Author's note: OK. When we left off Arwen had just gone to her new room to change for the feast. What will happen there? We shall see.
The dining hall was filled with people, as it always was at Rivendell. And the table was filled with delectable foods of every kind. People were chatting about the weather and news from other lands and their own home recipes and other sorts of polite everyday subjects. But Arwen, sentenced to sitting at the head of the table with Estel, was engaged in a conversation about-feet.
"But why do they have hair on their feet? It doesn't make sense!"
"Of course it makes sense. They are hobbits. Not all races are alike to that of men, Estel, and that is for the world's own good."
"All the same, it doesn't make sense. I would not like to have hair on my feet. It would be like having beards. And then you can braid them like dwarves do. What about dwarf feet? Do they even have feet? I've never heard of dwarf feet."
"Of course they have feet. You're being silly. Now let's talk about something else."
"All right. Ummm," Estel seemed to think hard. "What about elf feet?"
"No! Oh, never mind feet! I meant a different subject! Or even better, let's just keep silent and eat!"
"Oh, ok." They sat silently for a spell, each savoring their food and Arwen savoring the quiet.
"Could you pass the jam, Lady?" Estel asked sweetly after a while. Silently she handed the jar to him. He took it eagerly and stuck his spoon into it. Then, instead of spreading it onto his bread, he shoveled a jiggling glob into his gaping mouth. Arwen wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Someday I am going to be a king," Estel stated, purple blobs escaping from his full mouth.
"That's a nice long-term goal," Arwen said distractedly.
"And I'll marry you and we can rule a kingdom together and fight evil stuff and have real swords!"
"Like that would ever happen," Arwen said under her breath. Estel looked rather hurt.
"Master Elrond said I could do whatever I set my mind to!"
"Yes, well, you keep believing that. Now if you'll excuse me I am going to the Hall of Fire.
"Great idea!" He began to get up.
"No, no. Not you. You must finish your jam." She patted him on the head and went into the hall.
The hall was already filled with song as she entered. Many people were seated in the wooden benches listening delightedly to anyone who wanted to sing. Arwen noticed her twin brothers Elledan and Elrohir were already there. She went and sat beside them.
"How long has Estel been here?" she asked them.
"A while. Four, five years perhaps. We don't really see him often because we have been hunting orc groups," answered Elrohir (or was it Elledan? She still couldn't tell them apart).
"Why is he here in the first place?"
"His parents died so he came to live here. He is one of those rangers. Father said he's the heir to the throne of Gondor or something. Estel doesn't know, of course. Estel isn't even his real name!"
Deciding not to ask anymore, Arwen sat back and began to listen. Someone began a song to Elbereth.
"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silveren penna miriel
o menal aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-diriel
O galadhremmin-"
"WEEEEEAAAAAALAAAALAAALOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Estel came bouncing and kartwheeling like mad into the hall. He screamed and laughed and whooped and overall made a terrible racket. Some of Elrond's servants immediately gave chase. They ran zigzagging across the hallway and out the door where there was a giant crash and a dull chorus of 'ow's.' Elrond came in ten minutes later looking rather exhausted. He went to Arwen.
"Ah, Evenstar, I forgot to tell you. Estel has a very low, erm, sugar tolerance level and the slightest bit of sweet can send him raving mad. I'll ask you not to allow him the jam next time."
"I'll remember that," Arwen sighed.
"Lovely! Now why don't we all take some rest, shall we? I've never been so pooped! I'm glad you've come back, my Evenstar. Good night!"
*Well, that was fun. If it is boring, I'm incredibly sorry. But the next chapter is the garden scene so you don't want to miss it!