Birds Do It, Bees Do It
Nione
Disclaimer: JRR Tolkien owns all the rights to the world known as Middle Earth, while Nione owns nothing. There are some original characters, like Illya, so I suppose I could lay claim to those. If you want to use them (I don't know why you would) go ahead, but just give credit where it's due. Any way, I make no money from writing this. It's purely for entertainment. And because I love romance novels (le sigh). Little Greenleaf needs a bit of Romance. Not of a MS origin either. I also have to give credit to the movie Tank Girl, where the title comes from. I'm sure the song was originally sang by someone else, but I don't know who.
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Chapter One
A Royal Scene
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It had been a long time since the Prince had found himself a method of diversion. Of the female persuasion. He stood gazing out from the Palace balcony with his spirits lowered. Watching the frolicking of other happy couples around the trees and running like children through fields. Elves were by nature a very companionable people. They enjoyed spending time with another, not just for sexual interests.
They also revered love. Although, admittedly, most of the greatest songs on the subject were tragic by nature. An immortal life lent to as much sorrow as happiness. So when the sun shined upon them and they were content, they took great pleasure in those moments.
But Legolas had not found anyone he felt drawn to in over three centuries. His last affair had ended abruptly, by himself, leaving his mate heart broken. Ára and he had shared little in common, and after a brief passionate interlude, admittedly lasting seventy seasons, he had consigned to the fact that he found her boring. Legolas was not cold, but he refused to remain with someone who ultimately failed to make him happy.
There were others as well. None had left him, for who would break off a relationship with a Prince? Many had been interested in only his noble standing. Which, at the time, was fine with him. He could count the number of these couplings upon both hands in which both Elves had used one another. There were others who had genuine affection for him, but- like Ára, Legolas had not felt the same thing in return.
It was spring time in Mirkwood Forest, and he was just as susceptible to fits of loneliness like any other creature. He desired companionship strongly, and his training was no longer taking his mind from his lack of romance. Legolas needed a diversion. A very strong diversion.
He leaned upon the sculpted marble railing and pursed his lips together in thought. There were always the She-Elves of noble birth who regularly attended his father's feasts in hopes of snaring a noble mate. But, they tended to be extremely serious when involved with an Elf of similar high birth, looking immediately into prospects of marriage. Legolas was definitely not ready for that, being only two thousand years old. They also tended to be high maintenance, demanding baubles and trinkets of affection as well as totally devoted time. He had no wish for arranging his schedule to revolve around the head of any she-elf. No matter how beautiful.
He tilted his head back and inhaled deeply. His mother had always told him not to go in search of companionship. That the Valor would send it to him when it was meant to be. But, Legolas was not looking for a deep forging of love, only that feeling in the beginning. When one was enamored. That was what he craved.
He pushed himself from the railing and made his way back into his rooms in the outer palace- a section separate from the caverns. His mother, Menelwe, had requested his father build it for her. Always looking to please, Thranduil had done so. It was a good thing now, for Legolas greatly appreciated the beauty of the forest around it. He did not care for the darkness of the caverns.
His rooms were a series of chambers. Large and overly extravagant, like most of Thranduil's palace. The sitting room contained a collection of poetry and stories Legolas enjoyed reading several times a decade. The furniture was well crafted, and finely fashioned. The wood curved as if still growing, carved with extraordinary detail of leaves or other designs. Upholstered in several shades of green, which was his personal favorite color.
He sat onto his preferred chair and stared into the portrait of his family. He felt the familiar constriction in his throat as he gazed on the face of his mother. He still recalled her clearly in his mind- her scent of lilies, her comforting gray eyes, her gentle voice. He turned away when the memories of what he had lost became to intense for him, and he buried the sadness away.
Legolas hated these times of melancholy.
He picked up a well worn tome and began to sift through it's yellowed pages. He would read for the rest of the day, and into the night. Remove his thoughts onto something less repressive. He would head Menelwe's advice and not search for what would come to him in it's own time.
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Fifteen Years Later…
"I can't believe it." Vénea muttered as she quickly re-read the invitation. The parchment was covered in beautifully flowing letters. It looked as if whomever had written it had spent an extraordinary amount of time to make sure they were evenly spaced and perfectly elegant.
