Chapter Fourteen
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SUMMARY: It's midnight, and Daeron and Rhian walk home from the feast and indulge themselves in the joys of married life...
...but there is a knock at their door.
Legolas observes the arrival of the party from the Woodland Realm, and sees some old friends-
But nobody sees that they are being watched...
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'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe, just breathe,
Whoa breathe, just breathe
-"Breathe (2 a.m.)" by Anna Nalick
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Midnight, City of Dale, 31st of May 2944 T.A.
"Did you enjoy yourself, Hind Calen?" Daeron asked softly, as he put his arm around his wife's shoulders. The evening was clear and cool, and the streets were quiet, a nice contrast to the laughter and warmth from the Great Hall.
"I had a marvelous time," Rhian leaned into him, "but I think I'm a bit tipsy."
"I am certain of it," he smiled down at her. "But the flush in your cheeks only makes you more beautiful."
"You're just saying that because you want to get lucky when we get home."
"And if I do?"
"Then I would say, you're in luck." She giggled and wrapped her arm around his back.
Daeron had been amazed at how passionate Rhian could be when they were making love, and the first time she crawled on top of him and aggressively set the pace, he didn't last long from the excitement of her. Oh, to see his sweet girl be so bold! After everything she'd been through, Rhian trusted him to let her discover not only what pleased him, but what pleased herself, as well. They were perfect together.
Hannah and Ben had left earlier, and offered to take the baby with them, so Daeron quietly went into the downstairs nursery, lifted Darryn into his arms and they went upstairs to their rooms.
"Go on, Hind Calen; I will get him settled, then join you in a minute." He kissed her and went down the hall to the little boy's room to get him settled.
Darryn stirred a bit when he laid him down and pulled up his blankets, then sat up. "Ada? Where's the piggies?"
The Elf eased him back down. "They are waiting for you in your dreams, Ion nîn," he whispered, as he kissed the boy's hair. Darryn's eyes instantly closed again, and he rolled onto his stomach and stuck his rear end up in the air with his thumb in his mouth.
Daeron watched him with a contented smile, as he marveled at his son's sweet, angelic face.
Garth, Rhian's first husband, might have helped make him, but Daeron Adamarion wanted to be the making of him. He would make sure Darryn would know a life of love, of strength, and of purpose, and he thanked the Stars and the Valar for the privilege.
He left the room, leaving the door open just a crack, and then paused to send up a silent prayer Garth, wherever he was: I cannot say I will forgive you completely, but I will not tarnish my life with Rhian or Darryn by carrying hatred for you in my heart. I thank you for my wife and my son. May you find peace, wherever you are.
The wife he was so thankful for was waiting for him, so with a smile on his face, he went to his bedroom.
But she wasn't in bed. She was in her green robe, curled up in their comfortable stuffed chair, gazing thoughtfully out the window with her chin in her hand. The moonlight shone through the panes, bathing her profile in an ethereal aura, and highlighting the heavy curls of her hair in silver.
"I thought you could never look more beautiful than on our wedding day," he murmured softly, "but I am glad to be wrong."
At the sound of his voice, she turned her head and her face lit up with a wide smile. He toed off his boots, then padded over to kneel in front of her. "Ci velethril e-guil nîn, Hind Calen," he said, as he reached up to untie her robe. His Gwîb twitched hard when he saw her naked body underneath. "Let me worship you, Meleth nîn."
He ran his hands lightly over her thighs, her abdomen, the swell of her breasts, before he leaned in to take a nipple in his mouth. Rhian liked it when he sucked hard, and he did so as he pinched and rolled the other one. He felt her ribs rise with a gasp, and her hands buried themselves in his hair and pulled, just enough to excite him.
"Oh stars, yes…" she whimpered, as his other hand moved down and began to explore her moist folds. "I love you, so much."
He let go, reached up to kiss her, and smiled. "I see you are wet for me."
"Always, for you." She was panting slightly, and parted her legs wider, as he inserted one finger into her moist heat.
Daeron kissed his way down her stomach, pulled her hips forward a little, then reinserted two fingers and curled them upwards, before taking her in his mouth to fondle her clit with his tongue.
"Ahhhh!"
