To Live Again: In her Hands {Lord of the Rings / Thranduil fanfic}

5. I Don't think You're Right for Him...

A/N Ya'll asked for a Kiss! So how about that night at the dance? XD

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The crowds.

The sea of perplexed faces; some clearly delighted, others scandalised, most seemingly merry - chalking the scene up to a good nights entertainment. It was good entertainment, and for the most part enjoyable. I never consciously intend on causing a scene...I just do. I see no point in hiding behind the fame my title brings. The people will talk regardless of how a royal behaves, and if they intend on talking I may at least give them something worth talking about. Valar knows what has been said in the past - both good and bad. I can already hear the voices on the air;

"Who is the elleth?" One asks.

"A servant girl I think...my sister tells me she literally appeared overnight in the King's court," his friend replies.

"Ack, it's just another maid the prince has taken a fancy too," another interjects, and I squirm uncomfortably.

"Maybe more than a fancy," the first chuckles again, "Did you see how they danced? I'd wager there is more between them than meets the eye."

"Strange little thing," the friend muses. "Young I'd imagine, not courtly, and certainly not usually befitting of his lordship's finicky tastes."

"Ah now," the first muses dreamily; "maybe his highness has learned beauty is fleeting and there is more substance to the common folk than these airy floozies, that pomp around in ridiculous dresses, with no earthly use to us."

"Or maybe the Prince has lost appeal to his peers, and his only hope is desperately throwing himself at a common maid!" The last, and obviously most cynical scoffs. "I mean look at him? And with his past he hasn't a hope! That elleth is either foolish and knows nothing of our Prince, or she is smart enough to seize an opportunity to better herself."

"Either way, good luck to her," the mutual friend sniggers; "I wouldn't entertain his highness for all the treasure in his vaults!"

The group of not so quiet elves erupt into fits of obnoxious laughter...much to my displeasure. My jaw twitches, and I automatically turn away from the fire pit. My eyes do not leave the path Clara took after Aradan, and I'm not overly concerned about his bruised ego - in fact I'm feeling rather smug. I consider ignoring the group of misinformed squires - after all what bearing do their opinions have on me - but I just can't leave things alone.

I make to cut an indirect path so as I pass by the sniggering idiots. It looks like I am simply taking a long awkward route after Clara, and for a few moments the youthful guards are blissfully unaware of my knowledge of their conversation. That is until I pause my step when I brush past them, and I'm amused when they all flounder and cough. Each of them bow deeply, and mumble their respects, so I reward them with a slight incline of my head and half-hearted attempt at looking them in the eye. I'm in no mood to terrify them, as much as I could, I find it cowardly to give mere elflings nightmares;

"Beautiful night is it not?" I muse aloud, and hold each of the three young ellyn in an appraising stare. I suppress a smirk at their confusion and continue my assessment; "The air is so quiet, you can just about hear every conversation on the breeze."

Each of their stupid mouths hang open in a mixture of horror and realisation, and I roll my eyes before tutting quietly. Really? How could they not know their voices carried? Youth - honestly it's a miracle that they even made it into the guard in the first place. I shall have to have a word with the accessors about tightening up training, these three will get themselves shot with their 'whispering'.