|Chel (ex_faramir486) wrote in nocturnes,|
@ 2008-01-30 12:58:00
Ithildin; Fingolfin & Aredhel.
who: fingolfin and aredhel.
summary: many meetings. a decision.
With solemn, silent vows marking his eyes and the stern turn of his lips, Fingolfin passes under the low, weeping branches of the trees, adopting to their sweeps rather than breaking them back. Outbursts of sunlight fall through the cracks and tears in the forest ceiling, glimmering and sometimes blinding, but he eyes the steady tread of his feet marking the earth with soft whispers, aimless and yet not quite lost.
Stealthy, making sure her bare feet raise no alarm to break his concentration she has been following him for the past quarter of an hour. She doesn't dare to raise her voice or her hand to reach out and make her presence known, a tangled conglomeration of fear and respect hushing her voice in her throat. Still, a cold smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she mouths the word 'turn', directing it at his back.
An interruption in the soil makes him pause at the edge of a small, dying stream and he bends down, touching the sodden earth. With the sun playing illusionary tricks across the gently rippling surface of the water, he raises his eyes to the seeming endless wall of trees ahead, reflecting on the oppressive silence surrounding him. Realization of being had. A corner of his mouth turns up and he wants to break up the chaotic soundlessness with laughter, but instead, he glances over his shoulder and arches a heavy brow at the blank canvas of forest before him. Then, his whole body is thrown into motion, turning suddenly and hurling a smooth round stone through the thickness of the trees.
With a surreptitious nod to herself, she simply slips into the shadows of the low hanging branches of a gnarled tree, secretly wishing nothing else but to push her body out into the flash and glare of the sun; take his hand, try and see if she can drag him with her without him willingly succumbing to this childlike whim on her part. She keeps her eyes fixed on him, taking in the sight of him as if sipping life itself. Subdued dignity in every gesture that he makes, resilience in his tenacious love for life, she remembers the minutest lines of his face. A face so uncorrupted by the hands of time and sorrow, she recalls lovingly, that it is enough to believe in.
The trees do not answer, no matter how trying his eyes attempt to pierce their veils. But instinct, sharp and painful, has never once failed him, whether navigating treacherous ice or knowing with absolute clarity that death was certain. "I can feel you." As the seconds slide by, he backtracks, senses now attuned to things other than gentle notions. Slipping deeper and deeper into the woods, immersing himself in dark greens and thicker vegetation, he quickens his pace to an almost run, feet bounding silently across the floor.
Darting after him, she loses her silence. Firm lips forming precise words, a fixed whisper, cold yet beseeching. "Atar, where are you going?"
He stills, exhalation trapped in his throat as he turns to her and curls his fingers around her elbow as if to confirm to his senses of her reality. "Everywhere," he replies softly, not daring to break her gaze.
"Don't," the word is adamant as it leaves her lips. Her spirit overwhelmed by the adulation of being in his presence once more, a smile twinkles in her eyes, the glint traveling down to her lips and leaving her face colored with a gentle shade of peace. "Aren't you yet tired of having been everywhere?"
"I'm tired beyond words." Drinking in the presence of her smile, her bright eyes set in his own face, he can't help but mirror it. He lets go of her arm and raises his hand to her shoulder, cupping the back of her neck under the weight of her dark hair and gently pulling her forward to kiss her forehead. "But I can't seem to stop."
It is strangely foreign, the weight of the kiss resting upon her skin before sinking deep into her form, a placid sensation she cannot deny or resist. Grasping his shoulders firmly, she holds his gaze with unblinking eyes. "Then let me be by your side."
He calculates the sincerity of her words, searching her face intently. His daughter, the wild spirit, who has always ran faster than winds. He cannot, for the life of him, puzzle the two pieces back together. "Why do you want to?"
Nimble fingers raised to his face try to mould a smile as she quirks an eyebrow at the solemn firmness of his words. For a split second she questions her own words, pondering upon the idea with lowered eyes before quietly stating her case. "Why, haven't the winds always run faster under the shadows of giants?" A wry smile. "It will be an experience."
"Hmm," is the only sound he will commit to, amused by her words even when he could see how well they did not fall upon his shoulders. His lips attempt their stern demeanor under her whimsical assault -- she was ever the only creature that had enough audacity to do as much -- but it's difficult to curb this overwhelming emotion flooding just beneath his iron control. "For as long as you desire it, you are welcome to keep my company, Írissë."
Stepping back, she sweeps him a grand curtsey befitting his station with the eloquent smile of a loved child. The time that has slipped past them, the fallen tragedies and triumphs, she trips them behind her heel if only for an instant to keep true to the emotion that binds them both. "Would you rather we scaled the earth, atar, or find my brothers?" She asks with sudden fervor fueling a hope. If her father has returned then her brothers must be here too, she will accept nothing less from fate.
The sudden spark in his eyes upon the mention of this last is answer enough. And though it seemed as if these three, these impossible three, had always been able to take care for themselves and had lived and burnt out their bright flames, he yearned to simply know them again, even if it was just once. One word passed between them, one look, one gesture. "If they were truly your brothers," he replies, a glimmer of a smile growing, "then we would have to scale the earth to find them."
Her smile mirrors her father's, quickly becoming a subdued laugh that she stifles behind a pale hand. She clears her throat and nods, her eyes still sparkling with the sheen of her silenced laughter. "If we start looking for Turukano first, we'll have to rake the earth and turn it upside down instead of just scaling it."
