Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"I know why you're doing this, Elrohir," Jeren said with just the slightest edge to her voice.
"And why would that be?" he asked her. He glanced up for a moment to look into her eyes, but quickly returned his gaze to the edge of the sword he was inspecting. His attention was then directed back to his task at hand. "I should have had this blade to the smith weeks ago." He tested the edge with his thumb, but finally put the sword back in its sheath. "No matter; it will still do the task."
"You can try and change the subject, but I will not be led astray. You are only doing this to upset me; but I am telling you, your tactics are not working."
"And I'm telling you that I am not doing what you accuse me of, Jeren," he said, his eyes meeting hers again. "I go because it's what I do. You know that."
Her smile was sardonic. "How coincidental; those are almost exactly the words I used on you yesterday. You are going on this mission to give me a taste of what it feels like to be left behind to worry over someone I love. The problem is, I already know how that feels. Your strategy is not working on me. Your denial makes it plain that you are lying to yourself, if not to me."
"I am lying to no one. The need is there; I am simply fulfilling it; it is my task as a warrior who dwells in Imladris."
They were both in his room, and Elrohir was preparing his gear for leaving on the morrow with Glorfindel's warriors, to hunt and kill the Orcs that she had found a few days ago. Jeren walked away from him, throwing back over her shoulder, "Well, I am not going to pine and fret over you. I know you will return to me unharmed. I have the utmost confidence in your ability as a swordsman; unlike you, who do not think I have the ability to fight off a lamb." She couldn't help the hurt tone that was apparent in her voice.
He approached her on silent feet, reaching out and lightly gripping her right arm, which was now without the sling. "I used to have confidence in your abilities, Jeren, even though it pained me to watch you ride out to do battle. You were more than adequate with your sword and extremely good with your bow. But this," and here his grip tightened slightly around the elbow of her injured arm, "—this is why I no longer have any confidence in your skill for keeping yourself out of harm's way. You only have use of three of your fingers, and you know that this arm does not have the strength or the quick response that you need any longer. This," and he shook her arm gently for emphasis, "is why I do not want you scouting for the Imladris force."
She disengaged herself from his grasp, peeling his fingers from her arm, wanting to rip it out of his hand instead, but she knew she wasn't able to do that yet. Not only was it weak to start with, but that's where she'd been shot with an arrow just two days ago—the pain would be too great. Walking out onto the veranda, she said, "As soon as it heals, I will continue training. Its strength will return. I know it will."
He followed her outside and placed his hands onto her shoulders. She faced the valley, but her attention was on him. She tried to twist out of his grip, but he wouldn't allow her to.
"I am glad you look to the bright side of things, Jeren, but there comes a time when you must be realistic." His voice was calm, his tone detached, as if he was just stating the facts as they were. "Even if the strength returns to your arm, your fingers will never work again. Sooner or later you are going to have to admit to yourself that battling is no longer in your future."
She rounded on him then, her face stricken with pain, but also lit with defiance. "I do not know that, Elrohir; nor do you! You are trying to undermine my confidence, just so that you can have your way. You would keep me under lock and key if you could, just to insure my safety. If I should ever endeavor to be your wife, you can be assured it will not be as a lady of the house, sitting on velvet pillows with her embroidery in her lap, waiting for her valiant husband to return! I will die before I allow that to happen to me!"
"—Jeren, I did not mean—"
But his words were lost on her; she had already run from the room.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jeren lay awake, having slept fitfully for most of the night. It was quite early in the morning; so early she knew the warriors who were leaving today would still be abed. But they would leave in a few hours—and Elrohir would go with them.
Despite what she said to him in the heat of anger last evening, she did worry and fret over his departure—she'd just not wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She thought his going with the Imladris force now was a direct attempt at trying to give her a large dose of feeling the same way he had, when he'd watched her ride out on patrol. If only she could make him see that he didn't need to do that, because she already knew how it felt. She and her mother had watched as her father left them for months on end, never knowing whether he would return or not, just having to keep faith that he would. And she'd felt the same way when it had been Elrohir and Elladan riding away from Rivendell, back when she was in training, and they'd come home for rest or recuperation. They were Elves and their skill with the sword was great, but they could still be killed, and every time they rode away, there had been a small part of her wondering if she'd seen them for the final time.
