It was raining. Again.
'Of course it’s raining,' Dorindil thought. The drab weather matched his mood perfectly. He was a solemn, solitary Elf by nature, and he would just as soon have gone off to battle an army of orcs as perform the task his Lord had set before him.
And so, Dorindil found himself wandering the covered walkways of Rivendell, looking for a young woman he had never met. It occurred to him that he had not gotten a description of this woman from Elrond, but he figured that if he didn’t know what she looked like, he couldn’t be responsible for his failure to fulfill his task.
He spotted movement in a gazebo in the middle of a small courtyard, and made his way towards the covered structure. A young woman was sitting on the cushioned bench, staring out at the rain. She was...pretty enough, for a human girl. Her long brown hair was braided sensibly, with green and burgundy ribbons worked into the braid. She wore a bodice embroidered with green, purple, and grey, a dark burgundy blouse, and a green skirt that was lifted off the ground at the left side to show the different colored underskirts beneath.
He watched her for a moment, not sure what she was doing out in the rain.
“I know you’re there,” he heard an impatient voice say. “You might as well come out, whoever you are.”
Dorindil stepped out from behind the column he had been standing behind. He hadn’t intended to keep from bringing his presence to her attention. If he had, she would never have known he was there.
“Are you just going to stand there in the rain all day, or would you like to come share this lovely roof I’ve found?” she asked. Dorindil crossed the courtyard quickly and stepped under the roof, standing almost at attention in the middle of the small dry space.
“It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up any time soon,” she said, sitting back down. “Wouldn’t you like to sit?”
Realizing how silly he must have looked, Dorindil took a seat across the way from the young woman.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” she said hesitantly. “But, then again, I haven’t been here long, and there are always people coming and going.” She paused for a moment, hoping he’d interject. He didn’t. “My name is Corrielle, but most people just call me Corri.”
Dorindil blinked in surprise, then groaned inwardly. Of course she was Lady Corrielle. Of course he had managed to find the one person he had pointedly been trying NOT to find. That was just the way his day was going. He looked at her for a second time, more closely now. Her manner was strange, in the open, overly direct way that most Menfolk had. Among the Elves, introductions were a serious thing, not to be taken lightly. There were formalities to be observed, words of greeting to be spoken. He sighed. Then, he saw her face. She looked hopeful, and a little worried.
'She’s just as nervous as I am,' he thought. Our ways are not hers, and she seems to be trying so hard not to offend...
“I am called Dorindil. I am an under captain in Lord Elrond’s guard.”
“Oh! How exciting!” Corri said. “That must keep you away from Imladris quite a bit. That’s probably why I’ve never seen you before.”
“Probably,” he agreed. Then, he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He grimaced. Elrond would never let him hear the end of it if he came back with no results. So, he cleared his throat. “I...ah...wish you a happy day today,” he said. Corri looked confused.
“Ah...thanks. Why?” she asked. This was not the reaction he had been expecting. She was supposed to smile and flutter her eyelashes, or so he had gathered from talking to the other Elves.
“I heard several learned Elves talking about human customs, and one of them mentioned that tomorrow was a special day on the calendar of Men. Especially for women,” he said.
“Oh! You mean Valentine’s Day,” she laughed. “Thank you, then. I never really paid much attention to Valentine’s myself.” Her face fell a little. “Of course, that’s probably because no one ever paid much attention to me on past days like today...” She shook off her dark look and shrugged. “I never really paid it much mind, I guess. I’d forgotten until you reminded me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about your customs,” he admitted. “I don’t even know why tomorrow is supposed to be so special.” He didn’t add that he was rather annoyed that Elrond had neglected to explain it. He knew there was something to do with love, and couples, and romance, but the Lord of Rivendell seemed to assume that everyone present already knew exactly what all the fuss was about. Rumíl, Erestor, and Glorfindel certainly seemed to know what was going on, and he would bet his favorite bow that the poncy Mirkwood prince did, too.
