Feariel
by Kasura
Chapter 2: My Fair Lady
Ingwion went strolling at the secluded forest outside of the white palace after his breakfast of bread and fruits. The son of High King Ingwe and the most eligible bachelor in Valinor sighed and stared at the aquamarine tinted sky forlornly. He is surrounded by the serenity this haven has to offer, but his heart is sorrowful despite the soothing balm of the tranquility. His people, the Vanyar, admire Ingwion for his gentle temperament and his noble mien before his legendary well-formed body and face, but loneliness crept into his being like an unwanted infestation after so many hollow praises from his subjects. Maidens shied their eyes before him, afraid to soil the golden god with their base glances. They were either too awestruck by his beauty to converse with him or too timid by his station to approach him. Yet a person can only be isolated so much before the placid façade crumbled, and left barren, frozen on the pedestal he was forced to stand.
Ingwion's golden tresses spilled down to his elegant waist, the color of golden honey. He leaned back against a birch to begin a song. He longed for a companion to share his joys and sorrows, to love him as a person not as the son of a king, but alas fate has decreed otherwise, for his heart has not beaten fast in the presence of any maiden in the Blessed Realm. Ingwion's song slowly transmuted itself into a sorrowful melody, lamenting his doom.
In the middle of his aria, his elven ears pick up rustling sounds in the bushes behind the tree and stopped. He turned his face to greet the intruder and lo a most glorious maiden revealed herself to him, although her face was flushed from anger. She muttered to herself, completely oblivious to her surroundings and to him, but Ingwion could see her lovely snowy face shrouded by a waterfall of gleaming raven mane, the hue of deepest night. Her white robes billowed softly in the forest breeze, revealing an elegant yet willowing figure.
She continued in her ignorance of Ingwion, and almost walked straight into him. She stopped, raised her face to look at him, and behold, Ingwion saw the most striking pair of light gray eyes, fiercely of life and sparkling with intelligence. Looking into these two pools, Ingwion hopelessly sank into them, his ear caught a drift of her low muttering, which sounded suspiciously like 'a spineless Valar loving Vanya."
Ingwion's chest heaved; he has fallen deeply in love. There is a maiden worthy of his admiration within his grasp. She wore no adornment, but her beauty is her greatest ornament, mere bauble would detract the purity of her elegance form. The maiden shot him an imperious look and marched away.
The thought of her vanishing from his eyesight forever devastated the Golden prince. Ingwion could not withhold himself; he strode behind herself, as gently as he could but firmly grasped her arm to prevent her from leaving. The maiden whipped around, her nose almost touching the prince's, in a supremely annoyed voice she exclaimed:
"Unhand me, you brainless blonde. You're hindering me from my utmost important mission! Hmph, correction, my second most important mission after collecting my stolen Silmarils…"
The harshness of her tone almost crushed Ingwion, nevertheless, the son of Ingwe mustered his courage and graced the lady with his most dazzling smile, hoping to win her over.
"Sincere apologies from the deepest crevice of my heart, lovely maiden. I was stricken by your maia like radiant beauty, like a ray of light blazing in my eyes, that I must professed my admiration to you. I am Ingwion, the son of Ingwe. If I may be so bold, may I ask a boon of you to accompany me for a short walk around this lovely forest? " He bowed to her courtly, hoping her rosy lips will give him the answer he dearly sought.
Instead the maiden raised her eyebrows to scrutinize him, while an tsk, tsk sound was coming from her delectable mouth. "Well, well, Ingwion, long time no see. Age has not grace you with wisdom I see, you are still as idiotic as the boy who traipsed in his Laurelin undie in his father's court duped to look for treasures." She grinned nastily.
Ingwion blushed, that was his most humiliating moment. He could remember running into a roomful of noble elves in the middle of a courtly function after a dare with that…that.. wait a minute, how would she know about this event? He was duped by that evil Spirit of Fire, who was visiting Ingwe's court with his father when Finwe was courting Indis, and left to his own device mostly, he suggested Ingwion to search for invisible treasure that only appears when he pranced in his Laurelin undie. With his persuasive words and taunting, Feanor was able to convince Ingwion to do his stunt minus the details that Ingwe was holding an impromptu festival meeting that day.
Ingwion could remember the dumb stares and a few giggles escaped from matrons present, and his father's embarrassment at his son's antics. Later he was ordered to apologize for interrupting the meeting and indecent exposure, and sent to his room without desserts while Feanor laughed at his humiliation in his eyes and preening himself when Ingwe praised Finwe's well-behaved heir in contrast to his own uncouth children.