"I would expect nothing less," he nods, attempting solemnity as he resumes their walk. "How long were you following me?" he asks, glancing at her briefly with narrowed eyes.
"And for Findékano, we can always ask the winds," Lowering her voice, she falls into step beside him. A brief grin graces her face and she raises her eyes up to the sky to study the position of the sun. "...almost an hour and half."
Shaking his head with a mixture of pride in her skills and folly in the lack of his own, he laughs softly, glancing up at the sunlight breaking through the trees. "You tell me about yourself."
She steers clear of any poisonous plants and generally hopes to step out into the sun, without the canopy of gnarled and ancient trees blocking sunlight from reaching them both. She bites her lips at his question, weighing her words before selecting a few to finally speak. "What does my lord wishes to know? There was life, pain and joy entwined." A pause. "And there was a son."
He doesn't visibly react, stepping over a protruding root crossing his path as his eyes scan the lush greens and shadows regularly. "I never thought such a day would come."
"It did," and passed rather swiftly, she thinks dryly as she gently kicks at a stone in her path. There is no pity in her voice or her thoughts as she tilts her head to speak further. "To be honest, I didn't think it would come either. It was quite, how to put it gently, limiting. I named him Lómion."
"Lómion," he echoes quietly, tasting the word on his tongue. Son of his daughter, whom he thought least likely of all his children to wed. "The father?" he asks with an edge to his tone.
Try as she might, she cannot curb the bitterness that seeps into her eyes, her face darkening with an acrid expression as she looks over her shoulder into the forest they are leaving behind. But the violence of this secret abhorrence lasts only for a few seconds and she reverses to her calm self. No emotion, not attachment to the name she speaks only out of duty to answer her father. "Eol, kinsman of Elwë Singollo of Doriath. Master of his own abode in the depths of Nan Elmoth."
He nearly snarls at the name, snapping the branch in his hand as he pushes it out of the way. "So noted." He shall always remember this name if, indeed, he should ever have to put it to a face. But the wash of sunlight across the open land drains some of the steel from his eyes, the wind moving freely to tangle in their hair and clothes.
The sudden discord in his voice is enough to make her shut her eyes for an instant before she shakes her head ever so slightly and glares at the sun, defiant to let the memory defeat either life or light ever again. "So it shouldn't be a hindrance. Let us breath free in this newfound peace, atar. The world awaits."
"It never shall be," he says simply, a promise made as he hoists himself up onto a raised flat stone, gazing across the sweeps of peaks and valleys stretch out over the landscape. And even though everything has changed, they still remain very much the same for him. His heart pulses to the rhythm of this land and it does not fail to do so now. "If I did not say it before, then I will say it now," he whispers, not knowing whether his words are lost to the wind or not, "it is...incredible joy to have you here."
"And my heart rests easy now that I know that you are here," she whispers as she lowers herself to the ground, crouching and letting a probing hand brush the surface of the earth before she raises the stained fingers to study the grains of sand closer. "Even though it may not show from my face. As Findékano once so aptly put it, this countenance is set this way." With a brief smile, she rises and dusts her hands before pointing towards east. "We are not very far from the outer limits of Doriath. Further in north-west is Gondolin, if it still stands."
"There is no Gondolin."
"You mean now it isn't there?"
"Only now ruins," he says flatly, shielding his eyes and looking towards the distant horizon.
"Oh..." Definite disappointment makes her speak no more for a long pause. "What about Hísilómë? Do you have any tidings about it?"
"No." He has tried not to think of his old lands, fears even what has become of them. Stepping off the boulder, he steps forward and faces her, crouching low to the ground. "But I fear whatever ground we held, we hold no more."
Quick to anger at these words, a frown forms on her face as she grasps a smooth stone in her hand, twisting it idly between her adroit fingers while she contemplates. "What is this madness, atar? Why not? Are we to ask for refuge in Doriath from the lord who long denied our kin the rites of passage to his lands, classifying them as nothing more than bloodthirsty beasts? I would rather we stayed out here, in the wilderness."
"As loathe as I am to come crawling into Elwë's lap, if it is the only elven kingdom still standing, then I will go, at least," he tips her chin up to meet her eyes, "at least to understand what has happened in the years since my passing. We do not have to stay. I don't plan on it."
"Neither do I," her voice rises slightly, tainted with a hint of anger as she looks into his eyes, her pride stirring her more profoundly then anything else. Finally pursing her lips, she nods. "I hope our stay there is not delayed. I will try to do as you wish and not disappoint you."
"You could not." Shaking his head firmly, he rises to his feet, extending his hand to her. "The Sindar have survived only by hiding in their caves like cowards. Never forget that."
"I'm amazed it didn't stint their growth and turn them into some half formed new hybrid of dwarf and elf," she states flatly before taking his hand grasping it a bit too tightly, just to feel the blood push against the grip and flow through his veins. "To the east, then?"
"Well, we've yet to lay eyes on them; I wouldn't be half-surprised." A smirk. He squeezes her hand briefly and easily pulling her to her feet. "To the east."
"Cover my eyes if my shock and dislike display too freely on my face," she asks with a smirk before tilting up her chin and standing beside him. "I won't stop my laughter, though."
"Never stop laughing."
"Is that a command?"
"A request," he smiles. "Preferably in full view of all."
Her lips part in a sudden smile and she leans towards him to place a feathery kiss on his cheek. "I really like the way you think, Atar. And I love you."
"As I do you, Írissë." Turning eyes determinedly towards the east, "Come. There are many miles yet to Doriath and no easy way of getting there quickly enough."