Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 7

Posted on Monday, 18 December 2000

Needless to say, the prospect of a journey with her father was more than sufficient to buoy up Elizabeth's spirits. It was of small import to her where their destination might be, which was fortunate as Mr. Bennet chose not to disclose it. His secrecy puzzled Elizabeth, but she was so excited at the news that she would be allowed to step beyond the confines of her small world that she gave little heed to it.

Jane was extremely dismayed at the thought of being indefinitely separated from her favorite sister, who had been her only solace during the previous months of waiting and uncertainty. Elizabeth would have pleaded to her parents to allow Jane to come along, but Mrs. Bennet had made it known from the first that she would not hear of any of her other daughters wandering about in the Wild and certainly not her dearest Jane.

"Think of how the rugged country would spoil her looks! Elizabeth, to be sure, has little to lose on that score, but oh dear Jane! The thought is horrid beyond comprehension! Oh, my nerves!" Mrs. Bennet had cried.

During her last night at Longbourn, Elizabeth remained in Jane's room at the earnest request of the latter. Despite her father's advising her to get plenty of sleep as he planned for them to leave well before sunrise, Elizabeth and Jane kept vigil together well past midnight. The farewells that the family had shared earlier that evening could scarcely suffice between two sisters as dear to each other as these were.

"Will you be alright? I will not be here to guard you from Mother, you know. You will have to defend yourself for a while," Elizabeth teased.

"I daresay I will get on very well. I will feel the loss of your presence every minute, but I am happy that your dearest wish has been granted. And perhaps your absence will teach you to be fonder of your home?" Jane suggested smilingly.

"Or fonder of you. Dearest Jane, I will think of you often and miss you terribly. Most of all, I will fear for your happiness, as I do now. You always deny it, Jane, but I never believe you. You are not happy."

Jane shrugged and said, "I will be when you return. That is enough."

"But you still think of him."

Jane did not meet Elizabeth's eyes, but she conceded with a slight nod.

"You know, Mother often said that Binglorn would surely return in the spring," Jane said, "and though I professed otherwise, I allowed that to be my hope. I was foolish. Spring has passed, and he has not come, so I am resolved to think of him no more."

"Well, he did not first come to Bree in the spring, did he?" Elizabeth pointed out.

"Enough, Elizabeth. No more."

"Very well, but if he is not by your side when I return, I will denounce him as the stupidest of men!"

"Hush, Lizzy!" Jane scolded, suddenly becoming the older sister. "It is high time you went to sleep!"

Rather than give in to her first impulse and throw a pillow at her uncharacteristically imperious sister, Elizabeth threw her arms around her and whispered, "I know not whether I will be able to leave you."

"Of course you will, silly," Jane said, her voice trembling with unshed tears, "and I will let you go. But do not expect such lenience the next time you decide to become the great adventurer!"

Elizabeth laughed shakily and reluctantly endeavored to sleep.

Has the journey begun already? I do not even remember when it started!

From her position on the rock, Elizabeth gazed forward at the most beautiful sight she had ever beheld. The dark blue sea stretched onward until it mingled with a sea of scarlet. But I have never seen the sea! To her left, she saw a ship waiting at the dock. An assembly of people elves? stood upon the dock and watched as others boarded the ship. She heard the sound of their farewells as a sorrowful music, and tears stung her eyes. Her gaze then shifted to a lone figure standing on the shore before her who seemed to also be observing the scene. The sun prevented her from distinguishing his features, but by his movements she knew he turned to look upon her. He regarded her for some time, then raised his hand up to her. What does he want? Elizabeth watched him uncertainly. From the corner of her eye, she saw the ship begin to move from the dock. The voices of those left behind gradually became silent until naught was heard but the waves like wind through the trees. The figure elf?, perhaps believing Elizabeth could not would not move from her rock, began to make his way toward her. She would have stepped forward to meet him but for the sound of a familiar voice that called to her from behind.

"Elizabeth! Come back! Elizabeth!"

It was her father, but she did not obey him. She did not want to obey him. Why? Father!

"Don't go, Elizabeth!"

I won't! But her heart cried out in defiance and released her feet from their invisible bonds. The figure ceased its progress and pleadingly? raised both arms to her. She did not hesitate Stop! to run into them. As his warmth Who are you? surrounded her, she became deaf to her father's pleas.

Then, the sun disappeared, and darkness enveloped them both.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth murmured.

Jane looked upon her sister with concern, debating whether to arouse her from her much needed, though troubled slumber. However, Elizabeth soon became quiet, and her face assumed an expression of content, almost smiling tranquility. Jane sighed in relief. Kissing her sister's brow, she returned to sleep.

A dark, silent, and empty Longbourn was deeply unsettling to Elizabeth. She felt as if she had awakened to find herself in a different house altogether. Even Jane, who was still soundly asleep when she left her, appeared alien to her. It seemed as if her own home was rejecting her, as if it knew she did not wish to remain there.

Elizabeth pushed away these unpleasant thoughts as she shouldered her pack. Her father followed suit with a bit more of a struggle, his burden undoubtedly twice as heavy as hers. Elizabeth chuckled as she watched him.

"Tell me, Father, exactly what portion of the contents of your pack is comprised of books, papers..."

"I'll have none of your impertinence on this journey, Child!" Mr. Bennet scolded with a wink. "Come, let us away ere your mother hears us."

And so, Father and Daughter began their adventure. Mr. Bennet, not wishing to cut through Bree to get to the East-West Road, chose a rarely frequented path that ran between the town and Chetwood and would lead them to the Road at a point just east of Bree. Taking this path, the pair arrived at the Road two hours after sunrise.

Mr. Bennet stopped at the edge of the Road and turned to his daughter. "Here, Elizabeth, we bid farewell to the world of security, civility, and decent food and enter the Wild. From this point, extreme caution is required at all times, for one does not know what he will meet upon the East-West Road. Trolls, temperamental dwarves, dragons, incoherent elves, goblins: anything is possible. The Road is not quite as safe as it was when I was a lad."

"It sounds truly delightful!" Elizabeth exclaimed with a girlish grin as she proceeded to lead the way. "Shall we continue?"

Mr. Bennet chuckled and followed after her. A daughter after my own heart!

"By the way, Sir," Elizabeth said, "do you not think it is now safe to reveal our mysterious destination?"

Mr. Bennet looked about him with affected wariness and whispered, "I suppose nothing dreadful will happen if I take the risk of disclosing this information. Your mother's ears are sharp, but I think we our well out of her range. We are going to Rivendell."

Elizabeth looked at her father in shock. "Rivendell?"

"Yes, you know. I have certainly told you of Elrond's house more than once. I was invited to come some time ago and never accepted the invitation."

Elizabeth walked on in stunned silence. She did not know what to think about visiting Wickham's childhood home and meeting the people who had turned him away. How could she behave with equanimity among them knowing what she did? But perhaps they are not entirely at fault. It was, after all, Darcë who deceived them. Elizabeth wondered whether Darcë himself would be there, but she consoled herself with the belief that he had most likely returned to his home at the Havens.

Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter with concern and said, "You are surely not displeased? I thought you had always wanted to learn more about elves, and here is the perfect opportunity to do so."

"No, I am not displeased, only surprised," Elizabeth said, recollecting herself. "So we are to see one of the last elven refuges this side of the Sea? An ideal place to spend one's summer. And as you say, it will be the perfect opportunity...for many things."

The first two weeks of their journey passed uneventfully. Other than a small company of (temperamental) dwarves, they met no one on the Road. For the sake of his daughter, Mr. Bennet maintained an easy pace and stopped at least twice a day to rest. At night, he would never set up camp within sight of the Road but would find some hollow or wooded area that would afford them some protection from spying eyes. Travelling was easy for them, though Elizabeth may not have realized it, and the early June weather remained pleasant.

Elizabeth loved merely to watch the wild country in bloom. In the journal she had promised Jane she would keep, most of her entries thus far had been drawn and written sketches of the landscape. The lengthiest entry was a detailed description of a large plateau that stood among the Weather Hills to the north of the Road.

When she had asked Mr. Bennet about it, he had said, "It is called Weathertop. Once the great watchtower, Amon Sűl, stood upon it, but the tower was destroyed long ago."

"How?" Elizabeth had asked.

"By the Enemy. It was burned to the ground."

Mr. Bennet would say no more about it, and Elizabeth wisely did not press him.

