~ Artist’s Appreciation ~

by Súlriel

Lhende turned from her etching in surprise. The young Lord Celeborn entered the bath, distracted. He laced his fingers above his head and stretched up with a groan; then cupped his silver braids. With a deep breath, he forced his elbows back then forward; tensing, then stretching his shoulders.

From talking too long with the trees, Lhende came late to her tasks, but with the needed design firmly in mind. She’d stayed when the others left to watch the games, thinking to take advantage of the quiet.

Celeborn methodically repeated a series of movements.

Lhende closed her hand on her chisel and brought it to rest in her lap as she slid quietly down to rest on her knees, blending in the shadows with the stone leaves of the archway. Her poor efforts could wait, she’d not interrupt such art as moved before her

A step back flexed Celeborn’s calf and corded the length of thigh that split his long tunic, turn and step brought his arms up and around. Lhende stifled a giggle at the judgmental comments from under his breath regarding the level of competition he’d faced; then gasped as he tightened his belt and slipped his tunic from his shoulders so the top draped from his waist.

The slender young lord’s abdomen rippled as he moved through the dance too slow, his precision borne of pure strength rather than allowing the momentum of each step to give him the next. His hands clasped lightly behind his back forced attention to his balance. A spin and lunge, tightly woven braids whipped silver-bright around and back with his increased speed. A sword glittered now, he held it high as he restarted the dance. Another whirl of silver, beautiful, deadly; and his eyes held hers.

"Lord." she stammered as she scrambled to her feet so she could curtsey.

Silence. A dull throb in her throat reminded her to breathe, and she was filled with the musky-rich scent of his work, like newly hewn wood after a rain.

Lhende shifted her gaze forward from the floor, only to see that he’d approached her. His open palm, his fingertips came close enough to her chin that she felt his heat, and held there. Trembling, she looked up until she meet his piercing gaze, each breath filling her with the taste of the sweat that glistened on him.

She opened her hand to show him her chisel, but no words came when she tried to speak. Blushing, she lowered her head to one side, only to turn her cheek to rest in his hand. Heat filled her at his touch, from her cheek it shot through her and she bolted back, forgetting she stood beneath an arch. Pain exploded from the back of her head, and blackness.

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Celeborn caught the dark-haired beauty in his arms as she fell and carried her to the edge of the bath. She woke as he knelt to scoop a handful of water to bathe her face, her grey eyes looked away from his.

"You startled me," she murmured.

"Did you not expect that I’d come to my bath after the games?"

"I thought only of my art." Lhende shifted in his arms, spreading warmth and tension from where they touched. Her movements slowed even as her breaths quickened. Her eyes touched his again, questioning with a hint of knowing. Laiquendi? Celeborn saw in her that she’d yet to choose a mate but knew from his time among them that many did not adopt the strict codes Elwe brought back from Valinor.

"What nature of work is needed in my bath?" He ran his hand down her arm to hold her hand; he turned it in his and traced her palm with his thumb. "You don’t show the callous for stonework."

"I’m but a student, recently come to serve the lords of this land."

"You were sent to serve in my bath?"

Her eyes twinkled and she laughed. "Indeed lord. I’m yours to command, if you’ll but state your needs."

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