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When he first sees Anaire, Nolofinwe doesn't understand what is happening - why he suddenly starts jumbling his words when she speaks to him, why he feels so nervous, why he feels lost every time she speaks, or laughs.He would ask Feanaro, who maybe has more experience, but they hardly get along and he doesn't want to bother him unless necessary.And yet.Nolofinwe, after all, is known to be a bit emotionally dense, he struggles a bit with that.People say that he sounds like he is in love, but he doesn't understand what they mean.But one evening, when all is quiet and the fireflies light up the sky like a million of tiny stars, and he sees her under a pavillion, her glittery dress and her braids all decorated with flowers, holding a decorated lamp as if that is her most precious treasure, he finally understands.He understands that he is in love and the way he does is that he wants Anaire to look at him the way she looks at that lamp.He slowly approaches her, not even realizing that he is frowning madly, so maybe that does help in explaining her initial worried look."Lady Anaire," Nolofinwe starts, sounding way too solemn for the occasion, "I was wondering if..."And his confidence is gone the moment her eyes as bright as amber look at him. He delivers the last part of the request like someone who has run several miles. "Would you walk with me for a while, please?"And he knows Fenaro WILL NEVER make him live that down.Anaire is a bit confused. "Walk... With you, Prince Nolofinwe?""Yes, well... You... You don't need to, it's just... Beautiful out there and-"Her soft laughter interrupts him - she has understood. "I will walk with you, Prince Nolofinwe."And all he does is offering her his arm. And she holds it. And they start walking in awkward silence - silence which will soon be gone for soft words under the shadow of the trees.But now, only the fireflies know.Only they know about two Elves falling in love so very very slowly.
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Indis is holding Finwe's hand and they are both staring at a tapestry of beautiful colors and brilliance of art - one of the many Miriel Therinde left behind after she died."You loved her so much, beloved." Indis whispers softly, as if trying to compensate for Miriel's absence."You loved her too, my darling." Finwe replies gently. "And somehow I feel doubt in you.""I could not compare to her."Finwe smiles and turns to Indis, and as he holds both her hands and kisses them he speaks. "No, you do not, exactly like Miriel would not compare to you.""Are you not a bit cruel?"Finwe shakes his head. "I love you both. I would not choose differently. My heart belongs to you both. Miriel might not be alive anymore, but it does not mean that love wasn't there. You are here by my side and it doesn't mean that love isn't there."He smiles at her. "And I think it is the same for you.""Indeed it is." Indis sighs softly. "It is hard living with just half of a heart."Miriel has been a beloved friend and spouse and both Finwe and Indis miss her. They miss her laughter, her joy, her everything. Little Feanaro is all that she left behind, along with her unfinished tapestries. They both hope that merciful Vaire has taken her under her wing and that she will be safe from sadness and sorrow.Finwe speaks again. "Her memory lives on and she will be with us, albeit not physically present. We shall do our best to be happy, as she would have wanted."Indis nods and squeezes a bit Finwe's hands holding hers. The faint rays of the sunset brighten up the tapestry through the stained glass of the window - for a moment, as the colors become a bit more bright, it truly seems that Miriel is there with them both, holding their hands and smiling.And that brings their hearts to dance together once more.
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Sauron hates it. He has not had a single positive sentiment ever since he started following Melkor, and yet, in front of this pathetic elf, he folds.Oh how much he hates it.This was supposed to be an act, something just to obtain what he wants and then destroy everthing and everyone.And yet Celebrimbor has managed to see right through at least part of his lies and this fascinates Sauron.Just like a cat is fascinated by a mouse.And he pushes down the fact that it could be more than he asked for - he is the Great Deceiver, after all, he can lie to everyone else so he can lie to himself long enough to believe that the lie is now the truth.And so he does.But when the time comes- and it comes sooner than he would like, as he is hoisting Celebrimbor on that flagpole and brings him onto battlefield - tortured, chained, deprived of any dignity, in Sauron's eyes a fitting end for the last of the Feanorians - as he brings the Elf on the battlefield as a war banner, Sauron feels something, like a nagging feeling at the back of the hole where his heart once was.And Sauron lies to himself once more.And therefore he proceeds to war, the façade of "Annatar" being way long gone, but maybe not lost yet. It is when Celebrimbor draws his last breath that Sauron becomes in full the Lord of the Rings, uncaring, unfeeling, as Morgoth had been once upon a time.
