To the Halls of Mandos in a Backpack
Chapter VII: And There Was Much Rejoicing… Or Not
(PA/N: We finally did it; we're at the bridge! I'm so excited! And you will not believe how much time I spent on the lovely romantic scene that occurs thereafter. You'll love it! -Theodosia King)
(OA/N: Stupid bitch hogging the computer. I'm getting angry and that's not pretty. I need a good movie- Crowbait)
Love is in the Air, Chapter 7- Romance at the Bridge
Huchelda paused. She thought she had heard Arwen's voice in the distance. In the direction she and Aragorn were headed. That was not good… no, it was impossible. She must have been mistaken. Vienasar had promised to keep Arwen out of the way. The sound she heard was probably a shriek of either happiness or disgust coming from one of the bedrooms, where he was presumably shagging the living daylights out of her. She shuddered, not wanting that particular mental image, and, squeezing Aragorn's hand more tightly, continued toward the bridge.
Aragorn could hardly believe his luck. Here he was, holding hands with the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and she was leading him to that romantic bridge. He knew he was not worthy of her, since she could best him in every martial skill he used, but she didn't seem to mind. It was becoming apparent, even to his dense male mind, that she yearned for him with a lust that exceeded even the burning which he had felt for her since he first saw her. He was in love, and he reveled in the feeling of weightless, meaningless, thoughtless bliss that completely filled his brain.
He suddenly spotted a lovely bunch of coconuts sitting by the path. Suddenly feeling the need to impress this beautiful elf with his knowledge, he mentioned another use for coconuts that the pyromaniac Istar whose name he could not remember had taught the Dunedain. "You know, if you slice a coconut open and clap the halves together, it sounds like a horse's hooves. Very handy for scaring off bands of orcs that us rangers would rather not fight during our long, tiring tours of duty guarding an unappreciative north."
Huchelda turned to him with a puzzled expression on her face. "Coconuts?" He gestured at the bunch, a silly grin spreading across his face as he realized that he did know something she did not. Maybe he was worthy of her after all!
"Coconuts?" She repeated. "How did some coconuts get to Rivendell?" Aragorn looked thoughtful for a minute, then suggested "Perhaps they were carried by migrating swallows?"
"Oh… my… god…" Why on earth was her love channeling Monte Python? First the plot bunnies with sharp, pointy teeth, and then the coconut and swallow routine? What next? Instead of just happily walking to the bridge, she was now filled with concerns about… "Oh, shit." Now she knew. The only uncertainty in her mind was whether the bridge would be guarded by a sword-wielding Erestor (who couldn't be that good therewith if her brother had been an even match for him) or an old dwarf (Gróin, perhaps?) asking uncomfortable questions. Either way, she didn't want to find out.
Luckily for her (and for any readers unfamiliar with Monte Python and the Holy Grail), she managed to locate the source of the problem. Turning her face to the sky, she screamed "Crowbait! Turn off the damn DVD while I'm writing!" Turning to the woods around her, she screamed again "I banish Tim the Enchanter and all spirits of Python that have inhabited this world!" There was a rumble, presumably Tim setting off one more explosion before he left, a few pops, and then all was silent again. She turned to Aragorn, took both his hands and, meeting his puzzled eyes, commanded "You will remember none of this."
And he didn't.
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Tanglinna set down the quill. It had taken literally all day, but he had found the reference he was looking for. And in no less than four sources, he smiled to himself. Quite a feat for someone who had not spent that much of his life reading (though, in fairness, he would have spent less time at the archery range if Thranduil had possessed a library as interesting as Lord Elrond's). He looked over his notes one more time and complimented himself. It would not take long to convince tomorrow's council of what he already knew was true.
He was interrupted by substantial amounts of screaming from the general direction of the Hall of Fire. Puzzled, he listened, but the pattern sounded like almost every elf in Imladris pointing to almost every other elf and repeating "You… me… Aaaahhhh!" His eyebrow went up a notch when Glorfindel came tearing into the library, his speed and facial expression seeming to indicate that he was chased by the wife of a Balrog in possession of one of the Nine Rings of Men with some of Ungoliant's spawn in tow. He smirked at the golden-haired elf who had been unable to do much about the blue dye in his skin. "I take it the dance is over?"
Glorfindel jumped as though the rest of the Balrog Women's Group had entered the room to join their friend in an afternoon of gossip and shopping. Upon seeing that it was only a concerned-looking Tanglinna, he stopped, but none of the tension left his frame. "What happened?" Tanglinna asked, all trace of mirth having left him.
"Haldir… Erestor… Elrohir… me… it's too horrible to speak of!" Tanglinna paused, unsure what he should do, but Glorfindel manage to regain his composure. "I think at this moment I hate Huchelda more than I do the twins combined."
"Well, tomorrow she will get some of what's coming to her. I've found her family's dark secret and soon all the council will know."
