Chapter Five: The Eccentric Captain
The music faded into silence, the last few strains of sound a quivering whisper on the evening breeze. Andúnil and Haldir parted from their dance and bowed their heads to one another as was customary. The warden offered her his arm and politely she accepted it, allowing herself to be lead from the dancing area. "Thank you for your company," were the only words he offered as he turned to part from her.
Andúnil opened her mouth to reply with equal vagueness, when suddenly he pounced upon her without warning. The Captain's hands clasped her shoulders in a death-like grip and he used the hold to pivot himself around behind her. The startled maiden turned her head to demand an explanation for this strange behavior, and noticed he was hunched over, his eyes peering over the top of her head. "What is the meaning of this?" She cried, dumbfounded more than angry.
"Quiet fool! You'll draw their attention!" He hissed in her ear as he slowly began to pull her backwards toward the edge of the glade.
"Have you lost yourself to madness Marchwarden?" She croaked, trying to twist away from his grasp, "how much wine did you consume?"
Haldir did not seem to approve of her efforts to escape him. A hand left her shoulder and snaked around her middle, pinning one arm at her side and trapping her opposite wrist in his fist. "Only, three bottles," he mumbled. Andúnil dug her heels into the ground and leaned forward with all her might, straining against him. "Madame! You will cease this struggling!" He growled.
Andúnil rewarded him with a sound kick in the shins, earning a pained grunt for her trouble. "I shall do no such thing!" She argued, "unhand me at once you savage!"
Haldir was forced to lift her feet from the ground and clamp his other hand over her mouth. "Haldir!" Exclaimed a horrified voice, "what in the name of all that is holy are you doing to her?" Another Elf came into view and Andúnil recognized him as Rúmil's counterpart from a few days past.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Snarled the Captain, "I'm hiding of course!" He followed this reply with an incoherent muttering about half-wits.
"My brother, perhaps the lady does not wish to be hidden behind, certainly it does not look as though she approves!" Orophin tugged on the hand that held Andúnil's wrist, "and frankly, I think you will be hard pressed to convince her to dance with you again after this little scene!" He added, hoping the disapproval in his voice was getting through to his unruly sibling. Suddenly Andúnil found herself falling backwards with her captor, even as Orophin tried to pull her forward. The entire affair was becoming most unbearable.
Haldir hit the ground, sprawled out on his back, and a second set of hands worked to pry her from the Captain's grasp. With a defeated huff, the eldest of the brothers released her and she was propelled with great force into Orophin's chest. The warden and the maiden fell into an ungainly heap on the glade floor, she landing astride him in a most inappropriate fashion. Andúnil felt color rising to her cheeks in both humiliation and fury.
Many pairs of eyes were focused on them, some in alarm, but most in amusement. It was not every day the elves of the Golden Wood were treated to such an unfortunate display, especially one involving the normally stoic Captain. Haldir sat up with a glower and swatted away the hands that were attempting to help him up, Rúmils hands, Andúnil noted as she glared at them both from her perch atop their youngest brother.
"Now look what you've done!" Snapped Haldir, apparently oblivious to the stares of the crowd, "they've spotted me, all is lost!"
A figure robed in radiance pushed through the onlookers and calmly surveyed the scene. "Rúmil, Orophin," she spoke quietly, "pick up your brother and take him home to bed, I think he has had quite enough celebration." She offered Andúnil one of her elegant, pale hands, "come my dear, you will have to get off of him no matter the fine seat he makes."
Andúnil accepted the Lady's help with downcast eyes, nervously smoothing out her skirt once she found herself upright again. Orophin shot her a wink, having the nerve to look mildly disappointed even as he picked himself up and moved to assist Rúmil with their charge. "Orc!" She hissed under her breath, earning a surprised glance from the lady beside her.
"He may not be the fairest of our kind, my dear, but he is certainly no orc," the words were spoken with great amusement and accompanied by a light smile. Andúnil cast her eyes downward again and tried to look contrite.
"I beg your pardon, Lady of Light, I spoke quite out of turn." She apologized with severity.
