~~ Chapter Four: Second Impressions ~~
Celeborn did not sleep well that night. Lúthien's words kept echoing in his mind as he tossed and turned in his bed: "Artanis wanted to meet you before she knew you were blind." It was highly unlikely that Lúthien would speak anything but the truth, especially concerning something as serious as this. He had few close friends other than his brothers and Lúthien, and now any chance he had of making a friend in Artanis seemed lost. All because he had to act cynical toward her. How could he have been such a fool?
Eventually, he fell asleep, and woke with the rising of the sun. He could not see the light, but his mind perceived the arrival of dawn. He'd always had that ability, and when he became blind, Melian helped him develop it further, and now it almost never failed him. There were many things he wished to able to see again: the stars, Menegroth, Lúthien dancing, the forest, but a sunrise was among the sights he missed the most.
He found his way over to his wardrobe and dressed slowly. All his clothing was silver and white to prevent mismatching. He had to be careful when dressing – once, not long after he first became blind, he put a tunic on backwards and wore it like that all day because no one told him for fear of offending him. Over the years, though, as he became accustomed to his affliction, it became much easier, although his brothers still didn't understand how he could do it. Uncómien once tried to dress himself with his eyes closed, and the result was rather amusing.
He finished lacing up his boots, then took his staff from its place next to his wardrobe. Everything had an assigned place; if he ever misplaced something, it would take him a long time to find it without asking for help, which he did not like to do. He did not want others to think he was helpless just because he was blind.
Once he was sure everything was in order, he left his room and began the walk over to the corridor where Lúthien's room was located. It was easy to find her room; it was the only door in that hallway with a marble handle. All the others were made of wood. Artanis would be in the room directly to the left of Lúthien's. He did not believe he would have any trouble finding it.
As he walked, he contemplated what to say to Artanis, hoping he wouldn't repeat the mistakes of the night before.
Exhaustion made Artanis slept like a rock, but she also woke at sunrise. She splashed some cold water on her face, then picked out something to wear. Melian, who was slightly taller than Lúthien (but of an equally dainty build), had given Artanis clothing to use until some could be made. Her brothers were in a similar situation; what few personal belongings they brought out of Valinor had gradually been lost in various ways, and they were clothed in things that had been loaned to them by their new friends Galathil and Uncómien. Artanis would have perfectly content with wearing mens' clothes – in fact, she probably would have been more comfortable – but she was not going to refuse Melian's hospitality.
She decided on an ivory gown just a few shades lighter than her skin tone, changed into it, and then began to contemplate what she was going to do with her hair. It had been more than a week since she'd had a chance to wash it, and although she'd gone longer with no problems, she didn't think she should wear it down until it was washed. Not up to doing anything particularly creative, she spent a few minutes locating some pins, then twisted her hair into sections and pinned the sections up.
As she was doing this, she found herself terribly missing Amarië. Amarië was the only person outside her immediate family Artanis allowed to touch her hair, and she would always come up with wonderful ways to arrange it. Eärwen would do this from time to time, usually while lecturing Artanis on how to act like a woman, but she did not have the talent that Amarië did. Her hair caused Artanis to receive a lot of attention, and not all of it positive. She remembered Fëanor and shuddered. His strange, almost incestuous fascination with her and her hair caused a lot of tension between the two of them. When word came to her of his death, she grieved for her kinsman as anyone would, but secretly she could not help feeling a little bit relieved.
A knock on the door brought Artanis out of her thoughts. She wondered who it could be. Probably Lúthien. Or perhaps one of her brothers. Although most of her attention at the meal last night had been directed at Celeborn, Artanis managed to catch a few other things, namely Finrod and Angrod discussing making a trip to the border sometime within the next few days to visit the encampment of the other Noldor. The children of Finarfin were the king's kin, but the other members of their party, some two dozen in number, were denied entrance into Doriath.
When Artanis opened the door, she saw that it was not Lúthien or her brothers. It was Celeborn.
