Fields of gold

Come away with me

So sorry ! this fic was first marked as complete because it was a one shot, I forgot to put it back in progress when I started writing the rest. There is a new chapter. A more satisfying mini ending, even though I have much more to share - in my head for the moment.

Laurë's aura was so agitated that her skin prickled; his previous nervousness was now turning into what she interpreted as full-blown panic. Just moments ago, his hands and his voice had woven such a spell around her that's she had seen the white shores of Valinor again. She was pretty sure he had woven his elven magic into the song, bending the very fabric of reality such was the power laced within. Every word he sang had caused her body to vibrate, and her soul to sing in joy.

But now... he seemed almost stricken, plastered to the sofa like an animal hoping to escape a predator's gaze. Had her questions, once more, brought forward painful memories ? Beating herself up for killing the mood, the young woman tried to deflect; what could possibly loosen the mood ?

Ah, she had just the thing ! From what she had gathered, Glorfindel's golden mane was inherited from his Vanya heritage, and wasn't too common in middle earth because most of his people stayed in Valinor. The elvish paradise.

"So," she chanced, reaching out gently to brush his forearm. "The Noldor had mostly dark hair, right ? Like Echtelion ?"

"Aye."

A monosyllabic response; his body didn't loosen up, but his eyes sparkled with undecipherable emotion as they swayed to her braided hair.

"Is this type of braiding typical to the Vanya ?"

A deep sigh escaped him, and he seemed to deflate upon the sofa in... relief ? The tightness of his jaw eventually relaxed, sharp features evening in a lopsided smile that illuminated his whole being. Elanor's breath eased up in tune with his aura, happy to have averted a crisis. Then she jumped upon her feet and went to the bathroom, intent on catching a glimpse of her coiffure.

When her face appeared in the mirror, Elanor felt her jaw slacken. She looked like... a princess, strands dancing around her head in a crown of braids. They intertwined and ran like river streams, small and big strands waving around each other as if they descended a mountain. Some tresses fell freely, curls dancing around the shiny beads of his house.

"This is amazing !" she exclaimed giddily, knowing he would hear.

Laurë had transformed her mane into artwork. The feeling of belonging to the elven race was overwhelming, and she set a hand over her racing heart. Turning her head aside, she contemplated his masterpiece for a long, long time. So much that, after a while, an overwhelming elf joined her in the diminutive bathroom, settling behind her.

The young woman froze in her contemplation, watching his tall frame loom over her, so close that one of his golden strands fell over her shoulder. Warmth diffused from his body to hers, but it was the heat of his gaze, molten with devotion, that caused her heart to gallop. For the first time, Elanor watched them both, side by side, in the mirror of her bathroom.

He was insanely beautiful, even dressed in a simple white t-shirt that only enhanced his angelic nature. And she... adorned with elvish braids, felt adequate for the first time. They looked gorgeous together. Taken in by their image, Elanor had to gather her courage to let it go. But, unwilling to put distance between them, she whirled around and grabbed Laurë's sleeve.

"I feel like I should go out and dance ! This should be honoured. Do you have dances in your festivals ?"

"Many," the elf responded, eyes sparkling in delight. "Some are dedicated to the Valar, like prayers. Other are more mundane, I think they resemble your medieval quadrille."