It was a hearth Dinmir sat on. The bricks. Fire dancing behind her. But where was this hearth? The fire cast her shadow across the expanse until it reached a boundary and stretched upward, revealing walls. Deeper shadows withstood the buffeting firelight to draw the borders of doorways, and as the room gained definition she realized why it was so familiar: she sat in the den of the family house in Imladris. It hadn't been so empty in years. Not since they'd first moved in. Why was it devoid of furniture? Had Aldawë given it up? Sold it off? No, he wouldn't have done that.
The den didn't remain empty for long. Firelight butted against shadows within the room. Shadows became shapes, and shapes became forms. Couches, chairs, and tables. Furniture hadn't been arranged so in many years; not since she and Aldawë had returned with Muinassë. Tapestries and paintings hung on the walls. Curtains draped over the windows. Beyond the doorway across the room, the shadow weakened as bars of light set the boundaries of the dining room. Gazing through that doorway reminded her of a feast, or the remnants thereof, waiting to be picked at. Decorations appeared on the walls. Glasses and plates coalesced on the table, some empty, some full. None of them were Dinmir's. Another shadow stretched across the room with hers. She wasn't alone.
Now I remember. This is Aldawë's and my seventy-second birthday.
It was supposed to be an all-day celebration. More than a day. Aldawë insisted they start at midnight and end the dawn of the following day. Alas, not everyone could hold weariness at bay for so long, and by the time the evening fire burned bright, only the most obstinate remained: Aldawë and Dinmir themselves, Auros and Farothel, Arandil and Fingalrien, Maikalkar, and Filithel.
Those who left early missed seeing Auros sing. Hearing, not so much. That deep into the celebration, he oscillated between three separate songs before giving up altogether and offering a toast. There he lay on the couch, hood pulled over his eyes, the first of the eight to succumb to sleep. It had been a valiant effort on his part: after a long mission and half a day at the anvil right before the party, he deserved a reprieve from the teasing others might've endured. Maikalkar took that opportunity to walk Filithel home. Aldawë was next to succumb, perching upside-down in one of the armchairs. Fingalrien stretched herself across the arms of the other and wouldn't budge no matter the prodding. Last of all was Farothel. His strength gave out with the last of the wine in his cup.
That left Arandil and Dinmir, sitting on the hearth, with no sound but the crackle of the fire, the soft breathing of the sleepers surrounding them, and the occasional note as Arandil strummed on a lute. She didn't remember much of their conversation anymore, as much as she tried. It was mostly witty nonsense, amusing banter, or the kinds of word games she and Aldawë played growing up. Arandil had been fond of those, to both her and Aldawë's delight. Somewhere between gentle teases, Arandil put down the lute and looked at Dinmir with more solemnity than she thought he could muster at a party.
"I'm sorry I haven't given you a birthday present." He sat closer than she remembered. Had his fingers always drummed on his lap like he still plucked at strings?
"You brought the deer for the meal. I can't imagine what you went through to find one this time of year. That's more than enough." He'd cleaned and dressed it too, yet the only scent he hadn't managed to rid himself of was the pleasant residue of the pine he'd been trudging and crawling through. Ah yes, it wasn't that he sat closer, it's that she'd scooted closer.
"I did get you a gift. I haven't given it to you already because, well, I can't make you golden awls, thimbles, and needles like Auros, I can't cook you a memorable feast like Farothel, and I can't make you a musical instrument like my cousins." Reaching behind him, he retrieved a thin, wide box and set it on his lap. "I thought about buying you something, like a brooch or a hairpin, but no jeweler could craft something beautiful enough to do you justice. Only in the gardens of Yavanna are such ornaments made. I've no means to obtain them, but from such as are granted to us in Endor, I've chosen the best, and fashioned them into my gift." He must've spent at least as much time on crafting and rehearsing those words as he did on the gift itself.
Dinmir would roll her eyes at such flattery now, but she had to admit how effective it had been at the time to warm her cheeks and pique her curiosity. Living it again, the feelings were just as fresh. Her gaze fixed on Arandil's hands drumming the top of the box. Her heart drummed the same beat. Each second stretched to an eternity until the lid was at last set aside. Several delicate fragments of cloth covered the inside, but Arandil dug his fingers past those. His hands slid under something almost as wide as the box itself, and in a careful motion he freed a garland woven of violets. Dinmir clasped her hands over her mouth.
"Happy birthday, Dinmir." He rested the garland on her head as if bestowing a crown.
The time it must've taken to weave the stems of the violets together! It looked heavier than it felt. Bah, there was never a mirror near when she needed one. It took everything in her keep her hands away from her hair. "How does it look?"
Arandil leaned in and locked his eyes with hers. "Like it belongs."
The dim firelight was all that hid the color of Dinmir's cheeks. They'd warmed again as neither she nor Arandil looked away. She couldn't afford to look away. What if she missed something important? That's what she told herself. Arandil leaned closer, and she let herself be drawn in. Despite her best efforts, her eyelids drew closed on their own. Closer and closer. Drawn in bit by bit. She held her breath. He held his. Closer and closer. Heart pounding. Closer and closer...