“There’s not much to this one. Do you want me to explain it to you?” Corri asked. He nodded. “Well...it’s a day for people who are in love to buy presents for each other, and a day for people who are in love who haven’t admitted it yet to get the attention of the object of their affection, and a day where women get to feel special because men bring them flowers, buy them candy, or sing bad love songs to them.”
“Are they always bad love songs?” Dorindil asked wryly.
“I don’t suppose they are,” Corri said. “But then again, Men aren’t the poets you Elves are.”
“I’m sorry if I brought up a sore topic,” he said. He’d heard the note of sarcasm in her description of Valentine’s Day. “It sounds like a rather unpleasant holiday for one who didn’t have anyone to bring her gifts.”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Look, the rain has stopped.” Indeed, the rain had stopped falling. Dorindil began to contemplate his next course of action.
“Well,” he said, “it was very nice to meet you, but I have other...duties I must see to.”
Corri nodded. “I understand. It was good talking to you,” she said. Dorindil stepped out onto the raised stone path that wound through the gardens. “Oh, by the way, Happy Valentine’s Day, Dorindil!” she called after him.
“Not very likely,” he muttered under his breath. But, the second after that, he smiled. This might not be so horrible after all. She seemed a nice enough girl, with a sensible head on her shoulders.
"Does it really make that much difference if the basket has apples or not?" asked Idhrenwen, watching as Celeborn walked to the door with the empty basket.
Celeborn nodded. "Everything must be done as we will do it tomorrow so that we are acquainted with the entirety of the play. We are not going to stop. If there is a problem, if someone forgets a line, just do your best." Celeborn pulled the door open and looked down the hall. "You there!" he called to the page, and when the Elleth looked up, he crooked his finger to her. She hurried to the door and curtseyed. "I need this basket filled with apples. Quickly, now!" he called as she lifted her skirts and raced down the hall. Closing the door, Celeborn came back into the room.
Elladan glanced over to the back of the room. "Uh, El, your horse is sleeping."
"Mmm?" Elrohir raised his head and looked around with bleary eyes. He had been sitting on a chair and had rested his head on his arms. "Oh, he'll be fine." He yawned and closed his eyes.
"You don't look like you've slept," said Elladan with concern in his eyes.
"I haven't," Elrohir answered his twin, eyes still shut. "I practiced all night with that horse."
"Excellent! So he can make it up the stage now?"
"No."
"Oh." Elladan frowned and looked over to his grandfather. Celeborn shook his head. "El, does he even come close?"
Elrohir managed to open one eye and shook his head. After a moment, he stood and walked to the horse, mounting after he awakened the creature. Nudging the horse forward, he was able to get the steed to the steps, where the horse halted. "Up." The horse did not move. "Up!" commanded Elrohir more insistently, and still, nothing.
"Stupid horse," murmured Elladan, shaking his head.
"Jump side to side and wiggle your tail." Upon saying these words, Elrohir held on as his mount did an odd sort of hop to the left, to the right, back again, and then swished his tail. "Up!" The horse snorted.
"It's a Haldir Horse!" laughed Elladan, before glancing wickedly at Celeborn. "Or, is selective deafness something you taught the Galadhrim as well?"
"Haldir would have gone up the steps, but you'd have a hard time convincing him to jump back and forth and wiggle his tail." Celeborn patted the horse's neck. 'No, this is a Galadriel Horse,' he thought to himself with a smirk.
"I don't think I want to know," Zhie whispered to Idhrenwen where they stood, and Idhrenwen nodded. The door suddenly opened, and Celeborn turned quickly, sure that he had locked the door when he had shut it.
"One basket of fresh apples, Lord Celeborn, and - oh, my, what have we here?" Glorfindel looked around innocently - too innocently - while he clutched the basket of apples before him.
Celeborn stomped to the door and wrenched the basket from Glorfindel's grip. A few of the apples fell and rolled across the floor, and Elrohir jerked the reins so that his horse would not decide to chase and eat the props. "What did you do to my page?"
"Nothing she wasn't willing to be part of," grinned Glorfindel, staring at the stage. "A theatrical production? You are too lucky, Celeborn, I happen to have the afternoon free!"