He looked up and watched as she threw her head back and moaned loudly. Her hands gripped the sides of the chair and she began to move her hips. "Oh, gods… just like that… oh…"
He stopped for a moment. "Touch yourself," he panted. "I want to see you."
As he continued to flick his tongue, her hands went to her breasts and she began to twist her nipples. Words were not possible now, and she was writhing and groaning with increasing urgency—
From downstairs, Daeron could hear a knock at the front door.
He groaned and lifted his head.
"Please, babe," she croaked, "you can't stop now— Oh, fuck yes!" Once again, she was a moaning mess as he vigorously resumed his ministrations. Her eyes were scrunched tight and her hips began to buck. "Oh, stars!" she cried, as her entire body went rigid, and her thighs squeezed together as she pulsed with incredible force around his fingers and against his tongue. He moaned as his Gwîb throbbed in time with his wife's body as he rode her orgasm with her. Somehow, she'd found the wherewithal to caress and massage the tips of his ears, which made him dizzy with desire.
But the knocking persisted.
"Oh, gods…" Rhian panted. "I'm sorry, babe, but whoever that is, will wake up Da and Hannah."
Daeron wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then leaned down for a deep kiss, plunging his tongue in her mouth. He tore himself from her with a groan. "Do not move. I will get rid of them and be right back."
"Mmmmm…" Her eyes were closed, as she melted into the chair. "Hurry back, and I'll make it up to you..."
"Hold on to that thought, Meleth nîn." Daeron raced down the steps to the front hall and wrenched the door open.
Turamarth stood on the porch, his hand still in the air, about to pound on the door again. The Elf's unsteady posture told him his cousin had been drinking. "I am sorry to wake you," he said, as he weaved slightly.
"You did not wake me," Daeron replied tersely.
"Were you busy?"
He quirked an eyebrow and gave his cousin a meaningful look.
"What?" Tur said. Then, "Ohhhh…"
"Can this wait until morning?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course; I am terribly sorry, Gwador." Turamarth's shoulders slumped and he turned to go.
Daeron tried to ignore the woebegone look on his cousin's face. He rolled his eyes and opened the door wider. "Wait," he said. "Come in and tell me what is wrong."
The Elf turned and followed Daeron through the dining room to the small kitchen table and urged him to sit, taking notice of his Gwador's woebegone features.
"You look like you need a drink," he said.
"I have had quite a bit, though I could use more…"
"I was thinking more along the lines of strong tea. I can smell your breath from here," he griped, as he got the stove going and put the kettle on. "What brings you here in the middle of the night?"
Tur swallowed. "I received some bad news, and I do not know where else to turn," he said in a very quiet voice. "I am sorry to bother you, Daeron. I should have realized you would be…busy."
This gave Daeron pause. How many times had Tur been there for him, to pick up after him, to encourage him, always giving him his unswerving support? His frustration was instantly replaced with shame; while he was upstairs giving thanks for his new life, he'd never thought to mention how grateful he was for his Gwador. He went over and put his arm around Turamarth's shoulders.
"I am here for you, always, you know that."
"Does that mean I can have some more wine?" Tur's joked did not reach his eyes.
"No." Daeron went to the cupboard and took down two mugs, then reached for the tea and a pot. "Tell me what is wrong, Mellon."
"I need some advice." Tur fiddled with his hands. "Can you tell me a bit about Evranin? When you were working in Lothlórien, you got to know the family, am I correct?"
"I did. Orlin is a good brother to Evvy, and very protective." He scooped in enough tea leaves to make the brew extra strong. "I also know you have taken a liking to her, so I asked Lord Thranduil if you could go with them tomorrow."
"As it turns out, now I wish you had not." Tur said glumly.
"What happened? She seems to like you, as well, so what is the problem?"
"Well, your friend Orlin failed to mention that Evvy is taken. When she returns home, she will accept the proposal of one of Lord Haldir's Wardens."
"What?" Daeron sat down on the chair opposite him. "Are you certain of this?"
"It is true!" Tur slammed his fist on the table, his face stricken. "Penlod told me."
"Please; keep your voice down," he hissed. "You will wake up everyone in the house, including my son!"
