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Spring Awakenings  by daw the minstrel

I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine. I gain only the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter. 

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5.  Campaigning

Eilian stretched carefully.  His hip was aching after his long ride of the day before, and between the pain and his restless thoughts about Celuwen, he had not slept well.  He untangled himself from his blanket, rose, and began to hobble around a bit, hoping that the exercise would warm his body enough to ease his stiffness if not his pain.   A step sounded behind him, but before he could disguise his gait, he heard Celuwen’s alarmed voice.  “What is the matter, Eilian?”

He whirled to face her and found that he was so off balance that he would have fallen had Celuwen not rushed to his side and steadied him.  Her touch sent such a jolt through him that he nearly flinched.  “I am just stiff,” he said self-consciously.  “The wound in my leg is still troublesome at times.”

“It is taking so long to heal,” she worried.

“The healers say it is on the mend now,” Eilian assured her, gratified by her concern.  “But I cannot go back to my patrol just yet. Are you not glad?”  He smiled at her, but instead of smiling back, she met his gaze with a serious look.  He could feel his smile fading as their eyes met and held.

“I am indeed,” she said, with an earnestness that took his breath away.  “I wish you never had to go back.”  Confused by her tone, he lifted his hand to touch her face, and she seemed to come to with a start.  “I am going to check our fish traps,” she told him, speaking quickly and lifting the basket in her hand.  “Will you come and help?” Without waiting for an answer, she slipped away from him and started off through the trees.

He stood immobile for a moment. What had she meant by saying she wished he never had to go back to his patrol?  She was concerned for him, and for that, he felt a rush of satisfaction, but she had backed away from him in the past because their duties would keep them apart. Her letter had suggested she was willing now to enjoy the time they had together and bear the time apart.  He hoped she had not changed her mind upon actually seeing him.  He started hastily after her.

When he caught up with her, he took the basket from her, grasped her hand, and tucked it into his arm.  Even this light contact sent an agreeable shiver down his spine, and he was pleased to hear her draw a deep breath.  “You are up early,” he ventured, still trying to read her mood.

“I woke early and could not go back to sleep.”

He wanted to ask her if thoughts of him had brought her awake, but she seemed so serious that he hesitated.  If she had been thinking of him, he was a little afraid of what her thoughts might have been.

They walked in silence for five minutes or so, with Eilian enjoying her touch, until they emerged from the trees at the edge of a small pond. She led him around the side to a point where a tree limb overhung the water.  He could see the top of the woven fish trap just beneath the water’s surface.  “Let me get it,” he told her and ran lightly out onto the branch.  He reached down to grasp the trap and pull it up. It had been weighted with rocks and was heavy, but there were several fish in it.

“Wonderful!” she cried.  “We will have them for morning meal.” He smiled at her enthusiasm. Despite waking so early, she looked better this morning, less tired.  He would have liked to believe that it was his presence that made her look so, but perhaps it was only because it was early in the day yet.  He slid the fish out of the trap, reweighted it, and then dropped it back in the water. Then he squatted down at the edge of the pond, took out his knife, washed it, and began cleaning and gutting the fish.  She crouched next to him and worked with her own knife.

Still thinking about her apparent fatigue, he looked sideways at her. “Have you been ill, Celuwen?”

For a moment, she did not look at him but stared at the fish in her hand. Then she turned her face to him. “I wrote you three months ago, and I am afraid I had so little faith that it took only a month for me to lose hope and conclude that you were not coming. I found I could not bear it.”

His breath caught in his throat.  She had grieved over his absence. Despite the tragedy her grief could have caused, his heart sang at the thought.  She might still conclude they should not marry yet, but if she loved him enough to fade at the thought he would not come to her, then surely she would give in eventually. He wanted to take her in his arms but they were both holding dead fish, and it seemed too ridiculous. “I would have come as soon as you asked if I had been able to,” he said.

To his surprise, she frowned a little and then turned back to her work on the fish. “I know that now,” she said, not looking at him.

He regarded her for a moment, unsure of how to read her reaction. If she loved him, and he would have come when she asked, then what was she upset about?  He decided not to push the issue for now.  If he asked her to say what she felt for him too soon, he might frighten her into the same cautious behavior she had shown in the past, and he had a little time to make sure that her love would spur her to act more precipitously when he had persuaded her parents to accept the idea of a betrothal.  He tossed the last fish into the basket, and they both rose.

