Chapter Text
The warmth of song and chatter echoed faintly from the halls of the palace as Míriel sat on the ring-shaped stairs that surrounded the great White Tree. She could feel the cold touch of the stone-work seeping through her slender gown and biting at her legs as the evening breeze blew gently at the hood of her cape. Míriel did not mind it though, for she longed deeply to escape into the fresh air, leaving the hall’s stench of profound fragrances and intoxicated bodies as a forgetful memory in her mind. Nevertheless, the wind did not numb her body entirely, for her hand was covered with a firm and familiar grip, the backs of her fingers caressed with the very thumbs that belonged to a lion-heart. She found solace in his embrace, aching for it desperately the longer she had to remain in the overbearing presence of her new husband — Ar-Pharazôn .
Míriel swirled her cup of wine absently in her other hand before raising it slowly towards her lips and taking a sip of its contents. She twisted her mouth almost immediately as the sweet yet dark flavour stained her tongue. She was usually in favour of its elaborate sour and glacé blend but tonight it did not agree with her. So, she tipped the edge of her cup slowly and listened with intrigue as the liquid splattered against the stone surface like heavy raindrops before trickling down the steps like a tiny waterfall. Míriel could not help but wonder if the wine trail would make it to the green soil that encompassed the tree, for she could imagine the Valar’s displeasure at tainting their blessed gift with such ill-advised substance.
“I see the wine is not to your liking then?” Elendil quipped, his baritone voice cutting through the silence that lingered between them.
Míriel tipped her cup further, waiting until the last of its contents drummed against the stoned steps before letting out a deep sigh. “It is not the wine that displeases me.”
Slowly, she raised her head towards the heavens and breathed in the sweet breeze as it blew the wisps of her raven locks gently across her face. For a moment it was just her and Elendil, locked in a delightful promise of a blissful night that would never end. But Míriel knew better than to linger in futile attempts of optimism, for it only took her a brief second to remember the ring on her finger and the vow she made along with it.
But soon she felt the wind roar a little louder, tinkling the chained netting that adorned her hair and flapping the hood of her cape against her ears. Shortly after, a delicate touch grazed her forehead, tickling her skin slightly. Míriel furrowed her brows as it drifted down the bridge of her nose, trailing the lines of her blindfold before caressing the edge of her upper lip. She removed her hand from her goblet and placed it underneath her chin as she waited for the foreign item to fall into her palm. As soon as it touched her skin she assumed it could only be one thing, for its lightweight and soft texture gave away its character. They had been seated underneath the great tree for a while now, its shadow looming over them like an omen — it could only be one of the petals from its branches that had fallen into her grasp.
She scoffed lightly as she rubbed its thin surface between her thumb and finger. “To think that even the Valar weep at such an occasion,” she opened her palm and allowed the petal to glide from her hands and drift hopelessly into the night. Where it would fall, she would not know nor would she care. For after all the years she had suffered, her patience and trust in their omnipotence had run thin. “How quaint.”
Míriel could hear Elendil’s somber breaths as he wrapped his fingers tightly around her hand, surrendering his warmth as he gave her comfort the only way he knew how. Her religious beliefs had dwindled deeply, for it had become even harder to believe in the ways of the Faithful when so little joy was found within the Kingdom of Numenor. Nevertheless, she did not wish to turn the mood even more solemn. After all, she was alone with the only joy that she cherished, she should not waste the night’s precious time any longer.
“I never thought that I would marry,” Míriel began, a slight frown forming on the edge of her lips. “Never thought I would have the chance to think of such things.”
Elendil did not say a word. His fingers caressing the back of her hand as he listened.
“But the stars always fascinated me ever since I was a child, their light a living symbol of a divine and everlasting work of devotion. I requested for it to be sown into my gown so that I could be reminded of a love that is of such a nature.” Míriel turned her head slowly towards Elendil, her heart caged deeply within her chest. “One that I am fortunate enough to know so well.”
And with those words uttered from her lips, Míriel felt Elendil’s soft touch come to an end, his hands cold as they laid still against hers. For years he had been by her side, protecting her and strengthening her like no other. But not once had she spoken so vulnerably around him. After all, she was his Queen and he was the Captain of her Guardsmen. There could be nothing between them, there should be nothing between them. And yet, who is brave enough to deny the heart?
