A/N - Snogging in the offing? But of course!

Chapter 9 - A Beautiful Disease

After hours of wandering the unbroken darkness, Carnil returned to the camping place of his companions, guided by the light of the faint white stars which peered through tears in the thick blanket of cloud which now veiled the heavens. For some time he was wakeful, sitting beside the sleeping form of Tinuial, and trying to discern the outline of her pale face in the starlight. He sighed, and at last lay heavily upon the ground, cursing himself profusely. Why could he not openly declare his love for Tinuial, beg her forgiveness for any hurt that he had caused her, or attempt to capture in words how fair she appeared to him? Though capable of courteous speech when he chose to use it, Carnil was not accustomed to such trials as these, for never before had his heart been so entirely lost to another. Tinuial was unlike any maiden he had previously encountered, though admittedly, he had encountered but few. He understood her pain well enough; he had suffered enough hardship in his life. It was simply that he did not know how to show that understanding. He had never been called upon to comfort another, or listen to their troubles - his male companions had never been so demanding. Open displays of emotion made him nervous and embarrassed. Carnil was bold and valiant, and for years had lived a life of solitude. He had braved countless enemies and had won many hopeless battles, driven by anger and sorrow. Many times had he gazed into the eyes of death, and had shown courage where others would wither with fear, for a man who holds naught dear in life does not falter at the thought of death. Yet he now perceived that his heart was changed, and was barren and cold no longer, and he would preserve his life if only to look once more upon the face of Tinuial.

Now a great cloud of sorrow was upon him, for he feared that Tinuial would not return his love. He shuddered as he thought of how grim and unlovely he must appear to one so beautiful and refined as Tinuial. Yet he could not alter himself, for he desired more than anything to be loved for his own sake. And even were Tinuial to turn her heart towards him, Carnil now realised that Thaliondil would not approve of their love, deeming him unworthy of his sister.

'I am unworthy of such a fair jewel.' Carnil murmured sleepily, though none were awake to hear him. 'Yet I cannot forsake this love, which I have but lately discovered, for in losing it I would perish. There can be no return, for the past is hateful to me, and now that I have looked upon the glory of light, never again could I dwell in the darkness .' He drifted finally into a deep black slumber.

Tinuial stirred and yawned sleepily, opening her shadowy eyes. The gentle dawn opened like a pale flower in the sky, and the Autumn sun, glimmering like a bright banner newly unfurled had begun slowly to rise. The heavens were clear and cold, untouched by the merest trace of haze or cloud. Tinuial sat upright with a jolt. Her companions still lay in oblivious rest, and her gaze strayed to the sleeping form of Carnil. She recalled to memory the events of the previous night, of her words with him, and what they might mean. For some time after returning to the camp she had lain awake, listening for the sounds of his approach, and yet when she had finally strayed into an uneasy slumber still he had not returned. She was surprised by her own relief as she beheld him lying there, still and peaceful. He looked pale and tired, his dark hair falling softly across his brow, yet now more than ever, as the bright rays of dawn fell upon his sleeping face, he looked suddenly so young to Tinuial, so fair and vulnerable as he slept. All hostility she had previously felt towards him faded, almost against her will, and melted away like a thin frost banished by the warmth of morning. She sighed, and dragged herself to her feet.

On the North-Western horizon stood the dusky eaves of a forest, which looked deeply ominous to Tinuial as she strained her eyes towards it. A small copse of trees stood nearby, and a chill wind rattled the dry golden leaves which clung lightly to the slender branches. Some leaves fell softly to the earth, coiling and snaking as they cascaded, as though dancing upon the breeze one final time ere they withered and were lost. Though she wasn't sure why, the sweet melancholia of the descending leaves stirred a deep memory in the heart of Tinuial. She recalled to mind the earliest days of her abiding in the realm of Nargothrond, when Tarien, the mother of her heart, had abode with them still, and Durthol had been content. All things, in those days, would fill young Tinuial with wonder and delight, and the snatches of memory now returned to her like scattered mirror shards. The clear voice of the little river as it busily ran its twisting course, with the sparkle of noon playing upon its surface. She recalled the tales Tarien had told her by the fireside, as dusk drew on and the darkness outside deepened, and how she had gazed into the flames entranced, watching them leap and writhe. Tarien would tell her of great battles of the past, of the brave deeds of the Eldar against the dark, merciless Enemy, and of the events of Ancient days beyond the reach of memory ere the sun or moon walked the ways of heaven. Tinuial would ever behold these tales as though she were gazing into the depths of a rippling pool, and seeing at the bottom the unfolding of a great history. It was remote and somehow intangible, yet sweet and elusive as glimpses of the forbidden Isles of the West. Music was all about her, for Annariel sang in her clear, sweet voice, as she braided her young sister's hair, and the gentle laughter of Tarien poured like light through the empty halls of the house.