All night long she had at turns been angry at him, and then sorrowful over the cross words they'd exchanged. In truth she was the only one who had said any cross words. He'd been kind, if cruel, in what he had said. The truth could be hard to hear, and she was afraid that he had told her exactly the truth: she would never be able to battle again.
She turned on her side, facing the veranda. It was still very dark, with no hint of morning creeping over the valley walls yet. A tear slipped down one of her cheeks, but she quickly wiped it away with the back of one hand.
Was she just wishful thinking? Was it fact that her arm would never be right, and she would not ever be able to defend herself properly?
As she pondered that question, her mind drifted back to the other day, when she'd been grappling on the ground with the Orc that had attacked her. She hadn't been thinking about her injured arm then, nor of its lack of strength. She'd not been thinking of anything at all, other than getting away. She'd kept her head—and her focus—even though she was scared to death. It had been her quick thinking—as well as being armed to the teeth—that had saved her life. Deep in her heart she felt that Elrohir was wrong. She had proved him wrong by killing that Orc, who, by all rights should have killed her. He'd had twice her weight and strength behind his attack.
But Elrohir still doubted her ability…
She sighed wistfully. Even being injured did not keep her from wanting to participate in this hunt. After all, the Orcs they were after were the ones she'd come across; the ones she'd reported to Lord Glorfindel. They were hers…
If only she were hale enough to go on this mission. But she was not—her arm was very sore from the arrow she'd taken, and she knew that she'd have to train for days, if not weeks, to work the stiffness out of it again.
But she knew that she could! She would! To blazes with what Elrohir thought!
And here she was, angry again…
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Jeren slowly woke up a few hours later, to see Elrohir's silhouette outlined against the growing light of the morning. He stood looking out over the valley, although everything was cloaked in semi-darkness. Perhaps, being an Elf, he could see outside, but she, being Human, still could not. There was just barely enough light to make his form visible to her.
He turned his face toward her, and when he realized that she was looking back at him, he walked to the bed and sat down beside her. Even in the dimness she could see the sadness that he wore like a shroud.
She reached out to touch his face, and he captured her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her palm. "I am sorry, Jeren," he said. "I—"
She placed her fingers over his lips, stopping his words. "No need for that, now," she said, which was something he often said to her when she felt bad about something.
He smiled. "Yes, there is need. I spoke out of turn. I am sorry for saying those things to you. I was letting my worry color my words. There is no reason for you to believe you will never battle again. You fought hand-to-hand with an Orc—his handprints remain vivid around your throat—and even with your weakened arm you are still alive to talk about it. I'd say you did a very good job of defending yourself against that Orc…" He looked thoughtful for a moment, but she could tell when something devilish to say had occurred to him. His eyes squinted slightly as he said, "Although you never mentioned how he managed to get the jump on you—and get his hands around your neck in the first place."
She smiled slyly at him then. "It wasn't easy. I had to practically throw myself at him."
He laughed. "It is good to see your smile." He looked outside then, as if judging the time he still had before he would go down to the stable to get Saedren ready for riding. "As for this mission, I promise, I did not decide to join Glorfindel out of any spite to you. I just cannot sit here idle, and not go and help the others. You do understand. I know you do."
"I do, Elrohir," she said, "I just wanted to keep you here with me, I suppose. A few hours ago, when I woke and could not sleep, I was lying here wishing I could go along with you and the others. It is hard to be a warrior and be left behind when a fight is at hand." She sat up then and he embraced her tenderly.
"I am trying to accept that, Jeren—that you are a warrior. I have been fighting it for a while now, but I see I am fighting a battle that I cannot win. Nor do I really want to. If I did, you would be unhappy, and I wouldn't have that for anything. So I am going to try and make peace with myself as to your choice of profession." He paused for a moment, his expression reflective, then said, "I have been thinking about how we might both be able to live with you becoming a scout."
She raised an eyebrow, her earlier excitement about it returning full force. "Really, Elrohir? What have you been thinking?"
"I still need to think on it some more—make sure it is something that I truly want to do. Then I will tell you about it—or ask you—which would be the more appropriate thing to do."
"Why not ask me about it now, and that way I can also be thinking it over, and then we can compare thoughts when you return?"
