Chapter 2
From his crouch, Elrond aimed a kick at Glorfindel's groin while an expert flick of his wrist sent bunny gore streaming at the balrog slayer's eyes.
Glorfindel curled into a fetal position as Elrond's boot connected. Grasping his groin, he lurched forward face-first onto the floor. Thinking the battle won, Elrond stepped forward to help his fallen friend.
"Glorfi, take my hand," Elrond soothed. "Come into the light…" At least some things Arwen said were worthwhile enough to remember.
As if in a dream, Elrond watched in slow motion as Glorfindel began to raise his face. His warrior braids cast his face in shadow, and all he could see was the fire dancing in the warrior's eyes. His lips ponderously rose over his teeth in a parody of a grin, the light from the torches glinting of his too-white canines, the corks lost in streams of darkening gore. The demonic expression stayed as Glorfi suddenly whipped his head and crushed Elrond's nose.
Tangled hair, and now a nose job! There would be no mercy. Contorting his face and issuing a feral snarl, Elrond rolled to the demon child's feet and executed his deadliest attack- he whipped his hair violently at Glorfindel's face. The torque nearly broke Elrond's neck, so committed was he to the blow.
Fully five pounds of Herbal Essences shampooed, conditioned, revitalized, moisturized, enriched, styled, gelled, bodied, moussed, pomaded, straightened, treated, shined, (and modestly revolutionized, as Elrond was wont to say,) hair whacked Glorfindel full across the face. He staggered back from the strike, and let out a piercing scream as the oils in the alchemists' playground slowly started to eat into his skin. It was so cleansing, the chemicals in Elrond's hair had turned into acid. The strange, fiery light in Glorfindel's eyes dimmed as he fell into convulsions and eventually slipped into unconsciousness.
Glorfindel teetered on the edge of oblivion as vague voices drifted over and around him in a strange clamor of whispers in his vicinity, and he also heard something much darker and difficult to perceive, as if over a great distance.
He has failed. You have failed.
N-No, my lord, there will be more-"Here, give me that cloth."
-I feel benevolent today, Wo-
"Quickly, we must soil his face to slow the acid!"
-pray, now crawl out of my sight as soon as you are able, and do not fail me again! One chance, do not waste it! Already they sense the presence of external urging-
"Last resort! Find the orc-droppings!"
Lord Elrond will die!
Glorfindel's eyes popped open to see a fistful of feces poised precariously over his face. The lord of Imladris smiled wanly.
"Praise the Valar! I didn't want to do that. Thank Illuvator you awoke in time," and with that, Elrond handed the greenish-brown mound into the un-gloved hands of a grimacing attendant. "I thought the cleansing oils of my hair continued to persist in eating you alive. The dirt would have directed it away from your skin."
Glorfindel just groaned out in reply. Feeling eloquent, he grunted as well. He blinked blearily, for a strange glare piercing through an oddly perfumed haze hurt his eyes. Then Elrond turned away, and his vision cleared. Glorfindel realized Elrond's hair was just shining through a freshly applied cloud of hairspray.
Glorfindel struggled with his consciousness. What was it he had heard? He realized now that the more distinct and less violent, (though still aggressively disgusting) conversation had been Elrond talking to his attendants… Elrond! There was a plot to kill Elrond! And someone had failed…
Well, obviously, if someone had failed, then the threat was absolved.
Glorfindel smiled contentedly at his ever-unfailing logic. He leaned back into his pillows and truly felt relaxed for the first time in months. Everything was fine and dandy in the world. He was even getting new corks tomorrow! No more food getting stuck in those blasted corks' holes, by golly.
Glorfi turned over in his bed, never noticing that Elrond still stood in the room. Grinning wickedly as he counted severed orc limbs to get to sleep, Glorfindel's breathing eventually evened, and his thumb found its way to his mouth.
Elrond watched the balrog slayer sleep, the moonlight shining through the open windows to bathe Glorfindel's locks and white coverlet in a soft silver glow. Elrond tensed as he realized he had seen the expression on Glorfindel's face earlier today mirrored in the faces of other elven lads before. What was it? He remembered Arwen "accidentally" walking through the boy's bunk in Rivendell's training camps. It had been nighttime, and Arwen said she had been wearing Elrond's thongs and a halter-top because of the heat…
Elrond gasped and stood rigid as he finally understood. He turned slowly to regard his friend, sleeping innocently, unaware of the danger he was in.
"Fight it, my friend, fight it." Elrond whispered to the still figure. "She does not own you!"