#there’s a lot of plot but the plot is Heledir sketching and Findis creating a story’s canon bible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

squirrelwrangler · 3 years ago

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The Fandoms of Princess Findis (1)

Part One

The monster of a fic started back in 2017, celebrating my self-indulgent love of creating crossover fusions, in-jokes, and worldbuilding. Princess Findis is an author, and her latest creation is Voltron.

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Heledir stretched out on the plush carpet of the bookroom, shifting so that the fabric of his linen undershirt rode up and he could feel the thick carpet beneath the muscles of his stomach. Head nestled in the crook of his arm, he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of leather, fine-pulp paper, and ink. Also discernible if he concentrated was a faint perfume worn by the other occupant of the room, the eldest Noldor princess. Findis, firstborn daughter of High King Finwë and Queen Indis, reclined in a padded chair near the window, watching as Heledir lay prone before her. If he opened his eyes and tilted her head up, he could see her shoes and the hem of her gown. It was one of those new style gowns of pale cotton belted high just below the bust-line with narrow sleeves and a low neckline, mimicking the styles of lost Beleriand. Findis’s gown had a decorative trim along the hem, and Heledir amused himself by trying to decode which pattern had been reproduced. Imitation Haladim, he decided, with the stylized acorns and oak leaves and the diagonal motifs. Heledir wondered what the odds were on if Findis herself had embroidered the hem. Fashion in Valmar was keen to mimic the mortal Edain these days, and some of the trends baffled Heledir. Powdering gray and white streaks into one’s hair was just as obnoxious and pretentious as the former fad in Tirion of bleaching hair blonde. He had yet to see anyone wearing false beards, though he and Edrahil had a good laugh over reports of such. Findis’s slipper-clad foot shifted forward, and Heledir chuckled and rolled over. “Apologies, Princess. It is so quiet here. This peacefulness is a delight after the press of the city.” “That is why this sanctuary was built,” Findis replied, her voice husky and deep for a woman. Heledir found it pleasing. “Now do you wish to assist me today, or lounge around like an oversized cat? If I wanted their companionship, I would go to the library of Vairë across the street.” Bands of colored light from the stained glass window played across Heledir’s face as he grinned. “I am awake, Princess. I was awake for hours last night. Still pouring through the backlist of your publications since we last visited; I think I have solved which one of the plays was based on your work, though I wish it was not such a hassle to find transcriptions of the performances. It has been too long since I have attended a play. And it has been a delight to read new words from you. I have missed them.” “Yes, there would have been much for you to read. Since you left for Beleriand with my brothers, sister, and nephews and then got all of yourselves killed.” Findis sighed. “I was not as productive during that period as I could have been, especially during the deployment buildup, but during the fifty years of the War of Wrath I admit that I needed something to distract me.” “Those romances were well-written,” Heledir said. “The rich matchmaker, and the one about the couple reuniting years after being persuaded by family to call off the betrothal.” The identity of the anonymous lady who authored many popular romantic novels had been a great mystery to delight Tirion during Heledir’s childhood, and the reveal of a name, Finvain, for the second print circulation of the most popular romance -and that said name was a kilmessë to hide the authoress from public acclaim- inflamed her eager and expanding audience. Before the Darkening, few knew that Finvain was Princess Findis or that she had several other pen names to hide just how prolific and varied her story-telling output was. Had Heledir not been privy to the royal household through his friendship with Prince Arafinwë’s eldest, he might have never learned of Findis’s double life. Finvain was an open secret under the light of the Sun, yet even in the fourth or fifth reprints of her prose epics and light-hearted comedies Findis did not sign her father-name to them, preferring to attribute the novels to Finvain. It was a name that she allowed no one to address her aloud. A strange mask, Heledir found it, that Findis would not allow this distance to be bridged even now, nor did she reveal to any but family and a few confidants that there were other hidden names. Or how fond she was of collaboration on tales. “I think your writing has improved, but I understand why neither are as popular as the one you wrote when I was a boy, the couple who misunderstood each other and that disastrous first proposal.” Findis arched an eyebrow at him. “I find it peculiar how you enjoy the love stories best of all.” “Naturally,” Heledir said, waving his other hand up in the air where the colored light transformed his hand into a solid red, including the thin ring he wore on his first finger. “I am a champion for lovers.”

