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I own nothing. Just love Tolkien.

~oOo~

Saeran fought with the feelings that roiled around inside of her. The anticipation mixed with fear. He had left immediately after that fateful night without any word on when he would return, much less a good bye. Questions and doubt lingered in her mind and clouded her thoughts. Was there regret? How would he act when she sees him? What if there are others around? Does she pretend she feels nothing? She had sat here for nine days in confusion, not understanding the change that had come over her and no way to ask someone to explain it except through her innocently veiled questions. And the answers she had received had left her stunned. She regretted nothing, knowing in her heart she would have given herself to him regardless of the consequences. But he left her with no explanation, nothing, just a head that was swimming with an onslaught of emotions. One moment she was elated at the thought of seeing him and then another moment she felt as if she may sick up on the floor. It was not fair for her to be left alone to come to terms with this on her own, no one for her to turn to. No, she was not ready to see him yet. She was not some pet to be leashed for another's beck and call. This will be done on her terms, when she was ready. She just wished she did not already feel . . . so ready. The turmoil inside of her must have been obvious because even Hestil noticed.

"You look . . . green," she said to Saeran, concern in her expression. She took Saeran's face in her hands and studied her. Saeran pulled herself from Hestil's grasp nervously.

"I am . . . I will be fine, I just . . . something I ate perhaps," she struggled to lose Hestil's gaze. "A bath would help."

Hestil continued to study Saeran, looking her up and down. "Hmmm," she narrowed her eyes at her and agreed, "you are filthy."

Saeran gave Hestil a disparaging look.

"Save those looks for your son, they do not work on me," she folded her arms across her chest and stared at Saeran, one eyebrow raised. "Use the baths in the back; I will have Janneth warm some water for you."

Saeran remember the bath Hestil had in the back of the healing house that was used for patients and was suddenly grateful. She would be able to avoid the bath house and wash in private.

"I will warm the water, just ask Janneth to fetch some clothes from the keep if she would." Hestil laughed at that.

"That will never happen, for that child is terrified of the lords who dwell there. You had best see to that yourself, your bath will be ready when you return." Hestil turned around and began to busy herself with the kettles and calling for Janneth. She never saw the look of defeat come across Saeran's face. She would have to return to the keep now whether she wished to it or not.

~oOo~

The riders followed the pace their lord set to the keep and as they approached the gate they continued in as he broke off and remained outside. His horse Ectheldoth balked slightly at this, agitated at having to wait as all of his companions continued on inside. The animal was just as ready to return as the rest of the company was. Maedhros nudged him around and back to the front of the gate, turning him in the direction he wanted to see. He knew she was near, he could feel her pulling inside of him. He sought her out, allowing the bond to guide him till his sight fell on two figures on the side of the hill outside the keep. His vision was sharp and could see her clearly. She was sitting, her hands and face smudged with dirt, her hair pulled back in plaits on the side that were drawn into one thick braid down her back. It suited her, this earthy look she wore, and had the healer not been there with her he would have ridden up the hill and taken her there. She stared back down at him and although she could not have known it, she looked him in the eyes and it made him smile. He turned and spurred Ectheldoth into the keep. He had waited this long, he could wait a short time more.

~oOo~

Saeran did not want to enter through the main doors. She decided to try entering from the back through the kitchens. No matter what she did she would have to go past the main hall but it was big enough that she thought she could slip by without being noticed. When she crept through the outer door and stepped into the kitchen, the three elven men who were always there did not disappoint her with their reaction. They simply stopped what they were doing and stared as she crossed the room. She had become a little brazen with them lately, seeing as they never reacted to anything. As she walked past the nearest one, she raised her finger to her lips.

"Shhhhh," she whispered. "Not so loud."

