The Autumn Feast, Part II

And so it went on. Wine glass after wine glass, until I clearly felt how tipsy I was. Surprisingly, Thranduil did not try to elicit any more secrets from me, even though I continued to feel his piercing gaze like a hot needle pricking my skin. The story seemed to have satisfied him for now, or he was waiting until the wine had clouded my brain enough for me to tell him what he wanted to know. It didn't matter which was true: I had to watch what I said. Even more so now than before.

As the music began to play, I was hoping to finally be able to leave the dinner table, but that didn't happen. Just as I was about to stand up and excuse myself, the elf who had escorted us to the side table earlier stepped up next to me. "I apologize for leading you to the wrong table, will you grant me this dance?" he asked and I would have loved to say no. Damn it, all I wanted was my peace!

But I had to play along.

Be subtle, I thought. The line I was walking on was thin, and I was in danger of falling at any moment. One false step and I would stagger into the abyss.

And so I agreed.

As I stood up, I felt the alcohol in my blood a lot more clearly than I had before. Fortunately, I was able to lean on Beleg's arm. "Are you familiar with our dances?" he asked as he led us to the dance floor.

"No," I admitted, "but I've been watching the last few reps."

He laughed, and for the first time I noticed that while I was getting a lot of curious looks, I was hardly getting any hostile ones. The reputation of the humans in Thranduil's halls was apparently not quite as disastrous as that of the dwarves. I also wondered if it was common practice to approach the king's table and ask one of his guests to dance, or if Beleg was acting at Thranduil's behest. Perhaps this was a test - or another trap.

The elf took the lead, for which I was very grateful, and soon we joined the crowd of other elves already dancing. The melancholy and tension of the evening fell away from me despite my fears and I let myself drift, which was not least due to the Dorwinion wine that Thranduil had generously poured out to me. His intention behind it had been clear, but I had not been able to refuse, as with so many other things.

The music was different from what I had expected: I had thought that it would be soft harp sounds or someone who played the flute. Accordingly, I had pictured the dances of the elves: Rather composed, thoughtful and stiff. But the opposite was true. Although both harp and flutes were represented among the instruments, there were also violins and a mandolin. Together, the instruments made for an unusual, even alien, mix that ran through all my limbs and almost made them dance on their own.

As Beleg led me across the dance floor, he introduced me to the other dancers in short phrases that sounded sometimes more sometimes less sarcastic - something that elicited a smile from me more than once. At that moment, I felt free and light-hearted, and that was something I was very grateful for - no matter what his motives were for asking me to dance.

"Your dress is not one that the people of the West wear," Beleg noted as he spun me around.

"No," I replied. "It was lent to me."

He smirked. "I know."

I frowned. "You do?"

"It was brought to you, and rightly so." Instinctively, I stiffened. How did he know that? And what was he trying to say? I would have liked to look over at Thranduil to find out if this was his doing, but Beleg had turned me in such a way that my back was turned to him. "You have nothing to fear," he said. He must have sensed that I was tensing up.

"I'm not afraid."

"But you are uncomfortable."

"Can you blame me?"

He laughed. "No."

We turned again, another 360 degrees, so I could only catch a glimpse of the banquet table, which I could barely make out anyway because of all the couples dancing. "Is that why you asked me to dance?", I asked, deliberately provocative.

"The reason I asked you to dance is to save you from excessive wine consumption."

"Oh." That's all I could think of to say. "So has-"

"No," he cut me off, "but I know certain people well enough to be aware of what's important to them. Especially when they can't do anything about it themselves."

It took me longer than usual to understand what he was trying to tell me. Until it got through to me, Beleg waited patiently and finally another, "Oh." escaped me.

He raised an eyebrow in response. "Perhaps I should have put my approach into action sooner."

"Yes, perhaps you should have," I shot back and he grinned. At that, he reminded me of a boy, as mischievous as it was spanning from ear to ear, though he was certainly some many years older. I returned his grin and when he turned me another time, I said, "And you should be careful with your enthusiasm. My stomach can't take many more turns."

"Well, that's a warning I take seriously," he replied, the sarcasm in his voice impossible to miss. Again I had to laugh, and it wasn't until the dance had ended that I looked back over at the table where I had spent most of the evening.