He looked at her intently for a moment or two, then nodded his head. "What I've been thinking about is possibly becoming a scout along with you. That way we would be together, and I would be assured you are as safe as you can possibly be, since you would be with me." He smiled arrogantly as he finished his comment.
She laughed at his total self-assurance, but sobered quickly. "I don't know, Elrohir," she said, frowning warily. "Then I will be worried about you. Your being unable to keep focused when we both fought in the same battle is in a roundabout way how we got to this point in the first place. I think we will be going in circles were we to try this. I will consider it, though. Like you, I needs think on it some more. There might be several reasons I really do not want to do this, I just have not thought of them yet."
He chuckled quietly, and glanced outside again. "That is well. But now, I must be going. Give a departing warrior a kiss that will see him through the cold nights he will be without you."
She grinned broadly, telling him, "The nights are not cold, Elrohir. Trust me; I've just been camping myself..."
He pulled her to him, pretending to be rough, but not succeeding. "Hush and kiss me."
So she did…
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"They were a stupid bunch, for sure; they'd not moved two leagues from where Jeren and Locien left them at the river," Glorfindel said, just before the music started in the Hall of Fire. He took a healthy drink of his wine. "It was one of the most straightforward missions I've ever been on. That is what good scouting garners."
While he'd not even looked at her when he'd made the remark, everyone knew Jeren was responsible for the thorough report that made those Orcs easily picked off. Since she was standing right beside him, she blushed and lowered her eyes.
They were all in the Hall of Fire, three nights after the Imladris warriors had set off on the mission to find and kill the Orcs that had chased Jeren and Locien halfway home. The warriors from Imladris had found the loathsome group the very day they'd set out, then spent the next day leisurely setting up plans for the kill. The following morning they'd done the work, taking the time to burn all the bodies and tend to their own wounded, which weren't many. And now they were celebrating the fact that no one was killed except Orcs, and the world was free of one more horde of the creatures.
Jeren had been elated when she saw them return, unable to believe that they'd been gone such a short while. Since she'd had nothing else to do, she had spent the past two afternoons waiting for their return on the back steps, as she generally did when the others left without her. She truly had not been expecting them back so soon, but being injured, she'd had no other tasks she could undertake—not even training by herself. So she'd used the time in the mornings to read—again—the book by Lord Aragorn about battle strategies. She could almost recite it by heart now. And in the late afternoons, she would wander to the back of the house, near the stables, and sit on the steps longing for Elrohir's return, although she would never let on that that was what she was doing.
"I did not do it alone," Jeren said to those gathered around them, who had raised their glasses to her. She spied Locien in the crowd and she wanted to make a toast to him, but she was afraid he would be more than reluctant to celebrate about anything concerning that day in the woods. Since he'd quit being part of the border patrol, she decided this whole incident was something he'd probably rather forget.
Saeldur and Feredir pulled Locien forward into their midst, and Elrohir gave the drink in his hand to the Elf. Locien's eyes met Jeren's and he smiled. He still had a mighty bruise on his temple where the arrow had grazed him, and stitches besides. But he looked considerably happier now than the last time she had seen him.
Elrohir grabbed Jeren's hand, and pulled her toward a quieter, more secluded corner of the hall. He took her glass of wine from her and placed it on a small table that sat in front of a nearby bench. His lips were soft on her mouth when he kissed her, and when they parted they were both wanting more.
"When I'm away from you I feel incomplete," he said, the backs of his fingers brushing her face.
She pulled him to her again, her lips hungry for his.
"Children," Lord Elrond said, when he materialized at their sides, "I would speak with you, please."
Jeren jumped back from Elrohir as if he were made of flame and she might get scorched by his nearness. Elrohir just tightened his jaw at his father's intrusion, letting his now empty arms fall to his sides.
"What is it, Father?" he asked, and anyone could have heard the irritation in his voice. Although he'd been civil to the Elf lord since they'd had words about Jeren leaving, he'd not quite forgiven his father for his part in Jeren's latest injury.
"Not here, if you do not mind," Elrond said. "Somewhere more private."
"If you are planning on giving us more lectures on the dangers of mixing our races by bonding, then I hardly see the point."
Elrond smiled, almost sadly, but said, "I have nothing like that in mind. The opposite, in fact. Would you hear me out?"
