[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen turned sharply to Idruil as if only just realising he was there. Had his worry been that obvious? He was usually so good at hiding his emotions, was he losing something...

No, but you will if you wait much longer! Blast solemnity and mystery!

"It's the Lady Crystal," he replied abruptly, blurting out the words before they hid again. Idruil raised his chin very slightly, signifying that he was listening. Atharen turned, beginning to pace again, his hands behind his back, organising his thoughts. He spun around once more, his hands spread. "I think I lov-"

"Miss Heart, what is the matter?"

Idruil spoke over Atharen and the ranger whirled around yet again towards the door, something like guilt flashing with surprise in his eyes before it was hastily veiled. He shot a look of gratification at Idruil for warning him - but why? Rather keep this relationship than frighten her away forever...

"I need to speak with Atharen alone. May I have a moment please?" There was a desperate note that Atharen detected underneath her careful, polite words. Idruil paused, then complied mildly. "Of course, my Lady, of course. I bid you a very good night, Atharen, and you, Miss Heart. He is all yours." The last sentence was accompanied by a mock-conspiratorial wink before Idruil departed, chuckling slightly to himself. Atharen wasn't fooled. Is there anyone who doesn't suspect the thing I myself am not even sure of?! he thought wryly and with a little panic.

Even before the door shut behind Idruil, Crystal started towards Atharen…but after a few steps she stopped, as if unsure, then seemed to hesitate. Like a sparrow hopping a few feet away from a still human, she seemed intrigued, wanting to come close, but on the verge of flying away at any second. But there was never a sparrow so beautiful…

“My Lady, what is wrong-?” he started, stepping towards her with a hand out, but she shied away. Atharen felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart – not the heart as in the centre of the body’s life, that organ which pumps around the body blood, supplying oxygen and food to all areas – the second heart, the one that supplies the mind with far more than anything material could ever amount to. He stopped still, and his hand dropped slowly to his side as if it had never moved, surprise registering in his dark eyes as Crystal glanced up at him. Then, taking a breath which seemed to sob slightly, she began to speak, gushing out words that could have come from Atharen’s own heart.

Speechless, he could only watch as she turned away, somehow frozen although that second heart screamed at him to take her arm, to call her back. But somehow she seemed to lack all energy and suddenly slumped, sobbing, to the floor, curled against the door, her robe falling around her and crumpling, as her face crumpled into tears, the sobs of a child escaping her lips. Atharen flinched towards her as she fell, his reflex being to catch her before she fell, then he stopped, still apparently stunned from the verbal blows that he thought he may never recover from. She was of his race, and so close, and with no family or the like standing between them…but in that moment, Atharen felt that the barrier between them was more than was ever faced by Beren and Luthien, or Elessar and Arwen. To grab her…too rough, to harsh, to hasty. And there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to be more gentle than anything.

Moving very slowly, he knelt carefully beside her, his eyes always on her face. She looked up towards him, her eyes following his down until they were level. Moving one hand forward, he rested it on her elbow, as he had done before, gentle and kind, but less firm than before.

“Crystal…” He began to sentence that he didn’t know how to finish. But as he looked into her eyes, he realised there was nothing he could say which a single action could not make her realise – a single action that would, in this case, speak louder than any words ever could. She looked away again, dropping her gaze to the floor as she sobbed once more, still apparently thinking the worst. Taking a silent breath, Atharen moved his hand up her arm, coming to her neck and raising her chin gently until she looked once more into his eyes. Then, turning his head to the side, one hand on the side of her face, he leant forward and kissed her, his eyes closed, on the mouth.

After a few seconds, he broke away, lingering for a second before he opened his eyes. As she opened her mouth to speak, seeming stunned, Atharen moved a finger to her lips, then rose silently, extending a hand and pulling her to her feet.

“Good night, my Lady Crystal,” he whispered almost silently.