AN: This is a shorter one, because it arguably has no plot, only fluff. I do not care that Valinor does not have winter, Tolkien can meet me behind the chippy if he wants to argue about it, honestly. Thanks to quinngrey from helping

"Fëanor," came Nerdanel's voice through his sleep. It was the in the middle of the night, and they had journeyed far that day. "I am freezing, do we have extra blankets?" She said, poking him in the back with her foot. Fëanor was still half asleep, and while trying to recall, he heard her moving about their camp, and going through packs. There were none that he knew of, besides the ones he had layered over himself

"None!" Came Nerdanel's voice. "This will not do." There was more movement. She had pulled her bedroll next to his, lifting one side of his blankets, and lied herself next to him. Directly next to him. "Share your covers with me, as I am close to freezing," she said, nudging him.

This was new, Fëanor thought, very awake now. They had been together, or, well something, for a bit now. On one memorable occasion Nerdanel had cornered him in the forge's supply closet, shutting the door and briefly but enthusiastically kissing him, saying that she had been bored, unhappy with her work that day, and thought that he would enjoy it; but other than that their relationship had remained mostly the same.

It was ironic, all the hours they had spent together before, Fëanor drowning in assumed unrequited love, and now that they were something more, a million things seemed to conspire to keep them apart. They had found almost no chances to be privately together.

If they had been journeying, they would have had more time alone, but they went forth less in winter because of the cold and the snow. This sojourn was an exception- Nerdanel had just returned from months studying glass making in Alqualondë, during which Fëanor had missed her very much, thinking that Alqualondë could fall into the sea for all he cared, and she could have learnt glass blowing here if she wanted to so much. Upon her return, he had suggested that they go out somewhere, no planned destination, just wandering, and Nerdanel had accepted so eagerly that he regretted not doing it sooner, cursing himself for being so tentative- he knew now that she liked him after all, why still be such a coward?

Now here she was, maybe because of him, maybe because he had taken most of their blankets. Whatever the reason, Fëanor was determined to enjoy this, and he moved to accommodate her next to him. "Feel how cold I am," Nerdanel said, leaning forward to kiss him for expository purposes. Her mouth was indeed freezing against his, but not for long. "Now I remember why we do not often journey in winter time."

"It is not so bad," he started.

"It is not so bad for you because you have all the blankets! This is where they all went!" She replied, gesturing to his covers, and elbowing him, although perhaps less violently than she would have several months ago, an indication that their relationship had changed.

"If you let me finish, I was going to say that the company is not so bad," Fëanor added, and then realized that the remark was not as clever as he had thought, and so hastily added, "I meant you, your company."

"I think your company is excellent too," Nerdanel said. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him again. Definitely changed, Fëanor thought, pushing himself up on one arm to kiss her more deeply, and for the better. At length Nerdanel said, "You know, not that I am complaining, but you are being incredibly distracting to me, when I only came over here to preserve myself from hypothermia, and to sleep, not for such carnality." Though it was too shadowy to see for sure, she sounded as if she was smiling.

Flirting, Feanor thought, in a rush of terror and excitement. Well, he could do that too. "Distracting am I?" He said, seizing her words and the opportunity. "Am...I...distracting you?" He punctuated his words by kissing her neck, moving down from her jawline and to her collarbone. He had never done anything of this sort before, but could only judge by the facts that Nerdanel moved herself closer to him and pushed her hair off her neck, that he was doing alright. Feanor felt her arch her body against him, and could have sworn that he heard her giggle, a distinctly un-Nerdanel thing to do, but she sounded pleased.

He felt very hot and briefly did not see the need for blankets, or clothes, or anything remotely linked to virtue, but restrained himself; though he did not agree with reason, reason still stubbornly existed, telling him that the king's son could not wed in the vulgar manner before an engagement was even announced, and other annoying reasons relating to protocol. Thus he left off, his mouth having traveled across her collarbones and to her opposite shoulder. Fëanor moved away from her slightly, trying to do so in a way that conveyed that he did not want to, but propriety, and things of that sort dictated it and so forth. Nerdanel seemed to understand and they contented themselves with laying arms about each other, sharing body heat and affection, if not everything.

"Fëanor," said Nerdanel, after time had past and he thought she was asleep. Her drowsy voice saying his name was so pleasant to hear that he did not answer, prompting her to call him again.

"Yes?"

"Although it was very wicked of you to take all the blankets, in the future I would like to continue such a sleeping arrangement on our journeys." His heart leapt into his throat; he too had wanted to suggest such a thing, but how nice that she had been the first to suggest it.

Fëanor almost answered that when they were married there would enough blankets in the palace for both of them, but thought better of it- they were only recently together and he did not want to alarm her by too quickly revealing the depth of his feelings, so he said, "If it pleases you," and soon slipped into Este's realm, with Nerdanel at his side.

Laurelin's light found them still curled up together, in a cocoon of blankets and shared warmth, keeping away the cold. The new, golden light of day illuminated Nerdanel's face: her flaming hair matching her pale eyelashes, and her fair skin dotted with an abundance of freckles- like tiny stars in reverse, Feanor had thought, the first time he saw her. As if sensing his gaze, Nerdanel woke, and peered up at him. Fëanor tried to arrange his face into something other than the besotted wonderment it currently wore. He was unsure if it worked, but Nerdanel seemed not to mind, murmuring, "Good morning," before closing her eyes again, and snuggling closer to him, evidently seeing no reason to move. There was still time before full light, and he would be content to stay here with her, in the peaceful pre dawn forever.