I should really be working on the next chapter of Freedom of Heart, but my muse insisted, and who am I to deny her?
It was impossible not to notice; each home and shop within the small town was astir, and had been since the heat of summer had set in. It was not just the town gossips, who passed their news by way of giggling whispers, even the folk who normally disdained such frivolous activities freely spoke of it. And why not? It was common knowledge. A tradition, even, if a rather short one.
It was the first day of June, and he was coming.
No one could guess his reason for it. Since the first day he had arrived in the small but busy Dragon Pub five years ago, he would merely shake his head and curve his lips into that secretive grin of his whenever asked. No matter the justification for his visits, from that day on he came each year to that very same pub on the first of June. Now that people recognized his pattern, the Dragon Pub, with its peeling paint, stained floors, and worn, wobbly chairs, became one of the most successful pubs in the area, despite its less than pleasant décor.
Thus, Taeniel was thrilled when she was first hired to work there- one of the busiest pubs in Gondor. It was a job that was looked down upon and scorned, yes, but it offered her far more money than her previous workplace had, at the stables. She had brothers and sisters to feed, and if it meant that she had to plaster a smile upon her face despite the insults flung her way in order to do so, then she would.
Walking down the street, weaving her way through horses pulling loaded carts and vendors shouting out their products, she realized that it had been three years since her first day at the pub, and she still spent the late hours of the night serving food and drinks, and cleaning up after drunken customers. Yet, after seeing Glorfindel, for the first time -talking to him for the first time- she found that she did not mind it so much.
He was very much different from any man she had met before. His blue eyes did not linger on her body, but rather looked into her own, plainer, brown eyes. When he spoke to her it was not to snap out an order, only to engage her in a conversation that would make her smile still days later. It was illogical, this infatuation she seemed to have with him, but, and perhaps it was foolish hope playing tricks on her, she wondered if he returned her feelings, even in the slightest. Last year he had brushed her hair away from her eyes, and had kissed her hand in farewell. And the year before, he had conversed with her and nearly no other-
Oh! Taeniel tightened her hands into fists, frustrated at the roads her thoughts insisted on traveling. It was useless to analyze such things.
As she neared the pub, the large, red dragon that was painted above the door seemed to growl at her, its clawed hand raised to strike at the foolish notions running through her head. Gritting her teeth, she attempted to look through the dirt-flecked windows to see if anyone had arrived yet, though she knew many people probably had, but the action was fruitless, as it was nigh impossible to see anything through those windows, especially as the light of the sun was fading a bit more with each step she took.
The cheerful bell that rang when she opened the door only served to fuel her irritation. Taking deep breaths, she calmed herself by force of will, and made a quick scan of the room. There were men already drunk, communicating with raised voices and wild gestures, as their words were too slurred to comprehend. There was a group of youths, most looking as if they were not yet seventeen, laughing and making jokes as they convened around a small table in the corner. A group of women sat in the middle of it all, and she could tell by their giggles and eager faces that they were here to witness the arrival of Glorfindel. Yet she did not see him; her sharp eyes caught no glimpse of his hair, such a light blond that it resembled the light of the moon; nor did she see his bright eyes, steady upon her and alight with mirth as he waited for her to find him. With a pang of disappointment, she knew that he was not here.
"Taeniel!" She shifted to look at Arveldir, the owner of the pub, "Come, lass! We haven't the time for you to stand there staring!"
"Sorry," She said, giving him a wry grin.
He shook his head and indicated for her to follow him as he moved his burly form toward the kitchens. Stepping inside, her senses were immediately assailed from all corners: cooks hollering out orders, servants scrambling by to obey them, and the savory smell of freshly made food.
Arveldir bent his dark head closer to her so she could better hear him.
"You will have to fend for yourself tonight," He told her, voice raised so she could hear him over the din, "Rodwen is ill; she cannot serve."
Taeniel's eyes widened in disbelief.
"How am I to serve alone on the busiest night of the year?"
Arveldir shrugged, and she could tell that he did not care how she managed, as long as she did.
Grumbling to herself, she swiveled around, grabbed two plates of food waiting to be served and, once informed of the table to which she should give it to, trudged her way out of the kitchens.
And thus the night went on, a monotonous pattern of receiving and passing on food and drink orders, serving them, and doing it all over again. As time passed her hands began to tremble with anxiety. Each time she entered the kitchens to retrieve food for an awaiting customer she was overcome with nerves, wondering if this time, when she stepped into the clamor of people he would be among them.
Soon, however, the sun had sunk below the horizon line, the darkness of night had descended upon the town and the only light to be seen was the flickering candlelight of surrounding houses; still he had not arrived. The customers began to grow impatient and all who worked at the pub became uneasy. Would he not come? Could the Dragon Pub continue to flourish without his yearly appearances?
The light chime that signaled the advent of another person caused all to turn toward the door with baited breath, only to see a middle aged woman with dark hair, and eyes with wrinkles around them from smiling often. The disappointment in the room was nearly palpable, and Taeniel could almost feel it weighing down on her as she moved to welcome her friend.
"Maeneth!"
The older woman smiled in recognition and together they maneuvered to a corner that was somewhat unoccupied and quiet.
"Rodwen sent me to assist you." Maeneth told her, answering her unspoken question.
"Oh!" She answered, surprised. Taeniel had not given much thought to Rodwen, and that she had been considerate enough ask someone to help her caused her to feel a pang of guilt, "How is she faring?"
"She looks absolutely miserable, the poor dear. But do not worry about her, you need to rest! You've the look of someone half dead about you."
Not quite sure if she she should be offended or relieved, Taeniel did as she was bid and took a seat at the nearest, and only, empty table. As she rested against the table, propping her head up with her arm, all the emotions she had been able to ward off whilst working collapsed upon her. Her head was filled with worrying possibilities: Would he come? Would he speak to her if he did? And if he didn't, would he come the next year? Would she ever see him again?
