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"Carry me down to the water's edge," Míriel said, laughing, her eyes alight with joy, leaping into Finwë's arms, her small frame lithe and warm against him. She was, as ever, carrying her latest project in a cloth bag at her side, and had carefully put away her knitting needles before jumping up to meet him.
"My queen, for you, I would do anything at all," Finwë vowed, smiling. He, Ingwë, and Elwë had returned from their long journey only hours before, and had spent much time in talk already. Finwë was weary, and Míriel, his betrothed, was a balm and a rest to him, for in her presence he had nothing to do but what she told him to.
He gathered her up in his arms easily, her long silver hair sweeping down and brushing against his large hands which held her close so carefully. The feel of her hair, the way it shone in the starlight, the thought of how it would shine so bright in the light of the Trees, sent shivers through him as he walked down to the shore of the lake.
"It is not cold," she said, catching a glimpse of the way his hands trembled against her.
"No," he said. "It is you. When I am near you my bones turn to water, and a running fire burns in my blood. And when we were apart, I thought of you, even in the Light beyond the Sea, and longed only to hold you like this again."
Míriel laughed low against his neck. "Not for nothing do they call you Fair Speaker!" She looked up then, as they were nearly by the water's edge. "Set me down upon that rock, and then fetch berries to feed me, for I'd have you be my servant and my couch, beloved, and also my entertainer, if you will."
Smiling, Finwë set her down very carefully, and she reached into her bag for her needles as he moved away to hunt for berries.
Not far away, a bush was covered with small red berries, the tart juicy raspberries that Míriel loved best, and he hurriedly picked a fair number for her. It had been some while since he'd picked berries for Míriel. There had been a day, long ago as it seemed now, when they had fed each other berries until their mouths were stained with them, then kissed each other until all the stains were gone. What had followed then in the darkness seemed a delicious dream to Finwë, as he touched his betrothed in all her most secret places, and listened to her cry out with pleasure in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to give her that pleasure again, even more than his own.
When he returned, berries carried inside a fold of his sleeve, she looked up, and could not resist a smile to see him. "Come Finwë, ambassador of the Valar, and be my couch, that I may rest upon you and continue my work." Her voice was clear and sweet, like the sharp wind that blew across the lake at times, and Finwë longed for nothing else but to do exactly as she bid. He was already half-hard from anticipation, and wondered if she would tell him to touch her once again.
He settled down upon the rock, and she nestled back into his arms, fitting like she was made to sit between his legs. He was hard now against her, and blushed to think that perhaps she felt it. Surely she did not need to writhe so to find a comfortable spot, but she seemed to be enjoying it.
"A berry, then, from the ambassador," she said, laughing, leaning back against him.
He fed her slowly, her lips against his fingers driving him to new heights of sensation. Inside his mind, it was peaceful, and his whole existence seemed to centre on her - what was best for her comfort and joy. He needed to think of nothing else.
"Tell me now," she said, "what you saw, so far away." She was working busily now, needles flying, and all the berries were gone.
"The whole place," he began slowly, "is filled entirely with the ghosts of you, for all I could think of was how you would look, and what you would say, if you could stand beside me in the Light of the Trees. Oh, it gives one strength to stand beneath them, and it takes strength too, if you'd look upon them. My eyes have never been the same since, and this land seems so dark to me now."
She turned her eyes to look up at him, a gleam in them reflected from the stars. "You will return, then?" She sighed. "All my kin are skeptical, and I do wonder if any of them will go."
"Will you?" Finwë asked, heart suddenly giving a great throb in his breast, a worried lump coming into his throat.
"Will you return, if I do not go with you?"
His breath was coming fast and harsh now with a strange kind of fear. "I see two paths laid out before us," he said, voice trembling. "On either path I will go with you, dark though they both may be. You choose for us."
Míriel considered, dropping her hands to her lap, ceasing her work. She looked up at Finwë, at the light in his eyes. "Then I will choose the path that has at least some light," she said, "and we will go to Valinor together." She smiled. "There is a flame in your eyes when you speak of the Trees, did you know it?"
"Nay," he said. "I thought it was the flame in yours. Your spirit burns so bright."
She kissed him, turning in his arms and kneeling up against him, pressing close. "There is such a fire in us," she said after a moment. She seemed to be considering. "But I'll wait to have you until we stand beneath the Trees together. And then, ah, then - " she grinned wickedly, "- you shall serve me as we both desire, and I'll rule you as I will."
"Your wish is my command," Finwë said, "queen of my heart."