Too wound up to sleep that night, I instead replayed every word exchanged with Fevelien. I fell in and out of fitful dreams until the sky began to brighten. Rising just before the sun, I snuck down to the forge as the first rays spread over the Bruinen, turning it to gold. I had guessed correctly that Imladan would be there, taking advantage of the cool morning air.
"Morning," I said, stripping off my tunic and laying it aside.
He nodded stiffly in answer, not looking up from the axe head he was sharpening. I drew the crumpled sketches of Fevelien's heraldry from my pocket for quick review, then tucked the parchment between the folds of my tunic where he would not see it while I worked.
Before crafting her hair clip in silver, I decided to practice with an iron dummy. I drew a rod from the scrap bin and began heating and hammering it into shape. First came the outer ring, then the broad-toothed leaf in the center. I cut off the excess, quenched the clip, and set it aside to cool. I heated the extra scrap, then bent and hammered it into the winding shape of the Bruinen. I hammered the end into a point before quenching and setting it beside the clip. Imladan glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the design. He surely recognized it.
"It's for a friend," I said, glad that I had come early and didn't have to answer to Bifur and Bombur, as well.
He'd finished sharpening the axe, and had moved on to a garden scythe. I tried unsuccessfully to block out the steady shick, shick, shick of the blade.
Once the clip and pin were cool to the touch, I slid the pin through the ring. The fit was not perfect, but it laid fairly smooth considering I had done no polishing. I would spend considerably more time shaping and smoothing the final piece, until the pin lay perfectly flush within the leaf ring.
Shick, shick, shick.
"In a pinch, your friend could wield that pin as a weapon. To ward off unwanted suitors, for instance," Imladan said quietly.
"Hopefully it will never come to that," I said, hastily throwing on my tunic. I slid the iron dummy into one pocket and the sketch into the other. Then I made the mistake of turning to look at him. He glared back at me.
Shick, shick, shick.
"As always, thank you for the hospitality," I said, sneaking quickly away back to our chambers.
I arrived just in time for breakfast, with Bifur and Bombur none the wiser. All conversations focused on the tournament.
"I'm going to knock you flat on your arse today, nadad," Kili said.
"You heard Fevelien," Fili said, "If I had the right axe I could make it sing."
"She was speaking to all of us, not to you in particular," Kili insisted.
"Bilbo, will you come today to watch us, at least?" Fili asked. "Perhaps you could add a few lines about me flattening my brother to your lay."
"If you will stop asking me to add a few lines dedicated to your 'magnificent golden beard,' then yes, I will," Bilbo replied.
When we arrived at the training yard, Fevelien immediately split us into two groups.
"Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Dori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur over here on my left," she called. "Thorin, Balin, Fili, Kili, Nori, and Ori, over here on my right. Dori, you will sit out this first match."
"What about me?" Estel asked, standing off to the side while the rest of us matched up for the first round. His practice sword drooped in his hand and his eyes blinked rapidly, fighting back tears.
"You'll spar with me," Fevelien said, tousling his hair. "Your mother gave you permission to train with Calearphen and me, not the dwarves."
"Lucky you!" Fili said to him. "You get to spar with the best here."
Meanwhile, Bilbo made himself comfortable on a bench at center court with his parchment and quill.
"Oh good, someone thought to bring parchment and ink," Calearphen said. "Help us keep score, will you?"
Bilbo sighed. "I thought I would try my hand at composing something to commemorate the occasion," he said.
"Yes, perfect! Commemorate the occasion by keeping score," Calearphen said.
I watched as Fevelien drew Estel off to the side to spar, meanwhile Calaerphen laid out the rules.
"The first to three touches wins their match. You'll switch partners according to our bracket, there." She gestured to a slate that had been set up at one end of the court. "Bilbo and I will keep score. At the end of today's session, the dwarf with the most wins and fewest losses will be declared champion. Since we have an uneven number, some of you will have to sit out a round. Those will not count for or against you."
For my first match, I paired up with my brother.
