Stars of Varda - An Elven Love Story (Thranduil)

23. The Dance

When the King signals the supper's end, my hopes are overturned when Ferdir follows through with his promise. He takes my hand and leads me to the open field where others are beginning to gather. The clipped grass is an endless silvery floor beneath my feet, reflecting light from the surrounding tree lanterns. Voices whisper excitedly about the musicians and the stars and the dancing to come. I feel a surge of relief at the start of the familiar song. It is one of the Greenwood's own: a group dance.

With Ferdir's hand on my waist and his other flattened against my palm, we dance in an intimate circle until the exchange of partners. An enthusiastic guard with dusty blond hair takes my hand next, his rounded facial features giving away his young age. The lively song's tempo increases. I notice Sírdor's mother among the musicians, fluttering her fingers across her harp with a contented smile.

After several energetic group dances, the mood changes when the flutist plays the opening somber notes of The Sea-Bell. The harpists follow in accord as the singer's delicate voice rises in the velvety night air. Ferdir appears distracted as we dance alone. His dark eyes dart to places behind me, his mouth a thin line pulling downward.

I clear my throat. "You are quite good at this."

His gaze returns. "Thank you, my lady."

"Did your aunt teach you?"

"My aunt? Alas, she cannot dance to save all of Elvendom. I taught myself."

"All the more impressive."

Ferdir grins, but his gaze does not linger.

Whatever the reason for his odd behavior, it is not enough for him to take his seat. If anything, he seems more adamant to stay at my side. Does he intend to dance with me until the stars burn out? I know it should be a thrill to have him as a partner, a proud lord of Lòrien eager for my company, but my heart is not in it. Whether it is because of his strange mood, or my own, I cannot say.

My gaze leaps to Thranduil. He is as conspicuous as a moon-lit mallorn tree as he watches the dancing from afar. Lady Aethel is speaking to him, her hands gesturing as animatedly as her expressions despite his lack of attention. As though sensing he is being watched, he suddenly locks eyes with mine. I hold them for a single breath before Ferdir's steps move us in the opposite direction.

The feel of his hand pressing hard against my waist makes me stiffen. My movements become wooden and forced, and I feel a strong desire to flee. Since the evening's start, more than one elleth has given me an envious stare. How I wish he would dance with them instead...

Offering the explanation of needing a drink, I excuse myself mid-song. Circlet-crowned heads turn to look as I leave the dancing floor abruptly. I take a wine goblet and make my way to Gwendes, who is sitting at a table alone, like an undiscovered sapphire in a sea of shiny crystals.

"I believe you broke Lord Ferdir's heart."

"I did no such thing."

But it is true he appears out of sorts, even lost. He leaves the dancing throng and joins Lady Aethel, who has given up trying to converse with the King. How strange it is he would seek the mother of the elleth he so despises. Caewen, however, has danced with many partners already, all respectable ellyn.

"Do you not fancy him?" Gwendes' tone is clipped. She is breaking apart a sweet roll with more force than necessary. "He seems keen."

I swallow, and take a seat. I have entered troubled waters. "I like him as a friend. As anything more, I do not believe so."

"Why?"

"He is very affectionate, offering honeyed words and acting as if I am a prized gemstone, but it is overdone for my liking. Our conversations are mundane at best...he speaks of himself more than anything. He does not excite me."