Resplendent

Mellow Soulmate AU.  The first time Finwë meets the mother of his firstborn son.  All Quenya names used, obviously.  This could easily be connected to "Reunion", "Exception", "Dim" and any number of other stories related to Finwë and his two wives.  But I suppose this would be the very, very beginning of it all, wouldn't it?  It just caught my fancy today.  Takes place in Cuiviénen in the Years of the Trees.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion

Pairings: Finwë x Míriel

Characters: Finwë, Elwë, Míriel (mentions Eru, Ingwë, Yavanna, Nienna and the Valar in general)

Warnings: canon-compliant soulmate AU, first meetings, love at first sight (so sappy), very faint sexual undertones

Song: Sky Becomes Water

Words: 989
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
resplendent (adjective): shining brilliantly; characterized by a glowing splendor
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/resplendent

The first time he saw her, he knew she was the One.

They--he and his two companions--had only just returned from their journey, filled with visions of things previously unknown and beyond imagination.  Many wonders had Finwë witnessed with his own two eyes in these past seasons.  He had seen Valinor stretching on in emerald and golden splendor.  He had seen the vast oceans writhing below, twined turquoise and steel and adamant.  He had seen mountains that pierced holes in the sky with their fangs.

He had seen the Two Trees in all their glory.  They had branched out over his head, spreading in silver and golden threads and veins across the darkness of the sky, their dew dripping down and raining stars upon his face and his hair as he traversed beneath their boughs and marveled at their lofty heights.  Never before had he seen anything--not even the innumerable stars that speckled the midnight sky in Cuiviénen and reflected off the crystalline water of the lake--that could compare to his first sight of those mighty and glorious creations of Yavanna and Nienna.

And yet here she was.  A creation of Eru himself, and a thousand times as glorious.

Had he been blind before leaving these shores, to miss her amongst the crowd of his dark-haired, dark-eyed kinsmen?

For Finwë could have sworn upon the names of the Valar that he had never laid eyes on this fanciful creature before.  Yet, he had not been gone for so long that she could have been born and grown whilst he was away.  She had just appeared, half-hidden behind a crowd of well-wishers and friends, a silent ghost invisible to the rest of the world.

But all he saw was her.  Resplendent in her raiment.  More beautiful than even the Valier.

Forged of Telperion's tears, she had been, and built from the limbs of his elegant branches.  Her hair was silvered and spilling down the curve of her back and hips, brilliant in the light of the stars against the dark cloth of her simple gown.  And her skin was perfectly smooth, pale almost to white but splashed with just the softest hue of rose in all the right places, brush-stroking over her cheeks and nose.

It was her eyes, though, that captured him fully, ensnared and impaled and helpless.

His own eyes were stormy gray, the color of many of their people.  It was common, if handsome--nothing to scoff at but neither something to marvel upon.  When his eyes flickered up to find hers, though, he saw anything but the mundane gray of metal and stone.

Instead there was a swirling sheen of silver and light.  Blinding and burning, reflecting the strength of the spirit writhing beneath that seemingly delicate frame.

How could no one else see it?

The inner fire and passion and strength?

It was so powerful in the pale gray of her irises--near glowing in the dim light of the shores--that Finwë felt it sinking down into his very bones.  Each moment she looked upon his form, still and quiet in the midst of movement and joy, the heat further rose up underneath his skin, seeking out the chill and driving it from the darkest corners and deepest pits of his mind and heart.  Filling every crack and every empty space left inside his spirit.

Until he was suffused.  Every inch of him tingled.  With her warmth.  With her aliveness.

"Who... who is she--the woman with the pale hair?"

"Ah, her..." Elwë was at his shoulder, smirking at him in vague amusement. "That is Míriel, the weaver's daughter.  Her father was of your people, but her mother was of mine, and she has been living with my kin.  Can you not see the resemblance?" The taller elf laughed and tossed his hair over one shoulder, the silken mithril flying in the breeze as if to demonstrate the similarities in their hue.  And yet Elwë could not compare to her in the slightest.

Jewel-daughter.  Such a fitting name.

And she was watching him, as he was watching her.  The lovely flush upon her cheeks spread further, deepening as she became aware of his eyes settled upon her radiance with worship.

"She is beautiful."

His old friend merely shook his head and scoffed. "And here I thought love at first sight was a myth.  But I think, my friend, that you have proven me quite wrong."

And Finwë had not even the will to be annoyed at the sniping and teasing.  Because she was still looking at him, had not turned away even though her eyes fluttered to half-mast in shyness and her slender hands curled in the folds of her skirt.

Truly, everything about her called to him.  Succulent and rich, both bold and pale all at once.  And the silver of her gaze seemed to shimmer through her lashes invitingly.  Until he wanted nothing more than to be near her, to tilt her chin upwards so once more he could look upon her in all her entirety.  Resplendent.

He knew she was the One.  The One he was meant to be with.  And Finwë's breath was lodged in his throat as he abandoned the friends gathered near, full of their inquiries and questions.

Instead went to her.  Bowed in greeting and struggled to find the air with which to speak and breathe.

"My lady..."

"My name is Míriel." In contrast to her appearance, her voice was strong and firm, nearly blowing him over with its strength. "Well met, Lord Finwë."

By the Valar, she is perfect.

"May the stars shine upon our meeting," he replied, voice low and hoarse.

"They are." She smiled upon him, and Finwë had never felt more complete than he did beneath her warming influence and languid voice. "They most definitely are shining upon us tonight."