It is all the Professor's.

Thanks to Viv, Anna, Marnie and Finch, without whom this would never have happened.

Amarie stopped in middle of the square of Tirion. The sparkling cascades of the fountian turned oily, the quiet laughter of their falling water muffled without the light of Telperion and Laurelin. The surrounding gardens stripped of color, all now a shade of gray. The riot of blues, reds, yellows and greens extinguished by Ungoliant and Melkor. She stared, eyes unfocused, as she rubbed the silver ring on her finger.

Finrod found her standing by the fountain. Like everything else, she seemed paler, sickly in the dim half-light. Like everything else, she struggled against this new environment, shocked to jer foundation that things could change.

She heard footsteps and looked up to see Finrod, her betrothed. His anxious look confirmed her fears.

Finrod hesitantly approached her. “Amarie, we are soon leaving, your father said you were here.” He gently took her hand. “Why are you not preparing.”

She did not look up to meet his eyes but said, “So you are following on this fool's quest, against the wishes of the Valar?”

Finrod’s eye’s narrowed slightly but remained firm. “Yes, though I do not consider this quest foolish.”

Amarie looked up into Finrod’s eyes, her own brimming with tears. “Tell me, is it for vengeance or the unknown that you leave your home? Not the Noldor, Findarato. You. Why are you leaving?”

Finrod was surprised by the question, she knew him only too well.

He took a deep breath and replied “No, Amarie, it is not vengeance. It is the unknown, the untamed world. Feanaro's words have stirred something inside me. I would see the Silmarilli returned, Morgoth held accountable, but I do not agree with Feanoro’s motives of vengeance and conquest. I do agree that we are stifled here in Valinor, kept eternally adolescent, never to have earned our own way in the world. Though the Valar seek to keep us safe, it is time for us to leave the nest.”

Amarie cast her eyes down again, her body shaking as the tears flowed. “Yet I do not agree with either of you. And I do know you too well, Findarato and I can not compete with your need for discovery. With vengeance, I had a hope, but not the unknown.”

Finrod hesitated. He knew he must ask the question but feared he already knew the answer. “You are not coming with me, are you Amarie?”

She hesitated and Finrod felt a glimmer of hope. But it was dashed when she set her shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. “No.”

Finrod blinked at her firm response. He expected her response, but hoped it would be otherwise. “You cannot or will not?”

She bore his questioning stare and said, “Both. I will not go against the will of the Valar and cannot leave my family, my home.”

They both stood looking in each other’s eyes, hoping to see the other yield. Almost with physical force, realization hit them at the same moment. They knew their love was not as strong as they supposed, neither was willing to relinquish what they held dearest for the other. Now stripped of its facade, their fledgling bond evaporated.

Finrod let her hand fall away. Amarie slipped the silver ring from her finger and brought up Finrod’s hand, placing the ring he had crafted in it. She looked into his eyes once more, hoping again that what had just passed could be reconciled. But she saw the dying ember in his eyes that was mirrored by hers.

“Remember me fondly.” Without a second look, she turned and walked away.

Finrod watched her form fade into the gloom. “Farewell, Amarie of Valinor.”

*~*

Findarato- Finrod’s name in Quenya

After waking many nights with the sickening of horror still seeping from his chest, Finrod awoke with the nightmare ending differently. After the walk across the battlefield strewn with the slain, after seeing the hill of ten thousand dead elves, whose sightless eyes stared at him accusing, imploring, the nightmare changed. He was pulled to a dark forest meadow. He heard the song of the nightingale echoing through the trees, saw a flash of raven hair and he no longer felt the weight of doom.

Far away, she too awoke with a hazy memory, a pair of smiling eyes in the darkness. Shining faintly at her, like a fox’s eyes in the moonlight, warming her with their light.

~*~

Menegroth, First Age, year 50

Finrod was again impressed with his supposedly unenlightened kin. The rooms he and his sister were given were large with tall ceilings, and appointed with dignitaries in mind. Soft carpets covered the polished dark stone floor. There were small sculptures, which particularly fascinated Finrod, of wood and stone, a forest cat leaping from a rock, an owl, so life like, it looked ready to take flight. The walls, etched in leaf patterns, were adorned with paintings of woodland glades and streams. Even the furniture, rivaling anything in Valinor, was steeped in an ancient culture born of the forest. On this journey to meet his long sundered kin, he was overjoyed at what he had found.

“I am quite curious to meet our host,” he called out from the parlor as Artanis chose a subtly hued but intricately embroidered gown in her private bedroom.

Her lady in waiting, Linde, helped her into her chosen dress, lacing the ribbon down her back. Artanis said, her tone serious though she gave Linde a conspiratorial look, “Thingol, or his daughter?”

Finrod appeared at the door, leaning against the frame nonchalantly. “Why, the former, of course.” He said with an arched eyebrow.

Artanis turned her head from the mirror, looking directly at Finrod. With a touch of mischief she said, “Oh, Findarato, you heard Angarato’s description, ‘Like no maiden in Valinor’, surely that at least has your interest.”

“I do not deny that I am also curious to see his daughter, his wife too. But that does not mean I have designs on the Queen.”

“So you do have designs on the Daughter? “ Artanis said playfully.

“No, sister, I do not, who could replace my sister as the nis in my life, and besides, who could be formidable enough to meet your approval and your inspection.” Finrod said matching her tone.

“A Princess of Doriath” Artanis said flatly.

Finrod waved off the suggestion. “Artanis, please, we are here to meet our grandfather’s brother and the King of Doriath, I do not think it would be prudent to court his daughter, things are still cool between he and the Noldor.”

“You make excuses brother.”

Linde froze. She was of a very small circle that knew of Finrod’s failed love. She held her breath as Finrod stared menacingly at his sister.

“You go too far, sister,” He said icily. He turned and left the chamber.

Artanis could feel her confidant’s questions. Artanis smoothed out her gown. As she inspected herself in the mirror, she said with authority, “He pines overlong.”

Recognizing her charge’s mood, Linde neutrally said, “Yes, my lady.”

Artanis’ posture softened, “I know the hurt is still raw, Linde, but my cause was to open his mind. A sharp knife cuts the cleanest.”

Linde helped Artanis don an emerald necklace and said,” And often cuts too deep.”

Artanis surveyed herself in the mirror, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. “We shall see.”

~*~

“What do we know of Artanis and Finrod?” Luthien asked her mother.

Melian rose and dismissed the servant tending her daughter’s hair. She stood behind Luthien and sorted the hair into strands to be braided. She paused a moment as she drew her hands through the long silky hair. “He is the eldest and she the youngest of the children of Earwen, your father’s neice.”

“That, I already knew mother, what do you know?”

“He is a wanderer, reveling in discovery. He has a kind heart, though like all the Noldor we have met, he has a shadow upon it. There is a well hidden guilt that, I fear bodes ill. But he is quick to laugh and seeks to have peace in his family. Unlike his younger brother who visited us earlier, he is not rash, though he may follow his impulses.”

“Mother, have you been in his mind? Do you think that is wise…”

Before Luthien could continue, Melian cut her off. “Peace daughter. No, I was not so rude, Celeborn escorted them from the borders. These are his impressions and your cousin is rarely wrong in his assessments.”

Luthien accepted the explanation and continued. “And what of the little sister?”

“I would not name her that in her presence,” Melian said with a rueful chuckle.

“She is more closed than her elder brother. If my information is correct, she is the youngest of two ellyth in a family of three brothers and ten male first cousins. She desires recognition and seeks to excel in all endeavors. She is formidable and driven. But she has what seems to be a family trait of wanderlust and openmindedness.”

“Celeborn again?”

“Yes, and I might add that she has piqued his interest.”

~*~

At the appointed time, Celeborn knocked on the sibling’s door. Finrod opened it, and welcomed in the chief advisor. Celeborn saw the trace of anger quickly evaporate from Finrod’s face. He wondered at the cause, but was content to file away the expression.

Celeborn noticed that Finrod was dressed in subdued hues of blue and gray. He still held himself like the proud Noldor prince that he was, but the outward appearance hinted that he was trying to adapt to Sindar sensibilities. He appeared quite a mix of cultures, Vanyar hair, Noldor posture, and Sindar clothing. During the ride in from the borders of Doriath, Celeborn discovered that Finrod was devoid of Angrod’s innocent arrogance and though he was a Calaquendi, he seemed to think that not all the Morquendi beneath him. Finrod’s childlike fascination with Menegroth was endearing and telling. He was not afraid to admit that not all beauty was in born in Valinor. Celeborn was beginning to like this Noldo.

Upon recognizing Celeborn, Finrod gave a genuine smile and said, “My Lord Celeborn, again, you grace us with your presence. Please enter, my sister has almost completed her preparations. May I offer you some refreshment, we seem to have an abundance.”

Celeborn nodded a bow but declined, “Thank you, Lord Finrod, I am content. I trust everything is to your satisfaction?”

“Please, Lord Celeborn, were are kin, call me Finrod. And yes, the accommodations are satisfactory, beyond in fact. I am particularly impressed with the plumbing. Tell me, is it common here in the city, or just in rooms of higher status?”

At that moment, Artanis made her entrance. She strode into the parlor saying, “Forgive my brother Lord Celeborn, his curiosity gets the advantage of his propriety sometimes, I had to tear him away from the clever valves in the lavatory before he damaged them.” She offered her hand and said, “Thank you for guiding us, My Lord, it has been a pleasant experience.”

Mildly defensive, Finrod interjected, “I was only seeking to discover the mechanism, I would employ its design. They remain unaltered.”

Taking the offered hand and gently kissing it, Celeborn inwardly smiled. Finrod was definitely intriguing. But the sister, she was radiant though she too was dressed in grays and blues. She was beautiful, more so now that she had washed the travel from her. She had been attired sensibly on the journey to Menegroth, now she revealed her quality. Her tresses flowed like a waterfall of gold mingled silver, delicate braids framed her striking face and sharp blue eyes. Her dress, cut to accentuate but still conservative, was obviously designed to subtly distract from her face. Clever.

Celeborn looked up from her hand and noted that she was watching him with unusual intensity.

In his most diplomatic voice, Celeborn said, “My Lady, no need to apologize, so long as nothing was damaged.” After a moment of seriousness, he grinned and said to both, “And please, call me Celeborn.”

Artanis returned with a knowing grin of her own and said, “Thank you Celeborn, and Artanis will suffice.”

Still smiling, Celeborn turned towards the door and motioned. “Please, His Majesty awaits.”

~*~

Artanis put her hand comfortably on her brother’s arm. Celeborn led them through the halls, describing small details such as ventilation and light. She occasionally squeezed Finrod’s arm to silence his constant questions, even though Celeborn showed genuine interest in answering his inquiries.

They arrived at a huge pair of arched ancient wooden doors that were at least three times the height of an elf and just as wide. The bindings were of beech leaf shaped blued steel. Finrod was further amazed to see that they were inlayed, showing no fasteners. He would have to ask later what species of wood was used.

Celeborn halted a few paces, turned and looked at Finrod and Artanis, silently asking if they were prepared. Artanis let her hand fall and they both nodded, indicating they were ready. Knowing the intimidating nature of his lord and lady, Celeborn gave a reassuring smile and turned to motion to one of the guards. The guard, in bright ceremonial armor, nodded and effortlessly moved the gigantic bolt. With a slight push, both doors soundlessly opened. Celeborn settled himself and purposefully entered. A few paces in, he halted and bowed low.

In a loud clear voice he proclaimed, “Your Majesties, Elu Thingol, King of Doriath and Melian of Valinor, Your Highness Luthien, Peoples of Doriath, may I present His Highness Findarato Finrod Finarfinion and Her Highness Artanis Nerwen Finarfiniel.” With a flourish, he bowed out of their path. As one, they stepped forward and entered the gigantic hall. Finrod’s earlier fascination disappeared. He fixed his eyes on the monarchs, his expression serious but warm. As they passed all the nobility of Menegroth, it was remarked how attractive the pair were, their striking hair, their proud but respectful gait.

