I stared at the Ranger who had named himself my grandfather, and suddenly realized why it was he had seemed so familiar to me.
"Your eyes are like Mother's," I whispered, my own eyes burning suddenly. He put a large hand beneath my right elbow, and steered me over to where some chairs stood along the wall. Seating me, he then settled himself into the chair beside me, and gave me a reassuring smile.
"I am sorry, lass. This must be a shock for you." I nodded, blinking a bit.
"I told Lord Faramir once that I would like to go North one day and see if I had any kin there. But for the last four years, I have been thinking of myself as being alone in the world."
Litharel chuckled. "You have a grandfather," and he gestured to himself, "a grandmother, two uncles and their wives, seven cousins, three of whom are married and have between them produced five little second cousins for you. I do not call that being alone or kinless." I frowned, rather troubled.
"But you waited until now to reveal yourself to me, and only after you talked to all of my friends. Were you thinking of returning to the North without telling me of our kinship?"
My grandfather looked a bit embarrassed and taken aback. Somehow I knew that this did not happen often.
"I am the oldest of the Rangers in the Grey Company, and I came with them not only to serve Aragorn, but in the hope that I would find Liranael again. On the way to the Morannon, Elrohir told me that by merest chance--an abduction was mentioned, I believe, though I have never understood exactly what that was about-- he had found Halaran's daughter. At that time, I made him swear an oath that, should we survive the Morannon, he would keep silent about my presence until I chose to reveal it. I wished to find out more about you and your family, and what your circumstances were." He leaned forward, elbows on knees and knitted his big hands together. My hands, I suddenly realized.
"I will not lie to you, Hethlin--there was indeed a time when I contemplated keeping my secret and returning North. When I first saw you, from afar--you resemble your father so greatly it is as if he had returned in woman's form. And I had been very angry with Halaran for a very long time." The irritation I had felt upon first hearing of my father's treatment among his kin resurfaced.
"Why? Because he left? The King told me that he did so to calm the conflict among the Dunedain."
"For that, and for other reasons. I could understood why he chose to do what he did, yet still deplore the choice that took my daughter so far from me. And I had always preferred Terenoth as a possible husband for Liranael. He was much more agreeable and personable. A good Ranger, and a strong leader. Your father was not an easy man to know, he was a loner, and he had that uncanny quality that so many of your House exhibit. Then there was the curse, of course. When Liranael chose to follow him South, it seemed to me that the curse was working its foul magic upon my House as well."
"My mother went with my father because she loved him," I retorted. "I do not believe love to be a curse!" Litharel nodded agreement.
"That is true enough. I do not believe so either, but I did wish to be honest with you about my reservations, and why I had them. You should know that they have been laid to rest. I hope that my hesitation will not anger you to the point that you will refuse to spend some time with me while I am here. We have much to say and share, and I would not wish to lose the opportunity. You will be welcome in the home of your mother's kindred, should you ever come North."
I considered what he had said thoughtfully for a moment. While it was true I had imagined a more effusive reception from my kin, he had at least been honest with me. If those truths had been somewhat hurtful, it was understandable-- the man had been in pain for over twenty-five years, missing his daughter, and my father had been responsible for that.
"Would you like to go somewhere now, and talk?" I asked tentatively. My grandfather gave me a regretful smile.
"I would like nothing better, lass, but I must report back to the King soon--he has relied upon me to see to certain details of this day for him. And I believe that you, too, are expected elsewhere."
"Eventually. At dinner," I admitted. "But I'm at loose ends right now."
"Tomorrow things will be much calmer after the wedding breakfast. Why don't we meet at noon, have lunch down in the City, and do something afterwards? Go for a ride, something like that." I nodded, and it was arranged that we should meet outside the courier stables at noon.
"I would have suggested that you bring your bow, and we could go hunting, but from the looks of things, it will be a while before you can wield it," he commented, looking at my bandaged hand. I nodded.
"It is greatly healed, and very much at ease, thanks to Lord Elrond's care, but he tells me not to tax it for a while yet. But if you truly wish to hunt, Grandfather, I will go with you in any event. I enjoy the stalk as much as the kill." Litharel shook his head.
"Nay lass, I will not take you into the forest when you are not feeling well. We will find some other way to amuse ourselves. Until then." And he rose, and squeezed my uninjured hand, and departed, leaving me in a rather strange state of mind. Not happy, not sad, just odd. Finally, I decided that I was not hungry after all, and that perhaps the Prince had had a good idea when he decided to take a nap. The dinner would undoubtedly be long and possibly tedious, and I would weather it better were I rested. So I left Merethrond and returned to the Citadel, where I went to my room, did off my good clothes, and laid myself down upon the bed in a nightgown--just in case someone else burst in upon me. Then, feeling the warm breeze from the open balcony door soft upon my face, it was not long before I sank into slumber.
Sometime after that, I was awakened by the awareness of a presence standing near my bed, and looked up to find Elrohir stripping out of his flowery elf garb, the sorrow emanating from him seeming almost to bring night into the light of the afternoon. When he was clad in naught but breeches, he gave me a questioning look. I opened my arms, and he lay down within their circle, satin skin warm but not sweaty, his hair redolent of that piney soap he liked.
*Ah, Snowsteel....* he sighed mentally, and I stroked his hair.
* I wish I could make you feel better,* I replied mournfully, and he smiled sadly.
*Actually, you are making me feel better. Sometimes just being with someone can be enough.* We were forehead to forehead, and I gave him a gentle kiss, which he reciprocated.
"Are you weary?" he asked softly aloud. "I did not think you the sort to take naps." I nodded.
"It was a long ride yesterday. I'm still rather achy from the fight. And I met my grandfather just now. It felt very strange. Why did you not tell me about him?"
"If you spoke to Litharel for any time at all, you already know why," he replied, unruffled. "I gave my word that I would not. Though if he had taken much longer after our return to speak with you, Aragorn and I would have taken him to task. Did you like him?"
"He seems a good man."
"He is that."
"I just wish that he had really wanted to see me, that he would have wanted to love me no matter what. Though I suppose I cannot fault his honesty."
"Honesty is usually a good basis for any sort of relationship."
I chuckled. "You sound just like the Prince!" Elrohir gave me a look of mock horror, and I laughed outright. His grey eyes were still shadowed, but he was very beautiful in the afternoon light, and it suddenly occurred to me how I wished to pass the time before dinner. A bit tentatively, I stroked a gentle hand down the outside of his arm, and then let it drift across the flat planes of his belly. He sucked in a surprised breath, for though I had become comfortable making love with him, this was the first time I had actually initiated the act. Caressing him for some moments more, I watched as his breath began to come faster and his eyes darkened even further.
"I think you in need of heart's-ease again, my lord Elrohir," I breathed against his elegant ear, pressing myself against him as he shuddered. "Shall I give you some?"
"It has certainly proved a sovereign remedy in the past for both of our troubles," he murmured. "I am not adverse, should you care to attempt a cure." Smiling, I sat up, and slid swiftly off the tall bed. He regarded me first with puzzlement, then understanding as I crossed the room and bolted the door.
"Master Gamgee would be most scandalized, were he to walk in on us while trying to tend his plants," I explained, returning to the bed and pulling the nightgown over my head so that I stood revealed in the sunlight. Elrohir smiled appreciatively, and began sliding out of his breeches.
"Oh, I don't know. He might learn something useful to take home to that Rosie of his." When he was finished, I bounced up onto the bed again and indicated with a hand upon his shoulder that he should lay back. He did so, grinning, his brow arched with curiosity, and I promptly straddled him.
