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.

I'm terribly, terribly sorry for not updating any earlier. My sincerest apologies. Life has been very hectic lately (with lots of extra workload that could not be foreseen), and so I just didn't find the time to write at all for a while. But I'm back with a new chapter, and I'll try to at least update every two weeks despite my still packed schedule. I can't thank all of you enough for your patience, and for all the wonderful reviews I've been getting. :o) Oh, and once more many thanks to Violet for being a great beta reader. ;o)

Well, but now I'll shut up and 'feed' you the new chapter, 'To the Great Hall'.
Enjoy!

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A Spark in the Dark

14 Legolas: To the Great Hall

Neither of us says a word as I lead Thalwyn along the corridor. I am far too occupied with pondering how to make her grasp the full beauty of Rivendell. At the same time, I keep my eyes watching ahead – lest I overlook anything that might turn out to be an obstacle for the blind woman at my side.

What does she perceive of her surroundings as we walk?
Shall I describe everything to her? Tell her what this corridor looks like?

Letting my gaze stray over to her for a brief moment, I decide against it. I am convinced that Thalwyn would ask me for it if she wanted me to give her any descriptions. Besides, the small wrinkle on her forehead indicates that she is either too lost in thought to listen, or that all of her concentration is focused on the unknown path ahead of her anyway. To tell from the way the young woman holds on to my elbow with both of her hands, I would assume that the latter is the case.

It must be an odd feeling to fully rely on a stranger.
Which is what I am to her, a mere stranger.

We walk on in comfortable silence until we approach the stairs that lead down to the ground floor and I decide to stop for a moment. It is more than obvious that this is the moment to give Thalwyn some information about our surroundings without her asking for it.

As the young woman follows my example and comes to stand next to me, I tell her of the stairs in front of us. "They are not very steep, and the steps are fairly broad," I add some more detail, hoping that this kind of description will be of use for her. When I finally tell Thalwyn that the stairs are only one step ahead, I seem to have provided her with all the information she might need.

"All right," she says. "So what are we waiting for?" With that, one of her bare feet reaches forward searchingly, and finally she comes to stand at the head of the stairs.

But despite the smile on Thalwyn's lips I feel her tense, holding on to my arm more firmly than before.

It must cost her quite an effort to make the first step down.

My own fingers close around hers on their own account. "Trust me, Thalwyn," I try to encourage her to start the descent.

And indeed, giving me a hint of a nod, the young woman feels for the first step. She moves with great care, using my arm for support as she balances her weight on one slightly bent leg. When her outstretched foot settles on the step below, however, she does not hesitate to fully shift her weight onto it and continue descending the stairs.

All the way down, I never leave Thalwyn's side, prepared to catch her should she stumble. Not that I expect it to happen, for we have not even made it half way down the stairs when the young woman takes step after step with a confidence that surprises me. Any tension seems to have left her body, and her hands now rest on my arm in a more or less relaxed fashion.

Once we have reached the foot of the stairs – which, of course, I had pointed out to Thalwyn in time – we come to a brief halt again.

"Well, that went well," the woman states, her voice laced with relief. "You make a good guide, Legolas. Thank you."

"It is my pleasure," I reply with a smile before I suggest going on.

When Thalwyn nods her approval, we resume walking in silence, now along a half-open passage overlooking the banks of the river Bruinen.

Once more my thoughts stray to my promise to show Thalwyn around Imladris, when all of a sudden the woman at my side freezes. She whispers something that sounds like a name to me, but since my mind has been elsewhere, I am not sure that I heard right – even with the gift of Elvish hearing. So I decide to ask.

"Liorin?" I repeat what I believe she said.

It seems that my ears did not play me a trick, for Thalwyn does not correct me but answers, "My horse. I have to see if she is all right."

"Your horse is fine, Thalwyn," I try to calm her. "I will take you to her later, if you like."

Anyway, the wish to visit her horse sooner rather than later is written all over the young woman's face. I cannot help but smile as that expression stirs a memory of one of my childhood days within me.

That day when I overheard one of our stable hands saying that Mithlos had picked a fight with another horse – Mithlos, the first horse I had been allowed to call mine...
Although I overheard as well that my horse was all right, I felt the urge to run to the stables at once. And I would have, had it not been for Father insisting that I join everybody else at dinner first...

With a soft chuckle, I refocus my attention to the here and now; to Thalwyn. The expression on her face has not changed.

I must have looked the same that day, so many centuries ago.

"There is no need to worry, Thalwyn," I try again. "Your horse is all right, believe me." Suspecting that this will not be enough to convince her, I add, "At least she was about an hour ago."

"You...you have been looking after her?"

I tell Thalwyn that I went down to the stables with the members of the search party earlier this morning, and assure her that her horse is in good hands there. When I suggest showing her to the stables later, the expression of worry finally leaves the woman's face.

"Agreed." She gives me a slight nod. "We will have a look at the stables later."

