The Feast
"I've been here for almost a month, yet Mirkwood still insists on a Welcoming Feast? Although it is extremely kind, and very thoughtful, it is quite belated…and honestly, I have no intention of prancing around like a fool in a gown, am I making myself clear?" Alakdaliel's stance was regal and demanding, not one most would care to dabble with, but the woman before her paid no head to what she had said.
"You are quite clear, but you will go to the feast. And although you have every intention on sulking in your room like a half-wit, I, on the other hand, have every intention on dragging you along with me. I will not see you mope about in your room everytime a celebration is held. Why do you insist on secluding yourself so?"
"I do not seclude myself." Alakdaliel tried desperately to keep the wine out of her voice, and the pout off her face. Somehow Chariste always managed to make her feel lower in her presence. Though a mere noble, and far from a royal status, Chariste had the ability to force Alakdaliel to abide to her. And, as much as Alakdaliel hated to admit it, she admired her for it. For years the Princess had been trying to do the same thing to her subjects, but all she received were sullen looks.
Giving Chariste a patronizing look, she let a grin reach her face as she saw Alakdaliel give in. "Very well then. I will be by in an hour. I suggest you wear something…more suitable than that piece of rag you are wearing. Perhaps…" Chariste made her way to the beau, searching with arms frailing like a wild cat. Suddenly her head shot up sharply, her eyes gleaming. Spinning to meet Alakdaliel's quite fearful gaze, a mischievous smirk swallowed her face. "This will do." And without another word, she walked out of the room, shoulders high, and back straight.
"Fine then!" Alakdaliel's voice was cut off by the slam of the door, echoing through out her empty chambers. Sighing, she fell onto the bed, her back bouncing slightly from the cushion. It had been almost two new moons since Archwood's citizens had arrived at Mirkwood, but still she felt no more welcome than a dwarf would be. Of course she had been treated with the utmost respect, one that only a royal such as herself would receive. But something was missing. She was given no welcoming smiles, no kind words. In fact, none other than palace officials talked to her, and few would make eye contact. Did she really look so intimidating? Why were people afraid of her so?
Glancing at herself in the mirror, she surveyed her image. It seemed more innocent than freighting. Her blue eyes shimmering with light, something that had not been there in the previous weeks. Her extremely long eyelashes protruded outward, rounding her eyes, similar to the moon. Her long golden hair reached to the mid of her back, slightly curled. She was short, even by men's standards. Reaching no more than five feet, she never looked down to an elf. Her height made her vulnerable, but her stance made up for it. Yet, why could no one approach her? She would make an effort tonight to be more…welcoming.
Standing up from the bed, she held up the gown Chariste had picked. Her eyes widening with surprise, Alakdaliel shook her head. She could not wear this in public! The dress was full length, a shocking red with small diamond studs broached around the hem. Though it was beautiful, it was anything but modest. The neckline was cut low…well more than low. It looked as if a weight was dragging it downward…and downward, and downward. Knowing she could not refuse Chariste's…request, Alakdaliel began to dress, pulling on the tight fitting gown.
After she had the dress thoroughly tied on, and she found some breathing room (something that proved to be very difficult) she combed through her hair. Deciding she would leave it down, she tied two small braids at the sides of her head, wrapping it around to the back, creating a crown affect. Tying bits of red petals through out the top, the perfume reached her nose, smelling of roses and wildlife. There was only one thing left to do. Go to the feast.
* * * 30 minutes later * * *
A knock at the door interrupted Alakdaliel's thoughts. "Who's there?" She called, wondering who had come to visit her.
"Chariste. Open your door." Came a soft, though demanding voice.
"What could this be?" Alakdaliel questioned, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. "Did you learn some manners, and did you just…." She let out a shocked breath. "Did you just knock at my door? Surely it is someone else. I do not recall a maiden who carries your name so polite."
"Do not folly words with me, Alakdaliel. The feast is already begun. Let us be going." Sighing, she opened the door and made her way down the stairs, toward the Great Hall.
"I don't suppose there's any turning back now?" Alakdaliel said, trying to bring humor to the heavy atmosphere. Chariste looked solemn and serious.
