Dancing In The Dark by Grundy

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People Like Us

First and foremost, all credit to Himring, whose story Galadriel: There and Back Again gave me the idea for Galadriel's trick.

Also, while I've been making progress at a pretty good clip, it's only fair to warn that there probably won't be anything more for at least a week - I have a busy spell coming up and can't be sure I'll have time to write, let alone post anything.

Finally, I'm not sure I actually hit any squares on the Taboo card in this chapter. I think I danced in the vicinity of etiquette without exactly getting to it. (And maybe Obscene Gestures right there at the end if you squint...) Worry not, there's more taboos to come in future chapters.

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Curufinwë was unsurprised to hear the sound of someone sneaking out of the royal wing late that night. He had asked to have the room nearest the entrance for this very purpose – though he had given the excuse that he meant to be off before dawn to begin the long journey to Himring, and did not wish to disturb his aunt or cousins so early. 

His half-uncle had nodded, and charged him to report all that had passed here to Maedhros.

Curufinwë had refrained from rolling his eyes and asking what else he would do – communicating and reporting back to his oldest brother was the entire point of him being here in the first place.

Fortunately for his current plan, Maedhros would not care how long he was in the journey, for he had already dispatched a message with a passing hawk. (Tyelkormo might not come to Mithrim anymore, but he was still useful in his own way.)

So it was easy enough for him to stroll outside with his pack and be casually leaning against a wall by the time Artanis emerged into the moonlight.

She glared at him, which drew only a smirk in return. She couldn’t very well tell him off as she was clearly dying to do without alerting the royal guard that she was outside. And he had the oddest feeling that if she were found out here, she’d be escorted right back inside without delay no matter how imperious an attitude she struck.

He jerked his head toward the southern road – the one she would need to take if she were making for Nargothrond. Not that Curufinwë knew exactly where Findarato’s concealed kingdom lay, of course, but he knew enough to make a rough guess, and to be certain that was where Artë was heading.

She pressed her lips together, showing her irritation, but she was hardly in a position to argue. If she tried to demur, he had only to raise his voice and the guards would be demanding to know where she thought she was going.

There were some disadvantages to being one of the youngest members of the royal family, and the only girl left standing. Overprotective uncles were one of them. Nolofinwë was taking keeping Artanis safe in the absence of her father and older brothers quite seriously.

Angarato and Aikanaro had departed that evening for Dorthonion, where they meant to supervise the final stages of construction on the tower at Tol Sirion, and were speaking of planning a new fortress in the highlands. From the sound of it, Thingol’s temper would cool before theirs did. (Artaresto remained, and likely would not stir from Mithrim before his wife gave birth in Tuilë at the earliest – indeed, probably not for several years thereafter if the pair had any sense.)

With Irissë and Itarillë gone wherever Turukano had hidden himself and his folk, that left Artanis the only princess of the Noldor in Mithrim, and Curufinwë had been observing her rapidly evaporating patience with no small amount of amusement. Even in Tirion she had not had to put up with so much nonsense – especially not since she had learned how to get around most of it very early on.

Curufinwë was still rather proud of himself for teaching her the trick.

Artanis had been all of five when he had come across her pouting in the palace playroom. Irissë was visiting her mother’s parents, and Ambarussa were at home with their oldest brothers that day, so Artë had no playmates. She had been sent in from the gardens that the adults might speak freely.

“Cousin, will you play with me please?” she asked sweetly.

He was not fooled by the adorable act – he knew perfectly well the little girl was no better behaved than his baby brothers, and as often as not the driving force behind the mischief the four youngest Finwions were caught in.

“What if I say no?” he asked, more to gauge her reaction than from any inclination to actually refuse.

“I’ll wail and say you were mean when the nanny comes running to check on me,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Grandmother’s not here today, so it will be Grandfather who hears about it.”

She had him there, the little minx. He wouldn’t have minded Indis complaining that he had been ‘mean’ to her youngest (and most interesting) grandbaby, but he didn’t want his grandfather cross with him. He would have been annoyed had he not admired that such a young kid could think things through so well.

