Siege Mentality
Chapter Two.
This was the calm before the storm. Imladris had returned to its usual serenity for several days, but Elrond could feel the tension building in the air like lightning until the hair at the nape of his neck stood on end. With a groan of acceptance, he abandoned his attempt to make out Gil-Estel and retreated to his chambers.
*Perhaps I should have jumped into the sea after mother. I wonder what it is like to be a seagull?*
The candles had guttered and died in their sconces, leaving the corridors of the Last Homely House in darkness except for the pallid glow of the waning moon, and even elven sight could not perceive everything. As he strode along, his robes whispering against the stone smoothed by generations of feet, he saw a flash of pale hair whip through the door of his room, and smiled softly, all cares suddenly falling away.
He entered his rooms, the soft light momentarily dazzling his eyes. What he saw when they adjusted appalled him.
"Get out! Get out!" he hollered so loudly that the windows rattled in their frames. The expression on Legolas' face was unrepentant as his companion tugged at the strange breeches which had slid from her hips. "What in the name of the Valar are you doing in my rooms?"
"Uh … uh …" Even the blond elf was at a loss for words, but the girl lifted her head from the bed and looked at the Lord of Imladris truculently.
"We like it here. Can't you go somewhere else until we've finished?"
As Elrond stared in stupefaction at such an absurd request. A pair of hands crept round his waist from behind and he stiffened at the touch, but the voice in his ear was familiar.
"Fear not, meleth-nîn. I have an idea."
With a movement as swift as the most cunning warrior, the elf-maiden had untied his kirtle and, pinning the arrogant human to the bed with a knee judiciously placed in the small of her back, was binding her hands ruthlessly. The dark-haired elf was almost as quick to grab Legolas' shoulder in a vice-like grip, but the younger elf was not to be daunted.
"Why, my lord, a foursome and the use of bonds, I had never imagined you to be so adventurous," he drawled. "May I be introduced to this charming lady?"
His choice of words was unfortunate, as Elrond's fingers dug into his shoulder deeply and the half-elf snarled, "Not while there is breath in my body."
He and the other guided the recalcitrant lovers from the suite and propelled them none too gently down the hallway to the rather less magnificent guestrooms which Legolas occupied.
"My dad will get you when I tell him about this," Jen announced suddenly, but she faltered a little under Elrond's withering stare. "Okay, so he's an accountant in Surrey, but he'll still get you."
The mysterious elf let out a peal of silvery laughter.
"It matters not, as long as you are not dull-witted enough to disturb our repose."
Arm in arm with the Master of Rivendell, she left the room.
Unluckily, peace was not to be theirs. Sneaking to the deserted kitchens, searching for a flask of wine, they encountered Erestor and Glorfindel lounging in an alcove. Both elves started upright, their eyes wide and their faces contorted into comical masks of confusion.
Erestor seemed about to suffer an apoplexy, so it was Glorfindel who spoke first.
"Cel … Cel…" his usual eloquence deserted him. "Celebrían. Why are you here? Why are you not in Valinor?"
She blushed and clutched at Elrond's wide sleeve.
"There was no need for her to depart," her husband said calmly, quelling the nervous dancing in his stomach.
"But she was sorely wounded by the orcs and you could not heal her…" Erestor gulped, although he was still red in the face with consternation.
"Ah, yes," Elrond scuffed at the tiles as he spoke. "You must understand … you must see…"
Celebrían took pity in her lover and, ignoring her own embarrassment, began to explain, "I could no longer cope with my father."
One of Glorfindel's eyebrows shot up.
"What?"
"It was all 'Why do you not come and live at home, child?' 'I am sure that the air of Lothlórien will put more colour in your cheeks, Brí'. And then when I would not consent, all he would say was, 'I cannot imagine why you stay with that half-elf, my child. Surely you do not love him. Círdan would annul the marriage for you. Perhaps you have not yet met Haldir?'," she paused, out of breath. "I decided that this was the safest course of action."
"But what of the Lady Galadriel?"
"Oh, mother knows," the silver-haired elf laughed. "I would feel too much guilt if she did not understand enough to comfort him."
"I realise that you must remain hidden, but where have you been living?" Glorfindel was intrigued.
"Where else but in Elrond's chambers?" Celebrían's expression was innocent, but her eyes were alight with devilish amusement. At this latest confession, Erestor did indeed faint. The three remaining elves regarded his prone form with exasperation.
"Oh well." Glorfindel stooped and slung the slight body over his shoulder. "This explains many things. I shall see that Erestor recovers, and bid you goodnight."
He loped away, humming a salacious tune under his breath.
"It would be best if we retired to bed before we come across any more unpleasant surprises," the Noldo whispered in his wife's ear. She leaned into his touch.
"You are wise indeed, Elrond Peredhil," she murmured huskily. "If we bar the door against unwelcome intruders, we might share some rather more pleasant surprises…"
And so, between exchanged caresses, they barricaded themselves into their quarters with a solid oaken desk, a cloak-stand and a set of armour dating from the First Age.
