Hee-do again to all! The next chapter is still in the making, but it's almost finished. I'll get it up ASAP. It does have a very strange part to it, though... Hmmmm... Oh well. I'm off!
**Note: I know that a flet is supposed to be an open platform that the Elves make as homes, but the flets in this are kind of like apartments. (What are they called in Britain...? Flats? Something like that, I think. Been American all my life, so I'm sort of challenged in that area...) If you find this bothersome, I apologise, and I hope you'll read *and* *enjoy* anyway. Thanks!
Mornaj
*
The Dark Star
Part Three:
The Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim and Their City
It became quite clear the next day that Haldir had been lying the night before; they arrived just after the sun had set. Perhaps that had been because they had allowed her to sleep until past midday, but she didn't know why that had happened. She had nearly asked them, but decided not to. Adariel dismounted Gil-luin, staring at the city's trees.
There was one simple fact: Caras Galadhon had to be was, above all, the most beautiful place she had ever seen. She had thought that the surrounding forest was glorious, but there were no words for the city.
The tree trunks were illimunated white, while the leaves shone silver. The light that lit the city seemed not only to glow white, but a hint a blue as well. It was a strange thought, but it made a beautiful picture. A mist hung about the place, giving it a mystical feel.
"If you will follow me," Haldir said. Adariel detected a hint of impatience in his voice, but it didn't surprize her. She patted Gil-luin, then followed the marchwarden.
At the base of the greatest mellorn in the place they started up a flight of stairs that wound around the tree. She paid no attention to her surroundings as they climbed, and didn't even look up until she had followed the marchwarden over a walkway that surrounded a large hole and stood in front of the flight of steps leading to the thrones of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.
The arch was wrought of beautiful pale wood into a twisting vine and leaf pattern. A glow eminated from the the top of the steps, and she found that she couldn't bring herself to look into it long. Something in the light suddenly shifted, and two people seemed to float down the stairs. It wasn't until the light began to fade away from them that she saw that they only *appeared* to be floating, and that they *did* walk.
Her breath caught in her throat as they decended the last few steps. She had heard, from both Arwen and Celebrían, that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were a glorious sight to behold, but hearing of it and seeing if were two seperate things. Adariel's chest was tight, fighting to breathe, but this time it was not from grief.
She stared for a moment, then cast her eyes to their feet. Finding it hard to look even at that, she moved her eyes to the wood between them. "You have traveled far, Adariel Morelen of Rivendell," Celeborn said, and Adariel jerked her head up to stare at him. Not only were his words unexpected, but he knew her name. No one had announced it, and yet he knew it. "Why have you come here?"
'It mustn't have been hard to determine that I was... well, me. After all, not many travel from Imladris to Lothlórien, and even few start with three and end with one.'
She swallowed. "A visit to Lady Celebrían's homeland was to be paid. We- My siblings and I, had heard so much of this place from our - Rivendell's - Undómiel and her mother, and we wished to behold the place for ourselves-"
She stopped. No amount of awe could force more words past the tightness in her throat. She looked down, staring at the filthy and slightly threadbare hem of her gray gown. Before that moment, she had wished she had for something more apropriate to wear to face the Lord and Lady, but now all she could think of was death.
A cool, comforting hand touched its fingertips below her chin and lifted her face. Lady Galadriel peered sadly into her eyes, and a battle between fear and comfort raged in her, but ease was predominant.
"As a sister you are to my grandchild Arwen," she said quietly. Her voice was just as sad as her gaze. "She oft spoke fondly of you, and your cheerful demenor. Yet now you carry grief beyond that which you can bear. Why do you hold so much sorrow, Dark Star of Rivendell?"
She didn't even notice the tears filling her eyes, but they didn't not fall; tears of self-disgust rarely reach the ground. "I led my siblings to their death. There is no other to blame but myself."
"You carry the weight of the dead, child. Such a feat is not well for anyone, let alone one such as yourself."
"I carry a weight deserved, my lady. More than what you say; my life itself is a gift undeserved, and shall become a burden to my heart until it extinguishes itself. For many who lead others to death deserve the same demise. Commanders at war defending a righteous cause are rightfully praised, but those who lead those closest to them to an undeserving ruin for a meaningless cause deserve death or fate worse. I have yet to recieve such deserving destruction and await the moment my own hearts destroys itself," she told the Lady.
"Your fate," Galdariel said softly, "is not entwined in your brother's; he is content, that I know. Your sister's fate it yet to be decided, for she stands upon the brink. Your cause, whatever it may be, is as meaningless as that of your commanders and their righteous purposes, though perhaps you do not truly know your cause and fate. Despite all, your destiny is decided not by these actions, Adariel Morelen."
