This Dance

The hall felt alive. Guests swirled around in multi-colored costumes, yet Erestor only had eyes for one.

"Go," Glorfindel urged when the minstrels began a pavane.

Another hesitation, then a palm in the small of his back made further delay impossible.

"My lady!" he called. Is that my voice, so breathless?

The woman turned, graceful as a swan, her eyes expectant. When he reached her, he lost all words. It is a good thing her kind do not always effect me so!

He bowed before her. Breathe.

Composed, he straightened, meeting her gaze. “Would you honor me with this dance?”


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A/N: a 'pavane' is a slow court dance of the 16th and 17th century.