Jeren took Elrohir's hand, squeezing it before she made an answer. "Of course, Lord Elrond; where would we go?"
"Just follow me," he said, with another of those smiles that Jeren thought belonged only to her.
He led them upstairs, but when they reached the landing at the top, instead of going straight down the hall and to the bedchambers of the family, they took a right turn, going down a hallway that Jeren had hardly ever explored. It was the wing where guests were usually housed when they visited. They stopped at the very first door on the right, and Lord Elrond opened it, inviting them to enter before him.
Elrohir smiled and gave his father a knowing look. The lamps had been lit, so there was no question that this visit had been planned by the Elf lord. Jeren hadn't caught the exchange between the two Elves; she was too in awe of the beautiful room.
The door they'd entered opened into an elegant sitting room, with a dark blue brocade sofa and chair, each having tables for lamps beside them. The lamps themselves were works of art, their bases and shades made of leaded crystal, and when the lamps were lit, small rainbow reflections danced on the tabletops. The artwork on the walls was exquisite, too, and before Jeren had examined the paintings to her liking, the Elf lord was opening another door, further into the room.
Elrohir's hand at the small of her back urged her forward again, and when she entered the actual bedchamber, her jaw dropped. The bed was a huge, canopied affair, the drapes upon the frame done in a heavy midnight blue material. The furniture was made of the richest cherry wood, the burnished surfaces almost glowing from the care they'd been lavished with over their centuries of use. There was a huge wardrobe—larger than any Jeren had ever seen before—the carvings on it ornate and in intricate detail. There was a matching dressing table and various lamp tables throughout the room. A fireplace adorned one wall, and it did double-duty; it could be used from either the sitting room or the bedchamber.
The chamber itself was much like her own and Elrohir's, in that it opened out onto a spacious veranda, which was easily twice the size of both of theirs combined. There was a cushioned sofa in the middle of the stone floor and a larger table and chairs outside under the eave of the roof.
Elrohir looked at the Elf lord with gratitude. "Thank you, Father."
Jeren looked puzzled for a moment, glancing from one Elf to the other. Elrond explained. "I would have you and Elrohir housed here, if you would want it, as a bonding gift from his mother and me."
Jeren was stunned and didn't know what to say. So she smiled and walked the few steps to hug him closely. He embraced her in return, kissing the top of her head.
"I don't know how to thank you, my lord," she said as she stepped back, grasping Elrohir's hand tightly. "It is beautiful. We will cherish the gift, always."
"I know I have not been a supporter of your desire to bond, but since I can see that it is inevitable, I would not have us at odds any longer." Elrond looked to them both as he said this, but as he finished, his gaze was set upon his son. "I know it must seem as if I deign to run your life; but that is not so, Elrohir. I am your father. I have cherished you since the moment you were conceived. I cannot turn the emotion on or off at will. I hope that one day you and Jeren may also know this kind of love."
Elrond tentatively held his arms open, inviting his son's embrace, and Elrohir gladly accepted the overture. "Thank you, Father," he said again. "You will see; all will be well. Keep the faith you've always shown in me. I will not fail in this, in any facet."
Elrond stepped back, his face awash with emotion. "I will try to, Elrohir." He looked at them both again. "About your bonding, I would perform your rite, if you will have me do it. Or you can choose someone else of your liking. But it can be whenever you say. Tomorrow, if that is your will."
Elrohir smiled and looked at Jeren expectantly, awaiting her answer.
"I would love that, Lord Elrond," she said. Looking back to her betrothed, she asked, "Is tomorrow soon enough for you?"
Elrohir took her into his arms, saying, "Not really; but if it is your will, then I will abide by it."
She laughed, and then turning to Elrond said, "Tomorrow evening it shall be, if it can be arranged on such short notice."
"It can be," Elrond assured her. "Now, I will leave you to examine your new quarters more closely. Good night."
They bid him good night in return, and then walked hand in hand out onto their new veranda. Elrohir pulled her down onto the couch beside him and kissed her sweetly. "How do you like that?" he asked. "Not only has he come around, he has given us a splendid gift. I think he knew I always had my eye on this room."
Jeren laughed again, placing her hand on his chest. "It is amazing." She looked back over their shoulders in awe at the beautiful room. "My heart finally feels light again. I hated being in discord with him. I love him so much, and I knew I was hurting him…"
He kissed her again to stop her chatter. "All is well now. That is what is important."
