Mereth en Turuhalmë: The Winter Ball

[Quill]

(Art is "The Crystal Palace" by Randy Souders)

Midwinter has come to the valley, bringing with it chill winds from the Hithaeglir, snowy mornings, and clear, cold nights, alight with the brightest stars that any Elf or Man has witnessed. The hearths in the Last Homely House have been kindled, the halls have been decked with greenery and red berries, and the Hall of Fire fills every night for the singing of songs of the season and the enjoyment of mulled wine and cider warmed with cloves and oranges. Children go sledding on the upper slopes of the valley and skate on the thick layers of ice on the still water. Hrívë is here, and it is time to celebrate.

It’s the night of Mereth en Turuhalmë, the Winter Ball, and Elrond’s house is fully decorated and ready to receive its guests.

Outside in the cool air, a mammoth bonfire sends sparks into the sky. Separate braziers are standing about, filled with warm coals and incense, so the guests can warm themselves and toast marshmallows.

On the opposite side of the bonfire, an ice skating rink has been erected. For those who wish to exchange their dancing slippers for ice skates, come and take a turn with your chosen partner and waltz under the pale moon!

A large fir tree near the rink has been decorated with lanterns, ribbons, and ornaments. A table at its base is strewn with parchment scraps and pens for guests to write their wishes for the new year and tuck into the branches of the tree.

The entrance to the hall is hung with holly and sweet mistletoe. Inside the hall, flowers that have been preserved in ice or shaped from glass festoon the walls along with great lengths of fresh greens, so that the place smells of cedar, holly, and pine. An enormous table is laden with foods and drinks of all sorts; guests can sit down to eat, or if they like, get up and wander about.

The menu includes, but is not limited to the following:

Roasted pheasant
Freshly baked bread with herbed butter
A salad of winter greens
Fruits such as berries, apples, and pears
Spiced walnuts and pecans
Mashed potatoes with mushrooms
Mulled wine and cider
Hot chocolate
Almond cake and cream horns
Anything your heart desires

There is also an array of gingerbread architecture, including a miniature representation of the valley itself. Not far from the feasting table, musicians play soft tunes from a stage. Though the music is melting in the background for now, the floor before the stage is clear, promising dancing later in the night. Fires roar in hearths around the room, by which comfortable chairs and cushions are clustered for story-telling and quiet conversation.

The night is young, and there seems to be no structure to the event just yet. Guests may choose to wander as they please and get into whatever mischief and merriment they may find.

Rules
1. Do whatever you like, as long as you're civil about it!
2. Perhaps don't get too crazy with images.
3. Creativity is encouraged! If you wish there was an activity not listed in the OP, feel free to make it up.
4. Have fun :)

[Moriel]

For the longest time, Tavari had been unable to bear even the thought of winter revels. But now? The three tiny brass bells that normally adorned the tip of Gellam’s long soft cap had been exchanged for a pair of silver sleigh bells, and she laughed uproariously as they dashed through the outer open halls of Elrond’s house, scooping snow from the railings and flinging it at each other in swift-packed missiles as Gellam sang,

“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingl-ing too!”

The Fool succeeded in evading Tavari’s latest snowball by leaping onto one of the snowy railes, hooking his hands about a slim column and whipping his body around it, releasing to come in skidding behind her on the smooth floor. Tavari seized a fold of her gown, already a sensible length, and hiked it up yet further so she could sprint away. Gellam’s dark eyes flashed with glee, and he pursued her in kind, until at last they rounded the final corner, and came to the entrance of the Hall of Fire. There Tavari skidded to a halt, letting the folds of her gown drop in golden waves. Gellam had but to glance up to see why she had stopped, and immediately altered his intention. Rather than bound past her, with a twist of the waist he slid neatly to Tavari’s side, hooking one arm about her waist, and spun her about even as her arms threaded about his neck, and beneath the bough of mistletoe they kissed with all the passion of any young lovers who had never known heartbreak or war.

“Go and fetch me some mulled wine, you Fool.” Tavari laughed, when at length they parted.

“As my Lady commands!” Gellam replied, sketching her an outrageously leggy bow. He skipped- and Tavari all but skipped- apart, and made his way over to the long table full of all sorts of delights. Consummate pastry thief and addict that he was, the wood-elf was unable to resist stuffing a few cream horns in his mouth on his way to the simmering vats of mulled wine. The mithril ring on his index finger glinted in the fire- and candle-light, and absently Gellam spun it with his thumb as he moved. He was not given the wearing jewelry, and it was distracting- but in the best, the absolute best possible way. Scarcely a day had passed since he and Tavari had plighted their troth, and word had begun to get around. No doubt after tonight, with all the gossips in the vale gathered in one place, they should scarcely be able to move for the congratulations. Gellam grinned.

