RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
11.
"Is he of noble blood?"
Of course Elrond would ask this. Legolas should have been prepared for it, but he had not been thinking. "Dimnarion remembers not his lineage. Thus I cannot truthfully answer your question."
"Prince Legolas, Elenath sits in direct line to the throne of Rivendell, though there are four who would precede her by her own request. She is of the age to consider marriage, but she must find an appropriate mate – one of high rank and royal bearing. One who would be willing to join her here at Rivendell."
"I understand," said the prince, beginning to back away with his head bowed slightly.
"Dimnarion is of high rank, is he not?" Elrond stopped him. "To be the prince's body guard, he must have won your father's favor…"
"Of course, my lord. In Mirkwood, he is considered a Noble. He has fought bravely alongside our warriors in many a battle and has an entire battalion of Elves beneath him."
For a moment, Elrond did not speak. He thought. How many years had he searched for a suitable husband for Elenath with no fruit for all of his efforts? His own nobles were far too familiar with her, treating her as a sister, or worse, as a fellow warrior. Others were intimidated by her powerful presence. But Dimnarion… that Elf had a powerful presence of his own. Maybe… just maybe…. "He knows how to behave in the presence of a Lady?"
"Indeed, Lord Elrond! You need not insult him. Did you not see how he bore himself when your granddaughter threatened his very life?"
Ah, yes. There was that matter. Had it been an after-effect of the poison or the guidance of Calmakil that prompted Elenath to draw her Sword on him? Elrond thoughtfully stroked his chin and regarded Legolas with a judicious gaze. "That I did. But I also heard him threaten her at the Council of the Sword, refusing to offer his support."
"And for that I must humbly apologize, my lord." Dimnarion entered the room, bowing as he neared. "Please. I spoke hastily at the council. And I ask not for her hand; only for this one night to be by her side."
Elrond's eyebrows shot up at these words. "Indeed!" Something about this Elf, though he was seemingly kind and well intentioned, rang a false note in his heart. However, he could not place it. "Tell me, Dimnarion, why the sudden interest in my granddaughter?"
"She is lovely to behold, my lord, and it has been many long years since I spent any time in the company of such a creature." Earnestly, he looked into Elrond's eyes. "My heart is drawn to her. For what reason I know not."
"Very well," said Elrond at last. "Very well. But you shall not take her from my sight."
Nodding, the warrior smiled warmly. "It shall be as you say. Thank you." Then turning away, he allowed the smile to melt into a wicked grin. Of course the princess would not be able to resist his charms. Had any female of any race ever been able to do so? No. They melted like putty in his arms. And this, he knew, would be the sweetest conquest of them all.
***
Elenath had to admit that the Elf who arrived at her chamber door to escort her to the feast was handsome; more than handsome, perhaps. His thick, straight hair hung down upon his broad shoulders, and his eyes seemed to reflect the green of the forest. He was richly dressed, though no crown graced his head, and he greeted her with a bouquet of wildflowers, "Though they are not half so lovely as you, my lady."
She looked up at him, into those green eyes and smiled. "My grandfather never ceases to surprise me. I had wondered who he would send this night." In an uncharacteristically shy gesture, she looked away for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I… I suppose I owe you an apology, Dimnarion, for last night."
Merriment shown in his eyes and he laughed. "No apology is necessary. You were not yourself, Princess. And it is not often that one is held at sword point by a beautiful lady. If I had not feared for my life, I might have quite enjoyed it."
Taking the flowers from him, she turned away and placed them in a vase. "You are too kind, my lord."
"Come," he said softly, "Your grandfather awaits."
And so it went throughout the night. Dimnarion was the perfect gentleman, even when Elenath was not so much the perfect lady. He laughed with her as she made mischief with Rivendell's warriors and helped her to hide the evidence from her grandfather. Dance after dance, he led her gently across the floor, never daring to overstep his bounds, and when she tired, he sat with her and told his favorite tales of Mirkwood.
By the end of the evening, it seemed, he had gained her trust, and as he bid her good night at the doors of the great hall, she stood on tiptoe to lightly kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Dimnarion. I had a lovely time."
"It is I who should thank you, my lady. It was an honor to escort you."
She could only smile at him and turn away, confusion rising in her as she retreated to her chambers. He was everything she had ever hoped for in a mate. Why, then, did her heart warn her to be cautious? And why did the Sword burn her each time he came near? These questions were almost as confusing as the feelings she had each time the Prince of Mirkwood had come near to her. Shaking her head, she sat down and looked out into the Wood into the dark. "I thought I was beyond all this," she said to no one in particular. "But apparently I am not."
