Idril Celebrindal | Itarillë (itarille) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-05-16 21:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !plot |
Who: Elenwë and Idril
What: Idril's having marital issues and needs to talk to someone about it.
Where: Vinyamar - Elenwë's chambers.
When: After the discussion in Peggy's network post.
Warnings | Status: Discussion of sexism, sex, and relationships | in progress
Idril was laying in her mother's bed, curled around her pillows, while she buried her face in the blankets, hiding away from her mother even though she was the one who sought the older Elda out. Idril had wanted to talk about Tuor and their recent arguments, and some of the things he'd said. She wasn't sure what to believe, or to think, or how to feel about them, but she couldn't very well talk to Tuor about it; he was off on his ship again, enjoying himself however he would, and the domestic problems of the house didn't concern him. Idril didn't know what busied him so and she hadn't yet found the interest to ask. So let him be! It made him happy and that was all she wanted from him.
Except it made her sad to be so disregarded. But in the spirit of not arguing with him she only smiled, saw him off in the morning, then went about her own business with their son. Ardamírë had thrown continuous tantrums for the last week and every day he tested his mother's patience with him. She loved her son but he also exhausted her, and though she found joy in the time spent with him she also wanted a break from it all.
As it were, she sent her son off to spend time with his uncle; Fingon had agreed to teach him to swordfight, and thus far it had adequately kept the boy from whining all day. So she sighed and looked up, raising her eyes to her mother's face. Well, her father's face, but with her mother's kindness and love in his eyes. "When did it become so difficult to be married, mother? I do not know what I have done to make it change so much, but it was easier when we started. It was easier before we came here. When we talk all we do is fight, and when we do not talk we think of fighting. He calls me selfish. Am I?" She sat up, her golden hair tumbling down to her waist to pool into her lap. She played with a lock, a telltale sign she was worried.