Author's Note: Yup, another chapter. By the way, I thought to mention that whenever Estel's talking, unless I make a point of saying he's speaking Common Tongue, it's Elvish.
Read and review!
Dreamwalk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After parting with Arwen, Estel walked back into the Great House in a daze, a small smile on his face. He didn't even feel it when Legolas grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back to his quarters.
Estel glanced over at him in half-interest as the blonde elf dragged him to his rooms. Legolas was extravagantly dressed in a green tunic with gold thread interwoven into it, making him seem as if he was dressed in leaves with the sunlight shining through them. A standard of Mirkwood was at his brow in a golden crown, a beautiful thing woven of leaves and branches, with a great tree in the front of it, an emerald woven into its branches. His hair was braided back into an intricate, beautiful mess that Estel was sure had taken hours. Legolas managed to look both uncomfortable in the formal clothing and amused and exasperated at Estel at the same time.
"Are you perfectly mad, Estel? Late to your own banquet? Good Varda! Well, come on, we've got to get you ready. You can't go into the Hall like that. Elrond will throw fits, and your brothers may die of laughter...what is the matter with you?! What is that smirk on your face? You look like a court dog that's taken food from the table without being caught."
"Nothing, Legolas...nothing. Stop fussing like a hen," Estel muttered absently, that whimsical smile never leaving his face. He pushed the door open into his room, starting a bath as Legolas rummaged through his clothing trunks.
Legolas laughed behind him as Estel stripped and got into the tub, still moving in that slow, half-dreaming step. "Blast it all, Estel, haven't you even set anything out to wear? What, did you forget about your own birthday party?"
"Yes...I suppose I did," Estel whispered, sinking down into the water.
Legolas sighed, picking out a charcoal gray tunic and a mithril vest to go over it, a dashing cloak, soft gray leather boots, checking the thing over for any tears or worn spots. Estel wasn't very good at making sure his clothes were resown or redyed whenever he tore them or wore them down. He was a little troubled about Estel's strange distracted stupor. Usually, such feasts and banquets caused Estel to be awkward and rather seriously focused on the present, desperate not to make a fool of himself.
This Estel, on the other hand, washed himself with an absent-minded kind of hurry, but his movements were still relaxed and langorous. The fanciful look of preoccupation in his eyes said his mind was still absorbed by Arwen's face, the starlight in her eyes, her quiet laugh and her raven hair.
"Estel?"
"Mmmhmm?" Estel mumbled, like he was half-awakened from deep slumber. He lifted his eyes Legolas. The elf scowled at him with a mixture of dismay and confusion. "What in the *blazes* is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing, Legolas. Nothing. I'm fine. Just fine." He got out of the tub and dried himself off.
// Just stepped into a dream, that's all. //
Legolas let Estel dress himself, then straightened his vest and cloak, looking into the mortal's face critically.
"Nothing wrong, my ass. If nothing's wrong with you, Estel, than I'm an orc." He put a brooch of Imladris on Estel's tunic, then fit him with a crown to match Elladan's and Elrohir's, a pretty silver thing formed of stags and leaves and gods' eyes which turned back into stags again. "You look like a man who's been struck in battle and doesn't realize he's bleeding to death."
"Hmm.."
Estel didn't even mumble or fidget when Legolas picked at his clothes. He stood there, his dark hair pulled back at his neck and drying in the firelight, dreamily staring into space, still wearing that indomitable smile that threatened to infuriate Legolas. Could he have fallen in love? Legolas wondered, eyes searching Estel's face carefully. Who would it be? He could think of no she-elf at court that Estel had ever even seemed vaguely interested in.
"Estel, are you sure you're not ill? Or bleeding to death? I didn't see a wound."
Estel brought his attention back to Legolas and laughed a little. "Legolas, I'm fine. I'm fine. Really, I am. Stop worrying so much."
"If you say so," Legolas replied, looking Estel up and down. "Are you ready to go?"
"Of course."
