Congrats on 300 followers! For the prompts Ambarussa and 77 (I think I'm in trouble) or Nerdanel and Fëanor with 54 (I hope you know what you are doing) would be great if you like!
I went with Nerdanel and Feanor: I hope you know what you’re doing! After I fill the other requests, I intend to come back to Ambarussa. For now, I chose the prompt that sounded angsty and made it really, really fluffy. Also, I have no idea where pink marble comes from, just ssshhhhhh, it’s a Valinor thing now.
Thank you so much for this prompt and this congratulations!
Nerdanel’s boots kept kicking Feanor’s back. Every now and again, she would shimmy her hips further towards the edge, and everything in Feanor would seize up in fear. Everytime, he sat down more heavily on the back of her thighs, trying desperately to anchor Nerdanel to solid ground.
“Stop that,” she complained, her voice echoing through the caves and distorted by the dripping water.
Feanor, gripping the edge of the sheer cliff his girlfriend had her head and torso freely hanging over, closed his eyes.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Cutting rock and harvesting materials deep in the mountains, swinging above gushing waters below, hauling rocks back over the edge that weighed more than her head and could easily drag her down… It was all completely insane. Being party to it made Feanor’s heart beat too fast. His father would ground him for life if he found out about this, and it wouldn’t even matter that Feanor hadn’t been the one hanging over a cliff.
“You know,” Nerdanel said, her voice mixing with the water dripping off stalactites and the clinking of her tools chipping away at the very precipice holding them up, “I’ve done this without help before.”
“Please don’t say things like.”
“Why? It’s true! Though, normally I’d use rope. But you were here and not doing anything. I thought, might as well put him to work. Besides, you signed up for this.”
“This is not what I thought you meant when you said we should take a journey together. I’ve been misled. No sane Elf would sign up for this! No one does things like this!”
This time, Nerdanel snorted.
“Whatever you say, Your Highness. I’m sure everyone in the palace would agree with you.”
If all of Feanor’s blood wasn’t busy keeping his heart beating at a truly unhealthy pace, he would have flushed.
He knew that he’d lived a… sheltered life before coming to stay with Master Mahtan. There hadn’t been much choice, much to say or do. His lessons came to him, his meals and clothes were prepared by people who left the palace for them, the gardens were so expansive, why did he ever need to go anywhere else to play? Father had also wanted him close, and frankly, when Father was in Tirion, Feanor had wanted to be near him too. Beyond that, though, there had been- were… whispers. It made associating with other people around his age in Tirion undesirable.
Then Indis come, and Feanor had retreated further. The palace was her domain to manage, but Feanor’s room was his own. Staying there every second of the day had felt like not only the best prospect, by the prudent one. ‘For study’, he’d told Father. To show for it, Feanor had an alphabet that revolutionized the way they lived and memories of more nights listening to his father's other family be happy from the outside than he cared to count.
Nerdanel, though… they were nearly the same age, and she’d seen and done more than most grown Elves. She was incredible.
Incredible and, Feanor thought as he heard a distant crack and the sound of rock plummeting into water, hitting every cliff-face on the way down, incredibly stupid.
He started to hum under his breath, muttering indistinct words that he’d memorized against his will during childhood.
“What are you doing now?” Nerdanel asked, banging the tip of her boot on his shoulders.
“I’m praying,” Feanor spat, trying to showcase just how far she’d pushed him, “to Iluvatar to spare you, but also to Mandos, so that he might release you quickly if the worst comes to pass. I will wait for you Nerdanel, but I promised my father that I’d continue his line, and who knows when the brats will be ready for their own children. I don’t want them to beat me to it.”
“If I go down, you’re probably going to fall with me, you know that right?”
“Great! I’ll have to pardon you for regicide. Do you know that word, I just made it up. It’s what happens when you get your prince killed.”
“Oh, come on,” Nerdanel sang, and her chisel made a particularly large clink. “If we both have to spend some time in Mandos, at least we’ll get to ask your mother for her blessing.”
Feanor drew in a sharp, sudden breath, and Nerdanel went really still beneath him.
“Too far?” her echoing voice asked tentatively.
It was too far, but oddly… Feanor didn’t mind.
Everyone was always walking over eggshells when it came to his mother, always whispering mere mentions of her and referring to her death in the most asinine of metaphors. The courtiers looked at Feanor like they thought he might break when reminded of her existence, and Father could not discuss her without this heinous look of guilt coming to his face. It all made Feanor want to scream.
Nerdanel was different, though.
She was precise and considerate and kind… but she was not gentle.
She spoke about Miriel without a moment’s hesitation, because she did not think there was awkwardness or shame about the situation, and she hung over cliffs because she thought the reward was worth it.
“It’s fine,” he said, and Nerdanel gave him another kick to the back in acknowledgement.
“Here,” she said, starting to wiggly in earnest and forcing Feanor to bend over and grip the edge with all his might. “Take the block. Don’t worry, Feanor, it’s the last one.”
Nerdanel used her rippling arms to hoist a block of marble bigger than her head over her shoulders and back towards Feanor. Starting to shake a little, Feanor let go of the edge once more, and reached for the block. He still hadn’t figured out what was worse: releasing his anchor or having Nerdanel weighed down for any length of time.
Carefully, Feanor placed the block of pink marble next to the other ones that she’d excavated over the course of the hours they’d spent here, inches from death. It was an impressive haul, and very pretty rock. But, even as Nerdanel patted the ledge to signal she wanted up, Feanor wasn’t sure it was worth it.
He kept his fingers clenched in the back of her shirt as he crawled off her. He knew that if Nerdanel finally slipped over, his grasp might doom they both rather than help. But Feanor had to hold her, had to try to protect Nerdanel from a fate she didn’t really understand.
When she finally pushed herself back up and was fully seated on the ground again, Fenaor used his grip to drag Nerdanel back towards his chest. They tumbled over, further and further away from the precipice, and he held her tightly. Nerdanel chuckled at him, but let Feanor wrap his arms around her in a massive hug and bury his head in her hair, just breathing together.
“There,” she said at length, as Feanor loosened his hold, “wasn’t that worth it?”
Nerdanel sat up, and she gestured to the rock sitting next to them.
“The world is beautiful, isn’t it?”
Still breathing against her neck, Feanor looked towards the pink marble. He turned his head to gaze up at the smooth rock walls and the stalactites and the thousands of colors. He even glanced back towards the precipice, listening to the underground river gushing below them.
“It is,” he whispered. “It is beautiful.”
“Worth the trip?” Nerdanel asked with a cheeky grin, and Feanor scoffed.
“Let’s not get too crazy!”
She laughed at him. But Feanor was laughing too.
Maybe one day the beauty of the world would be worth the danger. But for now, Feanor would suffice with Nerdanel being worth it.
