Day 5: Saudade (Tumblr Crosspost)

[endless_natterings]

Day 5 Prompt: Andreth

Summary: It is a strange pattern to be trapped in. Never formally named anything or invited anywhere that matters, but still wanted and expected, always heard but never truly listened to.

AO3 Link

Author's note: I just think that Aegnor and Andreth definitely met through the years in between their sort of break up and his death, and it kills me to think about how frustrating and painful that must have been.
 

There is a secret no one speaks of when it comes to waiting, if you wait long enough and well enough, the waiting becomes indistinguishable from poison. It is a sweet poison mind you, smooth and easy to swallow if you do it right. At first at least.

Waiting comes all too easily to her, as easily as breathing. Some days, she could even say it is easier than that, especially for someone as stubborn as her.

(She remembers his laughter, on that long summer day almost a lifetime ago, ringing out like bells. She had insisted she would be able to catch a fish barehanded without his help, had said it would be simple enough after watching him do it so many times, all the while standing knee deep in the river.

He had then called her something he said translated to strong-willed, but that she was almost sure meant something more like mule-headed, eyes shining with more than their usual light.

Hours later she had proudly made him cook their dinner as she shivered in her wet clothes by the fire. He had lent her his cloak, the memory of pine and lemongrass coming unbidden)

Her waiting is as stubborn as she is at first. Born out of something that feels like a cross between love and hope, and a desperate need to prove a point. As though a year or ten could ever make a difference to someone with all of eternity stretched out at his fingertips. But she was still young back then, back before she outgrew the naivety that comes so readily with a first love.

She has different reasons for waiting now. Now, she’s older and ostensibly wiser, and-

“Aunt Andreth!” Hirwen comes running down a nearby hill, skirts bunched up in her hands. “There’s riders coming! Elf-riders!”

The delegation is late, they were supposed to meet three months ago to discuss the new division of trading routes. But they are often late, still not used to handling matters in a scale of months and weeks rather than seasons and years.

She’s not been officially invited to speak at the meeting. They’ll expect her to show up regardless, to see her and to have her speak her thoughts when asked, and to translate when her kin’s mastery of Sindarin fails.

It is a strange pattern to be trapped in. Never formally named anything or invited anywhere that matters, but still wanted and expected, always heard but never truly listened to.

So she waits before going to greet their guests. Waits for the riders to have settled and for the drinks to be served before walking into the hall. And she does not look at him when she sits at her father’s side and folds her hands in her lap.

“Saelind,” it is not Aegnor who speaks but his brother, the one he shares the lordship of the land with, “we almost started to believe you were too angry at us for our delay that you would not join our meeting.” His tone is light and teasing, the same one her own brother uses with her at times. But she’s not the elf-lord’s sister.

Three years ago his audacity might have made angry enough to scream. But she is older now and knows better than to openly show her feelings.

“I hope my lords will be able to forgive me for the wait. I was lost in my own thoughts and time slipped away from me.” She doesn’t lie and say she was caught up in conversation with someone. She had tried that once, five years ago, in a foolish attempt to get a reaction. The pain in Aegnor’s eyes and the judgment in his brothers voice had been a knife to her very heart.

She can feel his eyes on her and still she does not turn to him. It would be childish, naive, and more importantly she had stopped seeking his gaze once she learned that the hope it gave her hurt all the worse.

(It had been only a year after their last real conversation had ended with both of them in tears and him reassuring her it was better if they never met alone again. Her family had been invited to a celebration at the elf-lords’ keep and they had ended up sat at the same table.

The regret in his eyes had been so strong, so raw, she had believed he would change his mind. That he had realized how much it hurt to be apart, and was willing to try and defy fate.

She had been wrong of course, a lesson harshly learned when he barely spoke a word to her throughout the evening. As though he were made nobler for denying them both even the illusion of friendship. Even just for a night.)

If it was out of stubbornness or hope that she waited before, now it is out of pride. She will not have them gossip about her flightiness or have them be compared and find her wanting. She heard he was willing to wait out eternity alone without her. What would they think if she could not manage a few decades?

It is only pride, she lies to herself, and continues to avoid his eyes for fear that the affection she finds in them might make her break into tears. She sips her wine to chase down the bitterness on her tongue. It is such a shame, the waiting used to taste sweeter.

There's a companion piece to this from another event that I will crosspost tomorrow most likely (or tonight if I can't sleep). I just find these two so tragic, especially given the fact that, yeah, there would have been no avoiding each other because of their families and positions.