Glorfindel looked at him quizzically, but the sound of more screaming further away distracted them. "That sounds like the enemy in question. Shall we go pursue her?" Glorfindel nodded, a look of grim determination on his face. Tanglinna swiftly pocketed his notes and the two headed off toward the woods.
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Vienasar just starred at the beautiful picture before him. The most gorgeous face and body he had ever seen (with the possible exception of his sister) stood, illuminated from behind by the stars and the soft light issuing from the buildings of Rivendell. The bliss of the moment so overwhelmed him that he forgot that the dialogue would only work if she opened it. "Do you remember when we first met?"
Arwen bobbed her head, wearing a silly grin more akin to that of a vapid schoolgirl than an ethereal elf princess. "Yup. You were fighting Erestor, and I couldn't help but dream about, like, your butt, and then you spoke in that sweet voice of yours, and made that hilarious joke, and I just couldn't stand it. Like, I wanted to eat you up with a spoon. I thought I had strayed into a dream."
Now realizing his mistake, Vienasar tried to correct the exchange. "I thought I had strayed into a dream."
"Long days have passed. You did not have the scars from obscene pranks that you bear now." Arwen took a breath, but before she could continue another voice broke the silence. "I know you want me," Huchelda cooed, "but we must formally pledge our love first, you naughty boy."
Following Arwen's eyes, Vienasar turned around to see his sister and Aragorn approaching. What was she doing here? He suddenly got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Tomorrow was the council, and both he and his sister had promised to keep their lovers occupied but neither had specified where. This was what he considered less than good.
And there was nothing he could do about it. Knowing his sister, she would explode, they would have a big argument during which neither of them would admit that each had failed to inform the other about the intended destination, and the moment would be ruined. There was only one other thing he could attempt. He quickly stepped toward Arwen, moving off the center of the bridge. He half-hoped that she would not back up but instead come into his arms. With a somewhat frightened expression on her face, though, she did step back.
Huchelda must have just noticed that the bridge was occupied, because behind him Vienasar heard the sharp intake of breath that indicated that a long, loud tirade was about to commence. He decided to cut her off the only way he knew how. As everyone knows, elven siblings can communicate telepathically and, as much as he hated the dirty feeling he got being inside her head, it was his only option.
Shut up and listen to me. We both screwed up by not coordinating our schedules better, but you need to keep quiet and not ruin the moment by yelling at me. Each of us must do the bridge routine tonight if we hope to get laid before the council opens, so just take up position on that side of the bridge and pretend that we aren't here.
Huchelda was appalled. How dare he interrupt her lovely sojourn on the bridge? How dare he refuse to withdraw from the incomparable majesty of her presence? How dare he intrude on her pure, innocent mind with that filthy telepathic ability they had? How dare he presume to tell her what to do in this uncomfortable situation of his making? And how dare he have the audacity to believe that he is correct? Even if he is.
She sighed. She hated that he was right. That was the only way for them to salvage the situation. She started to give Aragorn the command to stand with his back to Vienasar, thus at least establishing proper symmetry, but then changed her mind. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on Aragorn's lovely features if she had to also watch her brother gushing over Arwen.
Getting as close to her brother as she thought safe, she turned to face her beloved, took a deep breath, allowing her chest to heave and further expose her cleavage to her very attentive man, and pulled out the jewel she had made while her brother was unconscious. Just as Huchelda was built to make Arwen look like a bag lady, so was the Settingsun constructed to make the Evenstar look cheap.
Its chain was composed of golden orbs and golden birds in flight alternating along a copper wire (though she had only had time to detail a couple of the birds). The body of it was composed of waving strips of mostly platinum (she had tried using an unfamiliar but beautiful silver metal that she saw, but she got ugly blisters on her beautifully-crafted hands when she touched it), though there was some gold intertwined. To the casual observer, the pattern might appear haphazard, but upon closer inspection it became an intricate 'H' (for Huchelda) in a style that vaguely resembled Medieval illuminated manuscripts. Scattered throughout this palm-sized pendant were various gems and semi-precious stones, all dominated by the large, blue-tinted diamond (to match his light blue eyes) in the center, a diamond which she had imbued with magic to shine with an inner glow. She hoped that illusion would deceive him into thinking that the Settingsun, like the Evenstar, was infused in some obscure and unexplained way with her life force and would thus attract him even more.
As he stared (though whether it was her breasts or the Settingsun which held his attention she could not tell), she asked him "Do you remember when we first met?" He looked into her face, and she saw a spark of longing in his eyes that she had not dictated as he answered "I thought I had strayed into a dream."
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In the bushes facing the bridge, Tanglinna decided that he must have strayed into a nightmare. Isildur's heir and Elrond's daughter were trapped in the clutches of the invaders with little hope of escape. Both he and Glorfindel knew that it would be futile to attempt to physically kill the twins and the fact that both of them, as well as Aragorn, stood between the revenge-minded elves and Arwen precluded any action beyond observation. And of course, there was the problem of Tanglinna's dinner no longer sitting comfortably with him as he watched the sappy dialogues play out.
