Title: Revelations, Part 2 of 5
Author: Rune Dancer, runedancer2000@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Paring: Elrond/Celeborn; Elrohir/Glorfindel
Summary: Celeborn discovers that you're never too old to learn something
new. A continuation of Unspoken (so read that one first.)
Feedback: Please! I'd bribe you if I owned anything.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, although I want them so!
Warning: BDSM eventually.
Haldir watched as two elves rolled around the hillside beyond his window, apparently unaware, or unconcerned, that they were perfectly visible from the upper stories of the house. It was possible, he supposed, that they thought themselves hidden in their own private glade, as a thick ring of trees concealed, at least from the ground, the small meadow that stood beyond the cultivated part of Imladris' gardens. Apparently Lord Elrond liked some areas left a bit wild, and this was one that remained mostly untended. It was an attractive spot, bordering a small stream, with long, lush grasses interspersed with wildflowers. Many of the latter had become entangled in the unbound hair of the two frolicking elves, neither of whom seemed to care.
Haldir half-smiled as he idly watched them from his comfortable balcony. He was not usually a voyeur, but if they were going to do that in full view of anyone who glanced out a window . . . He thought Elrohir's technique needed a little work, but Glorfindel certainly seemed on top of things. As Haldir noted the loving care with which Glorfindel treated his young partner, he felt his smile slip slightly. He should be pleased for them; he was pleased for them. So why did watching them make him so . . . uneasy?
He tilted his seat back against the aged wood of the outer wall of the house and frowned. Something had been nagging at him for days, and avoiding the problem was not going to make it go away. Of course, in this case, facing up to it might not help, either, as what he was slowly coming to realise was completely impossible.
Glorfindel collapsed onto his lover, unbalancing Elrohir and causing the two to roll downhill towards the tiny stream, laughing uproariously. They managed to avoid a quick dunk in the water only because the bank on their side was slightly elevated, allowing them to regain purchase on the ground at the last minute. Haldir observed the expression on Glorfindel's face as he began picking wildflowers out of his partner's long, dark hair, and finally acknowledged what he wanted. He shook his head in disgust at his own folly. You wait a thousand years, he thought, go thorough hundreds of lovers, and finally fall for one of the only elves you can never hope to have. Elrond would never look at him the way Glorfindel did Elrohir. Not if he had all the ages of the world in which to try to convince him, instead of whatever little time he could steal in Imladris.
Haldir watched as the two lovers walked back up the hill to collect their discarded and now seriously rumpled clothing. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him--why did it have to be Elrond? Yes, he was beautiful, and more so than most, Haldir had to admit, but surely he wasn't that shallow? Besides, he had known other stunning elves--why, Glorfindel was almost as attractive as his lord, yet Haldir was able to view him with his usual detachment. Elrohir, whom he had originally been meant to seduce, was much like his father in appearance, if lacking some subtle, sensual quality that Elrond exuded even when doing something as mundane as official paperwork, but the elfling interested him not at all.
Love had always been sport to Haldir. He collected and discarded lovers as some did the fallen leaves in Lorien, using them for a moment's amusement, and then passing on to some new pleasure. It had been a game, a hobby for all those long, dull days on border patrol. After all, orcs didn't invade every day, and Haldir had always had more trouble than most passing time simply by communing with nature. Trees could be interesting--he'd had some long and amusing conversations with some of the mallorn, especially the older ones--but there was a limit to what a stationary thing like a tree (well, most trees anyway) could tell you.
Haldir had always had a restlessness about him alien to most of his kind. He was the first to volunteer when messages had to be sent abroad or when scouts were needed. He had travelled to Mirkwood several times and marvelled at the differences between its dark woods and Lorien's. He had found learning the common speech to be interesting, and even liked observing the villages of men when his road happened to pass close to one. He found them as dirty and unattractive as most elves did, but they fascinated him all the same. Anything new and different was interesting to Haldir, which was, perhaps, his problem-- Elrond was always different. Most elves had a calmness and a sameness about them, with only the youngest of elflings still mercurial in nature. Elrond was no elfling, and in no other way reminded Haldir of one, but it was undeniable that he was always a surprise. And just when you thought you had nothing left to learn . . .
