It Runs In The Family
By
TreeHugger
This one is for Nadra who has reached the car-driving age. ( Happy birthday, mellon-nin! Drive carefully!
Prologue
The melodious sound of two fair elven voices was heard drifting from the Hall of Fire in the home of Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris. The voices, both clear baritones and remarkably pleasing to the ears, rose swiftly and most accurately in the rapid trilling of sounds and tripping words in one of the most wondrous displays of improvisation and enjoyment that had ever graced the Last Homely House. The song was one that pitted the two singers in a competition of "vocal fireworks," as Mithrandir had called it earlier when hearing that particular song was to be performed this night, testing the skill and range of their voices, not to mention the rapidity with which their tongues could wrap about the flurry of words they would be expected to articulate. The wizard had promised an equally impressive display of his own fireworks afterwards. "No clever lyrics will accompany them though, I fear," he had added with a wry grin at the two 'combatants.'
This unusual song told of a competition between two bragging elf- lords of feuding houses, each laying claim to the title of "Most Mellifluous Melody Maker." There was no set number of verses, which was part of the competition - seeing who could come up with the most clever wording either meant as an insult to one's competitor or a boast of one's self, which often lead to innuendo and much laughter as the words would then all become 'double-edged'.
There had been surreptitious bets made on the outcome of the song, which could last well into the night if the opponents were clever. On this night they were being particularly adroit and didn't appear to be tiring or running out of things to sing at one another, whether it was the greatness they sang of themselves, or the attacks leveled at their opponent. On this night insults, boasts, and insinuations ran rampant as two masters of song challenged one another.
Lord Elrond leaned toward one of his guests and whispered in a low amused voice, "This may go on through many turnings of the seasons."
King Thranduil of Mirkwood smiled at this remark, his eyes on the singers.
"Do you care to make a wager on who will concede first?" he asked, raising one dark golden eyebrow and stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Elrond's gaze returned to where the vocal duelists stood, each with their chests thrust out, long hair glimmering in the light of the fire, eyes leveled on one another in mock disdain. Both were tall, well-made, comely, and were yet in other ways in fine contrast to one another in appearance, which only seemed to enhance the contest.
"Then it shall be Imladris versus Mirkwood?" Elrond said with a grin, steepling his fingers before his lips.
"Yes, Mirkwood versus Imladris. What will you wager against three bottles of my finest Dorwinion?"
Elrond's self-assured grin fell slightly at this. Surely Thranduil must be very confident in his Mirkwood singer if he were willing to wager that! But the ebony-haired lord of Imladris had confidence in his own vocalist. He smiled again, feeling certain that he couldn't lose.
"I have a jewel that I noticed you admiring the last time you visited. I will wager that against your Dorwinion."
Thranduil raised one brow at this, for the pale jewel was indeed a fine specimen, and would make a perfect adornment for a necklace or a crown.
"Done then: my Dorwinions against your jewel. I shall certainly wear your pretty bauble when next you visit Mirkwood."
"And I shall most certainly give you a glass of Dorwinion when next you come to Imladris."
The two glanced at one another, eyebrows raised in a challenge of their own, eyes sparkling with merriment. Then they solemnly shook hands, looking back to the vocal mêlée with much anticipation.
Across the room, Elladan and Elrohir were both laughing at the quick parrying and thrusting of the words, their fair faces lit by the fire that always burned in the great hearth flanked by two carven pillars. Seated beside them were Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil. The three stared in amazement at the singers, unable to reconcile their thoughts about the singer from Mirkwood with who they had previously thought him to be. Brethil was the least amazed of them, and leaned forward with delight, his hands clasped about his knees, a smile on his face. Tavor and Legolas, hearing a particularly biting insult from the lips of the Wood Elf singer, exchanged amazed glances.
"I knew he was good at insults, but I didn't know he could sing!" Tavor hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I didn't either," Legolas admitted with a shrug. "I mean, I knew he could sing - who can't? - but I didn't know he could sing like THAT!"
Several elves turned to silence the pair with penetrating stares and motions for them to be quiet. Elrond's twin sons turned to them as well, but it was with grins of amusement. They smiled down at the younger elves indulgently.
"Would you care to join in on a bet, younglings?" they asked, the inflections in their voices perfectly blended into a strange twin-harmony.