She slipped out the door and into the corridor that led past the main hall. She came to the corner and peaked around. Some men moved about the hall but not the lords of the keep so she continued on. She ran to her room, terrified she would run into someone. When she reached the door she stopped abruptly, remembering the last two times he had silently entered the room without her knowledge. She slowly opened the door and looked in. No one was there. Immediately, she ran in and grabbed the first pile of clothing she saw and then ran out. She walked swiftly down the corridor to the main hall and froze. Voices floated from the hall now and she knew instantly who was there. Something pulled at the core of her being, threatening to drag her into the room against her will. She slowly looked around the corner. Several Noldo from the riding party were there, pulling out long tables to be seated. Elrond and Elros were seating themselves in the center of the room with Evon. Elrond had a small harp that he was plucking at while Elros went to sit on the ground with her son, both looking at some small figurines and, at the far end of the room near the entrance stood the brother's. They were having a conversation with Thannor that seemed very involved. She decided that this was as good a chance as any. She put her head down and walked swiftly across the back of the hall to the next corridor. She fought the urge to run so as not to pull any unwanted attention to herself. As she was walking she risked a glance over her shoulder and saw that no one had noticed and was just about to congratulate herself when she slammed into a wall. At least she had thought it was a wall until she realized that walls did not hold trays of glasses filled with drink. A tray of glasses filled with drink that now crashed to the ground with an earth shattering sound. Oh gods, she thought and looked in front of her to see one of the elven men who worked the kitchen with a startled expression on his face. She might have actually enjoyed that but for the fact that she realized that the main hall had gone completely quiet. Oh gods, she thought again and turned her head slowly towards the room. Every head had turned to the back of the room to see the cause of the ruckus. Several amused looks were cast her way and she looked at the elf she had run into to see him smiling slightly at her. He held his finger to his lips.

"Shhh," he whispered, "Not so loud."

Saeran prayed for a tremor, orcs, anything. "I am so sorry," she gasped, bending down to pick up the mess. "I did not mean to . . . oh, I am so sorry," she could feel his eyes on her. She could not think, she had to move, the bond in her was intense and she fought the urge to run to him with every fiber of her being. This was not going according to plan, not at all. "Please, let me just . . ." she felt a hand take hers and she looked up to see the elf from the kitchen giving her a concerned look as her eyes welled up with tears.

"Lav nye," he said gently and took the shards of glass from her hand. From behind her she heard Elros call out.

"Saeran," he called walking over to her. "Where have you been? We have been looking for you!" She turned to face him and saw that most everyone had gone back to whatever they had been doing before the back of room entertainment, except for one. One set of eyes at the front of the hall still watched. She felt a heat rush through her body and knew that she had to get out. She squeezed her eyes shut and darted into the corridor, Elros following behind her.

"Saeran, where are you going?" Elros called out and Saeran turned around, her desperation had reached its boiling point.

"I just want to take a bath!" she cried and ran down hallway. Elros stood there blinking in confusion for a moment before he returned to the main hall. He walked over to Elrond and shrugged.

"She wants to take a bath."

~oOo~

Saeran ran through the keep and out of the kitchen cursing her clumsiness the entire way. She did not understand what was happening to her. It was as if she had lost all self-restraint. She is a grown woman. She is in control of her being. She is not some child incapable of maintaining her composure. She wiped away the tears of frustration as she burst into the healing house, slamming the door behind her. Hestil and Janneth both spun around in surprise. Hestil gawked at her. She was out of breath and her overskirt was stained with wine.

"What happened?" she cried. "How did you manage to come back even filthier than when you left?" Saeran glowered at Hestil.

"Is the bath ready," she asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes, but the water is still cold."

"Good." Saeran pushed herself away from the door and stomped back towards the room.

After taking a cold bath Saeran felt more herself. She was back in control. She dried off and retrieved the dress she had randomly pulled out of the wardrobe. As soon as she looked at it though, she began to feel sick all over again. It was not the usual modest shift with apron type overskirt that she usually wore. This was a much finer garment. It was a grey so light that it could almost pass for silver. Fine embroidery adorned the neck and hem and when she put it on she felt even worse. The neck scooped out wide on her shoulders, dropping slightly in the back and hugged her form to below the waist before the skirt filled out. This was not random, she thought bitterly. Saeran let out a string of curses that brought Hestil and Janneth in the room. When the healer saw her she gasped and clasped her hands together at her mouth while Janneth practically squealed.