Sorely confused, Adariel simply stared at the Lady of Light. The woman let her hand fall gently from under Adariel's chin and slowly she walked back to stand beside her husband once more.
"You shall stay here, Lady Adariel, until you see fit," Lord Celeborn said. "You shall not be held as a prisoner here, for your mother was like a daughter to us both, and you shall be treated as such." He gestured to a serving woman who stepped forward. "You shall be led to your talan as soon as may be."
She curtsied to them deeply, lowering her eyes respectfully. "Thank you my Lord, my Lady. You are most kind." Though the words were traditional, she meant them with her entire being.
Very soon, within an instant, it became clear that she was to follow Haldir out of the Lord and Lady's presense. She curtsied again and turned to follow the marchwarden out when Celeborn spoke.
"Do not abandon hope, Morelen, for it does not suit you," he said quietly.
Adariel bit her lip and looked at the ground for a moment, then bowed and turned to leave, following Haldir from the chamber.
*
She felt the first stare at her back almost as soon as she left the chamber and were standing at another flight of steps. As Haldir spoke with the serving woman she felt eyes and turned to meet the gaze of a well dressed Elf. He continued to stare, until finally he turned away. Her hands gripped each other nervously as she bit her lip. Haldir finished talking to the servingwoman and gestured for her to follow him.
They proceeded down the stairs of the great mellorn, and at the bottom Adariel felt another stare. She refused to look, and instead quickened her pace to walk beside Haldir, placing him between her and the one who stared.
He looked at her curiously. "They're staring," she whispered. He saw her eyes flick to his left, and as he turned to see an Elf turning away, another slowed their pace and gawked at the lady beside him.
Haldir looked in the other direction and saw two more on her other side. He didn't turn to veryify it, but he felt that there were also some behind them. He could see her discomfort, but then, he could see why they stared.
She was, undeniably, beautiful, and over half of those staring were male. As well, she was darker in appearance than any they had seen in person, other than the Lady Arwen; and it had been several years since the Undómiel had graced the Golden Wood.
To add to this, she was tattered and dirty, not a state any Elf would willingly submit themselves to. And the worst factor to her condition: She walked with three men, and yet was not escorted as a lady. That in itself suggested a thing that no she-Elf but the scum of the race would lower herself to. A friendly walk between confidants the people of Lórien could distinguish, and they paid no heed to such things; but they could tell that this was no pleasent walk through the city. The one thing that saved them from immediate assumptions was that they knew Haldir and his brothers, and they were highly respected.
A mysterious sense of responsability to the lady forced him to offer his arm, saving not only her reputation, but that of himself and his brothers; and it was for that, he assured himself in his mind, he and his brothers' salvation, that he offered his arm.
She glanced at his arm, blinked at him, glanced at one of the gawkers, then rested her palm lightly on his arm. Her hand was cold; very cold, in fact, even through the fabric of his sleeve. He did his best not to stare as she lifted her chin definatly and gazed straight ahead, as if pretending those staring at her did not exist.
There was, he knew, no possible way for her to be so cold and be at full health. No Elf could be that cold! He couldn't help but noticed, as well, that she was shivering slightly.
"Are you cold?" he finally demanded. She frowned gently.
"No, Lord Haldir, I am not, not in the sense you speak of. Why do you ask?" she replied.
"You're shivering, my lady," he said flatly.
She looked down. "I realize that," she said quietly. "And it does not come from an external source."
They walked on in a silence that Adariel couldn't decipher. It most certainly wasn't companionable, nor was it exactly comfortable. Yet it wasn't tense or uneasy. It was, assuredly, confusing, but she decided not to question it.
She kept her eyes on the ground as they walked. Her hem was nearly black with filth, and for the first time she noticed a tear up to the middle of her calf. It was hidden among the folds of her skirt, but it was there. She bit her lip, wondering if she would wear this torn and tattered gown until she returned to Rivendell. The prospect was daunting, but her pack had dissappeared in the Orc raid; and she would *not* impose on the people of Lothlórien more than nessessary. This dress would work for the present.
"Excuse me, Marchwarden," a girl said.
They both turned, but managed it so that her hand remained on his forearm. The girl seemed to be roughly Adariel's age, if not younger, and had pale blond hair and blue eyes. Her dress was a very pretty pale blue.
"Marchwarden, I'm afraid that I must take your lady from you-"
"My lady?" Haldir demanded. Adariel jerked her hand away at the same time, as if she'd been burnt.
