Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel (aka Zoe)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. Any other characters in this story, however, are mine.

Here's chapter 10, and it's Thalwyn's turn again. It is a bit of a darker chapter again as far as the mood is concerned, but there are some funny parts in it as well, so I don't think it's too depressing. ;o)
I had originally planned to pick up the pace of this story a bit, but I wasn't satisfied with the outcome at all. As a result, I'm sticking to the slow pace that I've set from the beginning, hoping that you, my dear readers, are not growing sick of it. If you do, don't hesitate to tell me. A propos tell me – to reply to the various comments on the relationship between Thalwyn and Legolas: I'm not sure yet where exactly their blossoming friendship will lead, but I do feel that it will grow into something special. ;o) One last remark before we get on with the story, and that is my thanks to everybody who posted reviews – Nebride, Arwen, Miss2Pouty, Laleanen, gershwin, Trancos. I hope I didn't forget anyone there. Oh, and Blade Swinger, I feel honoured to have got a short note from you as well. You see, writing reviews doesn't hurt...lol
But now on with the story. Enjoy!

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A Spark in the Dark

10 Thalwyn: Cheerfulness and Tears

Legolas gets up from the bed and walks over to the table without so much as making any noise. It is the clatter of dishes that tells me where he has gone.

Obeying to the silent plea of my still aching limbs, I slip under the blanket and make myself comfortable in the soft bed while Legolas is occupied with clearing the table. Eventually the clatter stops, and a few moments later the Elf's gentle voice reaches my ears.

"Sleep well, Thalwyn." I am not in the least surprised that he seems to have moved over to the door without my hearing it.

"Good night, Legolas," I manage to reply before a yawn betrays how tired I am.

As silently as I would have expected, Legolas leaves the chamber, only a faint clicking sound of the closing door to be heard. And no matter how much I strain my ears, I cannot hear Legolas walk away; the door blocks any sound his light footsteps might make.

Do all Elves move that silently?

I heave a sigh as I lie on my back and let my head sink deeper into the soft pillow, my eyes staring off into the eternal blackness before them. Sleep is trying to claim me, but I fight to keep awake in order to once more recall the latest events of the evening. Inevitably my mind wanders to my exploration of Legolas' face; to that moment of embarrassment when he explained his reaction to my touching his ears. The memory of the utter mortification I felt is irreversibly engraved in my memory, yet my lips curve in a light smirk.

It was probably just as embarrassing for Legolas to give me an explanation as the whole incident was for me...

However, the Elf does not seem to feel uncomfortable around me because of what happened. My common sense tells me that, if this were the case, he would most certainly not have offered to come and see me again in the morning. Another sigh leaves my lips as I smile into the darkness, already looking forward to the next day.

Yes, I will spend another day in the company of an Elf.

Besides, the next day will hopefully bring an answer to the one question still bothering me – the question of what has become of my beloved sister. In an attempt to push my fears further back into a corner of my mind lest they haunt me in my dreams, I take in a deep breath and try to focus on my surroundings. I notice immediately that there has been a change in the smells perfuming the air in this room. One layer of scent has dissolved, vanished – a nuance that reminded me of leaves and fresh bark –, while another layer has added itself to the colourful potpourri. Dominant and unique, the distinct, smoky scent of the blown-out candles is wafting over from the table, carried to me by a soft breath of air.

For a second, I wonder where the lovely smell of the woods has gone, but finally drowsiness is spreading over me like a second blanket, and just a moment later I let sleep cradle me in its tender arms.

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Fresh morning air greets me when I awake. I stretch my limbs to find that they are not aching anymore – well, at least not as badly as the night before. With a yawn, I sit up and move so that my back comes to lean against the headboard of the bed.

I wonder what time it is?

The question has just taken shape in my mind when there is a knock at the door, accompanied by the sound of a gentle, female voice. "Thalwyn? Are you awake?"

"Yes. Please come in," I reply, my voice a bit hoarse due to the fact that I have just woken.

"Good morning, Thalwyn," the unfamiliar voice greets me, no longer muffled by the barrier of the door. "I hope you slept well."

