See? You needn't wait two years for the next update! Working on the next two parts, as well, so, expect at least one of them around next weekend. :)


Artanis grimaced as the rain began to pelt down around her. She did not know these woods as she had known Aman, and she hated it. She hated that her horse had lost its footing in the mud, no doubt due to her losing her way. She hated being alone when darkness fell. Nay, not being alone at night, but being away from all that was comfort and familiarity. It unearthed too many memories, that were not far enough past.

Thunder rumbled overhead. She might be stubborn, but she knew it foolish to attempt to find her way back to the palace of Elu Thingol in this weather. Artanis pushed strands of wet hair back from her face, before sighing in exasperation. Between the fall, the mud, and the rain, her braids were far from neat. She unplaited them, letting her hair hang down in wet and tangled waves. Settling back against the tree, she resigned herself to wait.

For the first time since their arrival in Doriath, Artanis let herself cry. She cried for her father, her mother, for those they lost on the way, for those that were lost before they left. She cried for being alone, for her brothers, for feeling the outcast, for being too stubborn to make friends, for the burden on her heart. For now that she was alone, she could admit her feelings to herself, and she did not have to be strong.

"This might help keep your face dry."

Artanis started and looked up sharply. Celeborn stood over her and proffered a cloak, his damp silver hair clinging to his face and shoulders. Was he mocking her? Anger boiled within her at being caught in such a state. And yet... there was something about the look on his face. At the least, it was impassive.

"I do not believe your horse has wandered far, though it is my counsel that we wait for the storm to pass before we venture forth. Though I am versed enough in these lands, I do not wish to impose on you or your equine companion. I did think the cloak might prove useful, however."

"What do you want?" Artanis glowered at him as she wiped away tears and rain from her face. His presence at a time of her vulnerability wounded her. Part of her yearned for him to trade pithy remarks with her, for then, at least, she would know how to treat him. Celeborn, stubborn prince that he was, did not seem eager to oblige.

"I saw you ride out, and grew concerned when I saw the storm roll in. You are not familiar with our paths, and I did not wish to play the part of cruel host."

"You saw me? Why, has the king decided I am in need of a guardian? Surely a prince of Doriath has other things with which to occupy himself." It was defense which drove her - she felt the need to show she was not weak.

Celeborn laughed.

She hated his laugh. How dare he. She was a princess of the Noldor, and he was a common Sinda who presumed too much.

"I fear that were Elu to wish you a hundred guardians, you would slip their grasp. Tell me, are all Noldo women such as you? Impertinent and bold?"

She wondered if his baiting her was the reason for which Luthien had cautioned her not to speak with Celeborn. Suddenly, as much as she wanted to avoid him, she was determined to spend time with him. She did not relish being told what to do, or with whom she ought associate.

"I can see why they told me to stay away," she snapped. "You are ignoble and rude, not worthy of the respect the king gives you." She almost smiled when she saw him reward her with a glare.

"And you are arrogant and ungrateful. Forgive me for thinking you needed peace and a lighter burden. I will not make that mistake again."

"If I needed comfort, which I do not, I would not seek it from you," she retorted.

She saw the pained look briefly cross his face before he turned away. She had wounded him, she realised, more than she meant. She never intended to take it that far. Even aside from doubting she could go against Luthien's command, she regretted the words she had spoken. She thought of saying something, but knew not what to say, nor would her pride allow it. It would be a long wait for the rain to lull.