Chapter 8
A/N: Lyrics are from "If I Could Be Where You Are" by Enya. I can't write my own lyrics.
Arwen stormed into Athelas' rooms. Her friend was stretched out on the divan, a hand over her eyes. Arwen stopped and looked at her.
"Are you well, Athelas?" she asked. The anger on her face turned to concern in an instant.
"Arwen, I am composing bad poetry. It does not go well, as I cannot find a rhyme for alabaster, except mustard plaster and I do not think that fits." Athelas told her, sitting up. "Would you care for tea or wine?"
"Tea would be nice," Arwen agreed, sitting in the comfortable chair. Athelas put the kettle on the brazier and got the tea tray ready.
"What about pilaster or disaster?" she asked Athelas, as her friend brought the tray.
"Neither has quite the right connotation," Athelas laughed, "and I was trying to describe your father's forehead."
Arwen regarded her slyly and laughed. "I am sure you were!" she told her companion. Her face brightened and she sipped contentedly at her tea for a few moments. They sat in silence until Arwen sighed and put her delicate cup down on the table.
Athelas contemplated her with understanding in her dark eyes. "It is hard to sit and wait. I feel so constrained sometimes that I must run through Imladris. Your father understands, but he's taken to looking at me in the oddest way."
Arwen giggled. "He knows you're wearing Legolas' tunic under your clothes," she said.
One of Athelas' eyebrows arched even higher. "And how does he know that?" she asked.
"Father has very sharp eyes." Arwen replied innocently. "I didn't realize it was a secret."
Athelas sighed. "Nothing is secret in Rivendell. How shall we spend our day, my Lady?" she asked. "I have seen to the linens, the kitchen is in good order, and all seems well." She shook her head. "Except in my heart. I fear today is the day that Legolas will forget himself and loose several arrows into Master Gimli."
"Athelas!" Arwen stated, shocked. "Legolas knows how to behave!"
"Well, of course he does!" Athelas shot back.
"Aragorn is with them. Gandalf will not allow anything like that to happen." Arwen told her quietly. "And you are not the only one to wait. You, at least, have the knowledge that Legolas will come home to you."
"Aragorn will return, Arwen. Forgive me." Athelas told her, instantly contrite. She looked at her friend with sad eyes. "It seems I can find no enjoyment in anything today. Hence the bad poetry."
Arwen reached over and held her friend's hand tightly. "Why don't you sing something for me?" she asked. "I am out of sorts myself, and it might do me some good. That always makes you feel better," she continued, in a teasing voice.
"As my Lady requests," Athelas said with mock formality. Stepping gently to the harp that had been moved into the room for her, she sat down and sighed. She thought for a moment and then, placing her fingers delicately on the strings, began to sing.
"Where are you this moment?
Only in my dreams
You're missing, but you're always
A heartbeat from me
Winter lies before me
Now you're so far away
In the darkness of my dreaming
The light on you will stay"
Arwen looked at her sternly. "I meant something cheerful, Athelas!" She sighed and shook her head at her friend. "Obviously we need to do something else."
Athelas stood up from the harp and came back to her companion. "I am sorry, Arwen. What they are doing is so important, how can I feel discontented? I am ashamed of myself. When he left I promised myself that I would not dwell on his absence, that I would be patient. But today it just seems too hard."
Arwen looked at her with understanding. "It is not our path to walk with them, although we both would, willingly. We must do what we can, cheerfully, and keep hope alive."
"Hope I have, in abundance." Athelas replied. "What I do not have is something to do cheerfully." She arched one black brow at Arwen. "Can you imagine your father's face if I told him I wanted to go out and hunt orc? There being no spiders of any consequence in Imladris, of course."
The corners of Arwen's lips twitched. In a moment both were holding on to each other and laughing. Arwen, holding her breath for an instant, gave such a good impression of the stately Elf Lord in high indignation, that Athelas had to hold her sides.
Finally, wiping tears from her eyes, refreshed by the laughter that eases the soul, Athelas' eye fell on a pile of fabric sitting on a table, out of the way.
"What is all that?" Arwen asked, smoothing her hair.
"I found it while sorting out the linens." Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the pile. "There is a green, just the shade of new leaves budding," she began, crossing to the table and flipping through the material. She pulled out a bolt and held it up to Arwen's face.
"Perfect," she murmured.
Arwen held up her hands in protest. "The last thing I need is another gown, Athelas."
Athelas pulled Arwen to her feet and began draping the cloth on her. She looked up with eyes full of pleading and mischief. "I must have something to do! If you do not let me, I shall run mad. I may even take my poetry to my Lord Elrond for his opinion."
Arwen laughed and looked at her. Athelas was already pinching the fabric about her shoulders, arranging its folds. "Only if you promise not to sing anything while you're sewing," she told her.
The Fellowship had been travelling for days. Aragorn was not sure if Gimli and Legolas were reaching some sort of understanding with each other, but they were beginning to afford each other a grudging respect. However, their latest game, endurance, was starting to bother him.
After Gimli's display with the axe, Legolas had been more quiet than usual. Not that he ever spoke much. When Aragorn had taken him aside one night to find out what was bothering his tall friend, Legolas had surprised him by talking about Arwen.
"She's waiting for you, Aragorn," the elf said.
"I don't want to discuss it," the Ranger replied.
They continued in hushed voices, the others unable to understand the whispered Sindarin. Merry and Pippin were instantly curious, and moved closer, until Gimli saw them and pulled them back to the fire.
"It's obviously private," he told them reprovingly.
"What do you think it's about?" Merry asked him.
"Not for me to say," Gimli answered, lighting his pipe and making himself comfortable against a fallen log. Boromir looked over at Gandalf, who was smoking thoughtfully. The man from Gondor felt his thoughts grow dark, and to shake them off, got to his feet to give the hobbits another lesson.
Their voices muffled by the clang of steel on steel, the two friends continued to argue. It became heated, as Aragorn tried to convince the elf that he was acting in Arwen's best interest. Legolas would not believe him, or accept the rationalizations he was offered.
"She will stay," he told the Ranger, absolutely convinced of it.
"I would have her go!" Aragorn snapped back, the pain in his eyes evident. "I would not have her throw her life away on me."
"At least give her a choice!" Legolas retorted. "You show her no respect by taking her decision from her!"
"How dare you say that?" Aragorn spat out. "You have no idea what you are. . . !"
Both were surprised by Gandalf laying a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Enough!" he said gruffly. "You will do no one any good if you continue to bicker like this! I need you both alert and focused on the task at hand. There will be time for debate later!"
Legolas hung his head in contrition. "Of course, Gandalf." Then he turned his eyes to Aragorn. "Forgive me, my friend. I have no wish to fight with you."
The Ranger was still angry, and Gandalf gripped his shoulder tighter. He looked at the elf with scorn. Gandalf regarded him with understanding in his wise but still youthful eyes. After a moment, Aragorn sighed.
"The fault is mine," he said softly to the elf. "I do not wish to argue with you either, my friend."
Legolas gripped his shoulder and Aragorn returned the gesture. Gandalf gave them both an affectionate shake and went back to his seat. Sam was serving up dinner, and Legolas and Aragorn made their way back to the fire, peace restored.