DISCLAIMER: I don't own LOTR or the Elves in this story, they all belong to Mr. Tolkien.
This story is pure silliness involving three of my favorite Elves that I came up with on a whim. I will try to update as much as I can, but please understand I am a poor college student with more projects than free time. Also, reviews are much appreciated! : )
T.A. 1975
For many days, rain had fallen over the small town of Aglarin in the kingdom of Arthedain. Wayward travelers and soldiers returning home following the Battle of Fornost had to take refuge in the town's inn as the lowlands flooded, making it near impossible to journey onward.
It was not a horrid discomfort though, the inn itself was spacious, with three stories and plenty of fireplaces to ward off the coming winter chill. The place itself was clean; the beds were comfortable and smelled slightly of lavender. There was never a time when the place did not smell of roasting meat, freshly baked bread or apple pastries; in a sense, it had every comfort one could ask for.
It was on a particularly cold evening where the rain was sometimes flaked with snow that three tall, cloaked travelers with hoods obscuring their faces and drenched from the downpour wandered into the inn. The main fireplace was alight and those gathered in the dining area were clanking their mugs and drumming their hands and feet, keeping time with the lively music played by the innkeeper's three daughters.
It was quite crowded, and many of the men inside were easily recognizable as former soldiers as they wore brigandines, war tunics and vambraces emblazoned with Númenorean crests. The three that just came through the door arrived like many of the others had with swords on their waists, saddlebags over their shoulders and light reflecting off plates of armor. However, if one were to have taken a closer look they would have seen that the armor the three wore were not the solid steel plates favored by men, but rather of interlocking lames with faint patterns of leaves and stars etched into them.
The foremost figure —the smallest of the three— stepped forward as the portly innkeeper did and inquired about the availability of a room in a voice that was altogether otherworldly. "I've got one left that will suit you just fine," the innkeeper replied and went to fetch the appropriate room key from behind the counter that also served as the inn's bar. "Would you like some food and hot water sent up to you?"
"Yes!" the tallest figure in a dark green-blue traveling cloak answered enthusiastically.
The innkeeper smiled kindly and motioned for one of his three daughters. Obviously knowing what her father wanted, she quickly disappeared into the kitchens. The innkeeper then led them to a wide staircase across the length of the room from the bar and to the second floor.
"Right here you are sirs," he said as he unlocked the door, which was the third one down the narrow corridor and opened it for them. "I do hope it is to your liking."
The tallest went in first, closely followed one that had spoken to him earlier. The third, in a heavy cloak of blue-black, hung back for several moments before he too went into the room, only to linger close by the door.
The room itself was rather quaint with scrubbed wooden floors, walls and ceiling. There were homemade quilts of different patterns and colors on the four narrow beds and a small watercolor of a flowering field hung over the tiny, unlit fireplace. A small desk sat before the only window to the room, which the tallest figure now looked out.
"The room is...sufficient," the one in the blue-black answered the innkeeper tartly.
"More than sufficient," the smallest said quickly after dropping the saddlebags he carried onto the floor by one of the beds. "We shall be most comfortable here."
The innkeeper bobbed his head in gratitude. "If you all need anything there's a bell pull by the fireplace there, or just ask one of my daughters or me."
He shut the door quietly, leaving the three in the room. Once they were certain the innkeeper was out of earshot, the smallest figure hissed in the elven tongue.
"The room is sufficient?" he questioned his darkly robed companion. "Honestly Erestor, it was you whom was complaining about being out in the rain; this ought to be more than 'sufficient' even for you."
"Being stuck out in the freezing rain was the least of my complaints if you can recall correctly Lindir." Erestor threw back his damp hood revealing a pale face with broad cheekbones and grey eyes that were nearly black.
"I remember you yelling about a lot of things really," the tallest had now pulled off his cloak and laid it on the chair tucked beneath the desk with his bag, revealing his sodden, golden glory. "It was quite hard to make out just bothered you really. Yet we are now out of the rain, able to rest comfortably and enjoy a nice meal, honestly what is left to complain about?"
Erestor harrumphed, "If you think this will make up for everything that has happened you are sorely mistaken."
"It wasn't that bad," Glorfindel dismissed with a wave of his gloved hand.
"Wasn't that bad? Wasn't that bad!" Erestor nearly shouted, taking several quick strides towards the golden elf with his hand tightly gripping the sword hilt at his side. "It was not bad that we were separated from our army and nearly drowned in the lowlands? I suppose it was a good thing when we went over forty miles in the wrong direction because you saw fit to take directions from a squirrel."
Glorfindel had put his hands up in a defensive manner, hoping to ward off the angry advisor as he advanced towards him with murder in his eyes. "I admit I might have misunderstood what he said, my squirrel dialect is a little rusty."