'Tinuial?'

There came a questioning voice beside her. With a gasp, her memories fell away even as the Autumn leaves. Tinuial was aware of herself once more, and her surroundings. She found herself staring into the concerned face of Carnil. She stood now near to the copse of trees, and to her shame she felt cold tears upon her cheek. She dashed the tears aside, unwilling for Carnil to see her weep, though she knew that he had noticed. Tinuial said nothing, but stood motionless, staring blankly into the distance. Her memories had seemed so real.

'I fear that I have angered you.' Carnil murmured. Tinuial looked at him with some surprise, realising that he had mistaken her silence for vexation.

'Fear not.' She replied quietly, her voice shaking, 'You have done naught to displease me.' This was hardly true, for she had indeed felt truly fruious towards him only hours before, yet now, strangely, it had vanished without a trace.

'What then is the matter?' He mumbled. 'Some ill assails you I think, for you were weeping, were you not?' Tinuial frowned, fearing lest the tears should once more start in her eyes.

'I was,' she replied stiffly. 'For my life has been torn apart. It seems that only now am I beginning to realise how much has been lost.' Sadly she bowed her head, her pale hair curling in the sharp breeze. 'Thaliondil alone remains of the family of which I was once part.'

'My Lady,' began Carnil uncertainly, pausing between words as though he feared to offend her. 'If I may ask...how comes it that your kin are of the Eldar, and yet you yourself are not?'

'The kin of my heart they shall ever be,' Tinuial replied in a strangled whisper. 'I know no other family, for in my infancy I strayed into the realm of Nargothrond, where I was discovered by my foster-father, Durthol. As for the kin of my blood, naught can I tell or recall. Whether they are lost, slain or taken, or even-' She faltered for an instant, yet soon resumed to explain in a rush of words, 'Or whether I was merely abandoned, I know not. Yet I recall that I escaped from peril, and I fled from...No! I cannot remember.' Her hands trembled with cold and grief, and she fought silently to prevent herself from bursting into tears. Carnil placed his hands awkwardly upon her shivering shoulders, a look of deep concern filling his bright green eyes. Tinuial found herself unwilling to look into his eyes, and her gaze remained fixed upon the ground.

'You shall find joy,' he murmured softly. 'I promise you.'

'I thank you for your kind words,' replied Tinuial. 'I must hope that you speak truly, for there can be no return to Nargothrond.'

'Verily, there cannot!' He exclaimed with some force, seeming relieved to change the subject. 'For my heart warns me that soon enough there may be no Nargothrond to which you may return. It cannot withstand the gathering storm of darkness, and may indeed prove short-lived.' Tinuial's beautiful eyes opened wide, searing his very soul as they filled with tears. His words had only dismayed her further.

'Do not speak of such things,' she pleaded, though she herself had long forseen the Doom of Nargothrond, and perceived the bitter truth of his words.

Without another word, he drew her close to him, and kissed her. Tinuial's heart was kindled as with the fire of dawn, and in that moment she saw clearly the magnitude of her love for him. It was wholly unlike her feelings for Arreion, for that had been a dark and forlorn love, doomed to fail from the onset. All love which she still felt for him was mingled with the inescapable burden of grief and remorse, yet at this moment it did not pain her. She gazed at Carnil in wonder, as though looking upon him for the first time, and she smiled. It was strange, this feeling. She had felt faint shadows of it before, when she had looked upon him, but never like this. It erupted from the pit of her stomach, and threaded itself irresistably through her blood and bone and soul. In many ways it was like a nausea - just as dizzying, as alien - but far sweeter. She felt overpowered, almost ill with elation, yet if this was some malady it was the sweetest she had ever known. A beautiful disease.

