Finduilas shut the door behind her, and breathed a soft sigh of relief. She was safe. Whoever that was, they didn't see her—and—

She quickly realized that Denethor was gazing at her, his eyes wide in what she hoped wasn't anger. "What are you—" he began.

"Shh…!" she whispered, putting a finger to his lips. She turned her head to listen for the door to close in the hall and whoever it was to return to their bed. When she heard the quiet click of a door closing from beyond Denethor's own door, she sighed again with relief.

She turned to look back at Denethor, who seemed unable to decide whether to glare at her or stare at her in incredulity. "Oh," she said, removing her finger from his lips quickly as if burned. "I… I am sorry, My Lord… this is… not what it…" It was in this moment that Finduilas became fully aware of Denethor's bare chest. She was not a stranger to such things, as many fishermen or workers at the docks would remove their shirts in the heat of summer. She was not sure why this felt different. Or why she could not tear her eyes away from him.

"Looks like?" he finished. His gaze moved downwards for a moment, at her body, which, she just remembered, was clad in nothing but a sheer and ocean soaked underdress.

Finduilas' eyes widened, her eyes springing to his in indignation as she clutched her gown closer to her to block his gaze from her poorly clad body. "Avert your eyes, Sir!" she hissed.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is this what you meant when you told me earlier that you were too… indecorous, for me to consider for a wife?"

"You know exactly what I meant by it," she snapped back quietly. "My Lord, I only came to your chambers because it was the only way to escape to my own without being spotted by drunkards or other strange men roaming the palace. Unless you should want me to be found by a man less honorable than yourself at this time of night, wearing nothing but—"

"Alright," he said, putting his hand up to silence her. "But what do you mean, to your chambers?"

She blinked in surprise. "My bedchambers is just above his one," she said, inching around him and walking backwards away from him towards the balcony doors.

"Do you intend to tell me," he said, his mouth falling open slightly in shock. "That you plan to climb to your chambers?"

She nodded, fumbling with the handle to the doors to the balcony, before opening them. She slipped past them, and was just about to close the door when Denethor stepped up quickly, grabbing the door with his hand and causing Finduilas to freeze.

He joined her on the balcony, gazing up to where they both could see her own balcony nearly directly above them. "You climbed that?" he asked, staring at her, eyes wide. "You're telling me that you're intending to climb this… I hardly see how this terrace could even hold your weight."

"It could hold your weight, which I'm sure would be the quite the feat," she replied, feeling slightly irritable. "And yes, I do intend to."

"So…" he began, looking up at the terrace, then back to her with a look of almost respect. "This is how you got into my bedchamber the other morning."

"Yes," she said, nodding firmly. "And if you will excuse me, I plan to return to my own bedchamber as soon as possible."

She hoisted her dress over her shoulder, before taking ahold of the first hand hold, and began to climb. She did not get very far. She let out a small, quiet yelp of surprise as a set of large, strong hands grasped her firmly by the middle and drew her back down, plopping her hard on her feet on the balcony. "What—?"

"I can't let you climb that, not at this time of night," Denethor said, giving her a peculiar look. "If you fell to your death, it would be on my conscious."

"Oh, would it?" she asked, gently removing his hands from her waist. "I daresay I find that hard to believe."

He exhaled hard through his nose, and opened his mouth to rebuff her, but she continued on. "Unless you are suggesting that I stay in your bedchamber for the night, but I'm quite sure I'm the least of your desires." She placed her hands on her hips, looking up at the tall terrace and thinking. "You are right though, it is hard to climb with this," she held out her dress, full of frills and ruffles and many layers, "I might very well fall to my death… Perhaps I can leave it here, in your chambers, and come for it in the morning before the servants come to tend to you?"

Denethor blinked, before glancing at her dress. He looked back at her with a raised brow. "And if you forgot to collect it in the morning?" he asked. "And the servants did see it? Everyone will recognize the dress Princess Finduilas wore to this evening's ball. You realize the implications, do you not?"

Finduilas felt a blush creep over her cheeks. "I do," she said. "I assure you, My Lord, I will fetch the dress before anyone else wakes. And… no one will suspect anything."

He nodded slowly. "Since you seem to be determined to climb, and I do not wish to have your death on my conscious, I suppose I'll have to take the dress," he said, as she handed it to him.

She began to climb once again. Once she was a ways up, she glanced down to see Denethor gazing up at her with concern on his face. Indeed, she though, if she did get injured, or Valar forbid, fall to her death, while Denethor was present, it may just cause a scandal to shake Gondor to its roots.

"I'm alright!" she said, as she reached for the last hand hold. "I do this almost every night—" she let out a small, stifled shriek as the stone that was her usual hold tore loose from the wall, and she scrambled to grab another hold.

Below on the balcony, Denethor made a startled noise of surprise, before calling up, "Are you alright?"

"I…" her eyes were squeezed shut. "I'm fine," she whispered to herself. But she could not move—not without falling. "I… I think I'm stuck," she called down to him, and heard him swear loudly.

"I'll climb up to you," he said, and she nodded, though she knew he could not see her do so.

The terrace that her feet were currently propped on shook slightly, as Denethor climbed up the wall quickly, and with much more agility than she would have expected.

He reached her quite quickly, through skill or desperation, she did not know or care to guess. "Open your eyes," he commanded, and she did so. "Here," he said, reaching out and adjusting his position. "Come here, Finduilas."

She nodded, inching over so she was nearly wedged between him and the wall. "I'm going to need you to stay calm," he said. "And I'm going to need you to climb up, using my shoulder to hoist you over the railing. Can you do that, Finduilas?"

She nodded. "Sorry!" she said, wincing as he grunted when her foot caught his ear, as she flipped herself over the balcony railing. She scrambled to her feet, reaching over and grabbed Denethor's hand, helping him up and over. They collapsed onto the floor of the balcony, both out of breath. Finduilas almost clutched at Denethor, wishing for nothing more in that moment than to buy her face in his neck and give a good cry. "Are you alright?" she panted, deciding against such behavior.

He nodded. He looked at her, and she was surprised that there was genuine concern in his eyes. "Are you?" he asked.

She nodded her reply.

"Good. You are a very, very foolish girl. But a fortunate one." He stood up, and she followed. It took them both a moment for their legs to stop shaking. He strode to the balcony edge, and looked down, before whistling. "I don't think I can make it down," he said. "And I'd rather not try at this time of night. I'll go down the normal way."

She nodded, and opened the doors to her chambers and they both walked inside. "My dress?" she asked, as she sank onto her bed, taking in a deep breath.

"Fetch it in the morning, preferably before the gossips find it," he said, looking around with curiosity. There was a fire in the fireplace, now just embers, and an oil lamp by her bed, emitting enough light for the both of them to see each other and their surroundings. "So…" she began, and he looked at her. He blinked a few times, before quickly averting his gaze. "You should… return to your chambers," she said, standing up and walking over the doors that led to the hall. "This way."

He followed her, and as she quickly opened up the door, and just as he began to slip out into the hall, they both froze as they heard a small, horrified gasp.

Finduilas and Denethor turned to see Ivriniel, clad in a night robe, holding a small oil lamp that cast a light upon all three of them.

To be continued…

Uh-oh ;)

(also sorry for being a bit MIA, I'll try to post the next chapter soon :)