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When Maedhros is finally awake enough to stay awake for more than a few minutes, when he finally can just sit on the bed without screaming in horror and pain, the first one who makes his way through the halls and towards him - after his brothers of course - is Fingon.Fingon the Valiant.Fingon his beloved.The one he is scared the most to meet. It's not because of how he looks, he could not care less about that, but he is scared to find hurt, and betrayal, and harsh words - he did forsake him after all, it would just be fitting for Fingon to hate him.And yet he can't move, he can't run, his strength has not yet come back, so all he can do is wait.Wait for punishment, wait for death.And then Fingon steps into the room, his hair loose, his ribbons barely hanging there and he flies towards Maedhros to hold him, to reassure himself that Maedhros is really there.And Maedhros holds his breath, he tries to look awa and yet he can't - Fingon is holding his face and is looking at him.And all Maedhros sees is unwavering love, the kind only the great stories hold. A love that will move mountains and part seas. And he, undeserving of this love, starts crying.And Fingon holds him, whispers soft words, reassures him that he is, indeed, deserving of that and much more.It's only later, when Maedhros feels exhausted again and has gone back to sleep, that Fingon lets him go, only to just sit next to him and hold his hand, and softly sing away all nightmares.
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Finrod knows he is done for the moment his guard breaks and he is thrown off in the mud - he can clearly see the enemy's spear right through his chest.And he closes his eyes.But the spear never comes. When he reopens his eyes there is a man - Edain, he can see that this one is clearly not an Elf. And he sees that he is saved by this man and slowly stands up again.And the moment he falls, for exhaution and wounds, the hit never comes.This man is holding him up, smiling. "You are safe, o Great King." He says in Westron.And Finrod takes a moment to understand - this Man has saved him from certain death. And he is smiling at him, and Finrod smiles too.The feeling of being right next to a bonfire.And when Finrod can walk again, and his wounds are tended, he finds this Man again.And this Man still smiles at him and Finrod too."Thank you for saving me. My name is Finrod, son of Finarfin. How can I ever repay you?"The Man shakes his head. "It was the right thing to do, no more no less. My name is Barahir, son of Bregor.""You lost so much.""And you too."And Finrod can't help but feel his own heart jolt - these people had no reason to helpanyone, but they did. And so he kneels in front of Barahir and gives him his ring - a green emerald surrounded by slver snakes."Barahir, son of Bregor, please accept this Oath."And he swears he will help him and his kin, as his heart sings songs yet unknown and Barahir holds his hand and nods.
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Galadriel likes to recall the first time she met Celeborn. Not because it was any particular day, but because seeing him had soothed her heart.By the moment he had arrived into her life for the first time, she had experienced a great deal of pain and loss - and judgement too.Celeborn just sat next to her, holding a simple flower in his hand. "I offer you my condolences, my Lady." He said. "I offer you a shoulder, should you need to lean on. I am afraid I can't do much more."And she had looked at him, nodding. "I thank you, Lord Celeborn." She had just replied.And since then they met every day, and every day she would talk to him. And he would talk to her.And one day, as if that had been nothing but a trifle, they knew they had fallen in love and they knew that they would have no one but each other for the rest of their lives.Ceeborn likes to pretend that he did not mean to, but it is just in jest. The moment he lays his eyes on his Lady and her golden hair, and he sees her smiling back at him, he knows he has made the right choice.He just holds her hand gently and tells her without speaking all words of love.And she repliesin kind, under the shadow of the golden trees of Caras Galadhon, where time has stopped and the breeze is gentle.
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The mightiest warrior he has ever known now lays in a grave covered by poppies Turin has planted on the fresh soil, in the hopes that this will give Beleg some relief. His friend lays there and Turin has to come to terms with that.He just thinks of what he could have done differently, so that Beleg would never had died. What if he never ran away. What if he never touched the sword.Speaking of, the black sword is the only thing remaining, he himself has arranged the grave through tears and remorse.Beleg was his friend, his brother in arms, and probably much more than he wants to admit, and yet he raised a sword against him - and true, perhaps Beleg had forgiven him, but Turin... He will never forgive himself.His punishment will be to be condemned to not see his friend again, not in this life, or ever, as he is a mortal man.All he can do is grieve and take with him the cursed sword that killed Beleg. All he can do is bringing into his heart the love he had and hope that one day he will be forgiven.