Haldir sighed as the two lovers, now respectably dressed, moved into the trees and left his field of vision. They had been a useful distraction, and now he was left with only his thoughts as company, and truly depressing companions they were. Elrond Half Elven, warrior of the First Age, master of Imladris, wielder of Vilya, and as far beyond Haldir's grasp as the stars themselves, had managed to invade his heart and mind in a way no one else ever had. And he had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
That evening, Elrond sat at table calmly discussing the variations between the architecture of Mirkwood and Imladris, and seeming completely at ease as always, but in reality he was keeping a close eye on his father-in-law. Celeborn was seated at his left--he would normally have been on his right due to his station, but Elrohir, as guest of honour at his coming of age celebration, occupied that position. Still, his proximity had given Elrond the chance to quietly observe Lorien's lord throughout dinner, and it was abundantly clear that his initial impression had been correct--something was seriously wrong with Celeborn.
Elrond had been surprised to be informed early that afternoon that his father-in-law had suddenly appeared at the borders of Imladris, sans outriders, baggage train, or, even more strangely, any forewarning of his arrival. Celeborn could have sent a letter, if his visit had been planned; but, even had he simply decided on a spur-of-the-moment trip, he was perfectly capable of farspeaking Elrond whenever he chose. Yet he arrived unannounced.
Elrond assumed that his father-in-law would explain the reason for his surprise visit in his own time, and had quickly replaced his casual leggings and tunic for formal robes and hurried to be in place when Celeborn, flanked by a party of Imladris' border guards, arrived before the palace. It was then that he received his second indication that something strange was going on. For a moment he worried that some tragedy had befallen Lothlorien, to bring its king here dressed as a common woodsman and looking tired from what, judging by the state of his horse, must have been a hurried ride. Yet, there was no grief written on Celeborn's fair features, just weariness and something else that Elrond could not define. As his father-in-law had always been a mystery, he did not waste time trying to guess his thought processes. Instead, he gave orders for the care of the beautiful horse, and guided him inside where suitable rooms had been quickly prepared.
Elrond had showed Celeborn to his suite himself, and lingered for a few moments to give the Lord of Lorien the opportunity to discuss the reason for his sudden appearance, if he chose to do so. Instead, however, Celeborn seemed distracted--indeed, if he had been observing any other elf with the same mannerisms, Elrond would have said that he was nervous, although in this case that was patently absurd. Finally, he had excused himself to go take care of some last minute arrangements for the festivities, and left his father-in-law to rest after his long journey.
He had almost managed to convince himself that perhaps Celeborn had merely made a last minute decision to personally wish Elrohir well on his coming of age, but then came his actions at dinner. Elrond had thought Celeborn looked particularly well that evening, in a fine silver robe that set off his regal beauty to perfection. He had just complimented him on the fineness of the weave of his under tunic--only Lorien weavers could do such gossamer work--when it happened the first time. Celeborn felt him up.
For a moment, Elrond had not realised what was happening, as a strong but gentle hand clasped his leg beneath the tabletop, then slid upwards, caressing his inner thigh through the thin silk of his robe. He had, luckily, not been speaking at the time, as he would almost certainly have given the game away. As it was, he choked on a mouthful of wine in his astonishment, which turned out to be a lucky happenstance as it allowed him to avoid shocking the table by loudly demanding what his father-in-law thought he was doing. Celeborn removed the hand, which had worked its way perilously close to its goal, when Elrond's choking fit seized him. By the time Elrohir had finished patting him on the back and Elrond had apologised to all--"that vintage is too good to be gulped"--he had regained control and almost convinced himself that he had imagined it.
Then Celeborn did it again.
Fortunately for Elrond's sanity, the meal was almost over, allowing him to escape the wandering hand of his honoured guest. He quickly put the length of the ballroom between him and the disturbing silver-haired figure who was now laughing with Elladan about something. Elrond was not normally one to flee from problems, having found from millennia of experience that facing them head on was usually best, but in this case he didn't even consider it. This needed some thought.
Excusing himself momentarily--he had fortunately spilt some wine on a small section of his sleeve, and therefore had an excuse to disappear briefly--he used one of the hidden staircases to quickly return to his chambers. After changing into another robe, Elrond sat on the window seat and looked out over the seductive view of moonlight reflecting off Imladris' waterfalls as he considered this extremely unexpected turn of events.
