Author’s Note:  Ye Gods, I cannot believe I kept you poor readers waiting over a year for an update.  My deepest, most heartfelt apologies.  This story has taught me the bitter lesson of not starting to post a story before it’s finished, because writer’s block delays aren’t fair to my readers.  I do hope some of you will continue reading and reviewing in spite of the unforgivable length of time you’ve had to wait.  (Though in my defense, this was one of the hardest chapters I’ve ever done—it’s my first love scene of sorts.)

Additional Note:  I had promised this story on March 20^th, and here it is, but please be advised:  it is un-betaed.  My beta reader ran into some Real Life difficulties, and rather than pester her over this or keep you waiting any longer, I decided to go ahead and post.  At least I’m pretty sure my basic writing mechanics are okay, and if you’ve got suggestions for improvement, I’d certainly be glad to hear them.  Once my beta is able to finish fine-toothing this baby, I’ll replace this chapter with the edited version.  I also appear to have gotten my momentum back in this tale, so I hope the delay won’t be quite so long this time.  However, I can’t promise no delays at all, as most of you know, law school keeps me very busy.

Chapter Four:  Swan on the Rocks

     Celeborn spent the first part of the day inspecting his ship (a chore which, like most of the captains, he did far more often than necessary.)  Indeed, there were a fair number of mariners in the Swan Haven this morn, either making inspections and repairs or sailing abroad on Elendë. 

     It was a pleasant, peaceful activity:  checking the wear upon her timbers, ropes, and sails, swimming along her sides to see below the waterline, scrubbing away any accumulations of salt or grime that might mar her white body.  It was most relaxing.

     He had climbed far up the prow to remove some seaweed from her beak when a familiar voice said, “Good morrow, kinsman.”

     He nearly fell into the water.  Steadying himself, Celeborn looked down to the visitor watching him from the docks, wearing the sailing raiment of Telerin maids.  “Good day, Artanis.  Were you seeking me?”

      “I was, and now I have found you.  Will you be long at your work?” she asked, running casual eyes over him and the laboring mariners.

      “Nay!” he exclaimed.  His throat had gone annoyingly dry.  “Nay, I am nearly done, if you wish to speak to me.”

      “I do,” her eyes sparkled with mischief.  “If you can manage to pry yourself from the embrace of your lady love.”

     Celeborn laughed, caressed his swan’s head one last time, then slid neatly down the smooth white neck (without acquiring so much as a splinter, he observed proudly.)  “Shall we take you beyond the Bay again?” he asked, noting her garment.

     Artanis gazed thoughtfully at his swan, then said, “As it happens, my lord, I thought to beg a favor of you.  I wish to learn to sail.”

      “A swan ship?  By yourself?”  Celeborn grimaced.  “That shall take years—”

     She shook her head.  “Nay, I did not mean the ships.”  Her face faintly sheepish, she nodded toward the fleet of cygnets that were moored closer to the shore. 

     It took every fragment of his self-control not to grin like a fool.  “Ah.  That I can teach you in less time.”  He turned to Nandeloss, his first mate.  “Check her for barnacles once more, and make certain she is not bumping against the dock.  Then tell the crew they may go.”

      “Fair winds, my lord.  My lady,” said Nandeloss with a playful little bow as they walked back down the dock.

     Celeborn was surprised at Artanis’s patience with his lessons.  He had heard many say she was a clever student in all she chose to put her hand to but had never had occasion to see her in this light himself.  He had been bracing himself for her usual restlessness, but he was determined that no amount of prodding lead him to hurry the lessons, for sailing was not to be taught haphazardly.  Yet she did surprise him, for she absorbed every word he spoke, every action he showed, without so much as a hint of discontent at the pace. 

     He showed her the way to wind the line that held the boat to its moorings and where to stow it.  He demonstrated the way to set up the sail on the small mast and how to collapse it again.  He taught her the knots that fastened the lines, and Artanis willingly practiced each one.  She was quite impressed with the little crank he had devised for the anchor rope and wound it up and down several times.  He had a similar one on his swan ship that would enable even the weakest elf to hoist anchor single-handed.   Artanis was seldom moved to awe, and it did make him feel just the slightest bit smug to see her show of respect for his mastery of the mariner’s craft.

