Taming the Wildflower by Sulriel

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~ 379 First Age ~ ‘Take it to the Limit’

If it all fell to pieces tomorrow
Would you still be mine?

            ~   The Eagles

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Rhavloth slipped from her mare's back even before she slowed, and slipped the bridle as she walked past.  The mare shook and jogged toward the back of the lodge where there would be fresh hay and water.  Rhavloth dropped the bridle in a heap inside the door.  Was he here already?  It seemed she could feel his presence in the lodge.  The very thought that she would soon be in his arms heated her to the core; she imagined she could smell the forge, and the horse and leather that clung to him.

 

The lodge had been cleaned and stocked, as always.

 

The forge – it wasn't her imagination that she caught the scent of his work.

 

He'd said he'd be back here at the turn of the season.  She'd come early, impatient to see him again; to see him, to taste him – sweet with hot, honeyed drinks in the morning, hot and sweated before noon and again in the dusk, then cooled by the spring that bubbled up in a stone-built pond at one end of the lodge.  Impatient simply to be with him, walking in silence through the woods or resting wrapped together in the grass watching the stars in their dance.

 

Out of the lodge, across the small yard – she loosened the laces on her tunic as she went – and stopped in shock as she stepped through the door. 

 

The familiar riotous tumble of red curls, loosely banded, fell down between broad shoulders; he turned, a heavy dagger in one hand, a hammer in the other – a familiar frown, but not his face.  The table of elaborate braces and clamps her Nelyo had devised to allow him to work one-handed was pushed aside. 

 

A brother! 

 

She spun and bolted into a wall of muscle.  Two brothers!  Arms wrapped her; she fought.  They held her for an instant and then loosened – she staggered back a step, only to be caught and held by two strong hands.

 

Rhavloth clenched her teeth against the scream that threatened to burst her throat and refused the panic that demanded she fight free and run.  She forced herself to glare into the oh-so-unfamiliar eyes as if she could melt him into smoldering slag. 

 

"Release me."  She imagined how Melian would issue such a command to miscreants who dared lay hands on her.  

 

His hands burst back from her arms as if he'd snatched molten steel and he backed a step.  His gaze swept her up and down, appreciative, she knew that look too well.  Her heart pounded, but when he met her eyes again, his sparkled above a wide grin.  "You're the courier?"

 

"I want one – "

 She turned to glare at the one who'd come to stand behind her.  The twins. 

" – I want a courier of my own.  Please."

His look of contrite innocence and obedience failed completely.  Rhavloth fought the urge to back away slowly.  My brothers would never harm you, Nelyo had told her over and again.  She still felt the echo of the steel that slashed her at the sound of Celegorm's voice that first morning.  But she didn't face Celegorm. 

She squared her chin and looked him, one of them, in the eye.  They didn't have Nelyo's height.  He, wisely, stifled a smile in acceptance of what was supposed to be her most stern expression.

"Why are you here?"  You shouldn't be here, her tone said.

 

They exchanged a glance.  "To use the forge," one said.  She refused to study them well enough to tell them apart.

 

"It is our forge," the other added.

 

She shook her head.  "No it's not.  It's Nelyo's."

 

"It's in our lodge."

 

"It's not your lodge.  It's mine.  He built it for me."

 

"… on our land."

 

"Land that was granted to you by my king."

 

His jaw tightened into that familiar frown.  A chuckle sounded from behind her, the scuff of boots and then the first one appeared beside her, offering his arm as escort. 

 

"Lady, our brother has sorely discounted you.  If you were mine, I'd build you a tower of polished stone and gems, with crystal windows on a far mountain and dress you in silver and silk and gems and keep you there until the Darkness itself grew weary of waiting for us to emerge."

 

Her palm ached to slap him.  His smile challenged her to try.  These were the baby brothers Nelyo had talked of raising?  They were overgrown insolent piglets.  She closed her hands at her sides, spun and headed back to the lodge.

 

They paced her and after three strides she stopped.  "The stable is to the rear."

 

Silence.

 

"Since you are leaving, now, you'll need your horses.  I presume they are stabled."

 

"We're not leaving."

 

Her heart pounded in her throat with the echo of his words and she swallowed it back down.  They didn't belong here, she didn't want them here.  Where was Nelyo?