Legolas smiled finally, a lighthearted look made him seem young. "Then let's do it. And wipe that dumb expression off your face before someone thinks you've been struck feeble-witted. The smile is good and fitting, very regal and distracted, but the vacant stare is a little too idiotic to pull the look off."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Estel wasn't hardly thrown off by the great banquet and dance at all; after all, he'd been living through such parties all his life. Sometimes they seemed the only things marking the passage of his life. Every other one's life here passed silently, gliding through time like a hawk through the air. Only his own time seemed violent, confusing, and he felt a tinge of melancholy whenever he thought about it.
Every day, it seemed, he got stronger and wiser and broader through the shoulders, more articulate at court (whenever he deigned to make an appearance), better with the weapons given to him. But these, his caretakers and his companions, never grew older, were always strong and wise to begin with. Sometimes, he thought, it was like living with breathing ghosts, never to age or change their ways. Their songs were beautiful, their music and their ways, but there was always that touch of timelessness to the melodies, and some days Estel thought it would drive him mad.
"Estel!" Elladan and Elrohir walked forward, dressed splendidly in matching attire, each putting a hand on his shoulders. Elladan sighed. "Finally, you're here, brother. They were starting to wonder whether you'd ever returned from the forest, but then a servant said he saw you slinking into the Quarters, so we knew you hadn't been lost."
Elrohir laughed. "Come, we'll introduce you to Arwen. She's come all the way from Lorien for the banquet, and says she'll be staying. Also, come see Ada, because he was beginning to make that face, you know, that squinched-up face he does when you're late and he's trying to be composed and it only half works."
Estel let himself be dragged forward, hoping his face did not give away any clue that his heart was raging in his chest like a caged animal. He saw Arwen standing with Elrond, speaking with him. She was almost too beautiful to look at, in flowing gray beaded robes. He couldn't tear his eyes from her. Her hair was unbound now, and fell to her waist in a cascade of firelit ebony. Her eyes, he saw now, were not blue, as he thought, but a gray to match her father's.
Elrond looked up and saw him, his slightly troubled, distrait look melting away into a majestic, distant sort of good humor. Estel noticed with a little amusement of his own that Elrohir's description of his father's expression when he was trying to be self-possessed and failed was completely accurate. "Ai, Estel, you have come to join your brothers and Legolas has come back with you. We were almost worrying." He glanced at Arwen, who was looking at Estel with a soft smile on her face, and then back at Estel. "I would introduce you two."
"We've been introduced, Ada. Estel met me up the trail and escorted me. It was what made him late, I fear, so do not judge him so harshly." Arwen said, kissing her father on the cheek, more like a little girl than a dignified lady of court.
Elrond laughed. "Alright, child." He caught the eye of the musicians playing, and they quieted, allowing him silence to speak. When the company of the Hall had turned to him, the elvish lord spoke, his voice strong and ringing.
"People of Imladris, my fair subjects, I would ask you to welcome our fairest Evenstar, our highest daughter Undomiel, who has braved great distances and many perils to return to us from the Golden Wood, and our dear cousin Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, who has dared the same leagues."
Arwen curtsied, and Legolas looked out onto the crowd-with a very distinctly grim and stately air, Estel thought, hiding a smile-and then bowed deeply. There was sweeping applause that echoed in the hall.
"And also, we would honor our son Estel of Halfelven, who has seen his seventeenth summer, and has grown into a fine man before our eyes."
There was another round of applause, and Estel bowed this time, feeling his face grow hot, and hoping he was not blushing as hard as he felt he was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Estel was seated at his father's side, at the head of the center banquet table. Nearest to him on one side of the table sat Elladan and Elrohir, and on the other side sat Arwen and Legolas. All the carefree easiness that had been in his words in the dark was gone. Now that he found himself dining across from her, he could barely bring his eyes up to look at her in his shyness.
While everyone around him spoke lightly as the music played and the plates full of steaming, wonderfully smelling food was set before him, he had never felt less like eating in his entire life. But he did eat. And talked, although later that night, when he was in his bed and thinking over the evening, he could not recall a word of his own conversation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dinner was never-ending, and Estel, his court smile and manners feeling very forced on his face, longed to sneak away into the darker halls. There was dancing to be done, however, and he knew that as the guest of honor, there was no way he would be allowed to take leave of it. And as a member of the royal family, he did not even have the leisure of being able to sit out any of the dances.