     At last, when the flowering of golden Laurelin was at its brightest, they set sail.  Celeborn took the tiller while they maneuvered past the swan ships and around the docks, letting Artanis take the main sheet.  It was relatively simple; Artanis had seen enough of sailing to at least be familiar with the handling of small boats.  So he smiled to her back as she sat holding the sheet, sensing from the set of her shoulders that she was eager to take control.

     Then his mariner’s instincts were pricked, and he said to her, “Keep your focus on that sheet, kinswoman.  You cannot merely hold it; you must judge the wind’s speed and its direction to sail properly.  And when you sail alone you shall have to concentrate upon steering at the same time.”

     At least she heeded him; she straightened and began watching the wind filling the sail more closely.  Celeborn nodded approvingly as he steered the cygnet in wide circles around the Bay, letting Artanis adjust the sail to the changes in the wind.  Sailing a boat alone required one’s eyes on the water and the waves; one had to rely upon feeling to control the sail.

     As they passed the rocky arms at the mouth of Eldamar, Artanis turned a longing gaze toward the surging open seas.  “Shall we not sail beyond the Bay?”

     Her plaintive tone forced him to stifle a laugh.  Telerin blood ran true in her; that much was certain.  “Not while you are under instruction.  You must first become accustomed to the handling of a small boat by yourself, judging the wind and the waves until it becomes second nature.  Then we shall go about teaching you to dare rough waters.”  Her lower lip came out in the faintest little pout, and this time he did laugh.  “Patience, my restless Noldor maid, patience!  There shall be plenty of time.  Come, you may take the tiller now, and I shall take the sheet.  Let us see how you handle her.”

     As it was, the waves and wind within the Bay were high enough to keep them occupied.  Artanis was well-enough pleased with being allowed to steer to take her mind off the disappointment of being denied the adventure of open waters.  They circled around the deepest waters of the Bay, and he even permitted her to dare the roughest waves in the place directly between the circling arms of the Swan Haven.  So with that she was content, and they laughed and shouted with excitement often. 

     A gleam of white close by caught Celeborn’s attention as they tacked inshore again, and he spotted one of the swan ships making its way toward the open seas.  He knew it and waved merrily to the mariners aboard.  It was the ship of his cousin Halatir (who had completed his swan only a year before), and the other elf stood upon the prow of his swan with his betrothed, Piolissë, at his side.  Seeing the cygnet and its passengers, they needed no great thought to discern that lessons were afoot, and they shouted and waved playfully at Celeborn and Artanis, adding a few choice taunts to their yells.

     Artanis laughed and cried teasing insults right back, and brought the cygnet quickly about to race Halatir’s swan toward the end of the Bay.  Celeborn was in favor of the little venture, until his mariner’s instincts were roused again by a familiar taste in the wind.  “A storm comes.”

     Her entire body straightening more in glee than alarm, Artanis looked about, seeing only scattered clouds.  “How can you tell?”

      “Do you smell the wind?  Taste it.  And look well,” he pointed far in the distance.  Sure enough, there were lower, roiling crowds nearly on the horizon.

      “But that must be leagues upon leagues away from here!” she protested.

      “Feel the wind,” he said again.  Her bright eyes narrowed in doubt, and Celeborn told her firmly, “You must learn to feel everything upon the seas, Lady, or in the end they shall betray you.  You must sense the wind’s direction, and its speed, the current and patterns of the waves.  Can you not feel the storm’s approach?”

     Artanis checked the tiller for a moment, then looked to the East and closed her eyes.  He knew she could feel the coldness on the wind issuing from the dark clouds in the distance, and sense that the strongest of the breezes would push the storm close to Eldamar swiftly.  Her eyes opened, betraying understanding at last, and he nodded.  Seldom did storms strike the seas surrounding Valinor, and even more rarely did they come ashore.  But they could still stir up treacherous winds and high seas in the Bay, and Celeborn liked not the thought of facing dangerous currents in a cygnet boat with a novice sailor who also happened to be a Noldor princess.

