A Walk down Memory Lane by Raiyana

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Floor Tiles

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Tiles– shaped like Star of Fëanor

“What did you do to my brother!” Makalaurë scowled darkly when Telperína opened the door, far earlier than she had expected him to be conscious after his inebriation the night before. Confused, she blinked up at him, having spent the better part of the last hour reliving that almost-kiss – it was an almost-kiss, right? – and trying to talk herself into heading to the palace to speak to Curvo.

“…What?” she asked, staring at Makalaurë’s still-reddened eyes as her friend narrowed his gaze at her.

“Curvo!” he exclaimed, loud enough to bring the attention of her neighbours. Telperína sighed. “What did you do to Curvo?!” Makalaurë repeated.

“I don’t know what you mean!” Telperína finally exclaimed, feeling exasperated. “I haven’t done anything to Curv-Curufinwë!” Biting her lip at the near-slip, she stared at Makalaurë in abject confusion, trying not to blush at the thought of the night before.

“But he’s locked himself in the forge!” Makalaurë replied hotly, gesturing violently with one arm in the direction of his home. “And he won’t talk to anyone – not even Tyelko – and then I remembered that he was with you just before we left, and he was angry all the way home – so you must have done something!” Eyes as frantic as his voice, Makalaurë stared at his friend, and Telperína felt suddenly light; Curufinwë had wanted to kiss her, and he’d been angry with Makalaurë for interrupting!

Why he had locked himself in his workshop today, she couldn’t explain, but Telperína knew she was right about the night before.

“I’ll… go talk to him?” she asked, staring at Makalaurë’s hands running frantically through his hair, obviously worried; he looked more dishevelled than she had ever seen him, including the time he had climbed a tree to pick cordof and fallen through several metres of branches before Tyelkormo caught him.

Makalaurë smiled brilliantly, grabbing her by the wrist and began to sprint down the street, forcing Telperína to abandon her shoes to keep up after one of the low-heeled silk slippers fell off, bouncing on the cobbles behind her.

 

“I brought Telperína!” Makalaurë said breathlessly.

“You…!” Carnistir growled, kneeling by the door. “I almost had the lock picked!”

“I still say we should climb over the roof,” Tyelkormo said, scratching Huan’s neck and waving one of his hunting daggers in the direction of the roof. “It’d be easy enough to drop down through one of the smoke vents; the ceiling height means it’s only a nine-foot,” he looked at Telperína, who gaped at him, “well, if it’s her, maybe a ten-foot drop…”

“We’re not dropping Telpë off a roof!” Makalaurë objected, finally letting go of her wrist to gesture angrily at his brother. Telperína rubbed her sore wrist, staring at the tableau of them; Maitimo was overseeing Carnistir’s progress with picking the lock, blithely ignoring the way young Pityo was climbing onto his shoulder, waving at his twin who was perched on Huan’s furry back and gave her a gummy smile. Makalaurë was arguing with Tyelkormo, interspersed with encouragement for Carnistir, whose expression was darkening by the minute.

“…Have you tried knocking?” Telperína asked, repeating herself twice before anyone heard her; still confused as to why they all seemed to assume she would be the best person to send inside – and why it was even necessary to send anyone in the first place.

“He’s not answering,” Maitimo finally replied, giving her a smile that didn’t disguise the worry in his eyes. “Usually, if Curvo is lost in creating something, he will at least leave the door unlocked, so we can bring him food if he disappears for too long… but he went in there as soon as he came back from your celebration, and the door has been locked since.”

“There’s a strict policy in this house about unlocked doors to craft-rooms,” Tyelkormo explained quietly, suddenly seeming just as worried as his older brother. Pityo babbled something, tugging on Maitimo’s copper hair. “If nothing else, we need to be sure we could reach him in an emergency, or drag him away from whatever project it is when he needs to eat; locking himself away like this is… not like Curvo.”

“Did you try the garden entrance?” Telperína asked, reminded of the first time she had met Curufinwë and his intimidating atar; hadn’t she come from the gardens?

“This isn’t Atar’s workshop,” Carnistir replied, fiddling angrily with the lock, “that one’s a corridor further down and to the right from here; Curvo’s personal work room doesn’t open unto the gardens – there is one window large enough for a person to get through, but -” he glared at his pale-haired brother, who did his best to appear innocent. Carnistir scowled at him, obviously blaming Tyelkormo as he continued, “but it is completely blocked by Ammë’s statue of Oromë hunting a giant wolf.”

