Chapter Seven: The Effects of Orcish-Whisky
"What is the matter with him sister?" Whispered Lirinwen. Haldir had apparently fallen unconcious, while still sitting on their parlor floor at that, and the younger Elf-maid was observing this phenomenon with great horror.
Andúnil crouched down beside him, crinkling her nose at the offensive smell that emanated from his person, and carefully checked his pulse. "Well, he is not dead," she concluded, standing quickly and backing away from their ungracefully sprawled guest. "I am going to see if I can't find someone to come and retrieve him."
Lirinwen managed to look even more deeply horrified than before. "You are going to leave me here alone with him?" She croaked.
"Of course," replied the elder maiden curtly as she draped a mantle over her shoulders, "just keep an eye on his breathing, we can't have the Lady's Captain dying on our parlor floor you know."
Lirinwen's brows knit together and she craned her neck to get a better view of the warden's face. "The Lady's Captain you say?" She asked with curiosity.
"Quite right," confirmed Andúnil, "I shall return shortly," she added, stepping out the door.
"Hm! So it is!" Chirped the younger sister to herself, "though I must say, he looks and smells more like one of those Man creatures."
"Well, you look like a Dwarf woman, all red nosed and puffy, so there!" Came the gravelly response from the floor.
Lirinwen returned to her previous state of great horror, though this time with nuances of indignation. "I beg your pardon!" She huffed, "aren't you supposed to be unconcious?"
"I was unconcious," he sighed impatiently, "but now I am not."
"So I see!" She snapped, "not unconcious and full of acerbity."
Haldir's hand came up to rub his temple, though he made no other moves to adjust his position. "Well, Madame, you did just call me a 'Man', I felt it only fair to return the compliment."
Lirinwen snorted scornfully. "Yes, but only because I thought you were unconcious!"
"Oh, well, in that case," was that sarcasm she detected? "I retract my previous comparison between you and a Dwarf woman." Yes, there was no denying the derision in his tone.
"Might I remind you that you are a guest in my home?" She snarled at him, "it would behoove you to act with greater decorum towards me!"
Haldir opened his eyes slowly, and apparently with great effort. "Perhaps if you offered me a chair I might be more inclined towards decorum," he sighed, "or do you suffer all your guests to lay on the floor?"
"Oh!" Gasped the Elf-maid, "dear me, yes, lets get you onto the bench!" Let it not be said that even in a state of high offense, Elven ladies lack hospitality.
Haldir groaned as Lirinwen began to hoist him up by the armpits. "Gently, Madame, both my mind and body ache in ways I cannot describe."
"My apologies Marchwarden," she replied, adjusting her grip to facilitate as little jarring as possible, "I would have you know I have been in a state of great distress for the better part of last evening."
The Elf managed, with Lirinwen's assistance, to ease himself onto the bench seat, even as he cast her a troubled look. "What's that?"
"Well that's why I'm red and puffy you know," she explained patiently, as though to a child, "because of my distress."
Haldir blinked, "oh, I see."
Lirinwen settled herself next to him, "yes indeed, and you might have been as well had such a thing happened to you as it did to me!" The Captain said nothing, only continued to study the maiden at his side with mild alarm. Dear Eru, was she going to share with him? A twinge of panic fluttered in his already queasy stomach.
Lirinwen sighed wistfully, folding her hands on her lap. "But I suppose that's what I get for being such a trusting, vulnerable soul!" Another sigh. "Did he not think I saw him talking so secretively to that dark-haired thing from Imladris? And he had the nerve to deny it!" Oh yes indeedy, it appeared she was in the mood for sharing.
Haldir tried to think quickly, though it pained him. "Might I have a cushion Madame? My head aches fearfully," he groaned, hoping to either distract her from her topic of though or hint that he was in too much pain to make a good listener at the moment.
"Oh! Yes of course, you poor thing!" She jumped to her feet to fetch the desired cushion, "whatever is the matter with you anyhow? I've not ever seen anyone in such a state before!"
Haldir breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm afraid I have no idea what sort of evil has befallen me," he replied quietly, "though I suspect it has something to do with my troublesome brothers."
Lirinwen returned with both a cushion and a goblet of water. "Oh, you have brothers?" She asked politely, then frowned, "Tiniond does not have any brothers, perhaps if he did they might have taught him how to better treat a maiden!"
Haldir accepted her offerings gratefully, raising an eyebrow in curiosity even as she helped him tuck the pillow behind his head. "Tiniond?" The name was familiar to him for some reason.
The Elf-maid sighed again and plopped herself back down beside him. "Yes, Tiniond, that wretch who tore my heart to pieces and scattered the shards of my soul all across the Glade of Gathering!" Her bottom lip began to tremble and another wave of panic hit Haldir's stomach. Sharing was one thing, crying was quite another!