"None whatsoever. Hold up your gown, or it will tear." Alakdaliel furrowed her eyebrows. She had never seen Chariste so grim before. Her grave eyes never left the space in front of her, but her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Reaching the door, Alakdaliel shook her head, dismissing the dark thoughts.
The feast was astounding. Lights hung around the marble pillars, swinging in the slight breeze that was rafting about so high. Flutes played lively music in a secluded corner, where elves danced with grace, delight weighing heavily on them. The tables were extravagant. Food was piled high at the centers, elves already eyeing them lustfully. Separating herself from Chariste, Alakdaliel made her way to her seat at the royal table. With a welcoming toast, and an ear shattering cheer, the feast began. Full of joy and happiness, Alakdaliel never felt so carefree. Though she felt the absence of her mother and father at her side, she was filled with the presence of others around her.
Looking around for Chariste, who was nowhere to be seen, Alakdaliel was startled when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Twisting in her chair, she saw Daren, smiling down at her, laughter resonating in his features.
"Milady, I have not the ability to take my eyes off you. Perhaps you would do me the pleasure of a dance?" Taking his outstretched hand, she rose from her chair.
"How can I refuse such a kind offer, My Lord?" Her grinned at her and the two walked on to the dance floor. The music had slowed, so they started into a leisurely waltz. When the music stopped, she curtseyed and he returned it with a bow.
" I thank you, Princess. You have made this feast one I shan't forget." With that he turned on his heel, lost into the crowd. Before she could return to her seat, another hand reached her arm.
"Lady, I've been searching for a dance. Perhaps you could assist me?" It was Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. His eyes shown bright with mischief. Taking his hand, she grinned.
"I will try, My Prince, but I have been known for having two right feet." Alakdaliel shifted her weight.
"Not to worry, Lady. Follow me." Doing as she was told, the reached the middle of the dance floor. The music began again, and the two lost themselves in the sea of elves. The song was fast and heavy, requiring strong steps and harsh movements. Closing her eyes, she followed Legolas, unaware of her surroundings.
"How fares your stay in Mirkwood?" His voice was serious. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find them whirling around the room. Legolas danced with speed and agility. Catching her breath, she swallowed deeply.
"Well. I am enjoying it." She wished not to talk about such matters, and Legolas did not press it. Spinning her around on his arm, she laughed.
"You like this dance, Lady?" His eyes were innocent, but suggested he knew more.
"Very much so, My Lord. You are a wonderful dancer." She replied.
"As are you. It seems to me you have the right amount of feet to me…" He glanced down at her toes. She laughed again, amazed at how carefree the Prince could be. "You are doing well with the bow".
"I would hope so. With the fabled Prince of Mirkwood instructing me it could not be anything but." This time it was his turn to laugh.
"'Tis true." His eyes shifted gears quickly, however, focusing on Daren at the corner of the room. "I was surprised to see you dancing with him. I thought you would have held a grudge against his…recent behavior." He turned back to her.
"Nay, I am a forgiving person. It was you that dubbed him ill, was it not?" He nodded his head. The beat of the music sped up, the dance becoming more seductive. Swallowing deeply, Alakdaliel forced herself to remain focused on the steps, rather than the vivid movements of her partner. Her blood was boiling. It was at that point that Alakdaliel noticed the servere difference of height between the two. He was foot and a half taller than her. She barley reached his broad shoulders. Tightening her grip on his arm, she felt him shiver. Did he feel the beat of the song swaying his emotions also?
Abruptly the music stopped. Daren was at the head of the Hall, ready to make an announcement. Breaking apart from each other, the two swallowed hard.
"On behalf of the royal guard, I would like to challenge all who enlist to a duel, the reward being a kiss from the Fair Princess of Archwood. Does the Lady consent?" He gave her a deadly smile.
Feeling her face go red, Alakdaliel gave a barley visible nod, the flush crawling up her ears.
"Let the games begin!"
REVIEWWWWW!! I know, a lot of dialogue in this chapter. I have some great ideas for upcoming parts….but PLEASE review!