“Yes, yes,” Makalaurë snapped impatiently, for once visibly displaying his kinship with Fëanáro, “but can you get the door open, Moryo?”

Carnistir cursed, pulling back the narrow piece of metal he had been trying to unlock the door with. It was bent in a way a lockpick shouldn’t be, Telperína guessed, based on his dark frown. She sighed, already knowing what would happen next.

“The roof it is,” Tyelkormo announced, poorly concealed glee on his face. Makalaurë scowled at him.

“We can lower you down with rope,” Maitimo suggested, heading off Makalaurë’s protest swiftly.

None of them heard her ‘why me?’ as they strode off, discussing something to do with pulleys.

Telperína sighed. Maitimo’s worry had sown a small seed in her own heart though, taking root and sprouting swiftly; Telperína forgot her question, following behind the brothers and wondering just what was up with her… friend.

 

 

The less said about this, the better.

She considered herself an agile dancer, but for a moment she found herself envious of Aredhel’s acrobatics among the branches of the woodlands; Aredhel wouldn’t even have been offered the rope, she would simply have jumped down the smoke-hole, a daring grin aimed at Tyelkormo on her face. Hanging on to the rope as Maitimo and Tyelkormo – unanimously voted the strongest brothers in a way that she tried not to find unflattering to her figure – lowered her down through the smoke outlet of the workroom, Telperína hoped that Makalaurë would not put her current predicament into one of his annoyingly persistent songs.

Why am I friends with these neri, again?

Glancing upwards, Telperína caught Carnistir’s encouraging smile, doing her best to sculpt her face into an expression of someone who was not at all intimidated by being lowered into a dark space like some sacrificial offering to a ravenous beast in return. It did not look like it worked, a worried flash crossing his face before it disappeared from the hole.

Dropping to the floor, Telperína had momentary fear of gnashing teeth as she stared into the dim room, but then semi-familiar shapes began to appear as her eyes adjusted to the low light coming in from the rows of tiny windows built into the walls. The forge had gone cold and dark, no embers left.

“I brought a sack of food,” Tyelkormo said, blocking the light coming in from above for a moment as he tied the sack to the rope they had pulled back without her notice. “In case Curvo’s hungry.”

Catching the sack – it wasn’t that heavy, but she could feel several pieces of ceramics through the cloth, as well as a loaf of bread.

“Bread, some butter, a small flagon of wine,” Tyelkormo listed. Telperína nodded.

“Which way?” she asked, but she hadn’t needed the answer. Light shone from further in, faint but enough to show her the way.

Telperína followed.

The room she entered was empty and dark. She spared a thought to hope that Curufinwë was actually in his work rooms rather than holed up in say, the library, breathing out a sigh of relief when she heard a sound from somewhere further ahead.

Making her way across the cool floor tiles, Telperína admired the craftsmanship lavished on them; each had been marked with lines, but the joins were so invisible that the whole floor seemed made from a multitude of iterations of the star of Fëanáro’s house.

“Curufinwë?” she asked softly, stepping through a doorway to find him hunched over a table, his body hiding the project from sight. Walking closer, she reached for him, pulling back before she could touch. He was fast asleep, still wearing the goggles he had told her made cutting gems easier. He murmured something, snoring lightly. She smiled.

Tip-toeing back, she raised her head, this time addressing Maitimo above. “He’s asleep at the desk.”

“Ah,” he replied, seeming relieved, “good; it was about time.” Telperína frowned. “He’s been working on some project for the past five days without sleep,” Maitimo revealed, “that’s why we were worried today; five days is a long time to stay awake working, even for him.”

“I’ll see if I can’t find the key,” Telperína decided, “then you can get him to bed.”

Nodding, Maitimo disappeared from view, and Telperína returned to Curufinwë’s cluttered workroom smiling to herself; wondering what he would say to find her there when he woke..

 

Part of her felt like an invader as she moved through the room, looking for anything resembling a key, holding an oil lamp aloft to chase away the shadows.

Curvo was muttering in his sleep, though he had pushed the goggles halfway up his forehead, leaving reddened indentations in his cheek where the leather rims had pressed into the skin. Long lashes – she hadn’t realised they were that long – fluttered against his skin, the eyes beneath their lids moving frantically.

