Author's Note: Hey, everybody! Nice to see you again. Since I can't seem to keep the LotR plot bunnies under control, here's a small snippet of one shot before I dig into my next chaptered work. And, wai wai! I got it typed in that thin margin of time between my long–awaited high school graduation (with honors) and my senior trip to Italy. Go, me!
The reasoning behind this little romp? Explaining what, exactly, is wrong with Elrond (whom I deeply love and respect. Really!) Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own it. Tolkein does. Voila!
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Elrond Half-elven, Lord of Imladris.
The title sounds rather regal, does it not? It conjures images of flowing silken robes, circlets and jewelries of precious metals and stones, and long, somber ceremonies.
It does not, however, bring to mind thoughts of a grown Elf Lord hiding in the closet, crying like a little girl-child.
Allow me to explain myself. My name is in fact Elrond, and I am indeed ruler of the fair Elf city of Imladris. Now, I am well aware of what people say about me. That I am "tense." "Stuffy." "Paranoid," even. It immediately becomes clear to me that the people who say this have never observed my close surroundings very seriously.
Tense I may be. On the verge of paranoia, perhaps. But this is through no fault of my own, I assure you. Day by day, day after day, I am confronted by life in my fair city of Imladris, and it has shaped and molded me accordingly.
Now I am not one to complain. Far from it. But if you would kindly allow me to show to you one day – just one day – one typical day in my life as Lord of Imladris, you might be able to better understand the stifled sobs of bordering insanity leaking from my closet at this very moment.
If I may...
My morning began peacefully enough.
I woke at dawn, as I have done for uncounted centuries. I stretched, gazing out the window as the sun peeked over the horizon. Small birds began to sing in the shade trees and the quiet reaches of the garden. A clear, beautiful morning.
Getting out of bed, I cautiously proceeded to dress. I say cautiously because one never can tell who might have happened to hide what inside my wardrobe. This morn, however, all was as it should be.
My water basin contained no frogs. My brush and comb remained free of honey as I braided back my hair. My boots did not squelch with mud or jam when I placed my feet inside them. The day was off to a good start.
You may wonder about this. Let me say that my mornings rarely start out on such a peaceful note. I suppose that this is mostly through fault of my own. Pranking me has become something of a rite of passage for the Elflings, and I simply do not have the heart to lock my doors.
These pranks are usually harmless, at any rate. A young otter in the bath chamber here. Creative graffiti in soap on my window pane there. Harmless little things like that. However, once in a while a different sort of practical joke occurs, usually from my own sons; my dear twins, Elladan and Elrohir.
The worst prank I have ever been taken by (and this is no surprise) was their doing. They managed to procure a small pouch of Gandalf's fireworks powder, and smeared it on the wicks of all my candles. The resulting bang startled me out of a millennia's growth and covered me in wax. But I digress. Back to the morning at hand...
I left my room and began the trek to the dining hall. This took some time, due to the sheer size of my little city. It is no small matter to get from one place to another, let me tell you. Once I arrived in the hall, I stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the morning's activity.
The long trestle table nearest me was filled with young Elflings, their mothers and nurses. The children shouted and laughed as they made a pretense of partaking of the morning meal, eager to be out and about at more exciting activities than mere eating.
I was forced to smile. Here was the pride and joy, the heart and soul of Imladris. The light and the love of our long lives, the hope and the future of Elven-kind, the–
Splat!
–little darling had thrown a spoonful of porridge at me. He shrieked with glee as it dripped down my face. How charming. I remain thankful that all three of my children are well past the food-slinging stage.
My appetite had somehow deserted me. Collecting an apple and a clean linen napkin to wipe my face, I left the dining hall, telling the child's apologetic nana to think nothing of it. A stroll through the gardens now held quite a bit of appeal. The quiet, the solitude, the birdsong all might help me meditate and better prepare for the day ahead.
However... this was not to be.
O.O.O.O.O
No sooner had I entered the silent sanctity of the gardens of Rivendell then there came a loud burst of merriment from off behind the rose arbor. Sighing, I went to investigate with a frown. For you see, I already had a rather good idea of who it was.
Peering out from behind the foliage, my suspicions were soon confirmed. Elladan and Elrohir, Twin Terrors of Imladris, as they had come to be known. I heaved an exasperated sigh. Those sons of mine.
