourage Arakáno to more sedate pursuits than his usual headless running around, he says, 'That was very well done of you, Arko.'
'Yes it was, I am very grateful', says Elenwë and steps closer to grasp the small, sticky hand Arakáno is reaching out to her. Indis, observing everyone with a soft smile, goes to instruct the servants laying out lunch at the other end of the room.
'Because of Arakáno's picture I knew you were the tall one', Elenwë says to Turukáno with a chuckle, and Turukáno is suddenly jealous of his baby brother for making her laugh that wonderful laugh, and jealous of Findekáno who would know what to say to make her laugh again and again.
But he is not little Arko who inspires adoration and amusement in equal amounts, or Finno with his easy charm and confident manners. He is the middle brother accused of being too stern and reserved, and mostly he doesn't mind it. He knows he is good at the things he sees as his duty, and that he fulfils that duty and more, and if his looks are plainer than Findekáno's, well, he has never even tried to stand out in that regard, forgoing such flashy ornaments as the gold ribbons Finno likes to thread into his braids.
Yet now he would dearly love to make this shining maiden laugh, to be a striking, silver-tonged courtier and courter rather than a quiet scholar and diligent student of governance…
But he is what he is, and he knows with a painful certainty that even though he tries his best when he converses with her before and during lunch, his conversation is probably somewhat stilted and uninspiring. She, on the other hand, is merry and lively and charming, somehow managing to pay attention at once to her mistress the queen, who watches over them all with a benevolent half-smile, and to Turukáno, and even to his boisterous little brother.
Whereas it takes all of Turukáno's concentration to just talk to Elenwë and to keep himself from staring at her radiant hair, her lovely mouth, even her neck that is slender and golden brown and beautiful.
It is the most wonderful miracle that while he doesn't manage to make her laugh, it seems like she smiles at him more than anyone else. It could be just wishful thinking, but for once Turukáno sets his pessimism aside and hopes.