42. Scene XXXIII
The Lay of Leithian Dramatic Script Project
TINUVIEL AT BAY: A CACCIA OF BELERIAND
Subtlety well-practised surer may, like water under stone,
unset secure foundations than shall be easily o'erthrown
by merest force, with but misdoubt--
[A conservatory, so to speak, with sculpture gardens in beds of indoor plants and lots of water. Finduilas and her fiance are there, having made up, sitting next to a pond feeding fish. Curufin enters on the farther side and begins walking along the paths, apparently oblivious or unconcerned by their presence. Gwindor notices him and begins to get angry.]
Come on, Faelivrin, let's go.
Finduilas: [normal voice]
We only just got here, Gwin, what are you talking about?
[he glances significantly over at Curufin]
It's getting crowded.
Finduilas: [quiet too]
You can't change things by refusing to accept them. Or by letting yourself be controlled through your reactions.
I can determine my own circumstances.
Well, so can I.
I'm going to the pels. --Won't you come along? and inspire me?
[she shrugs, looking frustrated]
I don't like the Armory. It's loud and it smells of oil and there's nothing for me to do there.
[he raises an eyebrow]
Well, except watch you.
I always come to all your musical affairs.
But it bores me, Gwin.
[pause -- smaller voice:]
And I don't like seeing you get hit.
[Gwindor's expression changes from annoyed to indulgent. He gives her a quick kiss and picks up his cloak, managing to combine slinging it over his shoulder with the bow of courtesy to the Son of Feanor, thus spoiling the effect of the gesture entirely. Curufin however only returns it without seeming to notice the slight. After the other lord has left the cavern he strolls over to where Finduilas is tossing crumbs to the goldfish rather more emphatically than necesary.]
Don't say anything.
[Finduilas gives him a Look, but his expression is as innocent as his voice. She still watches him suspiciously. Putting one foot on the bench he leans over, frowning at the surface of the pool for a moment, before speaking, guaranteeing her attention.]
I wanted to talk to you about our cousin of Doriath.
[her face becomes even more wary]
--Have you noticed signs of increasing instability in her behaviour?
I -- I know you're loyal, and I know you care about her, and I'm not asking you to betray any confidences. I'm only remarking on what I've noticed, and others . . . and wondering if your concern for her shall not outweigh your distaste for me. Because -- regardless -- we are both committed to the good of our families and our people, and both matters are united in the person and problem of her Highness, and your greater closeness to her may well give you the information, and the ability, that is needed to assist her.
[Finduilas looks troubled]
You do grant that she's in need of help, don't you?
[she doesn't exactly nod agreement, but her silence answers]
Have you -- found a -- certain wildness, a lack of touch with reality, in her speech lately? I -- I have to ask, because I've just come from talking with the Princess myself, and . . . she doesn't seem to be speaking the same language as the rest of us at all. --And I'm not making asinine jokes about her accent.
[Finduilas sighs heavily, shakes her head]
Finduilas: [ironic emphasis]
Where to begin?
[As the camera pulls back, Curufin takes a seat on the bench without any sign of offense from the Regent's daughter, who is declaiming with animated gestures.]
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.