Illya knew what the message read. Erunno had sent it to her, no doubt in attempt to lure her with the promise of attendance. Ever since their relationship had ended, quite one-sided at the time, he had been pestering her to no end of Middle Earth. Apparently having changed his mind about the wisdom of their parting after the Elf he had left her for had run off with a Lothlorien archer.
Erunno was seeing the error of his ways. Illya, likewise, saw her own. By staying with the unfaithful Elf for so long.
She had also come to enjoy the life of a single she-elf. There was no one to tell her what to do. Where to go. Parade her around like some kind of silly trophy, seen and not to be heard. Her lips pursed angrily at the thought of it. She was intelligent, and although her conversational skills could use a bit of polishing here and there, Erunno hadn't needed to be so very rude to her around others. Patting her head like some kind of elfling.
This invitation to the Feast must have been his latest scheme to win her affection. He must have the silly idea that if he showed up dressed in his finest she would swoon all over him. She sniffed the air lightly. Erunno had another thing coming.
Vénea gazed at her expectantly, her eyes wide with excitement. Apparently she had finished her fourth reading. "I can't believe it."
"Mmm." Illya replied nonchalantly as she continued to mash the berries that would be the filling for desert.
Vénea clasped her hands, pulling them in towards her chest. She was always a bit over dramatic. "I don't know what to wear!"
"I think the blue dress would look lovely." Illya commented.
Vénea was a beautiful Elf, and Illya was more than a bit jealous about it. She doubted they would even be friends, had it not been that Vénea's personality was so warm and caring. She possessed an almost elfling-like innocence at times that Illya found endearing. Vénea's large blue eyes and stunningly thick blonde hair, which always seemed perfectly arranged, would compliment the new dress very well.
"Oh, yes." Vénea nodded, her mind already drifting into some mental picture of the final result of doubtlessly hours worth of attention. "And what about you? I think that green one with the silver trim. The one you wore to Harvest?"
"I'm not going." Illya replied easily as she turned to begin kneading the dough.
Vénea's face contorted into a mask of pure befuddlement. "Not going?" She repeated in a higher voice. "Illya, this is an invitation to the Palace! You have to go!"
"That-" Illya pointed to the invitation, now slightly crinkled in Vénea's excited grip, "is nothing more than Erunno planning some type of foolishness that will only result in a scene. I refuse to give him one ounce of my attention ever again."
"But- but- you can't be serious!" Vénea continued, as if she had not heard a word Illya had breathed. "You're probably right- about Erunno I mean. But this is the Palace we're talking about, Illya." Her eyes again took on a slightly glazed look. "With all sorts of fabulous food, dancing, and the King! Who cares about Erunno? Ignore him. We'll stick together and just meet all sorts of lovely Elves."
"Noble, aristocratic, stuck up Elves." Illya reminded her. "I'm sure none of which would bother to give us the time of day, let alone a conversation. Really Vénea, come back to reality for a moment."
"Now that is just a very cruel thing to say. I'm sure they're not all rude." Vénea retorted, glancing again to the invitation. "It's in a few days. He didn't really give you much time to plan, did he?"
Illya would have braced her forehead into her hand, had it not been covered in berry juice and dough. "Listen very carefully, I'm not going. If you want to take it, fine. Go ahead. Have a good time."
"Right." Vénea murmured, obviously having chosen to selectively ignore her. Again. "We'll have to make some adjustments, of course. That would take a few hours at most. Then arrange our hair. That always takes some time. Oh, but it's Spring so there will be some lovely blooms, I'm sure." Vénea trailed off into her own thoughts as she continued to sort through the problem.
Illya felt her teeth mash together in frustration. There was no way she would get dragged into this. No matter what Vénea said.
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Illya was seething as Vénea pulled her down the path towards the Palace's main gate. The way was lit with small candles, throwing a very soothing glow around the ground. Certainly enough for an Elf's keen eyes to use in order to navigate the trail.
Not that Illya was noticing such slight nuances at the moment.