Thingol watched his new found kin from over the sea stride into the hall. He noted the looks of his subjects. Some were openly awed, some reservedly so, but all attention was on the magnificent pair of Elves walking towards him.

Unlike Angrod, who had come earlier as a messenger, he saw the subtle hints of his brother Olwe in their stride and bright, stern faces. It had been so long since he had walked the starlit forests with his brother. Seeing the scions of Olwe brought an ache for friends and family long sundered.

Once they reached the dais, Finrod and bowed low. In his most formal tone, Finrod said, “Greetings Your Majesties, Lord and Lady of Beleriand. He turned and bowed to Luthien. “Your Highness, Princess of the Guarded Realm” Turning back to address Thingol, he continued,” My sister and I are pleased to finally meet our kin of old.” Artanis nodded a bow to each of the royals in greeting.

Much to the surprise of all present, Thingol descended from the dais and drew Finrod into a familial hug and then embraced Artanis, who, more prepared, smiled and returned the embrace.

Celeborn, who was standing behind them, saw the Queen give an almost imperceptible smirk. She then looked at Celeborn and he raised an eyebrow, just a hint, in response.

After a moment of surprise, Finrod smiled and looked up to the Queen and Princess. Melian’s expression hid faint amusement. When she met his glance, she smiled warmly, and nodded in greeting. Luthien’s expression was unreadable, she too bowed slightly but her expression held none of the warmth of her mother’s.

What Finrod did not know, was that it was a force of will that kept Luthien’s face unreadable. When he had looked up at her and smiled, she recognized his eyes. They were the eyes from her dream. The ones that had laughed at her in the dark, the ones that had warmed her.

Thingol turned the pair to the gathering of his subjects. “Lords and Ladies, People of Doriath, may I present my grand niece and grand nephew.” He paused as applause erupted from the now informed crowd. After it abated, he smiled heartily and said, “Would you please, all join us under the Hirilorn for the feast celebrating their arrival.”

~*~

Thingol escorted Artanis up the hill to the grand pavilion followed by Finrod and Melian, Celeborn and Luthien walked somewhat behind with the nobility.

Luthien spoke low to avoid gossiping ears. “What do you think of our long lost kin, cousin?”

Celeborn turned to his companion and studied her a moment. He had known her since childhood and he recognized the trouble in her voice. “From what I have seen and heard, Finrod is an uncommon Noldo. Artanis… well Artanis is Artanis.” He returned his eyes to the path and continued. “She is an enigma, she can be warm and curious, like her brother, and then in a breath of wind, cold and calculating. But they have that shadow that we see in all the Noldor, but it is less heavy on our new cousins.” After a pause he asked,” What troubles you Luthien? Your father is overjoyed.”

She looked down at her bare feet and replied. “It is nothing, it will pass.”

Pushing her tension away she turned back to her escort. She smiled up at him mischievously. “Yes, that was quite a display from the King of Beleriand.”

“You noticed that comment too.”

“How could I miss it, I have heard the reports from the North also, Councilor. I hope it does not cause strife with his Valinorean relations.” Luthien said with genuine concern.

“I do not think he cares, like I said, Finrod is an unusual Noldo. Fingolfin may be the High King of the Noldor in Endor, but Finrod looks after the people who name him lord and makes his own alliances.”

Luthien chided her elder friend ,“You seem quite taken with them, you are usually not so hasty”

“Taken? Well I would not go that far, Princess, but Finrod is a very likable sort and Artanis is … unique”

“Unique, you say? Sounds like more than that.”

Celeborn caught her insinuation. Smiling, he said, “I have no idea what you mean, Luthien.” Abruptly changing the subject he countered. “And what do you think of the Pair?”

“I have not so good information as yourself, I have only just now met them, as you must know”

“Yes, I know, but I know you have developed opinions. Please, do not keep me in suspense,” He said with a grin.

She looked again at the path. She hesitated a moment. Meeting Finrod had left her unsettled, his eyes reminded her of something in her dreams. She said in a hesitant whisper, “I find them… interesting.”

Celeborn again saw the unusual behavior in his friend. Knowing that forcing the issue would only make her more reticent, he let the matter drop. They continued the walk to the feast, silently consenting to end the direction of the conversation and think of lighter fare.

~*~

Several days after the feast, Finrod stood in the clearing near the Hirilorn. A cool night breeze whispered through the trees as he looked up at the stars. He noted that they seemed brighter here in Doriath, like they too enjoyed the Guarded Realm. The image of Luthien crept into his mind. He had spoken briefly with her but unfortunately never engaged her in true conversation. He found himself wishing that were not the case. He had watched her dance at the celebration. Her grace was unmatched. Maybe it was the blood of her mother that lent her such unearthly elegance. He felt a stir, familiar yet different than anything from the past. Then he placed it, the first time he met Amarie had a similar tingle yet this was different, not better or worse, different. He rebuked himself as he looked up at the stars in new wonder, “This is a dangerous slope, Findarato, we are just arrived, it would be ill to anger Thingol by seeking his daughter.” The quiet rustling of bare feet drew his attention. He turned to see the object of his musings standing just few paces away.

Luthien loved to come out, after the halls quieted and walk beneath the stars. The Hirilorn was her favorite place to gaze up at their glory, the giant tree adding magnificence to the view. She had been walking across the clearing, head down, deep in thought. She heard quiet words spoken and stopped. She looked up and saw a figure silhouetted against the sky, face turned up, observing. In the darkness she at first thought it was Celeborn, surveying the stars as he was wont to do. But as she looked closer she discovered it was not Celeborn. This watcher was slightly shorter, stood differently, and his hair was not as pale as her cousin’s. She saw his eyes turn to her and she recognized Finrod. A small tingle started in her belly, but whether it was excitement or apprehension, she was not quite sure. This Elflord roused new feelings in her, ones that both scared and warmed her.

When she found her voice, she said, “I did not mean to disturb you, my lord.”

“Your Highness, I was only looking at the stars. They seem brighter here in Doriath.” He hesitated a moment and then offered, “If you do not wish for company, I will retire.” Finrod tried to quash the hope that she would not leave.

“No, I would not intrude, I would leave you in peace if you were seeking solitude.” Luthien was unsure of her course. She really did not want to intrude, though the thought of staying both intrigued and unnerved her. The eyes from her dream resembled those that looked at her. The possibility that she had dreamed of him sent a small shiver of excitement and apprehension up her spine.

“Please stay, Your Highness. I had hoped to talk with you during the celebration but never found the opportunity. And it is just the two of us, please call me Finrod.”

Luthien replied, “As you wish Finrod. And since it is just the two of us, please call me Luthien.” His replying smile eased her anxiousness.

Turning her head up to the stars, she said, “It is a beautiful night, is it not?”

Finrod’s eyes remained on her sublime face for a moment, and as he turned his eyes skyward, he said, “Indeed it is Luthien.”

An awkward silence followed. Finrod felt the weight of the silence and said “The stars…” just as Luthien spoke the same words. They both hesitated and simultaneously apologized. Finrod chuckled and said, “Please, my lady, you first.”

Hiding a giggle of her own, she smiled and said, “I was only going to comment that I have noticed that stars do seem different in Doriath. I have been to Ossiriand and Nan Elmoth and they do not shine as bright. Is it the same in Hithlum and Mithrim?”

“Yes, it is as though they are happier to be seen here.”

“I have always thought it was something in relation to my mother, but I like your interpretation.” She smiled to herself. She heard his reverence and wonder.

They talked for a long while, the stars wheeled overhead. They spoke of small things, Finrod asking about Menegroth and Luthien of Minas Tirith. They kept the conversation light, Luthien avoided the hardship of the Helcarax and Finrod avoided the battles and hardship that preceded the arrival of the Noldor. They both told stories of their childhood and laughed at the predicaments that childhood stories always seemed to include. Luthien had Celeborn and his brother, Daeron and others of the nobility. Much to her father’s concern, she was either tussling with Galathil and Celeborn or dancing to Daeron’s music. Finrod spoke of all the trouble he and the Sons of Fingolfin caused. When she asked of the Feanorian brood, a shadow came over his face but quickly disappeared. He explained that the Feanorians had all long since reached their age of majority when he was maturing. He and Maedhros had become somewhat close, being the eldest of their houses. Luthien saw the shadow steal across his face and then quickly disappear, but etiquette held her tongue.

The sky was beginning to lighten noticeably. Finrod said, “Your Highness, it is getting, late, well rather, early. I would love to continue this conversation but I fear my sister will wonder at my absence should she wake and I am not there.”

Grinning sardonically, Luthien asked, “Do you fear her dissaproval?”

Finrod turned to her, and seeing her mischievous smile, laughed and looked up again at the stars. Thinking of his earlier conversation with Artanis about the king’s daughter he chuckled and replied, “It is not her I fear, it is her endless questions.”

Luthien said, “I would like to continue our conversation myself but I would not have you interrogated. Would you like to see the rest of Menegroth. We could resume our discussion and I could show you more of my home.”

“They are many things that I have found amazing. Though I have only seen them briefly, I would love to see more.”

That last comment hung on the air for a long moment. Finrod could not speak. The unintended double meaning of is words occurred to him and he hoped the Princess would not be offended if she perceived it.

Luthien, however, wondered at the comment, surely there was little here that rivaled Valinor, if the stories of her mother were to be believed. She thought more about what Celeborn had said. He was right, Finrod was an endearing ellon. The anxiety she had felt earlier had faded and now she thought of the dream with the smiling eyes. Maybe it was some of her inherited prescience, but she now warmed to the idea that this Noldo had entered her life. He was not like the rest of the nobility she knew. He was honest in his manner and she thought it was more than just Menegroth that had his interest. And she did not find the thought unappealing.

Luthien smiled at his words and said,” Shall I seek you out after the noon meal then?”

“I am afraid I shall have to seek you out my lady, your father spoke of hidden caves along the Narog and he has invited me to discuss them at that time. I am not sure when our meeting will conclude. Perhaps after the evening meal? If you are not already engaged, I would enjoy a tour from so distinguished a guide.” His warm smile was infectious.

“I believe you and your sister are dining with us in my father’s private chambers this evening. Then we may continue our conversation and I will show you the rest of Menegroth after we dine.”

Finrod said, “I would like that.” He offered her his arm and smiled again. “My lady, may I escort you back to the Halls.”

“Why yes, My Lord, you may.” She returned his easy smile with one of her own, thinking again how right Celeborn had been.

She placed her hand lightly on his arm and they walked back in an easy silence. Neither mentioned what was stirred by that slight touch but both wondered if the effect was shared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angarato: Quenya original for Angrod.
nis: woman, Quenya

Thanks again for my betas, Viv and Marnie.

Luthien pointed him in the direction of his apartments and bid him good night. As he turned a corner, he looked back. She was still there watching him. He smiled and nodded. Her eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary before she returned the smile and strode away. Finrod hesitated in front of the door to his guests apartments. He could still feel the delicate weight of Luthien’s soft fingers on his skin.

Finrod gathered himself and finally opened the door. He entered and quietly closed the door in hopes of not waking his sister. He suspected though, that she would still know that he had returned very late from his midnight walk. With only a subtle whisper from his clothes, he wandered to the far end of the room, opposite the arch that led to Galadriel's chambers. Here a large mural of Beleriand traced the wall, showing land formations and political boundaries from the Ered Luin to Belegaer. Menegroth was near the center and all the mountains and forests were painted in great detail. Even place names were featured. Finrod would often pass the short moments waiting for his sister. He had by now memorized it’s every aspect.

