SCENE V. A hall in Fingolfin's house.

Enter FINGOLFIN, with AREDHEL and others of his house, meeting the Guests.

Fingolfin: Be welcome, gentle-elves and ladies all!

Now move the tables, let us clear the hall;

make room, make room for nimble dancing feet;

come, play, musicians, merry tunes and sweet!

Music plays, and they dance.

Fingolfin: No, sit, Finarfin, brother; let us leave

the floor to younger dancers on this eve.

Celegorm (to another elf): What lady is that, there?

Other elf: I know her not.

Celegorm: Oh, she does teach the lanterns to burn bright!

The very stars you kindled, Everwhite,

the fairest jewels by my father's hand

compared to her seem dim and bleak and bland!

Like Manwë's eagles over common crows

her beauty over all her fellows shows.

I thought my heart knew wonder? Wrong – and how!

I never saw true beauty until now.

Turgon: That's, by his lisp, a Fëanorian.

How dare he come within my father's hall

without an invitation? Here to spy,

perhaps, or for some darker purpose still?

Fingolfin: What now, my son? What reason for your frown?

Turgon: My father, that's a son of Fëanor.

Fingolfin: Young Celegorm, I think?

Turgon: That was my guess.

Fingolfin: Ah, leave him. I am sure he means no harm.

Turgon: And I am sure he does; why else be here?

Fingolfin: It's my hall and not yours; do as I say.

Leave him – or if you cannot, go away.

Turgon: Then I will leave, but do not think I will

forgive his coming here. He means us ill.

Exit TURGON.

Celegorm [to Aredhel]: Forgive me, lady, that I'm brash enough

to touch you with my poor unworthy hand;

if you prefer a contact not as rough,

my lips here at your service ready stand.

Aredhel: My lord, I think you wrong your hand too much,

for strong I'd call it sooner than uncouth!

A firm grip's better than a timid touch;

too rough, I hold, is better than too smooth.

Celegorm: And is my mouth too smooth, then, for your use?

Aredhel: For other cause its service I'd refuse:

the slander of your hand that from it drips.

Celegorm: The penalty for that take from my lips.

They kiss.

Aredhel: But one kiss cannot repay such a debt.

They kiss again.

Celegorm: As you command. Am I forgiven yet?

Lalwen: Sweet niece, your mother craves a word with you.

Celegorm: Who is her mother?

Lalwen: What, you do not know?

Her mother is the lady of the house.

Celegorm: Lady Anairë? Then... she's Aredhel!

I did not recognize her all grown up.

Out of the frying-pan, into the fire!

Maedhros: Come, better leave before some trouble starts.

Celegorm: Too late for that, I fear! But let us go.

Fingolfin: Goodbye, dear guests! Goodbye! I'll to my bed.

Exeunt all except AREDHEL and LALWEN.

Aredhel: Come hither, Lalwen. Who's that by the door?

Lalwen: You recognized him not? That's Celegorm,

the son of your half-uncle Fëanor.

Aredhel: My cousin, whom I played with as a child,

before the strife began within our house?

Oh fate, your twists are strange indeed and wild;

why should a foe such passion in me rouse?

Lalwen: What's this?

Aredhel: A... rhyme? That someone told me. Yes.

One calls within "Aredhel".

Aredhel: I'm coming! Aunt, let's go, it's time for bed.

Exeunt.