He wasn't aware of much. He danced with different maidens, many of which he knew, but could not remember their names, stole glances at Arwen whenever he dared and thought she looked radiant and wished that it had something to do with him, but was sure that it wasn't. The circling, graceful reels were accomplished with a carefree air that overwhelmed the nobility of the court, and there was much laughter to echo the music in the Hall.
He found himself suddenly dancing with Arwen, and realized that he didn't think he would be able to move his feet, which had very quickly become mortally stupid and dragging. But then the music started, he didn't have time to think, and he led her forward into the dance, to the applause of the company.
He spun her through figures, his feet moving with the same elvish elegance and timeless grace they had always moved with, no matter what he thought. He twirled her, his cloak whipping around him and her own robes flying to the rhythm of the music. He put his hand to the small of her back-palm relaxed on beaded velvet, fingers touching the warm skin of her back. Her fingers were intertwined with his. Her feet followed his effortlessly, moving with perfect ease. His eyes never left hers, nor hers his. In that moment, they may as well have been alone. Their crowns sparkled in the firelight and the candles from the chandeliers.
The music stopped, and Estel suddenly realized the two of them had taken the eye of every lady and courtier in the room, the center of all attention. Arwen stepped forward, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him on the lips. It was fleeting, but not sisterly; something flew between them, like a spark of lightning. A burst of deafening applause followed; Estel bowed and she curtsied, and they went back to their sets.
He laughed and cheered and clapped on the cadence, letting the music sweep him up, whirling with the rest of his party. He made all the gestures he knew he was supposed to make, and knew that Arwen was making the same ones. He wondered if she wished as intensely as he did to get out of here, to run away out from the great fires of the Hall, and into the comforting dark that had hidden him all his life. He longed to run out and throw himself into the sedge, cooling his burning cheeks on the grass, or to crawl under the banquet table like he had so many years before, with Andune circling the hall and letting out his shrill, piercing cry.
But he was a man now, not a fear-stricken child or a shy stumbling moonstruck youth. He did neither.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Read and review!
Dreamwalk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After parting with Arwen, Estel walked back into the Great House in a daze, a small smile on his face. He didn't even feel it when Legolas grabbed him by the arm, dragging him back to his quarters.
Estel glanced over at him in half-interest as the blonde elf dragged him to his rooms. Legolas was extravagantly dressed in a green tunic with gold thread interwoven into it, making him seem as if he was dressed in leaves with the sunlight shining through them. A standard of Mirkwood was at his brow in a golden crown, a beautiful thing woven of leaves and branches, with a great tree in the front of it, an emerald woven into its branches. His hair was braided back into an intricate, beautiful mess that Estel was sure had taken hours. Legolas managed to look both uncomfortable in the formal clothing and amused and exasperated at Estel at the same time.
"Are you perfectly mad, Estel? Late to your own banquet? Good Varda! Well, come on, we've got to get you ready. You can't go into the Hall like that. Elrond will throw fits, and your brothers may die of laughter...what is the matter with you?! What is that smirk on your face? You look like a court dog that's taken food from the table without being caught."
"Nothing, Legolas...nothing. Stop fussing like a hen," Estel muttered absently, that whimsical smile never leaving his face. He pushed the door open into his room, starting a bath as Legolas rummaged through his clothing trunks.
Legolas laughed behind him as Estel stripped and got into the tub, still moving in that slow, half-dreaming step. "Blast it all, Estel, haven't you even set anything out to wear? What, did you forget about your own birthday party?"
"Yes...I suppose I did," Estel whispered, sinking down into the water.
Legolas sighed, picking out a charcoal gray tunic and a mithril vest to go over it, a dashing cloak, soft gray leather boots, checking the thing over for any tears or worn spots. Estel wasn't very good at making sure his clothes were resown or redyed whenever he tore them or wore them down. He was a little troubled about Estel's strange distracted stupor. Usually, such feasts and banquets caused Estel to be awkward and rather seriously focused on the present, desperate not to make a fool of himself.