He pulled her into his arms to rest against his shoulder, and together they sat, looking out over the beauty of nighttime in Imladris.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The next day seemed to start before the sun was up good, with Naith knocking on Jeren's door very early, waking her from a sound sleep.
"Come in," Jeren croaked, as she rubbed her eyes and sat up.
Naith came in all a-flutter, going directly to Jeren's wardrobe and throwing the doors wide. She thumbed through the clothes she found hanging there, and obviously found nothing to her liking. She all but slammed the wardrobe doors closed, and turned toward Jeren, her eyes almost frantic. "What were you planning to wear tonight?"
Jeren shook her head, not yet following the Elf's train of thought. "What are you talking about, Naith?" she asked groggily.
She and Elrohir had stayed late in 'their room' last night, talking and kissing, until Jeren told him if he wasn't planning on bonding right then, he was going to have leave her alone for the night. So he'd brought her back here, and he'd thought to part from her at her door, but he'd kissed her so deeply that Jeren had dragged him inside, threatening to finish what he had started—again. He'd finally left her in the wee hours of this morning—his virtue still intact—but barely.
"Do you not remember… your bonding rite?" Naith said, as if she were dropping hints, just waiting for the woman to catch on.
Jeren lay back down, pulling the covers up over her shoulders and nestling her face against her pillow again. "Oh, is that all…"
Naith marched to the bed and grabbed hold of the linen covering Jeren and gave it a quick pull, divesting the woman of any cover at all.
"Hey!" she wailed, hoisting herself up onto one elbow. "I'm not ready to get up yet. If this is my wedding day—excuse me, my bonding day—I should be allowed to sleep until I have slept my fill. Now go away!" She could not believe they were even discussing something as mundane as clothing—and so early in the morning, too.
And then she shot straight up in the bed. "Oh no!" she said, almost in a whisper. "I have nothing suitable, do I?"
"That is why I am here, and so early, too," Naith said, much more kindly than Jeren deserved. "If I can get you to come look at some of my gowns, we can have one of them altered and there will be no problem. Now will you get up?"
Naith did not have to ask Jeren twice. The woman shot from the bed and disappeared into her bathing room.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
An hour later Jeren was in the dining hall to break her fast with everyone else. She did not know if Elves held to the same superstitions as Humans did, such as the husband-to-be not being able to see his intended before the rite, but right now she did not especially care. She was ravenous this morning, and no one and nothing was going to stop her from eating her fill.
She and Naith had gone to the Elf's closet and had found a suitable gown to be altered for Jeren's bonding rite. Unfortunately, Jeren did not have an eye for such things, so she was bound to Naith's rule and, to Jeren, the process had been a tedious string of trying on gown after gown, attempting to decide which color suited her and which did not; checking the cuts of the styles to see which was most flattering to her figure—and which was not.
She did not care—they all looked the same to her—fairly outlandish on a warrior. She was just short of despairing over the picture she would present to one and all at the rite later this evening. She'd never been one for frippery or dressing up, and the results always looked the same to her—as if she were just playing at dress-up, and not very good at it besides.
She sat at her regular place across from Elrohir, and he gave her a winning smile for it being so early in the morning. She tried to smile back, but wasn't sure she accomplished it. The meal went without much comment from anyone. Elrohir asked Glorfindel if he could spare some time for him and Jeren this morning. The ancient warrior looked surprised, but did not comment other than telling Elrohir that they could come to the armory right after this meal. And Lord Elrond confirmed the time and the place for the rite to occur. It would be held at sunset, in the family's garden, and then they would have a reception in the Hall of Fire. Dancing… Something Jeren knew naught of.
As they left the dining hall after eating, Elrohir took her hand and they went together to the armory. Glorfindel was already in his office, again pushing parchments and other papers into piles, that only he would be able to find anything in at any given point of time. He looked up at them as they entered the room.
"What has the two of you visiting the war room so early on the morning of your bonding?"
"War, Glorfindel," Elrohir stated plainly.
"So the two of you are already butting heads? I could have predicted that would happen."
Elrohir gave Glorfindel a scathing look, but then said, "No, Jeren and I are not at odds. But we do have something to discuss with you, and it does concern warring."
