Dawnstar and Friend

Thanduil’s POV
I wondered through the halls of my palace, having finished the day’s meetings surprisingly early, considering the incipient arrival of a foreign ruler, whose visit is not to be a particularly friendly one.
As I walked down the corridor to my private apartment, I heard the sound of a voice singing. The sound of the tune was not a very cheerful one and this worried me, especially as I located it as coming from the rooms allocated to my guest for whom the aforementioned state visit was being made for.
Her sitting room door was ajar and I slowly pushed it open so as not to disturb her.
She was sitting on one of the sofas curled up tightly with her arms around her knees. Her eyes were closed as she sang and her face showed an intense longing.
I leant back against the wall after shutting the door to listen to her singing in another language.
Kenavo, comme on dit chez moi
Kenavo, on se reverra
Kenavo, comment oublier ça ?
Kenavo, je repasserai par-là
The words flowed over me as I wondered what they meant. After listening on for a little while, I realised that the four lines starting ‘kenavo’ were some sort of refrain that obviously had some sort of meaning to her.
When the song came to an end I sat on the end of the sofa furthest from her, intending to talk to her. She opened her eyes and looked at me before launching into another song. This one was more cheerful, but once again the refrain was touched with a sort of melancholy longing.
Loin des cris désespérés, des guerres urbaines
Où l’amour a tout laissé à la peur, à la haine
As the soft accented words rolled over me I thought about her situation. She probably hated me for what I was doing to her, keeping her here in what she accurately termed a gilded cage.
Au creux de ma terre, je veux t’emmener
I didn’t want to hurt her, but my people came first and they needed the protection her presence gave them.
Je connais des monts endormis peuplés de mystères
Ce n’est pas la fin d’un monde, c’est un Finistère
I also didn’t like the pain my keeping her and her friend here caused her, if the underlying melancholy in her voice told me anything.
Au creux de ma terre, vient me retrouver
Viens semer tes rêves sous le ciel étoilé
As the last words of her song shimmered in the air I came to a decision: that even if it hurt me I would find a way to relieve the sadness she felt.
She then turned her head back to me and just looked at me, silently asking what I was doing here.
“Your songs were beautiful, Aranel. What was the language you were singing in?”
“French, mostly. The word ‘kenavo’ is Breton for goodbye or farewell. That is the title of the first song and I think it sums up the meaning of the song quite well. The second song is called Au Creux de Ma Terre. That means something like ‘the land of my birth’ I think. The translation isn’t very good I’m afraid. Despite having spent a large amount of time in France, my French is still terrible.”
“Yet you seem to know all the words to those songs?”
“I don’t have to understand the words to know the lyrics to a song. I get the general gist of the song and anyway, I have heard both songs so many times that I no longer need to think about the words when I’m singing them.”
I nodded at this, realising that the repetition and the tune, not any understanding, was why she remembered the words. I the changed the subject to the one I actually wanted to talk about.
“You miss your home, don’t you?”
“I miss Brittany more actually. The place I grew up was far from special, just about the last place you would expect an ancient elfin princess to have grown up in. The thing I miss most though is my music.”
“Your music? We have instruments here.”
“I haven’t seen anything like the one I can play here. I’m not very good at playing the piano, but I’m not really that bad and I do enjoy playing it.”
I had never heard of a ‘piano’, but I knew that if we had that instrument, where I could find it. I rose from the sofa and asked her to follow me, which she did wearing a quizzical expression.
I lead her to my own quarters first while I retrieved the key and then further into the royal quarters to another room. A room which I had not opened since before my daughter had been born, nearly 50 years earlier.
While I was opening the door, Eleanor was still looking at me quizzically, confused by my strange behaviour.
“This was a place I had made for my wife as a wedding present a long time ago. I think you may like it.”
“Your wife?”
I really didn’t want to talk about Myrwen dying, leaving me her last gift of Miriel. Even half a century was not enough to dull the pain of her loss
“She is ... gone.”
My voice broke over the last word, the pain still too real. Oh yes, this was going to hurt. Much to my surprise, Eleanor flung her arms around me, holding me comfortingly. The last thing I expected was her sympathy. I returned the embrace for a few seconds before releasing her and showing her into the room.
The expression on her face was worth the pain. She looked about the room full of musical instruments with a look of total wonder. Then she turned to me, her expression asking if she was allowed to touch. I just nodded at her, smiling.
She immediately moved over to the one instrument I had hoped she would not touch. That instrument has no name and there are less than ten in the entire world.
