Chapter Summary: Aragorn's expected company arrives, a stranger comes to Silmarien with unexpected mischeif.

Author Notes: The rating will go up pretty soon, as I intend to have lots of wooing going on. :evil grin:

Shout Outs:

Jousting Elf with a Sabre – I find your reviews to be quite flattering. Please, continue! But I must say that you must not be exposed to writers who are sincerely in love with writing and take their task seriously. If this is true, I pity you.

Roisin Dubh – Randy. Such a fun word. :snicker:

Mercury Gray – Yep, you sure did, lil lady! Kudos!

It was evening when the guard on the wall raced to the king in his feasting hall, bringing the message that a large company of fair travelers had been sighted. Elessar jumped up from his seat and practically ran to receive them, ordering that guest chambers be made ready, more tables be set in the feasting halls and the best Gondorian wine be made available.

When the foriegn company had at last reached the seventh circle of the city, they dismounted. A dark-haired lady drew her veil over her hair, her eyes glittering with anticipation. She searched for the man whom she had wated for several years. A fair-haired lord smiled and whispered his congratulations to her in their own tongue.

"You are certain, my lady, that you desire to live the rest of your days in this city?" he asked.

"Think you that I am unresolved, my lord?" she returned with a smile. "Yes, I would live here among my love's people."

"I must warn you of the rumors I have heard then," he answered with a smirk. "The King's court is filled with silly, perhaps empty-headed fools who gasp at misbehaviour. One must follow their rules of conduct and keep to it until they lay upon their death bed, else they be cast from their circle of aquaintances and be branded scandalous."

"Well then, I must make as much mischeif as I can," she laughed lightly. "For I shall not cast away the oddities of my race, no matter how scandalous they appear to mortals. I shall become one of them, but I shall remind them from whence I came."

"I wish you good fortune in this endeavor, for you will have much trouble from your husband's court."

"Perhaps I shall aquire allies. Tomorrow brings surprises, lord Glorfindel."

Lady Arwen's train was large, for she had not only been accompanied by the servants her father would allow her to keep, but also by her father's finest warriors and friends. Her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir had come, as well as the legendary lords Glorfindel, Lindir and Erestor.

At last, the King of Gondor rushed out of his halls to greet his bride to be, his eyes glowing with sudden youthful excitement. A part of his court had followed him to greet the company with him, but none kept up with his stride.

Lord Elrond himself delivered up his daughter's hand to Elessar, bowing. "You have earned your great treasure, son of Arathorn. Guard it well," he admonished.

Aragorn nodded, saluting the elf lord in the manner of Gondor, hiding a smile. At long last, the day had come. Lady Rhoswen looked on and snuck a smile at Boromir, who returned it and held her hand the tighter. Faramir and Eowyn did the same, oblivious that they were imitating anyone. Silmarien did not smile whole-heartedly, and looked on in silence.

"Come friends, and join me in my feasting hall! Dine with me and celebrate the coming of the Evenstar, your future queen!" Estel said, raising his voice so all could hear. The company of travelers were escorted by servants to guest rooms where they could refresh themselves before taking their meal.

During the excited pandemonium, Elessar's court welcomed Arwen's train of Elves greeting them and offering them various places at the tables. Silmarien stood aside however, and looked about her quietly. Satisfied that no one was watching her, she slipped away into the gardens that the king had allowed her family to keep. She had enough of feasting and celebrating. Silmarien was happy for her king, but his happiness was her pain. She couldn't bear it any longer.

"Am I to remain a spinster, or passed to suitors I cannot love? Why cannot I find a love as patient as Rhoswen's and Boromir's, or as soft as Faramir's and Eowyn's? Shall I be doomed to die alone?" she asked to the trees, who waved their leafy fingers at her as if attempting to take her into their arms to comfort her.

Her face contorted as she tried to hold in her angry tears. A sob racked her frame, and she covered her mouth to silence it as she sat upon a stone bench beneath a tree. The urge to weep in bitterness passed, and Silmarien covered her face with her hands, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. She sat in silence for a time after that, her hands falling to her lap. Suddenly a strange voice called to her, a murmur on the soft breeze.

