The woods held many memories, some good, some bad. Most of them were good. Fingon smiled as he trudged through the piles of fallen leaves that littered the ground. This deep into the forest, there were no clear paths between the trees. Here and there, Fingon saw different places where a particular hunt had ended or begun. Sometimes he would pause and reminisce for a little while before moving on again.
The trees became denser, and he ventured into territory that he had hardly ever before, even when hiking instead of hunting. Twigs snapped under his feet as he pushed aside low branches in order to move forward.
He could hear music now, he was sure of it. Earlier, it was questionable, but now he was certain. There was someone humming and singing little nonsense words. The voice was feminine, and unknown to him. Fingon continued to seek out the sound, and when he pushed his way through a few more haphazardly growing trees he found himself standing on a ledge looking down upon a gathering. A fire was lit in the midst of the crowd in the ravine below.
It was a large area below. The rift was wide; much too far to jump even with the best horse. At least a hundred people were milling about. Some were dancing, and some were simply admiring the trees that had fallen into the depths or had managed to grow there. None of them were talking, at least not with their voices, save for the one he had heard singing.
Sitting on the back of a deer, the great Lady Nessa hummed and mumbled a song to those gathered about. She, and the rest, were all stripped of any normal clothing. Some wore long strips of shimmering fabric around their arms or waists, and others had flowers adorning their hair and bodies. Many of the dancers displayed intricate paintings on their skin as they frolicked around the fire.
Fingon was mesmerized by both the sight and sound. He carefully crouched down and moved closer to the edge. Now he could hear the faint sound of drumming, flutes, and horns. They came from further into the woods, as if others had dispersed themselves elsewhere. Nessa coaxed her mount toward the flames, and slid off the stag’s back as the drumming became louder. She joined the other dancers, though she far outshined the rest.
Wishing to see more, Fingon positioned himself on his belly and peered over the edge. Something made him want to join them, but the idea was out of the question. These were the lady’s chosen ones, the maia who followed Nessa in all endeavors. There was no place around the fire for a lowly elf such as himself.
A sudden pressure on his back made him panic. He tried to get up, but someone had planted their booted foot squarely between his shoulder blades. “Just what do you think you are doing?” demanded a booming voice. Fingon swallowed hard as he watched all motion below stop and all eyes focus upon him.
“Uh... I... I just... uhm...”
“Brother, let the poor little elf up,” scolded a voice below. Fingon sought out the voice, and saw Nessa walking around the fire with her hands upon her hips. A garland of flowers encircled her neck and covered her breasts, while another adorned her head. Beyond that, she was bare, and Fingon looked back to the dirt on the ground before him to keep from seeming unseemly.
The foot was lifted up, and a moment later Fingon was pushed over onto his back. He stared up to find a bit of a frightful scene. The great hunter Orome stood over him, scrutinizing him. Just behind the Vala was his snow white horse, looking more curious than his master. “When I ask a question of someone in my woods, I expect to be answered.”
“Sorry, sir,” replied Fingon as he hastily scrambled to sit up. Fingon was hoisted up by the front of his shirt, and he gulped at the glare he was given.
“Leave him be, brother,” said the Valier below. “He looks so pale he might well faint.”
“I will not be disrespected,” said Orome as he let go of Fingon. The elf stumbled backward, but caught himself before slipping down off the ridge. “Now, I asked you a question.”
Fingon’s chin trembled. He never expected to be in such a position. The lord of the forest seemed much taller than he really was, and much angrier than he could ever remember. Few times had he had direct conversation with Orome, though often enough he, his siblings, and his cousins had hunted with him. He wondered if Orome recalled this, or if all elves perhaps appeared the same to him. “I... I am sorry, sir, I have forgotten what it was,” he stammered.
“He asked what you were doing,” stated Nessa. “I think, brother, that this little one is simply lost.” The dancers cleared out with a wave of the lady’s hand, romping away into the depths of the forest. Even the stag, with some coaxing, stamped his foot and sauntered back through the brush. “Come down here, little one, and be comforted. No harm shall come to you.”
Fingon wished he could run away instead, but he carefully stepped down the slope and made his way down to the bottom where Nessa was awaiting him. All the while, he could feel that he was being followed, though he could not hear the steps of the Vala or the horse behind him. When he reached the clearing, just before the fire, he stopped.
Nessa held out her hand. “You wandered into the forest tonight, but no meeting is by chance. I wonder why Father has sent you here.”
Hesitantly, Fingon took hold of Nessa’s hand. He was pulled by her toward the edge of the fire. His steps were slow, and his feet dragged. “I should go,” he said abruptly as he attempted to yank his hand from her grasp.
She held tight for a moment and then let go. Promptly, Fingon tripped backwards and felt his back his something hard before a strong hand pushed him forward again.
