Bright music floated over the grand Halls, the enchanting sound twirling around the tall elegant columns, bouncing on the intricate ceiling which bloomed with waterfalls of the most vibrant red, orange, yellow, and gold leaves. The melodic chatter of a thousand conversing elves seemed to sing along to the joyful waltz, voices tangled into an unintelligible tune. Her eyes gazed dreamily over the splendid celebration, wanting to store every detail into her mind, the sight one she had almost thought forgotten. It had been too long since she had last been at Mirkwood for the Autumn Feast, and somehow this year's celebration seemed grander than ever before.
Everything, from the dry twigs and twisting branches springing on the columns, to the long silk tablecloths, plates, cups and napkins was sparkling in gold, the tones shimmering like the light of a thousand stars, only brightening the sharp reds and oranges of the millions of leaves that had been gathered around the room, either in overflowing bouquets or simply blanketing over the floor. All around her elves moved through the infinite expanse of the King's Halls, dressed in their finest robes, all in different tones of reds, oranges and gold, rubies and pearls begin the most worn jewels of the night, twinkling from nearly every bracelet, every necklace and dripping almost from every female head. The formal structure of the celebration had long ago broken, elves no longer sticking to their previous seating and instead roaming from table to table, some dancing, some pacing, but all of them drinking the most exquisite red wine.
Her honey colored eyes dropped to look at the golden glass sitting on the table in front of her, almost empty by now, her hands absently straightening the folds of her bright orange dress, the fine silk feeling extremely soft under her pale fingers. She could not remember the last time she had worn such a vibrant shade, almost always preferring the more traditional and soft tones of blues, greens and violets commonly used in Mirkwood, but then again it had been a long time since she had attended the Autumn celebration. Her long ashen hair had been perfectly combed and braided, pulled back in a single elegant braid twisted into a large bun, her maid having incrusted hundreds of tiny gold pins in the shape of flowers all over her head.
She sat alone at a table now, her aunt and uncle having gone to join the dancing elves only some minutes ago, but she could not decide whether to stand up and walk around the room for a while or to simply sit there and overlook he spectacle unfolding right in front of her eyes. Curious, she spared a glance in the direction of the High Table that was customarily raised on a small podium, where the Royal Family and a very selective group of elves sat. The King looked as royal and powerful as eve, sitting regally on the throne-like chair placed at the head of the table, his robes in a rich fabric of the most magnificent of golds. And yet, the crown on his head was not his crown of silver leaves but one of twigs shaped in gold, the delicate branches intertwining in the most intricate of patterns over his silvery head. She was quick to find Prince Tadion sitting there too, having moved to the now empty seat to the right of the King, a wide smile on his ever carefree and gentle face as he narrated something quickly. The Princess was there as well, she noticed, watching the stunning delicate figure rising to her feet and heading to join the dancing crowd, her wine colored dress twirling around her like the lightest of clouds.
But her eyes were pulled to another figure at the Royal Table. The figure that no matter how much anyone looked, anyone studied, would ever remain enigmatic, unreadable. He sat to the King's left in perfect silence, not joining in his brother's tale, but merely overlooking at the feast. His long rich robes were sewn in the brightest of scarlets, and even form the distance she could see the many tiny rubies embroidered in golden thread in the pattern of leaves. A golden circlet rested on his head, slightly larger than the one his brother wore, the color of the precious metal blending perfectly with his long blond strands of hair. But it was not his regal appearance what always caught her attention. The Crown Prince had always been the picture of serenity, as if his sole presence would make any elf unquestionably follow his command, but once again it was the impenetrable power in his eyes what intrigued her the most. His forest green irises remained always so unreachable, as hard and cold as the most precious of emeralds yet inexplicably seeming to swirl with so many untouched thoughts, untouched emotions underneath that unbreakable barrier. They seemed to see beyond what her own eyes could, seemed to know so many things that were forever to remain silent, seemed to think faster than she could catch up, and most of all seemed to pierce through others as if they could see right through their very soul. He seemed always so tall, so noble, and at the same time so distant. And still, she believed there was more.
She found it hard to believe that him and Legolas could even be related at all. Legolas had always seemed so open, so welcoming, smiling and talking easily. He had been her best friend while growing up, constantly getting her in trouble with her uncle, and she was sure that had he not been the Prince, her punishments would have been of grater magnitude. And yet, there was still that puzzling misalignment in between the Crown Prince she knew and the one Legolas had spoken about on and on and on when they were elflings. It was strange, the feeling one she could not quite place. She had grown up listening to Legolas telling her tales of an elf that seemed almost the opposite from the Crown Prince she had always seen.
