The Tale of Marian

by Rana1

In today's world, a woman searches for her path and finds it laid before her in a most unusual way. A Haldir romance, eventually, but is it the Haldir we remember from the third age, or has he changed?

30. Ch 30: If You Should Fall Into My Arms

Title: The Tale of Marian

Chapter: 30?

Rating: PG13 this chapter.

Pairing: OFC/Haldir

Genre: Adventure/Romance/perhaps a little Angst

Timeline: AU, modern times.

Beta: None this chapter.

Feedback: Welcomed, appreciated. Constructive criticism always appreciated.

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: This is a work in progress.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 for disclaimer.

THE TALE OF MARIAN

Chapter 30 - If You Should Fall Into My Arms

i

January 21

Last night was St. Agnes' Eve – that night when a young lady is supposed to see in her dreams the face of her husband to be. Was it a cruel joke then, or some happy sign that I dreamed of Haldir again? A cruel joke most likely. I am no longer young. Except for that brief moment of joy in the garden last night, Haldir has been ever more distant toward me since I returned. And this dream was not like the others. In this dream I was afraid. We had paused together in a dark curving corridor, he and I. Lanterns glowed far apart along the walls, no doubt spaced for elvish eyes, not mortal ones. The feel of the corridor was somewhat utilitarian. Still, I could see the shadows of tapestries on the wall and felt rather than saw that beyond the light flickering dimly from around the outer curve of the wall that steps lie just ahead, leading down. Haldir had pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapping me in a large fur. He was looking over my shoulder toward the steps and though I couldn't hear him, in my dream I knew he was saying something to me that I disagreed with. I tightened my arms around his waist, trying to stop him but he backed away, folding the fur around me. It was then that I saw he wore the red cloak from the wall in his study. The lantern behind me pulsated and then weakened, and Haldir drew his sword. Alarmed, I tried to turn and squint into the darkness ahead, when he twisted me around so that he was between me and the curved wall. It was then that I saw what had dimmed the lantern beyond. A thick dark cloud was swirling around the corner, now only a few feet away from Haldir's back. He warned me back, but I shook my head. "No!" I mouthed, but no sound came from my throat. As I reached for him, Haldir turned and stepped, sword extended, into the ominous mist. Hungrily, it seemed, it swallowed him, obscuring him from my sight. He called to me, for though I couldn't hear him, for a moment I could see his face, his lips forming urgent words, waving me back. I couldn't let him go on alone! I followed him into the obscuring mist and shivered – it was dank and cold and clinging, but it was something more. Evil, I thought, it felt alive and evil. I lost sight of Haldir again, and I was suddenly, deathly afraid for him. Then the mist swirled apart, almost in a rhythm, and I glimpsed him briefly as he began to descend the steps. He looked back quickly and motioned vehemently for me to stop, a thin ray of lantern light that momentarily pierced through the mist to illuminate him, making his eyes glint dangerously. He turned away and was lost in the thickening darkness that shifted again to cover the meager lantern's rays like the fur blanket I was holding around me. I couldn't grasp the bulky fur and use my hands too. Shrugging it off I plunged blindly forward, one hand on the cold stone wall, the other hand reaching into the ominously dark and muddy mist for him, mist that felt heavy and alive and groping around me, like frozen fingers. I woke up shivering under the fur covers of my bed.

/i

Marian told me shakily about her nightmare, and repeated to me that she was concerned about Haldir. I reassured her that after the night we found out about the goggles she should have nothing to worry about. It had only been a bad dream. I did not want to alarm her by telling her that I thought her dreams might have some kind of significance. I only asked her that if she dreamed about him again, she should tell me about it in detail. "It depends on what kind of detail, but you might as well ask me tomorrow," she confirmed my suspicions with bleary eyes, "because I dream about being with him almost every night."

The weeks flew by and the mortals became somewhat accustomed to our ways. Of course Allinde and Arianna got along famously, and I was as likely to see Marian with them on the couches in the library as often as I saw her with Corudring in his workshop or hanging with him from the roof of a greenhouse with chisel or saw, covered with sawdust and dirt. What I would have given to know what the three of them spoke of there in front of the fire, with their heads close together in conspiratorial whispers. I was not convinced it was elvish lessons. I tried to overhear but Allinde's ears were too sharp, and she and Marian knew my ways too well. When I appeared they gladly suffered my inclusion on the couch, yet I suspected that they changed the subject more often than not. Still, to be surrounded by women and elleth alike was a pleasure not to be missed, especially when they were within pinching distance. Arianna's interests, though, shifted solidly from me to Dieter. One shy romance at least seemed to be quietly blossoming in Methentaurond, thankfully a harmless and happy one.

i

February 4

I joined Arianna and Allinde in the library again for a short time this afternoon. It is one of the only truly restful moments of my day, on the occasion that I can manage to make the time. Not that I don't want to relax with Sandy or Yasmin or any of the men, but Allinde is like the sister I never had, and Arianna has become a confidant as well. Sitting and talking with these dear friends in the large, soft sofas by the fire I don't have to be Hiril Marian of Methentaurond, I can simply be Marian. Rumil, of course, is still my dearest friend of all, but there are some things that women only feel comfortable talking about to other women. Like talking about males - be they men or elves.

