Cerveth

Journey AU, so not quite canon compliant.  Kind of an Everybody Lives!AU, only not in the slightest related to The Hobbit.  Nimrodel recalls a dream and a promise made long ago, still just within her grasp if only she would reach... This story is, of course, related to "Journey", though I would think there would be a few chapters between them.  Thus, it is also related to "Dismiss" and "Compromise" as well.  Takes place (probably) somewhere in Gondor in the Third Age.

PS: If it wasn't obvious, Cerveth is the Sindarin equivalent of July.  It is based off the same root as Cermië, the Quenya word for the same month.  However, there is no etymology on either word, and the closest root I've found is kyermië (or cyermië), which means "prayer".  Of course, that might not even be relevant, but you know how linguistic freaks like me are LOL.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Unfinished Tales

Pairings: Amroth x Nimrodel

Characters: Nimrodel, Amroth (mentions Oromë, Manwë, Varda and Arien, all referred to with their Sindarin names)

Warning: non-canon compliant AU, non-canon character survival, sexual undertones, implied sexual intercourse (non-explicit), some marshmallow-y, sappy romance, kissing, nakedness, etc...

Song: The Lost Memory (Haitoku no Kioku in Japanese)

Words: 1,562
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July (noun): the seventh month of the Gregorian calendar; typically warmest month in the Northern Hemisphere and coldest month in the Southern Hemisphere
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/july

Summer had always been Nimrodel's favorite season.  There was just a certain charm to its warm glow, the shimmering of sunlight raining down over everything, covering the world in green and gold and heat that sank into the very heart of the earth and warmed the stone and dirt beneath her bare feet.  Life flourished beneath the grace of Anor and the violent but fleeting wrath of the storms that whisked across the sky like a falcon's shadow, spreading plentiful water down to hydrate the land.

It was, to her, a time of living.  Not blooming, as spring, or fading, as in autumn.  But truly living.

The perfect time to start a family.  To grow from one to two.  And from two to three.

And thus it was that, as a young woman in the springtime of her womanhood, Nimrodel had always fancied that she would be married at midsummer as the sun was setting, coolness only barely dampening the buzz of the sunlight's rays warming her skin, the night-sounds flitting through the air and fireflies slipping in and out of the shadows in swirls of intricate abstraction.

Beneath the boughs of the trees she would stand, her husband-to-be at her side, their hands entwined as they spoke the bonding words.  That was always how she would picture that moment of bliss.

"I want to be married in the summer.  In Cerveth."

Amroth glanced up at her through golden eyelashes.  The prince was sprawled out at her feet, lying like a loyal hound spread across the grass upon his belly, enjoying the sweet smells of the coming of the warm weather and the reanimation of the dead world of winter.  His blond locks spilled down into the grass as he sat up and perched his cheek in the cup of his palm, smiling slyly in her direction.

"The summer..." His thoughtful voice shuddered through her.  No matter that he was of the west, something about this genuine, charming creature could always make her heart pound like drumbeats, quick and throbbing wildly.  Wanting to leap from her body and into his keeping so recklessly.

Gulping, Nimrodel managed a nod. "When we arrive in Aman, I want to be married in Cerveth.  At sunset of midsummer in a forest clearing.  Just us two."

Alone, so that we might fall into the cradle of the living world about us.  So that we might be swallowed whole and become a part of its surreal wonder.

So that we might live in bliss.  Just us two.

Without the complications of regency and opposing politics.  Without the worries for their people and their ideological disagreements.  They would be free of burden.  And they would make love as the stars dappled the heavens and the red glow of Anor faded into the westernmost corners of the world, leaving them to the dusk and the enveloping warmth.

Flushing, Nimrodel glanced away from his eyes, hoping that she had not been too obvious in her racy daydreaming.  For the thought of becoming one with him upon the forest floor, twining together into two people--not a prince and a lady in disagreement and contention, but as two beings in perfect harmony--left her feeling languid and achy.

"If that is what you wish." His hand captured her own, raised it to his lips, and the heat in her belly jumped slightly.  But it was tempered by the rush of pure affection and the slight sting of guilt. "I wish only to make you happy, my Lady Nimrodel."

"When we arrive," she said, breathless in the wake of the caress of his lips and the depth of his generous and devoted adoration.

"When we arrive," he agreed without resistance. "We shall be married in Cerveth.  This midsummer."

A promise if ever there had been one.

