A/N – Hurrah! I'm thrilled to see my most faithful of reviewers is still on the case!

Chapter 24 – the End of a Silence

The sombre tones of winter moaned upon the swift breeze, and the heavens were stained with rippling turrets of black-bellied cloud. Elmarië shivered, and gazed out of the small window onto a frozen world. The frail dawn had done little to melt the argent snow which now thickly carpeted the forest floor; and an etching of frost adorned the stately grey shapes of trees. Birdsong rose suddenly up to her window, and gazing to the ground she noticed a robin hopping about upon the snow. She smiled faintly, wishing pointlessly that she possessed wings, even as this bird, which could bear her away. It had been one week since her marriage to Culdir, and married life was more detestable than she had ever imagined. It had become more glaringly obvious than ever before that Culdir did not love her. He wished only to possess her, to crush her will until she became no more than his humble servant. Elmarië vowed to herself that she would never submit; not entirely. Though she had little choice than to do as he bade her, in a way she still resisted him. He could never eradicate the sneer that touched the corner of her lip; the subtlest hint of mockery that settled upon her features whenever he touched her. The grim satisfaction she earned from the quiet displeasure of her husband was a slight consolation to Elmarië, cold comfort though it was. She would not cringe and cower before him as he wished. Even though she was in truth moderately afraid of him, given his foul temperament and alarming bouts of aggression, she had become rather adept at concealing her terror. An icy glare of disdain was all she would bestow upon him, and all she might receive in return. She stood up, the lacy folds of her gown rustling against the floor as she swept purposefully out of the room. Culdir was not at home, and that in itself lifted her spirits. She paced the sumptuous halls of her new abode, feeling restless and a little uneasy, though she knew not why.

'My lady!' There came a sudden squeak from behind her. Elmarië turned, and beheld a servant girl with long brown hair, and a nervous expression upon her small face.

'What is it, Ermoniel?' She asked impatiently. This timid, mouse-like girl had irritated Elmarië on first sight, and further acquaintance had done little to endear her.

'There is a gentleman, My Lady, who asks to speak with you.' Ermoniel replied breathlessly, her wide eyes fixed upon her own feet.

'I am in no mood for visitors,' she answered wearily. 'Tell him to return later, and my husband shall deal with his business.'

'My lady I do beseech you to go to him! He will not tell his name, yet he is most adamant, and says he will speak with no one save you! From his manner I guess that he would inform you of some matter of great importance!' The girl was close to panic now, and Elmarië shot her a withering glare.

'Very well,' Elmarië sighed, and allowed Ermoniel to lead her hurriedly to the hall where the gentleman awaited her. For a crucial second, she paused.

'Thaliondil!' She cried, unable for a time to mask her astonishment. He stood within the hall, wrapped in a grey cloak. He gazed at her as she approached, his clear eyes wide yet expressionless. His hair was matted and windswept, hanging untidily about his pale face. Elmarië paced over to him, trying to smile. She felt suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious, as though her every move was awkward and ungainly.

'All is well, Ermoniel. You are dismissed,' she said quietly. The girl departed with a nod of her head, casting one short, inquisitive glance towards Thaliondil. The stillness that followed her departure was absolute, and the two gazed at each other in silence.

'I am told that you would speak with me,' Elmarië said, trying her utmost to appear dignified and disinterested, and, to her mind, failing miserably.

'I would, Lady,' he answered stiffly.

'Then let us remove to somewhere a little more comfortable,' she replied formally, and led him through to a small brightly lit chamber. She sat down, and gestured for him to do the same. He sat in silence, looking taut and uncomfortable, his hands resting upon his knees. Elmarië realised, with no small measure of panic, that she had nothing at all to say to him – nothing that wouldn't be wildly inappropriate, embarrassing or ridiculous.

'Would you care for refreshments, or…?' Elmarië began awkwardly.

'No. Thank you.' He interrupted hurriedly.

'You are well, I trust?' She asked politely.

'Yes,' he replied, in a stupidly unconvincing tone. He would not raise his eyes to meet her.

'And Tinuial and Carnil?' she persisted. If neither of them was to say anything of consequence, she would at least keep the silence at bay. Exchanging banal pleasantries was safer than sitting in that horrible, provocative silence – a silence that thrummed with the tension of potentiality.

'They…they are quite well. Thank you.' He answered awkwardly. Elmarië almost smiled. It seemed that Thaliondil was not nearly as adept at trite small-talk as she.

'I never truly thanked you, and your companions, for escorting me back to my homeland at such great risk to yourselves. I do hope you realise that my gratitude knows no bounds.' If she had paid more attention to the words slipping from her tongue, she might have cringed at their awful irony.

