Tuor | The Silmarillion (tuor) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-05-27 01:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed |
WHO: Tuor and Idril
WHERE: Vinyamar
WHEN Early Monday morning
WHAT: Working through issues
WARNINGS: TBD, Nothing big expected
STATUS: Closed/Ongoing
Tuor didn't like fighting with Idril one bit.
It wasn't just because he loved her, or because fighting was in itself unpleasant (although both of those were very true), it was also because something just seemed...utterly unnatural about it. Their marriage hadn't had a lot of fights. True, it had been a very short marriage - especially as elves measured them - but it had seemed that they had settled into a gentle sort of happy peace since Eärendil's birth that felt like it would be hard to break.
It wasn't.
Last week's fight had shattered the illusion that their marriage was perfect, and without conflict. It had brought a cloud over what had before been nothing but sunshine. But Tuor couldn't help but wonder if this was something that had been festering for a long time; a culmination of all the fights they should have had while they were looking at the world blinded by the sun.
It wasn't as if the fight made him love her any less. He loved her as much now as he had the day he married her, and he knew instinctually that that at least, wasn't going to change. But things seemed a little less...perfect now. A little more real. And it was sad, the shattering of that illusion where their lives had been nothing but a globe of happiness where no sadness or discomfort could ever reach.
It was early morning, and usually he would get up about this time to go out sailing on his ship. But this morning, he simply sat up, facing with his back towards Idril as he stared at his toes, which had suddenly become very interesting. They had made up, to an extent, but there was still a distance between them that hadn't been there before, and he utterly hated it. They needed to talk. But they'd never had to have this sort of a conversation before, and to be honest, he wasn't sure exactly how to start it.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at her.
"Itarillë," he said softly, shaking her a bit. "Itarillë, wake up."