Finrod’s eyes lingered on the Ered Luin but his mind was not on the Dwarf kingdoms of Belegost and Nogrod. Thoughts of Luthien stole his focus as he played the scene from earlier that night over in his mind. The more he concentrated on her memory, the harder his heart beat. He could remember every detail as she turned her face up to the stars. The reverence of the stars in her eyes, the slope of her nose, her delicate lips, the tilt of her neck, her lithe body. Her jet black hair begged his fingers to glide through its silken flow. She was the most beautiful child born of Arda, there was no mistake. Finrod scoffed at Angrod’s description; she could challenge Varda herself.

But she also had an air of subtle power. The Calaquendi had been blessed by the Light of the Two Trees, Luthien had been blessed by the Music of Illuvatar. An older, deeper power coursed through her veins and emanated from her like a gentle pressure. Being in her presence was something akin to walking into a brightly lit glade from a darkened forest. Finrod wondered if he could bear up to that kind of might. Amarie was a Vanyar princess, tall and strong; Luthien was the daughter of a goddess.

He rebuked himself. She was the Princess of Doriath. He should not be entertaining such thoughts. But then, he thought, he too was a prince. She was not above him, though she was the daughter of a Maia. The stream of insights continued: Elwe too was an elf and a Maia chose him for her husband… Finrod cursed himself again.

“You are up early, brother. Or did you never seek your bed?” Artanis said from over his shoulder.

Finrod shook off the thoughts and replied, “I could not rest and went out to look at the stars and returned only a few moments ago. I did not wake you, did I?”

“No, though I did hear you enter, I was already rousing. I did not disturb you? ”

Finrod finally turned and looked at his sister. She was fully clothed and ready for the day. He wondered not only how long he had been in a trance but also how long she had been standing there.

He finally said, “I was waiting on you to rise and was again, occupying myself with the mural,. But I see that you are indeed awakened. Shall I call for breakfast?”

She looked at him intently for a moment. She knew his mind was on more than cartography; he would not have been so easily distracted from it. And what thought did he shake off as she spoke to him? She decided to wait and see if he would voluntarily speak his troubles. If she questioned him, he might simply avoid it.

“Breakfast sounds wonderful. I hope they have strawberries.” Her eyes twinkled in anticipation. Finrod stood and pulled on the servant’s bell; he knew the Hall had already begun to stir and breakfast for early risers would have already been prepared. Artanis then said, “I will await its arrival, go and refresh yourself, Finrod.” Seeing him hesitate, she shooed him towards his private quarters.

Finrod chuckled as he allowed her to push him towards his room, “You only want those strawberries to yourself, glutton.”

She pushed a little harder and said, “And be sure to take your time…”

There was a soft knock at the door. Artanis opened it and recognized the servant they had come to depend on, Taensir. Artanis smiled warmly and said, “Good morning Taensir, I know it is fairly early, but could you please have our breakfast sent up?” She gave him a hopeful smile and asked, “And if they are not in short supply, could you possibly ask the chef to add an extra measure of those wonderful strawberries? My brother has developed a sharp fondness for them.”

He nodded and gave a knowing smile, “Yes, my lady, they are especially good. I will inform the chef of your avidity. I will return shortly.” He bowed, turned sharply and strode off towards the kitchens.

~*~

Once Taensir had arranged the platters on the small buffet, Finrod returned from the lavatory and sat at the small table set for two. Artanis served her brother a several of the small red delicacies, slices of stewed apples, and warm bread with butter. Finrod looked at her intently as she sat with her own plate of food.

They ate in silence for a few moments.

Finrod finally spoke. “Thingol and I are meeting today to discuss a cave formation to the east of the Narog.”

“It sounds like a good place to settle, a place for a stronghold. Like Menegroth it would be easy to defend. Is there any indication of its state of habitability?”

Finrod thought for a moment, and then answered, “There was some mention of previous inhabitants but it has been deserted for many yeni. But as to living to our standards there was no indication. Worry not, sister, my hands are eager and I would make you a place of comfort. I have been studying Thingol’s handiwork here, and with our means and Thingol’s endorsement, we should be able to construct a place to call home within a few years.”

“Is not Minas Tirith our home?”

“Yes, but I would have a more defendable place and a less strategic target.”

“Has Thingol offered it?”

“In all but words. Eol and the Sons of Feanor are his only neighbors now and I believe he would have friendlier relations sharing at least some of his borders.”

Artanis added with a sly smile, “And he likes you, took to you like long lost son.”

Finrod chuckled at her observation. “It would seem so.” Finrod’s face fell for just a moment. But Artanis saw the brief concern before he could hide it.

“What is on your mind Findarato? You are not yourself.”

Finrod paused; he knew he could not hide it from his sister long. He opted to confide in her.

“It is Luthien, Artanis. We met unexpectedly last night under the Hirilorn. My mind was restless and I went out to be under the stars. Apparently she had similar ideas. We talked until nearly sunrise and then we returned.” He paused and took a deep breath. “And she stirred something in me, something I thought died beside the fountain in Tirion.”

Artanis was speechless, both in shock and excitement.

“I know I said I had no interest in her…”

Artanis reached across the table and put her hand over her brother’s. “I do not see the cause for concern, brother. You are a prince and she a princess. Unless you believe she does not or would not share your feelings? We are not so close relations that a match is forbidden.”

“I think she may feel the same, though maybe it is a hope. But it is not our relation that worries me, Artanis, it is our past.” He sighed and looked down. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “They will discover it, I have no doubt. Our hosts already note our silences and avoidances. The Noldor do not ingratiate themselves to the Sindar. Our cousins lord their power over the Sindar like a bludgeon. And Thingol knows this, only he is too polite to broach it with us.”

She knew exactly what his fear was. The dread and horror built up in her chest like a tightening knot. She would not name it out loud. The very word poisoned the air.

The Kinslaying.

She sat bolt upright. She whispered, near panic in her voice, “We were not guilty of that, we were the ones who fought against that. We were the ones who were left to cross the frozen hell of the Helcarax.”

“I know this, Artanis, yet it was the Noldor who attacked the Teleri. It was our cousins who first committed the ultimate crime of Quendi against Quendi. Thingol is not ruled by emotion but Elf killing Elf… Once he knows the truth, I do not believe we will be welcome in any home of the Third Tribe. Nor would Thingol allow his only daughter, the daughter of the King of the Teler, to marry into a family so stained by the blood of his kin.”

Artanis could find no fallacy in his logic. The Kinslaying would never be forgotten. Again she cursed her uncle.

“What are you going to do, Findarato? Your heart seems to have made its choice.”

“We may be premature, I am not sure of Luthien. She may have feelings for me. But it may be a passing fancy. I do not know her well enough to gauge her intent. My heart tells me, warns me, this is indeed serious. And the thought of being with her brings me joy. But until something more develops, I will hold my allegiance to our closer kin and keep our secret. But a confrontation with Thingol is inevitable.”

~*~

Linde attended Artanis as she prepared for her luncheon with Luthien. She had invited Artanis for a lunch outdoors while her father and Finrod held their discussions. Artanis was in front of the mirror and Linde was beginning to set her lady’s long hair.

There was a gentle knock at the apartment door. Linde went to answer it and Artanis heard Linde welcome Luthien. Artanis stood and went to greet her hostess.

“Your Highness, welcome. Please come in.” A small look of concern crept onto her face as Artanis wondered if she were late. She also noted that Luthien was dressed very comfortably and carried a small bulging haversack.

Luthien saw the look and said, “Forgive me, Lady Artanis. I only hoped to begin our day early. And please, you are among friends, let us dispense with formal titles.”

“Thank you, Luthien. Linde was helping me finish my braid. Also, I believe I will change, your attire suggests more than just a meal in a garden.”

“There is a small glade next to a delightful brook that I frequent. It is one of my favorite places in the forest and is not far off, but we will have to leave the confines of the city.”

Artanis turned to Linde and said, “Could you find that light gray frock, the one with the blue hem?”

Linde nodded in response and went to retrieve it.

Luthien said, “You commented on the design of an elleth’s braids the other evening. Would you like for me to arrange yours in the same fashion?”

Artanis gave a light start.

Luthien was surprised at her reaction. “Have I said something to upset you?”

Artanis said, a bit uncomfortably, “Forgive me Luthien, normally we only allow family or close friends to touch our hair. I am a bit surprised it is not the same with the Sindar.”

“Oh… It is I who should apologize, Artanis. Forgive me, I can instruct Linde on the more intricate designs.”

Artanis thought for a moment. She did not want to offend her hostess, and Luthien was like herself, royalty. Allowances could be made. She replied, “No, it would be easier if you weaved it. Linde is skilled but that design needs a practiced hand.”

Linde arrived with the more appropriate dress.

Luthien nodded at the choice and said, “Ah, yes, that will be more comfortable.” Without a word, Luthien stepped out of the room to allow Artanis privacy.

Once Artanis had changed, she sat at the mirror and asked Luthien to return.

As she approached the seated Artanis, she looked Artanis in the mirror and said, “I must admit, you and your brother have beautiful hair. It resembles fine gold thread, a most unusual color. Though yours is slightly paler.”

She ran her fingers through the silken tresses. “It is a marvel to behold. It resembles my mother’s in texture.” She looked up at Artanis’s reflection and asked, “Do you suppose that it is a trait derived from Telperion and Laurelin?”

“Possibly, but my cousin Aredhel has dark hair akin to yours and your mother’s, but it has not the luxuriant weight.” Artanis raised her eyebrow and said with a conspiratorial grin, “If she were to visit, she would be envious, and that Princess, would be a feat.”

Luthien divided the hair into thin strands in her hands. She asked, in a light tone, “She is a Noldor, overly proud?” Luthien concentrated on the hair in her fingers and let the comment hang for a moment. She looked up, met Artanis’ eyes and gave a smirk.

Artanis returned the smirk and added, “Aredhel is…proud….Yes, proud is a pleasant way to put it.”

Luthien was intrigued by the comment, but did not press her companion for more.

Luthien’s attention returned to the braids she was attempting. She was at a critical point in the design. Once she completed the step she asked, “Artanis, Finrod is not bound is he.” It was more a statement than a question.

Artanis looked up at Linde’s reflection and held her gaze for a moment. Linde perceived her dismissal and excused herself.

“No, he is not.” All thoughts of Luthien’s fingers in her hair dissolved.

“Is he involved with anyone?”

“At this time, not to my knowledge.” Artanis stilled herself; she knew where the line of questioning was going. Luthien did not seem to be one for idle talk. But her pulse quickened at the knowledge that Luthien might mirror her brother’s feelings.

Luthien looked up at Artanis. She noted the stillness as her hands moved deftly. She also ignored the implication that Finrod may have been involved in the past. Feigning concentration on weaving the delicate braid, she asked, “Would you be opposed to a union of the House of Finarfin and the House of Elu?”

Artanis’ face became a mask, utterly expressionless, astonished at Luthien’s directness. She calmly countered. “Would my consent matter?”

Without hesitating, Luthien answered almost nonchalantly. “No… but I hoped that you would. The situation will be delicate enough without having to convince two people.”

“The other being Finrod?”

Still braiding, Luthien chuckled and said, “Again, no. The other I speak of is my father.”

“You seem confident of my brother’s intentions.”

“I am now.”

“How so?” Artanis was confounded by Luthien’s insight. She wondered what she had done to disclose her brother’s feelings.

“Come, Artanis, we Sindar must keep some of our secrets.”

Luthien looked over her handiwork one final time and stepped away from Artanis. Artanis inspected the coiffure. The braids started at her temples and draped over her ear in a herringbone design. Subtle yet intricate, delicate but functional, and probably only undone when the wearer wished. She looked up at Luthien. Luthien’s expression innocently questioned her approval. Approval of the braid… The expression did not seek her blessing to pursue Finrod. The realization made Artanis bristle for a moment. But recognizing a trait in Luthien she valued in herself, she knew the futility of argument. Artanis turned her head, surveying the work. She smiled deliberately and looking meaningfully at her companion said, “Very satisfactory.”

