Guys, sorry for the late update. I recently moved and we all know what a nightmare that can be. I just wrote this chapter last week into this week…so bear with me.

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It was an enchanting night and a perfect ending to a relatively peaceful year of reign. The very forces of nature seemed to conspire in their efforts to usher in a blessed new year. The evening skies were a mesmerizing color of indigo, dazzled by countless sparkling stars. The night breeze was gentle, though crisp, adding an extra vigor to the execution of the festive outdoor activities. The redolence of the gardens: the sweet scent of pink and white roses; the mixed and mild aroma of white lilies, dahlias, and a wide assortment of exotic flowers, collectively crowned the evening with a charming appeal. There were couples and groups loitering the paved walkways in a desultory fashion, engaged in idle chatter, some seated on the handsome stone benches that intermittently hugged the shaded paths, while others were content to observe a small group of free-spirited young folks, who had taken to dancing near the gazebo, where the outdoor orchestra serenaded the roaming guests.

Near the water fountain, a couple was to be seen quietly conversing. Some wondered who they were, for, they were a strikingly beautiful couple. The tall lord was wrapped in a green cloak, kneeling before the fair lady, whose hair was the color of chestnut brown and softly highlighted by the glow from the tall, evenly spaced, lantern poles, that lined the paved lanes. Those who wandered near them could clearly discern the dampened state of the fair maidenÂ’s face. They wondered, but had no answers, and very soon grew disinterested and progressed on to more fulfilling amusements.

Legolas knelt on one knee observing Melian. She was seated on a carved stone bench, overshadowed by a large, ancient tree. Her face was still pale, although her calm had been sufficiently restored. He longed to reach out his hand to smooth away the remnants of her tears. He longed to take her hand to gently kiss it. But he restrained himself. He had no explanations for what had occurred to them within the past hour, nor could he shake the feeling of melancholy that oppressed his heart. Never before had he experienced anything like it. It was a struggle to recover his spirits. And the superb music that occasionally drifted to them from the platform of the gazebo did little to dispel the gloom that engulfed his heart.

“What has happened, Legolas?” Melian whispered in a lamentable tone. She was wiping her face free of tears. Gone was the restraint that had formerly governed their conversations. “In all my years, I have never felt such immense despair, such sadness. I feel monstrously deprived of every good feeling.” She turned to Legolas imploring, “But why should that be?”

Legolas observed her in contemplative silence. It seemed to him then that she was the most vulnerable that he had ever seen her before. She seemed confused, but less shaken, and he marveled at her current disposition. Just for a moment, he forgot himself. He reached over, taking her hand, with the irresistible yearning to raise it to his lips, in a show of affection. But instead, he gently pressed it in reassurance. “I assure you that I feel as you do. Except, there was not much joy within me to dispel.” Their eyes met in silent understanding, but the moment was brief, and the invisible barrier between their hearts was swiftly resumed. “Come,” he encouraged, rising to his feet, “perhaps if we join in the gaiety, our spirits would be uplifted.”

Melian rose mechanically. Her will was not her own and her emotions in disarray. She leaned lightly on the arm that Legolas offered, and for the first time in weeks, she was unconscious of the breach in their formerly budding friendship.

After the expiration of half an hour, she was beginning to feel like her old self. Legolas had been right. Mingling with the guests had worked to elevate her spirits; especially the younger guests, who contrived to find amusement in the most improbable ways. Before long, she found herself laughing, and a while later, conceding to the persuasive encouragement of a few eager, young guests to complete the set in a lawn dance.

Legolas, on the other hand, exhibited little change in mood. As long as she was entertained he was content. But ever so often his mind would wander to Aranwe. He was certain that in some way, Aranwe was the author of their enigmatic experience. His father had told him once that Aranwe possessed a hidden power that was potentially terrible in its revelation.

“I wonder, do they have any idea how old we are,” Melian whispered amusingly to Legolas.

“What does it matter?” he returned, good-naturedly. “Our spirits might be old but our limbs are young.”

Melian smiled. “You are absolutely right, my friend.”

Legolas returned her smile, though it was faintly stinted. His sharp intellect was already deciphering every possible implication for her use of the word “friend,” when referring to him. Did it mean that he was now elevated back to friend? Or, did it mean that she was now content to be “just” his friend? Thus his mind was engaged, when one of the gallant young lords came to claim Melian’s hand. The dance dictated the exchange of partners, which promised to be entertaining.

Legolas and Melian were not the only companions wandering the grounds. Nessa and Lady Arien, escorted by Erchirion and Lord Alcarin, were even then nearing the gazebo. The volubly admiration of the throng, that was observing the dance, had attracted their footsteps hither.

“Can I never escape him?” Lady Arien complained quietly to Nessa.

Nessa furtively glanced at Erchirion and Lord Alcarin before softly saying, “I give you my word that before the end of this evening, you will be given the opportunity to act as you desire.” She leaned closer to Lady Arien. “Erchirion has agreed to engage him for half of an hour after dinner. That is all the time he would promise me.”

Lady Arien exclaimed joyously, “Could this be?”

Nessa nodded warmly. “But before you thank me, I must admit that my motives were of a purely selfish nature,” she teased. “To have you unhappy all evening would certainly ruin my pleasure.”

Lady Arien smiled appreciatively. She placed her hand affectionately on Nessa’s arm. “Really, thank you. You have no idea how smothered I have felt for the past few days. My brother has never ceased to shadow my footsteps. And in his absence, I am still subjected to his scrutiny. His manservant performs his bidding.” It was apparent to Nessa that her friend was genuinely frustrated. “Oh, if only father would hurry his return. This is too much.”

