"Mr. Frodo," said Samwise Gamgee with genuine confusion, "Why do you think Lord Elrond did not address Miss Angelica?"

"Perhaps," Frodo replied, "It is because she is not here…"

“But...but where did she go?”

“I thought she was behind you, Sam.”

Sam looked around the audience chamber in which they had met Elrond. Elrond had escorted Merry and Pippin out of one end of it, no doubt to give them a well-needed dressing down. Another Elf had appeared to lead Legolas and Ciendriel out to somewhere they could change into dry clothing. Gimli strode over to Sam and Frodo, frowning.

“Where is Miss Headstrong?” he demanded. “Courtesy of Elves, hmph! I never did like Rivendell.”

“Tis not Elrond’s fault -- I don’t think he even knew she was with us,” Frodo said, placing a hand on Gimli’s shoulder.

“Let’s retrace our steps. She should not be wandering around alone here,” Sam said. For some reason he was worried, even though he knew that Rivendell was one of the safest places in the world.

A beautiful female Elf appeared in the doorway then and smiled at them. “Welcome, friends of Lord Elrond. I am to show you to a chamber where you may rest before the feast tonight.”

“You haven’t see a Hobbit lass, have you miss?” Sam asked her politely, in awe of her beauty.

“No, I have not. Did you lose one?”

“Miss Angelica Headstrong. She was right behind us.”

“Have no fear. She is safe here in Rivendell, and free to wander. Now come with me...”

Sam bit his lip, worrying, but he followed Frodo and Gimli and the Elf through Elrond’s home to the rooms that had been provided for them. He didn’t mean to rest for a moment until Angelica was found. Still, he didn’t want to be rude, either. He couldn’t enjoy the beauty of Rivendell until she was found... and it was beautiful. Sam loved being among the elves. They were so beautiful, and so peaceful. He hoped there would be singing at the banquet tonight.

“I hope there will be ale at the banquet tonight,” said Gimli.

“There will be wine,” the female Elf told him pleasantly. “It is cherry harvesting season, and the new vintage has just been brewed.”

“That’s all well and good, but I like a heartier stuff,” Gimli groused.

The maiden didn’t seem perturbed by him, though Sam feared she would show the loathing so many Elves unfortunately carried for Dwarves. “I think, Master Gimli, that you will be pleasantly surprised by it.”

“Have you ever tried the Malt Beer of Moria? Of course, it is no longer made, but in its day it was the finest drink imaginable.”

“I have indeed been so fortunate, and I quite agree,” she replied. “And still, I think you will be pleased with what we have for you tonight.”

“Ah! Very good then! You know, you are a rare flower m’dear. Not every Elf would acknowledge Morian Beer.”

She smiled, inclining her head, and opened the door to the rooms provided for them. “If you will excuse me, I have much to do before the banquet. I shall look forward to seeing you there, Master Gimli, and hearing your opinion of the cherry wine.”

Gimli waved her off, smiling. “I always did like Rivendell...”

“We need to find Angelica,” Sam reminded Gimli and Frodo, impatient with the discussion of alcohol.

“I wonder,” said Frodo, “if Elfinwort doesn’t grow here, as well. Perhaps Angelica could be cured now, rather than going all the way to Mirkwood.”

“It doesn’t grow here,” Sam said. “The season is wrong for it.”

“Trust a gardener to know,” Frodo said affectionately. He put a hand on Sam’s arm, and Sam blushed. He didn’t know why he felt like this when Frodo smiled that way, but he did, and it couldn’t be helped.

“I fully intend to go all the way to Mirkwood, in any event,” Gimli sniffed. “Even if you Hobbits want to turn back. We have the quest of the harp as well.”

“Harp? What harp?” asked Sam. He looked at Frodo.

“Did Legolas not tell you?” Frodo said to Gimli, laughing.

“Tell me what!”

“There is no harp, Gimli. It was just a ruse, to keep you sober the night of the last Hobbit gala.”

“The night Ciendriel and Angelica showed up in the Shire,” Sam remembered.

“Why in blazes did he want to do that? Wasting a perfectly good evening planning and strategizing to keep me from enjoying myself! For nothing? What is wrong with that Elf?” Gimli exploded.

“Let’s... let’s go look for Angelica,” said Sam, trying to save Frodo from having to explain to Gimli how he acted when he was drunk. Sam hadn’t seen much of it, himself, but Merry and Pippin had certainly filled his ears with it later. Something about poetry and stinking rose weeds.

Gimli shook his head, muttering, while Frodo shook with silent laughter. Sam ignored them both and headed for the door.

***

Angelica had been right behind Sam on her way in to Lord Elrond’s audience chamber when someone stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned slowly around to see a large blond male Elf bending over to look at her. He was handsome, in the ethereal way of the elves, though not as tender looking as Legolas.

“Angelica Headstrong?” he said in a low voice.

“Do I know you?”

He smiled. No. He smirked, and the expression sent a chill down her spine. She wanted to take a step backwards but his hand was still on her shoulder.

“Have you forgotten so soon?”

“I... I am afraid I don’t remember much of anything. I had some sort of accident, and I’ve lost my memory.”

A small look of surprise crossed his features, but that soon settled into amusement. “Then this is an interesting turn of events indeed. Come with me.”

The Elf turned on his heel, evidently expecting to be obeyed. Angelica stood her ground. “I am supposed to be in there meeting Lord Elrond.”

He turned back around. “I promise that I shall introduce you...personally...later. Now. Come. With. Me.”

“I am not entirely certain that is a wise idea, sir.”

“Trust me, my dear, not doing so would be a less wise one.” His eyes slid half-way closed as he looked her over.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To somewhere we can speak privately.”

“It is quite private right here, as all of my friends are inside Lord Elrond’s chamber,” Angelica pointed out.