Two weeks out of Bree, they reached the Last Bridge, by which they would cross the River Hoarwell. It was about noon, and they stopped near the Bridge for lunch. Elizabeth gratefully eased her pack off her shoulders and sat beside a tree on the bank of the River. As she selected various items from their store of food, Mr. Bennet walked about the area.

"After we cross the Bridge, it will be safer for us to set up our camp south of the Road at nights," Mr. Bennet said.

Elizabeth paused in the midst of her task and regarded her father thoughtfully. "How so?"

"If you stray too far north of the Road, you will cross into troll-country, and I fancy you would not relish that. We must double our caution during the remaining third of our journey, but I expect we will reach Rivendell within a week."

"I shall be glad! Being awakened in sleep by hungry trolls is not what I would call a pleasant end to our adventures!"

Mr. Bennet looked off into the distance with a slight smile and replied, "I have a friend who learned that the hard way. He would agree whole-heartedly with you."

Mr. Bennet's caution, though wise by all means, was needless. The country through which they passed was empty for the most part, so no evil befell them during the week that followed. Despite the ease of their travels, Elizabeth liked to imagine herself as a true adventurer. She almost regretted that they would soon reach the end of their road, but thoughts of bed, bath, and tables laden with food quickly overcame this.

At nightfall of the last day, they reached the Ford of Bruinen, and after crossing it Mr. Bennet abruptly turned off the road and headed northeast. The land began to rise sharply and was heavily wooded. Scattered trickles of moon and starlight were all that illuminated the way. The travelers became increasingly enmeshed in darkness, as the trees closed in around them and narrowed their path.

An hour after they had changed the direction of their course, Mr. Bennet paused and looked about him uncertainly. For a couple of minutes he seemed to consider something, then chose another path. When he paused once more, Elizabeth began to feel a bit alarmed. Up until that point, he had always seemed certain of where he was going.

"Father?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

Mr. Bennet looked back and smiled at her, but Elizabeth was not for a moment fooled. The anxious glint in his eye did not escape her.

"Father, why do we not return to the Road?"

"The Road will not take us to Rivendell. If it would, anybody might find it. Have a little faith in your father, Child. I have never tried to make the journey to Rivendell before, but-"

"Never before? Father! You said yourself that the Valley is hidden! If you do not know how to find it, then what are we to do?"

"Do not fret, Elizabeth! That is why I never considered bringing along your sisters, much less your mother. Gandalf himself gave me directions to the House of Elrond long ago."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and asked, "How long ago?"

"Never you mind!" Mr. Bennet replied with feigned severity. "I know very well what you are implying, and I will have you know that-"

"Hush Father! Listen!"

Mr. Bennet obeyed immediately and straining his ears heard singing in the distance.

"They are elves," Mr. Bennet whispered.

Elizabeth nodded and asked, "Shall we follow the sound?"

"At this moment, I can think of no better course of action," Mr. Bennet replied with a shrug.

"Father!"

Mr. Bennet only laughed heartily at his daughter and walked on ahead. Rather than allow herself to be annoyed, Elizabeth joined in her father's laughter and trailed after him. Mr. Bennet quickly regained his sense of direction using the elven music as a guide; and after traversing a short distance, the travelers came upon its source.

A gathering of elves sat about a fire, most of them equipped with an instrument and singing. Their faces were fair beyond measure, each seeming to give off a light of its own. An air of peace that was not present moments before when Elizabeth and her father were making their way through the woods surrounded them. Elizabeth stood still as she observed them, being afraid to move lest she disturb the ethereal scene. Mr. Bennet had no such qualms and strode confidently ahead to the circle of elves.

One of the few elves who had chosen not to take part in the singing looked up and laughed aloud upon seeing Mr. Bennet among them.

"Mae govannen, mellon!" the elf cried merrily as he came forward to meet him. A few of the others did the same and offered their own greetings. "So you choose to come at last, Thomas? Only you would have the cunning to come to Rivendell just after the Mid-Year celebrations are safely over!"

"Well, well. Far be it from me to disturb your folk whilst they are dancing about in the woods. I never did acquire a taste for it myself."

Several of the elves laughed at this and began to converse with Mr. Bennet in their own tongue. Elizabeth marveled at the sight of her father speaking with greater ease among these elves than he ever did among members of his own family, and at last she understood what Mr. Bennet truly sought during all his travels over the years. She met the eyes of the elf who first recognized Mr. Bennet and smiled shyly. He returned it with warmth then whispered something in her father's ear. Mr. Bennet laughed at whatever was said and motioned for his daughter to join them.

"Elizabeth! You are not one to stand aside, hidden in the shadows. Come hither!"

"So this is the famous Elizabeth Bennet?" the elf asked. "I have heard much of you, and I can see that none of the praise has been exaggerated! I am Glorfindel of the House of Elrond and bid you welcome to Rivendell, though you still have a few miles to tread before you reach it. My companions and I will escort you the rest of the way, otherwise I fear your father would never find it!"

Elizabeth smiled at Glorfindel, relieved to find that he was no more a Darcë in manners than he was in looks. Unlike the latter, Glorfindel's hair was long and golden, and he was clad wholly in white. Though his appearance was high and lordly, it was obvious to Elizabeth that he was also open, friendly and quick to laugh.

"I welcome your kind offer, my lord," Elizabeth said. "And perhaps along the way, you can tell me how it is that you have heard so much of me. Has my father been your informant?"

"Not I! If I was his only source of information, he would know nothing save that I have five ridiculously silly daughters!" Mr. Bennet teased.

"No, it was not your father. I have not had the pleasure of seeing him for some time," Glorfindel said. "It was Darcë of Mithlond who spoke to me of a certain lady of Bree who had won his admiration. I believe you made his acquaintance last fall?"

Mr. Bennet chuckled and turned away to hide his amusement.

"Well, I should hope that you would find his praise not exaggerated. He is my severest critic," Elizabeth said as she exchanged a sly smile with her father. "I am afraid that he and I are not the best of friends."

"Indeed? I must say I am surprised," Glorfindel said, looking not a little puzzled at their behavior.

Chapter 8

Posted on Monday, 1 January 2001

Rivendell
June 28

I must own, Jane, that this is a perfect house, whether you prefer music and tales, food and drink, pleasant company, long walks or quiet reflection. After only a day, I have been convinced of this, though I was a bit skeptical at first when old Mr. Baggins told me so. I can now say with certainty that I could spend all my life at Rivendell in contentment, but somehow I feel that you would be especially happy here. The quiet order and refined air of Elrond's house would suit you. However, I will not attempt to put into words the beauties and wonders of this place; to do so would not only be tiresome for me but insufficient for you. Alas, there are some things that cannot be captured within a body of text. I would much rather try my hand at describing for you some of the people I have met here.

I shall begin with Elrond, the Master of the House. People call him a half-elf, a lord of elves and men, and I can well believe it. The wisdom of many years glitters in his eyes, but he appears in the vigor of youth. He is a kind host, but I rarely see him as he is much engaged with his counselors these days, or so I am told.

Mr. Bilbo Baggins, whom I have mentioned before, is native of the Shire, and the tale (one of many I will tell you when I am home!) of how he came to be a permanent resident of Elrond's house kept me awake till a very late hour last night! He is a curious sort - quite as bookish as Father, if you will believe it - but very much a hobbit. I hear his room is so littered with papers that its furniture has not been seen for many an age. (Does this not seem familiar, Jane?) He and Father spend a great deal of time among the many books, maps, and records kept at Rivendell, so I am often left to myself. And of course, aside from history and storytelling, Mr. Baggins' chief interest is Elrond's table.

Glorfindel, a high elven lord, was unwittingly the means by which my newly formed prejudice against elves was removed. He is much like your Binglorn in temperament, being kind, quick to laugh, and generally in good humor; but despite this, one cannot help but feel the strange power that emanates from him. Father told me that Glorfindel has a long and legendary history reaching all the way back to the First Age of the World. However, Father chose not to discuss it in detail, as is his wont. Thankfully for him, I did not inherit a tendency toward nervous fits or else I would have plagued him incessantly about it!

While Father is about with Mr. Baggins or the elves, I find an amiable companion in the company of an elf named Georgianiel. She is really very young for an elf and is only slightly taller than I am. Her features are just what I would expect of an elf maid: fine, delicate, and framed with pale golden curls. She moves about so lightly and gracefully that I sometimes feel quite awkward and clumsy beside her. When first I met her, I thought her aloof, but when I drew her out I discovered she was only shy and unused to the society of humans. Once Georgianiel opened up, I found her an invaluable companion. She seems to know everything about everyone at Rivendell and entertains me with the most diverting stories, while showing me the best walks throughout the Valley. Now that I think of it, I am due to meet her in the gardens at this moment and must lay down my pen. Until tomorrow!

