I said what I said [Ruivo][Tuilë 3010]
Nov 1, 2018 22:17:25 GMT -5
Post by MITHIEL on Nov 1, 2018 22:17:25 GMT -5
In all ways of her long life, since they walked in summer rain had Mithiel treated Ruivo as her husband, her life’s partner. Though they were a curious pair in Imladris these past millennium, still in private did she treat him as such. Even in public in very subtle ways. So subtle that the acts had gone unnoticed for many years. Affection filled her eyes as she wished, she wished to ease his agony, his torment. Mithiel wished to heal her love. The life that stood before her she wished to make him whole and push away his shadows. So no longer lived in half light. Mithiel ached to draw him to her and soothe away the torments that kept them apart, erase the cares from him of war and grief.
When I was young, I would look upon the sky, and wonder why it was filled with diamonds, yet no pearls. Before the rise of Tilion, I craved the sight of him… I thought I knew better than the Valar. I thought I could make greater gains… my heart was strained and ripped there in Aman,”
Mithiel’s lips pressed and then twitched as she reflected on the years between them, the discord of small things. Things he would say to Norochil when he was an elfling. Yes they had met in hard times and life was different when they met. They had endured war for an age. She thought of how he always spoke little of his parents and of his life in the home of their people. His heart was strained, he was torn and sunder in half. Her fingers reached to caress him. To feel the wonder of Ruivo as he spoke. Ripped. Tattered and still standing before her. Her wildfire. The flame of the north that had drawn her as a moth. Arms hugged around his neck and her fingers had sunk into the dense silken strands of his hair, touching the pale skin at his nape. Skin fair as moonlight to her gold. Arien to Tillion.
“And you have gained…” she whispered, her palms slipping over tapered ears along scarred cheeks as she cupped his face between her hands. “From your strain you gained me. All our long years Ruivo, all I’ve wanted has been you. I’ve never cared about where we were, diamonds nor pearls. Only you and I together” Soft eyes searched Ruivo’s freckled face, the roan speckles which dotted his features as she kissed the bottom of his mouth. Ruivo’s voice becoming a whisper against her mouth and his hand to her upper arm.
“You have always been my healing balm, like the wrapping over a wound, The wrap heals not the wound, only protects it; it must heal from the inside, yet some wounds… fester. They cannot be healed, by even the most skilled. I cannot place the burden upon you to heal me; to heal things which you are incapable of healing.”
Breathing became shallow as he called her his balm once more. And her fingers stroked the high apple of his cheeks, face still cupped in her palms as she leaned against the door and he was arched over her and she forced to look up at her tall love. Where he gave only a partial answer gave Mithiel more conviction that demanded she address before she press further. “It is my choice to bear this burden Ruivo. Just as I chose to bear the insults that came with being the vellyn of one who slayed kin” Mithiel tenderly rubbed her thumbs against his skin, caressing skin both smooth and scarred. “I do not regret my choices. I would bear those dark days and insult and slur again and again knowing that we are here together” Her forehead rested against his with no space between their bodies. The warmth feeding into him. “Sight has always been my strongest gift, I have seen this day” a hand slipped to trace his mouth as she trembled, having seen this same vision for five thousand years. Never knowing when it would come to pass. “It gave me hope through the long years and your silence.” whispering that she had foreseen this day, this moment. She had long known the moment would arrive. Mithiel’s visions never were disillusioned for truth in sight was her strength and the sights she saw were rare but always to be heeded.
“I was not there for Orontëna, not the way I was with our son. You were not able to raise her,”
Mithiel’s fingers brushed Ruivo’s cheek once more and slowly her fingers traced along his jaw and moved to his chest. Their noses brushed as her mouth gilded against his lips once more. Aching with tension yet it was only to speak with lowered voice and command his focus upon her that Mithiel tormented herself when she wanted nothing more than to brace her hands along the breadth of his wide shoulders and tell him to pick her up. To wrap her legs around his waist and have him holding her up against the smithy door as her mouth explored his as they had in summer rain.
“That too is my shame to bear. I should have argued with you over you taking her to the woodlands. Perhaps she would have turned out better for it. Aside...it was Norochil’s wish that she be raised there by the kin of her Ammë though a fine lot they did for her” Mithiel expressed in lamentation.
Orontëna, their sunrise. Tauriel, daughter of the forest. Their son’s only child. Mithiel’s throat tightened at the thought of her. Of the years they had missed. Every year on her birthing day they sat in silence and every year, Mithiel scraped a slice of cake out for the birds as the evening’s bonfire’s died out and the dawn shone long.
Fingers curled around the back of her neck and Ruivo leaned into her more, mouth lower still. “Váyasilmë, I have never forgotten a promise which has passed my lips; and there are more yet which I have left unspoken. You may think I have forgotten, but I remember them all. I do not forget.” She opened her mouth to speak and words died upon her lips. “Let me... Let me try. Tilion will rise full, and I wish to be with you,”
Mithiel’s fingers would hug his well toned bicep, the thickened muscle there she loved to feel under her palm. His arms had always attracted her since their earliest days. Having known his male cousins, and cousin’s sons, grandsons. Having seen and known Curufinwe’s son, Mithiel knew nice arms and she appreciated the ones she called that of his the most of all. She always had. Against Ruivo’s mouth her lips trembled.