It was hard to determine whether they had awoken very early to sneak into the wine cellar, or if they had never gone to bed at all. From the redness of their cheeks and the volume of their carefree voices, I decided that it must have been the latter. They had been at it all night long.
This is one point of Elvish behavior that confuses mortals. While even the youngest Elves appear ancient, calm, and thoughtful to mortal eyes, the reality of the situation is that age does not parallel behavior. It takes them ages to mature.
I was standing near the cover of the roses, wondering whether or not I should intervene, when a third merrymaker burst from the bushes at my side.
"Helloooo!" he sang drunkenly, flashing me an enormous smile. "My name is Legolette!" Turning from me as abruptly as he had come, the blonde skipped away across the clearing in naught but his leggings, a flower crown, and an apron that one of the kitchen maids must have been missing. Tripping over an exposed and very obvious tree root in his path, he fell in a heap on top of Elladan and Elrohir, all three of them laughing hysterically.
The tiny vein in my forehead began to twitch ever so slightly. I made up my mind then and there to send Legolas Greenleaf home. Home, to Mirkwood, soon, and no, he could not stay "just a few more seasons, please? Please?" The twins will undoubtedly be upset by this decision when I remember to tell them, but if it bothers them then they have my express permission to ride back with the young prince and stay in the Greenwood for as long as they desire. (I have been putting up with their antics for nigh on a decade, and I believe that it is rightfully time for Thranduil to deal with the three little pests for a few years.)
With another deep sigh I turned and left the gardens. It was not so quiet out there anyway. After but a moment's hesitation I made for my study, finally biting into my apple. Perhaps catching up on some paperwork might help to clear the atmosphere in my personal bubble.
It was a nice, if futile, thought.
O.O.O.O.O
Things progressed according to plan as golden morning faded slowly into balmy summer afternoon. I worked steadily, and before I had even realized it the tall pile of neglected papers on my desk had begun to dwindle. Soon it had shrunk to almost nothing.
Rather pleased by my progress, I considered going back to the hall for a bite of lunch. The sunbeams spilling in through the window confirmed that it was far past time to eat. Tucking away my quill and ink, I was preparing to leave the office when the door suddenly burst in on its hinges as if it had been kicked by an energetic horse. Into the room stepped my dear friend Glorfindel, just returned from border patrol.
"Mae govannion, Elrond!" he laughed happily, dropping a huge stack of papers into my arms. "Reports from the border for you to review!"
The nervous twitch had returned. Now when had he found the time on the way back to...? Carefully schooling my features neutral, I placed the stack upon my desk. "Thank you, Glorfindel. You fared well on patrol, I trust?"
He was about to answer when a ferocious stomping sound was heard. Never a moment's rest. Rather fearfully we peered out of my office, I myself wondering with much trepidation what was going to happen now.
Down the hall there came storming my chief counselor Erestor, pulling Legolas and Elladan behind him. Elrohir trailed despondently behind, an unhappy pout on his face. I noticed with a pained grimace that Legolas still wore his apron.
"Hello Erestor!" Glorfindel smiled widely. If there is one thing that Glorfindel loves more than grooming his mane of long, sun-kissed golden hair, it is pestering the daylights out of my chief counselor.
"Glorfindel." Erestor acknowledged his friend with a curt nod, then turned to me. "Lord Elrond. I apprehended your sons and their guest in the gardens, completely and indecently inebriated on the good blackberry wine. I thought it best to bring them directly to you."
I almost chuckled. Erestor would pitch a fit if he found out that I had known what the boys were doing and let them be. Before I could answer, Glorfindel stepped in.
"Come now, Erestor," he grinned. "Would it not do to let the young ones have a bit of fun?"
Erestor's eyes narrowed. "Certainly not, if it did not involve public intoxication and the blackberry vintage!" The Balrog-slayer was laughing behind his patrol reports. Erestor began to turn a bit red. "Do not encourage them, Glorfindel!"
"Oh, you cannot tell me that you never enjoyed a little wine in your youth, Erestor?" the blonde laughed, aiming a playful poke at the glowering counselor's middle.
Erestor glared. "Do not start with me, Glorfindel!"
Sometimes I just have to laugh at the two of them. The best of friends, though polar opposites. However, from time to time it seems that if Glorfindel is the Balrog-slayer, Erestor would become the Glorfindel-slayer with very little encouragement. Sometimes he is just too serious for his own good, as Glorfindel often accuses.