I love him…

Startled by her own thought, she dropped the small hammer she held, wincing as it hit the floor – the loud sound seemed to ring through the room – and turned to stare at Curufinwë, still sleeping.

He smiled sweetly, murmuring something soft but did not wake.

Telperína drew a breath of relief, her search completely forgotten as she took a seat on a three-legged chair beside him, pulling her legs up and resting her chin on her knees, looking at him and turning the idea of love over in her mind.

“Tyelpië…” he murmured, startling her out of her thoughts. He was frowning in his sleep, and she felt an overwhelming impulse to touch him, to smooth that wayward curl out of his face, her fingers lingering lightly along the upper ridge of his ear, following the point and curve in a soft caress.

Love.

She tasted the word but did not say it, watching the frown disappear as her fingers continued running lightly across his ear and back.

I love you.

 

He blinked himself awake slowly, smiling softly at her. Telperína smiled back.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked quietly, resting her cheek against her knee and tilting her head to look at him. Curufinwë frowned, staring at her, mouthing her name. Reaching out, Telperína put her hand on his shoulder.

Startled, Curufinwë reared back, grabbing a swath of cloth and covering his work in the next moment, staring wildly at her. “Tyel-Telperína,” he stammered, getting to his feet awkwardly, trying to keep himself between her and whatever he was working on. Curvo pushed a hand through his hair, his eyes glancing from her face to the project and back to her face in rapid succession.

She jumped up from her seat, reaching for him, suddenly worried. “Curufinwë, are you well?” Biting her lip, she caught his elbow, all hints of his earlier serenity vanished in an instant.

“What… err, what are you doing here?” he asked, blushing, “… Telperína?”

The flush in his cheeks was fascinating, his eyes flashing between her face and whatever lay beneath the cloth on the desk – she had caught a flash of silver when he jumped, but not enough to tell what the project had been – as he swallowed nervously. Slipping past him, she took a seat on the edge of his work desk, turning her back to the project.

For once, she ignored the way her usually immaculate clothes would surely be dirtied by the contact, trying to give him back some of the calm she had unintentionally wrecked with her presence. Biting her lip, she looked up at him, giving him a small smile.

“I thought I asked you to call me Tyelpië,” she murmured, all her earlier hesitance disappearing in an instant. Telperína smiled. “Curvo.”

“Ahh, yes,” he began slowly, pushing the goggles further into his dishevelled hair; Telperína’s smile widened, but she didn’t tell him how adorable the look really was as he continued, “but what are you doing in my… my rooms… Tyelpië?”

“Your brothers were worried about you,” she replied, feeling a slight shiver run up her spine at the way he said her name; it was not like Atar’s rhythmic lilt, nor like Ammë’s almost song-like softness. In Curvo’s mouth, her name became husky, intimate in a way that brought the aborted kiss back to the forefront of her mind. “You aren’t supposed to lock the doors, apparently.”

Right now, she felt quite happy that the doors were locked – hopefully his brothers had gone elsewhere once they left the roof rather than wait outside for her to unlock it with the key she had completely forgotten to look for – smiling at him. Curvo flushed.

“I didn’t want to be interrupted,” he replied, scowling in the direction of the door. Telperína shrugged lightly, reaching out to cup his cheek and turn his face back towards her.

“Well, I’m glad to have a chance to speak with you,” she murmured, licking her lips as she wondered if she was bold enough to take – soberly – what he had offered her last night. His skin was soft and warm beneath her fingertips, and her legs parted almost instinctively to allow him room to stand between them when he shuffled forwards, leaning into her touch.

“About what?” Curvo asked quietly, suddenly much closer than he had been, his golden-brown eyes blazing with fire. Telperína felt warm all over.

“This,” she whispered, drawing him that last bit further, close enough to press her lips against his. They were soft; surprised, almost, she thought, pulling back slightly. The side of his nose rubbed against hers, his shocked exhalation warming her lips. “I…” Looking down for a moment, Telperína felt herself blush deeply, cursing her fair skin for giving away her emotions.

“Look at me,” he whispered back, lifting one hand to cup her chin gently, raising her face. Telperína stared up at him, feeling apprehensive at the way her heart seemed to jump when he traced her bottom lip with his thumb.

