Here 'tis! Not much for me to say, really. So, enjoy
Part Twelve
Revelations and High-Strung Emotions
Arwen had called her to a discussion on healing arts that Adariel was not able to concentrate on. In fact, she had excused herself early and barricaded herself in her chambers. She had shed herself of her gown and had extinguished her candle in hope of sleeping away her torrent of emotions; no such luck was with her, however, and she spent her night pacing a moonlit chamber, thinking about much but accomplishing little. Finally, she paced herself into exhaustion, and fell asleep roughly an hour before dawn, which was her usual waking time.
That day, however, she awoke at ten o'clock in the morning, a full four hours after dawn. She had hoped that sleep would clear her mind, but again, she was not so lucky. What had happened? That question was silly: she knew what had happened. Why had it happened? That was not so easy to answer, nor was it silly.
She had realized just before their... moment: Haldir was more to her than a dear friend. She hadn't known what he was, but she had realized that he was dearer to her than a friend. With this realization she had reached a point where she could not return from. Of course, she had never expected for everything to be shoved forward several steps. But with that movement, her realization had enlarged to reveal to her all of what she both feared to know and desired to know.
She was in love with him.
Adariel had not dared to utter this realization aloud; couldn't do it, somehow. As it was, there were questions that frightened her just as much as her new realization did. Perhaps because they were so closely related to that realization? She wanted to know why he'd done it. Had it been purely impulse? Something else? What had he been thinking? What had she been thinking?
Those were the least of it.
Her mind chased itself in circles, and the entire mess revolved around that stupid Marchwarden. Given her lack of progress, she prepared herself to face the day, and was mentally preparing herself for leaving her chamber - and thus running the risk of meeting Haldir - when there was a knock at her door.
She stared at it for a moment, both terrified and hopeful that it was Haldir. Either way, she didn't move. But when the knocked a second time, she slowly walked to the door and opened it. To both her disappointment and relief, it was not Haldir.
"My lady, Lord Elrond would like you to see him, if you may," the young man, whom she did not recognize, told her.
Thankful for the distraction, she said, "Of course. Where is he?"
"In his study, Morelen."
She nodded to him. "Thank you," she murmured before leaving, closing the door behind her.
At her surrogate uncle's study, she knock in the large mahogany doors before entering without a response. "Elrond?" she called. "Someone told me that you wished to see me."
Into her view came the Lord of Rivendell, smiling at her. "They told you correctly. I would ask you to come in, but I see that you have already permitted yourself."
She smiled back, a bit of her tension, caused by her incident with Haldir the night before, melted away. "Of course," she said simply, entering the large study. "What else should be expected from one such as myself?"
"Nothing less, my dear."
As she came closer, Adariel saw Elrond's unease. She knew that, for this unease to be visible, it would have to be very, very great. Her concern was immediate. "Does something trouble you?" she asked.
He sighed and said, "Come with me."
They walked through the study silently, out into the halls, through several corridors, before turning back to the corridor on which they had started their walk. They went back into the study and out onto the balcony, where the sheer precipice of the waterfall was in clear view.
"We have wandered through several halls, Elrond," she said with a wry smile, "and neither of us as voice a word." He watched the water as her expression grew more worried. "What is it, Uncle? If something trouble you, I would have you tell me, particularly if it makes the burden easier to bear."
Elrond looked back at her and then took both her hand in his own. "Adariel," he began. It was rather hesitant, which bothered her: she had never seen Elrond of Rivendell so ill at ease, it simply wasn't his nature. "What if I were to tell you that you are not who you believe yourself to be?"
An odd question, to be sure. Adariel did not know how to react. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly. "Am I not Adariel, daughter of Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel?"
"You are Adariel, and ever shall you be Adariel, however-"
Elrond stopped, and her confusion grew to rival that which Haldir had caused, which was truly saying something of it. But she could not help the concern that rose in her: she had known Elrond Peredhil to lose his eloquence only once, when Celebrían had went away.
"You know that Aradalien, Arwen, and yourself were born on the same night, do you not?" She nodded. "And you know that both Celebrían and Avarlammeniel had twins that night?"
"I have heard the rumors," she said hesitantly.
"Those rumors are true, Adariel. They both gave birth to twin girls, but one child was lost. One of the mid-wives was a novice assistant; you and Aradalien looked unusually alike, and thus she believed that it had been Celebrían to lose a child."
Adariel had, somehow, forgotten how to breathe. "But she didn't lose a child, did she?" she managed.
"No," Elrond confirmed quietly. "She did not. Avarlammeniel lost her second daughter, and both of Celebrían's children - both of my children - survived."
"And, I assume, given that it is me you are now speaking to," she said in a very shaky voice, "that Aradalien is not the mistakenly misplaced child."
He ignored her comment. "No one knew of the mistake until three weeks after your birth Celebrían had suspicions, but I had thought that they were merely thoughts spurned by denial of our child's death. By the time I realized that she was right, and the novice came forward about her mistake, it was too late: Nimrómen had already claimed you as his daughter, and while I do not believe Avarlammeniel ever did the same, she wanted her husband to be happy, and so she stood by him when he demanded that they keep you. Knowing that you would be raised as a second child to us, Celebrían and I relented. But out of respect for us, Avarlammeniel and Nimrómen gave you a name of our choosing.
"And, thus, you grew to know Celebrían and I as second parents, just as we knew you would. We wanted to tell you, but they would not have it. When Nimrómen left for Valinor, he allowed me to tell you, so long as you were ready for the information."
He stopped, and after a moment Adariel slipped her hands from his and walked past him, to the end of the balcony. Her mind was buzzing, much like it had been after her incident with Haldir. This time, however, it was worse: the tangled knot between herself and Haldir seemed so very small compared to this.
Elrond was her father.
She was not, in all honesty, sure how to take the news. Part of her told her to be angry at them all, for hiding the truth from her for so long. Another, to smile and be glad for it. Some other part of her ordered her feel empty, for the loss of her believed-family. Another, to simply move to Mirkwood and leave this mess and all her other messes behind. She had a cousin in Mirkwood-
No, she didn't have a cousin in Mirkwood. Aradalien had a cousin in Mirkwood. But she, Adariel, did not.
Many things were explained by this, of course. Particularly Avarlammeniel's treatment of her, compared to that of the Lady of Rivendell; Celebrían had always been more of a mother to her than Avarlammeniel. Her difference in appearance to her "twin," Aradalien. Her resemblance to Arwen.
Suddenly she thought back to her girlhood. She had been sitting with Nimrómen, and had grinned up at him. At that, his expression had abruptly become sad. "Your eyes look so very much like Lady Celebrían's," he had said sadly.
"Is that not a good thing, Ada?" she had asked, confused by his expression.
"Of course it is, Morelen. Of course it is," her father had replied.
No. Not her father. Nimrómen was not her father.
She should have been angry. She should have been hurt. She should have been happy. She "should have been" many things, but primarily she was simply stunned.
"Who knows?"
"Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel. Celebrían and myself. I'm sure Lady Galadriel knows, and thus Lord Celeborn, as well. And mistress Malfalothien; she was the assistant who made the mistake."
Adariel turned to him abruptly, but reached out a hand to cling to the rail, for fear of her knees folding from underneath her. "Malfalothien? Celebnoviel's mother?"
Elrond nodded. "The very same."
Mal? Mal had known all along? A small flame of anger flared up inside her. Malfalothien had known of Avarlammeniel's treatment toward her, and yet Mal had never said a word.
"You must understand, Adariel," Elrond said, as if her thoughts were displayed on her face, "Nimrómen wanted no one to tell you, nor anyone else, of what had happened. He only grudgingly permitted me to tell you when he left. Malfalothien requested to be moved to the kitchens that night, and we allowed it under the condition that she would never utter the words aloud."
"Why?" she asked, genuinely confused. Why would the man posing as her father not want her to know the truth?
"I asked him the question as well. He told me that he wished you not to know because you seemed happy in your place as his child, and you seemed to have no suspicions. That was what he said aloud. However, I think that part of his reason was his own selfishness." At her confused look he explained, "He did not want to lose you."
"Happy as his child? Perhaps. But..." She shook her head. "Mo- Avarlammeniel, well, she was not fond of me, one could say."
No suspicions? She looked back out at the scenery with a frown. Yes, a very large part of her was stunned to the point of numbness: she couldn't even think.