Luthien smiled, her expression mirroring Artanis, and said, “Wonderful. Let us adjourn to the forest. You will not be disappointed.”

And Finrod was mentioned no more.

~*~

The evening meal was served in a private dining hall. The room was not overlarge as to be imposing but enough space for a large family to dine in comfort. The exquisite long table of dark wood could seat perhaps twelve but only six places were set. It was a very informal affair; platters of food were laid on the table for all to serve themselves. Goblets of silver and plates crafted from mother of pearl adorned the table. A modest arrangement of fresh flowers added to the aroma of hot breads and meats. In addition to the Noldor siblings and the royals, Celeborn attended the supper.

Fortunately for Finrod and Artanis, there were no direct questions about the Noldor departure from Valinor, though all noted their subtle avoidance of the subject.

The conversation eventually strayed to Finrod’s fascination with Menegroth.

Thingol asked, “What is it about Menegroth that you ask about its every detail, Finrod?”

Finrod thought for a moment and replied, “It is not any one particular thing, Your Majesty, it is the sum. Though the handling of logistics is intriguing, the transition from forest to cave is nearly imperceptible. The natural lighting, the intricate carvings…it has the feel of Doriath itself, like it is truly the heart of the realm.”

Thingol puzzled at the last comment. With a smile he asked, “I understand our plumbing is a marvel but what else would the capital be?”

Finrod smiled in return and put up his hand apologetically. “You misunderstand me, your majesty. In Tirion, the beauty was built, it was brought to Tuna. Here the beauty is in the dwelling itself, like all that is benevolent in the forest both originates here and is drawn here. Menegroth is the very essence of the realm. I would have such a home, if it were possible, though it would be a pale attempt at replication. I can see no way to duplicate what has been accomplished here.”

Thingol smiled, “If you seek to gain my permission to colonize the caves along the Narog through flattery, it is a wasted effort…Though your words do please me.”

A slight chuckle passed around the table.

Thingol continued, “If they suit your purpose, they are yours to inhabit as you see fit, and all the lands between the Sirion and those lands that hold Cirdan lord. So long as you treat the resident inhabitants as your own.”

The hall fell suddenly silent. Hands froze and mouths stopped chewing, even the rustle of the servants stilled. The gift that Thingol had just suggested would make Finrod’s realm the largest in Beleriand. And with his brothers’ vassalage, he would be lord over more lands than nearly all the Noldor combined, more than even those that Thingol directly controlled.

Finrod recovered and said. “Your Majesty, I have no doubt that the caves along the Narog will suit my purposes. And in return for such a gift, on the honor of my father, you have my fealty.”

And that was it. In the space of two breaths, Finrod had allied himself with Thingol. Taking Thingol as his lord above Fingolfin, the High King of the Noldor in Ennor.

Thingol, only mildly surprised, raised his goblet and said, “So it is done, to the House of Finrod.”

Finrod raised his goblet and said, “To the House of Elwe.”

The weight of what had just transpired not lost on them, the remaining astonished diners raised their glasses slowly and said, “To the House of Finrod, To the House of Elwe.” As Artanis drained her cup, she looked at her brother and found him intently staring at her, trying to gauge her reaction. It was not a hesitant look. It was the look of decision. She recognized that look, she had seen it when their world changed, but she knew they would discuss this later.

Artanis was not the only one watching Finrod. Celeborn and Luthien also observed the visual exchange between brother and sister. The look gave Luthien pause. She knew Finrod had just made a far reaching and controversial decision. She was amazed at the swiftness of his choice. He sought no one’s council, made a choice instantly. She recognized that trait. She knew Finrod would be an effective ruler.

Putting her glass down, Luthien looked at her mother. Melian returned the look with a slight raise of her eyebrow.  Though she did see a hint of “I told you so” pass across her mother’s face. She looked back at Finrod and he was smiling pleasantly at her. She held his gaze for a moment. She had correctly surmised from Artanis his intentions. With each heartbeat that he held her gaze, her body tingled, her breath caught. He excited her and unexpectedly unnerved her. How quickly his demeanor changed, lordly and serious to warm and charming in the blink of an eye.

She learned a great deal. He would be a king of reckoning. His utter confidence would not be intimidated by her ancestry nor her father. Finrod would not fawn like so many thick-tongued suitors before. She was beginning to wish this dinner were over. She wanted to see what else this stimulating ellon had in store.

Celeborn in turn saw Luthien’s nearly imperceptible flush, saw the pulse quicken in her neck. What game is she playing, he thought. He wondered what the king would think of what was developing between his daughter and his grandnephew. Celeborn was not against the pair. But knowing his liege’s hypersensitivity towards his daughter, Celeborn thought things would be getting very interesting very soon.

Celeborn diplomatically broke the silence. “My lord, with your leave, I would to escort Finrod to the caves. I have been meaning to travel to the villages along the way to conduct your business. I believe Beleg has also been meaning to inspect the outposts in that direction so an adequate escort should be no trouble.”

Thingol said, “That is a good idea, Celeborn. If Finrod has no objections,” Finrod looked surprised by the question and shook his head. “Then it is settled. When would you leave?”

Celeborn thought for a moment and then replied, “I think it should take no more than a week to make preparations.” He looked at Artanis and asked, “My lady, would you care to join us? I would like you to see more of Doriath than just Menegroth.”

Artanis replied. “If His Majesty is not opposed, I would love to join you. I admit I would like to see more of the woods of Doriath and its people.”

Thingol nodded his approval and smiling indulgently said, “You have just arrived and now want to be off on more adventures. Just please return as soon as you may. I am enjoying you and your brother being here. You remind of my own brother and it warms my heart to be in your company.”

~*~

Thingol and Melian excused themselves from the dinner. Finrod, Luthien, Celeborn and Artanis chatted a little while longer until Celeborn too excused himself.

Luthien stood and said, “Well, now my friends, if you would like to see the rest of Menegroth, it would be my pleasure to show you my home.”

“I would like that, My Lady.” Standing, Finrod turned to his sister and said, “Artanis, Luthien and I spoke earlier and has graciously assented give a tour of the halls, would you care to join us?”

Artanis inwardly smiled. She was not tired in the least, but saw something in her brother’s eyes indicating that Finrod would not be disappointed with her absence. And upon further inspection of the royal guide, neither would Luthien. “If the tour would pass by our quarters, I would love to join you. I am feeling rather tired and would seek my bed.”

Finrod smiling, replied, “My dear sister, surely it takes more than a fine meal to tire you. Are you sure you would not like to see what designs Thingol and Melian have woven into their home.”

“No, brother. It does take more than a meal to tire me. To be exact, it takes a fine meal, weeks of travel and a large celebration on our behalf to tire me. I should be surprised you do not feel the same, though knowing you as I do, I am not.”

Finrod offered his hand to his sister and she stood. Grinning triumphantly, he turned to Luthien and bowing said, “Princess, you have our undivided attention. Please, lead the way.”

Luthien smiled warmly at the siblings’ banter. She returned the smile and with a flourish said, “Your Highnesses, this way please.” With a smirk, she turned and walked out the entrance. She looked back and found her audience enjoying her exaggerated enthusiasm.

Luthien was a fine tour guide, answering all their questions and even asking some of her own. She showed them the kitchens and several of the inhabitants’ quarters. She even made a slight detour to the armories on the way to Finrod and Artanis’s apartments.

After saying goodnight to Artanis, Luthien continued with showing Finrod Menegroth. He was particularly taken with how amenities such as water and light were available so far from their sources. Luthien even suggested an appointment with the waterwarden and chief stonewright, to which Finrod enthusiastically agreed.

As the evening lengthened, their conversation strayed from Menegroth and Doriath and turned more towards each other. They made each other laugh with more stories of their youth. Luthien found herself even more enamored with this pleasant Noldo. She found herself wanting to listen to the lyrical rhythm of his voice, watch the wonder in his eyes at things she had taken for granted all her life. She also saw the sentiment grow in him. He walked a little closer, his eyes lingered a little longer. He turned his body to face her when she stopped to describe a piece of sculpture or other detail, showing his attention was on her rather than the object discussed.

The trek to the caves of the Narog would be long and full of occasions to hear more of that voice. Luthien saw an opportunity.

In a moment of silence, Luthien asked, “Finrod, I have never seen the caves you and my father spoke of and rarely been outside a days walk of Menegroth. Would you be opposed to my joining your expedition to the Narog?”

Finrod had to smother the joy her question elicited. As calmly as he could manage, he said, “No, my lady, I would not be opposed.”

Luthien suppressed a huge grin and said, “Thank you, it has been long since I have ventured outside the Girdle.”

Though Finrod was thoroughly enjoying both the tour and the company, he did not want to impose on Luthien and felt like the evening should be drawing to a close. As luck would have it, they came to Luthien’s own apartment.

She stopped at the door. With her hand still on his arm she turned to him and, with a hint of mirth and a sly grin, said, “Finrod, I have something to show you. It was a gift from the former Smithmaster Eol.”

Finrod stiffened slightly and said, “My lady, I do not think it would be wise for me to enter your apartment unchaperoned.”

She turned to him and asked, “Do we need one?”

The response hung on the air for a long moment. His arm tensed. They both looked into each other’s eyes, seeking confirmation of the connotations.

Luthien’s eyes went to Finrod’s lips and he did not miss the implication. He leaned toward her slightly, hesitantly, waiting for, hoping for her to meet him.

She saw his tentative movement and excitement coursed through her. She inclined her head just as slightly, hoping she that what she was seeing was not a figment of her imagination.

Just as Finrod was about to close the gap between them, they heard footsteps coming from around the corner. They both blinked, realizing how exposed they were. The footsteps faded but the moment was broken. But neither could deny what was interrupted.

Finrod put his hand on hers. “My lady…” His words caught in his throat. Regaining control, he started again, “Luthien, I think it best if we say good night.”

Luthien looked into his eyes and quietly said. “Finrod, I do not want to ignore what almost happened… what is happening…”

“Nor do I, but I must tread lightly. I would not entice your father’s ire.”

“His ire is not the one that should be your concern.” She smiled mischievously.

He smiled and raised an eyebrow. He took her hand and brought it up to his lips and lightly kissed it. With a knowing grin he said, “Good night, Your Highness.”

She returned the smile and said. “Good night, My Lord.”

~*~

Thingol relaxed in the silken acreage of the royal bed. He laid back, hands behind his head, drifting off as his wife unbound her hair.

As she was removing the final braid, she turned from her mirror and asked, “My love, what do you think?”

“Of what?” he replied tiredly.

Melian stopped unbraiding and looked at him, astonished. “You mean you did not see it?”

“No, my lady…” He rolled onto his elbow to face her. “Melian, it is late, please…”

“I am referring to the gazes shared between our daughter and the grandson of Olwe.”

Melian saw her husband tense almost imperceptibly.

Thingol said, a slight edge in his voice, “No, I did not. He seemed distracted but nothing more than his abundant curiosity.”

Melian smiled warmly, almost proudly and said, “Luthien had the same distraction, My King.” Seeing the sudden interest in her husband’s eyes, she continued, “It may be nothing, but they are both among the fairest of their kind, so the attraction is quite understandable.”

Unfortunately, Thingol saw the logic too well.

Incredulous, Thingol said, “He is but a youth… Surely your eyes deceived you?”

Melian narrowed her eyes at her husband, “No, my lord they did not, and may I remind you, You are still young to one born before Arda itself…” She turned back to her mirror and resumed unbraiding her hair.”

Not lost on the implications, Thingol said, “You and I are a different situation.”

Melian turned back to the mirror, “How so?.” There was a long silence as Thingol watched his wife. Her frustration grew as she felt his eyes. She did not feel hurt from him but she sensed his hesitation about their daughter. Finishing with the braid, she turned to him and her countenance softened, “ She is our daughter, my love, do you not want to see her happy…as we are?”

