Elenwë of the Vanyar (vanya_elenwe) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-04-19 12:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed |
WHO: Turgon and Elenwë
WHAT: A joyous reunion
WHEN: Thursday night
WHERE: The lobby of the apartment
WARNINGS: Low
STATUS: Closed/Incomplete
It had not been so long for Elenwë, really. She had arrived here less than a week ago, and they had been together then. But this place was strange, and since her arrival she had learned many things, things that had made her feel more distant from him, more sundered. She had died. He had not. And he had lived a life that had grown further from her, and stranger to her, with every passing day. Five hundred years! And their daughter had married, and had a child of her own. He had built Vinyamar, and then Gondolin, and been the Lord of both places. And she, perhaps, had become little more than a cherished memory, one of the things left behind when he left Aman.
She did not doubt he loved her. She could never doubt that. The hearts of the Eldar were not so fickle, and she did not doubt that their love had been true. Unlike so many of the Men here, their love had been deep, based on mutual affection, shared dreams, and a bond between them that had nothing to do with physical appearance or base desires. Oh, she thought him beautiful! It was not that. And they had shared much joy in the physical act. But it was little more than an expression of their love - one of many. She did not place so very much importance on it as those here seemed to do. It was not that which she missed most about him. Nay, far from it. She missed far more their talks. Their partnership. Those moments in private when she could get him to laugh. The way his ears would stoop and redden as she teased him. How at night she could cuddle against him and nearly disappear in his embrace. She missed his eyes. His voice. The smell of him. The way his eyes caught fire when he talked about those things he cared about most, and the way he looked when he worked on his models late at night when he thought she was asleep. She missed the totality of him.
And now he was here. But was he? How much had he changed in the years that had sundered them? Would he find her ridiculously naive? Would he have grown so much she did not recognize his spirit? Would he have become a different man in the years she had been gone, a man she no longer knew? Her heard ached with fear as she hurried down the stairs from Maedhros' room, dressed still in her simple white nightgown and fuzzy pink slipper socks. It was not, perhaps, the way she would have chosen to meet him, but her desire to see him immediately had overpowered her desire to look good for him. In the thousand years that they had been married, he had seen her in every state of dress and undress; she could not imagine that it mattered.
Reaching the lobby, she looked around her. He was not there yet, but he likely had further to come. She hugged herself, trying to stop shivering from nerves and aye, fear, watching the door with anxiety and anticipation.