The Elf heaved a defeated sigh and ran his hand over his face. "I have only just met her, but she is…"
"Special?" Daeron offered helpfully. "I could tell the minute you met her, Tur. I saw you, when you kissed her hand; you 'felt' something, did you not?"
He nodded his head miserably. "It was like I had touched fire and ice at the same time. I have never felt anything like that before."
"It was the same with Sellwen, and Rhian. You felt the Ehtë Raumo; I am sure of it."
"But does that not mean something? Surely her brother knew I was taken with her, and neither said a word to anyone! If not for Penlod, I would still be making a fool of myself!"
"Daeron?"
Wrapped in her thick robe, Rhian entered the room and took in Turamarth's miserable countenance with a worried look. "What's wrong?"
"Actually, I am glad you are here." Daeron motioned for her to join them, despite Turamarth's reticent look. "No, Gwador, he rested his hand on Tur's forearm. "We need a female's perspective on this. Come sit, Hind Calen." The whistle on the kettle began singing, so he rose from his chair. "Would you like some tea?"
"No thanks, just water, please." She took the chair next to Tur and started to rub his back. "You look awful, love! What's going on?"
While Daeron poured out the tea and served it, they told her everything, including their dismay at Orlin's silence. "Why would they not tell anyone? It was cruel to lead him on like that!"
"Hmmm…" Rhian sat back and fiddled with her glass. "You know what I think?" she mused, then shook her head. "No, wait; first tell me about Orlin's and Evvy's Mam and Da. What are they like?"
"I can tell you what Penlod said," Tur offered. "Their mother is on the Lord and Lady's Council, and very strong-willed. Their father works with her in the libraries, and quiet-spoken, but he said they are both good people."
"Delos!" Daeron interjected vehemently. "That is the diplomatic answer, as he is bound by loyalty to his rulers. I am not, so I can tell you: Lady Vériel is a shrew!" he made a face. "I would never say that to Orlin or anyone from the Golden Wood, but I felt sorry for Lord Ohtar, their father."
"What's he like?" Rhian asked.
"Evranin takes after him: quiet spoken and taciturn. Lady Vériel has the habit of treating Ohtar's silence as lack of intelligence when what he is really doing is trying to keep the peace. I have gone to their home several times for dinner, and…" he shook his head. "Let us just say, I feel sorry for all three of them."
"Well, that's it then." Her look was grim. "It's not hard to figure out."
"What is?" Daeron asked.
"Figure what out?" Tur's eyebrow spiked.
She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Orlin had to talk Evvy into coming here, right?"
"Right…"
"I know Evvy likes you, Tur; I've spent time with her, and her face lights up whenever your name is mentioned."
"But—"
"But it's simple," Rhian shrugged. "Don't you get it? That mother… what's her name, again?"
"Vériel."
"Aye, that. Anyway, how much do you want to bet this Mam is trying to arrange her marriage to the Warden, and Orlin knows it? Maybe Evranin doesn't know how to stand up to that woman."
"Elf." Tur corrected.
"Whatever." She waved her hand. "Think about it; I was like Evvy, once, and look at me now!"
Daeron smiled at her. "This is true; look at you now…"
"I think Orlin is looking out for his sister the same way you did, when you left for a year. That girl—"
"Elf." Turamarth raised his eyebrows.
"You know what I mean. Orlin's looking out for his baby sister and dragged her here hoping she'd see a bigger world, and maybe learn about herself a little bit. I'll bet he was hoping she'd meet somebody like you!"
"You may have a point." Daeron mused. "While it is true that most Elves marry for love, that is not always the case. And not every Elven marriage ends up happy, even if love is involved."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Fëanor and his wife Nerdanel were very much in love at first, but his temperament caused them to become estranged in Valinor. She left him and moved away. In Middle Earth, we know the story of Eöl and Aredhel. He forsook the day and would only allow his wife and son to live in the twilight. She took their son Maeglin to live in Aran Thingol'sCourt.
"Could this Vériel force Evvy to marry him if she didn't want to?"
Daeron shook his head. "It would be akin to rape and that could end her life."
"What if this Warden is a conniving, charming social climber, like my first husband, and convinces her she's in love with him?"
"It would be more likely that Lady Vériel would manipulate her into giving consent."
