Snowballs
by Ithiliel Silverquill
I honestly did not mean for this to happen. Honestly. On my word. None of this was intentional or premeditated. Please, please, please do not kill me.
I was just heading down to get a cup of tea from Meretheryn. I was planning on a cup of my winter tea... thick with spices and cream, just the way I like it when the weather gets chilly. I had been in the middle of a particularly frustrating Quenya translation, and I was eager to relax with a calming cup of tea. I wasn't imposing on anyone. I wasn't planning attacks on anyone. Not even Glorfindel, even though he put soap in my oatmeal again this morning. I was not, at that moment, planning any sort of revenge.
I could hear Elladan and Elrohir bickering in the hallway. Now, I do not mind Elladan and Elrohir. They are wonderful children, as far as children go, but I was in no mood to become entangled in a conversation with them. Certainly not to break up a fight. Nothing against them, I just wasn't in the mood.
So instead of heading down the main hallway, I chose to go back to my room, secure my scarf and cloak, and take a slight detour through the courtyard. The courtyard is lovely this time of year, with the thick blanket of pure white snow, and so I wasn't in the least bit perturbed by the inconvenience. I didn't even take it as an inconvenience, really.
Now, here is where things became a bit... difficult. I was deep in thought, admiring the lovely scenery and thinking about my spiced cream tea. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was hit in the back of the head by a snowball! It was big and cold and completely unexpected. If I hadn't remembered my scarf I would have had cold melted snow running down the inside of my tunic.
Even here I was not overly upset. Surprised, certainly, but not homicidal. Perhaps a bit irritated, but nothing unreasonable. So, retaining my capability for rational speech and thought, I turned to face my assailant with complete calm.
"Who threw that snowball?" I asked. My voice was neither harsh nor high-pitched. My demeanor was calm and rational in every way.
I heard giggling—yes, giggling—coming from behind one of the trees. It was an inane, childish giggle. One I know very well. Of course, my attacker did not give me even a single polite word of response.
Yet I did not need a verbal answer to identify my adversary. Years of dealing with similar immature behavior from this specific individual had taught me to recognize even the slightest hint of his presence.
...No, I did not see him hiding behind the tree. He did not give me the slightest hint of his presence. However, if he had, I would have known it immediately.
Anyway, to return to my tale... in contrast to the rude treatment I had received from this person, I acted with dignity and perfect reason. I was neither accusatory nor overly harsh.
"Glorfindel, I know that was you!" I called. Well... perhaps I was a bit accusatory... but it was nothing beyond the bounds of reason. I did not take advantage of the element of surprise or attempt to deal with my adversary in an underhanded manner.
"Hello, Erestor," Glorfindel answered. Was he apologetic? No. Was he concerned? No. Was he embarrassed at his display of inexcusably immature behavior? Not in the least. He acted completely innocent and cheerful.
However, as he had not yet dared to even come out of his little hiding-place, I was forced to become a bit sterner. Note that I was still thinking perfectly clearly. My thoughts did not consist of torture by blunt instruments, angry Wargs, or even Lindir singing a particularly long ballad. It would take something drastic to make me lose my temper. It is a rare occurrence, and one that I thankfully do not have that much of a problem with.
...Glorfindel, that snort was unnecessary. Pray carry yourself with more dignity. Elf-lords do not snort.
At any rate, I retained my self-control. "Glorfindel, I am not amused," I said. "Come out here and explain yourself." My tone was only as sharp as I deemed necessary.
He stepped out from behind the tree, an expression on his face of guilt and glee. You know, the kind of expression you saw on Elladan's face the last time he tripped Elrohir and caused him to fall in a mud-puddle. The expression that says I meant to do that and I am not sorry in the least. He did not answer me verbally—he let that expression speak for itself.
"Why did you throw a snowball at the back of my head?" I asked. A perfectly rational, understandable question.
He grinned and tilted his head to one side. I could see the mischief in his face. "Come now, Ress, there's no need to be grumpy," he said. "It was only a snowball."
"I am not being grumpy," I responded. And I wasn't grumpy. Annoyed, perhaps, but not grumpy. "But I am most certainly not in the mood to be target practice for immature Elf-lords with nothing better to do than throw snowballs at innocent passers-by!"
He rolled his eyes—yes, just like he's doing now! —and laughed at me.
Now, you know me to be both calm and rational. I deal with trying situations in as levelheaded and serene a manner as could be expected of any Elf. Not that I am perfect, by any means, but I do take caution to not let my temper get the better of me.
However, I am not perfect. And that is why I beg your apology.
Rational thought left me. Frustration and annoyance and Glorfindel are not the best combination in the world, at least not today. Without pausing to consider the possible consequences of my actions, I bent and formed the biggest, coldest snowball I have ever made. Taking only a second to aim, I threw it right at Glorfindel.
A bit of a reminder: I am not a warrior. I am an advisor. My aim is less than perfect, and my reflexes are hardly equal to Glorfindel's. I am not sorry that I threw that snowball—Glorfindel would have deserved a face-full of snow.
I am sorry, though, that he ducked. And that the snowball missed him completely. And that you got a face-full of snow instead.
Elrond, please do not slay me. I beg your forgiveness, and I promise that in the future I will either ignore Glorfindel completely or find some calmer way of dealing with my temper. My behavior was inexcusable, but I know you to be a kind and merciful lord, and I give you my solemn word that it will not happen again.
...Glorfindel, stop laughing. This is all your fault anyway.
...Lord Elrond, why are you laughing?
...No, Glorfindel, I do not look ridiculous when I'm angry. At least not as ridiculous as you would look with a black eye! And yes, you may take that as a threat!
...Oh, for pity's sake, I give up. I had expected more rational behavior from you, Lord Elrond, but now I just give up. Children will be children, that was what Ammë always told me, and I believe it.
I'm going down to the kitchen now to get a mug of spiced cream tea. If I cannot get sane conversation out of those around me, I will simply continue my translation work. Even the most difficult Quenya is easier to deal with than you two are when you start laughing at me.
...Oh, let go of me, Glorfindel! No, I will not cheer up! I refuse to cheer up! I am having a bad day and you are making it worse!
...Of course I forgive you, Glor, it's just...
...Oh, very well. I'll go on a walk with you to cool down as long as you don't throw snow at me. Or involve the twins. Or drop an icicle down my tunic.
...No, I'm not mad at you, Glorfindel. It's impossible to be angry with you for very long. There, are you satisfied? Now go get your scarf and cloak before we go on a walk. I don't care if you are a reincarnated half-Vanya; you're not going anywhere without proper wintertime attire. Off you go, then.
...All right, Elrond, on the count of three...one... no, no make your snowball bigger than that... two... three!
...Oh, Valar, run!
...Don't you just love winter?