Hello again!
"Leave it up to Estel to make his daughter overly proficient with a sword." Glorfindel smirked in a way similar to Erestor as he and his former pupil leant against the fence, watching as Thurin and Elladan sparred relentlessly with each other.
"Glorfindel, she is a ranger! She hates being called a woman, or a lady. Just let her be who she is, and do stop teasing!" Thorongil replied sheepishly, frowning as his daughter thoroughly botched up a new move they had been working on lately.
"Alright, alright, but honestly! What will the elf-maids think? She will be spurned."
"Thurin has never much enjoyed the company of women, I honestly do not think she will mind it much."
"Ah, but I think she will. Your daughter is a bit shy, Estel, and, dare I say it, insecure."
"Insecure!? What? Glorfindel, do not be too hasty in judging my daughter!"
"I am sorry, mellon nin, I should not have said anything, but be aware.
But is she wearing dwarvish hair beads? Who has she been associating with?"
"Oh please, Glorfindel. A ranger friend gave them to her, an old family heirloom, and besides, dwarves aren't as dastardly as you elves make out."
"Hmm, interesting. What did your adar think of her?"
"He did not approve of my fathering technique, he said I was too gruff."
"Do not mind him. By the Valar, Thurin really is holding her own."
"Yes, I must admit, I am surprised, she usually does not do well with a sword and an overbearing opponent like Elladan. I'm surprised she's lasted this long."
Just as they were speaking, Thurin's ankle flipped sideways and she stumbled, losing her balance with a surprised cry.
"By Eru! That hasn't happened in weeks!" Thorongil cried with frustration, watching as a surprised Elladan extended a hand to help her up, and was staunchly refused.
"What's wrong with her?" Glorfindel whispered quietly as Thurin tore the edge off her tunic and tightly bound her ankle before leaping back into combat.
"Nothing. She's only a bit weak in the ankles. And knees. And back...but that doesn't matter. She is strong."
Glorfindel looked on concernedly, watching as Thurin set her face determinedly, defending herself bravely.
"Estel, what if something like that happened in the heat of battle? She could, and probably would, be killed! You said it hasn't happened for the last few weeks, which makes me think it happens quite frequently."
"You worry too much, Glorfindel, when she was a little girl, she couldn't even walk. I think I've made progress."
"I daresay you have, but still, Estel, be careful with her."
"I highly doubt Thurin would ever let anyone 'be careful' with her."
Glorfindel sighed, shaking his head as Thurin was disarmed, before making a rather undignified noise as she dove under Elladan, jerking off a beam from the rickety old fence, and swinging back to continue the fight.
::::::::::::::
"You look pretty in a dress."
"Do be quiet, Pippin."
"He's right."
"Not you too, Merry!"
"I'm afraid I must agree, miss."
"Oh, Sam!"
"But what does cousin Frodo think?"
Frodo cast me an embarrassed glance from where he lay resting in bed, before replying:
"I suppose she is. But-"
"Ha! There you have it, Fey, dresses suit you." Pippin chuckled, looking me up and down admiringly.
"Oh, I wish Strider had never had this horrid dress made..." I fumbled embarrassedly, working my hands distractedly, trying to ignore the four hobbits gazing at me with interest.
"Oh, but I'm glad he did. You look regularly splendid, there's no denying it. Why, if only Esgalnoron could see you now, he'd scoop you up and sweep you away, off into the night with his strong, muscular arms-"
"Oh, Pippin, please!" I protested, feeling my face grow redder and redder, Frodo's giggling did not at all help.
"I certainly hope Fey knows how to flirt, that dress will help her considerably."
"Oh! Please, I have other things I should be doing." I wailed, mortified to my limits, scooping up my skirts and hurrying out of the room, leaving a crowd of roaring hobbits behind me.
The dress wasn't much. Thorongil had insisted I be fitted for one, since we would be staying in Rivendell for many weeks.
It had just been finished this morning, and after my father had helped me into it, the hobbits insisted on taking a look.
The dress had long, loose sleeves and an ankle-length, lightly pleated skirt. It was of good cotton cloth, and a nice lavender color. It was simple, but the first dress I could ever remember owning, and Thorongil had insisted I wear it every day, save when I was sparring with someone(usually Elladan or Elrohir). Then, and only then, was I allowed breeches and a tunic.
I heaved a sigh, leaning against a stone pillar absently, hoping no elves would feel the urge to flirt with me.
Happily no one did, so, once I was composed I hurried down the halls, hoping to find my father.