“It is my purpose for existence but he is not worthy of her…”

Melian cut him off, “Then who is? Celeborn, Beleg, Mablung, one of Denethor’s kin?” Thingol could not answer. Seeing his lack of response she continued, “It would seem that there is no one worthy by your standards, unless it be a Maia or Vala.”

“Wife please, I only wish for her happiness and a husband suitable to wed the Child of Melian.” The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

She saw it and said, still cool but with a hint of a smile. “Do not try to turn the table on me my lord.”

She drew a comb through her dark hair and ignored his now grinning face. Finally he turned serious and said, “Then you approve? “

She finished with the comb and sat on the bed close to Thingol. She reached out and ran her fingers through her husband’s silver hair. She bent down and gently kissed his forehead. She drew back and looked into his eyes. “I trust our daughter, Elu. And I think our opposition would be ignored. She is no longer a child, she is and elleth with her own influence. Her authority in the domestic issues of Menegroth is final. You may rule Beleriand but it is to her that you owe the efficiency of Menegroth. Her and Celeborn.”

“Yes, I have efficiently delegated responsibility but what of the shadow that seems to be just behind our guests’ eyes? Does that not give you concern?”

Still stroking his hair, she said, “But she may be able to cast a light against it.” She sighed and shook her head. “Besides, why are we arguing about this? It may come to nothing, they have barely spoken”

“She is showing him Menegroth as we speak.” He smiled and sarcastically added, ”And it was you who began this discussion.”

Melian rolled her eyes and pushed him back down to the bed. Before she could pull away, Thingol caught her arms and drew her back down. As he rolled her on her back, Melian gave a surprised laugh.

He brought his face close to hers. He surveyed her face and ran his fingers through her dark tresses. Thingol marveled at his wife. Sometimes he forgot she was a Maia. A goddess who forsook her heritage to grace his presence, found him worthy. He smiled to himself; that fact alone should explain his arrogance. Never exerting her power to outshine him, only to enhance him. How fortunate he was. She chose him. If Luthien chose Finrod, Finrod could only hope to be as blessed.

Almost in a whisper, he said, “ A Goddess.”

She whispered back “A King.”

And he kissed her. A loving, passionate, needy kiss.

Thingol inspected himself in the full-length mirror. He prided himself on looking impeccable, letting his people see their success through him. It was normal everyday attire but still, he had an image to uphold. Satisfied he turned and walked to the bed and his sleeping wife. Memories of the preceding night warmed his mind. He watched her sleeping, silken sheets covering her naked form, tousled hair and peaceful expression. For a moment he watched her slow breathing and remembered the shared sighs, groans, pleading and laughter of just a few hours ago. His outward reaction to his musings brought him back to the task at hand. His young cousins and advisors were leaving for the Narog at midday, and he had work to be done.

Melian felt his presence but did not open her eyes. Instead she gave him a content sleepy smile. She rolled onto her stomach and tiredly extended her arm, too heavy to lift off the bed. She beckoned to him with her fingers, motioning innocently like a child grasping for a favorite toy. Thingol sat on the bed. “I must go,” he said and leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She rolled onto her side and faced him, the movement drawing the covers away and exposing her breasts.

She opened her eyes and sleepily said, “Stay.”

Contemplating the invitation, he sighed, “I have things that require my attention.” Seeing her raised eyebrow, he chuckled lightly. “Things that will not wait.”

The corner of Melian’s mouth edged up into a smirk. “Mmhmm?” She hummed, suggesting it was she who would not wait.

He shook his head and snorted, allowing her to hear the indulgent exasperation in his voice when he said, “You are insatiable.”

She pulled the sheet over her, cuddled with a pillow and in her best doe eyed elleth imitation, batted her eyes. “Does this trouble you, My King? Do you find my enthusiasm unbecoming?”

Another unkingly snort. He reached and gently cradled her chin in his hand. He drew close and whispered, his voice thick with ardor, eyes deadly serious. “Oh no, my Queen. I would lie here and ravage you until even your Valinorean stamina withers.” He watched her eyes darken. Softening his, he smiled teasingly. “But would you have us miss our Guests’ departure?”

She narrowed her eyes and gave an frustrated huff, “No, but when they have gone, I will have you all to myself, and unless the Star Kindler herself is at our door, you shall make good on your words.”

She reached up and laced her fingers in his silver hair. She drew him closer, brushing her lips against his. “Leave me then, Elu…before I forget propriety.” She touched her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

Thingol’s resolve weakened with the close proximity of her sleep warmed skin. He returned the kiss but with more ardor. He pressed his tongue between her lips and she accepted his intrusion. He pushed her down to the bed, then grazed his long fingers up her side and gently cupped her breast. She broke the kiss, smiled into his lips and whispered a mild threat. “Elu, do that again… and we will insult our noble cousins.”

Thingol sighed and extricated himself from the bed and his now chaste wife. He stood, smoothed his clothes and strode to the door. He opened it and paused. Turning to face her, he said, “When our kin and their escorts are safely on their way, you will have my undivided and merciless attention.” With a flourish and a bow, he backed out and shut the door. Melian, Queen of Doriath, watched the closed door for a moment and then closed her eyes. A small, content grin still on her face, she returned to sleep.

Before exiting the royal apartments, he found the maidservant and asked her to have the Queen’s breakfast sent to her and her bath drawn. He also asked her if she would have rose petals added to the bath. The maidservant bowed to her lord in acknowledgement.

As the king walked away, the servant smiled to herself. She could always tell when the King and Queen were on an amorous streak. It was not just how they glowed with contentment but the whole of Doriath seemed to be more beautiful. People were kinder, husbands and wives more affectionate. Like the first herald of spring in winter, the bliss of the Royals seeped into the air, the forest, the earth, and the people. In about a year, the Halls would be filled with joy as numerous couples welcomed newborns into the world.

~*~

Mablung and Beleg sat on a low wall down from the main doors of Menegroth as the party prepared to depart.

“We will have to teach them how to travel without alerting every creature within miles.” Mablung said quietly to his companion.

Beleg sighed. “They are a noisy lot, are they not? Just hope they can defend themselves.”

A feminine voice interrupted the duo’s quiet conversation. “Remember, my lords, they have been through a hardship we cannot imagine, and they have been blooded.”

Mablung and Beleg jumped with surprise and turned around to find Luthien standing right behind them. Luthien’s lip curled up, slightly smug, at their reaction. Both stood and greeted the Princess.

Mablung put his hand on his heart in greeting and gave a slight bow. “Apparently, Your Highness, it should be you who teaches them.”

Luthien slipped into the ease of simple conversation with her former teachers. “You will find this lot quite appreciative of our talents, Swordmaster.”

Beleg said, “I have heard Lord Finrod is quite taken with Menegroth. Rumor has it that he will try to copy it in the caves along the Narog.”

“Now, Beleg, you know how the birds love to chitter about. But I doubt he has such lofty goals. I am sure Finrod sees the caves as an opportune location of strength. He has no Maia to keep out intruders. Nor will he have the Strongbow and the Heavy Hand protecting his borders.”

Just then, the King and Queen emerged from the hall. Luthien saw her parents and excused herself, leaving the two commanders glowing with her compliment.

“How does she do that?” Mablung asked his friend as they watched Luthien walk away.

“What? Sneak up on her most able defenders or leave us feeling like we were just scolded by the King and then received a kiss from the Queen herself?”

After a pause, Mablung said, “My thoughts, exactly.” He clapped his friend on the back and said, “Come, let us greet our counterparts and make sure our cousins from across the sea are prepared.”

Mablung asked one of the Noldor where their captain was. The trooper, attired Sindar fashion, pointed to a similarly dressed ellon trying to improperly attach his sword to the saddle of his mount. And the mount’s patience was waning.

“Captain Gildor.”

Frustrated with the bindings, Gildor gave a short reply without turning. “Yes?” He turned to see Mablung and stopped struggling with the saddle. Apologetically, he said, “Oh. Forgive me Swordmaster, but I cannot find the bindings to attach my sword.”

Mablung motioned towards the offending saddle, “May I?”

Gildor stepped out of the way. “By all means.”

Mablung untied the offending sword from the front of the saddle and lifted up the skirt in the back.

Mablung explained as he slipped the sword and scabbard underneath the flap. “We put it in the back, hilt facing the rear.”

Gildor asked, “Slower to draw?”

Mablung answered, “Yes, but it does not easily catch every branch and vine you pass either.”

Seeing the wisdom, Gildor made an understanding sound and said, “Now that we have that solved, how can I be of service?”

“I wanted go over the ordering of our forces again. It will be a few weeks before there will be any real concern, but there may have been changes since last night and I wanted you and me to be in agreement. Rarely has such a congregation of Royalty ventured outside of Doriath”

“Two Princesses, a Prince and five of their most trusted advisors, one would think this was a delegation, not a scouting trip.” Gildor agreed ruefully. “But I am not aware of any changes. After our meeting yesterday, I briefed my soldiers on their positions and responsibilities. Scouts ahead followed by Edrahil and Beleg, nobles in the middle, you and I, then bowmen bringing up the rear. Swords and Bows paired and on alternating sides. And I like the idea of pairing my men with yours. Hopefully by the time stealth is needed, we will have picked up some of your tricks.”

Mablung smiled. “That idea, my friend, was handed down from above.” He nodded to the nobles mounting their horses.

Mablung saw Artanis’ lady-in-waiting, Linde, and his smile brightened slightly.

“Excuse me, Gildor, but I think I should go see if your Lord and Lady need assistance.”

Gildor turned and followed Mablung’s gaze. He noted Mablung’s expression and thought that it was not the Lord and Lady whom the Swordmaster intended to assist.

“Of course, I will see you at the back of the line.”

Mablung nodded and headed off towards the nobles.

~*~

Once underway, the nobles gravitated into cross-cultural pairs, Finrod alongside Luthien and Artanis with Celeborn.

Finrod and Luthien had been riding in an easy silence when he heard Artanis giggle and Celeborn laugh in reply.

With out turning to Luthien, Finrod smiled to himself and quietly said, “Celeborn is quite charming.”

Luthien replied, “So is she, I have not seen him like this in some time. He is quite taken with her.”

Finrod looked at Luthien, surprised at the amount of information he just received.

“I was going to say the same thing. I have not heard her do that since Valinor.”

Finrod looked over the procession, listened to the conversational chatter and noted the general good spirits. Not that there was any reason for tension, but there was an unusual amount of cheer. He thought about his riding companion and warmed at the fact that she was near.

Luthien watched him and his expression turned quizzical. She hazarded a guess at his train of thought. “The King and Queen are happy and everybody feels it.”

“I noted the King and Queen were most affectionate, holding hands, long gazes when they thought no one was watching. But how does that affect others?”

“I am not sure, but every time they are so involved, marriages and little ones usually follow. I have a theory it is a side affect of the Girdle, the land obeys my mother and to some extent my father. When they are happy, it rejoices with them. Can you not feel the change in the air? ”

“My mood has indeed been light.” He turned to her and gave her a charming, toothy grin. “But I was attributing it to present company.”

Luthien reached down and patted her mare, who nickered and swished her tail in response. Luthien faced him, fixed her gaze on him and replied, “I am also quite content with present company.”

They watched each other in silence for a moment, not a contest of wills but an unspoken question. Finrod held her gaze and wondered if she felt as he did. With each passing heartbeat that she met his eyes, he was sure she felt it too.

Finrod slowly smiled, “Should we tell them now? Or wait until later?”

Luthien looked forward and with a sly smile and asked, “Tell them what, Your Highness?”

Finrod paused; her question puzzled him for just a moment. The brief flash of apprehension was allayed when he saw the knowing grin tug at the corners of her mouth.

