elfoflight | OPEN RP POST

It didn't matter to him what she brought with her. She was there. Alive and there. Besides. He'd provide for her. Make sure she had all she could want that was in his power.

France let out a long breath after she spoke, and took the last few steps to reach for her hand. To prove to himself she was there, even as he responded in soft Quenya.

"It is good to see you, my beloved silver swan."

Tears slipped down her cheeks and Eärwen didn't realize she was crying until he took her hand and spoke in Quenya. No one in this world knew that language, it was long since lost in the memory of mortals. No one could know it. No one but her husband, no one but Arafinwë. It was impossible for her not to cling to his hand then, keep hold of him in case he disappeared on her again.

"Arafinwë." She practically whispered. "My sunlight." And reached her free hand out to him, lightly brushing her fingers against his cheek, through his hair. She felt her heart lift, the weight gone as she held onto him. It felt suddenly like he'd never gone.

The tears would normally have had him panicking over what was wrong, but he already knew. And it wasn't anything wrong at all, but something very right. France laughed and reached a hand up to brush her tears away and cup her cheek even as he leaned into her hand. His hair was now so very short compared to his old style, but it had grown on him.

Their hands wouldn't be dislodged from the other any time soon, clinging and clutching the other. But that didn't matter. Then he grinned and stepped back, hand tugging insistently on hers. Daring her to run with him with a heart mended and nearly bursting with joy.

"Come!"

The style might grow on her, she wasn't sure yet. It wasn't what she was used to, she'd always enjoyed brushing her fingers through long gold waves. At least it was him though and she leaned against his touch.

And she was definitely not letting his hand go. He'd left once, she wasn't letting him go again. She wasn't even going to let him go far from her in case she lost him again. It had hurt too much the first time, she'd done everything she could after he'd left but everyone had noticed the change in her. Not even the joy of having their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren hadn't helped.

A little smile and she nodded, letting him pull her along and running with him.

He might even grow it back out for her. Perhaps shave the scraggly beard he'd begun sporting in recent decades. He'd...probably do almost anything for her. And trusted she wouldn't abuse her power.

France kept them going until they reached his city residence, and led her up the stairs to the townhouse, then on inside. Where he simply stood back and watched her face when she'd see all the subtle signs of their home in Valinor mixed in with paintings and furniture that were pure French.

He had so many questions, but none of them mattered just then.

The beard she wouldn't be able to handle after spending literally thousands of years among her own people and facial hair having never grown for any of them. Except Cirdan.

She kept up well with him, even tired as she was from searching for him and missing him. With him beside her, it suddenly felt like she could do anything again. His home made her pause. The signs of Valinor were obvious but the addition of French style was strange and sudden she felt her heart clench again. He'd adapted so well to this world, far from her and their family. She felt left behind.

"You have done well."

That would be an easy thing to change for him. He wouldn't mind at all. And Cirdan was just special.

France stifled a sigh at her reaction. With the door between them and the city, he stepped close to her again, free hand reaching for her other hand. Maybe she just didn't know everything.

"What have you been told?"

"Not very much. I did not ask. It hurt too much." Came the soft answer and she wasn't sure if she wanted to take his other hand. How much of her husband was left now? He'd clearly changed; his appearance, the feel of him, his tastes.

What was she doing? What had she been thinking? She'd hardly thought about how he would be when she found him, she'd only thought about finding him.

She was upset with him. With the changes.

He'd known it was a possibility, but to see it... France took another breath before moving to lead her to his favorite couch.

"Sit with me? There is much you should know."

It was hard not to be. They'd spent so much of their lives together, he'd gotten her through the worst. From the slaying of her people at Alqualonde to their childrens departure and the ban that kept their daughter away. He'd been there and he'd kept her from falling over the edge of despair. And now here he was, so different from who he'd been, an impossibility she'd have thought until now.

She didn't know if she wanted to sit with him. She didn't even know now why she'd come, what she'd expected. Not this, she thought as she fought back tears.

"I shouldn't have come..."

Stupid. He'd been stupid. But what else could he have done after the fact?

...What would she do?

France gently coaxed her into taking a seat, and settled beside her still facing her. At her words, his heart clenched.

"You came all this way," before he could stop it. "If you could have stayed home, you would have."

Both very true. She wouldn't have left their people on a whim. She'd have stayed as long as her spirit let her.

"This country, France...This is what I am now. I am the people, the land, everything you see in these borders is me. I... am the personification of France."

And she let herself be, she sat quietly with her eyes cast down at the floor. This is who he was now. Not Arafinwë who had been king of the Noldor in Tirion.

"I came because a part of me has been missing for more than an Age." She said softly, glancing up at him briefly, unable to resist reaching and brushing a hand along his jaw.

"What is left now of the High King? Is this all you can ever be now?"

He wished she'd look at him... He'd missed her eyes. He'd missed her. But he could understand why, and then she did look up. France sighed quietly and leaned into her hand again.

"As long as the French people remain, so must I. After... I do not know. Perhaps the elf you knew may return, if the Valar permit. Until then, all his memories remain within me."

He couldn't say his personality was the same - though he could feel that part of himself reappear. With her. With Maglor. He'd tell her about Maglor later, when she'd had the chance to adjust a little.

"Eärwen... You are my heart. The heart of France, and of Arafinwë."