Nessa gently squeezed her hand in commiseration. “You are always welcomed here when you so desire it.”

Lady Arien smiled, “I know. I will keep that in mind.”

Nessa began to survey the crowd, reveling in the surrounding festivities. The enjoyment in the air was palpable: the hum of lively chatter, mingled with contented laughter, accompanied by sweet musical notes, swelled the atmosphere. Her eyes wandered to the Royal Residence, whose throbbing reception rooms were bathed in bright lights. Her eyes drifted further to the second level of the structure and her lips parted in astonishment.

“What is it?” Lady Arien immediately inquired. Her eyes followed Nessa’s gaze and her reaction was equally startling. “Who is he?”

“I am not sure. I have never seen him before,” Nessa responded meditatively, her eyes riveted to the softly illumined balcony.

“He is alone with her ladyship, yet you do not know him?”

“I can assure you that I have never seen him before. He is not someone I would easily forget,” Nessa replied, in a tone of entrancement.

“His beauty is remarkable, even from this distance. Endearing, almost.”

“Yes, well, with good fortune we might be introduced to him later this evening.” Nessa reluctantly withdrew her eyes from the balcony, though her mind still pondered the identity of the mysterious personage. But, her meditations were halted abruptly, when she felt a presence near her. It was Erchirion.

“Your pardon, Lady Arien, but might I have a word in private with Nessa?” Lady Arien nodded then departed to join her brother. “Remind me again why I am so accommodating?”

Nessa smiled sheepishly. “Is it really that terrible?”

Erchirion smiled bitterly. “Another five minutes in his company and I shall be desirous of ending my own misery.”

Nessa smiled apologetically. “Dinner will be served shortly. After that, I ask only for one half of an hour of your time. Will you do this?”

Erchirion was genuinely as frustrated as his good nature would allow. “I will,” he answered, remorsefully. “But only for one half of an hour and not a second more,” he continued emphatically.

“I knew you would not disappoint me,” Nessa replied sweetly. He turned to leave then but she stayed him with her hand. “Erchirion, thank you. You are a good friend.” Erchirion slightly nodded before taking leave of her. He had a queer expression upon his face that Nessa had failed to distinguish.

Soon after, Lady Arien rejoined her, reticently saying, “Such a tragedy.”

Nessa rolled her eyes before sarcastically responding. “And what tragedy could you possibly discover among all this festivity?”

“You do not see it?” Lady Arien asked, ignoring the derisive undertone in Nessa’s voice.

“Of whom are you speaking?” Nessa queried, with marked indifference.

Lady Arien scrutinized her friend. She had really meant what she perceived to be an attraction on Erchirion’s part, but instead, she decided to maintain her silence on the subject for the present. “Honestly, Nessa, you have to be the most self-absorbed person of my acquaintance,” Lady Arien teased. “That is, excluding my brother, of course. Or, perhaps I have spoken too hastily. It could be that you are more of a novice when it pertains to matters of the heart.” She slowly shook her head, convinced that her conclusion was correct. “Yes, I think my latter surmise do you more justice.”

“I never professed to know a great deal about love,” Nessa returned uncomfortably.

“You are right. I do recall you being somewhat cynical about it. Which leads me to ponder other questions, of course. But, I will not pester you with my curiosities tonight,” Lady Arien coyly stated. “Rather, I will appease your inquisition by telling you about that tragedy I alluded to earlier.”

“Well?” Nessa asked impatiently.

Determined to adhere to her earlier resolution, Lady Arien decided to explore a similar situation that she had detected some time earlier. “Have you never noticed the way in which Prince Legolas stares at Lady Melian?” As she said this, her face was aglow with a triumphant smile, reminiscent of one who had unearthed some closely guarded secret.

Nessa was silent. A stream of images flashed before her eyes and she finally saw clearly. “Now that you mention it,” she slowly continued, “I have. But I have never attributed any deeper meaning to it.”

“And now?” Lady Arien asked expectantly.

Nessa’s eyes sought Melian, who was currently dancing with one of the Gondorian young lords. She watched as Melian exchanged partners in the dance until it was Legolas’ turn to dance with her. Now that Lady Arien had opened her eyes to the possibility of a closer connection between the two, every action was penetratingly clear. In her mind, the way in which the two clasped hands and exchanged glances was enough to confirm Lady Arien’s assertions. But there was something else more visible to her as a close intimate of Melian’s. She decided to question Lady Arien further. “May I ask what is so tragic about them?”

“Watch closely,” Lady Arien returned confidently. “The clasp of their hands seems identical to the other couples, but if you look carefully, it is more rigid. See how the clasps of the other couples are relaxed?” Nessa nodded. “Then look at the way they barely maintain eye contact. The other dancers, be it friends or lovers, are more at ease. They flirt, they laugh, they gaze. Now, observe the way Lady Melian interacts with her successive partner.”

Nessa gasped. There was a noticeable change in MelianÂ’s demeanor while she danced with her next partner. She appeared more relaxed and maintained genial eye contact.

Lady Arien smiled proudly, before triumphantly declaring, “My father has repeatedly told me that I am a good judge of individual behavior.”

On the contrary, Nessa was uneasy. She felt as though she had infringed upon Melian’s privacy. “Is it polite for us to be thus engaged?” she said in self-reproach.

Lady Arien’s smile slowly dissipated. “You are right. I almost forgot myself. But no harm done.” She turned to Nessa, “But are you not at least a little curious about what hinders their relationship? After all, I was told that he is unattached. I am certain that there are several ladies here tonight who would be pleased by that knowledge.”

