Relationships: Maglor/his wife-to-be (Tinweriel), Caranthir/his wife to be (Tuilindien), Curufin/his wife-to-be (Netyarë)
Wordcount: ~900
Some keywords: romance, fluff, engagement
A/N: I went through my WIPs to find something happy for Tolkien Decameron Project (on AO3) and found this.
The wives in this fic are the same OCs as in many of my other fics, but this works as a standalone story.
Rings of promise
I – Makalaurë to Tinweriel
When Tinweriel promises to marry him, Makalaurë begins writing a song for her. He has written her many songs before, of course, but this song will surpass them all.
It does not take long for him to finish it, surprisingly. Or perhaps not: he had it all in his heart already. Composing was more of a matter of arranging his feelings for the harp.
But after he finishes it, he still wants to do more, and decides to carve a promise into the betrothal ring he is making for her.
Some carve words into their rings of promise, some do not. Makalaurë initially thought that he might not but when he thinks of the words, simple and true, he knows he wants them made physical, not only spoken or sung. It is an usual desire for him but feels right this time.
On the outside surface of the rings he chisels, in musical notation just barely big enough to see, a snippet of the song he just wrote. It is a song of affection and gladness; when played well, it makes the air ring with golden-warm joy. Makalaurë intends to play it often, both alone with Tinweriel and in company.
On the inside he carves words for her to keep against her skin. With all the songs in my soul –
Already as he gives it to Tinweriel he tells her that the golden ring he will give her on the day they marry will continue the message. With all the song in my soul – I am yours until the world breaks.
And he tells her, 'All the songs I sing are for you now.'
II – Carnistir to Tuilindien
When the right words to carve into Tuilindien's rings come to Carnistir, he wonders for a moment whether they are too romantic. Romance is, after all, something he did not think of highly for the most of his life, and several of his brothers still often proclaim their dislike of sentimental words like he used to. Curufinwë in particular bemoans and mocks the romantic tendencies Tuilindien has brought out in Carnistir.
But l'll be damned before I let my least favourite little brother influence what I promise to my wife, Carnistir tells himself after that second of doubt. Curufinwë's views on romance are, after all, completely irrelevant.
The only thing that matters is the truth of his feelings for Tuilindien, and what words he might use to make her happy.
Not caring if it is sentimental and melodramatic, he carves into the silver betrothal ring, With all the fire in my spirit. As soon as he finds the time he will make her golden ring, too, and continue his promise with I give myself to you.
For that is what he wants to do.
Into the outside of the silver ring he engraves tiny, delicate flowers and vines, all connected and flowing into each other, unending and inseparable like his feelings for her.
Thinking of her often means thinking of flowers. The roses her hair got tangled up in the night they met; the flower-shaped combs and other jewellery he made for her; the wildflowers dotting the grass in the glade where he first kissed her; the flowers surrounding the tables at the tea-house where he almost lost her by his own actions; the garlands she sent with her letters.
And on the mountainside, the blooming lavaraldar trees they danced under the night she asked him to marry her.
III – Curufinwë to Netyarë
Curufinwë finds it infuriatingly difficult to decide what special quality he will give to the rings he is making for Netyarë. In the end he stoops to asking his married brothers for advice. He begins with Carnistir only because he happens to meet him first.
Carnistir suggests nothing but an engraving. 'Something that says in a few words all that you want to say to her. It might mean more to her than any showy effect.'
Curufinwë knows that Netyarë likes some colourful, showy things, but he also thinks once again about the cruel way he spoke the first time he willingly engaged her in conversation: how he'd accused her of being a social climber and a fortune hunter. He had been completely in the wrong, and he apologised soon after and she forgave him, but he knows his words can never be erased from between them.
But he can promise her that in their marriage he will do everything he can to give her only the best of him: to keep his colder, crueller side away from her and make her happy with what gentler warmth there is in him. To make her smile that smile of hers that is like a bright summer's day and has become more necessary to his happiness than any single thing before.
Curufinwë pulls up a sheet of parchment and polishes the words like he would a gemstone, until they shine dark and clear, and the following day he carves them into metal.
His promise to her, in silver and gold, With all that is good in me – I am devoted to you.
But he can't stop himself from doing something else too, something Makalaurë and Carnistir had not done, something else to remind Netyarë of him. So he sings a simple enchantment into the golden ring, nothing ostentatious. Just a little enchantment that will make the ring always feel warm against her skin, like her smile always makes him feel warm.
A/N: If you want to read more about these relationships, check out my fics Consonance (Maglor's romance), Your spirit calling out to mine (Caranthir) and Sparks fly out (Curufin) and their various sequels.