"There is something I have noticed about Elves, and you in particular," I told him with a wicked grin in return, "that I have long been wishing to explore in further detail."
"And that is?"
"THIS!" And I laid the fingertips of my good hand along his ribs, and dug in, tickling him unmercifully. He actually shrieked, and almost threw me to the floor with the force of his jump beneath me, but I persevered, tickling him until he ceased to fight, quivering, gasping, his eyes tearing.
"Valar, Snowsteel! Please, no more! Mercy!" Believing I had subdued him, I ceased my tortures--whereupon he seized my shoulders and rolled me beneath him in the blink of an eye.
"You are going to pay the price for your treachery, wench!" he growled at me, silvery eyes narrowed menacingly, but I could tell that he was not really angry, and he had certainly forgotten his earlier sorrow--at least for the moment. I smiled, and wrapped my arms about his shoulders, drawing him down against me.
"I was rather counting upon that," I said.
Sometime later, we disentangled ourselves, and I rang for a bath. Despite what must have been an extremely busy day, hot water was brought in short order, and Elrohir and I availed ourselves of it, both of us standing in the one tub, and sluicing each other down in a most playful fashion. We left a great deal of water upon the bathroom floor, but we were as pristine and pleasantly fragrant as anyone could wish when we were finished. We then spent some time primping for dinner--in other words, I combed his beautiful hair for a long while past the point it was dry and tangle free, he almost purring the whole time, then he reciprocated for the lesser amount of time it took to render me presentable.
We went back down to Merethrond to find the tables had been set for the feast, and that we were just on time. Parting once more, we went to our respective seats--he with his father and family upon one side, me with the Prince's family upon the other. I found myself seated between Princess Lothiriel and Prince Amrothos, which made for a pleasant and entertaining meal. Lothiriel gave me the latest gossip about the various individuals I saw within the hall. Like her father, she made the stories funny, not hurtful. And I was pleased to find that, having spent those afternoons exploring Lorien and Caras Galadon with Elrohir, I was able to converse with Amrothos about the Elves with some authority.
The Prince, seated upon the Queen's other side, seemed very much more his cheerful self after his little nap. Though he was too far away for me to address directly, I could tell from the twinkle in his eye and the humorous, bantering tone in his voice that he felt better. Faramir, even further away upon the King's other side, seemed quiet but pleased. I suspected that he was just starting to recover from arranging the whole event. Elrohir spent most of the dinner sending me absurdities about the people in the room, Men and Elves alike, apparently in an effort to make me laugh. I suspected he might have had a wager with his brother going, for I would catch a glance from Elladan from time to time. I really did not mind being the subject of their sport if it cheered their hearts, but I managed to avoid breaking out in laughter. I never discovered if such a wager existed, or if it did, who had won.
The feast was magnificent, and most of the guests set to eating with a gusto the belied the fact that they'd had food to hand all afternoon. Needless to say, the four hobbits did their Shire proud in that department, and for once, I felt reasonably comfortable eating as much as I wished. Eating half as quickly as I normally would have with the Rangers seemed to serve me in good stead in these gatherings of the great and mighty, but even at that slower pace, I had quite sated myself before the feast was officially over.
The tables were then removed, and the dancing began. The first dance was led by the King and Queen, to much applause when it was completed. Elrohir strolled back over to me, and we watched the colorfully dressed dancers dip, sway and turn. Some of the elves were participating, their innate grace throwing the mortal dancers into shade, though a few of those were very lithe as well. The footwork and movements seemed incredibly intricate to me, whose rare exposure to dance had been one party at the Beacon, and a marriage at a distant neighbor's homestead. In both instances, the cheerful swinging of girls and vigorous stepping bore no relationship to what was happening before me now, which spoke of hours and hours of studied practice.
Still, I knew my strengths, and I was good at tasks involving dexterity. It seemed something that I could master one day, with the appropriate instruction, and I suspected that it would in fact be something I was instructed in once I reached Dol Amroth. The music was certainly enjoyable, and I found that my foot was tapping time as I watched. Elrohir raised his eyebrow.
"Would you like to dance, Snowsteel?" he asked.
I shook my head vigorously. "I would make the veriest fool out of myself out there! I do not know anything about it! But you go dance if you like--I would enjoy watching you." He shook his head gently in his turn.
"Perhaps later, if father or Aragorn insist. I enjoy dancing, but not as much as Arwen does. Look you there." I looked where he indicated, and found the dancers forming up once more for a new dance, and the Queen was at the head of them, but her partner this time was the Prince of Dol Amroth. Seeking the King, I found him standing near the dais, talking to Lord Elrond and watching the dancers. Seeming to feel my eyes upon him, Aragorn looked across the room, spied me and grinned, then pointed a kingly finger at me and crooked it. I started, and he repeated the gesture.
"Elrohir, I have to--"
"I see, Snowsteel." Taking my arm, he escorted me around the edge of the dance floor to where the King stood.
"Hethlin! We did not have time to speak earlier." Rather to my surprise, he enfolded me in a quick, warm embrace which reminded me very much of my father's, then held me at arm's length and inspected me.
"Litharel tells me he finally spoke to you. Are you well?"
I nodded. "I am well indeed, sire. It was a bit of a surprise, but the more I think upon it, the more comforted I am that at least my mother's kin still survive."
"We are in a similar situation there. Though my father's farthest kin have always been my greatest shield in times of trouble." He cast a sideways look at Lord Elrond, who sighed resignedly.
"Be at peace, Estel. I am not wroth with you, but I am curious as to how many more times I must say it before you will believe me." An uneasy silence fell, and I moved clumsily to break it.
"My lord king, why are you not dancing with your lady?" Aragorn grinned a slightly embarrassed grin.
"Because, cousin, I am but a humble Ranger who cannot dance such a dance. Look at them!" And I looked, to find the dancers had started the most complicated pattern of movements I had seen thus far. The Prince was moving down the floor with his lovely partner, mirroring her actions precisely, showing no sign at all of his injury in his careful footwork. They looked royal and gallant and wonderful, and my heart warmed at the sight of them.
"I was thinking of making your liege the Royal Dancemaster," the King chuckled. "What do you think of that?"
"I think," I replied softly, "that I am very glad to see this day, and that t is solely due to Lord Elrond's efforts, and those of Queen Arwen, that the Prince is able to dance so well." Looking surreptitiously at Lord Elrond, I found that he too was regarding the Prince with satisfaction. In at least one thing, it seemed, we were in complete accord. He cast his wintry glance upon me suddenly.
"I thank you for your kind words, Lady Hethlin," he said politely, and I wondered too late if he thought I were flattering him in order to insure my own healing. His next words did not allay those suspicions. "I will come to you tomorrow evening at sunset. Eat lunch if you wish, but nothing after." My stomach plummeted of a sudden, and I became a bit light-headed as I speculated on what my healing might entail. It was not difficult for even a person without his formidable gifts to follow my thought, and his face actually softened a bit as he looked down at me.
"Fear not, Lady Hethlin. You will be asleep as I work, and feel nothing, for that facilitates the working. As I told you once before, any discomfort you experience will be upon waking when I am finished, and I cannot honestly tell you the extent of that before I see how bad your situation is. But there are things I can give you that will ease you if you do feel pain. Have you changed your mind about this?"
"Nay, my lord!" My response was quietly vehement. "Change my mind about what may be the only chance to repair my condition? But I am a bit frightened," I admitted with a touch of embarrassment. He nodded.
"Perfectly understandable. I generally explain as much as I can to my patients, for they are more at ease if they comprehend what it is I am going to do. Regrettably, there is nothing more I can tell you at this point to reassure you, for I will have no more information till I examine you."