“Curvo…” she murmured softly. Parting her lips slightly, her tongue flicked across that digit, wetting her lips.

Curvo didn’t seem to know what to do with his hand, his balled-up fist resting heavily on the wooden desk, holding his weight as he dipped his head carefully, kissing her slowly this time, sliding his lips across hers in a teasing caress. Tracing her lower lip with his tongue, he caught it gently between his lips, his fingers running into her hair in a mirror of the caressing she had done when he was asleep.

Tangling her fingers in his short curls, Telperína sighed happily into his mouth, her eyes falling shut. His arms stood taut on either side of her body, and Telperína could feel the rapid beat of his heart against the palm of her hand where it rested against his neck.

“You…”

Telperína opened her mouth, letting her own tongue run lightly across his upper lip and Curvo lost whatever he wanted to say. She vaguely heard the sound he made in response, making her smile into the kiss as his hand clutched her hip, sliding her tongue between his lips.

Pulling him closer, she explored, tasting the roof of his mouth; hitching one leg around his hip to keep herself from falling backwards when he surged closer, his chest pressed against hers, his palm warm and broad against her back. His hips fit in the cradle of her legs, pressing into her as his tongue ventured across her lip, chasing her own back into her mouth. She moaned softly, sucking on his tongue and drinking the small sound of surprise straight from his lips.

“Curvo…” she purred, enjoying the way saying his name made him shiver against her. “My Curvo.”

He drew away, breathing hard as he stared at her. Telperína’s own chest heaved in equally rapid pants, her fingers curled around his shoulder. She could feel him, feel him pressed against her, hard and wanting, and the sheer desire coursing through her in that moment was more intoxicating than she had ever expected listening to the stories of older cousins. For a moment, she felt scared of feeling so much, but this was Curvo leaning over her and she simply wanted more. Staring up at him, she tried to still her racing heart; this was going a little too fast.

“You…” he tried again, his voice noticeably different, rougher than usual; it seemed to surprise him, too. Telperína giggled, letting her legs release him. Letting go of his shoulders, she fell back onto the table and stared at the ceiling, the blown-glass lamp hanging from a piece of netting glowing softly above her. Curvo slumped into the chair she had just vacated, she heard it screech slightly with his sudden weight.

 

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, when his breathing had returned to normal. Telperína rose onto her elbows, staring at him.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, frowning.

“I didn’t…” he bit his lip indecisively, “I didn’t expect you to…” he gestured at her, blushing. “I thought you were a dream, at first…” he admitted sheepishly, “kissing me…”

“You seemed to want to…” she replied, her eyes dropping to stare at the patch of skin below his throat left bare by the undone laces of his work tunic, “at least last night.”

“I did!” he exclaimed, knocking over a pot of something metal when he gestured wildly towards her. “I mean, I – I do, but…” Blushing fiercely, he fell silent once more, staring at her with an almost desperate look in his eyes, as though he was making sense and she was the one who didn’t understand anything. He was right about the latter part, at least, Telperína did not understand what had changed between them, but it did not feel like a good thing.

“I… I want you, too, Curufinwë,” Telperína admitted softly, biting her lip when he froze at the words, staring silently at her.

“…” His eyes flicked away from her face and back, his mouth moving but shaping no words as he stared at her.

“Well,” she whispered quietly, “say something.” Curufinwë remained silent, and her heart fell, tears pressing against the back of her eyes. “Curufinwë,” she said, sitting upright and clasping her hands in her lap, frightened by the silence. Had she been mistaken? “Just…” Biting her lip, she squeezed her fingers with the other hand, trying to keep the tears from falling, and looked up at him. “… just say something – anything.” Please.

“Stop biting your lip,” he said hoarsely, his hand returning to her chin, his thumb tugging her bottom lip away from her teeth. Telperína stared.

“Wha-?”

“I didn’t plan for this,” he muttered to himself, running his free hand through his hair in agitation, pushing the goggles off his head to clatter unnoticed on the tiles behind him. “You… you’re not supposed to be here – this is all wrong!”

Letting go of her face, he turned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as he paced in front of her, angry muttering falling from his lips.

“Give me the keys, then,” Telperína said frostily, covering up her hurt, “and I’ll leave.”

Hopping down from the table, she turned, looking for something that looked like a key and grabbing the first she saw, hoping beyond hope that his brothers were not waiting outside the door when she reached it.