Nessa chuckled. “That may be, but his people are leaving these shores. There may be some from his realm who will linger here in Middle Earth, but there is a good chance that he might not be one of them.”

“You speak confidently. Why is that?”

Nessa sighed. “Not long ago, during our dinner conversations, it was openly discussed between her ladyship and the prince. She told him that her grandmother rarely predicts imperfectly.” The curiosity on Lady Arien’s face intensified. “Apparently, the Lady Galadriel, who is her ladyship’s grandmother, warned the prince about residing here in the South. A strange saying was used. I cannot recall it accurately, but I believed she told him that the calling of the sea will awaken within his heart.”

Lady Arien was silent. “They are a strange folk,” she replied, after a brief while.

Nessa smiled. “Perhaps they would say the same of us. But I have grown use to their customs.” She paused before slyly continuing, “I know what it is that bothers you. It upsets your certitude that in the end, love might not indeed conquer all. Here are two individuals, who clearly share a mutual affection, yet, something hinders their match.”

“You mock me?” Lady Arien asked, in a vaguely injured tone. “I cannot help who I am and I will not repent my convictions. I do believe that in life, there is no greater gift than love. I have seen how it has transformed my father from a strong, vibrant man, to a man prematurely aged and broken. My mother’s death has multiplied his years in appearance. If it was not for my brother and I, he might have followed her to the grave, a long time ago. Our love sustains him. It is another reason why I place a high value on the strength of love.”

“I am sorry,” Nessa said softly. “It took your words to remind me of the love shared between my own parents. How easily I forgot, even when my mother has chosen to linger in our village to be near his grave. But then, I was never a sentimental person. From the day I first entered this city, I have been on a journey to finding myself. And unfortunately, some of my cynicism still lingers.”

“Nessa,” Lady Arien softly returned, “Never apologize for who you are. “Only ask forgiveness from those whom you might have wounded with your words. There is nothing for me to forgive of you. Your difference of opinion often inspires me to further thought. I like that about you.”

Nessa smiled. “Then we can both learn from each other.”

“I would say so,” Lady Arien replied. “Now, what do you say to rescuing Erchirion from my brother’s perorations?”

Nessa laughed lightly. “I think that is an excellent idea.”

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On the second floor, in one of the private rooms set aside for her intimate guests, Arwen was alone with her maidens. She had parted with Aragorn sometime earlier to allow him to attend to Faramir, Prince Imrahil, and several others of their gentlemen guests. She was grateful for the time alone, to rejuvenate her spirits and gather her wits. The hour spent receiving their guests, had felt like an eternity. It had been her original design to have Melian introduced with them, but their unusual experience had altered her plan.

She rose from her seat, wandering over to the balcony. In a solitary attitude, she placed her hands on the cold marble barrier, glancing down at the grounds below, her keen eyes surveying the festivities. For a brief spell, she closed her eyes, allowing the sweet melody of the orchestra to wash over her senses. The hum of lively chatter and occasional laughter, drifted to her from below. She took pleasure in the affirmation that their guests were enjoying the evening. And it was just the beginning. Avallon had outdone himself. He had prepared a spectacular feast, consisting of five courses, all to be served with a varied and excellent selection of GondorÂ’s finest wines.

A vague rustle interrupted her thoughts. It was one of her maidens. “Your ladyship, Lord Aranwe respectfully requests an audience with you. Shall I show him in?”

Arwen was indecisive. She reluctantly acknowledged to herself that she was somewhat in fear of him. To see him in solitude would not be her first preference. But, to refuse him at the moment would be ungracious. “Show him in. Instruct the others to remain with me. You may leave us now, but summon me the moment dinner is announced.”

“As you wish, your ladyship.”

Shortly thereafter, Aranwe was introduced into the room. Arwen beckoned to him to join her on the balcony. She preferred that their interview be performed in the open air. He came and he was silent. Arwen watched him closely. She wondered who he really was. The grief that she had felt earlier in the evening was there, but it was significantly diminished. Such profound beauty, such profound sadness, was scarcely to be conceived. It contradicted the veritable rightness of things. She needed to understand, and before long, she heard her own voice saying, “Who are you and why do you seek my audience?”

Aranwe was unmoved. He was gazing past the grounds into the far country beyond. “Had not the memories been implacably imprinted on my mind, I would have said that you are she who our people has loved and mourn to this day.” He turned to look at Arwen then and softly continued. “Your eyes bear the same sadness, that for a long time hers were without.”

Arwen turned away. She was unspeakably moved by the compassion in his voice. “You loved her?”

The silence that ensued was disconcerting and she almost regretted her question. But Aranwe seemed not to have heard. He seemed locked in a trance and insensitive to her presence. “Who are you?” she asked him, more urgently than before.

“I am who Legolas says I am. However, he knows nothing of my distant past. His father, a valued friend, knows my history.” His eyes were focused intently upon Arwen. “But he knows nothing of my heart.”

“You have carried this secret through all these years? It must be a terrible burden to bear,” Arwen gently stated.

“There are more terrible things that I have borne,” he stated pointedly, his eyes challenging her gaze. Arwen understood his meaning but chose to ignore it. She was not willing to discuss her choice and certainly not with one whom she hardly knew. “I am greatly changed. Who I am now and who I was then are separated by a chasm of destruction and grief. I was close friend and advisor to King Thingol and her ladyship, Queen Melian. I was most often in the company of her ladyship and for that I am grateful. Her wisdom surpasses any that I have known. From her, I learnt many things. The power she wielded was a marvel to behold.”

