[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain's outwardly composed image was very different from what he felt inside as she came into the hall. His lifestyle hadn't given much oppurtunity for dressing up and attending such splendid meals as this one. I stick out like a sore thumb... He thought uneasily. But he bore himself with dignity and grace all the same.

Looking around he caught Melost staring at him, trying to get his attention. The elf smiled and beckoned him over, with Dorlas and Thelian. Arthain breathed a huge sigh of relief inwardly- he had been worried he would be left on his own, making him stand out awkwardly even more, as Thelian and Dorlas were getting along famously, and the elven squire seemed to have a talent for fitting in, with his easy, friendly nature.

As they came to the table, Arthain bowed slightly to Anwenelme. "You are looking lovelier than ever, Lady."

The elven woman returned this with a blank stare, followed by a smile with all the warmth in it of a cold day on an ice cap. Arthain was slightly put off, but then smiled at Melost. His friend returned this with a friendly grin of his own, and Arthain seated himself safely on the other side of his friend from Anwenelme.

"I feel like a sore thumb," He muttered to Melost. The elf's grin widened.

"Of course not, Arthain, you look splendid. Come, enjoy the meal."

And what a meal to enjoy! The table seemed to be laden with every tasty type of meat, fish, poultry, bread and vegetable, and Arthain attacked it hungrily, but still careful to mind his manners. His hands almost seemed to be shaking he was so nervous.

As they finished the meal, he sat back, placing his knife and fork neatly on the plate. He sighed and raised his eyebrows. "Well, let no man say that the cooks of Rivendell are not among the best in Middle Earth!"

"Few men have had the pleasure of dining here, and so would not have the chance." Anwenelme cut in, her voice polite, but icy. Ouch. But Arthain did not have time to dwell on her sharp words, for a messenger, a young elven soldier, appeared at Melost's arm.

"Gil-galad desires a word with you, sir, and with your squire." He murmered respectfully.

"A word?" Melost inquired, but he had already begun to stand.

"I don't know why specifically, I'm afraid, sir."

"I see." Melost stood, folding his napkin onto the table. "Is it just myself and my squire?"

"That is all that was mentioned, sir."

"Right." With a sigh, Melost turned to those who sat at the table, addressing them. "Well, I am sorry to have to leave you now, but, well, business calls."

"Business!" The resentful hiss came from Anwenelme, who had her arms folded and was looking away angrily. Melost winced, and leant low towards his beloved, murmering to her a few words that Arthain and Dorlas could not hear. Then, with a nod to Arthain, he and Thelian left...leaving Dorlas and Arthain alone with Anwenelme.

Oh, Vala...so you thought you were uncomfortable before, hmm?

Arthain shot a quick, panicked glance at Dorlas, before turned to Anwenelme. To his surprise, and worry, a thin, malicious smile had crept onto her face. Arthain scrambled for some form of acceptable conversation.

"So..." He said, keeping his voice even, and trying to seem calm and relaxed. "How did you and Melost first meet?"

Of all the topics you could have picked, you chose that?

Arthain just hoped he wouldn't say something wrong.

[ June 11, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]