The girl looked shocked. "I- er- I only- I had assumed-"* She stopped, blinked, then reclaimed her calm. "I apologise, Marchwarden, Lady. Miss, if you would please come with me?"
She nodded to her marchwarden companion and followed the girl to a nearby mellorn and up its steps, rather angry with herself. 'Your lady' was a common phrase, and she knew it! Then why, exactly, had she made such a big deal of it? Unfortunately, she didn't know the answer.
Adariel followed her into a room and she froze in the doorway. Gowns to fit any she-Elf that might require one lay everywhere. Some were hung, some draped over wooden stands, some folded in drawers that were half open, but she had never seen so many dresses (that weren't actually being worn) in her life. She'd seen her fair share of dresses, but they had always had someone in them.
The girl turned, realizing that she wasn't being followed. "Come on, my lady, come in. We have to get you out of that traveling gown." She added in a jokingly wry manner: "It's quite apparent that it has seen better days, my dear. We can't have you waltzing around Lórien in that; what will the stupid ones think of Rivendell-Elves if you don't wear something appropriate?"
Adariel smiled in spite of herself and walked into the dress room. "I won't have your people acquiring a bad impression of mine," she said. "Might I have your name?"
"Vinyaandúnêwen, but it's such a mouthful everyone calls me Vinya," the girl replied.
Once again she swept into a curtsy. "Adariel Morelen at your service, Lady Vinya."
The girl giggled. "Don't bother with formalities, Miss Adariel. At least not for me."
"Then you can't call me 'miss' or 'lady.' Simply Adariel," she retorted.
"All right, Adariel, do you have any color preferences?"
Her shadow, which had moved away a bit, shifted back into place. "Black," was the flat reply. "I'm in mourning. My brother and sister are dead."
"Black?" Vinya looked a bit dissappointed. "I'd had a lovely lavender in mind... Oh, well, we must pay our respects for those who leave us."
Vinya searched through a stack of gowns draped over a wooden rack, and finally pulled a black one from the pile. "Here we are. I believe it was sewn to be a mourning gown, with the veil even. I think. Here," she handed her the gown. "Go behind yond screen over in the corner and see what you make of it."
Adariel walked back behind the screen, slid out of her own dress and slid into the one Vinya had given her. It was black and full length, with a scoop neckline and long, flowing sleeves. At the neckline, sleeves hems, and bottom hem was a ivy vine pattern embroidered in a pretty grayish blue. The waist dipped into a V, and from that the black part of the skirt opened to reveal an under skirt of the same grayish blue color. The same ivy vine stitching went up the sides of the over skirt opening and ran along the V, staying level back around her waist to meet the other side of the V.
She gently folded her own gown and carried it with her as she stepped from behind the screen. Vinya dropped a pile of gowns in a chair and walked over to tug at the dress Adariel has just put on. After a moment she stepped back, looked her over, and smiled.
"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Vinya said. "I found the veil." She grabbed a rectangle made of a sheer fabric the same color as the embroidery and under skirt and gently laid it over her head. The front fell to the neckline of the dress, the back to the ivy pattern around her waitst.
"And this," she said as she picked up a thin, dilicate vine-patterened circlet, "holds it in place." Vinya laid it on her head over the veil. "There. I'll just grab a few more that are about this size and get them to you by morning." Adariel nodded.
"Now all I need to do is find you an escort for your tour of Lórien-"
"I'm hardly in a state for a tour," Adariel pointed out.
"Oh," she sighed, "well, perhaps a bath first, then." Vinya tilted her head to the side. "If you will follow me?"
They walked out of the room and to the right. After roughly twenty feet they turned to the left and went up a small flight of three steps. They walked for some ways after the steps, passing other walk ways that led to other places. The walked up another flight of steps - five this time; soon they were walking between two walls, and they passed four doors - two on each side - with each having about fifteen feet between them and stopped at the third door on the left.
"This shall be your Lórien home," Vinya told her. "I'll be back with your guide in an hour. Everything you need for your bath should be there." She turned, then cried, "Oh!" and whirled back around. "The fastest way to the baths are that way."
Adariel looked where she pointed, and saw that fifteen feet from her own door the walkway turned to the right and went downward via steps. "They're at the very bottom; we can't have the baths suspended by branches, now can we? Private baths are available, but neither of us have time to warm the water up."
Before Adariel could announce that she was sure the insisted tour could wait until morning, Vinya turned and left, and Adariel was left standing outside the door. She sighed and entered the flet.