Elladan winked at Elrohir and whispered to the three Mirkwood visitors, "El and I think that Imladris will triumph. Do you care to dispute that?"
Brethil turned to them, his eyes wide and mildly affronted. He had been a little less amazed at their own singer than Legolas and Tavor had been, but now that he knew what talent lay hidden there he was ready to defend the Mirkwood singer with all that was in him.
"Mirkwood will triumph," Legolas said quickly, seeing that Brethil was drawing a breath to speak. "What do you bet?"
Elladan and Elrohir made their wagers with the Mirkwood trio, not knowing that all about the Hall of Fire bets were being placed between Imladris' inhabitants and those visiting from the green fastness of Thranduil.
Not entirely unaware of what was happening about them, the singers joined together on the chorus of the song, their voices in a perfect woven harmony, each wondering just how many times they had sung the ridiculous words of this very chorus and trying not to laugh as others in the room joined in on the refrain, egging them on.
Glorfindel, whose turn it was to attack first, swept in quickly with an insult about the other's hair, while running a hand through his own golden mane and fluttering his long lashes. A grin spread over his lips as the silver brows of his opponent rose above sparkling grey eyes. Already a return blow was being prepared and Glorfindel finished off his assault with a rapid, impressive run of notes to end out his turn. Now his opponent would have to not only match or top his insult, he would have to match or top the improvised melody.
Tanglinna was indeed up to the challenge and gladly rattled off an insolent verse at the golden-haired elf-lord as the silver-haired archer ran both of his hands through his silver tresses, then quirked an eyebrow.
As they sang the chorus once more, the melody raising a half note higher with every set of verses sung to test their range, they eyed one another, each trying to gauge how much longer their rival would last.
When at last their audience had reached just the right pitch of excitement and anticipation, the two turned to one another at the chorus, each barely able to keep from bursting into inappropriate fits of laughter at the latest barrage of sly innuendo that had lately escaped their tongues. As the last note of the refrain died away and the people seated in the Hall of Fire leaned forward expectantly, Glorfindel and Tanglinna both drew deep breaths, which they then exhaled dramatically, and bowed to one another with a flourish, each acknowledging that the other was equally skilled at this game, and ending it neatly in a draw.
Bursts of applause filled the air as they bowed to their audience, their features carefully schooled to aloof acceptance of their prowess, and then they moved to bow once more to their lords who were both clapping their hands and laughing in delight. Elrond and Thranduil rose to embrace the two, grinning broadly.
"You shouldn't end it in a tie," Thranduil admonished, a companionable arm about his Master Archer's shoulders. "Elrond and I had a bet on the outcome which you have quite spoiled."
"Mayhap you should gift the wagers upon Tanglinna and me for competing so well," Glorfindel suggested, a bright gleam in his blue eyes.
Elrond and Thranduil gazed at one another before shaking their heads.
"Will a glass of Dorwinion suffice?" Elrond offered.
Glorfindel's eyes slid to his singing partner who chuckled, his silver eyes going to his king.
"You had better accept that right quickly, Lord Glorfindel," Tanglinna said, plucking one of the glasses a young servant carried on a tray. "It may not be offered again."
Glorfindel took one glass as well, and with a salute to Tanglinna sipped the wine, enjoying the taste as it slid over his tongue and down his throat.
"Most excellent," he commented, canting his head to Thranduil who had provided this particular vintage. "Do you mind if Tanglinna and I take one with us as well?"
When neither Elrond nor Thranduil objected, the two elves, one with hair as bright and golden as the sun and one with hair as shimmering and silver as starlight, took another glass and moved slowly out of the Hall of Fire, laughing quietly together.
"I never realized that Tanglinna had such a lovely voice," Elrond commented, watching as the two disappeared out the door as a young elf maiden seated herself on a plump cushion set upon the floor near the blazing fire, skillfully tuning the beautifully crafted lute she held in her slender hands.
"He doesn't sing often, but when he does it is a treat indeed," the king of Mirkwood agreed, his eyes moving to where his son sat with his friends. They were all laughing quietly together as they awaited the elf maiden's song, all of them but Brethil Bronaduion. Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he studied the young elves' features. The twins looked very mischievous, as did Tavor and Legolas. Brethil merely looked worried, and kept glancing at the doorways. This was not good. Thranduil's gaze moved to Elrond who was sipping his own glass of Dorwinion, a calm, pleased expression on his face. Thranduil hoped that he was wrong in his assumption that the five young elves had done something they shouldn't have, but the looks on their faces seemed to implicate them. The elven king's blue eyes traveled about the room, trying to see if there were any buckets of mud hanging from the rafters, or if anyone was choking on their wine. Since he saw nothing hidden amidst the rafters and no one was choking on any foul tasting vintage he thought perhaps he had mistaken the gleam in their eyes and it was nothing more than amusement at the contest between Glorfindel and Tanglinna.