“I have heard the story of their beautiful kingdom,” Arwen told him, wistfully. “And this power that you speak of, did you understand it?”

“It was inherent in her existence as one of the Maiar. But there are other abilities that can be taught. I do not speak of them, however.

“Yet I can feel it within you. Your effect upon us earlier this evening, for instance. It can be explained in no other way.”

Aranwe sighed. “I had heard of your great likeness to our Daughter of Twilight, but I never imagined this marked similarity.” His gaze was fixated upon her, but his eyes no longer saw her. He saw things as they were, countless years ago, in another age of Arda. In the gardens of Neldoreth, he saw a like face that was radiant with the innocence of her years. She sang like a nightingale, dancing unshod over the fair, green lawns of the protected kingdom. It was a peaceful time, before the girdle of their queen was penetrated, and before their fates had changed forever.

The memories came swiftly, transfiguring the beauty of his face into an intense darkness that was terrible to behold. The sequence of events that precipitated the fall of the Guarded Kingdom flooded his mind. Wrapped in these visions, he was barely cognizant of his surroundings. His strong, slender fingers were tightly wounded around the edge of the marble barrier. Thus he was for a short spell, before he abruptly stated, “Forgive me.” His expression resembled one who had just awoken from a dream. “I must leave you now.”

Arwen nodded mechanically, her eyes glued to his retreating form. Their interview had satisfied her curiosity on the one hand, and multiplied her questions on the other. The momentary darkening of his visage had not eluded her notice. Yet, as quickly as it had come, it had vanished. And she was left wondering if it had been a trick of her imagination.
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Later that evening, after Aragorn had toasted his guests, the gathering settled down to dinner. The side tables were beautifully arranged with an assortment of delicacies, all emitting a heavenly aroma. In the center of each table, was a lavish display of white hanging grapes and white-fleshed peaches, set upon splendidly designed crystal glasses. Avallon, who was seated next to Melian -much to her displeasure, was enforcing his will through his glances: an unwarranted measure, since the service was excellent and every detail arranged to perfection.

What followed was a stream of succulent dishes, consisting of a wide assortment of meats, seafood, vegetables, and fruits, which were prepared using a variety of culinary techniques. A generous helping of sweet bread, sauces, rolls, fresh salad, and a host of other choice appetizers, preceded the main courses. The feast was accompanied by an exceptional selection of wine, capable of satisfying the palate of any attending connoisseur. Desert consisted of a collection of sweetmeats, cakes, jellies, dishes of cream, candied fruits, exotically prepared fruits, and freshly baked pastries. At the end, a five-course dinner was served.

Melian, whose mind was fully absorbed in her current discomfort, was half listening, half smiling at Avallon’s ranting. She found his need to dominate even the most trivial of tasks, excessively diverting. “The fruits are to be served before the jellies,” he was saying. “In reverse, it nullifies the taste of the fruit.”

Lord Anarion, who was seated on MelianÂ’s other side, gallantly came to her rescue, by involving her in small talk. His mother was seated on his other side and was heavily engaged in conversation with a lady friend of hers. He had spent the first half of the evening, escorting his mother around, greeting old acquaintances and re-establishing former connections: connections that were abruptly halted during GondorÂ’s troubled years. He had performed his duty, though it had been his pleasure, and was prepared to spend the remainder of the evening mingling on his own.

Earlier in the evening, he had briefly met Lady Arien, who was accompanied by her brother. The two lords had exchanged cool greetings, largely out of respect for Lady ErendiÂ’s presence. Only Lady Erendi had seen and understood the wounded expression on Lady ArienÂ’s young face. She had gently patted the young maidenÂ’s hand in a show of understanding before proceeding on to greet her other acquaintances.

Legolas was seated across from Lord Anarion and next to Aranwe. The two were engaged in an intense discussion barely audible to their adjacent party. “Why do you trouble me with things that can never be?” Legolas was saying. “You know what it is that hinders me, yet you advise against it.”

“I have only just arrived and all is revealed to me. Do not allow your honor to destroy all your hopes of happiness. Lady Vana will understand. She deserves your honesty; not your allegiance.”

Legolas was silently thoughtful. “You should have heard her, Aranwe,” he said, after a while. “When I returned from my year of absence, you should have seen her. The radiance of her happiness pierced my heart. I felt ashamed and undeserving. I had forgotten her when she had remembered me.”

Aranwe was silent. It did not take Legolas’ words to spur his imagination. He had heard that joy before and he had seen that happiness before. That joy and happiness had ceased to enchant for the entire duration of the prince’s absence. “Did you exchange promises?”

“No,” Legolas replied. “But, it had been my intention to do so, providing I survived the quest. I believed myself to be in love. I know differently now.”

Aranwe was thoughtful. “You have a difficult decision before you, my friend, where every choice leads to heartbreak.”

“My own included. Vana has been my constant companion through many years. I cannot and will not be the source of her unhappiness. In this, I can deny myself. I am resigned to my choice.”

“Your intentions are honorable, Legolas, but they may lead to further grief than your immortal eyes can foresee. For tonight, we will speak of this no further.“ He glanced along the table, his eyes resting on Melian. “She is a lovely creature, Legolas. Be sure that you know what it is that you so willingly relinquish.”

Legolas was silent. AranweÂ’s words had intensified his doubts, although, he would not have readily admitted it.

