Imladris Revisited
By DLR
Disclaimer: Characters owned by JRR Tolkien
Elrond/OFC
Rated PG13 for partial nudity
Chapter 5
When Arwen and Culurien entered the great dining hall, many people were already seated, both at the long large table in the center of the room, and also at the many side tables. The room did not usually boast such a large gathering, but this was Arwen's official home-coming feast which had taken the kitchens many days to prepare. Unfortunately this fact had not been made known to Culurien by either Arwen or Elrond and she shrank back, dismayed, clutching her shawl closer.
Arwen noticed her friend flinch and put her arm around her. "Actually, I had forgotten about this. Hush," she continued, "Father has seen us, and there is no escape now."
Indeed, Elrond was approaching them even as she said the words.
He was sitting in his chair at the head of the table, speaking seriously to Erestor, when Arwen and Culurien entered the room. His eyes lit up when he saw his daughter, then widened with surprise and pleasure when he saw her companion. He leaned toward Glorfindel and gave him a hurried whisper. Glorfindel raised his eyebrows and moved one seat over. Elrond rose and crossed the hall quickly.
Culurien looked much improved, he reflected. She was wearing a long silver shawl, wrapped loosely around her shoulders and the dress beneath it looked interesting, to say the least. Her hair fell in loose tendrils around her face and was entwined with silver and white flowers.
Elrond finally made his way through to them and offered each lady an arm. He noted Culurien's apprehension and gave her arm a re-assuring squeeze between his elbow and his side.
"Both of you ladies look stunning," he said appreciatively. He glanced down at Culurien and actually stumbled as they walked. The silver shawl had slipped away somewhat and he found himself staring at an ample expanse of white cleavage. She looked up at him when he tripped and hurriedly adjusted the shawl.
Arwen, totally oblivious, was searching the room for her new friend. Elrond reddened and kept his eyes firmly fastened on the far side of the room, where Glorfindel was watching their approach with interest.
Elrond assisted Arwen into her seat at the middle of the table and continued with Culurien to the end. He introduced her to Glorfindel and Erestor, whom she had not actually formally met and held out the chair for her. She looked up at him and their eyes met briefly. She gave him a shaky looking smile. She is not ready for this, he thought. I wonder what made her change her mind?
With Arwen's arrival the banquet was officially begun, although at least four people at the great table barely noticed the tempting food, their minds being elsewhere.
Elrond glanced down the table to his left, his eyes lingering on his foster son, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, affectionately known as Estel,* whom he had raised from infancy, his father having been slain by orcs. Elrond had only just recently informed Aragorn of his true name and lineage which had been kept secret up until now, and, Elrond cautioned him, should still be kept secret for the Enemy still searched for the heirs of Isildur, believing them to have knowledge of the One Ring.
Aragorn seemed to be looking intently ahead of him, perhaps having a silent conversation with someone at a distance. Elrond shifted his gaze across the table and saw Arwen, his daughter, most definitely flirting with the mortal young man, while giggling behind her hand to the lady sitting next to her.
Elrond's dark eyebrows came together in a scowl. Why on Arda, he wondered, did Arwen not stay in Lothlórien another hundred years or so? Then he remembered Culurien and glanced down at her thinking how inattentive a host he had been. His pulse quickened, for the shawl had slipped down once again. Culurien had not noticed as she talked animatedly with Glorfindel. Elrond found himself staring absentmindedly at her breasts.
Glorfindel looked up, caught his eye and winked. Elrond turned hastily away. This will not do, he thought. You must maintain a grip on yourself. He turned his attention firmly to his plate and ate for a while.
Culurien felt her apprehension melt away as she talked with Glorfindel, who was charming and witty, and was also doing his best to entertain her. She reached for her glass of wine and took a sip while she moved her free hand to check the shawl and nearly choked.
Not only had the treacherous shawl slipped down, but the front of the dress seemed to be making a retreat as well. She sprang to her feet, knocking the glass of wine across the tablecloth and quickly fled the room. At the doorway she spoke to a servant who indicated a chamber across the corridor where the ladies maids sat, waiting for summons from their mistresses.
Damn Arwen, and damn her dresses! she thought uncharitably. She would definitely be making some alterations to them in the morning.
Elrond sat frozen with his fork in front of his face and his mouth open.
"What did you say to her?" he asked, turning to Glorfindel.
"I?" asked Glorfindel, surprised. "I said nothing, not one thing." His face was the perfect picture of innocence. He looked down into his wine glass and his lips lifted in a smirk. "Perhaps she was cold."
Elrond's face darkened. "You will please treat my dinner guest with more respect."
Glorfindel looked up quickly at Elrond, and then looked down again. "I meant no offence."
"Than do not give any," snapped Elrond, a bit more testily than was called for.
They turned to their plates and chewed sulkily for a few minutes.
What is the matter with me, Elrond thought. Glorfindel is merely acting like he always does, it is I who am being difficult. He reached across the empty chair and put his hand on Glorfindel's arm. "Mellon,* forgive my harsh words, I am not myself tonight."