 

The smile faded.  "Amras."  He touched his chest.  "Amrod."  The finger flickered across her at his brother. 

 

They waited.  Had Nelyo never spoken her name to them?  Then she would not.

 

"Yes," she finally said.  "I'm 'the courier'."

 

"And you are pleased to meet us," Amrod prompted.

 

She couldn't decide if he meant to tease her, to bait her, or shame her for her manners, although their own were decidedly lacking.  When she turned to meet his gaze, he seemed sincere.

 

"Why are you not leaving?"

 

"We can't now," Amras said.  "Maedhros would have our heads."

 

He must have seen her confusion; a puzzled expression crossed his own face until Amrod punched his arm. 

 

"Oh," under his breath.  "Let's eat."  Amras started back toward the lodge.

 

Rhavloth held her ground until he stopped and looked back at her.  He sighed and shot a disgusted look at Amrod.  "We can't leave you alone.  You've been under guard since the first morning you walked out his door."

 

She managed to keep breathing.  Under guard?  She didn't understand.  Her shock stuttered enough to realize Amras was still talking.

 

"… and if you've arrived here without us having forewarning, then our captain missed you coming through Melian's fence."  He grimaced.  "He'll be sent to the north."

 

"If Maedhros doesn't just gut him outright," Amrod said. 

 

Guarded?  Gutted?  They both stopped to stare at her.  Her cheeks felt chill.  Was her face that white?

 

"He would never let you wander without protection."  Amrod said.  He seemed to sense her upset without understanding it.

 

Her mind whirled but she settled it.  Guarded.  "There has been a patrol of Noldor on every step of my trail?"

 

Amrod nodded, slowly, as if he sensed a trap in her words.

 

"Until today, and now you two are going to guard me?"

 

He nodded again.

 

Rhavloth's temper snapped and she fought to rein it in.  "From. What?"

 

Amras chuckled, cleared his throat and then laughed out loud.

 

She doubled her fist and – Amrod  grabbed her arms from behind, holding her as gently as he could. 

 

"There are worse things in this land than Noldor."  Although he spoke softly, the words seemed to come hard for him.  "If you wish the lodge to yourself, we'll lurk unseen in the woods, but Maedhros orders you will not be left unprotected."  His hands slipped from her arms.

 

She stepped out of his reach and turned back to truly study them for first time.

 They waited, as if they would do her bidding.  She had bossed the insolent young lords of Thingol's court since she was old enough to square her shoulders and glare.  These two were nothing – kinslayers – disposed lords, younger sons and exiles, tossed from the court by the actions of their own brother.  Nelyo. 

The thought cycled up through her confusion that she'd rather face them then know they were lurking in the dark.  "You left the forge hot."  She pointed at Amras.  "Go and finish your work and leave it clean when you are done." 

He stiffened, but a glance from his brother convinced him to nod to her in respect then return to the forge.

 

Amrod again offered his arm as escort.  "Come back to the lodge.  You can rest while I prepare our noon meal."  His gaze lingered on her cleavage. 

 

Her cheeks burned.  "I…"  She didn't owe him an explanation.  She raised her hands to tighten and knot the laces. 

 

An instant of regret crossed Amrod's face before he remembered his manners and looked away.  "I understand; you thought I was him."

 

"I thought he was here."  She corrected him in a firm tone.

 

"You wound me."  He placed his hand over his heart in dramatic fashion.  Handsome in his own right, and charming, perhaps, when he remembered his manners.

 

"Do not tease with me."

 

Amrod turned to her, his face falling solemn.  "And do not mistake teasing for more than what it is.  You are… beautiful, and more.  But regardless if you were Vala or Orc – you can not sway us from our brother's will."  He stepped closer to her, too close.  All the tales of their unspeakable deeds echoed through her.  She held her ground.  "You are his choice; you will be our sister.  He has charged us with your protection and you will have it.  If you choose not to allow us to be brothers, we'll be guards only."

 

How could he be so strong and tender and threatening all in the same moment?  "I have a brother."  What else could she answer?

 

He nodded in acquiescence and motioned her to the lodge, indicating he'd follow behind as her guard. 

 

Rhavloth hesitated.  Nelyo loved them.  He'd told anecdotes of their childhood as if they were a pack of overlarge puppies or a pair of raucous colts.  They'd teased her roughly, but come to heel when she yanked them down.  Nelyo believed there would come a time that they'd be her brothers. 

