"Fulgurite" and Other Drabbles by Dawn Felagund

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Beacon

Midnight comes, but Fëanor is no longer in the mood. Still adultish.

prompt: need, benefit, depression, happy


Nerdanel knew Fëanor had been depressed, frustrated that Aulë insisted he master skills without benefit to his work. Their spark in the forge had been doused by an argument with Aulë. Now Fëanor sulked—there was no nice way to say it—in their room.

She pressed her cheek to his back, held him.

Undid his tunic. Lace by lace.

It took a while for him to succumb to his need. But Nerdanel was patient and firm of will.

He melted into her kiss. Was this moment of happiness—a glimmer on a distant shore—enough to guide him home?


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