Finrod turned in his saddle, finding Celeborn and Artanis watching them with amused interest. Artanis politely tried to look away, as if she and Celeborn had not been watching the exchange.

Celeborn did not. Finrod studied Celeborn for a moment, searching for any indication of disapproval. Finrod saw that he was being studied in kind. Celeborn smiled and nodded. Finrod returned the nod and the smile. Silently endorsing the other’s suit.

~*~

Farothir had received news only a day before the Royals would arrive. The King had granted him lordship of the area around the crossing where the Esguldin met the Sirion. A village with a small garrison had grown up after the battles a few years before Isil had risen. Situated so close to the Girdle, it was his duty to not only maintain the Crossing, but also to gather intelligence of the lands beyond. The messenger had given him a list of who was in the entourage and he was a little anxious. Not that he had been lax in his duties; what had him and the people of his post in a flurry was not only Her Highness Luthien, but a Noldor Princess. And a Noldor Prince. And Lord Celeborn. And Lords Mablung and Beleg.

But he was prepared. Lord Celeborn had suggested Farothir to the King for this assignment and the King chose him for his dependability and efficiency. Yet, he did not want to give his lord any reason to doubt his choice of commanders. And while he was busy gathering information from all his warriors and making last minute preparations, his wife, Loniel, was a whirlwind of energy, excited beyond reason at the guests she would entertain.

She organized the domestic side of hosting such dignitaries with resourcefulness, even going so far as to commandeer some of Farothir’s younger warriors to help in the preparations. She rose to the task, never once complaining about lack of time or food or table linens. Farothir, more than once, looked on his wife with pride.

One of his men arrived just past noon, with news of the Royals’ approach.

“They are about an hour away, Captain.”

Farothir stood up from his desk and tidied up one last time. “Furion, ask Beldir to meet me at the Road, he and I will escort our guests. And also inform my wife…And then get yourself cleaned up.

~*~

Luthien appraised the feast arrangements and addressed the lady of the hall, “I am sorry you went to so much trouble on our account, Lady Loniel. We certainly did not intend for you to prepare such entertainment on such short notice. A warm fire and friendly company would have sufficed.” Not wanting to seem unappreciative of her subject’s efforts, she added, “But the fact that you organized such a grand welcome in so little time speaks highly of your domestic skill and efficiency. Not to mention your husband’s competence as lord of these lands.” Luthien turned from her appraisal of the extensive meal and addressed Loniel with a smile. “You chose well, as did Lord Celeborn.”

Loniel’s only previous experience with the Princess had been as a spectator watching the exalted royalty. And now the only daughter of King Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia was here, complimenting her, her home and her husband. She willed her fluttering heart to calm and said, “You are too kind, your highness. But we do not often have the royalty of not only one House, but two, visit us.”

Artanis stood a step behind Luthien and watched the exchange between the two women. She admired the Lady Loniel, gracious and calm in the light of such a high compliment from such a high place. Artanis smiled inwardly, knowing the woman would be aglow for years.

Luthien then turned, allowing Artanis to step forward. “Lady Loniel, may I introduce you to Her Highness, Artanis Finarfiniel.”

Loniel bowed her head and curtsied. “I am honored, Your Highness.”

Artanis nodded in reply and said, “It is my pleasure, Lady Loniel. And I agree with the Princess’s assessment.”

Loniel’s smile brightened even further. “Thank you Your Highness. Is there anything special we may prepare for you? It would be no trouble.”

“No, but thank you. I already noted you have the strawberries my brother and I find irresistible. But please, do not add any on our account. What you have prepared is more than ample.”

Loniel curtsied again and said. “If there is nothing I can get for you?” She paused for the royals to answer.

Luthien turned to Artanis, who shook her head. “No Lady Loniel, we are well looked after. Please do not delay on our behalf.”

Loniel bowed and said, “Then would you please excuse me, there are still a few things that need my attention.” She bowed to Luthien and said with a bright smile, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Highness.” She did the same for Artanis and said, “And you as well, Lady Artanis.”

Both nodded a bow in return and Luthien replied, “Our pleasure.”

Luthien and Artanis watched the woman buoyantly walk away. Artanis said, “She was about to burst.”

Still watching their receding host, Luthien commented smiling pleasantly, “She was, was she not?” Then added dryly, “I need to see more of my father’s subjects. Admiration is nice but awe is not something that sits well with me. It indicates unavailability, something my father strives against. I would ask if we could help but I think we would only hinder things.”

Artanis merely said, “Indeed.” Inwardly she remarked that none other than Eru himself could have made such a perfect match.

~*~

Farothir’s hall had proven to be an especially warm place. Finrod was surprised at the breadth of the feast prepared on such short notice. But it was afterwards that caused Finrod to smile in awe. He remembered harping for Luthien, and the stunned silence afterwards. Only Celeborn, Beleg and Mablung seemed unaffected by Luthien’s voice. No one had even noticed his accompaniment. And though he was not jealous, he was accustomed to a few comments. But he could not hold it against the audience members; so enthralling was her song that he could not remember the notes he played.

Others played and sang, allowing Luthien and Finrod to dance. More than once it was remarked that they made a handsome couple.

Linde sat with Mablung, resting while others carried on the dance. She was growing fond of his presence and they sat in a comfortable silence, watching the twirling crowd. Linde chided. “Drawing all eyes as usual.”

Mablung was a little surprised at Linde’s unusual familiarity regarding Luthien. Then he realized she was referring to Finrod. “He has help.”

Still watching the couple, Linde added, “She is stunning. Lord Angrod did say she was more beautiful than any in Valinor, save Varda herself.”

“Did he?” Mablung refrained from agreeing.

Linde found herself hoping his silence was for her benefit.

It was. Mablung tentatively reached for her hand, resting on her knee. She felt his hand lightly cover hers. She did not pull away.

Gildor and Edrahil stood towards the edge of the merriment, sipping wine and observing the crowd. Edrahil remarked. “Remember what you told me about Mablung?”

“His interest in Lady Linde? Yes.”

Edrahil motioned with a nod in the direction of the couple holding hands.

“Ah… I wondered how long it would take him. On the ride here, he kept going forward for some reason or another. He will have his hands full. She has long been around Finarfin’s most willful daughter. But if she is true to form, Mablung will have no trouble holding her eye.” He paused a moment and then added with a wistful sigh. “ And what is it about these Sindar that attracts us?”

“Us, Gildor?”

Gildor manufactured a cough. “Well yes… there is Prince Finrod and the Princess, Lord Celeborn and our lord’s sister, Lady Linde and Lord Mablung…”

“Us Gildor? My friend, is there something you need to tell me?” Edrahil smiled evilly at his friend, relishing catching Gildor’s slip.

Gildor snorted. “Need Edrahil? There is no need to tell you anything… but I might as well tell you since you will not be content until I do. Yes, there is someone who has caught my eye in Menegroth.”

“Are there no Calaquendi who hold your eye?”

“I am merely following our lord’s lead… But there are none like her, she is beautiful my friend.” Gildor’s eyes focused on something distant. “Delicate as a lily, hair like a starlit pool, and eyes that sparkle like sapphires.”

Edrahil choked. “Gildor...” He covered his mouth trying not to laugh. “You. Are. Smitten.”

“You are one to talk. I seem to remember a certain nis that was your topic of conversation most of the way from Minas Tirith to Menegroth.”

Edrahil could not resist one last jibe. “Eyes sparkling like sapphires… I will have to remember that one.” He collected himself and pressed further. “Does this vision have a name?”

“She is one of Her Highnesses ladies, Rostield.”

Edrahil chuckled again. “She did not join us did she? You must be crushed. Then you must hope what is happening between our lord and her highness becomes serious.”

Gildor quietly replied, “It is already serious, Edrahil. I have not seen him this way since Tirion. Yet more so.”

Edrahil’s sarcastic manner evaporated. “Are you sure?”

Gildor turned towards the dancers and he watched Finrod and Luthien.

“Look at him, Edrahil. He does not know there is another person in this crowded hall. And neither does she.”

Edrahil also watched the pair for a moment. “Do you think Fingolfin will oppose it?”

“I do not see why but I also do not think he has a choice. He may be the High King but I do not believe our lord would heed the opposition. This would not be the first time he ignored his elders.”

Edrahil winced and turned back to his friend. He looked around nervously. “Quite right. On that note, what do you think Elwe will do when he finds out?”

Gildor regarded Edrahil. “About them? Or…”

Edrahil nodded.

“I would rather not think about that my friend. We can only hope he does not.”

Edrahil looked at Gildor, frowning and raising an eyebrow.

Gildor did not meet his friend’s eyes. “I know Edrahil.” He looked down into his cup, disguising a worried look. “He will.” Gildor and Edrahil watched the Prince and Princess a moment longer. “And who knows what will become of this.”

Edrahil drew a deep breath and exhaled. “Come friend, let us enjoy our unenlightened cousins while we may. And perhaps they will not view us in the same light as our enlightened ones.”

Gildor reluctantly smiled and said. “Another cup of wine it is.”

~*~

Celeborn leaned against a support timber of the hall, contemplating the house and its inhabitants. It was still new, only half a century or so old, and the beams and trusses still faintly smelled of resin. He sipped his last measure of cordial while Farothir dutifully excused his final guests and the tables were cleared. The hall echoed with a sigh of conclusiveness.

He watched Farothir smile and bow and thank those who were thanking him. Celeborn thought that Farothir’s father, who fell in the attempt to rescue Denethor*, would be proud his son had taken to lordship as if he were born to it.

Artanis and the rest of his company had already sought their quarters though Finrod, Luthien, Mablung and Linde had disappeared earlier, almost without notice. Celeborn smiled to himself and mused that the effects of Elwe and Melian’s lovemaking even reached this remote outpost.

He finished the cordial as he stood and approached the lord of the manor.

Interrupting Farothir’s sigh, Celeborn said, “I see this command suits you Farothir.”

“Thank you, my lord. I am grateful for your endorsement and am content that you have not found me wanting.” Farothir said rather stiffly.

“Farothir, you are off duty, be at ease. For the moment I am your father’s old friend and I seek the company of the son of an old friend.” Celeborn gently admonished.

“Yes si… Celeborn.” Farothir stumbled then composed himself. “It is a heady group you travel with, My Lord.”

“Quite... But we did not intend to cause such a fuss. It has been the same since Menegroth, everyone wants to put out their best for the royals.”

“You sound frustrated? Would you expect anything less?

“No, perhaps not, just hoping I guess. I tire of the pomp of the court sometimes. I miss sleeping in the trees and listening to Doriath.”

“You sound like Daeron, My Lord.” Farothir hazarded a jibe.

Celeborn snorted. “That I do. On occasion, I find myself envying The Singer. But duty usually calls and I must settle some disagreement or other.”

“Careful, or I will have to call the musicians back.”

Celeborn looked at his companion sternly for a moment and then a chuckle broke his facade. “Oh we cannot have that, I believe they have all sought their beds and loved ones. ” Celeborn shook off his melancholy thoughts and changed the subject. “What are your impressions of the Noldor?”

“Not what I was expecting My Lord.” Farothir hesitated.

Celeborn put him at ease. “I am still your father’s friend.”

“From what I have heard, I was expecting them to be more demanding and aloof. And if it were not for the presence of Her Highness, the Lady Artanis would have been the focus of many eyes.”

“She is striking is she not?” Celeborn said, letting a little fondness into his voice.

Farothir dodged the comment, not wanting to push his luck. “Yes, and her brother is a skilled harper, and curious too.”

Mildly exasperated, Celeborn asked, “He did not interrogate you too insistently? He has questioned many an engineer and craftsman in Menegroth.”

“Not too bad, sire. It was genuine, like he wants to learn from us. Not what I was expecting.”

“This branch of the House of Finwe is not what any of us expected, Farothir.” Celeborn agreed.

“Should I send out someone to look for him and Her Highness?”