     Alas for the adventurous streak of said Noldor princess.  “Even if it were to enter the Bay, it cannot arrive that swiftly,” Artanis said.  “So we need not return just yet!”

      “But the seas shall grow rougher,” said Celeborn.  “We should be standing into the Haven so we can get her safely lashed down in case the storm comes ashore.  You know they sometimes do.”  Lightening his tone, he added, “It would not be well to be caught out with a novice at the helm.”

     It was the wrong point to make.  Artanis bristled, and though he hurriedly attempted to think of something mollifying to say, she turned the tiller and sent the cygnet toward the mouth of the Bay.  “Its approach cannot be so swift that we have not the time to sail to the mouth once more.” 

     Her tone told Celeborn arguing would be futile.  He pulled in the sheet and gritted his teeth, hoping the wind would speed their journey and see them to safety in plenty of time.  He relished not the thought of facing a gale with Artanis in a cygnet.  A storm on the Bay would be difficult enough alone. 

     Indeed, as he had feared, it did not take long for the wind to rise, and the smell of cold rain became strong on the air.  In the distance, a growing shadow darkened the stars beyond the light of Laurelin, a shadow that grew ominously larger and closer, brightened now and then by flashes of lightning.  Celeborn glanced anxiously back at Artanis and saw, at last, a measure of apprehension in her eyes as they riveted upon the approaching storm.  “Perhaps we had best turn back now,” he said, making his voice as unchallenging as possible.

     To his intense relief, she nodded, her nervous gaze still fixed upon the flickering storm clouds (undoubtedly marveling at how quickly they had arrived.)  She gave the tiller a pull to bring the cygnet about.  But as the little boat began to turn, they were slapped smartly aside by the waves, which had grown ever larger as the storm near.  Artanis yelped and jerked them back, and Celeborn muttered an oath.  “Let me,” he said, tersely moving to take her place by the tiller while still holding the sheet.  He attempted to turn the boat once more, only to be forced back by yet another large wave.

     At that moment, the swan ship of Halatir and Piolissë flew past them, her sails unfurled and oar wings beating furiously as Celeborn’s friend wisely made for shore.  On the deck, he caught a fleeting glance of Piolissë and Halatir at the helm, gaping at him with expressions that clearly read, What are they doing?!  He swore cursed himself; he never should have allowed himself to be moved by Artanis’s whims.  Not in this.  He was mariner enough to know better than to allow the moods of an unqualified novice to govern him on his own craft. 

     For her part, Artanis seemed to have apprehended that it was her nagging that had put them in this predicament, and she had resigned meekly to the prow, glancing nervously back at him.  But Celeborn had no time to concern himself with her feelings at the moment, not if he wished to save them and his craft.  Narrowing his eyes through the misty haze that heralded the coming of the storm, he watched the waves, waiting for the right moment to turn the boat and make for home.

     At long last, there came a break in the waves as the wind changed.  “Brace yourself!  We must turn fast,” he shouted to her over the noise of rising wind and water.  Biting her lip, she seized the cygnet’s neck with both arms.  Celeborn gritted his teeth and turned the tiller hard, bringing the boat into a sharp swerve.  Water splashed over the sides, drenching them both , but the little swan stayed afloat.  Despite his concentration, he noticed that Artanis had her eyes squeezed shut with her face pressed against her arm as she clung to the tilting boat.  After another harrowing moment, they were again facing Alqualondë. 

      “There,” he said, sighing wearily.  “We shall make for port now.” 

     Raising her face again, Artanis took her bearings and then looked contritely at him.  “I am sorry,” she said in such a dejected voice that Celeborn almost smiled.

