A freezing rain rattled the tree branches as Luimëníssë followed her husband towards the outskirts of Fëanor's encampment, his hand gripping her own. The hood of her cloak was drawn over her forehead, hiding her tears. Curvo sensed her distress and peered over his shoulder, his hair hanging limp with wet. 

"He'll come around. Don't fret," he spoke coolly, though the muscles in his jaw were tense. "Give him time."

When they had first gone to Fingolfin's camp to seek refuge after a watchful night in the forest, they were given an icy welcome. Luimëníssë bit her tongue, unwilling to tell her husband that it was probably due to his aloof demeanor. Even his attitude towards Írissë had been cold. Curvo spoke with his uncle, telling him of their new status as husband and wife. Luimëníssë had held her head high despite the stares of shock and censure from those present. As though they weren't as guilty of taking up arms against her people.

Fingolfin had sent them away politely, saying that if he received them into his encampment, it could stress already tense relations between he and his brother. Curvo had scowled, grabbed her hand and strode from the tent, his body rigid with frustration. He told her they had no other option now, but to join his father's people. He didn't feel safe having her exposed in the forest another night, especially after she had run across the monstrous wolf pack lurking in the darkness.

Vantaro's welcome had been even more disturbing. They had found him with her cousins Ingoldo and Artanis. Luimëníssë had pulled her little brother aside to tell him that he was to come with her now to Fëanor's encampment with her new husband. Curvo had stood to the side, ignoring the frigid glares from Ingoldo and Artanis with pompous indifference. Frustration rose up in her that Curvo didn't at least make an effort. With Vantaro especially. The child eyed him, fingering his beloved bow, his small hands lingering on the arrows in his belt.

"I will not go with you," he announced, lifting his chin much like their mother did when she was being firm. He was so much like Nanwë in that moment, it took Luimëníssë's breath away. "I will not live among those who murdered our family."

Ingoldo passed an uneasy look to Luimëníssë then knelt next to the child. "Things will be very different from now on between our families, Vantaro. You must understand that there are those in this encampment who committed similar crimes."

Vantaro spit in Curvo's general direction. "I will not make my bed among kinslayers, unlike my sister."

Curvo gave an amused scoff. Luimëníssë rose to her feet, her face burning hot with shame. Vantaro's eyes softened with regret as he peered back at her, but then Curvo stepped forward.

"Vantaro. You must go where your sister is and she is with me now, whether you like it or not. She is my wife and you are her brother. We are kin," he explained in a prideful tone, his gaze chilled with impatience. "You don't have much choice in the matter."

He took another step towards him. Vantaro slipped out of Ingoldo's grasp, his bright eyes alight with fury. Whipping an arrow from his belt, he strung the bow and aimed it towards Curvo, backing away slowly. Curvo lifted a unimpressed brow.

"I am sorry, Luimëníssë, but I will not go with you." Turning on his heel, Vantaro fled into the depths of the encampment. Ingoldo hurried after him, calling his name. 

Artanis came alongside Luimëníssë, laying a steadying hand to her trembling shoulder. "We can keep him here with us for a time till he accepts it."

Luimëníssë peered down at her shaking hands. "I fear he will never accept it."

"He loves you dearly. He will eventually." Artanis cast a disproving stare in Curvo's direction. "For your sake at least."

Curvo chuckled mirthlessly, the sound grating on her nerves. "Come wife. I believe that once a weapon is pulled on you, that is the best sign that you are not welcome."

As they moved through the forest away from Fingolfin's camp, Luimëníssë wiped the tears from her cheeks. She longed for Curvo to take her in his arms and calm her worries, to promise to try harder next time, but he rushed forward as though he were being chased by wights. 

The lights of raging campfires burned in the near distance through the trees, stacked on the beaches illuminating the ragged swan ships. The once lovingly tended sails swayed in the breeze, their edges frayed from a rough sea voyage. A few hulls were still blood stained. Luimëníssë tore her eyes from the sight, feeling her stomach lurch with horror. 

As slowed her step, Curvo gripped her hand harder, pulling her forward. "You have nothing to fear here while I am with you. You are my wife. I told my brothers and father I have made my choice and it is you. Don't forget this. You are not an unwelcome guest. You belong."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to belong among her husband's people. It was eerily quiet. Looming figures hung by fires in close conversation, others lingered on the shore staring out towards their destiny across the waves, all wore the same armor from the night the Teleri were attacked. There were more males than females among them, maybe only two or three other ellith. Curvo never let go of his vice grip on her hand and she was grateful for it. 

They neared one of six tents pitched on a grassy knoll just beyond the lapping water. It was the largest, crimson trimmed in midnight blue. Curvo paused at the door and turned to her.

"I will go in first to speak to him. My father was not happy with our union, but I was not exaggerating when I told you I am his favorite. It's a known fact among our people," he spoke in a low tone, leaning his head towards her and grasping both her hands to his chest. "You must trust me that I will stand by you no matter what is said in there. When I make an oath, I never break it." 

He braced a hand to her neck, his eyes intent on her's. Luimëníssë nodded, inhaling deeply. "I trust you."

He rubbed his thumb over her ear lobe. With a final grim smile, he swept into the tent. Luimëníssë pulled her cloak tighter about her body against the salty wind. A figure burst from the tent that wasn't her husband. She took a stumbling step back and the individual caught her wrist before she could fall. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she looked up into the face of the Noldo that had murdered her brother, the harp emblazoned on his breast plate.