 

"If there comes a time that your brother asks for my hand – " her breath caught with the memory of having lived her own death – "it may be that there will come a time you will be my brother."

 

#

 

That day passed uneasily.  One or the other of them haunted her footsteps, keeping their distance, but keeping watch on her.  The evening meal proved even less easy until she called them to task, saying that only Lords dined at her table – Orcs must go out and grub in the woods. 

 

They stared at her, then laughed and set aside their ill manners for courtly ones. 

 

She left them splashing in her stone pond and complaining of the cold, to curl up and sleep in a chair beside her empty bed.  When she woke before dawn, stiff necked and aching, she found they'd spent the night tunneling beneath the edge of the pool and rocking a fire pit to heat the water.  A gift for their brother, they said, to spare him the embarrassment.

 

A sharp whistle sounded from the woods midmorning.  Their horses answered from the stable.  A rider charged into the clearing.  "Ambarussa!" he called out.  "Arma roccolyar ar lopa!" His sweating horse screamed, tossed its head and stamped as he circled and stopped.  

 

Between the first word and the third, the twins had splashed the mud from themselves and were belting on their swords.  Their horses charged the yard as the three lords spoke. 

The twins mounted and were gone in a swirl. What new trial was this? 

The newcomer approached Rhavloth in the sudden, unnatural quiet after the frenzy.   "My apologies, Lady, for stealing away your guard, I hope my single sword is an acceptable replacement."  He placed his hand over his heart and bowed low.  "Canafinwë Macalaurë, known as Maglor in these lands, at your service." 

When he smiled, she could see his brother in him. 

"You will wish to name me Cáno?"

 Maitimo, she remembered laughing when Nelyo said what his mother had called him.  Certainly she had misnamed them, for this was the pretty one.  Although it wasn't possible for his face to be as pretty as his voice.  He spoke with his hands; they captivated Rhavloth, strong and lean and elegant.  She swallowed the treasonous thought that his voice had more resonance even than Daeron's.

"Where is he?"  She meant to hide the foreboding in her voice, but his sympathetic smile said she failed.  

"Detained." 

She didn't want sympathy, she didn't want protection.  She wanted Nelyo.  Not another brother for distraction and entertainment.  And she certainly did not want to play evasive word games.   

"I am not a child.  Not like those two."  She pointed at the woods where the twins had disappeared. 

"Oh, no.  Most certainly not."  He glanced at the mess they'd left beside her pond.  "Mighty warriors, great and terrible, and yet always the youngest sons.  More of a curse, I think, than being the elder."  He raised a brow as if he'd asked a question. 

Did he know she was the youngest of three, always shadowed by the beauty of her sister and the brave strength of resolve in her brother?  It didn't matter.  She knew better than to play games of distraction and so answered him only with her own quizzical expression. 

"You arrived earlier than expected, little flower."  A mistake, his frown said.  "We'll be more careful.  You won't suffer them again." 

A chill wafted over her and she pushed it down to the pit of her stomach.  

"Your Nelyo is fine," he answered before she could ask.  "I've been anxious to meet you and he has business in the north of his lands."  Cáno nodded in the direction she'd just pointed.  "They'll gather enough swords on their way.  The business will be soon finished, and your love returned to you." 

The days passed slowly at first, and slower as the moon waxed and waned again. 

Cáno proved to be fair company, keeping a polite and respectful distance, and allowing her silence rather than pressing conversation, for the most part. 

He finished the stonework his brothers had started.  Rhavloth laughed at his delighted surprise to find her skilled in stonecraft and afterward they worked easily together.   

He seemed taken aback when she declined to test the warmed waters.  She unsettled herself with the refusal as well.  The baths in Menegroth were shared casually, but he hadn't taken offense when she said she'd prefer to wait for Nelyo.  He'd only nodded, fetched wine and settled along the edge between the lodge and the pool as if they'd just finished bathing. 

"I see a regal beauty…"  Cáno motioned his warmed wine toward her in the starlight.  He sipped it as he studied her.  "…a wild mountain flower that would flourish in rock or snow or sand if it had even the least spot of shade from a sheltering hand, a spot of water and a few grains of fertile soil."  His eyes glittered in the night.  "That Maedhros has found you here… it gives me hope."