“My sister is right,” said Orome as Fingon turned to see what was blocking him. “No one walks at random through my woods; no one happens upon such things without purpose.”
“It really was an accident!” exclaimed Fingon. “I swear, I promise, no one shall know! I will tell no one!”
He turned upon feeling someone grasp his hands, and he was at once face to face with Nessa. “Dance with me.”
Fingon gulped audibly. He was standing much too close for decency sake to the nude Valier. Her flowers had shifted so that her crown was lopsided and almost falling off her head; the ones around her neck no longer left anything to the imagination. “Uhm... I really should go.”
Nessa looked past the elf to her brother. “You are scaring him.”
“As I should be,” answered Orome simply.
“Will you tend to my dancers for me? I wish time alone with this one.”
Orome was obviously not pleased, but he did not deny his sister’s request. “As you wish.” He lifted a strap over his head and settled onto the ground a great horn. “Blow this if you need me, and I will come.” Then Orome departed with his steed Nahar, to leave Fingon alone with Nessa, a fire, and the Valaroma.
“Come. We shall dance, you and I.”
Fingon was pulled again toward the flames and was unable to withstand the sudden strength that Nessa exhibited. He was led by her around the fire, his movements jerky as she displayed a grace unseen in the Eldar. There was no music except for that which she created with her voice, and Fingon breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped.
Nessa let go of his hands and circled about him. “I expected more from you. You are built for dancing.”
In the emptiness of the cavern, Fingon’s laughter rang out and echoed down the ravine. “No. I do not dance.”
“Well, what do you do with a body like that, then?”
Fingon put his hands on his hips and frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Look at yourself. Lean, a little too skinny almost – you should really put a little more meat on your bones. What are you, then, a swimmer?”
“Certainly not,” said Fingon. “I am... I used to be a gymnast. Now I just teach others who are training to be one.”
“A gymnast?”
“You know.” Fingon shrugged. “Like this.” He stepped back until he had a clear space and then he did two cartwheels in a row. This he followed up with half a backflip onto his hands. He walked back to her upside down before righting himself again. “I can do more than that, but you get the idea.”
“Indeed.” Nessa circled him again. “What do you have against being a dancer, then?”
“Nothing, except that I am not a dancer,” explained Fingon.
Nessa paused in front of him. “I see.” She reached forward and took hold of his shirt lacings and began to untie them.
Immediately Fingon jumped back. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing you,” answered Nessa nonchalantly. “Obviously, your clothing is hindering your ability to dance with me.” She tried again and received the same reaction. “Something wrong?”
“Yes!” Fingon stepped back a fair amount now. “I would prefer not to be stark naked in the middle of nowhere with someone I hardly know and... well, honestly! How can you dance like that?!”
Nessa furrowed her brows. “Like what?” She looked down at herself. “Oh... yes, the flowers do get in the way sometimes, but I really do like them very much.” She chased after him until she had him backed against the steep slope.
“Ai!” Fingon stood against the cool earth, roots poking at his back. “This seems rather unnecessary! If you really want me to dance, then leave my clothing be and I will!”
Nessa stood back triumphantly. “I accept your offer.” She took him by the hand again and brought him back to the fire. “Go on then,” she prodded.
Fingon took a deep breath and looked down at his feet. “I need... music or something.”
“Not really,” argued Nessa, but she took his hands in hers again and started to hum as she once again led him around the bonfire. Again, Fingon’s feet found it difficult to match the moves of his mentor, but he tried. She let go the third time that they made it back around. “Try closing your eyes,” she suggested.
Fingon shut his eyes and listened to the words that Nessa sang. He followed the sound of her voice and just moved as he felt he should. Words of encouragement were mingled in with the song, and he quickly found his own rhythm. Far off, drums and flutes entered into his mind, and he danced with abandon. With no one to see him, his confidence grew and he began to add in gymnastic elements as he went.
“Now you are getting it!” Nessa grabbed Fingon’s hands and he opened his eyes. “A little rough around the edges, but we can fix that in time. Now tell me – was that fun or was that fun?”
“That was fun,” admitted Fingon bashfully. He averted his eyes away from the lady again and said, “I guess you were right. Nothing happens accidentally. This has really helped lessen my stress. Thank you.”
“Oh, you thought you came here to relax? Oh, no, no, no,” admonished Nessa. “You came here to learn.”
“I did?” questioned Fingon.
“Yes. I am sure of it.” Nessa smiled and retied the lacings that she had tugged on earlier. “You and I have a lot of work to do, but it is going to be well worth it.”
And with that cryptic message, Nessa winked at Fingon and pranced off down the ravine, humming to herself as she went along.