Arianna, if she is not talking in elvish or about elvish or books, talks of little else but Dieter. Allinde and I are sympathetic and amused by her youthful enthusiasm. I think only we know the full extent of her growing feelings for this ingenious, uncompromising man. Admittedly, I was not immediately fond of Dieter. Perhaps I was more distrustful of him than of the others simply because we need to confide in him the most about the very protection of the elves themselves. He's inflexible and aggressive, but he has a purposefulness that I admire. I think he's slightly paranoid about government in general, yet he believes strongly in democracy. He makes no secret of being sick of the military, while he remains passionate about order and rank. He thrives on the camaraderie of the march wardens and guards, but socially he is somewhat of a loner. He is a man full of contrasts and surprises. At first, Arianna confided in me, he was somewhat skeptical of the way I run things here, but he wants to prove himself to me. He told her that in Methentaurond he has found a cause to believe in – and he told her happily that he is finally "pulling one over" on the system. She complained today that the others don't respect him because he isn't an intellectual. Unlike her they don't see how smart he really is. Arianna believes in him. She insists he has a big heart that he doesn't like to show in public because he thinks it will undermine his job. I think she is right. I pray she is right: I can't afford to have made a mistake about Dieter.

/i

Definitely not blossoming or even showing a bud on a bare winter branch was the romance that Joel imagined that he had begun with Marian. She was too subtle in her rebuffs, in my estimation, to penetrate the good doctor's high opinion of his effect on the opposite sex. She was never so subtle with me.

There was no love lost at all between Joel and Mason. Their power plays against each other to gain influence over the fellowship continued in spite of their obvious dedication to their own research. As I first warned Marian and then Vanimë, those two bore watching. Yet I did not worry, because Vanimë was just the elleth to watch them.

Everything in Methentaurand was not about pairing off or not pairing off, however unfortunate that may have been.

Yasmin dragged me with her into the kitchens one day and demanded that Turnaur and I show her where our garbage dump was. More could be discovered about a society in a day from examining their garbage than from months of observing their people, she declared sagely. Turnaur was momentarily taken aback. Few ventured to demand anything of our volatile master chef.

"What is a garbage dump?" he asked her with controlled politeness.

"It's where you throw away things that are broken or things that no longer have any use," she said testily, as he very well knew. Now where was it?

"Things that are broken? When it was brought home in shards to Imladris, did we throw away the Sword that was Broken?" he asked me in mock horror, clasping a floury hand to his heart. Having told our fellowship the tale of Aragorn and the Rings of Power on our journey here, I simply shook my head emphatically. "Things that no longer have any use?" he scoffed at her. "And what sort of ridiculous mortal things might those be?"

At such uncooperative comments, Yasmin became stubbornly insistent that we were hiding our garbage from her. We did not have a garbage dump, I told her plainly. We had discovered many uses for everything with which Arda gifted us. She refused to believe us.

"You have to throw away SOMETHING!" she insisted as I pulled her out of the kitchen and away from Turnaur for her own good. Weeks later, I noticed that she was still looking for it.

Sandy proved herself to be the supreme organizer of the group. Efficient and highly detailed, the first mission she set for herself was to catalog all of the tapestries and wall murals in the caverns with her manual camera and the dozens of rolls of film she had brought with her. Lindir started with her at the main gates and made sure that Sandy recorded every tale and poem, heard every piece of music that each illustration told as they went. It was slow going as you might imagine, but both of them could not have been happier. Lindir had not had so captive an audience in centuries: Sandy was hearing all of it for the very first time. They tended to gather a following. Some would pause and listen as they passed by, elves nodding to each other at this memory or that. Sandy made friends of many of the ellith this way, warm and open as she was. Others, frequently Joel among them, were drawn by Lindir's music as his voice floated echoing through the chambers. And Sandy asked Lindir a thousand questions: What was the paint made from? How was it applied? How old was this or that mural, and how had the colors stayed so fresh? Sandy wanted to have paint samples delivered to the city for analysis and carbon dating, but Marian refused so Haldir wouldn't have to: There would be too many questions. It would have to wait until we had gone. But above all, it was the pure art that gained Sandy's appreciation. In this way she was very much like Marian.

Mason continued to be fascinated by the lanterns. Vanimë told me that he asked her again how they worked, and how Haldir had made them dim and brighten. She replied to him that it would be almost impossible to explain to a mortal; it was so intrinsic a part of the elves' thinking and their very being. This only made Mason more curious. There had to be a logical reason for it, he insisted. Vanimë even had to stop Mason in the middle of taking one down from the cavern wall and taking it apart - he would just ruin it, she told him. He stubbornly replied that she didn't understand how important it could be for him to figure out how they worked - they could solve the energy crisis, he declared. It would be better than solar energy, or wind. Vanimë was unmoved. He would not find the answer to such problems in the lanterns, she told him flatly. Frustrated and complaining but too in awe of Vanimë to refuse, Mason returned the lantern to its place.

i

February 8

I've been impressed with Mason's quick grasp of the way everything here is interrelated with everything else. But then I suppose I shouldn't be surprised - ecology is his passion. Mason understands how we must take a holistic approach to all of our actions and their consequences. He may be hotheaded and argumentative, especially with Joel, and he may not respect me as much as I would like, but his experience and perspective are proving invaluable.