 

Hope?  For their people's future?  What of the ones they'd slaughtered?  What of her people?  But he'd been kind during this time at her lodge.  He didn't deserve those thoughts, not for his too-generous words.  He humored her and so she held her tongue.

 

Cáno's lowered gaze said he guessed her thoughts regardless.  He put aside his glass for a lute and plucked a simple tune as if he meant to sooth her.  "I understand his care for you."  He wove the words between the notes.  "But what of yours of him?  Your people must be unhappy with your choice."

 

Unhappy.  Yes.  What little they knew.  But she only nodded.  She'd told Galathil she'd have none of his choices; that he wasn't to press her about suitors again.  She reminded him that her sister hadn't yet married and –

 

–  Nimloth didn't run wild through the woods, he'd pointed out, grim and stern-eyed.  But he didn't go again to Melian.

 

"When you speak your vows, will they come to the feast?"  The notes softened.  "Will your mother stand and join your hands?  Will she place a jeweled chain about his neck?  If your people follow these customs."

 

No.  Even if her mother had the temper to do that honor, her father would forbid it.  At any rate, Cáno asked too much, pressed to hard.  Did he mean to befriend her or did he poke and probe in concern of his brother's judgment?   His own past deeds made him ill qualified to judge her. 

 

"Nelyo has no father to stand beside my mother, if she would."

 

"I would stand in Fëanor's place."  Cáno's lute fell silent.  "If you allow it."

 

"We are not betrothed."  Rhavloth answered.

 

The music started again.  "What of your sons?"

 

She had to strain to hear him and so she pretended she didn't.

 

"Your father will not hold them?  He will not wish to know his grandsons?"

 

How did Cáno imagine he had any part of this?  His words gouged a deeply hidden wound.  Pain welled up, filling Rhavloth with renewed anger, ripping up an aching emptiness she had long buried.  She set aside her wine, calming her trembling hands.  Nelyo had refused her.  It was enough that she came to him, he said.  And that she would not be an unwed mother, that his sons would not be bastards, raised in secret, hidden away and unnamed.

 

"Nelyo has sons in his brothers."  She answered as the music fell away again.  "He said he has raised six and that raising more must wait until we have lasting peace."

 

Cáno forced a smile.

 

"What of your father?" she asked.

 

"We had two fathers."  The music swelled then, distracting, entertaining, a dancing tune of errant youngsters and a house filled with love and light and challenge; and he sang a rollicking song of a succession of younger sons, each having more fathers than the one before.

 

A single note rang out then broke off; Cáno sprang to his feet, sword in hand, before the echo died.  Rhavloth rose and spun – a fell shadow blacked the stars, as she'd imagined Tulkas would – arms wrapped her.

 

With the first touch, she knew him.  Nelyo.  Relief flooded and she clung to him as he held her, too tight.  He pressed his lips to her temple, took a deep breath and simply held her.  He seem road-weary and worn,  hard and still tense,  familiar with the scents of horse and leather, but his cloak stank of unfamiliar smoke, not that of a forge.

 

It seemed an Age and yet only an instant, before he shifted, reaching out to clasp hands with his brother.  Words passed between them in their people's language, softly spoken but harsh in tone.  And finally a question from Cáno. 

"No."  Nelyo said.  "She does not speak it and refuses to understand."  A hint of frustration colored his tone.  "She honors Elwe's edict."  He touched her chin and she looked up.  "The captain who left you unguarded has been replaced," he said.

 

She'd been angry at being stalked and meant to argue he had no right – but the grim cast in his eyes and the hard twist to his mouth quelled her thoughts.  "Cáno is acceptable company, well-mannered and entertaining."  She added a lilt to her voice and smiled, but his frown only deepened.

 

"Ambarussa?"  His gaze shot to Cáno then back to hers.

 

Her heart pounded.  She had never feared him, but she was unsure now, if there was a need for what she wanted to say.  They hadn't harmed her.

 

"She called them rabble."  Cáno said it for her, more politely phrased than she had said it to him.

 

Nelyo's angry frown turned weary.  "I can not keep you with me; I must keep you safe in the hands of others."  He shook his head.  "It's still better that you're not known.  I will not have you disgraced for what we have."

 

"We've had almost a yen of peace," Cáno said.  "Since we drove Glaurung back to Angband, and it looks to continue for a time."