     Almost.  At the moment, he would do better to make certain she did not forget this near-disaster.  “Now you see the dangers of challenging Ossë, daughter of Finarfin.  He likes it not when mariners fail to hearken to his warnings.  The seas are not to be taken lightly, whether you are near or far from shore.”  She nodded shakily, and he managed somehow to keep his face stern.  “Be ready.  It shall be a hard ride inshore.”

     Indeed it was, even harder than he had feared.  The approaching storm was clearly intending to make a rare landfall, and Celeborn found himself faced with the grueling task of outrunning it in a woefully inadequate boat.  Very soon, a hard gust of cold wind and an even harder blast of icy rain slammed into the cygnet and its passengers, forcing Celeborn to squint hard just to see the swan haven clearly.  His passenger’s breath was coming in panicky gasps as they were battered by larger and larger waves, and great rolling waves of thunder tumbled over them amid dazzling bursts of lightning.  The light of Laurelin had been cut off by the clouds.

     Celeborn’s stomach became tight in knots as the haze and rain cut off all sight of Alqualondë and the safety of its docks.  Artanis looked back at him in naked fear as he cursed and turned the tiller, aiming for the nearest beach.  The only goal now was to get them ashore, even if it meant grounding his cygnet.  He took the sheet in his hand that held the tiller (a tricky task even in normal seas) and held out his free hand to Artanis, “Be ready.  We may be forced to abandon her.”

     She gulped and took his hand, calling over the wind’s howl, “Can I not aid you?”

     Grimacing, he weighed the choice of using both hands on the boat against keeping her close, and carefully handed her the sheet.  “Do not pull it in too tight.  The wind will tear it.  Fear not; you can do it,” he said in a gentler voice.  With a jerky nod, she lifted her chin and resolutely focused all her attention on keeping the wind in the sail to propel the cygnet.  All the same, despite this late show of courage, the grip of her other hand in his was so tight that her nails bit into his skin.

     The wind blew some of the mist aside long enough for him to see a wide sandy beach before them.  They had not much longer to face this fearful beast of Ulmo.  Celeborn’s heart was at last beginning to slow at the sight of their sanctuary when he felt the waters move beneath them, and turned his face to behold a monstrous wave bearing straight down on his cygnet to strike them broadsides.  “Artanis!” he snatched her up against his chest, causing her to drop the sheet in surprise.   The freed sail spun flapped loose, and the boat turned even more so that even the most ignorant sailor would see that a capsize was imminent.   “Hold on!  We must jump!”

     She saw the swell and screamed.  Celeborn held her against him and leapt overboard, abandoning his cygnet to her death. 

     The monster struck them just as they struck the seas, ripping Artanis from his grasp and plunging them both under the water.   Celeborn was sucked deep down by the fierce current and had to claw water for several heart-pounding moments before he broke the surface, gasping and sputtering.  “Artanis?  Artanis!  Artanis!!”

      “Celeborn!” he heard her breathy shriek and tore through the water, at last finding her struggling in terror against the current. 

     He seized her hand again, and she cried for help, losing battle with the waves and her own terror.  He pinned her against him with one arm, keeping her head well above water, and began to swim with the other.  “Do not panic!” he roared at her. 

     After a moment, she realized she was not sinking and caught herself, coughing and panting.  “Can you swim in this?” he asked urgently.  He could keep her above water for the moment, but whether he could pull her all the way to shore was less certain.

     Gasping, she replied, “Yes.”

     He let her go and kept an eye on her as she began to tread water more surely.  Getting his bearings in the pounding waves, he saw the elusive beach several ship lengths away.  Somehow fortune had pushed them on the current closer to shore.  “Come!  Stay close to me!”

     He guided her ahead of him and they began the hard journey through blinding rain, shrieking wind, and pounding waves to shore.  The thunder beat mercilessly at their ears and lightning dazzled their eyes, making it more difficult than ever to see their objective.  The breakers covered their heads many times, and often they were forced to stop and cling to each other until they had caught their breath.  Often the current changed, pulling and pushing them in every direction saved the one they most wished to go.  Celeborn fought the savage water until his arms throbbed and his legs felt leaden.  To his relief, Artanis kept pace with him, though she was undoubtedly tiring as well.

