Tauriel lets out a light sigh, sipping at her drink.
The sounds of music and happy chatter surround her, and it is all a bit dizzying. Feasts at the palace were always a grand affair, but without her sight, the sounds from all directions are enough to make her head spin. Although, grant it, the wine is doing her no favors there.
There is a lull in the music, followed by scattered applause, and Tauriel takes a slow breath as the room quiets down for a short while. She lets the tip of her finger run along the cool metal rim of her goblet, feeling the smooth glide over her skin save for two spots - one at the seam of the chalice and the other a small dent from being dropped at some party that probably took place decades ago. She repeats the circuit over and over, feeling the bumps in the metal run beneath her touch like a heartbeat.
Two elves pass nearby, chattering excitedly about a hunt that they'd come back from earlier, one claiming that the boar was the biggest that had been presented at a feast in at least two centuries. The other was arguing their own record, claiming that only fifty years ago, there was-
"Tauriel."
She looks up sharply at her King's voice, resting the chalice of wine against her thigh as her finger continues to absently trace the edge.
"My Lord?"
"Come. Dance with me."
She falters for a long second, her sightless gaze dropping back to her lap out of habit.
"I...I cannot possibly-"
"I will show you. Come along."
Hesitant, Tauriel sets her wine aside and stands, following Thranduil's lead as his hand comes to rest on her shoulder. She can hear the soft murmuring of voices and the hissing movement of fine robes, creating a gentle hum to which the musicians pluck strings and tap at percussions, waiting to start.
When the tune plays it is one that she recognizes. A moderately-paced circle dance, where the partners are handed off between measures.
"I cannot-" she starts, but Thranduil tugs her into a twirl before she gets a chance to finish.
"Don't be absurd. Of course you can. You know this dance already, just take it slow. Let me lead."
Tauriel takes a deep, steady breath as she focuses on where Thranduil's touch is guiding her. She has no visual cues, and has to rely solely on his movements. He makes them obvious for her, however, drawing her in the proper direction with large, sweeping motions that she can keep track of and follow in time to the beat. He is starting out at half the pace of the actual dance, and Tauriel tries not to step on his feet or trip over his robe as much as she tries to keep pace.
This proves to be a losing battle however, as her foot catches in the edge of his robe on the next turn and she stumbles. He has a firm hold on her and does not let her fall, but neither does he slow the pace or stop.
"My Lord-" she starts when she feels his foot beneath her next step, but he hushes her.
"You're doing fine. Keep going."
Tauriel suspects that everyone is staring at her, and she feels warm with embarrassment and the heat of their imagined scrutiny. That as much as anything is throwing her off.
She feels the king's foot beneath hers once again, and she lets out a sharp breath in annoyance at her own clumsiness. Thranduil shifts slightly, distancing himself half a pace, but does not slow down.
"You really don't have to do this," she says softly, and can feel his shrug.
"This is a festival," he says, leading her slowly through another turn, "I am not going to leave you to sulk in a corner."
"I was not sulking," she mutters. His only response is a quiet laugh.
"Yes, you were. Now," he cuts her off, and she can hear the smile in his voice at the face she makes. "Try it a bit faster."
She ducks around beneath his arm when she feels it lift, and lets him guide her back into his hold. Her next step is wildly uneven, however, and she bites back a curse when she realizes that she's stepped on his boot yet again.
"It's all right. Keep going," Thranduil coaxes immediately, and Tauriel follows along to his lead with a sharp sigh.
"It is difficult when I have no sight to guide me," she mutters, half hoping that he will let her go back to her corner so she can continue not-sulking.
"I did not let it stop me."
"You can still see out of one eye," she replies petulantly.
"And you can still hear and feel. You simply have a better excuse for stepping on my toes than I do for stepping on yours."
Tauriel has to suppress a snort at that.
He does not let her slow her pace, running her through the steps faster and faster until they are matching tempo with the song. It is a bit dizzying, to be twirled about in the dark with nothing but sound to tell her what direction she faces, but it is exhilarating as well.
"Ready to join the others?" he asks softly, and Tauriel has to take a moment to get her bearings before she nods. "Just like we've been doing. Now, take a large step back in three...two..."
Tauriel moves in sync with him, and they are suddenly in the middle of the chaos. She can hear people around her, closest on either side, but Thranduil draws her into a twirl before she can think too much on it. She passes close enough to the couple beside them that she feels their hair and clothing whip past one another, but they do not collide.
Tauriel takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she forces herself to relax. Her king will not let her come to harm, and she trusts him to lead. She repeats this to herself as Thranduil takes her through the steps once again.
Once she has stopped edging closer to him for fear of colliding with the other elves, she finds that she no longer catches on his robe or steps on his feet. He is aware of what is going on around her so she does not have to be, acting as her sight in the confusion of sound. Every move comes smooth and fluid, and Tauriel finds herself smiling.
She can do this.
