Gold and Silver - Private. Flashback/Foreshadowing for AOA character/relations
'
See how I leave with every piece of you
Don't underestimate the things that I will do ....
The scars of your love remind me of us.
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all.’
(
Lyrics from ‘Rolling in the Deep’, by Adele)
**
A matter of two Houses,
in fair Tirion, Aman
Sometime during The Years of Trees
The sky collided in an eminent climax at the point where coruscating silver pearled it's cloak to slowly enshroud the luxuriant but loitering golden embers. Telperion was waxen, and Laurelin moved to wane. But for that briefest of moments, they were as a one, unrivalled. And their glory mingled and amassed both might and beauty, cold and warmth, silver and gold. The two far more so humble Elves that came together far below the vast convergence of the heavens scarcely took a note about the glories that lit up the world. They knew naught but one another. Distraction might prove deadly, after all, when steel sings her calamitous rhapsody. The blade each bore at first, with timid approach, grew more bold and brazen with each passing hour that they spent in secret practice. And it was not solely the recreation that they both developed a consuming passion for.
Their features each were secreted behind a face of flawless, motionless expression. One a mask of silver, cold as a woken snowflake; the other a mask of gold, warm as fire that shimmered like a frozen flame. They had already had too many close misses when questions were raised by loved ones. Where did that bruise rise from ? What have you been doing ? Where have you been going ? Who have you been with ? Answers would beget only more questions. And the magic of a dream can never be conveyed proper within the explanation. They spoke not of their coming together. She laughed and sang with all her friends that such talk would conceal what her lips said not. He spoke unceasingly to stars and statues, who should never betray confidences. All the time they spent not in each other's company, they recollected when last they had done so, and they looked to when they would once more. Days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, until the time before they had been a "they" at all, fell from all thought.
The notion of their union not withstanding now forever after was a thing unheard of. This was love, first love. The means of love which teaches that love is, that it exists, and what it is capable of.
Love and hate. Life and death. Gold and silver. Him and her.
Feapoldie lunged smooth as does an eagle swoop, russet tresses cresting and equally channeling as though a scarlet tide. The crook of her bare, opaline arm most gently calibrating from the mighty heights she raised in pursuit of that fine, glittering blade that pitched unhampered, as to penetrate his heart. The weapon in her easy grasp clove through the air between them as the high prow of a vast ship cuts through the tumultuous waves of a tumbled sea. He observed the unhindered advance of death grow imminent and yet deftly evaded impact, veering without effort to one side that he should catch her ivory limb upward in a strong hand equally as pale, even as it sought to pierce his cool resolve with her fiery ambition.
The perilous blade span wide of it's mark as he whirled her wrist : a spiralled pinnacle aloft; then manouvred lower reaches of her smooth form in toward him. The motion was so swift she scarce had time to utter her objection as her breath was spent. Her back laid bare against his chest, the brace of cold sword in his lowered arm, now holding hers in check. And in tight grasp. Tight to touch.
"
I win."
His words were gentle rain upon her warm glow of exertion. Sweet breath upon her ear. The languid taunt that she refused to long endure. Laughter bubbled as she laid her head recklessly on his shoulder, as much a captive as is air in hand.
"
What is it you look to win ?" she asked then, drawing vivacious blue eyes into extension. "
A kiss ?" she guessed, playfully. "
But from this reach you should ever be denied .."
Reactively he raised her sword arm in his own and twirled the two about the air above them, uncoiling her smooth inferno as she span out and away from his hold.
Fea extended her arms like wings and performed a short series of flawless pique turns across the courtyard. Her sparring partner simply stared.
"
I am Feapoldie," she uttered grandly, swooping into a majestic curtsey at conclusion. "
I always win." Her face was brazen gold, his frosted silver. Their sockets were deep, their smiles glazed in place ... the game and peril slowed. Swords fell into disuse and were eagerly forgot.
"
You might as well be one of your father's whey-faced figurines," the elleth declared, her fair face tilted to one side in idle contemplation. "
Here arranged, and come to life but under my touch, as does fire make light of all secrets that lurk yet in darkness." She danced away from him easily in the very moment that he moved toward approach, teasing she remained as is the wind in cruel embrace that shall ne'er still. The mastery over another so enamoured toward haunting her advance, her retreat ... she led him a merry dance about and all among the silent statues. "
Shall you lay your secrets bare at my command ?" She hesitated gleefully, diving deep into the depths of his unblinking eyes. Her fingers gently unlaced the binding of her mute mask and it tumbled to nothing at the floor. "
Does stone even draw breath ?" her fingers brought his face unto her own, and hovered there.