"We do not need assistance, thank you." Celeborn passed the basket behind him to the awaiting hands of Idhrenwen and concentrated on moving Glorfindel out of the room.
"Oh, there must be something I can do to help!" Glorfindel anchored himself in the doorway, one foot planted on either side inside of the room so that he could not be shoved from the room easily.
Celeborn shook his head. "Out!"
Wide-eyed, Glorfindel put a hand on Celeborn's shoulder. "Surely, you could use another player in your production!"
"No!"
"A costume designer? A prop master? An usher?" Glorfindel continued to name off possible positions as Celeborn worked on prying the elf's fingers from his shoulder.
"No, no, no, and no on whatever you are about to say!" Celeborn sighed when Glorfindel closed his mouth and pouted. "The cast board has already been painted."
"I can repaint it!" offered Glorfindel.
"No! Now, Glorfindel, please! We have limited time to practice, and an uncooperative horse to train."
Glorfindel's eyes lit up. "The horse! I can train the horse! Where's the horse?" Everyone pointed to the horse that Elrohir was mounted upon, Elrohir even pointing down from his spot. "That's the horse?" Everyone nodded solemnly as the horse tossed his head proudly, issuing the challenge to Glorfindel. Glorfindel looked the horse up and down. "Well, good luck, then!" Glorfindel turned to leave, but turned back before Celeborn could close the door. "A thought. Do we need to use THAT horse?"
The players looked at each other, and Celeborn shook his head. "You have another mount in mind for the part?"
"I do. It's a good horse - a better horse. That horse!" Glorfindel said, pointing out the window at a proud white horse grazing outside.
"Asfaloth?" Celeborn rubbed his chin and nodded. "If he can climb steps, you can be the animal trainer for the production."
"Animal trainer? Surely, Lord Celeborn, this merits more the title of 'Assistant Director', does it not?"
"Assistant TO THE Director, perhaps," said Celeborn.
"Done!" Glorfindel waited for Elrohir to dismount. "I shall bring Asfaloth presently." As an afterthought on his way out of the Hall of Fire, Glorfindel grabbed the board that was to be used for the cast listing. "I'll have this corrected as well." Glorfindel headed from the room, grinning ear to ear.
Kristin and Legolas had found a nice dry spot in the sun to relax. Legolas was stretched out on his back on the grass, his blonde hair scattered about. Kristin lay stretched out in the other direction, using his stomach for a pillow, her red curls falling everywhere. They had talked and laughed for quite some time, but now were both silent, enjoying the sunshine on their faces.
Kristin lay quietly with her eyes closed when she realized Legolas' breathing was getting deeper. Turing her head to the side, she noticed the Elf had fallen into reverie. Smiling, she turned her head back to the sky, watching the clouds billow by. Absentmindedly, she picked a long blade of grass and started to fumble with it between her fingers.
Suddenly, the maiden smiled. She quietly rolled over onto her stomach, the skirt of her burgundy dress flowing over the grass. Resting on one elbow, she reached up with the other hand and tickled the end of the prince's nose with the blade of grass. Legolas scrunched up his nose and wiggled it. Kristin fought hard not to laugh.
Again she reached up and tickled his nose with the grass. This time the prince brought his left hand up and swatted at his nose. Kristin grinned trying not to laugh. Legolas scrunched his nose again and then quit moving.
Not able to stop herself, she tickled him again. The elf's left hand came flying up, smacking himself in the face. Legolas groaned a little, letting his hand drop back down, and wiggling his nose. Kristin nearly doubled over snickering.
Reaching out again, she tickled his nose more, but this time the Elf didn't move. Confused, Kristin tickled again, but still no reaction. She tickled again, and suddenly the prince sat straight up, grabbing the surprised maiden. Rolling her quickly over onto her back, Legolas firmly pinned Kristin to the ground with his body.
"And just what do you think you are doing?" questioned the prince with a silly smirk on his face. Kristin's look of shock became one of amusement.
"Just having a little fun, my dear prince!" she giggled.