“Fine. What do you want to play?” he sighed, resigned.

“I don’t want to play in here,” she explained. “I want to go out by the fountains so I can hear what’s going on. I’ll get in trouble if I go by myself, but not if you are with me.”

“I can tell you what’s going on,” Curufinwë said, rolling his eyes. He knew she was inside so as not to hear. She might not get in trouble if she finagled him into going out in the garden with her, but he probably would – at the very least, he’d be scolded by his father later for getting out-maneuvered by a five-year-old. “Your father is stuck playing peacemaker yet again while mine and Irissë’s argue like elflings younger than you, just with bigger words. You are missing nothing.”

“It’s boring in here,” she pouted.

“So we do something else,” shrugged Curufinwë. “Has your father or brother ever taken you to the library?”

“Grandfather’s library?” she asked, puzzled.

He could see her thinking ‘we play in grandfather’s library all the time’, and realized he hadn’t been clear enough for a child.

“No, the Royal Library. Where the scholars work,” he explained, infusing his voice with a hint of challenge and mystery. He suspected she was still considered too young for it yet, though given that she was the most un-little-girlish little girl he’d ever known, he couldn’t think why.

“I’m not allowed. I have to stay in the palace unless Atto or Ammë or Findarato is with me,” Artanis protested, but he could see she liked the idea. “That’s the rule.”

He laughed.

“You’re a smart girl, Artanis. Have you ever paid attention to Uncle Fëanaro?”

She blinked, trying to reason out where he was going with this.

“Of course,” she said uncertainly.

“What do you see him do?”

The confusion that greeted him reminded him that precocious as she might be, Artanis was only five.

“Does Uncle Fëanaro follow the rules?”

That got a decided shake of her silver-gold head.

“No. He does whatever he wants to do, even if it’s not very nice.”

“Exactly. And does he get in trouble for it?” he followed up.

This time he could see the resentful spark in her eyes when she shook her head.

“No. Grandfather never scolds him.”

Unlike all the rest of us, who get scolded when we get caught doing things we’re not supposed to do, he could practically hear her thinking.

“Do you want to know how he manages it?” Curufinwë asked, with an air of one about to give up a great secret.

“I thought it was because he is the Crown Prince,” Artë replied, her little brow furrowed as she peered up at him.

“That helps, but mostly it is because he behaves as though the rules do not apply to him.”

Artanis frowned.

“It is that simple?” she demanded in astonishment. “Act as if the rules do not apply and they don’t?”

“If you behave as though the rules are not for you, more often than not, other people will invent reasons for why they should not apply to you,” Curufinwë said knowingly. “Watch my atto more closely if you do not believe me.”

She looked thoughtful.

“Why don’t you do what Uncle Fëanaro does?” she asked. “You don’t act as though the rules do not apply to you, you just act as though the rules are stupid.”

“Many of them are,” he snorted. “Aren’t you the one who decided that from now on when you played with Ambarussa, it would be the princesses who saved the princes?”

She grinned.

“Yes. Irissë and I were bored being the ones who always got kidnapped by orcs or trapped by wolves. It wasn't fair. It’s more fun when we get a turn to be the heroes.”

He could see her point- except that the last time they had played, the princesses had gotten distracted by ‘pony’ rides with Tyelkormo and forgotten to save the princes. Nerdanel had been unamused to discover they’d locked themselves into the glass garden on such a warm day with nothing to eat or drink. Ambarussa had been lucky not to get heatsick.

“Did you want to go to the library or not, hero? Rumil is finishing a new manuscript about the creatures of the sea. You would like the drawings.”

He knew that would be a sure-fire way to spark her interest, with her Telerin kin and frequent trips to the sea.

“Yes, please, cousin.”

Her little hand extended upward expectantly.

“I am not going to carry you,” he told her with a frown.

She gave him a look as if he were stupid.

“I do not expect you to,” she said loftily – or as lofty as someone more than three feet shorter than the cousin she was talking to could manage. “But I have also seen that when Uncle is behaving as though the rules do not apply, he will follow little rules while ignoring the big ones. Holding someone’s hand when we go walking outside is a little rule.”

