When at last it was time for dinner, Avalain hovered around the guest table for a while, admittedly interested in what the Dwarves dining customs and conversations were like. She had never before been in the presence of Dwarves for a period longer than three days; there was so much she could still learn about them. Already they astonished her—they were different, they were utterly unlike Elves at all, and it was fascinating.

One thing that Avalain found particularly amusing was when one of the younger Dwarves lamented, "I don't like green food," and reached for another loaf of bread. He seemed a little lost among his older companions.

It was the female Dwarf that laughed softly and said, surprisingly gently, "Try it, maybe you'll find that this time around you'll like it. Trust me…"

The Dwarf did so, and he seemed surprised to find he didn't actually dislike the taste. This caused Avalain to smile a bit.

As she turned to glance at the sunset, she happened to overhear another conversation: "Can't say I fancy Elvish maidens myself. Too thin. They're all creamy skin and high cheekbones. Not enough facial hair for me."

Hearing this, the Elvish Lady glanced over to see who spoke—it was the black-haired archer that had noticed her presence earlier in the afternoon.

"Although," he added after a moment. "That one's not bad."

Quite curious as to whom he was referring, Avalain looked at the young Dwarf after a second of pause. She blinked in surprise when she found he was looking at her—he swiftly dropped his gaze, though Avalain did not move hers.

When he looked back at her, she smiled. He was rather tall, after all, but… no, she thought, perhaps not.

There was a bit of laughter from the blond Dwarf, Fili, who was sitting to his brother's side. "You have forgotten about keen Elvish ears, Kili."

Kili grinned embarrassedly—Avalain decided to use this opportunity to smirk and reply, "Well, perhaps I might say the same about Dwarven men."

The brothers looked both astounded and confused. Fili rose an eyebrow and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"I mean to say that you are rather tall… for a Dwarf."
A couple other Dwarves heard her jest—a number of them chuckled. The Dwarf who sat on the other side of Kili laughed and asked, "Are you going to take that, boys?"

"Can it, Bofur," Kili muttered.

Seeing his brother's murderous expression, Fili looked back at Avalain and easily retorted, "And you're short for an Elf."

"Pah!" gasped Avalain, though she was more entertained than offended. The Dwarves began to laugh louder at her exaggerated expression; she had to restrain laughter herself as she exclaimed, "And to think I meant you a compliment!"

Now the Dwarves were cackling; the She-Elf was pleased with this reception.

"Although compliments are well and good, I do not wish to hear anything more than your name," said Fili, proffering the She-Elf a small but genuine smile.

Avalain returned the gesture, and although she was glad the Dwarves were taking an interest in getting to know her, she felt mildly self-conscious upon feeling thirteen pairs of eyes glued to her face. One of her hands moved her hair in front of her shoulder as she replied, "You may call me Avalain. I am the fourth child of Elrond and the younger Lady of Rivendell. I shall take care of you during your stay here."
"Avalain Nightshade?" asked an astonished voice. "By Durin's beard, it is you, isn't it?"

The She-Elf blinked and glanced among all the Dwarves that Thorin Oakenshield had brought alongside him. When she saw who had spoken, she gasped with delight: "Balin!"

Balin grinned and leapt up from his chair, extending a hand and shaking her own heartily. "How time has passed! It's been twenty years, if I am correct?"

"Very close," she responded with a smile. "Eighteen."

"How are you?" asked the Dwarf.

"Quite well, but better now that I realize I know someone! And yourself?"

Balin looked around before answering. "Well, I am among friends, both old and new, family, and otherwise good company. It is a peaceful evening in a peaceful city—I daresay I can answer that I too am quite well."

"That is well and good," responded Avalain. "I am very glad to see you!"

Before Balin could respond again, a voice shouted, "Wait, wait, hold on, I'm confused—how on earth do you two know each other?"

Avalain looked over to the young black-haired archer, Kili, and saw the way his eyebrows were furrowed together. She couldn't hold back her laughter as she explained, "We met very briefly as I was travelling to Mirkwood. We came across one another on the South Road and accompanied one another for two days."

"I was going to Moria, myself. It was a routine trip, it was," Balin seconded, nodding sagely. "But enough about old times. I realize that you must not know those whom I travel with now! Allow me to introduce you, Avalain."

With these last words, the elderly Dwarf cleared his throat and shouted, "Line up, boys!"

All of the Dwarves did so, save the one woman, who huffed and walked off to the edge of the dining pavilion. Avalain noticed that she had intentionally placed herself within earshot of the High Table.

"Now, there are thirteen of us, so it may take you a while to remember each of their names. I still get some of them confused, mind," he added quietly. Hearing the She-Elf's laugh, he smiled and continued. "Now, let's begin at the far end."

Both the Dwarf and the Elf walked to the edge of the line, where stood the Dwarf named Bofur who'd previously taunted Fili and Kili.