Standing with her back to the door, she looked over the room. Against the far left wall was a mid-sized sofa; a long one, for that matter. Someone about a foot taller than her could have been quite comfortable. In the corner near the couch was a stove. It the middle was a rectangular pale wood table with six pale wood chairs at it; one at each end, and two at each side.
At the back toward the right, to the right of a door that was dead center, was a cupboard made of pale wood as well. The top shelf had doors, but the middle two did not. At the bottom two doors covered a large portion of the cabinet; the bottom half, she estimated. Her eyes moved to the counter, made of the same wood. 'How soon before I tire of the paleness? Rivendell isn't dark, but nor is it so... light.'
At the far right, a heavy, pale blue velvet curtain hung over a large opening in the shape of an arch. Curiosity tugged at her, but in the end she forced herself to the door at the back of the room.
Quite clearly it was the bedroom. A four poster bed with sheer, silvery-blue hangings and made of - of course - the same pale wood as everything else. A set of drawers with a mirror was to the right of the door, across the room from the bed. A window was in the right wall, another door in the left.
She went through the door in the left wall, and found a cabinet filled with towels and soaps. She grabbed a couple of each, then left the talan, ignoring any detail that came her way.
Sometime later, clean and back in the black gown she'd been given, Adariel made her way slowly back to her talan. The black slippers that had been deposited with her gown while she'd bathed made no noise; indeed, the only noise made was the slight and delicate rustle of the silk of her dress. Elves made very little noise.
Her hand lingered on the rail as she proceeded up the stairs. How many times would Nurardion have run up the stairs only to run back down and feign tripping her or falling to the ground far below? How persistant would Aradalien be in demanding that they have their tour that night instead of in the morning? Would her brother had glared at those who had stared, warning off any male that so much as glanced at her and her sister? Would Aradalien have been as amused by Marchwarden Orophin's antics as she had? There were so many questions.
Most of which, she knew, would never get an answer. If not most, then all. Dead ones could not talk.
She sighed. Her tears were nearly spent, and therefore her eyes only tingled. Crying more would have helped, but it was simply not an option. For a moment Adariel considered lowering the veil to cover her face, but decided not to. It was doubtful that she would encounter anyone, anyway.
"Arwen en amin! Adariel!"
Perhaps she would.
She turned and found Vinya racing up the stairs after her. "Adariel, I've found you a guide-"
"Please, Vinya," she said, "let it wait until morning. It is late."
Vinya paused, then sighed. "I suppose that would be for the best. Good night Lady Aradriel."
"Good night," she replied, the continued up the stairs.
Back in her talan, she found a stack of gowns over the back of a chair. On the top of that pile was a white night dress made of a smooth, somewhat shiny material, and a over robe of the same fabric and color.
Adariel picked up the stack and took them to the bedroom. She folded each, watching what she was doing yet not seeing the dress as she placed it in the a drawer. She would pay attention to such things later. Finally there was nothing left but the night dress and the gown she wore. She took off the circlet and veil, placing them both on the dresser top.
She changed into the night gown, but found no place to put the black dress. She frowned slightly and turned; then her eyes fell on a vanity that was on the left side. She walked over placed the gown on the bench-like seat. Looking at the mirror, she realized that it was slightly smaller than the one on the dresser, and, more obviously, was an oval instead of a large rectangle.
Straightening, she let her hand run over the smooth fabric of the night dress. It had thin straps at the shoulders, about half an inch wide, and was, in fact, very plain, other than the fact that it was form fitting and had a slit to her knees in the back. She slid into the robe, and discovered it to be a bit longer than the dress itself, and loose fitting.
Not feeling quite tired yet, she walked out of the room and over to the balcony. Her dark hair was drying into ringlets that cascaded down her back, and her ivory skin was radiant, but her violet-blue eyes were dull with grief.
She sighed and laid her hands on the railing of the balcony, watching the ground below. It wasn't *that* far up, but she still had a decent view; yet there was little to watch. Most had already gone to their homes and beds.
"How much would they have loved this place?" she asked herself. "How welcome would we have been arriving together? What might their fates have been? What would they think of the marchwardens, Rúmil, Haldir, and Orophin? What would they think of Vinya?" She faltered. "What do they think of me now?"
Her voice wavered as her eyes stung once more, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. She backed away from the rail as tears streamed down her cheeks. The heavy velvet curtains were closed, her bedroom door shut fast, the hangings over the window in that room pulled together, and she laid herself on her bed and cried.
^*^
*I'm sorry about that little situation there; I just had to throw Haldir of balance, even a little bit. smiles
Anyway, what'd you think? I'd like to knoooooooow... Buh bye for now!
