The Imladris Insanity Syndrome

Chapter One: The Set-Up

Author: Kellen

Feedback: Please. kellenanneyahoo.com

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are not mine; I am merely playing. Fiwen, Mariel and Eldabeth belong to me, however. Should you wish to borrow them, I am amenable. Just ask. (Not that I think anyone would ever want to borrow them; I however do wish to cover my bases.)

Summary: Estel and Legolas come back from a hunting trip to find the twins up to their old tricks. Fiwen finds the foulest creature she's ever encountered and Eldabeth makes a not-so-startling discovery. Involves mud, blood, sleeping draughts and more mud. Patented Kellen wackiness... I was in a mood. LoL.

Rating: PG

A/N: Be warned: This came about because of many long boring days at work and because of Cassia and Sio's "Siege of Dread". Yes, yes, I know... SoD was a serious story, but during Elrond's fight with the orcs in Imladris, the phrase "orc in the pantry" struck me and this was the result. This is the first of two chapters. The second will be out soon, entitled "The Clean-Up".

Do enjoy.

It wasn't the mud that bothered the twins so much, despite the fact that it covered them completely. Mud was mud, and could be cleaned. Unfortunately, Erestor nor the elleth with the broom that had watched them track the thick stuff into Elrond's house weren't so blase' in their attitude.

"Stop, the both of you." Erestor grabbed the broom from the stunned girl's grasp and stalked toward the twins. "What are you doing? The Mirkwood delegation is still here!"

Elrohir -- at least Erestor thought it was him -- snorted. "'Mirkwood delegation'? Erestor, have you gone mad?"

At that, Elladan -- maybe Elladan -- chimed in. "Since when do a few warriors and one Lady make a delegation?"

"And when was the last time we actually stood on protocol with any of the royalty of Mirkwood?"

Erestor resolved to stop bobbing his head back and forth to keep up with the twins and instead stared at a point between them. He brandished the broom, tapping the twin on the left in the chest with it. "Be clean," he ordered. The broom moved to the other twin. "And keep the floors clean."

Elrohir smirked and glanced at his brother. "Too late," they chimed, sounding every bit the elflings they were centuries removed from.

Erestor's eyes narrowed. "Where else have you been?"

"Oh, around," Elladan said nonchalantly, waving the question away.

"What have you done?" Dread made itself know in Erestor's tone. "Valar, elflings, what have you done?"

Elrohir grinned, white teeth standing out sharply against the dark mud. "Nothing we've never done before."

The broom fell from Erestor's grasp, clattering loudly on the floor. Eyes wide, he turned on the maid still standing in the hall behind him (and looking faintly annoyed; she was still awaiting the return of her broom). "Search the house," he ordered gruffly. "Find out what they've done," he struggled to be heard over the sounds of laughter from the twins. To Erestor's mind, the laughter had a definite demonic tone to it.

Elrond regarded the Lady of Mirkwood with a compassionate gaze. Eldabeth, granddaughter to Thranduil, niece to Legolas, had come for three important reasons. She delivered a message for her uncle, who stayed to visit in Rivendell and was currently out riding with Estel. So far, with Legolas gone, the message had gone undelivered as of yet. She came also of her own accord, fulfilling a request made of Elrond not long ago to learn what she could of some healing techniques and herbal remedies.

She also came to prove to her rather overprotective king and grandfather that she could handle being out of Mirkwood's borders. Eldabeth intended to prove to Thranduil that she could leave the palace and be safe.

Now she sat across from Elrond, fingering a somewhat frayed bandage over her forearm and learning firsthand of some of his healing techniques and herbal remedies.

"How do you fare, Lady?"

Elrond's soft question jerked Eldabeth out of her reverie. She deliberately quit mussing the bandage and set her hands in her lap. "Well, my lord. Well indeed."

Elrond made a noncommittal sound deep in his throat. "Well enough to start home?"

Eldabeth gave him a sharp look. "I think it would be best, Lord Elrond, if I waited until all evidence of foul play is gone before facing my daeradar."

"I thought as much." He pinned her with a calculating look. "The poisons are not completely gone. You are to rest. Legolas and Estel should be back before dinner tonight, barring any unfortunate incidents."

"Like a warg pack?" Eldabeth asked, hiding a grin.