"This is ridiculous!" She hissed into Vénea's ear, struggling to keep hold of the hem of the modest dress donned around her tiny frame. "Let's just turn around and head home before we make fools of ourselves!"
She began to swivel around, the bottom of her dress flaring around her despite the hold she had on the skirts. The traitorous witch she normally referred to as her best friend caught her elbow and Illya nearly stumbled as she was dragged forward. "Try not to be so pessimistic just this one time, Illya. It 's rather tiring after a while, you know."
"I'm not being pessimistic." Illya huffed as she tore her arm free of Vénea's tight hold. At the raised eyebrow her friend gave her, Illya rethought her remark. "Alright. That doesn't change the fact that we know no one here-"
"We know Erunno." Vénea pointed out, interrupting her.
Illya spoke through clenched teeth. "I have no intention of even acknowledging he exists tonight, let alone hang all over him. Even without the presence of my ex-fiancée, the fact remains that we are out classed, and out numbered."
"You make it sound as if we're heading into battle! It's just a party. Try to relax and have fun." Vénea admonished gently as the gates grew closer.
Illya's heart began to beat with such frenzy she was certain every Elf within the entirety of Mirkwood would hear it. She began to absently pluck imaginary bits of leaves from her dress as they drew nearer to the two guards stationed to either side of the tall structure. She knew this was going to turn out a disaster.
The two guard's spears met each other in a rather large and imposing X. One raised his eyebrow from beneath a silver helmet expectantly. Vénea gave him her most charming smile, that would normally melt butter, while Illya's eyes dashed to and fro like a cornered animal.
Vénea withdrew the invitation from the folds of her dress and handed it over to the guard closest to her. He gave it a quick, but thorough, examination before slightly nodding his head to the other. He turned back to the pair of she-elves and they brought their spears back to their sides. "Enjoy the feast." Was all he said before the gate opened before them.
Illya knew that this would be her last opportunity to escape. Unfortunately, Vénea's grip on her arm was as strong as an Orc- and she hauled her hesitant friend through the small opening. When Illya's sensitive ears heard it shutting behind her, a momentary sense of panic drew over her entire being.
There was no turning back.
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Legolas sipped at his goblet of wine as his eyes swept over the guests in attendance. His father had met a lot of Elves in his long life, and the size of the party was a sure indication of it. He recognized most of the faces easily. Spotting Lord Elrond with his three children in toe. He made a mental note to speak with them before the night was through.
Also in attendance was several of Legolas' trainers and friends, most being high commanders in Thranduil's forces. He also needed to have a few friendly words with them.
His eyes rested over the female faces. He winced slightly as he spotted Losse among a group of six she-elves. That certainly did not stand well for the evening. Her own brown eyes lifted and connected briefly with his, and he could palpably feel the animosity roll over him. He struggled to hold an impassive gaze until she finally turned away.
He sighed with relief. Losse was usually a very level headed Elf, until she had too much to drink. He only hoped she would remember they were in a crowded hall and not cause a scene. That was the last thing he needed at the moment, with so many of his father's prominent guests roaming around.
His attention turned back to his own drink and he took another swallow. He disliked large gatherings. Legolas was always expected to be composed and proper. He preferred to be in a comfortable atmosphere, with few people to share conversation with. One where he could relax slightly more and enjoy himself easier.
Still, the food was excellent- as always, and the songs would be entertaining. He did enjoy listening to the others. Occasionally raising his own voice to join in if asked. And as long as he was not involved, some other event- of a less planned nature- always occurred. It was inevitable. Legolas liked witnessing them as much as any other Elf. Although he was not one for idle gossip.
The thing he enjoyed the most, however, was the dancing. Legolas was a very excellent dancer, and he always had fun with a beautiful creature in his arms to join him. Music was always an important part to any feast, and the melodic wind pipes and strings made it a surreal experience.
He finished the last in his goblet and turned his eyes to Thranduil, who was likewise roaming over the guests. Legolas suppressed a smirk at the satisfaction in his father's eyes. The King's reason for these parties were plain, display of wealth. Thranduil took great pride in his palace and his possessions.
