The Horse and the Rider | The Lord of the Rings

Chapter 3

Even through their evening meal, she found it difficult to shake off the melancholy mood that had settled upon her. She knew her father could sense it, and more than once she felt his eyes settle on her as she sat at Lord Elrond's table.

They still intimidated her, these impossibly graceful beings that surrounded Théadain. Even now, scrubbed clean and dressed in the finest clothes she had brought on her travels, she still felt out of place. As though she were a little brown field mouse dropped into a nest of glossy, elegant birds. Though they were a proud race, she knew that none she met wished for her to feel as such, there was never any derision nor scorn in their gazes as they listened to her father and Gamling recount their journey, often allowing her to quietly interject with her own anecdotes. Even the conversation at the table was shifted into the common tongue so that the guests of the elves might feel included. There was a gentle kindness here that seemed to exude from the central point that was Lord Elrond.

She felt that kindness directly as the elf lord rose at the end of their meal. Following the lead of those around her, she hurried to stand also, but was startled as Elrond himself approached her and offered his arm.

"Lady Théadain, would you accompany me?"

Dumbly, she could only nod, bewildered as she was firstly by the formal custom that she was so unused to, and secondly by the elf's readiness to take her arm when she knew that his race was not as tactile as her own. Still, his gentle smile and the reassuring nod from her father encouraged her to step to his side, carefully slipping her arm through his own.

"Tell me, Théadain." Elrond began as he led her from the room, allowing their party to follow behind; "I know your people are fond of stories and song, are those things that you also favour?"

"Very much so, my lord." Théa nodded, looking up at him with a shy smile as she found her words a little more forthcoming than they had been earlier; "Though I'm afraid I have little talent for either."

A fond smile was cast her way as the elf inclined his dark head; "Perhaps not now, child; I have often found that talent in the telling of tales improves with experience."

Théadain bit her lip, taking a moment to decide that Lord Elrond meant no insult by calling her inexperienced; "My stepmother told the most wonderful stories." She murmured after a moment of silence, the only sound her footsteps as she kept pace with Elrond's silent ones, "I hardly remember her face, I was so young when she died, but I can recall her voice, and her tales." She tried to keep her tone light, not allowing the sadness and longing for home that she had felt earlier that evening to touch her words. She had no wish to seem ungrateful for this opportunity to see a land beyond her own.

"Then that is a gift to cherish." Elrond said, that fond smile still fixed upon his features as he led her through an open set of doors into a warmly but dimly lit hall. Théadain once again felt her lips fall open in an expression of awe as she took in the high vaulted ceilings, the intricately carved supports thrown into sharp relief by the shadow and light dancing across them, cast by a great roaring fire nestled in a hearth at the far end of the hall.

"Welcome to the Hall of Fire, daughter of Rohan." Elrond smiled at the girl's captivated expression as her gaze drifted to where a number of elves converged around the room, some seated on low chaises, others standing near the tall pillars that supported the ceiling; "This is where we come to share stories and song, most evenings. You are of course always welcome here."

"It is beautiful." She whispered, unwilling to raise her voice any louder as she heard the soft sounds of song in a foreign tongue drifting through the room. A soft chuckle at her side drew her eyes to her father, as he stepped level with them.