Yule: 2010

[Valandil]

"You two better clean it up quickly!" said Firiel, gripping tightly onto Arvedui's arm. "Here comes Aragorn now... and Legolas WITH him!"

"Uh... hon... that's not Aragorn and Legolas. It's Viggo Mortenson and Orlando Bloom," replied Arvedui.

"ORLANDO BLOOM!" squealed the chorus of fangirls. "*swoooon!!!*"

[Midge]

With the loud announcement that Orlando Bloom had entered the party, Prissy promptly fell out of her tree. She landed with a soft thump on a whipped-cream-covered elf.

Midge, however, expertly dropped from her perch onto a succession of branches and landed on her feet, wiping the dust from her dress. She looked around to make sure that Viggo had seen it.

Will stayed up in his tree continuing to sprinkle red leaves all over everyone.

[Earniel]

Eärniel had been in whipped-cream heaven until she was thumped on the head by a significant, yet soft weight. When she picked herself up from the ground she found out the weight had been a young female Hobbit. She didn't look very familiar.

"I haven't offended you at some point as well, have I?" Eärniel asked. The Hobbit may not have looked familiar, but remembering Arwen, it seemed this Yule was a favourite time for people settling old scores. Even scores that as far as Eärniel was concerned, had never happened!

"Orlando Bloom..." muttered the Hobbit happily.

Eärniel stared. "It's the long and silky hair, isn't it?" she asked after a while. "You see a bunch of long hair, and poof you think Orlando Bloom. Curse that Jackson fellow."

[Valandil]

The Nine shrieked in rage, with their thin shrill voices splitting the air. They dashed the whipped cream from their faces and spurred their horses to gallop away.

But before he had gone 40 feet the With-King stopped and turned, "This will not be the last you see of us. And you should have known... you should have known that giving Nine Entmoot Holiday Gifts... would have drawn... The Nine Riders!"

At that he turned, spurred on his steed once more, and chased after the other riders, black-cloaked, on black mounts with white cream flying off into the white snow, their shrill voices fading with them into the distance.

[Voronwen]

In the shadows of a corner of the hall a woman clad in an emerald teal velvet gown sat alone, oblivious to the recent display. Unsure herself whether she was staring at the dark grain of the wooden table before her or the garnet color of the wine in her glass, she absent-mindedly fingered a long lock of wavy dark hair. As if by rote she pulled the sapphire velvet cloak closer around her shoulders. Despite the aparent warmth of the room and its merry crowd, she felt chilly. At length a single tear slid down her pale nose and into her glass. She watched it fall in and create garnet-colored waves in the liquid she hadn't sipped in over an hour. "This.... is pathetic...", she mused to herself. "I know i can't stay like this.... especially not at Yule..". And then, correcting herself, "..despite the fact that it's the Yule...". And she resolved in that moment not to succumb to the tyranny of memories.

She lifted her head. Looking around, she blinked at the huge quantities of white fluff around the room and on various guests. She winced at the thought of those lovely Elven gowns being ruined, but quickly realized that nobody cared. There were movie stars present. With a little shake of her head and a roll of her eyes at the entire scene, she chided herself. "You're not in Numenor anymore."

Standing, Voronwen drew herself up to her full height (high heels and all) and made a decision. "I can pine forever over Runyamir", her heart panged at the thought of her beloved Elven scoundrel who stood her up, "Or... i can live....".

With a glitter of mischief in her eyes and a glance around the room, she raised her arms to her sides. "Now this party's going to rock." She blinked her eyes and wiggled her nose (just like on Bewitched) and snapped her fingers loudly. Out of thin air, to either side of her stood a handsome, distinguished Numenorean lord.

To her right, she looked up to the taller of the two. Clad in black and deep red, a silver winged crown sat on his brow, its central jewel rivaling the star-like light in his clear blue eyes. The High King of the Numenorean Realms squeezed her hand warmly before graciously offering his arm. With a smile in her deep green eyes, she more than willingly accepted.

To her left stood the older of the two, just as handsome. His garments of deep blue matched the sea-blue eyes of their wearer. The Lord of Andúnië gave her a knowing smile and a quiet nod before offering his arm. With a little sigh and a glance of her eyes, she just as willingly accepted.

Just as the three were about to step forward, Voronwen looked up. And to her surprise and delight, she saw above them on the ceiling.... mistletoe. And not just one of those whimpy sprigs, either.... whole garlands of it.

"Ha...!", she exclaimed out loud. Barely controlling the forthcoming peals of jubilant laughter in her uppermost vocal ranges (after all, she didn't want to shatter all the glass), she gracefully cleared her throat. Looking to one man and then the other, she smiled mischievously. "Before we go another step further...." And with a flash of her eyes she indicated the copious garlands above their heads.

Turning to her left, she leaned toward the Lord of Andúnië and kissed him in a moment of pure bliss. After a time she reluctantly stepped back, only able to pull herself away because of what would happen next...

Turning to her right, her eyes met the High King's. And in a moment of dreamlike rapture, they shared a kiss that could only be rivaled by the great lovers of legend in days past. Aloof to all else that was happening around them, the kiss went on for what seemed like forever........

Or at least, until the moment was interrupted by the other man kicking his son in the foot discreetly as if to say, "Enough". Voronwen stepped back (certainly very reluctantly this time) and, slightly unsure of her footing, caught her breath. "Holy Elbereth...", she muttered, unable to tear her eyes from the king's before realizing that her other date was helping her to stay standing.

Now that she was ready to walk into the center of the room and make a sweeping grand entrance no one would forget in a hundred Yules, Voronwen turned forward. But much to her surprise, the entire crowd was already assembled in front of her, staring, an assortment of raised eyebrows, wide eyes and dangling jaws.

So much for that grand entrance....!

She waved feebly, smiling slightly at the onlooking crowd, awkwardly aware that her cheeks were probably as red as holly berries.


"..Hi.....".

[Voronwen]

And suddenly she noticed him. Across the room, standing in the back surrounded by flirtatious young Elven females, she spotted a tall Elf with a shock of reddish hair. Runyamir....

Voronwen's entire expression changed. Betrayal and hostility flashed in her eyes. You......

She walked forward. Forgetting the crowd and their reaction to her recent bout of flakery, she walked toward Runyamir, fuming, steely eyes set on his.

Elendil's hand went instinctively to his sword hilt. Amandil's went instinctively to the cross around his neck. The tension in the air was humming loudly.

She looked to her side and found that Earniel was standing not far away, holding a pie in her hands. With a smirk, she took it from her. "Why thank you!"

Standing before Runyamir and his entourage, she smiled... a great, sarcastic, gleaming smile of greeting that never met her eyes. It's time you experienced a real Numenorean greeting!

And with a battle cry to make Eowyn envious, Voronwen took the pie and smacked Runyamir with it, right in the face.

"Take that!"

Then glancing at his gaggle of fangirls, she dusted her hands off loudly... not missing the chance to fling frosting all over their hair and gowns.

And with a toss of brown waves, she collected herself, coolly walking back into the crowd to mingle with long-lost friends.

[Earniel]

"You're welcome?" Eärniel volunteered.

She looked from her now empty hands to the stricken, pie-covered Elf, to Voronwen's disappearing form.

She started noticing a pattern in this: for some reason food in her hands invariably ended up in somebody's face and it didn't necessarily have to be her own. She didn't really mind all that much but she wished she could tasted it first.

Eärniel looked down again, and kicked the Elf on the floor in the chin. "I don't know who you are, but you probably deserved that. You owe me a new pie, too."

"I'll have it added to your bill," she added sweetly before going to the pie stall to get a second helping.