Amandil, who was seated on LegolasÂ’ other side, was engaged in conspiratorial conversation with Nessa. She had managed to coerce him into allowing Lady Arien and herself to take part in the games they had scheduled for later. Her confidence in her appearance had lent her an added charm that was largely instrumental in securing his agreement.

“So, recount to me again why I should aid you in this ignoble act?” Amandil teased.

Nessa chuckled. “You are an excellent chess player, and your guidance will prove useful.”

“Are you sure that you would not prefer to spend the evening dancing?” Amandil was inquiring because of a slight suspicion he entertained.

“I have ample time to do both. Besides, it would be interesting to see what actually occurs in your gentlemen’s room.”

Amandil laughed softly. “Then I hope not to disappoint you.”

“Do you not dance?” Nessa asked him. It had taken a great deal of her courage to ask that question, for fear of it being misconstrued into a solicitation for a dance request.

Amandil smiled imperceptibly. He was twirling the stem of his wine glass between his long, slender fingers. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“No reason in particular,” Nessa quickly replied. Her anxiety soared under the intensity of his incredibly blue eyes. Her heart was racing. In truth, she had only been curious. “So what are our chances of actually winning a game tonight?” she rushed on anxiously.

“Oh, I am not sure,” he replied elusively, “I have only observed a few players thus far.” He examined her closely, before decidedly stating, “You know, you would do me great honor in accepting my request for two dances.”

He had said it so effortlessly that for a moment, Nessa was uncertain of what she had heard. His intense blue eyes were fixated upon her, and in some scarcely audible voice, she had acquiesced to his request.

Lady Arien, who was seated across from them, was oblivious to this exchange. Her brother, who was seated on her left, was busily setting boundaries. He had decided to spend the remainder of the evening engaged in games, and felt it necessary to warn her against any social interactions with Lord Anarion.

“Do I have your word, Arien? You must promise me this,” he beseeched, unrelentingly. “I will not have our family name bantered among the multitude. It is too soon. They have not forgotten my reasons for challenging him to a duel.”

“Honestly, Alcarin, will you not exclude me from your madness? You have made it sufficiently clear to Lord Anarion that he is not to approach me.”

“Some men have very short memories, especially in the case of a young beautiful woman. Arien, I must have your word,” Lord Alcarin demanded.

“And without it?” Lady Arien asked.

Lord Alcarin was seriously perturbed. There were several formidable players in attendance at the ball that night that would serve as worthy opponents. “I will be forced to forego an intriguing night of games.”

“Then so be it,” Lady Arien replied, defiantly. She knew he was extremely peeved about her refusal, but, right then, she cared too little. She knew him well enough to know, that in the end, his ruling passion would reign. The temptation would be too great, and his competitive streak would dominate.

Erchirion, who was seated on Lady ArienÂ’s right, had heard every word exchanged between the two siblings. He was smiling inwardly. Lord AlcarinÂ’s resolute declaration, had effectively released him from his former commitment. His eyes wandered over to Nessa. He could not help but admire how incredibly lovely she looked that evening. But, his comfort was overshadowed by a growing doubt. Earlier in the evening, he had noticed the way she would light up, whenever Amandil was present. He was convinced that there was something there that he had never perceived before. Now, as they sat across from him, he continued to study them. By degrees, the radiance of her smiles, the sparkle of her eyes, and the music of her laughter, confirmed his fears.

Faramir, who was seated on ErchirionÂ’s other side, was engaged in conversation with Prince Imrahil, Aragorn, and Arwen, regarding his pending nuptials.

“When do you leave for Rohan?” Arwen asked him. She was not sure since Faramir had been on a leave of sorts for the past several weeks.

“We ride forth within the next month and a half,” Faramir related. “Aredhel has been informed. She has already made the necessary arrangements for the transportation of Lady Eowyn’s gown.”

“Are you ready?” Aragorn asked him.

Faramir’s face was solemn. He wanted to be the best husband possible to his intended bride. “As ready as I will ever be.”

“Take it from one who knows. It is the most rewarding step that a man can ever make,” Aragorn declared earnestly. His gaze was fixed upon his wife as he spoke. “The best years of my life are just beginning.” Arwen was warmed by his words, and her eyes conveyed her promises.

“I certainly agree,” Prince Imrahil added, somberly. “The best years of my life were spent with my wife. Now, I am honored to accompany you, Faramir, to this next step. Your happiness has been too long overdue.”

Faramir was saddened. Memories of Boromir and his father flooded his consciousness. He would have given much to have them witness his happiness. His father, he had forgiven a long time ago.

“Might I join you?” Melian asked, seating herself next to Prince Imrahil. Dinner had ended. Some of the guests had returned to the ballroom, while others lingered around the table, socializing. “Prince Imrahil, why are you not dancing?”

“I will, if you honor me with a turn,” Prince Imrahil replied, gallantly.

Melian smiled. “As long as you promise to avoid my toes,” she returned lightly. Aragorn and Faramir chuckled.

“I may prove a more worthy dancer than you suspect,” Prince Imrahil countered. He rose from his seat, extending his hand to Melian. “Shall we?”

Melian graciously accepted it. “Will you join us?” she asked the others.

Arwen and Aragorn arose to accompany them. Faramir promised to join them shortly.
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The ballroom entertainment was the zenith of the evening. The room was large and exquisitely decorated. The marble floors were waxed to shining. The floor length windows and adjoining balconies added a wonderful appeal: the evening skies were clearly visible through them. The orchestra was performing a delightful tune, prompting an influx of couples from the exterior rooms unto the dance floor.