"Go easy on me, nadad," Bombur said with a sigh, as we bowed to one another.
"Oh, Bombur," I said, raising my axe, "Firstly, you know I'll never go easy on you. Secondly, you do not give yourself enough credit."
Despite his exceptional strength, Bombur was never eager to fight. Despite his hesitance, he managed to score a single touch before I gained my third.
Touch is a bit of an understatement, really, as he swung his axe down onto my right shoulder, thwacking me good and hard.
"You'll pay for that!" I shouted gleefully, bludgeoning his left arm with the butt of my axe before he was able to dodge. I had already scored one whap across his right thigh. After we spent several minutes clashing our axes together, failing to either disarm or knock each other off balance, I finally clipped his left hip on a backswing, and moved on to Bifur.
Calearphen walked amongst us throughout the matches. She called out the scores for Bilbo to record in the margins between his scribbled verses. After each round, Bilbo called out the winners to Calearphen, who recorded our names on the slate.
Bifur hit as equally hard as Bombur, and was eager to put me in my place as the younger cousin. Our match went on so long that everyone else had finished and stood watching us fight on, tied at two touches apiece. Eventually, Calearphen called a draw so that we could move on.
I fought Dori next, and was shocked by how hard he hit. On his third lunge, he smacked me hard against the ribs. I grunted involuntarily from the force of the blow, backpedaling to put some distance between us.
"Sorry, sorry!" he said, wincing.
"I actually feel a welt blooming on my side," I told him, even as we lunged together and hooked axes.
"Dwalin told me the same thing after our match," he said. "It's not on purpose! I have menthol oil you can borrow later."
I lost to Dori 2-3, gaining two more welts for my efforts.
With one win, one loss, and a tie, I found myself facing Balin.
"Don't you dare go easy on me, laddie" he growled, gritting his teeth as he raised his axe and ground his steel-toed boots against the stone. I felt guilty swinging at him until he smacked the broad side of his axe against my elbow.
"I said NOT to go easy," he scolded.
"All right! All right! I won't, I swear!" I said, flexing my tingling arm. I took that match 3-1.
I faced Gloín next. We went hard against each other, neither of us softening our blows. I grew sloppy and fell for more than one of his feints. He laughed cheerfully as he quickly reversed direction, lunging forward to slap my already bruised ribs. I pulled through in the end, 3-2.
Oín followed his brother, clamoring for revenge despite Gloín seeming entirely unbothered by the loss. His eagerness actually worked against him, as he swung carelessly. I easily dodged most of his swings. Trailing 2-1, he made an aggressive lunge toward me, his weight carried high. Remembering Fevelien's advice, I squatted low and barreled into him, blocking his axe with mine and knocking him to the ground. Before he could right himself, I laid my blade against his neck, winning 3-1.
I heard a few gasps. Looking past Dori, Nori, and Ori's shocked faces, I caught Fevelien's eye. She nodded, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her lips. The warmth that bloomed in my belly made up for the bruises.
We had come to the final match of the day. I had four wins, one loss, and one draw. I gathered with the others to check the scores posted on the slate. Thorin and Fili had one loss apiece, and would face each other while I fought Dwalin. Dwalin had earned four wins and two losses. I hadn't wanted to get my hopes up of sparring or something else with Fevelien, but now that it seemed within reach it was impossible not to hope. If Thorin and Fili reached a draw, and I beat Dwalin, then the three of use would tie.
"What happens if there's a tie after the last round?" I asked Calearphen.
She grinned wickedly. "Then it's gets interesting," she said, striding to the center of the court to begin the match.
I looked for Fevelien again, and found her sparring with Estel. Sweat soaked the boy's hair, but he smiled as they danced around each other. Fevelien, looking as fresh as ever, slowed and telegraphed her movements just enough for him to keep up.
"Are we fighting or not?" demanded Dwalin. I turned to face him, and realized that everyone else had already begun. I nodded that I was ready, and he lunged toward me.