"This is Bofur," said Balin, true to Avalain's recollection. Next to Bofur stood a bald Dwarf with crossed arms and a menacing glint in his eye. "And my brother Dwalin," introduced Balin again. The third Dwarf was rather rotund, and he looked admiringly at Avalain as she passed by. "Bombur…"

One-by-one, the Dwarves names were rattled. "Bifur, Oin, Gloin, Ori, Dori, our hobbit Bilbo, and Fili and Kili."

Avalain kept back a grin as she approached Fili and Kili. "Ah, yes," she said teasingly. "These two do not like me."

"Come now, we never said that…" retorted Fili, crossing his arms.

Just then, the female Dwarf brushed by Avalain and, without looking at her, said, "Don't worry, Avalain. They like you just fine." And the woman skulked off and turned the corner. She did not come back.

The She-Elf stared after the Dwarf lady and murmured, "I'm not quite sure how to interpret that…"

Balin cleared his throat. "And that was Kira, Thorin's goddaughter. You'll have to forgive her. She isn't the most… er… easygoing of the group."

Avalain could not say she was surprised. She recalled the story of Erebor's loss, and knew how the Dwarves felt towards Elven-kind because of it. Thus, Thorin's and Kira's demeanors, while not ideal, were unsurprising.

This prompted Avalain to say, "That's quite all right. In truth, it is as I expected. I know there are some of Durin's folk that do not take kindly to Elves, with good reason. I hope, however, that they will grow to tolerate us. We aren't that bad; we don't bite."

There was a scoff to Avalain's left. She saw Kili quickly look away and she knew he was guilty.

"Most of the time," she added nonchalantly. She turned away from Kili's wide eyes with a complacent grin. "I must say, Balin, I did not know you had chosen to return to the Blue Mountains. Gandalf has told me you wish to visit your kin in the Iron Hills?"

The Dwarves all looked at one another, uncertain.

It was Balin who answered first. "He is quite right! We have not had a Dwarvish meeting in a long time. We wish to conduct one soon."

"I see! I bet it shall be a most golden meeting. It has been, what, sixty years since you last were there?" asked Avalain, a light smirk at her lips. She had to say, she rather liked joking with them as such. While Elves would banter back and forth for ages, Dwarves were apparently not the same way. They seemed dumbstruck, and short whispers began to spread throughout the company.

She only winked and put a finger to her lips. To reassure them all, she added, "I wish you the best of luck when visiting your home. Before you leave this city, do let me know if you need my assistance. I will do all I can to help you return home."

Each of the eleven Dwarves present was gazing at her skeptically—all except Balin, who clapped his hands and laughed.

"I've missed the dry humor of Elves," he sighed, shaking his head. Lowering his voice, he added, "I've forgotten how quickly you can pick up on things." Then, Balin turned to the rest of his companions and cried, "Worry not! She is a friend, and a trustworthy one at that."

"How do we know?" asked a deep voice behind him.

Avalain turned to see Thorin Oakenshield glaring up at her, a look of disdain clear upon his face. Thinly masked underneath it was a look of malice and loathing—she could see clearly that Thorin did hate Elves as much as she feared.

Thus, Avalain elected to switch to the Dwarvish tongue in the hopes of earning his trust: "I believe in your purpose, Thorin Oakenshield. I believe it is time for you to reclaim your birthright. Were I able, I would help you enter that mountain, to right the wrongs that our kind did to yours that day… but as I cannot, I will offer any assistance you require that is in my power to give. It is not enough to make up for the past, but hopefully, it is a start."

The Dwarves all looked among one another once again, placated by her words. They began grumbling in an approving sort of tone—it seemed they were pleased with her use of their language.

"Avalain?" asked a familiar voice. She turned to see Lindir walking towards her. He stopped a few feet in front of her and asked, in Elvish, "May I speak with you?"

"Of course," she replied. She quickly excused herself from the Dwarves and followed Lindir as he led her off to the side. Once they were a good distance away from the ears of both Dwarves and Elves, she placed a hand on his arm and asked, "What is it you wish to speak about?"

Lindir gazed around worriedly. "I do not trust these Dwarves," he replied softly. "I advise you to be very careful around them. The leader of their Company especially wishes to have nothing to do with us… You know why he despises Elves, do you not?"

She nodded but implored, "I do, but Lindir… if we treat them unkindly, that will only deepen the rift between our people. Do you wish that?"

"Having a rift with them has never hindered us before."

"And who will guarantee our relationship will remain dormant in the future?" persisted Avalain. "I thank you for your concern, Lindir, but I do not believe they are belligerent. In fact, I believe quite the opposite—they are good people. I'm certain that given time, they will be friends rather than foes or simple acquaintances. We have all already been introduced, and they've been kind."

Lindir looked rather distressed as he whispered this next, his brown eyes lit with concern. "Avalain, I am worried for your safety. I know you mean well, and that you wish to believe the best in these Dwarves, but there is still the possibility that they might harm—"

He stopped short, as he had been interrupted by a sudden clanging of metal. Both Avalain and Lindir whirled around to find Bofur had climbed upon one of the small stools, knocking trays and goblets to the floor in the process.

