Part Elven
"I am bored, Erestor!"
"It is far too late at night to be bored, Lady Arwen. Go upstairs and take some rest."
"Where is my father?"
"I do not know."
"And the Marchwarden?"
"You saw him last. Likely he is retired, at this hour. As you should be."
"I am not tired," sighed Arwen Undómiel. She glared at her father's advisor, who was
trying to read a book and doing his best to ignore her. Arwen was used to being ignored
and she absolutely hated it. Could they not figure out that this was why she went to such
lengths to create mischief?
Truly, she wished at the moment to see her father, whom she had not seen since he had
come upon her and Haldir by the edge of the stream and lured Haldir away. She had been
sent to the chamber of her grandmother, Galadriel, which had by far been the most
pleasant event which had occurred in a long time.
Galadriel was the one elf who seemed to care about her, Arwen thought. They had spoken
for many hours. Well, Arwen had done all the talking, it seemed, telling Galadriel all about
the latest parties and visitors to Imladris, and all the trouble that her brothers caused. She
had almost forgotten the subject she wished to know most about -- the odd visitor known
as Amroth, the lost king of Lórien.
When finally it had come to Arwen to ask, Galadriel had changed the subject. Arwen
dared not push her. She thought about telling her grandmother that both Rúmil and Haldir
had confirmed that Amroth was the lost king indeed, but she decided it might get them
into deeper trouble than they deserved -- after all, it was not like Galadriel to refuse to
answer any question of Arwen's.
Arwen swept past Erestor, purposefully trailing the train of her dress over his hand and
knocking his book out of it as she went to the window. She smiled to herself as he made
an impatient noise. Staring out into the golden mallorn trees, Arwen sought the
Marchwarden and his brothers, but it was late indeed and no one was about. Maybe she
would go over to their talan and see what they were doing. If nothing else, they might
have wine.
Rúmil was more likely to tell her more of what he knew about Amroth than Haldir had
been, she thought. Haldir was too stiff and proper. For a very long time, she had felt the
desire to melt that stiffness. She would have liked very much to see Haldir lose his control.
It irked her that he never fell prey to her charms.
She had gone to great lengths to make Haldir fall in love with her, and though she felt she
had made some small amount of progress over the last century, he had never completely
given in to her. He would walk with her, and talk with her, and always pretended, at the
least, to be glad to see her, but he never, ever laid a hand on her.
It occurred to Arwen that he genuinely might not be interested in her. Immediately she
rejected the idea. It was ridiculous, after all. He ought to be pursuing her wholeheartedly,
like so many other elves did -- elves she froze out and ignored completely. Did he not
know that he could at the very least improve his station by having a relationship with her?
Her father seemed to like Haldir well enough. Surely he would not disapprove of a match
between them.
What would he do if she kissed him the way she had kissed his brother earlier today?
She did not dare. Haldir, Marchwarden of Lórien, was not an elf to be trifled with. She
had pushed him, at times, to the edge of his limits, but kissing him went far beyond that. If
she tried it, he might avoid her completely, and that would devastate her. She held a
genuine fondness for him because of the very qualities that irritated her most.
Rúmil was so different from Haldir that it was difficult to believe that they were related.
There were no limits in what she would have dared do to Rúmil. Unfortunately, this was
probably why Rúmil seemed to hate her so much. Yet, she could not help it. There was a
vulnerability to him that touched her. Watching him work himself into frustration
fascinated her, because so few elves ever lost control the way that he did. Generally, they
simply humored her, or overlooked her actions. Her father was the worst at this. He could
see no wrong in anything she did.
Why had she kissed Rúmil?
It had been a whim, a sudden urge to see what he would do. Maybe it was the challenge of
trying to melt him. Maybe it was the knowledge that when he called her beautiful -- at her
demand -- he meant it. Yes, that was a trait he did share with Haldir. He was genuine. He
possessed a nobility that he was not even aware of.
Perhaps, she thought as she stared out into the trees, she would focus her attentions on
Rúmil during this visit. It might be amusing to see if she could make him fall in love with
her, since she had failed with Haldir. Of course, Haldir she might have liked to marry.
Rúmil was less suitable for that, but she might have some fun with him. Arwen smiled as
she plotted. This would also assure her access to more information about Amroth, since
Galadriel was not going to provide her with it… nor was her father likely to.
Still, she meant to ask him. Where was he? He was not with Galadriel, and she doubted he
was with Celeborn. Her father and grandfather tolerated each other but there was no great
friendship between them. Could he still be with Haldir? Arwen felt a flash of jealousy, but
she found it difficult to say for whom she felt it. She inched her way out onto the platform
outside the talan, so she might have a better view of the city.
She picked out first Galadriel and Celeborn's tree, then that of Haldir and his brothers. As
she watched, she saw two figures descend from it. She leaned forward. Was it Haldir and
Rúmil? She sighed. No, it seemed not. Orophin was escorting Amroth from his talan. She
raised an eyebrow. So late at night, too. Interesting. But wait, meant this that Rúmil was
up there alone?
"Where are you going, my lady?" Erestor called from inside the guest talan. She cursed
silently.
"I am just admiring the view," she replied.
