As Short a Spring  [Mithiel] Aug 27, 2019 16:37:24 GMT -5
Post by RUIVO on Aug 27, 2019 16:37:24 GMT -5
Three days, four, and the revels of spring in the Hall of Fire had ended as the elves of Imladris returned to their daily existence. Still a time of blooming and merriment, but the songs were no longer contained, and the music could be heard drifting through through the windows from all the spaces of the valley. There were times he heard the sound of his own Telerin lute, playing not directly below their window, but not far off in the forest, but Ruivo was not in a state to be flustered by Fenion. The whole of Imladris would know he was wed, of that he did not doubt, they would know regardless of Fenion’s words. Their bond made visible, and spring was the time of marriage.
Furthermore, it would not surprise anyone in the vale.
The cracking and breaking of ice on the Bruinen had finished. What had been torrential during the storm of nights prior had washed away. Even the waterfalls had broken free of their confines with a great chorus of crashing and creaking. Ruivo had heard it, and Mithiel had heard his muttering of the end of winter. As the winds muttered the end of their long winter which had lasted ages.
“Do not sleep, not yet, Váya,” Ruivo whispered against his drowsy wife’s ear, while the swelling river sang below. The world seemed fuzzy around him as he had not rested properly in days, even before their union he had not been resting, meditating, sleeping. It had gone mostly to the wayside in his fretting.
“Let me love you,” he murmured, half a chuckle escaping his lips, as the Smith’s hand caressed skin which had been kissed a thousand times in the last days. In the last hours. He did not know anymore. He’d lost track of anything beyond the way Mithiel felt against him, in his arms. Of her fëa wrapped within his own. No, not wrapped, but combined. Two fëar had become one and they were bound, not with threads of silver, but the threads had been unwound, unmade, put through the forge like heat to metal and recrafted into something unbreakable. Indestructible. There was not a thing that two elves could do to destroy the bond now shared.
Thus Ruivo had settled with that knowledge. He put his misery to the side, as it would wait, but she would not, and he loved his wife in the way he had desired through countless years, and places, and winter nights. And now it was spring.