Author's Note: Sorry for being gone so long but I have other work schedules to upkeep and this has to come a close second to that. I'll try to get it done as soon as I can.

-----------------------------------------------

Galadriel and Celeborn sat gracefully in the delicate furniture of Imladris' state rooms, wilfully closing their eyes to the nervous threesome around them. To any eye but the knowing, Arwen and her twin brothers would seem merely stiff and painfully formal. To those who had once been their much-loved grandparents, the young elves were fearful and wary.

Until their father entered the room.

"Galadriel, Celeborn," he said quietly, "my youngest child." It was the simplest statement in all of Arda and yet conveyed so very much to the two who rose at the sound of their names.

Galadriel smoothed blanket away from the child's head, smiling her impenetrable smile as blue eyes turned to her. She remembered another pair of blue eyes so like them, eyes that had belonged to one she had once held in her arms with the same tenderness that the half-elf employed.

"She is beautiful," Celeborn complimented softly, a hand on his wife's shoulder as he sensed her pain, "How does she fare?"

"She is none the worse for her ordeal," Elrond assured him, "For which I will be forever grateful. For all his evilness, Herdir did all he could for her to live." He noticed the look in Galadriel's eyes and smothered a small smile as relief flooded through him. "See if she comes to you, my Lady."

But Galadriel was captivated by something more in those blue eyes and a merry peal of laughter rang through the room. "Oh no, my Lord. She will cry if I lay one hand on her."

"What?" Elladan and Elrohir strode hurriedly to their father's side to inspect their little half-sister with anxious eyes, "She does not seem upset? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," the elf-maid giggled, taking a deliberate step backwards, "But she does not trust me. I think, Elrond, you were very apprehensive of our visit; for she will not suffer my touch- either physical or mental- without a clear warning not to harm you."

Celeborn joined her in taking their seats again as Elrond looked down at his daughter in not a little surprise, searching her rounded little face for a sign of affirmation. She would only coo like the little charmer she was and hold out a hand for his hair.

And so the days passed, with all those in Imladris relaxing under the influence of the kind wisdom of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. Glorfindel received word that the party of guards of Lothlorien had been sighted within the borders and would reach the house a day late.

With the slight reprieve that this offered, a fragile routine of talk and gentle merriment began to take over. Meals were times for conversation of all things under the sun and the mornings were spent discussing the state of the nations with the relaxation that came with peaceful times.

But peace was not something that could last.

And so it was, on the fourth day of Galadriel and Celeborn's stay, Haldir and his troop of guards accompanied the eleven captives into Imladris. There were blank faces encountered as all the elves of Imladris stared in curiosity at the prisoners, wondering what the crime was that they were charged with and did it have anything to do with the much publicized rumours of their Lord?

Elrond was in attendance when Haldir bowed respectfully before him, a hand on his heart as the tradition dictated. "Lord Elrond, I bring you the captives as per instructions by the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood."

"Thank you, Marchwarden," Elrond said coldly, not paying him any attention as freezing silver-grey eyes swept over the ragged group before alighting on the two he had waited to see the most. "There were no problems on the journey?"

"There were no orcs," Haldir said carefully.

Grey eyes swung to him and then softened. "My apologies, Haldir of Lothlorien. I am very remiss. My guards have readied holding cells for the prisoners and will remove this cumbersome burden from you and your elves. Erestor, please ensure that all these are given food and lodgings to satisfy their needs. Haldir, when you have rested, return to my office; I would speak with you."

"Elrond."

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and the Elf Lord actually started at the sound of his own name from that particular presence. His countenance hardened with pure fury as he looked a measured glance to Aurief's mocking smile.

"How is your daughter?"

Elrond stiffened as the men around the elf began to smirk, scorn and pity evident in their demeanours. Haldir made a quick motion to one of his guards and a gag was instantly on hand to be forced between those sensuous lips.

Elrond held himself in check but obeyed his urges and walked slowly down the stairs to his house to confront his enemy. "You have something to say," he commented, conveying none of the anger or vindictiveness that he might actually feel, "Very well then. Speak loud for all to hear."

"I merely asked after your daughter, my Lord," Aurief replied. But the elf looked ill-at-ease now. There was something infinitely dangerous when the Lord of Imladris looked just so. "Her birth was so very irregular."

"My daughter is well, thank you."

One of the men let out a snort. Without missing a beat, the half-elf whirled and fastened vicious fingers around the dusty throat, lifting until the man was being throttled as his feet left the ground. Haldir signalled to his men again, this time to move away. He was of the opinion that the Elf Lord should deal with the humans as they had been willing to deal with him. And it seemed that Elrond shared his opinion.

"Only the elf amongst you is to be tried by the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood," he informed them, flinging the man down to land in the dirt at his feet, "I hold your lives in my hand and you stand on the grounds of my domain. Do not try my mercy for you may find it wears very thin."

The man's shoulders heaved as he choked in great lungfuls of air, blinking rapidly to clear the spots from before his eyes.

The Lord of Imladris opened his mouth to say something more when a sudden shout came from a lone rider approaching the house on a steaming horse.

"My Lord," the patrol guard called, "My Lord, I bear an urgent message from the borders."

"What is it?" Elrond demanded, forgetting his anger in instant worry.

"A train of men demands entrance, my Lord. They bear a standard from a kingdom I have not seen, but their King seeks an audience with you."

"Take these away," Elrond snapped, turning to his guards and waving a hand over the dust-stained eleven, "Feed them and clothe them and see that they are not ill-treated. Now tell me, who is this King and has he said aught about his purpose?"

"He revealed himself as King Gorrofer," the answer came, "And he comes to seek his mating slave."