A Cure for Love

Lea of Mirkwood

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you would find in the novels of J.R.R. Tolkien. Ciriel and Eleniel are mine, as are the random Elves you find walking around.

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2948, Rivendell

Smart versus pretty. That was really what it all came down to, thought Ciriel. Eleniel was pretty, generous, kind, sweet, well-meaning, stunning, ethereal, lovely, but not very smart. Ciriel was smart, quick-witted, prickly, caustic (as caustic as an Elf could be) but not very pretty. Unlike some of the lovely and mysterious dark-haired Elves, Ciriel felt quite plain. As far as an Elf could be, she was slightly plain. She had a heart shaped face with soft features and light pink lips, but she tended to fade into the background, especially with her sister around. People tended to follow Eleniel around with the puppy eyes, not Ciriel. She really wasn't put off by it, or jealous, or resenting. It was just a fact. Besides, Ciriel had found, to her delight, that many of the Elves who came to see her sister were really very interesting, and she could relate to them beyond Eleniel. Eleniel seemed restricted to the rings she had placed herself in; pretty things and songs. Ciriel had found that she could easily relate to them and that they could talk of ballads and history and battles and intelligent things. After a time, Ciriel found herself able to analyze her sister's way of acting, and could imitate it. It didn't work as well for her, because most of Eleniel's tactics involved flattery, and Ciriel was too straightforward for that. Her face gave it all away. She could conceal emotions sure enough, but couldn't bring herself to coquetry.

Ciriel sighed and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up over her head, feeling her able, fit muscles straining at the motion. She looked up at the stone ceiling and studied the patterns in the rock.

"Ciriel?"

Ciriel jerked her head back down, the legs of the chair thudding back onto the floor. Elladan stood at the end of the row. Mortals lucky enough to be admitted into the Last Homely House always wondered how she could tell the difference between the two. Elladan had a slightly narrower face and his dark eyebrows winged up more sharply. Elrohir had a slightly different face shape, more of an angle to his jaw.

"Yes, Elladan?" replied Ciriel, brushing a wisp of black hair out of her eyes. "What?"

He smiled easily. "Just thought I'd let you know that the Prince of Mirkwood has joined the legion of Eleniel's admirers."

Ciriel groaned. "I'd heard such stories about his intelligence, too."

Elladan sat down across the table from Ciriel, long legs stretched out comfortably. "Intelligence has nothing to do with it. I'm intelligent and I think your sister is pretty."

Ciriel shook her hand up and down. "That's different, Elladan. You're not..."

"Reduced to incoherence? Which he was."

"Exactly." Ciriel pressed the palm of her hand to the wooden table. "You understand."

"Do I?" asked Elladan. "What are you looking at today?"

Ciriel leaned forward and laid her torso flat on the table, hiding the parchments from view. Her cheek pressed against the wood and hands splayed over any text he might see, she said in a muffled voice," None of your business."

Elladan reached over and took her wrist in his hand, pulling upwards. Ciriel kept her hand pressed to the table as firmly as ever, and shook her head definitively. He tugged on her wrist again, and her hand lifted a few inches from the desk. He let it go and her hand hit the desk again with a thump. He chuckled and stood up.

"You're a strange one, Ciriel," he said solemnly. She lifted her head for a second and grinned cheekily, then laid her head back on the parchment.

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I was going to make this chapter longer, but I really wasn't getting anything right with how I wanted the next bit to go. Maybe later I'll come back and rewrite it, but I think it's sort of like a deleted scene. Not really essential, more fluff than anything. Oh well. My brain isn't working today. Better next luck time.

Oh yeah, and if you're reading this, I hope you read the appendices and know that a "C" in Elvish is pronounced like a "K." So it sounds like Kiriel, not cereal.

Feedback always appreciated, just not the mindless tirades of the ignorant.