What was wrong with Celeborn? Elrond ruled out the obvious almost immediately. He had known his father-in-law for several thousand years. If Celeborn had any interest in him, he had had plenty of time to express it before now. Elrond vividly remembered a trip to the hot baths in Lorien that they had taken together shortly after he had become engaged to Celebrian, and his embarrassment at his immediate reaction when the beauty of Celeborn's body was revealed. He had worried that the marriage might be called off if Celeborn learned of his prospective son-in-law's true preferences, and through a considerable effort of will had managed to get himself under control. He couldn't help but notice, however, before shifting his gaze away from his alluring companion, that the attraction was completely one sided. Celeborn had lounged on the dark grey rocks in the shallow end of the baths, his body more out of the water than in it, and the whiffs of steam that made the grotto such a popular bathing place for Lorien elves had done nothing to hide his fair form. It had gleamed silver bright in the dimness of the cave, with, and Elrond still remembered his chagrin at this, absolutely no sign of arousal. Being a practical sort of elf, who knew that sanity depended largely on wanting those things you had at least a small chance of getting, Elrond had sighed and turned his attention elsewhere. Now, however, the memory told him that, whatever Celeborn was doing, it had nothing to do with real attraction.
Elrond bit his lip in uncharacteristic uncertainty. He couldn't imagine what nefarious plans lay hidden behind those gleaming mithril-hued eyes. Unlike most people, who, after his millenia of practise in observation, were as transparent to Elrond as glass, Celeborn had always been an enigma. Occasionally, Elrohir reminded him of his grandfather, when his obsidian eyes proved opaque to Elrond's searching gaze. Celeborn's eyes were silver bright, but acted much the same--like two mirrors which reflected only the observer's own thoughts back to him.
Perhaps his father-in-law wondered why Celebrian was always in Lorien, and believed that Elrond was at fault for the distance in their marriage. Mayhap this was some form of test, to see if his son-in-law would respond to him and thus prove his suspicions correct. It was barely possible that Celeborn had noticed something that evening so long ago, and had refrained from mentioning it because the alliance his daughter's marriage would seal was so important. Elrond had always assumed that, as Celebrian's lover lived in Lorien and the relationship predated her marriage, her father must certainly know about it. True, they had never actually discussed the issue with her parents--it was not the stuff of polite, after dinner conversation- -but Elrond had been certain they already knew. Now he was faced with the possibility that Celeborn, at least, did not, and if that was true, naturally he would place the blame for any perceived sadness in his much loved daughter at Elrond's feet. Perhaps, too, keeping Haldir from returning immediately had been a mistake. The young one was a pleasant diversion, but his lingering at Imladris might have been the final clue Celeborn had needed to arouse his suspicions.
Obviously, he decided, he needed to talk to Celebrian; if something had happened in Lorien to upset her father, she was likely to know. They also needed to decide what, exactly, to tell her parents, and to coordinate their stories in case a slight embroidery on the facts was deemed advisable. Unfortunately, Celebrian had not inherited her parent's ability at farspeaking, meaning that any message would have to be sent the slow way. Elrond moved to his study and quickly scribbled off a missive to his wife. He could not delay returning to the festivities much longer, as his presence would certainly be missed. Besides, this was Elrohir's night to shine, and he wanted to be with him.
Tucking the letter in the loose sleeve of his soft blue robe, Elrond prepared to leave his chambers. He would see to it that a courier set off to Lorien immediately, and he might receive Celebrian's reply by the end of the week. In the meantime, he would simply give Celeborn no reason whatever to suspect that anything of any interest was happening at Imladris. Erestor could keep Haldir away, or perhaps it would be better just to send the handsome elf back to Lorien and remove the temptation. In any case, until Celebrian responded and this situation was dealt with, there could be no dallying with anyone. And if Celeborn thought he was going to use his undoubted attractions to cause Elrond to betray himself, he had better think again.
Grasping the handle of the door leading to the corridor beyond his rooms, Elrond found that it opened on its own. Of course, he thought in resignation, as into his rooms stepped the very person he needed most to avoid. It had been that sort of month. Celeborn, he noticed, was carrying two glasses by their delicate stems in one hand, and the other held a large bottle of very potent wine.
"Ah, here you are. I thought so. I tired of the festivities myself, and made our excuses." He shut the door behind him and crossed the room, disappearing through the door leading to Elrond's bedchamber with the same certainty as if he had previously visited his son-in-law's rooms, which he had not. Elrond had occupied different chambers when he and Celebrian were first married and Celeborn had last visited Imladris. A murmur floated back from his bedroom, seeming to Elrond like the voice of doom. "Well, I suppose now it's just the two of us."
