Days of Peace by bunn

Fair They Wrought Us

Outside in the wilds of Eriador, fair voices were raised in darkness, singing songs in praise of stars. Within the white walls of the tent under the clear blue light of Fëanorian lanterns, though, the day’s work had not yet ended.

“I think,” Celebrimbor said, pencil in hand, “that there should be a quay here beside the river, connected directly to the road from the gates.”

“But you’ve put the warehouses over here,” Narvi pointed out, her dark eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked at the plans spread on the table. “That means any goods you bring in by water would have to be carried right through the city.”

“Good point! That would make things very dusty, at least in the summer. Very well. The warehouses should move to here.” Celebrimbor said, bent forward over the table and scribbling. The table was more suited to her height than his, and he was kneeling on the floor. His long hair fell across the paper and he swept it back impatiently.

“That means I lose your archway again! No, I can move that as well. It can go to the east-gate, on the main route in from Khazad-dûm. But that means there’s a problem with the pipes again!”

“No, not at all!” Narvi told him. “Look, run the pipes along the inside of the archway.”

“Of course! That will put the water-tower in the right place as well, so we can still have the fountains in the main square. I thought I might be self-indulgent and make the fountain-heads myself. It’s been over a century since I last worked with bronze. So the pipes run this way...” The hair fell forward again as he drew corrections onto the plans.

Narvi looked at him in amusement, and then, on impulse, she moved behind him, gathered his shining hair together into a bunch, and began to twist it into a shape that could be pinned back.

He sat back on his heels and looked around at her over his shoulder, surprised.

“It seemed to be getting in the way,” she explained, twisting the long strands and feeling strangely flustered. His hair felt as silky in her hands as she had thought it might, and it smelled faintly of woodsmoke.

“It was. I must have dropped the clip somewhere,” he said. His ears had small delicate pointed tips, and now her face was nearer to them, she could see the shape clearly. The curved leaf-like shape might make a good pattern to use on the capital of a column, or perhaps it would be better on a door-handle, where you could feel the shape of it.

She should pin this silky hair in place and go back to the plans now.

Instead, she reached out a finger and ran it around the outside of his ear, oddly velvety to the touch, tracing the line up to that oddly-pointed tip. He made a small pleased noise and leaned his head back against her shoulder for a moment, eyes closed. Then he opened them again to look at her with grey eyes with that strange light in them, like lamplight on water running over dark slate. He reached back and ran his fingers down her beard.

“I wondered what it felt like,” he said.

“And what does it feel like?”

“Middle-earth,” he said. “It feels like life and death, like mountains. Growth and hope and change. Sun on stone.”

“Poet!” she said and laughed because surely a beard could not be all those many things at once. “Elves have so many words and most of them spoken lightly.”

She really should step away, but instead she was leaning against him, against his long lean back and there was hair like silk against her neck.

“I rarely speak lightly,” he said, and yet he was smiling. He ran one long finger down her face. “That’s what it feels like. Something new and unexpected and wonderful.”

Kneeling, he was of a height that she could kiss him, and so she did, a long lingering thoughtful kiss, for she had never kissed an elf before, and who knew how it might be different?

His mouth went slack with surprise for a moment and then he kissed her back with enthusiasm. It felt very good, but a little awkward, kissing like that, with his head half turned across his shoulder so after a moment she stopped and pulled on his shoulder. “Turn around so I can sit in your lap,” she suggested.

Celebrimbor blinked at her. “We don’t usually... I mean, I am not quite sure what customs...”

Narvi laughed at him. “Customs? Is there a need for customs? I am only kissing you, you ridiculous elf. Clearly you enjoyed it, so there is no need for complication or to produce a written plan! Given how long your legs are, a kiss is something of an engineering problem. But we’re good at those.”

He laughed too, looking rather awkward. “I suppose we are. But still, I don’t understand quite what... if one of the Eldar kissed me... like that and wanted to... sit on my lap and kiss me some more, that would be the kind of thing that is only done in marriage.”

He looked entirely serious, and so Narvi tried hard not to laugh.

“Well, among my people, talk of marriage would be running on far too swiftly,” she told him. “A kiss and a cuddle between dear friends does no harm, surely?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can’t say it’s something I have tried. We don’t... that is to say, usually we don’t think of such matters in war-time.”

“But there hasn’t been a war in hundreds of years!” Narvi exclaimed. He looked so solemn and puzzled, she thought.

“Well, no. No, there has been peace for a good while now, I suppose. But then, I am so much older than you. It doesn’t seem so long to me.”

“Oh yes,” she said, and ran her fingers through his shining hair again, more thoughtfully. “You are very old, and very tall, and also you are very serious, by the standards of Elves, who usually are so frivolous! But you have never once kissed anyone for fun, you say, and for all the fine streets and the fountains and the stone buildings we are planning, you forget that we are not at war.”

“I didn’t forget, exactly,” he protested.

“I know what peace is, and I have kissed a number of people and I know just how to do it.” She had not kissed so very many people, not really, but if he had not, in all his long years... “Pretend you are one of us,” she said, making her mind up. “We can think about how the Eldar do things another time. Once you’ve had some practice.”

He was smiling again. He caught the end of her beard again and stroked it. “Without a beard, and even though I’m far too tall?”

“We can give it a try,” Narvi said, and stroked his ear again. He shivered and then smiled. “Very well,” he said, and shifted so that he was sitting on the floor, then a little tentatively, put an arm around her. She folded down onto his lap, feeling his long lean body warm against her own through his linen tunic and her leather coat, and reached up to kiss him again.