Dwalin was considerably taller and more muscled than Balin, and also did not like to lose. We fought each other mercilessly, our blunt blades clashing with our full weight behind them again and again. He touched first, catching my left arm on a backswing. What felt like a long time later, but was only a couple of minutes, I made a lucky swing against his right hip.
A few moments later I smacked him again, this time with a reverse swing to his left side. I started to feel over-confident, and forgot to keep low. Dwalin used his longer reach to his advantage, and within moments tapped me lightly on my right hip. I tried to shake the hit off, but lost all my confidence. Moments later he caught me on my left arm once again.
We slapped each other's shoulders and then I slumped over to the bench to sit between Bifur and Bombur. I turned from my spot to look for Fevelien. She sat on the bench across from us, between Estel and Bilbo. The boy fixed his gaze on Fili and Thorin as they fought on. Bilbo scribbled furiously, eyes focused on Thorin. Fevelien leaned back, stretching her arms above her head.
A low rumble rose from the assembled dwarves as Fili hooked his axe head on Thorin's haft, and pulled the weapon from his grasp. Before Thorin could recover, Fili lunged forward and tapped him gently on the shoulder, winning 3-2. They touched foreheads and gripped each other's shoulders.
"You fought well, nana'inùdoy," Thorin said, "your win is well-deserved."
Fili took a moment to catch his breath, and roll out his neck and shoulders before striding to center court.
"Fevelien," he called. "I challenge you."
Fevelien stood and stretched languorously, then picked up her longsword and glided out to meet him.
"Fetch your blade," she said to Fili, gesturing to the sharpened blade in her right hand.
Fili's eyes widened. "What about possible dismemberment?" he asked.
She grinned. "There will be no dismemberments in this match. Fetch your blade. Score a single touch against me to win."
Kili ran out with Fili's axe, exchanging it for the blunt practice weapon he'd been wielding.
"All right, then," Fili said, bowing and then crouching into his fighting stance.
They circled briefly before Fevelien struck. Fili dodged her sword, then swung his axe. She dodged away easily and struck again. She cycled gracefully through each of the movements we'd been practicing, resembling Limdal in her finesse. Fili fell into step with her, until they were dancing as much as fighting. Fevelien sped up her movements, and Fili kept pace. I couldn't tell whether he was conscious of his steps, or if his body fell into them naturally.
We watched, captivated, as Fili fended off each of her advances for over a minute. At last, Fevelien feinted and then lunged, flicking her blade against the base of Fili's throat. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Fili froze and touched his hand to his neck, then examined his fingers. Not a drop of blood was spilled. Not a mark was left. He bent into a low bow, then bounced forward and gripped her free hand in his.
"Well fought," he said, smiling.
She smiled back and slapped his bottom with the flat of her blade. "That was impressive," she said. "You have worked hard."
"Same time tomorrow!" Calearphen called out, as we all racked our practice weapons and walked toward the gate.
"What do we win if we score a touch against you?" I called to Fevelien, grinning mischievously.
"I thought sparring with me was the prize," Fevelien said, arching her brow.
"Right ... that's right," I said. "Never mind."
"You don't have to fight me. You can choose something else," she said.
"How about your sword?" Kili said playfully.
"Something within reason," she said. "See you tomorrow!" With that, she exited the yard with Calearphen and Estel.
When I visited Dovie in the stable that night, I brought her an extra apple since I'd missed the night previous.
"Sorry, gehyith," I said, scratching behind one ear. "Dinner went late last night."
I hoped that Fevelien might decide to take me up on my offer that night. With that hope, I no longer felt so driven to win the tournament. It would be nice to win at least once before we left, but I had no clue what prize I would choose. My mind always turned to a kiss, but I knew compulsory kissing was no fun. I'd learned as much from the times I'd been assailed by my Auntie Hil. Fevelien would certainly not consider a kiss within reason. Still, imagining a kiss, enthusiastically given, was pleasant.
I was disappointed, but not overly so, when Fevelien did not appear in the stable that night. There would be other nights, and other chances. We had determined through close examination that Thorin's map bore silver runes that would only become legible beneath the crescent moon of midsummer's eve. That night was still two weeks away.
