Hi guys!
First of all I want to thank Celridel for her immense help in editing this story as well as I want to thank d'elfe and Ducking Cute for their encouraging reviews.
And now... it's arrived the moment that many were waiting for...! What is it? Let's go for chapter 64 and let's find out!
Waiting for your reviews, guys!
Chapter 64: Less Bliss Have Many Had
The Last Day of December, FA 509
They walked down the tunnel, holding hands, trailing their fingers down the rough walls.
It was hard for Tuor to see, but Elves are like cats in the dark, and Idril guided him faithfully.
The tunnel was long and rough and without finesse, and the last part of it that led up to the mountains was exceedingly steep. The sound of their breathing bounced around the subterranean place.
Idril stopped several yards away from the exit and sat down. Tuor settled himself by her, leaning back and stretching out his long legs.
There was a long silence. The December wind was awake despite the late hour, and it whistled down the tunnel, leaching away their warmth with every gust.
"We should return," Tuor said at last. Idril had sat still and silent for a long hour. Only her hair seemed to move, a long golden torrent beaten by the wind.
His words seemed to come to her only slowly like they were the hook, and she the silver-finned fish in a sea of thought. She surfaced slowly and turned to look at him with a wry, rather shame-faced smile.
"My long-suffering husband," she said fondly, stroking his cheek. "How cold you must be!"
Tuor smiled and shrugged, leaping to his feet with the agility of a boy. Idril held out her hands and he pulled her up to him. She was like a warm coal in his arms, but her eyes were still clouded with thoughts.
He rested his forehead against hers, but she pushed him away, laughing.
"Ai, Tuor! Away with you! Holding you is like holding an icicle!"
"Idril," he said gravely, not sharing in her merriment. "Do not laugh for my sake. I only want you to be happy, not to pretend."
She looked up at him but did not answer. The dreams had been coming more and more of late, blurred visions of infernos, blood coagulating into rivers of gore, broken blades, slaughter pits, empty thrones, towers fretted with flame, black eyes filled with so much hate, fire and steel arresting the destiny of her city. She would wake up and bury her face in pillows, trying to stop the sobs.
"Tuor," she said, smiling at him. "Tuor, our time is here is short... not enough. I have done all I could, and now I will relish every second I spend with the three I love the most. Each of you has more than a place in my heart-you are my heart. I do not laugh for your sake, darling, I laugh for mine. Give me the memories I need."
"Will this do for a start?" he asked and kissed her.
The stables were warm, smelling of horses and hay. Glorfindel stood by Valorocco, absently scratching his stallion's nose with one hand. He fidgeted with his other hand, constantly touching the pocket inside his jerkin where he had placed the necklace.
The weather was milder tonight, mild, that was, for December, and they had decided it was warm enough to take their horses out of the stables.
"Good evening, Glorfindel," Laura greeted cheerfully, stepping over the barn lintel. "Have you been waiting long?"
"No," Glorfindel returned firmly, although he had been in the stables for more than an hour. "But let us go. Valorocco is spoiling for a race."
Laura grinned. "Is he now?"
Four hearts made their way through the starlit night, the horses and their riders. The horses' hooves beat a steady tempo, drumming the snowy fields, and the riders' hair blew out in the wintry air, streamers of black and gold.
Glorfindel leaned over his mount's neck and whispered a word in his ear. Without warning, Valorocco caracoled away from Viento Nocturno, turning right through a rocky corridor that opened suddenly into a simple meadow no more than a mile wide.
"What do you think of it?" Glorfindel asked as Laura dismounted. She looked around, impressed. There was something secluded and peaceful about the place. In summer, she imagined that its grass would be the shade of green reserved for summer memories, but in winter, it offered a snow-white promise too good for the soul to refuse.
"It's beautiful," she said. "I can't believe we've never come here before."
"Some places are reserved for extraordinary events," Glorfindel said. He reached inside his jerkin and produced a green silk pullicate and handed it to her with an expectant smile.
His smile-so warm and full of hope, like the sun upon budding flowers-plucked at her heartstrings. She took the cloth from him and opened it hesitantly, gasping with joy as she dangled the necklace from her fingers. "It's...it's...so beautiful! Did you make it?"
"With some... help, but yes, I did," Glorfindel replied, his smile growing to intoxicating levels.
Laura fingered the pendant. "You know me very well," she said, opening the clasp and putting the necklace on. "How do I-" she began, but her words broke off when she saw the way he looked at her. "Thank you, it's very beautiful," she finished primly.
"No, Maistalda, you are the most beautiful," Glorfindel said.
