A/N: I firmly believe that age alone does not make you mature, it's how you deal with stuff – or not – as time goes by.

A yén was a period of 144 years, according to the Elves. The plural is Yéni.

I got the “two hundred years” for Thingol's trance from Wikipedia. Please correct me if I am wrong.

Dancing with Glorfindel was a moment Maerdess would savour for many years. It was beautiful, magical, and he moved so well... the upper half did. His hamstring appeared to be giving him some trouble, and he compensated by keeping his weight mostly on his left foot. When he did land on the right one, she felt a jolt go through him. This explained why he was unwilling to dance more than three times. He was in pain. Moved by compassion, Maerdess made a suggestion. “My lord, after this round of dancing, I would very much like to see you play your harp. You play so well, and sing beautifully.”

“I thank you, my lady,” Glorfindel replied, his tone polite. “I do enjoy playing it.”

While she could have ended the dance then and there, Maerdess had no desire to embarrass Glorfindel by displaying his current weakness. She knew how proud he was. All too soon, it ended, and she led him towards his seat. “I shall find another partner, now, if you do not mind,” she told him, gratitude for his having noticed her shining in her eyes.

“Thank you for the dance, my lady,” he replied with a smile and a slight nod.

Maerdess returned to the dance square, and was immediately accosted by Arasrŷn. She accepted and danced with him, her graceful steps light and her heart full of joy.

As he watched the dancers, Glorfindel was out of sorts. He realized that Losgael had suggested the other entertainments to compensate for the fact that he could not spend as much time dancing as the others. She knew his injury was giving him trouble. After three rounds, he would go, sit down, and enjoy the lampoons and other acts. When the dancing resumed, someone would bring him his harp and he would play with the musicians. Nobody really noticed his pain, except Maerdess and Losgael. The other ladies had been quick to bring him gifts when he was in the healing rooms, but when the opportunity to impress him had passed, they were gone. Maerdess and Losgael seemed to genuinely care for him, and he was pleased about that. “May the Valar forbid they ever discover this,” he said to himself.

Losgael brought him his harp. “Will you play for us, my lord,” she asked in a shy tone.

“I will,” he replied. “Thank you, my lady.” He picked up the instrument and limped slightly as he made his way to where the other musicians sat.

His fingers plucked the sweetest melodies from the strings as he played his harp, singing of joyful harvests and barns stuffed full of food. Images of dancing maidens who frolicked between tables laden with jugs of frothing beer and bottles of sweet wine and plates piled with food arose in the minds of his listeners, and they joined in, singing loudly as they danced.

These were the best times for him, and Glorfindel gave thanks to all of the Valar for the pleasures granted to him in Rivendell. When he looked up from his happy reverie, he saw Losgael on one side, and Maerdess on the other, smiling at him, and he returned the gesture to both of them. It felt right to do so, for their responses were innocent and not tainted with the wolfish desire he had seen in the eyes of other ladies.

The days that followed passed in swift succession, and the people of Rivendell returned to their usual pursuits. Losgael spent the increasingly colder days with her lady Celebrían, and helped her with her various projects.

Glorfindel recovered completely, and went back to training with his usual gusto.

“How did you enjoy being queen of the festival?” Celebrían asked Losgael one day.

“I enjoyed it very much, my lady. It was a good experience, and I was pleased to be given some responsibility,” she replied. “It made me think, and gave me a chance to stretch my abilities.”

Celebrían considered this for a moment. “I definitely saw a different side to you during your time in that role,” she said thoughtfully. “Since it did you so much good, I want to give you another chance to shine.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Losgael replied, pleased to have impressed her lady. “How can we do this?”

“Well,” said Celebrían, raising an eyebrow, “you are a good organizer. The next festival is Yule, and I want that to go as well as this year's harvest ball. You always help me to arrange things, but this year I will give you more responsibility. I shall also find you another role in the household...”

“My lady,” interrupted Losgael, “I like serving you. Would this mean we spend less time together?”

“Ai, Losgael!” cried Celebrían. “Great is my love for you, and I wish you joy, but this cannot be achieved while you are still in the situation you are in now. I have wronged you, my friend, by allowing you to remain as you are for so long. I am sorry.”

“I do not understand,” Losgael wailed. “How have you wronged me?” The thought of being rejected by her lady was not one Losgael could bear. While she and Maerdess were getting along very well, she had few people she could truly call her friends. She was on friendly terms with most people, including Brethilgwen, who was quieter these days, and less apt to get into arguments, but found it hard to be open with other people, or to draw close to them. To lose what closeness she had with Celebrían would break her already wounded heart.

Celebrían hesitated. “I was going to say, 'Oh, child,' but I stopped myself because you are older than I,” she explained. “You have never been allowed to put your pain behind you, Losgael, and it has weighed you down like a pedlar's pack for yéni. Too long have you carried it around, afraid to speak of it, while hiding your heart from others to avoid having it broken again. I want to help you, not hurt you!”

Tears filled Losgael's eyes, and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. “I am not sure if I wish to speak of those matters, my lady,” she said, embarrassed that her past had been such a handicap to her.

“I will not ask you to reveal more than you wish to, Losgael,” Celebrían promised, “but I want to encourage you to rise from where you are, for in many ways, you are still a child. So much time has passed, but you are like Thingol, frozen in time, waiting to be released to a happy end.”

“That was for two hundred years or so, was it not?” asked Losgael. “And it was for love.”

“I want you to know love too, Losgael,” Celebrían replied, and took her hand.

“Lord Glorfindel was very pleased with me,” Losgael argued. She was beginning to fear that her mistress might consider her unworthy of the love of a lord.

“He was delighted,” Celebrían agreed, “but he does not yet consider you as a possible bride. I want him to think of you that way. Is that not what you desire?”

Losgael felt incredibly vulnerable, like a child with a grazed knee about to have it cleaned. She knew it was necessary, but was afraid it would hurt. “I have already spoken of my pain,” she said quietly. “And I have wept. That was supposed to make me feel better. To release it.”

“Do you feel better?” Celebrían asked her.

“No, my lady,” Losgael replied. “I feel like a baby bird whose mother has flown away. I am afraid and feel naked, cold and hungry when I speak of my past.”

“Why do you think you feel that way?” asked Celebrían. She put an arm around her handmaid.

“Because,” said Losgael with a sniffle, “I am conscious that you see me as a child, and a wounded one at that. An object of pity, and I would rather not be seen in that light.”

“I believe,” Celebrían affirmed, “that you can speak of those things and not be seen as one who is weak, but as one who can overcome these hurts, though they are grievous.”

“How?” asked Losgael, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“By not being afraid of what people will think,” said Celebrían firmly. “If you can find the courage to speak your mind and to tell me how you feel, you can do other things you are afraid of. As you grow in confidence and the knowledge that you have more friends than you realised, you will be able to take on more responsibilities. As you do so, you will learn how to deal with situations as they arise. I will not always intervene. Learning how to do things for yourself will help you to gain the strength you need to attempt those things you find the most daunting.”

“And if I fail?” asked Losgael, looking more like a child than ever.

“Forgive yourself,” replied Celebrían, steel in her voice. “I will forgive you, and everyone else will, as well.”

“And if they do not?” asked Losgael, doubt holding her back from fully accepting what her lady had to say.

“Then they will have me to deal with,” Celebrían said sternly.

Losgael smiled. She felt believed in, and that was important to her, as important as being loved. “What did you have in mind?” she asked.

Celebrían twitched her eyebrows and grinned. “Come with me,” she said with a grin.

TBC...