Hi everyone! I'm sorry it has taken so long to get back to posting! Just so you know, Part 2 is absolutely awesome and reminds me so much of my own love story, which occurred after the writing on this very long story, it's crazy and sweet and all that jazz! Please, please let us know how you like it!

Part 2

Chapter 15: A Dance

34 years later

Dírhael busied himself going on missions, leaving home for sometimes over a year at a time. The rest of the family hated having him away so often but knew that was how he coped with his grief, how he made something of himself to make up for everything his twin missed. Now he was on his way home for a while from yet another long mission.

Alcarin, a Dúnedain colleague, urged his horse forward beside Dírhael. "Why don't you come home with me tonight? There is a dance and lots of good food," he stated. "In the past ten years I've know you, you have not been to any social gatherings."

Dírhael contemplated the invitation. "I suppose," he drawled.

"Lots of food, fun, and pretty girls," Alcarin urged.

Dírhael smiled faintly. "If you insist."

"I insist."

"Well, I must head back over to the inn and put on a change of clothes. I will meet you at the village square," Dírhael informed.

Alcarin smiled at his success. It took a lot to pull Dírhael from his hermit-like ways. In the ten years that he had known the Ranger, Alcarin had only managed to learn that Dírhael had a sister, but that was all of his background Alcarin could discover. That and the fact that Dírhael had some abhorrence of the chieftain for some reason.

They met at the village square about an hour later and loped off to the west.

Ivorwen combed her long golden hair and glanced out the window. It was then she spotted the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. Her heart stopped beating for a second, then pounded furiously. The way his pale sandy locks flowed freely in the soft breeze melted her heart. Then his face turned towards her, a deep sadness reflecting in his eyes. Her hand subconsciously stretched towards him, longing to give him the comfort he desired and needed. She scooted further into the open window and put her elbows on the sill, cupping her face in her hands as she gazed at him.

In her gift of foresight, she instinctively knew their futures were somehow meant to be together, though how she could not yet tell. She only needed to figure out a way to meet this mysterious man as he strode away. Sighing, she went back to combing her hair so she could arrange it for the dance that night.

"That is my father's house," Alcarin pointed to the grand home. "I would invite you in but they are probably at the dance already. Come on before we are late."

As they drew nearer the location Dírhael began to suspect something. "Alcarin…where is this dance?"

"Um…ahem…the chieftain's," Alcarin stuttered. "Look, I know you have something against him, but this is a dance…You won't have to talk or sit with him the whole night."

He noticed Dírhael's scowl come and then fade. "I guess you're right," the Ranger gave up.

Alcarin breathed a sigh of relief. "One night won't hurt you."

Meanwhile, Ivorwen had walked with her family a couple of hours after she beheld "Mr. Handsome-beyond-belief" to the chieftain's home, flanked by her older brother Eledhwen and younger brother Ohtar. Their youngest sister, Udele, stayed home with their seven nieces and nephews, rather uninterested in meeting young men at the moment.

Her parents stepped up to the door and were ushered inside the lavish home.

"Welcome!" the chieftain, Arador, and his wife greeted the family as they took their hands. Ivorwen smoothed her sapphire blue satin gown and hoped she looked alright as Ohtar led her to the dance floor. "Care to do this nêldringalilta* with me, milady?" he bowed, a comic grin on his face.

"Why not?" She laughed as he took her hand and began one of her favorite dances.

All too soon, the music ended and they returned to the sidelines. Ohtar looked around, spotting an attractive young woman with auburn hair and went to pursue the next dance with her.

Ivorwen got a glass of punch and settled beside her mother; she hated mholcas** and therefore would refrain from making herself available on this one. While she had a hard time securing a partner for every other dance, it was always the one she loathed where the men would ask her to join them

Sensing her daughter's silent struggle, Cylliel patted her hand. "You are beautiful, even if you do not think so. You just have not found the right one to appreciate that yet."

"But I do not feel beautiful! If I were truly gorgeous, I would not have to stoop to dancing with my own brothers and father, and the occasional older gentleman who takes pity on me! What is wrong with me? Here I am, thirty-three, and have yet to gain a suitor." She would have continued her rant had she not noticed the blonde man step through the doorway with Alcarin, looking rather uncomfortable. Her heart pounded and her stomach flipped over, the punch she had just sipped turning sour as she beheld the man of her dreams. Her breathing became heavy and she couldn't draw her eyes away as she fanned with her fancy blue satin fan. Her cheeks pinked, eyes wide as she gazed, unable to tear away. Staring has always been one of her faux pas and she made no move to change it.

