The festivities held in honor of Marquelie - October - were always a grand
and marvelous show of lights, music and wine. It was held in the highest
praise by all of the elven race who, despite being the wisest of all
creatures, loved to celebrate.
Rivendell hosted the merende (festival) en'Marquelie as they always had, and would continue to do so, much to everyone's pleasure. The fires were roaring, the wine poured, the candles lit, and elves from every surrounding haven had come to join in the frolic. The merriest of the elves were dancing gaily to the music of the harps and flutes, while the older and more sedate members were engaged in quiet conversations as they sat over goblets kept continually brimful of the rich wine from Rivendell's special stores.
The elves from the forest realm of Mirkwood in particular were enjoying themselves as thoroughly as they could. It was natural for them, for they loved festivals, and festivities of all sorts. While Rivendell was certainly not Mirkwood, and the elves therein were certainly more restrained in nature, there was still great entertainment to be had for it was, after all, the merende.
From his place by the fire, the Prince Legolas watched everything. His blue eyes flitted around as he took silent note of all that surrounded him - something he was wont to do - as he sat quietly sipping a glass of mead. A small band of female elves were dancing with wreaths of flowers in their hair while their male counterparts stood wistfully by. Sometimes one of the girls would choose a partner from this group and drag him into the crowd of dancers: more often than not was the chosen one quite willing to come. These were the handsomest of the elves, mostly. Legolas watched them for lack of better entertainment until he spotted a few of the girl looking coyly in his direction and hastily averted his eyes.
The lord Elrond had not yet made his appearance at the reveller's scene, but his daughter - the beautiful, raven-haired lady Arwen - was standing near a trellis of flowers with her arms looped about those of Arillen, daughter of the noble elven lord Elirrisend of Rivendell, and the two were deeply engaged in conversation.
It had been many many years since Legolas had seen Arwen, for he only ever made his appearance in Rivendell on diplomatic missions and such. But each time he had seen her she had grown more beautiful. Though he had never dared to say it aloud, he had always felt a sort of affection for his lovely, angelic cousin. This secret he kept locked in his heart where he knew it must stay for Arwen was a lady and anything beyond cordiality between them would have been impossible. Lord Elrond would never allow it.
Just for a moment Legolas' mind wandered and his eyes began to play over the delicate figure of his cousin, with her fair white skin and delicate hands which he knew many elves would have battled over in order to hold. As yet, Arwen had not taken a husband, and Elrond had let it be known that when she married it would not be to any undeserving commoner. Still there were scores of heroes vying for the preference of the Evenstar who's beauty was renowned throughout Middle Earth.
Legolas wrenched his mind out of the gutter with a start and realized that Arillen had left in search of a goblet of wine, leaving Arwen by herself. For a moment Legolas wondered if he should speak to her. He had never spoken to her in so informal a situation before, but at the moment he felt like broadening his horizons. Legolas did not avert his eyes this time as they connected with Arwen's deep brown ones and she realized that he had been watching her. She graced him with a smile.
Legolas asked by means of eye signals whether of not he could approach her (for it would not do to confront a lady without her permission) and to his surprise she told him that he could. Her gaze stayed steadily and unwaveringly on him as he got to his feet in one fluid motion and made his way around the crowd of dancing elves to her side.
"Aaye a' lle, Arwen," he said as he took the hand she offered him and laid it to his lips. Arwen smiled again and returned the salutation.
"How goes it with you this evening, cousin?" she asked him as she looked up into the blue eyes that should have been so familiar.
Legolas released her hand slowly as if he regretted doing it.
"Very badly," he smiled. "There are so many of us here today, and absolutely no one worthy of conversation, with one exception my lady." He watched her expectantly, and she blushed.
"You are very kind. However, I do not believe I know quite as well as I would have liked to," Arwen said in thought. "How strange it is to have known of you for so many centuries, and yet never have known you as a friend ought to have known you."
"Circumstance has a very off way about her," was Legolas' comment. "But I see no reason why there can be no friendship now."
Arwen laughed delightedly. "I do agree!" she said. "And it makes me glad."
"Tell me then, my friend," said Legolas, "how are you liking todays' festivities?"
"I could not say. Sometimes I think I like it, and then I think I don't. it is all very well for I have no one to dance with."
This was a fact that Legolas would have clearly recognized if he had not already known it. As the daughter of an elvish lord, Arwen stood out of reach of everyone but the select few who had the rank and status worthy of her grace, and there were even fewer who had had the permission from Elrond to associate with his precious child. As far as rank was concerned, Legolas had that, and even more due to his continual feats of bravery, as well as battle expertise. Now, watching Arwen in the soft glow of the candles and fireflies looking more beautiful than ever before (if such was possible), Legolas felt that if ever he took the chance of asking her to dance with him it should be now. So he proceeded to try his luck.
Arwen's eyes lit up.
"Of course, Legolas; I will dance with you." Somehow the answer was not so unexpected. It was something in the air that turned hearts and spirits lighter, and drew people closer, and if it was magic then elves were certainly not exempt from it's power.