But a very small part of her wasn't surprised at all.
That small part of her had suspected it all along.
"I don't- I don't know what you want me to say," she said shakily.
"I want you to say what you're thinking, Adariel. What you're feeling."
"I don't know what I'm thinking, nor what I'm feeling." She turned back around to face him. "I was just told that everything I had believed my entire life was a lie. What am I supposed to think and feel?"
He moved forward slowly as he spoke. "You could feel angry. At myself, and everyone else who knew. You could feel disappointed. You could feel elated. You could feel nothing. You could feel a mixture of all of them. I would not know, Adariel; I have never been through a situation such as the one I have now placed you in."
She gave him a half-hearted smile. "Not you alone. You were not the one to told everyone to keep it from me..." She frowned, suddenly feeling both hurt and rather angry. "How could he, as the man who claimed to be my father, keep something like this from me? That hurts much more than the truth ever would."
Elrond laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He thought that he was doing the right thing. Whether or not it truly was the right thing shall be decided, but he did what he thought was best."
She gave a short, sardonic laugh. "'Best?' What is better than the truth?"
"Would you have taken this so well as a young girl? Or an adolescent? We agreed to wait until you were at an age where you could handle the news rationally. Nimrómen believed you to be his daughter for the first three weeks of your life. Surely you know the impact the knowledge that you were not his would make?"
Adariel didn't reply. She saw Elrond's point, but she could not help the bit of hurt that had sprung up at the knowledge that the entire conspiracy had been initiated by her "father." She looked up at Elrond. "And what of you?" she asked. "What was the impact for you?"
"I took the information as well as any father could," he told her with a sad smile. "But I looked more toward the fact that you were alive and well than the fact that you were not in my home being raised as my daughter."
After a pause, she said, "You know, many things are suddenly explained with this revelation. I simply need the time to adjust to the idea. I-"
"I understand," Elrond told her. "Come with me."
She followed him back into his study, where he went to the desk and picked up something.
"You have seen Arwen's pendent, have you not?"
"I have."
"This would have been yours," he said, "but circumstances did not allow it then. Now that the truth is known to you, it is yours now."
With that he handed her a mithril chain, on which hung a pendent shaped exactly like Arwen's, with blue-violet stone set in mithril. The Evenstar was white, set in mithril.
"The Darkstar, pendent of the Morelen," Elrond informed her. "You."
Her hands trembled, but she closed them over the jewel as she looked up at her real father. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for telling me everything."
Suddenly, surprising them both, she hugged him tightly before leaving swiftly, departing just as suddenly as she had embraced him.
It was some time later before Adariel stirred herself. She had gone to her chamber, locked the door and closed the curtains, then went out on the balcony and ruminated on the knowledge of her parentage.
When she finally did move, she went back into her room and over to the desk, where she had lain the Darkstar pendent. Hesitantly she picked it up, then went over to her rectangular-shaped floor-length mirror. The she-Elf that stared back at her was confused, yet tranquil. She looked down at the pendent.
Putting it on would be the equivalent of acknowledging her true parentage and accepting it. By donning that necklace, she would declare herself the daughter of Elrond and Celebrían. Had she accepted the fact? Or was she still unsure?
She unclasped the chain and, after a moment's hesitation, slowly brought it up to clasp it around her neck. Before, it had merely reflected light; now that she wore it, the necklace seemed to have a light to it that it did not have before.
It had found its owner.
It unnerved her, so she changed into a high-collared violet gown that hid the necklace from view. She did not, however, remove the pendent; she would need it for her discussion with Arwen, should Elrond permit it.
"Adariel, we have sat here for nearly half of an hour now. Do you plan on having that conversation you brought me here for?" Arwen was more amused than irritated, watching her companion with masked concern.
They sat on the large rock that Adariel had laid upon the day before, letting the river cool their bare feet. The sun shined brightly, but not harshly, and a slightly breeze kept the air cool. Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Adariel was anxious beyond reason. Elrond had assured her that Arwen would react well, but no amount of assurance could banish her fear entirely.
Hesitantly, she began, "I- Something was revealed to me today, Arwen."
Arwen made small splashes with her feet, watching the patterns in which the liquid fell, returning to itself. "What was revealed to you today?"
"That... those who claimed to be my parents are not."
The Undómiel looked at her, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel are not my parents. Elrond and Celebrían are."
"But you and I are the same age! The only way our parents could be the same would be if we were-"
"Twins." Adariel explained everything to her new-found sister, anxiously awaiting her reaction at the end. Indeed, the Morelen did not know what to make of Arwen's silence at the end of the tale.
"So, you and I," Arwen said slowly after a silence that was far too long for Adariel's comfort, "have been sisters - twins, no less - all these years, and have never known?"
"Yes." Adariel reached under her collar for the chain. "If you like, I can show you proof." She pulled out the necklace.
Arwen study the necklace, then it wearer, meticulously for some time, once again making Adariel nervous, before breaking out into a very large smile and flinging her arms around her friend, now sister.
"I have always considered you a sister of the heart, now I discover that it was true in blood as well!" she cried, laughing. "And if Adariel accepts this news, then I accept it wholeheartedly." She pulled away then jumped off the rock and grabbed Adariel's hand. "Come! We must share this news-"
"Arwen, wait!" Adariel cried, panicked. "You must understand, as much as I welcome it, I am still adjusting to everything. I have lived a lie the majority of my life; living the truth is something I must get used to. We may tell Elladan and Elrohir, but no more. Elrond- I mean, our father, had already informed me that he will tell Aradalien."
"All right," Arwen said. "Let us tell our brothers, then."
Adariel nodded and climbed off the rock, and as soon as she was down Arwen raced toward the practice courts, where they were most likely to find Elladan and Elrohir, towing Adariel along with her.
She was hardly paying attention to the twists and turns Arwen took along the way, and thus, when the she-Elf stopped abruptly, Adariel ran straight into her.
"Elladan!" Arwen called. "Elrohir! We have much to discuss with you!"
Adariel's heart jumped into her throat when, as she looked around the practice court Arwen had brought them to, she found Haldir. She owed it to him, as a friend, to tell him of what had recently been revealed to her. But then she remembered the night before, and what had happened, and edged away from the idea.
How could she tell him that, when she had yet to sort through what was between them?
Before she realized what was happening, and before she could change her mind again about telling Haldir, she was suddenly being towed away again; this time, Elrond's twin sons were in their company. Arwen led them back to the rock beside the river, effectively blocking all of the questions her brothers flung at her.
Their brothers...
"So, do either of you care to tell us why we are here?" Elrohir asked.
Adariel explained everything again. Elladan and his brother both reacted similarly to Arwen; their manner was much more masculine, of course, but the reactions were essentially corresponding.
"Have you told Aradalien yet?" Elladan asked once they had all calmed down enough for intelligible conversation.
"Our father is going to," Adariel answered. "But I must ask you not to mention this to anyone. For my sake; I am still adjusting to everything."
Elrohir's countenance was suddenly very mischievous. "Then we shall aid in your transition as much as we can."
Adariel laughed. "Somehow I think that it bodes ill for me."
"Of course it doesn't!" Elrohir said, mock indignant.
"I'm sure," she countered dryly. "I think I will now go find some project with which to ensnare my time before I confront Aradalien. Somehow I feel that things will not go over very well." She nodded to them and left.
Once she was out of view, she reached up and tucked the pendent back under her collar. As she did so, she decided that if she were to meet Haldir on her way toward the library, she would simply apologize to him for her conduct and then ask if they could go back to normal; all she really wanted, after all, was her friend.
Despite the realization that her feelings were... slightly more than platonic.
Haldir was sensible: he could make sense of anything he did not make confusing. If anyone could help her through this sudden revelation of her parentage, it was him. She would much rather have him there as her friend than admit everything and lose him completely.
It was then that the realization she had made about Haldir collided with the new revelation concerning her parentage. The thought was staggering, literally: she stumbled to a stunned halt when it occurred to her.
As Elrond's daughter, the court and people would expect her to live in Rivendell. If she did move location, the only cause would be for marriage. Marriage, however, required someone of equal rank: Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, or his younger brother, perhaps. A son of one of the higher-placed families in Rivendell or Lothlórien. But a marchwarden? Elrond - her father - might approve, but the court? Never. Even if they would allow it, she would have to remain in Imladris to compensate for the blow to her "rank." He loved being a marchwarden; she could never ask him to leave that behind.
