"The things we love destroy us every time, lad. Remember that."
Fairies are one of the oldest race of beings in Arda -once they called Numenór home- but Arethusa watched as the sea claimed the island from the helm of a ship as the survivors fled to...
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"FAEL!" The voice that had woke her belonged to Arwen, her blue eyes were clear as the sea that had once surrounded Númenórë. "You worried us all, fael." Arethusa smiled and looked past her friend to a simple gown of deep of green that had been fashioned for her.
She remembered a time when she was larger than both Arwen and her brothers but that time had long passed, Arethusa sat up, pleased to notice that her ribs no longer hurt from doing such a simple action. "It will take more than bruises to stall me, Arwen." They each smiled, the fairy's faded when she noticed a look on the elf's face that only meant one thing. Mischief.
"Ada said that he saw you and the dwarf last night." Her eyes were alight, Arethusa frowned recalling her evening, she had been with Thorin but there were only words exchanged between them. They had come to know each other better, however, that did not constitute much.
The fairy sighed, "We spoke," she affirmed and Arwen's smile only grew wider.
"He seems very fond of you," Arwen seemed to love the prospect of her friend finally meeting someone, the fairy shook her head lightly but the elf was insistent in her intentions. "Truly, Elrohir and Elladan said he was reluctant to leave your side at first." Her visitor began braiding her hair, the ashen brown was not nearly as beautiful as locks that had been spun from silver or gold, or even the dark brown that Elrond and his children had.
She winced when Arwen tugged on the first knot, "You are exaggerating, Arwen." A smooth braid crowned her head when it was finished.
The young elf stood and went to leave but turned, looking back into the room. "Given time, you'll see fael, you'll see." Arethusa rolled her eyes and left the bed, stepping gingerly on her wrapped ankle over to where her dress had been laid out. The sleeves were long and draping, brushing the floor when her hands fell to her sides and the neckline was squared off. From the balcony of her room, she could look out over the valley and almost feel the mist that was carried in the air from the waterfall.
Deciding not to be holed up for the day Arethusa nimbly moved down the stairs and to the library. Lord Elrond was there, reading a book written in an old form of elvish that she could not yet decipher. "Shouldn't you be resting?" The elf lord looked over the top of his open book, she could hear the amusement in his voice.
"In the many years, we have known each other have you ever known me to listen to such advice?" Arethusa skimmed over the many titles in Sindarin and the Common Tongue.
Elrond sat his book down, folding his hands over the cover. "No, but still, you should be resting."
The fairy shrugged, "Perhaps, but can I not rest just as well here with a book in hand than in my room?" She bounced up on the tips of her toes forgetting about her wrapped ankle for the moment when she found a book that retold the creation of dwarves.
Arwen was on the other side of the bookcase, the open slot allowed Arethusa to see that the elf was surrounded with open books on the Dúnedain. The fairy suspected that now Arwen probably knew as much of her home and people as she did from stories and books. "Fael, will you come play the harp for us like when we were younger?" She nodded, only asking for a period of time to reacquaint herself with the instrument again.
