Chapter summary: The winter before their wedding, filled with preparations and waiting

Chapter length: ~2,800 words

A/N: This is a short chapter but the next, last one is a behemoth.

Chapter XXIV /A winter of waiting

My beloved betrothed Tuilindien

begins the letter that Tuilindien receives from Carnistir only a short time after he went home.

I found our house still standing like Curufinwë and Findaráto assured us at the harvest festival, and in fact they had made more progress on it during my absence than I had expected. Apparently their personal disagreements only spurred them to work harder, in some sort of one-upmanship. The basic structures of most walls are finished, and there is even a roof on most of the garden-side rooms.

I have taken up residence in the most finished room, for myself as well as Cinder – that is what I named the kitten. It seemed the most fitting name for a black cat with orange eyes. Cinder did not much enjoy the journey here, but is settling in well. Her mother seems to have taught her well, for she has already caught two mice. She doesn't appear to be as sociable as Snowdrop, though, but an independent spirit who likes to keep her distance from me while sneaking to sleep close to me at night.

Curufinwë does not approve of my moving into a building site, as he put it. He told me that I seem to have lost the last of my dignity and concern for appearances now that I am certain that you will marry me.

I told him that it is my house and I will live in it if I want.

The truth is that I am tired of the daily journey from the palace. Not because of the distance, mainly, but because there is little privacy there and I had to waste time every day talking to people I didn't want to talk to but had to for grandfather's sake, at meals and upon leaving and coming back at night. Here there are no distractions, just Cinder and I, and Makalaurë's house is near enough that I go there for meals as often as Tinweriel tolerates me.

Spending the summer with you was delightful, but so is throwing myself into work here again, seeing our house grow every day, making it ready for you.

I miss you already, though, and look forward to your winter visit.

With love

your Carnistir

My darling Carnistir,

I am glad to hear that you found the house in a better shape than you expected, and especially that little Cinder is making her contribution by catching vermin.

I do not think that living in a half-finished building must mean loss of dignity, and it would certainly not make me any less likely to marry you if I hadn't already decided that I will do it. I cannot help wondering, though, as winter approaches, whether you and Cinder will be warm enough. Have you any source of heat there?

It is silly of me to worry, I know. You know how to take care of yourself. But I spend a great deal of time thinking of you these days, even more than before. I am writing my treatise but it does not take that much time, and I do not have any particularly ambitious goals for it. I write a little, I help look after Aiwië, I spend time with Cirincë (I have kept up the riding lessons we began in the summer) and I think of you. That is how I spend my days.

I admire your industriousness and I love you for working so hard to make us a home. I only hope that you make enough time for rest as well, though you now live there in the middle of your work.

As for me – as the forests and fields on the mountainside settle into winter, as the days grow cooler and many of the songs of birds fall into silence, I find that my heart has settled into waiting. First for my visit to your city, and then for the move to Tirion. I have already gone through all of my things and decided which ones I will bring with me. I am just waiting to pack them and give most of the rest to Cirincë.

Carnistir, I have never before found waiting this hard. Perhaps because every day, I say goodbyes in my heart to the people and places and things I have always lived among – and every day, I miss you so. I feel bare and alone now that you are so far from me that I cannot feel your spirit in our connection, no matter how hard I try.

When I miss so that it feels like it must surely eventually become unbearable, I take off the ring you gave me and I read the words inside. I feel warm, then, and comforted by the strength of your affection and your promise to me.

And I count the days.

Your Tuilindien

As late autumn is turning to true winter, Tuilindien rides to Tirion. She has only a groom and a maidservant with her this time, for this three-week visit is for her to begin building connections and making plans for her future in Tirion, as well as for wedding planning.

She stays at the palace once again, as a guest of Indis and Finwë. The queen takes her role as hostess seriously. She introduces Tuilindien to all of her ladies, many of whom are Vanyarin, and invites her to so many meals and activities that Tuilindien's days are easily filled. She has no time to feel lonely, though this is her first time in Tirion without any of her family.

For she spends time with Carnistir, too, of course, and is invited to dinners at his family's house as well as Makalaurë and Tinweriel's.

'It is very nice to have Carnistir and you both here', Tinweriel tells Tuilindien the first night that they dine there. 'Carnistir has been a very frequent dinner guest lately, but despite my best efforts in training him, he is still not much of a conversationalist. When I asked him to tell him about his summer on the plains with you, he spent the entire meal explaining winemaking methods to us.'