     After what seemed an eternity of being buffeted and blinded, his legs at last grated against sand, and he surged forward, seizing Artanis by the arm.  He nearly fell when his weight came fully upon his legs again, but somehow they both managed to keep their feet long enough to stagger ashore, exhausted and shaken.  They found no place where the beach could be exited without scaling the small cliffs--a task that would be difficult even for the rested in good weather.  Instead, fortune favored them with a place where the cliff reached out to shelter the sand a bit from the rain, and there they fell, spent and aching.

     Trembling with weariness, Celeborn drew Artanis back against the cliff wall as far out of the storm as he could, and they both gazed back at the surging waters.  The cygnet was gone. 

     A little sound brought his eyes to his companion, and his initial surge of anger at the waste was softened by her obviously-failing effort not to weep.  He brushed idly at a long strand of seaweed caught on her shoulder, and she broke, burying her face in her hands.  Celeborn gently pulled her against him and let her vent her guilt and fear.  “I am sorry, I am sorry,” she whispered through her tears.

      “Hush,” Celeborn said.  “We both made ill decisions.  It was my charge to keep the boat under control.  But we escaped the sea with our lives.”  Artanis sighed, shivering with cold and weariness.  “Think no more of it.  I shall build another cygnet.”

     It was doubtful that anyone from Alqualondë would be abroad searching for them while the storm still raged; few elves would dare such conditions to search for comrades who could be anywhere on the entire Bay.  With that thought, Celeborn cast himself upon the sand, still holding Artanis to his chest, and let weariness claim him.  Artanis succumbed even faster, and he noticed with amazement that exhaustion had drawn her eyes closed.  It was amazing indeed that she had done as well as she had.  Most novice mariners would have stood very little chance of escaping the sea’s clutches in such conditions.  Artanis was a formidable opponent even to Ossë.  The thought drew a smile to Celeborn’s lips, and he gave in to his own weariness then, too tired even to notice that his own eyes had closed.

***

     The familiar sounds of rolling waves slowly brought Artanis back from the darkest, heaviest sleep she had ever experienced.  Waking after such a deep slumber was a slow process indeed, and it was the tired rumbles of thunder from the finally-waning storm that brought her fully to consciousness.  At first she was disoriented, finding herself lying upon a bed of sand, under some kind of shelter, yet still soaking wet, with her head upon…someone’s chest.  Celeborn?  Where were they?  Why was he also drenched, and asleep with his eyes closed?  What had--then she remembered.  Her sudden tension roused the Teleri, and he blinked up at her.  “Artanis?”  She blinked back at him, at a loss for words, and he slowly sat up, grimacing and causing her to realize that she was also painfully stiff and sore.

     Celeborn glanced around for a moment, then stared at the beach.  Artanis followed the gaze and stifled a moan:  the broken remains of Celeborn’s lovely little cygnet boat had been dashed to pieces on the rocks and cast ashore on their beach like so much driftwood.  Remembering her own ill-advised desire to dare Ossë’s fury, Artanis cringed with shame and guilt.  Her foolishness had destroyed the boat and nearly cost them both their lives. 

     Her mother’s kinsman saw her grief and put a hand upon her shoulder.  “I bade you think no more of it.  I shall build her anew, and it is well that we reached safety.  Such things happen.”

      “Even when they need not happen?” she muttered.

     He laughed softly and pulled her closer.  “The storm is nearly spent, and soon our kindred shall begin searching for us.”  He smiled dryly at the cliff that encircled the beach so thoroughly.  “Under normal circumstances, we might go to meet them, but I fear it is unlikely either of us shall be fit to climb that wall without the aid of a rope.”  Rubbing her own aching arms and legs, she had to agree.  Then he frowned, seeing the bruises that marred her fair skin, and she noticed similar marks upon him.

     By the Valar, we did escape with barely our lives!  she thought in amazement, and a little shudder ran through her again. 

