Inebriation in Mirkwood
Disclaimer: don't own them. Never have done. Never will do.
A/N: all facial expressions mentioned in this chapter belong to Elrond and as such are Trademarked
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Chapter 3
Thranduil's speech lasted for a rather tedious fifteen minutes (Haldir insisted that it was more like an hour). Then they progressed ("at long last," Haldir muttered in his eldest brother's ear) to the Great Hall, where the celebration feast was to be held.
On the short journey to the feast (from one room to the adjoining one), Elrond, deep in conversation with Orophin, was paying little (or possibly no) attention to where he was placing his feet. As a result, he caught his foot in the leg of a slightly misplaced chair.
Half-Elf and chair both went flying.
It was, as Glorfindel was heard to say afterwards, something of a domino effect. Elrond stumbled into Orophin.
Orophin, mid-step, overbalanced and collided with Lindir, who was just in front of him.
Lindir fell against the doorframe, groping desperately for some kind of handhold, failed in his attempt to do so and pulled Rúmil down with him.
Rúmil's arms flew up as he felt himself falling. He in turn pulled on Haldir's arm with a flailing hand as he acquainted himself with Thranduil's floor.
Haldir fell to one side as his brother dragged him down. As he toppled over, his now-raised leg caught Gildor just behind the knees.
Gildor's knees buckled and crashed against the rather hard floor. He let out a howl of pain as he fell onto his stomach.
Gildor was, fortunately, the last domino (were you to choose to use Glorfindel's analogy of the falling Elves), and no others fell.
Silence, however, did. Thranduil raised his eyebrows. Glorfindel smirked. Elrond turned a rather fetching shade of tomato red as he hid his face behind his long dark hair. The King of Mirkwood exchanged looks, whilst attempting (and mainly succeeding) to mask an amused smile, with Glorfindel, the only other Elf that had remained standing (the rest of the feast's guests were already seated at the table and attempting to either hide their amusement or were scowling their disapproval). "Elrond, my friend, are you well?"
"Of course. Why?" inquired the distinctly embarrassed Lord of Imladris.
"You are perfectly sober?"
Scowling, Elrond got to his feet in as dignified a manner as he was able to muster. "I am. I merely fell over a poorly-positioned chair."
"I see." Thranduil stared hard at the pile of Elves at his feet. "Gentlemen, I know that I am King, but there really is no need whatsoever for you all to be gathered at my feet in such a manner."
There was a hasty scramble as said Elves struggled to their feet. Rúmil was perhaps the worst off, having been the middle 'domino' and, as such, had been at the bottom of the pile. He bore a scratch on his face from Haldir's brooch. The clothes of all were now somewhat rumpled and skewed.
"Please take your seats." Thranduil gestured to the table, where each guest's place was indicated by small pieces of paper, and aforementioned guests, rather red from embarrassment, obediently took their places. It was a rule that none sat before the King himself did (good manners were to be observed at all times in Thranduil's palace), so they waited. Thranduil took his place in the centre of the long table. "Welcome, friends. Do sit." He sat, and the others followed suit.
Elrond, however, kept going as a loud crack rang clearly through the air. He let out a startled cry as he found himself seated upon the floor, surrounded by a pile of large wooden splinters that had once upon a time been a chair.
As one, the rest of the occupants of the Great Hall turned to stare down at him. Elrond stared back up at them, an expression of shock on his face.
"What happened?" inquired Thranduil, peering down at him.
"The chair broke."
Glorfindel and Lindir snickered. Gildor sighed wearily. The three Lórien brothers seemed (for once) to be genuinely innocent.
Thranduil once again had to fight the urge to smile amusedly. He was certain that he'd succeeded. "Someone kindly fetch Lord Elrond a new chair," he requested. A servant hurriedly slipped away and Thranduil turned to the dark-haired Half-Elf. "This really does not seem to be your day at all, Elrond," he observed mildly.
Elrond Glowered (™).
"These things come in threes, you know," Lindir informed them cheerfully – and rather unhelpfully. He received a Glare of Epic Proportions (™) from Elrond for this effort, and, rather wisely, subsided. Glorfindel was somewhat relieved that the incident had not (for once) occurred to him.
The servant returned with another chair. Elrond eyed it suspiciously, as though he were expecting it too to collapse beneath him. He very slowly sat down but did not relax when he was seated, instead shifting his weight frequently and jumping every time the slightest hint of a creak sounded in the room. Glorfindel almost felt sorry for him.
Thranduil indicated the food that had been served while Elrond had been waiting for a replacement chair. "Please begin. Help yourselves to the wine; I believe it can be found in the various pitchers that are along the table."
Much chatter arose after the feast had begun. Thranduil promptly turned to Elrond. "So how long does it take before Elflings sleep through the night?"