"I understand that, my lord, and thank you for your willingness to attempt this for me." He nodded, and our conversation was obviously at an end. Elrohir placed an arm about my waist, and sent me a surge of sympathy.
*I will be with you, Snowsteel.*
I smiled gratefully at him in response and turned my attention back to the dance floor to find that the music had ended, and the other dancers had gathered about the Queen and Imrahil, and were applauding them. Then one of the men bowed to her, and she laughed and took his hand. His partner moved off the floor, escorted by the Prince, and the dancers formed up again, the Queen in the pre-eminent place with yet another partner.
"Goodness!" I exclaimed, very impressed, for that last dance had been very vigorous. "She does like to dance, doesn't she?"
"Oh yes," Elrohir drawled, "'--feet as light as linden leaves,' and all that." His father gave him a decidedly dour look, and I wondered if perhaps we had outstayed our welcome. Then the Prince, having escorted the lady to friends at the side of the floor, strolled over to us. He extended a commanding hand, and an esquire in Dol Amroth livery appeared seemingly out of nowhere to place a goblet in it, then disappeared once more. Taking a deep draught, his twinkling eyes regarded us over the rim of the cup.
"What sober faces!" he declared. "What topic of conversation leaves the lot of you so gloomy?" The tension that had lurked in the air seemed to vanish with his coming.
"We were discussing your new duties as Royal Dance Master," Aragorn informed him with a grin. "And how, along with all the other ways I rely upon you, you will be required to give me dancing lessons." The Prince's eyebrows climbed skyward, and he took another deep drink.
"Well now! Dancing Master, is it?" He lowered his cup. "I was just a boy at the time, my lord king, but I am certain that I remember a Captain Thorongil navigating across the dance floor with my sister quite competently upon more than one occasion. You need no lessons from me." The King grew quiet at that, and I wondered anew at the longevity of the Dunedain, for though he was over twenty years older than the Prince, they looked much the same age. And the King certainly did not consider himself a greybeard--he was just now starting a family!
As for 'Captain Thorongil'......'Thorongil' indeed!.....it appeared that Aragorn had served in Gondor's army long ago, and that there were stories that could be told about that. I promised myself to try to find out those stories, from the Prince or anyone else who might have known the King in those days. Not, of course, from any desire to use the information for personal gain, but merely a desire to further explore my family history........
Laughter and cheering arose suddenly across the dance floor, and we all looked to find that Merry and Pippin, desiring to dance, but with a dearth of partners their own size, had discovered the twin nine-year-old daughters of one of the lords allowed to stay up past their bedtime for this special occasion. They were cavorting with them at the edge of the floor, well away from the "serious" dancers. The other members of the Fellowship, Legolas and Gimli and Frodo and Sam stood by, watching and laughing uproariously.
The laughter grew even louder, and was joined by the King's as Pippin's partner, obviously put up to it by the irrepressible perian, left him and endeavored to drag Samwise onto the dance floor. Flushing beet red, the gardner dug his leathery heels into the dance floor as best he could and resisted mightily. The girl, also red-faced from her exertions, was as stubborn as he.
"You have to!" she cried. "I'm a lady and it's impolite to refuse!" More laughter commenced at this imperious statement.
"Lawks, Mr. Frodo!" wailed Samwise, "I don't know nothing about this sort of fancy dancing! Make her stop!"
In an epic act of treachery the likes of which I'd seldom seen, Frodo not only did not make her stop, he shoved Sam bodily into her arms, coming near to toppling them both.
"Go on, Sam!" he called merrily. "Do you think I have nothing better to do than continually push you into your dance partners' arms?" Sam made a despairing noise, then submitted to his doom, and was promptly propelled about the floor to the loud counting and direction of his partner. The one good look I got at his face suggested to me that Pippin had better sleep with one eye open for a while. Meanwhile, Merry's partner had in her turn approached Frodo, who accepted with better grace, bending over her hand to her great gratification, and they moved across the floor in a much more graceful manner.
Beside me, the King was chuckling. "It is good to see them so merry once more, particularly Frodo."
Lord Elrond's mood seemed to have lightened somewhat as well. "Indeed. It is a hopeful sign." 'Hopeful' seemed an odd choice of words to me, but I had no intention of asking the Lord of Imladris to explain himself. Conversation lapsed for a bit as we watched the dance wend its way to its conclusion. The Prince finished his wine swiftly, held out the cup, and the same esquire appeared and vanished with it once more. I wondered how he anticipated his lord's wishes so well, and if I would be taught the trick of it. The dancers were applauded, and they applauded the musicians. Sam escaped his diminutive, domineering partner and fled for his life. Frodo turned his young lady back over to his cousin, and left in pursuit of Sam. The music started up again, and I was surprised to see many more people file onto the floor, some of them older couples.
Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth smiled when he heard the melody. "Ah yes," he murmured. "This one is an easy one." He gave me a suddenly speculative look, I returned him a instantly wary one, and he extended a hand to me with the same imperious command he'd used with his wine goblet.
"Would you care to dance, Lady Hethlin?"
"Nay my lord prince, I don't know how to," I answered, looking to Elrohir for rescue. "I fear I would embarrass you."
"There is nothing you could do on the dance floor that would embarrass me, Hethlin," he replied reasonably, but with that touch of impatience that had lurked beneath his exchanges with me all day.
"Good luck to you in getting her onto the floor," commented Elrohir dryly. "I have already pleaded my cause and been rebuffed." The Prince glanced at him for a brief moment.
"Ah, but I have resources that you do not, my lord prince." He turned back to me and gave me a very pointed look. "Esquire, dance with me. And that is not a request." Aragorn laughed. There was certainly nothing else I could do at that point but move to him as he directed, and allow him to steer me onto the floor. I glanced back over my shoulder to glare at Elrohir.
*You couldn't have left well enough alone?* Elrohir grinned suddenly, laughed as well and waved good-bye.
*You will do well enough, Snowsteel.*
I had my doubts about that, and they translated into a certain stiffness as we joined the other dancers.
"Relax, Hethlin," the Prince murmured as we took position at the end of the line. "I would have not asked you were this not an easy dance. There are few movements, and they are repeated often. This is well within your abilities."
"So you say." He chuckled.
"Trust me. I am familiar with every dance danced in the great halls of Gondor, and I know which ones are easy and which are difficult. I can also tell you that I do not know of a single one where the man devours his partner in the course of things." That absurdity made me laugh, and I did find myself relaxing a bit. He smiled, and laid a warm, firm hand upon my waist.
"Follow my lead."
I did so as the music started, following his murmured directions close to my ear, and his own movements. There were four or five basic steps, and, as he had promised, they were repeated often. After the third repetition, I began to see the way of it, and was familiar enough with what was going on that I actually began to enjoy myself. I shot a quick look up at Prince Imrahil's face and found it intent upon what my feet were doing--then, noticing my regard, he looked directly at me and smiled, a sweet, unguarded smile. I almost stumbled, and he tightened his grip on my waist, supporting me, then loosened it once more so that we could proceed.
During the time I had known him, we had been through some terrible things together, and as I had told him in Edoras, there was nothing of him I had not seen. And I had always known him to be a very handsome and charming man, in an intellectual sort of way. But I had never been so aware of him physically as I was now, moving face to face, then hip to hip, hands meeting and parting. I had recovered myself, and was able to dance, but my face was flushed, and I felt warm, and embarrassed, and confused. His smile was his nephew's, who had owned my heart for far longer than even I had known, and the look and set of his eyes echoed Faramir as well. Their voices too, were similar, I thought, remembering Faramir encouraging me beneath the wings of the Nazguls, and the Prince coaxing me as I sat over Faramir's body on the Pelennor.