I nod in the direction of the voice. "Yes, thank you..." I let my voice trail off, thus giving a hint that I do not know how to address my visitor.

"Oh, where are my manners?" The other person chuckles. "Tathariel. My name is Tathariel. Lord Elrond asked me to bring you some fresh clothes. He also wishes me to help you to get dressed and..."

"Thank you, Tathariel," I interrupt her, giving her a warm smile. "I know you mean well, but I will not need any help."

At this, she chuckles once more, which reminds me of how Legolas managed to lighten up the mood so effortlessly the night before by doing just the same. I wonder if it is in the nature of the Elves – Tathariel surely must be an Elf as well? –, or if this place possesses some secret magic that makes people so cheerful. The whispers of the waters outside, the fresh air...

It carries the sweet scent of wildflowers again.

I had not noticed when I awoke; which surprises me, for the scent seems even richer than it was the night before.

"Do not worry, Thalwyn," Tathariel's voice interrupts my musings. She has come nearer, and must now stand right beside the bed. "No one intends to treat you like a little child. Lord Elrond is well aware that you are used to getting along without any help, so I ask you to understand his wish as what it is – a gesture of hospitality. Besides, you might find it useful to have someone near who can bring you whatever you may need. This is not a place you are familiar with, after all."

A faint blush creeps up my neck with nimble feet as I realise how impolite and stubborn I must have sounded when I so bluntly refused the offer of help. I feel the need to apologise, but Tathariel is already speaking again in her gentle and melodic voice. "Would you like to take a hot bath, Thalwyn? I am sure it will work wonders on your sore muscles."

I give her another, rather sheepish smile. "A hot bath would be wonderful, thank you."

"All right. I will go and bring some hot water, then. I will be back in a minute."

I have already thought her gone when Tathariel's voice reaches me from somewhere across the room, near the door. "Oh, the dresses," she says, more to herself than actually addressing me. "I had better leave them here." She laughs gently. And then she seems truly gone to fetch the water.

Dresses? I must admit that I am curious. And so, only seconds later, I am out of bed, padding across the stone floor on bare feet. When I assume that the table must be near, I stretch out an arm lest I run into the solid object – or one of the chairs for that matter. One, two more steps, and my hand in fact comes into contact with the backrest of a chair. I pat the seat of the wooden chair. Empty.

With a frown, I feel my way over to the table, and there I find what I was looking for – a small stack of neatly folded clothes. I let the tips of my fingers run across the garment that lies on top. The fabric is soft to the touch, just like the nightgown that I am currently wearing.

Carefully, I pick up the garment, holding what I believe to be its shoulders close to my body. With a soft rustle, the piece of clothing unfolds itself, and I feel the hem brush against my naked toes. I use my left hand to hold the garment against my body while my right hand wanders all across the silky fabric, trailing the embroidery on the upper front of the dress.

In a far corner of my mind, I register the sound of someone humming, but I pay it no heed. I am far too bewitched by the masterpiece of dressmaking that I have before me. "Beautiful." My voice is a mere whisper.

"Aye, you will surely look beautiful in that dress."

I jump at the unexpected reply. Fortunately, I am not so startled as to let the dress slip from my hands.

"Thalwyn, I am sorry. I thought you had heard me come in." It is Tathariel. She must have been the person that I heard humming. Right now, she stands somewhere behind me.

"It is all right," I assure her. "My mind was just elsewhere."

"So I noticed." I hear Tathariel set something down on the floor, chuckling softy. "May I say that I more or less expected to find you having a look at the dresses on my return?"

Now this raises my full attention. "And what made you think so?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

"Well..." She hesitates, but finally goes on, "I heard some of what the Prince told in the Hall of Fire last night, and..."

"The Prince?" I cram my mind for memories of an encounter here in Rivendell with someone of noble blood. Without success. As yet, I have not even met the master of this house. The only person I met in this place the day before was...

"Prince Legolas, Thalwyn," Tathariel enlightens me, putting extra stress to his name. "He is the one that brought you here, and as far as I know you spent the whole evening in his company."

