Disclaimer: Nothing is owned by me, OK?
I got the names from the book Dalamar The Dark and so the credit for all the names goes to Nancy Varian Berberick, NOT ME!
This fic is all about how Dalamar's parents met.
Note: the Elven is Sindarin, and the sentences would be messy 'cause I don't know how the sentence structure goes.
Note: I believe their is a House in Silvanost forthe clan of the Windwalkers. I am ignoring this. Ronen is a servant in my version.
Love Blooms Sweet.
Ronen Windwalker of House Servitor moved gracefully along, her dark eyes on the ground. An elf of rare beauty, she was a glistening gem dimmed with dust; a sweet rose darkened with dirt; a lovely, dark-eyed young elfmaid with exquistetly delicate features, skin white as Solinari, and waves of glossy raven-hued hair clothed in the dun,simple clothing of a servant. She was a gentle female gliding silently from tree to tree, flower to flower, as she knelt on the cold marble pathways and scrubbed them glistening and clean.
Her job long from completed, Ronen paused to rest, shoving the strands of dark hair that fell from her braid from her face. She smoothed her dirty skirt and sighed softly. Life was life.
To keep her spirits up, she softly began to hum as she worked, then to sing quietly;
Rise, we are called,
Upon which the Sun doth shine
To see the Day
And leave the Night behind
To dance
With the swaying trees
To sing
In harmony with the breeeze
To love
All of which is Earth
All that the pouring rain
Hast given birth
Of brightest flowers
Sweet for hours . . .
Derathos Argent of House Servitor, a elf not yet one hundred years of age, darted back and forth with bowls of fruit, getting ready for the Festivals. Or, to say, the Lords were readying for the Festivals. The servants would continue to be, ah, servants.
He frowned to himself as he noticed that he had run outof fruit, with bowls left to fill. Sighing, he turned to Inwes, a fellow servant. "I've run out of fruit, and there's none left in the stock."
"Then go get some more from the gardens!" the elf snapped.
With a sigh, Derathos turned and tapped across the halls to the door. Adjusting his large, empty bowl- he'd need it to carry the fruit back - he ran off across the pathway, eager to get this done with and get out of the hot light.
The walk to the Gardens was a long one, and after Derathos had filled the bowel with fruit, he decided to take a short cut through to the House via a small pathway that was commonly used. Moving swiftly, fearing he had dallied, he ran up the pathway.
Which is why he did not notice the dark elfmaid kneeling in the dust in time to stop his run. She looked up and saw the inpending collision, and rolled to the side in a vain attempt to avoid it. However, his feet caught on her elgs, and he fell into the spongy gass.
"Oh! Are you hurt? I am so sorry!" Derathos cried, spitting grass and twisting back up to look at the elfmaid. At one glance at her, he could not take his eyes away. Maybe it was her intense stare, or cream white skin that contrasted sharply with the dark whisps of hair thatfell loose from her long braid and framed herdelicate face, or maybe it washer gentle, small lips. Whatever it was, hefound himself staring.
"How did you not see me?" she demanded bitterly, her cheeks flushed slightly, eyes glittering. "I was here, singing! Or am I so dusty that you could not tell me from this road?"
"No . . . " he was still staring. She saw this and stared back until he took his eyes away and stumbled to his feet. Where had all his elvenborn grace flown away to? Leaning foreward, he held out his own pale hand.
She regarded it and sighed, her anger curbed and the sharp tone of her voice flying from her. "I apologize. I shall try to sing louder in the future." smiling slightly - a cool smile - she took his offered hand.
"I also apologize, tasar brennil." he replied, helping her to her feet.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Willow lady?"
"A compliment in hopes that you would forgive me." Derathos explained quietly.
"A bribe, then?" she demanded.
"No bribe, lady."
"Do not term me that." her eyes sparked again. "I am no lady, simply a servant."
"As am I."
"I could see."
Silently they stared at each other. Finally Derathos looked away.She smiled.
Derathos stared at her smile; her slightly arched, curving, I-know-something-that-you-don't-and-I'll-be-damned-if-I'll-tell smile. "I was to wash the pathway, but you seemed to have done that for me."
His cheeks flushed as he considered the wet pathway. "My apologizes, again. I will help you clean this up."
She nodded and the two quietly scrubbed up the water. Finally, Derathos spoke;
"Ihave finished my chore, if . . . if you are done with your chore . . . would you like to accompany me back to the House?"
She nodded."Aye; I'd like that."
"So would I . . ." Derathos paused. "If I am not to name you 'lady', then what shall I call you?"
"My name is Ronen."
"And mine is Derathos." he offered her his arm. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they walked up to the House in silence. Finally, they reached the cool shade of the House, and he turned to her;
"I know that you were singing, but what were you singing?"
Her eyes smiled. "Just a song my mother taught me."
"Ah. Could you . . . I mean, if you do not mind . . . could you sing a little? For me? I like songs."
She smiled.
"Passing with the dawn of Night
Ever the sweetest sight
And E'li,
Lord of the heart
Of gentlest Elf
Lord of the land
The sacrifice of self
To see the Dawn's rise
To know the truth of the Light."
The two stood in silence as the last note of her voice died away.
"That is beautiful." Derathos finally managed to speak.
"Thank you."
They were silent again, listening, waiting, watching.
"Here." Derathos reached into his pocket and pulled something out, keeping it carefully hidden from Ronen. "I . . . I would like to give you this."
She nodded, waiting.
"It was my mother's." He moved foreward and clasped it about her throat. Her eyes fell down to see a beautiful emereld glistening on a silver chain, and her breath stilled. "Oh, E'li . . . it is beautiful."
"It was a gift."
"It . . . it . . . " she shook her head. "How . . . no, I can't except this, it's too valuable, you may need it . . . "
"I'd like you to have it . . . if you would." his eyes went to her again. "Please?"
She grinned. "I accept it. It . . . it's beautiful."
"Thank you." Derathos's eyes went to the neighboring hall. He had been away too long, wasting time with this female . . . time he did not regret. She reached out to take his hand in her own. Her touch made his blood burn and heart race.
"Thank you." her dark eyes gazed into his green ones. "I will treasure this always."
"You are welcome." hemurmered, noticing how close she was.
"Ronen!" a call came through the halls. "Get here, girl!"
Ronen turned sharply. "I must go." she muttered, turning back. "Thank you . . . I don't believe anyone's ever given me a . . . gift. . . before."
They paused, staring at each other. Then, purely on instinct, Ronen stepped closer to Derathos and kissed him.
It was not on his lips, but thefeel of her lips touching his cheek made that cheek burn and his heart race quicker. Then she stepped back, her cool lips leaving his hot cheek.
"I believe I love you." he said softly, more to himself than to her.
She grinned shyly at him, but the calls came again. With a wave she turned and ran, skipped, away, bouncing off to answer those calls, leaving Derathos to stand there, touching his cheek.
"Meleth gwedh-lhend." he murmered. "Love blooms sweet."
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