"But how do you know this Warden isn't in cahoots with her?" Rhian persisted.
"'Cahoots?'" Tur's look was skeptical. "What does that mean?"
"It means the Lady Whatever and the Warden are working together to get Evvy to do what they want. Does this man—"
"Elf."
She stuck out her tongue at Turamarth. "Does this Elf need money, or something?"
"I suspect it is a question of status, rather than riches." Daeron told them. The Wardens of the Golden Wood are held in the highest esteem, Hind Calen, and to marry one is considered a great honor." Daeron sipped his tea. "Wardens have a strict honor code, just as Guardians do. I have no doubt that if she were to marry this Elf, she would be treated with the utmost respect. Haldir would not allow anything less."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Turamarth buried his face in his hands. "Perhaps I should stay here and…"
"No!" Rhian jabbed him in the ribs. "Now you have to go!"
"He may have a point, Meleth nîn." Daeron rubbed his chin. "There is a bigger issue, here."
"What could possibly be more important than love?"
"Turamarth is a Guardian, and he represents King Thranduil at all times. If his presence in Lothlórien causes a problem, it could turn into a diplomatic incident."
"You can't be serious!" Rhian shook her head. "This has nothing to do with politics!"
"But it does," he said patiently. "Our people are guests in their realm, and Lady Vériel could make a great deal of trouble for the Lord and Lady, if she thought we were meddling in her business."
Her face fell. "That fucking bitch!"
"Do you kiss your son with that mouth?" Turamarth quipped.
"Oh, shut up." She smacked his shoulder, then sighed. "Actually, Daeron has a good point. Why don't you go see Lord Thranduil first thing in the morning? Tell him everything you know; if he says stay, then we'll help you figure out something else, but if he says go, then go, dammit!"
"She is right, Gwador." Daeron nodded his head. "You will need Lord Thranduil's support, whatever happens."
Turamarth considered, then nodded his head. "Then that is what I will do." He got up, and set his cup in the sink. "I should be going… I am sorry to wake you, but I am grateful you talked to me."
Rhian went to him and put her hand on his arm. "You're all packed, right?"
"Of course." He smiled. "You know me."
"Then you're staying here tonight. We've got a guest room upstairs, and it's all ready for you."
"But I could not impose..."
"Stop." She began to pull him along. "You're family, and you're staying here. You're still half-drunk, and I don't want you walking through the streets alone. Daeron can help you get rid of your hangover in the morning before you see the King, and Darryn will be thrilled to see his Uncle Tur. Now come on, you. Daeron, why don't you leave the dishes; I can get them in the morning."
"That is all right, Meleth nîn; I will be up shortly." Daeron smiled at his wife as she fussed over his cousin, he was filled with pride and thankfulness. Since they had returned from their honeymoon, Rhian had been going out of her way to make sure Turamarth never felt left out or lonely, and he could see how much it made his Gwador feel better.
A, de melin!
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City of Dale, 1st of June 2944 T.A.
The wedding party was due to gather in the Courtyard in less than an hour, and Thranduil had just come down the Grand Staircase, to find Turamarth dressed and ready, but looking anxious.
"Might I speak with you privately, My Lord?"
"Certainly. Follow me." He led the Guardian to the Hall behind the Staircase and into his office. "Make it quick, Lieutenant; there is much to do yet. Are you packed?"
"I am, but I do not think it would be appropriate for me to accompany the caravan."
"Why do you say this?" Thranduil was confused. "Things are all taken care of, so if it is a question of duty..."
"It is not that, My Lord. I…" Turamarth fumbled for words, then blurted. "I would not trouble you with such a personal problem, but I think my presence there could cause strained relations between our Kingdoms."
"What?" Thranduil was incredulous. "Explain yourself!"
After the Guardian explained everything, Thranduil put his fingers to his chin. "I see."
Turamarth squared his shoulders. "Aran nîn, first and foremost, I am a Guardian of the Woodland Realm: if my presence could cause even a hint of impropriety, then I have no choice but to recuse myself from the traveling party."
Thranduil sighed. "While I do not doubt Daeron's assessment of Evranin's mother, I also know Celeborn. He and Galadriel would never allow anyone in their Realm to be forced into an unhappy marriage, and risk the emotional harm of her subjects, even if it is between a mother and daughter."
