AN: I don't own any of these characters. I am merely borrowing them from Tolkien.
Advent Day 13.
Fancy clothes.
The room swirled in colour. From the softest of dove grey to the brightest of holly red. Light danced from a multitude of candles and cut jewels. The smell of wood smoke and pine filled the air.
Thorin smiled as a small fauntling ran into his shins, he gently steadied the child and turning it about he pointed in the direction of its friends.
The halls of Erebor had never seen a gathering as grand as this. Dwarves, elves, hobbits and humans all mingled. There were even a couple of wizards dotted about if you looked closely.
The walls were decorated in full Yule finery and the tables groaned under a mountain of food, even as the musicians picked up a lively tune.
Hobbit lads and lasses spun to dance a jig. The lads all in a patchwork of the colours of autumn leaves. Their cord like trousers, brass edged buttons and smart patchwork waistcoats shone in a field of bronze, brown and mustard yellow. The lasses with glowing curls caught in ribbons, bright spots of colour. White petticoats flashed as skirts and ribbons of holly green embroidered with robin red, or holly red edged with yew green floated in the dance.
Dwarven folk milled around in heavy furs, jewel dark coats of rich velvet gleamed softly in the gentle light. While subtle gems and metals glinted in sympathetic harmony as they lent their voices to song or their booted feet to dance.
The woodland elves, all in shades of the palest green, in the softest material laughed clear and joyful from their perches. While their cousins from Rivendell, in shades of the gentlest blue linked arms to sway softly with the music. Her Ladyship and her granddaughter, all royalty forgotten joined in the dance in a swirl of pale lace and clear gems, golden and dark hair flying. As her kin lined the walls in silver edged cream.
The Men of dale, were a patch work of colour where they sat enjoying the night at a table. The females with hair done up into scarves of hues of the merriest flame, skirts and corsets darkening with age. The males in shades of the darkest blue to the brightest sky hues, flashes of red depending on family.
Thorin smiled again as his hobbit trotted up to him. The fabric of his clothes may have been different to his kin, and he may have a chain around his neck, but he shone bronze and burnt umber in the candle light. Thorin adjusted the collar of his fur lined Durin blue velvet and offered his had to the hobbit to take.
AN: What do you think then? I love to hear your thoughts.