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Yours

Beta: Fimbrethiel

The candle burned low beside him on the desk, casting long shadows over the room. The High King sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. The wind howled outside the shuttered windows, the deep winter weather whirling through the streets of Lindon. Ereinion tossed his quill aside and glared at the half-written missive to Oropher in Greenwood. He could hear the distant din of reveling Elves in one of the large gathering halls. He encouraged such celebration during these cold, desolate times, made even more necessary by the Shadow looming over the lands of Middle-earth.

Ereinion stood up from his desk, wiping the dark ink from his left hand where he had held the quill, and stretched. He winced as he heard a series of popping noises in his back; he has sat too still for too long, and his body reminded him that such neglect was not tolerated. As he left his desk he snuffed out the candle, deciding to leave completing the letter to Oropher for the morning. Instead, a hot bath and mulled cider sounded perfect in the High King's mind. He opened the door that led from his office into the main hallway, and, as he stepped over the threshold, he tripped, falling heavily to the floor.

He groaned from and turned over, looking for the culprit responsible for his position on the floor. He saw it immediately -- a brightly wrapped package was sitting right in front of his door. He glanced up and down the hall, seeking the one who had left the package, but the hall was deserted save for him. He reached out, drew the gift into his lap and read the small tag tied to the silvery bow. It was addressed to him in a hand he did not recognize. He shoved his dark hair back from his face and peered at the gift; it was not large, just big enough for him to trip over. Ereinion slowly untied the bow and peeled back the colorful paper, revealing an ornately carved box depicting the glory of the fabled Two Trees in Aman. He opened the lid and a quiet gasp escaped his throat.

Nestled on a bed of dark navy silk was a splendidly wrought earring. It was made of diamonds, sapphires and mithril; three teardrop-shaped pendants hung from posts that would hold the earring in the three piercings of his left ear, all connected by finely spun mithril strands. The earring was beautiful, and the High King removed the jewels he had in his ear, replacing them with the new gift. It fit his ear perfectly, the spacing between the pendants even and well measured. As he looked inside the box again, he saw a scrap of paper written in the same handwriting as on the tag.

'My King,' it read. 'Please join me this evening under the stars for a walk among the snowdrops. I will wait for you near the main fountain.' It was signed simply, 'Yours'.

The Noldo's heart sped as he reread the closing word. 'Yours'. He had never had the opportunity to find love or to court someone suitable to take the throne beside him. Now it seemed that love had decided to come court him instead of waiting for him. Should he risk meeting the mystery Elf, or should he go to Elrond and ask his counsel? He already knew what Elrond would tell him -- there was war brewing, Oropher was being difficult, and the High King of the Noldor did not have time for such trivialities as love and courting. With Elrond's voice ringing in his head, something he found happening more and more often, he stood up and stuffed the slip of paper in the pocket of his tunic. He walked swiftly through his halls, resisting the urge to run to the fountain in a most unKingly fashion.

The wind had died down by the time Ereinion had reached the snow covered courtyard that housed the main fountain. The elaborate fountain was silent, the waters long stilled by winter's cold hand. The basin was heavy with frozen water, but the Elf maiden encircled by forest animals as she danced was even more striking, glistening with snow and ice. He scanned the courtyard hoping for a glimpse of his mystery Elf.

Standing on the opposite side of the fountain, almost blending into the surrounding landscape, was his Elf. Tall, broad in the shoulders, narrow in the waist, with hair of silver cascading down over a white cloak. Ereinion knew it was a male he gazed upon, and he wondered if the gift had been left by a male Elf. He cleared his throat, hoping to alert the Elf to his presence.

The Elf turned, and shocking silver-blue eyes easily met Ereinion's stunned grey ones. They were large and filled with wisdom and affection as he took in the King's appearance.

"I see you chose to come. The earring becomes you, it complements your coloring well." The voice was calm and lyrical, and a small smile played on the noble Elf's full lips. "Do you like it?"

"Aye," Ereinion replied, his eyes unblinking as he watched the Sinda prince across from him. "It is a gift fit for a king."

Celeborn nodded. "It is a gift fit for the High King. While I admit the bauble is beautiful, it pales when compared to your fair face."

Ereinion swallowed as he felt his cold cheeks fill with blood and the flush crept over his features. "Why did you leave it, Celeborn? Why ask to walk with me?" He wanted to close the distance between them, to wrap his arms around the slender waist and taste those curved lips. Celeborn had been his companion for many nights since the fall of Eregion, and Ereinion had found himself looking forward to the Sinda's presence each night.

He also found himself desiring more than chess and political discussions.

Celeborn held out his gloved hand, his cloak flaring behind him. The Elf was exquisite, a warrior prince of legend. "I have longed to walk with you under the stars, my King. The winter festival seemed the opportunity to ask you; all your subjects are gathered in one room to celebrate, leaving you free to do as you wish. Will you join me?"

The wind picked up again, gently ruffling the cloak and shimmering waterfall of silver hair. Eyes still unblinking, Ereinion walked around the fountain, his smile reflecting Celeborn's, and took his hand. "I would be honored, my Lord."