Retiring her journal and pen to their place on the windowsill, Elizabeth hastened out of the room and followed an intricate path through passages and down stairwells that led to the front door. The day was waning so most areas of the house were empty as people were making their way outdoors or to the Hall of Fire where songs and tales would be shared. The music that arose from the Hall reached Elizabeth's ears like a farewell as she flew out the door.

When Elizabeth reached her and Georgianiel's meeting place in the gardens, she found another person seated on a low bench in her friend's stead. Elizabeth gasped in surprise, and the person started at the sound. The dark figure was none other than Darcë, and judging by the expression on his face, he was just as surprised by her presence.

"Miss Bennet!"

"Darcë. How...nice to see you again," Elizabeth said with difficulty.

Darcë seemed not capable of further speech, but he made no move to leave. Out of politeness Elizabeth ventured to make a few attempts at something like conversation, but Darcë was not very cooperative and seemed content to continue staring at her in surprise. Quickly becoming annoyed, Elizabeth gave up and took to strolling idly about the area, pretending to be fascinated by various flowers. Darcë, having already offered Elizabeth his seat and been refused, sat himself down and continued to study her.

"Do not let me keep you from your meditations, my lord. I shall be leaving here shortly as soon as my friend arrives."

Darcë smiled softly and said with the barest hint of irony, "Nay, lady, you are in no danger of disturbing my present meditations."

Fortunately, Elizabeth soon heard the welcome sound of Georgianiel's light, girlish voice calling her name. She answered immediately, and Georgianiel entered the clearing with a bouncing step. Upon seeing Darcë, Georgianiel squealed in delight and flew into his arms. Elizabeth found herself gaping at the spectacle of Darcë affectionately embracing and laughing with the elf girl.

"Darcë, have you met my friend Elizabeth?" Georgianiel asked, having taken note of her friend's wondering expression.

When Darcë replied in the affirmative, Georgianiel proceeded to explain to Elizabeth that they were connected through an ancient marriage between her cousin and one of his kinsmen. As their respective kindred had passed over the Sea either by choice or misfortune, Darcë was the only family Georgianiel had left.

"It has been too long since you have come to see me!" Georgianiel said reproachfully. "You must accompany Elizabeth and me on our walk and entertain us with your adventures. And do not deny having some ready tales to tell, for I know very well that you have been in the company of the Dúnedain! Come Elizabeth, help me persuade him!"

"I fear I must decline," Elizabeth laughed. "I do not wish to intrude upon this reunion. We can postpone our walk, Georgianiel."

Darcë and Georgianiel naturally protested, but Elizabeth remained firm and left them to themselves. She returned to her chambers and was welcomed with the warmth of a fire in the hearth.

Once more that evening, Elizabeth sought the company of her journal. As she flipped open the cover and thumbed through the pages, she was amazed to find that almost half the book was filled with her small, delicate script. She smiled when she thought of how pleased Jane would be.

Elizabeth paused thoughtfully as she reached the first clean page. After a few minutes, she began to write. Jane, I have just learned the most remarkable thing!...

Elizabeth had previously noted that Georgianiel was reserved among company, but what she did not fully realize was that Georgianiel was also very perceptive. Few things escaped her notice (which would explain the endless supply of stories with which she diverted her new friend).

When Darcë returned, Georgianiel noticed the change in his behavior almost at once, and she was not long in detecting its source. Thus she wisely chose not to share her discovery with Elizabeth but began to closely observe her kinsman and her friend while together. As the reader has no doubt already guessed, this proved to be a difficult task, for while the first party would not at all object to being in the company of the other, the second party tried to avoid the company of the first if she could help it. However, with a few innocent maneuverings, Georgianiel succeeded in bringing the two parties together occasionally.

One of her greater successes occurred when she arranged to have Elizabeth encounter Darcë and her in the Hall of Fire one afternoon. Georgianiel knew that the Hall would most likely be empty at that time and so Elizabeth would have no choice but to join them.

As Elizabeth approached them in the Hall that day, Georgianiel did not miss the suspicious look she cast in her direction upon seeing Darcë, but she only laughed and said, "I have been telling my cousin of your musical abilities, Elizabeth, and was hoping you would favor us with an air."

"Musical abilities?" Elizabeth inquired with an arched brow. "I believe I once told you I sang a little, but I meant a very little and very ill, especially to those who are accustomed to beauty of a much grander scale."

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing Darcë color at this statement and smiled archly at him.

"Nonsense!" Georgianiel cried. "Who that hears your voice would not agree that it would be fair in song? Sing for us a song of your people."

"Very well, if you are so determined to have your ears cruelly tortured. I will sing for you one of Mr. Baggins' songs. I heard him sing it the night I arrived here."

Georgianiel concealed a triumphant smile as best as she could as she listened to Elizabeth's acceptance and turned her eyes to Darcë to watch his reaction to her song.

In her soft alto tones, Elizabeth proceeded to sing:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And wither then? I cannot say*...

Elizabeth fell silent and smiled apologetically. "I do not remember any more."

"I have also heard Master Bilbo sing that song. I like it the better for having heard you sing it! It was very prettily done!" Georgianiel said.

"Very beautiful, indeed, Miss Bennet," Darcë said gravely.

Elizabeth, of course, assumed the worst of his gravity, but Georgianiel knew better. She did not miss the soft glow in Darcë's eyes as he watched Elizabeth sing nor the way they trailed after her when she took her leave. Georgianiel was not overly disappointed by Elizabeth's swift departure. Her suspicions had already been confirmed. She only wished she could be more certain of Elizabeth's feelings.

When the first week of July had passed, Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, returned unexpectedly from the mountains. Elrond ordered the preparations for a great feast to welcome them home, and the household was lively with anticipation. Elizabeth herself was curious to see Elrond's sons, of whom she had heard much.

The hall in which the feast would be held was filled with folk by the time Elizabeth and her father arrived. Mr. Baggins had managed to save a seat for Mr. Bennet but had not been able to do so for his daughter. Fortunately, Glorfindel had observed her plight from the front of the hall and motioned Elizabeth to a seat on his left. Elizabeth accepted the seat gratefully, much to Georgianiel's dismay who had hoped to seat her between herself and Darcë.

When Elizabeth sat down, she looked around for her friend but was unable to see her from her prospect at the upper end of the hall. Looking to her right towards the head of the table, she saw Elrond seated with his sons upon his right and left.

"I did not know they were identical," Elizabeth whispered to Glorfindel.

"Yes, few can tell them apart," Glorfindel replied.

"What keeps them in the mountains for such extended periods of time?"

"Vengeance," Glorfindel whispered solemnly. "Years ago, their mother was gravely injured when her entourage was attacked by orcs, and the pain she suffered could not be cured, even by the healing powers of Elrond. She has since passed into the West. But let us not sully the celebration with dark memories! Instead, you might tell me how you have employed your time in Rivendell thus far. Surely not buried in books and documents like your father?"

"No indeed!" Elizabeth laughed.

As servers bearing heavily laden trays made their entrance, Elizabeth and Glorfindel continued to converse amiably together on different topics. When Glorfindel commented on Darcë's unexpected appearance in Rivendell and the delight Georgianiel must have felt on the occasion, Elizabeth thought of an unanswered question that had been gnawing on the edge of her mind since Darcë's arrival.

"Have you made Binglorn's acquaintance? Does he ever come to Rivendell?" Elizabeth asked.

"I have never met Binglorn and do not believe he has ever journeyed hither, but I know him to be a great friend of Darcë's," Glorfindel replied.

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, "he is a great friend of his. I have no doubt that Darcë takes a prodigious deal of care for him."

"Neither do I, truthfully. I have heard that Darcë lately saved Binglorn from the unhappiness of a most imprudent marriage."

Elizabeth froze upon hearing this. The image of Jane turning her face away from her to hide her tears suddenly appeared before her mind's eye.

"Did you hear of the reason for his interference?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"It had to do with the family I suppose."

"And what makes him think he is qualified to be the judge?" Elizabeth muttered to herself.

