The Treaty

Chapter 3

The bay gelding was a bit skittish, shying as a flock of birds erupted from a nearby stand of maples. But Celeborn clucked, feeding more slack into the lunge line and gently snapping the tip of the lunge whip across the ground. They horse acquiesced and then a moment later seemed to have forgotten his earlier fright, cantering about happily.

Perhaps, Celeborn mused, there was some hope for this animal after all. He may never have the temperament of a warhorse, but he could, with a bit of work, make a fine steed for a hunt. After all, he was such a fine looking creature, and of such sound conformation, that it would have been a shame to resign him to pulling carts or some other such nonsense.

He clucked again, sweeping the lunge whip across the earth, bidding the horse turn and continue about the circle in the other direction. He obeyed, not without a bit of a kick, and Celeborn laughed. To tell the truth, he preferred his horses with a bit of spirit. He rocked back onto his heels, putting his weight on the lunge line, and the horse pulled right back, snorting and tossing his head. He let the line go completely slack and the horse turned in, slowing to a walk, stopping just before him and pushing his nose into Celeborn's tunic, rubbing his face against the elf's chest.

"You're not hopeless after all, are you?" The prince laughed, patting the horse on the neck and scratching his ears. The animal was clearly pleased and stamped his feet happily, swishing his tail against the summer flies. A pleasant breeze blew through the treetops and Celeborn closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of nature wash over him. This was what he loved best, when he could simply be alone in the woods, away from the bustle of the city, from the duties that pulled his attention in a thousand directions.

In fact, he was so at peace that even opening his eyes and catching sight of his wife, sitting on the fence, did not manage to perturb him overly much. He merely raised a hand in greeting. She had a particular penchant for dressing in laboriously embroidered silk gowns and a treasury's worth of jewels, a habit he had chalked up to Noldorin greed, but at the moment she was wearing a simple cotton gown of green, made all the greener by the way it contrasted with the deep gold of her hair, which hung in a long braid. Of course, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He had heard, after all, that she often participated in foot races in Aman, even outrunning the men, and yet he wondered why she no longer partook in such events, what had stopped her.

Married life had hardly served to make him any fonder of her, indeed, he did not see her so very often now that she had her own bedchamber within his rooms. Still, they did pass each other coming and going, and they had managed to strike up a civil manner towards each other when in public, and she spent a night each week in his bed, as they had agreed upon, a night where they carefully avoided each other and conversation, each keeping to the edge of their side of the bed.

However, despite his general dislike of her, he had to admit that he liked this simple manner of dress better than the ornate styles she usually adopted. It made her look softer somehow…and wilder, as if she were hiding some side of her he had not yet seen, some side of her that longed to break free of prudish social convention.

She dropped from the fence, petticoats swishing about her ankles, and approached him, her arms crossed over her chest, but her expression was not antagonistic.

"New style?" He asked her.

"I didn't want to soil anything worth wearing by coming out here," she replied.

"It suits you," he told her and her eyes snapped up to his, golden brows surging down into a frown.

"Are you saying I look like a peasant?" She asked and Celeborn nearly sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. Why did she have to make everything so difficult?

"That isn't at all what I said," he retorted. "I was trying to pay you a compliment and you're taking it out of context." He nearly remarked upon her damnable Noldorin pride but stopped his tongue at the last second, deeming it wiser.

She pursed her lips, shaking her golden head. "You would prefer simpler things…" she murmured.

"And what's that supposed to mean exactly?" He said, his turn now for ire.

"Nothing in particular," she told him, but he could imagine all of the prejudices flitting through her mind like birds in flight, all sorts of notions of the Sindar being simple and therefore ignorant.

"All I wanted to say was that you look…" he cleared his throat, "pretty," he said gruffly. He wished he hadn't said it because Artanis immediately looked uncomfortable and that wasn't what he had intended to accomplish. He looked away and then back at her. She uncrossed her arms and then crossed them back over her chest.

"I came to tell you I've had word from my cousins," she said, a tremor of distaste running through her voice and he noticed that what he had said may have made her uncomfortable, but not nearly so much as speaking about her cousins did.

"Oh?" He asked, not quite understanding what she was referencing.

"About the… the sheets…" she stammered, clearly embarrassed. She flushed red and Celeborn looked away briefly, giving her a moment to recoup her self respect. The whole business with the sheets had been dreadful and he was not particularly keen on speaking of it, but he knew they must.

"I never imagined that my bed sheets would become such a topic of interest," he snorted with laughter. "Were they fooled?" He asked her. She shrugged, her face impassive.

"It seemed they were," she said, pausing for a long while before she admitted, "it helped that they apparently heard how I could hardly walk after."

"Ah!" Celeborn exclaimed, bursting into laughter. He hadn't thought of that, but perhaps cutting her foot had been an even wiser choice than he had realized. He kept trying to stop but the more and more he thought about it, the funnier the idea of proud, prudish Artanis limping about and being subjected to the speculatively raised eyebrows of curious courtiers gladdened his heart. He dared to glance in her direction and found himself greeted, as he had expected, by a look as sour as if she had just drunk curdled milk.