"Just having a little fun," Legolas repeated. "And tickling someone is what you call fun." Legolas pressed himself closer down to her, his face mere inches from her own.
Kristin smiled and nodded in agreement.
"Really," the prince smirked, "I'll have to give this a try!"
"NO!" protested Kristin, starting to wiggle underneath him, but it was too late. Legolas' nimble fingers quickly found her very ticklish sides.
Kristin doubled over with laughter as she tried to get away. Squirming wildly under the weight of the Elf, her hand managed to brush his side, making the Elf jump. Legolas was ticklish too! The tickling war had begun.
Kristin dug her fingers crazily into the elf's sides, causing him to jump and wiggle around as much as she was. The two of them wrestled around like crazy, trading who was on the top while the other doubled over with laughter, trying to protect their sides.
The two of them wrestled around for quite some time, before Legolas managed to get the upper hand, pinning Kristin's wrist to the ground with his hands and pinning her body down with his own. Both of them were breathing hard, completely out of breath, and unable to contain their laughter.
When they finally managed to catch their breath a bit, Legolas stammered, "If I let go, promise no more tickling!"
Kristin nodded in agreement. Legolas grinned and released her hands. Kristin relaxed underneath him and laughed. The prince reached up and gently pushed several red curls out of Kristin's face, and she smiled at him as his fingers brushed her cheek. Bringing her arms up, she gently wrapped her arms around the elf's waist, causing him to squirm slightly. Kristin giggled, "I'm not going to tickle you any more!"
Legolas smiled and brought his hand back up to stroke her cheek and ran it through her red curls. Their blue eyes met and they stared deep into the eyes of the other. Slowly, Legolas leaned down and kissed her lips gently. Kristin smiled and returned his kiss. Legolas took her lips in his again and the kiss grew more passionate.
Quietly, a dark robed figure dropped down from a nearby tree and scurried away. Glancing quickly back, Lord Elrond smiled at the two lovers enjoying the sun, and then hurried away.
“Flowers...” Dorindil murmured to himself. “She said flowers. It’s as good a place to start as any.” He stepped into one of the many nursery buildings that dotted the gardens of Rivendell.
“I need some flowers,” he said. The Elf in charge of that section of the gardens looked up from the patch of ground he was carefully weeding.
“Ah, Master Dorindil. What kind of flowers would you like?” the older Elf asked.
“I...I don’t know. The kind of flowers one would give to a woman, I suppose,” he said.
“I’ll need to know a little more than that!” the gardener exclaimed. “Do you see these?” He pointed at a glorious bunch of yellow blooms spilling out of a pot hanging from the ceiling. “These flowers are traditionally given to Elven women after they have given birth. Those blue ones over there express longing, the tiny pink blooms with the white stars in the center express the wish to begin a courting relationship...”
Dorindil’s head hurt. Like all Elves, he appreciated growing things, but who knew flowers had so many complicated meanings?
“What about those? Do they have any significance?” he asked, pointing to a patch of bell shaped flowers that were a deep burgundy. They reminded him of Corri’s blouse and petticoats.
“Those? No, not that I know of...I just received these seeds from a traveller coming from Rohan...lovely, aren’t they?”
“Very,” Dorindil agreed. “Do you think I could have a few of them?”
“Of course! I have enough blooms here to gather seeds for future plantings, I don’t see what harm your taking a few of them could do.” The gardener plucked ten or twelve of the flowers from the ground and handed them to Dorindil. “I hope your lady enjoys them,” he said as the guardsman went out the door, winking at him. Dorindil gritted his teeth.
Corri was not in the gazebo where Dorindil had left her. Like him, she had only been using it as shelter from the rain. Now that the sun was out, she could be anywhere. He looked down at the various paths leading from the gazebo, the smiled. He was an expert tracker. Finding one young woman, even if she had walked across stone, shouldn’t be that hard for an experienced Elf.
Sure enough, he found her a few minutes later, sitting at a table in a protected alcove. An Elf with the look of a scholar sat with her, and an old manuscript lay on the table before him.
