The Lady of The Flame

Chapter Nineteen

"This is speech"
'This is thoughts'
"This is telepathy"
"Sindarin"
"Black speech"

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I Héri -o I runya
(The lady of the flame)
Chapter Nineteen:

Narvana slipped into the emerald dress carefully, thanking Arwen who gently buttoned up the back for her. The dress itself was completely an emerald colour, though the stitching was entirely gold and made to look like flowers and leaves. Arwen did her hair so that the ruby tresses tumbled down her back in soft ringlets, weaving in a few flowers and jewels as she did so. Her golden circlet was placed atop her head, and jewellery and scars visible as she left the room to head to the council.

Glorfindel was outside her room, casually leaning against the wall as he pretended to inspect his nails.

Why was he so nervous? It was just Narvana. Just kind, intelligent, witty, beautiful-

He shook himself. It was dangerous to think those thoughts.

Though... he was thinking them in a purely platonic way, so surely they were acceptable thoughts to have.

Right?

When the elleth of his desires- THOUGHTS! - the elleth of his thoughts appeared from her room, laughing at something Arwen had said, Glorfindel found himself swallowing thickly, eyes widening.

She was easily the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes on (sorry, Varda!), because not only was she absolutely stunning, but when he was around her, Glorfindel felt as though there was nothing he could not do. She gave them all a reason to fight, and she seemed utterly ignorant of the fact that she continuously incites so much hope and inspiration in all those around her. It seemed impossible that one person could change his life so profusely but she had done it - not even meaning to either!

She had her nose scrunched up softly while chuckling, turning to face him properly and take in his attire.

"You clean up surprisingly well." Narvana's voice broke him out of his trance.

He grinned. "Why do you sound so surprised?" Offering her his arm without thought, which she took immediately.

"How long did you spend brushing your hair?" The elleth asked with a teasing smirk and wink.

He sniffed pretentiously. "The usual amount of time."

"Oh, so hours then?"

Glorfindel snorted, rolling his eyes. "My hair is my absolute pride and joy."

"Maybe I should cut it for you."

Hi eyes widened in horror. "If you cut my hair I will never speak to you again."

"Sounds like a win-win situation."

Catching sight of the teasing glint in her eye and infectious smile, he sighed loudly, before sobering slightly. "After the Balrog, I was tempted to. Given, y'know-" he shrugged nonchalantly, "-I wouldn't have died if it was tied up or out of the way, but I like my hair. My mother would spend hours brushing it when I was little, and those are some of the fondest memories I have with her."