Title: Endgame

Author: Talullah Red (talullahred@gmail.com)
Website: http://the-yden.livejournal.com/

Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2560
Characters: Finduilas/Aredhel
Summary: A little AU trip... 

Feedback: would be lovely.
Archive: please tell me where it is.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien 
and others. No disrespect intended. No profit made.

Beta: Many thanks to Aeneus. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Notes: Inspired by a LoM challenge issued by Raphael: 
Aredhel/Finduilas; after leaving Gondolin, Aredhel goes to Narogthrond and seduces 
her young and innocent niece. So it’s AU... and I used Tol-Sirion instead of 
Narogthrond and I’m considering Finduilas as a third cousin and not a niece.



Tol Sirion, First Age 304

Aredhel, Ar-Feiniel... white and perfect. Until she speaks, that is. What a startling 
vision she was when Finduilas first saw her riding through the plain, hair dishevelled, 
laughing like a mad woman. Her escort followed, looking chagrined even in the 
distance. Finduilas stood by her father’s side, watching the advancing party in 
perplexity, like all the others. Aredhel dressed in white, as if she headed for a ball 
and rode a white horse. Even in that early moment, Finduilas thought her choice of 
colour was an affront, a pedantic statement of her supposed pure blood Noldorin 
superiority.

Orodreth, recognizing his cousin’s colours ordered the gates open and the bridge 
lowered. She cantered in with a wild grin on her face and hoped off the poor horse 
into my father’s arms, exclaiming, “Orodreth, cousin!” and kissing him on the lips. 

Finduilas’ discontentment took the form of a boiling rage. Had Aredhel no shame, to 
kiss him like that in front of his daughter? Behind Aredhel, her escort averted their 
eyes, standing in rigid embarrassment.

Orodreth made the proper introductions and conducted Aredhel and her escort to the 
guest chambers. Resentment against Aredhel and her own father filled Finduilas’ 
mind in a dull throbbing. Orodreth should show embarrassment upon Aredhel’s 
constant touching and kissing, and he should stolidly ignore her shameless flirting 
instead of playing along and laughing loudly enough to make heads turn. Finduilas 
tried to escape discreetly, but Orodreth caught her by the waist and pulled her close, 
telling her to be Aredhel’s friend. Following her father and her unwelcome cousin 
through the hallways of Tol-Sirion in sulky silence, Finduilas thanked Elbereth that 
her mother was not here to witness this display of... of wildness. That is what it was: 
Aredhel was a wild thing, barely tamed by conventions and expectations.

That night, Orodreth ordered a proper banquet dinner to be made in Aredhel’s 
honour. Finduilas seethed, but complied, ordering the cooks about and letting her 
temper surface more than once. Could Aredhel not see how scarce Tol-Sirion’s 
resources were as she crossed the barren plains and entered the squalid courtyard? 
Another woman would have asked Orodreth for a simpler welcoming but Aredhel 
could not be bothered to care about others. 

Finduilas sat at the head of the table, opposite to her father; too far to participate in 
the lively conversation, but not far enough to be able to ignore it. One of Aredhel’s 
knights, a Glorfindel if she remembered correctly, tried to engage her in polite 
circumstantial conversation. It irritated her that he chose to butcher her mother’s 
Silvan language, supposedly to please her. She replied as dryly and coldly as she 
could in pristine Quenya. He smiled and tried to rehash the conversation, but 
Finduilas turned to the side and addressed her father’s councillor instead to 
ostensibly discuss poor crops and sparse game. The knight Glorfindel lowered his 
eyes to his plate, his cheeks faintly colouring and for an instant Finduilas felt remorse 
– her rage and Aredhel’s cheek were hardly his fault. Her tinge of guilt was quickly 
washed away by another wave of loud laughter coming from the other end of the 
table.

For the rest of the meal she listened to Aredhel’s enthusiastic retelling of her 
adventures outside of the White City, resenting her wealth, her beauty, her 
sophistication, her freedom, and even her coarseness as Aredhel lifted her voice to 
accompany the knight Egalmoth in a bawdy song… Only later that night when 
Finduilas prepared for bed, did she realise that Aredhel was inebriated with freedom, 
yes, but that her cousin was imprisoned in the gilded cage of her White City where 
life seemed to be suffocating and stilted. 

In the following days, Aredhel became the centre of the life in the hold. Finduilas 
resentment washed in waves every time that her rightful place of chatelaine in her 
mother’s absence was usurped by Aredhel. Too often for Orodreth’s taste did she 
reply Aredhel’s remarks coldly, bordering on rude. Aredhel simply laughed, quickly 
dismissing her moods, her disregard further spurring Finduilas’ hate. Still, Aredhel’s 
presence burned brightly, commanding admiration and desire where she passed, and 
Finduilas, to her dismay, quickly found she was not immune to her cousin’s charms.