The original was in Elrond’s Hall of Fire in Imladris. The hall had been at least partially built by the nomadic, reclusive fire elves. They were a tiny group of elves with fire red hair that virtually nothing was known about. The hall was the only thing they had any hand in building and one of the things they had furnished it with was the original of that instrument.
Several more had been made over the years, but they were not common. Few elves had any competency on them and the playing of them seemed to be a skill our race was not good at mastering.
My wife was one of the few who could play anything but the most simple of tunes on it.
Eleanor’s fingers flowed over the keys showing that she definitely did have more than a little competency on the instrument.
She then turned and grinned at me.
“You do have a piano!” She then laughed and turned back to it and broke into a cheerful little tune with her hand running up and down the instrument.
Judging by the way she played, it wasn’t that our race couldn’t play, but for lack of effort on the part of our bards.
Eleanor POV
We had been in Mirkwood for a little while, waiting for Elrond to arrive.
I’d been left alone for the afternoon and I had gone to my room to really think for the first time since I had arrived.
I curled up in a ball on my sofa and I thought about everything. Subconsciously, I began to hum a Breton folk pop song that I was fond of. I’m not quite sure when the humming turned into singing.
I went off into my own little world with my eyes closed and memories of the places I associated with that song.
At some point, I registered that someone was standing in my doorway, listening. When I finish singing that person sits on the end of the sofa. Curious, I open my eyes and see the elder of the Brothers Grimm as Ginny and I have christened Thanduil and Adindel.
He looks like he is going to ask me a question, but I am not yet ready to talk so I launch into another song from the same singer, a man named Gerard Jaffres.
He watches me silently while I sing with a strange expression on his face.
When I have finished he surprises me by complementing my singing. Why surprise you ask?
When I was younger someone described my singing capabilities as ‘can’t hold a tune in a bucket’. I have always had a low self-esteem for my musical capabilities. I have always loved music, but don’t think that I’m really all that good at producing it.
I explain the very rough meanings of the two songs to him, using my very bad French to understand myself. We also discuss my capabilities for remembering the words to a song whilst not understanding what the words mean. He then surprises me by stating, rather than asking me, that I miss home.
I explain that I miss Brittany and my music more than my home. If you’re wondering, I grew up in a place that would be hard to miss. Though it isn’t a backstreet of London or gangland, it is not a pretty place and is full of chavs. In fact, the origin of that particular derogatory term is a derivation of the name of the town I came from. There were good things there, but it wasn’t a place I particularly missed or wanted to go back to. Hey, I get lots of pretty dresses here.
He comments that they have instruments and I reply that I have yet to see one I can play in Middle Earth. When I mention the piano he gets a confused look. After a second or two, he tells me to follow him and, largely because I’m curious about his strange behaviour, I do.
He first leads me to what I realise are his rooms. He leaves me in the gorgeous sitting room while he disappears into what I assume is his bedroom. I take a look round; the room is done in forest greens with furniture made of a dark wood. On the wall are several tapestries and a huge painting. The painting is a life size image of a group of women on a beach that has slightly pink sand. On closer inspection I discover they are elves. They are running along, apparently playing with each other. The young elleth, as I have discovered female elves are called, in front looks a lot like Miriel.
I look at the tapestries in the room; all of them seem to hold an image of that same elleth somewhere, usually as the focus. I get the impression that whoever she is, she is important to Thanduil.
As I am contemplating, this he comes out of his room with a key in his hand, and I follow him out and further down the corridor to a door that looks like it hasn’t been used for a while.
I look at him quizzically; still rather curious about what he is doing. He then explains to me that the room contains something he made for his wife’s wedding present. Since I haven’t seen her around and no one has mentioned her, I ask. A look of pure grief crosses his face and he simply states that she is gone. There is a pause before he says ‘gone’ and I could see some huge suffering in his eyes. I get a strong impression that he is suffering a lot of pain for what he is doing now and I find myself softening towards him.
I can’t help it, I’m a very tactile and affectionate person and his obvious pain brings out the kind side of me that feels for his grief, so I hug him.
He tenses up at first then relaxes and hugs back. I don’t think he is used to being hugged, especially by someone who has made no secret of not liking him.
He pulls away and opens the door for me and I walk in. And stop.
The room is full of instruments, but the centrepiece is a grand piano.
Absolutely amazed, I turn to the elfin king, silently asking him whether I’m actually allowed to play anything. He nods with a gentle smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.
