Chapter Ten: Secrets of a Stolen Night
Midday waned into evening at a pace that aggravated the irate Elf. I have seen years pass quicker than this, Elrohir grumbled to himself as he forcefully ran his whetstone over his curved blade. His jaw ached from being clenched for so long and his fingers were decorated with numerous nicks and gashes, further betraying his foul mood. He had sought comfort in readying his weapons for the journey with his brother and Estel into the Wild to scout the Company's path; however, he found that his mind was not distracted by the mundane activity. He now was only thinking about what he had just avoided – or just rejected to your own detriment, contradicted his emotional side. He had run to his chambers to escape, heart torn in two over his choice. Never had he run from something – or someone. He was old in years, but young in love – a fact that greatly vexed him. I can conduct myself properly amongst my peers, but when it comes to a stray mortal, I cannot bring myself to confess a simple fact? Amada*…
No matter how much he berated himself, the feeling of remorse did not slink back in embarrassment and disappear into the darker recesses of his subconscious; rather, it grew in strength and seemingly became its own entity, both thinking and speaking for itself. Who are you to deny her what she clearly wants? You saw how she responded to you – there should not have been any fear of denial on your part, it snapped with surprising ferocity.
Denial does not trouble me, Elrohir argued weakly, cringing as it snorted.
If only you could lie half as well as you fight…your guilt betrays you. You knew she wanted it…but you were too afraid.
The Elf stiffened and his free hand curled into a tight fist. I am not afraid! She is mortal – and it would have been an ill match anyw—
It does no good to perjure yourself, Elf. I can hear every thought, and I know perfectly well what you refuse to confess. You also know the falseness of your attempted rebuttal: you are also mortal. Her ability to die naturally does not fit anywhere into this conversation.
I am leaving anyway. His own resoluteness surprised even himself. To lead her on is folly.
To not rectify your wrongs ere departure is also folly, it countered coolly.
I AM ONE OF THE ELDAR! I DO NOT TAKE ORDERS FROM MY OWN CONSCIENCE WHO INSISTS UPON SHAMING ME WITHOUT PAUSE! Elrohir roared internally, throwing away his blade as he jumped up.
And yet here you are – arguing with yourself over something which, when stripped of all its pretenses and masks, comes down to a matter of pride –*your* pride. Admit it! You are too proud, as well as too afraid, to tell Áine that you are falling in love with her!
Once again, it is folly to even consider it. She deserves a mortal of her own right. His determination faltered briefly as he realized what he had said. The Elf felt his heart fall a bit as he imagined the sweet words Boromir uttered in the maiden's ear when they were alone…the way her lips felt on his bearded cheek…the gentle sound of her breath…It matters not, he repeated, shaking himself with an angry huff.
If that is what you wish to believe, feel free. Yes, she *does* love the Captain…yes, she has no feelings for you…but you will never forget the look in her eyes when you contemplated kissing her in that brief moment…The voice fell silent, leaving Elrohir more anguished than he liked to confess.
He left the room when the evening bell sounded, clad in his best tunic and trousers and hair twisted back out of his face. Each breath echoed loudly in his ears as he made his way down to the dining hall, both fearing and hoping to see her. He knew not what he would say to her or what he would even do if he saw her – probably run away again like the coward you are, he snorted derivatively.
To his dismay, the Elf did indeed behold Áine that night. She glided across the courtyard like a fey of old, her russet locks shimmering in the fading sunlight. Her blue gown had been replaced with a pale green one with gold embroidery and orange accenting the dress throughout. The sleeves opened at the elbow and fell past her waist, wafting about like scarves in the breeze. Her sky-blue eyes seemed impossibly brighter yet held a note of sorrow. The very sight of her made his heart twist agonizingly. What have I done? he wondered helplessly.
She glanced around her and ran a trembling hand through her beautiful mess of hair, eyes dropping to her bare feet. Her shoulders rolled forward and her gait slowed, hinting subtly that she was not happy. Seeking solace under the shade of a magnificent oak, Áine watched the Elves filter into the dining hall, her lower lip caught between her teeth. No one noticed her pain – either that or they did not pursue inquiry, allowing her to work it out without the embarrassment of being observed. From the balcony, Elrohir struggled with the desire to go to her and make this all right. Shaking off any trepidation he felt, the Elf lithely strode down the stairs and was at her side in a heartbeat.
Áine glanced up and started. "El—my lord," she corrected herself quickly, hurriedly smoothing her gown and squaring her shoulders. Her pale eyes were devoid of emotion and her face kept carefully blank. The sight hurt his heart.
He resolutely resisted the urge to reach out and bring her to his chest. "Have I fallen so far in your graces that we have returned to formalities?" he asked quietly, trying for humor but finding that he could not keep the hurt out of his voice.
