Announcement: On the whole, translations will not happen. But, as it has been pointed out by perceptive people, Arda runs on exceptions; this is the exception, and it is dedicated to Acharion, who caused it to happen. Enjoy.
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Lúthien leads him by the hand through the corridors and halls of the Thousand Caves and says nothing. Her silence is filled with tension, filled with sorrow, yet her light steps are resolute and Beren follows her, without asking, waiting.
At last the princess lets go of his hand and touches the arm of an elven lady seated by the windowsill, and draws back, subtly as a shadow.
The stranger rises in a fluent motion and looks him in the face, and he – he knows her, already knows her, even though he has never seen her before, and it takes away his breath and words – of greeting? apology? another oath of friendship? – from his lips.
(Her eyes are the same.)
The golden-haired lady regards him with a look Beren does not comprehend, still cannot wholly comprehend, despite knowing this look also; he bows low, wordlessly committing himself to her service, awaiting her command.
'Tell me,' says the lady in a low, melodious voice, quiet and calm as a stream's whisper, 'of my brother.'