I could hardly believe that we'd been here in Rivendell for two weeks already. Our stay seemed both longer and shorter at the same time. I found I dreaded our departure, and in my most selfish moments concocted circumstances that would allow us to remain.
Perhaps Elrond would tell us that the mountains were overrun by orcs, trolls, or giants even, and we must wait until they'd moved on. Or perhaps the hidden runes would reveal some terrible or wonderful omen, causing Thorin to rethink his plans entirely. Summer would pass into fall, and then he would decide we'd better stay through the winter.
I felt some guilt over these fantasies, and hid them even when Bilbo expressed similar desires when I arrived back in our chambers that night. I found him stretched out in an armchair with his parchment spread out across his chest, fast asleep. I shook him gently awake.
"Wake up lazybones," I said, smiling warmly. "You'll put a crick in your neck, sleeping slumped over in a chair all night like that."
"Hrm? Oh, no, these chairs are quite comfortable. Not quite as comfortable as my bed, though," he said, struggling into an upright position.
"Your bed here, or back home?" I asked.
He tilted his head, considering my question for a moment. "You know, I can't recall the specific feeling of my bed back home? This one here is quite cozy, though. I could grow accustomed to living here."
My smile faltered at his words. "That's a dangerous thought," I said. "We're due to leave soon, and have a long road ahead of us, yet."
Bilbo sighed. "Yes, yes, I know. Thank you for the reminder," he said, sounding irritated rather than thankful. "Goodnight."
He disappeared into his bedchamber as I headed toward mine, imagining myself waving to the rest of the company as they marched out of the valley. I imagined Fevelien by my side, her hand clasped in mine.
I woke early again the next morning and gathered all the silver in my possession, both the coins I'd carried out from the Blue Mountains and the pieces I'd taken from the trolls' lair. I had just enough time to mold a pair of silver rods. I dropped the coins in a crucible and heated them to melting. Then I scraped off the slag and poured the molten silver into two iron molds. I set them to cool, watching them harden. Once they looked dry, I gave them another minute before turning them over and dumping them out. I picked them up quickly with the tongs and plunged them into the quenching oil.
"Is it all right if I leave these here to cool completely?" I asked Imladan.
He frowned, but nodded, watching me as I tucked them away out of sight.
"Thank you. I'll be back tomorrow morning," I said, then hummed the whole way back to our chambers.
Dori won the tournament that day, Thorin the next, and then Fili again. I was always close, but never quite good enough. I fought Bifur to a draw every time we sparred, which hurt me in the rankings.
"Why can't you just let me win one time?" I grumbled at him after we'd tied for the fourth time.
He just chuckled at me with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. At least I arrived back at our chambers to a welcome surprise.
"Bofur," Bilbo said, pointing to a small wooden case on a side table. "Suiloril dropped this off for you with the clean laundry."
"Suiloril? Is that the housekeeper's name?" I asked.
"Yes, it turns out she is quite talkative when you answer the door fully clothed," he said.
I opened the box and discovered a dozen thinly shaved reeds. A tiny folded note spilled out when I opened the lid. I unfolded it and read:
Fevelien said you needed these. I hope they will make beautiful music for you.
- Gliriel
"Thank you," I said to Bilbo, taking the box of reeds and the note into my room.
I spent that afternoon in the forge crafting a new ligature for my clarinet. I wove all the strengthening charms I knew into it as it cooled.
I had already finished shaping the silver into the leaf clip and river pin, weaving them with spells to serve Fevelien. They just needed smoothing, polishing, and burnishing. I smuggled the pieces back to my room that evening along with the ligature, where I already had sanding sticks, polishing cloths, and a burnisher. I bathed as always, and took my post-dinner stroll to the stable.
I'd come back coated in horsehair often enough that Bifur and Bombur no longer inquired about my whereabouts in the evening. They had also come to different conclusions following our marriage conversation with the elves than I had.
"Now you know, nadad," Bombur said, "She is not interested in anything beyond friendship."
