&(&&(78

That day in the garden became a turning point for her. When she awoke the next morning, Glorfindel was beside her once more, and he offered to take her into the gardens again. She went almost willingly. As they walked the corridors, she said quietly, almost hesitantly, "My name is Alimra."

Glorfindel smiled at her, before he began to tell her of his family, of his wife and his daughter and his two sons. She listened with the first interest she had shown in anything but books since arriving here. But she never forgot who she was, nor where she came from. The metal wrist guards around her arms sought to remind her wherever she went. She never removed them around another, they had remained firmly in place, protecting the scars and cuts from outward eyes. If any one had seen the blood stained rag she had used to clean it with, no one had said anything to her.

But the maid who found the cloth did speak to Lord Elrond. He pondered over it late at night in his study, wondering what lay beneath the wrist guards, and why she would not remove them. She was injured in some way, and yet she seemed determined to not allow herself to heal. However, the ceaseless watching of her every minute had to stop. She was improving, and this sentry duty was beginning to impede her recovery, not help.

&(&&

Erestor had allowed his mind to wander from his work. He had been working solidly for the last week, and the maiden from outside the forests did not know who he was, nor did he know anything more about her than what he had absorbed, and her name, which Glorfindel had confided in him. Now that he no longer watched over her like a silent guardian each night, he found that his work was the only thing to keep loneliness from consuming him once more. He felt the old longing for his love of decades ago return. The quests to regain the lost knowledge of the eldar Elrond could no longer send him on, as all had been recovered. Now, once more, he was bound in Caer Loera, with naught but his books for company, and he felt some of his old loneliness return. He stretched out his aching muscles, he needed to get out, and to leave his work, even for a few hours. He took his flute from a drawer in his desk, and rose it to his lips, and began to softly play a haunting melody.

&&7

Still she longed to dance again. But still, she denied herself this. The fear of the darkness that followed was still too great. And besides. She had no music. She lay unsleeping this night, reluctant to allow her eyes to close, when something called to her. A light rekindled inside of her. A haunting tune floated down the hall, curling its way throughout her very limbs, making her finger twitch, and her rise from the bed, as though the music itself carried her along. Forgetting all fears, she went out into the gardens, were the music was clearest, into a dark alcove, trees blocking her from passing eyes. She followed the music to it's source, and stopped outside beneath the open window to the library. Who could be playing? She closed her eyes, allowing the music to wrap its way around her, until she felt herself lift an arm, then another, and her body started to turn. She could not stop herself. She spun, her arms high above her head, her feet never leaving an indentation across the grass as she danced beneath the window, her eyes never once opening, her dance imprinted upon her heart, showing her the way. She knew not the song that was spinning through her very soul, but it was the first she had heard in the longest of times, and it called to her, as though a kindred sole understood at long last what it was she needed. She lost herself within it.

&&(7

Erestor had lost himself within his playing, but was brought back to reality when he saw a flash of white beneath his window. Still playing, he crossed to the window, where the apparition he saw beneath him took his breath away. Beneath the window, a white haired vision spun in time to his music, dancing with not feet or hands, but with soul. He saw something in the figure dancing, something familiar, something akin to his own pain that called to him. He played on, eager to see her dance on. There was something else about this figure that was familiar. It was then realization struck him, enough to make him lower the flute from his lips, and stare. There. A slight similarity to the…it couldn't be! The elleth looked up at the window in shock, as though she was unaware of how she had even gotten there. She ran upon seeing a figure at the window. And Erestor knew then who it had been underneath his window. Alimra.

&&&

She returned to her room, as quickly as possible, fighting her racing heart. Someone had seen her dancing! And worse, she had let herself give in to the primal urges for movement that even now coursed through her body. And worse still, she could feel the creeping darkness that ensued her lonely dance creep around her. She felt too full, as though the quantity of fear and anger in herself would split her apart. She removed the shard of mirror from beneath her mattress, and tears leaking from her eyes, removed her wrist guard, pulling the jagged shard of mirror across her wrist, in a wound deeper and longer than any of the previous had been. As the blood blossomed across her scarred wrist, she realized that no matter how she tried, she could no longer deny the urge to dance that raced through her. She could not suppress that desire. And this realization, and the future consequences, she knew would cost her dearly. In blood.

&&(&

Erestor sat in is chair before the window, and thought long into the night. His work remained untouched upon his desk. His thoughts were spinning through his head. Alimra had danced, not the amorous gyrating of the tavern, but an expression of rhythm and movement that had been enough to bring a tear to his very eye. He had not thought of her as beautiful, but when she danced… He forgot all about any feelings he may have had for his old love, the pining that had consumed him for near thirty years, blocking out any feelings he may have had for any others. He decided not to confront her, as she had ran when she had seen his silhouette at the window. He wondered, that if he played again, would she return…

&&7

She did not leave her room the next day. And Glorfindel did not push her. Elrond had summoned him to his study to talk on a dire matter, he had said, and so he left the door closed with a sigh. Maybe some time alone would do her good.

A/N: thanks to Lady Anck-su-namun. I know. Stuffy elves. Always . about time they weren't. so I thought I'd do something about it, personally.lol. anyway, I know there's more of you out there. Please, tell me what you think?