But there were differences. Faramir's ability to command his men had never been questioned, at least not by his Rangers, and in battle, if he had ever felt less than sure about his decisions, we had not known it. Yet there had always been a diffidence, a reserve about him, the second-born son who was perpetually having to prove himself. Prince Imrahil, the much-loved only son and heir to his principality, had never had any doubt about his place in life or right to rule, and it gave him a confidence and a power that Faramir did not possess. I suspected that it was that power I was responding to, and wondered a bit deprecatingly if it was simply my nature to be attracted to the men of power who had command of me.
At least part of my confusion was due, I thought, to the fact that I was only newly come to the ability to even feel attraction to a man. Until Elrohir's healing, that part of me had been shut down and sundered--other than my futile longing for Faramir. Now, after Lorien, I was more aware of men as men, and not just fellow soldiers. I could perceive Aragorn's charm and vigor and grace, and understand why it was that Arwen had paid the ultimate price to claim him. Being Elrohir's lover had made me realize that even the ethereal-seeming Elves had a passionate side to them. But this new-found awareness had to be suppressed where my liege-lord was concerned, for exploring that attraction could only lead to dishonor for both of us. And it seemed unfair to Elrohir as well in a way, though we neither of us had bound the other with promises.
The dance wound down to its conclusion, during which the partners bowed and curtseyed to each other, and the men claimed a kiss from their ladies. Prince Imrahil tipped my chin up, and after a moment's hesitation, seeing no objection in my eyes, pressed his lips gently against mine. He tasted of the wine he'd drunk in such quantities earlier, and I found the kiss very pleasant.
He released me when it was done, and when I simply stood there, bemused, gave me a concerned look.
"Hethlin, are you all right?" I shook myself.
"Aye, my lord. Of course. I am sorry--I was elsewhere."
"Apparently." He gave me an encouraging smile. "See? You survived."
"Aye, I did. Am I right in assuming that dancing lessons will be part of my training at Dol Amroth?"
He nodded. "You are. I suspect that you will do very well--you are very graceful when you move." He took my arm and started walking me back towards Elrohir and the King.
"It was truly not as bad as I thought it would be," I remarked.
"Things very seldom are. The person who tries nothing new for fear of seeming ridiculous is far more the fool than the person who freely risks ridicule to experience something different."
"Do you have a saying for every occasion?" I asked. It was an innocent enough question, and asked gently, but for some reason, it stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh dear," he said, bowing his head a little. "I fear I am somewhat the worse for drink, and pompous with it."
"Not pompous, exactly."
"Pretentious, then."
"Not that either. Are you really drunk?"
"Not really. The worse for wear, as I said. More than I should be, less than I could be."
I laughed. "Let me get you off the dance floor then." For some reason, his admission had banished my confusion, returning me once more to the esquire mindset that allowed me to care for him comfortably. We made our way back to the King just as the dancers started their next dance, a more difficult piece. I noticed that the Queen had cozened Faramir into being her partner this time.
"Sire," Prince Imrahil addressed the King, "I fear that weariness has overcome me, and much as I would like to prolong my celebration of this happy day, I must depart now. With your leave, of course."
"By all means, go to bed, Imrahil!" laughed Aragorn. "I'll see you at breakfast in the morning."
"Please give my regards to your lady wife."
"Consider them given."
"And a good night to you, Lord Elrond." Lord Elrond inclined his head gracefully in acknowledgment.
"Have you need of an escort, my lord?" I asked, but he shook his head.
"There are Swan Knights enough here to see to me, Hethlin. Stay and enjoy the party. You may even, my lord Elrohir, convince her to dance with you now that I've accustomed her to the idea." Elrohir nodded, smiling pleasantly.
"Perhaps I will. It has been my experience that Hethlin picks up things very quickly after she is first introduced to them." I sent him a quick barrage of throttling threats, but his smile only broadened. The Prince, unaware of that last exchange, bowed gracefully and departed. I turned to Aragorn.
"I too think I will retire, if you do not mind, sir." The King raised his eyebrow.
"What, is everyone deserting me?" he asked plaintively. Elrohir laughed and clapped him on the back.
"I would think, brother, that you would wish for us to all leave you alone and go to bed!" Lord Elrond let that remark pass without comment, but I thought his lips thinned a little. "I will see Lady Hethlin to her room."
"Very well, brother," Aragorn replied. "Good night, cousin," he said to me, and feeling a little daring, I leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Be happy, my lord," I murmured into his ear, and he hugged me again.
"I plan on it," he replied. Elrohir, to my surprise and pleasure, embraced his father, was embraced in turn, and then we left the feasting hall.
Sometime later, the two of us were in bed, pressed close together flesh upon flesh, though this time it was for comfort rather than passion's sake. Moonlight shone through the open balcony door, and we had pulled the fine brocade coverlet up over us, for the night was surprisingly chill for midsummer.
"What was it that troubled you earlier, Snowsteel?" Elrohir asked softly, and turning towards him, I gave him the information he sought directly mind to mind--though not without a bit of trepidation. He was not angered in any way that I could see, and seemed to consider the knowledge of my attraction to the Prince rather dispassionately.
"I think it very healthy, on the whole," he said quietly at last. "I would have become worried after a time if you were unable to be attracted in that way to anyone other than myself. It could be a sign that I had not healed you properly. I have already bound you to myself in so many ways that I did not intend."
"Are you sorry about that?" I asked curiously. He smiled, and tapped my nose with a long finger.
"No, for you have been a great comfort to me of late." The finger rejoined its fellows, and the hand as a whole stroked my cheek. "Will you explore this feeling you have for the Prince?" He sounded genuinely inquisitive and not jealous at all--which was an impressive change from some of his behavior in the past. I shook my head.
"I may not. He is my liege lord. And in truth, I would like to think I learned my lesson about that with Faramir. Indeed, it may just be because he reminds me of Faramir. I fear I may have a habit of being attracted to my commanders. I must put an end to it."
"I think it is more that you have very high standards," Elrohir soothed. "The men you are attracted to are powerful men, but they are also worthy ones. And I will even admit that about the Prince of Ithilien." Which was, I informed him, a very great concession on his part, and I kissed him gratefully, snuggled close and fell asleep.
Waking in the middle of the night, uneasy for some reason, I discovered that Elrohir had moved away from me, and now lay face up in the bed. The light from Ithil, riding high in the sky, glinted off his silver eyes and the silver tracks of tears upon his cheeks. I watched him silently for a while, unsure of whether he was awake or asleep, and had just decided that he must be asleep when he spoke softly.
"She is in his arms right now, and she is happy, for she has striven for this for a long time as mortals count such things. I can sense her, though I am trying to block her from sensing me. Brother is blunting his sorrow with the pleasures of the flesh among our brethren from Lorien, and Father walks alone upon the ramparts in the moonlight, communing with the stars. As for me, I am here in the bed of a friend. Of the three of us, Father, Brother and myself, I think I have the best of it." Deeply moved, I slid an arm under him, drew him against me once more and held him close, stroking his hair. He did not protest, and in fact I thought he had fallen asleep again. Then, close to dawn, he spoke again.
"Do you believe in the stories, Snowsteel, about the great loves? Do you believe that love is stronger than death?"
"As a mortal, I would like to believe that is true," I murmured, "though I do not think that the people in the stories knew that that was what they were doing at the time." Changeable, odd creature that he was, that actually drew a chuckle from him.
