#meiron

Synagogue of Meron

Meron, Galilee, Israel

1st century CE

The building was 27 m long and about 13.5 m wide and was carved into the mountain. The northern wall of the synagogue is hewn and it is evident that it reached the height of the building. The building's foundation has holes as the foundation for the pillars pedestals which held the roof of the synagogue. The synagogue is aimed at Jerusalem, and is the longest found in the country of its kind so far. From all if its walls, mostly the southern wall survives, which had 3 openings: a central opening, with a cracked lintel, and another, which was restored. In the synagogue, the lintels and the cornices atop of them weren’t  decorated with reliefs. Zvi Ilan believes that this is the result of a trend not to over decorate the synagogue's decoration and not an evidence of the economic situation of the local residents, who have invested heavily in the synagogue's construction. The Holy Ark was probably near the main entrance, and no remains were found.

A/N: This is the second part to my SLA fanfic, In the Treetops Part I, so you won’t understand this if you haven’t read the first part. I know it took me a while to post this, but editing does take time. Also, I’m always up for SLA fanfic requests, and as usual, all rights and characters belong to the lovely sararaasch!

Theron and Meira broke apart hastily at the sound of a voice, Meira having forgotten why she had kissed him in the first place. Below them the two scouts looked up, smug looks plastered on their faces. They seemed to enjoy the view from where they were standing. “Don’t have too many kitchen maids barking up my tree,” huffed the shorter one humorously. Meira realized with delight that with their simple night clothes on, it wouldn’t be too hard to mistake them for servants. Besides, it was likely they had never actually seen them before. Theron, on the other hand, seemed rather annoyed that they had been interrupted. “I thought you said no one would find us up here!” Meira said to Theron, making sure the scouts could hear them below. She nudged him and gave him a knowing look. “I didn’t think anyone would! It’s not my fault you make so many noises!” Theron shouted, seeming to understand her plan. Meira’s jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide. She smacked his arm, not caring for a moment that she had nearly sent him falling. Below them the scouts were enjoying the entertainment, and bellowed in laughter at Theron’s remark. “Well it’s not my fault you’ve never had much practice!” Meira retorted in a singsong voice. Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle her laughter, and Theron gasped. “Well then maybe I should go back to the stables to see if I can practice with another kitchen maid!” Theron fired back. Meira narrowed her eyes, and he knew he had made a grave mistake. “Is that so? You think you’re the first stable boy to notice me, then?” she challenged, feeling her face go hot. Below them the scouts widened their eyes, hooting with laughter. They didn’t seem to understand the catastrophic mess they had just started. “Perhaps when I leave you for him you’ll remember to be a bit more appreciative! After all, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be stuck up this damn tree!” Meira finished. Her face was red with fury as she quickly descended down the tree’s trunk, leaving him completely helpless. “Meira, wait!” Theron called out. He nearly lost his balance reaching for her arm. She spat on his hand in fury and continued climbing down. “Meira, please wait!” Meira furiously swung herself down the tree, not able to climb down fast enough. To her utter horror, the scouts were gaping at her with shell-shocked expressions. Shit. It wouldn’t take long for rumors of Lady Meira climbing in the tree tops to spread. They had probably already realized that the stable boy stuck in a branch was the Crown Prince. Gritting her teeth together, Meira slid herself down the rest of the tree, spraying mud onto her clothing and hair and onto the scouts below them. Her feet landed on the ground with a soft thump. The scouts seemed at a loss for words, and attempted to apologize. “Save it,” Meira sharply cut them off. “And help him down from there. He doesn’t seem to be in any need of my help,” Meira spat out. She felt ridiculous all covered in mud in her night clothes, her unkempt white hair like a wild halo around her, and it only added to her fury. Ignoring Theron’s pleas to stop, she marched right back to the palace.

Her fingers lightly traced the smooth, taut muscles of Theron's bare back, pausing slightly when he let out a sharp gasp. "I suppose I'm just a bit more...sensitive there," he chuckled nervously. She hushed him and resumed tracing spirals all over his back. They were lying on Theron's bed, Theron's back facing Meira. They hadn't exactly planned to end up there, but one thing led to another and the next thing they knew Theron's shirt lay abandoned on the cold stone floor. Now Meira was curved around him, her forehead resting against the nape of his neck, her calloused fingers running lightly over his spine, his sides, the small of his back. His body trembled with shivers. She placed a chaste kiss on his neck and slowly began tracing letters over his tanned skin. He closed his eyes and let the feel of her hands on his skin take over. "I?"he guessed, his hoarse whisper breaking the smooth silence. He could feel her lips turn up in a smile, and knew he had guessed correctly. Suddenly Theron felt the warm of her hands leave his skin as Meira placed her hands at her side. He turned his head slightly to face her, confused at the loss of contact. His brown hair was still disheveled from when Meira's hands had run through it, moments before. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "Go on," he urged. Theron had never been this vulnerable in front of anyone, but knew he didn't want her to stop. "I'm unsure if I should continue," she mumbled. "It's...it's not exactly something I can take back." "Please. Don't stop," Theron breathed. He wasn't so sure himself. Something about him nearly completely exposed to her, lying helplessly on his bed, was different than kissing. More intimate. She sighed quietly and gestured for him to turn back around. The next letter was L, and the third O. His breath hitched as he started to form the letters into words, and his fingers gripped the white sheets they lay upon. "V...L?" He could feel her shake her head and tried again. "V...E?" he tried again hesitantly. This time he was rewarded with a small nod, but she stopped again. "Please, Meira. Spell out the rest," he whispered, unsure if she could even hear him. She took in a deep breath and spelled out the last three letters, taking her time to memorize every plane of his skin, every chord of muscle. When she was finished she placed her palms flat against his warm back, content to lay there for the rest of eternity. Theron let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His fingers loosened against the sheets, his mouth a bashful smile. He had never been so happy. "Just so you know, I love you too," he mumbled sleepily. He curled himself up into the arch of her warm body, and they quickly fell into a blissful asleep, smiles still resting on their lips. .