"P...Prince Legolas?" I am not sure if my voice truly shows how puzzled I am.

However, my stuttering earns me a gentle laugh from Tathariel as well as a reassuring touch of her hand on my shoulder. "Aye, Prince Legolas Greenleaf, son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. So I take it that he missed to introduce himself properly?" Tathariel does not even try to hide her amusement.

"He..." I do not know how to start. "He never mentioned his full name, nor his lineage, at that." As soon as those words have left my lips the incident of last night pops back up in my mind. Much to my dismay.

I did not touch any one Elf in an inappropriate manner, but a prince! An Elf of noble blood...

I pray silently for the earth to open up and swallow me. At the same time, I am very grateful for standing with my back to Tathariel. Otherwise, she would inevitably notice the blush that is washing over my face like a fiery flood.

"Never mind," Tathariel says as if she could read my thoughts. "I am sure he just did not want you to get intimidated by his title."

"Yes, maybe," I answer absently.

Tathariel gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before she lets go of me and starts humming again. I hear her move to the other side of the chamber – the part that I have yet to explore – and apparently even further into an adjacent room. A moment later, the splashing sound of water being poured from a container of some sort reaches my ears.

I try to refocus my attention on the dress that I am still holding in my hands. However, I cannot seem to stop scolding myself silently for what I did last night and – most important of all – for not realising to whom I did it. I heave a sigh and let my fingers run across the soft fabric of the dress one last time before I carefully fold the garment as neatly as my annoyingly uncooperative hands would allow. Then I place it on top of the stack of clothes again.

Air. I need a breath of fresh air.

With careful steps, I make my way over to the window. I let my hands rest on the stone ledge and take in a deep breath, just as Tathariel announces that she will go and bring some more water. Slightly turning my head, I reply with a nod and a murmur of approval, then I turn toward the window again. A gentle breeze caresses my face, brushing away at least some of the resurrected discomfort.

I cannot say for sure how long I have been standing at the open window when Tathariel approaches me. "Thalwyn? Would you like to take your bath now?"

I let her lead me across the chamber and into the adjacent room. It turns out to be some sort of bathroom, with a stone tub standing in the middle of it; a tub that is huge compared to the wooden tub we have at home. The sweet, yet spicy smell of herbs and flowers rises from the tub, which is filled with invitingly warm water. After Tathariel has shown me around the room and made sure that I know where to find everything I might need for my bath, we both come to stand next to the bathtub.

"And now enjoy your bath, Thalwyn. I will be waiting in the other chamber, so if you need anything, just call for me. All right?"

I nod my approval and mutter a "Thank you," and Tathariel leaves me to myself. Slowly, I pull the nightgown over my head and lay it atop a small stool at the wall behind me. Once I am undressed, I step into the stone tub. I lower myself into the warm water so that I come to sit with my back resting against the warm stone on the inside of the tub. Then I carefully stretch my legs – which would be impossible in the small tub we have at home – and let my elbows rest on the edge of the tub. My muscles are still a bit sore, but the comfortable warmth of the water soon makes me relax. After a while, my hands start fishing for some of the leaves and blossoms that are swimming in the water. When I get to catch a blossom, my fingers lift it to my face, and I take in its scent, absently brushing the soft petals across my cheek.

Eventually my thoughts stray to the reason for my being here in Rivendell, and to the question of what the search party Legolas spoke of will find out. Tathariel has not mentioned it, but I assume that the search party has already set out...

All of a sudden, a rush of guilt washes over me.

I should not be sitting here, relaxing in a hot bath when I still do not know what happened to Aldarida.
I should not have ridden on when I heard her cry; I should have returned to find out myself if she was all right.

But then another, more rational thought crosses my mind.

How could I probably have found her?
It is most likely that I would not even have found the way back to the clearing on my own...

Frustration gnaws at my heart, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I manage to hold them back for a moment, but then a first wet pearl starts making its way down my cheek, and I can finally not keep the salty streams from running any longer. Silent sobs shake my body, and the blossom that I was still holding slips from my fingers, falling into the mix of warm water and tears.