Dinmir opened her eyes. Ugh! Morning already! At least that dream ended before the worst part. Why did she have to remember? Was the long day ahead not burden enough?
No time to waste. Muted sizzles tip-toed from the kitchen down the hall and up to her door. She rolled out of bed and washed her face. Which dress should she wear today? One of her usual or the one finished last week? The sleeves were too tight on that one. Only one small dagger would fit underneath. More than that wouldn't go unnoticed. Oh well, she had enough daggers. Wolves weren't going to wander into town, and passers-through minded themselves with the town guard patrolling.
Putting on the new dress didn't stop the tirade that dream had set her mind upon. As she turned to and fro in front of the mirror, smoothing creases and folds, it was the dress she'd made for her birthday celebration that she thought about. She'd received a lot of praise for that dress, but the best reaction had been Arandil's. Oh, he was quick to recover, but time hadn't stolen the memory of the first look on his face. If only that evening by the fire had ended differently. If only Aldawë hadn't stirred. She wouldn't have panicked, mumbled something she couldn't remember, and scurried to the dining room.
What had she said? Now that she was forced to remember, before that night Arandil had been cautious but open. Sure, he might've seemed distant at times, as if he wasn't sure how to be, but he would warm up, and be the same Arandil he'd always been. After that night, he was less inclined to antics, more determined, and more aloof.
"I should let him say what he wants to say."
Where did that come from? It sounded like her voice. It felt like her talking. Maybe it was true, but it wasn't that important. There was plenty of time. Dinmir's reflection scowled back at her. "Bah! Fine. The next time he brings it up, I'll let him speak. Which will be the moment I sit down to breakfast." She braced herself for the inevitable and opened the bedroom door.
Scents had joined in procession with the sizzles, and both barged into her room the moment the door opened. "Hurry" was the word for the morning: hurry to dress and hurry to the table so she could hurry through breakfast then hurry to her shop. When she entered the kitchen, Aldawë had already claimed a seat, hand resting on a fork and knife as if he were ready to bang them on the tabletop. Farothel tended to oven and skillet. Auros, back from his sword routine, passed through in silence. Next to Aldawë sat Arandil, boots tapping against her new floor like he hoped it would need replacing sooner that way. Though they slowed to a gentle rapping once he noticed her, an eager look still clung to him.
"Good morning! I found Alagos milling about so I let the others out to keep her company. It would seem Vercalussë taught her how to escape. She's ready to go when you are." Leave it to Auros to pick a horse that could get out of a locked stable. And one that could teach others too! To say no one bothered to let Vercalussë out anymore wouldn't do him justice: if he wanted out he'd be out before anyone got the chance, and he usually was when Auros whistled.
At least Dinmir wouldn't have to prepare Alagos for the dash to town after breakfast. "Thank you." A fresh round of scents wafted her way: bacon, eggs, and fresh rolls. She put a hand to her stomach, hoping it wouldn't announce itself. "How soon until breakfast?"
Farothel turned around with a smile and put a full plate in her hand. "Yours was the first out."
Dinmir wrapped her free arm around him. "Thank you. It's still hot even!" Her horse had been tended to and she had breakfast in front of her. Perhaps there would be one meal that day she could enjoy after all.
Auros returned looking fresher than when he came in. Farothel slid a plate into his hands, which he then slid in front of Aldawë. "I'll take the last. I'm not in a hurry today. The smiths have all their work spoken for and the guards put off sparring until the afternoon."
Aldawë turned the plate so the eggs were closest and grabbed his fork. "Far be it from me to complain about hot food!"
Just as Dinmir raised a forkful of breakfast, a sudden thump and a jolt shook the table. A peep up from her plate just in time caught Auros' hand on Arandil's chairback. Another shake and Arandil realized he'd been ousted. When Auros set his sword in the chair and took the seat next to it, Dinmir wasn't sure whether to laugh or commiserate... until she noticed the only place left to sit was next to her. Her heart beat a little faster. Any moment he'd ask if she had time. As busy as the day would be, she had to make the time. He deserved to say his piece, whatever came of it. Any moment now...
"Your new town has really taken to you."
"...I suppose they have." That wasn't what she expected.
Arandil grinned. "I knew they would. You have such talent. What you make is light, durable, comfortable, and stylish. What more could anyone ask for in a tailor?"
Dinmir shifted in her seat. "Well, they need clothes, and I'm the only tailor."
"I've heard the talk amongst the craftsmen. They appreciate quality, the mill workers especially. One told me he'd never had a shirt hold onto its buttons so long against everything he puts it through. Another said any other pair of pants would've torn its stitching long since. It's been gratifying to hear them commend your work, but it's more than that. Everyone says your shop is one of the most pleasant in town. They all praise the sweet scent of your candles, and say you have the most welcoming smile of any of the shop owners. You didn't hear that last part from me, though." He shot a wink at her.
