Archive of Our Own ^beta

Meleth did her best not to stare, but it was difficult.

The space that will eventually be the Royal Library might eventually be grand, but right now it was very much a work in progress. The librarians were making a start on cataloging and organizing, but the builders and artisans were still in and out constantly.

One of them was the most fascinating man she’d ever seen. He was in and out several times a day, always with a smile and often with a joke. More than once he’d brought the entire group to laughter. Meleth wasn’t sure she wasn’t imagining it, but he seemed to glance in her direction whenever he did.

If it wasn’t just her imagination, her uncle would be pleased.

He had brought her to the city after her father died at sea not long after her twelfth nameday. Mother had decided that if she had to make a life on her own, she’d raise sheep and spin wool in the interior of the island, as far from the sea as she could get.

Uncle generally refrained from commenting on the choices of his brother’s widow, aside from saying he did not think her grief a healthy one. His hopes that Mother would find a new husband had not borne fruit.

“Your father did not mean you to be stuck on an isolated sheep farm,” he’d told her when Meleth tentatively suggested that now she was of age, perhaps she should return to her mother’s house to be a help to her.  “Besides, your cousins would miss you. Your talents are better fitted here in the city. I’ll find you something suitable. And perhaps we can tempt Lalaith to visit.”

Meleth hadn’t often felt the sting of being an only child growing up with her uncle’s daughters and son. Her uncle had arranged apprenticeships for each of them as they came of age, so none of them saw anything unusual in him doing the same for his niece.

That he somehow wangled her one of the coveted positions assisting the Royal Librarian had been a surprise, but her cousins had been unanimous that it was perfect for her.

“Why not?” Niniel asked when Meleth confessed she thought herself unqualified. “There are very few on the island who know the language of your mother’s people. They say the king means to have books in all the tongues of Men, elves, and dwarves in his collection. The library will need someone who can speak and read Haladin. I’m sure they can teach you the part about organizing the books.”

“And it means you’ll meet men who mean to stay here in the city,” Gildis added in satisfaction. “You’d make a terrible farmer’s wife. I don’t think you can feed chickens with your nose in a book.”

Meleth was fairly sure there was more to being a farmwife than feeding chickens. Books must be needful for some of it. She was thankful Belemir was off in Rómenna. He’d probably have started vetting all the men in or around the library to determine who was good enough for his little cousin.

She wondered if the smiling man might meet Belemir’s standards. Assuming, of course, she ever found a moment to talk to him when he didn’t have a crowd about. She was far too shy to attempt it with an audience.

Ah, well. Maybe tomorrow she’d have better luck. She turned back to the stack of crates she was meant to be opening and cataloging.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the man she’d been observing from a safe distance suddenly appeared at her elbow – and knocked into the crates.

“Oh, stars and sea!”

Only his quick reflexes kept them from toppling over. Meleth couldn’t help the blush at her own clumsiness.

“Apologies, my lady, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Close up, he was the most handsome man Meleth had ever seen, and that smile now seemed to be only for her.

“I’m fine,” she managed to get out. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be over here with the books.”

“This is the library,” he pointed out with a grin. “The whole thing is meant to be with the books.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I hear you’re the newest librarian. Not what I was expecting, but then they didn’t actually mention your name to me, so you’ll forgive me thinking to find someone’s son here for what they hoped would be a nice, easy job.”

“My name is Meleth,” she offered politely.

She wasn’t sure what surprised him about that, unless… oh, of course, to ears used to Taliska, her name didn’t sound at all feminine.

“My mother is Haladin,” she explained. “I am named for one of her ancestors.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed, his face brightening. “Meleth, mother of Haldan?”

“Yes, exactly!”

She was shocked he’d placed it so easily. Not many people bothered with the history of the folk of Haleth these days, with so few of them left.

“Well, let that be a lesson to me,” he said ruefully. “I assumed you were named in the elven tongue, which would make you Love.”

Meleth wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was he flirting? Or was it true? She knew almost nothing of the elven tongues, though she’d probably best remedy that quickly if she was to be living and working in the royal complex. Not that she was likely to meet the king, but she would like to at least know she was saying Tar-Minyatur correctly if she did - imagine saying the king’s name wrong before him!

“The name suits you, Lady Meleth,” he added, with one of those enchanting smiles. “In either language.”

“You have the advantage of me, sir,” she said. “You know my name, but have not given me yours.”

“I’m Elros on working days, and Elerossë if any of my elders are attempting to scold me,” he replied cheerfully. “Though fortunately few of them are at hand just now to try it. I’m sure I’d be read a lecture about manners for frightening librarians who are only trying to make up their booklists in peace.”

He was trying to look contrite, but Meleth could easily see the merriment behind it.

She wondered about the two variations of his name - they were similar enough that she guessed they must be the same name in two languages, even if she couldn’t be sure which ones. Perhaps he too had parents from different groups? That might explain him taking an interest in what was to most only boring history.

“You certainly deserve the lecture, Elerossë,” she said, doing her best to imitate his pronunciation. “You’d hear it, too, had any of the books been damaged. Some of them are as old as my namesake.”

“Really? My brother found them in among things that had been salvaged from Sirion. At least, he thought that’s where they came from. It had all been shipped about hither and thither, so it’s guesswork, really.”

“Your brother has a good eye for what’s worth saving,” Meleth told him. “We can only hope they’re all still legible. And that I can read all of them that are. The script changed at some point, and I’ve never seen much of the old script, only the newer.”

She flushed as she realized she was probably boring Elros. Even if he knew more than most about her mother’s people, she hadn’t met many young men who cared to hear about the historic development of the language or writing of the Haladin. But he was so easy to talk to that she’d forgotten herself.

“I’m sure you’ll manage splendidly,” he replied warmly. “The library is very lucky to have you – most of the Haladin that came to the island prefer farming or woodlands.”

“The library can thank my uncle,” she said, trying not to giggle at the thought. “He wanted to find a way to keep me in the city.”

“Oh, I suspect more than just the library will thank him,” Elros murmured.