As they walked back to the cottage, he wondered if she was hesitating because she was offended by his failure to write her even if his wound prevented him from visiting. Not for the first time, he tried to decide if he should tell her that he had not written because he thought Sólith was intercepting his letters.  His stomach tightened with fury at her father.  She could have died of her grief, he thought angrily, and she certainly had suffered. A letter from him could have spared her all that.

But Thranduil had said that Eilian needed Celuwen’s parents to consent to their betrothal, and indeed every Elven custom would demand it.  To do anything else would be taken as a sign of deep disrespect for their parents, and while he did not particularly care if he looked disrespectful of Sólith, Celuwen probably cared if she did.  And then there was Thranduil.  Life would be infinitely easier for Eilian if he did not infuriate his father by acting without her parents’ consent.  So he wanted to placate Sólith, not start a quarrel between him and his daughter for which Sólith would only blame Eilian.

They entered the cottage to find Isiwen prodding the fire and Sólith nowhere in sight.  Eilian jumped at the chance to impress Celuwen’s mother with his good qualities.  “Let me do that,” he said.  “We have fish we can fry for the meal.” He took the poker out of her hand and was soon busy tending a pan of fish.

He grinned at Isiwen.  “You are brave to put up with a warrior’s cooking after the splendid meal you made of the rabbits last night.”

She laughed.  “You never change, do you Eilian?  I thank you for the rabbits though. I do not think I said that last night.”

He shrugged. “I will hunt again today.  If you would like to eat rabbits again, I think I am enough of a scout to find them for you.”

Isiwen glanced at Celuwen, who was laying the table.  “A little meat would be most welcome.”  She smiled slightly and moved to help her daughter. “Your cheeks are rosy today, child. Did you sleep well?”

To Eilian’s great interest, Celuwen actually blushed a little.  “I was long falling asleep, but then I slept well.”

Eilian grinned at her over her mother’s head.  “I was long falling asleep too,” he said innocently. “I wonder if it was for the same reason.”  He did not think it would hurt his cause at all to remind Celuwen of how strongly they had both reacted to their few moments alone together the previous night.  She laughed slightly but kept her eyes on her task.

At that moment, Sólith came in, carrying another load of firewood.  “You are just on time,” Eilian told him cheerfully. “The fish are ready.”

Sólith looked startled and a little suspicious at his pleasant tone, but he simply put the wood down and took his place at the table.  Eilian slid the fish onto a platter and handed it to Isiwen, who started it around the table.  “Eilian says he will hunt for more rabbits today,” Isiwen told Sólith.

“Good,” said Sólith.  “I will go with him.”

The other three all paused with forks halfway to their mouths.  Apprehension flaring, Eilian tried to picture himself and Sólith in the woods together with weapons in their hands.  “I will go too,” Celuwen said hastily, evidently picturing the same scene.

“You will rest,” said Sólith.  “I heard you tossing and turning in the night.”

“Only for a while,” Celuwen protested.

“And you were up before daylight this morning,” Sólith said.

Isiwen looked steadily at Sólith.  “Perhaps it would be best if you stayed home this morning, Celuwen.  Your adar and Eilian might like some time alone to talk.”

Eilian stared at her, and she smiled at him encouragingly.  He smiled weakly back, glad of her support but uncertain of the wisdom of the enterprise. He had the impression, however, that Isiwen might have spoken to her husband, and perhaps this would be an opportunity for him and Celuwen’s father to start building some sort of mutual respect or understanding.

When the meal was over, Isiwen shooed Eilian and Sólith out the door.  “Celuwen and I will clean up,” she said.

Celuwen stood uncertainly watching them go. “Take care,” she called after them.

Eilian retrieved his bow from his campsite and then came back to meet Sólith, who had gotten his own bow.  “This way,” Sólith said, pointing east, and Eilian allowed himself to be led into the woods.  Sólith ignored Eilian and appeared intent on hunting, as well he might, Eilian thought, given the dearth of the recent winter. Concluding that it might be easier to talk to Celuwen’s father after they had finished their hunt, Eilian turned to concentrating on the task at hand.  The two of them searched the brushpiles and fallen treetops in which rabbits tended to shelter, and Eilian could not help but take satisfaction in the fact that he brought down half a dozen rabbits, while Sólith shot only two.

“That should be enough for tonight’s meal,” Sólith finally said, in the first words he had spoken since they entered the woods. “And now I can tell you what I really brought you out here to say, Eilian.”

His tone was not friendly, and Eilian braced himself.  It was going to take every ounce of self control he possessed to try to win this hostile Elf over.