Upon retrieving two hot mugs of wine, the Fool found that his Lady had quite disappeared. Centuries of practice had perfected his skipping technique, and so Gellam skipped from the hall without spilling a single drop, out into the crisp air outside the hall. The moon as stars illuminated the festive area nearly as bright as day, and he spotted her easily, next to the enormous fir tree by the skating rink that had been erected for the festivities. He admired the tree and its decoration, knowing full well the difficulties of getting things just so on a spiky and particular specimen such as that. Tavari was straightening from the table, folding a scrap of paper in her fingers which, as he approached, she tucked deep into the boughs of the tree.

“And what are you wishing for?” he asked, arching his brows at her as he held out a mug. Tavari turned, grinning, the light of mischief in her eyes.

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” she quipped, and extended her hand to receive the wine.

[Dungeon Delver]

“Oh my goodness! There are so many… so many, and then there’s the… and… all the, so many…” She’d never seen so lights before, she’d never seen ice and snow used as decoration with such delicate intricacy or so many different kinds of food and dessert. The young girl was about to burst in her giddiness. Her eyes were wide and bright with exuberance. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched a display of dancing lights, like crystalline fireflies that flittered across a wintery spectrum of colors. Her breath formed fountains of steam as she mouthed more excitement than she could make sounds for. Celebrations like this were utterly unheard of in her home, the tiny, hidden homestead tucked away in a lost corner of the Misty Mountains. Her own family celebrations of the Yuletide consisted of a large, sweet smelling fire and a roasted lamb (there was mulled beer as well, but she was still too young to share in that with her uncles and aunt). She and her siblings and cousins would exchange little homemade fits, wood carved goats, poems, dolls, and the like. She’d always loved it, despite the feeling that it was simple. Seeing all of this, seeing the kind of celebrations the elves (ever mysterious, ethereal, and half-real), made her rustic traditions feel not inadequate, that was the wrong word, simple and plain. Yes, simple and plain. There was simply so much here! Her guest, or chaperone or patron or whatever he supposed to be called, had warned her that what she saw might be overwhelming. He had told her stories of elven kingdoms and palaces of far-off lands all her life, and the lives of her ancestors for generations beyond count, but stories were only one thing. Seeing them all like this, all this elven magic on display with such frivolity and joviality was almost more than she could bear. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to cry because everything was so lovely and wonderful. The lights and the trees and the snow, they were more lovely than anything even her imaginative dreams could have come up with. “Thank you Numey, thank you so much for bringing me here!” she giggled, wiping at her eyes with a faux dainty finger, and kissed the elf’s cheek.

Númenyraumion smiled broadly and winked at her. “I told you Rivendell was grand, did I not?”

“I never thought it would be so…” in lieu of words (which were so utterly useless at the moment for her) she swung her arms about, trying to gather in all the sights and lights and colors and smells. “Are they all like this?”

“Most of them,” he nodded, his own eyes wandering and wading through the spectacular showiness of the winter wonderland. “Thought Hrívë does tend to bring out our more fantastical nature.” How long had it been since he’d been in Rivendell during winter? A century or more, surely. His memories, as eidetic as it was, still paled in comparison to reality. If there was one thing the Eldar of the Imladris did well, it was celebrate. And there was much to celebrate this year. It had been an eventful year of connections, new and old and unexpected. Numey’s life had taken on a dozen different twists, most of which he was still processing, and the whirlwind of time and tales was destined to culminate here in the Hidden Vale.

“Do elves sing yule carols? Do they go a-wassailing? Do they exchange gifts? Do they fight off Krampus and his minions? Do they put their shoes outside for the Christmas Bear? What about the Mari Lwyd?” Bearhilda was so full of questions that she hardly took a breath between each one. “What is the yule feast like? Tell me, Numey! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

His mirth bubbled over. “Calm down! Or I’ll tell Jannic that you were so excited you forget to try the cider.”

She opened her mouth in mock shock. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He waggled his brow as if to say, “try me”.

“So, where should we start first?” Bearhilda said after trying to take in all the sights again. “Is there a gift exchange? Oh I’d love to take part… but… oh I forgot to bring something!”

“No fear my good princess, I, your humble and foreknowledged escort has taken care of that for you,” he touched her arm affectionately and added, “I’ve already added it to that great elendilian pile of presents over yonder.”

“Oh Numey! You’re the best!” she giggled and kissed his cheek again.

“Now, now! Save those for all the boys you’re going to dance with tonight. Your aunt made you a lovely purple and blue dress on the promise that you’d dance with at least a dozen elven lads and make at least twice that many elven maids jealous.”