Glorfindel looked at her in concern, his keen hearing having heard her words above the din of the merrymaking around them.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. Perhaps this was not something I should have spoken of. Miss Bennet, are you unwell?"

"My head is aching. I believe some fresh air is what I need right now. Excuse me."

Elizabeth rose and walked swiftly out of the room. Though she had assured the elf lord that it was but a trifling ache, Glorfindel started to follow her. However, at that moment, Elrond claimed his attention and prevented him from doing so.

Elizabeth sighed with relief when she found the Hall of Fire to be empty and took a low seat in a remote corner close to the fire. At last sure of solitude, she could no longer restrain the tears of frustration.

She never despised Darcë as much as at that moment when she discovered he had been the means of deeply wounding her dearest sister. When she reflected on Jane's misery coupled with her determination to appear as content and serene as ever before her family, Elizabeth felt an overwhelming desire to exact vengeance on the haughty, arrogant elf lord, and the intensity of her dark feelings frightened her.

Jane, so kind and unaffectedly generous - she of all people is most deserving of happiness! But what does that elf care? We lowly mortals are nothing to the likes of him in the grand scheme of things!

So deeply was Elizabeth immersed in her grief and anger that she failed to notice the agent of her emotions walk furtively into the Hall.

"Miss Bennet?" he called toward the dark corner where she was seated.

Despite being startled and greatly vexed at having been discovered by Darcë, of all people, she succeeded in regaining most of her composure and hastily wiped away her tears.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I saw that you had abruptly quitted the merrymaking and wished to inquire after your health."

"I am well," was the only reply Elizabeth could offer.

However, Darcë appeared not to have heard her and seemed as agitated as she was. He made no move to leave Elizabeth but stood before her, alternately gazing into the fire and glancing uncertainly in her direction. This puzzling behavior continued for several minutes before he finally stepped towards her and said in a shaking voice, "Whatever may befall me, I can no longer struggle against my feelings. I must tell you how ardently I love you."

In a single moment, every vexation that had tormented Elizabeth's heart was consumed in the shock of Darcë's declaration. Her entire body shook with the violent change. Her face, once crimsoned with the mingled effects of anger and proximity to the fire, was now as white as her gown.

"I know now that I have loved you almost from the first time I beheld you," he continued when she did not respond. "Of course, the absurdity of the fact that I, a High Elf of the Noldor, could choose a mortal as the object of such feelings long prevented my professing them. Marriage between us would undoubtedly incur the incredulity and censure of my kindred were they present to witness it; and the fate of an Elda who cleaves to a mortal is also no small consideration. But even these objections are nothing to what I feel for you, therefore nothing is to be done save accepting you as my wife. Will you have me?"

Elizabeth stared at Darcë in astonishment for some time before she realized that he was awaiting her answer. That he expected an answer at all to his ridiculously supercilious speech was astonishing. Though she trembled still, Elizabeth slowly rose and stood stiffly before the expectant elf lord.

"My lord, you need not fear for your immortality. I have no desire to be the cause of your doom. I suppose I should feel some obligation as you have succeeded in persuading yourself to make such a sacrifice - but I cannot. I am sorry to give anyone pain, but it was unintentional, and...I am sure that those considerable objections will have no difficulty convincing you once more of the absurdity of your feelings."

Deeming this answer to be sufficient and certainly more civil than he deserved, she moved away from him towards the Hall's entrance.

"Eliza- Miss Bennet!" Darcë called.

Elizabeth turned in exasperation to face him once more and was taken aback by the emotions his face betrayed. She was uncertain whether it was wrath or incredulity that radiated from his presence, but a fire burned in his eyes that she had never before witnessed. Perhaps it was akin to desperation.

In truth, Darcë had not expected a refusal and was struggling to comprehend the full import of her reply.

"And so I am rejected? May I ask why?"

Elizabeth crossed her arms and assumed a look of defiance. "I am at a loss to know where to start. Perhaps I could begin with the cruel part you played in separating Binglorn and Jane, or perhaps I could begin at an earlier point by mentioning your betrayal of Wickham? But now that I think of it, I should really go straight to the root of those evils by saying I could never marry someone, be he man or elf, who is as proud, conceited, and arrogant as yourself!"

Darcë was now as pale as Elizabeth had been, and he had the look of one who was suffering a mortal wound - but perhaps he was.

"So all these months, this has been your opinion of me?" he haltingly asked.

Elizabeth did not answer, but her countenance told him everything.

"Very well," he said softly. "At long last, I understand. Forgive me for having disturbed you, and...may the stars shine upon the end of your road*."

But Elizabeth barely heard his blessing, for she had fled the Hall and was hastening to her chambers.

*J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lord of the Rings, Book I.

Chapter 9

Posted on Monday, 12 February 2001

"Wickham!" Darcë muttered contemptuously as he watched Elizabeth's white form disappear from the Hall. When Darcë learned last fall that the man he once swore to protect had again crossed his path, little did he anticipate the extent of the damage he would cause before he returned to the shadows, though Darcë felt he should have expected it. The malice that Darcë had detected in the youth was as strong a presence in the man, and it had always been the deciding factor in all of Wickham's actions. His only hope now was that he might be able to defend himself against Wickham's accusations, whatever they may be; and if that meant exposing the entire history of his connection with him, then so be it.

Darcë stiffened when he heard the soft murmur of elven speech and laughter growing louder as Elrond and his people made their way to the Hall of Fire. The sound of their merriment was a cruel mockery to his wounded heart. Preferring not to allow the others, Georgianiel in particular, to witness his unhappiness, Darcë hastily exited the Hall through a side door and sought a place where he might write a letter in peace.

Elizabeth did not emerge from her room the next morning. Her father and Georgianiel each sent concerned messages up to her, but she would only answer that she was strangely fatigued and desired seclusion.

What she chose not to reveal was that her fatigue was due to the fact that she had wept long into the night over the events of the previous evening.

With amazement and near disbelief, Elizabeth recalled Darcë's words and the fevered looks that accompanied them. When her mind was finally able to accept their full meaning, she found that her previous view of him was entirely overthrown. That the cold and severe elf lord who had succeeded in preventing a union between his friend and her sister would seek to form one with her was incredible! On what grounds could Darcë object to Binglorn's association with Jane save her humble origins? Would not the consequences of such a union be infinitely more considerable for Darcë?

Elizabeth was not above feeling flattered by the implication of Darcë's decision to declare his feelings. In truth, she found it highly gratifying to know that she could inspire a love so strong it would compel Darcë to relinquish his immortality in exchange for a life with her. For the briefest moment, she felt compassion for him and regretted the pain her sharp refusal must have caused, but never once did she regret that her answer was a refusal, neither did she doubt that his insufferable pride would soon lessen the ardency of his feelings.

It was not until early in the afternoon that Elizabeth chose to leave her room. Desiring not to see Georgianiel just yet, she stealthily made her way to Elrond's library where she hoped she would find her father. When she reached the door she was seeking and pushed it open, a rush of air that smelled of dust and old paper brushed past her. The room was almost entirely dark save where a candle burned on a desk at the far end. The light was partially obstructed by the large chair at the desk that faced away from her. Closing the door behind her, Elizabeth stepped softly to the desk where she expected to find her father pouring over some ancient scroll.

However, the eyes that met hers when reached the chair were Darcë's, and they strangely bore no hint of surprise at her presence. Whatever his task, it seemed he had just completed it, for he was in the process of sealing what appeared to be a letter.

Before Elizabeth could say a word, Darcë hastily rose and offered her the letter saying, "Miss Bennet, do not leave just now. Please do me the honor of reading this letter."

Elizabeth accepted it in silence, and Darcë departed with a slight bow. Seeing that a considerable amount of the candle remained - Darcë had obviously replaced it shortly before her arrival - she took the seat he had vacated and tore the letter's seal. Written in small, elegant script was the following:

Miss Elizabeth Bennet,

Fear not, Lady. I entertain no notions of accosting you once more with my proposals. Rather, I seek to defend my character from the accusations you implied this evening, particularly those that relate to Wickham.