“I want you to break things off with my daughter,” Sólith said.  “Then I want you to go away and leave her alone.  You have driven her close enough to despair already.”

Almost instantly, Eilian could feel himself sliding into dangerous territory. “From what I have seen and heard, she was in despair before I came here,” he said stiffly. “Isiwen seems to think she is better since my arrival.”

“She was in despair over you,” Sólith said hotly.  “You did not see it.  You cannot know how frightening it has been.  I have watched her fade these last few months, and, while she would not tell me or her naneth what pained her, I suspected it was you. And then I saw her face last night.  Your very presence is enough to disturb even her sleep. But she really suffers when you come and go again. And you will leave this time too.  You said it yourself last night.  You will go away and leave her hanging again, unable to get on with her life.  If you broke cleanly with her, she would get over you. She would find someone else and have a husband, a home, and children of her own.  Other Elves have courted her, you know.  You are not the only one to see her worth.”

Eilian felt a sudden panic at the idea of Celuwen being sought by someone else.  He would not allow it, he vowed to himself.

“She needs a husband who will stay with her,” Sólith went on, “not some warrior whose love of adventure outweighs his love of her. End it now, Eilian. It is this eternal uncertainty and endless waiting that eat at her and have finally made her so unhappy that she cannot bear it.”

Before Eilian had time to think, arrow-sharp words flew from his mouth. “She despaired because she wrote asking me to come and then did not hear from me.  And I ask you, Sólith, whose fault is that?  I could not come, but I would have written if I thought there was the slightest chance she would get my letter.”

Sólith flushed.  “I did not know she had written you, or I would have been in no doubt at all as to the source of her despair.  But she has been unhappy for a long time, and you cannot blame that on me.”

Suddenly recollecting his purpose, Eilian bit back the hot words that trembled on his lips at the unfairness of this accusation.  “I do not wish to blame anyone,” he said.  “What I wish is to become betrothed to Celuwen.”  The minute the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.  His timing could not have been worse.  If he had made such a tactical mistake in captaining his patrol, he would not have blamed Ithilden for relieving him of his command.

Sólith stared at him for a moment and then gave a short laugh.  “You must be mad. Did you not hear what I just said?”

“A betrothal would end the uncertainty,” Eilian argued. Now that the mistake had been made, he might as well press on.

“Would you cease chasing after danger?” Sólith demanded incredulously. “For that matter, would you cease chasing after other maidens?”

Eilian was deeply insulted. “I would never be unfaithful to Celuwen, and surely it is up to her to decide if she can tolerate my being a warrior.”

“Have you spoken to Celuwen about becoming betrothed?” Sólith asked. “Are you so sure she will want to become betrothed if you are to continue your present reckless life, a life that would make it imprudent to bond for years yet?”

Eilian suddenly recalled Celuwen’s unreadable behavior at the fish pond. In truth, he was not at all certain she would agree to a betrothal, despite the fact that he thought she loved him. He had proposed to her before and been turned away.  He had no intention of telling Sólith that, however.  “I have not spoken to her yet,” he said.

“Then do not,” Sólith commanded. “Break off your relationship and go.”

Eilian struggled for self command.  “What if she wants to pledge herself to me? What if her despair returns because I break with her and leave?”

Sólith hesitated.  “I do not believe that would happen.”

“But what if it did?” Eilian persisted.

“I would have to decide what to do then,” Sólith conceded.  “But I tell you, Eilian, my daughter is precious to me, and if I think you are harming her, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“Celuwen is precious to me too,” Eilian said.

Sólith snorted but said no more.  They had reached the edges of the settlement now and walked to Sólith’s cottage in uneasy silence.  They found Celuwen and Isiwen both at work over looms in the cottage’s common room. Isiwen cried out with pleasure at the sight of the rabbits. “So many!” she exclaimed. “We will have a feast!”

Celuwen looked from Eilian to her father, and a small crease formed between her brows.  Eilian gave her what was meant to be a reassuring smile.  He did not want Celuwen to know that he and Sólith had quarreled.  He wanted her to be as open as possible to his advances.

Isiwen now scanned them too.  Her eyes narrowed as she focused on Sólith’s flushed face, and Eilian was suddenly sure he had an ally.  “Celuwen,” she said, “perhaps you would like to show the meadow to Eilian.”

Celuwen jumped up immediately and reached for her cloak, pleasing Eilian by her apparent eagerness to be with him. Sólith sent him a warning look as he and Celuwen went out the door. Eilian knew exactly what Sólith wanted him to say to Celuwen.  He also knew he had no intention of saying it.