"You are most likely right about that." And I heard no more from him that night.
"Your eyes are like Mother's," I whispered, my own eyes burning suddenly. He put a large hand beneath my right elbow, and steered me over to where some chairs stood along the wall. Seating me, he then settled himself into the chair beside me, and gave me a reassuring smile.
"I am sorry, lass. This must be a shock for you." I nodded, blinking a bit.
"I told Lord Faramir once that I would like to go North one day and see if I had any kin there. But for the last four years, I have been thinking of myself as being alone in the world."
Litharel chuckled. "You have a grandfather," and he gestured to himself, "a grandmother, two uncles and their wives, seven cousins, three of whom are married and have between them produced five little second cousins for you. I do not call that being alone or kinless." I frowned, rather troubled.
"But you waited until now to reveal yourself to me, and only after you talked to all of my friends. Were you thinking of returning to the North without telling me of our kinship?"
My grandfather looked a bit embarrassed and taken aback. Somehow I knew that this did not happen often.
"I am the oldest of the Rangers in the Grey Company, and I came with them not only to serve Aragorn, but in the hope that I would find Liranael again. On the way to the Morannon, Elrohir told me that by merest chance--an abduction was mentioned, I believe, though I have never understood exactly what that was about-- he had found Halaran's daughter. At that time, I made him swear an oath that, should we survive the Morannon, he would keep silent about my presence until I chose to reveal it. I wished to find out more about you and your family, and what your circumstances were." He leaned forward, elbows on knees and knitted his big hands together. My hands, I suddenly realized.
"I will not lie to you, Hethlin--there was indeed a time when I contemplated keeping my secret and returning North. When I first saw you, from afar--you resemble your father so greatly it is as if he had returned in woman's form. And I had been very angry with Halaran for a very long time." The irritation I had felt upon first hearing of my father's treatment among his kin resurfaced.
"Why? Because he left? The King told me that he did so to calm the conflict among the Dunedain."
"For that, and for other reasons. I could understood why he chose to do what he did, yet still deplore the choice that took my daughter so far from me. And I had always preferred Terenoth as a possible husband for Liranael. He was much more agreeable and personable. A good Ranger, and a strong leader. Your father was not an easy man to know, he was a loner, and he had that uncanny quality that so many of your House exhibit. Then there was the curse, of course. When Liranael chose to follow him South, it seemed to me that the curse was working its foul magic upon my House as well."
"My mother went with my father because she loved him," I retorted. "I do not believe love to be a curse!" Litharel nodded agreement.
"That is true enough. I do not believe so either, but I did wish to be honest with you about my reservations, and why I had them. You should know that they have been laid to rest. I hope that my hesitation will not anger you to the point that you will refuse to spend some time with me while I am here. We have much to say and share, and I would not wish to lose the opportunity. You will be welcome in the home of your mother's kindred, should you ever come North."
I considered what he had said thoughtfully for a moment. While it was true I had imagined a more effusive reception from my kin, he had at least been honest with me. If those truths had been somewhat hurtful, it was understandable-- the man had been in pain for over twenty-five years, missing his daughter, and my father had been responsible for that.
"Would you like to go somewhere now, and talk?" I asked tentatively. My grandfather gave me a regretful smile.
"I would like nothing better, lass, but I must report back to the King soon--he has relied upon me to see to certain details of this day for him. And I believe that you, too, are expected elsewhere."
"Eventually. At dinner," I admitted. "But I'm at loose ends right now."
"Tomorrow things will be much calmer after the wedding breakfast. Why don't we meet at noon, have lunch down in the City, and do something afterwards? Go for a ride, something like that." I nodded, and it was arranged that we should meet outside the courier stables at noon.
"I would have suggested that you bring your bow, and we could go hunting, but from the looks of things, it will be a while before you can wield it," he commented, looking at my bandaged hand. I nodded.
"It is greatly healed, and very much at ease, thanks to Lord Elrond's care, but he tells me not to tax it for a while yet. But if you truly wish to hunt, Grandfather, I will go with you in any event. I enjoy the stalk as much as the kill." Litharel shook his head.
"Nay lass, I will not take you into the forest when you are not feeling well. We will find some other way to amuse ourselves. Until then." And he rose, and squeezed my uninjured hand, and departed, leaving me in a rather strange state of mind. Not happy, not sad, just odd. Finally, I decided that I was not hungry after all, and that perhaps the Prince had had a good idea when he decided to take a nap. The dinner would undoubtedly be long and possibly tedious, and I would weather it better were I rested. So I left Merethrond and returned to the Citadel, where I went to my room, did off my good clothes, and laid myself down upon the bed in a nightgown--just in case someone else burst in upon me. Then, feeling the warm breeze from the open balcony door soft upon my face, it was not long before I sank into slumber.
Sometime after that, I was awakened by the awareness of a presence standing near my bed, and looked up to find Elrohir stripping out of his flowery elf garb, the sorrow emanating from him seeming almost to bring night into the light of the afternoon. When he was clad in naught but breeches, he gave me a questioning look. I opened my arms, and he lay down within their circle, satin skin warm but not sweaty, his hair redolent of that piney soap he liked.
*Ah, Snowsteel....* he sighed mentally, and I stroked his hair.
* I wish I could make you feel better,* I replied mournfully, and he smiled sadly.
*Actually, you are making me feel better. Sometimes just being with someone can be enough.* We were forehead to forehead, and I gave him a gentle kiss, which he reciprocated.
"Are you weary?" he asked softly aloud. "I did not think you the sort to take naps." I nodded.
"It was a long ride yesterday. I'm still rather achy from the fight. And I met my grandfather just now. It felt very strange. Why did you not tell me about him?"
"If you spoke to Litharel for any time at all, you already know why," he replied, unruffled. "I gave my word that I would not. Though if he had taken much longer after our return to speak with you, Aragorn and I would have taken him to task. Did you like him?"
"He seems a good man."
"He is that."
"I just wish that he had really wanted to see me, that he would have wanted to love me no matter what. Though I suppose I cannot fault his honesty."
"Honesty is usually a good basis for any sort of relationship."
I chuckled. "You sound just like the Prince!" Elrohir gave me a look of mock horror, and I laughed outright. His grey eyes were still shadowed, but he was very beautiful in the afternoon light, and it suddenly occurred to me how I wished to pass the time before dinner. A bit tentatively, I stroked a gentle hand down the outside of his arm, and then let it drift across the flat planes of his belly. He sucked in a surprised breath, for though I had become comfortable making love with him, this was the first time I had actually initiated the act. Caressing him for some moments more, I watched as his breath began to come faster and his eyes darkened even further.
"I think you in need of heart's-ease again, my lord Elrohir," I breathed against his elegant ear, pressing myself against him as he shuddered. "Shall I give you some?"
"It has certainly proved a sovereign remedy in the past for both of our troubles," he murmured. "I am not adverse, should you care to attempt a cure." Smiling, I sat up, and slid swiftly off the tall bed. He regarded me first with puzzlement, then understanding as I crossed the room and bolted the door.
"Master Gamgee would be most scandalized, were he to walk in on us while trying to tend his plants," I explained, returning to the bed and pulling the nightgown over my head so that I stood revealed in the sunlight. Elrohir smiled appreciatively, and began sliding out of his breeches.
"Oh, I don't know. He might learn something useful to take home to that Rosie of his." When he was finished, I bounced up onto the bed again and indicated with a hand upon his shoulder that he should lay back. He did so, grinning, his brow arched with curiosity, and I promptly straddled him.
"There is something I have noticed about Elves, and you in particular," I told him with a wicked grin in return, "that I have long been wishing to explore in further detail."