His eyes were brilliant blue, the same shade as his father's, but his lips was similar to Curvo's, full and sensuous. There was a gentleness about his countenance that contrasted sharply with her image of him as he had slashed open her brother's torso with the same sword at his side.

She tore her hand away with a gasp, recoiling in revulsion as though he were a minion of Melkor.

She recalled his name. Makalaurë. It meant golden cleaver. Very fitting.

The ellon drew back, his mouth parting in horror. He fled into the darkness. So he had recognized her from that night he had slain her brother.  

"Wife," Curvo spoke. She jolted. "Come with me."

He led her through the drifting tent flaps into his father's presence. The interior glowed with many tapers dripping from tall, ornate holders. A large mahogany table littered with maps and parchment sat in the center of the circular tent.

The first thing she noticed about Fëanor up close was the small gap between his front teeth as he flashed a snarl of a smile. It almost gave him a childlike air if not for his burning eyes and sharply angled face.

"So this is my son's wife, a daughter in the family and my dear wife isn't present to appreciate the novelty," he spoke calmly though his words were laced with venom. "My son tells me that my brother refuses to accept him so I must suffer your presence, my dear, as you must suffer mine now."

Curvo drew forward so she was shielded by his shoulder. "Father. You promised to be civil."

"Oh but I am being civil, considering these untoward circumstances." Fëanor circled the table to stand before them. He leaned against it, crossing his arms over his breast plate. "Well, child? Do you have a tongue or are you one of those Teleri wives who prefer their Noldo husband do all their speaking for them?"

Luimëníssë's shoulders stiffened, feeling the same courage that led her to leap from sea cliffs rise up in her chest. She was blameless before this tyrant. She would not allow him to bully her.

"Father-in-law, I am grateful for your welcome into your camp at this time."

Fëanor gave a bemused smirk that resembled her husband's too much to give her comfort. "So very composed. Who was your Noldo mother that watered down her blood by selling herself short to a sea elf?"

Luimëníssë clenched her fists, her anger stayed only by the brush of Curvo's hand at the small of her back. "Her name was Nanwë."

"And what would she think of her daughter dwelling among her kind once more? Marrying one of our princes nonetheless?"

"I suppose I'll never know. She was killed the night those ships in the harbor were stolen."

Thick silence filled the tent. Fëanor did not break eye contact and Luimëníssë refused to look away. Slowly, a chuckle blossomed to a rolling laugh from the King of the Noldor. He waved a hand dismissively.

"Take your bride and find a tent to make your own, son. She may remain among us as long as she swears to keep that mouth of hers in line. Some of your brothers may not take so kindly to her cheek as me."

Curvo did not need anymore excuse to leave the tent. Luimëníssë's knees wobbled as he pulled her through the encampment to another circular tent. It was separate from the others, closer to the sea. Luimëníssë was grateful to hear the rush of the ocean once again. She was also thankful Vantaro had remained behind with her more courteous cousins.

The cloth walls glowed red with the light of candles perched in the same ornate holders as in Fëanor's tent. An elevated cot sat in the corner covered in linen and furs. Luimëníssë removed her hood with a shaky breath, relieved as Curvo drew the tent flap behind them.

He turned her towards him. His mouth was still grim and brows low over his dark eyes, but with light fingers he unhooked the cloak clasp at her throat and let it drop to the ground. He brushed a stray curl over her shoulder.

"I don't think I could have been prouder to call you my wife," he said softly. "You were radiant, how you spoke to him in there."

Luimëníssë gave a weak smile as he brushed his hand under her chin. "I don't believe he will ever like me."

"You must understand, I refer to my father in all matters. He is my closest confidant. I know he is... difficult but do not doubt his brilliance." He pressed her body to his, hands at her hips. "But he has no part in our life together. Nor will I allow him to do anything to keep me from your side. You are a refuge for me and I will do nothing to betray your trust."

As his hand lifted to the strings of her stays and tugged the bow loose, she realized that despite their difficult beginning, something about his presence made her feel safe.  She craved the security he gave her.

"I know. I trust you," she said and meant it.

His breathing grew ragged as he tugged aside the paneling of her stays.

"I am consumed by you, wife," he spoke into her ear as she urgently slid his tunic over his head.

"Stop talking, Curvo."

He obeyed and kissed her.

They laid naked on the cot staring up at the cloth ceiling instead of stars. Luimëníssë ran her fingers down his long forearm draped over her chest, between her breasts. She considered Vantaro's words from the previous day about her being with child and wondered if this was the time to mention it.

"Wife," he spoke before she could.

She inclined her head towards him. "Yes?"

"I need to tell you something." He ran his free hand over his face with a sigh. "My father and uncle have decided in the next two days to start our journey east. We will have to be separated as I will sail first with my father, brothers and our warriors. Then you will follow with Fingolfin's people."

"I know. I've already heard rumors of it."

He propped up on his elbow, hooking his other hand under her thigh and tapping his thumb against her leg thoughtfully.

"Are you upset by this?"

She shook her head. "No, I understand."

"I will be there when you land. Though I must go with my father to make war upon our enemies, I will return soon to your side. I promise."

Despite the graveness of his words, a coy smile curved on his mouth as he leaned forward and kissed her tauntingly. He wrapped her leg up over his hip and possessively pressed her body down into the linen beneath them.

"You are as heady as summer wine and I feel I should drink my fill to last our separation," he said between shallow breaths.

As he slowly began to move inside her, Luimëníssë dug her fingers into the lean muscle of his biceps. She gave a wilting cry, nearly coming out of her skin with yearning.

She decided her news could wait.