Chapter IV
Blue Fairy
The tall Elf pauses on the threshold of his house before entering. That moment of hesitation had become a habit with him in the last few weeks. It might mean all the difference when Elrond's revenge struck. When, not if. Retaliation was a certainty, but the timing was in Elrond's hands. Elrond, who had been giving him knowing looks and satisfied smiles for the past few days. The uncertainty was killing Glorfindel and he almost wished that he could just get it over with. Little did he suspect that those smiles and looks were all the revenge Elrond intended, having decided that to up the stakes at this stage would not be to his own benefit in the long run.
Nothing. Always nothing. Still wary he enters the house, and begins his second inspection of his house for the day. The first was done immediately upon awakening in the morning. Better safe than sorry.
When he had looked in every nook and cranny and satisfied himself that nothing is amiss, he finally begins to relax a little. He fixes himself a dinner that would go down in the annals of bachelordom as a sad attempt, and sits down to eat his uninspiring fare. With a long day behind him and another to follow, he finally retires. Wearily undressing himself he ponders on the wisdom of going to Elrond and begging his forgiveness for the tree incident. His pride revolts, but the foresight of the elves warn him that this may be the lesser ill to befall him.
With a sigh he throws himself onto his bed, only to rise like the new moon from the ruins of his bed. Still struggling to free himself from the wreckage, he sputters and shakes his head in an attempt to rid him of the blue liquid that covers him from head to toe. A bit more flapping around sees him on his feet and desperately flailing around for a cloth to wipe his face with. His hands come in touch with the closest object to fit this description, and it is only after he can finally see again that he realizes that he had just dried himself off with his favourite robe.
On closer inspection he can see that the wooden base of his bed had been removed and his mattress carefully balanced on a huge bath filled with blue dye. As the space beneath his bed is boarded up on the sides, he had not seen this on his earlier examination of the room.
His already mounting anger reaches volcanic proportions when he surveys the destruction all around: the collapsed bed, the ruined robe, the stained floorboards, al covered with the same blue dye still dripping from his hair. He storms to the front door and throws it open.
"Eeeelrooooooooond!" he thunders across the valley, causing lights to be lit in several houses as startled elven families try to determine the origin of the disturbance.
"Eeeelrooooooooond!" he continues as he strides toward Imladris, leaving behind a blue trail of drops. For days to come the elflings would follow this track and pretend to be on the spoor of a fierce pack of bleeding Orcs. "Eeeelrooooooooond!" he shouts as he shoves an indignant Celboril out of the way just as the latter opens the door to see what has roused him from his well deserved slumber.
"Lord Glorfindel! The Floor!" Celboril screeches as he notices the blotches left on his beautiful polished floor, but the Golden Elf is deaf to his protestations. Only when he reaches the stairs and confronts two elves clinging to each other helplessly in a fit laughter does he stop.
"You think this is funny, do you?! Well, do you?"
"No, of course not my lord," Elrohir valiantly tries to protest, but he is prostrated once more by the giggles that continues to shake his brother.
"You disrespectful young scoundrels! Have your father taught you no manners? I will gladly remedy that oversight. Come back here! Come..." he shouts after the fast retreating twins.
"What is the meaning of this, Glorfindel!?" interrupts the lord of the house from the top of the steps. Even with his nightcap on Elrond manages to glare imperiously down on the intruder.
"That is what I would like to know!" returns said intruder angrily. "My bed is ruined, and so is my clothing, my floor, my dignity! And your two brats have the audacity to laugh at me!"
"Well, if you wake my household in the middle of the night and make a spectacle of yourself, what do you expect?" Elrond answers in his most quelling voice.
"A spect-spectacle!" he stutters in his rage.
"Really, Glorfindel when was the last time you looked in a mirror?" Elrond asks calmly, not betraying the mirth that is silently shaking his frame. He dares not approach Glorfindel for fear of making this obvious to the already incensed elf. The latter stares at him for a moment, too angry to say anything, and then abruptly turns on his heels to march towards the nearest mirror. In shock he stares at the blue monster in his reflection. Blue hair continues to cry blue tears down his nightshirt, which in turns bleeds a blue river wherever he goes. Blue eyes smoulder in a blue face showing signs of turning purple with rage.
"I will get you for this, Elrond. If it's the last thing I do," he bellows before turning and stalking out the door, where a disconsolate Celboril is still bemoaning the state of his no longer gleaming floor.