I know not the nature of your relations with Wickham, neither can I fathom what tales he has told you; but here follows a truthful account of my connection with him. Wickham's father was an honorable and valiant man, great among the Dúnedain, and I dearly valued his friendship. Sadly, his life was untimely cut short, and for the sake of our friendship, I vowed to him ere he died that I would raise his son as my own. Wickham was then but nine years old. I took him with me to my home in Mithlond, and during the years that followed, I endeavored to give Wickham all the care his father would have provided had he lived. Círdan the Shipwright, Lord of the Havens, himself took great pains with the boy, teaching him all that was necessary to follow the path of wisdom. Yet, as Wickham grew older, I began to see that our efforts were in vain. I know now that the pain of his loss had become a seed of malice sown deep into his heart. He never learned to resolve his anger and hatred but hid them within himself. As this hidden evil increasingly began to manifest itself through Wickham's words and actions, Cirdan counseled that I return him to his father's people. However, I could not bear the thought of having my friend's son - and my oath - thus cast away. I resolved instead to have him accompany me to Imladris, where I hoped his spirit would find healing through the wisdom of Master Elrond. Wickham was loath to make the journey, for reasons he refused to explain. Finding however that I was firm in my decision, he stole from his home of nine years the night before we were to leave for Imladris. For many months I searched for him, enlisting the help of the Dúnedain and people of Círdan's and Elrond's households. Long after the trail had grown cold and everyone had declared the situation hopeless, I continued the search but to no avail. For ten years, I heard nothing of Wickham. Then, Binglorn journeyed to Mithlond to personally deliver the tidings I had feared the most. Wickham was alive, but he had entered into the service of the Enemy. The further details Binglorn had learned of Wickham's condition in life left me without a doubt that he was utterly lost. It is fortunate that he never reached Imladris. I dare not imagine the evil that would come to pass if the exact location of that refuge was ever betrayed to the Enemy. Until last fall in Bree, I have learned nothing else of Wickham's doings or of his whereabouts, but the guilt of his fall is ever with me. Master Elrond and Glorfindel can each testify to the credibility of this account. They are each only too familiar with the particulars of this history. I refer you to them if you yet have any doubts in this matter.

As to your sister and Binglorn, I will unreservedly admit to having done all I could to prevent the match. Though I will undoubtedly incur your displeasure, I will confess that I rejoice in my success.

I quickly detected Binglorn's growing partiality to Miss Bennet, but it was not until the Netherfield Ball that I realized how far his feelings had progressed. Your sister's manners were as pleasant and engaging as ever, but I could find no evidence that Binglorn's love was reciprocated. I concluded that her heart must be almost untouchable. That very evening, I confronted him, and he unabashedly declared his intentions of proposing marriage at the earliest opportunity. Informing him of your sister's apparent indifference, I persuaded him to abandon his suit and quit Netherfield. You may believe my interference to have been unwarranted, but I could not allow my friend to entrap himself within a marriage to a woman who does not love him and whose connections are, forgive me, less than desirable. Thus, I can see no fault in my actions on his behalf. However, I do apologize for any pain those actions may have caused you and your family.

To this letter, I will only add my sincere wishes for your health and happiness.

Towards the bottom of the final page, Elizabeth made out Darcë's name written in Fëanorian letters.

Elizabeth left her journal open upon the windowsill, and the pages that were visible were stained with the evidence of several feeble attempts at capturing into words the events of the last two days. Deciding after an hour or two that her efforts would not relieve her agitated heart and were more likely to distress her sister's tender sensibilities, she relinquished the task in favor of silent, but troubled meditation.

Strangely enough, what Darcë's letter had revealed about the true nature of her villain did not plague her nearly as much as what the letter had revealed about herself. She was overcome with shame as she reflected upon the blindness caused by her prejudice. Recollections that had formerly convinced her of Darcë's guilt resurfaced with new clarity, and she blushed to think of her naiveté. Jane and Charlotte both had had reservations about Wickham's story, and she wondered that she had paid them so little heed, being only too willing to lend an ear to anyone with something evil to say of Darcë, even the acquaintance of a day. However, despite her current better knowledge, Elizabeth still could not regret the manner of her refusal of Darcë's hand. She believed his abominable pride and his ill usage of Jane and Binglorn did merit its warmth.

Elizabeth looked towards the windowsill where the journal lay open to reveal her sad handiwork. A poor substitute for a sister's comfort, she thought bitterly as she closed it.

A slight noise outside her door followed by a timid knock brought Elizabeth out of her dark reverie. She reluctantly left her seat by the window and opened the door just enough for her to peer out into the hall. Georgianiel stood there bearing a small tray.

"I hope you are better. I have brought you some dinner. Your father does not believe you have eaten anything all day," Georgianiel said as she observed Elizabeth's face with concern.

"I believe you are right," Elizabeth said, surprise evident in her voice. "You were very kind to think of me. Please come in."

Elizabeth's response seemed to ease some of the tension in Georgianiel's countenance, and she entered her room with her usual bright smile.

"I have missed our walks, Elizabeth. It has been two days since you have been outdoors. That alone is sufficient to prove you have not been well. How do you feel now?"

"Hungry, now that you have reminded me!"

Georgianiel laughed lightly and said, "Ah Elizabeth, you would make a sorry hobbit. You should have seen dear Bilbo's distress when he heard you had forgotten at least three consecutive meals!"

Elizabeth shook her head. "He would be surprised at how easy it is to do."

Georgianiel frowned at her friend's seriousness. "What has happened, Elizabeth? Has it anything to do with Darcë?"

She found the change in Elizabeth's facial expression as she heard Darcë's name an adequate answer to both questions.

"Why would you believe that?" Elizabeth asked, obviously unaware of how much her face betrayed.

"Because he has just told Master Elrond and me of his intention to depart for Mithlond in the morning, though he had planned to remain for some time!" Georgianiel stated plainly. Her voice was steady, but Elizabeth did not miss the tears that began to fill her eyes. "Neither I nor Elrond could imagine a reason for this sudden change, and Darcë was not willing to explain the matter. It is not like Darcë to act rashly, so I can only that assume something dreadful has happened."

"I am sorry," Elizabeth whispered as she turned away. "It is all my fault."

"How so, Elizabeth?" Georgianiel asked.

Elizabeth colored and dared not reply. She had apparently not expected to be overheard.

"Elizabeth, if you can shed any light on this matter-"

"I am afraid I cannot. Forgive me," Elizabeth said firmly.

The tension that had existed between them moments before returned, and Elizabeth was sorry for it, but she was not ready to speak openly of her cares. Sensing Elizabeth's need for solitude, Georgianiel took her leave but not before exacting from her a promise for a walk the following morning.

"After he departs, your presence will be necessary to keep me from excesses of sorrow," Georgianiel said with a wry smile as she closed the door.

Mr. Bennet was greatly relieved the following morning when his daughter joined him for breakfast. She appeared wan and fatigued, but her eyes twinkled almost as merrily as before. Bilbo, who sat on one side of Mr. Bennet, would not be relieved until he saw Elizabeth eating, and he persistently had generous helpings of various foods added to her plate. After all, it was beyond the old hobbit's ability to comprehend how one could survive a whole day in Elrond's house without repast. Mr. Bennet chuckled as he observed the growing mountain on Elizabeth's plate and listened to her vain protests.

"We have had a bit of news this morning Elizabeth," Mr. Bennet began with a teasing smile. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. "It seems that your favorite has fled the countryside. He must have found you to be too formidable an opponent, eh? Well, well. I suppose I should have warned him, but one would expect a person of his stature to be able to fend for himself."

"And who are you referring to as my favorite, Sir?" Elizabeth inquired with what nonchalance she could muster.

"You know perfectly well of whom I am speaking! Your tall, dark, brooding elf! You know, the one in whose company you have taken such great pleasure." Elizabeth forced herself to laugh lightly at her father's taunts. "Ah, I knew you would be tragically affected by the news. You need not fear, though. Darcës are to be had in abundance here."

"I assure you, Father, that one was quite enough for me. And Mr. Baggins! Two slices of ham are also quite enough. I do not need a third and fourth!"

Fortunately, Georgianiel arrived and rescued her friend from her Father's teasing and Bilbo's solicitous attentions on behalf of her appetite. As Georgianiel led the way to the gardens, Elizabeth found her manner to be much less despondent than she had expected. She sang prettily as she walked and greeted everyone they encountered with a smile.

Finally Elizabeth could tolerate it no longer and asked, "Georgianiel, why this sudden cheerfulness? Has something happened?"

"Yes. I have news!" she exclaimed. "A small company is to travel to the Havens in September, and I will be of the party!"

"I see," Elizabeth said with a sympathetic smile. "Then you will soon be reunited with your kinsman."