Haldir watched as two elves rolled around the hillside beyond his window, apparently unaware, or unconcerned, that they were perfectly visible from the upper stories of the house. It was possible, he supposed, that they thought themselves hidden in their own private glade, as a thick ring of trees concealed, at least from the ground, the small meadow that stood beyond the cultivated part of Imladris' gardens. Apparently Lord Elrond liked some areas left a bit wild, and this was one that remained mostly untended. It was an attractive spot, bordering a small stream, with long, lush grasses interspersed with wildflowers. Many of the latter had become entangled in the unbound hair of the two frolicking elves, neither of whom seemed to care.
Haldir half-smiled as he idly watched them from his comfortable balcony. He was not usually a voyeur, but if they were going to do that in full view of anyone who glanced out a window . . . He thought Elrohir's technique needed a little work, but Glorfindel certainly seemed on top of things. As Haldir noted the loving care with which Glorfindel treated his young partner, he felt his smile slip slightly. He should be pleased for them; he was pleased for them. So why did watching them make him so . . . uneasy?
He tilted his seat back against the aged wood of the outer wall of the house and frowned. Something had been nagging at him for days, and avoiding the problem was not going to make it go away. Of course, in this case, facing up to it might not help, either, as what he was slowly coming to realise was completely impossible.
Glorfindel collapsed onto his lover, unbalancing Elrohir and causing the two to roll downhill towards the tiny stream, laughing uproariously. They managed to avoid a quick dunk in the water only because the bank on their side was slightly elevated, allowing them to regain purchase on the ground at the last minute. Haldir observed the expression on Glorfindel's face as he began picking wildflowers out of his partner's long, dark hair, and finally acknowledged what he wanted. He shook his head in disgust at his own folly. You wait a thousand years, he thought, go thorough hundreds of lovers, and finally fall for one of the only elves you can never hope to have. Elrond would never look at him the way Glorfindel did Elrohir. Not if he had all the ages of the world in which to try to convince him, instead of whatever little time he could steal in Imladris.
Haldir watched as the two lovers walked back up the hill to collect their discarded and now seriously rumpled clothing. He couldn't understand what was wrong with him--why did it have to be Elrond? Yes, he was beautiful, and more so than most, Haldir had to admit, but surely he wasn't that shallow? Besides, he had known other stunning elves--why, Glorfindel was almost as attractive as his lord, yet Haldir was able to view him with his usual detachment. Elrohir, whom he had originally been meant to seduce, was much like his father in appearance, if lacking some subtle, sensual quality that Elrond exuded even when doing something as mundane as official paperwork, but the elfling interested him not at all.
Love had always been sport to Haldir. He collected and discarded lovers as some did the fallen leaves in Lorien, using them for a moment's amusement, and then passing on to some new pleasure. It had been a game, a hobby for all those long, dull days on border patrol. After all, orcs didn't invade every day, and Haldir had always had more trouble than most passing time simply by communing with nature. Trees could be interesting--he'd had some long and amusing conversations with some of the mallorn, especially the older ones--but there was a limit to what a stationary thing like a tree (well, most trees anyway) could tell you.
Haldir had always had a restlessness about him alien to most of his kind. He was the first to volunteer when messages had to be sent abroad or when scouts were needed. He had travelled to Mirkwood several times and marvelled at the differences between its dark woods and Lorien's. He had found learning the common speech to be interesting, and even liked observing the villages of men when his road happened to pass close to one. He found them as dirty and unattractive as most elves did, but they fascinated him all the same. Anything new and different was interesting to Haldir, which was, perhaps, his problem-- Elrond was always different. Most elves had a calmness and a sameness about them, with only the youngest of elflings still mercurial in nature. Elrond was no elfling, and in no other way reminded Haldir of one, but it was undeniable that he was always a surprise. And just when you thought you had nothing left to learn . . .
Haldir sighed as the two lovers, now respectably dressed, moved into the trees and left his field of vision. They had been a useful distraction, and now he was left with only his thoughts as company, and truly depressing companions they were. Elrond Half Elven, warrior of the First Age, master of Imladris, wielder of Vilya, and as far beyond Haldir's grasp as the stars themselves, had managed to invade his heart and mind in a way no one else ever had. And he had no idea what to do about it.