"How did you know about this?" The question inadvertently escaped his mouth. Ingwion thought she is probably related to one of the nobles there, and heard it from her relative, but did not voice this after his question. The maiden snickered, and said, " I knew because I was the instigator. You were so trusting when you're young. It was so easy to trick you to get you into trouble. Must be a Vanyar trait. Hmm."
Ingwion gaped. The instigator was Feanor, and Feanor's a male elf, therefore she couldn't be Feanor. His mind was twisting itself into tiny loops for a plausible explanation while she rolled her eyes.
:"Ingwion, it is me, Feanor, your childhood nemesis. I know your tiny brain must be exploding from processing this information, but I'm surprised you didn't recognize me. Life must be very cozy for the Vanyar. Anyway, as much as I like to chit chat all the wonderful memories we've shared, I have a Vala to threaten so I'll be on my way."
"No, please do not leave me, glorious maiden! I confessed I'm unclear as to why you've claimed yourself to be that evil, evil elf but I shall lose all hopes of happiness if you leave me." Ingwion gripped her arm again. While his mind was tumbling from this revelation, he adamantly believed the poor maiden was suffering from delusions resulted perhaps from strange mushrooms in the forest. Elves who have unwittingly ingested some species of pretty mushrooms under the trees were known to behave strangely. The cure, Ingwion thought, was the love he has for the maiden. He will take her to his palace, and patiently awaited her recovery to her sanity in the midst of floral and crystal fountain. The he shall woo her with his poetry of her star like beauty. Their children will be delightful, he hoped, they would have his blue eyes and her raven hair.
He knew the ways to make maidens melt in his arms; he saw his lords practiced these moves on their beloved frequently. He pulled the fiercely protesting maiden closer, his lips edging to her pale coral lips, and ready to sample them when his lower region was splitting with pain. Darkness clouded his eyes, and he collapsed to the ground in pain, heaving, barely seeing the triumphant swing of her chin towards the path leading to the forest outlet.
Before she vanished from his sight, she dropped him a warning, "Next time, it's not your jewels but your head, if you try this again." Too painful to speak, Ingwion watched her leave helplessly. Her rejection does not deter him from pursuing her to be his spouse. He was now more determined. As soon as he recovered from his pain, he walked back to the palace with a purpose. He searched the palace for his father, and found him in the study. He entered the study after knocking on the door, and immediate went to his father's side. Ingwe was alarmed at first by his son's affected appearance. Ingwion was known for his cool, collected composure. The sight of his face flustered was a cause for concern.
Ingwe started to probe his son gently, " My dear son, is anything wrong? You looked…" and was interrupted rudely by his son, which was a first.
"My lord father, I have found the most wonderful maiden to be my companion!" Ingwion exclaimed excitedly. His chest was heaving from proclamation. Ingwe was taken back, that was certainly not expected, and then was awash with joy all over. He was glad his son found a maiden at last. He started to mentally name his future grandchildren when his son uttered helplessly, "but I do not know her name." Ingwe smiled at his son encouragingly, "We will find out who she is, my son. We will search all Valinor for your love." Ingwion nodded in agreement, his words echoing " Yes, I shall search all Valinor for her."
Feanor had the worse luck after his re-embodiment. He mentally cursed that Vanyar imbecile after the kissing fiasco. Is Ingwion blind? He always suspected these blondies are deficient somewhere, always singing happy songs and smiling at each other, now their beloved prince has proving him right. They all have lost their sanity right after the Awakening. How can Ingwion not recognize him?
Feanor has conveniently forgotten his new body is very feminine, and blessed with all bodily parts that an elven maiden would pray diligently for. His feminine allurement has captivated Ingwe's son, but was lost on him as he refused to recognize his new identify, and expect every elf to see him as the Spirit of Fire, a Male Elf.
Feanor could not let this incident go. He already blamed Namo for it. The Vala shall suffer the most excruciating pain he can conjure, he vowed. Namo shall curse his own existence after Feanor's done with him. With thoughts of revenge in his mind, and Namo's pitiful screams of forgiveness, Feanor realized he has walked for hours without a break. His body was tired from the physical exertions, and hungry. The forest he was in now was slightly darker than before, with green canopies of leaves overlapping, allowing sunlight to spilled through the holes between leaves. The sun was waning in the afternoon, turning the forest into a cool, shady area for resting. Feanor decided to rest for a while, then forage for food. He lowered himself to the soft grassy forest floor, in comfortable position. Sleep soon beckoned him. He fought his heavy eyelids, but gave in to the futile resistance. Before he lose himself to Irmo's dreams, he wondered what absurdities await him on the road to Mandos.