"Don't worry, Thranduil," Elrond chortled, noting his guest's unease. "Erestor kept them all occupied this afternoon. They haven't had time to do anything. . . troubling."
"I hope you are right, Peredhil."
Thranduil turned his attention to the elf maiden who had begun to sing a beautiful love song, a perfect counter to the silliness that had preceded it. But the king of Mirkwood wondered if even the imperturbable Erestor could manage to keep those five out of trouble for the duration of the day. Suddenly his brows knit.
"Where is Erestor?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room once more, failing to locate the dark-haired elf-lord.
Elrond turned to look at him, and then did his own search. Erestor was nowhere in sight. Elrond grimaced as he gazed at his sons and their three guests. Yes, the five of them looked . . . well, yes, guilty.
"Oh, no," he breathed, his eyes moving back to Thranduil who shook his golden head, one hand creeping up to grasp his forehead as if he were in pain.
"What have they done now?" they murmured in unison.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Elsewhere in Imladris, the imperturbable Erestor was hurrying across the chill stones of the pathway, his head turning left and right as he prayed fervently that no one would see him before he came to his room. He had been enjoying a quiet bath in the bathing house in preparation for this night's entertainment, occasionally sipping at a glass of wine as he soaked. He had been somewhat perturbed to find that when he emerged from the sunken tub, much later than he had intended - had he fallen asleep?! - that somehow there was no towel to dry himself. He knew the hour was later than he expected; the sun was already setting judging by the strange violet tinge in the water he had just emerged from. Then even more disturbing was the fact that all of his clothing seemed to have disappeared as well. He growled into the empty air, muttering imprecations against the twins and the young Mirkwood visitors. He knew this was one of their pranks; of that he had no doubt. He moved to the door of the bathhouse, only to find that he couldn't open it. It had been 'locked', somehow, from the outside. After a rather undignified time of yanking at the doorknob and cursing rather creatively in all the languages that he knew, - and they were many - making various threats against the perpetrators of this 'joke,' he had finally won his freedom after climbing dripping and naked onto the ledge and slipping out one of the open windows.
He had begun to think he would make it to his room without detection, as most of Imladris inhabitants and guests would be enjoying the entertainment in the Hall of Fire, when he heard voices ahead of him on the path. It might not have been so bad if one of the voices hadn't been Glorfindel's.
"Why him?" he groaned, his eyes making a frantic search for a hiding place. "Why him, of all elves!"
As the voices drew nearer, Erestor leapt off the path and into the bushes that lined the walkway. Glorfindel and the other were speaking of Gondolin, and Erestor overheard his friend's unknown companion say that his mother had lived in Gondolin for a time. Unfortunately for Erestor, Tanglinna was that companion, and he had heard the bushes rustling ahead of them. The Master Archer froze in place, his senses immediately on alert even here in peaceful Imladris.
Glorfindel halted in his tracks, his expression perplexed. He watched as the silver-haired elf crept silently up the path, his gaze moving to the bushes. Suddenly Tanglinna reached into the bushes and grabbed a handful of wet, dark hair. Erestor yelped in a rather undignified manner as the archer pulled him from his hiding place.
"Erestor?" Glorfindel murmured in amazement as he stared at the naked elf. "What. . . what. . . ." Suddenly he began to laugh, and then seeing the expression of pained dignity on his friend's face, laughed harder.
Tanglinna's eyes slid to the golden-haired elf and then back to Erestor. His silver brows rose questioningly.
The counselor drew himself up, trying to look more composed than he actually was, his grey eyes filled with indignation.
"Might I borrow your cloak?" he said in a quiet, controlled voice, indicating the thin grey garment that Tanglinna had donned before he and Glorfindel had left the Hall of Fire.