Princess Findis laughed at this, shaking the small writing desk beside her chair and knocking a blank sheet of paper to float across the room and land on the carpet. Heledir smiled and lowered his hand, waiting for Findis to lean back into her chair. The single blue gem of the thin golden tiara in her black hair glinted like a star in the night sky. Princess Findis was a comely woman instead of a great beauty, but her wit and strength made her Heledir’s favorite of the older generation of Finwions.

The favoritism was mutual, for Heledir was one of the trusted few to know all of Princess Findis’s anonymous works and pen names, to know that her hand and clever mind created more than just the romances and societal comedies to which she (as Finvain) was praised. At least three libertos for popular ballets and more than a dozen plays had her words or at least outlines of character and plot provided by Findis, though her talent as a lyricist remained mediocre. “Your next series is to be illustrated for children?” “Yes, a commission from my good-sister’s family. Another imaginary adventure tale, plenty of fights and memorable characters. I am playing Pitya-Eru again,” Findis explained, using her sacrilegious self-made term for when she provided the rough outline of a plot and descriptions of characters and premise parameters for other artists to fill in the details, as Ilúvatar set forth the Songs for the Ainur to sing but whose vision was not fully realized until the Ainur entered the confines of Arda. “With full cartoon drawings, hence my request for your deft hand at designing characters as well as your advice for the story. Something colorful to take advantage of their dyes. The Handions take pride in those.” Anairë’s family employed a veritable army of scribes in Tirion, their workshops the most established, respected, and busiest. The main business partner of Anairë’s family was Handë, who used his extensive connections among his fellow Vanyar to provide talented artists and calligraphers. His daughter marrying Fingolfin’s second son had only strengthened the family alliance. Their monopoly on government-related publications continued unchallenged from when Finwë was alive, but their shops also specialized in musical notations and fictional works. “They’re Vanyar; they love brightly colored illustrations. Couldn’t care less about the synthetic jewels, but when Aulë’s students created bright dyes to paint their houses...” “Homesick for Tirion’s plain white buildings already, Halatir?” Findis teased. Heledir sighed. “When people describe Valmar, they draw attention to the hundreds of bells. They speak as if that is the city’s most prominent feature. They speak not of the colors. Colors that do not belong together on the exterior of one house, next to other colors that clash both individually and in the collective whole. Street after street of monstrous color.” “Is not one of your companions a painter of rooms and houses, when he is not riding across all of Valinor delivering packages and messages? I have seen the inn that he lives in.” “Fân?” “Yes, Fánawë. Fân. It is still strange to remember to call you by your Sindarin names. Forgive my lapses.” Heledir smiled fondly. “It is impossible to resent you, Princess.” “Many did,” Findis said, “and deeply so. And must I remind you that I gave you permission long ago to address me as Findis and not my title? You were not so formal as a child, Heledir, when you and Finrod fetched books and gossip for me back in Tirion.” She stressed their Sindarin names as she spoke, and her foot tapped against the floor in an unconscious gesture that spoke of her agitation. “Fân has a Vanyar mother, and thus he plasters colors on his lodgings instead of what he wears. Still, he could not rival Egalmoth’s ostentation if he tried. Or the eyesores of Valmar.” Princess Findis, Daughter of Finwë and Indis, gave her companion a look with an eyebrow arched stronger than before. “Get off the floor, Heledir, or at least sit up while I speak with you. And where is your doublet?” Lagourishly the elf stretched and rolled into a sitting position, then reached for the errant piece of paper. “I draped it over the back of the bench by the other window with my cloak and boots. Over a year and I still have not readjusted to the heat. Beleriand was a colder clime.” Findis huffed and slid off her chair, tucking the skirt of her thin cotton gown demurely around her feet. “I shall not loom over you as we talk, Heledir. If you are to be my assistant, I desire a collaborator and not a sycophant. Now help me with the new series.”

#my fic #silm fic #the final version the link replacing is going to be a pain #depending on if i separate Breadroll into a sequel fic this thing is already 10 chapters because i'm trying to be reasonable on wordcount #Finvain exists as a pen-name #the meta fan findis stuff #there’s a lot of plot but the plot is Heledir sketching and Findis creating a story’s canon bible

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