Chapter 11

Legolas led her by the elbow through the crowd to the other end of the hall. All around them, people celebrated with food, drink and song. The musicians were now on top of one of the many bench-like tables, turning it into an impromptu stage. One of them was playing a string instrument that she had never seen before. She turned to inspect it more closely.

"What is that instrument he's playing?" she asked as she turned.

Roughly, Legolas turned her back in the direction they were headed.

"It doesn't really matter," he said, plainly.

So, she thought, he's as charming as ever.

Interrupting the general clamor were the trumpets once more. Legolas stopped her from continuing.

"We must wait a moment," he told her.

"But why...?"

He didn't have to answer her question. A strong chant rose from the crowd in unison, three times, then all were silent. Everyone's attention turned to the throne, high above their heads. Standing there was Aragorn. At his right side was Arwen, his wife. Mari marveled at her beauty; she looked like everything a queen should be. Just then, she spotted Mari and Legolas. It was apparent she was exerting an effort in containing herself, acknowledging them with a subtle nod. Aragorn spoke.

"It seems a bit unnecessary, but, let the festivities BEGIN!"

Again, the crowd whooped and hollered in appreciation. All activities continued with (if it was possible) even more energy than before. Legolas continued to lead her through the crowd.

"Arwen saw us!" Mari exclaimed excitedly. "Did you see? She smiled...!"

"Yes. You'll see her again soon. Come."

As they emerged from the crowd at the other end of the hall, Mari saw a line of glimmering guards, their helmets ringed with sea gull feathers. They parted quickly upon seeing Legolas, allowing him to pass. Beyond them was a group of people clustered in a circle around a large hearth, seated on comfortable, plush couches.

"Mari!" she heard Iflaim exclaim. Turning, she could see him making space for her next to him. As she began to step toward him, she felt a tightness close around her arm, pulling her back to Legolas.

"Behave," he whispered in a severe tone. With that warning, he pushed her forward a bit. Unprepared to be shoved, she stumbled, catching herself on Iflaim's shoulders.

"So eager to be near me, are you?" teased Iflaim, laughing.

Mari could not help but laugh with the bright-eyed elf. There was something contagious about the joy of elves and presumed it must be the same with their disdain, for the more Legolas showed his distaste for her, the more she desired to stab him in the eye. Restraining herself, she took the seat next to Iflaim on the couch. Legolas sat across from her, graciously keeping his gaze on anything but her. Eventually, he seemed to grow bored with the conversation and wandered away without a word to another part of the Great Hall.

"You seem a bit overwhelmed," remarked Elrohir.

"The atmosphere is rather... exciting," Mari confessed. "It's confusing. I just wish I understood what all these people were saying."

"Don't worry," assured Milhir. "You can start your language lessons tomorrow."

"Is there anything else you're eager to do?" asked Alidar.

"Well," she thought, "This place is strange to me. I supposed I'd like to see more of the city. From what I saw when Legolas rushed us through earlier, it's very beautiful."

"Legolas has been here longer than any of us," Elledan said. "Perhaps he can show you the city." Again, the elves around him gave him the Glare of Idiocy for not noticing the animosity between Legolas and Mari. "What?" he asked.

"You are dense," his brother jibed.

"Mari!"

Turning her head, Mari saw that Arwen had come to her side with her husband, King Aragorn.

All the elves bowed in their presence. Mari took this as a cue to do the same.

"This is the person I spoke to you of," she told Aragorn, gently placing her hand on Mari's shoulder.

"Yes, we were introduced earlier by Legolas. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes," she lied. Really, she was overwhelmed, tired and hungry.

"Good. Be sure to eat and drink to your heart's content while you are here, especially tonight. No luxury has been spared in preparing tonight's feast. And if for some reason you don't get your fill, there's always tomorrow night, or the night after that, or the night after that! A week's worth of feasting and merry making for our wedding and the start of a new age of peace."

"Thank you for your kindness."

Before she knew what was happening, Eowyn was at her side, tugging her along. "Food... Come," were the only words she could manage in Sindarian in her heightened state of excitement. She led Mari to one of the bench-like tables that was covered, end to end in flavorful delights. Eowyn filled a plate for her with samples of the very best of each and thrust a mug filled with what smelled like alcohol into her hand.

"Eat! Drink!" she urged excitedly.

