A Little Closer to the Edge, My Love … by Sulriel

Facing Fear

Míriel shuddered as Finwë's touch left her.  The world seemed cold without his warmth.  Her heart ached with loneliness.  Although he stood only a half-step away, the distance seemed as vast as the abyss she'd said she feared.  She longed to be safe in his arms.

He smiled, his eyes kind and thoughtful as he dabbed the wetness from her cheeks with the drape of his sleeve.

"Do you fear nothing?"  Míriel asked him.

Finwë's face tightened.  He lowered his gaze and after a moment his expression softened and his smile returned.  "I'm saddened to be alone when I wish to share joy in these lands with someone close to my heart."  He reached out his open palm to her.  "You fill my thoughts and my heart.  I wish to dance in the light of the Trees with you in my arms and walk the beach under Varda's stars.  Will you vow to stay at my side?"

She placed her hand in his.  Could he feel her trembling?  He closed his gently around it.  "You asked me first to walk in my garden," she said, and he nodded.

#

They wandered paths that wove through artful beds of flowers and sat on carved benches beneath shading limbs as Laurelin gave way to Telperion's silver light.  

With every step Finwë had kept Míriel at his side - her hand tucked on his arm, or his palm resting on the small of her back, yet at the most his hold only brushed her, only hinted at his strength and the strength of his desire - until she'd leaned in to him.

He'd whispered, inclining his head toward the birds that flitted near.  His voice wrapped her, drawing her in – and she fell headlong into the abyss, her heart racing as she laid her hand on his chest.  His heart beat beneath her palm, as strong and fast as hers.  She raised her face to his.

"My desire for you," his breath brushed her cheek, "is for more than your heart."  His lips touched hers.  "Come with me past the edge of your groomed gardens.  Walk with me in the stark beauty of the wilderness."

 He asked too much.  Míriel drew back.  Finwë caught her hand before she removed it; an instants pain shot up her arm before he tempered his strength.  He pressed his lips to her palm and replaced her hand on his chest.  She fought to settle the beating of her heart, to slow her flight of emotion and temper her flailing in the abyss where she would be lost in her love of him. 

"Why do you ask me to go there?" she asked.  "We’re safe in this place."

Sorrow filled his brilliant eyes – to know she'd cause him pain ripped at her heart. 

"There is no danger in these lands," he said.  "Do you not miss the thrill of the hunt?"

She slowly shook her head.  No.  How could she tell him?  No, she did not find thrill in the danger and she did not miss it.  He would not understand.

"I don't mean to return to the dangers of Middle-earth," he said in her silence.  "There is more for us here, but we must seek it, we must take it – as we hunted in the dark in the woods around Cuiviénen."

"What is it you wish?"

Finwë drew her close.  He nipped her ear tip with his teeth.  She shivered with desire as he traced his fingers up her spine.  "I wish to please you."  His teeth raked her neck and she bared her throat to him.  His tongue tickled the hollow of her throat while his hand came up, warm, to cup her breast.

Sensation flooded her.  She bolted back from him on weak legs and he pursued her; snatching her forearms he pulled her close.  His readiness pressed hard against her belly.

"Can you deny me?"

The silence stretched.  She fought to turn from the throbbing emptiness that threatened to take her mind from her.  "You will consume me," she finally whispered.

"Give yourself to me.  We'll be one." 

 Míriel turned her face away from him.  She didn't wish to be one; she wished to be two standing together. 

Finwë released a great sigh and when he loosened his hold on her, she relaxed in his arms.  "There must be more than feasting and song and dance. You asked what I feared," he said.  "I fear we've been tamed, that we'll weaken in this safe place."

"It's what we came here for," she answered, "to be free of the dark and the danger."

Finwë nodded.  "But not to be free of passion.  I find ceaseless joy and ease to be passionless."

 Míriel stepped away, and he allowed her the distance.  She found the joy and ease to be comforting. 

As she turned and looked back up at him, Finwë smiled. 

Aching warmth spread up from between Míriel's legs, and the breath caught in her throat at the sparkle in his eye.  In his arms, in his care, she could have no fears.  His strength would wrap her, keep her safe and give her comfort and ease.

"I've over-stepped my bounds," he said.  "I've come here to ask for your hand.  We have peace here.  I wish you to share that peace with me.  More than that, I wish for the passion that we've lost in gaining our safety and I wish now for the sons and daughters that we refused to bring into darkness and fear."

The abyss yawned before Míriel's heart and mind and she stepped away from the edge, stepped away from the depth of her love for Finwë and away from the strength of his desire that threatened to consume her.

"Do you have other suitors?" he asked.  "Who are they?  I'll dismiss them."

She shook her head.  "No.  There is no one else.  I … "  What did she wish?  She wished not to have the dizziness and heat and tingling when he touched her.  " … I wish for a period of courtship," she said.

"Courtship?" 

The abyss flashed dark in the shadows of his grey-blue eyes - the depth and strength of him that she both loved and feared.  She'd known the hunter and the warrior he'd been before he was named lord.  She'd seen him in pursuit of prey, both food and fell creatures, and she'd watched him glory in the kill. 

Her heart chilled to know she now stood in place of the prey.