Puppy Love

Mellow Soulmate AU.  Who would think the love of a child anything but fleeting?  Quenya names used (Angrod = Angaráto, Edhellos = Eldalótë).  This, I suppose, could be attached to the series that includes "Flowers" and "Hush", but really is its own arc.  The first time I've ever written Eldalótë.  And yes, I made her a gardener.  I thought it fitting, even if it is cliché.  Takes place in Valinor in the Years of the Trees.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion.

Pairings: one-sided Angrod x Eldalótë

Characters: Angrod, Eldalótë (mentions Finarfin, Eärwen and Indis)

Warning: canon compliant AU, canon relationships, a little fluffy

Song: Rainy Day

Words: 1,487
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puppy love (noun): transitory love or affection felt by a child or adolescent
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/puppy%20love

She was the most beautiful thing young Angaráto Arafinwion had ever laid eyes on in his entire (short) life.

The young prince--at the mere age of fifteen, hardly more than an infant--knew he had met the woman he would one day marry and spend the rest of his life with.  She woman one day he would start a family with.  There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that she was the One.

Glancing around the corner of the manor, he spotted her once more and stared blatantly in awe of her glory.  Breathlessly watched her as she went about her daily work.  As the estate gardener.  With her burnished auburn curls gleaming in the golden light and her heart-shaped face folded into a contented, soothing smile, a soft tune hummed along with the buzzing of fat bumble bees in the lazy light of Laurelin.  Everything about her simply amazed him.

The child spent hours upon hours watching her work whenever he managed to escape from boring lessons.  He would rather spend his time watching her than learning mathematics.  He loved how she moved silently over the grass, not crinkling even a single blade beneath her soles and toes.  Was enchanted by how she would whisper away to her precious flowers as if they were long-lost confidents, voice low and sweet like honey.  Stared at her graceful, long-fingered hands--hardly caring about the dirt on her palms or underneath her short nails--ever so carefully brushing against the fragile flowers.  Could have watched her forever.

Everything about her was simply perfect.

And he didn't care that she wasn't born royalty like his mother and father.  He didn't care that she wasn't a courtier's daughter or a scholar's niece dressed up constantly in frilly, lacy dresses with fancy, feathery hair trinkets and fans.  Most days, she wore trousers like a man and foreswore shoes altogether, showing her bare ankles.  Tied her hair up in a simple bun with the tail hanging loose over the nape of her neck instead of spending hours on a fancy coiffure.  Her skin, rather than the powdery white of the rich, was sunny cream and flushed healthily.

She did not scream snobby wealth and power.  Rather, she was the personification of gentleness.  Of everything that Angaráto could never find in high society's bloodthirsty, twisted political game.

Perfect.  She was absolutely perfect.

And, one day, she would be his princess.  And then she wouldn't have to garden just so his family would pay her money so that she could buy groceries and live in a cottage on the estate.  One day, she would be able to plant whatever she wanted wherever she wanted, and he knew he would be content just to sit in the grass and watch her work her magic if that made her happy.

The thought brought a smile to the boy's face.  Feeling his heart flutter and his belly fill with butterflies, the young prince left his hiding spot and approached the woman. "Miss Eldalótë," he greeted in a manner far too formal for such a young child, trying to emulate how his father spoke to his mother.  Down to the crooked little grin. "Might I join you?"

And she smiled at him, and Angaráto thought he might topple over backwards and sprawl in the pristine, emerald grass, so violently did a crimson blush overcome his features.  Because she was smiling at him.  And when she smiled, he could swear she outshone the Trees a million times over again.  Nothing in the world--not even Varda Elentári herself!--was as lovely as the family gardener.

"Of course, my prince."

Angaráto knew he would never forget her.  One day, they would be.

---

Eldalótë almost sighed.  Every day was always the same.  She came to the manor, found her list of chores and landscaping requests awaiting after a hot meal in the lower levels of the kitchens, and went to work.  The gardener would tie up her hair, put on her grubbiest tunic and head out into the midday heat to replant this flower and pot up that flower and dig up this flower and...

And then, like clockwork, the young prince would appear at the corner of the house.  Lessons ended in the early afternoon, and the first thing he did each day was come and visit her as she worked.

Or rather, the first thing he did was spy on her for at least an hour before working up the courage to speak to her.