As daintily as she could in her state of hunger, Mari heeded Eowyn's words. Everything was delicious and filling; the fruits were sweet, the meat savory, the ale strong. As she ate, Eowyn took the time to point out the important figures in the hall. There was a tall blond man she indicated was her brother, Eomer. Like many other men in the hall, he seemed rugged, handsome and strong. Yet, unlike the others, there was a gentle kindness in his face, much like Faramir. He sat surrounded by four small men she had seen everyone bow to earlier. Eowyn told her that the tallest and next tallest were named Merridoc and Perrigrin, respectively, Merry and Pippin for short. The two were jovial and spry as they danced atop a table, a pint of ale in each of their hands. Their performance brought a good deal of joy to all who were near, with many copying their steps. The two seated small men were named Samwise and Frodo. They were more reserved that the other two, though seemed to be equally enjoying themselves. Unlike Eomer, who was a Man, Mari understood them to be called Hobbits. Loudly jesting with Eomer was another short man, though taller than the tallest of the honored quartet, with a thick long mane of hair and a beard to match. His name was Gimli, also not a Man but a Dwarf. How many different beings are in this world? she wondered. Thus far, there were four present at the feast and five total she had learned of, including Treebeard. Were there more?

It was with these guests, the Dwarf especially, that she saw Legolas passing his time. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, even more so than when he had been with the other Elves. The same glow he had from the night before was now emanating off of him. It was less noticeable in-doors, but it was obvious to her, none the less. With the exception of Eomer, these individuals must have been the ones from the Fellowship described the other night in the Elves' stories. It was hard to believe that this group of individuals, Frodo particularly, had been able to change the course of their world. Will such a group of people save my world?she wondered.

Soon Faramir appeared and sat beside Eowyn. The two became absorbed in each other, so Mari spent her time observing the merry company not so far from where she was seated. Eomer had left to join another group of men, leaving those who made up the Fellowship amongst themselves. With Eomer's departure they quieted a bit, though seemed to grow more joyful. There was a fraternal intimacy between them that glowed as brightly as Legolas in the wood when in each others' company; it was then they were the most true forms of themselves.

Legolas noticed her watching. His composure instantly changed, though he did a good job of masking it. Taking hold of a pitcher, he excused himself from his friends and made his way toward her. Mari's heart began to race with anxious anticipation. Would he smack her across the face again, here, in front of all? Would he bash her over the head with that pitcher of ale? Were his knives hidden somewhere that he might cut out her eyes for the audacity of gazing in his direction? He did have a keen way of noticing when she was staring. She tried to tell herself not to, but as much as she was afraid of him, he both puzzled and mesmerized her.

Weaving through the crowd, he finally reached her. Anxiously, she felt for her knives through the fabric of her dress. Knowing they were there made her feel a little braver, though not by much. Kneeling down to fill her cup he leaned in close to her and spoke, malice dripping from his every syllable; "My Lady, to stare in such fashion is considered rude."

LGLGLGLGLG

She was afraid of him. He could sense it, smell it, even though she did a good job of hiding it in her face and body language. In battle, when he sensed this fear in his enemies, it eased his own fears, made him stronger, more able to defeat them. It sent a bloodthirsty shock of adrenaline through his veins. This was true of the cave troll the Fellowship had encountered in Moria, the orcs at the gates of Mordor and the giant spiders of his homeland. Yet, for some reason, knowledge of her fear did not put him at ease. Her steely gaze seemed to penetrate him, just as she had gazed at him across the fire two nights ago, just as she had moments ago. This only angered him.

"You will not even deny your rude behavior?" he pressed on.

Looking pass him, she turned her attention back to his friends. "They were the Fellowship?" she asked, changing the subject. He would humor her.

"Yes," he answer, also turning to face his friends.

"And you."

"Yes." He turned his attention back to her. What is she getting at?

"My good Lord!" exclaimed Faramir, finally taking notice to Legolas. "Come to grace us with your presence?"

The young steward was a tad intoxicated and growing more so by the minute. Legolas thought it only right to give him more alcohol.

"Something told me you needed more ale," he said, filling both Faramir and Eowyn's mugs.

"You're keen elven instinct was once again correct." He crashed his mug to Legolas's pitcher in thanks.

That would be the first time since they end of the war that my instinct has been correct, Legolas thought to himself, bitterly.

"Ah! I know the real reason you're here!" Faramir continued, his words slightly slurred. "You've come to check on dear Mari, to make sure I kept my word and watched after her."

Legolas briefly turned to Mari, a false smile on his face. "You read me too well, Faramir. I see you have kept your word."