I, of course, make a beeline for the piano, sit down on the wide stall and play a few scales to make sure I’m not imagining it. The tone of the instrument is as beautiful as the instrument itself.
It is made out of the dark wood that Thanduil has in his room, but unlike our pianos, the case is ornately carved and painted. The painting does not cover the whole of the wood, just the flower carvings that are part of what appears to be a panoramic view that creates the vertical sides of the case. The lid is not of wood but what appears to be painted glass.
The white keys are of mother of pearl which is well worn, I can tell that Thanduil’s wife obviously played the instrument often. The black keys are not black, but gold.
I turn to Thanduil and state that he does own a piano then laugh with sheer joy. I play several pieces on the lovely instrument until I have calmed down my joy at this wonderful discovery. Once I have, I actually get round to opening the case up properly and find that instead of a boring stick to hold the lid open, there is a lovely, carved tree that does the job instead.
When the lid is up, light shines through the glass and I see that it isn’t painted, but the colours and the scene is actually created by clever mixing of different colours of glass. The scene is that of the same pink-sanded beach in the painting but from the sea not the land and behind the sea, a field of vines is visible. There is also a lack of elleth in this picture.
I turn to Thanduil, who has sat himself down and is watching me silently, and ask about the scene.
“It is the Bay of Dorwinnion, where my wife came from. She absolutely loved that place and I think the hardest part of her marrying me was the move here. It is one of the reasons the music room is in the one of the few rooms in the palace that has any natural light.”
I had not noticed that the light in the room is provided by several shafts from which flow natural light. Since I have been living inside this cave, I have not gone out at all and take that the elves know what the times are for granted. I have never had to worry about being late as there is always a guide to take me to meetings and stuff at the right time. It only occurs to me as I look at the light that this is the first time I have seen natural light in days.
I turn back to the piano and start playing again. After some experiment I find that my ‘transformation’ has rather increased my ability to play by ear, something that was severely lacking before. My total joy in the music returns as I play a piece I was never able to play before because I could not get the sheet music and I often sing along.
I have soon forgotten that anyone else is in the room and give myself over to enjoying the music. I hope this visit is not a one-off because I was feeling a bit morbid earlier.
After I don’t know how long, I sense other people come into the room, but I ignore them. After what is probably a short time later, more people come in. Once I have finished the song, I turn to look at them.
The extras are Adindel, Legolas, Miriel and Ginny.
Much to my surprise, I see that Thanduil has tears running down his face and Adindel also looks close to tears. Both Miriel and Legolas have strange expressions on their faces. Those expressions are hard to read.
Both involve some sort of pain. Legolas’ holds a similar type of grief to that of Thanduil’s earlier, as well as longing. Miriel’s on the other hand is a look of regret and something else I cannot read.
Ginny, on the other hand, looks just plain curious.
I look at the family, my expression asking them about what has caused the long faces. Legolas answers.
“I will explain later, after dinner. Keep playing; Mother would have wanted someone else to enjoy that as she did. We have rather been neglecting it since she is no longer here to care of it.”
Well I am not saying no to the opportunity to keep playing the lovely instrument. Since the mood seems less cheerful, I play calmer music. I cut through a few of my favourite pieces of Celtic music. Most of the songs I play, I first heard sung by a group called Micamac who are French. Because of this, though the songs are British in various forms, I sing in a French accent. Dark Island does sound absolutely lovely with a French accent; at least I think it does.
As the light begins to fade, an elf comes in to tell us that dinner is ready. He looks rather surprised, though I am not really sure whether that is because by now, both the Brothers Grimm are living up to their nickname or the fact that the room is actually in use and by me.
After dinner, Legolas and Miriel lead Ginny and I to the comfortable library, where we sit and Legolas starts to explain.
“That room, as you may or may not be aware, was my mother’s music room. She was an elf and Princess from a colony that lived in the Bay of Dorwinion and founded of the grape farms that give the region and bay their names. They were a carefree group and made the best wine in all Arda. We still have much of their wine in the cellar.”
My parents met when my mother came on a business trip to Mirkwood to establish trade with us. Eventually they married and Mother got pregnant with me. As I was growing up, the world was darkening and the elves in Dorwinion suffered from dwindling numbers and passed their wine making onto humans as their colony faded away. The only things that stopped my mother fading with them were her love for her family and the music she could create in that room.
Around 50 years ago, she became pregnant again with Miriel. Late in the pregnancy she was outside the palace and went too far into the woods. She was attacked by the spiders that infest the forest. We managed to get her back as she went into early labour. We managed to save Miriel, but the stress of losing her people, the birth, and her injuries killed her. I don’t think Ada has ever got over her loss.
