I don't own nothing. It all belong elsewhere's. Tolkein etc own. Me make no Money.
1. This chapter is a tad less angsty then the last chapter. I just couldn't keep up the pace. My angst muse left, leaving me with a replacement calling for a more hopeful plot. I've tried to beat it down to keep up the continuity.
2. You might have to suspend your disbelief a little bit more for this plot twist. Its all my muse's fault.
3. There is some actual dialogue in this one. I've never done it before, but I couldn't escape it. So, there's probably going to be some flaws.
Elrond looked unsteadily at the window across from his perch on the tree branch. Inside he could not see any movement, but he could still see the candles flickering their shadows against his lady's walls. He shook his head to clear it from the notion she was his lady, and in the process almost fell from his steady perch. He frowned. He had probably had too much wine at the party. Drunk or not, he was going to go through that window and apologize. She at least deserved a happy wedding, and he did not need to ruin it for her.
Apology formed on his lips, he launched through her window. "My apologies for the…" He trailed off quickly. She was already asleep on her bed. Not having snuffed out her candles for the night.
A silly smile creased his lips. Her unfocused eyes were as beautiful in sleep as they were when she was awake. He knew he should go. Though she would have forgiven the personal intrusion of territory had he caught her awake, she would be livid if he interrupted her sleep. A fact that he doubted many knew about her personality.
About to leave, he felt all blood leave his face when her door began to creep open. There was no way he could make it out the window without breaking his neck. His inebriated state would not allow him to jump to the supportive tree limbs quickly. Quickly, he leapt over her bed to hide on the other side.
The cognizant part of his mind told him that he would be caught. No self-respecting elf would NOT notice him in the room. He was certain his heart was pounding loud enough for Glorfindel to hear back in their rooms.
Elrond forced himself to calm as he listened to quiet steps cross the floor. A woman's steps. New fear gripped his heart. Any one catching him in Celebrian's room would mean disaster, but Galadriel? She would probably drown him in her mirror. She could have her archers try to shoot the tips of his ears off. A thousand images floated through his mind as he listened to the footsteps near. On the wall, he could see the figure put out the candles as their light was replaced with shadows not before present.
"My love?" Celebrian's voice was soft and sleep filled. A soft laugh answered her.
"Not quite young one." The voice was beautiful, but not haunting like Galadriel's. Elrond thanked every now dead person he had ever met for that fact. It was Celebrian's old caretaker. Elrond had met her once and had found her a pleasant elf, but rather oblivious to any of Celebrian's deeper feelings.
"I thought I heard his voice," Celebrian replied. Her voice was still spacey, as if she wished to will herself back to her world of dreams.
Another chuckle escaped the elder woman's throat. "You'll not see him till you're at the altar tomorrow, Dear."
"Oh" was the only reply Celebrian offered as she turned over to drift off to sleep.
Elrond, meanwhile, was contemplating killing the next person to cheerfully laugh about the idiotic wedding. Hearing Celebrian call for Thranduil had launched him back into his black mood from earlier in the evening. Hearing the woman's reply, well that had made him homicidal. Fuming as he was, he didn't notice that the woman had left until half an hour had passed.
Straitening from his crouch, he began to place the vial he had been playing with back in his pocket. He had removed it to give himself something to twist in his hands other than the old woman's neck. He considered it in the moonlight no filtering through the window. It was small glass bottle encased in leather for traveling purposes. Inside, it contained a sleep remedy that Gil-Galad and other elves had often commended him for. The potion had been his constant companion for weeks. He needed it to attain any semblance of normal rest.
While it had given him rest, it had also made him doubt the truthfulness of his comrades. He had to remix the liquid several times before it would help him sleep. Therefore, he could only imagine that his friends either lied to him to spare his healer's ego, or they trusted his remedies so much that they actually thought the ineffective drug worked when it did little. That meant that his friends were either liars or simpletons. Yet another gloomy thought to add to his collection.
He shoved the vial in his pocket and straitened to his full height intent of going for the window to scale slowly down the tree from whence he came.
The sight of Celebrian stopped him in his tracks.
It had never occurred to him that she could ever be more beautiful than when she debated with him. But, the sight of the moonlight caressing her features came very, very close. He wanted to cry. He now knew why he had not been caught earlier. The fates wanted to torture him with something forever beyond his reach. Some power wanted to make his heart forever mourn that he would never have the ability nor the right to gaze at her sleeping form.
Thoughtlessly, his hand reached to push back a lock of silver hair from her face. He shivered as he noticed its silken feel and the warmth of her skin underneath. A small moan escaped her lips as she snuggled closer to her pillow.
A wave of jealousy hit Elrond so strongly he was certain his eyes turned green. He couldn't have her. And if he couldn't have her, Thranduil wouldn't have the pleasure of her gracious company either. But how?
Elrond had long trained himself to be able to plan in the worst of situations. Troops died if you could not give a good command. It did not matter if you had just been trampled by a hoard of trolls. You had to think clearly. A light concussion was about the same as being really drunk, so he figured he could manage as long as he didn't pass out.
He couldn't kill her, there was no amount of any negative feeling that could make him do that. He would have to simply remove her from Randy Thrandy's presence.
His rational brain cringed. He was starting to give people stupid nicknames. The last time he did that, he was scrubbing purple dye out of Glorfindel's horse for a week.
Horses! The perfect way to smuggle her out. Had he been sober, the thought would have been redundant, but he wasn't.
Now then, how did he get her to the stables? Being soooo in love with the King of Mirkwood, Elrond doubted she would go willingly. A smile crossed his lips as he thought about the vial he carried. It should put her in a deep enough sleep to keep her from waking up as he carried her.
Fetching the vial from his tunic, he glanced up at her lips. They were partially opened, perfect for what he was planning. Ignoring the urge to claim them as his own, he removed the top from the bottle and placed the lip at the edge of her mouth. He sat gently down at the edge of her bed for a better position for the time consuming task. About a fourth of the contents had trickled into her mouth when she swallowed and her eyes began to focus. Startled, he jerked the vial away as she turned and looked at him with hazy eyes.
"Elrond." her voice was soft and smokey, incredibly sultry and seductive. Her hand slid from underneath her covers to trace up his jaw line continuing along his face until it reached the tip of his ear. He inhaled sharply as he felt her hand leave his ear and travel down to his chest.
"Celebrian," he was surprised his voice sounded anywhere near normal, "You need to drink this, it will make everything, uh, better." They were incredibly moronic words, but her sleep addled brain seemed to accept them. She grabbed the bottle and downed it in a single swallow.
As soon as she finished, her eyes glossed over and she fell into a very deep sleep. Elrond recapped the bottle and went to her window, intent on completing his plan.