*I do not own Tolkein's characters, only my own
Lómpalan felt giddy as Legolas danced gracefully around the floor with her. He wasn't the best-looking elf, in all reality he was plain, but he was nice. Her dancing partners rarely changed, and after a couple of waltzes around the floor, she couldn't see Rilarien. Palan had noticed Erndil with her cousin earlier, and she couldn't help but feel a pain of jealousy as she watched him beam brightly down on the uninterested Rilarien. Swaying her attention away from the other couple, Palan smiled at Legolas and submerged her thoughts deep into their conversation. The merrymaking lasted well into the evening and the young elf kept a sharp eye out for Erndil, planning to drag him onto the dance floor, but he had disappeared just like Rilarien.
***
The breath left her in ragged gasps. Stumbling over exposed tree roots and tripping on her skirts, Rilarien made her way deeper into the forest. The clearing was just ahead, her clearing, her secluded spot to loose all touch of reality. The stars glinted down, winking their cold distant eyes at her mourning. A memory had returned and Galadriel's words haunted her. With the simple words of Celeborn, the resemblance of her mother, Rilarien remembered. She shivered violently; the thin gown did little to hold in warmth. She stood in the very center of the clearing, her head craned far back to stare at the stars. Erndil watched her from his hiding place, curious of her strange actions.
"Mankoi *why*?" She suddenly screamed into the night. He jumped at the noise, and felt his heart tear in two as the moonlight glinted off her tear-stained face. "Why did you leave me in a time such as this? I cannot follow my heart, as the Lady has instructed, for it is still bound to you. Dear mother, dear father…" Rilarien fell to her knees, her shoulders drooped, and she hung her head in despair. "Was it my fault?" Time mingled with the night sounds. Her sobs were soft among the distant songs. Compassion filled Erndil's heart, but he resisted the urge to comfort her. There were things that one left alone, and Rilarien's past was one of those.
He knew little of her childhood outside of Lorien. His first memory of her was a scrawny, dirty child clinging to Daedhel's hand. Her pale eyes overtook her small face, and the dark tresses hung in many tangles. The once green dress was too large for her small frame, but she curtsied properly when introduced to Celeborn and Galadriel, clumsily holding the long skirts out of the way. Her thumb somehow found its way to her mouth, and she shyly hid behind Daedhel's knees. Erndil's eyes grew cloudy as he watched her. Rilarien had grown up into a beautiful elf, but her past still shadowed the smiles that lit her face.
"My lady?" Both elves jerked their heads up. Boromir emerged from the dark. He was darkly clad, his dark hair falling about his shoulders. In the musky darkness Erndil could see the hilt of Boromir's sword. Erndil's throat tightened as he watched Rilarien's actions.
"Boromir! How…?" Confusion filled Rilarien's words. She stood and backed away as he stepped forward. Never before had she felt intimidated by the mortal, but now she was exposed. She felt bare as his eyes watched her. Her darkness had been exposed.
"What is one to do when his hosts prepare a feast and he is not invited?" His voice was velvet soft, caressing Rilarien's ears. She shivered.
"You could stay in your quarters." Erndil whispered harshly to himself. He felt jealousy boil up inside. His hands dug into the soft ground, the dirt caked under his nails. The man moved slowly over to Rilarien. His hand on her shoulder made her flinch.
"Who were they?" the man asked. The tenderness remained in his voice.
"Doesn't matter." Rilarien whispered. Try as she might, she could not resist the tears that fell.
Firmly but gently he turned her around to face him. He peered down into her face. When she tried to look away, he caught her chin with his fingertips, moving it once again to look up at him. She couldn't hold his gaze. More tears fell. "It must matter. You're crying."
The muscles in her jaw moved quickly as she gritted her teeth. Rien ran a sleeve over her face as she answered, "My parents."
The silence almost hurt. Erndil strained to hear. "What happened?" Boromir's voice was soft, "You wouldn't talk about it earlier today. In fact you skirted the subject, something you don't normally do…"
"I was young, very young," she interrupted. Breaking from his grasp, she plopped down on the ground, her legs tucked about her. "We went out for a walk. I ran ahead, expecting my parents to follow quickly. They weren't following me so I turned back, crested the hill and saw…" Her voice broke, but kept going, "Lord Elrond came and comforted me, but what comfort is to be had for an orphan? I was taken here; it seemed like my parents' lives were quickly forgotten, and I just accepted it. I chose not to remember any of it, but the memories come back. They always come back…" Her voice trailed off at the end, and Boromir sat across from her.
"At the feast?"
"My mother was a Lorien elf, my father was from Imladris. Their differences were few, but their marriage was complicated. She never talked about it here, the beauty, her family, even my cousin." A soft chuckle rose in her throat, "I don't believe she even knew my uncle had an offspring." Rilarien's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Why am I telling you this?"
A wiry smile crosses Boromir's face. "You'll never see me again once you leave for Rivendell. I'm an ear to hear, but not a mouth to criticize. I'm part of the race of men, and my days are numbered. Whatever you tell me dies with me Rilarien, but you have to carry that burden for the rest of your years."
" 'The doom of elves is to be immortal, to love the beauty of the world, to bring it to full flower with their gifts of delicacy and perfection, to last while it last, never leaving it even when slain…'" *Silmarillion* Erndil strained to hear her as she spoke. Rilarien wrapped her arms around herself, "You promise?" Boromir nodded his head, and Rilarien's long narrative began. Erndil melted back into the darkness as quietly as he could. As he stalked back to the feast, he couldn't help but feel anger. He had known Rilarien practically her whole life, but she rarely confided her darkest memories to him. She gave not a word of her past, just talked about nonsense of everyday life.
In the dark he strung his bow and pulled the string back. Arrow after arrow was shot into oblivion. When his quiver was empty, the elf walked slowly back to the banquet hall. Stoically he waltzed with Lómpalan, never once commenting during her vibrant chatter. When Legolas tapped him on the shoulder to cut in, he graciously gave the Mirkwood Prince Palan's hand, but before he left to retire for the rest of the evening, he leaned close to whisper in Lómpalan's ear, "Heed my warning, Palan, stay away from our southern guest. He is leading Rilarien astray, and I would hate to see you pulled into his disguised words. The only result of the friendship between your cousin and the son of the Steward will be pain. Believe me Palan…" The younger elf looked confused, but she nodded graciously, placing her trust in her long-time friend.
***
Lómpalan was puzzled, but she merely shrugged and finished the dance with Prince Legolas. As they dined on delicious foods, their conversation remained light and merry. Never had the elf experienced such festivities. It was as if she was queen of the night and laughter, instead of blood, ran through her veins. Late in the evening Daedhel managed to pull his daughter away.
"I had a lovely time, Lady Lómpalan," Legolas bowed as he smiled to the young elf.
Palan curtsied politely, "As did I, Prince Legolas. I thank you for such a pleasant evening, and I hope your travels lead you once again to the mellyrn of Lorien."
"That would be delightful. Tenna' ento lye omenta arwenamin *until next we meet my lady*." They bid their goodnights.