She has delayed in speaking with him since their last meeting. This is one matter, above all else, that she does not wish to approach in haste. Tonight the court is quiet – seemingly business as usual – and she finds it a relief. Show knows that neither of them have a desire to set tongues flying with gossip even more than they already have.

There are many questions she would press upon him, but she keeps them to herself as she considers him. It is his nature to reveal details of his character slowly, in precise gestures and subtleties of expression – the hints of his mind that she has learned how to read. By now, though, she has realized that it is a careful patience. In the gathering fullness of their conversations, she has come to understand how many questions he has withheld unspoken, and how much she now wishes for him to ask them.

She follows him into the courtyard with quiet footsteps, and keeps her distance as she studies him. It is not long before he perceives her presence, and turns.

He nods in the way that has become familiar to her. "My lady Artanis."

Instead of inclining her head she raises her chin slightly. "My lord Celeborn."

The gesture gives him a moment's pause. "You have been well?"

She moves closer, now nodding gently. "I have been considering our last conversation. …What you left me with, to consider."

"Nay," he says with an unhurried voice, "It is not a decision I would have expected you to make in haste."

"Neither would you have posed such a question in haste, I expect."

She feels a moment of calm as she feels his gaze settle on her. It soon fades, though, as a frown begins to form on her brow. There is a question she must press to him, before she gives him the answer he is waiting for.

"The name you called me now. Why did you choose it, and not the one you spoke before?"

He knows well the directness in her manner, now. Others have called it bold, but he understands it is only her way.

"I did not know if you desired it." He meets her eye to eye. "You wish it from me?"

"I wish to know why you would give it."

He looks at her silently for a moment, then turns away. His hand skims a small patch of the low courtyard wall as he considers her meaning. "You doubt me. My intentions."

She can see how his calm has been disturbed, and knows then her question has pressed him further than she intended.

"Nay. Your intentions are clear. I ask of your meaning."

He faces her, and she can see his expression clear again. "The meaning is what I see in you. The qualities I have come to know."

"Beauty?"

"Nobility."

She folds her hands together, to keep herself still. A part of her wishes to step closer to him, to be near to his body, but her mind overwhelms her. She must know if he understands.

"Is it what you believe me to be? Some have called me a deceiver."

He turns his head to the side questioningly, never letting his eyes drift from her. "Is that how you see yourself? False?"

"I hear how others speak of me, and it always it seems false." Her shoulders grow tense. "They see in me what they believe me to be, with these names. Nerwen. Artanis… My father, my mother's vision of who I would become, but given to me before they knew what my life would become."

"Have you become what they imagined?"

She must shake her head, for at first she cannot form an answer. "Perhaps." Her brow furrows gently. "Only a man would be so bold as to follow Fëanor so, as they often say. And then I must be as a man, in the eyes of others, is it not so?"

"Not in my eyes."

The simplicity of his answer gives her pause. For a moment, she lets her gaze rest upon him and she searches his face with care. She cannot help but feel as though she must test him, because there is a quality about their meetings that have left her feeling something she has never felt before, and it unsettles her. But if there is falseness in him, she cannot detect it.

Her voice feels unexpectedly hushed. "And you did not call me by any of those names."

"It was something I saw in you."

She steps forward as her composure softens, for she must still press him. "I wonder if it is something you wish to see? Something other than the person my kin speak of?"

"And still, this lady they speak of has done remarkable things." He moves a step closer to her in reciprocation. "It is how you appear, no more no less."

"But she is not the one who would give herself to you." She feels as though she would plead with him. Give him one last opportunity.

"The lady I met first captured me with her beauty and the strength of her spirit, not what she has done to set tales flying."

She responds quietly. "Next will you ask for a lock of hair, the better to remember my beauty by?"

With a frown she turns aside, once again shaking her head. He catches her arm just lightly enough to give her pause, and when she lifts her gaze to his, she finds questions in his grey eyes.

"Do you think me unkind, my lady?"

She looks back to him with intensity, feeling frustration. "When I speak, I… wish only to make my mind plain, my needs plain. I know no other way to do this, than simply to express them as I have done."

"And so you are known as the fierce one, because you do so, so clearly."

"Only in the eyes of those who see who they expect, not who I am. Perhaps it is easier for them. But when I speak to you, I do not feel those concern." She lets out a breath, turning closer to him. "I find it is you, perhaps above anyone, who I must be true with. For I do not wish you to give your love to someone you have not truly known."

When he speaks his gaze does not stray from hers. "I would not have you be anyone other than your true self, Alatariel."

She straightens, letting her hand slide across his arm until her palm rests against his. A small smile begins to cross her lips, tugging at her cheeks. She feels relief. "Who would you be, to me?"

He raises his free hand to where they are joined, and clasps her hand between his. Suddenly his eyes brighten, a glimmer of recognition. "I would be your ally in all things, and I would love you."

Finarfin's daughter lifts her chin slowly, and she feels the name settle upon her. Tenderness fills her gradual smile, and the playful twinkle returns to her blue eyes.

"I will love you, my lord. And I will be your Galadriel."