"
You should have a care," he warned her, unveiling his own features in kind. "
Stone is most tenacious surface to make any lasting impression upon, but when moved, when truly … moved .." The silver mask met it's golden compatriot unnoticed at their feet, as
Fea loitered upon his conclusion; “
it shall prove unstoppable, as might the most perilous avalanche," he forbode with great certainty, and his voice was smooth but enriched by sure confidence. “
Toward the utter detriment of all and any who gather too close. If I love you, I can not, ever afterward un-love you ..."
"
All birds strut in keen wake, and so all Elves profess great sentiment,"
Fea trilled, after a marked hesitation suggested wonder at his claim. "
I have heard all tirades of affection spoke afore," she mentioned. "
Some thousand times by all that have since dwindled in their vibrancy. You think yourself unlike all others ?" she threw her head back with mercurial frivolity, and struck at him with her face as some unbridled assault.
Her lips found his and played his kiss like an instrument within her grasp, then startled at the harmony they composed as duet. Their eyes locked, magnetised, and her's shone with the surprise that blazed in those that were unable to turn from her. In the second that she made to withdraw, he seized the back of her head in one firm grasp and held her for yet a moment longer than she had willed. She wilted in his hold, as though one lost about the moment, and then as he slowly supported her back unto height, their hold broke apart but seconds later. They stood breathless, wordless and still fixed on one another. She raised one hand as though there stood a mirror's glass between them. He raised his hand in kind, as though their minds were one, their motions truly a reflection of the same soul. They stared. They breathed. Together. Apart now but forever joined in the memory of that brief exchange. True love's first kiss ..
Fea twirled with a cascade of mirth and a flamboyant grace, hurling her head back over the delicate decline of her shoulder until her back arched almost to unnatural an angle. He reached out and anchored her at speed by one sole, outstretched hand, as she had known he would. He towed her back toward her full height, that their eyes should come again a pair, and she allowed it. Her free arm swept unharnessed like a brush on canvas, like a wing in flight.
She knew no fear. He would always catch her.
"
I am not ‘all others’," he concluded, ambiguously, as he haunted her progress about the courtyard, devoutly.
"
You had never kissed a girl before,"
Fea assumed aloud, with a knowing azure blaze about each blossoming iris. She tore at her lower lip with sharp white teeth and watched his reaction.
"
I had never wanted to until now," he observed, raising his own chin with a slow dignified certainty.
"
You should put more practice to the sport," she teased. "
It is a far better use for your lips than to mirror your father's treacherous monologues."
"
For the hope of Feapoldie's embracing rebuke, I would ever sing aloud and long the tirade that Ñolofinwë and Arafinwë are surplus to requirement. That they are but an afterthought. A most unnecessary understudy that lurk in the shadow cast by grander lord to whom they hold no flame ...."
Feapoldie pouted as she placed a finger over his lips, stifling their provocative claim. "
Ñolofinwë is my Father's liege," she reminded him, mock-sternly, "
and I would see him yours therefore, by proxy .."
"
Over my father's dead body !" his eyes laughed with the black humour on oblivious foreshadowing, his smiled twitched invitingly.
"
Promises .. promises ..."
Fea span where she stood, arms whipping about her wildly rotating torso. "
But now alas I have achieved my evil purpose," she sighed, melodramatically. "
For by beauty was the beast subdued, and the poison planted all about my lips shall take you to a far more grave association than that of your father's stern demeanour. So shall all the thralls of Curufinwë fall subject to my whim and wicked seduction."
The fair maiden threw her face into her risen hands, and cradled it a moment while she peeked eyes of mischief through splayed fingers. As if prompted, her partner collapsed with enthusiasm, staggering to his mock demise, and glancing only briefly and through one swift opened eye, what she would do at that.
Feapoldie drew her hands apart like drapes and threw her head back with the flare of theatrical triumph. "
I would linger a time," she informed him, proudly, "
to observe your justified demise, but there stand nigh a half dozen of Elves now a-gathering by this same hour outside of my father's house, all longing to ask for the pleasure of being my escort to the ball .."