"Da! Da, where are you?" I called, sweeping to and fro, trying to adjust to the new skirts clinging to my legs as I moved.
"Here, but do not run about like that calling for people! Thurin, you must at least try to act like a young lady." He sighed in exasperation, straightening his nice new robes importantly.
"Why must I suddenly be a young lady? Why can't I just be Thurin?"
"Because we're in my home, with the elves I love most in the world. You're in the company of Elrond, my father. The twins, my older brothers. Erestor and Glorfindel, my teachers, and folk like Lindir, my friends. Thurin, I am self-conscious. Please, try to understand how much I need to make a good impression with you. You are like Master Elrond's granddaughter! You are like family, please, try to impress them."
"Oh, Da! I don't want to act so ladylike, that's not who I am."
"I know, but please, for me, try."
"I will, but I can't guarantee anything."
There was a prolonged silence, in which Thorongil studied my face worriedly.
"Thurin, what is wrong? Something is bothering you."
"Nothing is bothering me."
"Something is definitely bothering you." He insisted, putting an arm on mine invitingly.
"I just...I miss Esgalnoron."
"Alright, and?"
There was a tense silence, before I pushed him away angrily.
"It's just so unfair! Why can't we just be friends, like everyone else? Why does everything have to be so complicated?!"
"Thurin-"
"I don't care! I'm done waiting! I just want to go hunting with him again! Da, he's the best friend I ever had, and it hurts to be separated so long. I feel...I don't know...incomplete." I finished my outburst quietly, gazing expressionlessly at no place in particular, a single tear forming in my eye.
"Thurin, I...I understand how you feel...I...I'm sorry." My father ventured quietly, his voice full of suppressed emotion as he put a hand on my shoulder, gently squeezing me in an effort to comfort.
"I'm sorry, Da, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have been so harsh, as if it were indeed your fault. It's nobody's fault, really." I responded, ashamed, wiping my eyes quickly with my sleeve.
Thorongil took his hand from my shoulder and sat down forlornly on a seat a few feet away.
"Thurin, all of this is my fault. Everything is my fault. You don't understand."
"I don't understand because you never tell me."
Thorongil looked uncomfortable.
"Thurin, there is so much to tell. I, I am not who you think I am."
"I think you are my father, though not my blood-father, you still are he."
"Yes, I am a father of sorts, or I try to be. What else do you think I am?"
"I think you are a ranger, but other than that, I really do not know."
"My name is not Thorongil. My name is Aragorn."
"I like Thorongil better."
"No, Thurin, I'm serious, don't you get it?"
My eyes widened as I remembered my genealogy lessons, my language lessons, all of it suddenly made sense.
I grabbed his shoulders, shaking him violently as I spluttered helplessly.
"You can't be serious! You can't be! But then, everything makes sense now..." I trailed off in confusion, seeing my father in a whole new light.
He nodded sadly.
"You mean, this whole time you were LYING TO ME?! WHY!?" I exclaimed, my voice rising to a shriek.
"Thurin, please calm down, I-"
"I don't care! How could you! My entire life, you were just pretending?" I cried in anger, hurrying from the room, hardly being able to process this new information.
"Thurin!" He called, running after me as I stormed into the room next to that one, not hearing a word.
"Darling! Please, you don't understand!" He cried desperately.
I picked up a book from a table and chucked it at him, screaming:
"You lied to me! All this time you were lying!" Before running from the room, sobbing.
My father ducked the book and stopped chasing after me, realizing the best thing would be to wait.
He sighed, casting one last regretful glance in the direction I had gone before turning.
At the top of the stairwell stood a tall elven lady, her dark hair falling divinely about her shoulders.
She stood frozen there, a look of confusion and anger clearly wrought upon her features.
It began to dawn on Thorongil that the father/daughter argument she had just witnessed could have looked very much like a lover's quarrel.
"Arwen! I, oh dear, you don't understand!" He protested helplessly as she spun on her heel, hurrying off the way she had came.
Thorongil sunk down onto a conveniently placed stool, resting his head in his hands.
"What have I done...why me..." He groaned softly, as two different ladies sat sobbing forlornly in two different chambers.
Oh ho...evil me...What will happen next? Will Thurin thoroughly embarrass Thorongil as he fears? Will she ever adjust to wearing that dress? Will she ever forgive her father? What about poor Arwen? How will that misunderstanding be resolved? Tune in next time to find all this out and more!
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~Thurin