Mason has a tendency to see mathematics in everything – how dull! Still, being an architect I know the Fibonacci sequence - 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21. . . Each number is the sum of the two numbers before it, the difference between those two numbers coming ever closer to a ratio of 1.62. It's the basis for the most famous proportion in architecture - the Golden Mean. Most astoundingly, the Fibonacci sequence occurs over and over in nature - the rule rather than the exception. Why are four-leaf clovers so rare? Why, because there is no number four in the Fibonacci sequence! It is the difference between each chamber of the Chambered Nautilus; it is almost always the number of petals it takes for the spiral on a pine cone to go around once; it is the rotation of the pods of sunflower blooms; the number of petals on a flower.

I remember studying that the Romans knew the most graceful facades, the most comfortable rooms were the ones whose dimensions followed the Golden Mean. A rectangular room should be 1:2 (ten feet by twenty feet), 3:5, or 1:1.62. Amazingly, such rooms really do feel "right" and good. But it was Mason who pointed it out to us here in Methentaurond. It is everywhere - in the plants, the flowers, the way that the tree-columns in the caverns soar and branch and spread to support the cavern roof, even in the organic, flowing chambers of the Great Hall, where not a single sharp corner can be found. Once Mason showed us (making sure that everyone knew he had discovered it before the architect who should have seen it sooner), Sandy began to find it, over and over, in the proportions of the murals that centuries of elvish artists have painted on the walls. And I have begun to measure and draw the rooms of the Great Hall.

Corudring, master builder though he is, never mentioned this. When I asked him about it, he told me that the Golden Mean was so elemental an expression of nature's perfection, he didn't think to say anything to me. I'm dumbfounded that I've completely missed this. Is this one reason why the very talan I sleep in feels as if it is growing out of the tree-column it is so perfectly placed in? I've asked Corudring to tell me even the most basic truths he knows , like he was teaching a five year old - I'm afraid of what I will miss if he doesn't.

"Never does nature say one thing and wisdom another." Such is Corudring's mantra. "How can you tell this piece of wood, or this piece of marble what to become," he said to me today, shaking his head, "if you don't listen to what it wants to be?"

"Because I can't hear it!" I responded in jest, though I knew what he meant, as under his tutelage I repaired a lovely box made from a piece of precious, rare mallorn.

"Not yet," Corudring told me with a pat on the back, "not yet." He gave me the box.

I am secretly thankful to Corudring for much more than his patient instruction, or his sweet gift. Only when I lose myself in my work with him can I block out of my mind for a few hours my aching for Haldir. If Haldir is even in sight my world spins, my heart catches on fire and it is all I can do to stop from throwing myself at him. If he is away I feel like my insides have been torn away and I count the minutes, hours, days until he returns. I'm such a fool! These days he is gone as often as he is here, and when he is here he speaks little to me. If not for Corudring's workshop redolent of redwood and cedar, oil and metal, I would exhaust myself thinking of the Elf Lord every moment of the day and night, and perhaps, like the embers in Allinde's fire, be consumed from within. How do you stop yourself from coveting something, or someone, that isn't yours? This can't be healthy. I need to pull myself together. I keep telling myself this.

/i

Roger and Gladrel exchanged animated gardener's wisdom about this plant and that, or simply stood in companionable silence, watching the bulbs push out of the ground and the sleeping branches begin to leaf out. Roger thrived in a perpetual world of excitement and discovery, dragging Lomion and Joel down to the greenhouses at any hint of a plant promising medicinal value. In February they began planting seeds, including some of the monkey pod tree seeds that Roger had gifted to Gladrel. He insisted, he told me, that she save some to take to Valinor. What world would possibly be complete without them? In spite of his being the most elderly among the mortals, Marian laughed that he would outlive them all.

It was good to hear Marian laugh. She had become too serious, too strained, and half of the time just not much fun to tease anymore. As a leader she fulfilled all of my expectations of her, and Haldir's, if he would only tell her so. She was constantly evaluating what the mortals and she were doing, and how they could do it better. Her only weakness was also one of her most endearing traits: She always focused on the positive side of people. That was one thing that I loved about her, but also one of the things that occasionally got her into trouble. Marian told me she thought that all of the members of the fellowship understood their obligations not only to their goals, but to each other as well. She refused to take the storm that was brewing between Mason and Joel seriously. They did not have that many differences; they were just being men; they would work it out, she told me. I was not so sure.

i

February 14

Elves, of course, don't celebrate Valentine's Day. But tonight Lindir's telling of the Lay of Luthien (we are still only partway through it after many nights of singing) has turned into a celebration anyway.

Rumil and I are sitting together listening along with an unusually large gathering. Many faces are still unfamiliar to me. I assume that these are new arrivals. Also, several elves that only occasionally join these evening festivities are here as well. Even Haldir has lingered in the Hall this evening, but he is standing at the rear of the gathered elves, across the room from Rumil and me. I am trying not to stare at him.

Lindir is strumming a magnificent harp with long, sure, graceful fingers and singing in elvish. Others around us are joining in his song now and then. Rumil told me several nights ago that everyone knows this tale and holds it dear. Likewise, the tale of Aragorn and Arwen Undomiel has been put to song by Lindir himself, but that is a tale for other evenings.