Ginny and I look at each other for a second, churning over this surprising bit of information. It is somehow harder to hate someone who has loved and lost so obviously. I then ask the question Legolas hasn’t answered.
“Why was Adindel so devastated? Was he particularly fond of her?”
“He also tried to court Naneth but she chose Ada over him. I don’t think he has ever loved another and probably never will.”
Ginny then asks a question.
“What was her name?”
“Myrwen.”
Miriel hangs her head, trying to hold off her own tears. Ginny gets up, goes over to her and wraps the girl in her arms; the gesture of comfort is all that is necessary for Miriel to burst into tears and sob brokenly against Ginny’ shoulder.
Legolas looks surprised at this. I don’t think he understands his little sister’s grief at their mother’s death.
After a little while, Miriel has calmed down and Ginny takes her to her room, leaving me alone with Legolas.
I can now see the grief and pain of losing his mother in his eyes. I go over to him and repeat the gesture of comfort and though he does not cry, he does hold onto me and buries his head in my shoulder.
I wonder, as I hold him and caress his long hair calmingly, how long each of them has been hiding their grief from the rest of the family.
I have to resist the urge to stiffen and pull back or flinch when I feel Legolas kiss the base of my neck. He then trails kisses up to my ear and kisses the side of it gently.
I have noticed the increase of sensitivity of my ears as the transformation completed itself, but it is not until his lips touch my ear that I realise just how sensitive they are now.
My mind clouds over with the whole sensation, but now I feel some sort of touch across my cheek before he kisses my mouth – full on.
I have never been kissed before so I have no source of comparison, but I am pretty sure that his is a good kiss; a very good kiss in fact.
As he deepens the kiss, I feel his hand caress my hip gently.
Somehow this makes what little part of my mind that is still working wonder why the hell I ever objected to the idea of a relationship between us.
I’m not quite sure what wakes us up, maybe the fact we have to separate temporarily for air, but we do come to our senses before things go any further. When we realise what we had been doing, we pull apart.
Legolas then apologises for taking advantage of my kindness and says he didn’t know what came over him, etc. I’m afraid I don’t really take in what he has said and brush away his apology distractedly.
I am far from articulate enough to talk myself. I have just had my first kiss and as clichéd as it was, that elf is an amazing kisser.
Legolas gets through to me again only when he offers to escort me back to my chambers.
When we get there he starts to apologise again and on impulse I go onto tiptoes and kiss away the apologies.
Much to my own pleasure he bends down and kisses me good night.
Heaven only knows how I will sleep tonight. I’m both floating and suffering from a mixture of confusion and anger at myself for floating at the blonde prince’s kisses. He’s the enemy for crying out loud. Even if he is hot and a good kisser...
No, down brain!! I do NOT fancy the pretty boy prince! Really...
Ginny’s POV
Our gowns are ready! Well, most of them anyway. Miriel, Ellie, and I have been going down to seamstresses’ workshop almost every day. I never thought dress-making could be such an absorbing process, but elfin gowns are like works of art.
When all the gowns are safely in our rooms, we spend ages taking them out and examining every detail.
Naturally mine are slightly less ornate than Ellie’s, not that I mind. I’ve always preferred the simpler style of dress. I couldn’t EVER imagine wearing a meringue-style wedding dress, for example – a bit too OTT for my liking.
My favourite one is a deep red silk-taffeta shot with a pinky-blue colour – nothing else, no embellishments or embroidery, just a plain silky-soft fabric that falls lightly over my body. There’s no purple though. This is unfortunate for me as purple is my absolute all time favourite colour, but the dye is too expensive – not even the royal family have any purple clothes. Oh well.
I wear the red silk-taffeta the next day. I also get Aeyana to do my hair differently: two braids at the side of my head which are then connected, forming one braid which falls down over the rest of my hair. Aeyana also embeds tiny rubies into where the strands of hair cross.
I feel so different; maybe it’s the fact that I’m wearing a gown of my own choosing and not one that involves Ellie’s colours. That was one of the things I insisted on – no blue or gold as I’ll get enough of that at formal occasions.
Ellie is also wearing a new gown: a pale pink one, made of a gossamer-like material with silver embroidery and tiny diamonds embedded all over. The paleness of the pink highlights her elfin skin and her beautiful brown hair.
When our guide holds the door of the breakfast room open for us, I notice he makes a slightly longer, slightly lower bow than usual. I smile at him warmly.
