Chapter 19

"Of course it will have to take place in Imladris," Erestor said as he glared at Glorfindel. They had done nothing but argue about their plans for Elrond's engagement and wedding since they got there. Some points were more inane than others. "You can't expect a ruling Lord to have his wedding anywhere but his own realm."

"I think you are dismissing Lord Celeborn's capabilities," Glorfindel retorted. "If he is anything remotely like the High King he will do all he can to delay the nuptials. He could easily make the location a condition that Elrond will have to abide by. We could find ourselves hauling banquet tables up to Caradhras or hanging garlands in Dwarrowdelf."

"Not if they are already here," Erestor said, furiously pointing at the ground. "If Lord Elrond asks for Celebrían's hand and she accepts, there is nothing Lord Celeborn can do if they are wed shortly after that."

"So what you're saying is that when we get Lady Celebrían here and Elrond asks her to marry him, we have the wedding immediately afterward?" he asked with a raised brow. Erestor nodded.

"Precisely! Then nothing can be done, no one can interject, and Lord Celeborn will have to abide by his daughter's decision," Erestor said with a half grin on his face. "Of course he will no doubt be furious for a couple of hundred years, but once his grandchildren are born I am confident that all will be forgiven and forgotten."

"So the plan is to get Lady Celebrían here, sing Elrond's praises for a few weeks, and then when he proposes we have the wedding," Glorfindel said with a raised brow.

"Four weeks should be sufficient time for her to fall in love with Elrond," Erestor said. "Of course we shall have to prepare a wedding on top of everything else, but I am confident that you, Lindir, and I can manage."

"Of course we can, and I've already planned and executed several weddings myself," Glorfindel said with no small measure of pride.

"You can't equate your play weddings as experience," Erestor said, recalling the Vanya's days as a playwright and theater director in Gondolin.

"I helped both Ecthelion and Idril with their weddings," he retorted. "They wanted everyone to have a good time and I was the only fun person they knew."

"You were certainly an out of place character weren't you?" Erestor responded, unfazed by Glorfindel's revelation. It was not hard to picture him helping to pick out cutlery, flowers, or a wedding dress.

"Turgon was a boring person who kept boring friends," Glorfindel admitted, recalling how the King, Ecthelion, Galdor, Salgant, and Rog would prefer to sit for hours on end and discuss all manner of subjects. Glorfindel could never sit still that long. "Had I not been his brother-in-law I would have been counted amongst Fingon's retainers. They knew how to have a good time."

"Getting back to Elrond's wedding," Erestor drawled, not wanting to hear Glorfindel digress any longer.

"Yes! Late spring or early summer would be best," Glorfindel said. "The gardens will be in full bloom, there will be less chance of rain, and there's a lovely grove close by the Bruinen where we can have the ceremony. All we need is a couple of lanterns and a few boughs of flowers."

"Why do I get the distinct impression you've already been planning this for a while," Erestor replied, sighing.

"Only since I locked him in the cellar earlier in the evening," Glorfindel replied. "But I'm patrol in the valley often, I know many places that would be perfect for a celebration."

A gargled shriek snapped their attention away from their conversation and to the forest ahead of them. They listened as the sound of snapping and whipping branches drew closer, along with inhuman wailing.

Erestor drew the sword from his back as a large clanking figure burst through the foliage and started slamming itself against the nearby trees. Its pudgy arms clawed at its back before it fell to its knees, and that's when they saw there was another much smaller figure attached to the first.

"Dear Ilúvatar, what is that?" Erestor said as the first orc collapsed. The smaller one was laughing manically as it continuously stabbed the other orc's back and neck.

The little orc looked up at them when it heard Erestor's voice. Its pupils were dilated and foaming drool dripped from the corner of its mouth. It also couldn't stop giggling. Though it would have been waist high had it stood fully erect, Erestor knew the orc was more dangerous than it looked.

"Ha! I told you they would come this way!" Glorfindel exclaimed as he drew his sword. "We'll finish talking about Lord Elrond's nuptials momentarily."

The orc cocked its head to the side before springing at them. Erestor side-stepped the orc's attack while Glorfindel stepped forward to parry the blow.

"Watch it!" Erestor cried as the orc sliced at Glorfindel's legs when its first attack was deflected.

The Vanya winced and took a few steps back when blood began to seep from the cut to his upper right leg. The little orc jumped back and scurried around on the ground before them, it's high pitched squeals getting louder.

"This is not how I wanted to end my night," Glorfindel groaned as shifted to a defensive position. The wound wasn't a serious one, but it stung. "I wanted to go swimming, not deal with an orc overcome by bloodlust."

Erestor couldn't help but roll his eyes as he slid his outer robe off his shoulders.

"It's small but quick," he said. "How do you want to handle it?"

"We'll need to either corral it, or cripple it first," Glorfindel replied. Erestor withdrew one of the throwing knives from the belt across his chest.

"I can handle that, just don't get yourself too cut up," he said before they both launched themselves at the orc.

Pushdug yelped as both Elves flew at him with their razor sharp weapons flashing. Acting on pure instinct, he dropped and rolled forward as the Elves skidded past him, their swords slicing the air above him. A silver knife stabbed the ground where he had been standing.

"Slippery little fiend!" Erestor cried when the orc rolled away between them. It spun round to face them, grinning madly.

"Keep engaging it, it's less likely to run off if we fight it," Glorfindel said. "Try to get the back of its knee or heel."

"I know that," Erestor said through gritted teeth as he pulled another knife from his belt. "It won't stay still long enough for me to get a good shot."

"Then stand back and keep your eyes peeled."

Pushdug was overcome with glee as he darted back and forth on the ground. He couldn't keep still and he wanted to cut the Elves more. But should he go after the pretty one with the flowers in his hair again? Or should he attack the dark one? Perhaps he should stab it in the eyes. He didn't like the way the dark one was glaring at him.

Yet before Pushdug could attack again the golden Elf started to glow. He winced as the light began to hurt his eyes, which was nearly as bright as the sun. Through his haze Pushdug realized that it was an Elf Lord. That was the one thing that he wanted to avoid all night yet somehow managed to run into. If he had been sober he might have been afraid, but he only felt…hatred and a rage he could not put into words.

The Elf Lord said something, which Pushdug surmised was a curse because its melodic voice grated his ears. Pushdug decided he wanted to stab this one in the throat.

"Do you think peonies and freesia would make lovely centerpieces for the wedding banquet?"