**Note: I know that a flet is supposed to be an open platform that the Elves make as homes, but the flets in this are kind of like apartments. (What are they called in Britain...? Flats? Something like that, I think. Been American all my life, so I'm sort of challenged in that area...) If you find this bothersome, I apologise, and I hope you'll read *and* *enjoy* anyway. Thanks!
Mornaj
*
The Dark Star
Part Three:
The Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim and Their City
It became quite clear the next day that Haldir had been lying the night before; they arrived just after the sun had set. Perhaps that had been because they had allowed her to sleep until past midday, but she didn't know why that had happened. She had nearly asked them, but decided not to. Adariel dismounted Gil-luin, staring at the city's trees.
There was one simple fact: Caras Galadhon had to be was, above all, the most beautiful place she had ever seen. She had thought that the surrounding forest was glorious, but there were no words for the city.
The tree trunks were illimunated white, while the leaves shone silver. The light that lit the city seemed not only to glow white, but a hint a blue as well. It was a strange thought, but it made a beautiful picture. A mist hung about the place, giving it a mystical feel.
"If you will follow me," Haldir said. Adariel detected a hint of impatience in his voice, but it didn't surprize her. She patted Gil-luin, then followed the marchwarden.
At the base of the greatest mellorn in the place they started up a flight of stairs that wound around the tree. She paid no attention to her surroundings as they climbed, and didn't even look up until she had followed the marchwarden over a walkway that surrounded a large hole and stood in front of the flight of steps leading to the thrones of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien.
The arch was wrought of beautiful pale wood into a twisting vine and leaf pattern. A glow eminated from the the top of the steps, and she found that she couldn't bring herself to look into it long. Something in the light suddenly shifted, and two people seemed to float down the stairs. It wasn't until the light began to fade away from them that she saw that they only *appeared* to be floating, and that they *did* walk.
Her breath caught in her throat as they decended the last few steps. She had heard, from both Arwen and Celebrían, that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were a glorious sight to behold, but hearing of it and seeing if were two seperate things. Adariel's chest was tight, fighting to breathe, but this time it was not from grief.
She stared for a moment, then cast her eyes to their feet. Finding it hard to look even at that, she moved her eyes to the wood between them. "You have traveled far, Adariel Morelen of Rivendell," Celeborn said, and Adariel jerked her head up to stare at him. Not only were his words unexpected, but he knew her name. No one had announced it, and yet he knew it. "Why have you come here?"
'It mustn't have been hard to determine that I was... well, me. After all, not many travel from Imladris to Lothlórien, and even few start with three and end with one.'
She swallowed. "A visit to Lady Celebrían's homeland was to be paid. We- My siblings and I, had heard so much of this place from our - Rivendell's - Undómiel and her mother, and we wished to behold the place for ourselves-"
She stopped. No amount of awe could force more words past the tightness in her throat. She looked down, staring at the filthy and slightly threadbare hem of her gray gown. Before that moment, she had wished she had for something more apropriate to wear to face the Lord and Lady, but now all she could think of was death.
A cool, comforting hand touched its fingertips below her chin and lifted her face. Lady Galadriel peered sadly into her eyes, and a battle between fear and comfort raged in her, but ease was predominant.
"As a sister you are to my grandchild Arwen," she said quietly. Her voice was just as sad as her gaze. "She oft spoke fondly of you, and your cheerful demenor. Yet now you carry grief beyond that which you can bear. Why do you hold so much sorrow, Dark Star of Rivendell?"
She didn't even notice the tears filling her eyes, but they didn't not fall; tears of self-disgust rarely reach the ground. "I led my siblings to their death. There is no other to blame but myself."
"You carry the weight of the dead, child. Such a feat is not well for anyone, let alone one such as yourself."
"I carry a weight deserved, my lady. More than what you say; my life itself is a gift undeserved, and shall become a burden to my heart until it extinguishes itself. For many who lead others to death deserve the same demise. Commanders at war defending a righteous cause are rightfully praised, but those who lead those closest to them to an undeserving ruin for a meaningless cause deserve death or fate worse. I have yet to recieve such deserving destruction and await the moment my own hearts destroys itself," she told the Lady.
"Your fate," Galdariel said softly, "is not entwined in your brother's; he is content, that I know. Your sister's fate it yet to be decided, for she stands upon the brink. Your cause, whatever it may be, is as meaningless as that of your commanders and their righteous purposes, though perhaps you do not truly know your cause and fate. Despite all, your destiny is decided not by these actions, Adariel Morelen."