This only propelled Erestor into another rant about the idiocy of Vanya elves and squirrels, one that was quite similar to those Lindir had listened to since becoming separated from the rest of the Imladris army. Unlike those tongue-lashings the advisor dealt the Balrog Slayer in Imladris, there was no window to shut or music to play which could drown the shouts. Luckily, Lindir had quickly learned to turn a deaf ear, and turned his attention away from the other two occupants.
Despite Erestor's voice gaining pitch, Lindir hummed a tune and went about pulling necessities from his saddlebag. He placed a fine comb on the small table beside two of the beds and laid out a set of spare clothes. Lindir then pulled off his cloak, took off his armor and changed into the dry clothes.
Erestor had yet to cease, and there were a few times Glorfindel tried to stammer out a response. For a moment, Lindir found it difficult to believe the elf that was bending backwards over the desk in a feeble attempt to distance himself from Erestor was the same elf that had taken on a Balrog. Moreover, this same elf had chased the dreaded Witch King of Angmar out of Arthedain only days earlier.
Ilúvatar help them if Erestor ever decided to join the thrall left by Sauron.
A feint knock at the door finally silenced Erestor, and the advisor put on a look that told the other two, in no uncertain terms, 'I'm not answering it'. Glorfindel —who appeared positively relieved by this distraction— took the opportunity to slip around the dark elf and throw open the door.
It was difficult for any of them to judge the age of humans, for they aged far more rapidly than they did, but the girl at the door appeared to have just now reached her majority. Her face was clean and unblemished, and stray locks of chestnut colored hair peeked from beneath a ruffled cap. She first appeared timid, for she surely heard all the shouting, but now her face held a look of amazement as she gazed upon the elves in the room.
The one whom had opened the door held her attention the longest. Despite his hair being damp, the long strands appeared to have been spun from gold. Even in her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined a face more handsome, nor could she tear her eyes away from his, which were colored an unearthly blue. The other two had hair that seemed darker than black with grey eyes and pale faces. Though they were both beautiful beyond reasoning, they did not match the splendor of their companion in her mind.
"Ah!" The golden elf reached forward, taking the pitcher of steaming water and clean towels from the girl who appeared to have forgotten the reason she was there. "Many thanks to you, lady."
Even his voice was majestic! He spoke to her in words she understood, but his accent was strange. It did not matter though; it was music to her ears. The girl felt her cheeks turn red as she fought to find her own voice.
"You're welcome," she barely managed to squeak. "Your food will be brought momentarily."
Glorfindel raised a brow as the girl remained in the doorway staring at him. When he was certain there was no one close by bringing their food he began to fidget. Though he, like his companions, had grown used to the stares their kind received from the race of Men, this one was slightly disturbing. This man-woman was looking at him as if she wished to devour him whole.
Not knowing what else to do, Glorfindel took a step back and slowly closed the door in the girl's face.
Lindir sniggered slightly as Glorfindel leaned against the door and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. Erestor himself seemed to find the situation amusing as his scowling face relaxed into his usual austere countenance.
However, they stood still and did not speak for several long minutes; the girl —they sensed— remained outside their door. Finally, her footsteps drifted slowly down the corridor and they relaxed.
"Strange little thing," Lindir commented lowly as he bent to light the kindling gathered in the fireplace.
"They're all strange," Erestor harrumphed as he dropped his bags onto a bed and stripped off his cloak. "As soon as the way is clear I suggest we leave."
"As you wish, my Lord." Glorfindel gave a mocking bow, with one hand extended and the other over his chest while still holding the pitcher and towels. "I would not dare keep you in such 'sufficient' surroundings any longer than necessary."
"I'm serious Glorfindel!" Erestor retaliated by throwing his damp cloak at the Vanya. "I do not want to return to Imladris and face the fury of Lord Elrond's eyebrows as we try to explain to him why we are not with our company."
The other two blanched at the thought of returning home with Elrond standing on the front step with hands on hips and tapping his foot; all the while giving them the infamous glare that would have struck fear into the heart of Sauron himself. The three of them had important duties to perform which kept the Last Homely House functioning properly; Lord Elrond did not like taking all of those responsibilities onto himself, nor did he like distributing them to lesser elves. The longer they were away the more likely things were to go awry, which meant more work once they got back.
Erestor was already imagining the paperwork piling on his desk while Glorfindel dreaded the chaos Elladan and Elrohir would evoke as they tried to lead the Imladris guard in his stead. Lindir may have had it easier than his companions, but he was horrified of what kind of experience all their guests would have without him being there. No one back in Imladris had any taste; they'd probably be singing Dwarvish songs in the Hall of Fire and serving that awful Woodland wine at dinner for all he knew!
"It is agreed then, as soon as the path through the lowlands is passable, we leave this place at once." For once Lindir and Erestor were in complete agreement with Glorfindel. The sooner they got out of there the better.
Unfortunately, they would soon have far more reasons to flee Arthedain than just for the workload piling up in Imladris.