Quendilindalë (The Song of the Elves) [Tolkien Elf FanFic - Age of the Stars]

Seated on a Field of Victory

Tindómiel felt a stir underneath her cheek and her eyes fluttered open. She could see the luminous plains of Lómion's chiseled chest resting beneath her fingertips. With a small sigh of contentment, she nuzzled deeper into his chest and felt a strong arm hold her close. "Ah, my beautiful wife, I wish there were more time to enjoy these first tender moments following our marriage, but we must ready to depart," Lómion gently kissed the top of her silver head and smoothed her hair.

"Oh must we? I am not yet ready to share you with the others," his bell-like laugh caught her attention and she abruptly sat up to reprimand Lómion's lack of respect. But words once again failed her as her gaze found his. She could see in his glittering gray eyes a spark beneath them, he was hers in body and soul. She reached up to touch her face, wondering if her eyes were marked thusly as well, and remembered with a flush the exquisite feeling of wholeness during their union, the split second where they found release and their faer joined. Her song had changed, as had his. Each melody now both carried some of the other always, and together they formed the most beautiful song Tidómiel had yet heard.

"We already have much to answer for, I don't also want to raise Father Tata's ire by slowing our departure," he answered playfully, but Tindómiel groaned and looked toward the village with a scrunch of her delicate nose, teasing out another chuckle from her beloved. "We should just face them. They will know without us speaking, you know that as well as I. When I look in your eyes, I can see that we are one," Lómion pulled her close at this and whispered into her ear, "and I love it more than I can say. You are mine." Her breath hitched in her chest at his powerful words and a delightful heat spread inside her.

She tucked an errant stand of his raven hair behind his gently pointed ear, gently letting her fingertips fall in a tickling caress of his neck, to the center of his chest, subtly glowing in the darkness of his shelter."Well husband, if we remain on this path we trod, we will definitely be left behind." Tindómiel glanced at his bandage, "At least let me tend to you again before we depart. Alas that our clothing is ruined! This will be a cheerless journey in the cold for us."

Lómion smiled gently to himself in a secret joy. Tindómiel gently unwound the bandage, only to find the skin already knitted together with a small silver scar marring his shoulder, with a small frown she learned down to kiss the silver mark. "Well, I did not succeed in making you completely whole again," she lamented,

He caught her chin with a finger and tilted her face up to look into her blue eyes, clouded in sadness, "Ah, but my love, your ministrations have definitely worked a miracle! Alas you say that our clothing is ruined? Then for you I have a surprise," Lómion retrieved a package hidden in the shadows of his shelter. "I had been saving this for our vow-making," he explained as he unwound the cord binding the package, "but that is unlikely to now happen and we have need of it." He lifted from the package a beautiful black dress, soft of hand and cunningly embroidered with vines and flowers. Tindómiel gasped and tears fell unbidden from her eyes. This was surely the work of Tatië, Father Tata's wife was unparalleled in her tailoring. It was an honor to have made such a garment, and she thought it a pity that it would only be stained with travel. Lómion then pulled out a pale blue tunic, the color of her eyes, it was embroidered with swirling waters and stars. It was then she noticed that her dress was the color of his hair, one more subtle reminder that they were now one. He spoke, breaking her trance, "Well then, my lady, let us dress for the road and pack swiftly so that Father Tata does not anger."

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They walked toward the village bearing a small bundle each, being all of their possessions, their free hands clasped. Tindómiel felt as beautiful as the stars. The wide, richly embroidered neckline of her dress tapered to her waist, where Lómion had tied it in a gorgeous bow that trailed down a long flared skirt that nearly brushed the ground as she walked barefoot in the fragrant grass of their awakening. She glanced at Lómion and her heart jumped. The star-light shimmered on his tunic, reminding her of the glimmer on the surface of the lake, and it gleamed in his raven hair. In that moment, he looked regal like Father Tata, but altogether more lovely for his body was carved from his work in the forest, hunting and tracking. She let her eyes travel down his body, admiring the way his well-defined muscles bulged against his tunic in a most delicious way. This journey would indeed be a long one. She left a wistful sigh escape that grabbed Lómion's attention. Light glittered in his eyes as it did before her made a great joke, "Fear not, my wife, there may yet still be moments to steal you away from the others." Tindómiel blushed a deep crimson and playfully shoved him away. He dropped his bundle and gathered her in an embrace that lifted her from the ground, her skirt swirling as he spun her around, ending with a gentle kiss pressed to her lips that left her wanting, and then to her forehead. With his lips still pressed on her smooth skin, he whispered, "Amin mela lle, vessë. Oiala nányë elyë". Tindómiel's heart sang.

They stepped together into the rim of the fire-light. A small group had already gathered, awaiting Father Tata and they stood agape. Tindómiel stood defiant as the murmurs began and tightened her grip on Lómion's hand, she needed his strength.

"What is this?" a voice called from beyond the fire. It was Father Tata.

Tata walked around the fire to face the young couple and immediately knew what had sparked the murmurs of his children. "This is excellent news! I do wish you would have waited and included us, for the village would have loved to celebrate your union, after all this time, but my heart sings for you my children!" He embraced them each in turn, and threw a withering look to the inya whispering behind him. "We will have none of that. These two have broken no laws nor done anyone harm, except perhaps themselves for waiting this long. Let us rejoice with them ere we depart!"

Tindómiel blushed in shame and looked toward Lómion. He was beaming, and that sight lightened her heart. She wanted not her joy to be marred by misplaced shame, although a part of her would always regret denying Lómion this joy for even a moment.

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Quenya words:

Amin mela lle, vessë. Oiala nányë elyë - I love you wife, I am yours forever.