Her face took on a grim set. “Are… isn’t that dangerous? Your story about the elf woman who imprisoned the boy she came across because he was too pretty for all the children of men. Could someone like that be here?”

The bi-eyed elf guffawed. “You can’t believe every story I tell you!” he smoothed the lines of his face, regaining an approximation of elven serenity and stillness. “After the dancing and the feast, I’ll take you to my favorite place: The Hall of Fire! I hear they’ve been getting some interesting guests recently. If the rumors are true, there were a pair of hobbits not more than a season ago. I’m sad I missed it.”

“Hobbits?!” Bearhilda looked even more wide eyed. “You mean they’re really real?!”

Once again, Númenyraumion’s face cracked into a smile. “Don’t you believe any of the stories I tell you?”

[Fuin Elda]

A hostess was never early nor were they late. Or some line like that. With the family busy south Fuin was on her own for this event, probably for the best, she could hardly keep her hands off herself with the soft deep burgundy velvet dress trimmed in silver that draped about her, and her long dark tresses were curled and pinned up with festive silver hair pins adorned with silver bells that jingled as she glided through the snowy entrance admiring the work the helpers had managed on the trees and the skating pond as well as the warming braziers.

Indeed everything was looking quite spectacular and already it seemed guests were beginning to arrive - Four thus far by her count, a good number thus far and she was excited to see how the dancing would go once the dinner portion had concluded, she'd heard that they would be having a special guest at some point showing up which could be quite exciting. She slipped into the main hall brushing the odd snow flake from her dress before they all melted and headed for the mulled wine.

She picked up a glass and looked about for her fellow hostess, and did not catch site of them immediately as she sipped gingerly at her drink. She did notice some faces she recognized - Tavari and Gellam were the first she recognized and she'd swear she knew at least one more (Númenyraumion) but wasn't entirely certain on that one - perhaps they had been at the last ball she'd been at? It was hard to tell though, for that one they'd all been dawning masks and costumes. She gave a polite wave of greeting to Tavari and Gellam as well as to Númenyraumion and Bearhilda though she decided not to interrupt either of them at this point there was still plenty of time for the party and chatting.

[Ercassie]

Nariel with Celedir and Ennora

It started somewhere in the distance. A snatch of whispered song bourne on a herald breeze, amplified with time. As early glimpses of a shadow dancing through the valley were defined all the more so with each step and curl into winking shapes. Joy. Merriment. Frivolity. Their laughter cavorted along their path, leaving no quarter untouched by the excitement and the expectation. There was come a Ball ! There was come a Ball. And they would come. Of course.

“Wack fol'a day diddle dee dye doe”
“Je le len 'o je le la le len 'o”
“Fiddle daddle day diddle dee dye doe”
“Ho ri f dhe ra huri” **


A fair lot of nonsense it may have sounded and they did not care who thought so. Alternating snatches of the song fell from each poised pair of lips in turn, and often also together, as they fell into an unplanned harmony, and often times sang over and under each other, with a not so small amount of laughter overtaking them completely in parts.

“Wack fol'a Day diddle dee dye do”
“Je le s 'je le la o le s' o”
“Fiddle diddle dee dye daddle day doing”
“Ho ri f dhe ra huri” **

At length their small tide of colour broke into the spill of light, and the merry-minded perpetrators were revealed. A young male Elf, with his moontide silver hood of hair, was set as though a shimmering lake between a pair of two beautiful maidens, both bedecked in glamorous tresses of fiery ember, and one of whom was hung upon each of his arms. The two ladies were cousins in fact, and their escort .. felt like he might just be the luckiest Elf in all Imladris this night. An opinion which was evident from his expression. Celedir it was of course, though rarely did he dress so well, for seldom did he find the need, much less the want. Tonight was very much an exception on all counts. For his pale blue garb was as arctic and unspoilt as the snowy hithaeglir, and as fine as Halyanis could tailor for him, while he had trembled with sheer excitement and had to be repeatedly bade to stand still. It would in fact be some miracle to not find at least one pin still sticking out of his get up before the night be done.

At the head of their hand-locked chain, Nariel led, in a seasonally dark green satin gown, with small sprigs of actual holly to garnish her otherwise free-fall of titian mane. An off the shoulder slip of a sleeve left each arm otherwise unclad, for she had managed to escape her rooms without succumbing to a host of jewels, save for the single gold wedding band about her finger. A press of silken ruffled flowers swarmed her snug corset as though a bountiful bouquet of wrap, to where the vast parasol of unpatterned skirt swept out below in an unbroken wave from her waist. The hem was close enough to the floor that glimpses of golden shoes could be glimpsed in their constant carousel beneath. One toe was tapping, ever so, the pulse of anticipation, even when their party was stood at a standstill.