She blinked in surprise at the gentleness in his tone and replied coolly, "In the presence of your father and kindred, I would not think it wise to sound so familiar with you, in case your reputation becomes affected by it." The flicker of pain that flashed in her blue gaze did not go unnoticed.
"My kin are not so trivial that they would stoop to petty gossip and the slander of character over a simple matter of address," Elrohir rejoined with an arched brow, losing the desire to be cordial and delicate. "Now, if I could know the true reason behind your sudden distance, I can begin to make amends, if there are any to be made."
As he had hoped, the mask Áine had so carefully constructed shattered at his clipped tone and her face suddenly became a canvas of emotion. "There is nothing that requires your attention, my lord," she snapped with a catch in her voice. "I have only myself to blame in thinking too much into a simple gesture."
Elrohir snorted. "You believe I almost made a mistake."
"Since you decide to be so blunt, then yes – I do believe that. I am glad though that you find yourself free of any guilt." Her face had become drawn and pale and her eyes were rimmed with unshed tears. "If you will excuse me…I am meeting someone for dinner." With that, she curtseyed shallowly and strode away with a stiff back and clenched fists. The Elf watched her go, raging inwardly at the sheer idiocy of this situation.
"Brother?" The single word caused the Elf to jump and nearly lose his footing. Elladan stood at his left, eyeing him with a puzzled frown. Elrohir's stare quickly shifted to Áine, who had already ducked out of sight into the dining hall. "Elrohir? What troubles you?"
His brother's questions angered him. The Elf turned to face him, eyes dark. "Nothing!" he snapped harshly, not even trying to hide his resentment. Ignoring his brother's sudden blank stare, the younger twin started moving past him when a hand on his arm stopped him short.
Wordlessly, Elladan pulled him back to his quarters, slamming the door behind the pair of them. "What in Eru's name was that about?!" he spat, uncharacteristically angry.
"You startled me," Elrohir answered, replacing his angry mask for one of unperturbed genteelness.
"Do not think you can lie to me!" The Elf folded his arms and scowled darkly at his twin. "What exactly did I do to elicit such a cruel response from you, of all people?"
"You did naught, Elladan. I was merely surprised," Elrohir insisted, stubbornly refusing to speak truthfully.
Elladan marched over and stared him down, trembling with unimpeded rage. "Again you disgrace me with these false words! We are of one mind, Elrohir…why would you speak thusly to your own brother? I am no fool!"
"And yet you interfere in matters that concern you not!" countered the Elf angrily, casting aside the air of composure with little hesitance.
Elladan blinked once, a look of hurt passing across his eyes and marring his face. "Since when have you hidden aught from me?! I am no stranger who demands to know your secrets: I am your twin! Why do you fight me? What have I done?" His fury gave way to pain.
A twinge of guilt nicked Elrohir's heart at the sight of his brother's wounded mien and his own rage ebbed. "Goheno nin, muindor*. My anger is not meant for you," he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose.
"Then for whom, dare I ask, is it meant?"
His face flushed in a rare display of embarrassment, and he found that he could not look his elder brother in the eye. "Áine," he mumbled almost inaudibly.
Elladan's dark brows leapt to his hairline. "And pray tell what did she do to elicit such a response?" inquired the Elf incredulously.
"She…" Elrohir could not bring himself to divulge his reasoning, so great was his shame. He merely dropped his eyes to the tiled floor and bit his tongue, wincing slightly at the sting and the subsequent trickle of blood that pooled in his mouth.
"Aiya Eru*," breathed Elladan, eyes getting impossibly wider. "…You love her."
The Elf's head snapped up, shocked by his brother's forthright words. "What?! That is absurd!"
"Well, it is only logical. Why else would my brother, who is unmoved by the pleas of the enemy nor daunted by their threats, be so clearly reduced to unexplainable anger over a mortal? The conclusion is simple: you are in love with our little companion but cannot bring yourself to admit it because you either believe that she is better suited for the esteemed Captain of Gondor or that she feels for him what you feel for her. You have never been one to handle rejection well." Elladan shrugged offhandedly, calmly holding his brother's staggered gaze. "Be as offended as you wish, but dare deny my words, and I will not hold back."
Elrohir briefly considered it but relented a weary sigh instead. "Tis true…she deserves one of her own kind."
"And who are you to decide that?" countered Elladan pointedly. "She shares a lineage of kings whose beginnings were in the house of Elros. Thus, she is by default some part edhel*."