"Prince Celeborn!" she exclaimed, unable to hide her surprise.
"Good morning, Lady Artanis," he returned, bowing his head respectfully. "I trust you slept well."
"Yes, thank you, but with all due respect, my lord, I do not understand why you are here."
"To ask your forgiveness," he said. "My behavior toward you and your brother last night was less than cordial, and for that I apologize."
"Forgiveness was given before it was asked," Artanis said. "No apology was necessary, my lord. You have endured much needlessly on account of fools."
"The injustice of the past is no excuse for the actions of the present."
"Very well. I will accept your apology if you accept mine."
Celeborn looked surprised. "What do you have to apologize for?"
"Nothing. Just like you."
He smiled. "You have a sharp wit, my lady."
"Artanis!" came Orodreth's voice. She looked over and saw her second eldest brother walking toward them. "They are about to serve breakfast. Will you be coming?" He stopped walking, and took notice of Celeborn. "Hello."
Celeborn turned in the direction of Orodreth's voice and returned the greeting. Orodreth extended his hand, but Celeborn did not take it.
Artanis, realizing that Orodreth did not know about Celeborn's blindness, remembered the method of introduction Lúthien had used the previous night. She took Orodreth's hand, then Celeborn's, and pressed them together. "My lord Celeborn, this Orodreth, son of Finarfin, and my brother. Orodreth, this is Celeborn, son of Galadhon, and a prince of Doriath."
"It is an honor to meet you, Prince Celeborn," Orodreth said.
"It is an honor to meet you as well, son of Finarfin," said Celeborn.
A relieved smile worked its way onto Artanis's face. The introduction was not the finest, but it served its purpose.
Orodreth excused himself, and Artanis turned to Celeborn. "Will you be going to breakfast?" she asked.
"I had planned on it," he said. "Do you know the way? It is easy to get turned around in these halls."
Native of Doriath or not, Artanis could not help but find the idea of those words coming from a blind man slightly amusing. "I think so," she said. "It is not far from here. Will you come with me?"
"I would be honored."
They began walking toward the dining hall. Celeborn, as he had to use the staff to find his way, could not move very quickly. Artanis noticed this, and an idea came to her. "Here," she said. "Take my arm."
An apologetic smile crossed his face. "I would, lady, if I could find it." The last thing he wanted was to reach over and accidentally touch something he shouldn't.
She touched her hand to his arm. He thanked her, and they linked arms. "You are tall," he noticed. "Taller than Queen Melian. The top of her head is probably at the same level as… as your eyes."
"Yes," Artanis said. "That's right."
"Then that would mean you are as tall as I, perhaps a few hair widths shorter."
She smiled. "That is amazing."
"Thank you, but it is merely a skill I have acquired to make up for what I have lost."
Artanis did not understand why Melian was so against her becoming friends with Celeborn. With every passing moment, she grew more and more fond of the blind prince. "That may be, but I am impressed just the same."
They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Artanis, filled with curiosity about her companion, asked him a question. "Have you lived in Menegroth your whole life?"
"Off and on, but only consistently the last thirty years," he said. "I was born here, but when I was small, my family moved to Otoromu, a village near the southern border. Galathil and Uncómien were both born there. I joined the border patrol at twenty and had no fixed residence for the next fifty-two years. Then I lost my sight and came to Menegroth permanently."
Doing some quick adding in her head, Artanis figured that Celeborn was just over a hundred years old. He had endured much for someone so young.
"Do you like it here, Artanis?" he asked.
"Very much," she answered. "This land is beautiful, and the hospitality has been very much appreciated."
"Yes, it is beautiful," he agreed. "I can see it in my dreams sometimes; the trees, the birds, Lúthien dancing under the stars, my brothers making faces at Valendil behind his back…"
He smiled, and Artanis did as well. It was easy for her to imagine Uncómien doing that, and she would not think it impossible of Galathil. "You and your brothers must be very close," she said.