Celeborn was now very interested, but asked nonchalantly, “Why?”

“They left some time ago and no one has seen them since. I would hate any harm befall them while under my protection.”

“No, that will be unnecessary. They are quite capable.” Celeborn let the comment pass. He changed tack again. “Now for a little business. I have been unable to talk to you privately, is there anything that needs my attention, or anything that you desire of Menegroth?”

“None that I know of my lord, but I believe some form of regular communication may be a good idea, perhaps weekly?”

“That may be too regular. However, I do believe that would be a wise tactic. We should set up some kind of normal routine. I will see it done when I return to Menegroth.”

“Thank you, my lord. That is all that comes to mind. Is there anything you would have me change?”

“No, Farothir, you have surpassed the King’s expectations.” Celeborn let the compliment absorb and noted that Farothir took it well, confident enough without the praise.

Farothir said, “Thank you, sire.”

Celeborn nodded and said. “Then I would suggest returning to your wife; she has had a long day. I will seek my own bed, I think. Tomorrow will be long as well.”

Farothir bowed and said, “Good night, my lord.”

“Rest well, Lord Farothir.”

~*~

Mablung and Linde walked along the sandy bank of the Sirion, talking quietly, not wanting to disturb the night. Mablung suddenly halted.

Linde whispered, “What is…?”

Mablung put a finger to his mouth and she immediately fell silent. He tapped his ear, telling her to listen.

They heard splashes ahead of them. An elleth and ellon laughed boistrously.

Linde recognized the male, and Mablung the female but neither gave any indication. Mablung smiled and gathered her close to whisper in her ear.

“I think we should turn back and retire.”

Linde assumed he pulled her close to be as quiet as possible, but his warm breath caressing her ear had a additional effect. She momentarily forgot the swimming couple and whispered in his ear, hoping the effect would be reciprocated. “A wise decision, My Lord.”

They turned and headed back to the hall in silence, contemplating not only the splashing pair but also the unspoken effects of the whispered words.

~*~

A/N
Though the Elves did not require saddles, I am using a little license and assuming they used them as a way to carry additional items on horseback.

*Denethor was the king of the Green Elves in Ossiriand, he died in the First Battle of Beleriand.

Thanks Viv. All mistakes are mine.

The lords and captains planned the journey to the Caves in a glade not far from Farothir’s hall. The ellon discussed tactics and ordering for the protection of the company while ancient oaks and maples silently held witness. Gildor and Edrahil stood by their lord while Farothir informed Celeborn, Mablung and Beleg what his scouts had seen.

Farothir reported no activity but the land was open and not to expect much cover. Beleg agreed, having ventured that way before as an emissary for Thingol. He also added that it also made for fast traveling.

Farothir reported, “My scouts have not noted any activity so you should not encounter any trouble. Once you pass the Sirion the terrain opens and is generally flat until you reach the Narog, you will be able to make good time across the plain.”

Beleg said, “I have ventured that way before. There’s not much cover but we should make good time. It should take us no more than three days to reach the river, another day to reach the caves.”

Mablung added, “We will have riders out to ensure we are not followed or ambushed.” He looked across the loose circle to Gildor and Edrahil, who nodded in agreement.

Gildor thought for a moment and then said, “I think it would be prudent for the Noldor to ride close to the procession while the Sindar range wider.” With a conciliatory nod, he inclined his head back to Mablung. “This is your territory, I would have my soldiers learn your ways but I think under these circumstances, it would unwise to learn by experience.” Gildor looked at Finrod for approval.

Finrod nodded. “Agreed,” and then turned to Celeborn, “If you are not opposed?”

Celeborn replied, “No, Your Highness. Now that we have the order of battle.” He hesitated and smiled to break the serious mood. “Shall we be on our way?”

The tension broken, the group dissolved. As the captains went to inform the escorts, Celeborn and Finrod thanked Farothir for the hospitality and welcome.

While the ellyn were discussing troop placement, a few paces away Luthien and Artanis spoke with Loniel.

Luthien asked, “How have the harvests been?”

“The forest has been bountiful this year, Your Highness. We will have plenty of stores for the winter. I have already started salting the extra venison brought back and several hunts are scheduled for that purpose. We strive to be self sufficient.”

Luthien gently reassured her, “I did not infer that you are not, Lady Loniel. I was only inquiring if the stores would be sufficient. Some of our outposts cannot exist without aid, through no fault of their own, and I was going to offer ours.” She softened, “There will be no shame, yours nor Farothir’s, if our help is needed. If the Foe stirs again, the warriors here will have no time for hunting and gathering. After our reception, your capability is not in doubt, but should circumstances arise that you may need our assistance, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Loniel, somewhat chastened, nodded. “Thank you, Your Highness. I will not.”

Artanis spoke. “If you ladies will excuse me, I will see to my mount. Lady Loniel, I believe I can speak on behalf of our entire company. We greatly appreciate your hospitality and the efforts for our comfort.”

Loniel bowed and said, “It was our pleasure, Lady Artanis.”

Celeborn approached Artanis as she readied her dun colored mare. His dappled gray followed unguided a few steps behind.

“My Lady, may I assist you?”

“Thank you, My Lord, but I believe I have finished,” she replied, smiling at his approach.

He noted that she was indeed prepared, her weapons fastened properly.

“May I see one of your blades? I have not seen their like before.”

“Certainly.” She unsheathed one of her long knives and carefully grasped the blade, handing it to him, hilt first.

Celeborn received the weapon and examined it with the eye of one who knew fine steel. Too long for a dagger and too short for a sword -- a long knife, perhaps? -- it was light and supple with a fuller running the length of the spine. The blade curved up into a fine point and the small curved cross guard capped a rosewood grip. He knew it fit her hand perfectly. The work was at least as good as the dwarf mastersmith, Gamil Zirak, probably better. And no Sindar smith could match it, except possibly Eol. He gave it a test swing and marveled again, the balance was perfect. He noted a few scratches and wondered if she had used it in anger but chose not to ask. Though hardly ornate, the subtle craftsmanship left little doubt about its lethality. Used with its twin, the pair would be formidable, especially in close quarters. He grasped the blade by the spine and returned it to her, hilt first. (1)

She sheathed the weapon with the precise, fluid movement of intimate familiarity.

This princess had fangs. And knew how to use them. Not that Celeborn was that surprised, Luthien was fully capable of defending herself. But Artanis wore it on her sleeve, here whole demeanor spoke of subtle aggression. Perhaps living among so many ellon…

Noting his assessing look, she asked with a hint of a smile, “Will they suffice?”

Still pondering the blade and its owner, he missed her sarcasm. “Quite well, Artanis. I would like to meet the smith who forged them.”

“You may yet, he is a smith of Turgon.”

“Extraordinary weapons Artanis. If they are a sample of Noldor craftsmanship, our cousins from across the sea are well armed and armored.” He said appreciatively. “Do all Noldor ellyth travel so armed?”

Artanis lightly laughed. “No, my twins are the favored weapons of my grandmother’s kin. But yes, when abroad, we have learned to arm ourselves.” She surveyed his mount and saw a long handle protruding from underneath the saddle fender. “I see you choose the axe.”

“Does this surprise you?” he asked as he mounted his own horse.

“It is a symbol of your office.”

“That and it is the weapon of choice among the Iathrim. And your ‘twins’ are the choice of the Vanyar, yes?”

She nodded. “Perhaps later, we could compare.”

“I would like that.”

~*~

Once they crossed the Sirion, the forest thinned out into woodland, stands or single trees dotting a sea of grass. It made for easy travel and once again, Luthien and Finrod gravitated together.

“It seems your parents’ bliss reaches even beyond Doriath.”

Luthien looked over the procession and said, “I must agree. There appears to be a trend. Is it so where the House of Finarfin and Elwe meet in the North?”

“It is indeed. Angrod is wedded to one of your people. And they have a son.”

“It seems your house and mine get along rather well.” She flashed a grin.

“Yes, my father, sister, brother, Linde. And I believe one of your ladies has caught Gildor’s eye.”

Luthien looked ahead and smothered a smile. “Ah yes, Rostield has noticed his attention.”

“And?” Finrod’s eyebrow rose.

“Finrod ? Are you prying?”

Finrod grinned. “I am looking to the happiness of my captain.”

“So you say.” Luthien smiled coyly and said, “She would not find his advances unpleasant.”

“Suddenly diplomatic, My Lady?”

“When it suits my purposes, My Lord.” She paused and then teasingly added, “But I must ask, are there no Noldor who could tame your sister?”

“One does not tame Artanis,” Finrod said with a sarcastic smile. “She rarely even listened to Father. Grandfather Olwe could make her pause occasionally but Artanis does exactly as she pleases. She once even refused the High Prince himself.”

“Feanor? What did she refuse?”

“A single hair.”

Luthien blanched slightly. “Her hair is quite remarkable but…?”

“And he asked three times.”

“Three times?” (2)

Finrod shook his head with a sardonic chuckle. “He was quite irate. And she in turn, more adamant. The Silmarili were made not long after; some say it was her hair that inspired him.” Finrod’s look soured.

Luthien saw his face drop but did not press him further about the famed jewels.

“Is that request the cause for the rift between your houses?”

“My lady is well informed. But no, that rift opened long before she was born. My father’s brother was jealous of his father’s love and he saw Indis and her offspring as usurpers of that love.”

Luthien nodded, somewhat surprised with his candor. She added her own. “The second marriage of Finwe has been a subject of discussion and much debate. I can understand how Feanor would react so. Being an only child myself, I can not imagine Father seeking a new wife should something happen to Mother.”

“Nor I, but fortunately his sons, for the most part, do not share his opinion of the beget of Indis. Though our fathers were not close, the children of Feanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin are friends and allies. Maedhros, Maglor and Turgon are frequent hunting companions and closest to my heart. I have been known to harp for Maglor, who is the only Elda I have ever heard that could challenge Daeron.”

“Maglor’s reputation has proceeded him, I would like to hear him to compare their prowess… What of the daughter of Fingolfin, Aredhel? Are she and Artanis close? I would assume among so many ellon that two elleth would be.”

Finrod shook his head. “Oddly enough, they are not. They are not enemies, they are just not friends. Both are too accustomed to being the only elleth among so many ellyn and headstrong in opposite ways. Aredhel is closer to the sons of Feanor and Artanis is content with her brothers and Turgon. But both have always sought the company of ellon, Aredhel in the hunt and Artanis in the forge.”

Finrod turned to Luthien directly and asked, “Forgive me My Lady, but why is it that you are untamed?”

She regarded him for a moment, gauging her words, “I also do as I please, and maybe it is something about being an only daughter.”

“You mean there are none in Menegroth who have caught your eye?”

“None that are present.”

“I note that you do not say that there are none… was there someone who is no longer there?”

“My Lord is quite perceptive, but he must be careful lest he have the question returned…”

Finrod smiled, but asked, seriousness creeping into his voice, “In light of recent events, I must assume he is in the past.”

Luthien turned to Finrod. She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Is she?”

“My Lady is also perceptive.”

Luthien smiled again. She looked ahead to the path and said. “You have your answer, My Lord.” She urged her mare into a trot and left him with his thoughts.

~*~

During the midday meal, Artanis and Finrod sat apart, both seeking the other out. They ate beneath an ancient oak that gave them shade from the bright midday sun.

Finrod looked back at the group, ensuring none were close enough to hear. He popped a strawberry into his mouth and quietly said, “You have been keeping company with the Forester.”

“And you have been keeping company with the Princess.”

“But we know my aspirations. Are you saying your intentions are the same? And your lady has taken an interest in the Swordsman.”

Artanis was silent for a moment. Making a point to ignore his first question, she said, “She is quite taken with him. I believe he caught her eye as soon as we arrived. She has always had a weakness for the dangerous ones. Before, she had an unrequited infatuation for Maedhros. It would seem that Mablung is proving more attainable.”