"You are beautiful!" she cried. "I will do your hair. Sit." Saeran would have protested if she thought it would do any good but she had resigned herself to the truth of her situation. It was absolutely and unconditionally out of her control. They loosely pulled her hair back, Hestil weaving fine silver strands along the sides, letting the rest dangle in her hair that hung free down her back. The two women stood back admiring their handy work when a sudden realization came to Hestil and she ran out of the room, rushing back in with something in her hand. She pulled Saeran to her feet and fixed a thin delicate silver belt low around her waist. Hestil nodded her approval while Janneth "oohed and aahed" to the point that Saeran thought she may strike her several times about the face. They sent her out as if sending out their daughter to her first festival. Saeran felt as if she were going to her doom.

She went back through the kitchens, hoping to slip in for dinner from the back unnoticed. As she walked through the kitchen, the usual three were there but to her surprise she was not met with stony expressions. Instead the three of them looked at her and stood up straight. The one she had run into smiled and lowered his head to her followed by the other three. Saeran gave him a flat look. She was just not in the mood.

Once she reached the end of the hallway she paused and took a deep breath. The bond pulled at her again, but this time she would control it. This time she would not lose herself to the longing. She was still her own person. But just to be safe, she walked around the corner very slowly, in case someone was standing there holding something that could break loudly. As she entered the hall she looked around. It was the busiest she had ever seen it. Tables had been set out for the men and elves of what remained of the brother's company. Almost instinctively though, her eyes were pulled to the center of the hall where the lords of the keep sat. As usual his eyes had found her before she ever saw him but this time she thought she saw a flash of . . . something cross his face. Or so she thought, because she blinked and it was gone and back was the indecipherable expression he always carried. Except for those eyes. His eyes never left her, leveling her very being as he stood up when she entered. Maglor, upon seeing his brother's reaction, turned to see what the cause was and when he saw Saeran he smiled and stood as well. Both lords of Amon Ereb standing had pulled the attention of many of their men in the room, and when they turned and saw Saeran, they stood out of respect for the lady who was entering. Saeran, who had been caught up in seeing Maedhros suddenly realized that everyone was standing and staring at her. She almost turned around when Elros materialized next to her.

"Would the lady allow me the honor of escorting her to her seat?" he grinned widely at her and she was grateful for him. As she took his arm he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"This is a much better entrance than earlier."

~oOo~

Maedhros stood at the front of the room next to Maglor and Thannor, not really paying attention to the conversation. His mind was elsewhere at the moment. The loud crash from the back of the hall had brought the conversation around to Saeran and her son. When he saw her run out, he would have gone after her if it had not been for his brother and Captain there next to him. It was then that Maglor had spoken of her.

"She is an Easterling," he said looking at Maedhros. Both Maedhros and Thannor snapped their head's around to look at him

"Easterling?" said Thannor, his brow furrowing. "You know this how?" Maedhros said nothing, he only returned his gaze to the back of the hall.

"She told me," said Maglor smoothly. "And not just any Easterling. She is a descendent of Bór." Thannor's brow now shot up in surprise. Maedhros turned slowly back to his brother, expression carefully controlled for Macalaurë could see much in a person.

"Of Bór?' said Thannor. "Father to Borthand and . . . " Thannor struggled for the names.

"Borlach and Borlad," said Maedhros staring at his brother.

"The same," replied Maglor , who returned Maedhros's stare just as steadily. "Her grandsire was Borlad."

Thannor shook his head. "What strange fate is this that the descendants of Bór have returned amongst us? Perhaps to repay a debt?"

"It is I who owe the debt then, for Bór and his sons died defending me. We will speak no more of this. This woman and her child are not of the filth of that tribe."