Upon Arwen and Aragorn’s entrance, Legolas and Aredhel joined their party. “How are you, my dears?” Aredhel asked, greeting Arwen and Aragorn. “I am very pleased with the evening. Why are you not dancing?”

Arwen smiled. “We will, a little later on,” Arwen told her. “I have hardly spoken to you all evening.”

“You can now,” Aredhel warmly replied. “I finally decided to give Avallon free reign. It is useless to encourage him to join in the festivities. He certainly cannot be in two places at once.”

“I think Melian would like to have a word with you later this evening,” Arwen said mischievously. “She was seated next to Avallon for the entire duration of dinner.”

“Of that, I am innocent. It was her own doing. Lord Alcarin was originally assigned to that seat. But, in the interest of preserving the peace, she offered to exchange places with him. I was unaware of the estrangement between the two young lords.”

“I am partly to blame. I neglected to warn you against seating them together.”

Behind them, Aragorn and Legolas were speaking together in hushed tones.

“Arwen has already ordered the preparation of their dwelling. We discussed housing them in the mansion, but agreed it would be a recipe for disaster.”

“It was a sound decision,” Legolas said heavily. “My friend, Aranwe, nurtures an alarming dislike for dwarves. In any case, the living arrangements would be better suited for everyone. Dwarves value their privacy. Gimli and his kin will most likely prefer the use of their own private dwelling.”

“It shall be good to have Gimli back,” Aragorn admitted.

Legolas agreed. “I have progressed a long way, Aragorn.”

“Indeed you have,” Aragorn solemnly stated. “You have successfully conquered an age-old prejudice. Not many elves would be willing to forget.”

“Certainly not my father,” Legolas acknowledged. “And Aranwe is worse.”

“Perhaps you should prepare him before Gimli arrives,” Aragorn suggested.

Legolas frowned. “There are more difficult things that I would rather do.”

Aragorn was surprised. “Surely, it cannot be that hopeless.”

“That is an understatement,” Legolas gravely replied. “Nevertheless, I prefer to cross that bridge when I get to it.”

At that moment, Melian and Prince Imrahil rejoined their party. Prince Imrahil stayed long enough to exchange a few words with them before promptly departing for the gentlemenÂ’s room.
————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lady Arien asked Nessa. She felt uncomfortably conspicuous. They were two of only five ladies occupying the gentlemen’s room.

“Give it a few minutes,” Nessa encouraged. She was equally uneasy, but she concealed it well. A hush had fallen on the room when they had entered with Amandil. Lord Alcarin was not far behind them, having still the conviction to follow through with his decision.

Lady Arien surveyed the room. There were several tables hosting games with four or more players, but for the most part, the popular game for the night was chess. Half filled and empty wine glasses seemed to be the most common objects in the room. The servants, who appeared to be invisible to the majority, roamed to and fro, re-filling glasses, removing discarded glasses, straightening the empty chairs, and in general, maintaining some order.

Nessa had been correct. The silence was dwindling fast and discussions gradually resumed. The most notable, resonating from a group of men clustered near the center of the room. Some of them were standing, with glasses of wine in hand, while others lounged on sofas and armed chairs. Prince Imrahil was noticeable among them. He had entered some time after NessaÂ’s party and had immediately joined in the discussions.

“Ladies,” Amandil said, upon rejoining them, “two gentlemen have agreed to a game with you.” He had two glasses of wine in his hand, which he promptly distributed to Nessa and Lady Arien.

“Thank you,” Nessa told him, accepting the glass of wine. “Where are they?”

Amandil looked around. “There,” he said, waving at one of the tables in the corner of the room. “Might I ask them to join us?”

Nessa nodded and he promptly departed. She looked over at Lady Arien whose face was flushed. “What is it, Arien?”

Lady Arien gently pressed her hand. “It is nothing,” she said evasively. “The warmth of the room was a little too much. But I am fine now.”

“Are you sure?” Nessa asked in concern. “I can have the servants open the last of the windows. Or, we can leave.”

“No!” Lady Arien said hurriedly. “It would be rude to do so.” She quickly searched the room for her brother. Fortunately, he was already absorbed in a game at the other end of the room. She felt considerably relieved. “Your friend is very kind, Nessa. Why have you never spoken of him?”

“There is not much to tell,” Nessa casually replied.

“I suppose there would not be,” Lady Arien said, thoughtfully. “He seems very reserved.” She leaned closer to Nessa and softly whispered, “He is remarkably handsome though. I must say, however, that his glance unnerves me. It gives the impression that he sees right through me. It is chilling, almost.” Nessa was silent. “Did you say that he is family to the king?”

“In a complicated way,” Nessa answered simply. “Here he comes.”

Amandil returned in the company of Lord Anarion and Lord Aratan. The two had agreed to participate in a game of chess with both ladies. After they were introduced to Nessa, the only stranger in the group, the five settled down in conversation.

“How have you been?” Lord Anarion asked Lady Arien. The others were engaged in a different conversation.

“I have been very well, thank you.”

“And your father, is he still abroad?”

Lady Arien nodded. “We hope to have him home soon.” She cast a quick glance in her brother’s direction.

“You are uneasy?” Lord Anarion asked. Her quick glance had not eluded his notice.

Lady Arien smiled anxiously. “With good reason. We both know how absurd my brother can be. I speak plainly because of our close acquaintance.”

“I know you do,” Lord Anarion assured her. He paused before continuing. “Lady Arien, regarding the disagreement between your brother and I, I wish you to know that I never dishonored your good name in any way.”

“I know,” Lady Arien told him. “You would not have been the man that I have known and respected through all these years, if you did.”