The archer quickly doffed the garment and gave it to the Imladris elf, who hurriedly threw it about himself. As he did so, he gazed back at the two others as though daring them to say anything to him. He was rather infuriated by the fact that Glorfindel seemed somewhat incapable of saying anything at this moment, as he was still overcome with a fit of laughter. Erestor sighed long-sufferingly and looked to the archer.
Tanglinna's face contorted slightly, then he cocked his head to one side.
"Why are you purple, Erestor?" he asked at last, then broke down into peals of delight himself.
"What are you talking about?" the dark-haired counselor asked. He gazed down at one bare arm that held the cloak closed before him, hearing a strangled cry emerge from his throat. He was indeed purple, rather a lovely shade actually if it hadn't been on his skin. "I will get them for this!" he hissed, pulling the cloak more tightly about himself and stalking away, rubbing at his arm with the cloak and feeling dismayed by the fact that it didn't seem to have even the slightest affect on his purple skin.
When at last Glorfindel and Tanglinna had stopped laughing at the unfortunate Erestor, they decided they had better go and warn Elrond and Thranduil of this 'violet' development. They both knew that neither Imladris' esteemed lord nor the great King of Mirkwood would be amused with the latest prank, and the five young elves would not be able to get out of the punishment that would befall them. Perhaps, though, it was worth it.
"I wonder how long before the purple will wear off Erestor's skin," Glorfindel chortled, feeling only the tiniest bit sorry for his friend.
"About five days," Tanglinna told him with a wry grin.
"You sound awfully certain about that."
Tanglinna's grin widened, his eyes sparkling.
"I am very certain about it."
"Wait a moment!" Glorfindel cried, stopping on the path and turning to his companion. "I seem to recall a tale about a rather violet-hued king when Mirkwood was known as Greenwood the Great. I also seem to remember that Oropher was rather upset with his young Master Archer, as well as Prince Thranduil, over a certain incident involving some purple dye and a bath."
Tanglinna's grin narrowed to a smirk, and he canted his head.
"Yes, I seem to recall something like that as well."
"You wicked elf!" Glorfindel exclaimed, clapping the archer on the back as they continued back to the Hall of Fire. "So you told Legolas about it, did you?"
Tanglinna shook his head.
"No, I never told him."
"Then who did? Ha! Thranduil!" Glorfindel crowed, even more amused. "This is going to be most interesting."
The two moved on, the voices coming from the Hall of Fire growing louder as they approached it.
"This is too funny to go unrewarded in some way," Glorfindel chuckled. " I think that perhaps Thranduil won't be too hard on them, as it looks like it is partly his fault that this particular prank was played." The elf-lord laughed suddenly. "This sort of thing seems to run in the family." A sly look suddenly came over his face, his blue eyes gleaming. "I think I have an idea how to deflect Elrond's need to reprimand them too much, for Erestor is going to want them to suffer greatly. I am glad that the hour is early. . . early enough for a tale. Some things do indeed run in the family."
Tanglinna gazed at Glorfindel, wondering just what he meant, and then knew that he was going to find out soon enough. Glorfindel entered the Hall of Fire and moved toward his lord. Elrond listened to what his friend whispered in his ear and then nodded, wondering why Glorfindel, who had already performed, would want now to tell a story.
Seated in a secluded corner, Mithrandir smiled about his pipe stem, his eyes twinkling merrily. Things were about to get rather interesting it seemed. The wizard's gaze slid to the Master Archer now standing behind King Thranduil gazing back at him, wondering at the odd look of amusement on his old friend's face. Tanglinna smiled down at him and shook his head, a rather pitying look in his eyes. Thranduil frowned and looked away. What was going on? It was bad enough that the 'children' had done something - of this he was certain - but what was going on now?
After a trio of young female elves had finished singing, Glorfindel strode to the center of the room, every eye turning to him. He did make a magnificent figure standing in the fire's glow, his hair burnished and shining, his clothing as carefully selected and as immaculate as ever. The elf-lord gazed at the assembly, his eyes moving last to the five young elves who didn't know that certain doom was fast approaching them.
There was an appreciative stir in the room, and Elrond leaned forward in his chair in anticipation as Glorfindel began to speak.
"There were once three great elf-lords who dwelt in Gondolin, and one bright, mischievous child named Earendil . . . ."
TBC
I had meant this to be a one-chapter wonder, but as you see, some things have a mind of their own. ;)
Thank you to al, my beautiful beta! What a fast job you did on this one! :)
By
TreeHugger
This one is for Nadra who has reached the car-driving age. ( Happy birthday, mellon-nin! Drive carefully!
