Chapter Six: The Morning After
There was a dwarf in her parlor, Andúnil was certain of it, for the creature was snoring in a frightful manner and filling the air with its great stench. But strangely these things did not bother her as readily as one might think they would, for at the moment she was far more concerned with the fact that she appeared to be trapped under a heavy object. A warm, heavy object. Fearfully, Audunil looked down the length of her body.
"Sweet Elbereth!" She shrieked, for there lay an Elf.
Startled most abruptly out of his slumber, the Elf's head shot up even as his body toppled off the side of the bench. He landed with a great thud on his back, smacking his skull on the floor. Painfully, he groaned, grabbing the injured body part with both hands.
Lirinwen came charging out of her bedchamber, her eyes bugging out at the sight before her. "Andúnil!" She cried, "there is an Elf in our parlor!"
"Madame!" Hissed the Elf from where he lay, "please desist with these hysterics!"
"Oh, so sorry," replied the younger sister, then lowering her voice she addressed her sibling once more, "Andúnil, there is an Elf in our parlor!"
"Yes, thank you Lirinwen, but I am well aware!" Her voice was thick with irritation.
Haldir sat up slowly, his face contorting in great discomfort, and took a tentative look at his surroundings. The Elf-maids watched him in silent apprehension, neither certain what to say. "Where is my shirt?" He asked lamely.
"Oh, you arrived without one," Andúnil replied, as she began to assemble her memory of the previous evening. "You mentioned that you were looking for the kitchens." Haldir considered this information.
"I have no memory of arriving in this place," he frowned, "and my head aches fiercely as though I had suffered a mightly blow," suddenly his expression turned accusatory. "Did you strike me on the head?" He demanded.
Two wardens stood facing the Lord of Lórien, their eyes downcast, their shoulders slightly hunched. Celeborn was treating them to a look of utter disbelief, his brows knit and his mouth agape in a most un-elven fashion. "You did what?" He demanded.
"We lost him, my lord, we lost Haldir," spoke Orophin. Rúmil nodded his assent at the validity of this information.
Celeborn looked skeptical. "How does one lose Haldir, exactly?"
"Well," began the younger brother, pausing to glance at his sibling, "we're not precisely certain my Lord."
"We left him sleeping in our quarters last evening, as the Lady requested, and, well, when we returned from the festival, he was missing and has not been seen!" Added Rúmil.
Celeborn cleared his throat and stood from his desk, "I do not see how this is cause for concern, Haldir is well able to care for himself." The brothers quickly exchanged a fearful glance that did not go unnoticed by the elven Lord. "Oh dear, I am loath to ask, what have you done?" He sighed.
"I only meant to help him fall asleep!" Protested the elder brother.
"Rúmil," groaned the Lord, "tell me what you did to him."
Rúmil bit his lip and looked pleadingly at his sibling, Orophin sighed and answered, "Rúmil administered a powerful sleeping draught, of sorts, you must understand my lord, we wished to quickly return to the festival, but the Lady had given us instructions to see him abed..."
"Powerful sleeping draught of sorts?" Interrupted Celeborn, "what exactly does of sorts entail?"
Orophin clamped his mouth shut and glared at his elder brother, "that, my lord, you will have to ask Rúmil."
The Lord of the Golden Wood cast the brunt of his most impatient stare on the Elf in question and awaited a response. Under his gaze, Rúmil flinched and fidgeted, looking as though he had swallowed something sour. "Well, it wasn't so much a sleeping draught as a bit of rare liquor," he replied at last.
"Rare liquor?" Repeated the Elf-lord, "what sort of rare liquor, my young warden?" Celeborn could see from the look on their faces that he did not want to know.
"It was orcish-whisky, my lord!" Cried Orophin suddenly. Rúmil shot his brother a peevish glare. Lord Celeborn's face turned to stone.
"Where in Arda did you get such a vile thing?" Demanded their superior, his voice reduced to a fearsome whisper.
Again the brothers exchanged apprehensive glances. "From the orcs we kill on the borders my lord," replied Orophin cautiously, "I know it isn't customary to take items from the bodies, but..."
"Isn't customary?" Roared Celeborn, silencing the warden, "I am absolutely appalled with the both of you! Whatever possessed the you to do such a thing?"
"It wasn't the both of us my lord!" Pleaded Orophin, pointing sideways at his brother, "it was only Rúmil, I've never touched a flask of orcish-whisky in my life!"
Rúmil gasped in outrage. "You treacherous insect! You dared me to take it!"
