(A/N: I’m popping up here to say: I’m really struggling, hence the delay. I’m hoping this will round off to either 148/150, which is sad. But considering I’ve turned to somewhat loathe writing, it's probably a good thing before I just fully give up and either disappear from writing for the foreseeable future...or the alternative: deletion. When I get annoyed, I delete, so yeah, I’m not that far gone. Enough from me, read...read away, I’m gonna go listen to loud music xD)
Five minutes of freedom were all Náriel was seemingly able to grab before being literally pulled back into the celebration which was in full force in the hall.
The hall itself had been subjected to a vast and sudden change. Sure enough the long banquet tables still remained – though now they were pushed up against a wall for the sake of dancing and socialising – the tapestries which hung from the walls on their heavy rings had been seemingly cleaned and rid of dust. The floor was near spotless, gleaming even in the torch and candle light. Everyone – much like herself – was a little surprised by the sudden transformation.
The last time she had been in this hall it had been full of treasure, and then it had been emptied of said treasure which led it to being a darkened space which the faint candle light struggled to illuminate. Then after all the battling and events which followed, it had became warm and welcoming by the busying Dwarves and the orange glowing torch light which was constantly flickering away.
“A penny for them,” a voice said thus bringing her back to reality. Náriel looked around and then looked down.
“Tilda,” Náriel smiled crouching down she looked up at the small girl. “May I ask: does your father know you've ran off?” She couldn't help but ask. The last time there was a gathering Bard had searched for his children and only just found them with help from herself. The smile on Tilda's face said it all which caused Náriel to roll her eyes. Looking over her shoulder she looked around. She was half expecting to see the tall dark haired male pushing gently through the throng of people.
“You're not here to ask me to dance, are you? I’ve done so much dancing my feet may actually fall off.” Náriel decided to change the subject.
Tilda shook her head, “No!” She sounded insistent. “I never saw you before you left, and I wanted to say that your dress is pretty...we don't have anything like that.”
Náriel stood up and looked down at herself. She frowned in thought. Elegant clothes were normal for her. But then seeing the clothing which Lake Town had to offer she could see the excitement and wonder of beautifully crafted clothes from Mirkwood.
Lace, her dress mainly consisted of many layers of lace, each with a careful filigree pattern which either intertwined with the pattern on the next layer, or was just faint enough to not clash. The collar of her dress tucked neatly under her chin. She was literally covered all in fine lace. Even her hands were hidden behind draping long sleeves.
“Perhaps,” Náriel crossed her arms thoughtfully. “If it is allowed, that is, we can go to Mirkwood one day? You are after all now a Lady of Dale, you deserve pretty clothes too.”
Tilda laughed and shook her head. “Aren't I a little young to be classed as a 'Lady'?”
“No,” Náriel winked and held her hand out. “Would you care to travel to Mirkwood with me one day, Lady Tilda?”
“Oh, most certainly, Queen Náriel!” Tilda retorted in a joking tone like the one Náriel used. Slipping her smaller hand into Náriel's the two commenced walking away from one of the tables which were still laden with food.
“Can I ask you something, Tilda?” Náriel questioned while looking to the young girl. Her eyes widened slightly but she nodded encouragingly at her to continue. “Can we drop the formalities? Before knowing I was royalty, you were my friend. Friends don't use such titles.”
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Calm The Fire (UNDER EDITING)Fanfiction
It is a little known fact that Thorin had come to dislike the race of elves; but perhaps it hasn't always been this way, maybe, just maybe, once upon a time there wasn't such high disdain held towards them. The dwarf-Prince's heart isn't as nearly a...