Maedhros walked away and took a seat in the center of the room. He remembered when the tribes of Bór and Ulfang first came to Beleriand from Eriador seeking lands to settle and he had given generously. They were wide and swarthy men, who were long and strong of arm with dark hair and eyes and grew great beards down their chests. Caranthir said there could be great valor in the race of Man and so Maedhros made alliance with them and the brothers trained them for war. Bór, he thought. Bór, chieftain of the tribe of easterlings who swore allegiance to myself and Maglor. Bór, who with his sons cheated the hope of Morgoth and remained loyal to their oath and died as a result. They stood against the machinations of the traitorous Ulflang and slew his sons Ulfast and Ulworth before they themselves were killed, but not before the damage had been done. An old familiar pain came into his chest and for a moment the comfort he had found in his bond was lost, the great empty loneliness returning. He looked down at the child at his feet who sat entertaining himself with the small marble figures Maedhros had given him earlier. Bór's great-great-grandson, he thought. Strange fate indeed.

Maglor and Thannor joined him moments later and Maedhros pulled himself from his pain. Elrond and Elros sat next to them listening to everything that was reported. Maedhros knew that in a few more years they would want to leave to join the effort. They were already becoming insistent on joining the next outing and even Maglor felt it may be time for them to accompany occasionally. Maedhros was against it though. They would slow them down and if one of them should get killed in their care the repercussions would be swift. He sighed and turned his mind away from the conversation and inwards. She was still there, he could still feel her. Her fëa was restless but still there. Bór's great-granddaughter, he thought. Was it through a treacherous tribe of men that he may know peace? The irony was not lost on him. He was not sure how much time had passed when he felt her return. He knew she lingered in the corridor and watched the back of the hall for her to enter only to find he was not prepared for what he saw. She came into the room and stood in the back. Gone was the girl he had seen earlier, covered in earth and laying in the sun. The woman before him now rivaled the light of any of the Valar to him and when her eyes found his found himself rising from his chair before he knew what he was doing. She was a vision to him, shining with the light of the stars in her hair and in the depths of her dark eyes. This was not a child of from a deceptive race of Men devoid of honor or dignity, she was a child of Ilúvatar descended from Varda herself and he was bound to her and she to him. She looked down and away and did not meet his gaze again and he cursed himself for staying away so long for he could see her doubt. He watched as the peredhil walked over to her and felt what he could only discern as jealousy as Elros offered her his arm. He felt the feeling intensify as he whispered some secret to her and she smiled, bringing her some small joy where he could not. He regained control over his emotions and lowered himself back down to his seat, resuming his feigned interest in the conversation around him. He could not look at her for if he did Macalaurë would know. Macalaurë, who knew all of his deepest secrets and darkest anguish. He could hide nothing from him and nor did he try. They shared their own bond in a way, though it was dark and filled with torment. But he was not ready to share this, not yet. It was much more likely that he already knew anyway and kept it to himself in that quiet way he has. The men in the hall began to slowly leave, paying their respects to the lords of the keep and their guests on their way out. As the people in the hall thinned Maedhros found himself staring at Saeran several times without knowing. He looked to her as she laughed at something Elros said. He watched her as she patiently listened to Elrond talk to her of the One and the awaking of his children along Lake Cuiviénen. He watched as her son showed her the small marble figures he played with and she studied them, examining the craftsmanship. She asked her son who gave them to him and blinked in surprise when he brightly answered her. She looked up at him and he felt his heart quicken and his face soften and almost gave into a smile. She stared into him and he felt he might be consumed, and he begged her for release. When she looked away to look at another figure that her son was holding up, his head dropped slightly, as if a line had been cut and found himself letting go a breath he had not realized he was holding. He turned towards the fire after that, willing himself not to look at her again lest he give himself away. He felt as if the night wore laboriously on. But he noticed fatigue began to take the child and the boy climbed on to his mother's lap where sleep eventually won over. She stood then with her son in her arms and bid them good night, but stopping in front of Maedhros before she left. Holding her son in one hand and the small satchel that held the tiny figures in the other, she spoke.