“Not nearly private enough. Now, please. Do not stand here arguing with me. Come.”

Angelica bit her lip, for her inclination was to obey him, even though she didn’t trust him at all. If she had to put a name to her urge to follow him, it would have been ‘curiosity.’ “Will you...will you perhaps enlighten me as to who I might be, and where I came from?” she asked, trying to give herself a reason to say yes.

“Oh, I shall do more than that.”

Angelica took a deep breath. “Very well, then.”

The Elf nodded and proceeded down the hall. She followed him.

***

Ciendriel came out of the dressing chamber to where Legolas was waiting for her, fuming. “Will you look at what they’ve given me to wear? These Elves! It’s far too feminine for my taste. I haven’t worn a gown in a century. Riding in them is awful, and I’ll be constantly tripping on the hem, you’ll see!”

She stopped her tirade, waiting for him to agree with her, to tell her that the gown was bloody awful and that she looked a fool in it, but he was staring at her in a most peculiar way, with his mouth open, and his blue eyes very wide and round. Finally he closed his mouth and smiled, and the smile reminded her that he didn’t smile nearly often enough, and neither did she.

“Ciendriel, you are beautiful.”

“Really. R-really?” She turned slowly around so the gown swung out around her, showing him every angle. Then she stopped and took in what he was wearing. The finely embroidered tunic he was wearing was fit for royalty. Well. He was royalty after all. And she couldn’t even be mad at him for telling her, since she had kept from him the exact same secret.

“Yes,” Legolas said. He got up from the cushion he had been lounging upon, waiting for her, and went to her slowly. He took her hand and kissed it. “I have never seen anyone so beautiful.”

She felt her cheeks sting with heat, and felt suddenly shy. Tonight he had promised to come to her bed. And Lord Elrond had provided her with a fine room indeed, almost as if he knew. Perhaps he did. He had seemed incredibly intuitive as well as kind. She had liked him, despite his teasing.

“Thank you,” she said, moving towards him. She put her hands on the front of his tunic. “This is so fine. It fits you well.” She looked into his eyes. She wanted to kiss him. She licked her lips. He bent towards her...but then came the distinctive sound of someone clearing his throat from the doorway. Ciendriel and Legolas jumped apart from each other guiltily.

“I’m glad to see that the two of you have dried off,” Gimli said, striding forcefully into the chamber. He stopped before him, his eyes growing wide. “By the stars! I have never seen any one being look so celestial. So beautiful. So enchanting!”

“Thank you,” said Ciendriel, surprised by the compliment.

“Not you. Legolas! My word...” he trailed off, then turned to Ciendriel, who was now scarlet with embarrassment. “Ah, you look very nice too.”

She nodded. It was more than she would have expected from him anyway. Her eyes darted to Legolas and she felt better to see that he looked equally embarrassed as she felt. “Where are the Hobbits?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“They are already in the banquet hall. And we should be there, now! Come on! I am eager to taste the Elven cherry wine. A delightful young miss was telling me all about it this afternoon,” Gimli said. He turned and headed out of the room.

Legolas offered Ciendriel his arm and she accepted it. They followed Gimli through the halls of the palace. Legolas paused here and there to point out the exquisite carvings and paintings, causing Gimli to wind up far ahead of them. He was already inside the banquet hall when they stepped through the portals. In fact, all of Rivendell was there, it seemed. The hall was crowded with Elves. The Hobbits were seated at the high table with Lord Elrond and several young Elves who could only be his sons, from the looks of them. Was it her imagination, or did Angelica look upset?

Gimli was just joining them, and two empty seats remained, presumably for her and Legolas. Ciendriel knew Elrond had a daughter, Arwen, but she had been sent away with most of the population. The Elf woman who had helped her with the dress had told her much of the tale this afternoon. Most of the Rivendell Elves were dark-haired, but there were three blond male Elves at the table as well. The most handsome of the three caught her attention. He smiled at her, and she felt an unexpected tremor inside.

As she and Legolas entered the room, Lord Elrond stood and lifted a goblet. “Ah, my guests have arrived. Let the feasting begin!”

Everyone cheered, and many goblets were clinked together. Ciendriel felt a ripple of excitement. It had been too long since she had attended a real feast... and there was the anticipation of what would come later. Perhaps some of the cherry wine would help her to relax... It was safe here. Safe to indulge. She turned to look at Legolas and was surprised to see him leaning against the frame of the door, pale as a ghost.

“What is it?” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

“Haldir...”

She looked back towards the table and saw that the big handsome Elf had risen and was making his way towards them. Legolas watched him, the expression on his face unfathomable. It seemed a mix of joy and... fear? Ciendriel wasn’t sure. She held more tightly to his arm.

“Legolas Greenleaf,” the Elf said, smiling at both of them when he reached the doorway. Somehow the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought you were dead. I-- I saw you fall at Helm’s Deep!”

“And yet I did not, and here I am. Do not grow hysterical, Legolas,” the Elf said in a buttery-smooth voice that both enchanted and repelled Ciendriel. “Are you not happy to me?”

“I am. Of course, I am! I am...so glad you’re alive.” He reached out and grabbed Haldir’s forearm, squeezing it, as if checking to see if he were real. Haldir used this to draw Legolas into his embrace, putting his arms around him with what seemed to Ciendriel great familiarity. Legolas embraced him back almost hesitantly. Haldir’s hands caressed his back in a way that seemed to her almost sensual... he looked at her over Legolas’ shoulder and smirked, then slowly let go of him.

Haldir turned his attention to her. “I am Haldir. And you are Ciendriel of Ingra. Lord Elrond has spoken to me of you.”

Ciendriel nodded, wanting to reply, but finding no words.

“Come in, then,” Haldir said. “Sit down...”