In The Light of the Valar (LOTR) (ELROND

10: Disrupted Plans

Elrond stood before the mirror, adjusting the deep green of his tunic, its fabric rich and soft against his skin. The anticipation coursing through him felt electric, thrumming in time with his heartbeat. Images of Lady Liv flashed through his mind—her warm hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief, her laughter like music echoing in the air between them. The memory of her touch lingered on his skin, a gentle brush that left him yearning for more. He had never encountered someone like her before, so brazen and lively in a world often bound by decorum and restraint.

But there was a tension in the air that night. The feast, a gathering of nobility and elegance, loomed just beyond his door. The rich aromas of roasting meat and sweet pastries wafted through the halls, mingling with the sound of laughter and the clinking of goblets. He hoped to find her there, to explore the depth of their connection amidst the celebration.

Elrond took a deep breath, steadying himself. He had a duty to fulfill first. As Galadriel's steward, it was his responsibility to ensure that the evening unfolded flawlessly, with no detail overlooked. Yet thoughts of Lady Liv kept intruding, her presence like a shadow that danced just out of reach.

He turned from the mirror, resolving to find her among the revelers. Perhaps he would even muster the courage to ask her about her life beyond Lindon, the adventures that had shaped her into the intriguing woman she was.

Just as he reached for the door, a guard approached, urgency etched across his features.

"Lord Elrond," he said, bowing slightly. "A message from the King."

Elrond furrowed his brow, accepting the letter with a sense of foreboding. He tore it open, scanning the elegant script, the neat curves of the letters a familiar sight. Yet, the words within twisted his gut into knots.

My dear Elrond,

I require your immediate attention to procure a selection of herbs from the eastern gardens. It is essential for the feast preparations. Your expertise is needed to ensure the finest quality. I trust you will take care of this matter swiftly.

- Your King Gal-Galad

The finality of the King's request hung in the air, and Elrond felt frustration well up inside him. He had envisioned this evening unfolding like a delicate tapestry, one that would allow him to unravel the mystery of Lady Liv after completing his obligations to escort the Princess to the Feast, thread by thread. But the King's command while contradictory to his earlier orders was clear. He had no choice but to comply.

"Of course, my lord?" the guard replied, his voice filled with confusion at Elrond's sudden change in demeanor.

Elrond nodded curtly, dismissing the guard as he turned on his heel, striding toward the gardens. The evening light cast a golden glow on the path, illuminating the way to the east. The sounds of merriment faded behind him, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of night creatures awakening to the darkness.

He quickened his pace, frustration coursing through him. Each step felt like a betrayal of the anticipation he had built, a disruption to the budding connection he felt with Lady Liv. He had made plans to escort the Princess Luthien to the feast quickly discarding her with her father before going off to find Liv... and now everything would be delayed. The gardens were beautiful, he reminded himself, and the task was vital. Yet the thought of spending this precious time away from the festivities gnawed at him.

As he entered the gardens, the scent of blooming flowers enveloped him, filling his senses with their sweetness. He focused on the task at hand, breathing deeply to center himself. His fingers brushed over the various plants, seeking the herbs that would please the King's palate.

Yet, even as he worked, his thoughts drifted back to Lady Liv—the playful way she had spoken, her daring nature that both excited and intimidated him. He wondered how a woman so spirited could be a daughter of the King. The contrast was striking.

He gathered the herbs with purpose, but his heart raced at the thought of returning to the feast and running out of time to find her.

What was it about her that stirred something deep within him? Was it the way she challenged him, or the glimpse of freedom she embodied?

Each time he plucked a leaf or snipped a stem, he felt the weight of the gathering pressing upon him, the laughter and joy he longed to share with her growing distant. He had hoped for a night filled with exploration, where they could discover more about one another, but now it seemed as though fate had other plans.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he completed his task. Clutching the gathered herbs to his chest, he made his way back toward the hall, where the laughter swelled once more, echoing through the corridors like a song of longing.

As he approached the entrance, he steeled himself for the inevitable—facing the King, mingling with nobility, and keeping his heart in check as thoughts of Lady Liv danced tantalizingly in his mind.

And yet, a whisper of hope stirred within him. This would not be the end of their connection; he would find her again, in the heart of the feast, and uncover the mystery that surrounded her like a shimmering veil.