Siege Mentality
Chapter Seven
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Gandalf awakened to sounds of scrabbling in the tree outside his window. He closed his eyes resolutely, but the sounds only grew more insistent, more irritating. Swearing in Quenya and the tongue of the dwarves, he grabbed his staff and stumbled to the balcony.
Outside, a girl was hanging precariously in the tree.
"What are you doing?" he demanded irritably.
Peony nearly lost her grip at the sight of the Istar only clothed in a sheet. Clinging on, with her eyes shut against the appalling sight, she said, "Isn't this Lord Elrond's bedroom?"
"Do I look like the Master of Rivendell?"
She was forced to concede that, unfortunately, he did not, a fact that was made abundantly clear by his state of undress.
"How can I get there?"
"You will be ill welcomed by Lord Elrond, so I suggest that you do not get there."
"But if I do, what is the way?"
"Through the Halls of Mandos themselves." Gandalf stomped back inside. The sparks which shot out of his wand, which he was later to assure all that inquired were quite unintentional, were the last straw. Peony lost her uncertain hold on the trunk of the tree, and fell to the ground, amid a flurry of frantically waving limbs. Luckily, a girl who was sneaking out to meet Legolas for a liaison in the hot springs broke her descent. Unluckily, as her arms flailed, she tossed something high into the air. It landed on Gandalf's bed.
The wizard picked the offensive object up between his gnarled fingers and regarded it with cynical eyes. It appeared to be a black lace garter.
"This is it," he stormed, flinging his battered robe on. "This is enough."
His enraged words could be heard through all Imladris.
"In the West of my youth I was Olórin, acknowledged as the wisest of the Maiar." He thundered down the corridor. "But here I am nothing but an old fool quartered in a house under siege. How am I supposed to fight the forces of Darkness when the forces of adolescent lust are so pernicious? A garter for Elrond indeed! As if his wife does not have enough already! Would you like to make any suggestions, O Lord of the Breath of Arda?"
But it seems that Manwë listens to all, even if his replies are not what they would wish for. Gandalf was too immersed in his grousing to notice the fangirl creeping along the corridor as she left her nightly activities in Legolas' rooms. He tripped over her and fell down the stairs, doing considerable damage to his already wounded hat. The clamour roused Elrond, looking not best pleased at being disturbed.
However, he soon ascertained that his friend had broken his leg in the fall.
"How many more will be injured in this infestation? Can you not heal yourself?"
"My body is human, even if my spirit is not," the wizard retorted. "This lies in your hands, Master Elrond."
So they made their way to the Houses of Healing. Alas, it seemed that Gandalf was neither the first nor the last patient of the morning. Four Hobbits sat, side by side, their faces green under their curly hair, having eaten some of Lindir's 'special' mushrooms, and a fangirl was weeping at the carpet-burn on her knees.
"But we do not have carpets in Imladris." The elf-lord was thoroughly confused.
"Well, Mr. Elrond, sir, there was this nice carpet in a cupboard which we thought would make the floor more comfortable…"
Elrond closed his eyes in an attempt to dispel the image.
"Did it have anything on it?"
"Apart from Leggy?" The girl giggled, much to the disapproval of her audience. "Well, it seemed to have lots of pretty trees…"
The elf groaned. He would never be able to use his tapestry of Doriath, his only heirloom from the realm of Melian and Thingol, again. It was far too unpleasant to contemplate.
As the Noldorin Elf was passing goblets of steaming liquid to the Hobbits, and lecturing them on the follies of eating other people's stores of mushrooms, an impossibly cheerful head poked round the door.
"Good morning, Sarai, gentlemen, Lord Elrond, Mithrandir," Legolas chirruped.
The girl attempted to pull her skirts up to expose a few more inches of leg, hoping that he would not mind the carpet-burn, as he was the cause of it.
Elrond's greeting was scarcely more cordial than Mithrandir's, and the Hobbits did not respond at all, absorbed as they were in keeping their heads from floating away.
"I wondered," the newcomer continued breezily, "if I might borrow some oil."
"Why?"
"Oh, experimentation, my dear boy, experimentation."
Feeling as queasy as the Hobbits looked, Elrond tossed a small jar at the archer's head.
'Just go, Thranduilion. I do not wish to know more."
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The birds sang in the trees; the arrows whistled on the ranges. It was towards the latter that the fury of the Master of the House was directed.
"Why are there oil-stains on my sheets?" he bellowed, standing over Legolas, whose back was propped against a tree, his bow resting by his feet. "Why does my bed smell like the thyme liniment I gave you this morning?"
"Perhaps the charming lady who shares your bed…" he trailed off as he suddenly found himself surrounded by three enraged Peredhil, his companions coming to their father's aid.
"Do not say such things, grandson of Oropher," Elrond snarled. "I have no love for these liaisons of yours, but when you take them to my chambers and make such comments of my wife, you risk your life."
"I cannot breathe, Elrond," the Sindar elf choked.
"I cannot perceive why I should care." But the elf-lord released his hold on the other's tunic.
Elladan and Elrohir grimaced down at him, holding their bows threateningly.
Elrond stalked back inside to tidy his room, and comfort Celebrían, who had returned from a walk in the woods to a rather unexpected disaster scene.
A dark head peered around the bushes, its tresses dishevelled.
"What was that about Ammë?" Arwen asked.
"Did you not hear?"
"No. I was … ah … busy…" An explanation was furnished as the head of the heir of Isildur popped up alongside her.
"Oh, we see," the twins remarked in unison. They turned back to their erstwhile friend, only to find him wandering off back towards the Last Homely House.
Legolas was unconcerned, and certainly did not regret his sojourn in Elrond's rooms. After all, he now had information to use against the Lord of Imladris … But how to get a letter to Lord Celeborn in the Golden Wood? That was the question.
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