I can now understand quite a few words and phrases of this beautiful, intricate ballad, but I don't worry for Roger or the others that are a little farther behind than I in the language. Whenever the elves sing, the meaning and images of their words are felt and understood by the heart. Tonight Lindir has been telling of the greatest deed ever done by Elves or Men: How Beren and Luthien together entered the very hall of the evil Vala Morgoth, and how by her robe of forgetfulness and the beauty of her song Luthien mesmerized and toppled Morgoth from his throne just long enough for Beren to cut a Silmaril from his clawed iron crown. Lindir spoke these words of Beren, though they were set to music:

"As he closed the Silmaril in his hand, the radiance welled through his living flesh, and his hand became as a shining lamp; but the jewel suffered his touch and hurt him not."

Before tonight Lindir had sung that no mortal could touch a Silmaril without his or her hand being burned and blackened, but Beren had touched it and not been harmed! Dare I write here what I now believe could be true – that the jewel hidden in a basket in my very talan might in fact be a Silmaril? Is there something larger here at play than I can imagine – was I meant to find this jewel? The very thought terrifies me, for what burden of responsibility could such a discovery place on me? What would it mean, and what would I have to do? Had Bruno died for some greater purpose, and not just because I had failed to save him, or is this thought only a sad rationalization in my own mind for the guilt I still feel at his death?

Lindir's description of the jewels that hold the last Light of the Two Trees rings true to what I myself have seen: That this jewel whose pure light comes from within even in the dark when I hold it in my hand makes my skin glow with light; that its light seeks and finds every crack between my fingers, every slit in what remains of Vanimë's cloak, every gap between the pieces of the wardrobe. Its radiance breaks through as if it cannot be contained.

But if it doesn't burn my hand, then why did it burn through the basket? If I had left it there on the wardrobe floor it would have burned through the bottom of the wardrobe as well. Perhaps I should give it to Haldir and be done with it – it belongs to the elves, after all, and not to me. But would I be putting Haldir and the others in danger if I revealed the jewel? Will I be in danger if it is discovered? How many of the house of Feanor might be in these very caverns, ready to claim it back for their own again? Yet if they were here, wouldn't they have already challenged Haldir's authority to lead? And what about Haldir – he is so burdened now by his responsibilities, should I dare impose this on him as well? If I can't give it to Haldir, who else could I give it to? Rumil? No, if I gave it to Rumil, or Vanimë, then Haldir would share in the burden anyway.

Oh! I hate things that are so valuable that others would lie, cheat, steal, and even kill for them! Where's the joy in possessing such a thing? Already I have lied to Rumil, well, not lied really, but not told the truth. And Allinde; I have lied to her too. She saw light like a sun flash briefly through a library window, in the same direction as my talan. Had I seen it? No, I told her, I must have missed it. How many more of my dear friends will I have to lie to, to keep my secret? Yet this jewel's beauty is beyond anything I have ever seen or heard of. Maybe it isn't what I both hope and fear that it is. I have no idea what to do, except to wait and hear the rest of Lindir's tale.

Much, much more importantly than the jewel to me though, is that the Lay of Luthien is not just a part of the tale of the Silmarils. The Lay of Luthien is the story of the undeniable love between a mortal and an elf. This evening's song has given me some peace about my love for Haldir, no matter that he stands far across the Hall from me and studiously looks elsewhere when I look at him. I can feel the weight of his gaze resting on me when I'm not looking. It is not my imagination. It is driving me mad with desire. I envy every bound couple, every elf that sits near to another tonight. I envy Dieter and Arianna. I even envy the birds that fly in pairs through the caverns on this Valentine's night. I have promised myself not to do anything stupid.

Rumil just asked me, now that Lindir is resting for a few moments, how much I really understand about the relationship between Beren and Luthien. Smiling, I replied that I understood that Luthien's father hadn't approved of his daughter loving a mortal, but that their love was stronger than any barriers. Their gaining the Silmaril together proved that. Rumil opened his mouth to say something to me, but he never got the chance to tell me what it was. Lindir has begun to play his harp again, and the whole room has just broken into joyous song. Some elves have even begun to dance. Now Roger has joined them. This I can't pass up!

/i

Ah! There was no sweeter sight in Arda than that of ellith dancing, especially when I had not met some of them yet - what better opportunity could there have been to repair such a regrettable oversight? But lest you think me insensitive, I assure you that my first dance, no matter where or when, always went to Marian.

When Marian and I first met (an occasion I artfully arranged to appear as though it was completely by accident) she loved dancing, but she could not do it at all well. Her late husband had not enjoyed it, and Marian would not go without him. I could not bear the deep hurt that I felt radiating from her at his loss. I was terribly afraid that she would fade. She needed something that would reach down inside of her where she had buried her joy for life, and make her realize that she could be happy again. I asked her to take dancing lessons with me. I goaded her. Then I dared her. Finally, out of desperation, I hounded her. At last she gave in, she told me, just to make me "shut up already." At first she stepped on my toes and elbowed me in the jaw when I turned her – she could not get used to the idea of following. "Rumil, I'm so sorry. I was always the "boy" when our girls' class had dancing in school because I was tall – all I know how to do is lead." Then she would bump into me again and protest, "how do I know what to do if I can't tell what's coming next?" But as soon as she allowed herself to relax she became quite good. Dance class, actually, spawned a few of Marian's disastrous dates, after which she swore she could not face another one. Being naturally graceful, of course, I received several offers for dates of my own, which were much more successful than Marian's. Funny, but those times seemed so distant once we returned to Methentaurond. I still remember sharing those few sweet, short years with my dearest Marian as some of the best of my life so far.