Georgianiel frowned slightly. "Yes, but he will not be expecting me. Darcë left before sunrise this morning, a few hours before I learned of the company and made my decision. But that is not all, Elizabeth! Our company will pass close to your home along the way, and when it does, I want you to join our party. I have taken the liberty of suggesting the idea to your father, and he readily gave his consent."

"To the Havens? To Mithlond?" Elizabeth trembled as the possible consequences of such a scheme flashed through her mind. It would surely not be prudent for her to journey to his home. Would it not give him the wrong impression of her intentions? "I do not think I can..."

"Please, Elizabeth, do consent!" Georgianiel pleaded. "If you do not, I fear our parting here in Imladris will be forever, for I will soon follow my kindred into the West."

Georgianiel looked upon her so earnestly that Elizabeth had not the power to refuse, and the idea that she would never again see her delightful elf friend greatly depressed her. Thus, Elizabeth gave her consent and hid her misgivings deep within her heart.

Chapter 10

Posted on Monday, 16 April 2001

Dear Jane, you may by now have observed that as this month has progressed, my entries have become sparse and muddled, but do not fear. I will relieve your curiosity on all obscure points when we are together again.

Perhaps homesickness is what increasingly deprives me of the ability to find inspiration here. I hear elvish song and laughter and find myself recalling Kitty and Lydia's squabbles with something akin to fondness. Once, as I sat in the Hall of Fire and listened to some ancient tale of the First Age, it occurred to me that I was wishing I were listening to one of Mary's long-winded sermons. I even strain my ears to hear Mama calling me from the other end of the house to perform some silly task. Thus, I have come to the conclusion that I am going mad and that I must return home at once. Father is of like mind, for he came to me this morning and informed me that we would leave for home in a few days. We expect to reach Longbourn by the end of July. So, as I have already exhausted your senses with a detailed description of every inch of countryside between here and Longbourn, I will conclude this narrative here and permanently retire my pen.

Jane chuckled and handed the journal to Elizabeth. "It was a very charming narrative, indeed, and it kept me wide awake till a dreadful hour last night!"

Elizabeth accepted the journal with surprise. "Why are you returning this to me?"

"Because many clean pages remain, and you will not be home two months before you are off on another adventure."

Elizabeth's face darkened as she remembered the promise she had made to Georgianiel. "It will hardly be worth recording, I assure you."

Jane frowned at her sister's gravity. She had come across more than one passage in the journal that puzzled her to no end, but Elizabeth had yet to explain them. Jane could sense her discontent, but she did not press her confidence, knowing full well that Elizabeth would come to her in time.

On an afternoon two days from Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth's return, she did come. Elizabeth proposed that she and Jane take an "extended" walk, and Jane readily accepted. Jane estimated that they had walked about a mile before Elizabeth began making random comments about their journey, and she supposed that Elizabeth was gradually making her way to the cause of her unease.

After a particularly long pause, Elizabeth drew a deep breath and said, "There is something rather extraordinary that I would tell you, Jane, something I could not bring myself to disclose in the journal. I have anguished over it for weeks and still know not how to put it into words!"

"Speak and be easy, Elizabeth. You will feel much better if you do."

"I fear it is not so simple as that. I would that it was! But you are right. I will put it off no longer."

In the plainest terms, Elizabeth spoke of her various encounters with Darcë, of his declaration and proposal, and of the answer she gave. She was careful to omit certain portions of her story, including that particular conversation between her and Glorfindel, for fear of giving unnecessary pain. She concluded by giving Jane the first page of Darcë's letter, which she had kept with her since the day she received it.

"Poor Darcë!" Jane cried after she had read the page.

"Poor Darcë? Do you blame me for refusing him?"

"Of course not, Elizabeth, but think of the pain he must have endured! To know that the one he loves thinks so ill of him!"

"I confess I cannot equal your compassion. He has other feelings that will have no difficulty extinguishing any amount of love he may still feel for me," Elizabeth said darkly.

Jane frowned slightly and shook her head. "No, I cannot believe that he could so easily cast his heart aside, that anyone would be willing to sacrifice everything for feelings that could fade at the first sign of difficulty. I must say, it is all very strange. I mean I always knew your heart would be sought after, but I never thought...that is, I never expected..."

Elizabeth laughed, sparing her sister further discomfort. "Yes, it all seems out of one of Father's tales, does it not? Yet I do not think I have ever heard of a heroine so blinded by prejudice, though I still believe at least some of my prejudice is merited."

"Dear Elizabeth! When you read that letter, you must have suffered as greatly as Darcë when he heard your refusal. Indeed, you could not have made so light of it then as you do now."

Elizabeth nodded solemnly, remembering well the mortification of the experience. As they returned home later, the single page of the letter became a crumpled form in her fist.

"It is most unfair, Papa, that Elizabeth should twice be allowed to travel!" Lydia whined at the breakfast table. "She is not the only one in need of excitement and diversion!"

It had not been long after her return to Longbourn that Elizabeth began to wonder that she had ever missed her family's antics, and she soon became eager to depart again. As she listened to Lydia's chatter, she smiled at the strange waywardness of her feelings, mentally adding it to the list of character flaws she would have to teach herself to laugh at.

"I have never set foot outside of Bree!" Kitty pouted.

"Kitty and I should be allowed to go on a long journey!" Lydia insisted. "It does not signify where, so long as one is required to brave miles of fearsome wilderness."

Mr. Bennet, who had not appeared to be listening to his daughters' pleas, paused thoughtfully. "Kitty and Lydia left to themselves in the Wild. That is something worth considering. Please pass the sausage, Jane."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "How absurd you are! Think of all the horribly dark and rugged strangers they would encounter in the Wild!"

"Dark, rugged strangers..." Lydia echoed wistfully.

"You need not fear, my dear," Mr. Bennet reassured his wife. "I am certain the lands hereabouts would not truly merit that name unless these two were set loose within them."

Mrs. Bennet could think of no reply to this, so she turned her head sharply away to show her offense. This gesture bothered Mr. Bennet not at all, and he sought to enjoy the remainder of his breakfast in peace.

Mary looked crossly at her sisters and said, "If you would only find more useful employments for your minds, you would not be so keen to run about the countryside."

Lydia only huffed impatiently and once more turned pleading eyes upon her father, but he had ceased to attend the subject at hand and continued cutting his sausage.

Once the initial joy of Elizabeth's return had subsided, Jane's spirits sunk into the general melancholy that had persisted since Binglorn's departure from Netherfield, and the fact that her sole confidante would once again leave for some strange country depressed them even more. Elizabeth noted this with dismay and urged her to join the company to Mithlond as well. Jane firmly declined, though not without some regret. However, she knew very well that her mother would never support the idea of her eldest daughter travelling to foreign places. (Jane chose not to dwell on the oddity of the perfect ease with which Mrs. Bennet allowed her second daughter to travel where she wished.)

"But Jane," Elizabeth protested, "it is no more your fate to remain at Longbourn forever than it is mine, of this I am certain! Perhaps Father could intervene for you?"

"No Elizabeth. I will not put one parent against the other in such a way. And even if I could procure their consent, I do not think I am ready to brave the world just yet."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, "Believe me, few are more prepared to take on the world than those who have survived the perils of Longbourn."

This remark elicited from Jane a soft laugh, but nothing more.

"I wish you would come," Elizabeth sighed. Jane detected in Elizabeth's voice a hint of anxiety, and she wondered if Elizabeth was thinking of Darcë and if she feared seeing him in Mithlond. "I see you are still unhappy, Jane, and it grieves me to no end."

Elizabeth was indeed thinking of Darcë then but only as the author of Jane's misery. Though she had long since admitted to herself that she had been mistaken about his intentions, she still bristled over his officiousness. She briefly wondered whether Binglorn was at all conscious of his thralldom to the elf lord.

Jane, who had been observing her sister's hardened features with concern, said, "Elizabeth, unhappiness is inevitable in this world, as much for the great as for the lowly. The histories and tales Father has passed on to us are proof of this. It will not do for you to allow every vexation, every misfortune to be a cause of such distress, as is your wont." Jane smiled fondly at her. "I know you never tire of your struggle against the injustice of the world, but do not waste your strength on things that cannot be helped. I was mistaken about Binglorn's feelings for me, and he will not return. There is nothing I can do about it; I have resigned myself to this. His departure still pains me, yes, but there is nothing you can do about that either. So trouble yourself no more on my account. I need only time to mend."