"But why does the Lady allow such behavior?"
"Galadriel does nothing without purpose, so you and I are going to have to trust her." He put his hands on Turamarth's shoulders. "Mellon nîn, go with my blessing; find out where this path leads. But no matter what happens, I expect your behavior to bring honor to the Woodland Realm, is that clear, Lieutenant?"
"My duty to you comes first, Aran nîn. I will not fail you."
"I know you will not. I also have a task for you: The Elf called 'Beleg,'" he gave Tur a meaningful look, "is currently in the Golden Wood, so you must make sure our people give no indication of his…"
Turamarth understood immediately. "I will see it done, My Lord."
Thranduil searched for the right words. "If you would, upon your return, tell me how he is?"
"Of course, I will. Do you have a message for him?"
The Elvenking sighed. "If, and only if he asks, simply say I hope he is well, nothing more."
"I understand, My Lord."
"Galu, Mellon nîn." The Elvenking encouraged. "Galo Anor erin râd gîn."
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Lothlórien, 12th of June 2944 T.A.
The trip home should have seemed long and tiring, but Evranin hardly wanted it to end! She enjoyed her days in the saddle, under sunny skies, but her favorite time was the evening, when they made camp.
As the highest ranking officer, Marchwarden Haldir was in charge, and made sure the soldiers rotated their positions around the perimeter of the group as they rode during the day and kept careful watch at night. It left little time for conversation with Turamarth, but when he was able to sit with them around the fires, she and Orlin enjoyed his company. He was friendly, had a wonderful sense of humor, and was full of stories of his family and life at the Palace. All her normal shyness had evaporated around the Guardian, and she felt at ease with him. Everyone she met on this trip was wonderful!
"Are you glad to be here?" Orlin asked her one night as they were walking to the tent she was sharing with Ivran's mother.
"I don't know," she took his arm and leaned on him.
Her brother laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. "I asked you the same question when we were traveling here, and you said the same thing. Now, I think your words have a different meaning, do they not?" He smiled down at her. "You, Aewpîn, have had your first adventure! What do you think of it?"
"I cannot explain how different I feel. I love our home, of course, but all my life I have read about people and places; it is something else entirely to see things for myself!" She heaved a sigh. "I almost do not want to go back…"
"I am forgiven for making you come, then?" He teased.
"You are," she smiled up at him. "What did you think of our adventure?"
"Much the same. I have traveled before, but when I return, I see things from a different perspective; I like feeling like I am a part of a bigger world, and see what life can truly be like. I think it changes me for the good, and I was hoping it would do the same for you."
"Perhaps. I think I know myself better, although Naneth will probably not be pleased."
"She was not pleased when the Lady asked if you could join me, I know that much." He grinned. "I can only imagine what Adar is going through. But Evvy," he stopped and held her hands. "I do not want to tell you whether you should marry Mahtan or not. He is a skilled Warden and an honorable Elf, and he would make a good husband, to anyone who chooses him."
"He would. I like him very much; I always did…"
"But is that enough?" He said earnestly. "You deserve to be with someone you truly love, and who loves you back. Now you have had some time and space to ask yourself: are you considering saying 'Yes' because you wish it, or because our mother wishes it for you?"
Evranin's stomach began to churn with anxiety. "But you know how she is! She will not stop until she gets her way; if I go against her wishes, she would make my life miserable, you know this! And Mahtan will be so hurt…"
"So you would consider marriage, to bond with someone, simply because you want to avoid a scene with Naneth? Do you not think Mahtan deserves to be with someone who truly loves him? I do not think you see him as more than a friend, Little Bird, and if you tell me you honestly do not wish to marry him, I will not allow Naneth to force you into anything, I promise! I will ask the Lord and Lady to intervene, if I have to. You are of age, and you do not need our parents' consent to marry or not."
"Oh, thank you, Orlin…" she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. "Gi melin, Gwanûr."
"I love you too, Evvy." He held her tight. "But you have spent too much time huddled inside, surrounded by your books. It is time to stretch your wings and fly by your own power, and see where the winds take you."