Yes, Marian could dance extremely well, and one could easily see that she loved it. A broad smile would appear on her face and she would shine like the sun. I was not the only one to notice her glowing that evening. Haldir could scarcely keep his eyes off of her. Her enthusiasm was as great as mine and the other elves, and her smile was contagious.

Turnaur approached Haldir and bounced on his toes eagerly until he received the hoped-for nod, upon which he ran to throw open his cellars. Lindir welcomed others with lyre and tambourine and drum, launching into music and song better suited to dancing than to tale-telling.

Haldir decided to dance too, and it warmed my heart to see it. He was an impressive presence on any dance floor and never failed to attend most gallantly and exclusively to each of his partners. Tonight, however, his gaze was quite frequently drawn over their shoulders in Marian's direction.

Marian was wearing her burgundy gown, not the soiled work clothes she had worn earlier that day. Her hair, still mostly brown but liberally scattered with gray, had grown to her shoulders, and she had recently taken to braiding it in the elvish fashion. I had taken the liberty of placing a fragrant peach-colored flower from the table into one of her braids as we danced, for which I received a good-natured peck on the cheek. What would I get if I brought her a dozen flowers, I inquired"Trouble" was her reply, and: "Now let go of me and harass those ellith you've been drooling over." "What ellith?" I protested, craning my neck to look innocently around the room. Marian rolled her eyes. The hues of her gown and the flower dramatized their dark hazel color, and the braids suited her. She danced like a Maia - well, perhaps more like a sensual maiden who had imbibed a few glasses of miruvor. She looked quite fetching, and I could not blame Haldir for not realizing he was staring at her, smitten as he was.

I twirled Marian into Roger's capable hands, and pulled Arianna to her feet. Dieter was guarding outside with Orodren and a group of wardens for another week, so I feared no reprisal for my gentlemanly attentions. Besides, rescuing pretty ladies in distress – or even the smallest hint of possible future distress - is one of my many talents.

Bowing to Arianna, I moved on to allow as many new ellith as possible an enviable turn at dancing with me. Why let a mithril opportunity go to waste?

i

February 15

I told myself last night that I wouldn't do anything stupid, so of course I did. Too much miruvor no doubt had something to do with it. I matched Rumil glass for glass, not counting because I had never noticed before that elves can drink wine like water to no apparent effect whatsoever. Rumil probably doesn't have the headache that I have this morning either. I should have known that I was already in enough of a state over Haldir not to drink any at all, but it's too late for that now, isn't it?

Even though I was occupied with my own partners, I couldn't keep myself from watching the masterful yet reverent way that Haldir danced with his; how he effortlessly guided them across the floor holding them oh so close, spinning around with them so that their gowns and the gleaming strands of his golden hair fluttered in the wake of their movements. Too many times he caught me watching. I couldn't help but turn red and look down, at least until I couldn't stop myself from looking again. I thought that maybe if I had another glass of miruvor I'd stop flushing so badly. How I wished that he would dance with me like that just once, but the merry-making went on and still he didn't ask me. (I thought it was only Rumil who partied this way, but it seems all elves can celebrate for the longest time!)

I felt increasingly embarrassed and sorry for myself that Haldir had briefly danced with Vanimë and Allinde and half of the other ellith in the room, not to mention Sandy and Yasmin, and was still keeping a great deal of distance from me. I bolstered my courage with another glass of miruvor, crossed the wide elliptical Hall (with its gracious 3:5 proportions) under his deeply experienced, speculative gaze, and asked him myself.

For one short flicker of his eye I thought I had surprised him with my request, but then he serenely raised his eyebrows at me and offered me his arm. He led me to the very center of the room and pivoted me around to face him, looking somberly into my eyes but not yet moving to put his hand on my waist. The roomful of dancers swirled around us but we stood motionless, suspended like we were held in the eye of a storm. I held my breath. Coming to some hidden decision, he quietly drew me closer, our eyes never parting, until I was pressed tightly against his chest and looking up at him, our lips barely inches apart. I hoped he might kiss me. Instead, we began to dance: Slow, deliberate steps, round and round, like we were in our own private dream. A little unsteady on my feet from the miruvor and feeling disoriented, I thought I would lose my balance. I tucked my head under his chin and clung tighter to him. At once I became deliciously aware of his every movement against me, from his shoulders to his toes. I felt his chest rise at his quick intake of breath, and he backed away from me, stiffly holding me at arm's length while we continued to dance. This was not the way he had danced with the others. He hadn't looked at them with dark, tempestuous eyes and held them far away like he was suddenly doing with me. None of the other couples were dancing at such a distance from one another. The magic of the moment before collapsed around me. What had happened? Had I done something to offend him so that he didn't want to be close to me? I knew I had drunk a little too much and he was steadying me - did this disgust him?

"Haldir" I looked at him questioningly but he made no move to either draw me closer or stop dancing. Uncomfortable and deeply hurt, I halted rather ungracefully, my fingers stiffening in his hands. The song was coming to an end anyway.

"If you didn't want to dance with me all you had to do was say so" I said in as low and controlled a voice as I could manage. Tears that I couldn't suppress began to well in my eyes, and I turned away from him, intending to leave the Hall immediately. I had made it halfway to the door before Joel stopped me.