They sailed out among the other dancers - the center of many jealous looks from both the male and females in the party - and commenced to dance with eyes only for each other. Arwen, already captivated by her partner's immutable charm and abundant good looks, thrilled at the touch of his hand on her back and the way he looked into her eyes as they danced. He had an unmistakable air of royalty about him, and a commanding presence that she had seen people and elves fall in obeisance under. Now she felt herself falling under the spell that was the Mirkwood prince, and the feeling was altogether unreal.
Legolas himself was overwhelmed by the sight of the Elven lady, the way she fit so gracefully into his arms, and the way her lips trembled slightly with her steady, even breathing. He was captured by her just as she was drawn to him.
And yet, these things stayed only in their minds, communicated to the outside only through little tell-tale actions that even their sedated propriety failed to hide. There could never be more than the hope of friendship between the two.
Together they made a stunningly beautiful picture. The fair, blonde elf prince and the ethereal lady of Rivendell captured such attention that those around them stopped to watch. Nearby the lady Arillen, who had just returned with her wine, also gazed on them with a hint of a smile.
"You are a good dancer, my lord," smiled Arwen, winding her arms around Legolas' muscular shoulders, thrilling again as his hands shifted on her waist.
Legolas inclined his head forward in a nod of obeisance.
"It is a fair complement indeed, and truly one that I must return," he replied.
Arwen spotted Arillen and with a sinking heart knew that she must go to her. She made her request apologetically to Legolas, who assented and led her off into the sidelines to the trellis where the other elf maiden waited.
"Thank you," Arwen said, staring up at Legolas with bright eyes. He bowed again, and then to Arillen, respectfully, and disappeared into the crowd. Arillen took Arwen's arm again.
"Do mine eyes betray me," she whispered mischievously, "of did I detect an uncommon sparkle in your eyes as you danced with the fair prince?" Arwen glanced at her friend with a curious expression, but shook her head.
"I fear the former, lady," she said regretfully, but Arillen was not deceived. "You are captivated, Arwen," she persisted. "If you are not then I know not who I am."
"And that is arguable," Arwen teased lightly, but looked back into the crowd whence Legolas had gone. "He is my cousin, Arillen," she said, without conviction.
"In name only," Arillen reminded her. Arwen sighed.
"Alright, Arillen, keep your foolish fantasies, but I assure you that the prince had nothing more on his mind that to enjoy the party."
"Rubbish," Arillen scoffed, "and they're not my foolish fantasies, Arwen. I'm not blind."
Arwen was silent, and for the moment, nothing more was said about it.
Rivendell hosted the merende (festival) en'Marquelie as they always had, and would continue to do so, much to everyone's pleasure. The fires were roaring, the wine poured, the candles lit, and elves from every surrounding haven had come to join in the frolic. The merriest of the elves were dancing gaily to the music of the harps and flutes, while the older and more sedate members were engaged in quiet conversations as they sat over goblets kept continually brimful of the rich wine from Rivendell's special stores.
The elves from the forest realm of Mirkwood in particular were enjoying themselves as thoroughly as they could. It was natural for them, for they loved festivals, and festivities of all sorts. While Rivendell was certainly not Mirkwood, and the elves therein were certainly more restrained in nature, there was still great entertainment to be had for it was, after all, the merende.
From his place by the fire, the Prince Legolas watched everything. His blue eyes flitted around as he took silent note of all that surrounded him - something he was wont to do - as he sat quietly sipping a glass of mead. A small band of female elves were dancing with wreaths of flowers in their hair while their male counterparts stood wistfully by. Sometimes one of the girls would choose a partner from this group and drag him into the crowd of dancers: more often than not was the chosen one quite willing to come. These were the handsomest of the elves, mostly. Legolas watched them for lack of better entertainment until he spotted a few of the girl looking coyly in his direction and hastily averted his eyes.
The lord Elrond had not yet made his appearance at the reveller's scene, but his daughter - the beautiful, raven-haired lady Arwen - was standing near a trellis of flowers with her arms looped about those of Arillen, daughter of the noble elven lord Elirrisend of Rivendell, and the two were deeply engaged in conversation.
It had been many many years since Legolas had seen Arwen, for he only ever made his appearance in Rivendell on diplomatic missions and such. But each time he had seen her she had grown more beautiful. Though he had never dared to say it aloud, he had always felt a sort of affection for his lovely, angelic cousin. This secret he kept locked in his heart where he knew it must stay for Arwen was a lady and anything beyond cordiality between them would have been impossible. Lord Elrond would never allow it.
Just for a moment Legolas' mind wandered and his eyes began to play over the delicate figure of his cousin, with her fair white skin and delicate hands which he knew many elves would have battled over in order to hold. As yet, Arwen had not taken a husband, and Elrond had let it be known that when she married it would not be to any undeserving commoner. Still there were scores of heroes vying for the preference of the Evenstar who's beauty was renowned throughout Middle Earth.