The happy feeling in my stomach crashed as abruptly as it had come. Both Thranduil and Legolas looked in my direction. The former looked amused, while the latter... I felt my mouth go dry. The expression on his face was so chilly that I quickly turned my head aside. I almost wished Beleg wouldn't take me back, but of course that didn't happen. And after he said goodbye, I felt Legolas' stares like daggers in my back. Time to finally leave.

I had turned down Gimli's offer to escort me to my room because I wanted to be alone. The way wasn't too far, I wouldn't get lost. In this, however, I had done the math without Legolas, for I heard his rushed footsteps long before he caught up to me.

"You are drunk," he hissed.

"Tipsy," I corrected him, withdrawing my arm. "You can hardly blame me for that, your father practically forced the wine on me."

Legolas pressed his lips together. He knew I was right, and that annoyed him. "I will take you to your room."

"Thank you, I can find the way on my own." With that I wanted to keep on walking, but he held me back again. "From him you would have let yourself be escorted."

I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Beleg."

Because of the alcohol, my brain was slower than usual, but finally I raised my right eyebrow in disbelief. "You're jealous."

"I... I'm not jealous!"

Again, it was the alcohol that didn't stop me from giggling. "Of course not." Without waiting for his reaction, I turned and walked down the hall. My head felt awfully light, a little dizzy. Jesus, Thranduil's red wine was kicking in. I really needed to rest.

I hadn't covered ten meters when Legolas fell into step beside me. "I'm just trying to keep you from taking a wrong turn."

"If you can't help it."

"Are you always so impertinent when you have been drinking?"

"You mean when an Elven King coerces me into it, setting glass after glass down in front of me, and I didn't want to be rude because said Elven King's son told me to be subtle?"

Legolas lowered his eyes, but shot back anyway, "Subtle you were not."

"Well." We stopped outside the door of my room. "Then perhaps next time you will simply disinvite me to the drinking frenzy. After all, I'm just a leaf in the wind, what did you expect?" His eyes widened and I knew he guessed I had overheard the exchange of words between him and his father.

The dizziness grew stronger and I swayed a little to the right. Legolas' hand darted forward and held me tightly. In doing so, he came so close that I felt his breath on my skin. I let a few seconds pass, but he made no move to put distance between us again, so I said quietly without looking up, "You should go now."

"Yes," he replied just as quietly, but didn't follow up his words with action. I didn't know what to do. The Dorwinion wine had clouded my senses; all I was aware of was Legolas' nearness, his scent enveloping us both. And I had an inkling that this would lead to no good.

As the seconds passed without him turning and leaving, I did lift my gaze.

My heart leapt. I wish I hadn't.

The expression on his face was... conflicted. As if he was struggling with something. Something that was on the tip of his tongue, but had not yet been said. "Or do you have something else to say to me?", I asked - half hoping that would snap him out of his freeze, so he would finally leave before I did something I later regretted.

He was standing so close in front of me. All I had to do was reach out with my fingertips and I would have touched his chest. We stared at each other, I almost sank into the blue of his eyes, and for once it wasn't the damned wine that was to blame. I had to admit that to myself.

"No," he whispered, sounding so pressed that his lie was obvious. If I hadn't been drunk, I would have let it go. I would have turned around and paid him no further attention. But a small part of me was angry at his reaction and that he couldn't find the courage to stand by what he wanted. If he had decided for himself that nothing was going to happen between him and me, why did he let it keep coming to these situations? Why didn't he keep his own promises? Why did he play with me?

Because of these questions and because I wanted to make him aware of his own hypocrisy, not reward him for it, I leaned forward. The tips of our noses were almost touching now, our lips separated only by a breath of air.

He didn't pull away, and we both knew that if I had held out just a heartbeat longer, he would have kissed me. But instead of waiting for him to bridge the last few centimeters, I brought my lips to his left ear. "Perhaps then you should think about why your heart is beating so fast that I can hear it. Or do you think I don't know you're lying?"

With that said, I took a step back, pulled open the door, and slipped into my room before he could say anything back. Inside, I slowly let myself slide to the floor and ran a hand over my face.

What had I done?