"Dance with me" he said. It was a direction, not a request. I started to refuse, but then he said the one thing that made me change my mind. "Come on" he urged me, turning me back toward the dancers"let's show these elves what real dancing looks like."

So I proceeded to do exactly what I had promised myself I wouldn't do - something extremely stupid. I'd see that Haldir wished he'd danced closer to me, I thought. I'd show him a thing or two. And I moved back into the center of the Hall with Joel, idiot that I was.

/i

I saw Haldir dance with Marian. He maintained a typically cool façade, but knowing from experience how to read my brother's subtle expressions I could see his deep need for this dear woman-friend of mine. I saw the cracks begin to appear in his control as he first pulled her very, very close and breathed in the scent of her hair and the flower I had placed in it, and then reared away from her before he lost command of his actions. My brother, about to lose control. It was a sight I rarely saw, but never before for such a reason. It rent at my heart.

I saw him begin to follow her as she walked away from him, drawn in on herself and slightly weaving. I saw him stop when Joel intercepted her and somehow talked her into returning to dance again, saw Marian look across at Haldir. An expression born of miruvor and hurt made her eyes glitter. She straightened her shoulders, raised her chin, and turned away to plant her hand on Joel's shoulder. Joel began to clap his hands for Lindir to step up the beat of his music. Oblivious to the drama being played out in their midst, others joined the clapping, encouraging the musicians toward something more energetic and exciting. They responded with enthusiasm, and an expression of smug triumph crossed Joel's face as he turned back to Marian and pulled her firmly into his arms. Oh Marian. The good doctor had evaluated the situation and leapt at his chance. I did not think his intentions were at all honorable.

Joel proved himself to be a smooth dancer. Step by step he subtly challenged Marian to dance more provocatively. Throwing herself heedlessly into the music, Marian responded to him movement for movement. Action and reaction began to take on the character of something between a tango and a belly dance.

I glanced worriedly at Haldir, who had not moved from my side but was standing practically at attention, his arms crossed in front of him, his jaw muscles working tensely as he watched them in stony silence.

I looked back at Joel. He had turned Marian so that her back was to him and raised one of her arms up over her head. He held her tightly against his hips with the other. Whispering in her ear, he let go of her hand and suggestively ran his open palm down the inside of her arm, pausing near her breast and then down her side to her waist. All the while she allowed him to rock her to the repetitive beat of the music. Then gripping her by the waist he dipped her low to the ground and ran a hand over her gown from her neck to her knee. Beside me, I felt Haldir take a small step forward and then stop himself. Raising her back up ever so slowly and pulling her forward against him, Joel began the deep, sensuous movements of a bold Brazilian dance that Marian had always refused to do with me because it was too blatantly sensual. Now she was effortlessly, tantatlizingly performing it with this man who I found myself increasingly disliking. Even I felt an unaccustomed tinge of jealousy watching her. Marian shot a quick look across the floor at Haldir and then looked away, continuing to match Joel's suggestive movements.

People began to stop in mid-dance. Couple by couple, a circle of onlookers began to form around Marian and Joel. Haldir, whose careful composure had changed to one of clear agitation, made no move to alter the situation. Why had Lindir not changed the music? No elf would ever put on such an exhibition. Neither would Marian, unless she was too upset at Haldir and possibly too drunk to fully fathom what she was doing.

"Will you stop them" I asked Haldir.

"No" he replied bitterly. "They appear to be quite suited to each other."

"Haldir, Marian is not as naïve as you fear about Joel's ambitions," I reassured him. "This has nothing to do with him."

"Oh? See how she smiles at him" Haldir replied painfully.

I shrugged my unconcern. "It means nothing," I insisted. "Dancing always makes Marian smile. She is doing this to get a reaction out of you. And she is succeeding."

Haldir turned the venomous gaze he had been giving Joel on me. Then he took one last grim look at them dancing together, and strode swiftly out of the Hall without looking back.

With a sigh, I walked up to Joel and did what no elf would ever think of doing. I cut in. I must have appeared to have enough of Haldir's own venom in my voice, because Joel raised his hands and backed away without protest.

"Marian, it is time to call it a night. Look," I said, turning her firmly in the direction where Haldir and I had been standing, "your audience has departed. You can stop now."

"Oh, come on, Rumil, dance with me," she purred, circling around me. Then, swaying slightly, she noticed the other couples turning back to their own dancing. "Oh dear God, I've been making a fool of myself," she whispered to me, her eyes wide with sudden remorse.

"Yes you have," I said rather cruelly. "And stop swearing. I'm taking you to Vanimë right now, and you're going to let her walk you to your talan."

Marian groaned. "Oh not Vanimë, Rumil. I know I drank too much, but I can go by myself. I'm fine." She started to try and wriggle out of my arms.

"No, you are not fine," I said, tightening my grip, "and I cannot take you." Locating Vanimë, I signaled her for help.

"Why can't I go with you?" Marian pleaded while Vanimë came toward us. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"I am not angry with you, Marian. At least I do not think I am," I told her.

"I am going after Haldir," I told Vanimë, handing Marian off to her. "HIRIL Marian needs help finding her talan."

Marian was as brave as the most dauntless elven warrior in her own way, but I knew that as each day brought us nearer to departure, both her heart and Haldir's broke a little more. There was little I could do for either of them that I had not already tried. If only they would confess their feelings for one another. But I am wary of interfering with matters of the heart – I am wise, of course, but not that wise. Having said that, I went directly out to look for my brother.