“I will never know how my seamstress tailored it,” Míriel declared, a sense of sadness in her tone as she lowered her head. She had begun to grow used to the darkness that surrounded her eyes, sometimes even grateful for it. But there were days such as this, when she wished she could get a glimpse of her own world again, see its beauty and splendour in all its glory. Whatever she needed to sacrifice for such a gift she would have given. For how cursed must a bride be to not see her own dress on her wedding day? “Perhaps you could describe it to me?”
Míriel did not wait for Elendil to answer before cupping his hand with her own and slowly steered it through the soft breeze until it reached the hood of her cape. She nestled her fingers between the gaps of his and placed her other hand underneath his wrist before guiding his hand down the thin material. The corner of her lips etched into flickering smiles as she felt Elendil fingers press against a sequence of thin and round pieces, she could not help but wonder what it could be.
“Well, I must say, Your Majesty,” he began, a sense of hesitancy and bewilderment in his tone. “It is quite… prickly .”
Míriel could not help but shake her head as she chuckled at his descriptive remarks. “My dear Captain, those were not the words I expected to hear.”
Elendil chuckled softly in return. “Forgive me, I did not know how else to explain it.”
Wrapping her fingers around his palm, she smiled and caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. “Please, do carry on.”
Elendil did as she commanded and continued trailing his hand along her cape, rubbing his finger and thumb along the edges of the hood. “There are thin, circular lines drawn throughout the cape, Your Majesty, some interconnected and others left on their own.” His voice was uncertain as if he was gathering his thoughts or trying his best to decipher the riddle of woven thread that laid before him. But soon Míriel heard the sound of his enlightened breaths, eager, as if he had solved the mysterious puzzle. “At first glance they seemed irregular, peculiar even. But once I followed its path I started to notice that they formed into divine shapes — stars, crescent moons! And under the moonlight they radiate with such bliss, such beauty, that for a moment I wondered if your seamstress had simply stolen these treasures from the night to make this garment.”
Míriel could not contain the joy she felt as she listened to the words that fell from his lips. From his words alone she could paint an illustration in her mind of how her cape looked. It was like a blanket full of stars, embroidered with shiny sequins that formed constellations. A maze of wander that only grew and grew the more she ran along its ethereal pathways. A moon-kissed garment that adorned the blessing of the night’s beauty and grace. It was everything and more, it was all she could have hoped for, especially since she had made the request to her seamstress with him in mind. She may have left the altar as the wife of Ar-Pharazôn but at least she walked down the aisle with her body adorning the one she truly belonged to — the one who loved the stars .
Míriel smiled with the thought in mind as she guided Elendil’s hand towards the top of her dress, his fingers hovering over her neckline. But soon he began to flicker against her grip, pulling back slightly as if he was unsure of such an act. But Míriel reassured his hesitant heart and cupped both her hands around his, her thumbs caressing his palm softly. She waited until his anxious breaths became steady before resting his fingers against her collarbone.
“What about this?” she asked curiously, “describe it to me.”
Silence filled the space between them for a brief moment, causing Míriel much unease, for she could not help but think that perhaps she had pushed too far across the line of civility. But soon she felt Elendil’s fingers glide back and forth across her dress, his warmth seeping through the thin material.
“It is like plucking your fingers across a harp full of strings, Your Majesty. Only it is soundless.” he drifted his hand along the soft fabric, grazing his fingertips over what felt like a coarse piece that was embedded into the dress. “Your seamstress has placed beaded stars throughout the gown but only scarcely. It is like the Nunduinë river that spreads the further it approaches the sea. It may seem small in comparison, but the lower you venture the—”
Elendil found his words trailing onto deaf ears, for he could no longer speak, his hand no longer within his control. He did nothing to stop Míriel as she pulled his hand down her dress, his breath quickening with suspense the further it descended, his lips twisting anxiously as he felt his fingers graze across her bosom.
“ Your Majesty —” he implored, but as his hand rested in the centre of her chest, his lips uttered a soft gasp as he felt the warmth of the beating core that hid underneath.