"They only say that because I'm new." How annoying that her cheeks warmed. It was the praise of her work, not the flattery, not Arandil's' smile, and certainly not that he'd worn that shirt she liked, the one that gave him a dignified air and complimented his broad shoulders. If she wasn't trying to eat she'd hide her face, but a big bite of breakfast would have to do. Was this better or worse than the conversation she expected? "I've been fortunate to have high quality cloth and thread to work with."
"That you've been preparing yourself recently, correct?"
Another scoop of eggs went into her mouth and down her throat. If only the surge of guilt had gone with it. When did he catch her at that? Her loom was up in the loft, and she'd never heard anyone milling about when she went up there late at night. "The cloth I'd brought is gone, and I couldn't have had the time without you. All of you." Sure, she'd spent some late nights on it, but— why did he have to say this now? She took a gulp of juice. "If it weren't for you all, I don't know what I would've done. I owe you a great deal."
"Aiding you has been a privilege."
Auros slammed his hands on the table, pushed himself up and snatched his sword from its seat. "Be as foolish as you like." He marched to the door. A shrill whistle left his lips the moment he crossed the threshold, and hooves echoed into the distance moments later. What was that all about?
Dinmir frowned at her breakfast. Such a shame she wouldn't get to enjoy it after all. She shoveled the eggs down as fast as she could, stuffed the last half of her roll in behind them, then drained her cup of juice. "I'm running late, I'm sorry!"
As Dinmir rose, Arandil put his hand on hers. "I know you'll succeed in all your endeavors."
She leaned down and hugged him. Perhaps dreaming of a more pleasant time stirred up some lingering fondness. "I'm sure all will go fine, thanks to you." She gave Farothel a quick squeeze as he put a small basket for lunch in her hands, and another around Aldawë's shoulders before she darted out the door and called for Alagos.
After that breakfast, Dinmir couldn't just have a pleasant ride to town. Why was Arandil saying all those things? Why was he dressed so nice? Why did he smile like he'd caught her blushing? More than any of that, why didn't he bring up the one thing he'd been trying to bring up for more than two months?
She had enough on her mind: sewing, sewing, and more sewing. Her clients needed warm clothes. Not one of them would go cold if she could help it. She lived for the challenge. The adventure. If she got enough done in the morning, she might spare an hour for lunch. If not, a roll and a quick cup of tea would suffice. "Come on Alagos, you can go faster!" Alagos obliged, so much so that Dinmir had to tug on her mane to avoid trampling the guard right outside the town gate.
"Sorry!"
The guards shot a wary glare at Dinmir, then returned to their discussion. Some travelers had come in that morning. Noldor. No surprise. The town was full of them. More stopping through meant little, but Dinmir passed out of earshot just as they'd begun to share descriptions. Bah. No time to feed curiosity. Alagos kept moving.
The shop was as she'd left it the night before. Several bolts of cloth waited on her workbench, arranged according to the clothing she'd be making. She drew back the curtains and welcomed the daylight, but it was too cold to let in the breeze. An open window meant she couldn't get so absorbed in sewing that she lost track of time, and with all to be done that was a danger. Morning would be for preparing parts like sleeves, skirts, bodices, and collars and afternoon for sewing it all together... into separate articles of clothing and not into one big quilt, of course. Bah, the morning's race to town had left her feeling a little mischievous. That wore off as she set to work, and by lunch, with a large pile of clothing missing only the final assembly, a walk sounded much better than a meal. She could afford a stroll.
It wasn't long, at least not longer than the lunch she'd intended to take. A quick jaunt around to some nearby shops, an oversized blueberry muffin from the bakery across the way, and then back to work... until she noticed the curtains of her shop were drawn closed. They were open when she left. The door was unlocked, and there was no way she hadn't locked it. Who could be so devoid of manners that they'd just pick a lock and barge right into someone's shop? One hand turned the knob and the other went to the dagger concealed in her sash. The room would be darker than the afternoon sun, so she held her eyes shut and counted to five. The dagger's hilt dug into her thumb, but she could tolerate it for a little longer. Long enough to dispatch anyone she found inside. She could deal with anyone. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and lunged into the room.
"Muinasse?!" Almost anyone. She stepped into the shop and closed the door. Just an average day, or so Dinmir tried to make it appear.
"Did you enjoy your walk?" Steam rose from the teapot on the end table between her chairs. After all the time she'd spent time learning from, and being chastised by, the woman studying her from the most comfortable chair in the shop, Dinmir knew when to expect a lecture: the tilt of her head; the too-calm, too-steady gaze. All that was missing was... A shiver ran through Dinmir's body as Muinassë's hand extended towards her. If the door were still open she would've backed out and taken a lap around the town. Things were more dangerous than she'd dared imagine.
Talking Tea. And she'd just eaten that huge blueberry muffin. Shuffling towards the fire gave her time to reminisce over the saltiest meat Farothel had cured for the winter. Any chance some found its way into her lunch? Not likely. Perhaps a party of Dwarves would appear at that moment. She'd offer a large purse of gold for a single loaf of cram. Two large purses, if she had a second. As her hands closed around the cup, she spotted a small tray of salted crackers next to the teapot. Muinassë was merciful for once.