She shook her head slightly, her eyes once again turning to gaze at her half-empty cup. The tune had change, the melody now prancing with the tender music of long elegant flutes. She gazed absently at the dancing elves, twirling and floating all over the vast room, but could no longer spot her uncle and aunt in the crowd.
"Good evening, my Lady." The soft voice startled her, her green stroked eyes immediately flying up to find the source, landing on the tall figure of a dark haired ellon now standing next to her. She had not even heard him approach.
"May I join you?" The ellon's hand motioned gracefully to the empty seat next to her – all chairs in her table were empty really- his dark blue eyes, almost violet, seeming to be looking at her from head to toe. She nodded her head in reply, forcing her lips to curve up in a polite smile, even if she did not really feel like having the ellon's company. And still she allowed herself to study him absently. He wore long elegant robes of a deep sienna, embroidered in gold thread with thousands of tiny pearls, and nudging by his strong yet slender build it was not hard to guess that he must be one of the young warriors.
"I have not seen you around before." The ellon spoke, definitely trying to establish conversation with her, his hand gently placing his own glass of fine red wine on the table, the gentle smile never leaving his face.
"I have not been around for a while." She answered, returned the polite smile, but not giving him too much information. He seemed nice, welcoming, but she did not know why she could not find the interest to really be invested in this conversation, even if it had barely started. The ellon, however, had other ideas.
"That explains it. I am certain I would have remembered a face as beautiful as yours." His dashing smile never left his face, and she surely would have judged him as pretentious had it not been for the kind look in his eyes. And yet, all she did was offer him an equally kind smile in return not adding anything else.
"I am Elhael." He introduced himself, seeming to not be about to settle for her silence, his long strands of ebony hair brushing against his rich robes as he inclined his head slightly.
"It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance, Lord Elhael." She inclined her head gently in return, and yet her polite words somehow managed to make him let out a small chuckle in return.
"Will you not tell me your name, my Lady?" He was looking at her curiously now, his kind violet eyes looking at her as if she was suddenly the most interesting thing he had seen, and still it somehow made her feel more certain that she was not really interested in him in the slightest. True he seemed kind and gentle, somewhat sweet, but he seemed so….so flat, as if that was all there was to him….but still, he was handsome….really handsome.
"I am Indilene." She complied. Even if she was not interested in the conversation she knew her manners, and she would never be as rude as to not offer her name when he had already offered his. Elhael seemed pleased with her answer, smiling brightly at her, and she forced her small smile to look believable.
"Would you dance with me, Lady Indilene?" A pale extended in her direction, expectant, waiting for her to accept the invitation.
"I am a terrible dancer." She lied, throwing him an apologetic look for turning him down. She really did not feel like dancing, she did not feel like having to smile at him and twirl around, pretending to be enjoying herself.
"I see." She felt a pang of guilt at disappointed look in his violet eyes, even if his smile never left his face, only dropping slightly. He knew she was politely turning him down. But to her relief he did not push her, instead he offered her another kind smile before gracefully rising to his feet, his still half-full glass of wine in hand.
"You can always find me if you change your mind." He was optimistic, giving her one last gentle nod of the head before elegantly walking away, his sienna robes swirling silently behind him.
She remained looking at the front, noticing that nearly all of the tables were empty by now, almost all of the elves now dancing merrily. The millions of candles around the room were beginning to burn down, the wax dripping like golden tears, pooling over the tablecloths. The room would be dark soon. It was her favorite part of the Autumn Feast.
Smiling softly to herself, she reached out for the crystal jar left in the center of the table, the many little scraps of parchments lying neatly inside it. What should she write this year? Last time she had been at this feast she barely knew who to write, so this would be her first time adding her own little piece of paper. Her hands gave the intricate silver lid a pull, being pulled away from her wondering mind as the lid would not twist open. She tried again, but no matter how much force she put into it the lid would not open. Who had closed this thing so tightly?! She struggled once more, putting all of her force into it, and nearly jumping in surprise as a slender hand suddenly took the jar from her own straining ones.
She immediately looked up, once again not having heard anyone approach, not letting her eyes betray her utter surprise. She needed to pay more attention to her surroundings. He twisted the lid open with a single fluid motion of the hand, as if it did not require any strength at all, gently placing it back on the table in front of her, the intricate silver lid next to it. She should have said thank you, but instead she found herself being once again completely quiet, watching curiously as he silently pulled a chair back, vibrant scarlet robes dancing elegantly around him as he slowly sat down at her table, not waiting for an invitation. And yet, what made her remain silent, her lips curving up in an invisible knowing smile was the almost predictable way in which he chose a seat two spots away from her, leaving an empty chair in the middle. Close, yet at a distance. She could not tell why, but she found it so amusing, so intriguing, as if even if he appeared always so enigmatic she found his behavior so foreseeable. It had been just like that the last time she had seen him, at the terraces, as if he would allow closeness but not too much of it.
