Under the section of Morgoth's Ring entitled 'Laws and Customs Among the Eldar', Indis is mentioned as being "exceedingly swift of foot" (237). The fact that Tolkien felt the need to specifically say that Indis was swift-footed implies to me that perhaps he intended for her to be interested in athletic pursuits. I'm taking that little note and running with it. Also, I had the idea in my head of Indis with a tan, and it stuck.

I own nothing.

Indis ran. She was exceedingly swift of foot, and when she ran, none among the neri and nissi of the Minyar could match her pace. This, all knew of her. Indis, sister of Ingwë, was shy and retiring and though she sang and made music, her singing and compositions were never anything more than of middling talent. But she could run, and she enjoyed running. The muscles of her limbs were supple and strong, her pale blue eyes keen, and she could run with the swiftness of the harts of the forest.

In the days when the Quendi dwelled still in Cuiviénen, Imin and Iminyë, before they were taken, would often send Indis to carry news to the Tatyarin and Nelyarin settlements along the lake shores. Though Indis was shy, she was not lacking for courage, being willing to make the journey despite the dangers implicit in such a thing; many messengers had set out for the other camps, only to never reach their destinations. But I was willing, Indis recalled. I was restless and willing to carry messages.

So Indis ran, her eyes and ears open wide. It was in the Tatyarin camp in Cuiviénen that she had first met Finwë and Míriel, first fallen in love. There were those who said that it was with Finwë that Indis fell in love, but perhaps it was more accurate to say that she'd fallen in love with both of them. Fallen in love with wise, well-spoken Finwë, fallen in love with resolute, clever-handed Míriel. She ran, she carried messages, and to the amusement of Iminyë and the consternation of Ingwë, Indis often tarried in the Tatyarin camp and lingered in the dwelling of Finwë and Míriel.

After the crossing to Aman and learning to love the light of the Two Trees, there was not the great need for Indis's swift feet as there once was. There was not the great need, but now in the days of bliss, those who excelled in pursuits of physical strength and prowess had more peaceful outlets with which to express them.

Indis was exceedingly swift of foot, and she often ran in competition with others beneath the brilliant light of Laurelin. They would race against one another on the smooth fields, and rarely did Indis not carry home that day the glow of victory. Indis the Fair they would call her, in praise of her beauty, but Indis always found that name ironic, for her skin was more golden than the golden tresses upon her head. Indis the Golden might have been more appropriate, though Indis would have most greatly preferred Indis the Swift.

Shy she was, and clumsy in her words. Less clumsy she became as she grew older, but her shyness did not abate. In the courts of Valinor she spoke little, and Indis was always relieved to find herself excused and away from the scrutiny of courtiers and diplomats. It was only on the track-field, wearing the knee-length tunic of the racer that she felt truly comfortable in her skin. Here, all eyes were on her, but it was not an uncomfortable feeling, but an exultant one. She was not Indis the Wordless, but Indis the Swift. Her muscles were strong and supple, her limbs lithe, and she could run.

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Indis does not run.

Míriel is dead, has been dead for a very long time. Valinor does not seem as whole and beautiful as it was without her, and Indis and Finwë can only mourn her and try to fill the yawning wound her absence has wrought.

And they have, and that is why she does not run.

Married nissi do not run in Valinor, do not commit to great feats of physical prowess. Well, that is not quite true. Married nissi of the lower classes are free to do so if they wish; they do not risk shaming noble houses and nobler fathers and husbands if they expose their legs to the knee and brown their skin beneath Laurelin's light. However, Indis is not a common nís, and the Queen of the Noldor does not embarrass her husband and her husband's royal house by participating in the footraces.

Indis is wife and mother, and she does not run.

Most of the time, the vast majority of the time, she is content not to run. She is content to see that her muscles have grown soft and her skin has grown pale as it once was in Cuiviénen. She has a grown daughter and son, a daughter nearing adulthood, and a child son younger than the oldest child of her step-son to look after. Does she not have everything that she needs to be happy, right here in front of her?

Most of the time, Indis is happy. She has her children, her husband, her music and song, her duties as Queen of the Noldor. Indis finds other things with which to occupy her time, trying not to trip in her heavy, tangling skirts, and tells herself that she is happy.

But sometimes, she remembers.

She remembers what it was like to run beneath the golden light of Laurelin, the wind in her hair. She remembers wearing only a thin, sleeveless white tunic, leaving her arms and calves bare and free. She remembers even what it was to run in the forests surrounding Cuiviénen, remembers what it was to stay in the dwelling of Finwë and Míriel when they were the three of them happy and whole, when Míriel wasn't dead and wasn't languishing in exhaustion from the birthing of her fiercely burning son. She remembers her supple muscles and lithe limbs. She remembers the shedding of worries and cares. She remembers feeling free.

It was such a wonderful feeling, her heart racing and her blood pounding. She would cease and her heart would be up in her throat, sweat shining on her skin as a bucket of icy water was poured over her head by well-meaning attendants. Indis would laugh then, not caring for the way her flimsy tunic stuck to her skin. She was said to gleam in the light, her hair streaming out behind her as she ran.

Indis stares out of the window, little Arafinwë asleep in her lap, and with too-soft limbs and too-pale skin, tries in vain to recapture that long-ago feeling.

Arafinwë—Finarfin

Neri—men (singular: nér)
Nissi—women (singular: nís)
Minyar—the original name of the Vanyar, named for Imin and Iminyë (the original Vanyar)
Quendi—Elves (singular: Quendë) (Quenya)
Cuiviénen—the region where the Elves first awoke
Tatyar—the original name of the Noldor, named for Tata and Tatië (the original Noldor)
Nelyar—the original name of the Teleri, named for Enel and Enelyë (the original Teleri)