to yours grinding up against my muse
He was coming to the end of his time in Mirkwood and Glorfindel was quite relieved about it. Not that he didn't get along with the Silvan elves but he just found the whole thing had work. They were louder, not volatile and unpredictable and the darkness here was quite oppressive for one who rejoiced in light and the outdoors. That and the ungol he'd inevitably had to do away with…going back through forest to the pass was not something he was particularly looking forward to…
Tonight though there was a feast held in honour of the guests from Imladris before they departed. In fairness he'd heard enough rumours of the parties held in the woodland king's halls over the years and had yet to experience them for himself. He was quite curious to find out firsthand if the rumours were true…surely they couldn't all be!
So he stood with a small group of younger Silvan about, all excited to have managed to accost the captain and were pressing him with questions. They'd heard enough tales it seemed, some having been embellished in their retelling and he had to laugh at some of them. A few drinks had already been consumed and he was happy enough to right them on details, most seemingly interested in hearing more of those of their own people who'd ended up in the hidden city and the deeds they'd accomplished there.
He had just finished recounting of one elf and his heroism in his own house, claps from the elves listening when a deeper voice spoke up, Glorfindel glancing up and seeing Thranduil stood there, not having noticed his arrival.
"'Tis not only the Noldor who have prowess and skill," he said amiably, "I'm happy to have counted your kin amongst friends."
A look from the king and the group about them silently drifted away, leaving a surprised Glorfindel with a frown. Had he said aught wrong? That Thranduil wore a smile, albeit one he recognised as affected by drink made him wonder. He raised a brow, colouring slightly now as he had taken a step closer, close enough that there was barely a hair's width between them.
"I-umm…" Glorfindel shifted nervously. What was he playing at?!
The music in the room grew in volume, dancers taking to the space in the middle and suddenly he jumped in surprise. A warm body moving against his own and he jerked back.
Thranduil just chuckled in a low tone, not making a move and asked him if he would not dance in the Mirkwood style with the king and host. Glorfindel, who didn't know where to put himself, said nothing, face a deep pink and mind racing for an excuse.
A few moments and Thranduil laughed loudly, offering him a wry knowing smile and turned to go, leaving a flustered and suddenly sober Lord behind.
Glorfindel decided he could well live without experiencing the Mirkwood parties after all…!