This was all, of course, implying that anything happened. Even after the previous night's events, her new, sudden rank might - and more than likely would - prove to be a very effective deterrent.
For once, perhaps, fate was on her side, for it was only moments after she made decision, when her resolution was still strong, that she met up with the very Elf she had been hoping to: she turned a corner and, at the other end of the small clearing, stood Haldir.
Of course, her heart leaped and began a very rapid tattoo at the sight of him, but she gave it no heed.
"I was looking for you," he said after a moment.
"And I you," she replied, because, while she hadn't been actively seeking him out, she had hoped that she would meet him along the way. "I wished to apologize for what happened yesterday-"
"Perhaps it is I, my lady, who should apologize?" His smile was wry, but there was something in his look - in his eyes, perhaps - that took away from the smile.
"The both of us, then." Adariel moved forward and extended a hand. "Friends?"
He shook her hand. "Agreed."
"Adariel!" Melian burst into the clearing, her timing rather inconvenient. "The infirmary! It's- It's- The sedative fusion is gone!"
She stared as she moved toward the girl. "What?" she demanded.
"I've been looking for you everywhere. I went this morning to see if you had arrived, and it was there, but I went this afternoon and it was gone. And the infirmary itself... The state is dire."
All other thoughts left her mind as Adariel fell in step beside Melian. "Exactly what time where you there this morning."
"Nine o'clock or so, I would say."
"And when were you there last?"
"Twenty minutes ago. As soon as I saw what had happened, I came to find you."
"And I thank you for it. Do you know of anyone who might have gone in there to find something and took our fusion by mistake?"
"If that were the case, I would happily tell you any possible answer to your question. However, given the state of things, I feel that it is not the case."
"'State of things?'" she repeated. "Are things really that bad?" Melian opened the door.
Adariel's infirmary lay in devastation. Whoever had done it all had come through the window: the curtain was torn, and hung pathetically from one end. The perpetrator had also been clumsy, or else they were cruel: the table near the window was on its side. Most of what had been on it was glass: flasks, glasses, a pitcher of water, and, the worse of it all, two poison antidotes, were all scattered on the floor, decimated.
They hadn't stopped there: there were two overturned beds, one of her herb cabinets had been pushed over, the glass doors shattered, the contents strewn over the floor, and a pillow had been shredded.
Adariel braced herself on Melian's shoulder, to keep herself from collapsing. "Elbereth," she breathed, horrified.
"Terrible, isn't it? I didn't know what to do."
"You did the right thing," Adariel said faintly. "How could you tell that the sedative fusion was gone?"
"The first thing I did was check to see if anything was stolen. There is, clearly, plenty of damage, but that fusion is the only thing that was taken," Melian replied.
Adariel nodded vaguely in understanding. "Inform Elrond of what has happened. I will- I will try to clean some of this..."
"Yes, my lady," the she-Elf said, and she quickly left to do as requested.
Nearly frozen with horror, Adariel moved into the infirmary to begin cleaning up. The task, however, was nearly overwhelming; she didn't even know where to begin. After a moment, she walked over to the window and straightened the curtain. It was useless: it had been shredded to the point of being no more than bits of cloth.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened, and only opened them again when she was sure that they would not fall. She took down the curtains, then went over to the cabinet and righted it. Looking down, she saw that many of the herbs had spilt, and that the majority of those that had spilt had been crushed.
Slowly, Adariel began to gather the glass and herbs into a pile, not realizing that she used naught but her hands. When the majority of it was gathered, she went to the table and righted it, then began to do the same for the glass on the floor there.
Footsteps sounded in the outer corridor, and she looked up as Elrond, Melian, and Noviel came to the doorway. Noviel gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.
"What happened?" Elrond demanded.
"Someone wanted our sedative fusion," Adariel said faintly. "And so they took it."
Elrond muttered something under his breath as he moved forward and grabbed Adariel by both of her upper arms, pulling her up. He examined her hands. "What were you doing, entertaining yourself with the glass?"
"I was trying to clean it," she said faintly.
"If you could, would the two of you-"
"Of course, my lord," Noviel said as Elrond ushered Adariel out of the infirmary and across the hall.
"I understand that you are upset, Adariel, but I would expect you to have the sense to not use your hands to clean glass," he muttered as he pushed her into a chair.
"The sedative fusion I don't mind. They can have it; we weren't even finished. But destroying everything?"
"No one knows the reasons why people do things. The best thing we can hope for is that they will tell us themselves," Elrond told her, cleaning the small cuts on her palms with a cloth.
Adariel snorted. "I am so utterly positive that this person will come forward and tell us all why they destroyed my infirmary."
"Nothing is ever impossible, nor is anything completely and totally assured. They may yet come forward."
She said nothing as the Elf she now called father cleaned her self-induced wounds and placed a light layer of ointment over the worst of them. "Now," he told her when he was through, "you will go out, perhaps with a book, and collect your senses, and you will not come back until we need you for the assessments of what we lost."
Nodding, she stood and left the room, going to her own chambers, where she found her book. She then went out to a small bridge that crossed the equally small river and sat there, still completely dazed. Her infirmary was decimated, many of the herbs that had taken her and the other healers so long to find, prepare, and preserve, destroyed.
She looked down at her hands. The cuts were not numerous, but nor were they few. The sheer stupidity that had caused to her attempt to pick up glass with her bare hands had been induced by shock: to her stunned mind, it had been natural to begin picking up the glass immediately, without taking the time to find the proper utensils for such a task.
She sighed and shifted her eyes to the water. Thinking back on the day's events thus far, Adariel could not help but decide that her summation was not comforting. From the most recent on, her infirmary had been decimated, she'd had her entire life turned completely around by one revelation concerning parentage, and she had admitted something that she never would have expected - even if she had admitted it only to herself, and had not even voiced it aloud.
But then, since her realization about how any relationship with Haldir would end, she had tried very hard not to think of those particular feelings.
Adariel shifted to lie on her stomach and flipped open her book. If she had to wait for them to summon her, she may as well do so while doing something other than focusing on her tumultuous day. It was at least an hour later when Aradalien found her.
"You accept it so easily?"
Adariel looked up at her, puzzled. "What?"
"You were raised as the child of Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel. You abandon us readily," Aradalien accused. The Morelen sat up on her knees, watching her one-time sister warily.
"I accepted the truth," Adariel said cautiously. "And what do you mean, 'us?'"
"Truth!" she repeated harshly. "How do we know that this is the truth? And by 'us' I mean that you abandoned Mother, Father, me, Nurar-"
"I did not abandon you!" she said defensively. "Why would Elrond lie about this?"
"Everyone knows that he lost a daughter the night we were born," Aradalien snapped. "He is using you to replace her."
"I find that very hard-"
"If you are willing to abandon you family, it is no business of mine. But do make sure to sever the ties completely."
With that, the very sudden confrontation was ended: Aradalien marched away as swiftly as she had appeared.
Adariel felt ill at heart from Aradalien's words. She knew that they were false, but they hurt, all the same. She had hoped that Nimrómen's daughter would accept that Adariel was not her sister; the transition was not easy for the Morelen, she had not thought it selfish for Aradalien, the she-Elf Adariel had believed to be her sister for so long, to accept her newly discovered parentage. Perhaps not as well as Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan, but Adariel had hoped that it would be accepted.
Perhaps she had been wrong to hope?
As if summoned by her thoughts, Elrohir stepped onto the bridge and came over to sit beside her. "I saw what happened."
"What do you make of it?" she asked, wondering if he meant the infirmary or the encounter with Aradalien.
"I think that she feels abandoned. She lost her brother, and now she is losing her sister. Can you imagine what that must be like?"
Adariel frowned. "No," she said after a moment. "I cannot. It must be terrible." She looked at her brother. "But surely she can realize that this is difficult for me as well?"
Elrohir shrugged. "We are not all like you, Adariel. We cannot all see past our own hurt to help another cope."
"But I never implied that," she said, rather defensively.
"Of course not," he said, as if it were obvious. "You would never admit to being the good soul that you are. Now," he stood and stepped behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders. "I told you that I would to my best to make your transition as easy as possible, did I not?"
"You did," Adariel confirmed cautiously.
"Well, your induction begins now!"
And with a hearty shove, he pushed her off the small bridge and into the water.
