The days passed easily in Lorien, and Boromir found himself in the company of Rilarien more often than he expected. The elf eagerly showed him the spectacular beauty of the surround land. She filled his ears with tales of her people and her own experiences as they wandered. More often then not Rilarien found herself distracted by the closeness of Boromir. As he pointed out the natural beauty of Lorien, she would catch herself examining his profile against the green of the trees. Even though he was mortal, Rilarien couldn't help the butterflies that invaded her stomach when he would grasp her hand to steady her or help her over an obstacle. Inwardly she would remind herself of his mortality, but as the days progressed, she began to wonder if he also felt the butterflies.
As the noon sun rose upon the land, she pressed Boromir's hand against the trunk of an aged mallorn tree. He laughed as a deep tingling invaded his skin, and Rilarien's own laughter echoed his. "I've never had that happen before," he admitted as they walked back to Calas Galadhon.
Rilarien shrugged, "Nor have many elves. My cousin hasn't yet experienced it, but she is too busy to fully understand."
"Understand what?"
"The connection. It's…difficult to explain."
Boromir kicked at a clump of dirt on the ground, "Why is it that you have that connection?"
Rilarien laughed lightly and smiled. She shook her head as she looked at Boromir, "You are full of questions, Captain. When I first came to Lorien, I spent many hours among the trees, not talking, just absorbing their presence. It was a way to remember my parents, and the life I led in Imladris. The trees understood my grief, and they comforted me. I am at home when I'm with them."
"You're not at home here?"
Rilarien merely looked at Boromir, her mouth opened but closed quickly. Changing the subject, she cleared her throat, "Do you think I'm getting better with the sword?"
Sensing her awkwardness, Boromir dropped the subject and replied, "Yes, you have much improved."
Their conversation stayed on the subject of weaponry as they approached the city. It wasn't invigorating talk, but both were so deeply involved they almost ran into Erndil. The blond elf had spotted them from afar and made sure he was in their path of return. Armed with his bow and quiver of arrows, he stopped them. A smile spread across Rilarien's face as she greeted her friend. "Erndil, Boromir said that I have much improved in the sword." The stated fact was mundane, but the elf showed all interest.
"Indeed, Rien, I never doubted you and your abilities. In fact I am headed off to practice myself. Would you care to join me?" Erndil did his best to ignore the man besides Rilarien by keeping his focus on her. He was disappointed to observe her brow wrinkle, and the smile fade from her face.
"I'm sorry, but I promised to show Boromir more of Lorien. He's leaving soon, and the probability of his returning is very unlikely."
The elf hesitated, but took a small step backwards. Icy blue eyes looked the intruder up and down before he glanced back to Rilarien. A forced smile transformed his face as he shifted his gaze, "That's alright. I'll practice by myself then. Maybe after Captain Boromir leaves we can practice together. Or," The elf's gaze shifted once again to Boromir, "It might be sport to spar with the mortal, testing his abilities." Despite the fact that they were a short distance away, Rilarien could almost feel Boromir stiffen.
Not wanting a conflict, Rilarien was quick to interject, "Lómpalan would most likely enjoy the opportunity to exercise her archery skills. Why don't you ask her Erndil? By this time she and Daedhel are back from the courts of Galadriel and Celeborn. It would do her good to get out in the air for a while."
He curtly nodded his head; "I will take that into consideration. If you'll excuse me." He turned and left, and the two continued their wanderings through the woods.
***
"Rien!" Lómpalan's excited voice carried through the room. She clasped her cousin's hands and started dancing around in a circle.
Rilarien, who was tired from a day of trekking, laughed with Palan, but pulled her to a stop, "What is it Palan? You seem so bubbly, so full of life. What happened today with Galadriel and Celeborn? Did you practice archery with Erndil? I know how you are fond of him."
Beaming, the younger elf plopped down on her bed and tucked her slippered feet under her, "Same as yesterday." She blushed at the comment about Erndil, "We did practice, but not for long. He ran off to the west, saying he had important business to attend to. But back to Galadriel and Celeborn; we are invited to the feast!" She nearly squealed as she jumped up and bounced over to Rilarien. The pixie face shone with delight.
Confused Rilarien tilted her head to the side, "What feast?"