"Oh, well, I'm sure he didn't mean to..." Haldir paused and scowled as he tried to recall her exact words, "...scatter the shards of your soul, perhaps there has been a misunderstanding?" It was the best attempt at consolation he could make under the present circumstances.
Lirinwen sniffled. "I think not! I know what I saw!" Her voice began to quiver slightly, "and what's more is he had the nerve to lie to me about it! Can you imagine?" Her eyes began to gloss over.
"No, no I cannot," he whimpered, his alarm had now escalated from mild to moderate.
"Are you defending him?" She demanded, suddenly angry. Haldir's eyes widened in surprise and apprehension.
In vain he searched the meaning of his last reply for any evidence that would suggest he'd been defending the notorious Tiniond. "Never!" He squeaked in desperation.
Abruptly her mood swung back from anger to sorrow. "And what's more," apparently Haldir's transgression was already forgotten, "I was expecting that we were to become bethrothed last evening!" The last word of this revelation was stretched out into a high pitched, nasal whine and succeeded by a myriad of hitching sobs.
"Oh, my, well, that is unfortunate!" He gasped, trying to lean his body as far into the opposite corner of the bench as he could even as the distressed Lirinwen began to tilt toward him. But, alas, it was quite a short bench, and soon Haldir found he had half the weeping form of a young Elf-maid clutched to the front of his bare chest. Apparently, under the influence of her aforementioned distress, she'd forgotten he smelled unpleasant, or at least it certainly didn't seem to trouble her any longer.
The throbbing in his head increased and all the raw muscles in his body tensed. The Captain grimaced in distress and pain. Lirinwen's face was planted in his collarbone, leaking profusely all over his unprotected skin. Haldir was at a complete loss. He glanced at the goblet of water in his hand. No, no, that had the potential to worsen his situation. What was there to do? Gingerly he patted her upper back in what he hoped was a comforting manner and prayed for deliverance.
Tentatively Andúnil acended towards the Lord and Lady's court. Though she did know where to find the warden homes, she wasn't certain which one belonged to Haldir and his brothers. Consequently, she was in no mood to run about knocking on doors in order to ascertain the location of the brothers' home, so instead she opted to go directly to see the Lady. Surely Galadriel would send someone immediately to fetch her wayward Captain, and even if Andúnil was not permitted to see the Lady, she was certain there would be someone in the court that would help.
This was one of the most beautiful places in Caras Galadhon and Andúnil seldom had reason to venture here. Everything was polished and elegant, glowing with a radiant inner light. The lingering sound of music haunted the air, as if the trees were singing softly to one another, and the Elf-maid could not help but pause and take a moment to appreciate it. Her thoughts drifted away from the task at hand as she closed her eyes and felt the beauty of the city's heart seep into her soul. Breathing a contented sigh, Andúnil felt a smile come to her face.
"Good morning Andúnil of Lórien," came a deep voice to her close right. The maiden gasped, yanked from her daydream abruptly by the sound, but it was not the Noldo she was expecting. Instead of golden hair, the owner of the voice had dark tresses, also his skin was fairer and his countenance more sombre than regal.
"Good morning...Sir," she replied hesitantly, she recognized him as the strange Elf-lord that Glorfindel was speaking to at the festival the evening before.
"You were expecting Lord Glorfindel, perhaps?" He surmised dryly, "I have been told we sound much alike, I am called Erestor."
Andúnil's eyes brightened at the familiarity of the name. "Ah, Lord Erestor, yes of course, you are a counsellor to Lord Elrond!"
Erestor clasped his hands behind his back, Andúnil wondered fleetingly if this was a common trait in all of the Imladris males. "The chief of his counsellors, yes," he replied with no hint of feeling, "and companion to Lord Glorfindel for the moment, whom I understand you've already met."
The maiden felt her ears burn lightly at recollection of how she had 'met' the Elf-lord in question. "Indeed," she replied sheepishly, "I imagine that is where you learned my name?"
"No, that is not where I learned your name," he replied ambiguously, "were you looking to speak with someone in particular then, Madame?"
'Well, this one certainly doesn't waste time mincing words does he?' Andúnil thought to herself, distinctly aware that he seemed to think she was seeking out the Golden Lord. "Yes, Counsellor," she replied at length, "as a matter of fact I was looking to speak with someone in particular." Her hopes of irritating him with his own brand of vague answer seemed doomed to disappointment.
"Perhaps I might be of some assistance," he replied without missing a beat or batting an eye. Andúnil felt a small twinge of annoyance.
"Indeed? I am seeking to speak with the Lord, Lady or either of the Marchwardens that are brother to Captain Haldir." If Erestor was surprised by this list, he did not show it.
