'Hiril nin,' Celeborn said swiftly, stopping abruptly. He had not expected to see her there, and as their last several meetings ended less than cordially, he had no wish to endure another. Melian's request continually echoed in his mind, and he knew it would be ill-advised to go against her commands.
'No,' Artanis said quietly. 'I... you need not depart on my account.'
The silver-haired prince arched an eyebrow. This was unexpected. He paused in the doorway, a hand resting against one of the pillars. Artanis stood facing the flames dancing in the fireplace. Her hands were clasped behind her back and her golden hair tumbled loosely down her back in waves. It provided a stark contrast to the deep purple of her gown, and Celeborn could not remember seeing it save bound in plaits.
'I was, perhaps, overly harsh when last we spoke,' the elleth said, still facing away from him. 'And, I have not thanked you for the consideration you showed to me. Goheno nin, hir nin.'
Celeborn cocked his head, grateful she could not see his expression. If his ears did not deceive him, this was the most contrite he had ever heard her. He felt a pang of sympathy to see one so proud seem so small. He considered that for a moment as he studied her back. No, it was not that he thought she was small... but from the slump of her shoulders, she.
'Would you care for a drink?' he found himself saying.
He was thankful he had not taken his eyes off her, as her only reply was a nod. Not for the first time he wondered what secrets she held locked within her. Though tempted, he held his tongue, and poured two goblets of spiced wine.
'You are missing the festivities,' the silver-haired elf said as he handed her a glass of wine.
The Noldo princess shrugged. 'I care not.'
Celeborn pulled a chair closer to the fire and motioned for her to sit. Though surprised that she did so, he was also pleased. He settled cross-legged on the floor by her feet. He studied her as she sat, noticing the intent stare she was giving the goblet, and the way she traced her finger back and forth across the gems encrusting it. They sat in silence for several long moments as they sipped their wine. It was Artanis who broke the quiet at last.
'Do you not wish to enjoy the festivities?'
Celeborn shook his head. 'Nay. I am oft grateful for a quieter evening.' Then why do you choose to spend it with someone whose every action seems to spite you? He didn't want to dwell upon that question.
'I can imagine Leohir now,' she said suddenly, causing her companion to glance up sharply. 'I daresay he is moping to Angrod concerning my lack of presence.'
Celeborn smiled. 'And Luthien is laughing at him.'
Artanis relaxed slightly and continued drinking. 'Poor Angrod. I suspect he is seeking to send Leohir to Finrod...'
'...Who is no doubt busily conversing with Elu...'
'And Agnor is no more willing to ward off a love-sick ellon.'
'Perhaps Luthien will take pity.'
'Or Melian will encourage her.'
Celeborn pushed himself up as the wine in his goblet grew low. He cocked his head in query to Artanis and she nodded. As he took the glass from her, he noticed that she rose herself and followed him. He said nothing, though he continued watching her from the corner of his eye. Celeborn realised that he enjoyed seeing her relax. He suspected she needed it more than most, regardless of their personal interactions.
'Luthien will probably try to convince him to dance with her,' Celeborn said as he poured the wine.
Anything to continue their current line of conversation.
Artanis laughed in spite of herself and nodded toward the door. 'They're even playing her favourite song.'
Celeborn turned at her words, listening to the opening strains filter in. He glanced back at Artanis and stopped. The firelight and candlelight glinted off her silver-gold hair, and her eyes sparkled to match the jewel at her throat, even though they did not share the same colour. Though simple, her gown hung in soft folds about her.
'Alatariel,' he whispered under his breath, setting the goblets down on the table.
'What did you say?' Artanis asked, looking sharply up at him.
'Nothing, goheno nin.' Celeborn shook his head.
Artanis frowned and furrowed her brow. She opened her mouth to question him further, but he gave in to impulse and took her in his arms, beginning to dance with the music. Too startled to object, Artanis allowed him to lead her in silence.
'You are used to being strong.' Celeborn wondered at his choice of conversation topic.
She nodded.
'I am sorry you are stuck in times such as these,' he said apologetically. 'There are none who deserve the shadow of Morgoth. Still, to have come so far is admirable. The daughters of Finwe are no less strong than the sons.' He smiled shyly. 'I have overheard conversations you have engaged in. Yours is a quick mind and ready wit. I know my stubbornness can oft be off putting, but if you will allow me, I should be honoured to hear your opinion on various matters.'
'Well, if the great and noble Celeb...' she broke off suddenly.
Celeborn studied her. Before, he might have resigned himself, but, now, he suspected it was intended as defense, rather than actual vitriol directed toward him. He made no reply as they continued to dance, waiting for her to break the silence.
'I suppose we could discuss matters, if you are so inclined,' she said, after awhile.
Celeborn smirked, though his eyes were warm. "I am grateful you would condescend thusly, princess.'
Artanis' eyes flashed. 'You would do well to remember it, prince of Doriath.'
The song began to fade, and Celeborn likewise ended the dance with a half-mocking bow, eager to break the ice that had started to settle after the serious tone of their conversation. 'I will so endeavour, princess. The honour is mine.'
Artanis blushed suddenly and mumbled an excuse as she took her goblet and hurried toward the door.
Celeborn watched in silence as she left, wondering at her reaction. He had his suspicions, but he did not wish to presume.
'She is stubborn, but means no harm.'
Celeborn turned sharply at Finrod's words.
Finrod laughed softly and clapped a hand against Celeborn's shoulder. 'You are brave, though, and I wish you well.'