'It was Tinuial's doing, in truth, Lady. I had little part in it,' he answered uncompromisingly. Elmarië winced inwardly. She could not discern whether his words were intended as a rebuff, an insult, or whether they were merely his idea of conversation, socially inept as he was. In any case, he was making very little effort to communicate with her. She paused, hollow with despair, feeling the silence extend painfully between them.

'Of course,' she replied at last, her voice reduced almost to a whisper. 'And…what do you make of Doriath?'

'It is a little…ostentatious for my liking.' He answered shortly. There was a definite edge of antagonism in his voice. Elmarië's jaw set suddenly; she could bear it no longer.

'Have you come here simply to torment me?' She snapped with a virulence that clearly surprised them both. His gaze rose to greet her at last. His features were unreadable, though Elmarië could detect no malice in his red-rimmed eyes. He looked gaunt and weary, and a little lost.

'I meant no offence,' he said rigidly. 'I came simply to see that you are well.'

'You jest, surely,' she moaned bitterly. 'Fate itself jests at my expense, I think. No, Thaliondil, I am not well. I am lately married – quite against my will – to a man I verily despise! My life is in tatters, with no hope of redemption.' Elmarië immediately wished she could withdraw her words – they hung heavily in the air between them, scorching her face with embarrassment. She had not intended to betray so much, to admit to the abject hopelessness of her situation. Without her pride, she was less than nothing. She closed her eyes and wished in vain that he would simply depart, before she fell to pieces in front of him.

'I love you.' Thaliondil said suddenly. Elmarie's eyes snapped open, and she gazed at him in wonder.

Thaliondil could have kicked himself. Of all the fair things he had been planning to say to her, without preamble he had blurted out the blunt, obvious truth. He drew a breath, and tried to think of something else to say, something to soften the direct severity of his previous statement. But he was unable. He could sit before her for days trying desperately to explain to her how much he desired her, but words would never equal his emotion. He had no reason to believe that she returned his love, yet he needed her to react in some way, so he sat in silence, waiting.

'I wish with all my heart that you had told me ere this day,' Elmarië replied brokenly. 'For what am I to do?'

'I know not,' he answered sullenly. 'I do indeed regret not having spoken of this sooner.'

'What do you desire of me?' She cried bitterly, 'I am a married woman - much as it grieves me! I am now expected to act out of duty, rather than choice.'

'I expect nothing of you. Yet if you were you permitted to follow your heart, whither would it lead you?' He asked quietly. Elmarië started, and was suddenly reminded of the words of Elbereth, which she had tried so hard to forget.

'My heart would lead me to you,' she whispered. At that moment, there was a sharp knock at the door. Elmarië backed away from Thaliondil with a jolt, realising only at that moment that she had been leaning towards him.

'Enter,' she commanded hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. Nurram entered the room, and bowed low before them. He glanced momentarily at Thaliondil, then turned to Elmarië, smiling weakly.

'My Lady, I am sorry to interrupt,' he said politely. 'I have received word from Lord Culdir. He may not be returning home for several days, on account of a prolonged hunting trip.'

Elmarië tried to conceal the sudden spring of delight welling up inside her chest. One advantage of her loveless marriage was the fact that Culdir hardly cherished her company, therefore she was given much time to herself. She had to admit that in some respects, her life had certainly improved. She no longer had to contend her father's palpable and near-constant wrath, or her mother's silent disappointment, for she had appeased them, and done their bidding. Elmarië had often smiled secretly, when imagining the difficulties her kin might face when attempting to find suitors for Lheina.

'Is that all you have to say, Nurram?' She demanded a little coldly.

'It is, My Lady,' he answered.

'Then you are dismissed.' Nurram bowed once again, and departed wordlessly. The door closed softly behind him.

'Nurram is under the command of Culdir?' Thaliondil asked suddenly, clearly confused.

'Oh! I shall explain it later.' Elmarië exclaimed. Her eyes shone brightly. 'Yet there are other matters of importance, I believe. My husband will be gone for several days. Would you care to abide here for a time, as my guest?' A smile crept across his face. They edged closer to one another and sat for a moment, face to face.

'I should first return to Menegroth, to inform my sister.' He said wearily, backing away abruptly. 'I left ere she woke, and already she will be concerned for me.'

'I shall see to it that messengers are sent!' Elmarië insisted, resolving to take matters once and for all into her own hands. 'Now you must do my bidding, Sir. For I am the Lady of the house.' She rose, and drew him to his feet. She grinned subtly, safe in the knowledge, as she led Thaliondil to her chamber, that she was the least dutiful wife in all of Doriath.