Pleasantly ignoring Finduilas’ coldness, Aredhel took her as a personal a project. 
Dresses, hair, posture, dancing, singing... there was little Aredhel did not try to 
improve in Finduilas. Her instructions fascinated and incensed Finduilas in equal 
parts. It was plain to see that Aredhel did not considered her unsolicited assistance as 
patronizing, and despite the stabs to her pride, Finduilas revelled under her 
attentions. Besides, her overly warmth ways, galling at first, quickly and surely 
became irresistible to Finduilas.

A bond formed between them: convoluted, sometimes fragile, but present enough 
that after less than a month Finduilas could almost think of Aredhel as a friend, if not 
for some distance that Aredhel kept, despite all her warmth. There was too much 
mystery about Aredhel, and those quirky references about cousins Finduilas knew 
only by name and had no desire to meet… She could lose herself in memories from 
another world and dreams for her future travelling, leaving Finduilas behind. In those 
moments a strange possessiveness would embitter Finduilas. Aredhel had no right to 
ignore her like a discarded puppet. But she could never resent her cousin for long.

Much later, Finduilas would know another lover, someone as different from Aredhel 
as the moon from the sun. She would lie in his tranquil, strong arms, wondering how 
the heart that could love Gwindor’s dew-kissed forests was the same heart that had 
dared to step into Aredhel’s ring of fire. But those days were far to come and 
Aredhel’s kisses were sweet and each day closer to her lips. Finduilas knew nothing 
of these things, safe for the precious little that she had gathered from her father’s 
books. She knew her Noldorin kin thought nothing of flesh indulgences; 
eccentricities as long as they were not too conspicuous. She knew her cousin roused 
her into confusion and even shame. Aredhel was unreadable. Did she desire 
Finduilas? Did she play with her to mitigate her boredom? Was she oblivious? 

If Aredhel was indeed playing cat and mouse she tired of the game soon enough. The 
only world she could summon to describe the end of her doubting was “red”. Red as 
the wine she had drank throughout dinner. Red as the lips of the knight Glorfindel 
pursing in disapproval as Aredhel pulled her from his side at the table for a dance. 
Red as the fire that blazed in the hearth, and her father’s pennants on the walls, and 
the liveries of the servants whirling around her. Or was it her and Aredhel that 
whirled?

Even as they swirled through the room she could feel eyes burning into her, full of 
admiration and desire and she knew then what it was like to be Aredhel. She could 
see herself and Aredhel through their eyes, how the gold of her tresses warmed by 
the deep red of her dress complimented Aredhel’s sable on white; how her low 
giggles building up in a torrent were arpeggios to Aredhel’s exclamations. They 
revelled in flaunting their grace and beauty until the rhythmical clapping was louder 
than the minstrel and their sides hurt for air.

In the tourbillion, Finduilas had finally understood that Aredhel indeed wanted her. 
Her heart had jumped but not faltered for in that moment she had understood her own 
desires and accepted them. Aredhel’s hand on her waist, strong and soft, made her 
turn round and round, faster and faster. Even the sounds and the scents could be 
described by the colour red. Finduilas remembered falling into her own chair, lost in 
laughter under the complacent smile of her father and friends, the reproving blue 
gaze of Glorfindel, but she cared for neither; from across the table Aredhel’s gaze 
promised things she could only divine. 

How the banquet had ended and how Finduilas had found her way to Aredhel’s room 
and not her own was something that the wine and the passion had erased from her 
mind. She recalled with acute precision though, how Aredhel had slammed the door 
behind her, pressing her to the wall before she could walk two steps into the room.

“You are fair, little cousin,” she had said, her wine perfumed lips too close to 
Finduilas’.

Finduilas had only sighed, adjusting her body to Aredhel’s, a slight shudder of 
pleasure coursing through her as her cousin parted her legs with her own, bringing 
them impossibly close.

Aredhel had kissed her boldly, invading her mouth with her tongue. “And sweet 
too,” she had murmured in a raspy voice before plunging in for another kiss. 
Finduilas had been shocked and thrilled; kissing was so different than she had 
imagined. Before she had time to think herself inexperienced or inadequate, 
Aredhel’s hands had burned through her body, searching for laces, taking her own 
hands and laying them upon her breasts. Finduilas fondled them delicately, almost in 
awe, but Aredhel wanted desire not reverence. She pressed her hand over Finduilas, 
squeezing the supple flesh and bringing the nipples to peeks. Leaving Finduilas to 
her own explorations, Aredhel impatiently pulled at the laces of her own gown, 
letting the white silk loose to flow from her shoulders to her waist and with a final 
tug to her feet. She wore nothing underneath. Finduilas gasped; her knees were week 
and between her legs a sudden rush of hot moisture made her feel suddenly 
embarrassed. Again, Aredhel gave her no time to think; she pulled Finduilas’ lips to 
her breast demanding, “Kiss me, cousin.” Finduilas obeyed, suddenly realising that 
anything she could do would be welcomed. Waiting for no second invitation, she 
took her mouth to Aredhel’s immaculate skin, closing her eyes to inhale her cousin’s 
mingled scent of roses and fresh sweat. 

