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.