Legolas wrenched his mind out of the gutter with a start and realized that Arillen had left in search of a goblet of wine, leaving Arwen by herself. For a moment Legolas wondered if he should speak to her. He had never spoken to her in so informal a situation before, but at the moment he felt like broadening his horizons. Legolas did not avert his eyes this time as they connected with Arwen's deep brown ones and she realized that he had been watching her. She graced him with a smile.
Legolas asked by means of eye signals whether of not he could approach her (for it would not do to confront a lady without her permission) and to his surprise she told him that he could. Her gaze stayed steadily and unwaveringly on him as he got to his feet in one fluid motion and made his way around the crowd of dancing elves to her side.
"Aaye a' lle, Arwen," he said as he took the hand she offered him and laid it to his lips. Arwen smiled again and returned the salutation.
"How goes it with you this evening, cousin?" she asked him as she looked up into the blue eyes that should have been so familiar.
Legolas released her hand slowly as if he regretted doing it.
"Very badly," he smiled. "There are so many of us here today, and absolutely no one worthy of conversation, with one exception my lady." He watched her expectantly, and she blushed.
"You are very kind. However, I do not believe I know quite as well as I would have liked to," Arwen said in thought. "How strange it is to have known of you for so many centuries, and yet never have known you as a friend ought to have known you."
"Circumstance has a very off way about her," was Legolas' comment. "But I see no reason why there can be no friendship now."
Arwen laughed delightedly. "I do agree!" she said. "And it makes me glad."
"Tell me then, my friend," said Legolas, "how are you liking todays' festivities?"
"I could not say. Sometimes I think I like it, and then I think I don't. it is all very well for I have no one to dance with."
This was a fact that Legolas would have clearly recognized if he had not already known it. As the daughter of an elvish lord, Arwen stood out of reach of everyone but the select few who had the rank and status worthy of her grace, and there were even fewer who had had the permission from Elrond to associate with his precious child. As far as rank was concerned, Legolas had that, and even more due to his continual feats of bravery, as well as battle expertise. Now, watching Arwen in the soft glow of the candles and fireflies looking more beautiful than ever before (if such was possible), Legolas felt that if ever he took the chance of asking her to dance with him it should be now. So he proceeded to try his luck.
Arwen's eyes lit up.
"Of course, Legolas; I will dance with you." Somehow the answer was not so unexpected. It was something in the air that turned hearts and spirits lighter, and drew people closer, and if it was magic then elves were certainly not exempt from it's power.
They sailed out among the other dancers - the center of many jealous looks from both the male and females in the party - and commenced to dance with eyes only for each other. Arwen, already captivated by her partner's immutable charm and abundant good looks, thrilled at the touch of his hand on her back and the way he looked into her eyes as they danced. He had an unmistakable air of royalty about him, and a commanding presence that she had seen people and elves fall in obeisance under. Now she felt herself falling under the spell that was the Mirkwood prince, and the feeling was altogether unreal.
Legolas himself was overwhelmed by the sight of the Elven lady, the way she fit so gracefully into his arms, and the way her lips trembled slightly with her steady, even breathing. He was captured by her just as she was drawn to him.
And yet, these things stayed only in their minds, communicated to the outside only through little tell-tale actions that even their sedated propriety failed to hide. There could never be more than the hope of friendship between the two.
Together they made a stunningly beautiful picture. The fair, blonde elf prince and the ethereal lady of Rivendell captured such attention that those around them stopped to watch. Nearby the lady Arillen, who had just returned with her wine, also gazed on them with a hint of a smile.
"You are a good dancer, my lord," smiled Arwen, winding her arms around Legolas' muscular shoulders, thrilling again as his hands shifted on her waist.
Legolas inclined his head forward in a nod of obeisance.
"It is a fair complement indeed, and truly one that I must return," he replied.
Arwen spotted Arillen and with a sinking heart knew that she must go to her. She made her request apologetically to Legolas, who assented and led her off into the sidelines to the trellis where the other elf maiden waited.
"Thank you," Arwen said, staring up at Legolas with bright eyes. He bowed again, and then to Arillen, respectfully, and disappeared into the crowd. Arillen took Arwen's arm again.
"Do mine eyes betray me," she whispered mischievously, "of did I detect an uncommon sparkle in your eyes as you danced with the fair prince?" Arwen glanced at her friend with a curious expression, but shook her head.
"I fear the former, lady," she said regretfully, but Arillen was not deceived. "You are captivated, Arwen," she persisted. "If you are not then I know not who I am."
"And that is arguable," Arwen teased lightly, but looked back into the crowd whence Legolas had gone. "He is my cousin, Arillen," she said, without conviction.
"In name only," Arillen reminded her. Arwen sighed.
"Alright, Arillen, keep your foolish fantasies, but I assure you that the prince had nothing more on his mind that to enjoy the party."
"Rubbish," Arillen scoffed, "and they're not my foolish fantasies, Arwen. I'm not blind."
Arwen was silent, and for the moment, nothing more was said about it.