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The midnight rain drummed heavily against the window like a pulsating beat that sang out of rhythm and out of time, echoing the feelings buried deep within the Queen's heart. She felt the warmth from the hearth as she sat alongside her dressing table, the walls of her bedchamber shielding her from the chilling draught that fought so desperately to get in. Míriel usually despised the tapping annoyance that occurred on a rainy night but the melancholic ambience had given rise to a soothing hymn that fell off her lips, one that her father sang while he combed her hair as a child. Perhaps it was strange to find solace in such a sorrowful tune, or perhaps it was not the song she found comfort in but the memory. After all, her father’s inevitable demise had brought about such turmoil, leaving Míriel alone in a kingdom that was surrounded by more foes than friends. Where else could she seek the warmth of his embrace during times of great peril than in the shadows of her mind?
And so, she continued on, combing her untwined locks with the same brush her father used when she was a young girl, a keepsake of a treasured past that she clung to deeply. But as the night progressed further on, her thoughts did not remain on his gentle voice, no, they sought another comfort, one that seemed like a distant memory, a lurking shadow that she could not get a hold of — her guardsman.
Something had changed and not for the better. For where there used to be gentle whispers, there was now a painful silence. Where there used to be fleeting touches, there was now a haunting sense of isolation. He had kept her purposely at arm’s length but for what reason, Míriel did not know. Perhaps the answers lied under the Tree of Lairelossë, where they confessed the ache they felt for one another, their secrets whispered amongst the fragrant breeze that surrounded them. They were both vulnerable that day, Elendil more so than her. But as the days turned into weeks Míriel could not help but regret the words that came from her mouth, for if she knew that such a declaration would cause such despair, then she would not have spoken them at all. Nevertheless, the will of the heart was a desperate one, and no matter how much it suffered it would continue to seek out the one who made it most alive. And as of this moment her core sang for Elendil, but how could she satisfy the hunger that screamed deep within when he clearly did not wish to be in her presence?
The thought of spending the night wallowing in her woes was a tempting one, but soon a loud shattering sound echoed in the distance behind her, snapping her out of her thoughts. Míriel turned her head sharply towards the noise, her heart pounding hard against her chest as she heard a sudden gasp escape through her lady’s maid’s lips.
“Méla?” she called out, her voice full of distress and worry. She darted her unprotected gaze around the large room, hoping that the noise she heard was not something to be cautious about. But as the shaken breaths of her lady’s maid filled the silence around her, Míriel could not help but feel a sense of unease with each second that passed. “Méla, what is it? What is wrong—”
“Forgive me, I did not mean to frighten you.”
Míriel’s eyes soon grew wide with surprise as she heard the sound of a familiar voice echoing across the room, her heart drumming against her chest like a chained bird desperate to escape its cage. She did not need her sight to know that the voice belonged to her guardsman, for his baritone tongue was etched so deeply into her mind that it burned with the mere memory of it.
“Well, frighten me you did, Captain!” the maiden proclaimed, her flustered and frail voice showing her timeworn age. “Good gods — do you plan on sending me to an early grave?”
“Forgive me, My Lady.” he reiterated but his tone seemed distant as if his attention was elsewhere. “I will be more conspicuous in future.”
A frustrated huff soon escaped through the maid’s lips, the sound of broken fragments scraping across the floor. Míriel shifted her body back towards her dressing table, her hand placed firmly against her chest as she tried so desperately to regain her composure. No other words were spoken between the pair but she could feel the heat of Elendil’s gaze pinned against her back as if he was waiting for her to address him. But how could she when her tongue remained sealed inside her mouth, her heart beating with such profound strength that it left her with no power of her own. Míriel could sense the will of her heart taking course as it pulled her body towards him, but she refused to trust its thumping compass, especially after the way he had treated her in the past few weeks. Silence had been his choice of weapon and now she would use it as her own. But it seemed her lady’s maid had other ideas.
“Perhaps it is best that I leave you in private, Your Grace.” Méla suggested slowly, a sense of wariness in her tone as if she suddenly became aware of the growing tension that lingered between them.
But Míriel did not find delight in her proposition; her body frozen still, her eyes growing wide with fear. A part of her had hoped that Méla sensed her inner displeasure but as the sounds of her footsteps echoed across the floor she turned around with such haste that even her own actions surprised her.