"Are you alright?" her mother asked.

"Never been better!" she breathed, and Cylliel followed her gaze, then knew exactly what her daughter meant.

"Greetings," Chieftain Arador smiled as the two Rangers entered across the room from the young woman and her mother. "It is good to see you, Alcarin. Who is your friend?"

"This is Dírhael, sir."

"Have we met before?"

Alcarin glanced at Dírhael. He couldn't decide if the Ranger looked like he was going to walk out or punch the chieftain in the nose.

"I don't remember," Dírhael stated coldly.

They moved on a bit before Alcarin spotted his family. He introduced Dírhael to his father and brothers.

"My mother is over here, and my oldest younger sister," he chatted. "My youngest sister is at home with my children, probably."

They approached an older woman and girl sitting together.

"Mother. Ivorwen. This is Dírhael, my latest traveling companion." Another lady walked up and placed her hand on Alcarin's shoulder, and he turned to smile broadly at her. "Ahh! And this lovely young woman is my wife, Zara."

The couple embraced. "You're home at last," Zara breathed.

Dírhael bowed to the three women and strolled over to get a drink, a bit flustered at the beautiful blonde woman. He had evidently been out on the North Downs far too long. Finding a woman so physically attractive was not something he had even thought about in a long, long time. Alcarin nudged him as he got a drink for his wife.

"That is my sister," he pointed to the young woman. "She doesn't get asked to dance except for us brothers, even though she is the best dancer at all the balls. Do me a favor and go dance with her. Go on!" He gently pushed his friend in her direction, winking. "She doesn't bite!"

Dírhael walked nervously over to the young woman…Ivorwen. "May I have this dance?"

Looking from side to side, Ivorwen noticed she was the only woman standing in the near vicinity, and there before her was the handsomest man in the world! Raising her right hand, she pointed a finger to her chest. "Me?" Her heart pounded so furiously she thought it might fly from her body at any given moment as she awaited his verification.

"There is no one else here," Dírhael smiled. He took her hand and gently pulled her into the dance.

His hand felt deliciously warm in her cold one, now sweaty with her excitement. As they began to dance, she noticed he seemed uncomfortable with the movements, as if he had not had much practice. She unconsciously frowned a bit, taking the lead even though that was supposed to be the man's job. She should have known better than to expect him to be any different than the other men with whom she danced.

He held her at a chaste distance and she used the opportunity to study his face better. A bit older and more seasoned than she first thought, he was by far the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. Even the small, faint scar on his temple above his left eye added a sort of daring flare to his demeanor. She wondered how he got that scar; she too bore one on her face, a faint groove almost exactly in the middle of her forehead that, thankfully, wasn't noticeable unless one looked closely. Shaking herself as the music stopped, she smiled as they left the dance floor. "Thank you! Have you danced much?"

"A little," he answered. "I'm Dírhael, by the way." He realized how stupid this was since Alcarin had introduced them. Perhaps a fever was developing, since his brains were addled and he couldn't think straight, not while looking at her. He found it embarrassing that she danced far better than him. Leave it to him to screw things up right off.

"Ivorwen," she smiled with her lips only as he accompanied her to the refreshment table, dissatisfied with his vague reply. "So, how did you and Alcarin meet? I don't recall seeing you here at a ball before."

"We were assigned together and became friends, and we requested to be placed together. Although," Dírhael hesitated, "he prefers longer stints of time between missions than I do. I have never been to a ball before," he admitted.

"Alcarin likes coming home to his wife!" she laughed, relieved to get a bit more information. "And that does explain why I hadn't seen you before. I attend practically every ball. You can probably tell I love dancing. Although it is frustrating at the same time."

"Oh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He sipped at the punch; the food was almost too delicate for the Ranger.

An expression of sadness washed over her face and a tinge of bitterness colored her voice. "Look, I think it is terribly good of you to humor my brother by asking me to dance, even when you didn't want to. I know that there's something dreadfully wrong with me, because no one ever wants to dance with me. But for some reason, they all try to get me to dance the mholca with them, the one dance I utterly loathe and despise with all my being!"