Adariel hardly even had time to gasp before she hit the water. And, unfortunately, all that remained of Elrohir when she surfaced was the echo of his laughter. With an aggravated sigh, she made her way toward the edge of the water, wading up with some difficulty.
"How is it that you always managed to-"
She looked up as Haldir, of all people to find her in such a state, stopped and covered his mouth with a hand. His eyes were laughing. She glared at him.
"This is not amusing," she said flatly.
He cleared his throat and swallowed a smile, apparently now straight-faced. "Of course not," he said, the quintessence of seriousness. "What happened?"
"Elrohir," she said dryly. That, apparently, was the only explanation needed, because Haldir's forced seriousness was gone, and Adariel could tell that he was struggling not to laugh outright.
"That makes a few things slightly clearer," he admitted.
Thankfully, even in ankle-deep water her gown wasn't to long to be free of the water, so with the hem and a few inches extra floating in the water, the fabric didn't cling to her legs in very much of a revealing manner, but she couldn't say as much about her top half, to her chagrin. Looking down at it, she couldn't help but make a face that showed just how uncomfortable with her state of dress she was.
"I am glad," she said grumpily, crossing her arms over her chest for both a display of irritation and to hide the fact that her gown was soaked.
"Here," he said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her out of the water. To his extreme credit, Haldir's eyes remained locked on her face, not once traveling any lower than her neck, for which Adariel was incredibly grateful. Her situation was already embarrassing enough. He swung off his cloak and settled it over her, deftly fastening the Lórien-leaf clasp before she could protest.
The thing was certainly overly-large for her: not only was Haldir much taller than Adariel, but his shoulders were much broader, and consequently the garment hung on her almost in mockery of her state.
Instead of leaving the cloak at that, however, Adariel found her companion pulling the thing around her snugly. She arched her eyebrows and said, "You needn't play hero."
He flashed her a cheeky grin. "It is my duty, my Lady," he informed her.
"Hmm," she murmured skeptically, stepping closer to peer directly up into his eyes, her own eyes rather squinted. "Is that so, Marchwarden?"
"It is so." Suddenly his voice was quiet, and her heart skipped a beat.
There must have been some sort of witty retort on the tip of her tongue, but somehow it got lost, and was never voiced. So she tried to find another one, the only problem being that she couldn't seem to get her mind to focus. It really wasn't fair. She was determined to put everything behind her, preserving her friendship with Haldir and keeping her heart intact. Of course, things couldn't go the way she wanted them to. That would make her life far too easy.
Adariel opened her mouth to say something - anything - though her mind wasn't necessarily clear on what it was going to say, when warm lips met hers, effectively stifling whatever it was she had been about to say.
The last time she had found herself in this position, she had been just as surprised. This time, however, she was more able to react. Or, at least more able to function mentally.
She had been kissed before; despite her own lack of words on the subject, she'd had admirers, though she was always happy to note that she hadn't had as many as Aradalien. And before she would have said that kissing was, well, kissing. Nothing too terribly special. But now... Now something was different. Something had changed.
Breathing became difficult, but it wasn't accompanied by the traditional grief or guilt; this time, it was a pleasant feeling, something that thoroughly confused her. Her heart was racing, and her head spinning, but for the strangest reason nothing objected to this. Her senses reeled and she didn't know which way was up and which way was down, but she didn't care. The lack of control that she had over her own self, for once, didn't matter. In fact, she didn't want it to stop.
But stop it did, and eyes that she hadn't realized that she'd closed fluttered open, and arms that she hadn't known had curled themselves around his neck slid back to her sides.
They both stood there, neither moving save for rather labored breathing, let alone speaking. What was she supposed to say? 'You dolt!' a part of her screamed. 'Don't say anything! Pull him back!' But Adariel couldn't get her muscles to move. Strange, how her mind and muscles were totally dense but her heart was perfectly clear, for all it was beating faster than any Elf could run.
But then, another part told her that she had just thoroughly demolished her plans of ignoring her realizations about Haldir. Putting everything behind her suddenly seemed several times more difficult. 'But I didn't start it,' she thought suddenly. 'I didn't. He kissed me.'
It was with that thought that she realized that, more at that moment than at any other, he had to know about her parents. He deserved to know. And she opened her mouth to tell him.
"Haldir!"
Adariel jumped at the call and closed her mouth. As much as she wanted to tell him, the strange spell that had woven itself around the pair was broken. Positively shattered, to be more accurate. And she couldn't call it back; she was no wizard. She wanted to speak, but the farthest she got was a slight parting of her lips. Otherwise... nothing.
Haldir stepped back, a strange look in his eyes that looked almost like a mixture of some blend of emotions that neither of them, she would have guessed, could label correctly, and... was that reluctance? She hardly had a chance to decide, however, because he then turned and walked toward the voice, leaving Adariel feeling a strange sense of loss. Not knowing what to do, whether to ask him to stay or run as fast as she could for Mirkwood, she tugged his cloak tighter and walked in another direction, through the gardens toward her chambers.
It was a good thing that she didn't have to think about her surroundings to get to where she wanted to go when it came to the Dell; her thoughts, at that moment, were slightly singularly-pathed.
Adariel knew, without a doubt, that she could no longer simply hope to just put everything behind her. She was beyond that point now, whether by accident of design. Strangely, though, she couldn't be entirely sorry for it. Nor could she, however, be entirely happy for it. Adariel's thoughts on the matter were so confusing that it was all she could do not to run back and demand an explanation from him.
Instead, however, she simply muttered to herself, "Stupid Marchwarden."
She was halfway through the gardens, still focused entirely on her thoughts, when an arm grabbed her brutally from behind and a cloth was clapped over her mouth. Radiating from the cloth was a scent that she recognized all too well.
'That sedative fusion!' she thought with panic, her thinking suddenly painfully clear. 'And a large amount of it too!'
But before she could even attempt to call for help, everything went dark.
Apparently, Orophin had made him out to be something of a chess player, because that was exactly what his younger brother had called him away from his... preoccupation... for: a chess match.
His challenger, Elladan, who was already an expert at the game, beat him swiftly, at which both of Haldir's brothers were surprised. But Haldir couldn't find it in him to care a jot for it. His thoughts were otherwise occupied, and chess most certainly wasn't his engrossment.
How, in the name of all Middle-earth, could he have been so stupid? Kissing Adariel had been pure impulse, but in some dark, treacherous, corner of his mind, he had been wanting to do just that for sometime. Kissing a sopping wet Elf-maiden who just happened a near-daughter to the Lord Elrond wasn't necessarily a wise idea. But had he listened to reason? No. And Adariel had once called him sensible.
She didn't appear to object, but that meant little, if it meant anything at all; one could never tell with Adariel Morelen. Had she been afraid to object? He snorted sardonically. No, the only person Adariel feared was Dimalphion. Elbereth, he had seen her scold men a foot taller than her!
If she hadn't been afraid, then why hadn't she said anything? 'What if she hadn't wanted to object?' that treacherous corner of his mind whispered.
In the guest chambers that he'd been staying in for sometime, he sat rather heavily on the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. Stupid, stupid, stupid move on his part, and now there was nothing he could do to take it back. He hadn't even apologized! Certainly she'd now have suspicious thoughts, since she'd just removed herself from a small river. Did he not owe her an apology?
The problem was, he wasn't sorry for it.
Haldir was on the verge of growling in frustration when a gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet and had the door open in an instant, and was surprised to find Arwen standing before him, looking almost concerned.
"Have you seen Adariel?" she asked. "I thought I saw her in the gardens, as if she'd come from the river, but she passed beneath the shadow of a tree and didn't come out on the other side."
Haldir would have frowned, but he was already frowning. "She didn't?"
The Undómiel shook her head. "I searched the gardens, asked Elladan and Elrohir as well as your brothers, Celebnoviel, and Aradalien, but no one has seen her. Not even Father."
His frown deepened. She couldn't have...? No, Adariel wouldn't have run. Even the thought of her thinking of it was absurd and completely out of the norm for her. But then it occurred to him that she had run, but not for the reasons that anyone other than himself would know.
Had she run because of him?
He pushed the thought aside. "Was anyone with her?"
"No," Arwen said faintly. She watched as Haldir's face tightened.
"She'll be found soon," he said, but it was clear not 'even' to Arwen, but particularly to Arwen, that he was trying to reassure himself more than her.
