by Elelome
(Did Arwen ever fall for someone else?)
"And who might you be, young one?" the tall handsome Elf said, sweeping his dark hair away from his brow. Arwen took his hand with the accustomed ease of a practiced hostess.
"Arwen Evenstar, and it's a pleasure to meet you," she answered. His eyes went wide.
"Lady Arwen, daughter of the house!" he exclaimed. He lifted her hand to his lips in a graceful gesture. "My apologies...I did not recognize you."
She nodded. "It's no matter. And your name might be...?"
"My friends -- of whom may I count you one? -- call me Daz," he said.
She smiled. "Appropriately enough."
"But my right name is Deran of the House of Thranduil, sister-son to the Woodland Lord. My home was there in Greenwood, but now that I see the beauty here in Rivendell, I may make my decision to delay my Journey West," he said, taking Arwen's elbow and leading them out of the crowd.
"You are journeying, then?" she said, taking a seat on one of the couches. "Why?"
"The Sea calls to me," he said, turning to face the western wall, striking a yearning pose. "I hear it wherever I go, and only here in this house has the call been lessened."
Arwen smiled sadly. "Why does everyone go west? I feel no call."
"You, my lady, are yet young," Daz said, taking a seat beside her. "You have not yet become weary of Middle-earth."
"How could anyone become weary of -- this?" She gestured about the room, filled with laughing Elvish folk.
Daz lifted her hand again. "Believe me when I say that all joys do fade over time." He glanced across the room, and stood suddenly. "I see an old friend, my lady. If you will pardon me...?"
Arwen nodded, he kissed her hand again, briefly, and walked across the room. Watching him go, Arwen felt her heart fluttering. Her hand burned where he had kissed it.
"Could it be...?" she whispered to herself.
