New moon night
Farothwen nervously smoothed her emerald green dress that her father picked for her, 'to match your eyes,' he said.
Her auburn hair flowed in loose waves to her waist. She looked over at her father, who wore an outfit of similar colour to hers, his blonde hair past his shoulders, his bright blue eyes piercing through her façade of confidence.
'I know you are worried, Farothwen. I know I was the first time I performed for the King. But you will be fine.'
'Will I, Ada?'
'You will, trust me.'
Farothwen sighed and looked outside. The sun was setting in the distance. She did not want to leave these beloved lands to find her kin, but she had to one day. If only there was a reason to stay…
She fastened the clasp of her riding cloak around her neck and drew her hood. She followed her father to the stables where she mounted her mare Rochtári and rode to the halls of Thranduil.
They were received by the King's servants and brought to the feast hall, where everyone was to be seated. As they arrived, other guests were arriving also. People Farothwen recognised were mainly advisors to Thranduil and the guardians of Prince Legolas.
Soon everyone was there, and Farothwen nervously started singing her songs - mostly traditional lays. One of the songs her father had taught her was in the traditional Wood-Elf language of Nandorin. As she sang it solo, she heard a low but sweet voice singing along - and she knew it was not her father. She subtly scanned the crowd until she found the mystery singer. She laid her eyes upon an Elf in the back corner. She was nearly struck dumb.
He had long golden hair that shone like the sun itself, and blue eyes so brilliant their sparkle mirrored the Silmarils, to Farothwen. His lips followed hers, singing the exact same words. She was entranced, and she could not look away from him.
He seemed equally entranced and did not break away from her. Farothwen only averted her eyes when she had finished her song and her father grabbed her arm.
'What, Ada?'
'Come, let us sit down,' Beleglor repeated. 'What were you staring at?'
'Nothing,' Farothwen replied.
The King's own musicians had taken over, and Beleglor and Farothwen had taken the opportunity to sit down and eat. Farothwen's throat was parched.
She ate some fruit, and drank some wine to moisten her throat. Beleglor had left the table to talk to some other Elves. One Farothwen recognised was Hirogaer, senior advisor to the King.
Farothwen drank once again from her goblet and turned to face the crowd of Elves dancing in the hall. She didn't see one of them walk over to her until he was right in front of her. She looked up at him. It was the Elf she saw when she was singing her Nandorin lay.
'Care to dance?' he asked, offering his hand.
Farothwen was suddenly struck by a flash of boldness. 'I do not dance with strange Elves.'
The Elf laughed. 'I am called Glorohtar. What is your name?'
'Farothwen,' she replied.
'Such an inappropriate name for a minstrel,' Glorohtar replied. 'I have never heard an Elf sing so beautifully.'
Farothwen lowered her head, then looked back up at Glorohtar, her emerald eyes meeting his sapphire ones. 'Do I look like an Elf?'
'You are much more than an Elf.'
She snorted. 'How can the looks of a human be rated over that of an Elf?'
Glorohtar smiled. 'I just wanted a dance, not a political discussion. Will you oblige me?'
Farothwen sighed inaudibly and took Glorohtar's hand. He led her out to all the other Elven couples.
'There, that was not so hard, was it?'
Farothwen felt extremely self-conscious, as she always did, being the only dark-headed maiden in a whole room of Woodlanders. Yet another sharp reminder of what she really was.
Her father had tried to keep her away from the other Elves. She had had a few bad experiences when she was a child of other Elves abusing her because she was human. Beleglor had tried to keep her from forming relationships with any other Elves than him, in order to make it easier for her to leave him when the time came. But he knew that the time would not come for some years yet, for her race of people lived thrice as long as other Men.
Farothwen knew her father loved her, and she couldn't blame him for what he was trying to do, but she craved contact with other Elves and yearned for companionship. Yet she was deathly aware of how these Elves saw her. They hated all strangers, especially humans. They disapproved strongly of any Elven contact with humans, and Farothwen knew that some begged Beleglor to leave her to die when she was a baby. She was raised as an Elf, and she considered herself an Elf, but she could never be an Elf.
Glorohtar's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
'What?' she asked.
'I asked if you were any good with a bow.'
'Somewhat. I have not yet completed my training.'
'Would you like me to teach you?'
Farothwen's eyes lit up. 'If my father approves.'
'Let me ask him.'
Glorohtar dropped her hands and went to speak to Beleglor. Farothwen could see that her father looked apprehensive. She gave him her best pleading look, knowing he could not resist her eyes. She watched him nod in agreement. She grinned as Glorohtar returned to her.
'We start tomorrow,' he said. 'Meet me at lunch tomorrow, at the Great Tree.'
The Great Tree was a tree that grew near the Halls, and it was taller than all others.