Elrond nodded in acquiesence. "Of course, not the same pack your party came across in the pass?"

"No, my lord," Eldabeth's voice was dripping with too much innocence. "My party can handle warg packs. Even the Lady of Mirkwood killed one."

Elrond did not point out that, according to her guards, it had been purely accidental and Eldabeth had lost the dagger given to her by Thranduil. He did, however, give her a dubious look. She wilted.

"Please do not tell daerada that there were wargs."

Elrond sighed; Eldabeth was giving him the look. The look that all females of any species learned, and learned well. The look that had the male of the species was helpless to resist. "Of course not, Eldabeth." He sighed again, knowing he, wise healer and accomplished warrior, was defeated. "Stay," he said. "Enjoy the hospitality of Imladris. I want to look at your arm again before dinner. I've some herbal techniques that might interest you, and what better way to learn than to feel the effects of the medicines."

Eldabeth carefully kept a neutral expression, though Elrond could see her pale face whitening further. Maintaining his stoic countenance, he grinned inside. No one ever wanted to be the experiment; they always wanted to do the experimenting, and Elrond congratulated himself. Perhaps he wasn't defeated after all. The girl was speechless.

Elrond headed for the apothecary, intending to gather as many different medicines as he could find that could be safely used on Eldabeth's rather spetacular gash. It had been a long while since he'd had students and he honestly couldn't remember a time when the student was also the victim. Aside from the instances where Estel or the twins had been learning the techniques and had been injured -- they had always been a little too injured to appreciate the skill inherent in their healing -- Eldabeth's predicament afforded a unique opportunity.

You could tell a person over and over again what a particular herb does, but until they feel all the effects and side effects, they really didn't have a grasp over it.

Elrond stopped in mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet, as he realized just how completely sadistic he sounded.

Sighing and shaking his head, he started forward again, a little to preoccupied to notice the muddy handprints on the apothecary door. He pushed the door open and his world disappeared.

Fiwen rounded the last corner before coming to the apothecary, holding her right hand tightly in her left. When the shears slipped as she trimmed parts of her gardens, she honestly hadn't noticed she'd sliced open her palm until after she'd managed to smear blood on her cheek. When the contact was made, the pain flared and had brought tears to Fiwen's eyes. Then, the bleeding had become heavier and heavier and Fiwen had actually become a little frightened at the amount. Now, pain seemed to have increased along with blood flow and she decided to abandon her gardening efforts for bandaging efforts.

Her eyes narrowed as the door came into view. Muddy handprints? And judging by the sight, fairly recent handprints. Fiwen eyed the gloppy mess uncertainly before approaching the door slowly. She turned the handle and gently pushed the door open. Thick mud squished and glopped in the door jamb and Fiwen's nose wrinkled. How in all of Arda did mud manage to coat the entire inside of the door? She stepped inside, her foot slipping a little as she stepped on a floor coated thickly with mud.

She gazed upon the mess, wide-eyed. "This must have taken hours."

"And it will take many more to clean." The voice held a dangerous twinge.

Fiwen started; she did not recognize the voice immediately and turned to face the other occupant of the mud splattered room. She expected an elf, perhaps with some mud smudges here or there, considering the state of the apothecary's entry. She did not, however, expect something that looked as if it crawled out of the Dead Marshes. Mud pooled around its feet. Slime covered it from head to toe, and it wore a particularly frightening grimace. Fiwen shrieked and stumbled backward, one thought stuck in her mind. Orc in the apothecary. Orc. How did an orc get here? Her foot slipped in the mud and she fell hard. Without thinking, she put her right hand down to catch herself and yelped at both the shock of her entire weight landing on her wrist and arm and at the sudden pressure upon her gashed palm. Her arm folded under her and the back of her head hit the tile hard enough that the ceiling above her swam, seeming to want to drop down on her.

Would that it would. Mayhaps it would take the orc out as well.

The orc started toward her. Moving in for the kill, Fiwen thought, and try as she might, she really couldn't muster any sort of defense beyond weakly scrabbling backward. Her left hand, groping in the mud for some sort of purchase, found instead a thin stick. Thinking perhaps it was better than nothing, she grabbed it and quickly held it in front of herself, flinging mud upward to splatter against the creature's face. It winced and sighed.

