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 Six: Allainces

The dance was energetic with many turnabouts and changes. Thranduil gasped for breath at every lull. Celeborn spoke sometimes of Thingols daughter and while he called her lovely and clever, spitfire or merciless would have been more apt. Every time she came near him she filled her ear with remarks about this lords clammy palms or that ladys dalliances with two of the three young lords in her attendance. Thranduil liked her instantly.

He could sense eyes following them as they whirled about the circle, her giggles chiming the quarter turn. In the days to follow he was certain that Celeborns name would not be far from many a courtly tongue. A job well done by his reckoning.

Twice he'd thrown lucks shimmering gauntlet back down at her feet. He was the nights king, winning at games, trickeries and the eye of Thingols own daughter who on any other day would stir not even a hair on her dark head to look in his direction. But here she was, the musicians' final notes were drifting up to the dark crevices of the vaulted ceiling and her fingers were twined around his.

Then pain shot through his hand as she tightened her grip on him. He choked on a cry of surprise. Instead he forced a cough from his tightening airway when he realized that Luthien had her eyes fixed on the fingers she was crushing.

Her lips began to circle the word 'what' so Thranduil did what appeared to be the best option. Tangling her arm into his elbow he steered them both into the crowd which parted to absorb them. There was a shallow ambulatory that ran the length of the feast hall. Servants whisked through it, often in pairs, whispering and chattering beyond the ears of their betters.

Thranduil let his smile slip away as the shadow fell over them both. Luthien had not protested the displacement as they moved but she did so now, hissing like the kittens that she frequently kept scampering around her feet.

"You will not handle me like this, what are you doing?"

"Would-"

"I expect answers. Honestly, what is the matter with you?"

"If you would - "

"I cannot believe this," she spat. "I was blind. Foolish! You'd better have an explanation for -" her eyes narrowed, "why are you doing that with your mouth?"

"You are crushing my hand, my Lady."

The much abused hand was given a solid yank. Thranduil yelped and they both froze, searching the colonnade for prying eyes. None were found and, redoubling her fury, Luthien pressed him backwards until he was pinned between a stone column and her body, which was arched back so that her eyes blazed holes into the skin of his face.

"I will crush more besides if you do not tell me what is going on."

"I don't -"

"Lies. I don't see a ring on your hand. My cousin is never without it for he knows where his duty lies. And while you are every measure his double and have made fools of us all you are not he. Scoundrel I name you, thief even, what have you done with him?"

"Peace," Thranduil winced as she squeezed. "Peace and be calm."

She blazed. "I will not be silent. Your end comes at one word from me. One cry. You are an intruder and I would know your purpose." Her hand flew to his face, trying to take hold of his mask.

Rising onto the tips of his toes, Thranduil twisted out of her reach. "I will explain if you would just -"

Her fingers froze against his jaw, he could feel the hard edges of her nails and blew a gusty sigh as she retracted.

"Your voice is different."

Thranduil released his shoulders and sagged against the column. The carved stone was digging into his back. Slowly he brought his own hand to his ear.

"May I?" She nodded.

Unhooking the band he let his mask slip from his eyes. She watched his hand, her fox-face intent as the predator she impersonated. Holding the strand of satin he let the mask fall into her palm. With the truth in her hand Luthien shrank, regaining the aspect of an elf-girl. She shifted on her feet and dropped his captive fingers. Her eyes darted from him to the lace mask and back.

"I have seen your face but I do not know you." Her brow puckered above her nose.

"I am known to your cousin Celeborn. He calls me friend most days."

"The Warden Oropher - "

"Is my father."

"It's the nose." She smirked and Thranduil felt the tip of the offended feature redden.

"So I'm told."

With a sharp inhalation she jumped against the column so that they were pressed up together. Several voices grew in volume and then receded and they were alone in the dimness once more with the jollity of the feast not fifteen paces from their hiding place.

"My Lady, I promise I meant no harm to you or the court."

"I know," she chirped, playing with the picot edge of his mask. "It's a poor assassin that spends his time dancing and tripping in front of out most honoured guests." Tipping her nose in the air and pressing her shoulders back she made an imitation of her father which was more amusing with the additional fox features.

"I only meant it as a harmless game," he noted that her eyes lit up at the word. A crescent of colour appeared around the bottom edge of her mask.

"Does Celeborn play as well?"

"Ah, no." Thranduil wondered how much he ought to reveal. While the King's daughter had certainly shown a penchant for mischief her loyalty wore shorter reins. And what reason might she have for humouring a lowly courtier such as himself. "Or rather, not as such."

Maybe it was the eagerness in her eyes or the innocent curl of her smile. Perhaps he had softened to her from the moment that they had danced. Some beguiling voice crept into his head and whispered that here before him might be an ally worth keeping. He was bound to complicate this charade further and the only thing more fun that a secret kept alone was a secret shared.

And so he told her everything. She asked few questions and by the time he had finished she was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"What fun," she said, pressing her fingers together.

"So you won't betray me to Celeborn."

She swung her curls.

"My lady -"

"Luthien," she corrected airily. "Secrets make us friends, Thranduil."

Friends with the elfling daughter of his ruling lord and lady. Thranduil's eyebrows arched towards his forehead. He was worried by the queer turn of her smile. There was something in it that he recognized although it was not so easily placed.

"It is a pretty poor secret."

"But I have a better one." She placed the mask back into his hand, which was only aching now, and pushed it upwards, indicating that he was to put it back on.

The temptation was too strong and as he tied the mask back over his face she dropped a precious secret into his ear. When he finally understood what had caused his friend's undignified exit from the hall his heart was twisted in equal parts joy and apprehension.

"Now, " she brushed a wrinkle from the front of his tunic. "You must promise me one thing."

How many cautionary tales begin this way, mused Thranduil. But he smiled and invited the puckish girl to continue.

"Promise that it will be fun."

More feet approached and Thranduil heard Luthien's name called. The time of their hiding was over but they could not leave until he addressed the jaunty little hand that was now stuck out between them which he now grasped without hesitation.

"You have my word."

"I do, don't I." Her shoulders shook and she spun away from him into the dazzling light of the hall.

End of Chapter Six