no vela, no orion by arafinweanappreciation  

no vela, no orion

big thanks to noldo (@that-angry-noldo on tumblr) for beta-ing this one :)

For most of her life, Andreth had personally known exactly one elf.
He had been there for as long as she could remember. He taught her how to make flower crowns, and helped teach her to read and write, and answered her questions with infinite patience, even when everyone else had run out. (It was not her fault if she sought to understand the nature of immortality at the age of sixteen, even if no one else cared.)
Unfortunately for her, he was also, allegedly, a very attractive elf. This meant that many were jealous of the attention he paid her, and many others scenting a marriage proposal on the wind.
Andreth's sister was one of the latter.
“He never spends this much time speaking with anyone else,” Beril pointed out as she stitched up the tear in her favorite dress, sustained during blackberry collection only a few days ago.
“He spends plenty of time speaking to everyone, and you have no idea what he does when he’s not here,” Andreth replied testily, not looking up from her own mending. "Perhaps he even has his eye on a lady in his own city. We would not know." She was growing quite weary of the insinuations and predictions. She had not made it this long without being wed because she was waiting for him. She simply had not found any suitable candidates yet. Besides, she was no old maid, if a bit older than usual for her family.
“You two wander off into the woods for hours sometimes,” Beril returned, aiming the point of her needle at Andreth, along with a mock-accusing glare.
Hours was certainly an exaggeration.“If so, we are only speaking about the trees.”
“What about trees?”
Andreth whipped around and glared at Beril as she feigned innocence. “Leave it be,” she snapped. They finished sewing in silence.

Even so, the thought kept her up that night. What if his intentions had begun to turn that way? She had never been seriously courted by anyone before. Certainly not by one of his people. Perhaps the others truly were seeing something that she did not. Perhaps she was in love with him. She did not think she had ever been in love before. She always assumed she would know it when she felt it, but perhaps she did not. She certainly enjoyed being with him, regardless of the presence of other people. She did not think she had ever wanted to kiss him, or anything of the sort. Which, in and of itself, was perhaps a bit strange. He was very beautiful; on this everyone agreed. Nearly all the other girls her age had been absolutely smitten with him at some point or another, until they found someone more attainable to romance than an elven-king or fallen out with the idea of it altogether.
She had never felt that way. Had she?
She stared into the shadows of the rafters, blanket tucked up to her chin, her sister’s breathing soft beside her and a cool draught filtering in from the space between the door and the wall. Everything, she concluded after a few hours of thought, was relative, and she would never know unless she had something to measure against.

When dawn came the next morning, reddish-gold sunlight filtering into the room, Andreth sat up and stretched. The first coherent thought that entered her mind was pure, unadulterated genius.
All she had to do was ask him. If he said yes, he was in love with her; and if she felt dread, she was not in love with him. However, if she felt deliriously happy, she was. If he said no, and she was crushed, she was, and if she felt nothing, she was not.

She had a test. Now she only need find an opportunity to use it.

The test was very, very simple. Almost brilliant in its simplicity, if she were to flatter herself. But now that the time had come, she was terrified in a way that she had never anticipated.
Nóm was just across the yard, speaking to her father and congratulating her brother on his impending wedding. Oh, cruel fate to have that backdrop now of all times! She could wait a little, could she not? He had not even had time to stable his horse yet. The white mare’s reins had not even left his hand. Surely she should give him some time to rest before asking him. This had nothing at all to do with the fact that her stomach was twisting itself into knots at the mere thought of speaking to him now.
Yet she still craved certainty. And there seemed to be no other way to get it.

That rest of the night was a disaster. She slammed the door in Nóm’s face twice, failed to speak to him even once without turning bright red, and nearly dropped a bucket of water on his foot, all in the space of two hours. If her senses did not fail her, by the time they all retired for the night, he was beginning to look concerned. She hardly slept.

Still, at the first rays of dawn, she ignored the screeching of every particle in her body, slipped out of bed, dressed, and wandered down to the edge of town.
She knew exactly where to find him, sitting with his legs crossed on one of the boundary stones, a book open in his lap. It looked to be a sketchbook today, judging by the movements of his hands and the charcoal on his fingertips. The light gave him a luminous golden outline as his hair moved gently in the wind.
It did not make her feel anything, which she chose to take as a good sign.
Shading her eyes, she waved to him, and watched as he descended from his perch with the ethereal grace she had learned to associate with his kind.
For a while, they strolled about the boundary in silence, listening to the birds and the breeze and and the rustling of the trees. They didn’t have to talk. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about time spent with him. If neither of them had anything to say, nothing need be said.
However, she did have something to say, and she could nit properly enjoy herself while trying to gather up the courage to say it. Just once and done. The result would most likely shape her life forever, but she tried not to think about that.
Finally, the turmoil inside her rose into her throat and forced its way out of her lips.
“Can I ask you a question?” Her voice was jarringly loud against the morning quiet.
“Of course,” Nóm replied. He did not look worried. He thought this was another of her philosophical quandaries. Well, it was one in a roundabout kind of– never mind that, she was probably about to ruin his morning. Both of their mornings. She forced it out before she could reconsider.
“Are you in love with me?”
Nóm jerked his gaze up to meet hers, panic in his eyes. “Well… ah…”
Andreth had never seen him this flustered before. She did not know whether that boded well or ill. She could feel her own face growing red. This had been foolish, after all.
“I do care for you,” he continued, voice and expression cautious, “and I enjoy your company, but if you mean love in a romantic sense, then the answer must be no. I did not—”
“Oh, thank the stars,” Andreth said, before she could think better of it. Relief flooded every vein in her body, and she collapsed on the cool grass.
Nóm seated himself next to her, laughing. Andreth smacked his arm. “It’s not funny,” she cried, “I was afraid you would say yes!”
“What made you ask?” he asked, after he could breathe again.
"Beril."
“Well, next time,” he said, still laughing a little, “you may remind her that you are only just twenty, and I have been alive for well over two thousand years, so I would likely want to marry someone closer to my own age, or at least, who I did not know from a child.”
Though he was smiling, she could see something darker, sadder, rising in his eyes. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that he was circling the base of his right index finger with his thumb, as if searching for a wedding band that was no longer there.
“I certainly will,” she said softly.
They sat for a while, back in their comfortable silence. And, for that while, all was right with the world again.

Chapter End Notes

This is the only second fic I ever wrote for the Silm, and if I'm being perfectly honest, as of crossposting this almost three years afterwards, I don't think I would write this concept anymore. However, I had fun at the time, so it's sticking around.