The summer waned with little excitement - not so much as a ball was held, much to the chagrin of Longbourn's younger inhabitants - and the first signs of autumn began to appear in the land. Elizabeth observed the change with mixed feelings. Though she welcomed the thought of traveling again, she feared where her journey might lead her.

It was on a cool September morning before the sun had risen when a small party of elves reached Longbourn. Barely a whisper or a rustle was heard as they passed the gates and approached the three mortals who awaited them.

Of the Longbourn household, Mr. Bennet, Jane, and Elizabeth alone were awake to welcome them. Mr. Bennet stepped forward first, and judging from the solemnity with which he exchanged farewells with many of the elves, Elizabeth gathered that most of the party would soon be taking the westward way, never to return.

Despite the hour, Jane was wide-eyed as she exchanged greetings with the fair people. Darcë was the only elf she had ever seen, and it seemed to her that these people were rather different from him. They seemed gentler in nature, more wistful, yet somehow more melancholy; but different from all the elves was Georgianiel, whom Elizabeth presented to her. She alone seemed to carry some semblance of youth and lightness of manner.

"Your sister has told me much of you Jane Bennet, and it is clear to me why you are so dear to her," Georgianiel said with a shy smile, which Jane eagerly returned. The two liked each other immediately; and Georgianiel was saddened, for she knew she would be leaving Middle Earth soon and would never have a chance to cultivate a friendship with this mortal who she perceived to possess a temperament not unlike her own.

After all farewells had been made and Elizabeth had embraced her father and sister, Mr. Bennet and Jane returned to the house. When Jane reached the threshold and looked back to catch a parting glance, she was surprised to see that the small company had disappeared. She would almost have felt they had not been there at all had not she remembered with a sinking heart that they had taken Elizabeth with them.

Elizabeth had not anticipated that she would add very much to her journal along the road to Mithlond, not expecting to come across anything she might consider a novelty. However, she found that traveling with the elves was an experience wholly unlike traveling with other mortals. Perhaps it was because the elves rarely made use of the Road, preferring to cut across the country and keep close to the more heavily wooded areas. However, Elizabeth felt the world did appear differently, and areas she had felt would be familiar to her were entirely foreign. Though winter was but a few months ahead, the lands seemed adorned in springtime freshness as she gazed up at the stars overhead and listened to elven voices sing.

As might be expected, Elizabeth and Georgianiel spent much of the journey in each other's company. They made a very merry pair, each taking great delight in the new scenes to which their path led them.

Assuming as indifferent an air as possible, Elizabeth inquired after Darcë, desiring to learn whether they would see him in Mithlond. Georgianiel suddenly looked downcast and said she did not expect they would, for she believed he had spent much of the summer with the Dúnedain in the Wild. Elizabeth struggled to conceal her great relief as she expressed a polite amount of regret for Darcë's anticipated absence.

After a few days of rugged, untamed country, the travelers came upon an expanse of well-cultivated fields. It was a sudden change in the landscape, and Elizabeth knew instinctively that they were crossing through the Shire. However, the elves, as Elizabeth expected, steered clear of such areas and made for Woodhall.

On one particular evening while they were still within the Shire's borders, Elizabeth spied a hobbit whom she was certain had observed them as well. He walked leisurely in solitude and wore a wistfully contemplative expression that was uncharacteristic for a hobbit. She wondered that any hobbit would go so far into the woods by himself in the evening, and she was strongly reminded of the tales of Bilbo's adventures.

A distant tremor that shook the air and resounded through the earth reminded the elves that they had best complete their task before nightfall. Círdan the Shipwright, who had been silently watching their progress, turned to regard the menacing storm clouds hastening towards them. Such tempests had become increasingly common the past few years, and the Lord of the Havens wondered what omens they would bring with them. He returned his gaze to the nearly completed ship that would soon carry into the West another group of elves weary of Middle Earth.

The sound of light footfalls approached from behind, and Círdan turned in surprise to see Darcë walking towards him.

"Greetings, mellon!" he said. "You return home sooner than you had planned."

"Lord Círdan, namarië! I wished to return in time to bid farewell to Georgianiel, which I was not able to do in Imladris. I see that all will soon be prepared for her passage," Darcë said with a nod towards the elves laboring below.

"Yes and none too soon," Círdan replied, gesturing towards the darkening sky. "Will you tarry much longer after Georgianiel departs?"

Darcë turned and looked eastward to a place Círdan could not see. "No, perhaps not."

Chapter 11

Posted on Tuesday, 12 June 2001

Elizabeth was surprised to find how soon their party reached Mithlond after having left the Shire, and when she expressed her surprise to Georgianiel, she only nodded and smiled wanly. As they had drawn nearer to their destination, Elizabeth noticed that her friend, as well as the rest of the elves, became more silent and contemplative, particularly those who had known no other home than Middle Earth.

When they ascended the final hill and beheld at last the shining field of blue and gold, a sudden stillness swept through the company. Elizabeth felt she must have been the only person to notice the change, and she somehow sensed from looking into the face of each elf that all the hopes and dreams they had ever cherished throughout their immeasurably long lives were embodied in those infinite waters.

As for herself, she was not so profoundly affected by the sight of the sea. Oddly the scene seemed as familiar to her as the view outside her bedroom window at Longbourn. She was aware of such a strong feeling of home as she took in the white beaches and the strange music of the waves that she wondered if she would ever be able to leave it.

"It is just as I dreamed it would be," Georgianiel said as she moved to Elizabeth's side. "Do you see that ship there?" Elizabeth looked in the direction Georgianiel indicated and saw a beautiful white ship tied to the dock. "That ship will bear me into the West."

"Forgive me, but you do not seem as old as those who will take the journey with you," Elizabeth observed, "and neither do you seem as weary of Middle Earth. Why do you choose to go with them?"

Georgianiel looked away for a moment, as a tear slid down her slender cheek. Elizabeth almost regretted her question until Georgianiel raised her eyes to Elizabeth's and her smile returned.

"I was a small child when I lost my family, but I have always known they would be waiting for me whenever I come to Tol Eressëa. This knowledge has always been a hope and a comfort in my loneliness."

She turned once more towards the ship, and an expression of resignation quickly replaced the veil of sadness that had fallen across her face. She took Elizabeth's hand in her own and said, "All has been made ready, and my time has come."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she watched the other elves make their way to the white ship that waited below. "The ship is to leave today?" Elizabeth gasped as Georgianiel moved to follow their party. "But I thought-"

Georgianiel squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Yes, I am afraid we must bid farewell at last. Would that we could have the assurance of meeting again, but our respective fates will not allow it!"

The reality of Georgianiel's words fell upon Elizabeth's consciousness like the sudden onslaught of cold rain that had assailed their party days previous. She was unable to speak through the tears that threatened to spill. Of course she had known that their parting was inevitable, but her mind always pushed the event forward somewhere in the future. She was not prepared to part from her friend that day and certainly not that very hour.

As they drew near the dock, Georgianiel suddenly gasped and cried aloud. Elizabeth looked in alarm after the elf maid who had sped forward to the elves that waited by the ship. She would have immediately followed her friend had not the sight of a tall, raven-haired elf lord waiting among the others froze her steps. It was into this elf's arms that Georgianiel ran, and her tears now fell freely as she threw her arms about his neck.

But even as Georgianiel embraced Darcë, she felt him stiffen; and when she pulled away in confusion to gaze at her kinsman, she saw that the sudden change was affected by the presence of Elizabeth just a few feet from them. Darcë's face appeared hard and cold at first, but his eyes told a different tale, one of sorrow and regret...with perhaps a twinge of hope. Georgianiel was familiar enough with her kinsman to know he was exerting an enormous amount of effort to conceal the emotions that brewed within.

"Elizabeth," he whispered just loud enough for Georgianiel to hear.

"Miss Bennet," he said in a clearer voice as he crossed the distance between them. He offered her his hand, and Elizabeth accepted it, actions that greatly surprised Georgianiel. "Thank you for your kindness to Georgianiel in accompanying her hither. I doubt not you have made enjoyable a journey that otherwise would have been difficult."

"You are very welcome, my lord," Elizabeth replied blushing at the audible tremor in her voice. "It was my pleasure to do so."

"I trust your family is in health?" Darcë inquired. If Elizabeth had been less nervous, she might have detected a tremor in his voice as well.

"Yes, I thank you, my lord."

"Had you a pleasant journey hither?"

"Very pleasant indeed, save for the violent tempest that hindered us two nights ago."