Farothwen nervously smoothed her emerald green dress that her father picked for her, 'to match your eyes,' he said.
Her auburn hair flowed in loose waves to her waist. She looked over at her father, who wore an outfit of similar colour to hers, his blonde hair past his shoulders, his bright blue eyes piercing through her façade of confidence.
'I know you are worried, Farothwen. I know I was the first time I performed for the King. But you will be fine.'
'Will I, Ada?'
'You will, trust me.'
Farothwen sighed and looked outside. The sun was setting in the distance. She did not want to leave these beloved lands to find her kin, but she had to one day. If only there was a reason to stay…
She fastened the clasp of her riding cloak around her neck and drew her hood. She followed her father to the stables where she mounted her mare Rochtári and rode to the halls of Thranduil.
They were received by the King's servants and brought to the feast hall, where everyone was to be seated. As they arrived, other guests were arriving also. People Farothwen recognised were mainly advisors to Thranduil and the guardians of Prince Legolas.
Soon everyone was there, and Farothwen nervously started singing her songs - mostly traditional lays. One of the songs her father had taught her was in the traditional Wood-Elf language of Nandorin. As she sang it solo, she heard a low but sweet voice singing along - and she knew it was not her father. She subtly scanned the crowd until she found the mystery singer. She laid her eyes upon an Elf in the back corner. She was nearly struck dumb.
He had long golden hair that shone like the sun itself, and blue eyes so brilliant their sparkle mirrored the Silmarils, to Farothwen. His lips followed hers, singing the exact same words. She was entranced, and she could not look away from him.
He seemed equally entranced and did not break away from her. Farothwen only averted her eyes when she had finished her song and her father grabbed her arm.
'What, Ada?'
'Come, let us sit down,' Beleglor repeated. 'What were you staring at?'
'Nothing,' Farothwen replied.
The King's own musicians had taken over, and Beleglor and Farothwen had taken the opportunity to sit down and eat. Farothwen's throat was parched.
She ate some fruit, and drank some wine to moisten her throat. Beleglor had left the table to talk to some other Elves. One Farothwen recognised was Hirogaer, senior advisor to the King.
Farothwen drank once again from her goblet and turned to face the crowd of Elves dancing in the hall. She didn't see one of them walk over to her until he was right in front of her. She looked up at him. It was the Elf she saw when she was singing her Nandorin lay.
'Care to dance?' he asked, offering his hand.
Farothwen was suddenly struck by a flash of boldness. 'I do not dance with strange Elves.'
The Elf laughed. 'I am called Glorohtar. What is your name?'
'Farothwen,' she replied.
'Such an inappropriate name for a minstrel,' Glorohtar replied. 'I have never heard an Elf sing so beautifully.'
Farothwen lowered her head, then looked back up at Glorohtar, her emerald eyes meeting his sapphire ones. 'Do I look like an Elf?'
'You are much more than an Elf.'
She snorted. 'How can the looks of a human be rated over that of an Elf?'
Glorohtar smiled. 'I just wanted a dance, not a political discussion. Will you oblige me?'
Farothwen sighed inaudibly and took Glorohtar's hand. He led her out to all the other Elven couples.
'There, that was not so hard, was it?'
Farothwen felt extremely self-conscious, as she always did, being the only dark-headed maiden in a whole room of Woodlanders. Yet another sharp reminder of what she really was.
Her father had tried to keep her away from the other Elves. She had had a few bad experiences when she was a child of other Elves abusing her because she was human. Beleglor had tried to keep her from forming relationships with any other Elves than him, in order to make it easier for her to leave him when the time came. But he knew that the time would not come for some years yet, for her race of people lived thrice as long as other Men.
Farothwen knew her father loved her, and she couldn't blame him for what he was trying to do, but she craved contact with other Elves and yearned for companionship. Yet she was deathly aware of how these Elves saw her. They hated all strangers, especially humans. They disapproved strongly of any Elven contact with humans, and Farothwen knew that some begged Beleglor to leave her to die when she was a baby. She was raised as an Elf, and she considered herself an Elf, but she could never be an Elf.
Glorohtar's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
'What?' she asked.
'I asked if you were any good with a bow.'
'Somewhat. I have not yet completed my training.'
'Would you like me to teach you?'
Farothwen's eyes lit up. 'If my father approves.'
'Let me ask him.'
Glorohtar dropped her hands and went to speak to Beleglor. Farothwen could see that her father looked apprehensive. She gave him her best pleading look, knowing he could not resist her eyes. She watched him nod in agreement. She grinned as Glorohtar returned to her.
'We start tomorrow,' he said. 'Meet me at lunch tomorrow, at the Great Tree.'
The Great Tree was a tree that grew near the Halls, and it was taller than all others.