Her silken hair flows gracefully after her, like all of her white raiment, as her slender figure dances. Her movements are smooth and fluid, as sinuous as a gentle flowing creek. Her arms flail about her beautifully as she turns a complete circle, the light from the fire offering a yellow tinge to her fair smooth skin. Her lithe legs and feet move in time to the music, her steps as light as a kiss from a feather.
But she does not dance for me.
The light in her eyes are bright and filled with mirth and laughter. Her hands travel down from her cheeks, to her neck, over her soft round breasts and down her stomach as her hips continue to move. A small seductive smile grows over her full, luscious lips and she looks at him indulgently. Her eyebrows are arched delicately and a look of amusement is present on her fair face.
But she will not smile for me.
Her wrists move in circular motions, the bangles that encircle them making a tinkling music of their own, as she stretches her long white alabaster arm out towards him, her slim figure unceasingly moving to the tempo of the music. She curls her slender finger towards him silkily, beckoning him towards her.
But she will not call for me.
Her cherry red lips part and her sweet soft melodious voice fill the air as she begins to sing. A silken scarf appears in her hands and she wraps it about his neck, drawing him towards her. She sings a song of love and merry making her voice like the dulcet coo of doves in the light morning sun.
But she does not sing for me.
The jewels upon her brow glimmers with the light of the sun and the light that only an elven maiden of such grace can posses, emanates from her body in delight that her lover joins in her dance. But only can she shine with such vigorous radiance. She is by far the most beautiful in all of the House of Fingolfin, even my Ar-Feiniel. No other maiden could ever match her shining beauty. She is ever waxing and the golden strands of her hair shine bright like the very fruit of he renowned Laurelin.
But she does not shine for me.
Tuor is the reason for her exhilaration.
He encircles his arms around her, his unworthy limbs defiling her flawlessness. Why this mortal is still here I do not know. What she sees in him I cannot speculate either. She looks at him with much love.
But she will not look at me that way.
I envy him. I loathe him. I detest him with every drop of blood that flows through my veins for she loves him. She loves him beyond what she could ever feel for any other being. She had forsaken the life of our people for him.
But I love her.
I've loved her from the start but she has been nothing but cold towards me. She knows I love her. She plays mind games with me, though she does not know it. She ridicules me. She tears my heart apart with every word of rejection that spills from her soft lips. She mocks me. I see it every time she looks at me. Her gaze is cold and filled with revulsion because I love her even though we are of close kinsman. She thinks lowly of me because of my father.
Am I so monstrous because I've raven hair? I may be his son but I am not he. I would not hurt her as he did to my mother. I could never hurt such beauty that exceeds anything in the face of Arda.
Why can she not love me?
She does not understand that every time she shuns me she causes infliction upon me beyond any words. She does not understand that I feel for her more than what I could feel for any other. She does not understand that I would do anything to win her hand. She does not understand that I need her.
Every time I see her in that wretched human's arms my limbs ache to hold her. My body yearns to touch her. I long to feel her beautiful, soft, flawless body wreathing beneath mine. I long to be inside of her. I long to hear her shouting my name amidst the pangs of passion.
I long for Idril. I want Idril. I desire Idril.
Her laughter rings through my ears as he lifts her off the ground and turns her in a circle.
My mind is screaming as anger washed over me like the harsh tides at sea. I want crush him. I want to annihilate him. I hate him. I hate all of them, all of the wretched mortals. Why did Illuvatar ever even create such pitiful beings?
He does not deserve her love. He is not worthy enough to touch her. He does not even deserve a glance from her. She is far too illustrious for him.
The pale skin over my knuckles pale further as my grip around my chair tightens. I take a deep breath as I try to contain the intoxicating anger that has consumed me.
Why can you not love my Idril!!
My mind screams madly and the wine glass in my hand shatters under my pressure.
Do you not see the unbearable pain and conflict you cause me!!
My breathing increases as antagonism wafts over me.
What have I ever done to you to receive such cold-hearted retort!!
My jaw clenches and I feel something deep within me shatters to a million pieces.
Am I lower than the foul being that roam under the order of Morgoth to you?!
Idril looks at me over Tuor's shoulder and whispers the three words to him that completely break me in his ears.
Do you not see me!
I stand up from my chair, my gaze never leaving hers.
Why do you forsake your immortality to him? That mortal! That pitiful excuse as one of Illuvatar's creations.
I feel as if I cannot breathe any longer, like someone is strangling me to my death.
He could never show you love like I could!
A feeling of insanity pervades me as the voices of everyone in the hall booms inside my head.
Why do you not love me Idril?
The world about me begins to spin. My teeth are gritted and my breathing is quick and heavy.
Why will you not even give me a chance to prove myself!
I fee like someone is tearing apart my insides.
I love you Idril!
I walk briskly trying not to fall, my hands all the while wanting to kill the mortal who is the cause of all of this torment I feel inside me.
My dear cousin I would never hurt you nor let any harm come to you. Why do you not see that?
I harshly push aside Ecthellion who wishes to speak to me as I continue to walk towards the door.
Do you expect me to sit by and watch you waste your life and turn my heart to stone?
With one last glance at my beloved Idril I walk out of the hall into the cold and darkness of the night.
I've refused you nothing Idril!! Why do you deny the one thing I ask from you! The one thing I beg from you!
With a loud bang I slam the door to my chambers shut a feeling of utter hatred, enmity and abhorrence overwhelming me.
Why did I fall for such a beautiful heartbreaking maiden?
I furiously tear the white curtains in my room apart shredding them to pieces and wishing they were Tuor.
" Curse you Idril!" I scream into the darkness. " Curse you and your beauty! Curse you and your dismal Tuor!"
I unsheathe my father's sword and hold it to my chest, my whole body raging with a fire that was enkindled by hate and hate only. I press the blade to my skin but cannot bring myself to commit this action.
Screaming I angrily throw the sword and begin to beat the mirror before me, the skin on my hands breaking, blood seeping everywhere.
Why do you cause me such pain Idril!! Do you not see how I love you!!
Seething I lay myself down on my bed ignoring the blood and the pain in my hands. That pain was nothing compared to what I felt inside of me.
I close my eyes and try to calm my breathing but my attempts are futile.
I will have you my fair Idril. I will have you whether you please or not. You will be mine and I shall do what I must to get you no matter the cost.
The black fire inside of me subsides as I make this promise to myself and to my beloved.
Indeed I would make Idril love me.
She will dance for me, she will smile for me, she will call for me, she will sing to me, she will shine for me, she will look at me the way she looks at Tuor.
Idril will love me.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.