It really wasn't something he should be joking about; he knew that. Only, the entire situation was so helpless, so wretched, that it seemed there was nothing to be done about the situation save laugh.

"You didn't tell them all about our wild and steamy wedding night?" Celeborn asked with a grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Artanis's face was blank for a moment and then, astonishingly, he heard the small snort of a laugh and glanced over to see a grin flit across her face briefly before disappearing again.

"Well of course I wasn't allowed to write the letter," she said. "My brothers wrote it for me, so I am not entirely sure what they might have implied and what they might have left out, but whatever they wrote, my cousins seem suitably convinced."

"Too proud to write it yourself?" Celeborn chided her. She rounded on him, her eyes blazing in fury.

"Don't you think I would rather have written it myself?" She hissed. "Don't you think I should have been the one to tell my tale? Don't you think I wanted it to be me? It was my wedding after all, my wedding night! Only it wasn't mine, not really. It was theirs! I was just something to be bought and traded. Do you think they would ever have done this to Aredhel, to Idril? Of course not! They don't want to be rid of them! But I'm nothing to them but a Telerin half breed, an annoying thorn in their consciences, the girl who looks too much like the grandmother they hated, the only person who stood up to their dreadful father!"

The words tumbled from her mouth in a steady stream, her voice growing hoarse, tears welling in the corners of her eyes and Celeborn stared on, wide-eyed, surprised that she was telling him any of this. "They hate me…" she said, her voice growing quieter, "and they've been trying to think of a way to punish me for the longest time. What a perfect opportunity they found!" She laughed sardonically, mocking her fate. "They knew I would not refuse, that I'd have done anything to prevent another Alqualondë…" she drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I wanted to write it myself!" She spat. "But my story isn't mine to tell. It belongs to them, just as I do."

"You don't," Celeborn replied.

"I know," she snarled quietly, her eyes, fierce and angry, meeting his. "Now I belong to you."

It was true, legally speaking. That wasn't what he had meant, but it was true. It was the way she saw things and she was right, even if he didn't like it. He took a deep breath and released it.

"I don't want your pity," she spat as an afterthought. "Pity is for the weak." But there was shame in her eyes and he knew that she regretted spilling her heart out to him, whom she despised, that it had been an accident. She didn't trust him, didn't even like him, of course she would not have wished him to know such private things, and yet… he found that some of his dislike for her had dissipated.

Celeborn deemed it wisest to say nothing, but merely reached out to pat the horse. The animal shook his head and then pushed his face into Artanis's stomach. He would have expected her to shriek in disgust, but instead she merely grunted softly at the horse's friendly overtures and reached out to rub the side of his face.

He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to do it, but Celeborn found himself pushing the lunge line and whip into her hands. She took them, looking up at him questioningly, but there was at least no scorn, no hatred in her eyes now. "Do you know how?" He asked.

"Of course I know how!" Artanis retorted in a tone that seemed to say, how dare you question my expertise. But he saw a current of mild regret swim through her eyes and then she said, softer, kinder. "Yes, yes I know how."

She took a step back, measuring out the line, flicking the tip of the whip across the dirt, and the gelding moved into a trot, circling them as she continued to put slack into the line. Celeborn watched the horse move with a smile. He did have a very smooth gait.

"Your horse?" Artanis asked without looking at him, her eyes focused on the animal's movement as he cantered now in ever widening circles.

"Somewhat by accident," Celeborn told her. "He's young, barely three, still a colt really. Thingol had high hopes for him. He was sired by the king's finest warhorse, out of the kingdom's best broodmare."

"Yes I can see he is very well bred," Artanis remarked, and Celeborn thought he saw the hint of a smile on her face. The horse was fine indeed, his coat a rich glossy reddish-brown, his mane and tail very thick, of hair dark as midnight, a white blaze running down the center of his elegant face, his body well muscled, of sound constitution. "And Thingol didn't want him anymore?"

"He says he has an 'attitude problem', too much spirit," Celeborn said with a laugh, folding his hands behind his back and moving with Artanis as the horse circled them. She clucked, sweeping the whip across the earth, and the horse turned, moving now in the opposite direction. "The King gave up on him, had him gelded, told me I could have him if I wanted," he told her. "Else he was going to use him as a carthorse." Celeborn shrugged. "But I like a horse with spirit and it would have done my heart ill to see such a magnificent animal used for carts and carriages."

As if he knew they were speaking of him, the horse bucked, changing directions of his own accord and breaking into an unruly canter, but Artanis gently checked him with the whip and he resumed his earlier more measured pace.

"You're quite good with him," Celeborn said, noting that she handled the horse with natural ease.

"My grandmother, Indis, is a renowned horsewoman," Artanis replied. "She taught me." They were silent then for a while, simply enjoying the feel of the summer breeze and the rustling of the trees. "I think Thingol is right in that he will never do as a warhorse," Artanis said at last, "but he has potential to be a hunter. It would be a shame to waste that."

"You know, that is exactly what I was thinking earlier," Celeborn told her.