'Tell me, I beg, that my eyes are deceived!' Came a sharp voice. It tore Tinuial's gaze from Carnil, and she turned to behold Thaliondil stood some way behind her. His grey eyes were cold and gaunt, as he gazed angrily at Carnil, and then at Tinuial. 'This cannot be.' He said, his voice soft and perilous.

''My brother,' Tinuial began calmly. 'It is none of your concern...'

'We depart,' he interrupted, raising his voice. 'You shall never look upon this man again.' Tinuial cried out in horror, and Carnil clasped her hand.

'That I cannot allow!' Carnil demanded, 'You mistrust me, son of Durthol, that I know! I blame you not, for were I set in your place I too would deem a man such as myself unfit for Tinuial. Yet I swear to you that your sister is more dear to me than you know.' Thaliondil was unmoved.

'That is as it may be.' he replied, 'I doubt not that you are a worthy man, after the manner of your own kind, yet Tinuial is above you - this you must surely see! She herself will understand in time.'

'Does my happiness mean aught to you?' Tinuial shouted with an abruptness which started both Carnil and her brother. As Thaliondil looked upon her, his fury seemed to lessen, yet he was stern of face.

'It means more to me than all the world. Yet I believe that this man will cause you naught but grief.'

'I care not! And this choice is mine to make!' She cried desperately, and Thaliondil's sorrow was now plain to see.

'You know not what you say, Tinuial! Yet whether you will or nill, you shall obey me.' Thaliondil turned and strode back to the camp, and Tinuial turned to Carnil with anguish in her eyes.

'What are we to do?' She whispered.

'Tinuial!' Demanded Thaliondil, 'We shall linger here no longer! And you-' He glared at Carnil, 'Trouble us no more, and go whither your doom leads you. I would not have Tinuial share in your fate.' He said these last words in such a way, that Tinuial was for a moment puzzled, wondering if more lay behind them than he would have her know. Did he know or guess aught of Carnil that she did not?

'Do not despair.' Carnil murmured to her, unnoticed by Thaliondil. 'Leave now, and I will find you - if you wish it.' She nodded hurriedly, turning sadly from him, the sunbeams of morning caught amid her rippling hair as she returned to her brother. She regarded Thaliondil icily, and made ready to leave. Within minutes all was prepared, and Tinuial stood as though stricken, gazing at Carnil. She saw nothing but him, and the world beyond him seemed to fade and darken. She barely heard her brother speak as he bade farewell to Erdal, who had chosen to remain with Carnil.

'Come, Tinuial.' Thaliondil said with a sigh. She heard him as though from a great distance. Thaliondil took her arm, and led her firmly away, travelling almost due East. Tinuial did not struggle. She believed - had to believe - that Carnil would keep to his word and pursue her. She held the thought close to her heart; and it was all that sustained her. Otherwise no amount of coercion on her brother's part could have forced her from Carnil's side. There was time enough, she supposed, for Thaliondil to calm himself and swallow his pride. Then she and Carnil would have to persuade him that their love was true, and that Carnil was not the ruffian Thaliondil appeared to take him for. She glanced quickly at her obstinate brother, and a flare of rage shot through her veins. How dare he go against her wishes in such a manner! For a moment she actually felt as though she hated him, that he would quite happily jeopardise her only real chance of happiness merely due to a petty grudge on his part. Still, she knew him well. He was stubborn as an ox, acting all too frequently on impulse and rarely giving thought to whether his deeds were wise until after he had committed them. When he calmed, he was bound to realise that he had acted unfairly, though Tinuial knew he would not readily admit it, and might continue to oppose her will merely for the sake of his pride. Nonetheless, she vowed grimly, she would not allow him to win this war.