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.