I smile again when Miriel takes us both in her arms.
“Ellie, Ginny, you both look wonderful!”
Adindel then surprises us with a comment.
“Yes, very nice indeed.”
Adindel looks at us, his eyes lingering on me. He makes a small, barely perceptible bow of his head when he catches my eye. I think we might have just reached an understanding.
***
It’s later, in the afternoon; Miriel and I are walking through the palace singing. I have taught Miriel A Whole New World from Disney’s Aladdin. We have a wonderful duet now; Miriel really has a talent for singing.
As we finish, Miriel sighs softly.
“That’s a beautiful song.”
“It is. Whenever I listen to it, I just stop and let the words wash over me.”
“I shall sing it to my children.”
“Is that what you dream of? Children?”
“Always.”
“I’ve always wanted children. You know, if I’m honest, becoming a doctor, travelling...it’s all very nice, but the thing I really yearn for is children. Always have. Yes, that’s my dream too.”
“I want to have as many...”
Miriel pauses, she seems to be listening.
“What? It can’t be...that room’s never open.”
She suddenly starts off down a corridor that I haven’t entered before. At the end is a large, carved oak door that looks like it hasn’t been used for a while. It’s ajar slightly and I can now hear what Miriel’s elfin ears already picked up: a piano and singing.
We enter the room. It’s full of all sorts of musical instruments, but the centrepiece is a beautiful grand piano, which Ellie is playing. Grouped around her are Thanduil, Adindel and Legolas. They’re all wearing an expression of intense pain and longing, mingled with oddly, joy.
Ellie plays on, the only interruption is when she stops and looks at the rest of the elves. She, like me, seems to be wondering at the reason behind their expressions.
“I will explain later, after dinner. Keep playing; Mother would have wanted someone else to enjoy that as she did. We have rather been neglecting it since she is no longer here to care for it.”
Eventually, the light fades and we are called to dinner.
After dinner, Miriel, Ellie and I all sit in the comfortable library while Legolas tells us about his mother.
“What was her name?” I ask and Miriel answers.
“Myrwen.”
I notice a movement in the chair beside me; Miriel has bowed her head, her eyes are moist with tears. I get up, kneel beside her and hold her gently. The tears begin spilling down her cheeks and she clings on to me, burying her face in my shoulder. Everyone else is in complete silence.
When Miriel’s sobs lessen, I set her on her feet, my arms still about her.
“Come on, I’ll take you to your room.”
I’ve never been to Miriel’s room before; it is larger than mine and set out more like Ellie’s room with a sitting room that leads to a bedroom. Unlike her room, however, Miriel has decorated hers in a whole rainbow of pastel shades – baby blues and pinks, and spring greens. The only bright blocks of colour are on the furniture, which is either covered or upholstered in a deep wine-red colour.
Miriel and I both sit down on her sofa. I wait – somehow I know I shouldn’t talk until Miriel is ready.
“I know Ada blames me for my mother’s death – I can see it in his eyes.” She whispers
“Of course he doesn’t, your father loves you.”
“But it’s my fault.”
“No it isn’t! Miriel look at me.”
She looks into my eyes and I put my hands on her shoulders.
“What happened to your mother was terrible, but no one could have predicted it. Your birth was just the last in a series of strains on her body. Even elfin bodies can only cope with so much. Yes, when Thanduil looks at you, you probably do remind him of your mother, but he may also be thanking his lucky stars that you survived. Imagine what would have happened if he had lost both his wife and his daughter.”
Miriel hangs her head. When I ask if Thanduil has ever talked to her about her mother, she shakes it.
“What about Legolas?”
Another shake.
“What, never?”
“Not really. He did say once that Naneth told him stories or sang to him when he couldn’t get to sleep.”
I smiled.
“I think all mothers do that. Mine certainly did.”
There’s a pause, during which I look at Miriel. She seems so young, so naive. Suddenly – even though she’s almost twice my age – I feel a wave of maternal love. I reach out to her and clasp her to my chest. We lie back against the arm rest, she laying her head on my shoulder and I stroking her long, shining hair.
“Would you like me to tell you a story?”
“Yes please.”
“OK. I’m going to tell you the story of Cinderella. Once upon a time...”
When I finish, I look down and see that Miriel has closed her eyes. I call to her maid.
“I think the Princess should go to bed.”
I stay to help Miriel get ready for bed. After she has crawled under her covers, Miriel looks at me and says,
“Could you stay while I go to sleep?”
