1I am not going to argue with my fevered brain, which came up with this ficlet. I simply wrote it down
It's fluff with no trick in it.
Thanks to Anduniela for tracking errors.
The gardens of Lorien were not a place Nerdanel visited often, nor one she had good memories of, but she had come nonetheless. If anything, this place was meant for rest and healing. The path she picked led her among trees and paths that seemed to change endlessly, adjusting to what the dwellers needed and providing them with privacy. She never saw a soul. No one showed her the way, save for the path directing her steps. Yet she found the one she was looking for.
He looked but a little older than when she first met him and just looking at him made her heart sing with joy and weep at the same time. Remaining hidden from his sight, she stood and watched him wander aimlessly, picking leaves, brushing grass, constantly checking, touching, feeling. He combed his black hair from his face and Nerdanel almost chuckled at the well-known frustration. The hair length was like she remembered, just below his shoulders, in a way he had used to wear them – practical for work, but easy to style for more official occasions. But now the raven locks were hanging freely, in a way she had only seen when they rested. Or on those rare occasions they had simply lazed around the day...
He wasn't younger, she realised suddenly. He was simply more slender, his arms too slim, his hands too smooth and soft. The man she had once known and loved in a body of an elf who never worked in his life.
"Fëanáro."
He turned around at her voice and his eyes went wide. He was never one to hide his emotions and now Nerdanel could see them all written on his face. Shock and hope, regret, but also blinding joy upon seeing her. For a split of second he looked like he was going to run to her but would not dare to do so. "I... didn't think you would come," he sounded equally surprised at hearing his own voice.
In another time, a part of her would have wanted to hit him and yell, shout all her pains right into his face. But this part had long since faded and she would rather take the joy his return could promise than dwell in her misery.
"Neither did I," she admitted. "Yet it is a custom that those who return from the Halls of Mandos are welcomed by their family. Why would you not be?" Stepping closer, she offered him a hand and he took it, still acting as if expecting her to disappear at any moment.
His hand was warm and soft and she could feel his fingers examining her own, searching for callouses, getting to know them like a blind man would. She squeezed his hand and he stopped his examination, and looked down at the golden jewellery she wore.
Nerdanel reached to a small pouch she had by her belt. "I once gave you a ring," she said, the memories of their wedding and the ruin their marriage had turned to still causing a bittersweet ache. She took his hand and opened it. "I believe it is long lost in the lands that no longer exist, so I am giving you a new one," she placed the ring of gold in his palm, white and smooth like that of a child. "You are mine and I am yours, heart and soul, till Arda is remade. And don't you dare let anything change that again."
As if in a dream in this realm of dreams, Fëanáro picked the jewel and put it on his finger. "You are mine and I am yours," he echoed her words and bent to place a kiss upon her hand. "If you shall have me back." He traced the ring on her finger, the same he had given her ages ago, in another life. Even his creation after a few thousands of years bore marks of being worn. Yet it was still beautiful.
"I wouldn't have come otherwise." She smiled and that was all he needed. He swept her and kissed her, and Nerdanel found herself giggling, like she had not in ages. She let herself be swirled around until they fell on the grass, kissing and laughing. She rose and placed her hands on the ground by his head, and leaned over him, her long braid falling on his neck. "I want you back. The whole of you."
The clothes he wore were dull grey and plain, a simple shirt and trousers, and a pair of soft shoes. She had never seen him in anything this shapeless, so she didn't mind to see them gone, nor did she miss her own. Why would she? This place here was for them and for them only.
Hand in hand, heart to heart, they became one, the bond of their feas strong again. The gaping wound, which had appeared long before Fëanáro had left and died, and which then had scarred in time, was finally gone.
A husband and a wife they were once again.
So this was how it felt to be whole, Nerdanel thought as she listened to Fëanáro's heartbeat and to her own, perfectly synchronised. She felt young again, and full of life, enough perhaps to share it with another being.
They laid sprawled on the grass and gazed at the stars slowly appearing on the darkening sky, their fingers still entwined in a grasp no force in Arda would manage to unmake. Not if Nerdanel had something to say.
"So?" She rolled to the side to look at her husband. "Will you be just Fëanáro again?" Like you once have been, a High Prince, but still just a son of the king and not the orphaned ruler? Nerdanel shook her head and trapped this thought deep within her mind, so that he would not pick it. "Or," she smiled playfully, " will you follow the trend of your brothers and change to Fincurfin?"
The moment of sheer confusion written on Fëanáro's face was definitely worth it. He half sat. "What did you-" and then it hit him. He groaned and fell back on the ground. "No, thank you."
"So Fëanáro it is," Nerdanel smiled, the name rolling on her tongue. She missed it being spoken without contempt. "Perhaps I won't even mention that form to anyone."
"You'd better!" Fëanáro tried to feign indignation, but failed thoroughly. The smile he returned her she had missed even more.
"Only if you come back with me."
"Are we in a hurry?" He stole another kiss from her. "Thought not. Let's stay here and watch the stars."
Pulling his tunic over them, though she felt neither cold nor warmth, Nerdanel nestled herself and rested her head on his shoulder. They could gaze at the stars forever, for all she cared.