"I've been here for almost a month, yet Mirkwood still insists on a Welcoming Feast? Although it is extremely kind, and very thoughtful, it is quite belated…and honestly, I have no intention of prancing around like a fool in a gown, am I making myself clear?" Alakdaliel's stance was regal and demanding, not one most would care to dabble with, but the woman before her paid no head to what she had said.
"You are quite clear, but you will go to the feast. And although you have every intention on sulking in your room like a half-wit, I, on the other hand, have every intention on dragging you along with me. I will not see you mope about in your room everytime a celebration is held. Why do you insist on secluding yourself so?"
"I do not seclude myself." Alakdaliel tried desperately to keep the wine out of her voice, and the pout off her face. Somehow Chariste always managed to make her feel lower in her presence. Though a mere noble, and far from a royal status, Chariste had the ability to force Alakdaliel to abide to her. And, as much as Alakdaliel hated to admit it, she admired her for it. For years the Princess had been trying to do the same thing to her subjects, but all she received were sullen looks.
Giving Chariste a patronizing look, she let a grin reach her face as she saw Alakdaliel give in. "Very well then. I will be by in an hour. I suggest you wear something…more suitable than that piece of rag you are wearing. Perhaps…" Chariste made her way to the beau, searching with arms frailing like a wild cat. Suddenly her head shot up sharply, her eyes gleaming. Spinning to meet Alakdaliel's quite fearful gaze, a mischievous smirk swallowed her face. "This will do." And without another word, she walked out of the room, shoulders high, and back straight.
"Fine then!" Alakdaliel's voice was cut off by the slam of the door, echoing through out her empty chambers. Sighing, she fell onto the bed, her back bouncing slightly from the cushion. It had been almost two new moons since Archwood's citizens had arrived at Mirkwood, but still she felt no more welcome than a dwarf would be. Of course she had been treated with the utmost respect, one that only a royal such as herself would receive. But something was missing. She was given no welcoming smiles, no kind words. In fact, none other than palace officials talked to her, and few would make eye contact. Did she really look so intimidating? Why were people afraid of her so?
Glancing at herself in the mirror, she surveyed her image. It seemed more innocent than freighting. Her blue eyes shimmering with light, something that had not been there in the previous weeks. Her extremely long eyelashes protruded outward, rounding her eyes, similar to the moon. Her long golden hair reached to the mid of her back, slightly curled. She was short, even by men's standards. Reaching no more than five feet, she never looked down to an elf. Her height made her vulnerable, but her stance made up for it. Yet, why could no one approach her? She would make an effort tonight to be more…welcoming.
Standing up from the bed, she held up the gown Chariste had picked. Her eyes widening with surprise, Alakdaliel shook her head. She could not wear this in public! The dress was full length, a shocking red with small diamond studs broached around the hem. Though it was beautiful, it was anything but modest. The neckline was cut low…well more than low. It looked as if a weight was dragging it downward…and downward, and downward. Knowing she could not refuse Chariste's…request, Alakdaliel began to dress, pulling on the tight fitting gown.
After she had the dress thoroughly tied on, and she found some breathing room (something that proved to be very difficult) she combed through her hair. Deciding she would leave it down, she tied two small braids at the sides of her head, wrapping it around to the back, creating a crown affect. Tying bits of red petals through out the top, the perfume reached her nose, smelling of roses and wildlife. There was only one thing left to do. Go to the feast.
* * * 30 minutes later * * *
A knock at the door interrupted Alakdaliel's thoughts. "Who's there?" She called, wondering who had come to visit her.
"Chariste. Open your door." Came a soft, though demanding voice.
"What could this be?" Alakdaliel questioned, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. "Did you learn some manners, and did you just…." She let out a shocked breath. "Did you just knock at my door? Surely it is someone else. I do not recall a maiden who carries your name so polite."
"Do not folly words with me, Alakdaliel. The feast is already begun. Let us be going." Sighing, she opened the door and made her way down the stairs, toward the Great Hall.
"I don't suppose there's any turning back now?" Alakdaliel said, trying to bring humor to the heavy atmosphere. Chariste looked solemn and serious.