Fiwen did too, as she regarded the thin, gnarled stick. Maybe I can poke its eye.

"Are you all right?"

It sounded...concerned? The creature from the Dead Marshes was asking if she was all right, and there was concern in its voice?

Its voice... Its voice was familiar.

Fiwen regarded the stick. Perhaps I can poke my own eyes out while I'm at it. How was she ever supposed to tell Lord Elrond she thought he was a foul creature from a stinking bog? "Oh, fine," she breathed. She winced, dispelling the image of "fine".

"Did you hurt yourself?" Elrond knelt next to her. "You fell hard."

"Yes, I know," she said without malice.

Elrond's lips quirked (though under all the mud, it really was rather hard to tell if it was a smile or frown) and he put an arm around Fiwen's shoulders as he helped her to stand. Upon standing, she swayed, hands to her side and still grasping the stick. Elrond took it from her. "This is not a very effective weapon."

She shrugged, trying to get her rather frantic breathing under control. "It's what I found." She paused. "I had hopes of poking out an eye," she added sheepishly.

"You dodged the question, Fiwen."

"Yes, my lord."

Elrond narrowed his eyes, and Fiwen was caught between outright laughter and fright at the look of the Lord of Imladris so completely covered in mud as to disguise him completely. He had no need to speak, for Fiwen knew well that she was annoying him and to annoy him meant trouble.

"I came here to clean and bandage my hand," she explained, holding up her hand and grimacing as the coating of mud in the stinging cut. "Aye, my lord, I fell hard, but 'tis only bruises, I think."

Elrond regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then decided to trust her diagnosis. "I think we both need to get cleaned up."

Fiwen nodded. "What happened in here?"

"My first guess would be Elladan and Elrohir."

There was silence for a moment before Fiwen spoke, obviously not thinking of the consequences of threatening her lord's sons. "I'll kill them."

"Not before I do."

"Yes, my lord."

Fiwen preceded Elrond out of the apothecary, both stepped gingerly to avoid crashing to the floor. They'd only gone a few steps when they heard an indignant shout echo behind them. They halted and turned, Fiwen slipping behind Elrond in hopes that Erestor would not see her, and would therefore not assign her any extra tasks in reparation for dirtying the floor.

"Stop right there, the both of you." Erestor strode toward them, dark hair flying.

Elrond considered the angry lines adorning his advisor's face and had a moment in which he seriously considered laying all blame on Fiwen. Just stepping aside, pointing and saying clearly and concisely, "she did it." Instead, he tried to give Erestor a suitably superior look -- which he knew was somewhat muted by the mud on his face -- and said "They did it."

Erestor nodded. "I see you found the mud."

Elrond barely refrained from wiping his face with his hands. He'd already tried it a few times and since his hands held as much dirt as his face, it really was rather counterproductive. "Do we know it was them?"

"Oh, yes." Erestor punctuated his statement with a nod. "Oh, yes, indeed."

Elrond turned. "Fiwen, would you mind not cleaning up just yet? We'll get your hand bandaged, but I've other plans."

Fiwen grinned. "As my lord wishes." She laughed.

Erestor promptly decided it was a singularly evil sound. He almost felt sorry for the twins.

Almost.

Estel and Legolas fairly flew up the steps into the main house at Imladris. Legolas reached the door first and ducked inside, giving Estel a smug look. Estel slid in a moment later, breathing hard.

"Never challege a wood Elf to a race through the trees, Estel. Have you not learned that by now?"

"Shut --" Estel drew another breath, "--your mouth."

"And he speaks to a prince of Mirkwood so imperiously. Did you not learn manners, dear boy?"

"Not -- lack of -- trying," Estel panted.

Legoals laughed. "Impertinant human."

"Yes," Estel responded. "Wouldn't have it any other way, either. Is it just me, or is it entirely too quiet here?"

Legolas blinked at the abrupt subject change, but shrugged. "It is not my realm."

"So you've no idea?" Estel glared at the prince. "You are absolutely no help at all."

Legolas just shrugged again. "Someone's coming this way."

Estel shot another look at him. "Yes, I heard."

The elf snorted. "Of course you did."

Estel turned in time to see Eldabeth, Lady of Mirkwood, coming down the corridor toward them. "Legolas," she called.