“No!” Curvo exclaimed behind her, and for the second time that day, her wrist was caught in an inescapable grip. Telperína tried not to wince; Makalaurë’s haste had left finger-shaped bruises ringing her wrist, but she wasn’t going to let Curv- Curufinwë see that his touch hurt her.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, suddenly painfully aware how much stronger he really was.

“No. Don’t you see?” he asked behind her, still holding her wrist, “I told you this was wrong. Why did you have to come here, of all places!”

“I told you,” she hissed, yanking futilely on her captured limb, “Makalaurë fetched me.” She didn’t think she’d ever forgive him, either, making her believe… making her hope.

I love you.

A pox on Noldorin Princes. All of them.

“Please, Tyelpië,” Curufinwë said quietly behind her – the name hurt, now – rustling with something, “turn around.”

She did, still clutching the key.

She stared.

It made no sense.

“What…” she asked, pulling her hand away when he let go of her wrist, cradling it against her chest as she took an involuntary step forwards. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, staring into those soft golden-brown eyes.

“I couldn’t decide,” he muttered sheepishly, gesturing at the three rows of seven rings – silver rings – that lay on the table top, the cloth he had thrown over them when he woke to find her no longer hiding his work from view.

“Decide what?”

He was blushing again, but it was the look in his eyes that made her heart beat faster, made her hope again.

“Which one to give you,” he said quietly, “when I told you I love you… when I ask you to be my wife.” Running one hand through his hair again, he gave her a crooked smile. “I had a plan, you know,” he added ruefully, staring down at the multitude of rings. “I was going to bring you a nice meal and take you away somewhere pretty…” he chuckled wryly, “I didn’t get much further than that.”

“You… want to marry me?” Telperína asked faintly; her heart racing swifter than any horse could gallop.

“Melanyet.” Swallowing hard, he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing from her face to the rings once more. “It-it seemed a good plan at the time – unless you don’t…”

She kissed him.

Curvo’s arms wrapped around her back, holding her close as he returned the kiss.

“Melanyet,” she whispered softly, nipping at his bottom lip. “And, you know, I did bring food – and this place is…”

“It’s a work room, Telperína,” Curvo chuckled, looking around; it was reasonably clean, but definitely not what he’d call pretty.

“The floor is very pretty.” She glared at him, daring him to protest.

“Are you…” he stared at her, clutching her tight.

Telperína nodded. “Ask me.”

“Telperína,” Curvo murmured, his eyes blazing with something that was at once strange and so well-known she wondered how she had ever questioned the way he felt about her. Sliding one hand into her hair, tucking a loose lock behind her ear, he cupped her face. “Tyelpië…” She shivered, biting her lower lip. “Merin vesta tyenna. Man indotya ná?”

“Indonya ná ve indotya,” she replied solemnly. “Apa mine yénenna, veryuval -”

The rest of her sentence was lost to the Void as Curvo’s lips came back with a vengeance, slanting across hers in a kiss that sparked that same fire in her flesh she had seen in his eyes. His nose brushed lightly against her cheek when he pulled back for a moment and then his lips pressed against hers again. “My Tyelpië,” he murmured softly, her name caressing her lips when he exhaled, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Yes,” she hummed back, twining one of his soft curls around her fingers and opened her eyes to stare up at him. She smiled.

“My Tyelpië…” he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment, shivering when she tugged gently on the hairs at the nape of his neck. “My wife.”

Leaning up on tiptoes, she pulled him back to her, the kiss deeper, slower, this time; learning what the other liked best. Curvo’s hands roamed down her back, wrapping around the tops of her thighs as he picked her up, carrying her back to the work desk and setting her down on the smooth wood.

“Pick one,” he murmured between kisses, waving towards the selection of silver beside her.

“This one,” she said, reaching for a simple band of silver with a round sapphire bracketed by two small pearls.

Curufinwë made a wounded noise, catching her palm in his own and lifting it slowly. “Did I do that?” he asked, staring at the bruising on her wrist in abject horror. Telperína lifted her free hand, turning his face and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Your brother was very…enthusiastic about requiring my immediate presence,” she mumbled, flushing. She idly wondered what had happened to her shoes.

“I am going to… hit him,” Curufinwë growled, glaring blackly at the door.