* * *
That evening, Elrond sat at table calmly discussing the variations between the architecture of Mirkwood and Imladris, and seeming completely at ease as always, but in reality he was keeping a close eye on his father-in-law. Celeborn was seated at his left--he would normally have been on his right due to his station, but Elrohir, as guest of honour at his coming of age celebration, occupied that position. Still, his proximity had given Elrond the chance to quietly observe Lorien's lord throughout dinner, and it was abundantly clear that his initial impression had been correct--something was seriously wrong with Celeborn.
Elrond had been surprised to be informed early that afternoon that his father-in-law had suddenly appeared at the borders of Imladris, sans outriders, baggage train, or, even more strangely, any forewarning of his arrival. Celeborn could have sent a letter, if his visit had been planned; but, even had he simply decided on a spur-of-the-moment trip, he was perfectly capable of farspeaking Elrond whenever he chose. Yet he arrived unannounced.
Elrond assumed that his father-in-law would explain the reason for his surprise visit in his own time, and had quickly replaced his casual leggings and tunic for formal robes and hurried to be in place when Celeborn, flanked by a party of Imladris' border guards, arrived before the palace. It was then that he received his second indication that something strange was going on. For a moment he worried that some tragedy had befallen Lothlorien, to bring its king here dressed as a common woodsman and looking tired from what, judging by the state of his horse, must have been a hurried ride. Yet, there was no grief written on Celeborn's fair features, just weariness and something else that Elrond could not define. As his father-in-law had always been a mystery, he did not waste time trying to guess his thought processes. Instead, he gave orders for the care of the beautiful horse, and guided him inside where suitable rooms had been quickly prepared.
Elrond had showed Celeborn to his suite himself, and lingered for a few moments to give the Lord of Lorien the opportunity to discuss the reason for his sudden appearance, if he chose to do so. Instead, however, Celeborn seemed distracted--indeed, if he had been observing any other elf with the same mannerisms, Elrond would have said that he was nervous, although in this case that was patently absurd. Finally, he had excused himself to go take care of some last minute arrangements for the festivities, and left his father-in-law to rest after his long journey.
He had almost managed to convince himself that perhaps Celeborn had merely made a last minute decision to personally wish Elrohir well on his coming of age, but then came his actions at dinner. Elrond had thought Celeborn looked particularly well that evening, in a fine silver robe that set off his regal beauty to perfection. He had just complimented him on the fineness of the weave of his under tunic--only Lorien weavers could do such gossamer work--when it happened the first time. Celeborn felt him up.
For a moment, Elrond had not realised what was happening, as a strong but gentle hand clasped his leg beneath the tabletop, then slid upwards, caressing his inner thigh through the thin silk of his robe. He had, luckily, not been speaking at the time, as he would almost certainly have given the game away. As it was, he choked on a mouthful of wine in his astonishment, which turned out to be a lucky happenstance as it allowed him to avoid shocking the table by loudly demanding what his father-in-law thought he was doing. Celeborn removed the hand, which had worked its way perilously close to its goal, when Elrond's choking fit seized him. By the time Elrohir had finished patting him on the back and Elrond had apologised to all--"that vintage is too good to be gulped"--he had regained control and almost convinced himself that he had imagined it.
Then Celeborn did it again.
Fortunately for Elrond's sanity, the meal was almost over, allowing him to escape the wandering hand of his honoured guest. He quickly put the length of the ballroom between him and the disturbing silver-haired figure who was now laughing with Elladan about something. Elrond was not normally one to flee from problems, having found from millennia of experience that facing them head on was usually best, but in this case he didn't even consider it. This needed some thought.
Excusing himself momentarily--he had fortunately spilt some wine on a small section of his sleeve, and therefore had an excuse to disappear briefly--he used one of the hidden staircases to quickly return to his chambers. After changing into another robe, Elrond sat on the window seat and looked out over the seductive view of moonlight reflecting off Imladris' waterfalls as he considered this extremely unexpected turn of events.