A frustrated growl rumbled in her throat, and she set her fingers to massaging her head where she suspected a headache would soon form.
Just think of something else, she told herself, and tried to hone in on a nearby conversation only to stiffen in her chair; it had gone silent as a graveyard.
"Come with me."
Taeniel did not have to question who had whispered the words into her hear. No other person had such a deep, sonorous tenor than Glorfindel.
She did not glance back as she stood; his hands were on her shoulders, guiding her past the flabbergasted people, mouths agape and eyes wide as the pints of beer in their hands were left forgotten. He was close behind her, so close that she could feel his chest move as he chuckled, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood alert as his breath grazed the sensitive skin.
She wanted to ask him why he had appeared so late this year; but he ushered her forward still, and her muscles were so tense that she did not know if she was capable of talking and walking at once. Finally, once they were at the outer edges of the town where scarce a house stood, did he stop, the removal of his hands leaving her shoulders cold.
Pivoting around, all previous thoughts dissipated as her eyes roved his visage, greedily picking up the small details she had forgotten in the span of a year. Here in the darkness there was a glow emanating from his fair skin, faint and ethereal. Her eyes met his and her heart gave a start at the intensity in their depths. The air around them seemed to crackle with energy, and her gaze dropped to his lips of their own accord to see them curled up, just barely, as if he knew something that she did not.
Taeniel jerked both her eyes and thoughts away from that particular feature of his face.
"It has been a long while since I have seen you, Glorfindel." She found herself saying, as if trying to excuse her long perusal of his appearance.
His smile grew.
"Not so long."
Unsure of how to respond, she could only give a halfhearted grin. Their short lived conversation trailed off and they both stood standing, Glorfindel with an air of assuredness, Taeniel awkwardly toeing the grass beneath her feet.
"Why do you come here?" She blurted out, unable to stand the quiet for so long.
He chuckled then, a low sound that reverberated in the air around them.
"I had wondered how long it would be until you asked me that."
Refusing to deviate from the topic, she merely cocked an eyebrow as if insisting that he continue. There was a pause as he searched for the right words.
"Mortals," he began, his words quiet but sincere, "are consumed by passion, by life. Your every action is committed with all the energy that you possess. Your lives are set afire with a vibrancy that few elves have, and I am inexplicably drawn to it."
He spoke with a solemnity that Taeniel had never before seen in him. His ever present smile had faded, replaced with a reflective expression as he looked out at the town before him.
"But surely there are places nearer to you that mortals live," she insisted. "Why do you come here?"
He shifted his eyes to hers, the cobalt eyes keen as they searched hers as if they could penetrate her thoughts.
"Why do you ask questions to which you already to know the answers?"
She pursed her lips, determined to see this conversation to its end.
"To hear you confirm it."
He took deliberate steps closer to her, and her pulse skittered before picking up once more at a feverish pace. Then he proffered her an elegant, strong hand. Glancing up at his face, she saw that he was grinning once more.
"Dance with me."
Suddenly self-conscious, for she knew little of dancing, she fumbled for an excuse.
"There is no music," Her uncertainty was evident in her voice.
"But there is," he told her, taking her hand and pulling her close, "if you would only listen."
Taeniel allowed him to move her arms in the proper form, at once regretting the decision when it placed her farther away from him than she would like. Her discontent faded when he leaned forward, his hair brushing her cheek and his lips grazing her ear.
"Close your eyes," He whispered, "and listen."
It was awkward at first, as he guided her, eyes shut, to music unheard. Soon, though, the tension melted from her limbs and she relaxed into his hold, focusing on the sounds around her. At first she heard nothing, and just as she was ready to open her eyes and tell Glorfindel that his elven ears obviously picked up on that which hers could not, she heard it. Not quite music, but the sounds of nature swelling and lessening in harmony. The chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of the wind blowing through the grass and trees; the coos of birds and the howls of far away wolves. Her lips turned up in wonder.
"You hear it." Glorfindel said.
"Yes," she breathed, opening her eyes.
They had stopped moving, and Glorfindel discarded their dance position, instead edging further toward her until their bodies just touched upon the intake of breath. He brought his hand up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as he leaned forward. Eyes fluttered closed and two pairs of eager lips met, swift and soft at first, then developing into something more passionate, an urgency to feel each other. Glorfindel's fingers entwined deep within her black hair and her hands reached around his body to press him closer.
They broke apart once the need for air grew imminent, though neither was willing to relinquish their hold upon the other. Glorfindel rested his forehead against hers.
"I will miss you, Taeniel," He said, the words simple but leaden with meaning.
She sighed, not wanting to think of his impending departure, and caressed the line of his jaw with light fingers.
"I will miss you as well."
His eyes took on a mischievous light.
"I think I should like to visit more than once a year," he said.
She fought the grin that threatened to form upon her lips, forcing her countenance to remain somber.
"I am sure that Arveldir would appreciate that."
Glorfindel feigned an irritated grunt before pulling her against him, tucking her head under his chin.
"You mistake my meaning. I would like to visit you, if that is acceptable."
Taeniel dropped all pretense of teasing and pressed a kiss against his neck.
"Of course," she murmured.
How long they stood that way, wrapped up in each other, she could not say, nor was she certain how their relationship would proceed from here. Nonetheless, she had little doubt that it would lead to something wonderful, and she looked forward to the journey. Her mouth stretched into a wide smile; after all, this was only the beginning.
finis
Not quite as dramatic as my usual, but everyone needs to write fluff every once and a while. Far fetched, I know, but that's part of the fun. My birthday is on the 13th, so I'd love to have reviews for presents :D