This is chapter 2 of my book. If you haven't read chapter 1, i suggest you do... http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/post678094.html#p678094... the story probably goes way too fast for anyone's liking, but, like my first chapter, it's a lot slower than it was originally. i also think the end part of the chapter has too much dialogue, so if anyone has any ideas to change that, i'd like to hear them...
Chapter 2
There were many elves at the feast. Friends and family, mostly, Beriadan guessed. He sat next to Arwen, who was at the head of the table. He looked at the princess and smiled. She was dressed in a long, blue gown made of the finest elvish satin and trimmed with gold thread. On her head sat a silver tiara set with rose diamond. When Arwen noticed Beriadan smiling at her, she smiled awkwardly and dropped her gaze as blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment. This gave Beriadan an idea. He raised his glass and cleared his throat. “I would like to propose a toast!” he said, projecting his voice clearly around the huge feasting hall. “To Arwen Tarien, the most beautiful princess these lands have ever seen!”
“To Arwen!” everyone agreed.
It was at that exact moment that squibs of magic flew up from each person’s glass and joined together to form a large orb of magic, above the table, that uncoiled into a large dragon that flew around over everyone’s heads before flying into the ceiling and exploding into a thousand shards of glittering light.
As the dragon flew around, everyone in the room screamed in fright, but, as soon as it exploded, everyone cheered and laughed. Beriadan, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased in the least. “Did you?” Arwen whispered in his ear.
“Me?” he replied. “Never!”
Try as he might, however, Beriadan still managed to ruin the moment by letting a smirk appear on his face.
After everyone had eaten, Arwen asked Beriadan if he would play his flute. “Arwen Tarien,” he said. “I would be honoured to.”
He ran to his room to gather his things. He took the case he kept his flute in and a slightly more cube-shaped case.
When he returned, he found a spot by the fireplace to sit. He took a stool from the corner and placed it on the rug in front of the hearth, before sitting down with his back to the fire. He watched with amusement as Arwen ran around, gathering the children and the parents nodding their heads approvingly. When the children all came over, they sat on the rug, most either kneeling or sitting cross-legged. Arwen sat at the back of the group, watching eagerly. Beriadan opened his flute case and removed his flute and laid it on his lap. The children were awed by the instrument. He then proceeded to open the second case and from it, removed a slightly conical disk, which he placed on the floor, and a medium-sized crystal orb, which he placed on top.
The orb was clear, but as a cloud of mist inside, which seemed to float around as if the orb were hollow. The stand was made of silver and had a gold dragon on it. As Beriadan began to play his flute, the children and Arwen saw the cloud shifting to reveal a picture. As the pitch of the music changed fluidly, the pictures began to move. The music played out the story of Kayda, an elf-boy who fought a battle and lost. Kayda lost his right hand to a swordsman and went on a quest to get a new one. On his journey, he made friends with a dragon, who took him to see the Dragon King. The Dragon King then granted Kayda two wishes. Kayda chose to get his right hand back and for the dragon and himself to be friends forever.
Beriadan played for ten minutes. As he played, some of the older elves came to watch. They were impressed to see that Beriadan never flushed, nor lost breath, and even more so to see the strength of his magic. When he finished, Rinion came over, tailed by Arandur. “You seem like a powerful magician, Neth Heru,” Rinion said, bowing in a respect that would normally be saved for him. “I would like to know how you learned such power.”
“I didn’t learn it, sire,” Beriadan replied.
Everyone gasped. All elves were born with an amount of magic, which provided them with certain powers such as basic elemancy, but no-one had ever had enough power to control a Narn Mîr, not without learning it. “So where’d it come from?” Arandur blurted out.
“I was born with it. I don’t know how I got my power, but, obviously, the gods have something planned for me.”
A little later in the night, Arwen found Beriadan sitting by himself near the fire. She looked towards everyone else to see them dancing. “Beriadan,” she said, quietly. “Would you like to dance?”
Beriadan looked up and smiled. “Arwen Tarien,” he said, holding out his hand. “Im ahten mela ahn.”
The two danced as gracefully as Arwen’s butterflies. Everyone stopped and looked at them, spiralling around the room. Rinion watched from his throne at the head of the room. Maybe I should keep the young lord around, he thought. This seems to be the happiest Arwen’s been since her mother died.
Arwen closed her eyes, allowing the feeling of euphoria to flood her mind. As they danced around the room, she shuffled closer to Beriadan and laid her head on his shoulder. Beriadan glanced down at her and smiled. This was a good night, she decided. I just wish it could go on forever, she thought to herself.
When the party finally ended, it was well past midnight. Beriadan sat near the fireplace, juggling a bead of magic. Rinion came over and sat down next to him. “She likes you, you know,” the king said.
Beriadan concentrated on spinning the bead around his fingers. “I know,” he said quietly.
He looked up and sighed. “It wouldn’t work though,” he continued. “I wish Elen would be more kind, but I have a task set for me and I cannot stray from it.”
“So what is this task?”
Beriadan sighed again. “I don’t know,” he said.
“I wish you could stay longer,” Rinion said. “Arwen has been the happier, tonight, than she’s ever been since her mother died.”
“Sire,” Beriadan replied. “I shall leave at the end of the week, but I shall try to return as often as possible.”
“Thank you,” said Rinion. “I really appreciate it.”
