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Tales from Vairë's Loom  by Fiondil

What We Do for Love

Summary: Sometimes love may demand more than we’re willing to give. Written for the ALEC challenge ‘I Would Do Anything for Love, But I Won’t Do That’, for which it won second place.

****

"No," I said with a rising sense of horror as I stared in disbelief at my beloved. "Please do not ask me to do this."

"But...."

"You’re asking the impossible, my love." I started backing up... slowly... hoping to make a fast retreat. Where, I wasn’t sure. I began mentally cataloguing all of my favorite hiding places, the ones my beloved hadn’t yet found. Perhaps I would be able to hide in one of them long enough for her to give up on her mad notion.

"Not even for me?"

I sighed, suddenly feeling guilty. My love was as capable as any female of giving me that hurt look, as if I’d just killed her kitten. Very good for making the male of the species feel like a cad even when he hasn’t done anything wrong. "My love, I would do anything for you, but I will not do that. What you are asking... I have an image to maintain. You know that."

"Yes, I do, but...."

"And they will all be laughing until the day after the Renewing."

"Is that what you are afraid of? Being laughed at?" she asked, sniffing disdainfully.

All right for her to sniff, but she wasn’t the one who would suffer the humiliation. I sighed again, wondering what had possessed her. "Why do you want me to do this?" I asked, curious as to her motive.

Now she paled and then blushed and wouldn’t look me in the eye. I blinked in confusion. Was she... embarrassed? Never had I ever known her to suffer from that particular emotion. Anger, yes. Contrition, sometimes. But... embarrassment? Just what was going on?

"Beloved?" I tried to keep the suspicion out of my voice, but I couldn’t quite. I narrowed my eyes, giving her the Look, which never fazed her. She usually just laughed at me.

Not this time, though. This time, she wilted and then....

"Oh no! Not with the tears," I exclaimed in dismay. "You know I hate to see you cry."

There must be an unwritten rule somewhere: If you can’t get them with logic, weep. Works every time, too. Now I did feel like a cad: I’d made my beloved cry. Never mind that it was probably just a ploy on her part. That she had to resort to it meant that I had failed her in some way and that was unforgivable. I took her in my arms and held her tightly.

"Please, love, don’t weep. I’m sorry, truly I am."

"Does that mean you’ll do it?" she asked, still wetting my favorite tunic with her tears. She must have been practicing with my sister, who is a great one for using tears to get what she wants.

"First tell me why," I prevaricated, refusing to commit myself to this ridiculous notion of hers.

She sighed, making it sound as if she were suffering from a major respiratory attack. "It... it was a bet."

"Excuse me?" not quite believing what I was hearing. My beloved... betting!?

"I lost."

So, she lost the bet and the stakes were... humiliating me? That didn’t seem fair.

"What was the bet?" I asked.

"Not important," she waved a hand in dismissal.

Maybe not to her! I, on the other hand....

"What was the bet?" I repeated a bit more firmly.

She sighed, refusing to look up. So unlike her. I was really getting worried, forgetting that it could well be a ruse on her part to garner my sympathy.

"It was during the tournament," she finally answered. "Some of us were betting on who would win. Your sister and I made a bet." She shrugged, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face. "I lost."

"And the stakes? What would my sister have had to do if you had won?"

"Oh, she would have had to tell a funny story in public. You know how she hates to do that."

"Hmmm...." I replied, not too convinced but deciding not to pursue the matter further. "So why did you make me the victim?"

"I didn’t!" she protested. "It was your sister’s idea."

"Naturally," I said with a grimace, thinking of all the ways I might get back at her. I looked at my beloved and sighed. She was obviously regretting taking the bet but there was no honorable way out of it. Like it or not, I was the sacrificial lamb to her impulsiveness in accepting my sister’s conditions.

"Yellow," I said with a grimace, shaking my head in disbelief. "Why yellow?"

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, her eyes brightening, though whether in triumph, knowing that I was about to capitulate, or just at the humor of the situation, I wasn’t about to examine too closely. "You have to admit that it’s the last color anyone would expect you to wear."

"With my coloring, I’ll look like one of Yavanna’s damned bumble-bees!" I protested, waving a lock of my blue-black hair at her.

Now she laughed out loud, hugging me, and I could not help but smile, however reluctantly, for her laughter was gay and unforced and quite infectious.

"I was thinking more of a deep dark gold," she replied.

"I’ll still look ridiculous," I said.

"No you won’t," she insisted. "You’ll look splendid, as you always do."

Flattery will usually get you whatever you want, but....

"Can’t I just wear a token of the color? Say, a band of gold on the hem?"

She shook her head. "Nienna insisted the entire outfit had to be yellow."

"I’m going to kill her, then throw her into Melkor’s old cell," I muttered through gritted teeth.

Vairë just smiled, knowing I didn’t really mean it.

