The Hidden City by Lady MSM

The Bee's Knees

Christmas Eve, 1926

Idril had never thought of herself as a romantic. Romance was for other girls, ones from nice families, who didn’t have to work fourteen-hour days and constantly deal with threats from governments and cops and mobsters. Romance was for girls who had it easy.

But it had been three years, and she was reaching the point where she had to admit that she was absolutely crazy about Tuor van Hador.

Ever since she’d been a little girl fleeing England with her family, almost all the people around her had been cynical, and hard, and tired. She’d become like that herself. But Tuor…he was so happy. He was cheerful and honest and hardworking and sweet. Reminded her a bit of a dog her uncle Fingon had had back in the day (though obviously she’d never fantasized about kissing the dog). Trouble was, she had no idea how he felt about her. He was an absolute angel to her, of course, but then he was like that to everyone. It was difficult to tell whether he wanted to marry her or just thought of her as a good pal. That was why, at tonight’s Christmas Eve party, she intended to get an answer out of him.

She was looking sharp, Idril knew that. Sparkly gold Lanvin dress, matching headband, and damn if her legs didn’t look fantastic. Not her usual kind of getup, but then again, she didn’t set out to catch a man every day. And if she got a little too much of Maeglin’s attention…well, she’d just ignore him as usual.

The ballroom was already crowded by the time she made her way downstairs. Glorfindel and Ecthelion stood in the center, surrounded by a gaggle of flappers. Dad was in the corner chatting with Duilin Swallowford. And Tuor…ah, yes, there he was with Voronwe, having somehow stolen an entire platter of shrimp cocktails from one of the waiters and grinning from ear to ear. He was always doing that. It was adorable.

“Well, well, well!” she declared brightly, making her way toward him. “If it isn’t Chicago’s favorite waste of bootlegger money! You’ve certainly managed to clean up well.” He had, and it was a little disconcerting how well that blue suit fit his powerful chest and broad shoulders. Idril took a deep breath. “Come onto the balcony with me for a minute, would you? I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And stop it with that ma’am, I’ve told you, we’re far past that now. And don’t bring the shrimp.”

Outside, the snow whirled around in the freezing air, but Idril’s face was burning to the point where she barely noticed. There was a moment of awkward silence as she tried to sort out what to say.

“Cold out here, ain’t it?” remarked Tuor at the exact second she blurted out “Do you like me?”

“Well, sure, I like you,” said Tuor after another moment of awkward silence. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I guess I should’ve made that clearer. Do you like me in the same way you like Voronwe, or do you like me in the way that boys in sappy novels like girls?”

“Idril,” said Tuor. “Are you asking me if I love you?”

“Er…” Idril looked down at her feet. “Suppose so, yeah.”

For a third time, silence. Then she felt a hand gently cupping her chin.

“Yes,” said Tuor, and kissed her.

She wasn’t exactly sure how long she stood there, wrapped in his big, warm arms, with the stubble on his face prickling her lips, but when they finally pulled apart he was looking at her so adoringly that it made her melt.

“You’ll marry me if I ask you to, right?” he asked.

“Darling, I’m going to marry you whether you ask me or not.”

He laughed, and leaned in to kiss her again.