Author's Note: I know this one took longer to come out than the others, but it was harder to write, I had lots of schoolwork, and I had to go back and check out the first meeting of Arwen and Aragorn, just enough to stay true, and so I wouldn't make a total fool out of myself. It's not the same as Tolkien's, of course. Where would be the fun in that? Don't get shocked yet, I'm going to take yet a few more plot twists Tolkien didn't exactly intend. ^_^ But the story will be better for them.
Tinuviel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Estel ran.
He ran as the deer had ran, as if fleeing for his life. But he wasn't afraid to be out after dark (except maybe for the fact that he was supposed to be home already, and preparing for the banquet), he wasn't afraid to be in the woods, not with the great full moon to light them. He ran because he felt like it, following the impulse as easily as a wild thing, his bow and quiver bouncing against his back, great striding leaps over fallen log and root. Even as he ran, the fallen leaves were quiet beneath his feet. He ran a few miles back towards the Great House until he reached the well-used trail. There he walked down the middle of it, moonlight dappling his back from above the trees. His muscles were still fresh and tingling from the short run; he sipped in the sweet, cool night air like miruvor.
When he had recaptured his breath, he sang, not the sweet, echoing sounds of elvish song, but pulling the melody from the pit of his soul, the elvish words given ruddy life and vitality by his strong human timbre. Out here, in the dark, he did not bother to soften his voice with elvish inflections.
**The leaves were long, the grass was green
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinuviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen
And light of stars was in her hair
And in her raiment glimmering.**
Estel heard the soft thump of horse's hooves on the fallen leaves of the trail behind him leading to the Great House, and he almost faltered in his song.
// Don't stop singing. Whoever it is will know you've heard, and they do not call a greeting. They mean to come up unnoticed. Where are the guards? Probably pulled in for banquet. But there's supposed to be someone... They will not pass unseen. Perhaps they do not mean harm, coming up by the road instead of through the woods. //
He almost lost the song, its lilt and rhythm, but then began the next verse as strongly as the first, his deepening mortal voice giving a pleasing sway to the elvish words. It was after twilight, and he had not heard the horse's footsteps until it was very close. Silently as he sang, he scolded himself for not being able to hear it approach. He thought to climb a tree and watch the rider pass, not out of cowardice, but as caution, to see what might be coming up the trail, but didn't. The moon had passed behind the clouds, and he did not have elvish eyes, to see in the unlit night. In the darkening times of the world, a fell stranger in Imladris would be rare, but not unheard of.
**There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves
And her hair like shadow following.**
The horse trotted closer at his back, and when it had come fairly near, he turned back, bow at close hand, not drawn, but ready to be, if needed. He was not as accurate as Legolas with the bow, but almost as quick. "Daro. Halt," he added in the Common Tongue, thinking that the rider may be a stranger to the Elven-lands.
There was a soft clicking of the tongue as the rider called the horse to a stop, and when Estel stepped forward a few paces to have a good look, he blushed a little.
"Tinuviel," he said softly, but not softly enough to whisper, and unable to help himself.
This was not a visiting guest to Rivendell, not from what he could see. No guest ever came after sunset, anyway. It was an elf-maiden, mounted on a white steed. Her hair was like spun ebony, pulled back partly from her pale, fair face, and her eyes were blue and deep as dark water lit by the reflection of stars. She wore the grey elven-cloaks and golden leaves of Lorien.
Estel bowed slightly, hoping the dark would hide his blush, for speaking so bluntly to a lady of the Golden Wood, as if she was a common waygoer.
"G-gentle nights to you, maiden, and good fortune. Estel of Halfelven at the beckon of you and yours," Estel stuttered, not so stricken by her beauty that he forgot his manners.
The she-elf laughed, a low sound like echoing bells. "And I am at your service, wandering Beren. (Estel blushed even harder at this.) So you must be the person I have come to honor, if you are the mortal they call Estel. But why did you call me Tinuviel?"
Estel raised his head. Her eyes were amused, but her expression was gentle. She wore a coronet at her brows, golden leaves and branches intertwining. He dared to meet her pleasant teasing.
"Because the moonlight is captured in your hair and your eyes hold the stars. You are as fair as they say, my lady, and mirror all the beauty of the night," he answered, smiling tentatively.
The elvish maiden laughed again, delighted. "And you have a silver tongue."
"If my words were unseemly, I apologize," Estel said, afraid maybe he had insulted her. He was still in his hunting garments, and disheveled from long hours in the woods and his run, and he had not had a chance to change for the banquet. He didn't very often care what others thought of him, as long as they thought him as capable as any of the Eldar, but this was one of the few times he wished he was dressed like a noble of court.
She flushed prettily and laughed again at the sincerity in his voice, wild roses blossoming in her cheeks, and shook her head.. "No, I'm pleased. And I'm Undomiel. Arwen of Halfelven."