I searched many paths until I found Haldir. From a bridge above and a moderate distance away from Marian's talan, I saw him at her door. He held a silver vase full of luminous white flowers. Haldir rarely picked these delicate, precious blooms that grew nowhere but in his private garden, and it was just as rare an honor to receive them from him.

I knew that Vanimë had not yet brought Marian home. Haldir paused a moment, and then left the flowers on the small table outside her door, caressing the petals before he turned to walk up the path in my direction. Walking casually forward, I met him along the way.

"There is no need to pretend you are here by chance, Rumil," he said by way of greeting, and looked back down towards Marian's talan. "I believe an apology is called for."

"By you or by her?" I asked him. I suppose I was angry with Marian after all.

"I regret my behavior earlier," he admitted uncomfortably. "I suppose she is still dancing with him."

Vanimë and Marian appeared walking down the path. Good, I thought, Vanimë would know what the flowers signified. But they turned aside and walked around the other side of the talan onto Marian's deck. Haldir stood with me silently on the path, waiting. When Vanimë left a few minutes later, Haldir made no move to return to Marian's door.

A light appeared to flash briefly through the skylight above Marian's talan. I was pondering what it might have been when Joel appeared on the path below us and stopped at Marian's door, a bouquet of flowers in the crook of his arm. If the flowers had been from Haldir's garden I just might have jumped off the bridge and. . . well, they were from the kitchen gardens from the looks of them, so I did not. Instead I stepped quietly back with Haldir behind a hedge along the path, and watched. Then the doctor did a most foul thing. Seeing the flowers Haldir had left on the table, he glanced around the caverns. Seeing no one, he removed the blooms and combined them with his own, slipping the vase under the table. I was aghast that he had dared to even touch them. He knocked on Marian's door. After a few moments, he knocked again, and it opened. Marian stood in a thin nightgown with the door half open, spoke to him a moment, and then backed up to let him into her talan. Haldir stiffened beside me.

"Haldir, will you not do something?" I asked him indignantly. "Those are your flowers."

"No. It is better this way" my brother said though he did not sound like he was convincing himself. "Marian deserves someone to care for her, someone who can remain by her side and not leave her as I must. Perhaps it will be this mortal."

I shook my head as I watched him pace back and forth in front of me, always in sight of Marian's door. Haldir really was too noble for his own good. What could I do to distract him from his obvious pain, I wondered?

"Marian is not foolish enough to be caught by this man's ambitious games. He is not right for her. Must you play the martyr? Doing so satisfies no one - not you, not Marian, and most importantly, not ME. It is you she wants. Not the healer - YOU."

"It would be foolish indeed for any ellon to trust his heart to a mortal, as you can see. If she is not doing so even now, she will go to him in time." Haldir looked longingly toward Marian's door, which was still closed. What could be going on in there? – the excruciating question was written across his brow more clearly than he would want. "She will have a chance for happiness."

"Listen to your counsellor, Haldir. You are both frustrating me beyond endurance. Let me put this in the rawest of mortal terms" I huffed and took a breath deep enough for the litany I quickly thrust at him before he could interrupt me"She wants you. She wants you BAD. She wakes in the wee hours of the morning calling for you, aching from her dreams of you."

"She dreams of me" Haldir started, with a very odd look. Then he recovered himself. "How did you discover this" he reprimanded me.

"That is completely beside the point. Go to her. Take her. Take her HARD. Take her FAST. Take her NOW. End this torture that you are putting me through! You will both thank me."

Haldir dragged his eyes away from Marian's still-closed door long enough to shoot me a scathing look. "Let me make sure I understand you" he said, dragging me down the path beyond the hedges. "You wish me to burst into Marian's talan this very instant, cast this mortal out, and ravage her like a wild beast so that YOUR sexual tension can be relieved. Is THAT what you are actually suggesting"

"Yes! Dear Valar, YESSSSS" I yelled, clutching the collar of his tunic and shaking him as a startled Orodren walked up to us on the path.

"I will not even ask" Orodren raised his hands in defense and kept on walking.

Haldir stared at me in disbelief for a moment. Then he doubled over in a fit of laughter. For a moment at least, I had made him forget his heartache.

i

Vanimë walked with her arm propped under mine, guiding me silently back home. I counted the footsteps until I could get away from her. Her every stride spoke of disapproval and saintly superiority. Or maybe I wasn't being fair to her. After all, the miruvor was wearing off – finally – and I was excruciatingly embarrassed at what I had done. Too bad I didn't have more, or I would have drank it just to stay inebriated until I could shut the door on her and the rest of the world and go straight to bed. Instead she steered me aside onto my deck and we sat down on the bench against my window. Or maybe she let me fall down onto the bench and then sat next to me. I don't remember.

She spoke to me then. "Are you all right?" she surprised me by saying, not gently, but not judgmentally either.

"I will be after I apologize to Haldir," I said. "And to you," I added, "and to everyone else in this whole place."

"I think that apologies are best left until tomorrow, don't you?" she asked me, and got up to open my door. I stood up very slowly and walked carefully inside. Vanimë followed me in and lit the candles by my bed for me.

"Vanimë?" I said, and she paused on her way back out the door. "I ruined the cloak you gave me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"I will teach you to make another for me tomorrow," she said, and closed my door.