Feeling his son's scrutiny, Thranduil inclined his head towards the direction of the piercing gaze. "We have had an excellent turn out tonight. Did you spot Lord Elrond?"
"He is rather hard to miss." Legolas pointed out. It was quite true that Elrond had a commanding and charismatic nature.
"Mmm." Thranduil acknowledged. "And I also noticed Lady Losse."
Legolas felt his lips purse together with the innocuous comment. "Yes. I saw her as well."
"How long has it been now?" Thranduil continued, aware of Legolas' discomfort but content to revel in it.
"A few centuries." He answered, trying to sound as if it didn't matter. In reality, he was still quite worried she would throw something at him again. "Water under the bridge."
"A rather large mess you made out of that one, my son." Thranduil stated, a slight arch to his brow. "I doubt it has slipped her mind."
"I really wouldn't know, I have not spoken to her since then." Legolas replied, unhappy with the way his voice was growing taught. "Nor have I any wish to."
"Definitely not water under the bridge." The King replied with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Yes. Well." Legolas cleared his throat and motioned for a servant with more wine. "Lady Arwen looks lovely as usual."
"Indeed." The King agreed easily, allowing the change of topic without comment. Or so Legolas thought. "Tell me again why you are not interested?"
Legolas suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Thranduil knew the reason well. "Because, father, she is a dear friend. Like a sister. You know that."
"Mmm. It would make such an excellent match." The King said, rubbing his chin slightly. "I am sure Elrond would agree."
"It's pointless to even discuss it, Adar." Legolas whispered quickly. "Lady Arwen feels much the same. And Lord Elrond would never think of promising his daughter to any Elf whom she did not love. Unlike some other parents I could name." He threw a meaningful look at his father.
"Well, you are still young." Thranduil allowed. "Time enough to decide. I would like to see you married at some point, Little Greenleaf. You are the last one left."
The servant finally arrived just in time to save Legolas from answering. He gratefully took another goblet and immediately swallowed deeply before placing it upon the table. When the Prince entertained any thoughts of binding permanently to anyone, he felt distinctly green in the face. And although it was his favorite color, he did not enjoy it on his complexion.
He looked sidelong at his father once he had calmed a bit. "Should you not mingle with your guests?"
Thranduil nodded, a light smile upon his lips. "Yes. I suppose so. That also goes for you at some point tonight."
Legolas murmured a response agreeing whole-heartedly and watched the King easily move into the crowd. He sighed when he saw the first Elf Thranduil came upon was Elrond. "Should have known." Legolas muttered to himself. His father had always taken delight in watching him squirm.
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Illya usually felt somewhat smaller than her peers. She was not tall and graceful like other she-elves. She was a good head shorter than Vénea, and rather awkward on her feet- especially when nervous. This night, however, she felt even tinier and more insignificant.
She glanced down at her simple green dress, with silver colored trim that was used sparingly- and swallowed. The other Elves in the room were all dressed with extravagance, obviously fine fabrics and decorated with jewels. Their beauty was blinding and their steps were elegant.
She was definitely far out of her league.
She turned to Vénea, who was looking around with awe on her features. Although Vénea was dressed as simply as Illya, her natural beauty and charm made her strangely seem to fit in. Even outshine a few of the others. Illya felt distinctly ill.
"Isn't this wonderful!" Vénea whispered in an excited tone bordering on a squeal. Illya nodded numbly, not really paying attention. "I told you everything would be fine. Here we are, hobnobbing with nobles, and- oh- look at the food!"
Illya turned her dazed and lost eyes over towards the tables arranged against the wall. Yes, the food did look delicious. Cakes and rolls stacked pile upon each other, with steaming meat and soups as well. There were smaller entrées laid out onto the table, situated with wildflower arrangements encircling them.
She turned back to Vénea with fear still noticeable in her eyes. How could she even think of eating?! "I don't feel very hungry right now."
"Still nervous?" Vénea showed a bit of concern, but it was quickly overwhelmed with awe at the atmosphere. "Don't worry so much Illya. I'm right here with you." Her eyes scanned the crowd.
Suddenly she gasped and clutched Illya's arm so tightly, the smaller Elf feared it would break. "Ow!"