"Did she also stipulate when and where I was to show myself off?"

"No, she did not."

Ah! So maybe there was a way to lessen the humiliation on my part. As long as the Children didn’t have to see me... Last thing I needed was to have half the Elves of Eldamar die of shock, or more likely laughter, at the sight of me. I didn’t even want to think of the paperwork that would entail. Maranwë would most likely quit in disgust and then where would I be?

I said as much and Vairë just laughed, giving me a hug. "The summer solstice is coming up," she reminded me. "Why don’t we plan the... unveiling then? It’ll just be the Valar. We won’t even invite any of the Maiar. That will satisfy the conditions of the bet since Nienna didn’t say you had to appear in a public venue where the Children would see you. It’ll just be a private showing."

I nodded, still not happy about it, but what could I do? "Well, that still gives us a few weeks. And seeing as how I’m the one who has to wear the blasted thing, I think I should be the one to pick out the fabric." I figured at least that way I could choose a shade that wasn’t too awful and with which I could live.

"Oh," Vairë said, looking dismayed.

I cast an enquiring look at her and she blushed. "I already took the liberty of choosing the fabric," she admitted, giving me a knowing smile. "In fact, I’ve already made the outfit. I knew you’d come around eventually."

I raised my hands in defeat. Naturally! "So do I get to see the outfit?"

She shook her head. "Not until it’s time. I don’t want you to find an excuse not to wear it."

I sighed. "I promise, my love, I will not renege on this however embarrassing it will be. That’s how much I love you."

"I know," she said, sliding into my embrace and resting her head on my chest. "But I prefer that you not see it just yet."

"Very well, Vairë, we’ll do it your way."

"Don’t we always?" she retorted slyly and I could not help but laugh. Indeed!

****

Mid-summer:

I stared at myself in the mirror and grimaced. "I still look ridiculous."

"No you don’t," Vairë countered. "You look splendid as always. I think it’s a very good color for you."

"Hmph...." was my only comment. I gave my image a closer look. In truth, Vairë had done a good job in her selection of materials and colors, as usual. It being Mid-summer, she had eschewed velvets. The shirt and breeches were of fine lawn dyed a pale green-gold. The sleeves of the shirt were full and gathered at the wrist while the neck was banded with gold ribbon on which small emeralds were sewn. Over this was a sleeveless surcoat of a dark gold figured silk that reached just below the knees and was slit on the sides to the hips. The hem, slits and neck were trimmed with intricate embroidery of purple flowers and dark green leaves entwined. Over this was an ankle-length robe open to the front made of the same material as the surcoat, lined with green-gold silk. Its sleeves were slit from wrist to shoulder and allowed to hang, thus showing off the shirt’s sleeves underneath. The surcoat was beltless and my feet were covered with ankle-boots of soft suede dyed green with gold ribbon trim. On my head I wore, at Vairë’s insistence, a circlet of old gold with a single emerald cabochon in the center. I also, at Vairë’s insistence, undid my braids, allowing my hair to flow free of restraints. The only jewelry I wore was a gold and onyx pendant with my emblem of the Sun-in-Eclipse.

"Are you ready?" Vairë asked.

I glanced at my beloved. Her outfit, unsurprisingly, was a match for mine: a dark gold sleeveless gown, with a high waist and flowing skirt. Under this she wore a linen chemise dyed green-gold. Her hair was wound in an intricate braid, crowned with a garland of malinavandil and purple helinyetilli entwined. I smiled, understanding the message she was attempting to convey and nodded.

"No time like the present," I said and with a single thought we were away to the main throne room in Ilmarin.

"Ah, I see we are all present," I heard Manwë say as Vairë and I reformed ourselves in fana, we being apparently the last to arrive. "Welcome... er...."

I had the satisfaction of seeing Manwë’s eyes go wide when he saw how I was dressed and the rest of the Valar staring at me in disbelief. Even Tulkas looked taken aback and I could see he was unsure if he should laugh or not. For his sake, I hoped he didn’t. I put on my most forbidding expression, daring any of them to make a snide comment. Naturally, Oromë, standing near us, ignored it.

"Hey, Vairë! Where’s Námo?" he asked, looking all around, pretending he couldn’t see me.

I reached out and slapped him on the side of his head.

"Ow! Hey, Námo, there you are!" he said with an unrepentant grin. "Why are you in disguise?"

"The better to sneak up on you and smack you one," I answered. Naturally, he just laughed.

"That’s an interesting look for you, Námo," Ulmo said, his tone carefully neutral. "Is there a reason for this... um... transformation?"

"I’ve decided Maranwë deserves a promotion, so I’m stepping down as Lord of Mandos to become Manwë’s court jester."

Vairë punched me on the arm and shook her head. "It was a bet," she said, sounding regretful.