"By the Light of the Eldar, what—" started Lindir, but he got no further than that before Bofur began to sing:

There's… an…

Inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn

Beneath an old gray hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown

The Man in the Moon himself came down

One night to drink his fill.

Oh, the ostler has a tipsy cat

That plays a five-stringed fiddle;

And up and down he runs his bow,

Now squeaking high, now purring low,

Now sawing in the middle.

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle

A jig that would wake the dead:

He squeaked and sawed and he quickened the tune,

While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon,

'It's after three,' he said!

During Bofur's song, Avalain had begun to laugh. Despite Lindir's protests, she returned to the dining pavilion, her father's poor servant at her heels. As she neared, the Dwarves saw her coming and cheered—then they began throwing food about the place, much to the dismay of the majority of the Elves.

But not to Avalain's. Instead, she threw a hand to her throat as she giggled and watched as her kinsmen sprinted away. Before long, Elrond, Lindir, and herself were the only remaining Elves. While Bilbo looked rather astounded as he sat among the Dwarves, Gandalf had his head in his hands. He reminded Avalain of an exasperated parental figure, and she only laughed harder at the thought.

Avalain's mirth was cut short, however, when she noticed something heading for her shoulder. She ducked underneath an apple heading her way and gazed across the Dwarves—her eyes landed on Fili, who was tossing an apple up and down in his hand. Seeing him, she exclaimed, "Did you just toss an apple at me?"

"I don't know!" was the reply. "Did it look anything like this?"

And Fili threw the second apple, which Avalain also ducked under. The apple hit poor Lindir in the stomach, but the She-Elf did not stop to fret. Instead, she grinned and exclaimed, "Well, I never!"

Without hesitating, she seized a bowl of mashed potatoes, plunged her hand into it, and threw a glop of it at Fili—it landed on his chest, which made him gape.

His expression only made Avalain giggle. She scooped up a second handful, but this time the Dwarf managed to grab a silver platter and use it as a shield. The mashed potatoes smacked against the dish and fell limply to the ground.

"Hah!" shouted Kili, who was watching his brother and Avalain as they attempted to pelt each other with edibles. "Fili's flirting with an Elf!" he cried to the nearest person who would listen. It so happened to be Bilbo, who still looked lost. This comment did not bother Avalain very much, seeing as that was probably the last thing that was actually happening. She wished to persist in the food war, for she would've liked nothing more than to nail Fili in the face with a buttery ball of potato, but she stopped.

Avalain felt rather than saw her father's eyes upon her. She did not dare look at the Lord Elrond; nor did she respond to Fili's jest of, "I did not think you would submit so easily!" Knowing that should she continually participate in the food fight, her father might disapprove, Avalain sadly set the bowl upon the table.

Noticing that the Elvish lady had ceased participating in their sport, the rest of the Company receded as well. Once all was silent again, they all gazed at her with a newfound respect—though she was glad to see it, she did not wish to lose the pride her father had for her. And so, Avalain sighed and exclaimed, "I should probably wash the crème sauce out of my hair, shouldn't I?"

The Dwarves stared at her, bemused, for a second—and then roared in laughter. Avalain allowed herself to follow suit: after all, the whole situation had been ridiculous, but just as ridiculously entertaining.

Avalain finally allowed herself to look at her father and was shocked to see that he looked amused, of all things.

Rather relieved that he did not appear embarrassed or angry, Avalain merely shook her head and said, "I must admit, the festivities of Dwarves are a thing to behold."

The Dwarves cheered at this and all seized glasses of wine. Over all the commotion, Avalain somehow heard Bofur shout, "I'll drink to that! Who's with me?"

His kinsmen echoed his words and toasted their glasses, seeming very careful to not break the glassware out of respect for Avalain and her father. She looked around, wondering if perhaps there was a spare glass anywhere—

She felt a tap on her arm. Avalain looked the her left to see Fili extending a full glass her direction, a light grin upon his face.

"Truce?" he asked.

Avalain couldn't help but giggle and reply, "Very well, truce."

She took the outstretched goblet and, after taking her cheers, began to drink. Before much longer, Bofur was back on top of the table and was singing more Dwarvish folk songs, and the other Dwarves were clapping and laughing as he did so.

The She-Elf sighed and put a hand to her head, looking in the direction of the High Table. Her father still seemed rather amused, Gandalf appeared exasperated still, and Thorin was looking upon the spectacle with a newfound light in his eyes.

The would-be King caught her gaze, nodded ever so slightly, and raised a glass in her direction. Avalain grinned and returned the gesture, and drank again, ignoring Lindir's protests that she shouldn't get overly inebriated or else she might feel terrible the following morning.

Avalain, however, felt incredibly comfortable. She had been right, after all.

Supper had been a most entertaining affair—and she was certain there would be other wonderful changes coming to Rivendell with their presence in the coming days.