Glorfindel looked up and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Culurien came back to the table. Elrond quickly pulled back his hand and he and Glorfindel both stood.
"Pray, be seated," Culurien said, slipping into the chair, the shawl securely pinned in several places. "My apologies for leaving so abruptly."
"What happened Lady, were you ill?" asked Elrond, looking suspiciously at the plates.
"No, no," said Culurien, "I only had urgent need of an adjustment."
"Are you sure there is nothing I can assist you with?" asked Glorfindel, with an amazingly straight face. Elrond, who had just taken a sip of his wine, began having difficulty swallowing it.
"My Lord?" She turned towards him anxiously.
He held up his hand. "I am fine," he said from behind his napkin.
The fish course was set before them and all three gave it their full attention.
Elrond smiled to himself. He felt oddly pleased that Culurien was not making a public showing of her attributes on purpose. The shawl and dress must be borrowed, he speculated, for silver was not really her color. He was sure he had never seen the gown before, for it was quite distinctive. A thought occurred to him and he looked down the table at Arwen and frowned, although she was behaving herself, finally.
It is well she is back in Imladris, he thought, despite growing concern about Estel, for she seems in need of firm guidance and Lothlórien was far too bohemian a place to receive it.
The rest of the banquet went by without incident. Finally, Elrond rose and offered his arm to Culurien and they left the room, signaling that the feast was over. Glorfindel hurried down the side of the table and offered his arm to Arwen before Aragorn could get there. Arwen looked from Glorfindel to Aragorn, then back to Glorfindel again.
"He is in a touchy mood, you best be cautious," murmured Glorfindel, who had witnessed the interplay between Arwen and the young man.
"Thank you, Glorfindel; I did notice him scowling at me earlier." Arwen gave Aragorn a look of resignation and they left the dining hall.
The minstrels were playing a lively tune as Arwen and Glorfindel entered the Hall of Fire. They took seats next to Elrond and Culurien. The Hall filled and as the evening wore on, several different entertainments sprang up in the various corners of the great room. Mostly, however, in the area where Culurien was seated, there were songs sung about Elbereth, Valinor and ancient times in the language of Quenya, which she did not understand. She had a hard time controlling her yawns. Elrond sat with his eyes half closed, listening intently.
"Adar," said Arwen suddenly, and Elrond started. "Yes?" he asked, struggling to look alert.
"Culurien has a beautiful voice," Arwen continued, and the lady in question suppressed a strong urge to kick her friend sharply in the ankle.
"Indeed," said Elrond, sitting up a little straighter.
"Yes," Arwen went on, oblivious to Culurien's increasing distress. "Perhaps we can persuade her to honor us."
Elrond looked at Culurien and her eyes pleaded with him silently.
"Maybe another time," he said gently. "You must allow your friend a chance to settle in and recover, Arwen." He stood. "Come, ladies, walk about and enjoy the other entertainments."
Culurien took the arm he offered her. "Thank you," she said as they walked. "I fear I have made a public spectacle of myself enough for one night."
Elrond ignored the comment. "You enjoy singing?"
"Well, it has been some time since my heart has been light enough for such pleasures," she returned. "But I did once, yes."
"I will not press you," he said, "but there are many beautiful sad songs, perhaps something of that nature?"
"Alas, I do not know any. In fact, I do not think any of the songs I know would be fitting for this place."
Elrond smiled at her. "Perhaps you could honor me with a private concert and let me be the judge of that." His eyes twinkled.
Culurien looked at the floor. "Certainly, Lord. Whenever you wish it."
Elrond stopped walking. He turned to face her squarely and looked into her eyes. "Nay, Lady. It will happen when ever you wish it." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in, and then he turned and continued walking.
They came to a group of people dancing and paused to watch.
"That is a very pretty dance," Culurien said. "I have never seen it before. What is it called?"
"Lendrill," Elrond replied. "Let me show you the basic step."
They moved a little apart from the dancers. He took her left hand in his right, she put her right hand on his shoulder, and he had his left arm encircling her waist. They stood side to side.
"Now," he instructed. "Watch my feet. Step out with the left, then slide right, wait a beat, kick left, yes, back, back, slide left..."
Culurien stumbled, and then stopped altogether. "It might be easier if I could see your feet," she remarked. "I fear I am too clumsy for this, at any rate."
"Perhaps we will try again another time," said Elrond, smiling. "Slower, with less clothing." Suddenly, she felt very weary.
"Forgive me," Elrond said, looking into her face. "I perceive that you are tired. It was your first day out and about and I have worn you down. Allow me to escort you to your room."
They left the hall and walked back to her chamber in silence. It did indeed seen like a long age had passed since he had made the tonic for her in the Hall of Healing, that morning.
When they reached her door, Culurien turned to him firmly. "Tomorrow you will show me how to make the tonic."
Elrond raised his eyebrows. "You have only to speak the command, Lady, and it shall be done."
He took her hand and kissed it, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment, and then he took his leave.
She stood in the doorway, staring at her hand as if mesmerized. Finally, she shook herself out of the daydream. This will not do, she thought. You must maintain a grip on yourself.
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*Hope
*Friend