This Estel, on the other hand, washed himself with an absent-minded kind of hurry, but his movements were still relaxed and langorous. The fanciful look of preoccupation in his eyes said his mind was still absorbed by Arwen's face, the starlight in her eyes, her quiet laugh and her raven hair.
"Estel?"
"Mmmhmm?" Estel mumbled, like he was half-awakened from deep slumber. He lifted his eyes Legolas. The elf scowled at him with a mixture of dismay and confusion. "What in the *blazes* is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing, Legolas. Nothing. I'm fine. Just fine." He got out of the tub and dried himself off.
// Just stepped into a dream, that's all. //
Legolas let Estel dress himself, then straightened his vest and cloak, looking into the mortal's face critically.
"Nothing wrong, my ass. If nothing's wrong with you, Estel, than I'm an orc." He put a brooch of Imladris on Estel's tunic, then fit him with a crown to match Elladan's and Elrohir's, a pretty silver thing formed of stags and leaves and gods' eyes which turned back into stags again. "You look like a man who's been struck in battle and doesn't realize he's bleeding to death."
"Hmm.."
Estel didn't even mumble or fidget when Legolas picked at his clothes. He stood there, his dark hair pulled back at his neck and drying in the firelight, dreamily staring into space, still wearing that indomitable smile that threatened to infuriate Legolas. Could he have fallen in love? Legolas wondered, eyes searching Estel's face carefully. Who would it be? He could think of no she-elf at court that Estel had ever even seemed vaguely interested in.
"Estel, are you sure you're not ill? Or bleeding to death? I didn't see a wound."
Estel brought his attention back to Legolas and laughed a little. "Legolas, I'm fine. I'm fine. Really, I am. Stop worrying so much."
"If you say so," Legolas replied, looking Estel up and down. "Are you ready to go?"
"Of course."
Legolas smiled finally, a lighthearted look made him seem young. "Then let's do it. And wipe that dumb expression off your face before someone thinks you've been struck feeble-witted. The smile is good and fitting, very regal and distracted, but the vacant stare is a little too idiotic to pull the look off."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Estel wasn't hardly thrown off by the great banquet and dance at all; after all, he'd been living through such parties all his life. Sometimes they seemed the only things marking the passage of his life. Every other one's life here passed silently, gliding through time like a hawk through the air. Only his own time seemed violent, confusing, and he felt a tinge of melancholy whenever he thought about it.
Every day, it seemed, he got stronger and wiser and broader through the shoulders, more articulate at court (whenever he deigned to make an appearance), better with the weapons given to him. But these, his caretakers and his companions, never grew older, were always strong and wise to begin with. Sometimes, he thought, it was like living with breathing ghosts, never to age or change their ways. Their songs were beautiful, their music and their ways, but there was always that touch of timelessness to the melodies, and some days Estel thought it would drive him mad.
"Estel!" Elladan and Elrohir walked forward, dressed splendidly in matching attire, each putting a hand on his shoulders. Elladan sighed. "Finally, you're here, brother. They were starting to wonder whether you'd ever returned from the forest, but then a servant said he saw you slinking into the Quarters, so we knew you hadn't been lost."
Elrohir laughed. "Come, we'll introduce you to Arwen. She's come all the way from Lorien for the banquet, and says she'll be staying. Also, come see Ada, because he was beginning to make that face, you know, that squinched-up face he does when you're late and he's trying to be composed and it only half works."
Estel let himself be dragged forward, hoping his face did not give away any clue that his heart was raging in his chest like a caged animal. He saw Arwen standing with Elrond, speaking with him. She was almost too beautiful to look at, in flowing gray beaded robes. He couldn't tear his eyes from her. Her hair was unbound now, and fell to her waist in a cascade of firelit ebony. Her eyes, he saw now, were not blue, as he thought, but a gray to match her father's.
Elrond looked up and saw him, his slightly troubled, distrait look melting away into a majestic, distant sort of good humor. Estel noticed with a little amusement of his own that Elrohir's description of his father's expression when he was trying to be self-possessed and failed was completely accurate. "Ai, Estel, you have come to join your brothers and Legolas has come back with you. We were almost worrying." He glanced at Arwen, who was looking at Estel with a soft smile on her face, and then back at Estel. "I would introduce you two."