The Crown Prince did not say anything for a while, sitting tall and regal two seats from her, unreadable emerald eyes overlooking at the dancing elves some space ahead, just as she had been doing some minutes before. And once again she felt strangely drawn to his impenetrable eyes, as if she would never know what he was thinking, what he was really looking at. And she did not speak either, not knowing exactly why but as if somehow feeling that he would break the silence when he felt like speaking, that strange intriguing distance always present like a barrier around this elegant, powerful figure.
"You do not have to stay silent." And he did speak. That voice, as serene and royal as his figure, yet as unreadable and gentle as his eyes, the sole sound of it managing to make her stomach twist in a tight mangle of nerves, even if she would never show it.
"You do not have to stay silent either." She replied softly, slowly, even though the words left her mouth before she could really think of them. "Your Highness." She added quickly, having momentarily forgotten his title in her curiosity.
The corner of his mouth curve up in a faint smile, his emerald eyes turning to meet hers for the first time that night, and once again she felt herself being pierced by that impenetrable powerful gaze, as green as the brightest of leaves, so sealed, so composed. She let him look, feeling as he could see right through her own eyes and into her very soul, and for a second she wished it could be the same with him. She had no trouble in letting him see through her, she never had had a problem with letting her thoughts, her very self reachable inside her eyes. What was hiding behind those cautious emerald orbs?
"I thought he would never leave." He spoke again, this time managing a smile to draw on her face, immediately knowing to who he was referring to. Elhael. Had he been watching? And what was he doing? Why was he suddenly sitting here at her table? She did not reply, her eyes almost immediately dropping to her glass of wine, picking it up nervously only to place it back down as she found it empty by now.
Slender fingers slid his exquisite cut crystal glass in her direction, stretching almost his full arm to reach across the empty seat. Her eyes met his for a second, almost hesitant, as if asking for permission she did not need before talking the offered drink in her hands. Nevermind permission or not a drink of the fine wine seemed a necessity at the moment, especially as she felt those unreadable powerful eyes still studying her carefully. She could see his eyes stopping at her wrists, were many bracelets lay clinking against one another as she moved, seeming to be looking at each one of them, making her feel more self-conscious than before.
"Why so many bracelets?" He asked, his voice gentle, curious, his eyes still studying her carefully, as if trying to figure her out.
"I like them." She answered once again before she could even realize it, as if her mind found it so easy to talk to him while at the same time so difficult and fretful. Her eyes dropped once again to her wrists, absently gazing at her many bracelets. She had never really thought about it much, only wearing as many as she liked, being her preferred item of jewelry. She did not know why but she liked to hear them twinkling by her hands….necklaces and rings had never really been her thing. .
He did not question her further about the bracelets, and odd smile, as unreadable as is piercing faze, drawing on his handsome face. Instead, he gracefully reached for the now opened jar in the center of the table, silently picking out one of the many little parchments and one of the tiny, thin pieces of graphite that had been sitting in a neat line around the jar. She watched for a moment, the sound of the flutes and the joyful chatter seemingly forgotten as her eyes carefully observed his hand holding the graphite to the paper, starting to trace something in an elegant slanted calligraphy. And then, his eyes flew to hers once more, as if he could somehow feel her gaze on him, emerald irises as impenetrable and unreadable as before, and yet gleaming with the hint of an invisible grin.
"Are you attempting to read what I write?" His voice seemed to mock her, yet his face remained as calmed as ever, his hand suddenly flying to cover up the little piece of paper, and for a second she felt like an elfling being caught doings mischief. Elves are not supposed to share what you write for the Autumn Feast, their hopes for the comings Spring.
"No." She replied almost too quickly, kicking herself silently as her quick reply obviously contradicted her words. And the knowing grin that drew on his flawless face told her that he had easily picked up her lie. "Besides, my Lord, it is not as if anyone could possibly read all the way up there." She added quickly, as if trying to offer false proof that her answer had been the truth, her hand gently motioning across the empty seat left in between the two, and oh Valar she was thankful that elves did not blush for her face would have been as scarlet as his robes.