"Is this in regards to Haldir's whereabouts?" Demanded the dark-haired Elf, his tone taking on a decidedly more serious timbre.
Andúnil blinked, "well, yes," she admitted, momentarily thrown off by the perceptive question.
"Follow me," he barked, setting off at a brisk pace. Andúnil felt another twinge of annoyance as she sprinted after him, this haughty creature had some nerve ordering her about!
"...even the most miniscule amount of this substance ingested into the elven system will cause a nearly instantaneous state of unconciousness that can last up to five hours," read Celeborn from a crisp piece of parchment. Rúmil and Orophin listened glumly as their Lord continued, "it is believed that the substance spreads, thereafter, through the bloodstream, like a poison, and causes a variety of side effects that include extremely unpleasant body odor, mild muscle aches, sensitivity to light, sensitivity to sound, temporary memory loss and headaches that are potent to the degree of being immobilizing," he paused there and shot them both a seething glare.
Rúmil was doing his best not to giggle at the list of symptoms that were most likely ailing his poor brother. Orophin was amused also, but doing a much better job of controlling himself. "Please continue, my lord," he urged, jabbing his mirthful sibling in the ribs with unnecessary force.
Celeborn's eyes returned to the page with a frown. "The victim may also suffer from sporadic bouts of unconciousness over the course of the week following the ingestion, and will be unnaturally susceptible to the ill effects of any and all other forms of fermented beverages during that time period," the Elf-lord paused again as if undecided whether or not to continue, at length he did, "these symptoms are believed to be caused by an allergic reaction to a sub-ingrediant in the whisky; orc urine..."
Rúmil was unable to contain himself at that and burst out laughing. Orophin lowered his head and bit his lip, though the slight bouncing of his shoulders betrayed his amusement. Celeborn slapped down the parchment in disgust and glared at them both, he was robbed of the chance of reprimanding them by a sudden knock on the door. Swiftly he got up and brushed past the two merrymakers to answer it, and found the solemn grey eyes of Erestor awaiting him on the other side.
"I am in the middle of an audience Counsellor, can I seek you out a later time this morning?" He asked quickly, hoping the Rivendell Elf couldn't hear Rúmil and Orophin's muffled larking.
"There is a maiden here who claims to have information pertaining to your Captain's mysterious disappearance, my lord," replied Erestor, giving no indication that he heard anything amiss. Celeborn tilted his head with interest and exited the office, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Noticing a rather piqued looking Elf-maid standing behind his guest, he gestured toward a comfortable bench that sat near. "Wont you both have a seat?"
"No thank you, my lord," replied Erestor quickly, "I have other duties to attend to."
"Then I thank you for bringing the maiden to me personally," was Celeborn's courteous reply. Erestor responded with a brief bow, and left, stepping around Andúnil as though she were a piece of furniture. The maiden made no effort to hide her vexation as she watched the dark-haired counsellor walk away, Celeborn had to suppress the smile that leapt to his face. Erestor's abrupt social skills were an endless source of amusement to the Lord of Lothlórien.
"Do not let him trouble you, my dear, it's not personal, Erestor treats everyone with the same lack of fervor."
Andúnil gave Celeborn a startled look, she was quite puzzled by the inappropriately candid comment coming from the Elf beside her. "Then I shall surely not let him trouble me, my lord." Celeborn chuckled and sat on the bench, gesturing that she join him, which she did quite quickly.
"Now, what is this about Haldir?" He asked once she'd settled herself.
The door opened and Celeborn re-entered the room, behind him came a maiden that was by now quite familiar to the Lórien brothers.
"So wonderful to see you again my lady!" Chuckled Rúmil, only barely recovered from his laughter. Celeborn shot him a withering look and Andúnil rolled her eyes and ignored his overly-friendly greeting.
"Andúnil, I'm sure you're already acquainted with Rúmil and Orophin," spoke Celeborn, nodding toward each brother as he said their name.
"Moreso than I'd like to be, if I may say so, my lord," was her snide reply.
Celeborn grinned, "you may indeed," he sat back down at his desk and motioned her to a chair, "now please, if you will, once more so that they might hear what has become of their brother."
This earned the Elf-maid two curious glances. "Well, it was simply awful," she began, frowning overmuch and enjoying the look of worry that passed over their features, "as it is I'm surprised he escaped the whole affair without a broken neck!" Here she paused again as if so overcome by the memory that she needed a moment to collect her thoughts.
Celeborn nodded understandingly. "Take your time, my dear, I know this isn't easy for you." Rúmil and Orophin both turned noticeably paler, so focused were they on the maiden that they didn't see the smirk on their Lord's face.