Part Twelve
Revelations and High-Strung Emotions
Arwen had called her to a discussion on healing arts that Adariel was not able to concentrate on. In fact, she had excused herself early and barricaded herself in her chambers. She had shed herself of her gown and had extinguished her candle in hope of sleeping away her torrent of emotions; no such luck was with her, however, and she spent her night pacing a moonlit chamber, thinking about much but accomplishing little. Finally, she paced herself into exhaustion, and fell asleep roughly an hour before dawn, which was her usual waking time.
That day, however, she awoke at ten o'clock in the morning, a full four hours after dawn. She had hoped that sleep would clear her mind, but again, she was not so lucky. What had happened? That question was silly: she knew what had happened. Why had it happened? That was not so easy to answer, nor was it silly.
She had realized just before their... moment: Haldir was more to her than a dear friend. She hadn't known what he was, but she had realized that he was dearer to her than a friend. With this realization she had reached a point where she could not return from. Of course, she had never expected for everything to be shoved forward several steps. But with that movement, her realization had enlarged to reveal to her all of what she both feared to know and desired to know.
She was in love with him.
Adariel had not dared to utter this realization aloud; couldn't do it, somehow. As it was, there were questions that frightened her just as much as her new realization did. Perhaps because they were so closely related to that realization? She wanted to know why he'd done it. Had it been purely impulse? Something else? What had he been thinking? What had she been thinking?
Those were the least of it.
Her mind chased itself in circles, and the entire mess revolved around that stupid Marchwarden. Given her lack of progress, she prepared herself to face the day, and was mentally preparing herself for leaving her chamber - and thus running the risk of meeting Haldir - when there was a knock at her door.
She stared at it for a moment, both terrified and hopeful that it was Haldir. Either way, she didn't move. But when the knocked a second time, she slowly walked to the door and opened it. To both her disappointment and relief, it was not Haldir.
"My lady, Lord Elrond would like you to see him, if you may," the young man, whom she did not recognize, told her.
Thankful for the distraction, she said, "Of course. Where is he?"
"In his study, Morelen."
She nodded to him. "Thank you," she murmured before leaving, closing the door behind her.
At her surrogate uncle's study, she knock in the large mahogany doors before entering without a response. "Elrond?" she called. "Someone told me that you wished to see me."
Into her view came the Lord of Rivendell, smiling at her. "They told you correctly. I would ask you to come in, but I see that you have already permitted yourself."
She smiled back, a bit of her tension, caused by her incident with Haldir the night before, melted away. "Of course," she said simply, entering the large study. "What else should be expected from one such as myself?"
"Nothing less, my dear."
As she came closer, Adariel saw Elrond's unease. She knew that, for this unease to be visible, it would have to be very, very great. Her concern was immediate. "Does something trouble you?" she asked.
He sighed and said, "Come with me."
They walked through the study silently, out into the halls, through several corridors, before turning back to the corridor on which they had started their walk. They went back into the study and out onto the balcony, where the sheer precipice of the waterfall was in clear view.
"We have wandered through several halls, Elrond," she said with a wry smile, "and neither of us as voice a word." He watched the water as her expression grew more worried. "What is it, Uncle? If something trouble you, I would have you tell me, particularly if it makes the burden easier to bear."
Elrond looked back at her and then took both her hand in his own. "Adariel," he began. It was rather hesitant, which bothered her: she had never seen Elrond of Rivendell so ill at ease, it simply wasn't his nature. "What if I were to tell you that you are not who you believe yourself to be?"
An odd question, to be sure. Adariel did not know how to react. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly. "Am I not Adariel, daughter of Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel?"
"You are Adariel, and ever shall you be Adariel, however-"
Elrond stopped, and her confusion grew to rival that which Haldir had caused, which was truly saying something of it. But she could not help the concern that rose in her: she had known Elrond Peredhil to lose his eloquence only once, when Celebrían had went away.
"You know that Aradalien, Arwen, and yourself were born on the same night, do you not?" She nodded. "And you know that both Celebrían and Avarlammeniel had twins that night?"
"I have heard the rumors," she said hesitantly.
"Those rumors are true, Adariel. They both gave birth to twin girls, but one child was lost. One of the mid-wives was a novice assistant; you and Aradalien looked unusually alike, and thus she believed that it had been Celebrían to lose a child."
Adariel had, somehow, forgotten how to breathe. "But she didn't lose a child, did she?" she managed.
"No," Elrond confirmed quietly. "She did not. Avarlammeniel lost her second daughter, and both of Celebrían's children - both of my children - survived."
"And, I assume, given that it is me you are now speaking to," she said in a very shaky voice, "that Aradalien is not the mistakenly misplaced child."
He ignored her comment. "No one knew of the mistake until three weeks after your birth Celebrían had suspicions, but I had thought that they were merely thoughts spurned by denial of our child's death. By the time I realized that she was right, and the novice came forward about her mistake, it was too late: Nimrómen had already claimed you as his daughter, and while I do not believe Avarlammeniel ever did the same, she wanted her husband to be happy, and so she stood by him when he demanded that they keep you. Knowing that you would be raised as a second child to us, Celebrían and I relented. But out of respect for us, Avarlammeniel and Nimrómen gave you a name of our choosing.
"And, thus, you grew to know Celebrían and I as second parents, just as we knew you would. We wanted to tell you, but they would not have it. When Nimrómen left for Valinor, he allowed me to tell you, so long as you were ready for the information."
He stopped, and after a moment Adariel slipped her hands from his and walked past him, to the end of the balcony. Her mind was buzzing, much like it had been after her incident with Haldir. This time, however, it was worse: the tangled knot between herself and Haldir seemed so very small compared to this.
Elrond was her father.
She was not, in all honesty, sure how to take the news. Part of her told her to be angry at them all, for hiding the truth from her for so long. Another, to smile and be glad for it. Some other part of her ordered her feel empty, for the loss of her believed-family. Another, to simply move to Mirkwood and leave this mess and all her other messes behind. She had a cousin in Mirkwood-
No, she didn't have a cousin in Mirkwood. Aradalien had a cousin in Mirkwood. But she, Adariel, did not.
Many things were explained by this, of course. Particularly Avarlammeniel's treatment of her, compared to that of the Lady of Rivendell; Celebrían had always been more of a mother to her than Avarlammeniel. Her difference in appearance to her "twin," Aradalien. Her resemblance to Arwen.
Suddenly she thought back to her girlhood. She had been sitting with Nimrómen, and had grinned up at him. At that, his expression had abruptly become sad. "Your eyes look so very much like Lady Celebrían's," he had said sadly.
"Is that not a good thing, Ada?" she had asked, confused by his expression.
"Of course it is, Morelen. Of course it is," her father had replied.
No. Not her father. Nimrómen was not her father.
She should have been angry. She should have been hurt. She should have been happy. She "should have been" many things, but primarily she was simply stunned.
"Who knows?"
"Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel. Celebrían and myself. I'm sure Lady Galadriel knows, and thus Lord Celeborn, as well. And mistress Malfalothien; she was the assistant who made the mistake."
Adariel turned to him abruptly, but reached out a hand to cling to the rail, for fear of her knees folding from underneath her. "Malfalothien? Celebnoviel's mother?"
Elrond nodded. "The very same."
Mal? Mal had known all along? A small flame of anger flared up inside her. Malfalothien had known of Avarlammeniel's treatment toward her, and yet Mal had never said a word.
"You must understand, Adariel," Elrond said, as if her thoughts were displayed on her face, "Nimrómen wanted no one to tell you, nor anyone else, of what had happened. He only grudgingly permitted me to tell you when he left. Malfalothien requested to be moved to the kitchens that night, and we allowed it under the condition that she would never utter the words aloud."
"Why?" she asked, genuinely confused. Why would the man posing as her father not want her to know the truth?
"I asked him the question as well. He told me that he wished you not to know because you seemed happy in your place as his child, and you seemed to have no suspicions. That was what he said aloud. However, I think that part of his reason was his own selfishness." At her confused look he explained, "He did not want to lose you."
"Happy as his child? Perhaps. But..." She shook her head. "Mo- Avarlammeniel, well, she was not fond of me, one could say."
No suspicions? She looked back out at the scenery with a frown. Yes, a very large part of her was stunned to the point of numbness: she couldn't even think.
But a very small part of her wasn't surprised at all.
That small part of her had suspected it all along.
"I don't- I don't know what you want me to say," she said shakily.
