Love is a complicated word with many meanings. One has love for a flower, or the craftsmanship of a sword, or the beauty of a moon rise. There is love between friends, or family, or lovers, or companions in a profession. There is love for a war-brother, and love for a strange people that woke long after us. Ambarussa described this love like the love had for a small furry animal, or a dog, it is a beloved hound "But not Quendi" yet still treasured and protected and loved and treated with as much care and firmness of hand as one might have for a child. But still, a small furry animal. We did see them for the most part as a simpler creature, incapable of culture and language and other things, and it was a while before we could break that idea of ourselves. It is quite a lot of trouble to see past that kind of feeling, when you see them live for so little a time, barely longer than hounds of valinor. This is probably why Findarato was so popular. It is not a prejudice between skin colors as I have found among atani (and this is very silly), or a divided peoples, we may be able to interbreed but we still ever had a very hard time accepting them, though we eventually found a way, to a point. The unions between our women and their men helped. Yes we were deeply prejudiced, I won't apologize for that. So are atani, possibly even more obsessed with 'Them against Us' than we were.
Nelyafinwe. I should explain part of what it is that is my love for Nelyafinwe. It is something that means part of myself is always outside of my 'body' or my sense of 'self' and is him, and I feel that all of the time. It means if he refused to speak to me for a thousand years and broke every pen I sent and burned every sheet of paper, I would still love him just as much as before. I have had him break most of the bones in my upper body at one point or another (portraits done by people who never have seen me, are quite inaccurate in giving me an unbroken nose), all kinds of things thrown in my direction, been reviled and called things that do not bear repeating, and I think he actually has stabbed me a few times but that was after Thangorodrim and he was hallucinating quite a bit before we could leech most of the poisons (of many forms) from him and it wasn't anything serious.
He is my Nwalmenya. I can't imagine myself existing without his presence, as long as I know he
is then I do. I am told that love is blind, maybe it is, I would follow him even were I blinded. I did actually, if you read the history books. Of course, I have a sense of preservation (which really only means I don't like dying) and there are limits, I would not stand there and bear the brunt of his storm, but I could never hold the destruction against him and I will always tell him when he is being an idiot and slap him back into coherency if it is possible. What is a loved one for, if not to tell us the things we do not want to hear but need to hear all the same?
We hurt each other, scream and throw things and say terrible things at each other, but that has never taken away from what is between us.
Muse: Findekano
Fandom: Silmarillion
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