Sorely confused, Adariel simply stared at the Lady of Light. The woman let her hand fall gently from under Adariel's chin and slowly she walked back to stand beside her husband once more.
"You shall stay here, Lady Adariel, until you see fit," Lord Celeborn said. "You shall not be held as a prisoner here, for your mother was like a daughter to us both, and you shall be treated as such." He gestured to a serving woman who stepped forward. "You shall be led to your talan as soon as may be."
She curtsied to them deeply, lowering her eyes respectfully. "Thank you my Lord, my Lady. You are most kind." Though the words were traditional, she meant them with her entire being.
Very soon, within an instant, it became clear that she was to follow Haldir out of the Lord and Lady's presense. She curtsied again and turned to follow the marchwarden out when Celeborn spoke.
"Do not abandon hope, Morelen, for it does not suit you," he said quietly.
Adariel bit her lip and looked at the ground for a moment, then bowed and turned to leave, following Haldir from the chamber.
*
She felt the first stare at her back almost as soon as she left the chamber and were standing at another flight of steps. As Haldir spoke with the serving woman she felt eyes and turned to meet the gaze of a well dressed Elf. He continued to stare, until finally he turned away. Her hands gripped each other nervously as she bit her lip. Haldir finished talking to the servingwoman and gestured for her to follow him.
They proceeded down the stairs of the great mellorn, and at the bottom Adariel felt another stare. She refused to look, and instead quickened her pace to walk beside Haldir, placing him between her and the one who stared.
He looked at her curiously. "They're staring," she whispered. He saw her eyes flick to his left, and as he turned to see an Elf turning away, another slowed their pace and gawked at the lady beside him.
Haldir looked in the other direction and saw two more on her other side. He didn't turn to veryify it, but he felt that there were also some behind them. He could see her discomfort, but then, he could see why they stared.
She was, undeniably, beautiful, and over half of those staring were male. As well, she was darker in appearance than any they had seen in person, other than the Lady Arwen; and it had been several years since the Undómiel had graced the Golden Wood.
To add to this, she was tattered and dirty, not a state any Elf would willingly submit themselves to. And the worst factor to her condition: She walked with three men, and yet was not escorted as a lady. That in itself suggested a thing that no she-Elf but the scum of the race would lower herself to. A friendly walk between confidants the people of Lórien could distinguish, and they paid no heed to such things; but they could tell that this was no pleasent walk through the city. The one thing that saved them from immediate assumptions was that they knew Haldir and his brothers, and they were highly respected.
A mysterious sense of responsability to the lady forced him to offer his arm, saving not only her reputation, but that of himself and his brothers; and it was for that, he assured himself in his mind, he and his brothers' salvation, that he offered his arm.
She glanced at his arm, blinked at him, glanced at one of the gawkers, then rested her palm lightly on his arm. Her hand was cold; very cold, in fact, even through the fabric of his sleeve. He did his best not to stare as she lifted her chin definatly and gazed straight ahead, as if pretending those staring at her did not exist.
There was, he knew, no possible way for her to be so cold and be at full health. No Elf could be that cold! He couldn't help but noticed, as well, that she was shivering slightly.
"Are you cold?" he finally demanded. She frowned gently.
"No, Lord Haldir, I am not, not in the sense you speak of. Why do you ask?" she replied.
"You're shivering, my lady," he said flatly.
She looked down. "I realize that," she said quietly. "And it does not come from an external source."
They walked on in a silence that Adariel couldn't decipher. It most certainly wasn't companionable, nor was it exactly comfortable. Yet it wasn't tense or uneasy. It was, assuredly, confusing, but she decided not to question it.
She kept her eyes on the ground as they walked. Her hem was nearly black with filth, and for the first time she noticed a tear up to the middle of her calf. It was hidden among the folds of her skirt, but it was there. She bit her lip, wondering if she would wear this torn and tattered gown until she returned to Rivendell. The prospect was daunting, but her pack had dissappeared in the Orc raid; and she would *not* impose on the people of Lothlórien more than nessessary. This dress would work for the present.
"Excuse me, Marchwarden," a girl said.
They both turned, but managed it so that her hand remained on his forearm. The girl seemed to be roughly Adariel's age, if not younger, and had pale blond hair and blue eyes. Her dress was a very pretty pale blue.
"Marchwarden, I'm afraid that I must take your lady from you-"
"My lady?" Haldir demanded. Adariel jerked her hand away at the same time, as if she'd been burnt.
