"oh t'have a courtin' beau, an' have him crown me queen of May" by heget

Chapter 1

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They are resting near the banks of the Malduin River south of Tol Sirion, a little over a full day from the city by vigorous walking, though Finduilas and Gwindor rode along with their chaperone, thus cutting the journey to a few manageable hours. Their horses are tethered nearby, and Finduilas’s companion, the steward’s daughter, watches the animals and reads a book, dividing her attention between the contents of its pages and the horses who use the limited slack of their hitch ropes to steal mouthfuls of grass. Gwindor’s horse is known to roll onto his back regardless of tack if it breaks free, pawing at the air like a dog with an itch, and Gwindor cannot train it out the habit. The steward's daughter has more than once snapped up from her book to eye the horse suspiciously, daring it to roll. Finduilas’s first horse had the bad habit of purposefully tricking a loose girth, but her new jennet has a smooth amble and no ill-mannered habits. Finduilas eagerly anticipates more riding ventures throughout the lands surrounding Tol Sirion with her new horse, though she accepts the geographic realities that her excursions must lean towards the south, as to the north one soon enters wretched fens. Regardless of direction, to ride out until the spire of Tol Sirion is but a narrow stick on the horizon is a joy. Finduilas stretches out on the soft grass, resting her head against the pillow that Gwindor has made for her by folding his caplet. The river sounds beautiful, the air smells crisp and rich, songbirds fill the silence with delightful tunes - but it is Gwindor’s company that Finduilas finds best. He has been her friend since they were children, and their courtship is still new. Finduilas is unsure if their feelings are to be labeled as a courtship, for she fears if formalized, she will have to share Gwindor with more attentive chaperones and these day-trips will be curtailed. She does not want eyes judging her while she figures out her feelings - nor the stern restrictions that make a paradox of allowed affection. She does not wish to lose Gwindor-her-friend to Gwindor-her-suitor. 

Gwindor taps her on the leg. He makes a comely sight for her eyes to rest upon, and his jacket is unbuttoned to show the skin below his throat. In his hands is a mass of flowers, and Finduilas smiles as he pulls his hands apart to show that he has cleverly woven the wildflowers into a crown. “You are so much better than I at crafting those; it is quite unfair,” Finduilas says as Gwindor drops the flower crown in her lap. 

“If it upsets you, you can give it back,” Gwindor teases.

“Nay, you gave it to me as a gift,” Finduilas says, grabbing the flowers and shoving them on her messy curls. “If you want it back you have to pay for it.”

“With a kiss?” Gwindor asks, then quickly leans over to kiss her cheek.

“Not there,” Finduilas says, laughing and pointing to her lips.

“Not there!” Faelindis shouts from the tether-line, her fingers holding the place-mark of her closed book. “Unless you wish me to inform both your fathers.”

“Next time,” Finduilas grumbles, “I shall bring Gelril.”

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Chapter End Notes

Faelindis, the daughter of the steward of Tol Sirion, is the co-protagonist from Release from Bondage and Gelril is Gadwar's twin sister (Take Thy Brother's Hand).