The blond elf raised an eyebrow. "When did you come in, dear lady?"

"I've a message for you," she replied as she stopped in front of them. "In my bag upstairs. Have you seen Lord Elrond?"

Legolas shook his head, nonplussed. Why was it that everyone he was around was prone to rather abrupt subject changes?

"Wha--"

Legolas leaned in close to Estel. "Monosyllabic," he warned.

Estel snorted. "And why would be be looking for Elrond?"

Eldabeth was suddenly glad her hands rested behind her back; if Legolas saw the bandage... "He promised to show me some herbal techniques before dinner. I was to meet him at the apothecary, but all I find is a mountain of mud and no Lord of Imladris." Her brow furrowed. "And what could be construed as either clumsiness or signs of a struggle, I'm not sure. I've been unable to find anyone until I crossed paths with the two of you."

Estel exchanged a worried glance with Legolas. "Go to the kitchens, Eldabeth. Should you happen upon anyone, send them for Glorfindel. He should be on the training grounds."

Eldabeth nodded, spun on her heel, and strode away. Legolas watched her go, then turned to Estel. "Was her arm bandaged?"

Estel shrugged. "I'm more worried about Ada. The last time he was late for an appointment the twins had pulled something that backfired rather spectacularly and Glorfindel ended up half-sick while Ada couldn't see straight for two weeks."

"I resolve not to ask," Legolas muttered. "Really. I'm not asking." He continued this mantra all the way to the apothecary.

Fiwen walked quickly, absently fingering the bandage on her right hand. Blood and mud was still smeared across her face, her dress was more brown and black than the pale blue it had been and her hair was a wiry, dirty mess with more than a few twigs adorning it. She frowned. At least it wasn't purple.

If she wasn't mistaken, her quarry was around somewhere close, watching the commotion with sadistic glee.

She stopped in the middle of the great lobby, hands fisted in her skirts and yelled. "Elladan! Elrohir! You're to come to the kitchens. Right away, my lords."

Elrohir materialized beside her. "What happened to you?"

She held back a sneer. "Take a wild guess, my lord."

"You are bordering on insubordination, Fiwen." This from Elladan, who appeared out of the shadows on Fiwen's other side.

"My apologies, my lords. I am merely..." she struggled for words.

"Stressed?"

"Overwhelmed?"

Fiwen held up a hand -- the bandaged right one. Despite their playfulness, Elrohir caught her wrist and eyed the bandage with concern. "What happened?"

"You are hurting me," Fiwen said mildly. "My wrist is sprained."

Elrohir dropped her wrist. Elladan took up the line of questioning. "What happened?"

Fiwen rolled her eyes; between the two of them asking three times, surely they could come up with a variety of ways to ask the same question. "I slipped in the mud."

She was instantly rewarded when shame colored both faces. Fiwen sighed. "Kitchens, please, my lords."

Elladan shook his head, but it was Elrohir who spoke. "Are you crazy? I'm not walking into a trap I know you helped set up."

Fiwen sighed. "My lords, weary as I am of your pranks, I am more weary and hurt than to be deviously minded. Mariel wishes to see you because she's concocted a new pastry recipe and wishes you to try it. She merely asked me to relay the message since I was on my way home anyway."

Elrohir brightened. "Well, if that's the case..." With that, he and Elladan disappeared again.

Fiwen sighed again. One of these days, she thought. One of these days, she will run out of patience and merely hack at them with a sword.

"Fiwen?"

"What happened?"

Oh, she was tired of those words. She turned, identifying the speakers as Estel and Legolas. "Your brothers," she said shortly.

"They caused trouble without us?"

Her patience was going. She nodded. "As they had been for years before your arrival."

"What did they do?"

"Estel, suffice it to say that they have crossed a line, and that Lord Elrond is not happy and has enlisted the help of Mariel to exact a revenge they will not soon forget."

Estel nodded, not even pretending to understand all of that. "So the next stage of events should happen in the kitchen?"

Fiwen nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Don't 'my lord' me," Estel murmured as he gestured Legolas to follow him to the kitchen. Fiwen followed them; there was no way she was missing this.

