Prescient

Chapter Seven: Dances

The warmup was light compared to the ones she'd done previously, but it got the job done, and she bounced nervously on the balls of her feet. They wore light padding at Elrohir's insistence, though Anna could barely feel the weight of it. Despite how weak she was after her trip to the strange world and her abrupt return, her unnatural levels of strength hadn't changed all that much. Though she wasn't too sure she could say the same of her stamina. Her strength was somewhat lacking compared to her earlier years, but for now it was enough. Anna drew the training blade, smiling as she locked eyes with Elladan. Here's to hoping maybe she'd be triumphant in a sparring match.

Her mind decided to flee elsewhere though in her fight, body moving on the instincts she'd thought were long dead as her memories took her back to Gondolin. But rather than all the sparring and the excursions out of the city, she was reminded of a night within the beautiful city. A night where the House of the King had been opened to members of all twelve houses of the Gondolindrim. It hadn't been a battle of swords. More like a battle of wits.

The night was warmer than most, a light breeze floating through the city as she followed after her parents on the banquet they'd been invited to. She was a warrior of the House of the Golden Flower, so it was doubly important that she attended to represent her lord. Unlike other houses, aside from perhaps the House of the Fountain, their warriors were the pride of their house – the ones ensuring the city was safe, rather than taking history down or forging various weapons and tools. Every house had their duties, and patrols and ventures outside the safety of their city were taken by them or the House of the Fountain. That was one of the reasons her lord and Lord Ecthelion were so close.

Sighing quietly, she made her way along the alley leading to the grandiose palace, careful not to get the skirts of the finest dress she had dirty. It was a pale silvery colour, golden embroidery done carefully, forming patterns upon patterns of celandine. The flower was commonly used amongst those in the House of the Golden Flower despite their standard bearing a different pattern, and their lord's love of the flower hardly went unnoticed either. She'd woven many a crown of the flower as a little elfling, and even to that day she enjoyed braiding them into her hair. Not that she had many friends with which to relax with. The only ones she had were her parents and the warriors of the Golden Flower... and her irritating lord too.

A smile pulled at her lips, not even dimming as she caught sight of Lord Glorfindel as soon as she arrived. He also caught sight of her and her parents, which was why he started making his way over towards them. Sighing once again, she readied herself to face the cheerful, teasing, goldenness that was the lord of their household.

Static sounded when he spoke her name. "A pleasure to see you here, and I see you have brought your parents along with you as well," he said, quickly turning to greet her parents before he turned back to her, finally taking in her dress and the golden embroidered celandine which matched the ones stitched onto the mantle he wore perfectly. "It seems as though we are coordinated rather well."

"Celandine have always been a favourite of mine, my lord," she said, well aware of the sharp elvish ears no doubt listening to their conversation along with several others at the same time. The serial gossipers, as well as the house in charge of keeping everyone in the city informed as to what was going on thrived off events like these ones. And she didn't want the particulars of the less than stellar relationship she had with the lord of her house spread amongst the city. Some people were terrible gossips, but she could hardly blame them. They all had their vices and their virtues.

Though admittedly she had yet to discover many of the vices of her annoyingly perfect lord.

"It seems as though we have that in common," Glorfindel spoke, a gentle smile on his face. One that probably broke hearts – though not hers. She'd grown immune to the sunny smile and the training demon it hid. "Though, if I may, my lady, I would very much like it if I could escort you to the dancefloor. I believe I must dance at least once before the night is out, lest I wish to have the other lords complain or doubt my skills."