Prologue
The melodious sound of two fair elven voices was heard drifting from the Hall of Fire in the home of Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris. The voices, both clear baritones and remarkably pleasing to the ears, rose swiftly and most accurately in the rapid trilling of sounds and tripping words in one of the most wondrous displays of improvisation and enjoyment that had ever graced the Last Homely House. The song was one that pitted the two singers in a competition of "vocal fireworks," as Mithrandir had called it earlier when hearing that particular song was to be performed this night, testing the skill and range of their voices, not to mention the rapidity with which their tongues could wrap about the flurry of words they would be expected to articulate. The wizard had promised an equally impressive display of his own fireworks afterwards. "No clever lyrics will accompany them though, I fear," he had added with a wry grin at the two 'combatants.'
This unusual song told of a competition between two bragging elf- lords of feuding houses, each laying claim to the title of "Most Mellifluous Melody Maker." There was no set number of verses, which was part of the competition - seeing who could come up with the most clever wording either meant as an insult to one's competitor or a boast of one's self, which often lead to innuendo and much laughter as the words would then all become 'double-edged'.
There had been surreptitious bets made on the outcome of the song, which could last well into the night if the opponents were clever. On this night they were being particularly adroit and didn't appear to be tiring or running out of things to sing at one another, whether it was the greatness they sang of themselves, or the attacks leveled at their opponent. On this night insults, boasts, and insinuations ran rampant as two masters of song challenged one another.
Lord Elrond leaned toward one of his guests and whispered in a low amused voice, "This may go on through many turnings of the seasons."
King Thranduil of Mirkwood smiled at this remark, his eyes on the singers.
"Do you care to make a wager on who will concede first?" he asked, raising one dark golden eyebrow and stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Elrond's gaze returned to where the vocal duelists stood, each with their chests thrust out, long hair glimmering in the light of the fire, eyes leveled on one another in mock disdain. Both were tall, well-made, comely, and were yet in other ways in fine contrast to one another in appearance, which only seemed to enhance the contest.
"Then it shall be Imladris versus Mirkwood?" Elrond said with a grin, steepling his fingers before his lips.
"Yes, Mirkwood versus Imladris. What will you wager against three bottles of my finest Dorwinion?"
Elrond's self-assured grin fell slightly at this. Surely Thranduil must be very confident in his Mirkwood singer if he were willing to wager that! But the ebony-haired lord of Imladris had confidence in his own vocalist. He smiled again, feeling certain that he couldn't lose.
"I have a jewel that I noticed you admiring the last time you visited. I will wager that against your Dorwinion."
Thranduil raised one brow at this, for the pale jewel was indeed a fine specimen, and would make a perfect adornment for a necklace or a crown.
"Done then: my Dorwinions against your jewel. I shall certainly wear your pretty bauble when next you visit Mirkwood."
"And I shall most certainly give you a glass of Dorwinion when next you come to Imladris."
The two glanced at one another, eyebrows raised in a challenge of their own, eyes sparkling with merriment. Then they solemnly shook hands, looking back to the vocal mêlée with much anticipation.
Across the room, Elladan and Elrohir were both laughing at the quick parrying and thrusting of the words, their fair faces lit by the fire that always burned in the great hearth flanked by two carven pillars. Seated beside them were Legolas, Tavor, and Brethil. The three stared in amazement at the singers, unable to reconcile their thoughts about the singer from Mirkwood with who they had previously thought him to be. Brethil was the least amazed of them, and leaned forward with delight, his hands clasped about his knees, a smile on his face. Tavor and Legolas, hearing a particularly biting insult from the lips of the Wood Elf singer, exchanged amazed glances.
"I knew he was good at insults, but I didn't know he could sing!" Tavor hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I didn't either," Legolas admitted with a shrug. "I mean, I knew he could sing - who can't? - but I didn't know he could sing like THAT!"
Several elves turned to silence the pair with penetrating stares and motions for them to be quiet. Elrond's twin sons turned to them as well, but it was with grins of amusement. They smiled down at the younger elves indulgently.
"Would you care to join in on a bet, younglings?" they asked, the inflections in their voices perfectly blended into a strange twin-harmony.
Elladan winked at Elrohir and whispered to the three Mirkwood visitors, "El and I think that Imladris will triumph. Do you care to dispute that?"
