Zerameth was dreadfully bored as she sat across from Lady Northiel sipping herbal tea and listening to the adults' talk.  Her and Addrynnyn exchanged glances and she suppressed a smile, then she looked back to his mother who was speaking.  They were, of course, speaking of politics once again, which were an incredible bore on both of the young mortals.  After she had put up with it for fifteen more minutes, Zerameth finally looked to her mother when all was silent, and said somewhat quietly, "May I be excused, mother?"

            Arwen nodded.  "Go on."

            Addrynnyn stood.  "I shall escort you, my lady."

            Zerameth smiled, because she knew that he was as excited to get out of the room as she was.  She wondered what would have happened had she refused his service.  Of course, Zerameth was not that cruel to do that to her betrothed, but if she had… He probably would not speak to me for a year, she concluded to herself.

            "We will see you at dinner, then," Lady Northiel stated.

            Zerameth nodded politely.  "Yes, you shall."  She took Addrynnyn's offered arm and they walked out of the room, and once the door was closed she let go of it and laughed.  He joined her.

            "Escort me?!" she demanded of him.  " 'Tis my kingdom!"

            "What was I supposed to say?" the prince asked.  "I needed to get out of there as much as you did!"

            "Well, I suppose, but you cannot deny that that was a horrible excuse."

            "You know, you could have given me some warning.  It was such short notice that I did not know what to say.  What would you have done?"

            "I would not have been the second person to leave."

            "Well, then, what now?"

            Zerameth smiled.  "You know what now, Addrynnyn."  She ran off ahead of him, towards the doors that lead outside.  He followed her outside and then into a shed, where the weapons were all stored.

            "You are to combat in a dress?" Addrynnyn asked.  "What would your mother say?"

            "My mother did many things in a dress," Zerameth replied, drawing her favorite sword, Naymet.  She had fought a great many battles with Naymet, all of them simply practice and no more.  She was never allowed to fight for real, of course, but her and Yrinvan were very competitive back when he'd been alive, and she defeated him many times – and bore many defeats – holding this exact sword.  "She rescued Fr-"

            "Frodo Baggins himself in a dress," Addrynnyn put in.  "Yes, I know.  Without her, the War of the Ring should have failed, for it was she that brought Frodo to Rivendell, where there Lord Elrond Halfelven healed him so that he was able to continue.  I know, I know."  (A/N: This story in general is not necessarily based on the movie only, but I will use that bit since it fits with their conversation.)

            Zerameth smiled.  "Choose a sword."

            "They all look the same."

            "Would you like me to select one for you?"

            Addrynnyn shook his head and approached one of them that didn't particularly stand out.  He gazed at it for a bit, then took it off the wall.  "This one will do nicely."

            "You do not want an elven sword?  They are lighter, and sharper."

            "I do not care about sharpness, and neither should you at the moment," Addrynnyn replied.  "As for weight, training with burdensome swords will make fighting with lighter ones that much easier."

            "All right.  Come, now."  Zerameth walked outside and Addrynnyn tailed behind.  Once there, they began to fight.  Addrynnyn did well, but Zerameth defeated him once again.  He rarely won sword battles with his betrothed, for his main specialty was archery.  Likewise, she had never beaten him in an archery competition.

            " 'Tis a wonder to myself why I let you beat me time and time again," Addrynnyn said as he backed away from the tip of her sword.

            Zerameth smiled.  "Of course, I am sure that is why you loose so often."

            "It has to do with self-image and confidence," Addrynnyn told her conversationally.  Zerameth let out a burst of laughter.

            "Oh, is that it?" she asked through a smile.  "You take me for an insecure servant girl, hmm?  We shall see."  She held up her sword.  "Again, good Addrynnyn?"

            The boy sighed.  "Must we?"

            "What is this whiney tone in your voice?  You remind me of an old friend."  Yrinvan had often whined whenever she proposed a fight.

            "Well, I can only take so much defeat in a day.  Especially by the one I love."

            When Addrynnyn said it that way, it sounded so much more righteous.  Zerameth put down her sword and started back to the shed.  "Do you remember when we fought all afternoon?" she asked him.  Though she was half-complaining, she did not take on a tone of that sort, but it was rather more conversational.

            "I do, my lady, but that was a long time ago."

            " 'Twas not."  Zerameth laid Naymet in it's bed.  "Only but a year or so."

            "Many things can change in a year."

            "No, a year changes nothing.  Things will always remain… I am still here, still me, as are you.  As is everyone who ever lived."

            "That is not true.  Things change.  Trials will change a person.  Death of someone cherished will change a person.  Simply growing older will change a person.  Their name remains the same, possibly their face, but nothing more."

            "Are you to say that I am not who I once was?"

            Addrynnyn looked at her seriously, wondering how to answer.  "Well, I suppose you are, though maybe not since last year, but since… since before I met you."

            Zerameth looked to the ground.  "You have not changed me."

            "I was not saying that, though I think I may have.  I was talking about maybe some sort of even that happened that would have changed you.  The Zerameth that I met – the one I love – is the changed Zerameth.  Maybe I would not love the old you.  Maybe."

            Zerameth could not help but think of Yrinvan at this time, though she spoke not of him.  Addrynnyn did not know of him, though his talking now seemed as if he did know of something that had changed her, which was most likely Yrinvan's death.  She wondered now, was she really the same as she was before he died?  She seemed the same, but yet she wondered if a person could survive a thing as that and still remain the same.  If she had changed, then how?  What was so very different about her?

            "How do you know so much of me that is unspoken?" she asked quietly.  Addrynnyn lifted her chin with his hand to look into her eyes.

            "Your eyes told me," he replied.  "You need not say more should you choose not to, for I do not need to know.  If I did, you would have told me already.  Though, I am not condemning your telling me, should you wish.  I want only for you to be happy."

            "Maybe, someday, I shall tell you," she answered.  Her face neared his and their lips brushed against each other gently, then Addrynnyn took her in his arms and they shared a more passionate one.  After he released her, they smiled at each other and started back into the castle.  Zerameth could not stop thinking about how she might have changed.  Was it so simple as maturing?  For she knew that now, at nineteen, she was more mature than when she was only fourteen, the age when Yrinvan had passed away.  She was smarter, and a better swordsman, but she knew that skill was not something that Addrynnyn had meant changed.  While it did change, he had been speaking of the deeper, more emotional things such as personality, or views on large things such as the meaning of life, or even political values.  Something must have changed inside of her.  Something.  Maybe, should she have told him about it, he would have helped her find what piece of herself was different now, but she did not want to speak of Yrinvan to him.  She would have to speak to Laesien about it that night.