	Navigation single-part stories		Yours Beta: Fimbrethiel The candle burned low beside him on the desk, casting long shadows over the room. The High King sighed and rubbed his tired eyes. The wind howled outside the shuttered windows, the deep winter weather whirling through the streets of Lindon. Ereinion tossed his quill aside and glared at the half-written missive to Oropher in Greenwood. He could hear the distant din of reveling Elves in one of the large gathering halls. He encouraged such celebration during these cold, desolate times, made even more necessary by the Shadow looming over the lands of Middle-earth. Ereinion stood up from his desk, wiping the dark ink from his left hand where he had held the quill, and stretched. He winced as he heard a series of popping noises in his back; he has sat too still for too long, and his body reminded him that such neglect was not tolerated. As he left his desk he snuffed out the candle, deciding to leave completing the letter to Oropher for the morning. Instead, a hot bath and mulled cider sounded perfect in the High King's mind. He opened the door that led from his office into the main hallway, and, as he stepped over the threshold, he tripped, falling heavily to the floor. He groaned from and turned over, looking for the culprit responsible for his position on the floor. He saw it immediately -- a brightly wrapped package was sitting right in front of his door. He glanced up and down the hall, seeking the one who had left the package, but the hall was deserted save for him. He reached out, drew the gift into his lap and read the small tag tied to the silvery bow. It was addressed to him in a hand he did not recognize. He shoved his dark hair back from his face and peered at the gift; it was not large, just big enough for him to trip over. Ereinion slowly untied the bow and peeled back the colorful paper, revealing an ornately carved box depicting the glory of the fabled Two Trees in Aman. He opened the lid and a quiet gasp escaped his throat. Nestled on a bed of dark navy silk was a splendidly wrought earring. It was made of diamonds, sapphires and mithril; three teardrop-shaped pendants hung from posts that would hold the earring in the three piercings of his left ear, all connected by finely spun mithril strands. The earring was beautiful, and the High King removed the jewels he had in his ear, replacing them with the new gift. It fit his ear perfectly, the spacing between the pendants even and well measured. As he looked inside the box again, he saw a scrap of paper written in the same handwriting as on the tag. 'My King,' it read. 'Please join me this evening under the stars for a walk among the snowdrops. I will wait for you near the main fountain.' It was signed simply, 'Yours'. The Noldo's heart sped as he reread the closing word. 'Yours'. He had never had the opportunity to find love or to court someone suitable to take the throne beside him. Now it seemed that love had decided to come court him instead of waiting for him. Should he risk meeting the mystery Elf, or should he go to Elrond and ask his counsel? He already knew what Elrond would tell him -- there was war brewing, Oropher was being difficult, and the High King of the Noldor did not have time for such trivialities as love and courting. With Elrond's voice ringing in his head, something he found happening more and more often, he stood up and stuffed the slip of paper in the pocket of his tunic. He walked swiftly through his halls, resisting the urge to run to the fountain in a most unKingly fashion. The wind had died down by the time Ereinion had reached the snow covered courtyard that housed the main fountain. The elaborate fountain was silent, the waters long stilled by winter's cold hand. The basin was heavy with frozen water, but the Elf maiden encircled by forest animals as she danced was even more striking, glistening with snow and ice. He scanned the courtyard hoping for a glimpse of his mystery Elf. Standing on the opposite side of the fountain, almost blending into the surrounding landscape, was his Elf. Tall, broad in the shoulders, narrow in the waist, with hair of silver cascading down over a white cloak. Ereinion knew it was a male he gazed upon, and he wondered if the gift had been left by a male Elf. He cleared his throat, hoping to alert the Elf to his presence. The Elf turned, and shocking silver-blue eyes easily met Ereinion's stunned grey ones. They were large and filled with wisdom and affection as he took in the King's appearance. "I see you chose to come. The earring becomes you, it complements your coloring well." The voice was calm and lyrical, and a small smile played on the noble Elf's full lips. "Do you like it?" "Aye," Ereinion replied, his eyes unblinking as he watched the Sinda prince across from him. "It is a gift fit for a king." Celeborn nodded. "It is a gift fit for the High King. While I admit the bauble is beautiful, it pales when compared to your fair face." Ereinion swallowed as he felt his cold cheeks fill with blood and the flush crept over his features. "Why did you leave it, Celeborn? Why ask to walk with me?" He wanted to close the distance between them, to wrap his arms around the slender waist and taste those curved lips. Celeborn had been his companion for many nights since the fall of Eregion, and Ereinion had found himself looking forward to the Sinda's presence each night. He also found himself desiring more than chess and political discussions. Celeborn held out his gloved hand, his cloak flaring behind him. The Elf was exquisite, a warrior prince of legend. "I have longed to walk with you under the stars, my King. The winter festival seemed the opportunity to ask you; all your subjects are gathered in one room to celebrate, leaving you free to do as you wish. Will you join me?" The wind picked up again, gently ruffling the cloak and shimmering waterfall of silver hair. Eyes still unblinking, Ereinion walked around the fountain, his smile reflecting Celeborn's, and took his hand. "I would be honored, my Lord."