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And then, right after Feanor expressed his interest towards Nerdanel, everyone starts having opinions on why she is not fit or the Crown Prince, on top of it all the fact that she is not beautiful enough.Nerdanel doesn't care, it's her knowledge and skill that she cares for.Feanor cares about rumours even less, he is always unapologetic and straightforward.And all seems to be good, until Nerdanel is pregnant with her firstborn and everyone starts spreading any variation of "let's hope the child takes after Prince Feanaro".And both him and her try their best to ignore these voices - they are indeed aware that it is just envy and no one is really making an effort to conceal it.It is at the latest unsolicited comment during a banquet that makes Nerdanel excuse herself and Feanor follow shortly after.He finds his wife in their bedroom, eyes red from crying, and Feanor wants to punch someone in the face, screw royal etiquette, but that would not console his beloved. So he sits next to her. And she turns away."You should have chosen a beautiful wife."And Feanor frowns. "I have, my gem and joy. I chose you." It is painful to watch Nerdanel being insecure because of a bunch of people who should have minded their own business."What if our child... Is not beautiful?"Feanor has to take in a few deep breaths. He smiles, instead, and holds her hand. "Our child will be beautiful, because their mum has stars in her eyes and on her skin. I hope all of the children we will have will have stars in their eyes and on their skin."And Nerdanel looks at her husband and she doesn't know if she wants to laugh or cry in joy. Instead, she settles for a hug. "I am so lucky to have such a charming husband." She says lightly."I should be the lucky one to have you, my dearest Nerdanel. My gem and my joy."And they lay next to each other until very late hours. Someone will be punched, but not by Feanor - not in that moment.There will be time for that too, but now he is with his wife and he is holding her.And the stars shine bright in her eyes and in the sky.
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When Andreth meets Aegnor in the forest and she notices his armour, she has a feeling in her gut that this will not be pleasant.She greets him as usual, although her voice trembles with uncertainty - and he notices, so he holds her tightly, as if to prolong any single moment he still has with her.And he looks at her with love, and she smiles.He cries as his own heart breaks and he starts speaking softly, his chest aching and Andreth is listening, trying to understand what is happening.And the final words arrive and to both of them they feel worse than any blade, worse than death itself.They are still holding each other as they cry, reluctant in letting each other go for fear that this moment will disappear forever even from their memory.But they have to part, they both understand.They let go of each other, they share one last kiss. And then he goes, she stays.Does a candle pity the moth?
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Finarfin is about to marry the love of his life, Earwen.Alqualonde is particularly beautiful on that summer day and he is waiting eagerly for her - he has not seen her all day, and even though both familes nearly managed to destroy several decorations with their bickering, everyone is now sitting composedly at their assigned places.Even Naro and Nolo have made a sort of truce and the are now sitting at opposite sides.And then Earwen arrives, flowy dress, jewels and pearls, all smiles and happy. And Finarfin holds his breath, she is so radiant.She steps next to him, looks at her soon-to-be husband and smiles in joy.And Finarfin loses himself in that smile, loses his balance and almost falls on the white sand underneath him.He slowly recomposes himself and steps back next to his soon-to-be wife Earwen.As the ceremony begins, he holds her hand and says: "You are beautiful. Truly. I am so blessed to be with you."And Earwen smiles. "And I am too."And they hold their hands as the light of Laurelin rises more intense.
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Many years have passed by, centuries even. Molinde is now quite resigned to be the one who loved and never was loved back.She is content, by now, in the Third Age and with everything that she has gone through, she is not seeking companionship for now.And even though this is a day for people to show off how much they love each other, she just stays in - she has a few napkins she needs to finish.Her cat is sleeping by the fire - or should be.The creature is nowhere to be found.“Yaule, pspsps! Where are you?” There is no response, not immediately at least.She hears a thud coming from her kitchen - oh the naughty cat might be going for its treats bag again! She stands up and rushes towards the sound.The kitchen is alright. Yaule, her cat, arrives strutting towards her with something in its mouth, which it presents proudly.It’s a big coppery leaf, originally belonging to her philodendron. She sighs. “Oh, bless your kitty soul, you will never leave that poor plant alone, will you?”“Mrrp.” The cat just headbumps Molinde’s leg and then sits by the leaf. Molinde smiles. “Aw, you silly doughnut, is this leaf for me? Such a good kitty you are then!”She picks up the leaf, then pets the cat and finally grabs some treats for it. “Well deserved sir. But please, leave the poor plant alone.”The cat is now busy munching its treats already, so Molinde leaves, but not after moving the poor philodendron away from the cat.She is indeed loved, however, if only as a cat treats dispenser, she thinks laughing lightly.
