𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐟

𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐥

An elf maiden silently led you through endless beautiful sandstone corridors, walking slowly to let you observe the beauties of Rivendell. Not one space was fully enclosed - in every wall large openings like windows without glass allowed for views of elegant trees, flowing rivers, and courtyards populated by laughing elves of all ages.

The maiden ushered you in through a final arch, into a majestically large courtyard empty but for two elves. One was tall, the other slightly shorter. As they turned around at your almost silent footsteps (elven hearing definitely came in handy, you would imagine), you realised that the taller was a man who seemed to carry the wisdom of many years, and the shorter was a beautiful, youthful-looking elf woman.

"Y/N Y/L/N of the Dunedain people," the elf maiden who'd led you to the courtyard introduced in a quiet voice, before promptly turning and gliding away.

"Ah, it is a pleasure to have you here in Rivendell, Lady Y/N," the male elf said, giving a shallow bow. You returned it with a deeper one, recognising his seniority by some kind of instinct. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Elrond, and this is my daughter, Lady Arwen."

Feeling it to be appropriate, you curtsied again, shock coursing through you that this was Elrond. "I am Lady Y/N, daughter of Balmere, advisor to the King of the Dunedain people."

"You are the representative for the Council," Arwen said softly, her voice melodic and beautiful.

"Yes," you answered. "I am honoured to be invited to Rivendell, and thank you deeply for such an invitation."

Elrond nodded, approval apparent in his face. "The Council will be held as soon as Lord Aragorn arrives with the Ringbearer. In the mean time, my daughter will show you your quarters and introduce you to the customs of Rivendell."

Arwen shared a glance with her father that you couldn't read, but she turned to you with a small smile and tilted her head to the right, gesturing for you to follow her.

The longer you looked, the more you could see Arwen's beauty. Her hair was long and flowed gracefully with even the slightest sigh of wind, her blue eyes pale and glinting with the reflection of the warm sunlight, and her skin flawless and smooth.

With a start, you remembered Aragorn.

"Lady Arwen, Aragorn wishes for you to know that he loves you deeply and that every second he spends away from you pains him," you announced, making the beautiful elf stop in her tracks, her sapphire skirts swinging forwards with the sudden halt.

She turned to you, her eyes now glittering not only with the light, but tears. "Every moment I have without Aragorn is like a moment without air."

You pitied her - this enamoured elf who so dearly missed her duty-and-honour-bound partner. "I am sorry for your pain, Lady Arwen."

She smiled softly, warmth seeming to radiate from her as she did so. "Thank you, Y/N. There is no need for such formalities between us, though. We are both the female representatives of our people - and being so formal gets tiring, doesn't it?"

You laughed loudly, making Arwen chuckle too. "Very well."

Arwen entered a large room, with many great glass-less windows that had curtains across their tops ("For changing," Arwen explained), and a large bed piled with a pyramid of pillows.

"Here is where you will stay in your time in Rivendell," Arwen said, gesturing to a corner where the possessions Nethiel had borne where neatly arranged.

"Thank you," you barely managed to say, glancing in awe around the beautiful space. "Let no one say those of Rivendell are ungracious hosts."

"You may wish to change into elven attire in your stay here - it is more suited to our customs," Arwen advised.

From seemingly nowhere, the same elven maiden who had directed you to Elrond appeared, bearing a stack of blue-and-silver cloth. You took it from her hands, thanking her, and unfolded it, gasping as it hung from your hands.

'Beautiful' and 'ethereal' did not even begin to describe the dress, and words of thanks poured from your mouth like water from a river. It was a shining fabric, smooth in your hands and with a bejewelled bodice and layered skirts.

Arwen laughed, waving a fair hand. "Y/N, there is no need to thank us. As you said, we are your hosts. We treat our guests as we treat our Kings."

"Well ... thank you anyway, Arwen," you finished.

Arwen simply smiled, bidding the elf maiden to help you put on the formal dress. It felt smooth on your skin, as though there was nothing there. It perfectly complimented your s/c skin, as well as your h/c hair, which the elf maiden had braided in a Rivendell style, braids crowning your head.

Arwen looked suddenly to the left, her ears pricking up. "People have arrived in Rivendell. I think they're here for the Council."

With a glance, you and Arwen both began to run as fast as possible in your dresses, the fabric and your hair trailing behind you. She rushed around a final sandstone pillar, a few steps ahead of you, before halting abruptly. You came around the pillar as well, and also stopped at the sight before you.

Arwen had heard three travellers, and a most peculiar company they were (though each seemed to be travelling independently of the other two.)

The first was a man with sandy hair, and an arrogant expression that seemed to be constantly affixed upon his face. You judged by his clothes that he was probably of Rohan or Gondor.

The second was a dwarf, who was cursing rapidly at the horse that had carried him to Rivendell, his hair and beard a fiery red, matched by his equally red face as he continued to yell at the poor horse.

The third was tall, with pale braided blonde hair and eyes just as light and blue as Arwen's. He wore sensible riding clothes not unlike your usual garments, and carried a bow and arrows on his back.

The third visitor bowed low to Arwen, saying, "Mae l'ovannen, hiril vuin." Well met, my lady.

He was speaking Sindarin - a language you recognised from your fathers teachings.

Arwen smiled at him like he was an old friend. "Gi suilon, Legolas!" I greet you, Legolas!

Legolas ... so that was his name.

He turned to you and you knew he could tell you were human. He switched to the common tongue. "Greetings, my Lady ..."

You curtsied, then straightened and began to speak rapid-fire Sindarin. "Mae l'ovannen, Legolas - pedin edhellen, hîr vuin. Im Y/N Y/L/N." Well met, Legolas - I speak Elvish, my lord. I am Y/N Y/L/N.

Legolas blinked, and then laughed loudly. You could tell by the sparkle in his eye that he was impressed.

"What are they saying?" the dwarf asked the other man grumpily. "I don't understand this Elvish nonsense."

You turned to glower at him, fiercely protective of the Elves due to your upbringing. "Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog, pe-channas." I can say what I wish, and you won't understand me, idiot.

Legolas gave a snort, somehow managing to sound regal, dignified, and highly amused all at the same time. He placed his hands out in a placating gesture.

"Let us not quarrel," he said, in the common tone for the benefit of the two others. "Please, may we begin again?"

Arwen nodded, shooting you a glance that was at once approving and slightly disappointed with a hint of laughter. "I am Lady Arwen, daughter of Elrond, and this is Lady Y/N Y/L/N, representative of the Dunedain people."

"Boromir of Gondor at your service," the arrogant blonde said, bowing low and kissing Arwen's hand delicately.

"Gimli, son of Gloin, spokesperson of the Dwarves," the Dwarf said, bowing his head and nothing else.

"And Legolas, son of Thranduil, representative of the Mirkwood elves," Legolas said, kissing not only Arwen's hand, but yours as well. You blushed, curtsying to them all.

"This way, please." Arwen turned and swept off, a subtle hand gesture telling you to follow her, leading the three peculiar visitors.

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