Elrond thought for a moment. This was quite difficult to answer; the twins had not exactly been like what one would consider 'normal' Elflings at any point so far (and doubtless they would continue to be so). He took a sip of his wine to momentarily delay his reply. "It took the twins about two years – though I am afraid that I believe the average to be at least double that."
Thranduil's eyes widened in alarm. "Four years?" he spluttered, clearly horrified by this.
"But if Legolas is anything like my two, it won't be so long."
"But two years is bad enough! I am sure that I did not take so long."
Glorfindel, overhearing, smirked. "No; I was reliably informed that you took six years."
"And who might have informed you?"
"A good detective never reveals his sources." Another smirk from the Balrog slayer.
Elrond kicked Glorfindel under the table. Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "If my mother has had words with you…"
"As I said, I shall not be revealing my sources. Witness protection, and so on."
Elrond finished his wine and immediately refilled his glass. Glorfindel and Thranduil exchanged looks, but said nothing. Thranduil chose to carry on the conversation. "What are the twins like now? Still eager to be just like their Ada, Uncle Erry and Uncle Glorfy?"
Glorfindel's face grew a rather brilliant shade of pink and he suddenly became completely engrossed in cutting up the meat on his plate. Elrond answered this. "Very much so. They disrupted an archery practice a few days before we left – just because they wanted to have their lesson at that specific moment. Erestor was rather put out by it all – you know how he timetables absolutely everything, down to the minute."
"Tell me about it," muttered Glorfindel. "He keeps attempting to timetable my life for me as well. He was hassling me about it just before we left for here."
"What did you tell him?"
Glorfindel assumed his 'important' pose (which involved sitting up so straight one would think that he had a pole down his back, raising his chin and pushing his shoulders back). "I merely informed him that once one has fought – and defeated, might I add – a Balrog, one has more important things to do with one's life than spending half of it attempting to organise the rest of it. He got a bit huffy with me after that."
Thranduil smiled wryly. "Ah yes, that does rather sound like him."
"He can be good fun when he forgets to be officious – such as when he's playing with the twins. Until they do something like turn his hair green or his clothes pink, that is."
"Have you ever had your clothes turned pink?"
"Fortunately, no. Not yet, at any rate. No doubt when I return to Imladris something not dissimilar from that will have occurred to my clothes. Or to something, at any rate."
"We have Orophin and his brothers to thank for that," put in Elrond, shooting daggers at the aforementioned Lórien brothers.
"Perhaps I should prevent Legolas from visiting Imladris when he is older?" suggested Thranduil.
Elrond shook his head. "Do not bother; the twins will merely journey here instead, and wreak havoc in your realm. Far better for it to occur in Imladris, where all who have any sense are constantly on their guard. Were they to come here, none would be alert and, as such, unthinkable things could easily take place here." He finished his second glass of wine. "I dread to think what has already occurred in my absence."
Thranduil looked mildly alarmed. "Indeed?"
Glorfindel thought that it would be an appropriate time to speak. "They would not dare do such things in your realm, Your Majesty. And they are wonderfully behaved for their mother." He avoided looking at Elrond's annoyed expression. "It remains to be seen about little Legolas' personality. With any luck he will be far less mischievous than the twins are. Perhaps it is something to do with the nature of twins."
Elrond glared at him and once again kicked his ankle under the table. "Glorfindel, perhaps you have forgotten that I am a twin? Or was, at any rate."
Glorfindel blinked. "No. The opposite, as it happens."
"I see."
"Perhaps we should arrange the next archery contest between Eryn Lasgalen and Imladris?" interrupted Thranduil hastily, more than aware of the growing tension.
"Yes, let's," agreed Glorfindel eagerly.
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TBC
Elvish translations:
Ada – Daddy
Eryn Lasgalen – Greenwood the Great (Mirkwood)
Author thanks:
Radioactive Bubblegum, Lady of the Twilight Woods, MagickalStar135, Queen C, crazy-haldir-fancier, Uineniel
A Monkey's Harp: I'm not kidding!! I think the event I'm thinking of is called The Mountain Centennial, or something like that (I've been reading too many Saddle Club books). But it's only going to get worse for poor Glorfindel…
Haldir's Heart and Soul: I don't think it's the Lórien brothers you want to be worried about!
Lucidity: I'm afraid things only get worse from now on for poor Glorfindel!
Lord Elrond of Hogwarts: high praise indeed! (goes pink) Legolas is about 1 month old, so he's only tiny. You're offering water balloons? Perhaps I can donate them to the twins and see that they get put to good use…
Cheska: the Glorfindel torture has only just begun…
Mirielle: it is indeed a tale for another day – one that I just may have to take responsibility for telling at some point…
Lutris: no more baby, I'm afraid (although he is extremely cute!)
Aerlalaith: the Lórien brothers having anything to do with Elladan and Elrohir's pranking abilities? Never!! ;)