"I want you to say what you're thinking, Adariel. What you're feeling."
"I don't know what I'm thinking, nor what I'm feeling." She turned back around to face him. "I was just told that everything I had believed my entire life was a lie. What am I supposed to think and feel?"
He moved forward slowly as he spoke. "You could feel angry. At myself, and everyone else who knew. You could feel disappointed. You could feel elated. You could feel nothing. You could feel a mixture of all of them. I would not know, Adariel; I have never been through a situation such as the one I have now placed you in."
She gave him a half-hearted smile. "Not you alone. You were not the one to told everyone to keep it from me..." She frowned, suddenly feeling both hurt and rather angry. "How could he, as the man who claimed to be my father, keep something like this from me? That hurts much more than the truth ever would."
Elrond laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He thought that he was doing the right thing. Whether or not it truly was the right thing shall be decided, but he did what he thought was best."
She gave a short, sardonic laugh. "'Best?' What is better than the truth?"
"Would you have taken this so well as a young girl? Or an adolescent? We agreed to wait until you were at an age where you could handle the news rationally. Nimrómen believed you to be his daughter for the first three weeks of your life. Surely you know the impact the knowledge that you were not his would make?"
Adariel didn't reply. She saw Elrond's point, but she could not help the bit of hurt that had sprung up at the knowledge that the entire conspiracy had been initiated by her "father." She looked up at Elrond. "And what of you?" she asked. "What was the impact for you?"
"I took the information as well as any father could," he told her with a sad smile. "But I looked more toward the fact that you were alive and well than the fact that you were not in my home being raised as my daughter."
After a pause, she said, "You know, many things are suddenly explained with this revelation. I simply need the time to adjust to the idea. I-"
"I understand," Elrond told her. "Come with me."
She followed him back into his study, where he went to the desk and picked up something.
"You have seen Arwen's pendent, have you not?"
"I have."
"This would have been yours," he said, "but circumstances did not allow it then. Now that the truth is known to you, it is yours now."
With that he handed her a mithril chain, on which hung a pendent shaped exactly like Arwen's, with blue-violet stone set in mithril. The Evenstar was white, set in mithril.
"The Darkstar, pendent of the Morelen," Elrond informed her. "You."
Her hands trembled, but she closed them over the jewel as she looked up at her real father. "Thank you," she said quietly, "for telling me everything."
Suddenly, surprising them both, she hugged him tightly before leaving swiftly, departing just as suddenly as she had embraced him.
It was some time later before Adariel stirred herself. She had gone to her chamber, locked the door and closed the curtains, then went out on the balcony and ruminated on the knowledge of her parentage.
When she finally did move, she went back into her room and over to the desk, where she had lain the Darkstar pendent. Hesitantly she picked it up, then went over to her rectangular-shaped floor-length mirror. The she-Elf that stared back at her was confused, yet tranquil. She looked down at the pendent.
Putting it on would be the equivalent of acknowledging her true parentage and accepting it. By donning that necklace, she would declare herself the daughter of Elrond and Celebrían. Had she accepted the fact? Or was she still unsure?
She unclasped the chain and, after a moment's hesitation, slowly brought it up to clasp it around her neck. Before, it had merely reflected light; now that she wore it, the necklace seemed to have a light to it that it did not have before.
It had found its owner.
It unnerved her, so she changed into a high-collared violet gown that hid the necklace from view. She did not, however, remove the pendent; she would need it for her discussion with Arwen, should Elrond permit it.
"Adariel, we have sat here for nearly half of an hour now. Do you plan on having that conversation you brought me here for?" Arwen was more amused than irritated, watching her companion with masked concern.
They sat on the large rock that Adariel had laid upon the day before, letting the river cool their bare feet. The sun shined brightly, but not harshly, and a slightly breeze kept the air cool. Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Adariel was anxious beyond reason. Elrond had assured her that Arwen would react well, but no amount of assurance could banish her fear entirely.
Hesitantly, she began, "I- Something was revealed to me today, Arwen."
Arwen made small splashes with her feet, watching the patterns in which the liquid fell, returning to itself. "What was revealed to you today?"
"That... those who claimed to be my parents are not."
The Undómiel looked at her, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel are not my parents. Elrond and Celebrían are."
"But you and I are the same age! The only way our parents could be the same would be if we were-"
"Twins." Adariel explained everything to her new-found sister, anxiously awaiting her reaction at the end. Indeed, the Morelen did not know what to make of Arwen's silence at the end of the tale.
"So, you and I," Arwen said slowly after a silence that was far too long for Adariel's comfort, "have been sisters - twins, no less - all these years, and have never known?"
"Yes." Adariel reached under her collar for the chain. "If you like, I can show you proof." She pulled out the necklace.
Arwen study the necklace, then it wearer, meticulously for some time, once again making Adariel nervous, before breaking out into a very large smile and flinging her arms around her friend, now sister.
"I have always considered you a sister of the heart, now I discover that it was true in blood as well!" she cried, laughing. "And if Adariel accepts this news, then I accept it wholeheartedly." She pulled away then jumped off the rock and grabbed Adariel's hand. "Come! We must share this news-"
"Arwen, wait!" Adariel cried, panicked. "You must understand, as much as I welcome it, I am still adjusting to everything. I have lived a lie the majority of my life; living the truth is something I must get used to. We may tell Elladan and Elrohir, but no more. Elrond- I mean, our father, had already informed me that he will tell Aradalien."
"All right," Arwen said. "Let us tell our brothers, then."
Adariel nodded and climbed off the rock, and as soon as she was down Arwen raced toward the practice courts, where they were most likely to find Elladan and Elrohir, towing Adariel along with her.
She was hardly paying attention to the twists and turns Arwen took along the way, and thus, when the she-Elf stopped abruptly, Adariel ran straight into her.
"Elladan!" Arwen called. "Elrohir! We have much to discuss with you!"
Adariel's heart jumped into her throat when, as she looked around the practice court Arwen had brought them to, she found Haldir. She owed it to him, as a friend, to tell him of what had recently been revealed to her. But then she remembered the night before, and what had happened, and edged away from the idea.
How could she tell him that, when she had yet to sort through what was between them?
Before she realized what was happening, and before she could change her mind again about telling Haldir, she was suddenly being towed away again; this time, Elrond's twin sons were in their company. Arwen led them back to the rock beside the river, effectively blocking all of the questions her brothers flung at her.
Their brothers...
"So, do either of you care to tell us why we are here?" Elrohir asked.
Adariel explained everything again. Elladan and his brother both reacted similarly to Arwen; their manner was much more masculine, of course, but the reactions were essentially corresponding.
"Have you told Aradalien yet?" Elladan asked once they had all calmed down enough for intelligible conversation.
"Our father is going to," Adariel answered. "But I must ask you not to mention this to anyone. For my sake; I am still adjusting to everything."
Elrohir's countenance was suddenly very mischievous. "Then we shall aid in your transition as much as we can."
Adariel laughed. "Somehow I think that it bodes ill for me."
"Of course it doesn't!" Elrohir said, mock indignant.
"I'm sure," she countered dryly. "I think I will now go find some project with which to ensnare my time before I confront Aradalien. Somehow I feel that things will not go over very well." She nodded to them and left.
Once she was out of view, she reached up and tucked the pendent back under her collar. As she did so, she decided that if she were to meet Haldir on her way toward the library, she would simply apologize to him for her conduct and then ask if they could go back to normal; all she really wanted, after all, was her friend.
Despite the realization that her feelings were... slightly more than platonic.
Haldir was sensible: he could make sense of anything he did not make confusing. If anyone could help her through this sudden revelation of her parentage, it was him. She would much rather have him there as her friend than admit everything and lose him completely.
It was then that the realization she had made about Haldir collided with the new revelation concerning her parentage. The thought was staggering, literally: she stumbled to a stunned halt when it occurred to her.
As Elrond's daughter, the court and people would expect her to live in Rivendell. If she did move location, the only cause would be for marriage. Marriage, however, required someone of equal rank: Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, or his younger brother, perhaps. A son of one of the higher-placed families in Rivendell or Lothlórien. But a marchwarden? Elrond - her father - might approve, but the court? Never. Even if they would allow it, she would have to remain in Imladris to compensate for the blow to her "rank." He loved being a marchwarden; she could never ask him to leave that behind.