'He devoted himself to learning them', Tuilindien replies.

Tinweriel smiles at her over the rim of her wine glass. 'A loyal reply', she notes. 'But tell me, what did you two do for fun?'

Tuilindien does her best to answer that. On the whole, dinners with Makalaurë and Tinweriel go well. She is glad for it. Makalaurë and Carnistir are close, and Makalaurë's house is also physically much closer than Carnistir's parents' house. Fëanáro and Nerdanel's home is almost on the opposite side of the city from the property Carnistir bought. Tuilindien has not dared to ask whether that was a contributing factor to Carnistir's decision to buy it.

Besides dinners and entertainments, Tuilindien visits members of the scholarly community too, finding out what projects are going on and whether there is something she could contribute to.

In the end she decides on teaching, though. For there is a need for a teacher of language to the children of the court – the offspring of royal advisors, courtiers and ladies-in-waiting, court musicians and poets, seneschals and officials. Tuilindien will teach some of the more advanced students varieties of Quenya that they do not yet know, and the basics of Valarin, and the script of Rúmil.

Fëanáro raises his brows when she tells the family of her plans. 'If you believe that taking on the role of schoolmistress is a wise beginning to your life here –'

'I do', Tuilindien interrupts, for she is learning that it is best to assert herself with him.

'Then we wish you all the best in it, dear', Nerdanel completes her husband's sentence. 'May your students be more obedient and interested than our little terrors.' She smooths down Telvo's hair affectionately while he protests the description.

Three weeks pass fast. When they come to their end and Tuilindien prepares for farewells again, Tuilindien pleads with Carnistir once more to let her come see the house.

'No.' Carnistir dodges her kiss. 'You can kiss me as many times as you like, vanimelda – I shall like it very much if you do – but it will not make me show you the house yet. Not while it is half-built. It is coming along well but at the moment it looks hardly better than the old house at the time of our betrothal. I want your first impression of it to be good.' He grows serious. 'You do still trust me with the house, don't you? You've told me that you have faith in me making it a good home for us both.'

'Of course I still trust you. I am only curious, so very curious', Tuilindien admits sheepishly. 'Impatient, too. But I will bear it. Let us go through the plans I have drawn for the garden instead. What do you think of this layout?'

Carnistir bends down to look at her notes. They are inexpertly drawn but that does not seem to bother him, to her relief. He points out some things that would not work, and Tuilindien listens intently and makes corrections, and touches his knee every now and then.

Tuilindien is relieved when, upon returning home for the rest of the winter, she finds that while she still counts days and looks forward to her wedding, the impatience does not make her unable to enjoy the time she has left with her family and friends.

She spends much time with Cirincë, for her younger sister is sad. Tuilindien's temporary absence appears to have made her rapidly approaching more permanent departure much more real to Cirincë.

Tuilindien tries to console her with promises of visits, to little effect. In the end they just spend as much time together as possible.

Lirulinë spends more home in the family home than she has for years, too, though that might be because of the many eager arms that there are there to cuddle baby Aiwië. Little Cantiel, only a few years older than her niece, is fascinated with the baby too, and babbles to her for hours about everything and anything.

Cantiel receives her mother-name at midwinter, the whole family with aunts and uncles and grandparents gathered to hear it.

Sailiel gathers her youngest daughter close to her and raises her voice for the announcement.

'It is a little early, but she is not the baby of the family anymore', she begins. 'And now that she speaks and plays with language, I would like her to have a name with more personal meaning.' Tuilindien's mother glares at her husband who gave their fourth daughter a father-name meaning 'fourth daughter'.

'I knew I could trust you to gift her a better name', Ingolmo says innocently.

'Darling daughter.' Sailiel lifts Cantiel in her arms and brushes her hair tenderly out of her eyes so she can gaze at her. 'I wish to give you the name Wilwarindëa.'

Cantiel tilts her head. 'Like a butterfly.'

'Like a butterfly', her mother confirms. 'For you run around the house and garden, just for fun, from one family member to another like a butterfly flutters from flower to flower.'

Wilwarindëa grins and looks over her mother's shoulder to her sisters. 'I didn't get a bird name', she declares to them jubilantly. 'I got a butterfly name. The only butterfly name.'

'Congratulations, Wilwarindëa', Tuilindien tells her, hiding her own grin.

