The Pendant by Gabriel

The Pendant

Read The Pendant

Gellalaer emptied the contents of a small drawstring bag onto her workbench. Gems of all colors and sizes tumbled onto the scrap of velvet she had placed there, sparkling in the shaft of light that shone in from one of the windows. Grasping her tweezers she set about separating the many varieties into groups of size and clarity. A beautiful emerald stone caught her eye and she held it up, turning it this way and that, watching as the light danced and refracted off its faceted surface. This was definitely what she was looking for.  

Arms slipped about her waist and drew her back against a muscled body, “What are you doing?” a deep voice inquired against her ear, Gellalaer smiled.

“Finishing a commission.” She responded. Curufin swept her hair away from her neck and pressed a kiss to the soft delicate skin there.

“Need help?” He mouthed against her skin. 

“I think I can handle it, my Lord,” his wife replied, gingerly placing the emerald she had selected, into the bevel of the pendant she was putting the final touches on. 

“Oh, I think I could offer the kind of expertise that is second to none,” Curufin continued teasingly. 

Gellalaer smiled to herself, “Is that so?” 

Curufin slowly trailed his hands, rough with calluses down her arms, to cover her small slender ones as she worked. “Finish it tomorrow,” he urged, “We have some of our own forging to take care of,” Curufin kissed the corner of her mouth, a strand of his hair tickling her cheek. Gellalaer closed her eyes at the touch, trying and failing to resist. Her husband was an expert in all her weaknesses and was anything if not persistent, “It is probably for some stuffy arrogant Lord, anyway,” he continued, grumpily. 

“That stuffy arrogant lord, you speak of, is your uncle and the pendant is for Altariel’s Begetting Day,” his wife replied. Curufin grunted something unintelligible under his breath. She sighed and set the pendant aside on her work bench and turned in her husband’s arms. Lifting her own to clasp behind his neck she pinned him with an accusatory look. 

Curufin huffed a sigh, “Fine,” he replied begrudgingly, rolling his eyes.

Gellalaer’s expression softened, a slight smile teasing her lips as she grasped his chin and planted a kiss to his lips in reward. Her husband moaned, deep and guttural against her mouth and her smile widened. He deepened the kiss, pressing back against her in want. She giggled mischievously against his mouth as he shoved the discarded pendant aside and hefted her up onto the workbench.

He stripped off his tunic, revealing the flimsy undershirt and beneath a lean, well defined torso that always had the power to make his wife weak at the knees. The kiss became frenzied as Curufin began unbuttoning her sooty tunic with the kind of desperation akin to a man starving. He pulled away briefly to discard it on the floor like it was some point of annoyance, something distasteful and returned to the circle of his wife’s arms, pressing a line of kisses down her throat. 

“My lord?” Came a muffled voice. They both froze.

“Yes, what is it?” Curufin snapped, pausing his thorough investigation of his wife’s throat. 

“There is someone here to see you,” the voice responded.

“Well tell them I am busy,” Curufin called back, abruptly, turning back to give Gellalaer a frustrating expression. She placed a supportive hand over his that was resting on her thigh watching her husband’s features war between frustration and a 

“It is Lord Maedhros.”

Curufin’s eyes widened at this admission.  “Tell my brother I’ll be with him shortly,” he replied

“Very well my lord.”

He returned his gaze to hers and sighed heavily at having this moment, so rare as it was, disrupted by an impromptu visit from his brother. He pressed his forehead to hers, running the fingertips of one hand along the delicate rim of one of Gellalaer’s ears, “I want another child,” Curufin suddenly blurted. “I want us to have another child,” he amended,  intermittently depositing soft kisses to her lips, as if to add weight to his words. He pulled away slightly to observe her and gauge her response. There were tears in her eyes as they searched his. 

Gellalaer opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by an impatient rap at the forge door. “Curvo!” A deeper voice insisted.  

“I’m on my way!” Curufin responded as he turned back to his wife, pressing a finger to her parted lips. “No need to give me an answer now,” he reassured and slowly backed away toward the door with a playful smile on his face, he turned, hefted the iron door open where daylight captured him in a blinding shaft of white, then vanished into it.