Throwing her hands up and rolling her eyes, Lómpalan whined, "Rilarien, where have you been today?" The girl talked fluently with her hands, "It's a proper feast for the arrival of the Mirkwood guests. They have been hailed by Elrond and travel to Imladris…"
Rilarien screwed her face up with distaste, "Oh no, not another night of talking politics and…"
Shrieking slightly, Palan shook her cousin's shoulders, "Of course there will be that talk, but the King of Mirkwood will be there, along with his son, and many others of his court. While Celeborn and Thranduil talk politics, we will be able to dance and make merry for the entire evening. Isn't this a grand send off Rilarien? Galadriel insisted that we attend as ladies and partake in the festivities. Isn't this exciting?"
"Yes, yes, yes, very exciting Palan. But what are you going to wear?" Drawing the attention to Lómpalan's clothes was a sure way to distract the girl. Palan clapped her hands to her cheeks to cover her open mouth.
Frowning the elf charged to the adjoining room, pausing just long enough to capture her cousin's arm and drag her along. Menageries of clothes were pulled from their hangers, but all were discarded by the girl. Rilarien leaned against the door, her arms crossed, and a sweet smile gracing her face. Lómpalan surely was a character. Frustrated Palan thrust her hands on her hips, "And what, pray tell, will you be wearing this evening?"
Reaching around her cousin, Rilarien disentangled an indigo gown. Along with her dress, she removed a sea green outfit with simple gold stitching around the hems. "Uncle wisely chose this lovely gown for you, my cousin. He knew you would panic, and this proves to be a smart match for your coloring." Lómpalan strained to remove her present dress, and Rilarien laughed out loud as the girl tumbled over the strewn clothes on the floor. "Be patience, my dear Palan!" Rien laughed as she helped untie the laces. "You will be more than ready for a night of dancing and merry making by the time I have finished with you."
Lómpalan's chatter filled the room as Rilarien brushed out her cousin's hair. The topics changed frequently, and Rilarien couldn't help but laugh at the child-like quality her cousin had. But then Palan started talking about things that had happened of late. Staring at Rien in the mirror, Palan inquired, "Do you think the Captain of Gondor will be attending the feast tonight?" The elf might have possessed an innocent character, but she understood more than she let on. With sharp eyes she observed her cousin visibly stiffen. Rilarien's cheeks grew red as she caught Palan's gaze in the mirror, and she quickly turned to occupy herself with accessories. "You like him." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"He's an interesting character, yes. Anyway, he's teaching me how to wield a sword." Rilarien sighed and starting braiding Lómpalan's long tresses. Trying to combat the inquisitive questions, Rien shot one back to her cousin, "You like Erndil."
"That's different."
"How so?" Not liking what her fingers had produced, Rilarien ran the brush back through Palan's hair.
Craning her neck to look her cousin in the face, Lómpalan spoke, her words stinging Rilarien: "He's an elf, Rien, one of our kind, not a mortal man." The brush stopped and clattered to the floor. Lómpalan turned to face her cousin. "I see how you look at him, and how often that gaze is returned. Why a mere mortal Rilarien? He's simplistic, unknowledgeable, and stubborn in his mortal ways. His doom is assured."
Much to Lómpalan's surprise, Rilarien simply shrugged her shoulders timidly. " 'The doom of men is mortality, freedom from the circles of this world.' I cannot answer you selen *cousin*. Right now I am urged on by something stronger than common sense. I realize he is just a mortal, but I am comforted by his presence, and I am drawn to him. Your concern for my well-being warms my heart Palan, but, if this is fate, it cannot be changed."
Not wanting to explain further, Rilarien resumed the task of preparing Lómpalan for her first feast.
***
Rilarien had been right, and both young elves were ready for the evening. The gowns were beautiful on them, and with expert hands Rien had woven sparkling jewels into Palan's dark locks to form an intricate braided creation. A simple emerald choker graced her narrow neck, and her wrists were decked with matching bracelets. She was a shimmering creature, nervous with excitement and childlike enthusiasm. Unlike her cousin, Rilarien merely pulled half of her dark locks back and decorated the simplicity with an intricate circlet of silver. The only adornment she wore was a long silver chain that held a delicate sun made of gold. It was Lómpalan's night to shine, and Rilarien gladly gave the honor to her cousin. Daedhel escorted them, and Rilarien nearly lost all breath as she beheld the banquet hall. Daedhel led Rilarien and Lómpalan before Celeborn and Galadriel and properly introduced the two.
