sweatdrop I apologize to anyone who's been wondering where on earth I'd got to; my computer access vanished and before that Eöl simply would not behave. Also I couldn't figure out what should happen when he got home. Obviously, that is fixed now, and here is the next chapter. Finally.
Disclaimer: Eöl, Aredhel, and Nan Elmoth aren't mine. As much as I would love to lay claim to Eöl…))
I am still mulling things over when I reach home. I open the door half in a daze. I am not certain what I expected to find when I arrived—images of Aredhel lying crumpled at my feet spring to mind unbidden. I push them away with a shudder—but this stillness is not it. It is exactly like every other time I returned from Tumunzahar in the past, but different, because it should not be the same. There is no sign of Aredhel's presence, or even her existence, as I leave the entryway and cross the larger hall. Perhaps I imagined the whole thing. How Telchar would laugh.
My bedchamber is the one room that shows any signs that she was ever here. In tangible things, like the silver-worked clothing rack I created for her and the jewelry that hangs by the polished plate. In less tangible things, like the feel of the air in the room and the scent of her that just barely clings to the bedding. There is a white comb lying on the little table beside the bed with a single black hair caught in its teeth. Hesitantly, I touch it, running my rough fingers along its curve, eyes closed.
A whisper of cloth against cloth. I turn, opening my eyes, and wince. The figure in the doorway bears a light brighter than I can stand, so I throw up my arm to shield my sensitive eyes.
"Eöl?"
Aredhel's voice. She sounds surprised, but not frightened. I am glad of that, but I wish I knew whether her lack of fear is because she is hiding it or because she truly is not afraid… There is no joy in her voice at seeing me. I suppose I shouldn't expect it, but…
"Where did you go?"
The light remains. I wonder if she is using it as a shield, to keep me from coming any closer. The thought is not any more comforting than her lack of gladness. "To Tumunzahar—" I realize that she would not know this name, it being rather different from most of my people's name for that place. "To see my friends, the dwarves."
"Why?"
I wish she would not ask so many questions. I do not want to explain why I fled, nor do I want to explain the advice I was given by Telchar… And yet, if I say nothing… "I needed more iron." That's only half of it, and the least important half at that. But…
She sounds skeptical. "That's all?"
"Well, no, but… Aredhel, would you please put that light down?"
The light is suddenly less. I drop my arm, to see her standing in the doorway with a now-covered lantern in her hands. I do not recognize it… where did she get such a thing? My eyes narrow in sudden suspicion. Has she left Nan Elmoth while I have been gone? Where would she have gone?
No, no of course not. She would not have had time to go anywhere and come back. It must simply be something that I or one of my assistants made that I'd forgotten about. Of course.
But the suspicion won't go away… Those cursed sons of Feanor aren't so very far away, after all…
"There. Now tell me why you left."
"I did. I needed more iron." Now that the light is not shining in my face, I can look at her. She is more beautiful than I'd remembered, though I wonder how much of that is due to separation. I have heard that such things do happen, when a husband and wife do not see each other for a time…
"Eöl. Tell me all of why you left."
"It doesn't matter now," I insist, taking a step forward. I want to embrace her, I want to feel her in my arms and know beyond a doubt that she is alive and well and unharmed, despite my temper. She doesn't flinch or turn away, for which I am grateful, but she does not look pleased, either, not like she did for a little while, before… "I came back, didn't I?"
"You did."
I take a few more steps forward, standing right in front of her and looking down at her face. "Aredhel," I whisper, my voice husky with desire. I wrap my arms around her, pressing her to my chest.
"Not now, Eöl. Not until you tell me why you left without telling anyone where you were going or when you would be back. You left the house in an uproar, Eöl."
"After," I tell her, and kiss her.
After, though I am sated in some ways, there is a sort of emptiness. I am not filled to the brim as I was before. She hardly responded to me. She didn't push me away, but she didn't do anything, either. It was like… like she wasn't even there.
I roll away and sit up, elbows on my knees and chin in my hands. She doesn't move.
"Now will you answer me? The truth, Eöl."
I close my eyes and sigh. "Very well… I left because—" How to phrase this? "—Because I was afraid."
"Afraid?" Surprise and a little bit of irony. I do not wonder at that; she has every right.
"Afraid I would hurt you." I look at her, as if I can make her understand just by the pleading that must be in my eyes. "I've never lost my temper like that, Aredhel. Never. I was terrified that I was going to do it again, and that it wouldn't be just an unfinished sculpture that was lying crumpled on the floor. I don't want to hurt you, Aredhel. I never wanted to hurt you."
One graceful black eyebrow lifts, as if she finds it hard to believe that last statement of mine. Then she shakes her head and laughs softly. "You did a very good job of pretending you did, husband."
"No… I…" I fall back on accusing her. It wasn't my fault that she was praising the Noldor in my very house! "You shouldn't have been singing about your kin, Aredhel. I've told you not to speak of them in my home."
Her eyes are cold. "If you hate them so much, then I'm sure that you won't want a reminder of them in your bed every night." She stands and wraps a robe about herself.
I can only stare in shock. "Where are you going?" I manage to ask.
"To the guest chamber. Where you won't be offended by the sight of a Noldo." And she is gone.
For a time after she leaves, I sit in silence, touching the warm place on the bed where she lay and feeling it slowly cool under my hand. She doesn't mean it, I assure myself. She will come back to me, come back to my bed. She will. She cannot stay away…
But as the day wears on, and I am left alone, I realize that she isn't coming back to my bed. She will live with me as my wife, but I have made love to her for the last time.