"None whatsoever. Hold up your gown, or it will tear." Alakdaliel furrowed her eyebrows. She had never seen Chariste so grim before. Her grave eyes never left the space in front of her, but her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Reaching the door, Alakdaliel shook her head, dismissing the dark thoughts.
The feast was astounding. Lights hung around the marble pillars, swinging in the slight breeze that was rafting about so high. Flutes played lively music in a secluded corner, where elves danced with grace, delight weighing heavily on them. The tables were extravagant. Food was piled high at the centers, elves already eyeing them lustfully. Separating herself from Chariste, Alakdaliel made her way to her seat at the royal table. With a welcoming toast, and an ear shattering cheer, the feast began. Full of joy and happiness, Alakdaliel never felt so carefree. Though she felt the absence of her mother and father at her side, she was filled with the presence of others around her.
Looking around for Chariste, who was nowhere to be seen, Alakdaliel was startled when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Twisting in her chair, she saw Daren, smiling down at her, laughter resonating in his features.
"Milady, I have not the ability to take my eyes off you. Perhaps you would do me the pleasure of a dance?" Taking his outstretched hand, she rose from her chair.
"How can I refuse such a kind offer, My Lord?" Her grinned at her and the two walked on to the dance floor. The music had slowed, so they started into a leisurely waltz. When the music stopped, she curtseyed and he returned it with a bow.
" I thank you, Princess. You have made this feast one I shan't forget." With that he turned on his heel, lost into the crowd. Before she could return to her seat, another hand reached her arm.
"Lady, I've been searching for a dance. Perhaps you could assist me?" It was Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. His eyes shown bright with mischief. Taking his hand, she grinned.
"I will try, My Prince, but I have been known for having two right feet." Alakdaliel shifted her weight.
"Not to worry, Lady. Follow me." Doing as she was told, the reached the middle of the dance floor. The music began again, and the two lost themselves in the sea of elves. The song was fast and heavy, requiring strong steps and harsh movements. Closing her eyes, she followed Legolas, unaware of her surroundings.
"How fares your stay in Mirkwood?" His voice was serious. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find them whirling around the room. Legolas danced with speed and agility. Catching her breath, she swallowed deeply.
"Well. I am enjoying it." She wished not to talk about such matters, and Legolas did not press it. Spinning her around on his arm, she laughed.
"You like this dance, Lady?" His eyes were innocent, but suggested he knew more.
"Very much so, My Lord. You are a wonderful dancer." She replied.
"As are you. It seems to me you have the right amount of feet to me…" He glanced down at her toes. She laughed again, amazed at how carefree the Prince could be. "You are doing well with the bow".
"I would hope so. With the fabled Prince of Mirkwood instructing me it could not be anything but." This time it was his turn to laugh.
"'Tis true." His eyes shifted gears quickly, however, focusing on Daren at the corner of the room. "I was surprised to see you dancing with him. I thought you would have held a grudge against his…recent behavior." He turned back to her.
"Nay, I am a forgiving person. It was you that dubbed him ill, was it not?" He nodded his head. The beat of the music sped up, the dance becoming more seductive. Swallowing deeply, Alakdaliel forced herself to remain focused on the steps, rather than the vivid movements of her partner. Her blood was boiling. It was at that point that Alakdaliel noticed the servere difference of height between the two. He was foot and a half taller than her. She barley reached his broad shoulders. Tightening her grip on his arm, she felt him shiver. Did he feel the beat of the song swaying his emotions also?
Abruptly the music stopped. Daren was at the head of the Hall, ready to make an announcement. Breaking apart from each other, the two swallowed hard.
"On behalf of the royal guard, I would like to challenge all who enlist to a duel, the reward being a kiss from the Fair Princess of Archwood. Does the Lady consent?" He gave her a deadly smile.
Feeling her face go red, Alakdaliel gave a barley visible nod, the flush crawling up her ears.
"Let the games begin!"
REVIEWWWWW!! I know, a lot of dialogue in this chapter. I have some great ideas for upcoming parts….but PLEASE review!