     Celeborn sighed and brushed irritably at the sand that clung to his wet skin and clothing.  He attempted to rise and brush himself off, only to find his legs in no state to support his weight, and he collapsed at once back to the sand.  Artanis yelped in surprise as he scattered sand over her again, and tried to rise herself, getting similar results.  Staring at each other bemusedly, they both had to laugh.  “I wonder if we shall even manage to reach the wall,” she remarked with a hysterical giggle.

     Shaking his head, Celeborn took her hands and they attempted to rise together, and this time succeeded in taking a few shaky steps across the sand.  Then Celeborn staggered, Artanis wavered, and both lost the strength of their legs at the same moment.  “Oof!” she gasped as he landed on top of her.  “Aaii!  You are crushing me!  Be off!”

      “Peace, kinswoman, I am in no better state than you!” grunted Celeborn, attempting to disentangle himself.

     It was too much for Artanis, and her giggles grew louder.  Celeborn stared at her when she ceased squirming beneath him and began to laugh in earnest, then he slowly grinned and joined her.  For several moments they simply laughed, at each other, at themselves, at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.  Then by the dint of much grunting and squirming, Celeborn managed to roll off her, landing at her side in the sand.  Raising his head, he found them nose to nose, their clothes awry, and his laughter abruptly stopped.

     Artanis had no time to notice, for her laughter was stopped only when his lips came down upon her mouth with no small amount of force.  She gasped in surprise and sat up, but he rose with her and suddenly his hands had seized her shoulders, pulling her sharply toward him.  His kisses were salty from having been nearly drowned in seawater, but to her surprise, it was not unpleasant.  Heat suddenly spread through her body like a swift fire, and almost without conscious thought, her hands rose to grasp his shoulders in return and she began returning his kisses with as much zeal as he had bestowed them.

     How like the sea he was, for Artanis could not resist him as his arms came to fully encircle her, pulling her tight against his chest as his lips devoured hers faster and harder with each gasping breath.  Not a word was spoken, but both were aware of their hearts pounding wildly within their breasts.  And Artanis, who had never willingly surrendered herself to anyone in word or action, released control utterly to him.  She slung her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his drying hair, moving her lips to his ear as his mouth came down to explore her neck.  She thought nothing of it as his body came more fully to cover hers, their sodden garments providing little barrier between them, as he pressed her back down into the sand.

     That sand was irritating, but Artanis could not help her body’s reaction to Celeborn.  Never had such feelings been excited within her before, and it was as if some instinct had taken over now that she had not known to exist yesterday.  Her legs rose up against his, relishing the feel of it whenever their bare skin made contact, and she sighed in utter ecstasy as his lips moved down toward the neckline of her dress.  She in turn found her arms running the length of his back, grasping him in places she never would have dreamed of, as her own kisses fell upon his head through his silver hair.

     How warm they had suddenly become, despite their drenched clothes and the cold wind.  She relished the weight of his strong, lean body upon hers, and moaned aloud as his hand reached past the twisted skirt of her dress to caress her thigh. 

     His face rose suddenly to lock eyes with her, and she stared at him, stunned by the intensity of her own emotions, and by his gaze.  There was a passion in his eyes she had never seen, almost bordering upon desperation as he raised a trembling hand to her face.  “I love you,” he whispered, clutching at her.  “I have always loved you.  Do not deny me, I beg you!”

     Sanity came crashing back like a bucket of water colder than the storm-tossed sea.  She shivered and shrank back.  “Celeborn—”

      “Why do you recoil?” he asked, seeming almost to plead with her.  “Do you think I would harm you?”

      “Nay, but—”

      “Beloved, can you not see my intentions?  I speak plainly:  I would make you my bride,” said Celeborn fiercely, gripping her arm.  “I have long known that I would have none other than you.” 

     Her mouth was hanging open.  What was he—what did he—she squirmed out from underneath him, shivering as the sudden loss of his warmth brought gooseflesh to bare skin.  She did not exactly know why his words had ended her pleasure so swiftly.  Scooting away from him in the sand, she stared at the water.   Celeborn was still watching her, dismayed at her sudden coolness.  “Artanis, how can my wish have offended you?  Do you think me so unworthy of your hand?”