The Crown Prince raised one eyebrow, the expression suddenly making him resemble the King more than ever. And then, contrary to whichever words she was expecting as a reaction, he moved. Silently, slowly, he rose to his feet, every move so effortless, so fluid and elegant, one hand pulling back the seat that had been empty in between the two of them and peacefully sitting down there, now right next to her. And she could not exactly tell why, but that small insignificant action suddenly made a welcoming warmth fill her heart, making her feel more comfortable than she had a few seconds ago. She did not know him much– by the Valar he was the Crown Prince, of course no one really knew him- but if there was one thing she had learned from the only two times she had interacted with him was that he liked his distance, always so cautious, so calculating, so…royal. And now he was so close.
Curious, more than ever, her eyes once again traveled to the little parchment in front of him, his hand suddenly flying faster than her gaze and falling right on top of it once more.
"Stop trying to read it." He added, a small smile still present on his face, a smile that she could not quite read, that piercing emerald gaze still fixed on her. And then, unexpectedly he removed his hand from the parchment, her curious eyes flying to it once more only to find….
"That is not even writing!" She exclaimed before she could stop herself, a round of laughter leaving her mouth at the squiggly random lines that were traced over the little piece of paper. She had been so curious, and the parchment had had nothing written on it.
Once again he did not say anything, only letting out a soft laugh, the sound feeling odd to her, yet refreshing, like the soft breeze of spring after a long merciless winter. It was a real laugh, not one of his kind and well-practiced smiles, and for a second, a too short second in her opinion, his eyes softened, the hard stunning emerald shell breaking momentarily, suddenly swirling in liquid green. So there was more to him.
"Does the King know that you will ceremoniously burn a parchment with nothing written on it?" She spoke, as if her soul wanted nothing more than to keep speaking to him, keep getting a reaction, a smile, perhaps another laugh, even if her mind was still wracking with nerves. "Your Highness." She added quickly once more, forgetting again that he was still the Crown Prince and she needed to address him thus. And yet the small, almost shy smile never left his face.
"I will eventually write something for the burning." His voice was a soft as his eyes as he spoke, one of his hands waving away at her at the mention of his title, as if right now he did not really care. "What will you write this year?"
"I believed you were not supposed to share that." One of her hands reached for the jar, picking up a piece of paper and a graphite, narrowing her eyes lightly at him. Why was it so easy to talk to him, so natural, and at the same time so hard? "This is the first time I will write something."
That seemed to get a reaction from him, his eyes looking at her curiously, for the first time not seeming the tall and powerful Crown Prince he was, but merely an elf, just like any other, just like her. "This is you first time attending this feast?"
"I attended a couple of times before, but I did not know how to write then." And ironically now that she could write, she did not know what to write.
"In that case you should really think about what you will write, you want it to be something meaningful." He said softly, emerald eyes looking at her carefully, deeply, once again making her feel as if he could see directly into her very self, so very unreadable, yet not so unreachable this time.
"As meaningful as what you have written, my Lord?" She let out a chuckle, not yet being able to look away from those consuming forest green eyes, one hand silently gesturing to the little parchment that lay forgotten in front of him, full of wiggly random lines. And there it was again, that carefree refreshing laugh, the one that momentarily broke his façade and reached his eyes with a gleaming light.
"Perhaps this does have meaning to me. How would you know if it does or does not?" He questioned her in between his quiet laugh.
"That is not writing!" Now it was her turn to laugh, shaking her head lightly at his words. All around the room the candles had slowly begun to burn out, the gran halls now darker than before, with only a few flames still dancing weakly.
"And who says it cannot be meaningful if it is not writing? Perhaps I do understand what it says here." His voice was as calmed as before, yet somehow different, more….real, less authoritative. He was making her doubt herself now, he was playing her again…or was he telling the truth?
"Very well." She said, her hand suddenly running over her own piece of parchment, tracing a bunch of random lines herself before putting the graphite down upon the golden tablecloth. "There. I wrote something meaningful too."
"No, you did not." His eyes sparkled with the ghosting smirk on his lips, a hand reaching for the glass of wine before taking a small sip from it, this time making both of her delicate eyebrows rise.
"Perhaps I did." Why could she not sound as convincing as he did? She had always been such a bad liar.
"No." The smirk never left his face as he spoke, and although mocking her it was also gentle, once again so real. Was he letting some of his barriers down? "You merely did that to mock mine, therefore it is not really meaningful to you. But mine still could mean something to me, and you would not know."
"Well, does it?" She asked doubtfully, suddenly not knowing whether or not he was telling the truth or simply playing her once more. And for a long moment his eyes met hers, once again piercing to her and seeming to make it impossible for her to look away, unreadable, yet suddenly welcoming, like warm liquid emeralds swirling into and endless abyss.
"No." He spoke finally, casually, shaking his head lightly, as her eyes widened slightly in both surprise and exasperation.