I grunted noncommittally. I saw no benefit to arguing with him. Maybe that was the case, maybe not. I intended to find out in due time.
"Even if she were, It might take your entire lifetime for her to develop any kind of romantic notions," Bifur said.
I sighed at this, because he was most likely correct. Still, I wondered whether the process might be sped up if I revealed my feelings to her.
I went to the stables that night as usual and felt a bloom of warmth in my chest when Dovie greeted me with a whinny.
"Don't worry, gehyith," I said, "Your apple is coming."
I had already drawn the fruit from my pocket. The other ponies watched me with keen interest as I made my way along the row of stalls to Dovie's door. She stuck her neck out and nuzzled my neck, tickling my ears with her whiskered muzzle. She took the apple greedily from my palm and crunched it up, sighing as I patted her neck.
"You've thoroughly spoiled that pony," Fevelien said, appearing suddenly beside me.
"Fevelien! I didn't see you there," I said, my heart racing, and not because she'd startled me.
"I just finished trimming Talroval's back hooves," she said.
"Oh, is that something I should be doing?" I asked, looking down at Dovie's feet. They looked fine to me.
She smiled. "The stablehands have been taking care of them. Talroval just doesn't tolerate others poking about his hind legs. You'll want to keep an eye on them once you leave, but they may not need trimming if you're traveling a lot."
"Right," I said, "We will be ... as traveling musicians."
"Did you still want to go for a ride?" she asked. "We've got some light left, since the days are nearing their greatest length."
"Of course," I said, grinning like a fool. "We're almost at midsummer, aren't we?"
"Yes, we are," she said, turning back to Talroval's stall to saddle him. "Preparations are being made for the midsummer's eve celebration."
"There's a celebration?" I asked, stepping on to the crate to pull Dovie's blanket and saddle down from their shelf.
"Quite a spectacular one," she said, "I hear Gandalf will produce fireworks this year."
"Fireworks!" I said. I had heard nothing of fireworks. "Will you be there to watch?"
"I believe so," she said, cinching up the girth. She didn't sound entirely convincing.
Dovie stood very patiently as I fiddled with the saddle until I had it on properly. I used the crate to boost myself up onto her back. She wasn't overly tall, but I had no desire to look a fool by failing my first attempt to mount her.
I had left the stall door open. As Dovie walked through, I leaned over and grabbed the door, heaving it closed behind us. Fevelien sat astride Talroval further down the aisle, looking back at me with amusement.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Let's go," I said, clucking my tongue at Dovie to start her moving. She trotted forward eagerly, and I nearly fell off. I thankfully remembered to lift my bottom off the saddle, so that I didn't slam my jewels into the pommel.
The sun hovered just above the horizon as we left the stable. Fevelien turned us away from the wide, grassy pasture beside the river, turning us uphill on a narrow trail beneath the tall pines. We wound back and forth up the hill, the sun slipping closer to the horizon as we went.
"Where are we headed?" I asked, as we rode farther and farther from the great house.
"That is a surprise," Fevelien said. "But I think you will like it."
The scents changed, from sweet grasses to the fresh-scrubbed smell of pine and the lighter fragrance of night-blooming flowers. The air grew cooler. We rode quietly, side-by-side.
"You've been unusually quiet, is there something troubling you?" she asked.
"I'm just enjoying the evening, and riding with you," I said, my heart pounding faster as the words left my mouth. "Although, I have been wondering whether I will ever come out on top in the tournament."
Fevelien laughed at this, throwing her head back.
"You have good form and fight well enough," she said. "You also remember to use your head ... on occasion."
"But ..." I said.
"But, you get over-eager with your attacks and forget to defend yourself," she said. "And remember to keep low. You used your bulk brilliantly against Oín."
I nodded and sighed. "Can you tell me how to best Bifur?"
She shook her head, tsking at me. "He's asked the same of you. You know each other's tells better than I do," she said. "I told him the same."
"Not even a hint, then?" I asked.
She sighed in feigned exasperation. "If you know your weaknesses, then you know his, as well."