"With all you've taken upon yourself here, I'm surprised you deigned to allow time for such a lengthy diversion." Admonition lay thick on those words.
"I've a lot of work, but not more than I can expect to accomplish." With a few long nights.
"Good, I was concerned. I remember when your parents sailed West."
"I went for a visit and discovered they'd been planning it almost as long as I'd been your apprentice. They didn't say a word until they were just about ready to leave. That was a perfectly valid reason to be upset. "
"Agreed, so I left you to it. At first. There was also the time one of your friends was waylaid by orcs on her way to Lorinand."
"I made her a new dress for when she recovered."
"And a whole wardrobe to go with it in half the time it usually takes."
"Well, I already had her measurements and plenty of cloth, so I figured..."
"It's good to occupy yourself with less harrowing matters for a time, but not everything in life will let you throw it by the wayside while you settle things in your mind. I thought you'd learned that."
"I have no problem balancing my priorities, I assure you. In fact, you've come at the best possible time."
"Excellent! Now sit down and tell me all about everything since you arrived."
Muinassë's long sip of tea prompted Dinmir to fit a whole cracker in her mouth and chew it into a soggy, tasteless mash. Once she swallowed, Dinmir glanced down at her tea and frowned. "I'm sure you heard about it all already."
"I've heard enough to glean many facts, my dear. Now I want your version of things. I want to know how you're doing, not how others say you're doing. So humor me, and don't leave anything out." Another sip of that hideously sweet tea.
Dinmir sighed again, then bit another cracker and hazarded a small sip from her cup. It almost stopped the shudder. Where to begin? Her arrival was as good a place as any, minus certain unimportant details. At the end, Muinassë nodded and took another long sip.
"That's quite an adventure you've had!"
"It was nothing like yours." Dinmir raised the cup to her lips, then thought better of it and set it aside.
"So you say. Flooded with orders, wagoners abandoning you in your very hour of need, and not one but four knights coming to your rescue? That's an adventure I would trade many of mine for."
"Had Auros and Farothel not been here—"
"Then you would've managed another way. It would've been more difficult for certain, and perhaps you wouldn't have triumphed in so grand a fashion. You might've had to forego all these lovely flourishes I see around us, but I'm confident you would've acquitted yourself well. Still, it's good you realize and appreciate how their presence allowed you to succeed and flourish. Don't take for granted that you have such people to rely on."
"I never have."
"Good. It's when you take them for granted that they disappear." Muinassë frowned into her tea. Likely a story lay behind the warning. One she wouldn't share, of course.
"How far did your adventuring take you this time?"
Muinassë swirled her cup. "Past the Greenwood. It was a trek, but I made it back into Eriador just before the first snowfall in Imladris. What a beautiful sight it was for road-weary eyes. I'd say it was a shame you missed it, but I'm sure you had at least as lovely here."
"Aye." Thoughts of the snowball fight jostled their way to the forefront. It'd been a while since she laughed so much. She remembered that night too, side by side at the kitchen table with Arandil, his eyes as he held out for her the plans they'd just perfected. She pushed it all away. "So what brings you here?"
"Besides checking on you, you mean?" There was the wry grin Muinassë flashed when Dinmir asked such questions.
Dinmir grinned in reply. "I wasn't going to say it."
"Well, I needed a notary, a new blade, and a nice story, and it's rare that I can get all three in one place. The journey here was more enjoyable than usual. It's not often I decide to tag along with other travelers. Then again, it's not often I get the chance to travel with a pair of musicians! One had a beautiful voice and the other a skilled hand at the harp. One of them studied under the best in Imladris thanks to a crafty friend; though he might not know that. As I understand it, they planned on meeting their cousin here."
"I think the guards were discussing them this morning, but if they came to town with you, I don't see the reason for alarm." More curious was that Muinassë was telling Dinmir about this at all.
"They didn't come into town with me. We travelled together, but that was all. We each had our own business, and mine took me to a few contacts before I came to see you. Imagine my surprise when I went to visit Laikendir —I assume you've met him by now— and found your friend Farothel playing guard! I thought he was a chef?"
"He is. Somehow Laikendir talked him into watching over his cousin Gelurien while he goes off on some journey." Dinmir hadn't mentioned that; Muinassë brought it up to say she knew Dinmir had left things out. "I don't really appreciate him doing so."
Muinassë dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand. "Your friend will be fine. I'm more concerned that Laikendir still owes me a good bottle of wine. I'd promised that to someone. Oh well, I suppose that promise will have to wait a while longer." With a sip of tea, she returned to Dinmir's tale. "I'm quite proud of how you've handled most of your challenges so far." Most? Only most? "However, I'm much more interested in the story you haven't shared yet." Another long, intentional sip. Dinmir had given up on hers, though at that moment she wished it were in her hand to stare at. "You're going to make me ask?" Muinassë swirled her tea until silence made it clear Dinmir had no intention to volunteer anything. "Your card player. The man who followed you from the far end of Eriador. Surely you haven't forgotten him yet?" The woman actually sounded fond of Arandil!
