The spring livestock fair always ended with a dance. Elfhelm and Hilde stood at the edge of the paddock cleared for the occasion (where "cleared" included a large quantity of animal dung, removed for small change by a team of children whose entrepreneurial instincts and eagerness for copper pennies they could spend on sweets had led them to volunteer for the task). Elfhelm held a tankard of beer, Hilde a horn cup of mulled cider; she had earlier announced that "spring" seemed like a bit of a misnomer, given that there was still snow on the ground in places.

"Éothain and Galadwen seem to be circling the dance floor as far apart from one another as they can," Elfhelm observed.

"Aye, but they keep looking across the crowd to see where the other is – and to see if the other one is looking."

"And if their eyes meet, they jump like a scalded cat and pretend they weren't looking at all."

"I know we were daft when we were courting, but surely we weren't that daft?"

"Well, not for long, anyway."

"How long was it between us starting walking out together and you bringing me home with the back of my dress covered in blueberry stains?"

Elfhelm burst out laughing. "Béma, I thought I wasn't going to make it as far as a wedding at swordpoint – I'd visions of your da running me through on the spot."

The young couple's reserve lasted until, a dozen dances into the evening, Éothain ducked round a drunken group of youths and in his haste, collided full tilt with Galadwen. He put his hands up to soften the impact, and found himself holding her waist. All of a sudden, the memory of their embrace in the long gallery came flooding back. And she looked so fine in her dress tonight, a rich dark green setting off her hair, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling in the torchlight that Éothain, never one for the considered, conservative approach to life, threw caution to the winds.

"My lady, would you care to dance?"

And so they set off onto the dance floor, her hand in his. Her head was held proudly, her figure straight as an arrow, her movements graceful as a cat. She looked, Éothain thought, like an elven queen. Then he inwardly laughed at himself for coming up with such a poetic turn of phrase.

The band struck up a merry polka, and Éothain put his hands on Galadwen's waist once more. Step-skip, step-skip, step-skip. Off they went, following the edge of the dance floor. Then Éothain swept Galadwen into a spinning step, feeling her follow his every move, light as thistledown in his arms. The pirouettes seemed to cause the world to contract to just the two of them, the throng of people in the background just a blur. All Éothain was aware of was the warmth of her body beneath his hands, the sway of it against him, her face looking up at him, her eyes sparkling – and the way he could see her bosom rise and fall with the exertion. Dammit, she should always wear this dress and no other. She had looked fine in her riding dress with its split skirts – her figure was perfect whatever she wore. But in this dress, she looked like a goddess. A goddess of love. Or something along those lines, at any rate.

"These dances," she said, breathlessly, "Are a lot more fun than Gondorian court dances."

Éothain gave a wolfish grin, and lifted her clean off her feet as he whirled her round.

The dance came to an end and the couple found themselves at the far side of the paddock, in the semi-darkness far away from the torches and bonfire. Without even thinking about it, Éothain kept hold of Galadwen's hand and drew her behind a clump of bushes. There was no question of him kissing her; more accurately, the two of them launched a simultaneous attack. They kissed in a frenzy, clinging to one another. Éothain felt as though Galadwen's body was melting against his.

They broke apart for a moment to catch their breath, and it was at this moment that Éothain heard voices the other side of the gorse bushes – voices which sounded somewhat theatrically loud.

"It seems only polite to ask Lady Galadwen to join us for a cup of mead, since she leaves to return to Anorien tomorrow."

"I think I last saw her somewhere over here, dancing with Éothain."

"Will they find us?" Galadwen whispered, her breath hot against his cheek.

Éothain groaned, then, equally sotto voce, answered, "They know we're here. Hilde once told me it's a trick they use with their children: watch like a hawk from a distance and home in if they think things are getting out of hand, then make sure you announce your arrival to give them a chance to make themselves respectable – in the knowledge that you haven't given them enough time to get thoroughly unrespectable."

He released her from his embrace, then took her hand, gave her another quick kiss, and led her out from behind the gorse bush.

"Oh, hello Elfhelm, Hilde. I was just showing Lady Galadwen the magnificent view of the stars we get from across the plains."

"Hello Lady Galadwen," said Hilde, playing along. "Can I tempt you to a glass of mead?" Behind her, Elfhelm rolled his eyes.

As the two couples strolled back towards the bonfire, Elfhelm, with his long legs, made sure he and Éothain opened up a bit of a lead on the two women.

"Béma's balls, Éothain, what the hell are you playing at? Your carry-on at Cormallen was bad enough, but this is a young, unmarried woman of respectable family."

"It's not like that," said Éothain. "I haven't…"

"You haven't what?"

"Weeeellll… not done anything beyond kissed her."

"And raised who knows what expectations in her heart, you dolt. You're leading her on, and that's a bloody shitty thing to do."

"But I haven't said anything…"

"And you think that matters? What do you think her father would think if he was here to see this carry on."

Éothain was hit with a sudden, unwelcome realisation. "I suppose I'd feel compelled to ask him if I could court her." Then an even more unwelcome realisation hit him, one which he had no intention of sharing with Elfhelm: And what's more, I'd be happy to court her... Oh, bugger a donkey's arse!

Meanwhile, half a dozen paces behind them, Hilde offered her arm to Galadwen, who smiled.

"You seemed to be having a lovely dance with Éothain."

"Yes, he is an excellent dancer, and," Galadwen gave a little giggle, "Very handsome."

"Now, seeing as your own mother's a long way away in Anorien, I'm going to ask you this in her place. If you were to see your best friend subject to the attention of a handsome young man, far away from her parents and anyone who was there to ensure his intentions were honourable – what would you think of him?"

Galadwen's giggle ceased abruptly, and she eyed Hilde with a shrewdness which belied her youth. "I hope, whatever I thought, I would have the sense to mind my own business. No false promises have been offered, no actions which would compromise my honour have been taken. I am a woman grown, and if I wish to engage in a bit of harmless flirtation, I do not see the harm. After all, given that my energies are currently devoted to putting my family's estate's businesses on a sound footing, it is not as if I have any time for courting in earnest."

Hilde started to bridle with indignation, then stopped herself and began to laugh as she saw the absurdity of the situation. "Well, I suppose that's fair enough."

Then an amusing thought struck her. "I just hope you haven't been leading Éothain up the garden path!"