Ennora held back to be always at the tail end of their collective, and felt rather self-consciously like the ‘before’ stage of the accomplished ‘after’ stage that her kinswoman had managed. A velvet robe of amber-hued velvet might have been considered rather plain, if it had not boasted an brighter belt of autumnal leaves design, that orbited the long sleeves, the neckline and otherwise shapeless waist. The Woodelf had compensated rather with a headdress of some matching show of leaves, in a kaleidoscope of red and brown and golden shades; which rather betrayed her style and upbringing in the realm of the Elvenking. Unsure how that experience might ready her for tonight, she sucked a slight strand of her long flaming hair, as though it might instill her with confidence. Or at least be unobserved as she trailed behind her livelier companions.


“Come now,” Nariel sent a ripple of motion with one arm to rouse her consorts. “You are sworn to make so merry that I forget my husband is from my side. For I shall not weep and ruin this dress, or hold the pair of you accountable.” Her smile went small way into supporting such a threat. Indeed the Lady looked already overjoyed to attend the event, and scarcely noticed how Celedir was dragging them toward the lines of food and feast.

“Are you sure you did not relocate here solely to attend this party ?” he asked, by way of diversion. He was as nervous of showing her a good time as he was by the long letter Tharmaras had left with him, outlining what was, and what was not, suitable ways to conduct himself tonight. This in the aftermath of an extensively long interview from Tirindo on a very similar subject. He had (somehow) managed to meet the SeaLord’s expectations as a fitting escort for Nariel, but had already forgotten so many of his father’s do’s and don’t’s in favour of Haly’s far more agreeable advice to ‘just have fun’. There was just far too much to remember !

“I have no understanding of these things you do allege,” Nariel raised her chin and hung on the charade of innocence. “By chance only I happened to hear ..”

“And happened to have so fine a gown, just in case ..” put in Ennora meekly, though not without a knowing smile.

“She would wear such a gown as this to bed and I would not be surprised !” laughed Celedir, before stopping in doubt that such talk clearly was not on the ‘ok’ list for conversational subjects.


“Now children, please, you are worse than the twins. Cease with your teasing.” Nariel managed her most serious expression, for a whole minute. She was after all, far older than either of her companions, when she remembered it.

“I wonder if Uruviel’s grandfather will let her come,” mused Ennora wistfully.

“Another red-head ? What did I ever do to deserve this ?!” Celedir whistled through his teeth, and almost lost himself to the possibility. “I meant .. no. It is a compliment !” he warded off the sharp look from both of the ladies, finding himself suddenly and nervously surrounded.

“Are your parents coming ?” Ennora returned then, politely.

“Hmm, well Tirindo was still fussing about the place, the last I checked,” Celedir frowned as he recognised the belated challenge of trying some of the food whilst holding a lady already in each hand. “Honestly,” he sighed, in consideration of his challenge. “I thought it was supposed to be the ladies who kept their gentleman waiting ! But he might just be dressed well enough to show up by the time all the fun is done with.” The Elf shrugged, somewhat dejected in the face of his many trials.

“The fun will be done with before ever he arrives,” laughed Ennora in support.

“Whether that be now or hours from now.” muttered Nariel herself, before glancing around to find who might have dared speak such a thing about her overly-sensible uncle. But her pair of escorts were already laughing aloud now.


In an effort to divert to less childish behaviour, the elder lady picked up her skirt with her free hand, and took their body of dressed-up daisy-chain, over to present before Tavari and Gellam. She performed a perfect curtsy, unhindered by their link-up, which rather sent Celedir and Ennora into a bobbing bow and attempt at a curtsy in due course. Without further explanation, Nariel loosed Celedir completely and threw both arms in a liberated fashion around the Lady Mahtamórë, to embrace her wholly, if not interrupted.

“I doubt I am the first, nor shall I likely be the last, and yet I shall wish you both the most heartfelt of congratulations on your recent .. coming together.” Nariel explained, nodding a head toward first one ring and then the other. Naturally it had taken but her typical accounting of sparkle in attendance this evening, for the Elleth to recall the news she’d heard. And doubtless was spreading even now by such a spectacle of behaviour. “May I present Celedir Glaerithil and Ennora Rameryn, my kith and kin ?”

It was a far easier explanation than to clarify her maternal uncle’s adopted so, or her paternal aunt’s grand-daughter. And it would have been far easier again, had Celedir not made a dash for the food and turned back in a barely timely fashion with a glass in hand, and a mouth full of almonds, to wave back at Gellam and his new fiancé, while Ennora dropped the sucked wet end of her hair and, out of desperation, managed a second wobbly curtsy to the celebrated couple.