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Galwen is holding a small parcel - it is indeed a sort of celebration, but not for the Elves apparently.And she is nervous.As if the gossips and the condescending looks she receives on a daily basis are not enough. She should know by now all habits of Elven lords and court etiquette, and yet she can’t let go of her very human and very mortal soul.Habits and celebrations included.And so, to avoid further drama, as if Prince Nolofinwe did not have enough on his plate already, she waits for him where they usually meet and she hopes her gift, however small, will be appreciated.And Nolofinwe arrives - she bows to him. And presents him the parcel.When Nolofinwe opens it, he finds a little figurine of a horse carved in wood.“This is unexpected.” He says, his tone not harsh, but not soft.“I hope your Highness will like the present, however small.” Galwen replies a bit uncertainly. Maybe she overstepped.Nolofinwe has to make a conscious effort to connect the dots - he is a bit dense, after all. He makes an attempt. “Is this something mortals do?”“It’s… To show someone they love and care.”And Galwen is painfully aware that she is way too low in the food chain to have any weight whatsoever.And maybe Nolo is considering how far removed is Galwen from her kin - a pain they sort of share. His tone softens. “Thank you. I appreciate your gift, Galwen. I shall… Think about your words.”And she smiles.And for once she is seen, and not judged, somehow loved.
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“Oh, shut it.” Curufin’s harsh tone feels a bit like a wet blanket. In many ways he is his father’s son, but Molisse is equally stubborn and by now she is used to his bouts.“No, I will not!” She replies in more or less the same tone. She will not back down now.“Everyone just stays around me because I am my father’s son, his copy, his heir. Even my name is his.” He makes a vague annoyed gesture, slouching on the nearest chair. “Why would you be different?”Molisse is getting frustrated, she intended to confess, but she is currently getting ready for a fistfight. She takes in a deep breath and tries again - if that will not work, then she will be ready to throw down.“I love you because it is you! What is so hard to understand? It is you, with your own ideas and trials and tribulations of constantly trying. It is you, your frown and your sarcasm! People don’t see that, but I do!”And something makes Curufin raise a brow just slightly, clear sign that Molisse is pushing the right buttons.Maybe she is the one. Maybe all he needed was a simple “I see you”.
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Siryawe has had several centuries, millennia even, to think over what happened, the day the Noldor flew from Valinor, and with them Makalaure, the love of their life and childhood friend.They took quite some time to understand the why he went away - and even though they could not really understand it, they finally found it in their heart to forgive him.The two of them had history after all.And they still trusted that he was still the most emotionally intelligent among the lot - Siryawe’s hand fell on their prosthetic leg, a gift of love and dedication that had come straight from Maglor.And so they had prepared themselves for the occasion, putting on the best dress they had, and all the jewels Maglor had gifted them back when they were still together.They had prepared a present for him.And finally, Siryawe had left for the Havens, waiting eagerly and with a heart full of love for the ship carrying their long lost love, looking towards the horizon as if it was a dream.And she wouldn’t know all trials their love would need to go through still, but Siryawe was wiling to give it a second chance.For friendship, for dedication, for forgiveness.
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And so, finally, happiness seemed to have reached them all - the one who had never been loved, the one who had once lost all hopes, and the one who was jilted.Them three, now holding each other’s hands lovingly in the bliss only true love could give them.The nearly perfect picture of perfection - if only their families approved of them. If only they were given a chance.But that moment was theirs.Maglor was observing Siryawe and Molinde talking and swapping jewelry, whilst Molinde’s cat was asleep in his lap. Such a blissful moment that he never thought he’d ever have again.And when they both turned towards him, all smiles and as bright as the sun, his heart eat faster as if it was once again the first time he fell in love with them.And for a moment he forgot his worries, smiling back at them like he had not smiled in millennia.Trials and tribulations had not yet finished, but they could go through them together, and that was a blessing.You can’t always carry the weight of the world alone, after all.