“You will do no such thing.” Míriel demanded, her breath catching up with her voice as it travelled the length of the room.
Méla came to an abrupt halt, her footsteps rooted to the ground as silence filled the room once more. The stillness was deafening, a clear sign that her guardsman and her maid were startled by her unusual demeanour. Perhaps they shared knowing glances with each other in secret, their lips whispering words she would not wish to hear. Nevertheless, Míriel did not ponder on such matters and straightened her posture before tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ears.
“I am sure the Captain can find his way back to his quarters,” she declared openly, her voice assertive but much calmer than before. “Unless urgent affairs have caused him to seek the Queen at such an hour?”
Elendil waited a moment before speaking as if he needed time to regain his strength. “It is the reason I am here, Your Majesty.”
A deep breath escaped through Míriel’s lips. His answer did not come as much of a surprise to her. “Then so be it.” She turned her attention back towards her lady’s maid. “Leave us.”
Méla did not heed her instructions at first, her unnerving silence making it hard for Míriel to distinguish why she stood with such resistance. Perhaps she wished to say something, after all, so much had happened in a short amount of time, maybe it was all too much for her to bear. But Míriel knew Méla better than anyone; she was not so feeble or shaken as she may appear. And if she wished to say what was on her mind, well, Míriel knew that she would be in for quite a storm. But fortunately her lips uttered words that eased the Queen's nerves.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
And soon the door of her chamber creaked to a close, Méla’s footsteps fading into the distance as silence took hold of the growing space between them. Míriel could hear the rain pouring much clearly now from outside, the pattering beats of each drop no longer a soothing rhythm but an incessant knock that pounded against the glass. It was as if it had seeped through the window and entered her chambers, for its earthy aroma held the air captive, surrounding her with its deep sadness as the sound of faint drops echoed within her hall. It reminded her of the evergreen scent that faded from her guardsman’s skin, its warm embrace a desperate need that she yearned for. But comfort was the least of her worries, especially when the man that deserted her so cruelly stood on the other side of the room.
“Speak, Captain.” she said as she turned her back towards him, combing her untangled hair with her antique brush. But no words uttered from Elendil’s lips, his tongue sealed tight and his breath full of hesitation, as if he did not have the courage to say what he wished. The growing silence began to make Míriel nervous, her irritation festering as it resembled all that had come before. It seemed even in the midst of hope, nothing had changed.
She turned her head towards her shoulder, her lips pressed thinly together. “You seek an audience but only aspire to torture me with more silence? How quaint.”
“Have I offended you, Your Majesty?”
Míriel scoffed, an amused chuckle escaping through her lips as she shook her head. She placed the brush down on the table and rose to her feet, the hems of her nightgown brushing against the floor as she pivoted around the chair to face him. The warm air that faded from the burning hearth blew against her chest, the exposed skin above her bosom flushing with fondness. Perhaps it would have been wise to cover her body with her robes but she refused to act with the correct decorum when it came to him. Besides, it was not like he had been keeping up with his formalities as of late.
“Do not speak as if you do not know the cause of your own actions, Captain.” she countered, her fingers curling around the frame of the chair as she listened to the lingering silence she grew to loathe.
“Forgive me. I know I have been — distant.” Elendil said finally, his voice low. “I needed time to myself, to think.”
“And what has been the outcome of your pilgrimage?” Míriel asked as she raised her brow, a hint of satire behind her words. “As the Captain of the Queensguard become a changed man?”
Elendil smiled softly before he spoke, his tone light as if he noticed her bitter sarcasm. “No, Your Majesty, on the contrary. For I am still the selfish coward you found under the Fragrant Tree of Lairelossë.”
Silence crept into the room once again as the bittersweet memories of that day filled her mind. She could still remember how sore her body felt after riding for hours on the back of Elendil’s steed, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the salty air blew across her face. The secrecy of their venture brewed never-ending turmoil, for Elendil found pleasure in keeping her riled and curious, tormenting her wandering mind with riddling questions. But as they laid underneath the elven tree, Míriel sought answers, ones that she feared held the power to separate them for good. However, her dread soon turned into hope as Elendil confessed the dying secrets that belonged to his heart, her core entwining with his as she declared the same song. No coward would dare speak the words he uttered to her that day. No coward would forsake his honour for a moment of weakness.