"And that is?"
"THIS!" And I laid the fingertips of my good hand along his ribs, and dug in, tickling him unmercifully. He actually shrieked, and almost threw me to the floor with the force of his jump beneath me, but I persevered, tickling him until he ceased to fight, quivering, gasping, his eyes tearing.
"Valar, Snowsteel! Please, no more! Mercy!" Believing I had subdued him, I ceased my tortures--whereupon he seized my shoulders and rolled me beneath him in the blink of an eye.
"You are going to pay the price for your treachery, wench!" he growled at me, silvery eyes narrowed menacingly, but I could tell that he was not really angry, and he had certainly forgotten his earlier sorrow--at least for the moment. I smiled, and wrapped my arms about his shoulders, drawing him down against me.
"I was rather counting upon that," I said.
Sometime later, we disentangled ourselves, and I rang for a bath. Despite what must have been an extremely busy day, hot water was brought in short order, and Elrohir and I availed ourselves of it, both of us standing in the one tub, and sluicing each other down in a most playful fashion. We left a great deal of water upon the bathroom floor, but we were as pristine and pleasantly fragrant as anyone could wish when we were finished. We then spent some time primping for dinner--in other words, I combed his beautiful hair for a long while past the point it was dry and tangle free, he almost purring the whole time, then he reciprocated for the lesser amount of time it took to render me presentable.
We went back down to Merethrond to find the tables had been set for the feast, and that we were just on time. Parting once more, we went to our respective seats--he with his father and family upon one side, me with the Prince's family upon the other. I found myself seated between Princess Lothiriel and Prince Amrothos, which made for a pleasant and entertaining meal. Lothiriel gave me the latest gossip about the various individuals I saw within the hall. Like her father, she made the stories funny, not hurtful. And I was pleased to find that, having spent those afternoons exploring Lorien and Caras Galadon with Elrohir, I was able to converse with Amrothos about the Elves with some authority.
The Prince, seated upon the Queen's other side, seemed very much more his cheerful self after his little nap. Though he was too far away for me to address directly, I could tell from the twinkle in his eye and the humorous, bantering tone in his voice that he felt better. Faramir, even further away upon the King's other side, seemed quiet but pleased. I suspected that he was just starting to recover from arranging the whole event. Elrohir spent most of the dinner sending me absurdities about the people in the room, Men and Elves alike, apparently in an effort to make me laugh. I suspected he might have had a wager with his brother going, for I would catch a glance from Elladan from time to time. I really did not mind being the subject of their sport if it cheered their hearts, but I managed to avoid breaking out in laughter. I never discovered if such a wager existed, or if it did, who had won.
The feast was magnificent, and most of the guests set to eating with a gusto the belied the fact that they'd had food to hand all afternoon. Needless to say, the four hobbits did their Shire proud in that department, and for once, I felt reasonably comfortable eating as much as I wished. Eating half as quickly as I normally would have with the Rangers seemed to serve me in good stead in these gatherings of the great and mighty, but even at that slower pace, I had quite sated myself before the feast was officially over.
The tables were then removed, and the dancing began. The first dance was led by the King and Queen, to much applause when it was completed. Elrohir strolled back over to me, and we watched the colorfully dressed dancers dip, sway and turn. Some of the elves were participating, their innate grace throwing the mortal dancers into shade, though a few of those were very lithe as well. The footwork and movements seemed incredibly intricate to me, whose rare exposure to dance had been one party at the Beacon, and a marriage at a distant neighbor's homestead. In both instances, the cheerful swinging of girls and vigorous stepping bore no relationship to what was happening before me now, which spoke of hours and hours of studied practice.
Still, I knew my strengths, and I was good at tasks involving dexterity. It seemed something that I could master one day, with the appropriate instruction, and I suspected that it would in fact be something I was instructed in once I reached Dol Amroth. The music was certainly enjoyable, and I found that my foot was tapping time as I watched. Elrohir raised his eyebrow.
"Would you like to dance, Snowsteel?" he asked.
I shook my head vigorously. "I would make the veriest fool out of myself out there! I do not know anything about it! But you go dance if you like--I would enjoy watching you." He shook his head gently in his turn.
"Perhaps later, if father or Aragorn insist. I enjoy dancing, but not as much as Arwen does. Look you there." I looked where he indicated, and found the dancers forming up once more for a new dance, and the Queen was at the head of them, but her partner this time was the Prince of Dol Amroth. Seeking the King, I found him standing near the dais, talking to Lord Elrond and watching the dancers. Seeming to feel my eyes upon him, Aragorn looked across the room, spied me and grinned, then pointed a kingly finger at me and crooked it. I started, and he repeated the gesture.
"Elrohir, I have to--"
"I see, Snowsteel." Taking my arm, he escorted me around the edge of the dance floor to where the King stood.
"Hethlin! We did not have time to speak earlier." Rather to my surprise, he enfolded me in a quick, warm embrace which reminded me very much of my father's, then held me at arm's length and inspected me.
"Litharel tells me he finally spoke to you. Are you well?"
I nodded. "I am well indeed, sire. It was a bit of a surprise, but the more I think upon it, the more comforted I am that at least my mother's kin still survive."
"We are in a similar situation there. Though my father's farthest kin have always been my greatest shield in times of trouble." He cast a sideways look at Lord Elrond, who sighed resignedly.
"Be at peace, Estel. I am not wroth with you, but I am curious as to how many more times I must say it before you will believe me." An uneasy silence fell, and I moved clumsily to break it.
"My lord king, why are you not dancing with your lady?" Aragorn grinned a slightly embarrassed grin.
"Because, cousin, I am but a humble Ranger who cannot dance such a dance. Look at them!" And I looked, to find the dancers had started the most complicated pattern of movements I had seen thus far. The Prince was moving down the floor with his lovely partner, mirroring her actions precisely, showing no sign at all of his injury in his careful footwork. They looked royal and gallant and wonderful, and my heart warmed at the sight of them.
"I was thinking of making your liege the Royal Dancemaster," the King chuckled. "What do you think of that?"
"I think," I replied softly, "that I am very glad to see this day, and that t is solely due to Lord Elrond's efforts, and those of Queen Arwen, that the Prince is able to dance so well." Looking surreptitiously at Lord Elrond, I found that he too was regarding the Prince with satisfaction. In at least one thing, it seemed, we were in complete accord. He cast his wintry glance upon me suddenly.
"I thank you for your kind words, Lady Hethlin," he said politely, and I wondered too late if he thought I were flattering him in order to insure my own healing. His next words did not allay those suspicions. "I will come to you tomorrow evening at sunset. Eat lunch if you wish, but nothing after." My stomach plummeted of a sudden, and I became a bit light-headed as I speculated on what my healing might entail. It was not difficult for even a person without his formidable gifts to follow my thought, and his face actually softened a bit as he looked down at me.
"Fear not, Lady Hethlin. You will be asleep as I work, and feel nothing, for that facilitates the working. As I told you once before, any discomfort you experience will be upon waking when I am finished, and I cannot honestly tell you the extent of that before I see how bad your situation is. But there are things I can give you that will ease you if you do feel pain. Have you changed your mind about this?"
"Nay, my lord!" My response was quietly vehement. "Change my mind about what may be the only chance to repair my condition? But I am a bit frightened," I admitted with a touch of embarrassment. He nodded.
"Perfectly understandable. I generally explain as much as I can to my patients, for they are more at ease if they comprehend what it is I am going to do. Regrettably, there is nothing more I can tell you at this point to reassure you, for I will have no more information till I examine you."
