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A/N: This was my first LOTR story. I wrote it when I was 18, back in 2008. To my surprise, it’s not completely terrible.
The white stone walls of Minas Tirith gleam like true-sliver under the Moon and Stars. The air is alive with song and laughter from those who celebrate in sight of the White Tree: Men and Dwarves, Elves and Hobbits, male and female, Mortals and Immortals. Minstrels play, stories are told, food and drink are served, jokes are made, and many dance. The joy in their hearts washes away the bitterness of recent hardships from their faces.
Though there is still much work to be done, all present are merry for the Dawn has finally come. The Darkness is banished, the Shadow, gone. For the evil that has assailed all that is good for two Ages of the world has, at long last, been defeated. Tonight is a party for the arrival of the Lady Arwen, soon to be wife of the King.
Off to the side, two Elves sit in high-backed chairs watching the dancers. One is tall with golden hair and blue eyes. He leans back in his chair, his gold embroidered scarlet robes slightly askew, taping a foot in time with the music. The other, with raven hair and silver-grey eyes, sits strait-backed his indigo robes trimmed with silver.
Smiling broadly at a handsome Man dancing with a beautiful Elven lady, the fair haired Elf asks, “Can you remember the last time you have seen Estel looking so happy?”
“Yes, Glorfindel,” his companion replied dryly. “When you and he conspired to misplace all my inkbottles—for a week!”
“Erestor, do you mean to tell me that you are still upset about that? We were merely concerned that you had been working too hard than was good for you. Besides, the question was meant to be rhetorical.”
“Rhetorical? Wherever did you learn such a sophisticated word?” the dark haired Elf asked sardonically.
“From you most likely. ‘Tis the fell influence you have on my vocabulary.” Glorfindel said airily.
His friend make an incredulous sound in his throat and turned to glare at him.
“It is utterly imposable to hold a serious conversation with you.”
“Oh? I believe you started it this time.”
“That was merely a manifestation of your fell influence on my conversation.” Erestor said primly.
Glorfindel laughed saying, “I concede! You win the conversation, my friend.”
“’Tis well that you have the wisdom to acknowledge when you are defeated.” The Elf said sagaciously.
Glorfindel snorted and shook his head.
They were silent for a moment. The music now took on a furious pace and the dancers flew and twirled with it. A serving boy carrying a tray of goblets offered them drinks and they chose two filled with red wine. Erestor turned his gaze to a russet haired Dwarf and a green clad Elf, talking some distance away.
“Do you ever wonder about Legolas’ part in all this?” Erestor asked his head cocked to the side.
His companions’ brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, history saw Isildur redeemed through his heir, Aragorn. I-”
“Raised by the High King’s herald, I know,” Glorfindel interjected. “Elendil himself could not have planed it better.”
“Indeed. Now, as I was saying before you interrupted me, I find Legolas’ part in this intriguing.”
“History saw not only Isildur redeemed through his heir, but Oropher as well, through Legolas. What do you make of that?” Erestor asked still looking at the Elf and Dwarf.
“I think,” Glorfindel began slowly “I think that none of the events in this past year have been a coincidence. That what should have happened an Age ago has now come to pass. While all the wrongs can not be righted, they have at least been made easier to bear.
Glorfindel turned to his friend and smiled “However, most of all I think that Eru works in mysterious ways.”
“Mysterious ways indeed, Mellon nín.”
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