Chapter Summary: The first test must befall Glorfindel and Silmarien's courtship – separation.

Shout Outs:

Jousting Elf With A Saber – I think Glorfindel's trying to get something from you…

Mercury Gray – I don't think that can be applied here, because Barahir is older than Silmarien by 2 years.

Roisin Dubh – You're making my head swell…stop it! No seriously, I'm quite flattered that you like my work that much!

The sun was still rising in the sky when she looked down upon two lovers who walked through the gardens of Minas Tirith. The woman was upon her lord's arm, and her head rested upon his shoulder. The man laid his cheek softly upon her silken hair and sang softly to her as they walked. At length, she sighed and spoke.

"I wish I could stay here forever, my love. But my brother will ride for Edoras soon, and I must go with him."

"I shall miss you greatly, Eowyn," her lover replied. "But I must prepare a place for you. Lord Elessar has given me Ithilien to be my land, and I rejoice because my heart sought to protect its borders as a Ranger."

"Ah, Faramir, I still wish I could remain at your side," Eowyn mourned, wrapping her arms around Faramir's torso. "It makes my heart sick at the thought of leaving you."

"If you do not return, I shall go to Edoras myself and bring you back. I would not allow you to be absent for long," Faramir smiled, lowering his head to her lips, kissing her tenderly.

In that moment, a joyous shout broke them apart from their short-lived moment of intimacy. Denethor was standing at his balcony, leaning heavily upon the stonework, smiling like an old fool, beckoning them closer.

"Kiss her again, my lad, and rejoice with me!" he laughed, shouting at his second son as he hurried to stand beneath the balcony. "At last, your sister has formally accepted the attention of a suitor!"

"What?" Faramir cried out in surprise. "Fortune has smiled on Barahir after all?"

"Alas for the boy, no. An admirer whom you know has asked for my blessing and her permission, and she has accepted!"

"Pray, my lord, keep us not in restlessness," Eowyn smiled, "tell us whom it may be that she has chosen!"

"It is the Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell!" Denethor replied. "What say you to that!"

"Lord Glorfindel!" Faramir exclaimed. "What unsought for blessing! His honor is great and his deeds of valor mightier than we could ever hope for! My sister has chosen well, and I am happy for her."

The one person who should have been happy at this news was not. Silmarien was in the process of beseeching the elf lord to remain in Minas Tirith a little longer. He had told her he was going to depart with Lord Elrond and the other elves of Rivendell who did not desire to stay with Arwen. His party would leave within two days.

"Why then did you seek out my father? Why do you taunt me so cruelly and then depart?" she asked agitatedly.

Glorfindel had pity on the poor woman, for she had a right to be upset. It was very plain that she had not been given the excitement of affection that a woman was meant to have in romance, and almost regretted getting her hopes up. He turned to her.

"Come, Silmarien," he said. "I do not go because I want to, but because I must. I am needed in Rivendell."

"You are needed here as well," she replied, on the verge of tears. What had come over her? Had he cast a spell upon her so that she would reveal such emotion so early in their courtship?

Glorfindel took her hand and kissed it gently, smoothing her hair with his other hand. "Glad am I to hear it. I must confess that your fervent wish for me to stay is tempting me to go to Elrond and beg leave to remain. But I cannot."

"If you go, it shall all be as a dream," she murmured, tears wetting her cheeks. "I shall awaken in the morning and wonder if it truly happened."

"Dear Silmarien, do you really think that I would abandon you after such a declaration of desire as the night of the masquerade?" he asked, wonderingly.

"I know only that you are a lord of high wit and cunning, for you have beguiled even my father into your trust," Mari replied bitterly. "And what pretty words they were! They were enough to nearly break me, were I not of stronger heart."

Glorfindel threw back his head and laughed. "After such earnestness, my intentions are still in question by the one who must be the most satisfied. Very well, Silmarien, your entreaties have left me no other option. To appease you, I leave behind this token. If it be a dream, then how could this be born on thy finger?"

An elven ring of high rank transferred from his hand to hers. The make was lightly fashioned silver, golden flowers interwoven between the other metal of the band. Silmarien paused in her soft weeping to gaze upon it in shock.

"I give to you a ring that I have treasured for many thousands of years. King Turgon of Gondolin bestowed it upon my house, the Golden Flower. When I became its lord, it was given to me. Bear it well, Silmarien and remember that I shall return for you."

Glorfindel would always recall that her eyes would become wide like a child's when she was astonished into silence. The way they sparkled even through tears with admiration and affection. The way her mouth would form a perfect circle when there was nothing she could say. The way she would blush to the bloom of a new rose in delight, as she did in that moment. He knew her demand for assurance had been satisfied.

"Think not that I shall go away from the City of Kings having simply given you tranquility," he continued roguishly. "Shall I depart without my own token of trust?"

Silmarien frantically searched within her mind for anything she had that would be of value that she could give him. She avoided his eyes while she flustered, and so she did not see his patient smile as he brought her into his powerful, lean arms.

"You are a silly woman," he whispered into her hair as she tentatively laid her head upon his chest. "I did not say the token must be tangible."

He felt her stiffen a little, and he could tell she was contemplating what he meant. Whether to help or hinder his words, he let his lips caress her forehead, softly kissing her.

"Twice now, you have kissed me, and both of them were not completely of my giving. Nay, I'll hear no excuses. The second kiss was so that you could send me to senselessness yet again. I give to you now a kiss of my own. Perhaps after receiving it, you will remember why your visit to my city was a pleasant one."

With that, Silmarien brought his head lower and rose on the balls of her feet slightly so that she could reach the lips that uttered her name in seduction, tenderness and sincerity. Her kiss was a delight to him and when it had passed, he smiled.

"That will haunt me on the northbound road," Glorfindel unintentionally sighed. "May Saruman send wargs upon me if I do not keep faith with you, Silmarien."

"Speak not such a curse upon yourself, my lord," she hushed him quickly. "But go, and remember that here remains a poor maid who prays the stars to light your path."

Two days later, Aragorn set out with the Elven company and Eomer's train to escort them part way on their journey. Silmarien stood on a balcony with her queen, who had given her much favor, watching them depart. Arwen knew of Silmarien's recent attachment to Glorfindel and intended to help her through the next months in which she would have to endure his absence.

"Come," she said, when they had gone, "if he is determined to be away from you so long, let us surprise him. When he returns, he will discover that you have not been idle. I will teach you the speech of my race, so that he will keep no secrets from you, nor will my servants' news be unknown to you. Come, Silmarien, there is work to be done!"

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