“The blackthorn blossoms now. I will wind it’s flowers and crown you for Tuilë, as when we were young. I will take my lute to the courtyard and play for you; sing for you, where Imladris will hear, if that is what you wish of me.
“I wish it, I have missed the sound of your songs and watching the light in your eyes as you played me songs of the sea” she smiled softly “My Telerin lord” her whispered Ruivo, her sea elf with the mind of a Noldor but the strength of the ocean in him.
“Tonight when Tillion rises full, you and I” her voice deepened in a sultry tone, husky and just the same heat filled tone as they has been under the willow. “All of the night will not be enough” repeating to him the words he had once told her. Though she left the mind to wander if she meant dancing to the tune of the waterfalls singing and the chorus of the night or if she meant more. Hunger burning in her belly as Ruivo kissed her brow and found her lips. Lips with greedily took possession of him and her hand fisted his tunic in her palm, groaning as his fingers began to wander along her neck slipping under the collar she wore, the remade collar, the leather fresh by his hands. Tight and stiff.
“We can go back… Change into something… more... suited to Tuilë,”
For just a bit there were lost in one another. His lips against supple golden skin drew sweet noises as her hands hand slipped under his tunic.
“Help me out of this dress and I will wear white for you” she promised, knowing his love of her in white.
Nails gracing the soft flesh at his sides. His finger to her ear would draw a moan and Mithiel squirmed and tugged at his belt to draw their hips against one anothers. A grind against him and her lips explored skin which had in Mithiel’s opinion needed her kisses and love marks against once again.
“My flower of Silpion.
Mithiel’s fingers were in his hair and her heart pounded in her chest, ears warmed as she allowed herself unabashedly to enjoy the moment. To engage and encourage what they both wanted and longed for, “My soul of water and fire” Mithiel squeezed out in half purred reply as her skin was once more subjected to the desires of her Telerin lord. Senses fogged and eyes hazy at the loss of sensation.
“I apologize. You… tempt me so, I… lose myself with you. I feel…”
Mithiel caught Ruivo’s mouth as she pushed up to kiss him as he said she made him wish to feel. So long he had been frozen, endless winter. Mithiel’s tongue teased the plump and plush curves of his mouth. “Feel, feel with me. Lose yourself with me...this is ours to have Ruivo” she whispered as he looked away from her. Her hand reached out but then fell to her side as she saw him begin to bank the embers.
Mithiel paused and saw her pile of missing things. “And just when were you going to give these back!” Mithiel cried walking towards the basket of her missing things. Plucking the basket from the work bench. “You are going to help me out of this dress and put every one of these back where they go!” A hand on her hip.
When I was young, I would look upon the sky, and wonder why it was filled with diamonds, yet no pearls. Before the rise of Tilion, I craved the sight of him… I thought I knew better than the Valar. I thought I could make greater gains… my heart was strained and ripped there in Aman,”
Mithiel’s lips pressed and then twitched as she reflected on the years between them, the discord of small things. Things he would say to Norochil when he was an elfling. Yes they had met in hard times and life was different when they met. They had endured war for an age. She thought of how he always spoke little of his parents and of his life in the home of their people. His heart was strained, he was torn and sunder in half. Her fingers reached to caress him. To feel the wonder of Ruivo as he spoke. Ripped. Tattered and still standing before her. Her wildfire. The flame of the north that had drawn her as a moth. Arms hugged around his neck and her fingers had sunk into the dense silken strands of his hair, touching the pale skin at his nape. Skin fair as moonlight to her gold. Arien to Tillion.
“And you have gained…” she whispered, her palms slipping over tapered ears along scarred cheeks as she cupped his face between her hands. “From your strain you gained me. All our long years Ruivo, all I’ve wanted has been you. I’ve never cared about where we were, diamonds nor pearls. Only you and I together” Soft eyes searched Ruivo’s freckled face, the roan speckles which dotted his features as she kissed the bottom of his mouth. Ruivo’s voice becoming a whisper against her mouth and his hand to her upper arm.
“You have always been my healing balm, like the wrapping over a wound, The wrap heals not the wound, only protects it; it must heal from the inside, yet some wounds… fester. They cannot be healed, by even the most skilled. I cannot place the burden upon you to heal me; to heal things which you are incapable of healing.”