"Look!" She whispered in delight, tilting her head off towards the head table. "That must be the Prince! Oh, Illya, he's so handsome!"
Illya searched him out. She had never actually seen the Prince in person before, although all she-elves giggled and whispered about his fair features. Soon, she caught sight of the golden blond hair, arranged in the manner of all Elvan warriors, with two simple braids to frame his angular face. Gray eyes, which seemed oddly annoyed, were staring into the room. He wore a tunic of green, much brighter than Illya's own faded garment, trimmed in what looked to be real golden thread.
He did not ornate himself in gems. For, truly, the Prince did not need to. Nothing could tarnish his handsome face or fine hair. She felt herself go a bit wobbly in the knees, for this was the Prince after all, and swiftly pushed those feelings aside.
Way above her station. Best not to even entertain such foolish notions.
"He looks terribly arrogant." Illya finally commented, in a nonchalant voice.
Vénea threw her a very shocked stare, as if she had suddenly announced her intention to become a goblin- or something equally preposterous. "Illya! That was most unkind! You haven't even spoken to him."
"No need." Illya replied.
Vénea sniffed the air in her delicate way and smoothed the skirt of her pale blue dress with her hand. Even though she looked flawless, as always. "Honestly, Illya, you are so quick to judge sometimes. You must give others the benefit of the doubt."
"Mhm." She murmured, tearing her eyes away from the most gorgeous of elves she had ever seen. He probably was full of himself, anyway.
"I don't see Erunno anywhere, do you?" Vénea asked innocently. "I thought you said he would be here."
Erunno was an excellent swords elf whom had recently taken service in the King's army. It must have been the way he had obtained his invitation. Illya again combed through the assembly, pausing at any Elf dressed in military uniform. She, too, did not see him. "I thought he would be. Why else give an invitation to us?"
"Perhaps he hasn't arrived yet?" Vénea replied. Her face brightened as she saw a servant carrying a tray of wine. "Oh, let's get something to drink. That would help you relax a bit."
Vénea then dropped Illya's arm and made her way over to the tray. Illya was briefly panicked, but calmed considerably when Vénea had plucked two goblets from the tray. She obviously meant to return.
She gratefully accepted the goblet from Vénea's outstretched hand and drank half of it without pause. Vénea gave her an amused look before daintily sipping from her own.
Illya did feel a bit better as the delicious bouquet caused a pleasant warmness in her stomach. She closer her eyes briefly and inhaled. Perhaps Vénea was right, and she was being too rash about the entire thing.
She gave a small squeak of alarm when she opened her eyes and saw two dark haired Elves before them.
The one on the left smiled mischievously at her reaction, and then turned his attention on Vénea. He gave his own brilliant smile, which Vénea returned. He took her hand in his own and planted a very chaste kiss to her knuckles. "I am very sure that I have not been previously introduced. Such radiance would not easily escape my memory."
Vénea had the decency to blush slightly, but quickly recovered herself. "I'm Vénea and this," she pointed to Illya who had again regained the panicked air about her, "is my friend Illya." She leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "This is our first time to the Palace."
"Ah." He replied. Illya noticed the slight accent to his words. He must have been a Silvan Elf from Imladris. "Well normally it's dreadfully boring-"
"Dreadful." His companion nodded in agreement.
"But once in a while we happen upon a couple of maidens who make it all worth our time." He finished. Then inclined his head slightly. "My name is Elladan, and this is my brother Elrohir."
"How lovely to meet you." Vénea stated presently. Illya took another drink of wine.
"So, I take it you are both from Mirkwood?" Elrohir asked as he gave Vénea his own smile.
"Oh, yes. All our lives." Vénea confirmed. "Although, we live quite far from the Palace. We both have Flets in one of the smaller towns just outside the gates."
"The spiders do not trouble you?" Elladan asked, with genuine concern.
"Oh no." Vénea replied. "The magic is much too strong. Although, there are tales that they do come in and snatch elflings who misbehave away at night."
Illya snorted at the hushed tone Vénea spoke of the oldest threat an Elf used on an Elfling. Vénea was still deathly scared of spiders. Although Illya, too, was not keen on becoming ensnared in their webs- she did not have the paralyzing fear that Vénea had.