I mulled her words for a moment. "I think I can work with that," I said. "Thank you."
"Don't tell him I told you. Or Calearphen, for that matter. We pledged not to play favorites."
That warm feeling spread again through my chest and belly. Was I her favorite? Or one of them at least? She hadn't given anyone else a nickname, after all.
"We're almost there," she said, turning Talroval toward the left fork when the trail branched.
I urged Dovie faster to keep up. My mouth gaped open as we rounded a final bend. The trail ended beside a steep rock cliff jutting from the ground. Fevelien swung nimbly down from her horse, pulling a wineskin from the saddle. I slid off of Dovie and joined her. We stood near the top of the very basalt cliff that loomed above the stables.
"This way," she said, slinging the wineskin over one shoulder and leading me toward a narrow ledge running along the cliff face.
If there was any place where she might easily murder me without a trace, this was surely it. There would not be much of me left once I struck the ground below. She scampered lightly along the edge of the cliff, stopping occasionally to make sure I still followed, and had not tumbled to my death.
I had scaled plenty of high rocks and steep cliffs, but I preferred to climb with axes and ropes. I kept myself turned toward the rock face, sliding my hands along the rough surface as I took one careful step after another. I spoke to the cliff as well as Mahal as I went. At last, the ledge widened into a natural hollow.
"Here we are," she said, spreading her arms wide.
The valley spread out below us, the tallest spires of the house looking like toys. The river blazed in the setting sun. A bird began to sing, emphatically pouring out an impressive array of whistles, trills and gurgles.
"There's the first nightingale of the evening," Fevelien said, her face breaking into a radiant smile.
She seated herself on the rock, letting her legs hang over the edge. She smiled up at me, patting the rock beside her. I carefully sat down, and was relieved to discover a slight dip on the side of the cliff that I could use to brace my heels.
She pulled the wineskin from the strap over her shoulder. "Orlereth's own blackberry mead," she said, taking a swig before handing it to me.
The mead tasted strong and sweet, and I savored every mouthful knowing she had brought it to share just with me. We didn't speak for a while as we passed the mead back and forth. The sky changed colors and the nightingale sang his heart out. Her violet eyes caught the last of the sun's rays, sparkling like polished gems.
"What are you thinking?" She asked suddenly, and I realized that I had been staring. My heart hammered against my ribs, and it had nothing to do with the height.
"I was just thinking that your eyes are like two perfect amethysts," I said, taking another swig of mead. I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.
"Are you planning to pluck them out?" she asked teasingly. Her eyes darkened as the sun slipped away, her face taking on a wild quality. "Braid them into your beard, perhaps, or set them into a necklace?"
"No," I said, still surprised at myself for plainly stating my mind, and shaken by her sudden shift. "Of course not. I only wish to etch them in my memory, to judge all others against. I think I will never find any that measure up." My face burned under her gaze.
"Eyes or amethysts?" she asked, a wolfish grin overtaking her face.
"Either," I said.
She laughed, the music of it driving away all my doubts. "You flatter me," she said.
"No," I said softly, daring to plumb the depths of her abyssal gaze. "I only acknowledge what I know to be true."
"You are full of surprises," she said, taking the mead from my hand and slinging it back over her shoulder. "And mead, I think. Any more, and you won't be able to make it back across that ledge."
"I'll just have to sleep here, then," I said, stopping short of adding with you.
"You would be missed," she said, standing up. "And I would find trouble for keeping you out."
"You have it backwards. I would find myself in trouble with Thorin," I said. I realized a moment too late that I had used the wrong name.
Fevelien eyed me curiously. "You've drunk so much that you're calling people by the wrong names," she said.
"Yes," I said, laughing nervously as I rose. "Borin, I meant." She had to know that Borin was not his actual name.
"Come with me now, then," she said, offering me her hand. "I'll see that you get safely back."
I took her hand in mine, though I didn't need her support. Her smooth palm felt cool to my touch, her fingers delicate. I held her gently, careful not to grip too hard. This touch felt infinitely more intimate than when we'd danced.