 

"It doesn't matter," Nelyo answered.  "The Oath still binds us and will wake in its time."  His arm tightened on her.

 

A heavy silence fell and stretched.

"Then I'll return to my Gap and keep sharp the watch."

 

The brothers clasped hands again and then Cáno was gone.

 

#

 

The laces of his vambrace pressed into Rhavloth's back as Nelyo tightened his arm and lifted her up against his hard body.  Heat curled in her belly, burning away the endless empty hollow of waiting and wanting.  His hand curled in a tight fistful of gown at her shoulder.  It wasn't what she meant to wear for him, a day old and dusty from finishing the stonework, but it didn't matter now.  His mouth took hers, hot and demanding, tasting of a lonely forest trail, too long without rest or water.  He turned and took a stride, but groaned deep in his throat and stopped short of the door to fall with her against the wall of the lodge. 

 

Caught between his welcome weight and the rough-cut logs, Rhavloth clung to him.  She wrapped one leg around his waist, rolling her center hard against his shaft as she twisted to give him the curve of her throat she knew he loved.  His lips traced down in a heated trail, nipping as if he would devour her and suckling at her skin in passionate comfort.  She arched into him, aching and empty, needing him. 

 

Nelyo ripped away her gown.  His sword-worn hand cupped her breast, holding her and kneading with tautly restrained strength as she tore at his cloak and fumbled with his laces, unfamiliar with the leather and heavy layers he wore.  He snarled a foul phrase and yanked himself back from her to undo the fastenings.  She fell and stumbled with the sudden release, but he caught her and plunged his length into her.  Her legs wrapped his back as he pinned her against the wall with his thrusts.

 

She snatched handfuls of his braids, weaving her hands through them and clenched her fists, dragging his mouth back down to her, pulling on his lips with hers, and his tongue – demanding every part of him as hers.  Their pounding hearts beat as one.  As if at a distance, she knew the wall tore at her back with his rhythm.  He'd unfastened his garments but not removed them, the leather rubbed against her breasts, a buckle cut at her thigh and a hilt dug into her soft belly. 

 

She clenched around him, her face buried in his neck, as he climaxed in hot pounding waves.  He held still afterward, just holding her, his head close beside hers and whispered her name before he gathered her in his arms and took her to their room.

 

He fell with her onto the bed, holding her atop him, until she wriggled and complained he was overdressed.  He laughed and let her stand, standing beside her, but kept her hand in his, saying that she must undress him one-handed.  And when she was done, he loved her again, gentle and slow as if what they had that night they could have for all time.

 

When she woke again, he still held her, a curious expression on his face.

 

"You're watching me sleep?"

 

He nodded.  A smile tilted the corner of his lips.  A hint of a bruise filled one edge of his lower lip but when she moved to reach for him, her muscles screamed, her back tore and burned. 

 

His smile disappeared.  "I didn't mean to hurt you."

 

His tone said so much more than his words, I would kill anyone who hurt you. 

 

"You didn't."  It was worth it, she meant.

 

He narrowed his eyes, but didn't deny her.  "Is there salve in the pantry?"

 

Rhavloth nodded.  "The lodge has been well stocked, as always."  She stood, trying not to show the strain and the aches.  "There is cheese and fruit."  She held out her hand.  "Come out to the porch with me.  Your brothers – "

 

Nelyo stiffened and stepped closer to her.  "What did Maglor sing to you?  Cáno.  He delights in mothering and meddling.  Was he insufferable?"

 

Insufferable?  She nodded, trying to tease, but Nelyo's frown deepened. 

 

"He loves you," she said. 

 

"He shouldn't sing to you about sons and brothers," Nelyo answered. 

 

The pleasant warmth that had filled her seeped away.  She stepped to him and cupped his cheek in her palm.  She sought for the words, but had to turn away before she found them.  Even then they were hard to say. 

 

"You want sons, Nelyo.  As much as I do.  You should have more than your father's sons.  You should have your own sons.  We should.  You should have sons standing strong beside you on your borders, and their sons beside them."

 

He snatched her shoulder and spun her around.  His eyes gleamed with a terrible light.  Rhavloth trembled but swallowed her cowardice.  "I will die by the sword," she said.  "I know it.  I felt it when I heard your brother's voice.  The slice and the warmth of bleeding out – "

 

"No!"

