What a way to end it! The last paragraph and the entire epilogue, for that matter, says "Don't go away! We'll be back!", to me. And I certainly hope they will.
I'm not going to get all sappy on you because if I do, I'll probably cry my heart out. *little sob* The best cure for it is going back and reading AMC all over again, which I will probably do after finishing this comment.
This final chapter was HOOOOOT!!! Holy Eru, it was a blast! They way Annawende made her come-back was do damn yummy! Bravo to her! (though I must say that I did not think she would come back. But the fact that she does means more heart-break in the future, regardless.) It felt so good to see Maitimo happy and radiant again. And, like Annawende says... so very beautiful...
BUT... Feanaor and Macalaure were out of this world. I know it's just a coreographed fight and you did not mean to create any kind of sexual tension... but DAMN!!! Feanaro is so hot my eyes poped out of my head and I melted into a puddle, on the floor.
He smiles viciously; the firelight livens the shadows on his face. Is he Atar? I squint in the fickle darkness: If not for the bright gems that are his eyes, I would doubt. The teeth inside his grin are vicious, appearing almost pointed. I shake my head and blink, and when I open my eyes again, his grin is wicked still but otherwise normal.
Whoa! 8^D!
He brandishes his arm, bare between the bracer on his wrist and the sleeve that reaches his elbow, and he slips the sword across it. With a gasp, the crowd watches dark, syrupy liquid well beneath the blade and trickle down his arm into the grass.
“As you can see,” says Atar, laughing at their fear, “it is real.”
My mind fumbles to comprehend: the cuts and bruises on Macalaurë’s flesh; his secret meetings with Atar—but I wonder, is it real? There is something dark and wet on Atar’s arm, but I don’t want to believe him mad enough to cut himself with such brutal impassivity.
Holly Eru! Blood, chocolate, whatever... Let me at him and I'll definitely lick it clean.
I lift his arm and look at its underside, at the dark, sticky line there, already clotting. “How could you—”
He traces his finger along the wound and puts it to my lips. I twist away, but his finger deftly follows my lips; he insists. He pastes it onto my lips, and I obediently lick it, tasting bittersweet chocolate. Atar laughs; I must have shown my surprise. “In the firelight, you cannot tell it is not blood. And,” he leans forward to whisper in my ear, his breath as hot and heady as though inebriated though I smell not a trace of wine on him, “it was all choreographed.”
OK... So you probably knew that I'd be fanning myself like crazy after all that intense fighting. And you give me this bit to read... *gulps* That Feanaro is one wicked Elf and no mistake. In addition to his countless qualities, he is wicked to the bone, of this I am certain.
Even Atar takes uncle Nolofinwë’s hand in his; they exchange New Year blessings and their lips even twitch into smiles, for today, they will honor grandfather Finwë, and that is the one thing that unites them.
*squees quietly* *refuses to ellaborate on Feany/Nolo subject*
I'm too frantic about all the hot stuff in the chapter to leave a more coherent comment right now. But there were so many other things that I loved to bits. Still, the major hotness kept me from becoming sad. And the prequel will be loaded with hot!sexy young Feanor, so I have muuuuuch to look forward to. Not to mention my b-day fic...
Nope, I'm not sad at all. Just very very grateful that you've given me and others the opportunity to read this exceptional story.
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rosecarmine
(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-28 05:59 pm (UTC)What a way to end it! The last paragraph and the entire epilogue, for that matter, says "Don't go away! We'll be back!", to me. And I certainly hope they will.
I'm not going to get all sappy on you because if I do, I'll probably cry my heart out. *little sob* The best cure for it is going back and reading AMC all over again, which I will probably do after finishing this comment.
This final chapter was HOOOOOT!!! Holy Eru, it was a blast! They way Annawende made her come-back was do damn yummy! Bravo to her! (though I must say that I did not think she would come back. But the fact that she does means more heart-break in the future, regardless.) It felt so good to see Maitimo happy and radiant again. And, like Annawende says... so very beautiful...
BUT... Feanaor and Macalaure were out of this world. I know it's just a coreographed fight and you did not mean to create any kind of sexual tension... but DAMN!!! Feanaro is so hot my eyes poped out of my head and I melted into a puddle, on the floor.
He smiles viciously; the firelight livens the shadows on his face. Is he Atar? I squint in the fickle darkness: If not for the bright gems that are his eyes, I would doubt. The teeth inside his grin are vicious, appearing almost pointed. I shake my head and blink, and when I open my eyes again, his grin is wicked still but otherwise normal.
Whoa! 8^D!
He brandishes his arm, bare between the bracer on his wrist and the sleeve that reaches his elbow, and he slips the sword across it. With a gasp, the crowd watches dark, syrupy liquid well beneath the blade and trickle down his arm into the grass.
“As you can see,” says Atar, laughing at their fear, “it is real.”
My mind fumbles to comprehend: the cuts and bruises on Macalaurë’s flesh; his secret meetings with Atar—but I wonder, is it real? There is something dark and wet on Atar’s arm, but I don’t want to believe him mad enough to cut himself with such brutal impassivity.
Holly Eru! Blood, chocolate, whatever... Let me at him and I'll definitely lick it clean.
I lift his arm and look at its underside, at the dark, sticky line there, already clotting. “How could you—”
He traces his finger along the wound and puts it to my lips. I twist away, but his finger deftly follows my lips; he insists. He pastes it onto my lips, and I obediently lick it, tasting bittersweet chocolate. Atar laughs; I must have shown my surprise. “In the firelight, you cannot tell it is not blood. And,” he leans forward to whisper in my ear, his breath as hot and heady as though inebriated though I smell not a trace of wine on him, “it was all choreographed.”
OK... So you probably knew that I'd be fanning myself like crazy after all that intense fighting. And you give me this bit to read... *gulps* That Feanaro is one wicked Elf and no mistake. In addition to his countless qualities, he is wicked to the bone, of this I am certain.
Even Atar takes uncle Nolofinwë’s hand in his; they exchange New Year blessings and their lips even twitch into smiles, for today, they will honor grandfather Finwë, and that is the one thing that unites them.
*squees quietly* *refuses to ellaborate on Feany/Nolo subject*
I'm too frantic about all the hot stuff in the chapter to leave a more coherent comment right now. But there were so many other things that I loved to bits. Still, the major hotness kept me from becoming sad. And the prequel will be loaded with hot!sexy young Feanor, so I have muuuuuch to look forward to. Not to mention my b-day fic...
Nope, I'm not sad at all. Just very very grateful that you've given me and others the opportunity to read this exceptional story.
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Dawn}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}