While still in early youth Fëanor wedded Nerdanel, a maiden of the Noldor; at which many wondered, for she was not among the fairest of her people. But she was strong, and free of mind, and filled with the desire of knowledge.
~Later Quenta Silmarillion
Fëanor glanced around the wide emerald hills, and then his gaze fastened upon the red curls that in such glory she alone possessed. Her people said she was not fair. Fëanor defied them all and called her the fairest, and not only in body, but in mind, for she had a spirit to match his own, and a longing for wisdom.
"Here, Fëanor."
He grinned at her. "How could I yet miss you, vanya? Your hair is as fire upon the turf."
No blush flowered upon Nerdanel's pale cheeks, but a gleam sparkled in her green eyes. "Tis so, no doubt, I make a sight."
"A beautiful one." Fëanor assured her, laying a hand on her cloaked shoulder.
"There is no need for honeyed words. I am not fair." she said, but there was no hint of self-deprecation, only a faint smile.
"But you are." he insisted sternly, almost daring her to counter him. Nerdanel rose to the challenge, but in other means than he expected.
"Fairer than you." she answered with a laugh, and tossed her flame-colored hair from her face, and he could not help but join her laughter. "Alas, you speak the truth, vanya." he said, coming to stand by her, and putting an arm around her. Together they stood overlooking the swan-ships of the Teleri, and a sea breeze came, and their hair mingled together, fire and coal. At last he held out his hand. "I have a gift for you."
Nerdanel looked up, that childish look that was so irresistible to him upon her face. "Indeed. Alas, I have no gift for you, Fëanor."
"I only ask one." He opened his palm and held out the ring. It was silver, as was the custom of the Eldar, to exchange such rings at the betrothing, made with his own hands and intricately formed.
He heard her sharp intake of breath, but she only whispered. "What do you ask then, Fëanor?"
"Your love."
"You have it." Nerdanel replied. "And you will have it, through fire, blood and death."
Fëanor gazed at her. "Why do you speak of such things?"
She was trembling now. "I know not, and I pray it was not prophecy."
"Then I have it?"
"Beyond the End."