The squealing of the twins, first in their nursery and then on the staircase, the laughter of the adults drifting up from the kitchen, and the clear sunlight and wholesome air entering through her window, but, most of all, the heartbreakingly beautiful song of a lark, finally made it impossible for Gellwen to remain in quiet thought a moment longer. Unexpectedly, as she broke from her reverie, her eyes spilled over in tears that betrayed feelings both of great joy and profound sadness. Will there ever again be another morning like this one?
Then she recalled that, from her position at the window, she had earlier seen Legolas and her brother heading for what she guessed were the royal baths. Shifting swiftly from high emotion to the mundane, as only the very young are able, she realized that she wanted to quickly wash up and to change her clothes before they returned, as she was certain they would not be long. It surely would not do to meet one's newfound love in last night's rumpled dress.
Gellwen folded her coverlet and grabbed the pillow she had used, pushing them into the storage area under the window seat, and turned to see that her cousins were stirring as well. Moved by their fair forms and faces, she remembered how, as a child, she had imagined composing fantastic tales and poems in which they would feature grandly. Seeing Pityë and Laitaine as they were on this fine morning, and hearing the lark's lovely song, brought back the memory of one of the possible opening lines she had considered as an Elf-child: The two lazy princesses stretched and yawned as they awakened to the song of a lark, unaware of their dangerous beauty…
Maybe I will still write that story. But, if I do, it will likely be more a cautionary tale than the silly romance I once considered. I am less inclined to sing of them than I was before I knew all of their mysteries and secrets, although now I surely love them more. They are too young to have such sad eyes and it is doubly heart wrenching that even our own parents read them so shallowly. It pains me that they are afraid to love; doubtless because they fear its loss. One must hold onto hope, especially in these terrible days. Life is not meant to be an endless spiral downward, but a series of highs and lows, moving toward hope in the future. Surely the beauty and valor of our Woodland kin has been spent for some purpose over these past ages.
Suddenly, with boisterous cheerfulness, her cousins sprang into movement in the direction of Gellwen, grabbing her about the waist and kissing her on the cheeks. "Gellwen has a story, and I will hear it now!" Pityë chanted at her in the childish singsong of once shared Elf-girl games.
"Oh, pretty cousin, your cheeks grow so pink and you are reluctant to look into my eyes!" Laitaine said. "This is too delicious. Has she been poaching in the forest, chasing the King's pet deer? Or perchance she was hunting bigger game last night?"
Gellwen could not but join in their laughter, pushing them both away from her while struggling to free herself from their grasping hands. "Let me go! You are crushing me. I can barely breathe. Leave go of me and I will tell you."
Pityë and Laitaine released Gellwen so suddenly that she nearly lost her balance and seated themselves side by side on foot of their bed, for the moment looking more like twins than cousins, with their nearly identical silver gray eyes and shining sable hair, hands now folded primly in their laps. "Go on. Tell all. We will sit here quietly," Laitaine pronounced carefully, her merry eyes giving lie to her solemn tone.
"There is not much to the telling. Legolas Thranduilion kissed me last night and said that he loves me, and I know for certain it is true, and know I love him too, so very much. It was thrilling and magical and I could scarcely catch my breath, even after he took his lips away from mine. I do not know what more to say."
"Oh, I am convinced there is more. For example, did he hold you tightly and press his body against yours?" Pityë asked. Gellwen blushed strongly and opened her mouth to speak, but Laitaine interrupted her to continue without pity. "And did you feel him growing hard against you?"
"Stop it. Stop it," Gellwen squealed. "It is not seemly to speak of such private things with others."
"Too late. You have already given yourself away," laughed Pityë pulling Gellwen onto the bed with them. And the three of them rolled on the bed hugging one another and giggling. "But there was so much more to it than that," Gellwen still affronted stammered, "I mean not physically, but..." More peals of Elven laughter, "You two are truly wicked! Do you know so much because you have experienced this? Or only because you have heard of it?"
