I Did WHAT!, a lord of the rings fanfic

I Did WHAT?!

Disclaimer: really, not mine. No, seriously. I own videos/DVDs, books and movie soundtracks, but NOT THE CHARACTERS. Do I make myself clear? Inescapably? Good.

A/N: do not even consider reading this if you have not yet read 'Inebriation in Mirkwood', as this is a DIRECT SEQUEL to that fic (well, I suppose you could get away with not reading it, but I doubt it would be half as funny)

Author thanks: to all you wonderful people who read and reviewed Inebriation in Mirkwood – I've got over 100 reviews!!!!

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Glorfindel, second-in-command Elf-lord of Imladris, was making his way along the halls of the Last Homely House. He was on his way to the study of Lord Elrond Half-Elven, the one in charge of the valley. Glorfindel was extremely confused with regard to the reasons for his being summoned; he could think of no recent misdeed of his, whether accidental or deliberate. After all, I have yet to wreak my true revenge on those two little horrors of his.

He reached the study and knocked twice, sharply.

"Come in."

He did. He was surprised to see Elrond wide-eyed and extremely panicked. What mischief have the twins partaken in this time?

"Glorfindel, mellon nîn, I can trust you to be completely honest with me, can I not?"

Glorfindel tilted his golden head to one side, regarding the lord of Imladris quizzically. "You can. Why? You would doubt my integrity?"

Elrond shook his head firmly. "Never. All I need is…information."

"On what?"

Elrond tugged frantically at the ends of his long, dark hair and leaned in close to his friend, squeezing Glorfindel's shoulders tightly, eyes desperately pleading. "Tell me what happened in Mirkwood!"

Ah. So that was what this was all about. Glorfindel placed his hands over Elrond's wrists and gently but firmly removed the Peredhel's hands from his shoulders. "Why?"

Elrond's face blossomed into a deep shade of tomato red and he buried it in his hands as he perched himself precariously on the edge on his cluttered desk, moaning in despair.

Erestor will not be pleased, thought Glorfindel wryly. He spent a whole two days tidying that desk while we were in Mirkwood. We have been back less than three days and it is already messier than it was before we left!

Elrond raised his head. "Because I have no memory whatsoever of the celebration feast," he confessed in a whisper.

"I see." Glorfindel struggled to maintain a straight face – he was dying to laugh. "Perhaps we could start with the simple fact that you had entirely too much wine to drink, without interspersing it with water." He knew he was lecturing, but somehow he was unable to help it – something to do with Elrond's twin hellions, he supposed. When in doubt, blame the twins. "The wine in Mirkwood is rather more potent than that of Imladris. Therefore those with no built-up tolerance to it will get drunker, faster. Like you did."

"How – how much did I have?" asked Elrond nervously.

"Definitely seven glasses. It could have been eight – I began to lose track."

The words spoken by Elrond at this point were unrepeatable in decent company. The kind of words the twins were desperate to learn, naturally.

Glorfindel winced.

Elrond ceased his outburst and his face returned to its normal colour. "And – and what did I do while I was drunk?"

Glorfindel sighed. "Where should I start?"

The expression on Elrond's face clearly displayed his fear at what the Balrog slayer was about to reveal. He had not exaggerated his complete lack of recollection of events. Definitely a sign that I had too much wine. "The feast. I remember up to the point where my chair collapsed. I also recall being highly embarrassed – especially considering the earlier…" He paused, thinking of the best way to verbalise his thoughts and memories.

"Domino effect?" supplied Glorfindel helpfully.

"Yes. That. Now tell me: what did I do?"

Glorfindel silently pleaded with the Valar – not that they usually listened to him – to give him the strength to get through this. Preferably without laughing.

Or dying from complete and utter shame.

The latter of these two options would appear to be the most likely possibility at this point in time.

The Balrog slayer took a deep breath in preparation. "You got extremely drunk. At the feast you very swiftly succumbed to very loud and violent hiccups – although it took several glasses of wine before any effect was noticeable. Presumably it was the cumulative quantity of alcohol in your blood."

"Please spare me the lecture of the intricacies of alcohol absorption. Continue."

"You then succeeded in drenching yourself by pouring the entire contents of a near-full pitcher of water over your best robes."

"So that explains their wetness," muttered Elrond to himself. "Whoops."

"Then Lindir suggested some singing, to add to the festivities." Silently Glorfindel vowed to wreak his revenge upon said Elf for the suggestion. Oh, he would feel the full extent of the wrath of a Balrog slayer. He did not mention this to Elrond. "You interrupted Haldir's song."

Elrond, perhaps wisely, moved from the edge of his desk to a nearby chair. "What did I sing?" he moaned.

Glorfindel forced his face to maintain a strictly not-amused-at-all expression. "A version of a Periannath drinking song, I do believe," he replied.

Elrond stared desperately at him. "The – the whole thing?" he asked faintly.

"Fortunately not. You were interrupted."

"How?"

There was a momentary pause as Glorfindel swallowed a snicker. Must not laugh. Must not laugh! "Haldir, who was most aggrieved at being interrupted, threw water over you."

Elrond squawked in horror.

"Then," continued the Balrog slayer, getting fully into the swing of things and beginning to enjoy himself, "you began to make an announcement but forgot what you were going to say, halfway into the first – and only – sentence."

Elrond at least had the decency to turn pink.

"Then you agreed to leave the room. You staggered across it, with my assistance. Partway, you fell and pulled me down with you."

"Whoops," the Half-Elf whispered.

"Once we were in the corridor, you again attempted to sing. Worry not!" Glorfindel breezily added. "I managed to dissuade you from doing so."

Elrond buried his burning face in his hands again. "I almost fear what else is to come."

"Do you wish me to leave it there?"

"No; tell me all. It is better that I know the truth from one whom I trust, and one that I also know will not inform my wife."

A wicked smirk crossed Glorfindel's face; Elrond would surely deserve whatever punishment Celebrían saw fit to deal out.

No, he decided. That would be too cruel. He suffers enough at the hands of his children. And he has Lady Galadriel for a mother-in-law. I must be kind to him.

"Glorfindel?" Elrond looked like the twins when they had been caught playing with dangerous weapons – terrified.

Glorfindel took a deep breath. "You believed a statue to be your wife and attempted to dance with it."

"I did WHAT?!"

Glorfindel's hands flew to his ears to protect them from his friend's horrified wail, wincing.

Elrond, meanwhile, groaned in despair, head completely buried in his arms and face as red as it could possibly go.

"I pulled you away from it, but Queen Olwen appeared when you and I were in what could be perceived as a rather compromising position," continued the Balrog slayer, his own face turning slightly pink at that particular memory.

But Elrond did not appear to have heard him. Instead he was sitting, face hidden, moaning in desperation, "I danced with a statue. I danced with a statue. I danced with a statue. I danced with a statue. I danced with a statue…" over and over again.

Realising that he would clearly get no sense out of Elrond for a good while, Glorfindel briefly placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder before silently slipping out of the study.

Elrond's behaviour towards him the morning after the celebration feast could wait for another time.

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END
Elvish translations:

Periannath – Halflings

Peredhel – Half-Elf

mellon nîn – my friend