“Tell me, Elendil,” she said finally, her voice low, her breath heavy. “What do you feel?”
Silence fell upon Elendil’s lips, his throat dry as he focused on the position of his hand. A part of him felt foul for not stopping his Queen from doing such an act, for he was the Captain of her Guardsmen and had taken a solemn vow to protect her from all manner of dangers. But how could he have known that the danger he needed to protect her from was the daggers within his own heart? For he bled and bled, his unyielding love pouring out profusely before her with every voiceless confession he uttered. He could never truly tell her how he felt, for they were from different worlds, their duties to the Kingdom drawing them further apart. However, as Míriel pressed his hand harder against her chest he felt something that drowned out everything else around him. The song of her heart.
Elendil shivered with bewilderment as it thumped like a drum against his palm, echoing a beautiful melody full of joy and excitement as it pounded faster and faster. It was strange, for it was like he was meeting her for the first time, their souls enchanted with the other as their hearts danced and danced throughout the night. His lips formed into a soft smile as he closed his eyes, listening even more keenly to the instrument that seemed so eager to break out from its chains.
The next few words that uttered from his mouth were like a secret key that opened the lock hidden deep within her chest. Her secluded whispers now a fluttering beat that hymned sweetly as the tongue of the Eldar fell off his lips. He had spoken the language of the High Elves to her many times before but tonight it felt different, like his lips had suddenly commanded her spirit to sing.
“Your heart,” Elendil whispered, his breath quickening as he felt the core of her chest jumping against his palm. “I can feel your heart, Your Majesty.”
Míriel wrapped her fingers around his hand and held on a little tighter as a smile formed across her lips. “You and her have been acquainted long enough for you not to name me as I am.”
His hesitant breaths echoed in her ears as silence crept between them once more. She had grown used to him addressing her ceremoniously, for he was a man of honour and always treated those around him with respect. Nevertheless, a part of her wished to hear the sound of her name uttered from his lips, for his voice was like that of the ocean and she would not mind drowning in the depths of his waters. But before she could receive such a blessing, the warmth of his touch slipped through her grasp as the sound of anxious breaths and hurried footsteps echoed around her.
“Elendil?” she said quickly, her voice full of unease. “Elendil, what is it? What is the—”
“ Valandil ,” he announced, his baritone voice a commanding presence amongst the bristly breeze. How quickly he could return to the man who led her Guardsmen, his stature of vigour a lingering image in her mind. How eagerly she missed the man underneath, his unwavering touch a blissful memory that remained in her heart.
“Forgive me, Captain — Your Majesty .” the young man professed, his voice full of haste as it echoed in the distance. “But the guests have begun to notice your absence… including His Highness .”
Míriel lowered her head as she sighed disappointingly through her lips. She had hoped to spend a little more time within Elendil’s company without the disruption of others, but it seems that not even the Valar could grant her that. Nevertheless, knowing Pharazôn he had properly sent a thousand of his men in search for her, but even if they had found them she would not have returned to his side willingly. Fortunately, Valandil discovered their whereabouts first.
“It seems an audience awaits our return, Your Majesty.” Elendil began, his voice as disheartened as hers.
“It appears so,” Míriel replied as she raised her hands towards him. She waited until his fingers were wrapped around hers before pulling herself up from the steps, a heavy sigh escaping through her lips as she felt the numbing ache in her legs. It took a moment before warmth returned to her limbs but once it did Míriel made her way up the staircase, Elendil guiding her with every step. She stood still as he adjusted the thin cape around her shoulders before brushing the wisps of her raven locks underneath her hood. A smile grew across Míriel’s lips as he attended to her. Had she not fallen hard enough? Why must her heart sing even louder?
“I never thought of you as a lady’s maid, Elendil.” she quipped, her brows raised as she rested her hand on top of his arm. “What other secrets are you hiding from me?”
Elendil chuckled softly at her remarks as he rested her hand against hers. “You would be surprised.”
Perhaps , Míriel thought, but deep down she hoped it was the same secret she held deep within hers, the one that screamed at the top of its lungs every time she was in his presence.
I love you .