Few indeed came to sit with Arthalion once he came to the Hall of Fire.  It was not from a lack of friendliness on his part, but more of which most people did not favor his dire mood.  One, of course, could hardly blame the young Steward for such a mood considering his origin and training, but his presence rarely drew those to him.  Thus, Arthalion was a bit surprised to find a rather strikingly beautiful Elven woman asking to sit with him.  Even as he politely nodded; his eyes took all of her features in with keen interest.  Her hair was a silvery hue which he immediately recalled was a Vanyar trait among the Eldar - those who could trace their lineage directly back to the Elves who still remained in Valinor at Tirion.  That alone made Arthalion wonder about the woman before him.  If few indeed sat with him - then it was epically rare for one of her kind to seek him out.  Even in a place filled with Elves - the chances of seeing one with her lineage was rare indeed.  Though her skin tone was not as fair as the rest of her kin; it was still of a softer tone than most mortals.  He sensed this came from long years of travel even as he gazed into her soft grey-blue eyes filled with curiosity.  Her grey raiment spoke of Lothlorien as her origin, and this made him all the more curious about the one who introduced herself as Arkala.  The name in the common tongue meant:  Noble-Light...a truly impressive name to be given even to one of her kin.<br/><br/>"I have been away, Arkala, for such is the fate of those of us who serve the Rangers, and more so for one who is one of their captains.  I am Arthalion:  Steward to the Exile for those of my kin.  I am honored you would join me," he answered with a warm smile; though his eyes were filled with as much curiosity as her own.  "It would seem you have been traveling for sometime as well.  Perhaps you would care for some breakfast.  They will serve what they have here soon enough, and we can enjoy such together as we learn what has brought us both back to Imladris."<br/><br/>His words were kind and inviting, but they were equally filled with a desire to learn more of the woman now sitting before him.  Something about her resonated deep with his heart such as he had no point of reference.  There was also something else about Arkala...something like a kinship he shared with her over something close to his heart.  The Shadow was on her mind...that which Arthalion had a constant and growing concern for.  He could not say why or how he knew this, but it was there for him to read within her grey-blue orbs.  He sat back as food and fresh apple juice was provided quietly by one of the younger members of the Eldar - a woman he knew as Luinel, or Blue-Star...likely from her vibrant blue eyes, but she barely caught Arthalion's attention away.  The young Steward nodded politely for the refreshments brought, but his focus was solely on his guest.  New music came from the fireplace as another took up the harp, but still Arthalion did not divide his attention away from the divinely beautiful woman he was so curious about.  Truthfully, no woman had ever had the effect Arkala was having on him now.  That was another part of the reason few sat with him - especially of the opposite gender.  Those few women that had done so did not take well to his quiet mood of constant vigilance and worry.  And, those same few had not been able to have Arthalion's attention long enough to make his heart even skip a beat...much less race faster.  Now, however, the young Dunedain noble found his heart racing in Arkala's presence, and was sure with her keen ears she could hear it for herself.  Why she affected him when no other had he could not say, but he was certain he had never seen her likeness in beauty in all the short years of his life.  It was said in Rivendell that Arwen, daughter of Elrond, was the most beautiful of her kin, but Arthalion had seen Arwen and not been affected as he was now.  Taking one of the plates - Arthalion began placing some bites of cheese, grapes, orange slices, strips of ham, and a couple of slices of the Elven waybread known as lembas.<br/><br/>"So, do tell what brings you from Lothlorien to here, Arkala," Arthalion encouraged as he handed her the plate he had prepared for her before preparing his own.  Only then did he realize he had never done such a thing for any guest at his table before, and it made the young man blush a bit.