We have just resumed walking in the direction of the Great Hall, when Thalwyn asks, "Legolas, where are you leading me anyway?"

Just when I thought she would never ask...

"To the Great Hall," I reply. "Lord Elrond is expecting us for breakfast."

"Lord...Lord Elrond?" A mixture of surprise and excitement flits across Thalwyn's features.

"Aye, Thalwyn. The Master of Rivendell would like to finally bid you his proper welcome."

The colour seems to drain from Thalwyn's face as I go on explaining that – when she was unconscious – Lord Elrond had convinced himself personally that she was not severely injured. I also notice that the grip of the young woman's hand on my arm tightens again.

"Thalwyn?" No reaction. "Thalwyn? Is everything all right?"

It takes a moment for her to reply, "Yes, yes." Her voice betrays her, however; and her grip on my arm remains tight as before.

Is it yet again the mentioning of a formal title that makes her uneasy?

Clueless as to what else to do, I bring my free hand up and gently envelop that of the young woman. "There is no need to be nervous, Thalwyn. Everything will be fine. Just be yourself."

She gives me a weak smile that allows a hint of insecurity to shine through, yet she does not make any move not to walk on with me.

Before long we have reached the Great Hall, and I stop in front of the double-winged oaken door. We have not met anyone on our way here, so I assume that everyone else has already assembled inside. The lively mix of different tongues and voices that reach us through the heavy wood confirms my assumption.

"Well, here we are, standing right in front of the door that leads to the Great Hall. Are you ready to go in?" My eyes keep studying Thalwyn's face as I wait for her reply.

"Yes, let us not keep Lord Elrond waiting any longer." Astonishingly, there is not the slightest trace of nervousness left in her voice.

With a last reassuring squeeze I let go of her hand, then I push open the heavy oak door and lead Thalwyn into the Hall. Once we have entered, I spot Lord Elrond sitting at one of the tables at the back of the room. His daughter and sons are sitting to his right, while the two chairs to his left are unoccupied.

As soon as the Lord of Imladris has taken notice of us, a smile graces his solemn features, and he beckons to us.

"Lord Elrond would like us to sit with him," I let Thalwyn know, keeping my voice low. "I suggest we walk over to his table."

As we cross the large room, I nod the occasional 'Good Morning' to people looking up from their morning meals. However, most of the assembled crowd are too engrossed in conversation to pay us much attention.

When we finally reach his table, Lord Elrond stands and turns toward us. "Welcome to Rivendell, Thalwyn." The tall Elf takes a step forward and reaches out to cup her shoulder with one slender hand.

"Thank you, Your Highness." Thalwyn's one hand is still resting in the crook of my arm, but the other grabs for the skirt of her dress, and the young woman makes a move to curtsey.

The Lord of Rivendell, though, has already gingerly closed both his hands around her upper arms to prevent her from performing the gesture. "Do not curtsey before me, Thalwyn," he says, mirth showing through in his voice, "It is not customary in these Halls."

A faint blush creeps onto Thalwyn's cheeks and she gives an embarrassed smile.

"But please – Thalwyn, Legolas, have a seat." Lord Elrond takes a step back again, letting go of Thalwyn in the process.

I pull out the nearest chair, which happens to be the one next to Lord Elrond's. "Would you like to take this one, Thalwyn?"

"Yes, thank you." She reaches for the backrest of the chair, almost finding it at once. The low, scraping sound of the wooden legs sliding across the floor must have given her a clue – just as I had intended. Once her fingers are resting on the upper rim of the backrest, Thalwyn's other hand leaves the crook of my arm. It stretches out in the direction of the table as the woman makes her way around the chair.

It is obvious that she does not need my help, and I scold myself silently for staring so bluntly at her performing such a simple task as taking a seat. And so I let my gaze stray over to Lord Elrond's children, mirroring their gesture when they bend their heads in a silent greeting.

As soon as Thalwyn has settled at the table, Lord Elrond reclaims the seat to her right, and then I finally pull out my own chair and sit down to the woman's left. And already an Elven maiden walks up to our table in order to fill the cups in front of us with fresh water. Another maiden is following at her heels, holding out a bowl filled with fruit to me, which I accept with a courteous nod.

I pick some fruit from the bowl in my hands and place it on my plate. From the corner of an eye I notice how Thalwyn's fingers begin to explore the space right in front of her – to feel for the plate and cutlery – while she speaks to Lord Elrond.

Apparently, she has come over her nervousness all right...

I wait for Thalwyn to finish her sentence before I address her, "Some fruit, Thalwyn?"

She turns her head toward me, smiling. "Yes, please."

I hand the bowl to her to let her choose herself. The young woman's fingers carefully examine its contents and eventually pick some grapes from the dish. Then she turns to resume her talk with the Elf Lord to her right, passing the bowl on to him. I watch the exchange with a pleased smile before I turn my attention toward the food on my plate.