The brothers laughed as Vénea continued to tell them of her precautions she took as a child to keep the spiders away. Illya rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the way the two handsome Elves paid undivided attention to her friend. One couldn't blame them for becoming ensnared with Vénea's glowing warmth, she had that effect on many Elvan males.
Illya again wished for her poise and beauty. But, it was not to be. Instead she realized that if she wanted to sneak away, this would be the perfect opportunity.
She pursed her lips together in thought and considered it for a few moments. Then her conscience reminded her that she couldn't just leave her best friend behind. She mentally cursed it.
Instead she drained the rest of her goblet and traded it for a full one as the servant walked by. Only half-listening to the tales being traded beside her. She had heard all of Vénea's stories anyway. At least three or four times.
It was during Vénea's recitation of the time Illya had startled her so bad with a pair of sticks, she had fallen off the branches and into the stream below- that Illya spotted Erunno entering the hall. He looked as handsome as ever in his emerald tunic, adorned with several pins of service. And sparkling blue eyes locked onto her own green.
Illya winced.
She grabbed onto Vénea's forearm, ignoring her small noise of protest, and turned her slightly in his direction. Vénea's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, the only amount of surprise visible on her features, before she glanced briefly at Illya.
She turned back to the two brothers and continued with her story as if nothing had happened.
Illya cursed mentally for a second time, seeing there would be no rescue, and steeled herself as Erunno began to make his way towards her. She had known from the beginning this would happen. Being in the presence of so many nobles made her level of panic rise to uncharted heights. She backed away unconsciously, searching for a diversion.
She found one in the form of a dinner entrée.
Making a rushed excuse, Illya hurried over towards the crowded table. Hoping that being surrounded by strangers would keep Erunno from speaking any ridiculous words. She roughly made her way to the platter of tiny sandwiches and plopped one into her mouth. Maybe if he saw her eating he would decide to leave her be.
When she felt the familiar presence behind her she knew that he had not been dissuaded. "Illya."
She swallowed the half chewed bite, and turned very slowly. Erunno stood tall and proud, with a determined glint in his eye. "Erunno." She replied simply.
"I didn't think I'd actually see you here." He commented. Then his eyes wandered over to Vénea who was watching the pair. "I guess I have her to thank for it."
"Well, you know Vénea." Illya replied, at loss for anything better to say. "She had just got that dress a few years ago and was dying to wear it."
"You look great." He murmured, as his eyes returned to greedily roam over her figure. Illya felt distinctly red in the face at such unbridled scrutiny.
"Ah- thank you." She said softly before taking another bite. Just keep chewing, she told herself.
He seemed disappointed she hadn't return the compliment. Well, that was just too bad. "I was hoping we could talk in private."
Illya chewed on the small bite for longer than necessary.
He continued undaunted. "There's some unfinished business between us, I want to clear it up."
Illya shook her head, suddenly growing angry. "There's nothing you could say that I want to hear." She hissed.
She pushed away from him, nearly spilling the goblet of wine, and made her way hastily back to Vénea who was again alone. Hoping that her friend would back her up and figure out how to avoid the messy situation she had helped to create.
Vénea saw her approaching, with Erunno a step behind, and threw Illya an apologetic look.
Apparently she was just as lost as Illya was.
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Legolas had been speaking with Elrond, as his father had asked, when he spotted the most demure creature. Elrohir and Elladan had apparently noticed the captivating blonde first, and were currently laughing at something the pixy had just said. Trust the sons of Elrond to talk to the first enchanting creature they saw.
Legolas was not about to let the two Imladris Elves get the better of him in his own palace, and quickly made an excuse to Elrond.
He started to walk over, when Elrohir apparently caught his frame approaching and turned to smile. Legolas threw him the coldest gray stare he could summon forth. 'Not in my home, son of Elrond'.
Elrohir smirked in reply, before bowing slightly at the waist in jest. Then, to Legolas' surprise, he turned and whispered something to his brother. Elladan gazed briefly in Legolas' direction, received the same glare, and turned back to the enchanting she-elf. They both muttered some apology, and with a wink to the Prince, strode off in the direction of Losse's small gathering of she-elves.