"
Go then," the corpse bade her, from his prone position, stifling a chuckle, "
and leave me here die in peace from all your simpering prattle."
Fea stepped over him, with purpose, and stared down at her victim with some exasperation. Eyes closed. Smile certain. "
You have absolutely no proper concept at all," she gave up such lament, "
just how exclusively selective must be my perfect dancing partner. We must make a statement !" Her arm flew out with exuberance and she dropped down ungracefully into his lap, even as he undertook a surprising recovery and sat up, to greet her. "
My father is the host of this prestigious occasion," she whispered, as though it were some almighty secret, though all Tirion were well aware. "
All in his lord's name !" she climbed out of his reach, and recovered her full height. Then swooned with intent against an ivy-carven column of his Father's courtyard. "
I must represent my house as is only expected and ... " she disappeared behind the stony beam, only to peer about it's girth from behind. "
It is so difficult to identify a one who stands my equal, whom I should not overshadow .."
"
If it troubles you so deeply, do it not," he shrugged, and laid back upon ground. Stars aloft caught his sight and he raised one hand above his chest, in a vain endeavour to catch one. "
Depart never from this place," he turned and rose to standing in one seamless motion. Approaching the column where
Fea hid, her back against the pillar cold, and slithered around the base to confront her. "
Stay .." he spoke in earnest, and held out his closed hand, opened it before her with the slowest speed.
Fea kissed his palm and ducked then under his arm, to make her escape anew. "
Not go ?!!" the maiden declared, with both hands raised to her cheeks in horror. "
It is a dance ! You might as soon ask me to not draw breath .."
Sarnirion raised an eyebrow, in exasperating smugness. "
That would then resolve both dilemma," he observed.
"
I would have you ask me to stand partner,"
Fea prompted, openly.
"
And I would have you allow me opportunity, instead of putting your words in my mouth," he mentioned.
"
You made me a promise," she reminded him. And that was when he took to mirth, and struck some steps aghast from her insinuation.
"
I but promised to remove the limbs from under any other Elf that dared look to take you unto his side," he made his amused correction to her selective memory.
"
And by thus removing all due likelihood of all and any competitors, you proclaim yourself my escort !"
Fea declared, victoriously. "
I am Feapoldie," she reminded him. "
And I am asking you. To accommodate my whim lest I should turn it to some other more grateful like .. " Bright eyes blazed with frightful greed and desire.
"
Like whom ?" he would see her clarify, intrigued.
"
Your father !"
Fea cursed, but there the anger caught in shock, as she observed
Sarnir himself, as though she had conjured him to presence by some summons of a kind. "
Behind you ?" she added, as their intruder sighed with impatience.
In that moment
Sarnirion was truly as stone. Breath escape him and time froze all thought. His father,
Sarnir,’s chest rose and sank as he breathed in deep and closed his thoughtful blue eyes as though pained. Fortune though found his star-clad wife, with the mind to take one of her husband's hands up in both of hers before he had ever realised she stood beside him. She raised it to her lips and caressed his tender might against the frailty of her cheek.
In the second before she would ask if he dares think that this is over,
Feapoldie sensed the presence of her own beloved father, entering the scene. The flame-haired soldier kindled a slow fire that lay low, and growled forth disapproval. The only thing the two patriachs might find in common, was their distaste for this clandestine discovery.
“
What then is this ?"
Aiwenare was as baffled as
Sarnir by the scene unfolding before them. "
Daughter," he took up
Fea's unprotesting hand and hauled her to his side as like a kite on gathered string. "
Your kin and bed both lie far from this place," he pointed out. "
For what cause do your stray, in a neighbourhood not of your own ? What is it you do here ?”
“
Nothing,” answered the son of stone, abruptly on her behalf.
Even in the very second that the spirited maiden mentions, proudly, “
Dancing.”
Both her father and her lover stare at
Feapoldie unblinking. "
Do you not see ?" she counselled all, for sleak of wit in gathering up the two discarded masks, in order to present them as their alibi. "
He is silver, I am gold. It is my conception to have us flaunt in all brilliance about your ball, my most beloved Father. Laurelin ..." she explained, drawing fingers to the golden leaves adorning her rich, flaming hair, "
Telperion .." she indicated her horrified, but silver-haired accomplice.