"Elladan, do you not realize what I would be asking of her if I were to reveal my feelings? If she did love Boromir, I would be putting her into a difficult position. I would not pressure her into choosing one over the other out of obligation. Not only that, but I would not risk our existing friendship over a miscommunication."
"Again, who are you to take on the responsibility of deciding how she will react? Love is uncertain, Elrohir. It would not be worth the risk if it were so easily dealt out as swords to an army. Wars would not be fought it if love were not perilous. She would be a fool not to realize your vulnerability in confessing so deep and serious an emotion. If it is her rejection you fear, there I cannot aid you; I can only offer my arm for support and my ears for listening. If you indeed love her as you say, I advise you to do something about it as soon as possible before you leave, else she be given the impression that you do not care for her and find comfort in the arms of the Man you consider your rival."
"So you do not think me irrational for being so quick to love?" questioned the Elf, teetering on the brink of indecision.
"Brother, if I did, I would be hypocritical. Beren and Lúthien, our own ancestors, fell in love at first glance. Indeed, they were persecuted because of it and suffered much due to their choice; understand, though, that it was not only their love that was the subject of such denigration, but also the idea of those two races joining. Because of them, we have the privilege of choice: to be one of the Edain or the Eldar. To use the very human vulgarity, you would be an ass to deny this opportunity."
His brother's encouraging words invigorated Elrohir. As soon as his doubt had come, swiftly it left him. "Thank you, Elladan" was all he said before nodding once and disappearing out the door into the twilight.
Áine exited the dining hall that night with a heavy heart. Boromir's attempts at making her feel more at ease had helped temper some of the hurt caused by Elrohir, but when he had excused himself from her presence to "attend to a private matter", she found that the solitude revived the previously suppressed anguish and intensified it to an almost unbearable extent. The Elf's callous dismissal of her after so intimate a moment had cut her to the quick. And here I thought he fancied me…shows what a dolt I am, she muttered inwardly, feeling very alone.
She followed a path into the woods surrounding the Elvish haven and discovered a little pavilion by the thundering falls. It sat on an isle in the middle of the River Bruinen, connected to the bank by a small bridge which arched over the water and down level with the ground mere feet away from the pergola's edge. Feeling a flicker of joy sputter in her disheartened spirit, Áine crossed the exquisite bridge to the covered gazebo and took a seat on one of the benches. She sat sideways, facing the waterfall, and closed her eyes, losing herself in the roar of the river. It had a healing quality to it: the noise drowned out her pain and the cooling spray of the falls ghosted over her warm face.
A warning stirred in her heart, and the maiden came back to herself reluctantly. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her realize that she was not alone. Elrohir stood before her, adorned for travel. Gone was his indigo tunic streaked with silver and his black trousers; he now wore a thin leather jerkin over a dark green tunic, brown trousers, bracers with golden inlay, and Elvish boots crafted from light but durable leather. A dark grey cloak covered his shoulders and his long white blade was strapped to his side. His ebony hair was teased into a half-plait, revealing thin braids that started at the base of his temples and joined in the back. His ashen gaze bore into her, piercing her soul. His face was partially hidden by the shadow of the falls, but she could almost distinguish his features in the veiled moonlight.
Trembling violently, Áine rose and dipped into a curtsey, dropping her eyes to the stone floor. "My lord," she whispered, struggling not to given in to her roiling emotions and cry all over again. She had not yet fully straightened when suddenly his hands were around her waist and his lips pressed against hers. The initial surprise wore off rather quickly as her desire reawakened with a vengeance; she pressed her body against his with a growl of pleasure, her hands twisting in his silky hair and her lips demanding more. She felt rather than heard his answering moan as he tightened his embrace and kissed deeper still.
Elrohir backed her up to the pillar nearest them and pinned her against it, hands traveling down to her slender waist to grip it tightly. Her lips were warm and pliant, and she tasted of spring. The scent of honeysuckle filled the air and the thundering falls strangely faded into the background; the pair was separated from reality… lost in their own world. His kisses grew frantic and she responded with equal passion, keeping one hand in his hair while letting the other explore. She traced over his chest and around to his back where she rested her roving hand against his shoulders, murmuring what he assumed was his name. So enraptured was he that he had forgotten it; ecstasy filled his being and clouded his thoughts.
Áine released his hair and caressed his jaw, breaking away to breathe, "Elrohir…" before being ensnared once again by the Elf's insistent lips. She did not protest in the slightest; rather, she started laughing and weeping as they kissed anew, bliss overwhelming her. She felt his joyous mirth rumble in his chest, and her delight was complete. Her head spun at a dizzying rate, keeping her from thinking properly and stealing her breath. She was forced to break away to gasp for air, still stroking his flushed cheek as she held his stormy gaze.