During the conversation Legolas' attention had wavered. He had begun to shift away.
"Legolas!" Erestor firmly pulled him back. "We are not through here, Legolas."
The prince's big blue eyes suddenly welled with tears. "Waah, Erestor! How could you manhandle such a fair, sweet maiden, you big brute?"
The counselor's own eyes bulged comically as "Legolette" began to squeal and slap at him halfheartedly. "Legolas, you are not a woman!"
"Aiie, you cruel beast!"
"But you are not! No! Stop hitting me, you little devil! Glorfindel, help me! "
I turned and left the room.
Their rather loud voices pursued me down the hall.
"Glorfindel, I forbid you to laugh! You must support me in this, or they will never –"
Glorfindel's loud guffaw echoed around my office as he finally lost control. Elladan and Elrohir's merry laughter, still bright as tinkling silver bells despite their inebriation, was joined a moment later by a scream from Erestor as the blonde "princess" gave his hair a pull. "Yee-owch! Keep your evil hands off my braids, you drunken delinquent!" Glorfindel howled helplessly, patrol reports flying about in all directions as he frantically tried, in vain, to compose himself.
At this point I gladly descended the stairs, leaving the scene of an immanent Glorfindel smiting behind me. To the kitchen, then, for that bite of lunch. I felt no guilt for leaving the fray when I did, for I knew that Erestor could more than handle himself. And, in all likelihood, the three miscreants would probably manage to slip away while he and Glorfindel argued.
O.O.O.O.O
Entering the kitchen virtually unnoticed, I helped myself to bread, cheese, and a bowl of hot, fresh vegetable soup. Taking my favorite spot at table in the informal dining hall, I happily prepared to tuck in.
"Ouch! Watch who you're kicking, you fool!"
My eyebrows seemed to rise of their own accord. Lifting the table drape, I peered under and took stock of the head with which my boot had made contact. It happened to be Lindir, crouched underneath clutching his hand lute.
The head minstrel's eyes bugged comically as h realized exactly whom he had insulted. "Oh, er, Lord Elrond! I did not realize... I mean, that is to say... um, I do apologize!"
"Why are you under the table, Lindir?" I asked, opting to ignore being called a fool for the time being. I could always make him sing my praises later.
"My Lord, it is that Halfling!" he hissed, peering furtively out from under the table. "He is stalking me, I swear it! Since Estel departed four months ago he has been following me about asking for my advice on all his little songs and poems!"
"I see."
"Please do not let him find me, my Lord! I do not think I can take much more of it, really I don't!"
Poor Lindir. I myself love Bilbo dearly, but I do understand that it takes a special kind of Elf to... ah... bond with the little fellow. I decided to take pity on my suffering chief musician. "As you wish. I never saw you." Tucking the cloth back into place, I resumed my lunch and paid no more attention to the fair Elf ensconced beneath.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond," he whispered gratefully, and I heard no more from him. I could only hope that he would deign to emerge before we found ourselves in need of dinner entertainment.
Finishing my lunch, I returned the dishes to the kitchen and paused for a moment, pondering my next activity. I had been away from my office for nearly an hour. Surely the mob had quitted the area and it would be safe to return to my work?
But, no. Gathering, ordering, and reading Glorfindel's mass of flyaway patrol reports held very little appeal. After a minute's hesitation, I proceeded outdoors. All work and no play makes Elrond a dull Elf Lord. A little fresh air would do me good after a morning in my office.
Ha, ha, ha. The sweet irony of it all.
O.O.O.O.O
Once outside I meandered towards the archery grounds. The sun was warm and a light breeze rustled the trees. It truly was a gorgeous day.
Arriving at the field, I stood off to one side with my back against a large tree, not wishing to disturb the archers. I noticed that many of the young ones were out today as well, being instructed by several of Rivendell's best bow Elves.
I smiled once more, half in amusement and half in pride as I watched the Elflings. It was obvious for most of them that handling their small bows was new and awkward, but they were so excited to learn, and so eager to please their instructors by doing well. It was charming.
The warm wind ruffled my hair. A blue and purple butterfly fluttered silently past. Overhead, a small flock of ducks flew, somewhat less silently, by. I sighed, letting my eyes slide closed. Life was good.
"Look, ducks! Everybody shoot!"
My eyes bulged open as thirteen tiny bowstrings twanged. A moment later I was pinned to the tree in a dozen places, nine arrows buried in my robes and three more in my hair. Only my well-honed Elven reflexes twitching at the last moment had saved me from unwitting assassination.
