"Elrooooond", a low pitched but feminine voice called in the head of Rivendell's master.
"I so detest it when you invade my privacy this way, Galadriel", Elrond thought. He was kneeling deep in the soil weeding his herb garden, a task of utmost importance for a great healer such as him.
"I could by rights declare myself the High Queen of the Exilic Deep Elves and make you my chambermaid, frilly dresses and all. And it would be trivial to make you eager to try it, even from this distance. So you will endure my presence in your quaint little mind."
"Yes, I understand, your resplendency", Elrond thought. He rose, gave his trowel to an attendant and wiped his moldy hands on his robe. It was getting cold for the time of the year, so he walked inside.
"You know very well I enjoy all flattery even when served sardonically", Galadriel said and murmured with satisfaction. "Especially from you, oh wise among the wise. But to the matter at hand..."
"I know, the Ring has been destroyed. Vilya lost its power a moment ago and Imladris is already getting gloomy."
Galadriel send a sound at was between belittling a snort and disappointed a wail. Elrond chuckled and sat down on a divan near the fire.
"Now your grandson gets to take your brother's throne", Galadriel said. "Was it worth keeping your daughter-my granddaughter-locked in the cellar for all these centuries?"
Elrond didn't consciously answer, but Galadriel could see the Half-Elf's mind beam with satisfaction.
"What will you do when your pet ranger dies early and the ruse is revealed?" Galadriel asked. "No need to be coy. We both know he was merely another of the northern middle-man savages you liked to keep around, to tell tall tales to about lost heritages. Will you assassinate him when his son becomes of age so no one will see him grow 'prematurely' old? Or will you do like they did with that half-blood Eldacar and have his son pretend to be him to mask the deficiency in longevity? It's not like they can read their own records in Gondor anymore."
"Nothing so crude. You see, over this age, while you played queen in your forest realm, I perfected the treatment of Men. And I got my hands on the new king when he was but a child. Thanks to my administrations, Aragorn will live long beyond the scope of his common forebears. Everything will be just as the tradition concerning Kings of Númenórë dictates. And then the blessing in my grandson's blood will keep the line prosperous afterwards."
"Clever, in a way. Though, wouldn't it have been easier to let either of your sons take the crown centuries ago? Both of them are nephews of good old Elros, after all. Maybe this whole wreck with Sauron's re-emergence could have been avoided."
"You lack understanding in Mannish politics. They need theatrics and desperation to accept changes without instinctively rebelling. Usurpation during Sauron's final offensive was truly the only way."
"I will accept your wisdom in this matter. What do I know of Men, being merely a full-blooded princess of the most prestigious Elven lineage? Maybe I'd understand if either my grandfather had been an Atan vagrant dragged in by the tide, instead of kings of Calaquendi."
"Do I have to remind you of the mother of my grandfather Dior?" Elrond asked.
"No need. I'd just remind you of the boor that was his father. But anyway, what was the point of this scheme? You know they will just start worshiping Morgoth again in a millennium. No need to look in the Mirror for that. Oh, by the way, did I ever tell you about how I met Him back in Valinor? Rude fellow, but oh, wasn't He handsome in His radiant might. Ah, to see Him flex His translucent amorphous splendor again. And the tingling intangible touch, oh my! Makes a lady blush remembering."
Despite his best efforts to shield against it, Elrond recoiled from the images sent to his mind and he felt the need to employ Círdan's transport services diminish considerably.