At last Arradril and Filegris had a rest period at the same time, and accordingly flopped down by the side of a well-loved pond north-west of the Last Homely House. Filegris, who had meant merely to clear her head of the whirl of recent events, was startled and delighted when Arradril produced from her pack five apples -- red, but with a golden undertone that peeked out in little streaks, particularly at the top near the stem -- and some hard orange cheese. She divided the fifth apple into perfect halves and presented Filegris with half of her bounty.
"Where did you get that?" said Filegris in no small delight, pointing at the cheese.
Arradril shrugged. "Apparently there was a mighty surplus of it in the Hammer Hall stores. Quartermaster Golvagor said they were forbidden to bring it on the last expedition, else there might not have been so much of it now."
Filegris squinted and grinned. She could not in good conscience pass up an opportunity for a little friendly teasing. "You have become awfully matey with the Hammerites of late. Is their ale more intoxicating than Sogadan's stores?"
Arradril flushed, and nearly dropped the wedge of cheese in her hand. "I was... goodness, do not distract me when I am holding a knife! I erm... the bet... you know about the bet. I told you about the bet. Was that unwise?" She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the High Moor.
"It was, for now I must hear who won. All saw the two of you bring home that giant beast with its feet tied over a pole, but which of you won the contest of skill?"
Arradril flushed again when Filegris said "all," but managed to divide the cheese evenly as well. "We declared it a draw. And as I have said, the bet was five apples, and each of us came with our stake that day. So... we exchanged. I yielded mine to Branalph, and he yielded his to me."
"Hm." Filegris took a moment to savor the contrast between the sharp cheddar and the sweet apple. "That explains why these are not like the ones in the Arrow's stores, to be sure. So... are you married now?"
The coughing fit that ensued seemed as though it might be endless, though Filegris repented of her jest, rubbing her friend's back and offering her sips of water. When she recovered her powers of speech, Arradril glared at the Silvan-elf. "Even you know that is not how it works!"
"No, of course not. But you have talked to me very little of fair Gondolin, though you loved it well, and lately it seems you have talked quite a bit of Branalph of the Hammer." Filegris dared to smile. "Or, given the size of that boar, perhaps we should call him Branalph of the Ham."
"Humph." Arradril turned her head to hide her expression, although inwardly she had to admit that was rather clever. The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sun, and both feeling in their fëar the slight lengthening of the days as the old year drew to its close and the beginning of the new one approached. At last Arradril put down her knife -- one of the many, at least -- and a different look came into her eyes. It might have been joy, and it might have been a certain trepidation.
"Filegris... when we traded the apples... the tips of my fingers brushed the back of his hand."
"And?"
"And I felt something I had not before. It was like..." Arradril paused, as if groping around a vast dragon-hoard for a single gem. "It was like the spark your fingers make if you walk on carpet on a cold, dry day and then touch metal. Only not painful. Not at all. I had thought the full range of feelings had already passed through me. I wanted to clasp his hand in my own, to see what it was like."
"Then you would have dropped the apples." Filegris was nothing if not practical, at least when it suited her.
"Indeed so. But... Oh, listen to me! I sound ridiculous, like I might burst out singing opera." Arradril made what she imagined was a dramatic gesture.
"And had you done, then he would have dropped the apples. And we would not be here now, cutting the moment so finely it becomes a paste, but also enjoying the rewards of all the trudging and running and climbing and lying in wait we are called upon to do."
"No, you are right, I am overthinking it as usual. He is merely a friend. A colleague. Someone who may be relied on at need. We share a certain set of experiences -- a certain type, I should say. Land that we both walked upon is now beneath the Belegaer. So we understand each other a little. That must have been it -- a spark of understanding."
Filegris, for once in her life, kept her thoughts to herself. "Of course." She nodded, and the two fell silent again as they finished their bounty, but within Filegris was a great dismay: did wedding-guests have to wear gowns?