Legolas smiled inwardly at the showmanship. Single Elvan lords did have a code of ethics for social occasions such as these. If one spotted a pretty female at a feast on his own land, the others backed off. It was simply common courtesy.
As Legolas took the opportunity to let his eyes drink in the sight of the blonde, blue eyed, she-elf in a rather humble blue dress, he had never been happier about the code.
Of course, he had been so engrossed in her that he failed to notice the other she-elf barreling towards her with an angry looking Elf a step behind. Had he noticed the pair, he probably would have spotted the trouble soon to brew.
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Illya reached Vénea and took hold of her arm, shaking it slightly. "We're leaving."
"Illya, do calm down. Hello Erunno." She beamed pleasantly up at the smoldering Elf.
"Vénea." He nodded his head sharply and took hold of Illya's shoulder, roughly spinning her towards him. "You are not leaving until we have a chance to talk!"
"There is nothing to talk about!" Illya heard her voice rising, but was so flustered herself she had no desire to stop it. Only to get away from this horrible situation. She failed to notice most of the other guest's attention had turned to the three of them. Especially a certain blonde Prince, obscured by Erunno, heading straight in their direction.
"I wanted to apologize, again, for the things I did. I was wrong. Please, Illya, don't be so cold hearted." Erunno said in a softer, urgent voice.
Illya wrenched her arm from his grasp, ignoring the few drops that spilt over the edge of the goblet in her other hand. "Don't be absurd. You ended it, Erunno. Just because that-- that-- tramp of a girl ran off, doesn't mean I'll just let you waltz back into my arms. I do have some pride, you know."
Erunno's eyes blazed with anger. He had always been more short tempered than Illya herself, although the two were quickly becoming equals in that regard. "Pride? You should be thankful I've taken such an interest in you! What other Elf would even bother giving you the time of day? You are so small, you pass for an elfling. Or even a Dwarf!"
"Oh dear." Vénea murmured. "That was very unkind."
Illya felt tears pricking the corner of her eyes. Stinging as she refused to let them fall. "Saying things like that does not help you earn endearment, Erunno." She said, still ignoring the wetness coursing down her cheeks. "In fact, it rather makes me glad to be away from you."
"My point is that I'm your best shot at marriage, Illya. Do you really want to mess that up?" Erunno retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm willing to overlook your flaws. You have good qualities that I find enjoyable."
"You're--" Illya felt her anger rise to such a level that she could not find words to speak.
The nerve!
She knew she was no great beauty like Vénea. That she was extremely short, enough to make her easily overlooked and dismissed by other Elves. She also knew that she was not a she-elf willing to be humble and obedient to her mate. She was spirited, as her father had said, and quick to anger.
But Erunno was cruel, and cared little for anything but his own pleasure. Illya could be a bit harsh at times, but that was only to protect herself from the demeaning looks of others. Still, she was no where near Erunno's selfishness.
She could not recall what she had ever seen in him in the first place.
"I would rather throw myself into a web, than ever have anything to do with you again." She finally stated firmly. "Even if that means living the rest of my life alone. Better than enduring your company."
Vénea nodded beside her in support. "Yes, quite right."
Erunno took on a humorous shade of red, and Illya fancied that smoke would begin billowing from his ears. Served him right.
"That is not what I'd hoped to hear." He finally growled out from behind clenched teeth. "You're making a big mistake, Illya. No other Elf would ever willingly stand for the embarrassment you would cause him."
That did it.
In a moment which seemed trapped in slow motion, Illya drew back her arm with the goblet containing the wine. Erunno, seeing what she was about to do, quickly moved off to the side just as her hand flung the contents of the glass forward. The red wine sailed through the air- passing harmlessly by it's intended target.
Instead, it splashed onto the tunic of the Elf who had just approached from behind the larger Erunno. Ruining the expensive green and gold trimmed fabric.
An Elf with blonde hair, a fair complexion, hauntingly beautiful gray eyes, and a very shocked expression on his face.
An Elf who was, in fact, the Prince of Mirkwood Forest.