“...and so these words right here...they’re meant to represent the writer’s sorrow at the loss of the Light of the Two Trees, right?” she was saying.
“Exactly,” the scholar-Elf said, obviously pleased. “And if you look down here, that theme continues to...”
Dorindil cleared his throat. Corri and her teacher both looked up.
“May I...talk to you for a moment, Lady Corri?” he asked. She and the older Elf exchanged confused glances. Then, her tutor nodded at her and she got up and walked over to him. He guided her around a corner, not wanting anyone to witness the awkwardness of what he was about to do. He grabbed the flowers from the railing where he had laid them, and thrust them in her direction.
“Here. These are for you,” he said. Corri looked at the flowers, then at him, then back at the flowers. Carefully, she took the blooms from his hand.
“What...” she started to say, but couldn’t find any other words that didn’t sound rude.
“You said no one had ever done...traditional Valentine’s Day things for you. It seemed to make you sad. So, I brought you flowers,” he said. She continued to stare at him in surprise. The taciturn Elf was the last person she would have expected to pick up on an insignificant young woman’s feelings.
“They match your dress,” he pointed out, seeing as she still hadn’t said anything.
Smiling, and blinking back - were those tears? - Corri carefully laid the flowers back on the railing, and Dorindil found his arms full of a young, smiling girl.
“That...is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said, hugging him tightly for a moment before releasing him. “Sorry about that...I didn’t mean to...you know, rumple your uniform or anything.” She looked embarrassed about her outburst now, but Dorindil found himself rather sorry that she’d let go.
“Would you like to walk with me a while?” he asked, and offered her his arm. Corri swept her flowers up with one hand, and placed the other on Dorindil’s forearm.
“I would be happy to!”
Practice had gone well, with few problems, and dinner, as always, had been superb. Hoping to relax after so many nights spent in the hall running through lines, Zhie went to the Hall of Fire and was at first puzzled that the door was locked, but then sighed and turned back around the way she had come. Zhie realized the there had been no gatherings in the Hall of Fire because the hall had been commandeered for the play.
Heading outside in hopes of finding something going on in the early evening hours, she was pleased to find that crowded around the stage were a fair number of Elves and Elleths enjoying the last bit of sunlight after so many rainy days. On the stage was Lindir, legs hanging over the front, singing a fast and funny song about the trouble of being an Elf. There was laughter from the audience and Zhie joined in as she came near to the crowd, finding an empty and inviting patch of grass. Light applause followed the end of the song.
"Just one more, Lindir!" someone called as Lindir set down his lute.
"No, it was 'just one more' seven songs ago," he chuckled. "I know a good many of you can carry half of a tune half as well as I, and so I will take my leave and leave you to it!"
Gildor stood up almost too eagerly to the delight of many in the crowd and took Lindir's spot on the stage, along with Lindir's lute. "What shall I sing to you? A ballad of love?"
"I've had enough love the past week to last me a century," said one Elleth, a maid in the kitchens who had had her hands full fulfilling the various orders for food, including a number of requests for cookies in the shape of hearts.
"Here, here!" agreed one of the stable hands. "A silly song, if you please, Lord Gildor."
"A silly song, indeed. I can play them, but not sing them." Gildor strummed a few notes. "I learned the chords to a song about Nazgûl, but I can not recall more than the chorus. Nine rings, nine kings, something something something."
"Nine rings, nine rings, made for the race of men; Nine rings, nine kings, with one more there'd be ten."
Gildor nodded, looking out into the crowd. "Yes, that's the one. Whoever that was, consider yourself drafted. Up to the stage with you!"
Smirking, Zhie climbed the steps and situated herself next to Gildor, who was plucking the strings to reacquaint himself with the tune. "Ready then?" Zhie set the beat, tapping a foot on the stage, and soon, the audience was clapping along.