Breathing became shallow as he called her his balm once more. And her fingers stroked the high apple of his cheeks, face still cupped in her palms as she leaned against the door and he was arched over her and she forced to look up at her tall love. Where he gave only a partial answer gave Mithiel more conviction that demanded she address before she press further. “It is my choice to bear this burden Ruivo. Just as I chose to bear the insults that came with being the vellyn of one who slayed kin” Mithiel tenderly rubbed her thumbs against his skin, caressing skin both smooth and scarred. “I do not regret my choices. I would bear those dark days and insult and slur again and again knowing that we are here together” Her forehead rested against his with no space between their bodies. The warmth feeding into him. “Sight has always been my strongest gift, I have seen this day” a hand slipped to trace his mouth as she trembled, having seen this same vision for five thousand years. Never knowing when it would come to pass. “It gave me hope through the long years and your silence.” whispering that she had foreseen this day, this moment. She had long known the moment would arrive. Mithiel’s visions never were disillusioned for truth in sight was her strength and the sights she saw were rare but always to be heeded.
“I was not there for Orontëna, not the way I was with our son. You were not able to raise her,”
Mithiel’s fingers brushed Ruivo’s cheek once more and slowly her fingers traced along his jaw and moved to his chest. Their noses brushed as her mouth gilded against his lips once more. Aching with tension yet it was only to speak with lowered voice and command his focus upon her that Mithiel tormented herself when she wanted nothing more than to brace her hands along the breadth of his wide shoulders and tell him to pick her up. To wrap her legs around his waist and have him holding her up against the smithy door as her mouth explored his as they had in summer rain.
“That too is my shame to bear. I should have argued with you over you taking her to the woodlands. Perhaps she would have turned out better for it. Aside...it was Norochil’s wish that she be raised there by the kin of her Ammë though a fine lot they did for her” Mithiel expressed in lamentation.
Orontëna, their sunrise. Tauriel, daughter of the forest. Their son’s only child. Mithiel’s throat tightened at the thought of her. Of the years they had missed. Every year on her birthing day they sat in silence and every year, Mithiel scraped a slice of cake out for the birds as the evening’s bonfire’s died out and the dawn shone long.
Fingers curled around the back of her neck and Ruivo leaned into her more, mouth lower still. “Váyasilmë, I have never forgotten a promise which has passed my lips; and there are more yet which I have left unspoken. You may think I have forgotten, but I remember them all. I do not forget.” She opened her mouth to speak and words died upon her lips. “Let me... Let me try. Tilion will rise full, and I wish to be with you,”
Mithiel’s fingers would hug his well toned bicep, the thickened muscle there she loved to feel under her palm. His arms had always attracted her since their earliest days. Having known his male cousins, and cousin’s sons, grandsons. Having seen and known Curufinwe’s son, Mithiel knew nice arms and she appreciated the ones she called that of his the most of all. She always had. Against Ruivo’s mouth her lips trembled.
“The blackthorn blossoms now. I will wind it’s flowers and crown you for Tuilë, as when we were young. I will take my lute to the courtyard and play for you; sing for you, where Imladris will hear, if that is what you wish of me.
“I wish it, I have missed the sound of your songs and watching the light in your eyes as you played me songs of the sea” she smiled softly “My Telerin lord” her whispered Ruivo, her sea elf with the mind of a Noldor but the strength of the ocean in him.
“Tonight when Tillion rises full, you and I” her voice deepened in a sultry tone, husky and just the same heat filled tone as they has been under the willow. “All of the night will not be enough” repeating to him the words he had once told her. Though she left the mind to wander if she meant dancing to the tune of the waterfalls singing and the chorus of the night or if she meant more. Hunger burning in her belly as Ruivo kissed her brow and found her lips. Lips with greedily took possession of him and her hand fisted his tunic in her palm, groaning as his fingers began to wander along her neck slipping under the collar she wore, the remade collar, the leather fresh by his hands. Tight and stiff.
“We can go back… Change into something… more... suited to Tuilë,”
For just a bit there were lost in one another. His lips against supple golden skin drew sweet noises as her hands hand slipped under his tunic.
“Help me out of this dress and I will wear white for you” she promised, knowing his love of her in white.
Nails gracing the soft flesh at his sides. His finger to her ear would draw a moan and Mithiel squirmed and tugged at his belt to draw their hips against one anothers. A grind against him and her lips explored skin which had in Mithiel’s opinion needed her kisses and love marks against once again.
“My flower of Silpion.
Mithiel’s fingers were in his hair and her heart pounded in her chest, ears warmed as she allowed herself unabashedly to enjoy the moment. To engage and encourage what they both wanted and longed for, “My soul of water and fire” Mithiel squeezed out in half purred reply as her skin was once more subjected to the desires of her Telerin lord. Senses fogged and eyes hazy at the loss of sensation.
“I apologize. You… tempt me so, I… lose myself with you. I feel…”
Mithiel caught Ruivo’s mouth as she pushed up to kiss him as he said she made him wish to feel. So long he had been frozen, endless winter. Mithiel’s tongue teased the plump and plush curves of his mouth. “Feel, feel with me. Lose yourself with me...this is ours to have Ruivo” she whispered as he looked away from her. Her hand reached out but then fell to her side as she saw him begin to bank the embers.
Mithiel paused and saw her pile of missing things. “And just when were you going to give these back!” Mithiel cried walking towards the basket of her missing things. Plucking the basket from the work bench. “You are going to help me out of this dress and put every one of these back where they go!” A hand on her hip.