"Oh yes," he replied. "All three of us were on the border patrol together for about seven years… those were the happiest years of my life. Uncómien would concoct all sorts of schemes, and he and Galathil were always trying to get me to go along with them. There was one incident where the two of them volunteered for night duty, and they hid everyone's left boot except mine, so…"
Then, he stopped talking. Artanis, who had been hanging on every word, wondered why.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I do not usually talk this much."
"It's all right," she said. "I don't mind."
He was delighted over the fact that she seemed interested in what he had to say, but now the rhythm of their conversation had been interrupted, and the awkward silence that occurs when two strangers with a mutual interest in each other realize they bonded faster than they expected set in.
Celeborn took it upon himself to get the two of them talking again. "Do you know how long you will be in Doriath?"
"No," Artanis replied. "My people need to regroup and formulate a plan of action before we can strike at Morgoth, but I do not believe my brothers and I will be a part of that."
"And why is that?" Celeborn asked.
She sighed and glanced at the floor. "We did not swear the Oath of Fëanor, so we are not bound to the fate of the Silmarils. Fëanor's pride brought about his destruction. He was my uncle, but I will have nothing to do with him."
"Forgive me if I am out of line, Artanis, but why did you leave the Blessed Realm, if not for him and his cause?"
Ordinarily, she would have thought such a question bold coming from someone she'd just met, but she was comfortable around Celeborn and felt like she'd known him longer, if only in her heart. She took a few moments to select the right words in her mind, and then gave her answer. "There was only ever hostility between Fëanor and myself, but even so, my heart was moved by his words," she said. "Valinor is a wonderful place, free of pain and despair, but we were trapped. It was a cage; a beautiful cage, but a cage just the same. My dream is to rule a realm of my own, and as farfetched as that sounds, I'm closer to achieving it here and now than I ever would be in Valinor."
Celeborn nodded in understanding. Forsaking one's home in pursuit of an impossible dream would have sounded foolish coming from another, but he sensed that her will was strong and her heart determined. "You have the spirit of a queen," he said. "I have no doubt that you will one day accomplish all that you desire."
"Thank you."
They reached the dining hall a few minutes later and parted ways. Artanis took an open seat between Finrod and Aegnor, and Celeborn sat near the head of the table next to Lúthien. "You and Artanis seem to be getting along," the king's daughter commented when her cousin sat down.
"She's incredible, Lúthien," Celeborn said. "I don't know how else to describe her."
Lúthien smiled. She knew within ten minutes of meeting Artanis that she and Celeborn would like each other, and her instincts had yet to betray her. "I'm glad to hear that."
"Where is she now?"
"Three seats from the far end of the opposite side," Lúthien said, "between two of her brothers; Finrod and either Angrod or Aegnor. They're twins, and I do not know them well enough to tell them apart yet; not from this distance, anyway."
He figured out where she was using Lúthien's directions and turned his head. "Am I looking the right way?"
"Right at her," said Lúthien.
Celeborn had accepted the fact that his sight would never return a long time ago, and moments where he wished with all his heart that he could see again were few and far in between. This was one of them. He sighed and turned his head away. "I wish I could see her," he confessed quietly. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"
"Very," Lúthien answered. "She's tall and strong, with sapphire eyes and hair like the sun."
Life could be very ironic at times, he thought to himself, and sighed. If only he wasn't blind. Then he might stand a chance.
"Don't give up so soon, Celeborn," Lúthien said in an encouraging tone. "After all, you're no Orc yourself."
"Excuse me?" he said, feeling his cheeks grow warm. It was impossible to have a private thought around Lúthien; her ability to perceive the minds of others, especially those she knew as well as him, was far too sensitive.
Lúthien took a drink from her goblet and changed the subject. "Smile. She just looked this way."
~~~
Home Port bagels for my reviewers: Angel, Bejai, Marnie, Morelen, Dragon Confused, chocchip, and Skycat14. I've been flying on airplanes all day (airplanes, yay) and I'm really tired so I'm going to bed now! G'night!!