Aredhel quickly undressed her, getting rid of the ungracious undergarments with a 
disdainful sniff. When her fingers boldly dived between Finduilas’ legs she almost 
screamed, but Aredhel silenced her with another deep kiss. The fingers were hard 
and silken, moving fast and hard. Aredhel took them to her mouth, tasting with 
closed eyes before quickly returning them to the liquid heat seeping from Finduilas’ 
body. 

“Taste yourself,” she demanded, plunging her tongue into Finduilas’ mouth. 

A jolt of intense pleasure washed over Finduilas, seeming almost like pain. She 
pushed herself shamelessly against Aredhel yearning for more, for something she 
could not name yet. As a response, she heard a chuckle bubbling deep in Aredhel’s 
throat. “Not yet, little cousin,” she said. 

To Finduilas’ dismay Aredhel took her hand, leaving her panting and confused. 
Aredhel pulled her from the door into the bed. Finduilas regarded their rumpled 
clothes in brief amazement, before having her attention turned to Aredhel’s pale skin 
over hers once more. Of their own accord, her legs opened again, exposing her to 
Aredhel. Her cousin pushed her further onto the bed and knelt between her thighs, 
tasting her with her fingers again, then with her tongue, hot and relentless. This time, 
before Aredhel could stop her, Finduilas let herself drift in the fast currents of 
sensation until her body tensed and with a cry of pleasure and surprise she felt the 
storm unleash its force on her in consecutive waves.

Aredhel lay by her side, her fingers still gently caressing her, touching her nipples 
lest they softened, kissing her neck and lips, leaving a delicate salty taste behind. 
Barely able to respond, Finduilas realised that her body was reawakening, that every 
inch of skin seemed more tender to touch and more eager too, almost raw. Aredhel’s 
kisses grew impatient, their hunger reminding Finduilas that there was more to be 
had. She rolled from her back, taking possession of her cousin. Aredhel cast a feral 
grin as she was pinned back to the linen covers, promptly moving to accommodate 
Finduilas between her legs. Between voracious kisses and bruising grasps, they 
found a rhythm for the dance of the flesh. Finduilas could feel Aredhel coming closer 
to that shattering moment under her, her own sex throbbing with want and need. 
Aredhel’s taste and scent filled her mouth as her tasting grew greedier. She could 
hear gasped instructions that she obeyed promptly, as if they had come from her own 
will. All that she was could be defined by Aredhel in the moment. Aredhel’s thighs 
firmly wrapped about her shoulders, her own fingers deep into her, soft black curls 
tickling her nose, and the sounds, Valar, the sounds that left that throat...

When Aredhel finally came, she shouted an obscenity, so vulgar and so true that 
made Finduilas reach to touch herself. Aredhel let her legs fall from their heavy grip 
and lay sprawled on the bed, eyes half closed. 

Finduilas moved to lay by her side, but she stopped her. “Don’t stop touching 
yourself,” she asked, command absent from her voice for the first time. Finduilas 
reclined on the pillows and obeyed, her gaze fixed into her eyes. Before long Aredhel 
was by her side, strong and wanting again. 

The night was long and rich in pleasures. The first light already tinged the sky grey 
when Finduilas left with her crumpled dress to her room.

~~~~~~

For one so young and sheltered, Finduilas knew many things. She knew talk had 
started and soon her little idyll would be a source of embarrassment and hardship. 
She knew that her recently returned mother regarded Aredhel with growing hostility, 
a deep Silvan grudge resurging so violently that even Orodreth could not appease it, 
worsened by the unspoken covenant that held her daughter in thrall to the Noldorin 
vices. Finduilas even knew that Aredhel was no one’s to keep. She had known from 
the first night that whatever she may share with her cousin would be transient.

Still, when Aredhel decide to leave, barely two months after her arrival, Finduilas 
felt bereft and cheated. Aredhel left as she came, laughing, bristling with joy and life, 
already dreaming of new adventures and barely conceding a thought to the heart she 
left behind, falling to pieces. Finduilas remembered how the decision had been taken 
and executed in less than two days. How the sad, blue eyes of Glorfindel had offered 
her a sort of apology as they left. How her mother had snorted in irritation that even 
in leaving Aredhel had to make a show. Her father had behaved as if nothing had 
passed, and such a visit was ordinary business. Everyone else had seemed to sigh in 
relief, as if by her mere presence Aredhel could conjure storms or summer fires, 
endangering them and their precarious comforts.

Finduilas had died a little that day. Later she would learn that it was not such an 
uncommon feeling, this tight hand gripping her heart. Later she would know what it 
was to fall out of love and she would envy Aredhel for her nonchalance and lightness 
of heart. But at the moment of saying goodbye she could only think that the fates 
were cruel, that Aredhel had never loved her, that the world was unfair.

Later she would cherish that introduction to the ways of the heart and of the flesh but 
as Aredhel diminished into the horizon, her heart wept.

Finis
April 2007