** (All credit to the song 'lyrics' to 'Fee Ra Huri' by Omnia)

[Fuin Elda]

Fuin Elda and Afarfin

Fuin watched as more merry makers arrived at the ball that she had helped to arrange with a smile and could not help but chuckle at poor Celedir and his desperate attempt to get food while not being introduced by Nariel to Lady Mahtamórë and Gellam.

She headed over to the musicians who were playing soft music to fill the night and gave them instructions that it was time officially to strike up the dancing tunes. Something that they were more than happy to do. There was a great open wooden floor for those that were there to dance with servers stationed ready with flutes of wine and bubbly cider.


While she was busy with that Afarfin arrived, adorned in mostly black leathers but also a soft grey shirt and a black velvet over tunic stitched with silver trees and stars at the hems his hair swept back pinned and woven to stay out of his face with a simple circlet with a polished garnets up it. His smile was swift and he caught sight of his wife, and blew her a kiss happy to see all of the others that were here already. He saw Nariel and Tavari and others chatting but soon saw that there were others that were alone for the moment, and Fuin had just gotten the band to play a lovely lively tune.

He fetched himself a drink and then picked up two more mulled ciders and headed for and elf, and... he was fairly certain shew as of the second born though she was quite fetching. He slipped towards them and gave them a low bow and offered the drinks to both the elf and the human. "Merry Yule friends, my name is Afarfin and I would be most honored to know your names @Hop-Frogbefore," He said with a smile that lit his eyes. "I attempt to steal away this beautiful creature upon your arm for an dance." With that he straightened back up "I promise I shall bring her back."

[Dungeon Delver]

The danced ended, and if Bearhilda was honest, she thought it ended far too early. The beginning of the song was so frantic and chaotic that she missed half her steps and spend the first minute or so tumbling and stumbling over Numey as he tried to lead her through the complex moves. It was only during the final chorus that she finally felt herself fall into a rhythm. The music ended in a merry crescendo and as the music faded and the sounds of conversation once again took centerstage, she felt herself suddenly out of breath. The dance hadn’t been overly strenuous despite its complexity but nonetheless Bearhilda found herself lightheaded. She laughed though, the happy fey sound pushed air back into her chest and filled her with light. She was dancing in Rivendell! She was dancing in the very halls of the Lord of the Valley! Even if she was as clumsy as a three-legged goat, she was having the time of her life. None of the other patrons of the ball seemed to look at her disapprovingly either. She’d been afraid when the song began that all the eyes of the elves would look at her and find her a stain on their perfect ballet. It was still a fear in the back of her mind. No stories of the elves were complete with her family unless there was something sinister and creeping about them. The only happy elven stories they had were those that involved Numey, the bi-eyed wanderer who had become a staple to her family’s history. He looked like he was enjoying himself. He was such a serious elf, hiding some secret sorrow he would never tell, it was nice to see him completely out of his dour element and filled with mirth.

“You did well!” He said escorting her off the dance floor and back to the table they’d chosen to sit between dances. She beamed, silly and bright. “It’s important to stretch your dance muscles, Bearhilda,” he said with a façade of solemnity, “you never know when they’ll come in handy. You’ll probably need them more than I since you’re going to marry a prince.” His face instantly split into a grin. She blushed and playfully smacked him. The first time they’d met fourteen years ago she’d announced, in all her imp-childishness that she was going to marry a prince. He never let her forget it.

She was beginning to drift, feeling the effects of the evening, the food, and the drink when someone new came into her periphery. He was handsome, as elves go, enamorating and intimidating at the same time. Instead of just crossing her vision and disappearing, he came towards her. Towards her! She panicked inwardly when she realized what was happening. He was coming toward her! What was she going to do? What was she going to say? What was he going to do? Was he going to kidnap her and steal her away to some labyrinth in the middle of nowhere? No, no, in Numey’s stories that was the goblin king, who looked more like Numey than any goblin had a right to. What was this elf going to do? She was so struck that when he introduced himself, she said nothing, just stared.

“I’m Númenyraumion and this is my charge for the evening, Bearhilda,” she heard Numey say as if he were far across the room. The sound of her name in conversation sounded odd, the lips of elves made everything sound much grander and deeper than she thought anything had a right to be.

Then the elf, Afarfin he called himself, said something that didn’t make any sense. He called her a beautiful creature. At first, she thought he was talking about Numey who, though long denying any charm or appeal, had had his share of admirers. He had an effect on people, men and women alike. But when Afarfin said “her” she nearly yelped. He wanted— to dance— with her? What? What?

“I— I— I—” she stammered.