Preparations for the wedding have gone well, especially when one takes into account that the bride has participated in them by letter for many weeks. Finwë and Nerdanel have borne principal responsibility in making the arrangements, with Carnistir relaying Tuilindien's latest wishes and vetoing some details on his own behalf.

'We will not have an entire orchestra playing at the wedding, Cáno. It is a celebration for family. If you keep suggesting it, I won't let you and Tinweriel play at all', Carnistir had to threaten during one meeting.

'It's an orchestra Tinwië and I belong to, so there's no reason it couldn't perform at a family celebration', Makalaurë argued. 'There was an orchestra at our wedding.'

'It was your wedding', Carnistir pointed out between clenched teeth. 'This is mine and Tuilë's. We're less…' he wants to say pompous or dramatic, but that would be too rude '… grandiose people.'

Finwë played peacemaker. 'People do have different tastes and desires, Makalaurë. I'm certain that Carnistir will be very grateful if you and Tinweriel hold an intimate performance at the wedding. You do not need an orchestra to make beautiful music. Is that not right, Carnistir?'

'That's right', Carnistir muttered, and with that the matter was finally settled two weeks before the wedding.

Arguing with Makalaurë had felt strange. Moving back to his childhood home for the last two weeks before the wedding feels stranger. He only does so because his mother and brothers beseeched him to.

He finds his room much like he had left it, only a little tidier. Carnistir runs his fingers over the books and papers and other things he'd left behind as unnecessary. After over three years away, it almost feels like they belong to another person.

It is no matter that the room he lived in since he was a child doesn't feel like his anymore. He has a new room elsewhere, one that is only missing the finishing touches now, and he didn't come to his family home to spend time in his room anyway. He came to spend time with his family.

And he does just that, as much as he can spare time from working to make sure the new house will be habitable if not finished by the time of the wedding.

He plays with his youngest brothers and takes them riding and listens while they tell him everything they've ever thought of – that is how it seems anyway.

He tells them that he won't see them any less when he has married Tuilindien. More, very possibly, since he won't be as busy with the house project anymore.

He feels certain, without asking Tuilindien, that his little brothers will be welcome in their house even if they visit often and leave a mess behind. It is rather wonderful, being certain of things like that.

'My new house is on the other side of the city but that is not a problem', Carnistir tells Ambarussar. 'You've become good riders in the last few years. You are not to just hop on your ponies and ride there, but if you ask mother or father for permission and for a groom to accompany you, it should be no problem for you to visit frequently.'

The twins beam at him and Pityo lets out a small cheer.

'You must always be courteous to Tuilindien and do as she asks', Carnistir hastens to add.

Both Ambarussar looks offended that Carnistir thinks that they might not be the most courteous children in all of Aman. 'Of course we will', they say in unison, which adds to rather than relieves Carnistir's fear that they definitely won't behave.

He ruffles their hair, anyway, and tells them to go beg the cook for something sweet they can all share.

A week before the wedding day, Tuilindien with her whole family arrives in Tirion.

Carnistir embraces Tuilindien tightly as soon as he sees her, and tells her, 'You are a day late.'

Tuilindien's eyes are bright with tears of joy. 'The roads were terrible', she says with a half laugh, half sob, trailing her hands through his hair. 'The mountain-paths especially were muddy with melted snow. It is not the best time of the year for travelling.'

'But it is an excellent time for a wedding, for I could not wait a day longer than the six we still have left.' Carnistir holds her close, nuzzling her neck. 'I have no words for how glad I am that you are here to stay this time.'

Tuilindien sighs. 'As am I, my love, to truly stay with you finally, with no goodbyes in sight.' She strokes a gentle hand down his back. 'Right now, though, we must join our families for dinner.'

'They can wait a moment.'

'They have already waited. Come now, Carnistir.'

At dinner and during the socialisation afterwards when his family member and relatives whisk Tuilindien away from him, he observes her, especially in relation to the few women already in his family. Tuilindien is shorter and more slender than his mother, and dressed in lighter colours, blending in more with the marble of the palace; she is more quiet and more still than Tinweriel with her witticisms and wide gestures.

Yet he knows where she is in the room at all times, no matter how many more colourful or louder people she is surrounded by. Even without looking he knows where she is at any moment, and feels better than ever for knowing that she is there, never far from him.

A/N: In the next chapter, which I will post within a week unless something weird happens, the long-awaited wedding day with its night.

I can't believe there's only one chapter left! And then some short sequel fics if (and that's a big if) I manage to write them.