"He asked me to dance one round with you." A faint smile traced his lips. "But I ask you if you will dance again?"

"You mean you want to dance with me?" Her heart pounded and her insides squeezed together, all too familiar a reaction when she developed a crush on someone.

"Yes," he stated, taking her hand. The next dance was a nêldringalilta and the slow music seemed to soothe Dírhael's restless heart.

Ivorwen's heart leaped with joy. Maybe he did actually want to dance with her. Then again he could just be putting on politeness for her brother's sake. Alcarin somehow managed to get people to do things for him, even when they did not want to do them. She once again noticed his awkwardness. It would help if he would hold her closer and loosen his posture a bit, to relax and enjoy himself. She wanted him to do more than allow her to turn every once in awhile; if she only had someone as skilled as she, there were hundreds of beautiful stylistic moves they could make together. He evidently truly had not danced for a long time and likely had never had formal lessons like she had been blessed with all her life. Despite everything working against him, he danced well for a beginner and showed great skill that longed to shine forth once he became more comfortable.

"Thank you!" she beamed at her new friend after the music died away.

"You're welcome." Dírhael bowed slightly.

Another mholca was played and then a lively piece. Five other songs followed, two of which he danced with Ivorwen.

The evening wore on, then Alcarin saw Dírhael saddling his horse. "The night is young and you are leaving?" he asked.

"Tell your sister that she is a good dancer," Dírhael answered, avoiding Alcarin's question.

"I will see you tomorrow?" Alcarin inquired. "Don't you run off."

"I won't," Dírhael promised, leaping into the saddle.

Alcarin shook his head and returned to the party as Dírhael disappeared down the road.

Ivorwen had never had so much fun at a dance in her life. Eledhwen nabbed her for a minuet and she missed the handsome blonde Ranger's exit. Her older brother smiled knowingly at her. "I see you have finally met someone!"

"Met someone? What, pray tell, do you mean?"

He chuckled. "You know who I mean. That handsome blond Ranger Alcarin introduced you to."

"Oh him. His name is Dírhael. You don't know him, do you?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure. You know we rarely cross paths, Alcarin and I, since we are skilled differently."

They chatted some more until the dance came to an end, her brother sensing her attraction even through her evasive answers. Yet another foul mholca started. Ivorwen grabbed her best friend Rícan and dragged her out into the gardens behind the house. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes. You know I love watching you dance. You are so graceful. And it is nice to have an evening without my son, as much as I love and miss him."

"He is a sweetheart but sometimes a handful," Ivorwen smiled.

"Now you tell me about that dashing Ranger!" Rícan demanded, smiling.

"Dashing Ranger? You are aware this whole dance is full of Rangers, both handsome and comely?"

"Yes. You know who I mean. I see that little sparkle in your eye. What is his name?"

"Well, in the top five are Alcarin, Eledhwen, and Ohtar," Ivorwen smirked.

"The golden-haired one who looked a bit uncomfortable dancing and could not match your steps like your brothers can."

"Alright, you win. His name is Dírhael. He was uncomfortable dancing. I do not think he has much experience. And he was rather quiet. It was a bit awkward just to dance, but he concentrated on the music so hard I was afraid to try to get him to talk more. Not to mention he did not seem to want to reveal much about himself." Ivorwen sighed and gave her friend a sad look.

"Time will tell. Come, we should go back in before we are missed. The mholca should be finished now." The best friends embraced and walked back inside, making their way to their families.

Alcarin had also returned and approached his sister. "Dírhael had to leave early."

Her face fell. All good dreams had to come to an end.

Sensing her slight distress, he laid a hand on her shoulder. "He wanted me to tell you he thinks you are a good dancer. He is not a man who gives compliments lightly!"

"He said that about me?" She could hardly believe her ears and perked up.

"Yes! Come, take your mind off things by dancing with me."

The rest of the night was spent dancing with her male family members and once with chieftain Arador. When Ivorwen found herself back in her chambers in the wee hours of the morning, she found she could not sleep from the night's excitement.

*This dance is very similar to a waltz & is in ¾ time. I made up the name using Sindarin elvish; I think it ended up being "three-beat dance" or something along those lines.

**The mholca is similar to a polka. I believe it's the Finnish name for polka (but perhaps Welch).