Galadriel's smile widened and she turned, casting her potent gaze over the assembly. Politely the elves averted their eyes and returned to their previous agendas. Andúnil felt the gentle weight of the Lady's hand settle on her shoulder. "I hope you will not judge Haldir too harshly for his behavior toward you, my child," she spoke kindly, "it would be a most unfortunate thing that you dislike him when he seems so fond of you."
Andúnil inhaled sharply. Was the Lady mocking her? No, surely not, indulging in amusement at her expense perhaps, but not mocking. "I will reserve my judgement in the hopes that a day will come when I can observe the Marchwarden while he is in full possession of his wits." Andúnil replied carefully, "though I must admit, influenced by spirits or not, he has a very odd way of showing fondness."
Galadriel's laughter was a bright, delightful sound that brought a grin to the younger Elf-maid's face. "You are quite correct, my dear Andúnil," replied the Lady, quietly leading her companion through the glade as she spoke, "but you are the only maiden he chose not to hide from, and he did single you out as a dancing partner, I believe he finds you at least mildy palatable."
Andúnil remained skeptical. "I would not say he singled me out so much as stumbled across me," the tips of her ears pinkened slightly as a thought entered her mind, "or, as it were, I stumbled across him." Suddenly she stopped and looked up at the Lady in astonishment. "Did you just say he was hiding from maidens?"
Galadriel's eyes were bright with mirth. "I did indeed."
"An odd affliction for any Elf-lord," injected deep voice beside them. Andúnil's head snapped in the direction of the sound and felt her heart leap up into her throat in an instant. Of course, it was him, in all his red-clad, golden-haired glory.
"My Lord Glorfindel," the Lady greeted him with a warm smile, inclining her head ever so slightly.
"Lady Galadriel," he replied with an elegant bow.
"May I present the maiden Andúnil," offered Galadriel, motioning gracefully to the younger Elf frozen at her side.
The Golden Lord drove her to shortness of breath as he treated her to a bow of her own. "I have already had the pleasure of being stumbled across by this lady," he replied smoothly.
Andúnil was certain he too was indulging in amusement at her expense. "Once again my Lord," she squeaked, "I apologize, is there naught I can do to make amends for my clumsiness?" Oh curses! Surely everyone in the glade could hear the pounding of her heart in her chest.
The tall Elf clasped his hands behind his back and seemed to give the matter great consideration. Galadriel watched the exchange with a serene smile and Andúnil took comfort in her presence. At length he nodded. "As it were, I have not yet had the pleasure of a dance," he began, "having observed your fondness for that very activity earlier this evening, I believe I would not be denied the honor of your company?"
Andúnil blinked, feeling a swoon coming on. This glorious-reborn-being-of-elven-legend wanted to dance with her? "Sweet Elbereth!" She gasped. Galadriel blinked. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. A piteous wail pierced the silence even as Andúnil felt the force of a trembling body thrown up against hers, slender arms encircling her neck. The force of the assault was nearly enough to throw the Elf-maid off balance, and given her closeness to swooning it was a wonder that she didn't tumble after all. Even through the haze of her surprise, Andúnil recognized her attacker to be none other than her younger sister, Lirinwen.
"Calm yourself dearest!" Crooned Andúnil, petting the younger maiden's hair, "tell me what has happened to cause you such distress." They were sitting together back in the security of their quarters even as the sound of music still flowed from the Glade of Gathering.
Lirinwen covered her tear-stained face with both her hands and let out another heartwrenching sob. "It was-was, Tini...Tini...Tini..."
"Tiniond?" Supplied the elder maid. Lirinwen began to wail anew at the sound of her beau's name. Andúnil sighed, "I'll accept that as a yes." With resignation she began to rub a hand over her sister's lower back, murmuring soothing words to the distraught Elf-maid. Andúnil knew she would get no reasonable explanation until the following day when Lirinwen would have cried enough to regain some degree of composure.
