May 18
Rumil has escaped Celeborn and is currently tailing behind me at every opportunity. Has Mirkwood suddenly become the Last Homely House? Perhaps 'Botanical Locust Hideout of the Third Age Shadow' would be more appropriate. It seems, however, that our current locusts have pointed ears.
Noldor are not thought highly of in Mirkwood, nor in Lorien. The only difference lies in the fact that Galadriel rules with an iron fist and won't tolerate racial discrimination. I'm not certain how much she believes in this herself for I once saw her terrorizing Glorfindel violently. He's too much of a gentleman to defend himself against a woman. But the animosity between certain Elven factions still floats around, for the Laiquendi are threatening to move south, find monsters, breed them and then bribe the local Maiar to portal the things into father's private chambers in the middle of the night. They're losing their touch; the threats were so much better last yen.
Father did little more than make an obscene comment and stalk off. It's like this every two hundred years. A calendar can be set to his mood swings and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was going through sexual withdrawal. Haldir's good, but perhaps I can say that he's not THAT good.
His brother however, is very good at being completely void of common sense. Rumil managed to burn himself on a hearth fire last night, and he's stabbed his fork right through both twins' hands at various meals. Repeatedly, as Elrohir never lets me forget. I told him to whine at father about homicidal wardens. His reply sent me racing down the hallway only to smack straight into Erestor:
"With the exception of Celeborn, I'm not interested in older men."
Now I have to track down Erestor and demand to know why HE is here, too.
May 19
Apparently for Rumil. Ah, Eru! Why me?
May 20
Gimli and I sacrificed the twins to the Laiquendi last night. The sweet taste of victory is so much more pleasant now that I realise they haven't returned, although I think I can hear faint screams of agony. Point three.
May 21
The twins are back.
The twins are now easily mistaken for the blondest of the Silvan, and the twins are shrieking terribly about their new appearance. Rumil told them it was quite cute and would be completed with a doll's ruffled gown each and a few pink bows tied into their plaits.
Guess who will be sneaking into particular rooms and foibling with certain wardrobes?
May 22
Managed to skip breakfast and a confrontation with Elrond's Morgoth-spawned children. Went straight into the woods to murder a few defenceless spiders around Dol Guldur and found Glorfindel tagging along unexpectedly. It's a nice change from Rumil's fawning. I'm not sure what he's after, but I'm sure it's very impure.
Found myself watching Glorfindel's hindquarters more than I was watching where we were going and ended up waist deep in Mirkwood's infamous 'black river'. My guest did not find this amusing and seemed most distressed. I assured him that 'this part of the woods hasn't seen sunlight since the days of the Good Necromancer, who turned out to be a Bad Necromancer'. I was acutely aware of how stupid I sounded. He was familiar with the story and demanded to know why the sand was crawling up his leg.
I didn't bother telling him that the 'sand' was actually my hand. I don't think it's all that pertinent I tell people things like that. You never know how they might react.
Managed to get both of us out the water without being consumed by my own delusional fantasies, remembering Elrohir's comment about 'older men' and desperate to conform to standards. My struggle lasted all of about thirty seconds, whereupon I threw myself at Glorfindel.
I dare say he was quite shocked. He fled immediately and hasn't spoken to me since.