---

But, of course, they never reached the far shores.  And, when midsummer came, Nimrodel sat down alone by a softly chiming mountain stream and wept.  Wept for her foolishness.

---

It was not until many years later that she lay with him again.  Beneath the boughs of the trees as the heat of the summer afternoon seeped away into the gentle warmth of evening.  Above their heads, the sky was stained with red and gold, Aran Einior's indescribable watercolor tapering away to the deep blue of night, of Elbereth's ancient quilt.

They were not in Aman, her and her lover.  And Nimrodel did not think they would ever reach the far shores.

But she did not care.  Not now.

Nimrodel sighed and rolled over, rested her head upon his shoulder, feeling both the warm firmness of his body against her side and the cool fingertips of the grass brushing against her back and the bare flesh of her calves, twining into the silvered pools of her hair.  She did not need Aman, for this was where she belonged.  From now until the end of time.

Once, she would have cared about Valinor.  Once, she would have wanted with terrible desperation to escape the encroaching darkness she could sense growing with each day, seeping as poison into her beloved earth.  But her priorities had changed.  Certainly, she loved her people and despised the arrogant and egocentric outsiders and invaders.  Certainly, she was frightened of the growing, looming shadow, believed that it was those strange elves--tall and dark and harder than raw stone--that brought it upon the soft glow of her reality like fire upon a forest's helpless kindling.

But she loved Amroth.  Loved him more.  More than she had ever believed possible.

"Cerveth is upon us," she whispered against his neck, her eyes falling to half-mast as her hand rose to stroke the powerful muscle of his shoulder and the dip of his collarbone.

Beneath her body, he stiffened, growing taut.

In his eyes lay the layers of ash.  The burned rubble of hopes long left behind, the wreckage of the agony of believing her dead, believing his dreams shattered and his life utterly ended before it had even begun.

How she longed to drive away that ash, choking out the green awaiting beneath its heavy hand.  How she longed to brush it aside, allow sunlight again to reach those sprouts so that they might dig their way out of the scarred, blackened earth and become something even more glorious in the wake of destruction.

How she longed to finally begin their life.

"And the sun is setting... Here we are, beneath the trees, just like I always imagined..."

Pain drifted as a shadow over the deep blue of his gaze, darkening them near to black. "Nimrodel..."

"I want to be married, Amroth."

Ever so slowly--ever so gently--he lifted her chin until their eyes met.  Pulled her to rest upon his chest and allowed her hands to embrace his cheeks and sink into the depths of his hair even as she felt his touch upon the curves of her sides, resting just above the sensitive roundness of her hips.  Beneath her, she could feel him breathing, each rise and fall of his chest lifting and lowering her, rocking her in the most intimate of dances.

"I did not keep my promise," he murmured, his lips so close and yet so far away. "I doubt we shall ever see Aman and stand beneath the trees in the Woods of Araw, watch the sun set in the distance together..."

And make love beneath the stars.

It was endearing and startling and saddening how devoted he was to her, an uncompromising and selfish woman unwilling to give to sacrifice if only to make him as blissful as she had been in the dawn of their love, when she had only known how to take.  And take and take and take.

She did not want to see his sorrow any longer.  She wanted to give.

"I do not care."

That familiar flash streaked through his eyes, lighting their depths with silver for a moment frozen in time.  Hope, so pure, as a vein of mithril through rock, shattering the darkness with reflection of sudden light. Shocked, he stared up at her.

Nervous.  Frightened.

Awed.

"Marry me, Amroth.  Here.  Now."

Here in the summer as the sun sets.  Let us become one.

Let me love you as you were meant to be loved...

"Are you... are you certain...?"

"I have never been more certain about anything."  Nimrodel smiled sadly, pressing their brows together.  About them, her hair fell as moonbeams to match his eyes.  To contrast the darkening dome overhead. "Please."

He never could say no to her.

And it was so perfect, the words whispered between their breaths into the silence.  Just as she had always imagined.  Amongst the quiet noise of the forest, the crickets and the rustle of the leaves in the breeze.  Amongst the dwindling heat of summer's embrace, enfolding them as their clothing fell away.  Amongst the ferns and the grass, her back upon the cool ground but his form wrapped about her to keep her within a sphere of fiery heat.

Until they rested against one another, breathless and trembling, more one creature than two.

With the fireflies in the shadows.  And the stars scattered across the darkening sky.