She'd had a point. He held her hand.

Once she had learned behave as though the rules do not apply, Artanis had perfected the art. She had even used it on Fëanaro himself, to his great ire – the Crown Prince was not used to hearing ‘no’ from anyone, much less an emphatic, irreversible ‘no’, and most definitely not from his youngest brother’s baby girl.

It was probably slightly disloyal of him, but Curufinwë had thought it quite funny that Artanis had refused his father’s request for her hair – and all the funnier because of her expression when she did, as if she couldn’t conceive why in Arda he would have ever thought she would say yes to such a ridiculous question.

Thus he was not at all surprised to find her simply ignoring their uncle’s rule that she should not leave the royal palace or travel alone in Beleriand. She had no doubt filed those dictates under ‘does not apply’ in her head and was blithely doing as seemed best to her.

She glared at him silently for a very long minute before he held out a hand and raised an eyebrow.

Rolling her eyes, she took his hand as though she were five again and the two of them set off down the road.

They did not speak until they had gone some miles, well beyond earshot of even the most conscientious guards.

“What are you up to, Curufinwë?” she hissed.

“Why are you whispering, Artanis?” he asked archly.

She glared at him again.

“I am not whispering,” she announced. “Nor am I going another step until you tell me what you are doing.”

“For posterity, since I know you will never let me hear the end of it- and my brothers may not either, should anyone ever tell them- I am  agreeing with Uncle Nolofinwë that you should not be travelling alone,” he sighed with an air of being greatly aggrieved.

“I can take care of myself,” she snapped.

“I have never doubted it,” he replied amiably.

“Then why are you following me?”

“Following? I am not following you. We are walking companionably along together as cousins sometimes do,” he pointed out. “Or am I not allowed to travel with my favorite little cousin?”

For a wonder, she let little pass without challenge.

“And before you threaten to scream your head off until I tell you the whole truth, we are not yet far enough away that they will not hear you if you shout.”

“I have not threatened to scream my head off since I was fourteen.”

“It does not seem so long ago,” he smirked.

Now it was Artanis who rolled her eyes.

“I am perfectly safe going south,” she pointed out. “It is unlikely that I will be troubled by orcs.”

“I merely wish to accompany you to see Findarato’s new stronghold,” Curufinwë said placatingly. “You know how insatiably curious I am. Besides, think of this as a form of insurance – you can always tell Uncle that you did not travel alone should he ask later, and I suspect your brother will also be easier in his mind knowing you had someone with you.”

He only caught the minute sag of her shoulders because he was looking for it.

“Or were you expecting someone else to join you?” he asked.

He’d probably still tag along if her husband were meeting her along the way, because he truly did want to see both Findarato’s caverns and the ner who had managed to charm Artanis. But he’d be surprised if that were the case.

“No,” she said, sounding all at once like a lost little girl. “Celeborn cannot escape Doriath so quickly. He will come to Nargothrond when Thingol’s temper cools. But that will be months, perhaps even years yet.”

“You really should not be alone right now, Artë,” Curufinwë said gently, wondering if she actually understood how extraordinary her current situation was. “It is no weakness to admit it.”

“Oh, very well,” she sighed, sounding exceedingly put upon, but he felt the feather light brush of her spirit against his own that told him she was not as annoyed as she sounded. “Better you than Findekano, anway.”

He snorted.

“You are going in the wrong direction for him. If you want Findekano’s company, you should head east, not south. He may ask politely after Findarato, but it is Nelyo he will actually stir himself to visit.”

She snickered softly, then stopped.

“Will you not be missed?” she asked.

“I told them I meant to depart before dawn,” he shrugged. “Everyone will assume I am making my way back to Himlad. My brothers will not worry if I am gone some months. After I leave you and your brother, I can ride east and follow the Aros north. Perhaps I can even make some rude gestures at Thingol’s wardens on your behalf as I ride past the southern edges of his domain.”