"Oh! Lord Legolas!" chimed in Eowyn, also on her way to being fully intoxicated. "I was telling Mari about the Fellowship earlier. You should introduce her!"

"That," he replied, turning his attention back to Mari, who had been squirming silently, "is an excellent idea."

None too gently, he took her by the crook of her arm and pulled her to her feet. All those around him were too drunk to notice how he handled her. With a look he told her not to dare break away. She followed him without protest.

"You're lucky I do not tell them of your behavior," she said to him between gritted teeth.

"Would they believe you?" he countered.

"Iflaim would."

She was right. His friend had a soft spot for this woman, particularly in his treatment of her. But she hadn't told Iflaim. Why, he didn't know, but he knew that if she hadn't told him by now, she wasn't going to. He wasn't sure why she chose to silently endure his behavior but it meant that he could toy with her all he wanted without worry of chastisement from his fellows.

"Why do you keep me from others' company?"

"Come. You were getting too comfortable with them." he said, not acknowledging her last comment.

"Why don't you let me stay settled in one place?"

That's a good question. He didn't have an answer.

"I thought you said your people were used to moving around." At that, he saw her eyes grow wide, a rage bubbling to the surface at his mention of her people. He needed to quickly distract her, else she make a scene. "Besides," he added, "The halflings have been curious about you, too."

"They have?" she asked, surprised and completely distracted from her original train of thought. He smirked a little at this. She could be endearing at times, making it all the more infuriating when she vexed him.

As they neared the table, the hobbits and dwarf seated around it began to gesture in his and Mari's direction, whispering amongst themselves, as if his elven ears were not able to hear.

"He's finally bringing her over," pipped Pippin, his mouth half full.

"Calm down," Merry urged him with a pat on the back. "You don't want to scare her off."

"She doesn't look like an elf," commented Sam. "Who do you think she might be?"

"We'll know soon enough, laddie," grunted Gimli as he took another drink from his mug and wiping his mouth with his wrist.

Frodo said nothing.

"Done playing bar wench?" chimed Gimli, clapping Legolas on his arm. The elf gave his friend a genuine smile.

"You say that," replied Legolas, pouring ale into Gimli's mug, "but you'll take it back once you're cup is full."

"True enough laddie." Raising his mug in thanks, the Dwarf took a large gulp with a satisfying sigh once he was done swallowing.

Sam and Frodo stood from their seats at his approach. All stared at him attentively, trying desperately to not be caught taking glimpses at the woman at his side.

"Introduce her already!" Pippin practically exploded.

"Pippin!" scolded Merry, swatting his friend on the arm.

"I'm sorry," the younger hobbit apologized. "I couldn't help it."

Briefly, Legolas made a note to be sure Pippin was never alone in the company of Elledan. There was a slight chance that, unsupervised, the two could bring the palace crumbling to the ground.

"All the same," added Gimli, "Who might this fair maiden be?"

"My friends," began Legolas, bringing Mari to stand in front of him, "This is Mari. Elrond and our party stumbled upon her on our way here."

"It's a pleasure to meet you my lady," Merry chirped.

"It's an even greater pleasure for me," said Pippin, shoving his friend out of the way.

"Hello miss," mumbled Sam, barely above a whisper.

"Hello," Mari muttered with a sweet smile and a small curtsy as she'd been taught. Her pronunciation was less clumsy than before. She learns fast.

"I'm afraid Mari only speaks Sindarian," Legolas informed his friends.

The Hobbits stared at her in wonder and confusion. This had clearly taken them off guard.

"It's an honor to meet you," Frodo greeted in almost perfect Sindarian. Gimli, likewise greeted her in the bit of Sindarian Legolas had begun to teach him in Lorien. He allowed himself a smug smirk at the sight of his Dwarf friend speaking the language of Elves. What father would think of that!

It was then that the homesickness he'd had in the woods returned in full force. Though he had been thinking of home, he hadn't given much thought to his father since shortly after Elrond's council that had formed the Fellowship. He imagined how Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood, had reacted upon hearing of his decision to join the Fellowship from Iflaim. He wondered what Iflaim had to deal with upon his return to Mirkwood. Iflaim, who had been sent with the king's second son on delegation to Rivendel, sent with specific instructions to see to the prince's safe return, who had returned not with the prince but with news of the prince's outright defiance of his father's wishes. There were many things he had not considered when deciding to join the Fellowship, one of which included the repercussions he was certain his friend had endured. As Legolas later learned, Iflaim had been demoted in his position in the Royal Guard for his failure to carry out the King's orders. Sometimes, in spite of how the tide of war had turned and the way everything had ended, if he had known what the cost would be, he wasn't certain he would have gone...