Erestor did not respond to that, so Arwen hurried down the stairs. If she was quick, she
might make it to Rúmil's talan before he noticed she was gone. What she would do once
she got there she would decide later.
Her plan was thwarted when she encountered Elrond half-way down the stairs. Arwen
stopped in her tracks when she saw him and he looked at her sternly, lifting a brow. She
hated when he gave her that look. It made her feel guilty if she was up to something, and
generally she was.
"Where are you going, Arwen?" he asked.
"I… saw you coming and came down to greet you," Arwen said, smiling broadly at him.
"I have missed you, father. We have hardly spoken since we arrived in Lórien."
Elrond returned her smile. He continued his trek up the stairs, offering her his arm. Arwen
had no choice but to take it and go back up with him.
"I have missed you as well, daughter. I trust you had a pleasant visit with Galadriel?"
"Oh, indeed," said Arwen. "Long have I missed her. I am glad to see her again. She says
there will be a banquet to rival those of our house in two nights' time. I cannot wait. And
Lord Thranduil is coming from Mirkwood. Do you suppose he will bring Legolas? I do
not care for Legolas. Already Galadriel has twenty elves preparing food. She has promised
me a new gown. And--"
"Peace, Arwen, peace," Elrond said, chuckling softly. "It will be a wonderful banquet, I
am sure. And I know not why you do not like Legolas. He seems an upstanding young elf
-- perhaps a match for you, someday."
"Do not joke about such matters, father!" Arwen felt nauseous at the thought of marrying
Legolas of Mirkwood. It was hard to put her finger on just why she despised him so
greatly, but she did.
"Fear not, my child. Your heart is your own, to give where you will. I will never force you
into a match without love."
Elrond looked distant in that moment, and Arwen wondered briefly about her parents'
relationship. She had been so young when Celebrían had left for Aman. How she had cried
and screamed and demanded to go with her mother! Elrond had taken them all to the Grey
Havens to see the ship off. Celebrían had seemed so weary. Arwen's brother Elladan had
wept as much as she had, but Elrohir and Elrond had been stony and cold as she left them.
"Father? May I ask you something?"
Elrond shook his head, coming out of his reverie. "Of course, Arwen. You know you may
always speak to me of any subject you desire."
They had reached the top of the platform now, and Arwen glanced through the open door
of the sitting room of this guest talan. Erestor was still there, still reading, apparently
never having noticed her attempted escape. That was well enough. She glanced out to
where she had seen Orophin and Amroth. They still appeared to be talking. Finally she
turned back to Elrond.
"Why have we come to Lórien?"
Elrond sighed heavily but replied truthfully. "I sought news of Lord Amroth."
"Amroth? Or Nimrodel?"
"Arwen--"
"Father, I know that Nimrodel holds some meaning to you. I thought her to be merely
legend, but I have met Amroth and he is real. Is Nimrodel real, too? What means she to
you?"
Elrond's expression was grave. "Where did you meet him?"
"In the talan of Rúmil and Orophin. He said little, but was very pleasing to the eye. Haldir,
of course, would tell me nothing of him."
"You spoke of him with Haldir?"
"I speak of many things with Haldir, Father. He is a great friend to me, and I am fond of
him. You do the same, do you not?"
"Haldir is a good friend to me, indeed, daughter. I trust he treats you with the respect that
you deserve."
The unspoken question in her father's words led Arwen to wonder about the nature of his
relationship with the Marchwarden. Could it be that her father and Haldir-- but, no.
Certainly not!
"Haldir never wavers in his propriety," Arwen said, a bitterness flavoring her words.
Elrond nodded. "But, Father, please-- speak to me of Nimrodel."
Elrond sighed. "I knew her once, long, long ago, before you were born. She disappeared
mysteriously, as well you know from the legend. I spent many months tracing her steps,
seeking her, but she was never found. I suppose that with the reappearance of Amroth, my
hope that she might also reappear has been rekindled."
He looked so sad that Arwen put her arms around him. He held her gently and stroked her
hair. The gesture was so soothing. It reminded her that he had always been there for her.
She hoped he always would be.
"Did you love her?" she asked, her voice merely a whisper.
"Very much," Elrond replied.
"Then I hope," Arwen whispered, "That she is found."
"Come inside," Elrond said, letting go of her. "It is late."
"May I have a moment?" she asked, looking off into the darkness.
"Very well," Elrond replied. "Good night, my daughter."
He stepped into the talan and she could hear him speaking with Erestor in low voices.
Arwen looked down at the base of Galadriel's tree to see if Orophin and Amroth were still
there, meaning that Rúmil might still be alone. She saw Amroth ascending the stairs, but
what happened next shocked her. Celeborn was there, kissing Orophin! Arwen could not
believe her eyes. She grabbed the banister of the stairs, watching with wide eyes.
Moments later, Haldir interfered. He took Orophin away with him, heading home, and
Celeborn went up into his talan. Arwen knew not if Orophin was happy or sad to have
been interrupted. She wondered if her grandmother knew what Celeborn was up to. Well.
Surely she knew. Nothing could ever be hidden from the eyes of the Lady of Light.
One more thing to ask Rúmil about, Arwen thought, but now his brothers were back in
their tree and he would not be alone. Tomorrow, Arwen promised herself. Finally
surrendering, she went inside to bed.