One of Glorfindel's brows rose slowly. "Speak, then."
"You have offered Jeren a position as scout with the Imladris force. She has accepted. As her betrothed, I object—strongly. What have you to offer to remedy this situation?"
"Do not bond with one another?" he asked innocently enough, although both Jeren and Elrohir could see he was jesting with them by the sardonic curl of his lips. He quickly sobered, and looking at Jeren, he said in all seriousness, "You should find someone to bond with who does not object. You are a natural-born scout, and to not use that talent because someone whines would be an errant path to follow."
Elrohir sighed, exasperated. "Glorfindel, I did not come in here to listen to you disparage me." He looked away in annoyance. When he had his anger controlled, he said, "Since you have no useful solutions to our problem, we have decided on one of our own. That is, unless you whine about it."
Glorfindel's jaw tightened perceptibly after that remark. "And what is this remedy you have come to present me with?" he asked, no longer in a jesting sort of mood at all.
"I would rejoin the force myself, and go along on with Jeren on her scouting missions—"
Glorfindel looked at Elrohir as if he'd just spouted blasphemy, but then he pinned his steely gaze on Jeren. "—what say you to this plan of his? Need you him in particular to babysit you?"
Jeren took a deep breath, not wanting to anger either of the Elves. "I do not need a sitter, my lord; I am fully capable of fulfilling the role as scout without Elrohir along. But it would ease his mind were he with me—at first. When he is able to see for himself there is naught to worry about, then he can cease the scouting and resume that which he usually does—ride with his brother and the Dúnedain."
"I did not agree to that, Jeren," Elrohir said in protest.
"Only because we had not gotten that far in the negotiation of it," she said diplomatically, but her expression was one that brooked no argument. "Even you must agree it is a good plan, if you feel you must keep watch over me at all."
Elrohir gave her a long look, letting her know that this 'negotiation' was not over, but then glanced back at Glorfindel. "Well, what do you say? Will you have me back with the force on a full-time—but temporary—basis?" Jeren smiled at his choice of words.
Glorfindel considered the prospect. He truly had no need or desire for either of the sons of Elrond to be under his command any more. Because that was the problem—they did not stay under his command. They tended to take on much too much responsibility, leaving him clueless at times as to what was or was not going to occur. That was no way to lead warriors.
After the twins had become seasoned fighters, they had begun to lead within the ranks, which was a noble trait, but at times the orders of the commander were cast aside in the process. The twins had not made bad decisions; it was just that it wasn't their rank at the time to take on such responsibility. It wasn't that Glorfindel resented their eagerness to lead; it was more that he needed order when it came to defenses. And even harsh discipline had not cured the twins of doing this. So he and Elrond had conferred at the time, and they had agreed that the twins needed the experience of command, so they had allowed them to take as much initiative as they would. They were never given the official title of co-commanders, but that was their task. The endeavor had definitely taxed Glorfindel's patience. He liked running a much tighter operation than one with a confused chain of command. A force needed only one leader—definitely not two or three.
The Elf lord looked at Jeren for quite a long while, as if wondering if her expertise at scouting was worth the trouble it might cause. After a few more moments of pondering, he asked Elrohir, "Only as a scout? You have no plans of taking command?"
Elrohir looked askance at Glorfindel for a minute, but quickly toned down his expression. He thought about his past history with Glorfindel, and had to admit that his old Arms Master had a valid question. At one time he and Elladan had commanded the Imladris force. It had been a subtle and informal coup, in that Glorfindel was the commander in name, and they conferred with him about strategies and timing, but he and Elladan would call the orders when orders were to be called.
Elrohir had not thought a great deal about Glorfindel possibly resenting that intrusion. He and Elladan had been young, and although there had been no formal changing of the command, they had felt it was their rightful due, that after they'd proved themselves in battle—both in bearing of arms and in directing skirmishes—that they should take the place at the head of Imladris' defenses. Actually, it had been Elladan's desire to lead that had taken them down that path. Elladan had been the true leader, and it was by his persuasion that Elrohir had gone along at all. Elladan had always been the stronger between the two of them when it came to most everything, and others naturally followed him—somewhat the same as Glorfindel.
