Chapter 3
She would never forget those first days in Rivendell. Though Théadain had already spent weeks removed from all she knew, travelling further from her homeland than she had ever been, this haven of the elves was akin to stepping into another world.
After she had been shown to the airy chamber set aside for their party from Rohan, and after she had spent far too long marvelling over the view of the valley from her balcony, trailing her fingers over the silken gossamer curtains that drifted in the breeze, she readied herself for their evening meal. She scrubbed her grubby body within an inch of its life in the deep bath that had been prepared for her, grimacing as the weeks of travel were sloughed from her skin. It would not do for the daughter of a King to appear as travel worn as she felt. Her legs and backside ached from weeks spent in the saddle, and her shoulders still complained after too many nights spent sleeping on uneven ground. Several times she caught herself glancing longingly at the large, comfortable looking bed that furnished her room, but reassured herself that there would be time enough to sleep, spurred on as she was by her desire to explore this ethereal place.
When she finally coaxed herself to rise from the cooling water of her bath, she found that Folca's saddlebags had been brought to her room. Their party of riders had travelled lightly, no carts laden with possessions had been brought, only what they could carry themselves, thus she was presented with limited choices of clothing for the evening. Her few dresses were awkwardly creased and clung to a lingering smell of horse, but they would have to do. Théadain could just imagine how Éowyn would roll her eyes at the way she shook out the least crumpled garment; her younger cousin always seemed to have a better eye for these sorts of things – how she should braid her hair or which dress to wear – undoubtably she would have some clever solution for smoothing the creases that bunched around her waist as she tugged it over her head.
Reaching into her saddlebag for the single embroidered belt she recalled shoving in amongst her clothing, she frowned at the one she pulled out. It was not the strip of fabric decorated with her own clumsy embroidery, but the elegant, swirling pattern detailed by another hand. She remembered some months ago, sitting side-by-side with Éowyn by the hearth in the Golden Hall, her injured arm caught up in a sling as her cousin tried to amuse her with different pursuits whilst her shoulder healed. Théadain herself could only laugh at the unsteady, jumbled mess of thread she managed to stitch onto her own belt but had marvelled at the beautiful patters her cousin could conjure from her own mind. The very patterns she now smoothed her thumb over, finding her eyes misting a little as she realised that Éowyn must had swapped the garments for her.
Her chest felt a little tighter as she finished dressing herself, her nose prickling with withheld emotion, touched as she was by Éowyn's thoughtful gesture. She had never spent more than a few days apart from her cousins and brother and was ashamed to admit she had thought of them little amidst the excitement of her journey – but now as her mind returned to them, she missed them terribly.
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.
"I believe I had the same look on my face when I was first brought here." Théoden murmured to his daughter, smiling gently as Elrond led them into the hall. As they moved closer to the fire, Théadain's gaze was drawn to an elleth that almost seemed to glide towards them across the hall. It took all of her will not to let her jaw drop once more as her eyes futilely tried to absorb the indescribable appearance of the being before her.
"Ada." A low, musical voice greeted Elrond as a brilliant smile broke across the full lips set in the elleth's porcelain face, her delicate features framed by a cascade of dark, silken hair that reminded Théadain of a moonless night. Yes, that was the only comparison she could draw. It was as though a clear and starlit evening had come to life before her. She had never seen any creature quite as beautiful, nor had she ever felt quite so colloquial and graceless as she did in that moment.
"Arwen." Elrond greeted the elleth in the common tongue with an affectionate smile, releasing Théadain's arm to take the two pale hands offered to him; "Daughter, these are our guests from Rohan; their King, Théoden, and his daughter, Théadain."
Realising the connection between the two elves before her, Théadain bowed her head respectfully to the intimidatingly beautiful woman before her, her eyes lifting in surprise as she felt a gentle hand on her arm.
"You must walk with me, Lady Théadain."
*
In her later years, Théadain would hear Rivendell described to her more accurately than in any words she could conjure from her own mind. It was, in short, perfect. Whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or storytelling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.
Indeed, Théadain found herself engaging in all of these pursuits in her time there, though time itself seemed of so little consequence in that idyllic valley. It was a sanctuary in the truest sense of the word, for whilst she knew that beyond the House of Elrond the world trod on as it always did, those concerns could not permeate this sheltered haven. Despite the fact that in those first few quiet days, she was anxious to help the young horses they had brought to settle, she suddenly found herself with more time on her hands than she rightly knew what to do with.
In Edoras her hands were never idle, whether she was helping to clean the stables, feeding the horses, doused in flour and kneading bread in the hall, sparring with Éomer and his friends, or of course riding, there was no shortage of work needing done. Here though, in Rivendell, time did not seem to slip through her fingers like water as she frantically tried to run through her chores in the hours between the rising and setting of the sun. Here, time was almost a plaything, a trivial notion that the elves barely noticed passing them by. Days could be filled as actively or as idly as they wished; it was a luxury she was unfamiliar with, but one that seemed appropriate for an immortal race.
The keeper of this Homely House was most attentive to the King of Rohan and his party as they settled, graciously granting them the freedom of his home to explore or rest as they wished. On the day following their arrival, the elf-lord had insisted upon walking the King and his daughter through his beautiful halls himself. Amidst the labyrinth of bridges and walkways, great halls and sheltered chambers, her father pointed out features he remembered from his own visits to Imladris.
Still, after their first evening spent in the Hall of Fire, Théadain found herself breaking away from her father's side to find herself in the company of Elrond's daughter with increasing frequency. At first she had been utterly terrified of Arwen, unable to see a single common thread between herself and the beautiful elleth, but as they had walked and talked she had been utterly bewildered to find her new companion eagerly asking for tales of her journey and homeland. At first, she had presumed it was Arwen's gracious nature, the role of the daughter of a lord to make their guests feel welcome, but when the evening had begun to draw to a close, the elleth had requested that Théadain accompanied her on her ride the next morning.
Théa had been certain that her polite interest would die there – for truly, how could a roughshod, bastard girl of seventeen boast any connection to this eternally youthful, otherworldly princess who had watched hundreds of years pass her by, if not more? Whilst she had been so determined to behave courteously as the daughter of a King should, she found herself unwittingly relaxing as soon as she was back in Folca's saddle; so much so that when her colt began to take an enthusiastic interest in Arwen's pretty grey mare, she passed comment without thinking.
"Keep it between your legs, you amorous little firebrand." She muttered to the horse, louder than she had intended to as she jerked his head away from her companion's horse – her cheeks suddenly burning as she realised what she had said aloud might be perfectly appropriate if she was riding alongside Éomer or Baldan, but not quite so in her present company.
She was more than surprised though, when Arwen's clear, bell-like laughter rang out through the trees they rode under.
"I- Lady Arwen- Forgive me, I-"
"There is nothing to forgive, Lady Théadain." An easy smile cut off her stammering as Arwen turned to her, laughing again as Théadain scrubbed one hand over her face.
"Please, I have clearly demonstrated that I am no lady." The redheaded girl laughed softly at her own thoughtlessness, though the tension in her shoulders had dropped at the unexpectedly positive reception of her crude humour; "And my name is enough of a mouthful as it is – Théadain will suffice."
"Only if you will address me in kind, Théadain." Arwen smiled softly at her as she spurred her mare to walk on through the trees; "As friends should."
[A/N: Thank you for reading, don't forget to vote and comment if you're enjoying the story! X]