Eldabeth hurried into the kitchens and nearly ran into the elf that eyed the muddy counters with disgust. Elrond had a handtowel which was now coated in mud, but at least his face was recognizable again. Eldabeth stopped just inside the door, shook her head, decided all of Imladris was bordering on the insane, and made her way deeper into the kitchen. "My lord," she questioned tentatively.

"Ah, dear Lady," Elrond said, smiling. "My apologies for missing our appointment. It seems we had some developments."

Eldabeth merely nodded. Elrond turned his attention back to Mariel. "Thank you, Mariel."

The cook smiled and nodded. "It is good to finally get some revenge, I think," she said. "The twins have caused me much grief over the years."

"Your father as well, I'm sure," Elrond added.

Mariel nodded.

Eldabeth shook her head. She scanned the counter, found a cup full of water and reached for it. She suddenly needed a drink. Something stronger than water would have been ideal, but water worked. She suddenly found her hand smack by a wooden spoon. "That's not for you."

Eldabeth glared at Mariel. "You struck me."

"Aye I did."

Eldabeth blinked at the honesty. "You struck me with a spoon."

"Yes."

Eldabeth considered pulling a "don't-you-know-who-I-am?" routine, but just shook her head, chalked it up to the Imladris Insanity Syndrome and backed away.

Laughter echoed in the hallway and Elrond winked at Mariel before disappearing. No sooner than he had left, twins burst through the kitchen doors. Mariel moved around the counter to hide the mudstains that marked where Elrond had stood. "Boys!" she cried. "Fiwen sent you? I've something just for you two. I've been working on this for ages." As she spoke she scooped two pastries dripping with honey onto a plate and handed it to Elrohir, who took one and handed the plate to Elladan. "There's water there to wash it down, my lords."

Elrohir took a bite and swallowed with some difficulty. Too sweet. Too much honey. It stuck to his mouth like glue. Watching Mariel beam at him, though, he merely grinned.

"What?" Estel cried as he came in the door. "Treats for them, and not me? Mariel? How could you?"

Mariel's moment of panic was neatly covered up by Fiwen. "She didn't know you were back, my lord."

"Quit 'my lording' my all the time, would you, Fiwen?" Estel went back to speaking with Mariel as the twins devoured the pastries and reached for the water.

Fiwen leaned forward. "Prince Legolas, please. You must distract Estel," she whispered. "He mustn't eat the pastries nor drink the water."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Fiwen?"

The maid looked somewhat panicked. "The pranks are back in full force, my lord. Estel, for once, was innocent. I'd not like to see him suffer the same fate as his brothers."

Legolas didn't give it a moment's thought. "Estel," he called. It wasn't until Estel looked at him, question written across his face that Legolas realized he didn't have a reason to be calling his name.

"What?" he said absentmindedly as he picked up one of the cups and drank deeply.

Fiwen groaned. Elladan, about to drink from the other cup, stopped. "What's wrong, Fiwen?"

Elrohir turned, trying to swallow the sickly sweet pastry. "Fiwen?" he said, his mouth still full. "I thought you were going home."

Realizing she'd just given herself away, Fiwen fled.

Legolas stepped to the side, ready to disappear should anything ... foul... happen.

Elladan and Elrohir blinked, realizing they were the target.

Elrond stifled a groan from his shadowed corner.

Mariel went the way of Fiwen and quickly made herself scarce.

Estel collapsed, dead to the world.

Eldabeth resolved never to visit Imladris again.

"So, what was in that concoction?"

Elrond looked across the now cleared kitchen at Legolas. The twins, feeling somewhat guilty, had carried the asleep Estel to his bed and had resolved to make some sort of reparation to Fiwen. Mariel had been absolved of any part in the crime and Elrond still had not made his presence known to his sons, but apparently his hiding place was not good enough to keep Legolas from seeing him. "Something that will keep him asleep for the time being."

"How long?"

"Not too terribly long. A few hours. It was designed to keep the twins out of the way while we cleaned up the mud they've invariably have hidden in strategic places around the house."

Legolas smiled. "It seems that perhaps it may have served its purpose after all. The twins are busy keeping Estel company and making peace with Fiwen and Erestor."

Elrond nodded, conceding the point. He stepped out of the shadows. "I feel somewhat... dirty," he said.

Legolas couldn't help it; he laughed. And he laughed. And he kept laughing long after Elrond had shot him "The Look" and left the kitchen.

TBC...