Celeborn's Club
by Erestor
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Lord of the Rings.
Breaking News: Celeborn Announces New High Society Club
CHAPTER TWO
No one was exactly sure how 'Celeborn's Club' had turned into a hot air ballooning society. Erestor suggested, perhaps sarcastically, that it was a desperate attempt on Celeborn's part to find his inner fëa. Celeborn, a bit more practical, said that Erestor was just annoyed because he hadn't thought it up himself. In reality, the reason they were constructing a large hot air balloon was for publicity.
"This is a publicity stunt?" asked Elrohir dubiously, wishing his father had given him Vilya before leaving for Valinor. (A ring of power would have been very useful.) "Are you sure it will work?"
"I don't think it will," said Erestor huffily, flouncing out of the room. "Elves aren't meant to fly."
Thranduil was coating the balloon with waterproof paint. It was his favorite color. He was feeling happy and contented. Then Glorfindel came over. "Green? Why is this green? I hate the color green!" Glorfindel cried, grabbing a pot of paint and plastering little golden flowers over the material with wild abandon. Thranduil scowled.
"What are you doing? I'm not going to fly anywhere in a hot air balloon covered in flowers!" he said in annoyance.
"These are noble flowers," Glorfindel replied.
"I like blue," put in Elladan.
"Silver," said Celeborn. "It was MY idea, so I get to choose!" He hunted around for a pot of silver paint.
"But Grandfather, silver is so boring!" wailed Elladan, clutching his can of blue paint.
"Red isn't boring," said Lindir, from where he was painting butterflies on the balloon. It was fortunate that Thranduil had not yet noticed.
"Purple," said Erestor, who had reappeared. He loved the thrill of conflict.
The seven Elves glared at each other; a few waved paintbrushes menacingly. "I think we should be reasonable about this," said Celeborn, who had decided he was in charge.
"Reasonable?" asked Lindir. He strode across the room purposefully, tripped over a bucket of paint and stumbled heavily into Celeborn. Paint flew in one direction.
Celeborn's direction.
Celeborn was now covered in yellow paint. It did not match his silver hair. "Lindir!" he bellowed.
"Lord Celeborn is killing Lindir!" cried Thranduil, who didn't really care. He threw his paintbrush at the Elf in question.
"Hey! King Thranduil just attacked Grandfather!" yelped Elrohir.
"Stop calling me Grandfather!" yelled Celeborn, from where he was pummeling Lindir. Lindir bit him.
Erestor upended a bucket of paint over Glorfindel.
Elladan tackled Elrohir.
Glorfindel hit Erestor in the face with a paintbrush.
Thranduil jumped on Celeborn.
Lindir staggered out of the fray.
There was paint everywhere. It was on the walls. It was on the floor. It was on the ceiling. It was on the Elves. It was on the hot air balloon.
A few minutes later, Celeborn sat up groggily. He was hard to identify, being at least ten different colors. He looked across the devastated room. He looked at the hot air balloon.
It was beautiful.
It could have passed as Galadriel's artwork. It made him think of her. He felt romantic and depressed. Erestor sat up as well, a long silver streak across his face. Glorfindel, clutching his paintbrush like an axe, was wiping his hair off with his sleeve, apparently deciding that green highlights did not suit him. Elladan and Elrohir, both a becoming shade of blue, were giggling pathetically. Lindir had a paint can over his head, which he carefully removed. Thranduil waded through the ankle-deep paint puddles gingerly, looking for loose change.
"Pity the reporters weren't here," said Erestor vaguely. "This would have made great publicity."
"We would have looked bad," said Celeborn. "I wanted the publicity to make us look intrepid and brave, not juvenile and ridiculous."
"Actually, Grandfather, you look quite vibrant," said Elladan.
"But still ridiculous," muttered Thranduil. Celeborn snarled at him in a most unlordly fashion. Thranduil grinned innocently, pocketing another coin.
"Wow, just look at the hot air balloon!" cried Lindir, whose eyes had just managed to focus. "Isn't it ugly?"
Celeborn did not snarl. He roared. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'UGLY'?"
Lindir put the paint can over his head again, thinking it wise to disappear.
Glorfindel decided he was hungry. "Does anyone want a snack?" he asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"Because Haldir is coming up the path and he has a large box of carry-out lembas," said Glorfindel calmly.
"Oh no! He'll see us like this!" squeaked Erestor. "Bad publicity. Bad publicity."
"That's not the problem," said Celeborn. "His lembas tastes like cement!"
The seven Elves stared at each other in horror. "I think it's time to exit the scene," said Thranduil.
"So how do hot air balloons work anyway?" asked Elrohir casually. The Elves leapt at their device.
"Pump it up!" shrieked Celeborn, hopping from foot to foot.
Erestor flung a picnic hamper into the large basket. The Elves scrambled in.
"Wait," said Elladan slowly. "We made this inside Imladris!"
There was a moment of silence. An Elf fainted. (Since the incident was not good publicity, I won't mention who.) Celeborn jumped nimbly out of the basket. "Quick! We'll push it onto the balcony!"
Haldir, standing motionless on the path to Imladris, watched in amazement as a large multi-colored hot air balloon drifted clumsily over his head. It seemed to be piloted by unearthly multi-colored creatures. "Aliens! Middle-Earth is under invasion!" he screamed, dropping his cherished carry-out Lembas.
The hot air balloon was headed towards Ithilien.
TBC