Pityë rose to a sitting position with little difficulty despite the still bouncing bed and, crossing her arms across her chest and pursing her lips in a pretense of prudishness, said, "Dearest cousin, it would not be seemly of me to speak of such private things." More giggles and the probability of further suggestive remarks from the elder cousins were interrupted by Cálale's appearance in the doorway.
"Gellwen, will you come downstairs with me, please? Your father and I would like to speak with you."
"Oh, mama, of course," Gellwen said, trying, without a great success and little grace, to extricate herself from the tangled bedclothes and deep mattress, "I would bathe and change my gown first, if I may."
"Yes, but hurry along, your father is expecting a visitor shortly," her mother answered, arching an eyebrow tellingly.
For a few moments after Cálale left there was silence in the room and then the laughing began again, softly at first.
Finally, fresh and, she assured herself, reasonably appealing at least, Gellwen entered her father's workshop. Cálale was leaning over some sketches that Aranwë had arranged on the table in front of them as he pointed out details of the work to her.
Her father, with his characteristic directness, immediately addressed Gellwen. "Would you please tell us exactly what went on with you and Legolas last night before the lad returns and asks to speak to me about it. I would much prefer to hear it from you first."
Gellwen began falteringly, "Well, as I told mother, we kissed. That lasted for quite some time, actually. Then, finally it stopped. I mean we stopped, the kissing, that is. Then gradually all of other feelings faded too, well, not entirely, but until things around us began to appear somewhat natural again," and then, aware that she was remarkably inarticulate, stopped embarrassed. "I am sorry, father, but what is it that you would know?"
"Gellwen, we do not mean to be intrusive, nor are we simply meddlesome or curious for our own entertainment like your naughty cousins," her mother interjected. "Your father and I observe in your gaze that same fire which when seen sparkling in new lovers' eyes reveals that bonding has occurred. We simply want to know how much you have given and promised to one another, for there are many levels of bonding."
Her father gently took her hands and added, "I will be direct with you, my little one. I suspect you have little enough experience at shielding your thoughts from others, so that I could almost certainly discover everything I wished to know without you telling me. But, I would consider that a presumptuous violation of your privacy. We simply want to know if you have pledged yourself to Legolas and mated with him for life."
"Mama, papa, I know little of soul bonding, but I know we can touch one another over a distance. We did not complete the physical act of love, although I know we both desire it. Legolas tried to pledge his troth to me and I interrupted him. I assured him that I loved him as much as he loves me. But, I did want to speak with you," Gellwen managed to say before two shiny tears rolled down her cheeks.
Cálale moved to enfold her tall daughter in her arms, "There, there, my daughter, your father and I long ago agreed that we would not try to unduly influence any of our children in these matters. We asked no one's by-your-leave ourselves, as you can well imagine."
"In most cases, I would venture that the same is true of Thranduil and have no doubt that he would happily dance at the wedding of his son to the lowliest Silvan Elf-maiden of his choice, but his relationship to our family has ever been more of chilly respect at best," Aranwë said.
Gellwen pulled free of her mother's embrace and, squaring her shoulders, replied, "So, we now finally come to the part of the discussion where I hear, one more time, the sordid history of certain fallen High-Elves, long-departed from these shores, despite the lack of a convincing explanation of how those acts are related to any deed committed by me or my family." Seeing that her father intended to speak, she placed her light fingers on his lips and gulped, "…and of how there are some among us, whose judgment, as far as I can see, has not always been impeccable, nor hands so free of stain, who desire to keep their distance from our family. And, further, I will be told," she gasped again for air, "...that our own pride and sense of family loyalty should forestall any attempt on my part, or that of my brothers or cousins, to close that gap."
Turning her head sharply and looking out of the window, Gellwen saw her brother and his friend nearing the house. "How fortunate. Here approaches Legolas now. If he wishes to speak with you, as you believe he does, this should be the perfect opportunity for the two of you to improve his understanding of the history of the Eldar, lest in his upbringing he somehow missed the full counterpart to this lecture." With that she flounced from the room.
Turning to his wife, Aranwë said, "That did not go as well as I had hoped."