Lord Anarion smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly. To the others, he audibly said, “Now, what do you say to the commencement of our game?”

Everyone was in agreement. The small group moved over to the table that was formerly occupied by Lord Anarion and his friend.

“I think you shall both do fine on your own,” Amandil softly told Nessa before she seated herself. “Call it a team effort. I will join you later.” She nodded and he took leave of their party then to join Prince Imrahil and the group of men who were still incessantly discussing state affairs.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————–
“How are you?” Arwen asked Melian. Their small party had retired to the second floor, in the private room prepared for them. Aragorn, Aredhel, Legolas, Aranwe, Faramir, Lothiriel, Erchirion, Elphir, and Amrothos were among the party.

Melian playfully rolled her eyes. “I guarantee you, that I can still count only ten fingers.”

Arwen laughed in spite of herself. Their conversation was being held on the balcony. “Sure you can. But seriously, how was your time spent with Legolas?”

“Honestly?” Melian asked, playfully.

“Would you be serious,” Arwen admonished, in mock authority. “Can you do that?”

Melian made a face. “Do you know who you remind me of?”

“Yes,” Arwen answered positively. “Grandmother and Grandfather. I have heard it too many times to forget.”

“And, do you know why I normally say that?” Melian asked lightly.

“Sure I do,” Arwen replied, reproachingly. “Perhaps it is because grandmother and grandfather are fiercely protective of their kin and are constantly concerned about their welfare.

“Very good,” Melian softly stated. “But what I really meant was your inability to savor an entire evening free from concerns. Do not be anxious for me. Tonight is for you and Elessar. Tomorrow is for the rest of the world. I assure you that I am fine.”

Arwen observed her closely. “Is this your way of dismissing my question?”

Melian laughed. “No, my dear cousin,” she sincerely said. “It is just my way of informing you that all is unchanged. There is nothing of consequence to relay. Legolas and I are as we were yesterday, and the days before. But I love you for asking.”

Arwen cradled Melian’s face between her hands. “Your happiness is extremely important to me,” she said softly, but emphatically. “There is never an occasion for me to be undisturbed about those things that influence your happiness.”

“I know, I know,” Melian said, embracing her. “I should not be this flippant about my feelings. But just for tonight, I would like to forget, if only for a while. I was hoping that you would do the same. Elrohir has written to me as well. I know what it is you are feeling.” Arwen turned away, looking toward the northern skies. “Let us make a pact,” Melian continued.

“I am listening,” Arwen replied.

“Enjoy ourselves tonight and face the world tomorrow,” Melian suggested.

Arwen turned to face her. “Then, I shall expect to hear all on the morrow.”

Melian laughed. “I will be sure to surrender to your unrelenting will.” She hooked her hand in Arwen’s. “Remember when uncle Celeborn caught us meddling with aunt Galadriel’s mirror?”

Arwen smiled suspiciously. “Yes.”

“Remember why we were meddling with the mirror?” Melian asked, calculatingly. Arwen laughed. “That’s right,” continued Melian. “Someone was so sure that she knew how to use it.”

Arwen was still laughing. “I was just an elfling then,” she said defensively. “I thought I had seen it operated enough times to know how to proceed.”

“Yes, well, someone was wrong. Being the elder, I should not have allowed you to coerce me into meddling with it. But an entire month of charitable weaving quickly remedied my subservience.”

“My fingers were sore for a long time afterward,” Arwen mourned. “I honestly thought that grandmother would have facilitated our rescue. She did not appear to be upset when grandfather informed her of our doings.”

Melian laughed. “We know better now. She conceals her emotions well.”

“Yes. Mother later told me that grandmother was the arbitrator of our punishment since it was her trust that we violated.”

Melian touched her head to the side of Arwen’s head. “I am grateful for our wonderful memories of the hidden land.”

Arwen sighed sadly. The two were facing north, their farsighted glances extending through the northern skies.
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
“Happy thoughts?” Aragorn softly whispered into Arwen’s ears. He was standing behind her. Her face lit up when his arms encircled her waist. She had been alone on the balcony, lost in contemplation.

“May I remind you, my lord, that we are not alone,” she cautioned.

Aragorn chuckled. “I know my wife so well, that I thought it prudent to close the terrace doors behind me.”

Arwen’s smile deepened. “Then, in that case, you are free to adore me as much as you like.” Aragorn abruptly released her and she chuckled. She turned around to face him. His light gray eyes searched her face. “What is it?” she asked, her smile slowly diminishing.

“Have I truly made you happy?” he asked gravely.

Arwen had a confused expression upon her face. “Does night follow day?” she asked, visibly moved. “Of course you have. Estel, I am more happy than I could have ever imagined.”

Aragorn gently touched her face. “You cannot imagine what it means to me to hear you say that.” One after the other, he raised her hands to his lips, gently kissing them. “A man’s security is never perfect,” he said in way of explanation.

Arwen smiled. “And you, are you truly happy?” She was tracing his brow with her fingertips.

“That depends,” Aragorn responded, concealing a deliberate smile.

“On?” Arwen asked, playing right along with him.

“Whether you would turn a blind eye to my smoking a single pipe tonight,” he said slyly. Arwen’s face was gravely transformed. He allowed her to ruminate her response for a while longer before lightly adding, “There is no need to become morbid, my beloved. It was simply a jest on my part.” He hugged her close. “I hope that I am forgiven,” he added, gently nuzzling her ear.

Arwen wiggled as she laughed. His touch tickled her. “Of course you are forgiven,” she said, calculatingly. “Although,” she slowly continued, “I must admit to seeing clearly through your scheme.”