When his mind returned to the moment at hand, the Hobbits had taken Mari to their table and were hurrying about trying to teach her the name of every object they could find with the help of Frodo's rudimentary Sindarian.

"CUP," declared Merry, grasping and pointing at his mug.

"CUP," she repeated, taking her own mug in hand.

"ALE," said Pippin, dipping his fingers into Merry's mug and splashing a bit in his friend's face.

"ALE," repeated Mari, taking a sip and pointing to show her understanding.

"She's clearly learned every word worth learning," laughed Gimli.

"You mustn't forget PLEASE and THANK YOU," added Sam.

"Well those are a bit harder to teach, aren't they," countered Merry.

"We'll get to that in time," continued Pippin, raising a dish in the air. "PLATE. This is fun!"

She seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. Watching her twitter about with the Hobbits was entertaining, Legolas thought. Her eagerness almost exceeded that of the young halflings as she did her best to repeat the words and phrases they taught her. Pippin tried to teach her a few foul ones, but was quickly beaten down by he cohorts and his instruction was corrected. He had to admit, she was quick learner; already she had mastered a few key phrases and was working at combining them in different ways. She was really quite captivating to watch when she wasn't opening his soul like a book with her eyes. At least, that's how it seemed when she gazed at him. It felt presumptuous and aggressive when she looked at him. What right had she to delve into the depths of his mind without an invitation?

There it goes again, he thought, frustrated she had vexed him once again. Though, it had been his own doing that time, as she was currently preoccupied with explaining the status of the plates before her.

"This plate is empty," she said in her odd accent, pointing to a plate that was indeed devoid of food. "This plate is full," she said, pointing to the dish in front of Merry. "There is much food on the table." This time she spread her arms apart, gesturing to the spread of fruits and meats before her.

"You're a quick study, Mari," exclaimed Merry. "We'll have you reading the great classics of Hobbiton in no time!"

"Don't forget about the Dwarvin Chronicles," Gimli added with a proud puff of his pipe.

Though she couldn't have known what they were saying, she laughed at their eager display.

LGLGLGLGLGLGLGLG

Mari was thoroughly enjoying herself with the hobbits and Gimli the dwarf. She almost forgot that Legolas was there until she caught him staring at her. No, not staring, but looking. Truly looking at her for the first time. She could tell that he wasn't judging, merely observing. His eyes were not cruel as they had been every other time his gaze fell upon her. Was it the presence of his friends that once again cooled his temper? Was it the ale he drank that calmed his madness? She didn't worry too long much less care; for all he was capable of, she wanted to make peace with him. Or maybe not. He seemed so keen to keep anyone from discovering his other self, especially now that the wedding celebration was underway. Perhaps provoking him to lash out at her for all to see would be to her advantage. But then again, what if no one came to her aid? Even if he wanted to save face, it was possible that the protocol of this culture would prevent others from intervening in disputes. These people had all survived a war; seeing a woman killed, much less a foreigner, might not even phase them.

She was growing frustrated with her own indecisiveness. She had never been like this. Not until the war, anyway. Hoping to be met with something closer to kindness, Mari turned to Legolas. What she saw was nothing. His face was entirely empty, completely blank. For the first time in her life she found herself unable to tell what a person was thinking, and that scared her. But he's not a person, she reminded herself, but it wasn't a very comforting thought.

"...Mari," she heard one of the hobbits call her. Snapping back to attention, she turned and faced the small figure addressing her. It was Frodo. He looked a bit worried.

"My apologies, Frodo," she bashfully responded. "I was thinking."

He seemed both curious and a tad more worried. "About what?"

She did her best to smile reassuringly, even adding a bit of a laugh to throw him off. "It is nothing. It's just been a long couple of days is all."

The small man didn't seem convinced, but he let her alone for the time being. There was something about this hobbit that unsettled her. She wasn't sure what it was, but she got the sense that he had... endured something. She saw a remnant of darkness in his eyes, perhaps the same one she saw still strong in Legolas. If it had left Frodo, perhaps it could leave Legolas...

For no reason she could discern, the Hobbits began to grow more excited. "Gandalf!" they cried toward the joyful crowd of wedding guests. Gimli, too, grew a bit more joyous, eliciting a deep chuckle. Even Legolas appeared to be repressing a smile, though he couldn't hide it in his eyes. Turning to where they were looking, Mari saw a tall, old man dressed in white making his way toward them. As he got closer, she realized he was the man who had crowned Aragorn and wedded him to Arwen. This man had a stately or priestly significance, she guessed, and for some reason her skin prickled just beneath her ears when he was around.