A/N: Can sararaasch please confirm that Theron is the little spoon? Because there is no world in which he isn’t.

Inspired by the wonderful blog otpprompts!

It had been four days since the Winterians had left for Jannuari, but it felt as though it had been four months.The steady sway and rhythm of Meira’s horse comforted her, and the faint sound of hoofbeats crunching fresh snow underneath put a smile to her face. She rode a gentle white pony, its fine hair as pure as the falling snow. Home had always been with Sir and Mather and Dendera, an unidentifiable place in her heart, but something  about the way the snow perfectly lined the branches of the towering trees made her think of home. But snows, the cold was a force to be reckoned with. “You’ll get used to the view in about another hour, when your toes start to fall off,"said Theron, trembling under his furs. "What, the Crown Prince can’t handle his princely toes getting a little cold?"Meira teased, though despite her awe at the beauty of Winter, even she was feeling the cold. She tried rubbing her hands against the rough leather of the reigns, but her hands were too stiff, and it burned. Meira reminded herself of the hardships the other Winterians had gone through. It didn’t lessen the all-encompassing pain. "If this is a chill, then I’m Winterian,” snorted Theron. Meira laughed at the idea, but then frowned. The Winterians all had clear blue eyes and perfect white hair, their skin paper white. In comparison, Theron with his brown hair and tanned skin stuck out like a sore thumb. She trusted her people, but he was all too easy of a target. If someone meant him ill-will, he would be easy to find. Perhaps she should mention it to him, suggest he wear a hood over his head. Before she could say something though, Mather rode up to her right on Nayir, his beautiful gray stallion. The beast was a sight to behold, and few dared go near it, but Mather had always had a sort of magic touch when it came to animals. He seemed at ease next to her, and whether it was from riding Nayir or coming back home, or both, Meira was glad. For so long he had acted as the polite but quiet prince, always the perfect diplomat. But since they had left Cordell, he seemed much more like his true self. Her feelings for Theron were growing every day, but sometimes all she needed was her best friend. When Mather gave a friendly nod to Theron, it was not out of politeness but rather amusement. He enjoyed watching the other prince suffer a little. When Theron gave a vague excuse about finding firewood with some of the hunters, Mather seemed to relax even more. “Doesn’t get out much does, does he?” Mather snickered under his breath, so that only Meira could hear him. She could see his breath come out in white puffs of air. “It’s new for everyone. I’m Winterian, and I’m freezing. Snows, you’re Winter’s prince and you look as red as a Cordellan queen!” Meira exclaimed, playfully hitting his shoulder. She felt as though they were the same Meira and Mather they used to be, running around in circles with wooden swords and paper hats. It was good to have her friend back; she felt as though she hadn’t spoken to him in ages. Mather raised a brow at the comparison. “Why, that’s simply my Winterian blood rising to my face, giving me the strength to survive this cold!” Mather said, holding a hand to his chest in mock outrage. “Oh, really? And I suppose it was your Winterian nobility that watched over the children in the tent, while the rest of us froze to death out here in the snow?” Meira retorted. “I am nothing if not responsible. Besides, you were the one living in the lap of luxury in Cordell. Give the rest of us peasants a chance, will you?” “You? A peasant?” “I’m hardly a prince. Not the kind you seem to like, anyhow,” Mather mumbled, looking down. “What does that mean?” Meira asked, pulling her horse to a stop. Her voice raised at the sudden change in conversation. Mather let out a deep sigh, and closed his eyes resignedly. “That’s not what I meant. Snows, It was an ass thing to say. I just…I just feel a little inadequate. He has a whole kingdom to inherit, and I don’t even know in what state we’ll find Jannuari in. For all we know, it could be completely demolished. I’m marching my people on the hope that we just might find a place to stay,” he sighed. Meira put a gloved hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Your people were slaving away in Angra’s prisons before we saved them. At least now they have a noble cause to die for,” Meira said reassuringly. “But how many deaths will I have on my hands by the end of this? They are so close to everything they have ever dreamed of. What if I fail them?” Mather looked on to the endless procession of Winterians. Their hunched backs were covered in furs, their pale skin sagging against their bones. Babies were swaddled in rags and strips of leather, bony children huddled around each other for warmth. It was a miserable sight, and certainly not the one Mather had always envisioned when dreaming of Winter. The two rode side by side in silence, unsure of what to say. Mather could not bear to see the pity in Meira’s eyes; Meira was frustrated with the situation. An