[Will Witfoot]

Eldín dug into the food with a will, but drank only little of the served beverages. He had never understood the attraction of alcohol, and drinking it couldn't help him loosen his tongue and poring over his cares with a faithful friend.
He glanced up from his plate and saw men and elves on the dance floor. This was more to his taste. Although he couldn't hear, Eldín was accounted an excellent dancer, even by elvish standards. No-one knew how this could be, save Eldín himself. He simply felt the swirl and flow of the music, relying it for guidance.

He rose from his seat and made his way to the dance floor. Most of the others were dancing with a partner, one of the fair maidens of Rivendell. Eldín approached none of the ladies, prefering to dance alone, as he always did.
Slowly at first, he begun to dance to the unheard tune. Faster and faster he danced, lithe as a moth in the night and beautiful to watch. He could not hear the tune, could not take joy from the sweetness of the music being played, but took comfort in the swirl of the dance.