When they got outside, he reached for Celuwen’s hand, but she moved out of his reach.  “Eilian,” she said, “I have something I need to ask you that I have been thinking about all morning, and I need to be very brave to do it, so please just let me speak.”

For a moment, his heart sank.  She sounded so sober.  Surely she was not going to send him away, not now.

“Would you have come to see me if I had not asked you to?”

He blinked.  This was not what he had expected her to ask.  He started to say that of course he would have come but then realized that that was not true.  He paused, trying to think of how to give her a truthful answer that would not sound as if he were maligning her father.

He had opened his mouth to respond when she jumped into the silence.  “Never mind,” she said in a wobbly voice.  “You do not have to answer.  I have no right to expect anything of you, and when I asked you to come, I thought I would be happy if we could just see one another again.  I thought I could let you come and then go again if you liked, and it would be all right.  But then you came, and I realized I wanted more than that.”  Now she was crying, walking just out of his reach.  “I am sorry to be so difficult.  You do not owe me anything. I told you that in my letter.”

This would not do, he thought desperately, and caught at her arm, drew her into the shelter of a large oak tree just coming into leaf, and turned her to face him. “I would have come years ago, but I thought I was not welcome,” he declared.  “Celuwen, how could you doubt my feelings after the way we kissed last night?”

“Eilian, you kiss other maidens.  You know you do.”

“No more,” he declared, drawing her to him, “and not like that, not like this.”  He brushed small kisses at the tears that had run down her cheeks. Then he touched his mouth tentatively to hers.  For a moment, he thought she was going to pull away, but then, with a faint moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips for him to enter. Fire flickered through him, and almost without meaning to, he slid his hands down the curve of her back to rest on the flare of her hips and draw her closer.

For a moment, they stood in an embrace that felt as intimate to him as anything he had ever experienced.  Then, with a desperate wrench, she pulled away, leaving him bereft.  “Eilian, if you care for me as you say you do, then why did you not write to me?  I know I told you that I found your visits painful, but we have written to one another since we were children.  Why did you stop?”

He drew a deep breath.  Should he tell her about the returned letters?  He could not bear the thought that she believed he had stopped loving her.  And suddenly it occurred to him that it might be useful if she were to become angry enough with Sólith to challenge him.  “I would have written if I thought you would get the letter.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I wrote to you repeatedly over the years,” he said, “and the letters always came back unopened.”  He looked at her again, and she was staring at him uncomprehendingly. “I thought you had refused to read them and wanted nothing more to do with me.”

“Your letters were returned?” she asked blankly, and then abruptly, understanding flared on her face.  “My adar,” she said in a tone that bespoke certainty.

“I do not know that,” he said carefully, “but it is what I suspect.”

Her posture grew rigid with what Eilian knew from long experience with her was anger.  “He cannot be allowed to interfere like that,” she said.  He was encouraged by her apparent willingness to view her father’s actions as ‘interference,’ but he was still worried by the fact that Thranduil expected him to get her parents’ consent if they were to become betrothed and marry.  He opened his mouth to caution her not to anger Sólith so much that he would deny them permission, but realized that he had not yet said anything to her about becoming betrothed and should not assume that she would agree to it.  Her ardent response to his kisses suggested that she would be willing, but it would be a mistake to take her consent for granted.

Celuwen was staring at the ground, her fists clenched and her breath coming quickly.  “I will go and speak to him now,” she said.  She looked up at him, and he cringed a little to see the determined set to her mouth.  “Perhaps it would be best if you stayed away from the cottage for a while.”

He nodded, and she turned and marched back the way they had come.  Eilian was deeply glad that it was Sólith she was angry with and not him.  Celuwen seldom grew angry, but when she did, she was a terror.  On one occasion when they had quarreled as children, she had put a snake in his bed.  He still did not know with certainty how she had gotten into his chamber, but he suspected that his mother had helped her.  The quarrel really had been his fault.

He wondered if he should try to stop her.  If she told Sólith off, would that help or hurt his cause?  He did not know, but his attempt to get along with Sólith had certainly not met with much success.  He might as well see if Sólith would be more responsive to his daughter’s anger.

He decided he would walk on toward the meadow that Isiwen had mentioned.  His hip was begging for rest, and he would be happy enough to spend the day in a spring meadow surrounded by the whispering trees.  He looked toward the north, where distant storm clouds were piled high in the sky.  There will be rain closer to home, he thought.

 





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