“She would be honored,” Numey finished for her, saving her from an embarrassing faux pas.

Wait, she was going to dance with someone? She gulped and hoped she didn’t stumble about like the cowherd girl she was.

[Moriel]

Tavari had just drained her glass- a fortunate thing indeed- when she found an ebullient trio making a beeline for her and Gellam. Nariel she recognized, but not the elleth and ellon upon her arms. She held back a chortle as she returned the former’s curtsey, politely ignoring the somewhat less graceful reverences of the two companions. But it was Nariel’s next move which took Tavari by surprise: without hesitation, the fiery elleth threw her arms about Tavari in an unbridled embrace. She did not know Nariel well; it was her husband who had been Tavari friend- but what she knew of the elleth she liked and, in a reflex born of high spirits, she returned the embrace in kind, laughing with delight.

“Thank you!” she cried as they pulled apart, retaining Nariel’s hands in a brief but enthusiastic squeeze. “Wonderful to meet you, Celdir, Ennora!” Tavari greeted them each in turn with a nod and a smile. To distract from the somewhat less suave responses of the Nariel’s kin, Gellam dropped the elleth his typical outrageously leggy bow, sweeping the silver-jingling soft cap off his head with a flourish of bells, and clapping it back on again as he straightened. “A fine, fine evening to you all!” the Fool exclaimed, beaming. “Do try some of my uncle’s blackberry wine!” he called to Celedir at the refreshment table, and gave a roguish wink to Ennora. “But be careful not to imbibe too much.” Tavari had just opened her mouth to enquire after Nariel’s husband, when over the elleth’s shoulder she spotted someone else she knew, and her smile became, if it were possible, even broader.

“You must excuse me,” she said, seizing Nariel’s hand again, “I see someone I must accost! I’m sure the night will be long enough for us to catch up!” Tavari dashed away, and Gellam laughed aloud. “Impulsivity suits my,” -his chest puffed out with pride at the new deeper meaning behind the word- “Lady, don’t you think? But I say-” he looked around in an exaggerated fashion as music began from within the hall, “you seem to be without a partner! That won’t do.” Gellam bowed again, in a slightly more reserved fashion, and extended his hand towards Narial. “Would you care to dance?”

To the background of the same music, Tavari had fled back into the hall. The object of her distraction, the ellon with hair of silver-blue and unmistakable eyes, was just ushering a young woman (Bearhilda) to dance with Afarfin. Waiting just a moment until her path was clear, Tavari pounced, coming up beside her quarry in a golden whirl of skirt.

“Númenyraumion!” she greeted him with enthusiasm, “So good to see you! And you’ve brought a young guest? Come and dance, I promise not to deceive you this time,” Tavari grinned, hearkening back to the last (and first) time they had danced and the masked ball in Lindon, when he had not known who she was, “And you can tell me all about your latest adventures.”

[Fuin Elda]

Afarfin

"Númenyraumion, I think I have heard of you before, though I am rarely in this Valley anymore," Afarfin said with a smile, the reaction of the young woman on his arm led him to believe that she was not entirely use to being in the company of elves, or in the Valley. He was wondering how he might help her answer when Númenyraumion answered for her, not that he held it against the young woman being in the company of elves was something he had been told took getting use to when you'd never been about them before. He nodded appreciatively to Númenyraumion and held out his hand to the young woman who seemed stunned and in shock at being asked to dance. "Bearhilda I am probably more out of practice when it comes to dancing than I look." He said with a gentle smile when she took his hand and lead her out onto the dance floor as a song began.

He caught sight of Tavari coming towards him or at least towards their group but her eyes were fixed not on him or the young woman he now ushered towards the dance floor, perhaps after the dance if she was free he would speak with her but for now he was happy to set his attention to Bearhilda.

He had once tried to teach Mylien how to do this dance, it had ended absolutely disastrously despite it being simple, three steps - one longer two shorter swirling about the floor, she however had been an absolutely unwilling participant in that and had done everything she could to ruin the dance. He had a feeling Bearhilda was wanting to not look foolish and would try her best and so at first he gave gentle instructions where she looked confused and then all there was to do was to keep dancing.

"So Bearhilda, tell me where did Númenyraumion find you before bringing you to this ball, and have you enjoyed the Valley thus far?" He asked deciding she was doing well enough all that was left was to keep her from over thinking while dancing hopefully this question was one that she would not mind answering.

[Dungeon Delver]

It was quite a lot, being in the presence of two elves. Never mind that Numey (or she supposed she should call him Númenyraumion officially) had known her since she was barely old enough to walk. Bearhilda felt like she was in very much over her head. She remembered what her aunt told her before she’d come though “you are just as important and wonderful as any elf there, don’t feel small just because you aren’t an elf like them” and she felt a little better. She slowed her breathing; hyperventilating was the very opposite of the attention she wanted. Soon, her heart stopped pounding about her ears and she felt like she was touching back down to earth after flying; still airy and excited, but a bit more measured.