Taking this time to catch his breath as well, Elrohir took a step back but still maintained his hold on her. His heart was careening so vigorously that he could feel his chest move. It was several moments before he could form a coherent thought. With a gleeful grin, he took her hand and pulled her towards the bridge; they raced across and up the pebbled path to a small orchard overlooking the river. There, the Elf gathered her into his arms once more and smothered her with kisses, cradling the back of her head and pressing his free hand against the small of her back. She mirrored him without hesitation, trembling and giggling in exhilaration.
After a long while, they reluctantly ceased and stared into each other's eyes, both delirious with rapture. Elrohir was the first to speak. "I had come simply to apologize," he said unevenly, chuckling as her face turned a deep red and she looked away. The Elf cupped her jaw and tilted her face back to his, smiling tenderly. "Should I take this to mean that you forgive me?"
"Yes, my lord," she teased with a wink, still reeling from the passionate incident.
"Áine…" he murmured gently, eyes softening, "please do not be angry with me. I was very cruel this morning, and for that, I apologize profusely. I was afraid of being rejected." He spoke plainly and with great feeling.
"You are forgiven, silly Elf," she snickered in spite of herself. "However, I do wish to know what all this means."
The Elf released her chin and clasped his hands behind her back. "I found that words were lacking in depth, whereas my regret and guilt are beyond speech." At this, he worried his lower lip and let his gaze fall away.
Áine lifted a hand to gently caress his jaw, cradling his face as he had done with her. "It is not too much, Elrohir," she said simply, her voice a low murmur rich with emotion. "And you need not feel thusly. It was all a misunderstanding wrought with fear and uncertainty."
His posture relaxed and he let one of his hands drift up her back. "I feel terrible for hurting you as I did. I can only promise that I shall strive to keep from doing so in the future." A pause. "If I may ask something of you…"
"Anything, Elrohir."
The Elf closed his eyes and removed her hand. "I ask you to give me a chance: a chance to prove myself to you. I know that I have not been overly forward with my emotions nor have I minced words with you. However, I do greatly desire you and your company. In the short time I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance, I…" he halted momentarily, "I have fallen in love with you. I understand that you may feel surprised or distrusting of m—" He cut off abruptly when Áine pressed her fingers upon his lips. His heart skipped suddenly as her hand moved down to his chest, but he did not resume.
She held the Elf's gaze evenly, a faint smile gracing her lips. "You stray from the point: what is it you wish me to do?"
An almost imperceptible shudder passed through Elrohir, stealing his breath. A few moment's pause and he was himself again. "Forgive me. I ask that you let me contend for your heart."
"Who said you need to?" Her simple question stopped him short. He opened his mouth to speak yet found that he had no words. He watched her face closely, searching for any sign of pretense or obligation; he found none.
"I see that you are leaving soon for the Wilds again." Áine opted for a safe subject as she struggled to process this dramatic turn of events.
"Aye," he agreed, nodding slowly. "Tonight, in fact. I came to bid you farewell." The Elf fell silent, watching her intently. Her words were pointed and logical, but her face disclosed to him more than he knew she intended: she did feel very strongly for him but she feared something enough to hold her tongue. "Áine, I wish to know if I would be wasting my time and hurting my heart in pursuing you," Elrohir stated resolutely. When she cowered slightly at his words, he continued in a gentler tone. "I can see that there is something between us, however mild and undeveloped. I ask you to not be afraid of those feelings and to consider them in the weeks that I am away. Once I return, we will discuss this further and if you find that you do not share my affections, rest assured that I will trouble you no longer. Is this a fair pact?"
"It is, my lord." A smile lit up her face.
He pulled her upright and kissed her brow. "Hannon le, hirilnin," the Elf breathed quietly. "I am sorry that I hurt you."
"Elrohir," she scolded, voice suddenly smoky, "you need only ask for forgiveness once; after that, 'tis unnecessary." Her eyes sparkled in the starlight.
He swallowed once, waiting for his heart to slow before he spoke. "May I escort you to your chambers? The night waxes old and I can see that you tire." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently as she blushed and nodded quickly, her chest shaking with silenced mirth.
Áine accepted his proffered arm as they made their way back to her quarters. Upon reaching the threshold, she turned and gazed up at him, eyes begging for him to kiss her once more; Elrohir was all too glad to oblige. This kiss was less desperate and more blissful, full of promises of things to come. With great reluctance, the Elf pulled away and squeezed her hand. "Queldu, melanin*," he whispered before stepping back and vanishing into the inky night.
*Elvish translations*
Amada: Fool
Goheno nin, muindor: Forgive me, brother
Aiya Eru: Oh God
Edhel: Elf
Queldu, melanin: Goodnight, my love