     She could not speak for several moments.  When thought of objectively, no, Celeborn could not be considered beneath her in any way.  He speaks of having me…as though I am already his.  She liked Celeborn, plainly…more than that, even.  But something in his words had raised her hackles as swiftly as if it were Feanor standing before her.  Before she knew what she was doing, she had scrambled to her feet and was stumbling toward the end of the beach.

      “Artanis!  Wait!”  His hand seized her arm, swinging her around.  “Please, forgive me—”

      “Kinsman, I beg you, speak no more of this!” she cried, pulling away.  “I cannot—you must not!”

      “What?” Celeborn’s confusion was giving way to hurt and anger.  “I did not importune you, why do you act offended?”

      “I am not, I—I—” she wished he would stop stepping toward her.  His proximity made it hard to think.  Could he not see that as much as she loved Alqualondë, she would not be able to remain here forever?  Had he failed to hear all that she had told him of her dreams, her hopes, of escaping Valinor?  If she were to bind herself to Celeborn, either he would have to come to Middle Earth with her, or she would have to remain in Valinor forever…or they would be separated for…Manwë only knew how long.  Nay, she could not stay in Valinor.  She knew this.  Although he appeared to have forgotten it, she had not been deaf to his confidences.  His heart was in Alqualondë, not Middle Earth.  She could never in good conscience force him from here with anything less but his heartfelt acquiescence.  And of leaving behind the one to whom she had pledged her heart…no.  That she could never do.  Could he not see?  Could he not understand?  Nay, he merely stared at her stupidly while she struggled to get her thoughts in order.  “I am not Teleri,” she finally blurted.

     It came out all wrong, and his expression told her it was definitely taken wrong.  “You do think me unworthy.”

      “Celeborn, no, I—”

      “You have your eye on some other prize, perhaps?” he asked coldly.

      “Stop it!” she cried, dashing the back of her hand across her face.  “You mistake my meaning.”  She swallowed, a little frightened by the steely glint in his gray eyes.  She had never seen such a look in the gentle Teleri’s gaze before.  “I do not intend to stay here forever.  I must go back to Valmar, and in time, I will go to Middle Earth.  I know your thoughts on that subject, kinsman, how could I ask you to go with me?”

     Celeborn looked as though she had insulted him.  “You truly mean to rebel?”

      “Nay, not rebel!”

      “What do you call defying the will of the Valar?  Will you count yourself as somehow righteous, allying yourself with Fëanor and his ilk?”

     The angry words struck her like blows, and she felt naught but rage.  How dare he compare her to Fëanor?  She intended to seek the Valar’s permission, but of course Celeborn clearly cared not for that.  She no longer wanted to argue with him.  Turning on her heel, she stalked toward the edge of the low, sandstone cliff, and attempted thrice to scale it before giving up and sitting at its base.  He did not come to her aid.  Artanis sat with her back to him so he could not see her furious tears, until at last the calls of the elves sent searching for them reached her. 

     She and Celeborn, keeping careful distance from each other, shouted back, and soon Lord Olwë’s searchers lowered ropes to lift them to the top.  As soon as she reached the others, Artanis lingered only long enough to embrace her alarmed mother and brother, Angrod, then rushed frantically all the way back to the dwelling of Olwë. 

     When asked by his kindred what had befallen them, Celeborn said only that the cygnet had gone down in the squall and they had swum to shore, then went himself back quietly to his own house.  When Nandeloss remarked the next day that the daughter of Finarfin had departed but a few hours later to rejoin her kinsmen in Valmar, Celeborn said only, “I wish them well of her.  And may she find greater pleasures in Fëanor’s gems than the feeble boats of the Teleri.”

To Be Continued…

Next time:  Siiigh, somehow I just didn’t see it as being easy for our Nerwen to fall in love.  But there’s trouble stirring in Tirion too, as King Finwë has called his councilors together to deal with a dispute between Fëanor and Fingolfin…and we all know how that turns out!

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