"Pass," Thranduil murmurs against her ear, and the next thing Tauriel knows she's been spun into a new pair of arms. For a second all she feels is the dizzying emptiness of being lost, but whoever caught her leads her seamlessly into the familiar steps, and she calms.
"Good evening, Captain."
"Feren," she breathes, relieved to find that her new partner seems just as at ease with her sightless movements as Thranduil was. He must have been watching.
"You look lovely tonight, Tauriel."
"I would return the compliment, but for all I know you have your tunic on backwards. You sound well, however," she says with a little smile, and hears him chuckle in return.
"I am glad to see that you have not resolved yourself to sulking in a corner for the rest of the evening."
"I was not sulking," she mutters, ducking into a twirl when Feren's arm lifts and leads her around beneath it. "I was merely...thinking."
"Ah. I do hope that it was not too exhausting a task."
"Watch it; I'll step on your foot and you'll have to forgive me," she says with a practiced dryness in her tone that would impress even the king.
"Of course," Feren laughs, and she can only hold her severe expression for another few seconds before she breaks down and laughs along with him. Feren speaks up again a second later. "If you don't have plans for later, Tauriel, perhaps you would join me for a round or two? I plan on drinking Aerlinn and Míriel under the t- whoops!"
Tauriel is spun around rather suddenly, and finds herself with a new partner before Feren gets a chance to finish. It throws her for a second, but a steady pair of hands supports her, guiding in the right direction until she gets her bearings.
"Like hell he's going to be drinking anyone under the table," her new partner mutters, slightly louder than is necessary, and Tauriel tries to bite back a troublemaking grin as she identifies Aerlinn.
"I can try," Feren calls from somewhere to her left, and Aerlinn snorts as Feren's new partner laughs.
"I'm not carrying your sorry, drunken arse back to your room tonight after you lose," Aerlinn says.
"Why do you think I was asking Tauriel to join me?"
"Oh, like I'm going to be any help with that," she says, her smirk spreading into a grin at the sound of Feren's groan. "Well it's not like I memorized the path back to your chambers. We'd both wind up in a river somewhere."
"I'm sure you could find him some nice table to sleep beneath," Aerlinn assures her, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he spins her around. "Trading partners; you ready?"
Tauriel nods, and her hands are holding empty air for a second before a set of lithe fingers slip between hers and tug her into another twirl.
"Hello, Captain."
"Meldirion!"
"What's this I hear about Feren sleeping under tables?"
"Drinking contest," Tauriel laughs.
"Eru help him. You think he'd learn."
"It's been three hundred years. I doubt he's going to figure it out."
"Most likely not. By the way, I found another book you may like, Captain."
Tauriel feels him lean closer, the brush of soft hair against her bare forearm and cheek giving away his movements.
"It is a dwarven book," he whispers conspiringly. "Was on the back shelf, underneath a few tomes about stone carving."
"What's it about?" she breathes, feeling a thrill of excitement as he spins her around gracefully. Since the battle, she seems to have developed an insatiable taste for the culture that she'd nearly been a part of, and the prospect of new knowledge about it always makes her giddy.
"Not sure," Meldirion says, and she feels him shrug. "I was waiting until you were there to open it."
"Then it shall be a surprise for the both of us," she smiles. "Thank you, mellon."
"Trading partners," he cautions, and Tauriel follows his lead through a turn as he passes her to another set of waiting hands.
This elf is one she does not know as well, and cannot recognize him from his greeting. He does not speak much, but he is as accommodating of her blindness as the others were, and she does not so much as stumble when he passes her to the next in line.
The rest of the dance is a blur, and just as fun as she remembered it to be from when she could see. She does manage to step on poor Hedryn's foot, and bumps into someone when Bedhiruil forgets that she cannot see who is near her and moves them too close to the couple behind them, but otherwise everything goes smoothly.
Galion cannot resist a comment about their last encounter when they find themselves as partners, and Tauriel is still laughing at his description of the king's embarrassed expression when she is spun away into the next set of arms that waits to steady her.
"Ah, there you are," Lord Thranduil's voice is cheerful, and Tauriel smiles as he takes the lead. "Having fun?"
"Yes," she laughs, ducking beneath his arm and catching his waiting hand with ease.
"Good."
The music slows in a final few notes and stops, applause and chatter erupting around her. Thranduil's hand ghosts across her shoulder, drawing her closer as he speaks.
"Would you like to work through another dance?"
Tauriel considers for a moment as the orchestra tests a few notes in the background and the elves around them all shift and mingle. They are somewhere in the middle of the ballroom, an island in a sea of chatter, and she cannot for the life of her tell what direction is what.
"I would, but for one thing, My Lord," she says.
"And what is that?"
"I suspect that it may take me all evening to simply re-locate where I set my drink down."
The king is silent for a second, but then bursts into laughter, and Tauriel is so surprised by it that she is unsure how to react for a second.
"Dear girl, I will give you a bottle all to yourself if you wish," he replies at length, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Come, one more dance. While we are both still sober enough to stand."
With a smile of her own, Tauriel takes his hand and ducks into a twirl as the music picks up.