Nerwen the Green and the Search for the Entwives #wattys2019

Chapter XXXIII: Precipitous Departure

Chapter XXXIII: Precipitous Departure

Soon after one o'clock in the night, during a break in between dances, Eliénna Dhillel announced she would retire, but invited everyone to go on with the feast at their leisure. Nerwen, too, thought about retiring: she was tired of waiting; that obstinate Avar prince could maybe need days to figure out they were partners for life, but she had enough for one evening. Therefore, as soon as the queen had gone, she took her leave from Myranna and Aryon, who were about to perform the next dance.

"It wouldn't be bad for me to retire, too," the black-clothed prince announced, "Tomorrow morning I must get up rather soon. Do you mind going on dancing with Lorgil?" he asked, turning to his niece.

"Not at all," she answered graciously, "Go ahead, Uncle Aryon. Good night, Lady Nerwen," she concluded, nodding to her. She left them, seeking her brother.

"I'll walk you to your chamber," Aryon said. Nerwen's heart skipped one beat: had he finally realised the news and was now looking for an opportunity to be alone with her, in order to tell her about his feelings? Suddenly she felt hot, then, equally suddenly, cold.

"Thank you," she accepted, trying to steady her voice. Good Valar, she never ever felt so thrilled at the idea to be alone with someone. So was this the way one felt about the love of one's life? Now she could wholly understand Melian's feelings for Thingol, or Lúthien's for Beren, or Galadriel's for Celeborn... It was a sense of fullness, joy, gratefulness, marvel, something that gave her a force and an energy through which she would be able to defy the Dark Enemy himself... and win.

Exactly like her sister's daughter had done, when she confronted Morgoth and won.

Aryon, completely unaware of the storm of feelings raging in Nerwen's heart, offered her his arm, and she accepted it.

They took the nearest stairway going to the upper floor; once there, Aryon walked her to the stairs leading to her quarters, and without stopping, he went on, going upstairs with her. At this point, Nerwen was sure the prince had realised everything and was going to tell her openly, and then he would ask her to spend the night together. At the mere thought, her throat turned dry because of the thrill.

When they arrived in front of the door to Nerwen's bedchamber, Aryon stopped; she turned to look at him, full of expectation.

"It's been a wonderful evening," the prince said.

"Yes," she agreed, unable to put together a longer sentence. Aryon's bright eyes sparkled like jewels in the uncertain light of the only lamp lighting the landing; the Maia felt her knees turning to jelly.

Aryon was uncertain: could he make a pass at her? This was the reason why he had walked her there in the first place: he had felt her very close earlier, when they were sitting on that bench in the garden... but then, somehow she had withdrawn. He truly didn't know what to make of it.

Maybe he had been wrong, he concluded.

"Good night, Nerwen," he murmured, bending slightly to brush her hand with his lips; then he turned and went for the staircase.

Nerwen felt like petrified. For long moments, she wasn't even able to breathe or organise a full thought; dazed, speechless, she stared at Aryon going away.

Aryon descended slowly the first two steps; all of a sudden, he felt like punched in the stomach and lost his breath. He gasped for air, while in his brain an abrupt, absolute certainty exploded.

Nerwen the Green was his partner for life.

He straightened his back as if jabbed with a sword and spun around to look at the Istar, his eyes wide, bedazzled. She was staring at him, frozen; the dismayed expression on her beautiful face stabbed his heart.