We made our way back across the ledge to the horses. I didn't release her hand until we'd stepped off of the ledge and onto the dirt trail. The horses waited for us there, without having been tied. Dovie nuzzled my ear with her nose.
The trail lay deep in shadow, but Talroval knew the way. He picked his way down the hill more quickly than we had climbed, Dovie following close behind. Soon we passed out from under the pines to the pasture. The sky had darkened to indigo, and the seven stars of Durin's Crown twinkled overhead.
I cleared my throat, deciding to be a little more bold.
"I'm going to miss this place when we leave," I said, drawing up beside Fevelien. "As well as your company."
I caught a flicker of regret cross her face at my words.
"I will depart soon, as well. I'm just waiting to receive word on which route to take," she said.
"Oh," I said. "Not before midsummer's eve, I hope?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I don't believe so, no."
"Where will you head, back to the Woodland Realm?" I asked.
"Eventually," she said, knitting her brow. "You're not the only one who cannot reveal where they are going."
"I wish you safe travels and good luck in your quest, then," I said.
"I wish you likewise," she replied. "Perhaps our paths will cross again, one day. We could trade stories when they do."
"I would like that," I said. "But let's not say goodbye just yet. We won't leave until midsummer day."
"Very well," she said, "I will see you off at the gates, and we shall say our goodbyes then."
I nodded. "Then I will depart this place smiling."
"It is rare for me to catch you not smiling, Raenor," she said, then fell quiet for a moment before adding, "If your path takes you near the Woodland Realm, then you may seek my flet. Look for my heraldry flying from a tall beech tree, on the northeastern edge."
"A beech leaf in a circle of gold, split by a river," I said, blushing as I revealed that I'd memorized it.
"That's right," she said, looking surprised.
"I noticed it above your horse's stall," I said.
She nodded. "Travel north from the Forest River until you spot a stone shaped like a troll, then turn 'll find it three leagues from there. Just look out for spiders as you go through those woods."
I laughed, then said, "I'll gladly stomp on any spiders that trouble you."
"You're going to need bigger boots for these spiders," she replied. "And be careful of Thranduil, as well. He is reasonable for a king, but he also desires shiny things."
"Do you depart at his bidding, then?" I asked. "Do you serve in his military?"
"No," she said. "The Woodland Realm has only a very small standing army. I am bound to serve him only when he musters troops for war."
I inhaled sharply. "Have you fought in many wars?"
"Do not worry," she said. "I've fought many skirmishes with orcs and wargs, but The Woodland Realm has not marched to war since the end of the Second Age."
The corners of her mouth pulled downward despite her reassuring words, and I wondered what she was not telling me.
We stopped and dismounted before reaching the stables, giving Talroval and Dovie a chance to cool down before leading them back to their stalls for the night.
"I will see you tomorrow," Fevelien said, before we parted ways.
"Until tomorrow, then," I replied, "Thank you for the ride."
"There are other sights I could show you, if time allows," she said.
"You know where to find me," I said, smiling as I turned to leave. If I lingered any longer, I feared I might do something very foolish indeed.
I hummed to myself as I made my way back to our chambers, recalling the way her eyes had sparkled in the sunset, and the feel of her cool, smooth hand in mine. I took the plum tree-lined path past our training yard. I missed the voices inside at first, because I was so lost in my own blissful memories.
I didn't miss the thwacking of blunted practice weapons striking each other, however. I stopped humming in order to listen, and caught snatches of two familiar voices, one lower and one higher. The blood drained from my face as I realized what was going on. I dashed for the gate, and - finding it slightly ajar - pushed my way inside.
"Fili! What are you doing?" I shouted, startling the prince, whose back faced me.
Estel, eyes wide, froze in place as he dropped his practice sword. Fili's momentum carried him forward as he swung, striking the boy hard across the chest. Estel fell back onto the stones with a sickening thump and lay still.
Notes:
nadad = brother (Khuzdul)
nana'inùdoy = sister-son (Khuzdul)
gehyith = little dove (Khuzdul)