The golden light of Valinor spilled across the path as you walked, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the way to Tirion. On either side of you, Amrod and Amras, the youngest of Fëanor's sons, strode with an easy, confident grace. Their identical features, so alike yet each holding a distinct flicker of their individual spirits, were alight with anticipation for the journey. Their hands, warm and strong, occasionally brushed against yours, or one would gently guide you over a stray root, their shared attention a constant, comforting presence.

Their voices, so similar in timbre yet subtly distinct, wove a continuous conversation around you. Amras might be detailing a recent hunt, his words quick and vivid, painting pictures of swift deer and sun-dappled forests. Amrod, perhaps, would interject with a quieter observation about the unique markings on a passing bird or a thoughtful question about the architecture of a distant villa, his tone more measured, more reflective. Yet, they always seamlessly intertwined, their thoughts and experiences flowing together like twin rivers.

As the gleaming white walls of Tirion began to rise majestically in the distance, crowned by the Mindon Eldaliéva, their excitement seemed to quicken. You felt the subtle shift in their pace, the shared thrill of approaching the city, a place holding countless memories and the promise of vibrant life.

Amrod turned his head, his eyes, bright and clear, meeting yours. "There it is, my love," he said, his voice a soft murmur, yet filled with a palpable sense of arrival. "Tirion, gleaming as ever, awaiting our steps."

Almost simultaneously, Amras leaned closer on your other side, his voice a low, vibrant hum. "And not a moment too soon! The very air here sings with the promise of bustling markets, lively conversation, and endless things to see and do. It's truly a pleasure to journey to its gates with you between us." He squeezed your hand gently. "Ready to explore the city, my heart?"