DISCLAIMER: The characters from Lord of the Rings and their wonderful world are borrowed from J.R.R. Tolkien. The plotline and all other characters are copyright 2002 Emily (emi_kins@yahoo.com)
11.
"Is he of noble blood?"
Of course Elrond would ask this. Legolas should have been prepared for it, but he had not been thinking. "Dimnarion remembers not his lineage. Thus I cannot truthfully answer your question."
"Prince Legolas, Elenath sits in direct line to the throne of Rivendell, though there are four who would precede her by her own request. She is of the age to consider marriage, but she must find an appropriate mate – one of high rank and royal bearing. One who would be willing to join her here at Rivendell."
"I understand," said the prince, beginning to back away with his head bowed slightly.
"Dimnarion is of high rank, is he not?" Elrond stopped him. "To be the prince's body guard, he must have won your father's favor…"
"Of course, my lord. In Mirkwood, he is considered a Noble. He has fought bravely alongside our warriors in many a battle and has an entire battalion of Elves beneath him."
For a moment, Elrond did not speak. He thought. How many years had he searched for a suitable husband for Elenath with no fruit for all of his efforts? His own nobles were far too familiar with her, treating her as a sister, or worse, as a fellow warrior. Others were intimidated by her powerful presence. But Dimnarion… that Elf had a powerful presence of his own. Maybe… just maybe…. "He knows how to behave in the presence of a Lady?"
"Indeed, Lord Elrond! You need not insult him. Did you not see how he bore himself when your granddaughter threatened his very life?"
Ah, yes. There was that matter. Had it been an after-effect of the poison or the guidance of Calmakil that prompted Elenath to draw her Sword on him? Elrond thoughtfully stroked his chin and regarded Legolas with a judicious gaze. "That I did. But I also heard him threaten her at the Council of the Sword, refusing to offer his support."
"And for that I must humbly apologize, my lord." Dimnarion entered the room, bowing as he neared. "Please. I spoke hastily at the council. And I ask not for her hand; only for this one night to be by her side."
Elrond's eyebrows shot up at these words. "Indeed!" Something about this Elf, though he was seemingly kind and well intentioned, rang a false note in his heart. However, he could not place it. "Tell me, Dimnarion, why the sudden interest in my granddaughter?"
"She is lovely to behold, my lord, and it has been many long years since I spent any time in the company of such a creature." Earnestly, he looked into Elrond's eyes. "My heart is drawn to her. For what reason I know not."
"Very well," said Elrond at last. "Very well. But you shall not take her from my sight."
Nodding, the warrior smiled warmly. "It shall be as you say. Thank you." Then turning away, he allowed the smile to melt into a wicked grin. Of course the princess would not be able to resist his charms. Had any female of any race ever been able to do so? No. They melted like putty in his arms. And this, he knew, would be the sweetest conquest of them all.
***
Elenath had to admit that the Elf who arrived at her chamber door to escort her to the feast was handsome; more than handsome, perhaps. His thick, straight hair hung down upon his broad shoulders, and his eyes seemed to reflect the green of the forest. He was richly dressed, though no crown graced his head, and he greeted her with a bouquet of wildflowers, "Though they are not half so lovely as you, my lady."
She looked up at him, into those green eyes and smiled. "My grandfather never ceases to surprise me. I had wondered who he would send this night." In an uncharacteristically shy gesture, she looked away for a moment, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I… I suppose I owe you an apology, Dimnarion, for last night."
Merriment shown in his eyes and he laughed. "No apology is necessary. You were not yourself, Princess. And it is not often that one is held at sword point by a beautiful lady. If I had not feared for my life, I might have quite enjoyed it."
Taking the flowers from him, she turned away and placed them in a vase. "You are too kind, my lord."
"Come," he said softly, "Your grandfather awaits."
And so it went throughout the night. Dimnarion was the perfect gentleman, even when Elenath was not so much the perfect lady. He laughed with her as she made mischief with Rivendell's warriors and helped her to hide the evidence from her grandfather. Dance after dance, he led her gently across the floor, never daring to overstep his bounds, and when she tired, he sat with her and told his favorite tales of Mirkwood.
By the end of the evening, it seemed, he had gained her trust, and as he bid her good night at the doors of the great hall, she stood on tiptoe to lightly kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Dimnarion. I had a lovely time."
"It is I who should thank you, my lady. It was an honor to escort you."
She could only smile at him and turn away, confusion rising in her as she retreated to her chambers. He was everything she had ever hoped for in a mate. Why, then, did her heart warn her to be cautious? And why did the Sword burn her each time he came near? These questions were almost as confusing as the feelings she had each time the Prince of Mirkwood had come near to her. Shaking her head, she sat down and looked out into the Wood into the dark. "I thought I was beyond all this," she said to no one in particular. "But apparently I am not."