That had been before their mother had been taken by Orcs, and before their fight against the beasts had become very personal. After their mother's rescue, their father thought it not wise that they command at all while their feelings ran so high, and that is when they took up with the Dúnedain. The Dúnedain already had a commander—their Chieftain—so there was no temptation there; no way for the twins—Elladan in particular—to try and take over.
But they had at times split from both groups, taking some volunteers—both seasoned warriors and novices from Imladris—and they would scout Orcs until they found some. Elladan seemed to need his thirst for leadership, as well as bloodlust, satisfied sometimes, and they would form independent hunting parties, directing the group on their own, calling their own commands, slaying Orcs in any way they felt necessary. That is what they had been doing when they'd come upon Jeren ten years ago. Since then, they'd not had the desire or the occasion to go off on their own again. They'd felt that riding with the Dúnedain, and having more contact with Estel, was more in line with their goals at this time in their lives. In truth, the longer Estel was Chieftain, the more content Elladan seemed in the role he now had, and having his brother more at ease was very valuable to Elrohir.
He had not thought that his old teacher had been that bothered back at the time when he and Elladan had assumed control of the Imladris force, but he could have been wrong. Nothing would be gained by the fight he would get from the Arms Master if he answered him now in the sarcastic way he wanted to answer. He had already pushed the boundaries between them this morning, and Glorfindel deserved more respect than Elrohir had shown him today. "I have no such plans. Scouting only."
"Jeren?" Glorfindel asked. "Is this what you want?"
She hesitated just the briefest moment, because it wasn't in truth what she really wanted. But it would make Elrohir feel better, and if she could show him personally that she was capable of defending herself, he would soon be out of her hair and she could resume with her plans. In truth, she feared the 'butting of heads' with Elrohir that Glorfindel had warned her about before. "I do want this, Lord Glorfindel," she finally answered.
Glorfindel didn't hesitate again in telling Elrohir plainly, "Very well. When Jeren starts, so do you—as a scout. You are both dismissed."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It was time.
The bonding rite was scheduled to begin in twenty minutes and Jeren was extremely nervous. It did not take a genius to figure out why she was so beside herself. She was wearing a borrowed gown and borrowed shoes, and her hair had been piled upon her head in a style so perfect that she did not even recognize herself when she glanced into the mirror. She was going to wed an Elf and Elves would be in attendance, and she would feel so out of place in comparison, even as dressed up as she was, that she didn't know if she'd be able to keep from fainting. In everyday life she was at ease with them all—she was who she was and dressed accordingly. But today, in an Elven gown and shoes, attending an Elven rite, she felt completely alien dressed as she was. A Woman masquerading as an Elleth? A warrior pretending to be a lady? No trace of the ranger or warrior could be detected in her at all right now.
She sighed. The fragrance of the flowers in the garland upon her head, while made from blossoms she usually found delightful, threatened to make her gag with its sweetness. She took another deep breath…
And Naith thrust a snifter of brandy at her. "Here, drink this," she said.
Jeren turned her nose up at the proffered drink, pushing it away with the palm of her hand. But Naith insisted. "You must relax, Jeren," she said. "You are as stiff as steel, and Elrohir is going bruise himself from head to toe if he tries to make love to you in the state you are in."
Jeren gasped at the Elleth, very surprised by the bawdy comment, but started laughing when the Elf did. Naith had been trying very hard to lighten Jeren's mood, and this was the first positive response she'd gotten from her since the woman had donned the gown. Naith pushed the glass into the Jeren's hand, guiding it to her lips and making sure she took a healthy sip. Jeren grimaced as the liquid fire went down her throat. She coughed once, but then took another sip of her own accord. After a few minutes, she began to feel the effects of the liquor—she was slowly relaxing.
In the next few minutes Jeren was going to meet Elrohir at the back of the house near the stables, so that they could ride in a coach, of all things, to the garden where the rite was to be held. Jeren did not see the need; she was still capable of walking, even in the fancy shoes she was wearing. But Naith insisted that Jeren had to ride to the garden. If she walked the entire way, there was every chance that she'd muss her hair or soil her gown or shoes.
Jeren couldn't remember a time in her life that she had ever even thought to worry about such things. She took another sip of the brandy.
Elrohir. Her heart quickened when she thought about him and how they would finally make love later tonight. It had been a long time in coming; but she thought, perhaps, the wait might have made the experience just that much sweeter.