In some ways, the child was rather adorable.  It was clear that he harbored a bit of a crush--sweet puppy love that was very endearing and made her giggle behind her cupped, dirty hands when he tried his best to be charming and flirtatious.  But all the same, she sometimes wished he wouldn't linger.  Wished he might forget all about her and find some pretty young girl from court to blush at and flirt with.

After all, he was a prince, and she was the gardener.

It was cute how naïve the boy was, but sometimes also irritating.  Eldalótë was far from naïve, and she knew that if anyone suspected that she was encouraging the boy, she could very well lose not only her job--which would have been a horrible blow in of itself--but also be blacklisted by the elite as a gold-digger.  Or worse.

Still, for now it was harmless.  And it wasn't as if she could just send him away.

It wasn't as if it was serious.

"Miss Eldalótë, might I join you?"

"Of course, my prince."

And, just as always, he plopped himself down on her rich carpet of grass--she would have to groom it again after he left to get rid of the compressed indent he left behind, upsetting the perfect symmetry of the blades--and stared wide-eyed at her as though she were a vala in the flesh.  It was adorable and flattering, but slightly painful, because no grown man had ever looked upon her that way.

"What is Miss Eldalótë doing today?"

"Planting more lily of the valley," she replied, skirting around the young child with her fragrant charge in hand. "Do you not find them beautiful, my prince?"

The boy cocked his head to the side, examining the small while flowers with something like incredulity. "Not as pretty as Miss Eldalótë."

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

"You are most gracious, my prince," she murmured demurely in reply, "But I am hardly superior in beauty to these blooms." Especially not whilst sweaty and grimy and covered in soil.

"Miss Eldalótë is the most beautiful lady in the world," the young prince said with total assurance.  No words from any lips would convince him of the falsity of his perception.  Now, if only she could have gotten that assurance from a man old enough to court and to kiss rather than from an infatuated child.  Maybe then the smile on her face would have been more than a flimsy, wooden mask of false pleasure.

"Hardly more beautiful than the Princess.  Or the Queen.  The mere daughter of a farmer could never compare to them."

"One day you'll be a princess, too.  And then everyone will know that you're the prettiest girl in the world." The young prince offered her a sunny smile, emphasizing his rosy cheeks still lined with baby-fat. "One day, you'll be my wife, and I'll make you the happiest lady ever."

I doubt that.  But she didn't dare reprimand the boy aloud.  Besides, in a few years he would forget all about his family gardener.  He would meet some young lady at one of the dances and spend his time in the gardens with her, flirting coyly and kissing behind the rose bushes like all young, spirited couples dreamed of.  And then they would marry, and if she was extremely lucky, Eldalótë might be the gardener in charge of putting together the flower arrangements for the ceremony.

But she didn't doubt that, one day, this promise would be a hazy daydream in this child's mind.  One day, he would look at her face--the one he claimed today was more beautiful than any other--and he would not even remember her name, let alone find her enchanting.

Still, Eldalótë did not slap down his words and nip in the bud this childish affection as she should have.  Instead, she set down her flowered charge in the cool dirt, kneeling beside the plant as she began to press soil around the exposed roots, building the earthy foundations upwards with sure motions. "If you say so, my prince."

He gave her a look somewhere between imperious and confident.  As if she was silly to even question his wisdom. "I do."

Let the boy dream.  While it lasted.
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I have ideas for this pair.  Until I started writing Angrod, these two would not even have made my radar, but I find myself growing fonder of them every time I write about them.  As mentioned, this is my very first time writing Eldalótë, who is reasonably skeptic.  Poor girl is going to be in for quite the shock when she realizes that Angrod has the Noldorin stubbornness to the depth of his bones.  It will be fun to write!

The song to go with this is called Rainy Day from Naruto Shippuuden Road to Ninja (by Yasuharu Takanashi).  It's ironic, since it's rather sunny in the story.  But I thought it rather fit Eldalótë's mood at the time--kind of distant and lonely and wistful.  After all, it's a bit of a blow that the only man who has ever called her pretty is a fifteen-year-old (that would be the rough equivalent of a six-year-old for elves, or younger, in case you wondered).

On a brighter note, I have a picture of Eldalótë.  I have no idea if I've posted this before, but if I have, I'm posting it again so you all get an idea of where I'm coming from with her appearance.  This picture is so engrained that it's stuck permanently.  This is how I see her.  Forever.  Star flower by ~Righon on dA.