So I sit beside her and watch as she relaxes and closes her eyes. I then begin to sing,
“Silent night, holy night...”
I sing all three verses before getting up and giving Miriel a quick kiss on her forehead. I turn to go, but Miriel takes my hand.
“You’ll make a wonderful mother one day.”
I smile and tip-toe out into the now dark and silent corridor. I get so lost in my thoughts as I wander back through the palace, that it’s almost a shock when I suddenly find myself outside my own door. There is no sound from Ellie’s room so I enter mine.
***
After breakfast the next day, I go up to Thanduil.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty. May I have a word?”
I take him to a quiet alcove.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I think you should talk to Miriel.”
“Talk? About what?”
“About her mother, she blames herself for her mother’s death and think you do to.”
There is a pause while we look at each other.
“I hope I never ever experience the pain and suffering which you have gone through. But, at least you and Legolas both have happy memories of your wife. Miriel doesn’t and never will. All she has is a dark, empty space. Maybe you should help her fill it.”
With that, I turn and leave him, lost in his tears and memories.
Ellie is in a very cheerful mood when I enter her room. She’s dancing about, her skirts swishing behind her.
“There you are, Ginny. Where did you get to?”
“I was talking to Thanduil.”
“Oh...beautiful day isn’t it?”
I gaze around the windowless room.
“... Ye-e-s... Ellie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just feel very happy today.”
Right, is this really the same girl who only a few days ago was ticking Thanduil off for keeping her in a ‘gilded cage’?
Ellie then takes me in her arms and dances me about, humming and then laughing as we collapse in a tangled heap on her sofa.
This strange behaviour continues all day. Ellie fidgets and fusses and speaks all in a rush. Even during our lessons, Ellie doesn’t pay any attention; she just stares at the teacher, smiling serenely, with a glazed look in her eyes.
It’s only at dinner when I finally work out the reason. Legolas usually sits opposite his sister, but today he takes his place opposite Ellie. They smile at each other, but it’s not the usual polite smile, today it’s a different kind almost like they’re both sharing a secret. Ahhh...I get it.
After dinner, Legolas offers to escort Ellie, yes just Ellie, back to her chambers. Miriel and I are left behind. Fine, if THAT’S the way they want to play it.
“Miriel, what is the most annoying thing you can think of doing right now?” I ask
“What do you mean?”
“Surely you’ve noticed; your brother and Ellie.”
I can see she’s working it out; she notes my mischievous expression.
“Oh no, Ginny, we can’t! We don’t have the right.”
“Are you saying that I don’t have the right to go to my own rooms? That I’m not allowed to get my own pack of playing cards, and that, along the way, I won’t think to ask my best friend to join us?”
Miriel opens her mouth to answer, but thinks better of it. She lets out a sigh, like she’s resigning herself, but she then grins and links her arm through mine. We set off along the corridor.
We tip-toe when we are outside Ellie’s quarters. When we are in position, I catch Miriel’s eye and count down with my fingers: 3...2...1...
We burst into Ellie’s sitting room,
“Sorry, Ellie, we thought you might want to pla...oh!”
Ellie and Legolas spring apart, both of them going a lovely shade of red.
Legolas makes a great show of clearing his throat while Ellie tries to regain some dignity.
“Well...um...now that you are all settled, Aranel. I...er...think I’ll leave you ladies to it. Good night.”
“Don’t you want to stay and play Uno with us? We could teach you.”
“No, I’m OK thank you.”
He dashes from the room.
“So, have something to tell us? Not that we couldn’t work it out for ourselves.”
“Legolas and I are...”
“Making out?”
Ellie draws herself up to her full, elfin height and says, with immense dignity,
“He happens to be a very good kisser, actually.”
“Certainly an abrupt change of mind, one minute you detest him and the next you’re sucking the lips off him like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Well I think it’s incredibly romantic. A boy and girl locked in a palace together, their eyes meet across a cavernous entrance hall, and they know they have found ‘The One’ who they will love and cherish for evermore.”
Miriel and I sigh romantically, hands crossed over our hearts. Ellie takes one look at us and bursts out laughing.
“Oh, grow up you two!”
“Had you going, didn’t we? I wonder what Lord Elrond would have done if he had seen you just now.” Miriel says, and then I take over.
“Thrown up probably, when does he arrive?”
“Next couple of days I think.”
I look over at Ellie, trying to catch her eye, but she’s staring into space with a yucky romantic look. Somehow I get the impression that Ellie’s not going to be quite so enthusiastic to leave Mirkwood anymore...