"The Valar would never forsake you. We are still Iluvatar's children." It was instinctive to say as much and there was no waver, she had no doubts. The Valar had never forsaken them before and neither would Eru.

A lump formed in her throat. If anything, he would go to Mandos and she would follow. She wouldn't be able to live through his loss one more time, she knew she didn't have the strength left for that.

She tangled her hand in his hair, brushing through it briefly before leaning her forehead against his. Her lip formed a little smile.

"And you are mine."

It was amazing how good hearing it from her, so automatic and without hesitation or doubt, made him feel. France felt himself relax, even as he let her press their foreheads together. His eyes closed as he heard her continue.

But not before he saw that little smile, further adding to his relief and fanning the flames of his joy at her having found him.

"With you at my side again, I can do anything." And he wasn't stupid to think his people didn't need attention.

"Will you give this new me a chance?"

Reaching, she wrapped both arms around her and sighed a little. Give the new him a chance? It was hard to think about. She'd come looking for the husband she remembered, the elf she'd married and now she was finding someone else in his place.

"I will try." Softly. A part of her was afraid, she couldn't go back either way. Whether she gave him a chance or not, she'd given up her own place across the Sea and she'd never asked the Valar to dissolve their marriage. They were still bound. It would only hurt more not to try.

"Be patient with me though."

Let her lead? He could do that. Patience? No doubt. France smiled softly and let his arms wind around her waist, fighting to keep from holding her tight for fear it would make her uncomfortable.

"Thank you," he replied just as soft. He heard her fear, and knew what she had to have given up to find him.

He pulled back, freeing one arm to reach up and thread fingers gently through her silver hair. "You have always been worth patience, and more."

There wasn't anything she wouldn't have given up to find him. The pain of giving up everyone in Tirion was nothing compared to missing him. Already she could feel herself living more than she had been for years.

It was a little easier now with the familiar feeling of his hand through her hair. And a part of her just wanted to lean against him but she wasn't entirely ready yet, leaning against his hand instead.

"I have missed you so much."

She looked better than when he'd seen her on the streets, not that she hadn't been a sight for sore eyes. France kept carding his fingers through her hair, reveling in being able to, and reminding himself of the feel of it all over again.

That sense of comfort would hopefully return in time, but until then, he'd make himself take it slow. Show her the joys of the modern world. Teach her what she needed to know, and then more. He had no doubt she'd find a place in this world.

"As have I, you."

For now, all Eärwen needed was him, to find what remained of him that she'd always loved. Everything else, language and understanding the modern world, could wait. And now she turned slightly, leaning against him though the slightest bit tense. It was a step towards trying to find their balance, one she wanted to try now rather than risking making things progress more difficultly.

"Everyone sends their love, Artanis especially." She'd been the most encouraging when Eärwen had originally voiced her plan. They all had been but she and their granddaughter knew her pain. "Tirion is in good hands now."

And he'd be right there with her as much as he possibly could. But there was only so much time he could take away from his every day tasks, as much as England claimed he slacked off.

France found his throat close up again when she leaned against him, even just that little bit. He dared to turn his head and press a tender kiss to her forehead, thanking her for trying. That no matter what he'd love her as long as he existed in any way.

News from Tirion had him close his eyes, running the words through his head over and over again before nodding, smile wavering a little with emotion. Opening his eyes again, he looked at her. "I knew it would be."

Hardly different than life had been in Tirion, they'd had their own duties there. Duties she'd taken on. After so long apart though, she wasn't sure she'd want him to go far now.

It felt almost the same as it had before, leaning against him. And she just wanted to stay there, didn't want to move. The safe, warm feeling he'd always left her with was still there, the comfort he'd given her. It felt good.

"You were wise."

Not much different at all, no. France knew that, after some time for her to adjust, he'd rely just as much on her as he had for Ages before. Until then, he'd still talk to her about almost everything, teaching her and introducing his new self to her.

After a while, France let the arm wrapped around her tighten a little. As long as she wanted to lean against him, he'd let her. And if he couldn't quite keep his fingers from playing with her hair... could anyone really blame him?

"I wed you," and that was really the only answer he could give. The only one that needed said.

Oh, she couldn't help but laugh softly at that. Yes, he'd married her and she'd married him. And he'd given her beautiful, wise, strong children and a love like she'd hardly ever imagined for herself in her youth by the Sea.

Neither was she going to complain about him playing with her hair. It was soothing and she relaxed a bit more against him. She wouldn't call him 'France' but at least she'd found enough comfort in him for now.

"You did." And she'd never regretted a moment of their marriage, even if more than once they'd been separated and how much it had hurt. "Promise not to leave me again."

Excellent, he'd gotten a laugh out of her! Just as beautiful as he remembered. And even more so after the hurt he'd caused her. France's smile was bright and full of joy. From his perspective, their children were gifts from her.

He didn't particularly care if she never called him France or Francis. He was her sunshine. However she wished to call him was perfectly fine by him.

A bit of laugh was in his voice as he spoke, but the words were no less honest. "I would wed you again. And again. And again, if you so wish."

Never leave her again? France's smile faded a little, growing a little wry. "I promise. I will never leave you again." Not permanently, at the very least.

/snuggles <3

<33

And suddenly so stinking cute XD

SO CUTE but still painful

Yesss

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