After an expectant silence, Finrod narrowed his eyes at his sister and said with a mischievous grin, “You are evading me sister…”

Artanis ignored his look and said, “Yes, I know Finrod.”

Finrod patiently waited for her to continue.

Finally, she caved. “Yes, brother I am interested in Celeborn.” Slightly defensive she added, “He is unique. He has no ambition but to serve his lord yet leads all the same. Do you not see how the people look to him? More than just an extension of Thingol, his word is law, yet he does not enjoy the trappings of rule, it is only duty. And therefore, like you, he would make a just and effective ruler. He rules through respect and love, not fear or force.”

Finrod nodded approvingly and then added, “Have you also noticed how the forest reacts to him?”

She turned to him and answered, “Actually I have. The trees seem to part for him; roots do not trip his horse. I have yet to see him stoop to avoid a low hanging limb. The birds sing brighter almost welcoming us because of our companions. Do you not feel it?”

Finrod agreed and added, “It is different than when we first came to Doriath. The forest is no longer suspicious. It is like riding with Orome, or being in the forest with Yavanna, only not so intense.”

“Indeed, he is in his element here and the trees welcome him.”

“Something you must consider…” He said, nonchalantly

“Consider for what?”

Finrod looked at his sister with a triumphant smile.

Artanis huffed. “He is Morquendi.”

Finrod replied sardonically, “And a Prince.”

Artanis was silent for a moment and Finrod chuckled.

Artanis rolled her eyes. “Be still Finrod, your amusement at the irony of this situation is most annoying.”

“It is what I live for, little sister.”

“Little sister?”

“Yes, Artanis, you will always be my little sister.”

She started to protest her older sibling’s jibe but let him have the round, content she had an older brother with whom to be furious.

~*~

The Company continued towards the Caves along the Narog. With no sign of the enemy, the tour was a pleasant, unhurried affair. They stopped in some of the scattered villages conducting the King’s business and introducing the Noldor. Like dark clouds low on the horizon, the Kinslaying was ever present on the minds of the Noldor. With his growing feelings for Luthien, it weighed most heavily on Finrod.

Artanis was also anxious. She watched as the pair became nearly inseparable, making each other laugh, talking about nothing and everything. She had not seen her brother so happy since before the death of the Trees. But when he and Artanis were alone and he let down his guard, she saw their past steal his joy and again she cursed her half-uncle.

But then they entered the caves. Finrod forgot his worries. More than once it was remarked with amusement, his almost Naugrim like wonder at the caves. Artanis teased that she could hear the hammering going on inside Finrod’s head. The past forgotten for a while, Finrod conferred with Luthien and Celeborn at length about possible construction. The Iathrin cousins ensured him many in Doriath would likely help, eager for new works. And the Dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod would enjoy the challenge, for a profit of course. At this, Finrod smiled, for he above all the Noldor lords, had prepared well for the journey to Middle Earth and brought with him many treasures from Valinor. (3)

The connection between the House of Elwe and the House of Finarfin continued to grow and blossom.

~*~

Returning by a different route, the Company stopped a day’s ride from Menegroth. All were eager to return to the Capital but some took advantage of one last night under the stars.

Finrod slipped away from the fire and found a quiet sandy bank on the Esguldin. He lay with his hands behind his head and gazed up at the stars, letting the sounds of the river soothe his mind. As they had neared Menegroth, Finrod had become troubled. The matter of the Kinslaying preyed on him. At first he thought to keep it secret. His house had no part in the Kinslaying, save to arrive too late to stop it. But that was before he met Luthien. How could he remain silent and ask for the hand of the Teleri King’s daughter? How could he remain silent to the ellon to whom he had sworn fealty? He silently deliberated when and how he should tell Elwe.

His thoughts turned to the cause of his decision, Luthien. From the moment he first saw Luthien, he knew she was the one from his dreams, the one who had calmed his nightmares. He closed his eyes and smiled at their shared moments during their recent travels, at her laughter during his stories, at her insight into her people and the world around her, her audacity and boldness. Another pleasant memory of their swim brought a different feeling. Her naked form, glistening in Isil’s rays, elicited a shudder. Before his thoughts could meander further down that path, a voice pulled him from these pleasant thoughts.

“May I join you?” Luthien said from behind him.

Finrod started slightly. “Again you surprise me. Yes, please do.” He silently thanked the Lord of the Waters and stood motioning her to join him on the blanket.

She smiled pleasantly and sat on the offered space. “Thank you.” She watched him descend to the blanket and wondered what had made him smile.

“You will have to teach me that one day.” He asked.

“What?”

“How you move so silently. Not even the night creatures note your passing.”

“They note it, they just choose to not tell you,” she teased.

“The raucous Noldor…” He smiled in return, meeting her eyes.

He lay back and, resting on his elbow and turned to face her. Following his lead, she lay back and mirrored his position

“What were you thinking about? You had the most agreeable smile on your face, I almost withdrew fearing to disturb such a pleasant memory.”

“I was thinking of you, Luthien”

Luthien’s heart skipped a beat and she merely smiled. Her surprise at his comment held her tongue.

Finrod saw her hesitation and held her gaze. “What brings you out among the stars, my lady?”

She paused a moment, weighing her reply. Luthien decided to match his abruptness, and said straight faced, “Why to ravage you My Lord, here beneath the stars, away from prying eyes.”

Finrod paused but gave her no indication of his surprise. “Be careful for what you wish, Princess.”

Their eyes searched each other’s, wondering just how serious the words were. It was Luthien who broke first, a crooked smile turning up the corner of her mouth. “Then we would be bound.”

“Yes, we would.” Finrod paused letting the comments absorb. He turned from her and looked up at the stars. Letting out a sigh, he said, “I do not think your father would appreciate it if we returned in such a state.”

“No, I think not…imagine the scandal…” She let out an embarrassed laugh.

Finrod chuckled. “Yes, my family would be horrified.”

Luthien tensed and her eyes narrowed. “Horrified, my lord?” She bristled. “Choose your words carefully, Finrod.”

Finrod startled at her reaction and wondered what would cause her abrupt turn of demeanor. Finally, it dawned on him. “Luthien, please, you are the daughter of not only Elu Thingol, one of the Three Fathers, but the daughter of Melian, a Maia of Valinor. I think they would wonder that you deigned to see me as a proper suitor.”

Still unmollified, Luthien countered, “I do not believe the Feanorians would see it as you say.”

A little frustrated, he sighed. “Luthien, I know how some of the Noldor perceive the Sindar. But you and I have only known each other for what, a month? They would be horrified at our hastiness. There are some I know who courted for several yeni before plighting their troth.”

“So you say.” She saw no guile in his eyes and hers softened, accepting his explanation. She looked out over the river and asked, “Do you see me as so high?”

“You are that high, My Lady. But family trees have never impressed me.”

She laughed slightly. “Well said, My Lord. Very clever out.” Turning to him, still smiling she said, “And what is your opinion of our hastiness?”

“I am not horrified by it.” He smiled back.

“Obviously. But do you think we are being too hasty?”

“Do you?”

“No. And it would not be the first time in my family that such haste was observed.”

“Ah yes… the tale of your parents has been sung in many songs. But are you comparing us to them?”

She took a moment to look at him and enjoy his soft lips and dangerous grey eyes. His earlier words made her wonder what those lips would feel like, warm against her skin, what it would be like to see those eyes above her, rolled back in ecstasy as they did what lovers do.

“There is no denying the similarities of the situation. We can put on appearances for those around us.” She took a breath and continued “But we both know what is shared between us.”

Until that moment, he had been unsure. But now emboldened by her words he sought to finish what had been started outside her door more than a month ago.

“I think it would be wise to keep up appearances.” He drew her hand up to his lips and brushed his lips across her hand. “But I did like it when you spoke of ravaging.”

Tingles ran up from where his lips grazed her hand. Finrod drew her closer and leaned towards her. Luthien saw the intention in his eyes and her heart beat harder with excitement.

“Be careful for what you wish, Prince.” She leaned to him and met him in a hesitant kiss, lips lightly touching. Each wondered if the other could hear their own heart. Out here, alone, with nothing but propriety to stop them, their kiss deepened; his tongue sought hers and was welcomed.

The kiss drew out, moist, warm, and soft. Luthien’s heart hammered in her chest. Finrod’s hand drew up her side as Luthien’s sought his hair and cradled his head. He caressed her neck and drew his fingers down the softness between her breasts. She moaned lightly as his fingers glided across her skin. Finrod gave his own light moan as her hand laced into his hair and brushed his ear.

But something insinuated itself into his euphoria. A dark chill stole his ardor. Something forgotten until now: The Kinslaying.

Then and there he made up his mind and decided his course. Thingol must know. Abruptly, he pulled back. “I-I am sorry, Luthien.” He could not meet her eyes. “There is something…something you must know”

Shocked from the embrace, Luthien blinked and asked, “What is it Finrod?”

When his pause began to worry her, she drew his face to her, seeing his fixed stare.

He met her gaze, all passion erased from his eyes. His mien hardened and he said, “We will be in Menegroth tomorrow. It is something your father must know. I will not have him hear it from another.”

Luthien stilled, weighing her words. “Finrod, for you to react so it must be grave. And I must assume it regards the darkness that lies in the past of the Noldor.” She looked at him hesitantly, searched his eyes for confirmation.

His face tensed with remorse and the fear of what he might lose. He looked down. “Indeed it does.”

“We have long suspected something was being hidden. You never mention the Valar, or of returning… The way must be barred. My Mother has spoken that she can no longer see The West. When she learned of the death of The Trees, she guessed it to be the cause. But it is not, is it?”

He shook his head.

Luthien thought for a long moment. She realized as she studied his troubled face that she must decide now her course. Whatever the terrible secret was, she knew it must be worse than feared for Finrod to withhold it from her now and insist that her father hear it first. She also understood that Finrod feared the repercussions, not only of her father’s wrath, but what would become of what they shared.

He watched her as she weighed his fate in her mind. He saw her eyes harden as if she made some irrevocable decision. Then much to his consolation, her look softened and she touched his check gently.

Finally, she said, “Whatever it is, my love, I will stand with you.”

At her words, his eyes brightened with joy. But it was stolen by the fact that she did not know.

He started to protest but she put a finger to his lips. “My heart has chosen its course. And now my fate is entwined with yours.”

“Luthien, you know not my past, our past. My heart soars with the words ‘my love’ from your lips. But I beg you wait until you have heard our story before you repeat those words.”

She watched as the evident joy on his face twisted into something that made her heart grow cold with anxiety. She drew back her hand.

“Finrod your eyes terrify me. What is so horrible that you look at me with such dread?” She paused and took a deep breath; the tension in her chest made her shudder. “Finrod, I must insist that you tell me here, where no others can see. When you tell my father, I do not wish to be as shocked as your eyes lead me to fear.”

He looked down. He took a long breath. And then another. “We were not sent by the Valar. The Noldor are cursed, Luthien. We are exiles”

She withdrew from him, almost recoiling. Slowly she breathed out in a whisper, “What have you done?”

Finrod knew the point of no return had been crossed. He looked at her intently and said, “Then you must hear the whole tale.”

She understood him. Something he was about to tell her was going to horrify her, and she must wait until the end. She loved this ellon before her, of that she was sure. But what scared her was his tangible fear that what he was about to say would change how she saw him. She summoned her courage and inhaled deeply. She met his eyes and said, “Tell me.”

A/N:
(1) Gamil Zirak was a dwarf of Nogrod who forged many weapons for Thingol and was Telchar’s teacher. The same Telchar who forged Narsil.
(2) In Unfinished Tales, the Professor wrote that Feanor did indeed ask her for a single hair three times and each time Artanis said no. Feanor was not pleased. Adds quite a bit of weight to her gift to Gimli…
(3) Paraphrased from The Silmarillion.