The girl looked shocked. "I- er- I only- I had assumed-"* She stopped, blinked, then reclaimed her calm. "I apologise, Marchwarden, Lady. Miss, if you would please come with me?"
She nodded to her marchwarden companion and followed the girl to a nearby mellorn and up its steps, rather angry with herself. 'Your lady' was a common phrase, and she knew it! Then why, exactly, had she made such a big deal of it? Unfortunately, she didn't know the answer.
Adariel followed her into a room and she froze in the doorway. Gowns to fit any she-Elf that might require one lay everywhere. Some were hung, some draped over wooden stands, some folded in drawers that were half open, but she had never seen so many dresses (that weren't actually being worn) in her life. She'd seen her fair share of dresses, but they had always had someone in them.
The girl turned, realizing that she wasn't being followed. "Come on, my lady, come in. We have to get you out of that traveling gown." She added in a jokingly wry manner: "It's quite apparent that it has seen better days, my dear. We can't have you waltzing around Lórien in that; what will the stupid ones think of Rivendell-Elves if you don't wear something appropriate?"
Adariel smiled in spite of herself and walked into the dress room. "I won't have your people acquiring a bad impression of mine," she said. "Might I have your name?"
"Vinyaandúnêwen, but it's such a mouthful everyone calls me Vinya," the girl replied.
Once again she swept into a curtsy. "Adariel Morelen at your service, Lady Vinya."
The girl giggled. "Don't bother with formalities, Miss Adariel. At least not for me."
"Then you can't call me 'miss' or 'lady.' Simply Adariel," she retorted.
"All right, Adariel, do you have any color preferences?"
Her shadow, which had moved away a bit, shifted back into place. "Black," was the flat reply. "I'm in mourning. My brother and sister are dead."
"Black?" Vinya looked a bit dissappointed. "I'd had a lovely lavender in mind... Oh, well, we must pay our respects for those who leave us."
Vinya searched through a stack of gowns draped over a wooden rack, and finally pulled a black one from the pile. "Here we are. I believe it was sewn to be a mourning gown, with the veil even. I think. Here," she handed her the gown. "Go behind yond screen over in the corner and see what you make of it."
Adariel walked back behind the screen, slid out of her own dress and slid into the one Vinya had given her. It was black and full length, with a scoop neckline and long, flowing sleeves. At the neckline, sleeves hems, and bottom hem was a ivy vine pattern embroidered in a pretty grayish blue. The waist dipped into a V, and from that the black part of the skirt opened to reveal an under skirt of the same grayish blue color. The same ivy vine stitching went up the sides of the over skirt opening and ran along the V, staying level back around her waist to meet the other side of the V.
She gently folded her own gown and carried it with her as she stepped from behind the screen. Vinya dropped a pile of gowns in a chair and walked over to tug at the dress Adariel has just put on. After a moment she stepped back, looked her over, and smiled.
"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Vinya said. "I found the veil." She grabbed a rectangle made of a sheer fabric the same color as the embroidery and under skirt and gently laid it over her head. The front fell to the neckline of the dress, the back to the ivy pattern around her waitst.
"And this," she said as she picked up a thin, dilicate vine-patterened circlet, "holds it in place." Vinya laid it on her head over the veil. "There. I'll just grab a few more that are about this size and get them to you by morning." Adariel nodded.
"Now all I need to do is find you an escort for your tour of Lórien-"
"I'm hardly in a state for a tour," Adariel pointed out.
"Oh," she sighed, "well, perhaps a bath first, then." Vinya tilted her head to the side. "If you will follow me?"
They walked out of the room and to the right. After roughly twenty feet they turned to the left and went up a small flight of three steps. They walked for some ways after the steps, passing other walk ways that led to other places. The walked up another flight of steps - five this time; soon they were walking between two walls, and they passed four doors - two on each side - with each having about fifteen feet between them and stopped at the third door on the left.
"This shall be your Lórien home," Vinya told her. "I'll be back with your guide in an hour. Everything you need for your bath should be there." She turned, then cried, "Oh!" and whirled back around. "The fastest way to the baths are that way."
Adariel looked where she pointed, and saw that fifteen feet from her own door the walkway turned to the right and went downward via steps. "They're at the very bottom; we can't have the baths suspended by branches, now can we? Private baths are available, but neither of us have time to warm the water up."
Before Adariel could announce that she was sure the insisted tour could wait until morning, Vinya turned and left, and Adariel was left standing outside the door. She sighed and entered the flet.