Orophin shrugged, "well, I didn't make you take it!"
"Enough!" Snapped the Lord, "aside from the fact that you took the whisky, what I would really like to understand at this point is why you decided to give it to your brother! There are many better ways to help someone pass into a state of rest!" Rúmil pouted. Orophin cringed. Celeborn began to tap his foot. "Well?"
At last the elder sibling huffed, "we just wanted to have a bit of fun with him, thats all," he looked up at his Lord with a pleading quiver to his bottom lip, "it was only meant to be a harmless prank, really."
"Tell me exactly what happened," growled Celeborn, seating himself back down at his desk.
...the previous evening...
"I am not tired!" Stormed Haldir, planting his fists firmly on his hips and glaring at his siblings.
"But brother!" Protested Orophin, "the Lady asked us to see you to bed, so to bed you must go!"
Rúmil nodded his support. "Indeed, you've consumed too much wine this evening and aren't fit to be in public, already you've much humiliated yourself."
"I will decide when I am and am not humiliated if you don't mind!" Argued the eldest. The younger wardens exchanged weary glances, this simply would not do.
"I have a splendid idea!" Piped up Rúmil quite suddenly, "perhaps if I gave you something to clear your head you could return with us?"
"My head is clear!" Insisted the Captain.
"Haldir, you are being stubborn!" Chided Orophin.
"No I am not!" He shot back, stubbornly.
"Are you suggesting the Lady was wrong?" Tried Rúmil.
This seemed to do it, Haldir opened his mouth, paused, then shut it. He pondered for a moment, then at length replied. "The Lady is never wrong, though, perhaps in this case she was slightly mistaken."
"Haldir, that is the same thing!" Argued Orophin.
"No, it is not!" Insisted the warden.
"Here, take a sip of this," offered Rúmil, ignorning his elder brother's venemous glare, "then at least we can say with all honesty that we gave you a remedy for your non-existent condidtion." As he spoke, Rúmil was digging through the cabinet where he stored his gear, emerging with a small brown flask which he offered to Haldir.
"You are mocking me," snapped Haldir, "do not think I cannot tell!"
"Do you want to come or not?" Returned the younger Elf, "because if you don't co-operate we'll tie you up and leave you to rot until we return!"
Haldir snorted in derision, "you couldn't tie me up if your miserable lives depended on it," but he snatched the flask anyhow, earning a grin from his sibling. Cautiously he removed the cap and sniffed the contents, then reeled back as if haven been smote in the jaw. "What is this poison?" He demanded.
Rúmil shrugged nonchalantly, "something I got from Elladan when last the twins visited, I understand it's of Lord Elrond's creation," he lied.
Orophin maintained his silence. He was skeptical, there's no way Haldir would fall for this. After all the millenia that had passed the elder warden would not be fool enough to accept an unidentifiable drink from Rúmil. Thus was he startled into gaping shock when the Captain took a tentative swig from the flask. 'Oh my,' thought Orophin to himself, 'he has most certainly had too much wine if he is agreeing to this!'
Haldir gagged and sputtered, shaking his head violently as if to shed the taste of the horrid drink. He dropped the flask, which was quickly apprehended by Rúmil and began to retch in a most unattractive fashion. The younger brothers witnessed this disturbing display with a degree of concerned disapproval.
"You've poisoned him!" Hissed Orophin.
Rúmil blanched and looked at the offensive object in his hand. "My word, I certainly hope not!" Presently their elder brother's eyes rolled back into his head and he toppled over, unconcious. "I've poisoned him!" Cried Rúmil.
...back to the following morning...
"But, thank goodness, we were mistaken," continued the warden, "as when we checked him we found that he was merely unconcious, so we carried him to his cot, made him comfortable, and left."
"And when we returned some hours later he had vanished!" Added Orophin, "you don't suppose someone stole him do you?" He asked, looking in horror to his sibling.
Rúmil snorted, "if that's the case, I pity the poor Elf-napper, they're in for quite the adventure when he wakes up."
Celeborn sighed and crossed his arms. "I assume it was your intent to make him ill for your own amusement?"
"Not so much 'ill' as 'slightly nauseated'," corrected Rúmil, "but I assure you it was only for his own good!"
"I fail to see how nausea serves Haldir's own good," snapped the Lord, "and I can well see that you are both unaware of how orcish-whisky affects the elven body, or you would certainly not have left him alone!" The brothers paled at this, not daring to ask why.