"What's there to say? He just—"
"If you dare say 'he just came to help my brother' I'm going to take back everything I ever said about you being quick."
"Well of course I know he still loves me." Did she really just snap at Muinassë? "It doesn't really matter though, does it?"
"You're quite observant, when you want to be. I just wish you didn't choose to be so obtuse about one of the most important, delicate circumstances one can find themselves in."
An intruding memory drew a grin on Dinmir. She grabbed a cracker and muttered into it. "Like 'easy to break.'"
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Hmm." Muinassë leaned back and relished another sip. "The moment I sat down I started thinking about when we arrived in Imladris. My young apprentice was a bit more popular than our conversations had suggested, with all these friends of hers traipsing into my peaceful little shop. They brought quite a bit more traffic than was my wont, and none were quite so persistent as your Arandil. I've never seen anyone in such desperate need of a tailor. Torn seams, holes in clothes. Why, I believe one time an entire pant leg had come off! How does a pant leg just come off? Pants aren't sewn like that!" Between the tone of her voice and the expression on her face, Muinassë couldn't seem to decide if she was more baffled or impressed. "How fortunate he'd had another pair, or who knows how he would've made it to the shop with any dignity intact." She brought the cup to her lips, but lowered it without taking a sip. "It was these kinds of visits that convinced me you needed to start taking jobs. Oh, don't look at me like that, dear. You were ready, and by the third shirt that just so happened to lose all of its buttons at once, it was painfully obvious that your Arandil wasn't a spy sent to discover my secret button-fastening techniques."
Dinmir's grin had faded into a sullen glare as Muinassë spoke. "I'm not sure I remember that. It was long ago." If she did remember, she didn't want to admit to it.
"He's observant too, and clever. He was clever enough to manage... however he managed to get that pant leg off... and astute enough to read me. I was rather impressed how quickly he realized that so long as he kept coming back with something to challenge you, I wouldn't object." Bah, so that was why she never sent Arandil off even when he didn't bring anything to mend. Scant few had received that treatment. "And he had a quite few unique ones! I liked the cloak that looked like the very cloth had been woven with the hole in the middle. You did very well sealing that hole and hiding the stitches. I admit I'd begun to look forward to seeing what your Arandil would bring by next. Why, if I had to guess, I'd say up he'd spent as much time in my shop as all of your other friends combined."
"I wouldn't have guessed."
"And I can't forget watching you two banter like you'd overstocked on words for winter."
"That's not how I remember it." Bah, perhaps that was how it had been.
The woman continued as if Dinmir hadn't said anything at all. "What a shame when things changed and he didn't have so much time to stop by; and when he did, he could only trumpet his accolades like a herald listing his liege's victories. That's all well and good, mind you. Your Arandil should be proud of his success, but it left a lot less room for the exchange you enjoyed more, didn't it?"
Dinmir grabbed her cup and glared into it. Fine, maybe there were times Arandil actually warmed up and traded a few amusing words with her, and then it all but stopped. "As I said, it was a long time ago. And why do you keep calling him 'my' Arandil?"
"Why, I believe it was right around—"
"I remember. I remember." Why did everyone and everything want her to remember that day?
"And now you want nothing to do with your Arandil. Now you don't love him... or do you?"
Bah. All Muinassë wanted was an admission, but why should Dinmir admit to anything? Her Ara— Arandil never did. What did it matter? She controlled her heart, not the other way around. She refused to let it stir. Dinmir took a sip of tea, as big as she dared, and glared at the fire. "I don't have to love him to not wish him ill."
Behind Muinassë's last sip hid the grimace she gave when she repeated a lesson that should've already been learned. "The things we say can hurt sometimes, but just as often the things we leave unsaid haunt us the most." She rose from her seat. "I must be off. I hope we get to have a better chat soon. Enjoy your tea."
Dinmir scowled at the fire as the door closed. She took another sip of tea, blanched and dumped it outside. Why did the visits she needed most have to come with the conversations she wanted least? She could be friendly to Arandil. She'd been friendly to him. Why, she'd even decided to let him talk about what she'd been avoiding! It wasn't her fault if he didn't bring it up! It wasn't dire anyway. There was plenty of time to work it out. Maybe in time...
Work. She had work. She needed to keep working. Why did Muinassë have to do this? Talking Tea on a day when there was so much work to do? Bah! The pile of clothes waiting would push away all that unnecessary musing. Stitch stitch stitch, and more stitch as Anar's journey continued.
Was that a yawn? Was that Dinmir's yawn? She'd forgotten to reopen the curtains when Muinassë left. How long had she been working? Night already? What time was it?
The door opened, and Arandil entered. Back to sewing she went. Stitch stitch stitch.
"Aiya!" He sounded rather cheery, and he still wore that shirt.
"Hello. I'm afraid I won't make it home tonight for supper." See? Friendly. Who couldn't be friendly to someone like him? He was friendly, and amusing, and charming, and clever. Everyone had to be friendly to someone like that.