What was wrong with Celeborn? Elrond ruled out the obvious almost immediately. He had known his father-in-law for several thousand years. If Celeborn had any interest in him, he had had plenty of time to express it before now. Elrond vividly remembered a trip to the hot baths in Lorien that they had taken together shortly after he had become engaged to Celebrian, and his embarrassment at his immediate reaction when the beauty of Celeborn's body was revealed. He had worried that the marriage might be called off if Celeborn learned of his prospective son-in-law's true preferences, and through a considerable effort of will had managed to get himself under control. He couldn't help but notice, however, before shifting his gaze away from his alluring companion, that the attraction was completely one sided. Celeborn had lounged on the dark grey rocks in the shallow end of the baths, his body more out of the water than in it, and the whiffs of steam that made the grotto such a popular bathing place for Lorien elves had done nothing to hide his fair form. It had gleamed silver bright in the dimness of the cave, with, and Elrond still remembered his chagrin at this, absolutely no sign of arousal. Being a practical sort of elf, who knew that sanity depended largely on wanting those things you had at least a small chance of getting, Elrond had sighed and turned his attention elsewhere. Now, however, the memory told him that, whatever Celeborn was doing, it had nothing to do with real attraction.
Elrond bit his lip in uncharacteristic uncertainty. He couldn't imagine what nefarious plans lay hidden behind those gleaming mithril-hued eyes. Unlike most people, who, after his millenia of practise in observation, were as transparent to Elrond as glass, Celeborn had always been an enigma. Occasionally, Elrohir reminded him of his grandfather, when his obsidian eyes proved opaque to Elrond's searching gaze. Celeborn's eyes were silver bright, but acted much the same--like two mirrors which reflected only the observer's own thoughts back to him.
Perhaps his father-in-law wondered why Celebrian was always in Lorien, and believed that Elrond was at fault for the distance in their marriage. Mayhap this was some form of test, to see if his son-in-law would respond to him and thus prove his suspicions correct. It was barely possible that Celeborn had noticed something that evening so long ago, and had refrained from mentioning it because the alliance his daughter's marriage would seal was so important. Elrond had always assumed that, as Celebrian's lover lived in Lorien and the relationship predated her marriage, her father must certainly know about it. True, they had never actually discussed the issue with her parents--it was not the stuff of polite, after dinner conversation- -but Elrond had been certain they already knew. Now he was faced with the possibility that Celeborn, at least, did not, and if that was true, naturally he would place the blame for any perceived sadness in his much loved daughter at Elrond's feet. Perhaps, too, keeping Haldir from returning immediately had been a mistake. The young one was a pleasant diversion, but his lingering at Imladris might have been the final clue Celeborn had needed to arouse his suspicions.
Obviously, he decided, he needed to talk to Celebrian; if something had happened in Lorien to upset her father, she was likely to know. They also needed to decide what, exactly, to tell her parents, and to coordinate their stories in case a slight embroidery on the facts was deemed advisable. Unfortunately, Celebrian had not inherited her parent's ability at farspeaking, meaning that any message would have to be sent the slow way. Elrond moved to his study and quickly scribbled off a missive to his wife. He could not delay returning to the festivities much longer, as his presence would certainly be missed. Besides, this was Elrohir's night to shine, and he wanted to be with him.
Tucking the letter in the loose sleeve of his soft blue robe, Elrond prepared to leave his chambers. He would see to it that a courier set off to Lorien immediately, and he might receive Celebrian's reply by the end of the week. In the meantime, he would simply give Celeborn no reason whatever to suspect that anything of any interest was happening at Imladris. Erestor could keep Haldir away, or perhaps it would be better just to send the handsome elf back to Lorien and remove the temptation. In any case, until Celebrian responded and this situation was dealt with, there could be no dallying with anyone. And if Celeborn thought he was going to use his undoubted attractions to cause Elrond to betray himself, he had better think again.
Grasping the handle of the door leading to the corridor beyond his rooms, Elrond found that it opened on its own. Of course, he thought in resignation, as into his rooms stepped the very person he needed most to avoid. It had been that sort of month. Celeborn, he noticed, was carrying two glasses by their delicate stems in one hand, and the other held a large bottle of very potent wine.
"Ah, here you are. I thought so. I tired of the festivities myself, and made our excuses." He shut the door behind him and crossed the room, disappearing through the door leading to Elrond's bedchamber with the same certainty as if he had previously visited his son-in-law's rooms, which he had not. Elrond had occupied different chambers when he and Celebrian were first married and Celeborn had last visited Imladris. A murmur floated back from his bedroom, seeming to Elrond like the voice of doom. "Well, I suppose now it's just the two of us."