"The Evenstar?" Estel bowed again, raising his right arm to his chest in an elvish honorance, and such chivalry out on a darkening forest trail, with no kind of nobility or court in sight, surprised Arwen into another laugh. She was afraid the young mortal would be offended, but he just smiled when he raised his face back to hers. His expression was shy and full of youthful, innocent honesty, his gray eyes beautiful, hair long in elvish fashion, pulled back, so dark it was some indeterminable color between brown and black, glossy as a raven's feather. A most agreeable face, she thought.
"Yes. I have heard much about you from my father's letters."
Estel laughed now, his voice soft. "I have heard almost nothing of you. I have lived in the Last Homely House for almost all of my life, raised as the son of Elrond, and I have never had the pleasure to meet my father's daughter. Now that I have, I'll escort you into the Great Hall. The woods are dark, and the times are dangerous."
Arwen laughed again, but this time there was a softest tone of indignation to it. "I know the name of almost every tree in this forest, the step of every gametrail, and I have crossed many leagues from Lorien to Imladris alone to come here. I can take care of myself, and the shadow does not hold such reign yet, not in these pure bright western lands. No evil would brave the ford. But thank you all the same, Estel."
Estel laughed again, cheerfully. Already, words were easy between them, and his reserve was fading quickly. It was easy to jest with her as it was to speak with Elladan or Elrohir. She even had the tilt of their heads, and their quick wit. It was all too easy for him to tell that they were blood kin. "Fair enough, my lady. But since you are so strong and able, perhaps I should stay at your side, and walk along your great shining stallion, a star in the woods, lest ill fortune should fall on me in the shadows, all the same."
"Very well, Estel," she replied smoothly, smiling as her pride was soothed, "but only if you do not call me 'lady' again. We are now known to each other, are we not, and members of the same house?"
"Ai, good," Estel answered, his voice still light. "Between my bow and the silver blade you carry concealed at your side, nothing would dare to come upon us."
Arwen started a little at that, her eyes widening in a way that reminded him of Elrond. "How did you-?"
"I saw the outline of it at your side when you pulled your horse to a stop. I was guarding the border of the Court. Seeing where you kept your weapon would be the first thing I would look for. We should go. I am going to be late to my own banquet, and Ada will scold me bitterly. Our arriving in a pair serves two counts; you will be escorted into court, as is proper for the daughter of a lord, and Ada will not yell at me in front of you. Perhaps he will forget to scold me at all, he'll be so happy to see you after so many years. So in that respect, we will both be served well by the arrangement."
"Of course," Arwen replied, a little shocked, both by the young man's familiar address of her father, and of his revealing her hidden weapon so easily. As naive as the boy seemed, he had obviously made it a point to let her know that he wasn't as innocent as he looked.
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Tinuviel
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Estel ran.
He ran as the deer had ran, as if fleeing for his life. But he wasn't afraid to be out after dark (except maybe for the fact that he was supposed to be home already, and preparing for the banquet), he wasn't afraid to be in the woods, not with the great full moon to light them. He ran because he felt like it, following the impulse as easily as a wild thing, his bow and quiver bouncing against his back, great striding leaps over fallen log and root. Even as he ran, the fallen leaves were quiet beneath his feet. He ran a few miles back towards the Great House until he reached the well-used trail. There he walked down the middle of it, moonlight dappling his back from above the trees. His muscles were still fresh and tingling from the short run; he sipped in the sweet, cool night air like miruvor.
When he had recaptured his breath, he sang, not the sweet, echoing sounds of elvish song, but pulling the melody from the pit of his soul, the elvish words given ruddy life and vitality by his strong human timbre. Out here, in the dark, he did not bother to soften his voice with elvish inflections.
**The leaves were long, the grass was green
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinuviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen
And light of stars was in her hair
And in her raiment glimmering.**
Estel heard the soft thump of horse's hooves on the fallen leaves of the trail behind him leading to the Great House, and he almost faltered in his song.
// Don't stop singing. Whoever it is will know you've heard, and they do not call a greeting. They mean to come up unnoticed. Where are the guards? Probably pulled in for banquet. But there's supposed to be someone... They will not pass unseen. Perhaps they do not mean harm, coming up by the road instead of through the woods. //
He almost lost the song, its lilt and rhythm, but then began the next verse as strongly as the first, his deepening mortal voice giving a pleasing sway to the elvish words. It was after twilight, and he had not heard the horse's footsteps until it was very close. Silently as he sang, he scolded himself for not being able to hear it approach. He thought to climb a tree and watch the rider pass, not out of cowardice, but as caution, to see what might be coming up the trail, but didn't. The moon had passed behind the clouds, and he did not have elvish eyes, to see in the unlit night. In the darkening times of the world, a fell stranger in Imladris would be rare, but not unheard of.
**There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves
And her hair like shadow following.**
The horse trotted closer at his back, and when it had come fairly near, he turned back, bow at close hand, not drawn, but ready to be, if needed. He was not as accurate as Legolas with the bow, but almost as quick. "Daro. Halt," he added in the Common Tongue, thinking that the rider may be a stranger to the Elven-lands.