It was with great disappointment that she helped the weeping Elf change out of her gown and tuck into bed. If only that blasted Tiniond had managed to delay whatever grievous sin he'd committed until after she'd had a dance with Lord Glorfindel. As it stood, Andúnil doubted she'd ever be given that opportunity again. Indeed, both the Golden Lord and the Lady of Lórien had born witness to the unfortunate scene with no small degree of chagrin. He'd excused himself hurriedly while Galadriel had been kind enough to help her escort her sister from the glade with as much discretion as possible.
Suddenly there came a great knocking at the door. Well, pounding was more like it. Fearing some emergency, Andúnil rushed to answer. Flinging open the door, she came face to face with a most disturbing sight. "Sweet Elbereth! Haldir! What have you done to yourself?" Half dressed and greatly dishevled, he stood, or rather leaned, up against her doorframe a half empty bottle in one hand and a confused expression on his face.
"Hm! This is not the kitchens!" He announced in an overly-loud voice. Andúnil had no response for that observation. "Say!" He chirped after a moment of silence, pointing at her with the bottle-hand, "don't I know you?" The smell of him denoted a brush with an alcoholic substance that was beyond wine.
"Why, you're utterly soused!" She gasped in disdain.
"I am not!" He countered with great resentment, "I'm drunk!" He began to tip forward, instinctively Andúnil reached out to steadied him. Like most males under the influence of far too much fermented drink, he felt the need to further deepen the contact, shifting his weight from the doorframe and leaning against her. His free hand clutched her arm for support even as he flopped his head onto her shoulder. Buckling under the sudden burden of him, for he was not a slight Elf, Andúnil struggled to stay standing. She was at a loss as to what she should do, certainly Lirinwen was in no position to help, being in the throes of her own emotional crisis at the present time. Andúnil considered calling for assistance, but her mouth was buried in the warden's shoulder and with the entire city in attendance at the festival, she doubted anyone would hear her muffled cries.
"You smell pretty," came a childlike sigh next to her ear. Well, at least he seemed more disposed toward being coddled than amorous, for that she was greatful. A few more things began to form in the Elf maiden's head as she stood there undecided. First of all, how had he managed to get himself in such a state? A bit of eccentricity at the mercy of some wine was one thing, but she'd never heard of an Elf drinking himself stupid before. And how, of all the flets in this vast city, had he managed to find hers? She knew the wardens kept their homes in a part of the city far removed from where they now stood. In all fact, presuming he'd come of his own accord, she was surprised he hadn't dropped himself off the edge of a platform on the way. It was all very unnatural!
"Well, you do not smell pretty, Haldir," she replied at last, "why don't you come inside and lay down? You must be very tired after having stumbl...er, walked so far to get here." Andúnil decided she'd try getting him to cooperate in moving, seemed like the easiest course next to just dropping him on the floor. Had he been any Elf lesser than the Lady's Captain, she just might have opted for the latter straight away.
"Will you comb my hair?" He murmured, beginning to pet the arm he'd been holding on to.
"Certainly I'll comb your hair, but you have to come inside and lay down first, alright?" She bargained, patting his naked back gingerly.
"Alright," he replied agreeably, pushing himself away from her body to attempt entering the room of his own accord. Muttering under her breath, Andúnil did her best to guide the heavy, stumbling, shirtless Elf toward the padded bench in her parlor. She pushed him down onto it and coaxed the bottle from his hand, not wanting it spilled by accident. Andúnil set it out of sight and took her time fetching the comb from the vanity in her bedchamber, she hoped he'd be passed out by the time she returned so that she might be at liberty to go and fetch one of his brothers to collect him. No such luck. By the time she emerged with the comb, he was flipping carelessly through one of her storybooks that sat on the shelf beside the bench. "Will you read me a story?" He asked, wavering from side to side where he sat. Andúnil frowned and snatched the book from his grasp.
"Lets just comb your hair for now, wont that be nice?" She replied, injecting a placating tone into her voice. Haldir grinned in the most inane manner she'd ever witnessed, nodding so vigorously it looked as though his head might come loose.
"Where's Rúmil and Orophin?" He asked sweetly as she settled beside him and began to pick through his tangles.
"Believe you me, I'd certainly like to know!" Andúnil replied with a huff.