Title: A Spark in the Dark

Author: Luinëturiel

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.

First of all, I hope that all of you had a wonderful Christmas. And my best wishes for 2003 to my dear readers; I know that I'm repeating myself, but you guys are great! Again and again, I'm overwhelmed by the wonderful reviews I get. :o)

@ PuterPatty: So you think that there are Dwarves in the Hall? Hmm...well, we'll see in the following chapter if you're right with that. ;o)
@ Nebride: As for Thalwyn's determination to learn how to ride – I've got nooo idea whom that might remind you of! lol If Elrond will know how to 'cure' Thalwyn's blindness – who knows? *shrugs*
@ Meethrill (or should I say Carrie and Shelly) + Kyesha: I'm flattered to hear yet again that I'm doing all right with my attempts at imagining how a blind person would act and what she would perceive of her surroundings. As for the section where Thalwyn awakes, I wasn't sure what a blind person's dreams would be like (although I assumed that they would not dream 'in pictures'), so I decidedly kept that part vague. ;o)

But now on to the question what it was that seemed to distract Legolas during breakfast. *grins*
Enjoy!

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A Spark in the Dark

16 Legolas: Distractions

I pick up an apple from my plate and take the occasional bite as I listen to the relaxed talk between Thalwyn and the Master of the house. I refrain from joining the conversation, however. Mostly because it would not be polite, but I have never been an Elf of many words anyway. And so I am quite grateful that Thalwyn has found someone else to speak with; and that I can just enjoy my meal and listen for a while.

The young woman tells of how her sister encouraged her to take up riding, and of her first riding lessons. All the while, her voice is filled with a joy that seems to mirror the excitement she must have felt back then. I share an amused smile with the Elf Lord sitting to the other side of Thalwyn. And when the young woman mentions falling off her horse one or the other time, but in the same breath insists that it has always been her own fault entirely, our host even lets out a soft laugh.

As the two of them go on talking about Thalwyn's father, I let my gaze stray across the room. Aside from the Rivendell Elves, quite a number of guests are grouped around the wooden tables in the Hall – some of my brethren from Mirkwood as well as several Men, Hobbits, and other folk. Most of the people I see, I already met in the Hall of Fire last night. However, I find my eyes locking on a group of strangers that I have purposefully not paid much attention to so far – Dwarves.

As if on clue, one of the long-bearded creatures looks up from the table and in my direction. The expression on the furred face quickly turns into a scowl as our gazes meet, but of course, I am well aware that my own expression is not exactly speaking of sympathy either. It is no secret that Elves harbour a certain dislike toward Dwarves – and vice versa. And to tell from the legendary 'visit' of a group of this short folk in my father's realm some seventy-seven years ago, a certain amount of distrust – at least from the side of us Elves – is indeed quite justified, if you ask me.

Dwarves.
They are filthy, greedy creatures. Digging in the earth, robbing her of her riches without giving anything in return...

If even possible, the frown on my face deepens.

I am well aware that these are dark times. But the danger creeping forward from the East must be even greater than I thought, if the Master of Imladris invites Dwarves to a council in his fair home.

Roaring laughter wafts over from the table the group of Dwarves is seated at, and the one that has been looking at me averts his eyes again. His eyes? Well, at least I assume that it is a male Dwarf.

But who can tell the difference between a male and a female Dwarf anyway?

From what I have been told, female Dwarves are fairly hard to distinguish from their male counterparts, growing just as much facial hair and being of the same short and sturdy built.

And that is already more than I needed to know, for I do not intend to have more dealings with Dwarves than should be absolutely necessary.

"Would you like some bread, Legolas?" Thalwyn's voice cuts into my train of thought. The young woman is holding out a breadbasket to me.

"Yes, thank you, Thalwyn." I accept the proffered basket and pick a soft slice of spiced bread from it before setting the basket down in front of me.

Only a few moments later, Thalwyn hands another dish to me, and also from the table to my left bowls are being passed in our direction. As soon as my plate is laden with food, I resume eating, but not without once more looking over to the Dwarves' table. Their gruff talk has increased notably in volume, now being quite dominant in the potpourri of voices that fills the room. I do not speak a single word of Dwarvish, so I have no clue as to what is being said. I only know that the sheer sound of that small folk's unmelodious language displeases me.

It is almost hurtful to Elvish ears.