This was all, of course, implying that anything happened. Even after the previous night's events, her new, sudden rank might - and more than likely would - prove to be a very effective deterrent.
For once, perhaps, fate was on her side, for it was only moments after she made decision, when her resolution was still strong, that she met up with the very Elf she had been hoping to: she turned a corner and, at the other end of the small clearing, stood Haldir.
Of course, her heart leaped and began a very rapid tattoo at the sight of him, but she gave it no heed.
"I was looking for you," he said after a moment.
"And I you," she replied, because, while she hadn't been actively seeking him out, she had hoped that she would meet him along the way. "I wished to apologize for what happened yesterday-"
"Perhaps it is I, my lady, who should apologize?" His smile was wry, but there was something in his look - in his eyes, perhaps - that took away from the smile.
"The both of us, then." Adariel moved forward and extended a hand. "Friends?"
He shook her hand. "Agreed."
"Adariel!" Melian burst into the clearing, her timing rather inconvenient. "The infirmary! It's- It's- The sedative fusion is gone!"
She stared as she moved toward the girl. "What?" she demanded.
"I've been looking for you everywhere. I went this morning to see if you had arrived, and it was there, but I went this afternoon and it was gone. And the infirmary itself... The state is dire."
All other thoughts left her mind as Adariel fell in step beside Melian. "Exactly what time where you there this morning."
"Nine o'clock or so, I would say."
"And when were you there last?"
"Twenty minutes ago. As soon as I saw what had happened, I came to find you."
"And I thank you for it. Do you know of anyone who might have gone in there to find something and took our fusion by mistake?"
"If that were the case, I would happily tell you any possible answer to your question. However, given the state of things, I feel that it is not the case."
"'State of things?'" she repeated. "Are things really that bad?" Melian opened the door.
Adariel's infirmary lay in devastation. Whoever had done it all had come through the window: the curtain was torn, and hung pathetically from one end. The perpetrator had also been clumsy, or else they were cruel: the table near the window was on its side. Most of what had been on it was glass: flasks, glasses, a pitcher of water, and, the worse of it all, two poison antidotes, were all scattered on the floor, decimated.
They hadn't stopped there: there were two overturned beds, one of her herb cabinets had been pushed over, the glass doors shattered, the contents strewn over the floor, and a pillow had been shredded.
Adariel braced herself on Melian's shoulder, to keep herself from collapsing. "Elbereth," she breathed, horrified.
"Terrible, isn't it? I didn't know what to do."
"You did the right thing," Adariel said faintly. "How could you tell that the sedative fusion was gone?"
"The first thing I did was check to see if anything was stolen. There is, clearly, plenty of damage, but that fusion is the only thing that was taken," Melian replied.
Adariel nodded vaguely in understanding. "Inform Elrond of what has happened. I will- I will try to clean some of this..."
"Yes, my lady," the she-Elf said, and she quickly left to do as requested.
Nearly frozen with horror, Adariel moved into the infirmary to begin cleaning up. The task, however, was nearly overwhelming; she didn't even know where to begin. After a moment, she walked over to the window and straightened the curtain. It was useless: it had been shredded to the point of being no more than bits of cloth.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened, and only opened them again when she was sure that they would not fall. She took down the curtains, then went over to the cabinet and righted it. Looking down, she saw that many of the herbs had spilt, and that the majority of those that had spilt had been crushed.
Slowly, Adariel began to gather the glass and herbs into a pile, not realizing that she used naught but her hands. When the majority of it was gathered, she went to the table and righted it, then began to do the same for the glass on the floor there.
Footsteps sounded in the outer corridor, and she looked up as Elrond, Melian, and Noviel came to the doorway. Noviel gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.
"What happened?" Elrond demanded.
"Someone wanted our sedative fusion," Adariel said faintly. "And so they took it."
Elrond muttered something under his breath as he moved forward and grabbed Adariel by both of her upper arms, pulling her up. He examined her hands. "What were you doing, entertaining yourself with the glass?"
"I was trying to clean it," she said faintly.
"If you could, would the two of you-"
"Of course, my lord," Noviel said as Elrond ushered Adariel out of the infirmary and across the hall.
"I understand that you are upset, Adariel, but I would expect you to have the sense to not use your hands to clean glass," he muttered as he pushed her into a chair.
"The sedative fusion I don't mind. They can have it; we weren't even finished. But destroying everything?"
"No one knows the reasons why people do things. The best thing we can hope for is that they will tell us themselves," Elrond told her, cleaning the small cuts on her palms with a cloth.
Adariel snorted. "I am so utterly positive that this person will come forward and tell us all why they destroyed my infirmary."
"Nothing is ever impossible, nor is anything completely and totally assured. They may yet come forward."
She said nothing as the Elf she now called father cleaned her self-induced wounds and placed a light layer of ointment over the worst of them. "Now," he told her when he was through, "you will go out, perhaps with a book, and collect your senses, and you will not come back until we need you for the assessments of what we lost."
Nodding, she stood and left the room, going to her own chambers, where she found her book. She then went out to a small bridge that crossed the equally small river and sat there, still completely dazed. Her infirmary was decimated, many of the herbs that had taken her and the other healers so long to find, prepare, and preserve, destroyed.
She looked down at her hands. The cuts were not numerous, but nor were they few. The sheer stupidity that had caused to her attempt to pick up glass with her bare hands had been induced by shock: to her stunned mind, it had been natural to begin picking up the glass immediately, without taking the time to find the proper utensils for such a task.
She sighed and shifted her eyes to the water. Thinking back on the day's events thus far, Adariel could not help but decide that her summation was not comforting. From the most recent on, her infirmary had been decimated, she'd had her entire life turned completely around by one revelation concerning parentage, and she had admitted something that she never would have expected - even if she had admitted it only to herself, and had not even voiced it aloud.
But then, since her realization about how any relationship with Haldir would end, she had tried very hard not to think of those particular feelings.
Adariel shifted to lie on her stomach and flipped open her book. If she had to wait for them to summon her, she may as well do so while doing something other than focusing on her tumultuous day. It was at least an hour later when Aradalien found her.
"You accept it so easily?"
Adariel looked up at her, puzzled. "What?"
"You were raised as the child of Nimrómen and Avarlammeniel. You abandon us readily," Aradalien accused. The Morelen sat up on her knees, watching her one-time sister warily.
"I accepted the truth," Adariel said cautiously. "And what do you mean, 'us?'"
"Truth!" she repeated harshly. "How do we know that this is the truth? And by 'us' I mean that you abandoned Mother, Father, me, Nurar-"
"I did not abandon you!" she said defensively. "Why would Elrond lie about this?"
"Everyone knows that he lost a daughter the night we were born," Aradalien snapped. "He is using you to replace her."
"I find that very hard-"
"If you are willing to abandon you family, it is no business of mine. But do make sure to sever the ties completely."
With that, the very sudden confrontation was ended: Aradalien marched away as swiftly as she had appeared.
Adariel felt ill at heart from Aradalien's words. She knew that they were false, but they hurt, all the same. She had hoped that Nimrómen's daughter would accept that Adariel was not her sister; the transition was not easy for the Morelen, she had not thought it selfish for Aradalien, the she-Elf Adariel had believed to be her sister for so long, to accept her newly discovered parentage. Perhaps not as well as Arwen, Elrohir, and Elladan, but Adariel had hoped that it would be accepted.
Perhaps she had been wrong to hope?
As if summoned by her thoughts, Elrohir stepped onto the bridge and came over to sit beside her. "I saw what happened."
"What do you make of it?" she asked, wondering if he meant the infirmary or the encounter with Aradalien.
"I think that she feels abandoned. She lost her brother, and now she is losing her sister. Can you imagine what that must be like?"
Adariel frowned. "No," she said after a moment. "I cannot. It must be terrible." She looked at her brother. "But surely she can realize that this is difficult for me as well?"
Elrohir shrugged. "We are not all like you, Adariel. We cannot all see past our own hurt to help another cope."
"But I never implied that," she said, rather defensively.
"Of course not," he said, as if it were obvious. "You would never admit to being the good soul that you are. Now," he stood and stepped behind her, placing both hands on her shoulders. "I told you that I would to my best to make your transition as easy as possible, did I not?"
"You did," Adariel confirmed cautiously.
"Well, your induction begins now!"
And with a hearty shove, he pushed her off the small bridge and into the water.