"I understand that, my lord, and thank you for your willingness to attempt this for me." He nodded, and our conversation was obviously at an end. Elrohir placed an arm about my waist, and sent me a surge of sympathy.
*I will be with you, Snowsteel.*
I smiled gratefully at him in response and turned my attention back to the dance floor to find that the music had ended, and the other dancers had gathered about the Queen and Imrahil, and were applauding them. Then one of the men bowed to her, and she laughed and took his hand. His partner moved off the floor, escorted by the Prince, and the dancers formed up again, the Queen in the pre-eminent place with yet another partner.
"Goodness!" I exclaimed, very impressed, for that last dance had been very vigorous. "She does like to dance, doesn't she?"
"Oh yes," Elrohir drawled, "'--feet as light as linden leaves,' and all that." His father gave him a decidedly dour look, and I wondered if perhaps we had outstayed our welcome. Then the Prince, having escorted the lady to friends at the side of the floor, strolled over to us. He extended a commanding hand, and an esquire in Dol Amroth livery appeared seemingly out of nowhere to place a goblet in it, then disappeared once more. Taking a deep draught, his twinkling eyes regarded us over the rim of the cup.
"What sober faces!" he declared. "What topic of conversation leaves the lot of you so gloomy?" The tension that had lurked in the air seemed to vanish with his coming.
"We were discussing your new duties as Royal Dance Master," Aragorn informed him with a grin. "And how, along with all the other ways I rely upon you, you will be required to give me dancing lessons." The Prince's eyebrows climbed skyward, and he took another deep drink.
"Well now! Dancing Master, is it?" He lowered his cup. "I was just a boy at the time, my lord king, but I am certain that I remember a Captain Thorongil navigating across the dance floor with my sister quite competently upon more than one occasion. You need no lessons from me." The King grew quiet at that, and I wondered anew at the longevity of the Dunedain, for though he was over twenty years older than the Prince, they looked much the same age. And the King certainly did not consider himself a greybeard--he was just now starting a family!
As for 'Captain Thorongil'......'Thorongil' indeed!.....it appeared that Aragorn had served in Gondor's army long ago, and that there were stories that could be told about that. I promised myself to try to find out those stories, from the Prince or anyone else who might have known the King in those days. Not, of course, from any desire to use the information for personal gain, but merely a desire to further explore my family history........
Laughter and cheering arose suddenly across the dance floor, and we all looked to find that Merry and Pippin, desiring to dance, but with a dearth of partners their own size, had discovered the twin nine-year-old daughters of one of the lords allowed to stay up past their bedtime for this special occasion. They were cavorting with them at the edge of the floor, well away from the "serious" dancers. The other members of the Fellowship, Legolas and Gimli and Frodo and Sam stood by, watching and laughing uproariously.
The laughter grew even louder, and was joined by the King's as Pippin's partner, obviously put up to it by the irrepressible perian, left him and endeavored to drag Samwise onto the dance floor. Flushing beet red, the gardner dug his leathery heels into the dance floor as best he could and resisted mightily. The girl, also red-faced from her exertions, was as stubborn as he.
"You have to!" she cried. "I'm a lady and it's impolite to refuse!" More laughter commenced at this imperious statement.
"Lawks, Mr. Frodo!" wailed Samwise, "I don't know nothing about this sort of fancy dancing! Make her stop!"
In an epic act of treachery the likes of which I'd seldom seen, Frodo not only did not make her stop, he shoved Sam bodily into her arms, coming near to toppling them both.
"Go on, Sam!" he called merrily. "Do you think I have nothing better to do than continually push you into your dance partners' arms?" Sam made a despairing noise, then submitted to his doom, and was promptly propelled about the floor to the loud counting and direction of his partner. The one good look I got at his face suggested to me that Pippin had better sleep with one eye open for a while. Meanwhile, Merry's partner had in her turn approached Frodo, who accepted with better grace, bending over her hand to her great gratification, and they moved across the floor in a much more graceful manner.
Beside me, the King was chuckling. "It is good to see them so merry once more, particularly Frodo."
Lord Elrond's mood seemed to have lightened somewhat as well. "Indeed. It is a hopeful sign." 'Hopeful' seemed an odd choice of words to me, but I had no intention of asking the Lord of Imladris to explain himself. Conversation lapsed for a bit as we watched the dance wend its way to its conclusion. The Prince finished his wine swiftly, held out the cup, and the same esquire appeared and vanished with it once more. I wondered how he anticipated his lord's wishes so well, and if I would be taught the trick of it. The dancers were applauded, and they applauded the musicians. Sam escaped his diminutive, domineering partner and fled for his life. Frodo turned his young lady back over to his cousin, and left in pursuit of Sam. The music started up again, and I was surprised to see many more people file onto the floor, some of them older couples.
Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth smiled when he heard the melody. "Ah yes," he murmured. "This one is an easy one." He gave me a suddenly speculative look, I returned him a instantly wary one, and he extended a hand to me with the same imperious command he'd used with his wine goblet.
"Would you care to dance, Lady Hethlin?"
"Nay my lord prince, I don't know how to," I answered, looking to Elrohir for rescue. "I fear I would embarrass you."
"There is nothing you could do on the dance floor that would embarrass me, Hethlin," he replied reasonably, but with that touch of impatience that had lurked beneath his exchanges with me all day.
"Good luck to you in getting her onto the floor," commented Elrohir dryly. "I have already pleaded my cause and been rebuffed." The Prince glanced at him for a brief moment.
"Ah, but I have resources that you do not, my lord prince." He turned back to me and gave me a very pointed look. "Esquire, dance with me. And that is not a request." Aragorn laughed. There was certainly nothing else I could do at that point but move to him as he directed, and allow him to steer me onto the floor. I glanced back over my shoulder to glare at Elrohir.
*You couldn't have left well enough alone?* Elrohir grinned suddenly, laughed as well and waved good-bye.
*You will do well enough, Snowsteel.*
I had my doubts about that, and they translated into a certain stiffness as we joined the other dancers.
"Relax, Hethlin," the Prince murmured as we took position at the end of the line. "I would have not asked you were this not an easy dance. There are few movements, and they are repeated often. This is well within your abilities."
"So you say." He chuckled.
"Trust me. I am familiar with every dance danced in the great halls of Gondor, and I know which ones are easy and which are difficult. I can also tell you that I do not know of a single one where the man devours his partner in the course of things." That absurdity made me laugh, and I did find myself relaxing a bit. He smiled, and laid a warm, firm hand upon my waist.
"Follow my lead."
I did so as the music started, following his murmured directions close to my ear, and his own movements. There were four or five basic steps, and, as he had promised, they were repeated often. After the third repetition, I began to see the way of it, and was familiar enough with what was going on that I actually began to enjoy myself. I shot a quick look up at Prince Imrahil's face and found it intent upon what my feet were doing--then, noticing my regard, he looked directly at me and smiled, a sweet, unguarded smile. I almost stumbled, and he tightened his grip on my waist, supporting me, then loosened it once more so that we could proceed.
During the time I had known him, we had been through some terrible things together, and as I had told him in Edoras, there was nothing of him I had not seen. And I had always known him to be a very handsome and charming man, in an intellectual sort of way. But I had never been so aware of him physically as I was now, moving face to face, then hip to hip, hands meeting and parting. I had recovered myself, and was able to dance, but my face was flushed, and I felt warm, and embarrassed, and confused. His smile was his nephew's, who had owned my heart for far longer than even I had known, and the look and set of his eyes echoed Faramir as well. Their voices too, were similar, I thought, remembering Faramir encouraging me beneath the wings of the Nazguls, and the Prince coaxing me as I sat over Faramir's body on the Pelennor.