“
Dancing ?” her father faltered nonetheless, and begged to make sure he had heard correctly. He is sure he heard the clang of steel. But already
Silosse is drawn about the keen wailing of windchimes, that call out heartily about their heads. Her pale fingers toy with the melodious chorus meaningfully. With a frown,
Aiwenare began to consider, that the soft chimes might have been what he'd heard .. maybe ..
"
I can not think what else you might imagine that our children have conspired here together," she dared both of the disapproving fathers. "
So unchaperoned ?!" she laid unblinking eyes on each of the young pair, knowingly, and they slowly grasped her aid, and sighed relief.
"
Dancing," admitted
Sarnirion with urgency, surveying the expectant wrath of both.
Sarnir's stare fell slack with horror. "
It is .. good for balance .. " his son made valiant attempt at some justification to his patriach.
The dark-haired sculptor looked pointedly toward his chest of tools, where the swords lay hid, and encouraged a subtle denial from his son.
Aiwenare looked the swifter to his daughter's modest hem of dress, but aside from a faint glow about her porcelain cheek,
Feapoldie appeared the epitome of virtue to appease him.
“
Well then,” the flame-haired soldier decided, warily. “
I would see this clash of the two elements that has so inspired my daughter to mutiny of her own kin. Come !”
Aiwenare clapped his hands together once, but sharply. “
Dance for me !”
Sarnirion wondered idly how fast he could retrieve the blade from his father’s tool box and fall upon it. They were utterly undone ! They had not danced, they could not, not without the comfort each of blade in hand. And that was hardly a sight to exhibit for the public. For sure when
Curufinwë had presented, blade in hand, his words had been heralded as threat, and the Crown Prince exiled. The young Elf took up the closest hand of
Feapoldie in his. The two stood in solemn and silent union as their parents considered the situation.
"
Oh how you do try !”
Fea's injection of mirth skated upon the thin veil of awkward wait. "
But nay," she wagged a finger, merrily about them all, "not a sneak of a glimpse shall any see. Until the night of reveal," the elleth calmly explained. "We shall reign supreme about the ballroom and then none shall be able to forget such a sight," she made the decision for all involved.
"You shall say farewell," Sarnir warned her, coldly. "Afore I do more than say what we shall all regret. Come ! Take your leave, Aiwenare ! And take that also which belongs to you, and not upon my property."
"I shall see you on the morrow," his son told Fea with a confidence unmoved of his father's sharp glare. All four else pairs of eyes fell fast upon him, but the glad, respondent elleth flew into his arms.
"For practice," she would have him confirm, her eyes hovering with hope and want. He rolled his eyes but nodded his assent. And with that, her goal accomplished, Fea danced merrily back to her father's grasp, and pulled him triumphantly out of harm's path. "Come to my house !" she called out, unrestrainedly. "We must conspire of costumes !"
Her lover did not know which cast him in a colder fear. The act of her departure, the scowl of his most disapproving father, or the fear of what he had just vowed to accomplish.
"Her ?" Sarnir sought to comprehend his foul misfortune. "Of all the maidens in the land. Why must your heart snag upon the daughter of Aiwenare ??!!”
"She is Feapoldie," his own son mentioned, as though that answered all, and with a subtle nod that hid his nerve, he departed the courtyard slow and state-like. The impact of which was ever so slightly despoiled by the sound of hastened flight upon the stair beyond. Sarnir moved to follow but found Silosse at his arm. She shook her head mutely, and he swallowed the anger which threatened to overwhelm him. Glancing with due meaning about what her husband hid behind his back, Silosse led the sword Sarnir had grasped unseen on instinct, when he had observed a threat toward his kin. She kissed his cheek with tenderness, and soothed distemper back into it's box.
"It is love," she whispered. "Not an end to all things fair."
"He is too young," Sarnir shook his head, in some despair. "They are both too young."
"They are children still," his wife agreed, to that extent. "Let them play," she told him. "While they are able. It can do no harm."
"It is love," the sculptor reminded her, meaningfully. He sighed. "I knew we should have gone with the others to Formenos."
**Insignia crests for the two families/icons created by/credited to @Winterwolf.
, I hope you won't mind me getting the first posts