My miniature firing squad stared dumbly back at me, wide eyed and mouths agape. The bold little one who had given the order to fire looked a bit nervous, but not nearly as much as would have been expected given that he had just inadvertently stuck the Lord of the Valley to a tree like a piece of bark cloth to a drying board. I prayed fervently that I did not have another young Legolas on my hands and just did not know it yet.
I stared at them for a long while before speaking. "Who is supposed to be watching you?" I asked calmly. Oh, when I got a hold of that Elf I was going to –
"I'm back, kids!"
Glorfindel's happy, unmistakable voice echoed around the clearing as he crossed the field bearing a large tray. "Look, I brought cookies and..." Pausing in front of the group of youngsters, he took in my glowering self, glaring from my haphazard position on the tree. "Elrond! When did you get here? Now I'm going to need another cup of milk..."
"GLORFINDEL!"
O.O.O.O.O
A while later I stalked back inside, limping a bit and very tense. One hand had secured a death grip on the neck of the duck that the thirteenth tiny archer had been talented (or lucky) enough to hit instead of me.
The duck would have to go to the kitchens. Waste not, want not, after all, and the ecstatic little Elfling had expressed the desire that he be permitted to present his parents with the fully cooked and prepared fruits of his first successful hunting venture.
I myself would have to pay a visit to the washrooms. My robes, now torn in nine very obvious places, would never be the same again, but they still needed to be mended. Perhaps I could wear them when we did the yearly cleaning of the great hall. Then it would not matter at all if my clothes got dirty.
You may note my sarcasm in this case.
Curse Glorfindel and his immaturity! Imagine leaving a dozen and one novice Elfling archers alone to their own devices! Besides that, he had not taken care to make sure that the children were using the practice arrows with no real barb and very blunt tips. You see, accidents like this can kill people.
And it was not as if I could even publicly chastise or punish my chief warrior. He is the city's defender, the Balrog-slayer, for goodness sake, and dishes or stable duty are far beneath the Golden Elf of Gondolin in everyone else's eyes. Ah, but I had it. Glorfindel would do filing and paperwork with Erestor for a week. That would be much the worse for him, and perhaps teach him a little more responsibility.
Satisfied with my new brand of justice, I pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the washroom.
"Arwen!"
My darling daughter looked up at me with wide brown doe eyes, her face partially buried against Aragorn's chest. "Hello, Ada."
"Do not 'hello, Ada' me, young lady! What do you think you are doing?" Drat that little Ranger nuisance! He was not supposed to return from the Wilds for months yet! He too stared back at me, though looking admittedly less like a doe and more like a turkey at the chopping block.
"I was just thanking Estel, father, for helping me lift this horribly heavy laundry basket. Yes, that's it!" She gave him another squeeze. My teeth began to grind.
Now, please do not misunderstand me. I love my foster son, really I do. I would give my immortal life for him in an instant, the same as I would for any of my own children. But I will NOT tolerate him stealing my little Evenstar and making her mortal! Never! Not in another ten thousand million years!
"Arwen," I said calmly, "I need you to mend my robes. You!" I pointed at Aragorn, than at the door. "Out."
He scurried into the hall without a protest. Arwen blew him a kiss when she believed I could not see. "See you at dinner, Estel!" she whispered loudly. I know that it should not have bothered me, but the silly, lovelorn smile on his face sent me into a rage.
"You'll never get her, Estel! Never!" I screamed, shaking my fist wrathfully. He took off down the hall like one of Gandalf's rockets. Oh, drat my temper. Now I would have to apologize and cajole him back into not being afraid of me. But that did not matter so much right then.
My breathing heavy, I allowed Arwen to pull me back into the room. As she selected her thread and began to sew, murmuring soothing nonsense obviously intended to placate her annoyed Ada, I tried to calm myself. Dinner was, after all, still hours away.
However, as Arwen began to croon a lilting lullaby about "loving true as ocean blue," I realized something. The nervous twitch had returned, and brought along a headache.
O.O.O.O.O
Preparations for dinner were a hurried affair. A feast of sorts had to be scraped together at the last moment, for of course everyone fully expected nothing less to welcome Aragorn son of Arathorn home from his travels. As the evening drew to a close, the festivities began.