“You doubt my sincerity?” Aragorn asked, feigning an injured expression. She looked up, smiling at him. “Very well. I will own that my request was in earnest. However, since you feel so strongly about it, I will endeavor to forego the temptation.” He bent his head, gently kissing her lips.

“Thank you,” Arwen softly told him. “I never thought that my rival would manifest itself in a pipe.”

Aragorn chuckled. He touched his forehead to hers, whispering endearingly. “There is nothing or no one in Arda that rivals you in my heart. You have rendered me the happiest of men.”

Arwen wrapped her hands around his neck. “It warms my heart to hear those words. I hope to continue to inspire that sentiment, today, tomorrow, and through the years to come.”

Aragorn gently smoothed several strands of hair from her face. They had fallen free from her crown. He traced her silky brow with his fingertips before bending to touch his lips to hers.
——————————————————————————————————————————————————————–
Midnight was several moments away, and the hum of fevered chatter, dominated the atmosphere. The servants had taken care to ensure that glasses of wine were distributed to every guest: including those positioned in the gardens, and around the grounds. The royal couple and their intimate guests were set to welcome the New Year in the private room on the second floor. Among the occupants of the room were, Lord Anarion and his mother, Lord Aratan and his father, and Lady Arien and her brother.

Most were seated with glasses of wine in hand, patiently awaiting the announcement of the New Year. Others were mingling, engaged in light chatter, and biding the time for celebration. Perhaps some minds were absorbed in reflections of things endured a year before, while other minds contemplated the mysteries of the future. Howsoever that might have been, when the announcement finally came, it was instantly succeeded by a tumultuous clamor of well wishes. The excitement from below was distinctly audible through the open terrace doors and windows. The blissful interactions of the guests, who were travailing the gardens, were similarly effected in the reception room above.

Surrounded by Aredhel, Melian, Nessa, Arien, and Lothiriel, Arwen toasted to their health and happiness. “I hope the new year grant you all the happiness that your hearts desire.” The six raised their glasses in unison, in the spirit of the toast.

Shortly thereafter, their little group dispersed to join the other guests.

Legolas had been observing Melian, and the moment she had extricated herself from the group to secure a new glass of wine, he quickly approached her. “Melian, might I have a word with you?”

“Certainly,” she pleasantly replied.

He looked down at her upturned face, riveted by the enchantment of her beauty. “Melian, I sincerely wish that every moment of happiness will be yours, throughout this year,” he softly told her. Their eyes met and held in unspoken mutual affection.

“Thank you,” Melian returned, earnestly. “I wish the same for you, Legolas.”

Legolas bowed slightly in appreciation. She was about to take her leave of him, when he gently touched her hand. “If you are not otherwise engaged, might I request the honor of your hand for the commencement dance?”

Melian was mildly astonished by his request. The commencement dance was the culmination of the ballroom entertainment, to be witnessed before everyone present. They had hardly spoken again, since their brief sojourn to the gardens, and she had naturally assumed that was it for the evening. “I am disengaged,” she told him, amiably. “I accept your request with pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Legolas replied. “You must excuse me for a moment. Aredhel needs to be informed of our pairing.”

Melian nodded. She stared after him for some time, wondering if she would ever be able to extract him entirely from her heart.

There was a general pairing of the companions in the room. The royal couple was to lead the commencement dance followed by an interval of an increasing number of couples. The number of couples introduced at each interval, was to be performed in a sequence of increasing, consecutive, even numbers.

Thanks to ArwenÂ’s determined ingenuity, Lord Anarion and Lady Arien were paired together. She had enlisted her husbandÂ’s reluctant aid, in intervening on Lady ArienÂ’s behalf. She had counted on Lord AlcarinÂ’s deference for the king to work in her favor. It had. A simple suggestion had removed an obstacle and restored a spirit. Lady Arien was grateful. Her spirits had been steadily declining, ever since her brother had ended his games, and openly declared to her, his renewed intentions.

For Nessa, this was the evening of perfect happiness. Amandil had been attentive to her for the better portion of the evening. But truth be told, her contentment was fueled in part, by the minimal expectations she had entertained for the evening. In her heavenly state, she had entirely forgotten Erchirion. She had yet to fulfill AmandilÂ’s request for two dances, and was set to do so, beginning with the commencement dance.

Led by the royal couple, the lively party descended to the first floor. The royal couple was announced and the orchestra launched into a beautiful, slow melody. The two stood in the middle of the ballroom floor, surrounded by numerous pairs of admiring eyes. Arwen held out her hand to Aragorn, who gently took it in a clasp. Placing his hand on the side of her waist, the two commenced their dance. They moved gracefully, in measured steps, twirling and waltzing. After a minute had past, Prince Imrahil and Aredhel, and Melian and Legolas, joined the dance, effectively escalating the lauded praises sung by the admiring crowd. At the next timely interval, four other pairs joined the dance: Nessa and Amandil, Faramir and Lothiriel, Arien and Anarion, and Elphir and his wife.

From an aerial view, the ballroom floor was breathtaking. The twenty-one couples, which participated in the dance, were perfectly poised and gliding in exact uniformity. The dance was executed with such precision, that for weeks following the ball, it was discussed far and wide. The panoply of colorful silken garments, and the jubilance of the dancing couples, assisted significantly in perpetuating the gaiety of the night. The ball was far from ended. Servants were still busy, refurbishing side tables with confectionaries and fruits, in anticipation of the hours ahead. It seemed the mixed merriment, of liberated souls, was not to be curtailed.