 

"You take what you want – "  That wetness on her face – tears?  "Why will you not take this?"

 

"I will not bring them into this."  His voice rang so dark she fell back a step.

 

Pain shadowed his face when she moved away and he reached for her to wrap her close.  "What of a daughter?"  she whispered.  "A daughter with your fire and strength.  She would be safe with me behind Melian's Girdle."

 

The spring-coiled tension eased from his body as he considered it.

 

"She would be a companion to me when you're in the North.  And…"  Rhavloth fought to keep the pleading from her voice.  "… and if we don't have sons, you may still have grandsons once there is lasting peace."

 

Nelyo finally nodded, just a single quick motion of his cheek against her hair.  Then he released her and stepped back so he could look into her eyes.  His face seemed lined, tight with resolve.  "How well do you know the sword?"

 

The sudden joy that had bubbled up with his nod burst and shattered.  "I have some skill…"

 

He took her hand; he turned up her palm and studied it and ran his hand up her arm, then clasped his hand in hers.  "Come to the forge.  You'll have a sword made to fit your hand and the same training I gave my brothers."

 

 

#

 

Her brother was waiting when Rhavloth rode into the stables.  Oropher had been leaning against the door, but straightened when she came through the gate.  He strode forward and grabbed her mare's bridle as she slowed and stopped.

 

Her delight in seeing him again stuttered and soured as she swung down from her mare and turned to face him.

 

Angry!  He was angry with her?  She should have been intimidated by his glare, but no more. 

 

"You should be glad to see me."  She just wrinkled her nose at him.  He should be glad to see she was safe. 

 

His knuckles whitened on the reins.  He jiggled the leather.  The mare tossed her head as if he had yanked the bit.  "So where is it?"

 

Her offense at what she'd guessed to be righteous anger turned to concern.  Something had happened.  She tilted her head in question.

 

He waved a hand at her mare.  "I heard in the baths that you're riding a chestnut stallion – "

 

His head snapped aside; her hand tingled and burned with the strike.  Surprise flashed in his eyes; tears prickled in hers.  His brothers stood by him regardless of who she was, would hers not?

 

Oropher reached out and took her hand.  He turned her palm up; his thumb brushed her new calluses.  She closed her hand, but his glance bounced up to stare past her shoulder. 

 

At the hilt of her new sword.  "

 

Is Fingolfin arming our couriers now?"

 

She pulled her hand away from him.  "You spout there is too much danger for me to ride out with one breath and then condemn me for arming myself with the next -  "  She ran out of breath.

 

"I called them liars." 

 

He'd fought for her, again.  As he always had.  But she'd never before betrayed him.  He fought for her honor – believing she still held it dear.

 

His mouth twisted.  Too late he hid the hurt in his eyes.  He'd seen the truth in hers.  "Melian's waiting for you in her chambers."  His hand tensed again on the rein.  "You go on.  I'll care for your mare."

 

Melian.  Rhavloth tugged at her travel stained tunic.  Her cheeks heated with the memory of her last hour with Nelyo, there in the stable before she rode out.

 

Oropher choked out a garbled curse.  He dropped his head and rubbed his hand across his forehead, hiding his eyes.  He stood that way, too still, for a moment but finally took a deep breath.  "Yes," he said, "you reek of him.  Go and change.  I'll stall them, but hurry."

 

Rhavloth hurried to her apartments and rushed through a quick wash and change.  Something simple.  She discarded anything with gems – not humble enough – and anything white – virginal wouldn't help her cause.  Nelyo had given her a few copper beads to braid in her hair.  She couldn't bring herself to pull them out, deciding that she didn't have time to rebraid it, and so selected a soft gown that complimented their color and sheen.

 

Outside Melian's hall, Rhavloth took a deep breath to settle her racing heart as she waited to be announced.  Oropher came for her and took her hand.

 

"They're in the garden."  He tried to smile, but couldn't hide the seriousness in his eyes.  He escorted her to where Melian waited.  Celeborn stood at her side, grim and solemn.  Waiting.  For what?  Rhavloth glanced around, seeking her father, but Galathil was conspicuously absent.  Why did her uncle stand in his place?

 

The weight of Melian's gaze burned her and Rhavloth bowed her head.

 

"You have brought someone into our land without permission, someone who would have been denied entry." 

