Dís had absolutely no appetite. Often it occurred that her appetite was lost, but she had hoped such a moment would not be tonight. After all, the elves had worked hard in the kitchens and she didn't want to seem ungrateful. For that reason she ate small pieces of the boar, the meal she had actually looked forward to. She did not like it.

Every time she moved her jaws, she was overflown by nausea and she was afraid she had to throw up. Here, on Lord Elrond's side.

"Are you alright, Dís?" Arwen's familiar voice sounded. "You look pale. Don't you like the food?"

"I do," she said quickly. She didn't dare to look at someone else. "I - I just feel a little ill?"

Arwen looked aside, requiring help from her father.

"What is bothering you, Dís?" Lord Elrond asked.

She shrugged and stared to the portion of food that she had barely touched. She knew it was offensive not to look at him when he asked her something, but for some reason she could not bear his glance at this moment.

"Mama often feels not well," Fíli participated in the conversation. "Then she doesn't want to eat, while we do have to eat until our plates are empty!"

Her cheeks turned red by his reproach. What should they all think of her? She wasn't a very good example for her children!

"Your mother is right," Lord Elrond answered. "You have to become strong warriors after all!"

The last thing Dís wanted, was her sons going on a warpath, but she knew that was an egocentric thought. Just like every other men they had to prove themselves on the battlefield.
Dís noticed her fingers were trembling when she took the fork in her hand again, pricking in the meat. She had to get over it. She absolutely didn't want to cast a slur on this feast that was so important for the elves.

Dís was glad when dinner came to an end. The rest of the evening went by less elegant, so that the oppressive feeling in her chest, caused by the idea that everyone saw every move she made, disappeared slowly. Quickly the long tables were set aside. Although there had been musicians during dinner, more elves clutched at their instruments now.

Dís was a little at the edge of the group, but soon Elrohir was talking to her.

"What do you think it?"

Dís did not know what to answer. Above all she felt very uncomfortable, but she didn't want to create the illusion that she was never satisfied. "It's a special evening."

Her eyes wandered through the room, but the boys seemed to enjoy themselves. Kíli was watching a string instrument that was played by a blond elf and Fíli was hidden in the shadows, next to the desert tables, taking something now and then secretly. Dís wanted to censure him, but Elrohir's fingers glided across her wrist, holding her.

"It doesn't matter. Let them enjoy this evening."

Dís stared at his hand. He held her not very tightly, but it still gave her shivers. She suddenly felt an urgency to cry. The sudden emotions confused her and in a flash she remembered the man in the woods, who pulled her to the ground and touched her body eagerly.

Elrohir however wasn't conscious of doing something wrong and did not notice that she had frozen. The laughing and singing voices led his attention away, while he threw an arm around her and took her hand. "Did you learn how to dance?"

In Dís's perception his merry voice was twisted into a terrifying threat and her heart beat in her throat anxiously. His hands seemed to be everywhere and she wanted to free herself, but she could find no strength. It felt like she had drunk something that had frozen her limbs and tears swelled in her eyes.

"I think it's better to give Dís some space," a voice sounded suddenly. "She doesn't feel very well tonight."

Although his voice was friendly, it was clear Lord Elrond was peremptory and Elrohir let go of her.

Dís did not look at him, but stared at her feet. She was glad Lord Elrond had came between them, but it did not take away the suffocating feeling that was evoked by that memory.