I, as usual, sat at the head of the table, the position most befitting the Lord of the Valley. Glorfindel and Erestor, still picking at one another, sat to my left. Aragorn and Arwen were to my right. Now, that only left...
Elrohir and Elladan entered the hall at the last moment, their arms around Legolas, who staggered happily along between them. All three wore silly smiles and were singing a silly song about a cow and the man in the moon, some of Bilbo's funny nonsense if I ever heard any. (And believe me, I have heard quite a lot.)
With a surreptitious cough I waved the three to their seats, taking half a moment to feel thankful that Legolas had at least changed out of his apron. That would have been a joy to explain to the other guests.
Now the head of the table was complete. I stood, raising my cup. "Before we begin, a toast to my son's unexpected and... er... very joyful homecoming! May he enjoy his time here with us until he must once again depart." In a week, maximum, if I had anything to do with it.
"Hear, hear!" everyone cheered, accepting the toast. One nice thing about Elves; they can overlook any motive as long as there is wine involved.
Very soon the head cook entered, pushing a large trolley. As the apprentice cooks scurried about the hall delivering salads, appetizers, and lighter fare, the trolley was uncovered. Upon it sat several cages full of rabbits.
"Do they please you, Lord Elrond?" the head cook asked me.
"Indeed. They are to be the main course this evening, I take it?"
"Aye, Lord. Nice and plump, caught fresh in the traps this morning."
"Very good. Proceed." I was about to wave him back to the kitchen to prepare the rabbits when a distressed wail stayed my hand. Suddenly Elrohir was hanging on my arm.
"Not that one, Ada!" he cried, pointing into one of the cages of milling rabbits.
"What? Why not?" I asked, a bit taken aback.
"That is the bunny that I see from my window every morning! I always say good morning to him and he flicks his little ears at me."
"Elrohir, there are hundreds of rabbits in this city," I pointed out reasonably, trying to keep my phrasing simple. "How can you tell that this is your rabbit?"
"This one has a spot."
I sighed, running a hand over my eyes.
Now, I wish I could say that no animals are harmed in the making of my dinners, but that is simply not the case. And while one rabbit might not make much of a difference tonight, I could not allow Elrohir to believe that he could go about stealing crucial dinner components from future meals.
"Please don't let them eat it, Ada," Elrohir whimpered pitifully, tugging at my sleeve.
"It is alright, Elrohir," I soothed my youngest son, motioning the cook to return to the kitchens, rabbit included. "Everything will be fine..."
"No, Ada, no!" he cried, reaching for the animal as the trolley began to move away. The rabbit in question gazed dolefully at us from inside the cage. "Don't let him take it away!"
"Elrohir. Honey. Sweetling." I caught his face in my hands as I used to do when he was a tearful toddler, forcing his glistening brown eyes to meet my own. "There will be other bunnies. Let it go."
"Noooooo!" And my darling, sensitive son began to cry. I made up my mind then and there that Elrohir was never going to partake of anything alcoholic ever, ever again.
"Cook. Now that we have succeeded in entertaining the entire hall, please proceed with your meal preparations." I firmly indicated that negotiations for the rabbit were over.
"You are heartless, Ada!" Elrohir sobbed. "Poor little bunny who never hurt anything, who waved at me every morning!"
Elbereth, Elrohir, make me feel like an orc... a despicable, evil orc... He always has had me wrapped around his little finger. I sighed, rolling my eyes to the heavens. "Well then... I suppose we might be able to work out something..."
"Free the bunnies!" Elladan suddenly screamed, launching across the table.
I stared in utter disbelief as he and Legolas seized the trolley out from under the astonished cook's hands and began to shake rabbits out of the cages. "Boys, what do you think you are doing? Stop this at once!"
Elladan ignored me, grabbing the rabbit with the special spot. "Catch, Legolas!" he cried as the animal left his hands and went soaring through the air. Elrohir screamed, covering his eyes as the rabbit went sailing by overhead.
"I'll get him, 'Ro, I'll get him!" Diving for the much-coveted animal, Legolas tripped over his own feet and fell onto the table, face first into a pudding. The rabbit descended, and landed square in my lap.
"SILENCE!" I bellowed. All shouting and laughter immediately ceased. Elrohir stopped crying. Legolas lifted his face from the pudding.
I looked down at the rabbit. It was trying to burrow into my robes. At once I pitied the little thing. "Erestor."
"Yes, my Lord?"