Brethil turned to them, his eyes wide and mildly affronted. He had been a little less amazed at their own singer than Legolas and Tavor had been, but now that he knew what talent lay hidden there he was ready to defend the Mirkwood singer with all that was in him.
"Mirkwood will triumph," Legolas said quickly, seeing that Brethil was drawing a breath to speak. "What do you bet?"
Elladan and Elrohir made their wagers with the Mirkwood trio, not knowing that all about the Hall of Fire bets were being placed between Imladris' inhabitants and those visiting from the green fastness of Thranduil.
Not entirely unaware of what was happening about them, the singers joined together on the chorus of the song, their voices in a perfect woven harmony, each wondering just how many times they had sung the ridiculous words of this very chorus and trying not to laugh as others in the room joined in on the refrain, egging them on.
Glorfindel, whose turn it was to attack first, swept in quickly with an insult about the other's hair, while running a hand through his own golden mane and fluttering his long lashes. A grin spread over his lips as the silver brows of his opponent rose above sparkling grey eyes. Already a return blow was being prepared and Glorfindel finished off his assault with a rapid, impressive run of notes to end out his turn. Now his opponent would have to not only match or top his insult, he would have to match or top the improvised melody.
Tanglinna was indeed up to the challenge and gladly rattled off an insolent verse at the golden-haired elf-lord as the silver-haired archer ran both of his hands through his silver tresses, then quirked an eyebrow.
As they sang the chorus once more, the melody raising a half note higher with every set of verses sung to test their range, they eyed one another, each trying to gauge how much longer their rival would last.
When at last their audience had reached just the right pitch of excitement and anticipation, the two turned to one another at the chorus, each barely able to keep from bursting into inappropriate fits of laughter at the latest barrage of sly innuendo that had lately escaped their tongues. As the last note of the refrain died away and the people seated in the Hall of Fire leaned forward expectantly, Glorfindel and Tanglinna both drew deep breaths, which they then exhaled dramatically, and bowed to one another with a flourish, each acknowledging that the other was equally skilled at this game, and ending it neatly in a draw.
Bursts of applause filled the air as they bowed to their audience, their features carefully schooled to aloof acceptance of their prowess, and then they moved to bow once more to their lords who were both clapping their hands and laughing in delight. Elrond and Thranduil rose to embrace the two, grinning broadly.
"You shouldn't end it in a tie," Thranduil admonished, a companionable arm about his Master Archer's shoulders. "Elrond and I had a bet on the outcome which you have quite spoiled."
"Mayhap you should gift the wagers upon Tanglinna and me for competing so well," Glorfindel suggested, a bright gleam in his blue eyes.
Elrond and Thranduil gazed at one another before shaking their heads.
"Will a glass of Dorwinion suffice?" Elrond offered.
Glorfindel's eyes slid to his singing partner who chuckled, his silver eyes going to his king.
"You had better accept that right quickly, Lord Glorfindel," Tanglinna said, plucking one of the glasses a young servant carried on a tray. "It may not be offered again."
Glorfindel took one glass as well, and with a salute to Tanglinna sipped the wine, enjoying the taste as it slid over his tongue and down his throat.
"Most excellent," he commented, canting his head to Thranduil who had provided this particular vintage. "Do you mind if Tanglinna and I take one with us as well?"
When neither Elrond nor Thranduil objected, the two elves, one with hair as bright and golden as the sun and one with hair as shimmering and silver as starlight, took another glass and moved slowly out of the Hall of Fire, laughing quietly together.
"I never realized that Tanglinna had such a lovely voice," Elrond commented, watching as the two disappeared out the door as a young elf maiden seated herself on a plump cushion set upon the floor near the blazing fire, skillfully tuning the beautifully crafted lute she held in her slender hands.
"He doesn't sing often, but when he does it is a treat indeed," the king of Mirkwood agreed, his eyes moving to where his son sat with his friends. They were all laughing quietly together as they awaited the elf maiden's song, all of them but Brethil Bronaduion. Thranduil's eyes narrowed as he studied the young elves' features. The twins looked very mischievous, as did Tavor and Legolas. Brethil merely looked worried, and kept glancing at the doorways. This was not good. Thranduil's gaze moved to Elrond who was sipping his own glass of Dorwinion, a calm, pleased expression on his face. Thranduil hoped that he was wrong in his assumption that the five young elves had done something they shouldn't have, but the looks on their faces seemed to implicate them. The elven king's blue eyes traveled about the room, trying to see if there were any buckets of mud hanging from the rafters, or if anyone was choking on their wine. Since he saw nothing hidden amidst the rafters and no one was choking on any foul tasting vintage he thought perhaps he had mistaken the gleam in their eyes and it was nothing more than amusement at the contest between Glorfindel and Tanglinna.
