View Single Post
Old 03-27-2006, 07:52 AM   #137
JennyHallu
The Pearl, The Lily Maid
 
JennyHallu's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: In my luxury Barrow, snuggled up in a pile of satin pillows, eating fresh fruit.
Posts: 1,686
JennyHallu has just left Hobbiton.
Send a message via ICQ to JennyHallu Send a message via AIM to JennyHallu Send a message via MSN to JennyHallu Send a message via Yahoo to JennyHallu
Lin was aware, in a detached sort of way, that she was standing with her mouth open, staring at her friend's closed door. Abruptly she closed it, teeth clacking together as she wondered aimlessly whether she had accidentally conjured the young man up with her day-dreaming--and, considering Saeryn's frustrated shove rather than greeting, would he forgive her for it? Degas' tall rangy frame, dark red locks, and a strong-boned handsome face with dancing eyes seemed imprinted on her brain, and it occured to her that it would be an awful shame if he didn't.

She straightened her skirts and curls, all too aware of her slightly rumpled state and the amused eyes of Lord Eodwine behind her. He hadn't even noticed her...He'd greeted his sister, at least seen Eodwine...but he hadn't so much as nodded in her direction. This realization stunned her. She knew she was pretty. Beautiful, even. Dozens of near-identical young men in carefully appointed ballrooms had told her so, had told her she was proof of the rumors of Elven blood in Dol Amroth's House, had hung on her every word and gesture. Yet this one...hadn't seen her? She caught her reflection in a window. Milky-white skin, slender yet womanly figure, long delicate fingers, dark curls framing a pale elfin face and large starry-gray eyes. She had always thought herself at least meriting a glance from a man, and usually a second.

But perhaps the young men of Belfalas had seen only the fine green silk and perfect embroidery of elven design, the delicate filagree silver earrings, the small but opulent family seal she wore on her little finger, carved in jade from the far East of Harad, and traded by sea from the South. And maybe this young man, from a rougher country that cared less of such things, saw only a slim, untried girl with soft hands and skin that had been carefully shielded from the sun all her life.

She looked over at Eodwine (both seemed to have been shocked enough by Degas' sudden arrival to stay where they were) and asked, confused enough not to worry about the propriety of the question, "I am pretty, aren't I?"

Just at that moment, the door sprang open and Saeryn flounced (no other word for it) down the hall toward the kitchens, and Degas stood laughing and leaning on the door frame. Linduial blushed furiously. There was no way on earth the young man hadn't heard her question. What was it about the Rohirrim that made it so difficult for her to keep her comfortable detachment?

Last edited by JennyHallu; 03-27-2006 at 07:56 AM.
JennyHallu is offline