"My lord," she said and Maedhros fought the urge to look at her. "My lord, Evon said that you gave these to him but he must be mistaken. They are too fine a work for a child. I would return them to you before some damage is done." Maedhros waved the bag away, still looking at the fire.

"They were indeed a gift, take them. They are a child's plaything and he will have more use for them than I." While Maedhros never looked away from the fire, he was aware that Maglor stared pointedly at the satchel for he knew whose hands had tirelessly carved the tiny figures in there. She dropped her hand to her side and continued to stand before him. Did she not understand what she was doing?

"Thank you my lord," she said softly, "that is very kind." She turned and left and for the second time that night Maedhros let go the breath he did not realize he was holding. He watched as the peredhil followed her, the mother and her cubs.

~oOo~

Saeran placed the last of the figurines on the shelf above Evon's bed. The craftsmanship was exquisite. There were seven total, each one their own individual. One stood with a great hound next to him while another looked as if he were dressed for the forge, a smithy's hammer in his hand. Two of them looked almost identical but for some slight difference in their hunting apparel and another stood alone, arms folded across his chest and seemed to look down at her from where he stood on the shelf. But it was the last two that had caught her attention the most. One sat with a harp on his lap, his face turned up as if in song while the last stood with his hands resting on the hilt of a sword, the blade pointed down in the ground while his head was slightly lowered and his eyes closed, as if in prayer. She would have thought those two figures could be the lords of Amon Ereb but for the figures were carvings of youths. They were all young boys that did not look to be any older than the twins. She found them beautiful and hoped that Evon would treasure them. When she turned around she saw that the twins had taken up their usual posts in their room. Elrond sitting down to read while Elros flung himself on his bed. She turned back around and gave Evon a kiss on his forehead and crossed to the door. As she left Elrond called out to her.

"You look lovely tonight Saeran," he called from his corner. She looked back at him and smiled.

"You flatter me sir," she laughed. But Elros spoke up behind her.

"You do and everyone noticed," he said staring up at the ceiling.

She paused for moment, but both young men had returned to their own little worlds. She bid them good night and left. She walked down the corridor thinking on the events of the evening. Maedhros had not looked at her once after she had been seated. He had sat there, speaking to Maglor and Thannor in that strange language. The only time he had acknowledged her was when Evon had told her that Maedhros had given him the marble figures. She did not believe it at first but when she looked at him she knew. But when she looked in his eyes it seemed as if it pained him and she became confused all over again. She could not help but think that he had some regret with what he had done. Maglor had to have told him why she was here, of the dark deeds of her past. Did he think less of her now? Did he think that perhaps she would slip a knife into his chest as well? He had to know that she only did what she had to do. She came to the main hall and found it empty, but the silence that greeted her held no comfort tonight. She turned and walked hastily to her rooms, praying fervently that he would be there, but when she opened her door she found her rooms empty. Fear began to build inside her and tears threatened to flow. She had to see him. She knew his chambers were somewhere down here. This used to be his study after all so they could not be far. She would find him. He had walked into her rooms plenty of times without permission, she had earned the right. As she walked down the corridor she stopped, a sudden horrifying thought coming to her mind. What if she found him and he did not wish to see her? What if her actions had appalled him to the point of revulsion? No, she thought. I have done nothing wrong. I did what I had to and no one will stand in judgment of me. Anger started to build up now and she decided she would not hunt him down. He had found her before, he could find her again. It was not for her to roam the halls seeking him out. Suddenly a hand shot out of the dark and spun her around, the walls flying by in a blur. And when she felt his mouth press against hers, she kissed him back eagerly any and all pretense of defiance gone. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her to him with such force she thought she would never catch her breath. The bond between them pulsed and she buried her face into his neck, overwhelmed with joy as he lifted her up and carried her into his chambers.

Lav nye – Quenya - allow me/let me