"Farothel thought as much, so he sent me with a meal, and I've spoken with the guards so they know to keep a close eye around here, just in case."
"I'm surprised one of you isn't patrolling the area." Arandil's silence was all Dinmir needed. She sighed. "We're in civilization, not out in the woods. Who is it? Auros?"
"I wouldn't want to single anyone out."
"Bah. Well I suppose I shouldn't be surprised with the guards talking about strangers in town." Though if Muinassë travelled with them, they couldn't be that much of a concern. "You might as well join me for supper. Knowing Farothel, there's enough to feed three. Then you can tell Auros I'm fine so he won't come barging in later to check on me."
Arandil gave the door behind him a rather long study for such a small request, then turned back to Dinmir and grinned. "As you wish." He set the meal by the fire and a box on the end table. "I see you've made a great deal of progress on your work."
Dinmir set to clearing the small workbench she'd used to collect the finished clothes. "Aye." While lifting the pile, her knuckles brushed across the table's surface and the lines and curves carved into it caught her eye. She ran her whole hand over the pattern. It really was there, intricate shapes cut into the surface with such care. How could she have missed them? From the center of the shop she studied the other furniture Arandil and Aldawë had brought from Imladris. They were all over tables, shelves, and chairs. Floor to ceiling. Small and large. Her fingers had traced the same patterns so often when she was bored. How did she not realize that the entire shop had been blanketed in violets?
Arandil didn't need to be told. When he grinned, she knew he could see it in her face. "I thought it might make your shop feel more yours."
"I'm sorry it took me so long to notice."
"You've had bigger concerns." He had no reason to be so understanding. She didn't deserve it. She should've let him say his piece long ago. If he would bring it up, she would let him.
Arandil lowered a tray onto the table, but Dinmir put her hand on his arm. "It would be a shame to get it all dirty." She spread a cloth over the top and he set the tray down again.
The meal began in silence. Arandil scooped generous portions onto Dinmir's plate, and the beautiful, tasty aromas wafting her way forced hunger to the forefront of her thoughts; and oh, how hungry she was! While she ate, Arandil had ample opportunity to bring up whatever he wanted without objection. Any minute he would try to talk to her about them, about how he loved her and was sorry, and wanted to be with her, and all of it. She was ready. It was as good a time as any. Any moment... but he didn't bring it up. When he looked up from his plate, he grinned at her and went back to eating. Bah! Why wouldn't he bring it up! She was ready to have the conversation! After several such moments, he turned back to his plate and a soft chuckle escaped.
"What's so funny?" Hopefully it sounded more curious than accusatory.
Arandil looked up at her. "I'm sorry, I was just remembering a story."
Dinmir put down her fork and leaned on her hands. "I like old stories. Which one?" Perhaps Arandil wanted to soften her up with more pleasant topics first. If she showed herself willing to listen, he'd certainly open up.
"Well, I believe it's called 'The Scoundrel and the Knight'."
Dinmir grinned. "Scoundrel, eh?"
"It's hardly fair, isn't it? Maybe he was more of a rogue, or a scallywag, or maybe he was little more than a rascal. Oh well, that's how these stories go." Back to eating he went, as if he'd never brought it up. How dare he!
Impatience tinged words she'd tried to make playful. "So you dangled an unfamiliar story in front of me just to tease me? That's not very fair of you."
Arandil lowered his fork, swallowed the bit in his mouth and took a sip from his cup. "Very well. Far be it from me to deny you entertainment on the eve of your birthday."
"...My birthday?"
"You may have forgotten in all your bustling about making a name for yourself, but I haven't."
It really was her birthday tomorrow! And Aldawë's! How could she be so busy that she forgot!
Arandil tapped his cup and stared at the ceiling. "It's a rather long story, but let's see if I remember how it goes. There was a scoundrel, a knight, and a maiden so fair the brightness of her smile and the joyful light of her eyes gave the Sun cause for envy."
Dinmir scoffed. "With that kind of flattery, it sounds like an old tale all right."
"One day the Scoundrel grew bored, and decided to pester his friend the Knight—"
"The Knight and the Scoundrel were friends?"
"Indeed, but that's another long story. Anyway, so he pestered the Knight about some trivial matter, they made a wager, and off they went to determine the truth of the Scoundrel's claim. Along the way, they encountered the Maiden, and from that moment, the Scoundrel's heart was given to her."
"That fast?"
"I'm inclined to believe so."
"Well, it's an old story, so it's possible. Did the Maiden love the Scoundrel?"
"Hmm. Well, it's told from the perspective of the Scoundrel. At first he wasn't sure, but even when he was certain it brought him little comfort."
"Let me guess: the Knight interfered. Did they duel over the Maiden's honor? Or for the Maiden's hand, or some other such ceremony? That's usually how these stories go."
"On the contrary, the Knight encouraged his friend to pursue the Maiden's affection."
"That's surprising. Then again I suppose the Scoundrel had to have some redeeming qualities to have a knight for a friend."