Mari spent a good deal more time in the company of the Fellowship, receiving quite a few strange stares from those who passed. It unsettled her a bit; she wasn't sure what she had done to merit such an odd reception until Legolas' voice murmured an explanation over her shoulder. "You're eating with war heroes. They're curious to know how you are so lucky as to be in our presence."

She noted the hint of sarcasm in his voice, thus forgave him of the potential arrogance his statement could have carried. Lucky, indeed, she thought.

At a certain point in the evening, the music grew louder. Everyone who had been seated stood and began clapping along with the rhythm of the music. Mari joined them, as not to insult or seem out of place. Many people, including Eowyn and Faramir, went to join a circle forming at the center of the hall. Soon, almost the entire hall was in the process of being pulled into a giant dancing ring, Mari included. Before she knew what was happening, a man had grabbed her hand. As she rose to be pulled into the dance, she felt a hard tug on her upper arm. Turning back, she saw Legolas holding onto her, a stern look in his eye. Smoothly, he slid his hand down from her arm to her own hand, moving with her as the other man continued to pull her into the dance.

At first, Mari was certain Legolas had only joined the dance to keep an eye on her. As the dance progressed, however, she had second thoughts. He grew distracted, his gaze moving to pass over the entire crowd and a strange aura surrounded him. His eyes grew brighter, his step lighter, his grip softer. She, an adept dancer, found the steps to the dance confusing at times. He easily followed the steps, adding his own, almost unnoticeable flair of elegance. The hobbits, too short to join in, cheered him on, a small crease appearing at corner of Legolas' mouth at the sound of their voices. Was it a smile trying to escape? If she hadn't know any better, she might have thought he was happy.

The circle suddenly changed tempo, taking Mari completely by surprise. The huge ring spit into smaller rings of six people, then into pairs. She had simply been letting the string of people she was attached to determine placement in the dance. So, it took her completely unawares when it turned out that her partner for the paired portion of the dance was none other than her surly elven guard. His intent gaze now returned to her, no longer able to distract himself with the other dancers. Though his complete attention was back on her, Mari sensed his lightheartedness from the group dance still remained. He twirled and shuffled her about the crowed as other couples did the same, never once bumping into another pair. His grip stayed light, and though this was probably her best opportunity to escape from him for the evening, she remained, for to be honest, she was having fun.

She gazed up at him and saw true joy in his eyes. The darkness inside him had dimmed for the time being and she thought that maybe she'd get a peek at what Legolas had been before his soul was scarred by war. Deeper she sunk into the depths of his eyes. She could see now what Arwen had been saying about she and he being the last elven children born; he was far younger than the other elves. There was an eagerness and tenacity inside of him that she hadn't sensed in others of his ilk. His demeanor was almost gentle. In his hands she felt a familiar tingling though she couldn't recall why it was so familiar.

As the dance began to climax, the pairs of dancers began turning at rapid pace. To keep her from flying away, Legolas grabbed a better hold of her hands, pulling her in closer. Her heart was racing at the speed and dizziness. The dance ended in thunderous applause and cheering, though Mari herself couldn't as she was pressed too closely to her partner, panting, slightly out of breath. He, on the other hand, appeared entirely calm. As the seconds passed, though, his former demeanor returned. He grew stiff and distant, his grip on her growing tight and uncomfortable. With urgency, he began to usher her back to the table with the hobbits. All the while, though, Mari couldn't help but continue to gaze at him, amazed.

"What?" he asked, in his usual perturbed tone.

She almost giggled at how predictable he was.

"If it's possible," she said, "I do believe you were enjoying yourself."

The words had left her mouth before she could stop them. The combination of exhaustion and ale had kept her from controlling her mouth and now she regretted them, worrying what retaliation they might incur.

He looked down at her with a blank expression. "We wood elves have a keen fondness for music and dance."

She was stunned and confused by his emotionless response and placid expression.

"Are you saying you had fun," she pressed on, at the same time damning the effects of the ale.

"No. Chaperoning you has made that quite impossible. But if I were to enjoy any part of the evening, it would have been this dance."

"I'm sorry to have so affected your evening," she mumbled, feeling as low as a dung beetle.

"It couldn't be helped." With that, he led her back to the Fellowship's table with the least aggressive tug he'd given her all evening.