Disclaimer: I own it all. All of it. Really? No. The only thing I own
is Norelda. Tolkien etc, own all the rest, and all praise to him for
making such a lovely world for me to play in.
A/N Sincerest apologies for the long delay. Believe it or not, our phone
line has been down for a month. A MONTH! My W key is still broken, so if
there are any missing W's, I apologise. Also my E key is about to give up
the gasp. I need a new keyboard, this one is a dinosaur. Tell me what you
think. (Mental picture of me grovelling on the floor) Review!!!
The Greenwood folk certainly were merry, thought Norelda. They loved dancing and singing and feasting, and every night was celebrated. Norelda felt more at home here, among these lively, never-still folk than in the solemn, lovely Lothlorien, like a still pool, or in warm, homely Imladris, as joyful as it was. Her childhood spent at Mithlond was only a faint memory, though she could still clearly remember her father's stern face, and the sound of the sea. They had been in the halls of the Elven-King Thranduil for a little under a month. They had barely arrived when the Elven-Princes had begun vying for the attention of Arwen. She seemed almost startled by the noise and vigour of the place, and the fawning Princes had completely overwhelmed her. Norelda was quite worried about her, actually. She had been paler than usual since they had left the Golden Wood, and had not been eating well. The sons of Thranduil were doing their best to remedy that, competing with each other to offer her the choicest dishes and best wine. Norelda, sitting next to her, was partnered with one of the younger sons, fifty years older than her or so. Their polite conversation had petered out some time ago, and she was now concentrating on her food, which was, she had to admit, excellent. Arwen seemed not to notice, picking listlessly at the plate of fish set before her. Her partner plucked at the sleeve of her gown politely. The gown was green, with sleeves that flared at the elbows and fell almost to the floor. The high neck of the gown was edged in gold. She hated it. She admitted that it was flattering to her, but she hated it anyway. She couldn't even walk in it, and they expected her to dance in it, which was why her partner - what was his name again? - was tugging at the velvet sleeve. She rose with a sigh, noting as she did so that Arwen had been claimed for the first dance by her father. That was good, he would take care of her. He was as worried about his child as she was, and even he didn't know what was wrong. She allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. The musicians were tuning up. They played mostly pipes and flutes, with several drummers keeping quick, complex beats for the music. It was merry and lively music, the kind that suited Norelda best, if she could dance to it, which she could not in this dress. Her partner, a tall pale elf with golden hair, smiled at her as the music began and they swept around the dance floor. She watched Arwen surreptitiously. She seemed to be holding up, or maybe Elrond was holding her up. She had lost enough weight that he could easily carry her. Indeed, some days it seemed as if the wind could carry her off. The dance ended and she stepped back and curtsied to her partner - what was his name? - before taking his arm and trailing off the floor to a seat by Arwen. The music continued, and several elves came up to ask for dances from one or the other of the maidens. Norelda waved them away impatiently, her attention on her cousin, who had gone slightly green. "Come, Arwen, it is a beautiful night. Let us walk outside on the terrace for a time and look at the stars." she said, loud enough for those hovering nearby to hear. Arwen nodded obediently and rose. As they strolled towards the exit, several tried to follow, but Norelda looked back with a steely gaze that said quite clearly: Don't even think about it. They suddenly found something else to do. The air was cool, but not cold, and smelt of jasmine. Further down in the garden, some of the lesser members of the court were singing cheerful songs and dancing by the light of the nearly-full moon. The two maidens wandered along the terrace in silence until they reached a place where they were out of sight of the Great Hall. They could see the river from here, the stars shining on its deceptively smooth surface. They sat on a marble bench and looked down at it. "You brought me out here to ask me what's wrong." said Arwen. It was not a question, and Norelda saw little point in denying it. "Yes. I know you're not going to tell me, though, so I thought I'd start by scolding you about taking better care of yourself first." Arwen smiled gently. The night air seemed to have revived her somewhat, putting a little colour into her cheeks she sat up straighter. "You said, when we were in Lothlorien, that you did not want to grow up, that you wanted to stay young and foolish forever." "Yes. I meant it. I love being young and carefree. I feel sorry for Men, with their lives so short, snuffed out so quickly. They have to grow up and become responsible so early." She