As he leaves the house, he can swear that he hears someone in the shrubs saying something about a blue fairy before being shushed, but he is too furious to pay heed to any further insults on this night.
tbc
Blue Fairy
The tall Elf pauses on the threshold of his house before entering. That moment of hesitation had become a habit with him in the last few weeks. It might mean all the difference when Elrond's revenge struck. When, not if. Retaliation was a certainty, but the timing was in Elrond's hands. Elrond, who had been giving him knowing looks and satisfied smiles for the past few days. The uncertainty was killing Glorfindel and he almost wished that he could just get it over with. Little did he suspect that those smiles and looks were all the revenge Elrond intended, having decided that to up the stakes at this stage would not be to his own benefit in the long run.
Nothing. Always nothing. Still wary he enters the house, and begins his second inspection of his house for the day. The first was done immediately upon awakening in the morning. Better safe than sorry.
When he had looked in every nook and cranny and satisfied himself that nothing is amiss, he finally begins to relax a little. He fixes himself a dinner that would go down in the annals of bachelordom as a sad attempt, and sits down to eat his uninspiring fare. With a long day behind him and another to follow, he finally retires. Wearily undressing himself he ponders on the wisdom of going to Elrond and begging his forgiveness for the tree incident. His pride revolts, but the foresight of the elves warn him that this may be the lesser ill to befall him.
With a sigh he throws himself onto his bed, only to rise like the new moon from the ruins of his bed. Still struggling to free himself from the wreckage, he sputters and shakes his head in an attempt to rid him of the blue liquid that covers him from head to toe. A bit more flapping around sees him on his feet and desperately flailing around for a cloth to wipe his face with. His hands come in touch with the closest object to fit this description, and it is only after he can finally see again that he realizes that he had just dried himself off with his favourite robe.
On closer inspection he can see that the wooden base of his bed had been removed and his mattress carefully balanced on a huge bath filled with blue dye. As the space beneath his bed is boarded up on the sides, he had not seen this on his earlier examination of the room.
His already mounting anger reaches volcanic proportions when he surveys the destruction all around: the collapsed bed, the ruined robe, the stained floorboards, al covered with the same blue dye still dripping from his hair. He storms to the front door and throws it open.
"Eeeelrooooooooond!" he thunders across the valley, causing lights to be lit in several houses as startled elven families try to determine the origin of the disturbance.
"Eeeelrooooooooond!" he continues as he strides toward Imladris, leaving behind a blue trail of drops. For days to come the elflings would follow this track and pretend to be on the spoor of a fierce pack of bleeding Orcs. "Eeeelrooooooooond!" he shouts as he shoves an indignant Celboril out of the way just as the latter opens the door to see what has roused him from his well deserved slumber.
"Lord Glorfindel! The Floor!" Celboril screeches as he notices the blotches left on his beautiful polished floor, but the Golden Elf is deaf to his protestations. Only when he reaches the stairs and confronts two elves clinging to each other helplessly in a fit laughter does he stop.
"You think this is funny, do you?! Well, do you?"
"No, of course not my lord," Elrohir valiantly tries to protest, but he is prostrated once more by the giggles that continues to shake his brother.
"You disrespectful young scoundrels! Have your father taught you no manners? I will gladly remedy that oversight. Come back here! Come..." he shouts after the fast retreating twins.
"What is the meaning of this, Glorfindel!?" interrupts the lord of the house from the top of the steps. Even with his nightcap on Elrond manages to glare imperiously down on the intruder.
"That is what I would like to know!" returns said intruder angrily. "My bed is ruined, and so is my clothing, my floor, my dignity! And your two brats have the audacity to laugh at me!"
"Well, if you wake my household in the middle of the night and make a spectacle of yourself, what do you expect?" Elrond answers in his most quelling voice.
"A spect-spectacle!" he stutters in his rage.
"Really, Glorfindel when was the last time you looked in a mirror?" Elrond asks calmly, not betraying the mirth that is silently shaking his frame. He dares not approach Glorfindel for fear of making this obvious to the already incensed elf. The latter stares at him for a moment, too angry to say anything, and then abruptly turns on his heels to march towards the nearest mirror. In shock he stares at the blue monster in his reflection. Blue hair continues to cry blue tears down his nightshirt, which in turns bleeds a blue river wherever he goes. Blue eyes smoulder in a blue face showing signs of turning purple with rage.
"I will get you for this, Elrond. If it's the last thing I do," he bellows before turning and stalking out the door, where a disconsolate Celboril is still bemoaning the state of his no longer gleaming floor.
As he leaves the house, he can swear that he hears someone in the shrubs saying something about a blue fairy before being shushed, but he is too furious to pay heed to any further insults on this night.
tbc