“I’m not in the Valley much either,” she heard Numey (no Númenyraumion) say, “but you aren’t here for me, I shall take my leave.” She watched him give Afarfin an elegant bow and suddenly it was like he melted into the crowd. Bearhilda was, quite suddenly, all alone with a stranger. But this was why she was here, wasn’t it? She reminded herself. She was here to meet people and expand her circle of knowledge. She took the ellon’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

He was self-effacing, something she hadn’t quite expected. All the stories she knew of elves said that they were serious and dour, so full of wisdom that if they smiled too much all the wisdom would come spilling through their mouths. She was pleased to find that she was not quite correct. The dance, as it turned out, was not too different from some of the folk dances she and her neighbors participated in. At first, she was a bit clumsy-footed, allowing her nerves to interfere with her rhythm. She envisioned her cow, and the daily dance they partook in when she came to milk her, the light-footed bounce she had to keep up to keep from getting her own foot squashed by a not always friendly bovine. The little mental exercise did the trick and soon she was able to pick up the steps, and, after a time, she found that her worry had melted and she was practically enjoying herself! Her elven partner, despite saying he was rusty, moved with that silky fluidity one would expect from a race so full of boundless energy. The lights, the music, the colors, and the atmosphere. Bearhilda wish Numey had taken her to a ball long before now!

And speaking of Numey, she curtsied as the dance began to slow. “Oh, he didn’t find me,” she said with a slight blush, “he’s been a dear friend to my family for years beyond count. He’s been coming to see us for a hundred generations or more, if he’s not exaggerating. He’s like a member of the family who always shows up with wild tales and strange gifts from imaginary places. Everyone, even my grandparents when they were still alive, called him Uncle Numey. He likes to teach us to sing, even though none of us can sing the way he does. When he comes, he always offers stories in exchange for labor. I can’t imagine why he likes to work on our farm so much but he’s been doing it for so long now maybe it’s all part of a grand story.

“The Valley is very,” she paused, a little self-conscious all of the sudden, she didn’t want to say the Valley was ‘big’ or ‘bright’, those words wouldn’t do at all, “very lively, much livelier than I would have expected, given all the songs I’ve heard about it. And, what of you, Mister Afarfin?”

Númenyraumion might have blended into the crowd, but he still kept an eye on his charge, at least until she looked comfortable enough to laugh. Once he heard that sound, he knew he could afford to take his eyes off her for a moment. He had no children (aside from two stuffed friends that were still located in the bottom of his pack) but he imagined it was a very stressful, very overwhelming feeling despite all the potential rewards it offered.

Was that—? Aha! He smiled impishly when he caught sight of her. “Well, I’ll be damned!” he called to her. “Lady Tavari! I didn’t expect to see you here! When did you arrive? How long are you staying?” They were quickly pulled into a dance, one that mirrored the last they’d had (though at least this time he knew it was her). “Her name is Bearhilda, her family lives in one of the many little crevice villages that dot the Misty Mountains. I’ve known them for, well for aeons I suppose you could say I met them shortly after I began my wanderings, I suppose they're like a family to me, Bearhilda is like my niece then. I’ll make you a deal though, I’ll tell you a story, if you tell me one. Sound fair?”

[Moriel]

He bombarded her with questions and answers even as their hands came together and they joined into the dance that was sweeping around the floor, and Tavari laughed. “Just Tavari, please! We’re all equals on the dance floor, aren’t we? I’ve only just come back from long patrol a couple of days ago, good timing, if I say so myself. I think I’ll be here for a good few weeks at least,” she caught sight of Afrafin and Bearhilda making a good account of themselves over Númenyraumion’s shoulder as they circled about, “Things are quiet for once, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t indulge in a bit of winter leave, particularly just now.” She bit the inside of her lip just slightly, watching his face for any signs of recognition- but of course, if he had just arrived for the ball, word might not have gotten to him yet! And after all, it was really very recent news. Not normally one for this sort of grandstanding at all, Tavari allowed the bore tide of her ecstatic joy to carry her on, and she nodded. “A story, you say? The story of how you came to have such a long association with young Bearhilda’s family sounds a fascinating one, but I shall accept your bargain.”