"We've been introduced, Ada. Estel met me up the trail and escorted me. It was what made him late, I fear, so do not judge him so harshly." Arwen said, kissing her father on the cheek, more like a little girl than a dignified lady of court.
Elrond laughed. "Alright, child." He caught the eye of the musicians playing, and they quieted, allowing him silence to speak. When the company of the Hall had turned to him, the elvish lord spoke, his voice strong and ringing.
"People of Imladris, my fair subjects, I would ask you to welcome our fairest Evenstar, our highest daughter Undomiel, who has braved great distances and many perils to return to us from the Golden Wood, and our dear cousin Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, who has dared the same leagues."
Arwen curtsied, and Legolas looked out onto the crowd-with a very distinctly grim and stately air, Estel thought, hiding a smile-and then bowed deeply. There was sweeping applause that echoed in the hall.
"And also, we would honor our son Estel of Halfelven, who has seen his seventeenth summer, and has grown into a fine man before our eyes."
There was another round of applause, and Estel bowed this time, feeling his face grow hot, and hoping he was not blushing as hard as he felt he was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Estel was seated at his father's side, at the head of the center banquet table. Nearest to him on one side of the table sat Elladan and Elrohir, and on the other side sat Arwen and Legolas. All the carefree easiness that had been in his words in the dark was gone. Now that he found himself dining across from her, he could barely bring his eyes up to look at her in his shyness.
While everyone around him spoke lightly as the music played and the plates full of steaming, wonderfully smelling food was set before him, he had never felt less like eating in his entire life. But he did eat. And talked, although later that night, when he was in his bed and thinking over the evening, he could not recall a word of his own conversation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The dinner was never-ending, and Estel, his court smile and manners feeling very forced on his face, longed to sneak away into the darker halls. There was dancing to be done, however, and he knew that as the guest of honor, there was no way he would be allowed to take leave of it. And as a member of the royal family, he did not even have the leisure of being able to sit out any of the dances.
He wasn't aware of much. He danced with different maidens, many of which he knew, but could not remember their names, stole glances at Arwen whenever he dared and thought she looked radiant and wished that it had something to do with him, but was sure that it wasn't. The circling, graceful reels were accomplished with a carefree air that overwhelmed the nobility of the court, and there was much laughter to echo the music in the Hall.
He found himself suddenly dancing with Arwen, and realized that he didn't think he would be able to move his feet, which had very quickly become mortally stupid and dragging. But then the music started, he didn't have time to think, and he led her forward into the dance, to the applause of the company.
He spun her through figures, his feet moving with the same elvish elegance and timeless grace they had always moved with, no matter what he thought. He twirled her, his cloak whipping around him and her own robes flying to the rhythm of the music. He put his hand to the small of her back-palm relaxed on beaded velvet, fingers touching the warm skin of her back. Her fingers were intertwined with his. Her feet followed his effortlessly, moving with perfect ease. His eyes never left hers, nor hers his. In that moment, they may as well have been alone. Their crowns sparkled in the firelight and the candles from the chandeliers.
The music stopped, and Estel suddenly realized the two of them had taken the eye of every lady and courtier in the room, the center of all attention. Arwen stepped forward, put her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him on the lips. It was fleeting, but not sisterly; something flew between them, like a spark of lightning. A burst of deafening applause followed; Estel bowed and she curtsied, and they went back to their sets.
He laughed and cheered and clapped on the cadence, letting the music sweep him up, whirling with the rest of his party. He made all the gestures he knew he was supposed to make, and knew that Arwen was making the same ones. He wondered if she wished as intensely as he did to get out of here, to run away out from the great fires of the Hall, and into the comforting dark that had hidden him all his life. He longed to run out and throw himself into the sedge, cooling his burning cheeks on the grass, or to crawl under the banquet table like he had so many years before, with Andune circling the hall and letting out his shrill, piercing cry.
But he was a man now, not a fear-stricken child or a shy stumbling moonstruck youth. He did neither.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~