"Don't worry, Thranduil," Elrond chortled, noting his guest's unease. "Erestor kept them all occupied this afternoon. They haven't had time to do anything. . . troubling."
"I hope you are right, Peredhil."
Thranduil turned his attention to the elf maiden who had begun to sing a beautiful love song, a perfect counter to the silliness that had preceded it. But the king of Mirkwood wondered if even the imperturbable Erestor could manage to keep those five out of trouble for the duration of the day. Suddenly his brows knit.
"Where is Erestor?" he asked, his eyes scanning the room once more, failing to locate the dark-haired elf-lord.
Elrond turned to look at him, and then did his own search. Erestor was nowhere in sight. Elrond grimaced as he gazed at his sons and their three guests. Yes, the five of them looked . . . well, yes, guilty.
"Oh, no," he breathed, his eyes moving back to Thranduil who shook his golden head, one hand creeping up to grasp his forehead as if he were in pain.
"What have they done now?" they murmured in unison.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Elsewhere in Imladris, the imperturbable Erestor was hurrying across the chill stones of the pathway, his head turning left and right as he prayed fervently that no one would see him before he came to his room. He had been enjoying a quiet bath in the bathing house in preparation for this night's entertainment, occasionally sipping at a glass of wine as he soaked. He had been somewhat perturbed to find that when he emerged from the sunken tub, much later than he had intended - had he fallen asleep?! - that somehow there was no towel to dry himself. He knew the hour was later than he expected; the sun was already setting judging by the strange violet tinge in the water he had just emerged from. Then even more disturbing was the fact that all of his clothing seemed to have disappeared as well. He growled into the empty air, muttering imprecations against the twins and the young Mirkwood visitors. He knew this was one of their pranks; of that he had no doubt. He moved to the door of the bathhouse, only to find that he couldn't open it. It had been 'locked', somehow, from the outside. After a rather undignified time of yanking at the doorknob and cursing rather creatively in all the languages that he knew, - and they were many - making various threats against the perpetrators of this 'joke,' he had finally won his freedom after climbing dripping and naked onto the ledge and slipping out one of the open windows.
He had begun to think he would make it to his room without detection, as most of Imladris inhabitants and guests would be enjoying the entertainment in the Hall of Fire, when he heard voices ahead of him on the path. It might not have been so bad if one of the voices hadn't been Glorfindel's.
"Why him?" he groaned, his eyes making a frantic search for a hiding place. "Why him, of all elves!"
As the voices drew nearer, Erestor leapt off the path and into the bushes that lined the walkway. Glorfindel and the other were speaking of Gondolin, and Erestor overheard his friend's unknown companion say that his mother had lived in Gondolin for a time. Unfortunately for Erestor, Tanglinna was that companion, and he had heard the bushes rustling ahead of them. The Master Archer froze in place, his senses immediately on alert even here in peaceful Imladris.
Glorfindel halted in his tracks, his expression perplexed. He watched as the silver-haired elf crept silently up the path, his gaze moving to the bushes. Suddenly Tanglinna reached into the bushes and grabbed a handful of wet, dark hair. Erestor yelped in a rather undignified manner as the archer pulled him from his hiding place.
"Erestor?" Glorfindel murmured in amazement as he stared at the naked elf. "What. . . what. . . ." Suddenly he began to laugh, and then seeing the expression of pained dignity on his friend's face, laughed harder.
Tanglinna's eyes slid to the golden-haired elf and then back to Erestor. His silver brows rose questioningly.
The counselor drew himself up, trying to look more composed than he actually was, his grey eyes filled with indignation.
"Might I borrow your cloak?" he said in a quiet, controlled voice, indicating the thin grey garment that Tanglinna had donned before he and Glorfindel had left the Hall of Fire.