turned to see Arwen bow her head, and reached out to touch her shoulder. "Sweeting, what is it? What did I say?" Arwen shook her head silently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." "It was not you. I am alright, Norelda." They sat in silence for a time, under the stars, until Arwen said, "I wonder what it is like to be mortal, and die." "I do not know" said Norelda quietly, sensing that this was very important to her cousin. "It seems a strange thing, to just end like that." "Yes, strange indeed." "Is that why you are so quiet? Death will never touch us, Arwen sweeting. We are elves, the Firstborn, unchanging as the very stars." "But we can be slain -" "-in battle or die of grief, I know. But then we pass to Mandos, and are comforted, in the land beyond the Sea." "Still, I fear." Norelda looked at her for a long moment. Her cousin really was frightened of death, which was stranger than death itself. "Fear not, Arwen, sister of my heart. For I am here and you are here, and there is food and dancing, partners to dance with and the stars in the firmament, and what happens tomorrow or the next day will not cease to happen because you worry yourself into a wraith over it. Better to live, today, happy and content, and die tomorrow having been happy and content, than to live ten thousand years miserable and fearful because of what may happen tomorrow, don't you think, dearest?" Arwen frowned, as if trying to come to terms with the idea. Then a brilliant smile lit up her face and she threw her arms around Norelda and hugged her fiercely. "You're right, of course. Thankyou ever so much." Norelda hugged her back, unsure what exactly she had said to make Arwen feel so much better, but feeling that she had accomplished something all the same. For the rest of the evening, Arwen was much better. She seemed not to realise that all the young Elf-Lords were infatuated with her, but spoke and laughed with every person with equal delight. Soon after midnight, they went up to bed, though the celebration continued. Arwen stood at the window, which faced west into the forest and overlooked the garden, and watched the stars. The Firstborn. Unchanging as the stars... She looked down into the garden and saw her mother and father dancing, close together. She smiled. The sons of Thranduil sat in a group, five or six of them, laughing and joking. She saw the one who was infatuated with Norelda, who was too busy worrying about her to notice. She smiled again. Blew a kiss to the starry sky and went to bed.
A/N So, what did you think? Is Arwen going do become a depressive alcoholic? Who is the mysterious dinner partner? Will I succumb to temptation and turn this into a cheesy Legolas-our-love-spans-millennia- romance fic? I need feedback, people! I cannot make these important plot decisions. I am very indecisive. Review.
The Greenwood folk certainly were merry, thought Norelda. They loved dancing and singing and feasting, and every night was celebrated. Norelda felt more at home here, among these lively, never-still folk than in the solemn, lovely Lothlorien, like a still pool, or in warm, homely Imladris, as joyful as it was. Her childhood spent at Mithlond was only a faint memory, though she could still clearly remember her father's stern face, and the sound of the sea. They had been in the halls of the Elven-King Thranduil for a little under a month. They had barely arrived when the Elven-Princes had begun vying for the attention of Arwen. She seemed almost startled by the noise and vigour of the place, and the fawning Princes had completely overwhelmed her. Norelda was quite worried about her, actually. She had been paler than usual since they had left the Golden Wood, and had not been eating well. The sons of Thranduil were doing their best to remedy that, competing with each other to offer her the choicest dishes and best wine. Norelda, sitting next to her, was partnered with one of the younger sons, fifty years older than her or so. Their polite conversation had petered out some time ago, and she was now concentrating on her food, which was, she had to admit, excellent. Arwen seemed not to notice, picking listlessly at the plate of fish set before her. Her partner plucked at the sleeve of her gown politely. The gown was green, with sleeves that flared at the elbows and fell almost to the floor. The high neck of the gown was edged in gold. She hated it. She admitted that it was flattering to her, but she hated it anyway. She couldn't even walk in it, and they expected her to dance in it, which was why her partner - what was his name again? - was tugging at the velvet sleeve. She rose with a sigh, noting as she did so that Arwen had been claimed for the first dance by her father. That was good, he would take care of her. He was as worried about his child as she was, and even he didn't know what was wrong. She allowed herself to be led onto the dance floor. The musicians were tuning up. They played mostly pipes and flutes, with several drummers keeping quick, complex beats for the music. It was merry and lively music, the kind that suited Norelda best, if she could dance to