"What if I fall?"
"Then I will catch you," he rested his cheek on her head. "I will take care of you, until you are strong enough to try it again."
She set her chin against his chest and smiled up at him. "What if I don't fall, but want to fly away to another land?"
"You mean, to Dale? With a certain Russet-haired Guardian who is a terrible babysitter?"
"Perhaps." She giggled. "I think… I really like him, Orlin."
"I know. If he is your One, Evvy, then it is a good choice."
"But do you think he feels the same way?"
"I do. I think Turamarth thinks you are perfect, just the way you are, and you have blossomed beautifully since we came." They stopped when they reached her small tent, and he kissed her cheek. "Have a good sleep, Aewpîn nîn. We should reach the borders of our Wood tomorrow."
"Good night, Orlin." She smiled happily and went in.
No one saw the Russet-Haired Guardian, who had been standing watch nearby, but if they did, they couldn't miss his wide smile, as he stood for the rest of his shift.
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Lothlórien, 13th of June 2944 T.A.
Legolas scurried down the steps to the forest floor and went to meet the Wedding Party, led by Haldir and Orophin, then the Guardians. He grinned to see his old friends, and waited on the sidelines with the rest of the crowd, as Ivran and his parents were met by Cwën and hers, along with the Lord and Lady.
Once the short ceremony was over, Turamarth came over and nearly tackled him with a hug. "Beleg, you sprout! How are you?" he grinned. "I missed you!"
"I missed your ugly face," he told Tur.
"You speak of Daeron; I am the pretty one, remember?" the Lieutenant grinned.
Soon, they were joined by Ruvyn, Nualë and two other Guardians, and though they addressed him with a false name, their affection for him was real. In the Palace of the Woodland Realm, these Elves treated him with deference and respect due his station, but after working for centuries side-by-side in a forest full of darkness and danger, it was the deep trust and comradery that kept them all alive, that helped them to blend their skills effortlessly. Their friendships were deep and lasting, and Legolas had missed them!
"How is your ugly cousin?" he joked.
"He is married now, did you hear?"
"Surely not!"
"He is, to a beautiful subject of Dale, and I have a small nephew to spoil, now."
"A… he married a Woman?" Legolas's eyes widened, then he said, "Where are you staying?"
"In the barracks with Ruvyn. Ivran will be staying with his parents."
"Let me help you all get settled, then I will take you to my rooms where we can visit."
The impromptu party in Legolas's talan lasted until nearly dawn, Haldir and Rúmil joined them, as the Elven Prince was caught up on the news of his friends. It took a while to convince him that the news of Ermon's and Elénaril's triplets was not a joke, neither were the various exploits of Daeron's Stag Night, after Haldir's wine was consumed.
By silent agreement, no one brought up the subject of his father, or Tauriel, and for that, Legolas was grateful. Tonight was meant for old friends, and it did much to lift his spirits. He missed his home, more than he wanted to admit.
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Luinrandir reached the borders of Lothlórien just as darkness fell, and stopped for a few moments and smiled and a sigh of relief. At last!
This is the place; but how to get in? He could sense a powerful presence protecting this forest, and though not as strong as Queen Melian's Girdle of protection around Doriath. He could easily slip into this land unseen, but how to keep the Lady from detecting his presence?
There must be a way! he had come this far, over many miles on his quest, and he would not give up so easily.
He could not. His Lord would not accept failure of any kind, so his choices were to fulfill his mission for his Master or die in the attempt. To do otherwise would mean… He shuddered, too afraid to contemplate the alternative.
No, he resolved to himself, sooner or later, an opportunity will present itself. I know it.
He was patient.
He could wait.
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ELVENTRANSLATIONS:
Hervess nîn – My wife
Ci velethril e-guil nîn, Hind Calen – You are the love of my life, Green Eyes
Ehtë Raumo – (Q.) "Lightning Bolt" (lit. "Storm Spear") Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.
Delos! – Loathing!
A, de melin! - Oh, he loved her!
Galu, Mellon nîn – Blessings, My Friend
Galo Anor erin râd gîn – May the Sun shine upon your path
Aewpîn – Tiny bird," Orlin's pet name for Evranin
Gwanûr – brother, relative
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