Standing with her back to the door, she looked over the room. Against the far left wall was a mid-sized sofa; a long one, for that matter. Someone about a foot taller than her could have been quite comfortable. In the corner near the couch was a stove. It the middle was a rectangular pale wood table with six pale wood chairs at it; one at each end, and two at each side.
At the back toward the right, to the right of a door that was dead center, was a cupboard made of pale wood as well. The top shelf had doors, but the middle two did not. At the bottom two doors covered a large portion of the cabinet; the bottom half, she estimated. Her eyes moved to the counter, made of the same wood. 'How soon before I tire of the paleness? Rivendell isn't dark, but nor is it so... light.'
At the far right, a heavy, pale blue velvet curtain hung over a large opening in the shape of an arch. Curiosity tugged at her, but in the end she forced herself to the door at the back of the room.
Quite clearly it was the bedroom. A four poster bed with sheer, silvery-blue hangings and made of - of course - the same pale wood as everything else. A set of drawers with a mirror was to the right of the door, across the room from the bed. A window was in the right wall, another door in the left.
She went through the door in the left wall, and found a cabinet filled with towels and soaps. She grabbed a couple of each, then left the talan, ignoring any detail that came her way.
Sometime later, clean and back in the black gown she'd been given, Adariel made her way slowly back to her talan. The black slippers that had been deposited with her gown while she'd bathed made no noise; indeed, the only noise made was the slight and delicate rustle of the silk of her dress. Elves made very little noise.
Her hand lingered on the rail as she proceeded up the stairs. How many times would Nurardion have run up the stairs only to run back down and feign tripping her or falling to the ground far below? How persistant would Aradalien be in demanding that they have their tour that night instead of in the morning? Would her brother had glared at those who had stared, warning off any male that so much as glanced at her and her sister? Would Aradalien have been as amused by Marchwarden Orophin's antics as she had? There were so many questions.
Most of which, she knew, would never get an answer. If not most, then all. Dead ones could not talk.
She sighed. Her tears were nearly spent, and therefore her eyes only tingled. Crying more would have helped, but it was simply not an option. For a moment Adariel considered lowering the veil to cover her face, but decided not to. It was doubtful that she would encounter anyone, anyway.
"Arwen en amin! Adariel!"
Perhaps she would.
She turned and found Vinya racing up the stairs after her. "Adariel, I've found you a guide-"
"Please, Vinya," she said, "let it wait until morning. It is late."
Vinya paused, then sighed. "I suppose that would be for the best. Good night Lady Aradriel."
"Good night," she replied, the continued up the stairs.
Back in her talan, she found a stack of gowns over the back of a chair. On the top of that pile was a white night dress made of a smooth, somewhat shiny material, and a over robe of the same fabric and color.
Adariel picked up the stack and took them to the bedroom. She folded each, watching what she was doing yet not seeing the dress as she placed it in the a drawer. She would pay attention to such things later. Finally there was nothing left but the night dress and the gown she wore. She took off the circlet and veil, placing them both on the dresser top.
She changed into the night gown, but found no place to put the black dress. She frowned slightly and turned; then her eyes fell on a vanity that was on the left side. She walked over placed the gown on the bench-like seat. Looking at the mirror, she realized that it was slightly smaller than the one on the dresser, and, more obviously, was an oval instead of a large rectangle.
Straightening, she let her hand run over the smooth fabric of the night dress. It had thin straps at the shoulders, about half an inch wide, and was, in fact, very plain, other than the fact that it was form fitting and had a slit to her knees in the back. She slid into the robe, and discovered it to be a bit longer than the dress itself, and loose fitting.
Not feeling quite tired yet, she walked out of the room and over to the balcony. Her dark hair was drying into ringlets that cascaded down her back, and her ivory skin was radiant, but her violet-blue eyes were dull with grief.
She sighed and laid her hands on the railing of the balcony, watching the ground below. It wasn't *that* far up, but she still had a decent view; yet there was little to watch. Most had already gone to their homes and beds.
"How much would they have loved this place?" she asked herself. "How welcome would we have been arriving together? What might their fates have been? What would they think of the marchwardens, Rúmil, Haldir, and Orophin? What would they think of Vinya?" She faltered. "What do they think of me now?"
Her voice wavered as her eyes stung once more, and she bit her lip to keep from sobbing. She backed away from the rail as tears streamed down her cheeks. The heavy velvet curtains were closed, her bedroom door shut fast, the hangings over the window in that room pulled together, and she laid herself on her bed and cried.
^*^
*I'm sorry about that little situation there; I just had to throw Haldir of balance, even a little bit. smiles
Anyway, what'd you think? I'd like to knoooooooow... Buh bye for now!