“Later, Curvo,” Telperína giggled, too happy to care about her sore wrist. Scooping up the ring she had chosen, Curufinwë pressed and apologetic kiss against her bruises, sliding the small piece of jewellery onto her finger with an immensely satisfied expression.

“My Tyelpië,” he whispered, smiling into the kiss she gave him.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Telperína pulled him into her kisses, wrapping her leg around his hip when he pushed her down flat against the desk. His body felt good, pressing against hers in the best way, as he plundered her mouth with a happy groan of pleasure. “Curvo…” she moaned, tilting her head back to give him access to her throat, shuddering lightly when he found an even more pleasurable spot to torment there. “Ai, Curvo…”

“Curufinwë Atarinkë!”

Curvo stiffened, turning his head. Telperína froze, one hand buried in his hair and the other resting very far down the small of his back – far enough it probably wasn’t his ‘back’ anymore – as she waited for the inevitable explosion of temper. Telperína wondered if there was anyone she’d rather not have been interrupted by, but short of the King himself, she couldn’t think of anyone less likely to be happy with their news.

“Hello Atar,” Curufinwë said, straightening and turning around to face Fëanáro – oh Valar, they would have to have a feast, inviting well… everyone. And her parents would have to sit next to Prince Fëanáro and Lady Nerdanel – quietly panicking, Telperína hid her face against Curufinwë’s shoulder, feeling slightly comforted when he took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“You know better than to lock the doors to a work room, son,” Fëanáro thundered.

“Yes, Atar,” Curufinwë replied, “but the work was important.” Mastering herself slightly, Telperína hopped down from the table, taking his hand in her own and stepping up beside him.

“I saw as much,” Fëanáro replied evenly, raising an eyebrow at him. Telperína nearly giggled at the deadpan tone. Curvo’s face turned a bright red. Catching her wrist again, he pulled her hand forward, lifting it to press his lips against her knuckles.

“I should like to introduce to you, Telperína Faniel – my future wife,” he said, standing tall under Fëanáro’s frank gaze, which seemed to take in every aspect of their appearances. Silence reigned, father and son locked in a mutual staring contest. Then Fëanáro nodded, a rare smile breaking out on his face.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Telperína,” he said quietly, catching her hand and repeating Curvo’s knuckle kiss. Then his eyes turned mischievous, looking at his son once more. “You both ought to get cleaned up before you tell your Ammë, however, Curvo.” Shaking his head, he turned around, blocking the doorway for a moment. “I don’t need to know what you were doing in here – but it certainly left marks.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

“Did he just… accept this?” Telperína whispered, staring at the door in disbelief, “and how did he get in?”

“Atto taught me to make locks,” Curvo shrugged, “I’d guess he could make a key quite easily if he thought it necessary.”

Telperína laughed brightly, leaning against him. After a moment, Curvo joined her.

“He was right, though,” Curvo admitted, blushing as he looked at her, matching his hands to several marks left on her soft blue dress and tracing a bruise left behind on her collarbone in the shape of a kiss. “We should get cleaned up.”

Telperína nodded, taking his hand in hers. “I have to give you your ring, too, though I don’t know where I’d find one; you’re the best jeweller I know – and I could hardly ask Prince Fëanáro…” she murmured, looking at her own with a soft smile. A flash of silver appeared before her, resting in his palm like it had flown there.

“Already made – I wanted something simple, for me, if I’m to be wearing it when I’m working,” he replied, blushing when she picked up the small piece of jewellery and slid it onto his finger.

“It suits you,” she smiled, pressing a kiss to the cool metal.

Lifting her face, he kissed her once, hard, before taking her hand and placing it on his arm, leading her out of the dim work room and into the bright light of Laurëlin.

I love you, she thought softly, watching their new rings glitter as the light hit them.

I love you, too… my Tyelpië. It was hesitant, requiring concentration – small lines appearing between his brows – but she heard him, squeezing his arm with a soft smile on her face as she walked into their future.

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Chapter End Notes

Valarin Quenya used:

Melanyet. Merin vesta tyenna. Man indotya ná?

I love you. I want to marry you. What is your will?

Indonya ná ve indotya. Apa mine yénenna, veryuvalwe!

My will is like your will. At the end of one year, we shall wed!

 

There may be an extra chapter or two for this, but probably not before the deadline...

 

How many objects could you find for the Museum? ;)