 

Melian's words, charged with tautly reined rage, filled the garden, buffeting Rhavloth.  Her skin tingled and burned.  She wrapped her arms over her belly as she sank to her knees.  Denied entry echoed through her.  She hadn't considered that chance.

 

"Kneeling does not become you, Rhavloth.  You have disregarded our ways and customs, dishonored your family and betrayed our people for your own simple pleasures.  Is there any strength in you or only impatient willfulness?"

 

Her vision swirled and darkened.  Denied entry.  No…  No!  She would not accept that.  She staggered up.  Oropher grabber her arm, helped her up and held her.

 

"Rhavloth, what does she mean?" he asked.

 

"You can not deny her."  She said to Melian.  "This is my child as much as she is his."

 

Oropher released her arm and bolted back a step as if she'd slapped him again.  A look of horrified rage twisted his features.  "His who?"  he hissed.  "The drunkards brag you can't tell the difference between them."

 

"Stand down," Celeborn called to Oropher. 

 

Oropher clamped his jaw shut.

 

"She is here; we will not deny our own," Celeborn said.  "But if your daughter is to be raised in Menegroth, she must have a father."

 

"Your own father has declined."  Melian's bright eyes pierced Rhavloth to the core; the words shredded her heart.  "Your uncle has agreed to share those duties if Oropher will take the other part."

 

Rhavloth tried to understand, at the same time refusing to understand.  She meant the child to be raised here, but …   "She has a father."

 

Melian strode forward – a wave of force and power swept Rhavloth, swirling about her.  It took her breath and blackness danced in the edges of her vision, but she held her ground.

 

"A pack of hounds of the West pace my southern fence – "

 

"You can not forbid me," Rhavloth said.  "You said you can not name my path.  I have chosen, whatever the cost."

 

"If it will cost your life?"

 

Rhavloth felt again the sharp slice, the deadly chill and the flood of warmth but she steeled herself against it.  "I have chosen, regardless."  She wrapped herself in the memory of Nelyo's arms and the bright warmth of the child in her womb.

 

Celeborn caught her gaze with his.  "What of the cost to your child?"  It seemed as if all the world held its breath waiting for her answer to his quiet question.  "Let her be raised here, with our people."  His gaze shifted to Oropher.

 

Her brother finally nodded, a single hard, violent jerk of his head.  "If it will keep her safe from them – " He bit the words off.

 

Rhavloth slowly shook her head.  They could not do this.  They could not make these decisions for her.  They could not replace her daughter's father.

 

"She will share their doom," Melian said.

 

"Rhavloth."  Celeborn spoke softly.  "When Maedhros calls them, they will go.  He will abandon you and your child when the Oath wakes."

 

Rhavloth opened her mouth and shut it again with the realization.  They had guessed wrong.  They didn't know.  Melian didn't know – not all.  She took a deep breath.  "I will return to him, his daughter will be born into his arms, and she will know him, but – "

 

Oropher twitched as if he needed the feel of a hilt in his palm.  She reached out and he took her hand in his.

 

" – but it is also his wish that our daughter be kept safe behind the fence.  I," Rhavloth swallowed hard, but found the words.  "I beg that of you for him, for all of us."  She took a moment to steady herself as the memory washed over her.  They had fought – the very forest had quailed – in time she may be able to laugh at the irony that he and they demanded so very nearly the same thing.

 

"It is his … wish… that she be raised Sindar."

 

Surprise flashed across Celeborn's face. 

 

Rhavloth nodded.  "She must know him."  She rushed the words.  "His daughter can not be kept from him and he will not be denied.  But he is adamant that she not know who…"  Rhavloth stopped before she stuttered. 

 

It had all seemed to make sense in the lodge: that he wanted his daughter kept out of the conflict, that he want her raised with love rather than being torn between two kingdoms, that he wished to wait until she was grown before she was made to choose which of those she would belong too…

 

"But he wishes her not to be taught of his part in what has come between our people."  Rhavloth held her breath.  Had she pushed too hard?  "It is for her," she whispered.  "He wishes her not to face condemnation for his deeds."

 

Oropher tightened his hand on hers.

 

Celeborn released a long breath before he turned to Melian.   "I have already agreed," he quietly reminded her. 

 

At long last, she nodded.

 

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

 Thank you to Darth Fingon for the Quenya