Her Spiced Apples

A few weeks after Mirthanna's departure from Rivendell, the snow still hadn't fallen. In Elrond's halls the old mistletoe was replaced with fresh plants while Orathan told his family to pack, and they set out from Dol Amroth once again.

Two days later, the clouds burst, and small crystal snowflakes fell from the sky. Orathan sighed, and his family awaited his decision.

"Well," he mused, "What are we waiting for?" he had boomed merrily, "We're closer to Rivendell now!"

Two more days later, Glorfindel visited the stables. He had wanted to make sure that all the horses, especially his own, were warm and well taken care off. Not that he'd had any doubts, of course, but he just wanted to be sure. It took him several minutes to notice the extra horses, all with blankets in the blue and silver colors of Dol Amroth, and several more minutes to notice Mirthanna's brother Lastir, murmuring to the horses in the elvish tongue.

"Greetings, my friend," Glorfindel began, "I see you could not wait for the snow in your homeland to fall." Lastir nodded and looked up, and Glorfindel fought an exasperated sigh. Lastir was quiet, though Mirthanna practically worshiped him. Glorfindel found him a bit off-putting, but he tried again as Lastir groomed his horse.

"I had almost forgotten," Glorfindel remarked, and Lastir glanced up again, "I wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding." Lastir looked puzzled. "Was that not one of the reasons your father wished to return home?"

Now he saw a look of recognition on the younger elf's face. Glorfindel waited expectantly, hoping to hear him speak. "Oh, yes, to plan the wedding," Lastir grinned, "Of course. Thank you," he added, seemingly in afterthought.

"I had just come to see to the horses, but, as they're already seen to, I'll be going now." Glorfindel turned, then looked back. "I suppose I'll see you at Midwinter, then?"

Lastir nodded. "Of course." As he watched Glorfindel go, Lastir talked aloud to himself, or even to his horse, if indeed the creature was listening. "Oh sister dear," he murmured, "The things you think I do not know. You'll be troublesome," the horse lifted his head, "No, not you!" He laughed. "The thought of ignorance just numbs my very soul," he said, bemused, "We shall have to see how this one plays out." He turned back to his horse, a mare, and told her, laughingly, "You'd best not put me through this too!"

Glorfindel had not liked the way Lastir always seemed to make him think. Now, though, he didn't seem to mind. The topic on his mind at the moment was Mirthanna, and she was no bad thing to think about. His mind began to encompass the thought of marriage. Could he marry Mirthanna? He wondered, then shook his head. They had just kissed, he told himself, no need to think so far ahead.

Filled with thoughts of kissing, marriages and Mirthanna, his mind suddenly put them together in a different way. What if she was already married? He thought, or engaged? What if kissing for her was simply that? Kissing?

He walked into the bustling kitchens, unaware that had been his intention the entire time, only to find the very elf he had been thinking about. Among all the other kitchen workers, more today than on a normal day because of Midwinter, she was the only one he noticed. Her hair was pulled back, but for a few escaping wisps and her sleeves were rolled up as she cut apples.

"Good to see you again," Glorfindel greeted her with a smile. Mirthanna looked up and turned as red as her apples.

"I was just helping them to make spiced apples, dessert for Midwinter tonight." The blush crept darker into her cheeks. Glorfindel took in her flustered appearance, watching as she fidgeted under his obvious gaze, behaving as a young elf who has been caught in the liquor cabinet.

"No corset, I see?" He was still smiling. Mirthanna couldn't tell if it was a real one or not.

"Th-they went out of style back home," she answered, and the blush spread up to her ears.

"About–"

"If you'll excuse me," she hastily began to untie the apron, first wiping her hands on the front as she fought her way through the kitchen crowd and around him. She was going to work on the lacings as she reached the door, but succeeded only in pulling the knot tighter.

"Would you stop fidgeting?" Glorfindel was behind her, removing her hands from the knotting mess that her apron had become. "Now," he said, trapping her as he freed her, "About Midwinter," he stressed, "I hope I will see you there."

"Of course," Mirthanna replied, and the blush had no place left to go. "I'll see you there." She grabbed the apron and hung it on the hook by the door before dashing out and retreating to the safety of her quarters.

Glorfindel couldn't find Mirthanna in the halls later that day. He looked at all the dancing couples but she wasn't among them. Finally, he saw her standing on the balcony, looking like a picture out of an old storybook. Her strapless gown sparkled in the starlight, all white but for the red sash around her waist. She looked heavenward while her hair fell loosely down her back, so that it appeared her ladies had given up on her waist-length curls.

It took Glorfindel a moment to remember that he was standing on one of Elrond's balconies coming to escort Mirthanna inside to dance, not in a lonesome tower, rescuing the lovely princess so that he might have her hand. Not that Glorfindel would have minded if he was, but the former idea made her much more approachable.

He came to face her, and was startled by what he saw. "I suppose you can't be cold," he remarked. Mirthanna looked perfectly fine from a distance, but Glorfindel could see that her nose was red and the beautiful hazel eyes that he adored were overbright. She had apparently been out here for a while. She sniffled. "You've been crying?" he said, have asking, half asking why, "What's wrong?"

Mirthanna sniffled again, trembling a bit, but her eyes were angry. "You!" she said, her words were practiced, "Here I was thinking– I must be a fool!– here I am thinking I meant something. That kiss? I was thinking that kiss meant something too! It wasn't simply for Midwinter, I have wanted to do that since I laid eyes on you!" That was a lie, she told herself. It had taken a few days.

"What are you talking about? Of course–"

"And the– and–" She lowered her voice. "I heard you! You had some prissy Rivendell girl in your room. Don't you dare say she wasn't in that room, and I know it was the right one! I went the same way as when I helped you back from Lothiril's. I was going to meet you there before Midwinter but I didn't even go in because I heard what was– ugh!– and– what are you doing?" Mirthanna's gaze turned from his eyes– he had been watching her the whole time– to his hand. He reached into a shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny elanor flower.

He used his other hand to pull her closer as he held the flower above them. He placed his hand around her thin form and held her to him. "Elanor," he said softly, kissing her mouth gently, "Hope for more."

"But then–"

"Be quiet Mirthanna," he told her softly, but firmly, unbelieving that this fidgety elf who behaved like an elfling in love was the very same woman whom he had believed to be married that very afternoon. "Of course you mean something to me." He handed her the flower, but didn't let her go. She looked up at him, "They've moved my rooms," he told her with an amused smile, "They wanted the Midwinter guests staying closer to the banquet halls. I've no idea who's staying in my old rooms, but let me assure you, whoever was with that 'prissy Rivendell girl' was not me. Now," he said, putting his other arm around her, "How was that kiss under the mistletoe?"

Eventually, Glorfindel managed to drag Mirthanna off the balcony. When they were dancing, Mirthanna saw Glorfindel in a completely different light. She was his 'special lady,' this was their 'special night.' She gave a contented sigh at just how silly that sounded in hermindand leaned her head on Glorfindel's shoulder during a slow dance. "Elanor," she whispered. "I do hope for more."