Adariel hardly even had time to gasp before she hit the water. And, unfortunately, all that remained of Elrohir when she surfaced was the echo of his laughter. With an aggravated sigh, she made her way toward the edge of the water, wading up with some difficulty.
"How is it that you always managed to-"
She looked up as Haldir, of all people to find her in such a state, stopped and covered his mouth with a hand. His eyes were laughing. She glared at him.
"This is not amusing," she said flatly.
He cleared his throat and swallowed a smile, apparently now straight-faced. "Of course not," he said, the quintessence of seriousness. "What happened?"
"Elrohir," she said dryly. That, apparently, was the only explanation needed, because Haldir's forced seriousness was gone, and Adariel could tell that he was struggling not to laugh outright.
"That makes a few things slightly clearer," he admitted.
Thankfully, even in ankle-deep water her gown wasn't to long to be free of the water, so with the hem and a few inches extra floating in the water, the fabric didn't cling to her legs in very much of a revealing manner, but she couldn't say as much about her top half, to her chagrin. Looking down at it, she couldn't help but make a face that showed just how uncomfortable with her state of dress she was.
"I am glad," she said grumpily, crossing her arms over her chest for both a display of irritation and to hide the fact that her gown was soaked.
"Here," he said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her out of the water. To his extreme credit, Haldir's eyes remained locked on her face, not once traveling any lower than her neck, for which Adariel was incredibly grateful. Her situation was already embarrassing enough. He swung off his cloak and settled it over her, deftly fastening the Lórien-leaf clasp before she could protest.
The thing was certainly overly-large for her: not only was Haldir much taller than Adariel, but his shoulders were much broader, and consequently the garment hung on her almost in mockery of her state.
Instead of leaving the cloak at that, however, Adariel found her companion pulling the thing around her snugly. She arched her eyebrows and said, "You needn't play hero."
He flashed her a cheeky grin. "It is my duty, my Lady," he informed her.
"Hmm," she murmured skeptically, stepping closer to peer directly up into his eyes, her own eyes rather squinted. "Is that so, Marchwarden?"
"It is so." Suddenly his voice was quiet, and her heart skipped a beat.
There must have been some sort of witty retort on the tip of her tongue, but somehow it got lost, and was never voiced. So she tried to find another one, the only problem being that she couldn't seem to get her mind to focus. It really wasn't fair. She was determined to put everything behind her, preserving her friendship with Haldir and keeping her heart intact. Of course, things couldn't go the way she wanted them to. That would make her life far too easy.
Adariel opened her mouth to say something - anything - though her mind wasn't necessarily clear on what it was going to say, when warm lips met hers, effectively stifling whatever it was she had been about to say.
The last time she had found herself in this position, she had been just as surprised. This time, however, she was more able to react. Or, at least more able to function mentally.
She had been kissed before; despite her own lack of words on the subject, she'd had admirers, though she was always happy to note that she hadn't had as many as Aradalien. And before she would have said that kissing was, well, kissing. Nothing too terribly special. But now... Now something was different. Something had changed.
Breathing became difficult, but it wasn't accompanied by the traditional grief or guilt; this time, it was a pleasant feeling, something that thoroughly confused her. Her heart was racing, and her head spinning, but for the strangest reason nothing objected to this. Her senses reeled and she didn't know which way was up and which way was down, but she didn't care. The lack of control that she had over her own self, for once, didn't matter. In fact, she didn't want it to stop.
But stop it did, and eyes that she hadn't realized that she'd closed fluttered open, and arms that she hadn't known had curled themselves around his neck slid back to her sides.
They both stood there, neither moving save for rather labored breathing, let alone speaking. What was she supposed to say? 'You dolt!' a part of her screamed. 'Don't say anything! Pull him back!' But Adariel couldn't get her muscles to move. Strange, how her mind and muscles were totally dense but her heart was perfectly clear, for all it was beating faster than any Elf could run.
But then, another part told her that she had just thoroughly demolished her plans of ignoring her realizations about Haldir. Putting everything behind her suddenly seemed several times more difficult. 'But I didn't start it,' she thought suddenly. 'I didn't. He kissed me.'
It was with that thought that she realized that, more at that moment than at any other, he had to know about her parents. He deserved to know. And she opened her mouth to tell him.
"Haldir!"
Adariel jumped at the call and closed her mouth. As much as she wanted to tell him, the strange spell that had woven itself around the pair was broken. Positively shattered, to be more accurate. And she couldn't call it back; she was no wizard. She wanted to speak, but the farthest she got was a slight parting of her lips. Otherwise... nothing.
Haldir stepped back, a strange look in his eyes that looked almost like a mixture of some blend of emotions that neither of them, she would have guessed, could label correctly, and... was that reluctance? She hardly had a chance to decide, however, because he then turned and walked toward the voice, leaving Adariel feeling a strange sense of loss. Not knowing what to do, whether to ask him to stay or run as fast as she could for Mirkwood, she tugged his cloak tighter and walked in another direction, through the gardens toward her chambers.
It was a good thing that she didn't have to think about her surroundings to get to where she wanted to go when it came to the Dell; her thoughts, at that moment, were slightly singularly-pathed.
Adariel knew, without a doubt, that she could no longer simply hope to just put everything behind her. She was beyond that point now, whether by accident of design. Strangely, though, she couldn't be entirely sorry for it. Nor could she, however, be entirely happy for it. Adariel's thoughts on the matter were so confusing that it was all she could do not to run back and demand an explanation from him.
Instead, however, she simply muttered to herself, "Stupid Marchwarden."
She was halfway through the gardens, still focused entirely on her thoughts, when an arm grabbed her brutally from behind and a cloth was clapped over her mouth. Radiating from the cloth was a scent that she recognized all too well.
'That sedative fusion!' she thought with panic, her thinking suddenly painfully clear. 'And a large amount of it too!'
But before she could even attempt to call for help, everything went dark.
Apparently, Orophin had made him out to be something of a chess player, because that was exactly what his younger brother had called him away from his... preoccupation... for: a chess match.
His challenger, Elladan, who was already an expert at the game, beat him swiftly, at which both of Haldir's brothers were surprised. But Haldir couldn't find it in him to care a jot for it. His thoughts were otherwise occupied, and chess most certainly wasn't his engrossment.
How, in the name of all Middle-earth, could he have been so stupid? Kissing Adariel had been pure impulse, but in some dark, treacherous, corner of his mind, he had been wanting to do just that for sometime. Kissing a sopping wet Elf-maiden who just happened a near-daughter to the Lord Elrond wasn't necessarily a wise idea. But had he listened to reason? No. And Adariel had once called him sensible.
She didn't appear to object, but that meant little, if it meant anything at all; one could never tell with Adariel Morelen. Had she been afraid to object? He snorted sardonically. No, the only person Adariel feared was Dimalphion. Elbereth, he had seen her scold men a foot taller than her!
If she hadn't been afraid, then why hadn't she said anything? 'What if she hadn't wanted to object?' that treacherous corner of his mind whispered.
In the guest chambers that he'd been staying in for sometime, he sat rather heavily on the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. Stupid, stupid, stupid move on his part, and now there was nothing he could do to take it back. He hadn't even apologized! Certainly she'd now have suspicious thoughts, since she'd just removed herself from a small river. Did he not owe her an apology?
The problem was, he wasn't sorry for it.
Haldir was on the verge of growling in frustration when a gentle knock interrupted his thoughts. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet and had the door open in an instant, and was surprised to find Arwen standing before him, looking almost concerned.
"Have you seen Adariel?" she asked. "I thought I saw her in the gardens, as if she'd come from the river, but she passed beneath the shadow of a tree and didn't come out on the other side."
Haldir would have frowned, but he was already frowning. "She didn't?"
The Undómiel shook her head. "I searched the gardens, asked Elladan and Elrohir as well as your brothers, Celebnoviel, and Aradalien, but no one has seen her. Not even Father."
His frown deepened. She couldn't have...? No, Adariel wouldn't have run. Even the thought of her thinking of it was absurd and completely out of the norm for her. But then it occurred to him that she had run, but not for the reasons that anyone other than himself would know.
Had she run because of him?
He pushed the thought aside. "Was anyone with her?"
"No," Arwen said faintly. She watched as Haldir's face tightened.
"She'll be found soon," he said, but it was clear not 'even' to Arwen, but particularly to Arwen, that he was trying to reassure himself more than her.