There was a soft clicking of the tongue as the rider called the horse to a stop, and when Estel stepped forward a few paces to have a good look, he blushed a little.
"Tinuviel," he said softly, but not softly enough to whisper, and unable to help himself.
This was not a visiting guest to Rivendell, not from what he could see. No guest ever came after sunset, anyway. It was an elf-maiden, mounted on a white steed. Her hair was like spun ebony, pulled back partly from her pale, fair face, and her eyes were blue and deep as dark water lit by the reflection of stars. She wore the grey elven-cloaks and golden leaves of Lorien.
Estel bowed slightly, hoping the dark would hide his blush, for speaking so bluntly to a lady of the Golden Wood, as if she was a common waygoer.
"G-gentle nights to you, maiden, and good fortune. Estel of Halfelven at the beckon of you and yours," Estel stuttered, not so stricken by her beauty that he forgot his manners.
The she-elf laughed, a low sound like echoing bells. "And I am at your service, wandering Beren. (Estel blushed even harder at this.) So you must be the person I have come to honor, if you are the mortal they call Estel. But why did you call me Tinuviel?"
Estel raised his head. Her eyes were amused, but her expression was gentle. She wore a coronet at her brows, golden leaves and branches intertwining. He dared to meet her pleasant teasing.
"Because the moonlight is captured in your hair and your eyes hold the stars. You are as fair as they say, my lady, and mirror all the beauty of the night," he answered, smiling tentatively.
The elvish maiden laughed again, delighted. "And you have a silver tongue."
"If my words were unseemly, I apologize," Estel said, afraid maybe he had insulted her. He was still in his hunting garments, and disheveled from long hours in the woods and his run, and he had not had a chance to change for the banquet. He didn't very often care what others thought of him, as long as they thought him as capable as any of the Eldar, but this was one of the few times he wished he was dressed like a noble of court.
She flushed prettily and laughed again at the sincerity in his voice, wild roses blossoming in her cheeks, and shook her head.. "No, I'm pleased. And I'm Undomiel. Arwen of Halfelven."
"The Evenstar?" Estel bowed again, raising his right arm to his chest in an elvish honorance, and such chivalry out on a darkening forest trail, with no kind of nobility or court in sight, surprised Arwen into another laugh. She was afraid the young mortal would be offended, but he just smiled when he raised his face back to hers. His expression was shy and full of youthful, innocent honesty, his gray eyes beautiful, hair long in elvish fashion, pulled back, so dark it was some indeterminable color between brown and black, glossy as a raven's feather. A most agreeable face, she thought.
"Yes. I have heard much about you from my father's letters."
Estel laughed now, his voice soft. "I have heard almost nothing of you. I have lived in the Last Homely House for almost all of my life, raised as the son of Elrond, and I have never had the pleasure to meet my father's daughter. Now that I have, I'll escort you into the Great Hall. The woods are dark, and the times are dangerous."
Arwen laughed again, but this time there was a softest tone of indignation to it. "I know the name of almost every tree in this forest, the step of every gametrail, and I have crossed many leagues from Lorien to Imladris alone to come here. I can take care of myself, and the shadow does not hold such reign yet, not in these pure bright western lands. No evil would brave the ford. But thank you all the same, Estel."
Estel laughed again, cheerfully. Already, words were easy between them, and his reserve was fading quickly. It was easy to jest with her as it was to speak with Elladan or Elrohir. She even had the tilt of their heads, and their quick wit. It was all too easy for him to tell that they were blood kin. "Fair enough, my lady. But since you are so strong and able, perhaps I should stay at your side, and walk along your great shining stallion, a star in the woods, lest ill fortune should fall on me in the shadows, all the same."
"Very well, Estel," she replied smoothly, smiling as her pride was soothed, "but only if you do not call me 'lady' again. We are now known to each other, are we not, and members of the same house?"
"Ai, good," Estel answered, his voice still light. "Between my bow and the silver blade you carry concealed at your side, nothing would dare to come upon us."
Arwen started a little at that, her eyes widening in a way that reminded him of Elrond. "How did you-?"
"I saw the outline of it at your side when you pulled your horse to a stop. I was guarding the border of the Court. Seeing where you kept your weapon would be the first thing I would look for. We should go. I am going to be late to my own banquet, and Ada will scold me bitterly. Our arriving in a pair serves two counts; you will be escorted into court, as is proper for the daughter of a lord, and Ada will not yell at me in front of you. Perhaps he will forget to scold me at all, he'll be so happy to see you after so many years. So in that respect, we will both be served well by the arrangement."
"Of course," Arwen replied, a little shocked, both by the young man's familiar address of her father, and of his revealing her hidden weapon so easily. As naive as the boy seemed, he had obviously made it a point to let her know that he wasn't as innocent as he looked.
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