“You are no coward, Elendil.” Míriel breathed out, her darkened gaze full of sincerity. She hated that he thought of himself as such.
“If not a coward, then perhaps a fool?” Elendil enquired, his voice quivering slightly as if he was trembling from the cold. “An honourable fool, at least.”
“You are no fool either.”
“Then what am I?” he stressed.
My guardsman. My friend. My deepest love. The words lingered on Míriel’s tongue waiting to be spoken but she did not have the strength to utter them out loud. So instead, she retreated back to her formal façade and spoke to him like a Queen should to her knight. “A loyal servant of Numenor.”
An anguished sigh escaped through Elendil’s lips as silence hummed through the air, a recurring song that danced between them. His heavy breaths were like an arrow to her chest for she knew how much he suffered, after all, did she not suffer in the same silence as he did?
“Pray tell, what would you have me do?” Elendil breathed out, his baritone voice wet with despair.
But Míriel lowered her head, her lips in a twist as she refused to answer with the two words that lingered on her tongue.
“Give the order and I will make sure it is fulfilled.” he pressed on, his heavy footsteps creaking against the floorboard as he paced towards her.
“Elendil—”
“Command my body and soul to do as you see fit.” he implored, his footsteps drawing ever closer.
“No—”
“Whatever punishment I must face, I will do so willingly.”
“That is enough—”
“Just tell me what you wish for me to do—”
“Nothing!” Míriel uttered with a loud cry, her breath full of haste and distress. “I want you to do nothing.”
Suddenly a crack from the heavens echoed from outside, the loud rumble of thunder and heavy pour of rain shaking the glass window beside her. A cold, grainy surface soon rubbed against her back, an icy chill seeping through her thin dressing robes, stinging her skin. As she pressed her palms against it she shortly realised that she stood with her back pinned against the wall, her body trapped between him and the confines of her bedchambers. So much had happened and with such haste that she had not noticed herself retreating as Elendil closed in, her senses lost in the chaos of it all.
Míriel could smell the evergreen aroma fading off him as his stature towered over her, but it was masked by an even stronger scent, one that she had smelt earlier on. It was damp and earthy like the bitter smell of rain but Míriel could not comprehend why such a fragrance would linger on him.
Unless…
As if on cue, a wet drop fell underneath her left eye, rolling down the side of her cheek just as the rain slid down the window beside her. She blinked profusely as another drop fell against her forehead, another sliding down the bridge of her nose as it trailed down to her lips. The salty taste stained her tongue as she licked the droplet clean off her mouth, the hunger that she fought against for so long crawling towards the surface.
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice a mere tremor as the back of his fingers wiped away the forged tears from her cheek. “I—”
“You came in from the rain.” she stated, for it was not a question; she already knew.
“Yes.”
Míriel’s heart drummed against her chest, her breath heavy as she panted, gulping for air. She could not help but imagine him walking through the streets of the Armenelos, soaked from head to toe as his hair stuck to his forehead, his body drenched to the bone. It lit a fire in her, for his desire to see her no matter the consequences was evident. Distance had turned him into a desperate man, even though thought otherwise. It made her ashamed for feeling so resentful towards him, for he had proven that he was a man of vigour, an honourable soldier who would do all he could to be near the one he loved. How could she deny him now after such a declaration? How could she deny the will of her heart?
“Forgive me,” he said once more as he tore his hand away from her face, suddenly becoming aware of his actions. “I did not mean to—”
“Yes, you did.” Míriel answered, her tone firm, her heart strong.
She could feel the heat of his mouth burn against her face, pulling her body closer towards him. She knew she loved him and hated that it took this long for her to accept the fact. But nevertheless, the stars had aligned for this very moment, their souls widths apart, waiting for the inevitable. She wanted him. She wanted him more than life itself. But his tall stature stopped her from initiating the final act.
Míriel leaned in towards him but found no surface for her to press her lips against. She arched her neck upwards, but to no avail. In the end, she decided to lift her heels off the ground, her feet balancing her weight as she stood on her tiptoes. Using the heat of his breath as a compass, she weaved through the darkness and anchored herself onto the nearest surface. The damp hairs of Elendil’s beard soon tickled against her lips, the upper rim of his mouth grazing along hers. She had grown used to feeling its coarse texture against her skin whenever he kissed her hand, but there was something about feeling it against her own lips that gave her a sense of bliss, one that she had never felt before. Nonetheless, just like all things, the joy soon faded, her feet plummeting back down to the ground with a hard thud.