Naith stood Jeren up before the mirror to admire her handiwork. The Elleth smiled broadly. "You're beautiful," she said sincerely.
"Well, that proves that I do not look at all like myself!" Jeren said, hoping that Naith would rise to her baiting, so that the tables would turn and she could now laugh at the Elf.
But Naith did not take up the challenge; she just stood there looking at Jeren. The woman was indeed beautiful. She wore a filmy gown of the lightest pink, with a low neckline that showed just the hint of cleavage. The bodice was snug, and it tapered to a point just below her waist. The skirt was not very full, the back much longer than the front, so that it flowed in a train behind her when she walked. The sleeves were fitted against her arms like a second skin, coming to a point on the tops of her hands, just below her wrists. It was a dress unlike anything that Jeren had ever worn before, and she feared that any misstep she might make would rip it to shreds.
On second thought, maybe riding to the rite was the right thing to do. She took one more sip of the brandy, licking her lips. She was growing to like this drink very well…
Naith had spent the entire afternoon trying to teach Jeren to 'glide' as she walked, not 'stomp', as if she were wearing her boots. They'd spent a good deal of time laughing, and that had helped ease some of Jeren's tension. Naith had even given her the basics of some of the less intricate dances, so that she could enjoy the reception after the rite. It wasn't as if Naith hadn't tried to teach her the dances before, but Jeren couldn't be persuaded to learn, back when she was younger. Jeren had then been put in a bathtub with fragrant oil added to the water, where she'd lazed for almost an hour. Then it was time for business—hair washing and drying and styling. All in all it had been a nice afternoon.
But now it was time…
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Jeren, why are you so tense?" Elrohir asked her, as he helped her into the coach that would carry them to their bonding ceremony. It was an impressive conveyance made of wood so pale as to appear white, drawn by two black horses. Their coats had been brushed until they gleamed.
The minute Jeren had seen Elrohir, her nerves came back full force. He was impeccable, and that had reminded her how very strange she appeared, no longer in her tunic and leggings, but dressed in this stunning gown. She tried to smile, but didn't think she'd accomplished her goal, especially when Elrohir's frown deepened.
She'd never seen him look so splendid! He was dressed all in white, from the formal robes of his station as a son of Elrond, to his white doeskin leggings and boots. A gold circlet sat on his brow. His hair was elaborately braided, much in the style of his father, giving him the air of nobility that he seldom had in his everyday life. As soon as Jeren was seated, he sat down beside her and the carriage started moving.
"Jeren?" he repeated, as he kissed her lightly, and then licked his lips. "Ah, brandy!" he said with a smile, but the smile dimmed when he added, "although you can't be drunk, as stiff as you are."
Jeren laughed at him then and she could see the relief on his face. His comment had reminded her of what Naith had jestingly said earlier. "I am just nervous, Elrohir," she finally admitted. "It isn't every day I dress up and get married, you know..."
He gazed at her appreciatively. "Everything about you is perfect," he said. "No need to feel self-conscious." He kissed her lightly again. "I always think you're beautiful, whether you're in leggings or—" he lifted his brows, "—nothing at all."
She laughed again, looking away as she blushed.
He took her hand in his and she watched him grow serious. "So, are you ready for this?" he asked. "I know our union will not be perfect, but unions seldom are."
Jeren smiled before she said, "Yes, Elrohir, and a thousand times yes—I am ready. More than ready. And I am going into our union with my eyes wide open. I know we will have difficulties—we always have, haven't we? But I think we have learned to compromise with one another very well. Along with a heart full of love, that's all one can ask for in a mate—someone who will listen and try to see the other's point of view."
He kissed her more deeply, and when he would have pulled away, she held him to her. When their lips broke apart slightly, she said, "But are you ready?" She'd whispered the question, her voice so sultry that there was no doubt as to what she meant.
He broke into a sunny smile that made Jeren laugh again, and then they both sat back in the coach to ride the rest of the way in happy silence.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
A/N: Again, thanks so much for the reviews. They really keep me going... yuemoon, heavenslilagl420, Southern Pride, American Pride, Duck, Nell, dr3, Shycoyotegirl, Song in the Woods, Livia09, Sadie Sil, Brandibuckeye, Lady Anne, Teacalm, and Elfinabottle.