With their foes multiplying in the mountains instead of marauding on their borders, spring was coming to a close. Summer and its dry heat irritated nevertheless. Aredhel, like the others, had sewn her dress without the sleeves, and reduced the length until it barely brushed her knees. The ladder shook as the girl upon it leapt down onto the ground, sky blue dress aflutter.
"They're here!" She cried out. And soon enough, the heavy, rough-hewn gates opened with far more noise than the marching steps. Dusty, travel-worn figures were embraced by a flurry of arms and silver voices.
Looking at her companions greeting the newly returned soldiers, whiles she smiled on, Aredhel wished she was waiting for one. One to say farewell to near the end of autumn, and one to welcome home to in the beginning of the summer. Everything in Middle-earth worked in cycles. It was slightly confusing at first: to see, to hear, to taste, and to touch, every one of those changes without knowing why, and without anyone to ask. But who was Aredhel going to complain to? And she found that the cycles could also become almost hypnotic, as much as the eternal spring in Valinor. Broken off from it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
Struck with a sudden bout of despondency, she felt hot tears in her eyes. Someone touched her elbow, but she smiled and gently pushed him toward a blushing face.
They were going to the lake now that the poison had dissipated with the coming of the balmy weather. Aredhel followed, but she went further than the grove of trees where blankets and food were taken out and spread out under the cool shadows of the leaves. While they sat down amiably and amorously, she kicked her shoes off and ran to the bank.
The mud's delightfully squishy between her toes, and welcomingly cool. She considered diving into the waters, dress and all before a voice called: "Halt!"
She turned. There was Ecthelion, all bright innocence and fair face, the golden Glorfindel, as ever, by his side. They were both stripped to the waist and barefoot. The smooth skin on their shoulder and sides showed new scars, some still slightly red.
"Touched by the heat, Irisse?" Ecthelion asked, the corners of his lips curving into a smile, "You can't dive from this end. You'll crack your head, and we would all be grieved." He added, not quite mustering the proper gravity for such a pronouncement.
Aredhel shrugged, and said: "I wasn't planning to."
Glorfindel and Ecthelion looked at each other knowingly but did not comment. Aredhel liked to think she saves her own grace. Aredhel narrowed her eyes. She knew and she knew, but it was a harmless habit.
She drew herself taller and fully, her eyes directly ahead and intended march away every inch dignified. She walked past them, upward a small bluff and became rather suspicious. Justifiably so, for Glorfindel sneaked up on her, caught her waist, swung her round, and laid a kiss on her cheek.
"You did not miss me?" He whispered by her ear. Belatedly, Aredhel found herself airborne and fought to get away only to be more fully embraced. Dimly, amidst of the roar of embarrassment and delight in her ears, she heard Ecthelion's ringing laughter.
"Let me go," She hissed.
"Tell me you missed me." Glorfindel answered her.
"I missed Ecthelion."
"The lady has declared her favor." Ecthelion announced, and launched himself at Glorfindel. Aredhel felt a rush of air and found herself very close to the ground, separated from it by a layer of Glorfindel.
"I daresay Turukano will have my head now." Glorfindel said beneath her, a study of the mixture of grimace and smile. Aredhel removed her elbow from his side and kissed him very gently on the lips.
"He shall give it to me, and I will keep it beside my bed because it is so nice to look at." Replied she, before moving off and sitting beside him.
"Really," said Ecthelion, aghast, as he pulled Glorfindel up, "You could just tell Turukano not to have his head at all."
"But we are presuming that he will."
"Bah! syntax." Glorfindel interjected, "But I'm honored, Irisse, that you would have my head as the first thing you see in the morning." He bowed from his position on the ground, wincing slightly. Aredhel nodded and carefully leaned her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around hers. Ecthelion sat beside them, an arm propped on an elbow, the other hand tapping his knee, a thoughtful look on his face.
For a while they sat there, watching a group of children in an elaborate setup with a piece of seashell, alternatively throwing it up then diving after it when it entered the water. The motions are rhythmical, almost hypnotizing. Glorfindel found himself almost asleep on the grass that was tickling the skin his neck. Aredhel and Ecthelion were in the same state, their steady breaths calming.
"Have you ever considered how strange it is that our games turned out to be more than games."
Ecthelion threw a worrying look at her. "What do you mean?"
"Our games of teams, of strategy, waterfights, snowfights ontop of mountains were instincts to us. It is as if we are meant to return, meant to fight," Aredhel drew a finger down a long scar down Ecthelion's chest, the puckered skin smooth and trembling. "It is as if the youth of our people passed, we are coming into adulthood."
"That's what those who knew the Dark said."
"What if it all happened before?" Aredhel asked.
"If it had all happened before, we would not have a Valinor to miss and love." Glorfindel said.
"I have fallen only faintly in love." Aredhel whispered, half to herself.
"Faintly?" Ecthelion asked, piqued by curiosity and a small wariness. He wanted an answer, but Aredhel could not answer it. She had not yet wed and did not truly know love.
"I think I would like to see Tyelkormo." She announced. Baited his breath for nothing after all. Ecthelion flopped back onto the grass, disappointed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a faint trace of gold.
"Why," Ecthelion asked, playfully picking up one of Glorfindel's partially undone braids and batting it on Aredhel's face, "does this not satisfy your penchant for fair hair?"
Aredhel yanked, Glorfindel yelped, and snatched his hair back, stabbing the soft ends on Ecthelion's neck first. Prickled and tickled, the elf started rolling around in laughter. As it did not look to stop, Aredhel sat up and looked at Ecthelion, astonished.
"Pity there's no one to see this," Glorfindel murmured, "It would be such a scandal. Everyone's coming home escape those would take care of these things."
Aredhel raised an eyebrow at this. "Scandals you mean. Well, Findekano's coming home as well."
"He's hardly scandalous."
"I envy him sometimes." Glorfindel heard, and turned to face her, the tell-tale colors of rage already coloring her pale cheeks.
"For being at Hithlum with the Feanorioni? Only a small scandal." He teased, reaching out to brush a tendril of hair drifting pass her eyes.
Aredhel rolled onto her back and sat up.
"For bearing things so well. How can he bear it? As if this is all we've ever known. Today we are going to do this, tomorrow we are going to do that. We must prepare for winter in the summer. Maitimo would offer us this, we must return him that. Let's invite Ambarussa to a hunt and sit them at the end of the table with us. I hate this."
Getting increasingly heated with each word, finally she stood up and with a barely mumbled excuse rushed out to the lake, the deeper end, Ecthelion noted.
"For all her wildness, she wants to go home." Glorfindel commented, chewing on the grass stem. He made no move to follow her.
"We do, too." Ecthelion said softly.
"But there is no home." Glorfindel said, and spat the green stuff out, an appalled look on his face. He remembered it being sweeter.
"Glory and adventure indeed, yet there are times when I just miss ..." The images and scents and tastes rose sharply into Ecthelion's mind and still more sharply the emotion that pierced his heart. "Confound that Irisse! You know I don't want to forget." Ecthelion shouted, leapt up, ran down the hills and dived into the waters in one familiar motion: a perfect arc above the surface, and nary a splash when he broke it. Glorfindel followed his friend, and as the water touched his heated skin, forgot for a moment-