WARNING: This chapter is a bit sappy. Following chapters are less so. If you think it's any good, please write me a review! I wrote it mainly to satisfy a fluffy-romantic swing in my emotions – so it might not make sense to anyone else (if there is any sense to be found by anyone at all anyway…).
TO EVERYONE: Enjoy! And please review!
AND NOW...ON TO THE STORY!
Chapter One
Starlit Evening
"Do you see the stars, Theodwyn?"
"How could I not?"
"They were made for you," he said.
"Eldarion! I'm surprised at you! The whole world was made for me," she replied, laughing softly.
He smiled. "Of course."
She was looking far into the distance, at the stars and the Gondorian landscape.
He was looking at her.
She was sitting on the stone bench of the balcony. Her arms lay on the ancient railing and her cheek fell against the back of her hands. How long ago, he pondered silently, had the little girl become a woman? Her soft complexion was slightly flushed, and every now and then her face became lost behind her free-falling golden hair, blowing in the evening breeze. Her eyes, so innocent, reflected the shining stars in the sky above her. She did not know she was this lovely. That was what made her so beautiful.
"What are you thinking of?" she asked without turning.
He shifted his weight uncomfortably where he stood, leaning against the banister. Her frankness and informality had never troubled him; they were cousins of a sort, and he did not mind when she addressed him so carelessly. But he did not tell her what was on his mind; that would be folly. He had tried before, about a year ago, but she had quickly interrupted him and thrown away the compliments. So it was better not to say anything.
"Did you enjoy supper?" she asked presently.
"Indeed," he replied. "And you?"
"Not entirely. I thought your father seemed rather gloomy. I hate to see him that way."
"My father?"
She turned her eyes to his in answer.
"I did not notice," he said. Surely he had not, for she had been there and that was where his attention had been placed.
She looked away again. "You should notice these things; you should ask him what is wrong."
"Theodwyn," he pleaded. "You know I spend every day with him all day, mind you. It is my duty to be with him."
"Duty, yes. Pleasure? No, don't interrupt me! Please be a gentleman. I know you love your father, but I find it strange that you do not see when he is ailing."
How could he reply to that? He did not know. He felt a strong impulse to take her hand and gather her into his arms perhaps that would be answer enough. But he did not. She would not like it.
She looked so tame, this child of Ithilien, yet he knew where her heart belonged. Not to any one person; no indeed, was that even possible? She had a spirit like her mother's: wild, boundless, fearless. Her love was for open plains and blowing wind and singing grasses. She belonged in the air, as a spirit, or on a horse, as a warrior.
And yet, somehow she had also inherited the stately grace of the steward's house: poise, wit, gentleness. If one did not know her they would think her perfectly at home inside the stately halls of the king. For she seemed so perfect there, too. He loved to hear her soft footsteps echo in the stone corridors and to see her stand by her father's side as she greeted ambassadors and princes. There was no place she did not seem born to belong.
If only she could understand his feelings; if only she could open her mind and her heart for him. But he could not ask that of her at least not here, not now. Maybe he would inquire later. When would be too late? He must bear his soul sometime. The thought of wishing her joy at a marriage ceremony not also his own was painful. How could he watch her ride away to some far away land, never to see her again? What if her laughter rang in another's halls, far from his hearing?
He comforted himself with the knowledge that at present there was no danger of this. She was not his, but neither did she belong to anyone else.
"Eldarion?" she murmured.
"Theodwyn?" he answered, taking a step nearer.
"Do you not wonder how the stars were made?"
He smiled. "I rather wonder how you were made, and it is almost the same."
"How?"
"You sparkle when you smile and you grace the world like a glittering light."
"And you lack the words of a true poet, son of the elves!" she laughed, rising. "But I love you all the same."
She offered her hand; he took it and gently pressed it in his own. He knew what she meant: she loved him as a relative, as a friend.
She bade him good-night, and he watched her walk away, past the columns of the palace, through the flowers, until her star-lit form vanished into the shadows of the night. He faintly heard the palace door thud to a close.
He sighed. If only
"My lord," said a voice.
Eldarion turned to see a guard arriving, and straightened his posture.
"The king summons you, my lord," he said.
Eldarion nodded and walked resolutely to the palace doors. Duty called.