Summary: A wager being idly struck between two young elven lords in Doriath, the wheels of romance are set in motion. Here presented is the courtship of Celeborn of Doriath and the Lady Galadriel as it was never meant to be told. Expect intrigue, lies, infatuation and possibly a disguise. Barely canonical and many O/Cs.
Disclaimer: This is a work of derivative fiction based on the collective works of J.R.R. Tolkien. The author gains nothing but pleasure from it's creation and distribution. All recognizable characters, settings and events belong to the original author.
Chapter 2: Dance Partners
Celeborn tried to hide his grimace behind a glass of wine. Chatter filled the room. He had carefully selected a spot among those gathered, not too far that it seemed he was avoiding company but not too near, either, lest it encourage people to think he was receptive to idle conversation.
He was taking small steps and knew that Thranduil would mock him about his wading-pool approach to this challenge. Luckily, the younger lord was ensconced in his chambers, probably deciding on the best position in which to sit for his reading, should someone happen to discover him.
Celeborn shook his head and took a sip of wine. It was finer than the vintage over which the two friends had sealed their bargain some nights ago but that was only to be expected. Bottles lifted from the cellar could never compare to the private stores of Elu Thingol, King of Doriath.
From the exchanges he could overhear he gathered that a great debate was raging about the subject of the Noldorim and what their arrival would mean for kingdom. Views were divided, as they often are, although pointlessly since the ultimate decision rested with the king and queen.
"Is this a new method of research?" a voice breezed past his ear before its owner fell smoothly into a chair next to him. Her body arched to one side so that she was leaning away from him and she hooked her feet behind the chair leg giving the impression that she was attempting to contain herself. She leaned her head to one side, resting her fingers against her lower lip and gave him a quizzical smile. "Have you finally run out of books to read?"
"If I had why might you think this would be my first choice of diversion?"
"Ouch," she said languidly, pursing her lips, "you're not much fun when you're tense."
"You're worse at saying hello than Thranduil."
The corners of her mouth tightened in disdain. "Do not compare me to that upstart. I have known you for much longer."
"Yet you still think teasing me about my studies will get a rise out of me."
He settled back into his seat, enjoying the familiar rhythm of their conversation. The Lady Bregien had been tormenting him about his reclusive nature since they had discovered their mutual interest in literary exploration and philosophical debate. He tolerated the former, considering it the price he was meant to pay for elevated conversation.
It was a pity she could not get over her dislike of young Lord Thranduil, she might have found in him a worthy opponent for her vicious wit. But Celeborn accepted that those few he allowed into his confidence did not necessarily have to be friends.
Several other revelers had joined them, three of them stood out for being particularly lavish in dress in the manner of minor lords looking to encourage the impression that their standing was elevated through achieving the opposite effect.
The most brazen of these bent his head over the hand of Bregien and let slip several choice phrases concerning her radiant beauty which were duly ignored by the lady in question. Celeborn had to suppress a smile as he watched the exchange knowing that if the lordling did not cease his peacocking soon he would find himself on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing so expertly delivered that he would not notice he had been insulted until several days later when he would spontaneously collapse.
A pale-eyed lady with red and gold blossoms woven into her hair regarded Celeborn with mild interest. "It is not often that we are graced with the noble presence of Lord Celeborn," she remarked idly.
"Not so, my lady," Celeborn kept his tone polite and airy "I am ever in attendance at court."
"In body if not so much in spirit," quipped a gentleman at the pale-eyed lady's elbow.
"I do not see how the state of my spirit concerns anyone present other than myself."
"Indeed," interjected Bregien, "of all the spirits in the kingdom I think we can say that yours is truly the most well-kept."
Many pairs of inquiring eyes turned to her and she basked a moment in the attention before continuing. "I think that we might all benefit from paying as much mind to our spirits in a week has Lord Celeborn does in a morning."
"I do not see any aspect of your person, my lady, that could require even the merest improvement," pressed the over-dressed gentleman, still hovering near her.
"Then you should look harder," Bregien retorted.
"Any excuse to turn my gaze to your fair countenance for a moment longer," he gushed, to the collective intake of breath from those who knew better than to direct such language at Bregien.
Slowly, like a serpent uncurling from its burrow, she tilted her head upward and unleashed upon the lordling the full force of her wrathful stare. Through barely parted lips she told him in no uncertain terms what would become of him if he did not leave her sight at that very instant. Sputtering and flushed the lordling departed with his plumed associates in tow, each casting several disbelieving glances over their shoulder as they practically skipped to keep up with their companion.
By the time everyone's gazed returned to Bregien she was smiling, chin resting sweetly in her palm with a newly-filled drink in her other hand. There was a round of laughter as someone in the circle wondered whether the bird-like lord would ever be able to set foot in the same room as Bregien.
"There'd be significant shortages of lords in Doriath were that to be true," ventured Celeborn, a hint of mischief in his cool eyes.
"Nay," countered another gentleman. "I'd say there are enough who possess the strength to remain."
"Some might call it foolishness," chirped a lady dressed in blue.
"Then I am a fool," concluded the gentleman, offering Bregien his goblet against which she tapped her own.
"If one is so great as to think himself a fool then he is too high for me," she announced.
"Should you prefer one who thinks better of himself, my lady?" someone asked, eager to hear her reply.
"If he thinks himself greater than a fool than I am too high for him," she pronounced with an indulgent smile.
"If it is with stature that you are concerned perhaps one of the Naugrim would better suit your tastes." More laughter at this remark as all present considered the image of the stout, bearded creatures bending the knee in adoration of the Lady Bregien.
"I cannot help but admit there is a certain appeal," conceded the lady to several delighted gasps. So taken with their own mirth they all failed to notice that not for the entire exchange had her eyed ever left Celeborn's face.
In the midst of their banter music had begun to play and couples were slipping through the knots of chairs and tables towards an ever-widening dance floor.
Rising and placing her goblet on the arm of her abandoned seat, Bregien held out her hand. "Come, Lord Celeborn, dance with me."
Rising in turn, Celeborn took her outstretched hand and placed it in the crook of his arm as he led her smoothly through the gathering couples. He did not dislike dancing; he simply neglected to seek out opportunities to participate. They took their places in a row of couples just as the dance began and Celeborn found that he quite enjoyed the sensation of letting muscle memory guide him through the movements, leaving his mind to come up with new remarks with which to tease his friend every time they passed close to one another.
"Are you really enjoying yourself?" she asked during a particular junction which had them circling one another, arms clasped between them.
"I am," he conceded. "I thought I would have to force myself to like it more."
He caught flashes of her smile as she spun several times away from him, raising her arms above her head. The dance increased in tempo until by the time the music ended they were lightly flushed and laughing breathlessly as they escaped the dance floor. Celeborn found a place that was out of the way to catch his breath while Bregien was swept away by a new partner. She had more stamina for such things and Celeborn was happy to be left alone.
Seizing an opportunity to duck out of a hall he climbed up the levels until he reached a large veranda overlooking the trees. The forest was bathed in moonlight, the delicate mist that was rising above the branches was turned entirely to silver waves. In the far distance there hung the barest shadows of a mountain range. Even though he should have been appreciating the beauty of the moment, Celeborn could not help recalling the various phenomena which caused the particular mists of the vale. For him the knowledge enhanced his enjoyment of the experience rather than distracted from it and his encyclopedic habits were not ones he wished to rid himself of entirely for a whole year.
End of Chapter Two.