"Yes, I was fortunate to have arrived ahead of it." Darcë paused and looked uncertainly at Elizabeth, wishing to say so much more than such trivial pleasantries.

Georgianiel discreetly smothered a smile as she observed the pair, being particularly amused that Darcë had yet to relinquish Elizabeth's hand. Ages hence, living in peace on the Lonely Isle, Georgianiel would often look back and fondly remember them as they were at that time, standing close together, uncertain of each other and not yet ready to acknowledge the ties that had already irrevocably bound them together. However, at that moment, Georgianiel was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she would be making more than one eternal farewell that day.

Looking down and seeing that her hand was still clasped in Darcë's, Elizabeth's blush deepened. Darcë noticed her discomfort and recollected himself. He released Elizabeth's hand and, turning once more to Georgianiel, embraced her for the last time.

"Be happy, sister of my heart," Darcë murmured into her hair. "Be happy, and do not wait for me."

Georgianiel nodded, but could find nothing to say. Further words were unnecessary for them, for they had long foreseen this day. After exchanging a final, tearful farewell with Elizabeth, she joined the others on the ship.

As the ship was steered from the havens into the Gulf of Lhűn, Elizabeth had the strange sensation that a small part of herself was standing there beside Georgianiel and drifting away to a place she could not follow. Her hand unconsciously sought Darcë's, and the ache in her heart was eased by the contact. Together Darcë and Elizabeth watched the sun and the ship recede into the distance until they met in a golden haze and disappeared.

A soft but deep voice broke the silence. "Elizabeth Bennet?" it said.

Elizabeth turned to see a strange, ancient elf standing before her. He was clad entirely in gray, a sharp contrast to his white beard and shockingly blue eyes. She had never seen such an elf, whose features bore such prominent evidence of a life long beyond human comprehension.

"I am Elizabeth Bennet," she replied with a slight but respectful bow.

Darcë smiled at the elf lord and said, "Miss Bennet, I present to you Círdan the Shipwright, Lord of the Havens."

"It is an honor to meet you, my lord," Elizabeth said, not a little in awe of the great elf lord.

"It is an honor to meet you as well. You are your father's daughter, Miss Bennet," Círdan said with a smile. "You are very welcome here and are free to remain as long as you wish. My people have prepared lodgings for you, and a company of Lord Elrond's people are ready to be your escort whenever you desire to return to your home."

Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised at Círdan's generosity and even more so at the mention of her father. Her travels in the last year had proven more than once that her father possessed a great many secrets unshared.

That evening, Elizabeth was shown to some spacious rooms in Círdan's own home. Elizabeth was delighted with them, for they were not only well suited to her taste, being light and cheerful, but also had windows that overlooked the sea. During her stay, she kept them always open that she might relish the sounds of the waves and the sea birds and the songs of the mariners.

Elizabeth kept mostly to herself in the days that followed, preferring to mourn the loss of Georgianiel in solitude. When the initial pangs of grief began to lose their intensity, her thoughts began to wander to cares closer at hand, namely Darcë's behavior to her since her arrival.

She had not expected that Darcë would even deign to speak to her again, much less welcome her with such warmth. She learned from the elf maids who served her that he inquired everyday after her but would not press to see her. If it were not for her remembering his interference with Binglorn and Jane, she would have gladly sought to meet him.

Often she took long walks along the shoreline while she puzzled over his behavior. She never found outdoor excursions more pleasing than at that time. The sun and air seemed so much cleaner than farther inland, and she delighted in the lively dance of the waves upon the sand and around her often-bare feet. Every once in a while the sea would yield from its depths some small treasure that she would wrap in her handkerchief and save for Jane, who she knew would treasure it.

On one such excursion three days from her arrival, Darcë crossed her path, and she found that she welcomed his company and minded not at all his joining her. Darcë himself was relieved to find that his presence no longer seemed entirely irksome to her.

He eyed the small bundle she was carrying with curiosity. Elizabeth followed his eyes and laughed self-consciously.

"Gifts for Jane," she explained as she uncovered the shells. "I did not think I would be able to do justice to these on paper."

Darcë held one aloft and chuckled softly. "Perhaps not, but I doubt she would welcome such gifts, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth frowned. "What do you mean? They are lovely."

"Indeed, but they are not yet unoccupied."

Darcë laughed at the bewildered expression on Elizabeth's face, and taking the rest of the shells from her, tossed them back into the sea.

"Come," he said taking her arm. "I have many such at home whose tenants have long since abandoned them. You may take as many as you wish to your sister."

Elizabeth laughed in her turn and said, "I never imagined you would be a collector of seashells, my lord."

His smile turned melancholy, and he replied, "I kept them for Georgianiel. Any tokens from the sea fascinate her to no end."

Elizabeth became more somber as well. The pair continued in silence until they drew near Darcë's home. Half a mile from the shore, partially hidden by a grove of trees stood his abode, a large, stately house cunningly built with gray stone. Elizabeth observed it with an appreciative eye. She knew little of architecture, but she could see it had been well constructed and mingled well with its natural surroundings.

"Welcome to Pemberlë," Darcë said. He studied her face intently, searching for signs of approval or disapproval, as her eyes took in his home.

"Pemberlë? I like that. The name suits very well. It is a very handsome building," Elizabeth said with sincerity.

Darcë smiled warmly at her praise. "I had some assistance in its construction from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains," he said as he guided her to the entrance. "Only dwarves work stone so well, no matter what my kindred may say."

Elizabeth did not understand this remark but resolved to ask her father about it when she saw him again. When she entered the house, her favorable opinion of Pemberlë did not waver. The furnishings reflected a simple but elegant taste. Windows were numerous and situated so as to admit the greatest amount of light and the fairest prospects. Elizabeth was very much impressed and briefly wondered if it was Darcë alone who arranged the rooms in such a way.

Darcë guided her to a pleasant sitting room and left her to seek the aforementioned shells. He was not absent five minutes when a servant entered bearing refreshments of which Elizabeth eagerly partook, having not taken anything since early that morning.

When Darcë did not soon return, Elizabeth took to wandering about the room, gazing with idle curiosity at various objects. Her interest suddenly peaked when she came upon a beautiful, glittering object set within a small wooden box. It was a large medallion in the shape of a star with many points, a symbol that seemed oddly familiar to her. A bright, blue stone set in its center shone with a strange light that held her in awe. Elizabeth jumped at the sound of Darcë's voice just behind her.

"I received this from my lord Maedhros as an award for bravery on the battle field many years ago," he said as he reached around her and picked up the medallion. "It has long ceased to be a symbol of pride."

"It is very beautiful," Elizabeth said softly, choosing not to inquire about his latter statement. "I have never seen such a stone. It must have been a great deed that merited such a gift."

Darcë sighed and returned the medallion to its case. "I assisted Maedhros and his brothers in rescuing their father Fëanor in the Dagor-nuin-Giliath. We were too late though. It was not long before he perished from his wounds." He paused and shook his head. "Forgive me, it was not my intention to depress you with tales of a dead age."

"Tales do not depress me, my lord. My father inspired in me a love of history when I was but a girl, and it is my firm belief that history is not to be forgotten so that we may learn from our errors," Elizabeth said, her eyes revealing to Darcë more than the words spoken.

Darcë smiled and said, "Many of the greatest of my people lived long and accomplished many things but perished without achieving the wisdom your few years has granted you."

Elizabeth colored at his praise and turned her head away from Darcë's gaze to the wooden case he held in one hand. "This holds the collection you spoke of, I presume?"

Darcë nodded and offered her the case. She accepted it, grateful for the change of subject, and spread the contents on the table. She gasped at the sight of the rainbow assortment of seashells and began to examine each one with a childlike wonder that elicited Darcë's laughter.

"If they please you so, you had better take them all with you." Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Darcë raised a hand and said, "Nay, they are rightfully yours now. I shall take more pleasure in them knowing they are in your possession."

Elizabeth smiled in gratitude and gently placed the shells in their case. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Darcë draw near and heard an intake of breath as if he were going to speak.

In a rush of fear for she knew not what, she turned sharply towards the window and exclaimed, "Oh dear! The sun will set soon, and I have a long walk ahead of me. You have been very kind, my lord, but I feel I must return now, else people will be sent to look for me."

Darcë froze and a pained expression passed quickly over his features. He nodded solemnly and said, "Allow me to escort you back then, Miss Bennet."

Continued In Next Section