"Unfortunately, this scoundrel lived up to the label. He wounded the Knight."
"That's horrible! And then he absconded with the Maiden?"
"No, he wounded her too."
"Really?! Why? How?"
"I believe the verse was: 'He wielded neither blade nor dart, but struck with the Dread of the Doldrums.'"
"This story has riddles too? And nautical ones at that. Hmm." The solution to this one eluded her. Perhaps she wasn't familiar enough with the Sea. Maybe there was a trick in the wording or spelling that didn't translate well to a spoken story. Dinmir would have to find a copy to read later. For now, she wouldn't deny Arandil his chance to tell the tale. "It's bad enough to wound his friend, but if he loved the Maiden how could he wound her?"
"It was unintentional, of course. He spends much of the story lamenting it, but if I had to hazard a guess as to why he did it, I suppose it would be fear. Perhaps he feared she wouldn't return the affections of a lowly scoundrel."
"He must not have met many maidens." It slipped out before Dinmir could stop it. She raised her glass to hide the puckish grin fighting to take hold.
Arandil let his grin show. "Perhaps not."
Dinmir cleared her throat. It was a serious story and deserved serious consideration. "Well? Did they survive their wounds? The Knight and the Maiden?"
"Aye. Eventually the Maiden's smile returned forever, though it made brief appearances as she healed. It was as bright as ever, but that's beyond the end of the tale."
"Ok, so go back to where we stopped. He wounded them. And?"
Arandil took a sip. "The Scoundrel felt great remorse afterward and offered himself up to the Avenger."
Avenger? Knight? Scoundrel? Maiden? Did no one have names in these tales? "I hope he didn't strike the Scoundrel down."
"As surprising as it is, no. Rather than meting out justice, the Avenger offered the Scoundrel a chance to redeem himself."
"Oh good! I don't get the feeling he was that bad a fellow." Not that she had anything to base it on but his friendship with the Knight, but she had a feeling.
"The Avenger likely thought as much too. The Scoundrel undertook many labors in atonement. He'd had little hope the Maiden would forgive him, but some say a fool's hope is better than none."
"What kind of labors?"
"Someone asked the Scoundrel that, and he said, if I can remember it right: 'I could not name them, because for me they were not labors.' So we don't get to know."
"Did the Maiden at least know?"
"Hmm. I don't think that's ever brought up."
"You mean he never told her?"
"I suspect he thought making a tally of it all would diminish the meaning behind his effort."
"But surely he told her some of it? How can she forgive him if she doesn't know? She did forgive him, didn't she?"
"Alas, the tale ends with the Scoundrel never knowing. But the last words are the Scoundrel expressing that for all his mistakes, he didn't regret loving the Maiden, or all he performed in her name."
"Well that's a shame. I imagine he would have many interesting adventures after that. I suppose if he couldn't convince the Maiden of his sincerity, no list of his efforts would."
"Perhaps you're right. I pity the Scoundrel, but I also find it difficult to fault the Maiden." With the last bite of his meal, Arandil rose to his feet. "Well, that's the story anyway, and I've taken enough of your time."
Bah, he still hadn't brought up what happened between them. "So why did that story make you laugh? It sounds rather sad."
"I suppose I saw a bit of irony in it, how sometimes the harder we try to grasp something, the quicker it slips through our fingers, and yet, if we don't try at all it eludes us altogether. It's better to try, even when there's no hope for victory."
Dinmir glanced at her empty plate. "Arandil..." How could she bring it up? "... you haven't taken my time, I've given it to you."
"Then I thank you for it." He made his way towards the door. Nothing? Really?
"Arandil?" Why was she so eager for him to say something about it? "...You asked Farothel to let you bring me supper, didn't you?"
He grinned. "You caught me. I wanted to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday."
As Arandil threw his cloak around his shoulders, Dinmir cleared her throat. "I think you're forgetting something." They'd had a wonderful dinner. Was she going to destroy that good will? "You didn't say 'Happy Birthday.'"
Arandil grinned again. "Happy Birthday, Dinmir. I'm glad I got to share this meal with you. Thank you for one more opportunity to bask in the light. Oh, your gift is in the box I left by the fire, but you can't open it until morning."
Dinmir sighed through a smile. "Fine, but that doesn't stop me from guessing at it."
"I wouldn't dare suggest otherwise. Namarië." The tone of that namarië had an unsettling weight. He crossed the threshold into the night, and in his wake the shop felt quieter and emptier than before his arrival.
An engrossing tale, a birthday dinner, and a gift to occupy her thoughts for the rest of the night: leave it to Arandil to give her that combination. Dinmir looked over at the box. What could it be? No peeking. After putting the food and dishes away, she tried to go back to sewing, but the story gnawed at her more than the mystery of the gift. Such a shame the Scoundrel never knew if the Maiden forgave him, and since the story ended that way, that's how it would remain forever. As much as she tried to go back to sewing, that riddle wouldn't solve itself. Outside crickets chirped, wind blew, boards creaked, but inside the crackling fire, the scuffing of her chair, and even the rustle of fabric sounded hollow. Bah. Too quiet. Too unsettling. The shop needed noise. The sound of unravelling a riddle aloud would do nicely.