Laura sighed. "Glorfindel, you don't need to flatter me. Your gift is very beautiful, but I am not."
"No," Glorfindel returned earnestly. "You are more beautiful than you can imagine. Your beauty is the hardest to find, but once it is found, it is the hardest to hide."
Laura folded her arms across her chest. "Glorfindel, I really appreciate your gift, but I don't appreciate your sweet talk. I'm sorry, but it's not my style."
"Let me finish," Glorfindel continued doggedly. His heart was thundering in his chest, adrenaline coursed like wine through his veins. "As I grew to know you and as you changed, I discovered your beauty. It is seen with not the eyes, but the heart. That is why I call you Maistalda. You are strong in spirit, Laura. You held on to the ability to change all your life, despite everything. And you are beautiful because of your strength and perseverance."
Laura smiled a little. "You see it with the heart?"
"Give me your hand," he said gently, and when she did, he began to caress her knuckles. "Yes, I see your beauty with the heart. Laura Kinney, Maistalda, I love you."
Laura snatched her hand away, her eyes wide, her small mouth trembling. She could feel herself beginning to give and steeled herself by reaching around her neck and taking the necklace off. "Glorfindel," she said, "You've really gone out of line this time. You don't love me."
"I know that you love me, Maistalda," Glorfindel replied.
Laura laughed, but her laugh was shrill and forced. "Where do you get your information? I don't love you!"
"That is a lie, Laura. I saw it in your eyes."
Laura felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Damn you, Laura Kinney, she thought furiously.
"When I called you Wilwarinda, I saw it for the first time. You love me like I love you." Glorfindel's voice was calm. His eyes were the dangerous blue of a summer sky before the storm. Laura felt his resolution, his calm persistence eroding her disbelief, like the sea wears away stone walls. She struggled to build them back up but knew they would not be as strong. "Maybe you need glasses," she said. "I don't feel anything for you, Glorfindel. I think you are just having a hard time finding your one true love, so you latched on to me for some reason. That doesn't make me feel good. Here's your necklace. I'm going to go now." She tossed it to him, and he caught it effortlessly, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Laura," he said, wondering at the calmness with which he spoke. "For the sake of our long friendship, let me say my piece."
She stared at him; her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if to stop her heart from speaking.
"Laura, I love you. If you choose to walk away from that love because of your insecurities, your refusal to believe in yourself, that is your choice. But whatever your choice, I give you my fëa."
And at last, Laura let her heart free, and it flew from her chest like a hummingbird freed from its cage, running a straight and true course to Glorfindel. "So you really do love me?" she whispered, holding her hands out slowly as if stricken by sudden age.
Glorfindel took her hands in his own. "I do love you, Laura. Please believe me."
"I believe you!" she exclaimed, and with a sudden sob hid her face in his chest. Little by little, Glorfindel surrounded her with his arms, resting his forehead on her head.
She cried into his warm chest until all the tears were gone, and what she felt was not emptiness, but lightness. When she looked it up, all she saw was love, love as blue as a summer sky before a storm.
Glorfindel opened his right hand, displaying the necklace cradled in his palm. "This is a token of my love, Mánya."
Wild roses bloomed in Laura's cheeks. "Then...would you help me put it on?"
Once it was around her neck, they smiled at each other, a smile of infinite content. Glorfindel, understanding his lover's temper, did not press her for a seal of affection, but instead kissed her on the nose, which made Laura giggle. Then he took both of her hands and kissed her knuckles. Laura closed her eyes and shivered.
"I love you, my Mánya," he said tenderly. "From this moment, my fëa belongs to you and only you."
Laura looked at him, her eyes glistening. She longed to say those words, but the iron reserve instilled since birth stifled such displays of affection. But she would say it. She would find a way. For now, she just smiled at him, eyes filled with tears, and then she hid her face in his chest again.
Glorfindel kissed the top of her head. He longed to hear her declaration of love, but he also understood Laura, in some ways better than she understood herself, so he would wait as long as necessary. That moment would come, and that moment would be the happiest of his life... save for the one he was living now.
Two Weeks Later, January
Since that night Glorfindel was beyond happy. He was drunk with joy, a deep, giddy happiness that soaked into his bones and turned his walk into a dance. The other Lords held their own reservations on the subject, but they would not deny their young comrade his satisfaction, and only wished him joy and smiled at his merry energy.
Glorfindel, finally finished with the daily affairs of his House, stepped out into the early twilight. He had dealt with every complaint, notified which soldiers would be on Watch this week, held audience with the new soldiers that wished to join his House, and yet instead of feeling dull, he felt fully and wonderfully alive.