"Arahaelon!" She spoke before she could realize what she had just said, her heart suddenly stopping momentarily as her eyes widened. She had overstepped a line, now she was sure of it. She had always called Legolas merely by his name, but because they had grown together when elflings, but that did not give her the right to address any other royal so improperly.
She mentally kicked herself. It had taken that word, that careless informal address for the Crown Prince to suddenly stiffen slightly next to her. Her heart constricted painfully but she did not speak, did not dare move, it was as if suddenly all that openness, that warm and welcoming aura around him had been quickly replaced by the tall and strong Crown Prince façade once more. His emerald eyes continued to look at her, not moving an inch, and yet they were once more so impenetrable, so unreachable, and she froze under his gaze, wishing more than anything that she could see what he was thinking at this precise moment.
She should have guessed this reaction. It was always the same, as if whenever anyone got close enough he pulled away. He had done that before. She should have known. He had been speaking to her so casually before, even laughing, but she had to ruin it by stepping over an invisible line, the line she knew he did not like crossed. And it hurt, even if she did not show it, even if she stayed as silent and unmoving as he was, waiting patiently for him to speak first, to either leave or chastise her for addressing him by his given name. And it hurt more for she somehow, not really knowing exactly how, understood that for him titles meant distance, meant that she was talking to the Crown Prince, whereas his name…his name meant him, that part of him that seemed so very concealed….but why? And yet, more than that, more than everything, what hurt the most was the fact that she had felt it, only moments ago, that tingling, that awakening, in her spirit that seemed to pull her to his, ever so barely, so weak, but it had been there. But she would never really reach him…he would not let her.
All around them the ample room was dark, all of the candles having burned out, and she could hear the sound of excited footsteps reaching towards the halls many tall doors and into the moonlit gardens outside, leaving the room in silence, a silence that had never felt has haunting, as hollow as it did now.
"I must go." He spoke, his voice low, barely even audible, even though his tall posture did not relax, and yet, more than distant, he sounded confused, as if debating something with himself. His lips curved up into a smile as he slowly rose to his feet, but this one never reached his eyes, his hand absently picking up the piece of paper with his squiggly lines from the table. She nodded silently, finding nothing she could really say now. Of course he needed to leave, he needed to be at the front with his father for the burning. And that moment had come at such an opportune time…
She sat there for a while, watching his back as he gracefully walked out of the room, following the crowd of elves, scarlet robes trailing softly behind him. She followed shortly after, her mind reminding her to try and find her aunt and uncle, but deciding against it. The last thing she felt like now was to have company. She walked absently through the gardens and towards the long riverbank, looking but not really seeing at the crowd of elves that walked merrily around her, some of the few elflings pulling impatiently at their parents' hands to walk faster.
She stopped when the crowd did, eyes looking up to fid, as expected, the King standing regal and tall by the water's edge, holding in his hand the only flaming candle left, the orange light sparkling gorgeously on his long formal golden robes. He was there, next to his father, his brother Tadion and sister Lossenel standing next to him as well. The crowd fell silent as the King spoke but she did not really pay attention to what he said, only watching as the Elvenking moved the candle towards the Crown Prince, the latter gently setting the piece of paper in flames before dropping it in a little silver tray, hands placing softly over the water, letting the gentle current wash it away. Prince Tadion followed closely behind, and then the Princess, and then once by one all of the elves in the crowd approached their King, more and more parchments going into flames, the rives now alive with thousands of dancing flickering lights swirling down the current. She did not approach the King, she had written nothing to burn. And secretly only she knew that neither had the Crown Prince, the piece of parchment that he had burned ceremoniously with supposed hopes and wishes for the coming Spring containing nothing but a bunch of random lines.
All around her the crowd was chatting joyfully again, smiles adorning every single face, and she copied them, watching as they moved around, some going towards the King, others away from him to give space to those who had yet to burn their parchments, while other simply sat by the river's edge. A hand touched her shoulder, making her immediately turn around, only to be petrified by a pair of large emerald eyes, and for the first time, now standing up she noticed just how tall he was, standing nearly a full head above her.
"My Lord." She said, nit finding any other words, but he stopped her by elegantly raising a hand, deep emerald eyes still looking intently at hers, appearing slightly confused, eyes unreadable, as if trying to make some sort of decision.
"Arahaelon is fine." He spoke, lips curving up in the faintest of smiles, but this time it reached his eyes. He did not say anything else, simply turning around and once again walking through the crowd of moving elves to where the King stood, joining his siblings in the center of the ceremony…
So here is chapter 3! I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!
Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter: Teddy2104, mMy, and my guest reviewer. This chapter is dedicated to you!
Also this story is dedicated for Martine9295, thank you for being so amazing!
Love,
Elena