"My lord and lady," Daedhel began, "May I introduce to you my daughter, Lómpalan, of whom you met earlier, and my niece Rilarien, the daughter of my deceased sister, Tindómëwen." Both girls curtsied gracefully and bowed their heads.
Galadriel nodded her approval of the young elves; a smile adorned her beautiful face. "Tis good to see you again young Lómpalan. I must say you have grown more beautiful from the last time I saw you. Daedhel is surely blessed." The once giddy girl had blossomed into a reserved and dignified adult. She smiled and bowed to the lady of the Lorien. Galadriel turned her gaze upon Daedhel's niece. "Rilarien." She let the name roll gently off her tongue. "Lovely name for a lovely elf."
"Thank you, my lady." Rilarien whispered, bowing her head like Lómpalan.
Your path is changing, child. For better or worse, I do not know. Look to the south, daughter of both Lorien and Imladris, for there your answer lies. Rilarien's eyes grew wide as she looked upon Galadriel. The small smile still adorned her lips, but her eyes seemed to look down into Rilarien's very soul. You feel the coming. Embrace that feeling and follow your heart. Your time will come, Rilarien, daughter of Tindómëwen. Your time will come.
"The resemblance to your mother is striking. Tis a pleasure to have you in this court, Rilarien." Celeborn's voice cut through Rilarien's thoughts. Rien's head jerked up to stare at the lord, but her eyes flitted back to the Lady of the Wood. Galadriel merely nodded her head. Smiles touched both their faces as Celeborn finished, "Will we be experiencing any of your notorious mischief this evening?"
"No, my lord." Rilarien stammered, her face turning red, "This evening I have promised my uncle to remain on my best behavior. Please let me beg your apologies for the numerous times that I have created a stir. I never before received the opportunity to ask your forgiveness face to face." A gracious nod of the head was all Rilarien needed before she fled into the crowd. Her sharp eyes spied Lómpalan dancing with a tall stranger. Judging from his resemblance to the King of Mirkwood, Rilarien guessed that he was Legolas, the king's son. Daedhel was mingling with the guests, his attention captured by several members of the Mirkwood court. Panic started to rise in her throat as she bit her lip. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Erndil's warm breath caressed her ear as he asked, "Lle merna salk *do you want to dance*?"
Without waiting for her reply, the older elf caught her elbow and led her out onto the dance floor. His grip was sure and comfortable about her waist, and his face was lit with happiness. Gone were the dark green and blue clothing that Rilarien was used to seeing Erndil in, and in their stead a fine shirt of soft silver materiel. Around the floor they danced. Erndil pleasantly chatted, but she was finding it hard to concentrate upon his words. Her glance kept wandering back to Galadriel, and every so often the elf found her gaze returned. The music stopped, and Rilarien took the opportunity to escape Erndil's gasp. She started easing herself toward the exit. Erndil followed and stopped her before she completely left, backing her gently up against a wall.
A teasing smile transformed his face as he spoke gently, "You seemed lost, dear Rilarien. How are you going to be able to handle Elrond's court?" A low chuckled left his throat, and Rilarien held her face in her hands.
"Tis not funny, Erndil." Her voice was muffled.
"What's this?" He asked as he lifted her chin. He brushed the tears from her face with his fingertips. His fair face darkened with concern. His voice grew gentle, "Rilarien…"
"I need some time alone. Please excuse me…" she forced a brave small smile to claim her lips, but the bravery didn't reach up into her eyes.
"Rilarien…" Erndil's voice lost all hints of laughter. He watched as her eyes filled with tears. Her chin quivered ever so slightly, and he gently cupped it. Her skin was soft. Warm tears dropped onto his hand. The liquid shimmered in the dull light, reflecting small particles of light into the night. He jumped slightly as her cold fingers entwined around his.
"Please give the lord and lady my deepest apologies, and my uncle the same. And please, Erndil," she gripped his hand firmly, "Dance with Lómpalan." Kissing his cheek briefly, Rilarien vanished in a swirl of dark skirts.
"You look beautiful tonight." Erndil's whispered compliment disappeared into the night with the fleeing Rilarien. He touched his cheek, wishing deeply that she were still near. The music once again began, but Erndil was drawn to the girl who was fleeing into the night. He followed her.