Tavari moved just slightly closer to Númenyraumion in their dancing frame, so that she did not quite look him in the eyes as she spoke, but stayed engaged, allowing him to take a strong lead as they danced. “Once upon a time, there was an elf warrior of great renown,” she began, amusement edging her voice, “Veteran of many battles throughout the ages, and by now quite old enough to have faded into the pages of history. After a great tragedy, this warrior took to a life of solitude, wandering the earth alone, to try and understand why such things had occurred, and reconnect with the natural things that had always been so important. After a great length of time, though something drew the warrior back to the last place there had been family. And upon arriving at that place, the lonesome warrior met not just family- but a Fool.” The music picked up into a sprightlier dance, and even as the pace of their steps increased, Tavari continued her story. “The warrior and the fool quickly became fast friends, although the warrior’s family didn’t quite approve at first, thinking that the fool might be a bad influence. Quite preposterous, don’t you think?”

Tavari pulled back slightly and glanced over at her partner, before forging on. “It was all very strange for the warrior, who was so used to being alone, but the fool was a boon companion. As it turned out, the fool was also a warrior, and they had many adventures together, ranging the wild, fighting with orcs and other fell things, and traveling back and forth between the homes of their lords. Although always respectful and a friend above all, the fool had been at once smitten with the warrior. For the warrior though, it took quite a long time, years, to realize that there might be something… more. Not very long ago, the warrior and the fool stole away together, deep into the forest of this very vale, and there many things were revealed. A new and deeper understanding formed between the warrior and the fool, treasured between them when they returned from the forest. And still, the warrior’s thoughts sat in contemplation. Though such a thing had once been within reach, it had been so long that it seemed unreal it now might be so again. That is, until scarcely a day ago,” Tavari retreated slightly again, both from her closer physical position, to return to their original distance, and from the mystical quality which had taken over her voice in the telling of the tale: her voice was strong and bright and her grin flashed out again. As she went on this time, she pulled their clasped hands inwards, turning them until her right hand with the silver ring shining upon its index finger, hovered before Númenyraumion’s eyes, “the warrior found herself on the brink of the greatest victory of her life: love.”

[Ercassie]

Nariel with Celedir and Ennora

“Lord Gellam” Nariel turned glad eyes from the glimmer of Tavari to explore the cause for the golden lady’s smile. “Or is it Arphen, these days ?” One perfect brow took flight in expression, betraying her penchant for collecting gossip. “We can certainly call you a ‘fool’ no longer !” she awarded him with a smile of her own, clearly approving of the couple’s engagement. “Not given recent accounts of assured good taste !”

“Fair evening, Lady, Lord,” Celedir returned with a raised glass of wine in his liberated hand, while Ennora blushed as red at her cheek as was her hair, to be in the vicinity of such celebrities. “Congratulations,” the younger maid managed, shyly. Tavari’s eye soon caught a glimpse of guests yet unaware of her ‘big news’, but her partner fluidly compensated as though they were already of one mind.

“Of course I have been introduced afore to your good uncle’s most prized and potent wines,” Nariel recalled her visit to Adab Gelir, some years past, with the sort of wistful inspiration that it was an experience that required repeating. Her young ‘escort’ was supping eagerly, before his father might arrive and stand a scowling witness; and was assisted in discarding evidence, by Ennora who took the flute from him, and set it on a nearby table, pointedly. There followed an exchange of silent conversation between the two, served through slow shook heads, and furrowed brows for canopies to frowns. “It is an honour to, officially .. make the acquaintance of another asset that Alagon makes deserved boast of.” Nariel continued, with so naively perfect a straight face in the light of her friends' antics, one might be convinced that she saw the young pair not. But they would be wrong in that judgement.


“Rest certain, you shall not escape my joy so swiftly. But for now,” she leant the whisper as though an airy caress, inches from Tavari’s cheek, as moments later that spontaneous celebrant went to share her news further abroad. “I would deem the two of you well matched,” Nariel replied, amused, to Gellam’s remark, and received his hand, politely offered, into her own. For the music had ramped up it’s insistence for attention. And clearly conversation made of words now should be rendered unto second place.

“Do you know, I would. Of course,” the lady surprised no one by agreeing to her most favourite of all things. Her husband could not complain after all, even if he had not kept himself away with business; for clearly Gellam of all the Elves here present was like to be the most committed soul to his own love, not any other’s. And Nariel would not count any event having been worth her attending, if she did not enjoy at least one dance.

“Come,” Celedir held out his arm for Ennora to comprehend his like invitation. “If we lose her, we shall never hear the end of it !” he recalled. The more hesitant redhead held off a moment before succumbing to such a ‘romantic’ request that they two give way to a similar dance. After all, there were several partnerships now flavouring the dance floor who encouraged quite how easy it all looked. The ball, like Winter itself, would not last for always. But there ought be memories made all the same, to recall with fond hearts in the parade of seasons that would follow.