I cannot help but frown again before I finally take my eyes off the group of Dwarves and continue to look around. As my gaze strays to a group of Elven maidens sitting in the far corner of the Hall, I do not fail to notice them hastily looking down on their plates, busying themselves with picking at the food before them with their forks in a pathetic attempt to look occupied with eating. A moment later, one of the maidens whispers something to her neighbours, which causes all the three of them to start giggling sheepishly. My lips curve in a smile, and I have to suppress a chuckle as the Elven maiden sitting to the far right glances up from under her eyelashes – only to drop her gaze again at once, blushing crimson, when she finds me eyeing her, unable to fully hide my amusement at the maidens' antics.

By the Valar, will I ever get used to this?

Oft have I heard people calling me strikingly fair; oft have I seen maidens glance at me in undisguised admiration – but I have yet to grasp what exactly it is they see in me to be so extraordinarily attractive. Not that I would really care anyway. I am said to be one of the finest warriors in my fathers realm, and it is my skills in archery and swordplay rather than my looks that are of importance to me.

Well, admittedly, to be considered good-looking and charming does have its advantages.
At least it has saved me from serious trouble every now and then...

Another smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I recall one of the incidents where I put my handsome looks and charm to good use. I was a young Elfling then, and one of Caranhil and my pranks was not received as good by my father as we had hoped.

Which is quite an understatement. Actually, Father was furious when he found out that a whole barrel of his best wine had been 'spiced' with salt.
And the fact that he had guests when the wine was served, did not exactly help either...

But no matter how upset my father got, quickly conducting that his son must have something to do with the mess, it took me but a talk with our cook – a true soul of a She-elf, who could never resist my charm – to save Caranhil and me from punishment.

I have never got to know what kind of a story she told Father, but it saved our necks, and for that, I will be grateful forever...

When the colours of the memory begin to fade and my view finally gets focussed again, I realise that I am smiling right at one of the Elven maidens that were the cause of my musings. She seems to have got over her initial shyness, and is now flirting shamelessly with me; the look in her sparkling grey eyes speaks of admiration...and holds a promise that cannot be mistaken.

Although I must admit that the She-elf is truly beautiful and that I feel flattered to have sparked her interest, a pang of guilt rises within me.

The reason of my stay at Imladris is far too serious to even think of flirting with any of the Rivendell maidens.

So with another – more or less apologetic – smile, I break eye contact with her and force myself to take up eating again as if nothing had happened.

Just then I pick up my name and become aware that Lord Elrond is talking not only to Thalwyn any longer, but that he must also have been addressing me with his last words. When I look over to him, our gazes meet for a brief moment, and the amused twinkle in his eyes tells me that my mental absence has not gone unnoticed by him.

"You will be in good hands, Thalwyn," the Elf Lord says as he lays a hand on the young woman's forearm and makes a move to rise from the table. "Now, if you will excuse me? Legolas..." Lord Elrond gives me a slight nod, which I answer with a similar gesture. He then leaves the table, closely followed by one of his sons; whether it is Elladan or Elrohir I would have to guess, though, since I have yet to learn how to tell the twins apart.

Lord Elrond and his son have just taken a few steps when Thalwyn turns toward me, a genuine smile lighting up her face. It is more than obvious that she enjoyed the conversation with our host.

"This place is wonderful. All the people here are so wonderful and kind." The young woman heaves a contented sigh, which makes me chuckle.

"Well, if you do already think this place wonderful, Thalwyn, then I am curious as to what you will say once I show you around the valley. For you have got but a glimpse of the beauty of Rivendell so far."

"And I can hardly wait to see more of it, Legolas. But I think I had better finish eating first." She lets out a gentle laugh. "Talking with Lord Elrond made me completely forget about my breakfast."

"Well, take your time, Thalwyn. We still have all day."

The young woman nods in approval before focussing her attention on the filled plate in front of her. I follow her example, and we both finish our breakfast in silence and without further distractions.

As soon as Thalwyn has cleared the last morsel from her plate, she sits back and heaves another sigh. "I think I could very well use a little walk now," she laughs, her right hand resting lightly on her belly.

"Well, shall we go, then?" I quickly take one last sip of water from my goblet before rising from my chair.

Thalwyn stands as well, and once more I offer my arm to her, which she accepts with a smile. "Thank you, Your Highness," she says half-jokingly, and I put a hand on top of hers as a silent reply.

Arwen as well as her brother have turned their heads to look up at Thalwyn and me. "Enjoy your look around," the daughter of Lord Elrond addresses neither of us in particular.

"We surely will," I answer on behalf of both of us with an inclination of my head. "Thank you, Lady Arwen."

I exchange another courteous nod with the raven-haired Elf sitting next to her – still wondering whether it is Elladan or Elrohir –, then I guide Thalwyn in the direction of the two-winged oaken door we entered through earlier.