Nine rings, nine rings, made for the race of men
Nine rings, nine kings, with
one more, there'd be ten
They don't really talk; it's more of a screech
Westron and Southron Sauron
never did teach
And Elvish was far out of their reach
So wraiths hiss a lot and call it black speech
Nine rings, nine rings, made for the race of men
Nine rings, nine kings,
listen to them scream like girls again
Under their robes, they are all bare
No socks or tunics under there
If it
were you, or me, then people would stare
But they can't be seen, so they don't care
Nine rings, nine rings, made for the race of men
Nine rings, nine kings, with
one more, there'd be ten
If they give chase, better run, pen-neth
Don't get too close; you'll catch
the Black Breath
But if you're caught and close to death
Just shout the words "Ai, Elbereth!"
Nine rings, nine rings, made for the race of men
Nine rings, nine kings,
listen to them scream like girls again
"With one more, there'd be ten," sang Gildor.
"I heard one of them was named Ben," added Zhie.
Gildor smirked, "The Witch-King keeps a pet hen."
"I saw him ride a camel in the glen."
"They all like to play cards now and then."
"But Ben cheats, so they stick him in a pen."
"You must think you're a comedienne."
"I'll admit, I do, time and again."
"Made for the race of men," sang Gildor, continuing as Zhie joined him, "listen to them scream like," they paused dramatically, "girls…a….gain….!" A generous round of applause was given to the pair, as well as a call for an encore.
Not far away, Celeborn tucked away the sheet of parchment he was holding and walked back to the house to remove the note from the door of Zhie's room. Not only was it impossible now for him to hide the latest poem, which was actually the first poem he had written since he had arrived, it just seemed silly to continue this game of his. Obviously there were Elves whose interests better matched those of the Elleth - Lindir or Gildor being two of many he could think of. Besides, he still had not figured what he was going to do exactly, for it was not a wife nor really quite a lover he was seeking.
Retreat seemed the best option now, before it was too late. Tucking the poem into his tunic, Celeborn opened the door of the house and slipped inside, unaware of the eyes that followed him until he disappeared into the Last Homely House.
After the practice with the others, Idhrenwen took a stroll along the flower gardens of Rivendell. Even though she enjoyed the time she spent each day with the others, the play practice exhausted her, and she missed the flowers and trees of Lothlórien's woods. Rivendell's huge flowerbeds impressed her much, for she had never seen so many different kinds of flowers before. She walked along the alley, taking in the smell of all the flowers unknown to her.
The hours went by and dusk was not far. The Elleth still lingered in the gardens, marveling at the diversity of the flowers. An old Elf came by and stopped as he reached the spot where Idhrenwen kneeled.
"You love the pink carnation, do you?" asked the old Elf.
"I do," replied the maiden, smiling. "How do you know?"
The old Elf laughed. "Well, it is obvious. It is at least the third time you have knelt beside these flowerbeds today."
Idhrenwen blushed.
"You should go back to your quarters now. It will soon be nightfall. You may come again to dwell amidst these flowers tomorrow or when ever you want." With that, he bent down, cut a single pink carnation, and gave it to Idhrenwen. "Take this one until you return to this place."
The Elleth took the flower and bowed slightly. "Thank you," she said, then she slowly walked back to her quarters.
Elladan left the spot where he had leaned against a tree, watching Idhrenwen in the midst of the flowers. He approached the old Elf after the Elleth had walked out of sight. "Mae govannen, Amras!"
"Mae govannen, Elladan!" returned the old Elf. "What can I do for you?"
"Well," said Elladan shyly, "I was wondering if I could…err…if I should…no, if it would be proper to…uhm…"
Amras raised a brow. "To give the Elleth flowers at Valentine's Day? Why not?"
"I did not say it would be for an Elleth."
"I am old but not blind," said the old Elf, laughing. "Even though the young maiden did not see you behind the tree, I did."
"Elves usually don't celebrate Valentine's Day," stammered Elladan.
"That is true," answered Amras, "but they do give each other flowers whenever they want, or whenever they regard it as...proper."
"Do they?"
"You do not give flowers to young maidens very often, do you?" asked Amras. Seeing Elladan shake his head, he smiled. "Well, we can change that. Now come! I will tell you everything you need to know about the delicate issue of giving flowers to an Elleth on the way to your quarters."