Taking the rabbit up by the scruff of its neck, I handed it to my chief counselor. "Take this up to my office. We will discuss it later."
"Yes, my Lord." Tucking the animal firmly under one arm, Erestor left the hall. I then noticed with a start that his shoulders were shaking slightly. Was it possible that Erestor was actually laughing?
I glanced at my table companions. Glorfindel had his face buried in his arms, body quaking with suppressed mirth. Aragorn and Arwen were frantically chasing the escaped rabbits, most of which had immediately bolted for any available exit from the hall. The cook was considerably less than pleased. Even Elrohir had stopped sniffling and had begun to giggle as Elladan swiped a finger full of pudding off Legolas' face and licked it up.
The vein began to pulse.
The one thing, the one and only thing saving my sanity as far as those boys were concerned was the fact that those brothers from Lothlorien were not here to add to the madness. Orophin, the oldest, was usually alright, but the other two, Haldir and Rumil, well... Let us just say that when they get together with my sons and the youngest prince of Mirkwood, all havoc invariably breaks loose.
"Legolas, please. Wipe your face."
He did so without protest. Perhaps now I could finally eat my dinner. I looked to my summer salad. There was a large clump of rabbit fur on top. "Next course!" I commanded, and reached for a cup of wine.
O.O.O.O.O
An hour later I had progressed down the lane from deadly sober to slightly tipsy. I am ashamed to admit it, but it is the truth. Apparently the twins have inherited their wine intolerance from my side of the family. Had my dear wife not sailed decades ago she would have hadmy hide by now for their behavior.
As I was saying. Slightly inebriated myself, I listened to the buzz of conversation around me. A bit of alcohol can do wonders to mellow one. I actually laughed when Legolas, now my fellow tippler, fell asleep at table and awoke in a panic screaming about giant spiders. He was tangled in his own hair.
To my left, Glorfindel and Erestor were having a discussion. Or possibly a debate. Actually, it really was more like an argument. Looking at them I was willing to bet that Glorfindel at least was also a bit gone.
"A problem, gentlemen?" I asked them.
Erestor started. "Oh, no, Lord Elrond. Not at all."
"Yes, in fact, Lord Elrond," said Glorfindel in the same instant. "We were just discussing your very noble self..."
"Glorfindel," Erestor warned.
My eyebrows raised. "Me?"
"Yes indeed," Glorfindel grinned. "And we were just wondering..."
"Glorfindel, I forbid it!" Erestor yelled.
"What is your middle name?" the blonde warrior asked of me. Erestor dropped his face into his hands despairingly.
I blinked.
My middle name? Now I was sure Glorfindel was drunk. Elves, unlike humans, rarely have "middle names." But then, I was drunk as well, and the concept of the aforementioned name filled me with regret. I had never had one. I almost wished I had. Ah, but what did that matter? I was Lord of Imladris. I could always make up a middle name that I found pleasing.
"My name..." I declared solemnly, raising my cup, "is Elrond... Priscilla... the Bitch!"
As the technical, though not quite so polite, form of the term for a female canine escaped my drunken lips, my chief advisors stared. Looking back on this episode... how embarrassing. I shall never live it down.
However, right then I drained my cup and fell backwards into my chair, laughing uproariously at their blank expressions. Only to sit bolt upright a moment later. "Where are Arwen and Aragorn?" I asked.
"Well, I'm not quite certain, my Lord." Erestor and Glorfindel both slowly indicated that they did not know, clearly still in shock over my answer to their query.
"No idea, Ada." Elladan and Elrohir shook their heads with more force than was necessary, their long hair flinging about their shoulders. Legolas was asleep once more. I thought it for the best. Had he stayed awake much longer he might well have done an injury to his little blonde self.
I left my seat and wandered the hall, asking everyone I met the same question and growing increasingly anxious. "Where is Arwen? Has anyone seen Arwen? Anyone at all?" No one had. I was becoming desperate when Lindir approached me.
"I saw her, my Lord. She was leaving the hall with Estel."
My eyes darkened. Aragorn. I should have known. "Which way did they go?"
"They appeared to be headed in the direction of the gardens."
"Thank you, Lindir." I quickly left the hall and made my way in the direction Lindir had pointed me, leaving the musician to sing some amusing little ditty about rabbits to the children while strumming his lute to a hop-skip beat. I suspicioned that he was mocking me.