But desperation caused Míriel to try again, her hands placed firmly against his chest as her fingers slid across the wet fabrics of his garment. A shaken breath soon escaped through Elendil’s lips as his chest rose and fell, the warmth of her gliding hands seeping through the thick material. As she curled her fingers and dug her nails into his tunic, she stood on the tips of her toes and searched the darkness for somewhere to plant her lips. The hairs of his beard met her once more but this time she felt the lower rim of his mouth touch her own, a sign that she was closer to her goal. But even so, Míriel decided to remain there for a while longer, the sound of his aching breaths echoing pleasurably in her ears. She knew that she could not do what she wished on her own, for her sight was limited, blacked by the ash and fire that scorched her on her voyage across the sea. If they were to come together then Elendil must reach out as well as she did. If they were to bind their souls to one another then Elendil must dismiss all the notions of honour that he clung so desperately to.
An exhaled breath escaped through Míriel’s lips as she lowered herself towards the ground, her fingers still anchored to his chest. If she wished to speak to his heart then she must utter its same tongue — The Language of the Eldar. However, Míriel was no master in the speech of the High Elves, but she had been practicing in his absence, a distant ache that caused her to cling to the mere fragments of him. And so, as she trailed her fingers across his dampened tunic, the elegant tongue fell off her lips, the words she whispered that from a neglected lover.
“Am I so frail that I would break at a moment’s touch?”
Míriel could sense a shift in Elendil’s composure as she spoke to him, his breath shaken, as if he could not believe the words that had escaped from her mouth. Nevertheless, she did not wait for him to respond to her question and began trailing her hand across his shoulder and down his arm. She could feel a slight resistance as she brought his hand towards her waist, pushing her robe to the side as she placed his palm alongside the fabric of her nightgown. A soft gasp uttered from his lips as he felt the sudden warmth of her body, the dampness of his touch printing a mark onto the thin material.
An anxious breath escaped through her mouth as she relished in his embrace, her hand planted firmly on top of his. “You claimed before that I held the power to command your body and soul, is that still the case?”
Elendil trembled against her, his throat dry as he gulped. “Yes.”
A satisfied smile grew across her lips, her soul burning with such desire that she feared she would be scarred by its hellish flame, if she did not speak the words that lingered on her tongue. “Then kiss me.”
Without hesitation, Elendil’s lips pressed firmly against hers, his hands settling around her waist as he leaned further into her embrace. The wall soon found her back as Elendil’s ferocious kiss pushed her against it, his lips fighting desperately to claim her for his own. Míriel clung eagerly to his chest, her fingers digging into the fabrics of his tunic as she pulled him in, begging him to close the distance even further. Their lips danced around each other as they kissed and kissed, their mouths withholding the breath that they so gravely needed. They burnt passionately with each second that passed, their kisses like a steadfast flame that could not be put out. No god could separate them now, for their souls were bound together, their fates intertwined by a red string of destiny. He belonged to her and she belonged to him. What could be more beautiful than a finding a home after being lost for so long?
Suddenly, a loud bang erupted in the room, snapping the pair out of their deepened embrace as they tore their lips apart. Míriel turned her head sharply towards the sound, her breath heavy as she gasped desperately for air, her eyes growing wide with fear. But as the familiar voice of her lady’s maid filled the chamber, she breathed a sigh of relief, but only for a brief moment.
“Your Grace!” Méla shouted frightfully, her breath weary as if she had been running. “Your Grace, His Highness is on his way — Captain, you must leave, now!”
Míriel turned her gaze towards Elendil, her heart pounding hard against her chest as her mind hummed with a thousand questions. Though she could not see him, the silence that fell between them spoke more volumes than words ever could. They did not wish to leave each other, not now, not after they shared an embrace that they had fought so hard for. But time was off the essence and if what her maid had said was true then his presence would cause more harm than good.
“With haste, Captain! ”Méla stressed. “With haste!”
There was no time for goodbyes; no lasting kisses to commemorate the affair. That was the tragedy of their newfound love, the cards that they would be forced to accept. And so, as Elendil rushed towards the exit, their hands slipped from each other’s dying grasp, the fading memories of their touch printed onto their bodies like constellations that shone in the night sky.