"'Dread of the Doldrums'... 'Dread of the Doldrums'. Well, the worst thing about the Doldrums, or so I hear, is when there's no wind. Stuck out in the middle of the ocean for days, maybe weeks, rations running low, unable to get anywhere. Hunger? No. Stillness? Maybe? How can someone strike with 'stillness'? No. Wind. Wound with 'wind'? Maybe breath. ... no wind... no breath. No breath... silence. Silence! The Scoundrel wounded her with Silence! I knew I could get it... BAH!" Dinmir threw down the shirt in her hands and thrust the needle into its cushion. "He did it! He actually did it!" Her scowl melted as she began to shake. Snorts came first, then outright laughter. "He didn't just say his piece, he actually convinced me to demand it! And he did it with a straight face!"
Bah, it wasn't fair. He could still make her laugh and annoy her at the same time. If this was the game he wanted to play, she could play it too. She'd get him back, oh yes. He'd never see it coming, and she'd relish her sweet revenge. She couldn't be mad at Arandil, as much as she tried. He never spoke up in Imladris, but when Dinmir needed help, he was there. He appeared again even after she'd moved. How it galled her when he showed up at her door! Not that he was there, but that everything she thought she'd loose on him was gone. The piece of her mind primed to deliver the volley had surrendered at first sight and refused to take up arms again. All the time in the world wasn't going to change that, and that's why she was mad. Not at him, at herself. She'd say she'd forgiven him, but was there really anything to forgive? Surely Arandil knew—
Dinmir leapt from her seat and grabbed her cloak. She could still catch him! It wasn't too late! The story wasn't over! Not yet! She threw open the door, but before she could whistle for Alagos, a hooded figure bearing a lantern walked up the street.
"Aldawë! Aldawë, where's Arandil?"
Aldawë didn't look surprised to see Dinmir running towards him. "Curulin and Melëar arrived in town earlier today. He went with them." A singer and a harpist. Why couldn't Muinassë just say who it was?
Grumbling only wasted more time. Focus. This wasn't how it was meant to end. "He was just here. He can't be too far. It hasn't been more than thirty minutes."
"He could be out of the gate in thirty minutes." Bah, that sympathy in his eyes. She wasn't defeated yet!
"Where's Auros? He can get them to let me out." Why was Aldawë looking at her like that? "He's patrolling the town tonight, isn't he?"
"Not unless he snuck in after me and Arandil."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"The guards needed a couple of extra hands. Arandil and I volunteered. He took second watch and I took third."
"... Aldawë, what time is it?"
"It's halfway through third watch."
Had she really buried herself so deep in work? "But... he brought supper! He said Farothel made it for me because I wouldn't make it home in time! It was still warm!"
"Well, I can imagine them letting him out, but getting back in? Unless he climbed the wall..."
"Then I'll climb the wall too!" He couldn't leave thinking she didn't love him!
"Sis, if he got all the way to the house and back with a warm meal, he had a horse waiting for him, and there's no way Alagos can jump that high."
"I have to try." Dinmir didn't have time to hate the desperation in her own voice. "You have to tell the guards at the gate to let me through. Please."
"Into the night? By yourself? Do you really think Arandil would want you endangering yourself to chase after him?"
"Then come with me!"
Aldawë sighed. "I'm on patrol, Dinmir. I'm sorry. He's gone."
"Gone?" The word sounded so final. As final as Arandil's "namarië" ringing in her ears. Dinmir's shoulders slumped. "Why? Why didn't he say he was leaving?"
"And put more pressure on you?"
Those words were tiny needles poking Dinmir between the shoulders. Her back stiffened. "Go ahead and say it. I know you want to. Tell me I should've listened to him sooner."
"There's no point in saying things you already know."
"Go ahead! Say I brought this upon myself. You know you want to."
"If you think I'm enjoying any of this, you haven't been paying attention at all, which is an accusation I never thought I'd have cause to levy."
"Bah! Just... bah!" Dinmir stormed back into the shop. Why, when she was finally ready to listen, did he have to leave? This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to have more time. Nearly a year wasn't nearly enough. If Aldawë really felt any sympathy, he would've helped her get through the gate. She could've found Arandil... not knowing where he was going... or which way... Bah.
Work. There was still plenty of work. Here was the shirt she'd been working on. A rooster crowed in the distance and the shirt was forgotten. There was only the box Arandil left. His gift for her. A wide, thin box. Curiosity drew her to the end table where it waited, but dread stayed her hand from opening it. Dread told her what it was. Dread prevented her from confirming. Better not to know for sure. Better never to know. Then why did her hands grasp the sides of the lid? Why did they lift it away? Why was she compelled to dig into the small bits of cloth and expose its contents? With the garland of violets in her hands, Dinmir collapsed into her favorite chair. She'd failed. No tears flowed. No shouts bubbled up from deep inside. She couldn't find either.
The Scoundrel was gone.