"And she lost," I added, "or rather, I lost, even though I wasn’t the one betting." I turned to face my sister who was busy trying not to laugh. "Next time, Nienna, leave me out as the prize."

"But I thought you were supposed to be dressed in yellow," Oromë said, pointing to my outfit, "and that's gold."

I turned my attention to him, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. "How did you know that?" I demanded, my tone dangerously soft.

"Oh, well... um... I suppose... it was... well...."

"Oromë."

"It was my idea," he admitted, gulping.

I stood there trying to figure out the convolutions of this plot. Nienna made the bet with Vairë but it was Oromë who came up with the stakes. Interesting.

"What are you thinking, Námo?" Manwë suddenly asked.

I turned to face the Elder King. "I’m thinking I need to make an addition to Melkor’s old cell. It’s going to get a little crowded." I glared at Oromë, who looked suitably abashed, and Nienna, who merely sniffed in disdain, unimpressed by her younger brother’s threats.

"How did you manage to convince him to wear this outfit, Vairë?" Nessa enquired. "I didn’t think anything would move him to agree to wear it."

"She didn’t have to convince me," I said before my beloved could speak. "When I learned that all this was because of a foolish bet she made with my sister, I knew I was honored-bound to accept the conditions of the bet, even though to do so would obviously make me look foolish in the eyes of others."

"Well, I have to admit, it is certainly a different look for you, Námo," Manwë said.

"Well, Irmo," Aulë said with a sigh, shaking his head, "it looks like you won the bet."

"Bet? What bet?" I demanded. "Were all of you in on this?"

"I told everyone that you would wear the outfit," Irmo replied, giving me a smile, "and that you would do so because you loved Vairë and would do anything for her. I was right, wasn’t I?"

I glanced at Vairë, who was looking as surprised as I felt. So. She was unaware of this particular bet. That made me feel immensely better. I smiled at her and took her hand, brushing it with my lips. "She is my beloved. I could do no less."

"More than I would do," Tulkas said with a booming laugh. "You are obviously besotted of your wife if you allowed her to dress you as she has."

Nessa gave him a glare and punched him in the arm. Naturally, he just laughed louder, and the other Valar, though not the Valier, were openly snickering. All well and good for them, but the truth was as Irmo had said: I loved my wife and I would do anything for her however foolish it made me look in the eyes of others. The only eyes that mattered to me were hers and I knew that I would never look foolish in them.

"Well, it is nearly time to greet Ingwë and the Vanyar," Manwë said. "Shall we go?"

"Do I get to change first?" I asked. "I don’t think the Children...."

"Now, Námo," Oromë said with a smirk. "What would be the fun of that?"

The others all laughed, all but Vairë, who was now looking angry.

"It’ll be fun to see how hard Ingwë tries not to laugh at the sight of you," Manwë said with a wink, and that got even more laughter from everyone, everyone but Vairë, who now looked stricken at the thought that any of the Children would laugh at me.

"Well, unfortunately, we’ll never know," I said calmly. "Maranwë has just informed me that a number of fëar have arrived in Mandos and I must go and deal with them."

A lie, of course, but they didn’t need to know that. Vairë, apparently the only one to catch on, gave me a small knowing smile and kissed me on the cheek.

"Then you shouldn’t keep them waiting," she said. "Just remember to change first, my love. You wouldn’t want to confuse the poor dears. After all, you do have an image to maintain."

Oromë grinned. "You’re a brave Vala, Námo. Even I would never do anything like this no matter how much Vána pleaded."

The other Valar, except Ulmo, all nodded in agreement; their wives didn’t look too happy about it.

"So what color will Vairë have you wearing at the next solstice celebration?" Oromë then asked. "White?"

"Nay. Chartreuse," Aulë offered off-handedly.

"Vermillion," Tulkas suggested with a snide look.

"Azure," Manwë proposed with a laugh, it being his favorite color.

"Burnt Orange," Irmo chimed in, giving me a wink. He, at least, was not being serious, so I forgave him his jest.

I gave them all a ‘that’s for me to know and for you to find out’ look that set them laughing again. Well, I would have the last laugh. Before I thought myself safely away to Mandos, I bespoke a single word to Varda, Yavanna, Nessa, and Vána on a very private frequency that only they would hear:

*Pink.*

Even as I was fading from their view I saw the four Valier’s eyes widen and then take on calculating looks that did not bode well for their spouses. I smiled. The Winter Solstice should prove very interesting indeed.

****

All words are Quenya.

Malinavandil: Goldenrod. According to the Language of Flowers, it means ‘encouragement’.

Helinyetilli: Plural of helinyetillë: Pansy. According to the Language of Flowers, the purple pansy means ‘you are ever in my thoughts’ as well as ‘heartsease’, which is the meaning Tolkien gives it.

Fana: The ‘raiment’ of the Valar when they take physical form.





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