"My lady," it said. Silmarien gasped and wiped at her eyes in case there were beginnings of tears, quickly standing as she looked about for the owner of the voice. There was a tall, lithe figure standing slightly in the shadows, the moonlight that filtered through the trees revealing blonde hair.

"A woman such as you should not weep, tonight of all nights," the stranger said, the deep voice revealing that it was a man. His tone was kindly and patient as he questioned her. "What troubles such a rose of Gondor?"

Silmarien was quite frankly, embarrassed. She blushed feircely for she had been caught, by a visitor no less. How much had he heard? Surely he understood all that she had said for he spoke the Common Tongue flawlessly. For a few moments, she stuttered.

"Not...I mean...I'm..."

The elf lord - for no doubt he was, by the exquisite garments he wore - said nothing, waiting for her to collect herself. After a few moments of her fidgeting, he came closer, the moonlight playing over his face. His sharp features etched into her memory, the high cheekbones, the long nose, a soft smile that was comforting. His eyes were grey and sharp as an eagle's. Silmarien fell silent and stared at the handsome stranger, completely forgetting the fact that she was supposed to be explaining her outburst. His smile turned to one that edged on laughter.

"Do I amuse you, good lady?" he asked.

"Perhaps...I mean...no! Forgive me, my lord, but I've not seen an elf...that is to say, I have seen an elf before, but it was many years ago when I was very young," she replied quickly, hoping not to offend him. Silmarien looked at her slippers and wished that the ground would swallow her up.

The elf thought about this for a moment. "You are lord Denethor's youngest, are you not? Silmarien?"

Mari nodded, wondering how he could have discovered her family and name so quickly - he had only arrived in the city half an hour ago. He smiled a little wider, nodding as well.

"A good name. She was a superb queen, and a great lady."

Silmarien knit her eyebrows together. "You knew the first high queen of Numenor?" she asked, amazed.

"The ancestress of Isildur and Anarion," he replied. "Yes, I knew her. She was a good friend. Be not so surprised, my lady, for I have lived many ages of men, and have traveled the breadth of Endor many times."

"Forgive me my lack of knowledge," she hastily said, once again looking at her slippers. How she desired to run away! Her foolishness had been shown him many times. Of course he had outlived those of her race, he was an elf! But she had not counted on him being so old as he claimed. She felt a soft breath upon the crown of her head and looked up only to have her breath taken away. He was so close to her now that if he wished to lower his head any further, their noses would have touched.

Mari had been proud to say that she was tall for a woman of her race, but she only stood to his shoulder. His closeness to her made her tremble. Not only did she not know him but the unfamiliar excitement of the complete unchasteness of their position quite strangely delighted her. Even after her silliness he chose to advance. She could smell his aroma, and it made her senses spin. Her blush deepened as his hand slowly moved to hold her by the waist. If he said anything, she did not hear it. Her eyes focused upon his lips, which were coming closer to brush her cheek. His eyes, those ageless pools of wisdom were frighteningly bright and were lit with something Silmarien had never before experienced - seductive desire.

Abruptly her senses returned and she gasped. "Forgive me my lord, I must away," she made excuse as she rushed out of the garden.

"Namaarie, hiril nin," he murmured to the empty space where once she stood. His smile grew ever roguish, for he had found a pearl in the City of Kings that he desired and vowed he would have.

Later that night as Silmarien lay in her bed, the scene in the garden replayed in her mind over and over again. Why had it happened? She did not know this man, and yet the fact that he had tried to kiss her was thrilling. She liked it. For so long, she had been told to behave with modesty, as a lady should be quiet, composed and ultimately predictable. The stranger in the garden was unpredictable, and the adventure of his enticement made her secretly want more. Another part of her wished it had not happened, and that she could have run away. What made her stay?

"Must have been Elvish magic," she murmured as she fell asleep.

Whoo! What a turn on!