The archer quickly doffed the garment and gave it to the Imladris elf, who hurriedly threw it about himself. As he did so, he gazed back at the two others as though daring them to say anything to him. He was rather infuriated by the fact that Glorfindel seemed somewhat incapable of saying anything at this moment, as he was still overcome with a fit of laughter. Erestor sighed long-sufferingly and looked to the archer.
Tanglinna's face contorted slightly, then he cocked his head to one side.
"Why are you purple, Erestor?" he asked at last, then broke down into peals of delight himself.
"What are you talking about?" the dark-haired counselor asked. He gazed down at one bare arm that held the cloak closed before him, hearing a strangled cry emerge from his throat. He was indeed purple, rather a lovely shade actually if it hadn't been on his skin. "I will get them for this!" he hissed, pulling the cloak more tightly about himself and stalking away, rubbing at his arm with the cloak and feeling dismayed by the fact that it didn't seem to have even the slightest affect on his purple skin.
When at last Glorfindel and Tanglinna had stopped laughing at the unfortunate Erestor, they decided they had better go and warn Elrond and Thranduil of this 'violet' development. They both knew that neither Imladris' esteemed lord nor the great King of Mirkwood would be amused with the latest prank, and the five young elves would not be able to get out of the punishment that would befall them. Perhaps, though, it was worth it.
"I wonder how long before the purple will wear off Erestor's skin," Glorfindel chortled, feeling only the tiniest bit sorry for his friend.
"About five days," Tanglinna told him with a wry grin.
"You sound awfully certain about that."
Tanglinna's grin widened, his eyes sparkling.
"I am very certain about it."
"Wait a moment!" Glorfindel cried, stopping on the path and turning to his companion. "I seem to recall a tale about a rather violet-hued king when Mirkwood was known as Greenwood the Great. I also seem to remember that Oropher was rather upset with his young Master Archer, as well as Prince Thranduil, over a certain incident involving some purple dye and a bath."
Tanglinna's grin narrowed to a smirk, and he canted his head.
"Yes, I seem to recall something like that as well."
"You wicked elf!" Glorfindel exclaimed, clapping the archer on the back as they continued back to the Hall of Fire. "So you told Legolas about it, did you?"
Tanglinna shook his head.
"No, I never told him."
"Then who did? Ha! Thranduil!" Glorfindel crowed, even more amused. "This is going to be most interesting."
The two moved on, the voices coming from the Hall of Fire growing louder as they approached it.
"This is too funny to go unrewarded in some way," Glorfindel chuckled. " I think that perhaps Thranduil won't be too hard on them, as it looks like it is partly his fault that this particular prank was played." The elf-lord laughed suddenly. "This sort of thing seems to run in the family." A sly look suddenly came over his face, his blue eyes gleaming. "I think I have an idea how to deflect Elrond's need to reprimand them too much, for Erestor is going to want them to suffer greatly. I am glad that the hour is early. . . early enough for a tale. Some things do indeed run in the family."
Tanglinna gazed at Glorfindel, wondering just what he meant, and then knew that he was going to find out soon enough. Glorfindel entered the Hall of Fire and moved toward his lord. Elrond listened to what his friend whispered in his ear and then nodded, wondering why Glorfindel, who had already performed, would want now to tell a story.
Seated in a secluded corner, Mithrandir smiled about his pipe stem, his eyes twinkling merrily. Things were about to get rather interesting it seemed. The wizard's gaze slid to the Master Archer now standing behind King Thranduil gazing back at him, wondering at the odd look of amusement on his old friend's face. Tanglinna smiled down at him and shook his head, a rather pitying look in his eyes. Thranduil frowned and looked away. What was going on? It was bad enough that the 'children' had done something - of this he was certain - but what was going on now?
After a trio of young female elves had finished singing, Glorfindel strode to the center of the room, every eye turning to him. He did make a magnificent figure standing in the fire's glow, his hair burnished and shining, his clothing as carefully selected and as immaculate as ever. The elf-lord gazed at the assembly, his eyes moving last to the five young elves who didn't know that certain doom was fast approaching them.
There was an appreciative stir in the room, and Elrond leaned forward in his chair in anticipation as Glorfindel began to speak.
"There were once three great elf-lords who dwelt in Gondolin, and one bright, mischievous child named Earendil . . . ."
TBC
I had meant this to be a one-chapter wonder, but as you see, some things have a mind of their own. ;)
Thank you to al, my beautiful beta! What a fast job you did on this one! :)