I groaned with both relief and shame. Gratefully I ripped off my gown, loosened my hair and slipped into the nightgown Allinde had given me, collapsing onto my bed with Rumil's flower. But the wardrobe in the alcove called to me. I hadn't checked on the jewel in days. I decided to take a quick look at it before I fell asleep, just to assure myself that it was all right.

I shuffled across to the alcove and put up the furs again as best I could manage, then opened the wardrobe to lift the metal container I had found to put the jewel in out onto the floor. The container came, but the jewel and Vanimë's tattered cloak didn't. There it sat in an indentation in the wardrobe floor, gleaming brilliantly through the holes in the cloak. Damn! I quickly dropped the container clattering to the floor and threw one of the furs over the jewel. Then I picked up the container and turned it over. Sure enough, its bottom had completely disintegrated. Only a perfectly jewel-shaped, blackened outline remained around the edges. I felt the onrush of a major headache starting somewhere behind my eyes.

Then someone knocked on my door.

Shit! How, I wondered out loud, could this night possibly get any worse? I did the only thing I could think of, even though I didn't want to. I ran back to my dresser, grabbed the box that Corudring had given me, and stuffed the jewel into it. Leaving the metal container in the alcove, I shut the wardrobe door, yanked down the furs and threw them on the floor over the container. There was that knocking again, louder than before. What could possibly be so important in the middle of the night? Pulling the curtain back over the alcove and pinching my fingers between my now-throbbing eyes, I made it to the door and flung it open.

There on my doorstep was Joel, with an armful of flowers. I was suddenly aware that I only had my thin nightgown on and my hair was in my face. I hadn't thought to put on my robe.

"I thought I would check on you to make sure you'tr alright" he said, examining my barely clothed condition rather too appreciatively. "I see that you are. Oh, and these are for you" he added, presenting them to me with a slight bow. "I enjoyed dancing with you, Marian, very much. May I come in for a moment"

It would have been so wise to refuse. I could have said I had a headache, the perfect and absolute rejection line for any male. But when I saw the flowers he was pressing at me, I let him in and closed the door. If I made this quick, I could get back to the jewel and find something else to put it in so it wouldn't have time ruin the mallorn box.

"Joel, it's strictly forbidden to pick flowers from Haldir's garden, much less even enter there without his permission. I don't even know what the punishment might be if anyone sees you with these. How in the world did you find it? Why did you go in"

Joel stood with his mouth open in shock for a few awkward moments. I could see him trying to think, something that wasn't usually at all difficult for him. Was he going to lie to me?

"I must have just wandered into it while I was looking for flowers" was his rather lame response. "But the flowers aren't the only reason I came. I want to warn you about Haldir."

"Warn me" I responded warily. "About what"

"Well, about your feelings for him, Marian. Why do you pine after him when he gives you no encouragement? You don't seem to see how badly he treats you. And he is an elf, Marian. He'll leave you anyway and you'll never see him again. "

"Joel, really. I have no romantic interest in Haldir. Or anyone else" I added pointedly, and I turned away from him to put the flowers in some water.

"Don't try to fool me, Marian" he said, following me. "Any man can see that you want. . . companionship. You should look closer to home. Much closer."

"How close" I said a little more coldly.

"Surely you've noticed that I've not exactly been ignoring you since we met. I've helped you quite a bit, haven't I? And, like I said, I enjoyed our dancing very much, Obviously, so did you" he said, staring at the front of my thin nightgown again and stepping closer. "I've thought a lot about you since college, Marian. Does that surprise you? When I saw you at my door again, I knew we were meant to meet again. But you've allowed yourself to be distracted by this elf lord, by his power. I can understand that perfectly. Power is erotic, isn't it? But this elf will not give you anything that you need. I know what I can do for you, not only professionally, but very, very personally. I'm a doctor, after all" he said with a chuckle. "We would be good together. Very good. And two can accomplish so much more than one" he said, reaching out to touch my cheek. "We could. . .

"Joel, I think you should leave now" I interrupted, stepping aside for my robe and wrapping it around myself. "I don't like what you're saying about Haldir. He's been nothing but generous to all of us, and he doesn't deserve any of what you're saying about him. And I don't appreciate the assumptions you're making about me. You know nothing about what I think or how I feel. We danced, yes, but it was just a dance, Joel, nothing more. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I wasn't trying to send any of those kind of signals. I was a little drunk - it was just a dance! Please forget about it."

To my relief, he put down his hand and backed toward the door. "Alright, Marian, play hard to get. It will be an amusing game, and the end will be more exciting for our having played it. Good night."

I shut the door and locked it behind me. Ahhhhhhh! Not only couldn't this man take a hint, he couldn't even take a direct "No" At least he had gone away, finally, and I could rescue my box.

But when I went back to check on the box, it was fine. No burns, no holes, not even the slightest bit of damage. At least not yet. The jewel sat innocently inside, gleaming up at me like a pretty pet. I've decided that it can sit in there until tomorrow morning at least. I need some sleep. Tomorrow I will have to put my tail between my legs and apologize to Haldir. I suppose that will be as good a time as any to get out the spoon. Maybe I'll let Rumil lick it after all, and that will be bribery enough so that he won't stay as ashamed of me as he rightly is tonight.

/i

From the song "Let's Dance" David Bowie.

From "Of Beren and Luthien," The Silmarillion, by J.R.R. Tolkien