Walking quickly but quietly through the passages of Imladris, I paused at a four-way juncture. Which way would take me to the gardens most swiftly? I was about to choose when a soft noise sounded from a nearby linen closet. It sounded suspiciously like a smothered giggle.
I was reaching for the door handle, murder in my eyes, when a low, grating voice stopped me in place.
"Elrond, old friend. We need to talk."
I winced. "Mae govannion, Gandalf. Still popping out of nowhere and stepping dramatically out of the shadows, I see."
The wizard was not amused. "Sarcastic as ever, my friend. I forbid you to ever wonder where Elladan gets it from. I repeat, we urgently need to talk. I bring gravely important news. I have just returned from Minas Tirith, and –"
"Can this not wait?" I asked impatiently, again reaching for the handle. "I have matters of my own to attend to which are really quite pressing, and –"
Losing his fragile temper, Gandalf stamped a heavily booted foot. "No, it cannot wait, you infernal Elf! This matter concerns the fate of the world as we know it!"
I could not resist. "You have put on more weight?" I asked innocently.
The wizard looked ready to kill. "Not even funny, old friend, not even funny. That ring of Bilbo's is the Ring of Power! Isildur's Bane! Sauron's weapon of mass destruction, the genuine article!" He paused to take a few heavy breaths. "Therefor, I believe that this matter is indeed more important than whatever is on the other side of that door, Lord Elrond."
I stared at him. "You've been smoking."
"Yes, and you've been drinking. That does not mean that I am not right."
Curse him.
"Well, I am off, to Isengard by the fastest road. I shall seek the council of Saruman the White, head of my –"
"Yes, yes, head of your order. I know." I suddenly felt as if a great weight was descending upon me. Slowly. Suffocatingly. Painfully.
Gandalf gave a curt nod. "I will keep you posted. Farewell!" And the old man was gone as quickly as he had come.
I swear, it is his sole purpose in life to worry me into an ulcer.
The eye twitch had returned, faster and harder than ever. I wrenched open the closet door. Arwen and Aragorn stared out at me, their eyes wide as racoons' when caught in the lantern beam in the dead of night.
Arwen's hair was mussed. Aragorn's tunic as unbuttoned. My little girl smiled angelically. "Good evening, Ada! Just dusting out the cobwebs in this little closet, here. Mustn't have dirty linens, must we?"
I wanted none of it.
"Alright, kids, time to clear out. Adar needs some alone time." Shoving my flabbergasted children out into the hall I stepped into the closet and barricaded myself inside. As the day's built-up tensions and frustrations came to a peak inside and began to boil over, a hysteric sob escaped my lips. They would never find me in here! Elflings, arrows, drunken children, rabbits, wizards, overly affectionate loving couples, the end of the world – it could all occur outside. I was safe now in my little hole.
I could vaguely hear Arwen and Aragorn conference in the passage outside.
"What could be the matter, do you think?" Arwen asked in wonder.
"I know not." Aw, how sweet. After all, Aragorn was worried for me. But I still was not coming out. "Perhaps we should tell Erestor and Glorfindel?"
"No, probably not. I suspect he'll come out on his own in an hour or two."
"Are you sure? Perhaps we should..."
"Trust me, Estel darling. Oh! I just remembered! Would you like to come up to my rooms for a bit? I've done some redecorating that I'm sure you'll just love!"
As their footsteps receded, I felt a small something hit me between the eyes. It turned out to be a spider. Plucking it off, I absently let it run across my hands. "Please bite me," I told it conversationally. "Please be poisonous."
And so do you find me even now, ensconced in a pitch dark closet, playing with a spider that has yet to bite me. Not that I want it to do so now, you understand... I would like to think that I have recovered most of my sensibilities... but I do suppose that I should deign to come out soon. I have, after all, been in here for quite a while, and someone is bound to need and come looking for me sooner or later. Such is the life of a ruler.
I leave you on this note. Whatever you may choose to think of me after this tale is through is still, of course, your own decision... but perhaps now you might have a different perspective on the "stuffy" Lord of Rivendell.
Oh, curse it all! It bit me!
O.O.O.O.O
The End
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(2nd) Author's Note: Thanks to Vanessa for the whole name thing. Love you, 'Nessa, and let's make a point to never forget that fish, okay? (Sorry... inside joke...) But now the story lost its K+ rating... (pout) I hope it was worth it, 'Nessa. The things I do for you...