it, which she could not in this dress. Her partner, a tall pale elf with golden hair, smiled at her as the music began and they swept around the dance floor. She watched Arwen surreptitiously. She seemed to be holding up, or maybe Elrond was holding her up. She had lost enough weight that he could easily carry her. Indeed, some days it seemed as if the wind could carry her off. The dance ended and she stepped back and curtsied to her partner - what was his name? - before taking his arm and trailing off the floor to a seat by Arwen. The music continued, and several elves came up to ask for dances from one or the other of the maidens. Norelda waved them away impatiently, her attention on her cousin, who had gone slightly green. "Come, Arwen, it is a beautiful night. Let us walk outside on the terrace for a time and look at the stars." she said, loud enough for those hovering nearby to hear. Arwen nodded obediently and rose. As they strolled towards the exit, several tried to follow, but Norelda looked back with a steely gaze that said quite clearly: Don't even think about it. They suddenly found something else to do. The air was cool, but not cold, and smelt of jasmine. Further down in the garden, some of the lesser members of the court were singing cheerful songs and dancing by the light of the nearly-full moon. The two maidens wandered along the terrace in silence until they reached a place where they were out of sight of the Great Hall. They could see the river from here, the stars shining on its deceptively smooth surface. They sat on a marble bench and looked down at it. "You brought me out here to ask me what's wrong." said Arwen. It was not a question, and Norelda saw little point in denying it. "Yes. I know you're not going to tell me, though, so I thought I'd start by scolding you about taking better care of yourself first." Arwen smiled gently. The night air seemed to have revived her somewhat, putting a little colour into her cheeks she sat up straighter. "You said, when we were in Lothlorien, that you did not want to grow up, that you wanted to stay young and foolish forever." "Yes. I meant it. I love being young and carefree. I feel sorry for Men, with their lives so short, snuffed out so quickly. They have to grow up and become responsible so early." She turned to see Arwen bow her head, and reached out to touch her shoulder. "Sweeting, what is it? What did I say?" Arwen shook her head silently. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." "It was not you. I am alright, Norelda." They sat in silence for a time, under the stars, until Arwen said, "I wonder what it is like to be mortal, and die." "I do not know" said Norelda quietly, sensing that this was very important to her cousin. "It seems a strange thing, to just end like that." "Yes, strange indeed." "Is that why you are so quiet? Death will never touch us, Arwen sweeting. We are elves, the Firstborn, unchanging as the very stars." "But we can be slain -" "-in battle or die of grief, I know. But then we pass to Mandos, and are comforted, in the land beyond the Sea." "Still, I fear." Norelda looked at her for a long moment. Her cousin really was frightened of death, which was stranger than death itself. "Fear not, Arwen, sister of my heart. For I am here and you are here, and there is food and dancing, partners to dance with and the stars in the firmament, and what happens tomorrow or the next day will not cease to happen because you worry yourself into a wraith over it. Better to live, today, happy and content, and die tomorrow having been happy and content, than to live ten thousand years miserable and fearful because of what may happen tomorrow, don't you think, dearest?" Arwen frowned, as if trying to come to terms with the idea. Then a brilliant smile lit up her face and she threw her arms around Norelda and hugged her fiercely. "You're right, of course. Thankyou ever so much." Norelda hugged her back, unsure what exactly she had said to make Arwen feel so much better, but feeling that she had accomplished something all the same. For the rest of the evening, Arwen was much better. She seemed not to realise that all the young Elf-Lords were infatuated with her, but spoke and laughed with every person with equal delight. Soon after midnight, they went up to bed, though the celebration continued. Arwen stood at the window, which faced west into the forest and overlooked the garden, and watched the stars. The Firstborn. Unchanging as the stars... She looked down into the garden and saw her mother and father dancing, close together. She smiled. The sons of Thranduil sat in a group, five or six of them, laughing and joking. She saw the one who was infatuated with Norelda, who was too busy worrying about her to notice. She smiled again. Blew a kiss to the starry sky and went to bed.
A/N So, what did you think? Is Arwen going do become a depressive alcoholic? Who is the mysterious dinner partner? Will I succumb to temptation and turn this into a cheesy Legolas-our-love-spans-millennia- romance fic? I need feedback, people! I cannot make these important plot decisions. I am very indecisive. Review.