Chapter 7

Glorfindel peered around the back-kitchen door before slowly creeping his way inside. He kept a low profile as he ducked, covered, and rolled behind the worktables, stoves, and columns, hoping to avoid the attention of a certain Elf.

Despite his slight frame and delicate features, Lindir was a force to be reckoned with if he felt his domain was being encroached upon. Glorfindel had been reminded of that earlier in the afternoon when he had been gathering his supplies needed for the night. Lindir could wield a rolling pin with deadly accuracy if he chose to do so.

He managed to slip down into the wine cellar without notice and immediately grabbed a bottle blueberry wine off one of the racks. He held it under his arm as he browsed the selection, reading over the labels before finally selecting one made from apples and pears. Glorfindel pulled it off the shelf and turned, only to slam into the velvet robes of Elrond Peredhil.

"Lord Glorfindel," Elrond greeted with a frown as he stood with his hands on his hips.

"Lord Elrond!" Glorfindel startled, blanching at the sight of the Elf lord. "What a…pleasant surprise!"

"Where is Ereiniel?" he asked. Elrond was clearly not happy from his glowering expression and stared at Glorfindel as if deciding whether or not he should be thrown from the highest waterfall.

"Um," he started, shrinking back. He felt as if his very existence depended upon how he answered the question. "She's…well, I haven't seen her."

"Haven't seen her?" Elrond was clearly unconvinced as he glanced at the bottle of blueberry wine in Glorfindel's hand. It was one of Ereiniel's favorites.

"Well, not recently."

"Uh, huh."

"But I know she's somewhere nearby."

"Somewhere?" Elrond questioned with a raised brow. "As in the near vicinity?"

"Y—yes," Glorfindel replied with a bit of reluctance. "Maybe."

"She's down in the Bluebell Woods, isn't she?" Glorfindel's eyes widened, wondering how in all of seven Voids Elrond figured it out, til he remembered he was wearing the crown Ereiniel made. He silently cursed himself.

"Oh for Aman's sake Elrond!" Glorfindel replied with a sigh. "You know she hates matters of diplomacy and feels like she said and did everything wrong afterwards. I simply brought her there to unwind."

"The fact Ereiniel did not join the feast is not the issue," Elrond replied. "There are a thousand excuses one could make if someone asks why the High Princess of the Noldor is unable to attend at the last moment. No, what I have an issue with is that she is out there, with you. Alone."

"What is the worst that could happen, Elrond?" Glorfindel asked, popping open his wine bottle. He suddenly felt like he needed a drink. "I mean, besides the fact we could elope. Which isn't all that likely, she has refused every time I have asked her."

Elrond sucked in a deep breath and loudly blew it out through his nose.

"Although we almost did after Gwathló a couple of years ago," he continued, taking a swig from his bottle while waving his other hand dismissively. "You know how it is after a battle, your emotions are still running high, and you suddenly want to do everything that you hadn't done before because you weren't sure you would survive, and I really wanted to run away with her to a place where no one would find us for about a year."

Elrond's face went blood red while the golden Elf remained oblivious.

"Speaking of which, did you ever write that letter to Lady Celebrián?"

"Don't try to turn this around on me—" Elrond started.

"You didn't, did you?" Glorfindel gasped and dramatically clutched his chest. "I'm shocked! I was quite certain after all those endless days of besiegement, fearing that Sauron's forces would break through our defenses and send us all straight to Lord Mandos' halls at any moment, that you would have sent your declaration of love with a messenger accompanied by the finest minstrels when the day was won!"

"Glorfindel, I'm warning you—"

"Come Peredhil!" he said, flinging his arm around Elrond's shoulders, almost bashing his lord in the face with the bottle of blueberry wine. "It is a miserable affair to wallow in unrequited love! We must remedy this at once! Let us procure our friend Erestor in this task, for his way with words is unrivaled in these lands, and together we shall create a missive that will surely win you the fair lady's heart!"

Elrond tried to shove the Balrog Slayer away from him, but the Vanya held fast as he ushered him to ascend the cellar stairwell with him.

"It is a shame Elrond, that you have yet to experience love's pleasures," Glorfindel continued, taking swigs from his bottle. "Just the simple joys of being in the presence of your beloved, hearing their voice, kissing their lips, and just feeling their soft skin against yours as you—"

Elrond let loose a strangled cry as he lunged for Glorfindel's throat, yet the golden Elf instinctively sidestepped the attack and watched as the Lord of Imladris sailed headfirst over the railing and landed with a painful thump on the floor. Elrond was flailing on the ground, his limbs tangled in his voluminous robes, as Glorfindel pranced up the stairs out of harm's way.

"Do forgive me Lord Elrond, I promise I shall not forget to release you upon the morrow," he said, his head visible around the doorframe as his hand clutched the door. "I am only doing this for my beloved Ereiniel's sake."

"Glorfindel!" Elrond shouted as the Vanya slammed the cellar door and bolted it.

He took a celebratory drink from his bottle, thinking to himself how easy it was to play on one's emotions. He would need to pay closer attention to Erestor more often.

Glorfindel left the kitchen in much the same manner as he entered, crossed the moonlit kitchen garden, and effortlessly mounted Asfaloth, who had unfortunately found Lindir's herb patch. No matter, Glorfindel thought, any horse could have kicked the gate open and devoured whatever was there.

Besides, he had more important concerns. The High Princess was anticipating his return and he had kept her waiting long enough.