...She was a lady of great beauty and gentle heart, ...Denethor loved her, in his fashion, more dearly than any other..."
J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings: Appendix A.

Day 1: Holding Hands

Walking back from the rock, she left her hand in his. She knew it wasn't proper, but who would see?

Only all of Castle Amroth , a head voice whispered. She stiffened.

Perhaps sensing her distress, Denethor smoothed the back of her hand with his thumb. She felt the rough edges of his callused hands. The knot in her stomach relaxed a little. Between the heat of the midday sand under her bare feet and the massive arm of her friend? Suitor? Partner in escapades? Finduilas felt cocooned in warmth. It was strange, but perhaps she could become accustomed to this.

Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere

The winter wind blew strong off the sea. Finduilas struggled to get her stockings back on as the ends flapped. The water had been warm, but the air was cold.

"Here." Denethor wrapped the edge of his cloak around her to give her shelter. She leaned into his side as the edges of his eyes crinkled in a rare smile.

"It's good to be on my rock again." Sturdy half boots restored, she curled her feet under the hem of her gown.

"I'm happy to share it with you." His strong hand tenderly smoothed a stray lock from her face.

Day 3: Gaming/watching a movie

Denethor tossed the note aside, exasperated. "Smaug's Teeth," he groaned. "Draugerion had to cancel our cerin night. Stuck with messengers from home."

Finduilas set her embroidery frame aside; with a rustle of silks she came to stand by him. "I could partner you. It's been many years, but Imrahil and I used to play."

Denethor raised his eyebrows. "Very well then, wife of mine, I challenge you."

She brought out the board, and they bent to placing their stones.

She clapped with giddiness over a few quick captures. Were they beginner's luck? Denethor wondered if he had been taken in.

Day 4: On a date

After the usual bouquet of wildflowers—were there any left in the hills between Minas Tirith?— and Grandmother Lacheniel had turned back to the throne of her favorite cushioned seat, Finduilas pounced.

"Grandmother, may the Captain-General and I walk down to the lower city? I need to buy… more ink for my calligraphy."

A gimlet eye fixed on her, then her suitor.

"And the household of the Prince is not enough to have the vendor come to you?"

Finduilas blinked.

"Very well, take Ivriniel with you."

Ivriniel rolled her eyes. She said with feigned airiness, "I'll send for our shawls."

Day 5: Kissing

Yesterday's storm had passed, but the surf below the castle was still rough. Finduilas and Denethor sat in the exedra's shelter, warmed in the sun. She looked up; Denethor had trailed off. He was staring at her. Was there something on her nose? He leaned forward, putting his arm on the shelf behind them.

Oh!

Right.

She leaned forward too. What all had Ivriniel had ever said in their teenage years? She remembered to close her eyes at the last minute.

There was a brush of softness and then teeth clunked. Her eyes flew open again and they both sat back, sheepish. Their eyes locked again; she thought she'd tumble into a chasm in his dark eyes. Emboldened, she leaned forward again. Yes, much nicer.

They did not hear the footsteps crunching on the tabby.

"Oh my! Am I interrupting something?" a masculine voice drawled.

They sprang apart.

"Immy," she growled.

"My Lord Captain-General!" Imrahil bowed with exaggeration. "What brings you here?"

"Imrahil of Dol Amroth, as the commander of the Gondorian armies, I bid you get lost." Denethor never looked up from their clasped hands.

"Oh, but you're not my commander. Grandfather Angelimir is, but I'll go anyhow. Toodle-oo."

Day 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

The wave did not swamp the little sailboat, but thoroughly soaked them. The breeze, which had refreshed them, was chilling now.

"We'll need," Finduilas and Denethor both chattered.

"No, you go first," Denethor said.

"We need to get out of these clothes," she said.

"My thoughts exactly." He reached into the dry storage under the seat.

She donned the proffered thick wool sweater and flapped the long sleeve ends. "Here, let me tie my scarf around you."

She wound the spotted silk around his head; the ends trailed down his back.

"Now you look suitably piratical for Belfalas!" she laughed.

Day 7: Cosplaying

"I'm going to do it. I'm going to take Halafdess with me."

Denethor froze. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Finduilas met Denethor's eyes in her dressing table mirror, where she was arranging her hair to be artfully disheveled. "Halafdess is perfectly trained. And who at the masquerade would know that I am supposed to be Luthien if I don't have my Huan?"

"You are attending with someone carrying their hand and a large paste jewel; that might be a clue."

Finduilas stood to tie Denethor's mask ribbons. She kissed his ear. "Trust me. I trained Halafdess, not Ivriniel."

Day 8: Shopping

"So, ink…" Denethor hesitated.

Finduilas stopped to look up at him. "Yes, ink. It should be dark for a bold effect. I know of a store in the second ward that has both pigments and sea ink."

Passersby brushed past them. Ivriniel coughed. She pointed to the confectioners' store across the way.

"I'm just going to duck in for some tea." She coughed a couple more times, a tinny artificial cough. "I seem to have a frog in my throat."

As Ivriniel wove through the crowds, Finduilas winked. "We'll have to take the long way 'round to the stationers' shop."

Day 9: Hanging out with friends

"Take that!" Denethor chortled. His long fingers stretched out to remove another piece from the board.

Draugerion rubbed his jaw. He spoke up to the figure seated by the fire. "Lady Finduilas, are you sure you won't come help me rout this fiend? He is driving all the counters before him."

Finduilas placed her needle in her embroidery, and padded over to their gaming table. She studied the board.

"Hmm… I see a good move, and while it is enjoyable to rout my Lord Husband, truthfully, good sir, how can I foreswear the fealty demanded to my Lord the Steward?"

Day 10: With animal ears

"No, Draugerion, that is beyond the bounds of friendship and dignity."

Draugerion raised his eyebrows. "But you both completely outrank myself and my wife. It's only fitting that you should preside over the Hunt Ball."

Denethor glowered at his best friend.

Finduilas touched her forehead, where something resembling owl tufts was bound into her hair. "Tuillinneth pulled her family's headdresses from storage for us. We can't refuse." She held out a second willow crown. "These fox ears fit your crafty nature, Husband."

"My only consolation is that Thorondir is far to sea and will never hear of this," Denethor sighed.