hour had passed like this before they heard news from a young scout. The scout looked frail, as though at any moment she would be blown away by the wind. Her white hair was cut short, loosely framing her narrow face, and her sallow skin hung loosely on her bones. She proved fast though, and came darting through the crowd like a sailing arrow. “Prince Mather! I bring news of Jannuari!” she called out, her voice ringing clear over the noise of the Winterians. The Winterians stopped dead in their tracks, eyes widening with hope. They turned expectantly towards Mather, and Mather cursed under his breath, not wanting to raise their already high hopes. The scout stopped short at Mather’s horse and caught her breath. “Darius was digging holes for the tents, Your Highness, when he hit something hard underfoot. He called out for Terrian-Terrian is a blacksmith, of sorts- and Terrian said it was definitely a piece of ore, but he wasn’t sure if it was safe to dig it up. He didn’t want to damage it, you see. Terrian’s smart like that,” the scout rambled. Mather gave a huff of impatience and motioned for her to continue. “Well, anyways, we called out for one of them nice ladies with you-what’s her name again? The one with the lot of hair on her head and the fancy clothes?” Meira smirked at the description, but Mather was not so amused. “I assume you mean Lady Dendera?” The scout nodded and lowered her head, seeming to remember her place. Meira shot Mather an odd look, but assumed he needed to act the part of monarch before gaining their respect. “Lady Dendera came over and inspected the ore, and said did you know that ore is one of the major resources of Jannuari? I said I did not, and she told me to report this immediately to you, and here I am.” The scout seemed incredibly pleased to be the one delivering the news, and her smile stretched wide across her face. Mather sighed. “Ore is a common enough resource all over Winter. We must reclaim Jannuari, or we’ll have no hope,” sighed Mather, his voice low enough so that only Meira and the scout could hear. He raked a hand through his ruffled hair. He had so wished to have good news for his people, but the situation was looking more desperate than ever. The days were short in Winter, and night would soon be upon them. He knew the Winterians to be resilient people, but he wondered just how much their faith in him would extend.   Meira turned to look at him, an idea forming in her mind. “How long do you think we’ve been traveling within Winter? How many miles?” Meira asked suddenly. Mather shot her a questioning look. “I reckon it’s been ‘bout four days, my lady. Couldn’t tell you how far we are, though,” shrugged the scout. Meira gave a kick to her horse and rode ahead, returning quickly with Farina at her side. Farina had managed to find refuge in Summer after the War with her wife Ilya. She had shaved her head close to her scalp and darkened her eyebrows, quickly learning the best ways to evade Angra. Her forehead was lined with years of hard work, and she always seemed to wear a mean look. She was also one of the smartest people Meira knew. “Farina, how many miles do you think we’ve traveled since entering Winter?” Meira asked, turning towards her. Meira’s voice was calm, polite even, but her face shone with excitement. “About fourteen miles, give or take. Maybe fifteen. It’s hard to know what with all the stops we’re taking,” she huffed, resting a hand on her hip. “And from what entry port did we arrive through?” “Well…I suppose it would be the northern port. Why?” With this Farina raised a brow, seeming to understand Meira’s train of thought. Mather, on the other hand, was completely lost. “If we’ve been traveling about fifteen miles from the northern port, then we must only have two or three miles from the capital,” Meira exclaimed. She turned to Mather. “Mather, we’re this close to Jannuari!” Mather’s eyes widened and a wide grin spread across his face. Below them the scout looked excitedly between the three of them. She pushed a lock of hair from her face and licked her licks. “Shall I go tell the others? The scouts, I mean,” she fumbled. Her legs seemed unsure of what to do. Mather gave a nod and she darted off back into the crowd. Farina walked on after her, a new spring in her step. Meira and Mather’s eyes met and, from the great height of their horses, their hands met. “I can’t believe it. You’re incredible,” Mather breathed. His voice was filled with such deep admiration; Meira looked away and blushed. “Yes, well…I am pretty great,” she sighed. She had never seen that look in his blue eyes directed to her, and she felt slightly hot under his gaze. Taking her hand from his, she gripped the reigns and gave a swift kick to her horse. She would settle her feelings for Mather later. Right now, she had a capital to reclaim.                  

AN: Sorry for not posting any fanfictions in forever, but an anon requested a MatherxMeira fic (what even is their ship name?). I am always open for any requests, especially anything with Meiron <3 Of course, all characters (minus Farina and the scout) belong to the lovely Sara Raasch.

I drew a Sauron/Meiron... With a sketchbook because, y'know my name |D