There was a movement in the shadows under the eaves, and Laura came out to meet him. "I was waiting for you," she said.
Glorfindel smiled at her. "And I am overjoyed to see you, Mánya. Where will we go tonight?"
She sighed. "I have to go back to the Training Square. I need to set up the climbing walls for tomorrow's exercises."
"I will assist you," he said, bowing gallantly, and she laughed a little. "If you want to. I didn't come to enlist your help, I just wanted to tell you I would be busy this evening."
"Ah, but I can never resist the call of a damsel of distress," he said, and she jabbed an elbow into his ribs. "Let's go then."
They worked for several hours. Glorfindel talked, laughed, and occasionally burst into song, and although Laura smiled at him, she seemed quiet and thoughtful.
When they were finished, Glorfindel leaned against the outer wall. Laura joined him after a minute. "What are you looking at?"
He pointed up into the frosty, star-bitten sky. "Menelmacar. The Swordsman in the Sky."
Laura followed his finger with her eyes. "Why?"
"My father was a swordsman, and a splendid armsmaster," Glorfindel said. "He loved to teach, and I loved to learn. This constellation lets me remember him. I cherish those memories."
"Did your father make Culumaica?"
Glorfindel nodded. "Yes. He made it for me when I was nothing but a boy. The first lesson my father gave me was not how to handle a blade, but the significance of such a thing." He smiled at the memory, drawing the words out of the deep well of remembrance. "I was a hot-headed boy, given to impulse, as you may imagine. When my father caught me playing with the sword, he took it from me and sat me down in his forge. Then he sheathed the sword and returned it to me.
'Son,' he said. 'Has it ever occurred to you how different swords are from other weapons? In peace, an ax may be used for chopping wood and a hammer may build a house, but swords are only for war. Listen? What does a sheathed sword say to you?'
I shook my head, puzzled, and he held up a finger. 'It says nothing when it is sheathed. It is a mute, dumb brute like an ax and a hammer.'"
Glorfindel unsheathed Culumaica, and the blade glittered in the starlight, glinting with frost and fire. He offered the hilt to Laura and she took it hesitantly. She slid her hand in the ornate basket-hilt, which twined and twisted. The weapon's balance was impeccable, and she held the sword up, seeing the runes that ran down the blade. Then she swung it experimentally, adjusting her stance to compensate for the sword's weight. Glorfindel stood behind her, gently correcting her arms.
"My father said that a sword half-drawn tells a promise, but when it is fully drawn, it is the promise. It shouts defiance, or hope, but never peace. 'There is no peace when you carry a sword, Laurëfindel. When you bear a sword, my son, you carry a message that can turn those who see you into your most steadfast allies or your worst foes.'"
There was silence. They stood still, their hands tightly enfolded over the blade, their eyes fastened on the glittering edge, seeing themselves reflected in the cold glint of the steel. "Your father taught you that?"
Glorfindel nodded.
"He was a wise Elf," Laura said. She turned the sword down, so its point rested in the packed snow of the Square and turned to Glorfindel. Her mouth formed several shapes before any words came. Then sudden resolution flashed in her eyes, and she said firmly, "D'or."
He arched his eyebrows at her.
"D'or," Laura repeated, smiling as happiness resonated through her. "It means Golden in French, and it is your epessë, Glorfindel. Not because of your hair, but because of your heart." She laid her hand on his chest, splaying the fingers out tenderly. "Your heart is as golden and shiny as your hair. Your heart is golden and very beautiful, D'or."
Glorfindel took her hand and kissed it, then kissed her forehead. Laura took a deep breath, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him fleetingly on the lips. Then she turned away from him, her hands gripping each other.
"Falling in love with you was the easy part, admitting it that was the hard part," she said, her back still turned. "I've put up all these walls, but I guess you made your own door. Now you're here, and I'm glad because I do love you. I love you very much."
" Mánya," Glorfindel said, taking her shoulders and turning her gently around. "You have made me the happiest creature alive."
Laura glanced up, smiling nervously.
"Will you allow me?" he asked. She nodded, and the kiss that he placed on her lips made the world fall away. It was slow and soft and comforting in a way words could never be. She surrendered to the bliss, wrapping her arms around Glorfindel's neck and returning the kiss.
After a while, they broke away for air, and seemed to them that they surfaced into a new world. In this world, it was still winter, but no heart could mourn for summer or spring, for this winter was very beautiful, made of colors and shapes that were fresh and new. Never had Laura felt her place in this world so assured, so cemented with purpose.
"I love you, D'or," Laura said, looking at him with adoring eyes.
"But I love you more, Mánya," he said and kissed her again.
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