But there were differences. Faramir's ability to command his men had never been questioned, at least not by his Rangers, and in battle, if he had ever felt less than sure about his decisions, we had not known it. Yet there had always been a diffidence, a reserve about him, the second-born son who was perpetually having to prove himself. Prince Imrahil, the much-loved only son and heir to his principality, had never had any doubt about his place in life or right to rule, and it gave him a confidence and a power that Faramir did not possess. I suspected that it was that power I was responding to, and wondered a bit deprecatingly if it was simply my nature to be attracted to the men of power who had command of me.
At least part of my confusion was due, I thought, to the fact that I was only newly come to the ability to even feel attraction to a man. Until Elrohir's healing, that part of me had been shut down and sundered--other than my futile longing for Faramir. Now, after Lorien, I was more aware of men as men, and not just fellow soldiers. I could perceive Aragorn's charm and vigor and grace, and understand why it was that Arwen had paid the ultimate price to claim him. Being Elrohir's lover had made me realize that even the ethereal-seeming Elves had a passionate side to them. But this new-found awareness had to be suppressed where my liege-lord was concerned, for exploring that attraction could only lead to dishonor for both of us. And it seemed unfair to Elrohir as well in a way, though we neither of us had bound the other with promises.
The dance wound down to its conclusion, during which the partners bowed and curtseyed to each other, and the men claimed a kiss from their ladies. Prince Imrahil tipped my chin up, and after a moment's hesitation, seeing no objection in my eyes, pressed his lips gently against mine. He tasted of the wine he'd drunk in such quantities earlier, and I found the kiss very pleasant.
He released me when it was done, and when I simply stood there, bemused, gave me a concerned look.
"Hethlin, are you all right?" I shook myself.
"Aye, my lord. Of course. I am sorry--I was elsewhere."
"Apparently." He gave me an encouraging smile. "See? You survived."
"Aye, I did. Am I right in assuming that dancing lessons will be part of my training at Dol Amroth?"
He nodded. "You are. I suspect that you will do very well--you are very graceful when you move." He took my arm and started walking me back towards Elrohir and the King.
"It was truly not as bad as I thought it would be," I remarked.
"Things very seldom are. The person who tries nothing new for fear of seeming ridiculous is far more the fool than the person who freely risks ridicule to experience something different."
"Do you have a saying for every occasion?" I asked. It was an innocent enough question, and asked gently, but for some reason, it stopped him in his tracks.
"Oh dear," he said, bowing his head a little. "I fear I am somewhat the worse for drink, and pompous with it."
"Not pompous, exactly."
"Pretentious, then."
"Not that either. Are you really drunk?"
"Not really. The worse for wear, as I said. More than I should be, less than I could be."
I laughed. "Let me get you off the dance floor then." For some reason, his admission had banished my confusion, returning me once more to the esquire mindset that allowed me to care for him comfortably. We made our way back to the King just as the dancers started their next dance, a more difficult piece. I noticed that the Queen had cozened Faramir into being her partner this time.
"Sire," Prince Imrahil addressed the King, "I fear that weariness has overcome me, and much as I would like to prolong my celebration of this happy day, I must depart now. With your leave, of course."
"By all means, go to bed, Imrahil!" laughed Aragorn. "I'll see you at breakfast in the morning."
"Please give my regards to your lady wife."
"Consider them given."
"And a good night to you, Lord Elrond." Lord Elrond inclined his head gracefully in acknowledgment.
"Have you need of an escort, my lord?" I asked, but he shook his head.
"There are Swan Knights enough here to see to me, Hethlin. Stay and enjoy the party. You may even, my lord Elrohir, convince her to dance with you now that I've accustomed her to the idea." Elrohir nodded, smiling pleasantly.
"Perhaps I will. It has been my experience that Hethlin picks up things very quickly after she is first introduced to them." I sent him a quick barrage of throttling threats, but his smile only broadened. The Prince, unaware of that last exchange, bowed gracefully and departed. I turned to Aragorn.
"I too think I will retire, if you do not mind, sir." The King raised his eyebrow.
"What, is everyone deserting me?" he asked plaintively. Elrohir laughed and clapped him on the back.
"I would think, brother, that you would wish for us to all leave you alone and go to bed!" Lord Elrond let that remark pass without comment, but I thought his lips thinned a little. "I will see Lady Hethlin to her room."
"Very well, brother," Aragorn replied. "Good night, cousin," he said to me, and feeling a little daring, I leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Be happy, my lord," I murmured into his ear, and he hugged me again.
"I plan on it," he replied. Elrohir, to my surprise and pleasure, embraced his father, was embraced in turn, and then we left the feasting hall.
Sometime later, the two of us were in bed, pressed close together flesh upon flesh, though this time it was for comfort rather than passion's sake. Moonlight shone through the open balcony door, and we had pulled the fine brocade coverlet up over us, for the night was surprisingly chill for midsummer.
"What was it that troubled you earlier, Snowsteel?" Elrohir asked softly, and turning towards him, I gave him the information he sought directly mind to mind--though not without a bit of trepidation. He was not angered in any way that I could see, and seemed to consider the knowledge of my attraction to the Prince rather dispassionately.
"I think it very healthy, on the whole," he said quietly at last. "I would have become worried after a time if you were unable to be attracted in that way to anyone other than myself. It could be a sign that I had not healed you properly. I have already bound you to myself in so many ways that I did not intend."
"Are you sorry about that?" I asked curiously. He smiled, and tapped my nose with a long finger.
"No, for you have been a great comfort to me of late." The finger rejoined its fellows, and the hand as a whole stroked my cheek. "Will you explore this feeling you have for the Prince?" He sounded genuinely inquisitive and not jealous at all--which was an impressive change from some of his behavior in the past. I shook my head.
"I may not. He is my liege lord. And in truth, I would like to think I learned my lesson about that with Faramir. Indeed, it may just be because he reminds me of Faramir. I fear I may have a habit of being attracted to my commanders. I must put an end to it."
"I think it is more that you have very high standards," Elrohir soothed. "The men you are attracted to are powerful men, but they are also worthy ones. And I will even admit that about the Prince of Ithilien." Which was, I informed him, a very great concession on his part, and I kissed him gratefully, snuggled close and fell asleep.
Waking in the middle of the night, uneasy for some reason, I discovered that Elrohir had moved away from me, and now lay face up in the bed. The light from Ithil, riding high in the sky, glinted off his silver eyes and the silver tracks of tears upon his cheeks. I watched him silently for a while, unsure of whether he was awake or asleep, and had just decided that he must be asleep when he spoke softly.
"She is in his arms right now, and she is happy, for she has striven for this for a long time as mortals count such things. I can sense her, though I am trying to block her from sensing me. Brother is blunting his sorrow with the pleasures of the flesh among our brethren from Lorien, and Father walks alone upon the ramparts in the moonlight, communing with the stars. As for me, I am here in the bed of a friend. Of the three of us, Father, Brother and myself, I think I have the best of it." Deeply moved, I slid an arm under him, drew him against me once more and held him close, stroking his hair. He did not protest, and in fact I thought he had fallen asleep again. Then, close to dawn, he spoke again.
"Do you believe in the stories, Snowsteel, about the great loves? Do you believe that love is stronger than death?"
"As a mortal, I would like to believe that is true," I murmured, "though I do not think that the people in the stories knew that that was what they were doing at the time." Changeable, odd creature that he was, that actually drew a chuckle from him.
"You are most likely right about that." And I heard no more from him that night.