The twins must have coordinated their efforts, because at almost the same moment both Arwen and Huchelda pulled something off of their necks and held it forth, the former looking nauseous and the latter anticipatory.
Without warning, the twins who one would actually expect to reside in Rivendell burst out of the undergrowth on the other side of the bridge, yelling at Aragorn not to take it. He twitched slightly but, apparently unable to resist Huchelda's spell, made no move to drop his outstretched hand.
Next to Tanglinna, however, Glorfindel did make a move. He might not be able to kill the amorous twins, but he could certainly harm the pranksters. Grabbing a fairly heavy fist-sized rock, he threw at Elrohir with an odd side-armed delivery. Unfortunately, the timing of his release was just a bit off and, instead of flying in a straight line, the stone cut through the air at a slight angle until it made the acquaintance of Huchelda's shoulder with a thud. The shock caused her arm to jerk upwards, sending whatever was in her hand arcing through the air. Tanglinna watched it for a moment. Rationality demanded that it was far too huge to be a piece of jewelry, and yet the way it seemed to sparkle and glow as it sailed combined with the fact that Huchelda had been wearing it around her neck argued otherwise. Amazingly, the gaudy and tasteless item did not shatter upon impact, but instead landed on a soft bed of moss, from which Tanglinna picked it up with a malicious grin. One more bit of evidence for tomorrow.
On the bridge, Huchelda was singularly failing to remain upright, and her efforts to keep from falling were not only further upsetting her own balance but disrupting that of her brother as well. Finally her efforts could avail her no longer and she tumbled into the stream. As she did so, Aragorn shook his head, as though waking up, and fixed Arwen with a piercing and loving gaze. She stepped forward, looking as though she might help Vienasar, whose limbs were now flailing as well, but instead she merely shoved him off the bridge.
As Aragorn took her in his arms, she cast the pendant around his neck. "You cannot give me this," he said unconvincingly, but she calmly responded "It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart." She then sealed their pact with a kiss, as her brothers whooped with joy and the two opposite them applauded enthusiastically.
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Shortly before dawn, Arwen stirred with a moan. Her head was still pounding from where it had been hit. Since the sun had gone down, she had been to the blackest abyss of despair, the highest peak of joy, and now she was back in the pit, and all her carefully laid schemes were now dashed. The only consolations she had were that Aragorn still loved her as she loved him and that he was now safe from their mind intrusion as she was.
Ever since the twins had used their Global Positioning System, as she now knew it was called, to turn the four steps from her bedroll to the bush that doubled as a bathroom into the distance from said bedroll to a balcony overlooking Imladris, she had been aware of how dangerous they were. Because of the obscure and unexplained way that her life was tied to the Evenstar, it provided complete protection for her thoughts against all but her family and was far more effective than any amulet made to serve a similar task, such as the one Gandalf had helped make for her dad.
Out of fear that these twins might have worse tricks up their sleeves, she had taken it upon herself to convince Vienasar that she had fallen for him without any manipulation on his part, primarily to keep him from targeting other, more vulnerable folk (like her father). She had thus managed to allow Erestor to put Vienasar out of commission and help her brother embarrass him thoroughly. The worst part, though, had been earlier that night, when she had to pretend to dance with everyone so that the twins would not find out about her immunity to their machinations. Going through the motions with Vienasar on the bridge had been even worse; as she spent time in his presence, she could feel herself becoming stupider by the minute. Glorfindel's timely intervention had saved her from having to attempt to physically defeat both twins to get to her truly beloved.
Now Aragorn would have similar protection but thankfully, because the light of the Evenstar does not wax and wane, her mind was still securely warded. Things were still not right in Imladris, but at least she and her future husband were safe for the time being. At least she had thought so.
Even taking into consideration the fact that the presence of the offensive twins had made Elrond far less opposed to a marriage between his daughter and his foster son, Arwen had no desire to risk his ire by staying overnight with Aragorn, so after a brief but passionate snogfest each had adjourned to his/her own bedchamber.
There, her particularly pleasant dreams were interrupted by a very angry and still apparently wet individual pulling the sheets off her and forcibly flipping her onto her back. Giving silent thanks to the Valar that her grandmother had the foresight to teach her how to physically resist amorous advances, Arwen had gone straight for the proverbial jugular, delivering a kick to Vienasar's namesake that would probably put him out of commission at least for a couple days.
Arwen hoped that Vienasar's loud curse combined with her own scream would bring help, but instead Vienasar had stood up, stared at her as though trying to manipulate her thoughts and then, having failed, he grabbed her around the waist, flung her over his shoulder and three steps later set her down in one of the cells. Damn that GPS!
The cell was populated only by a chamberpot, and both the exterior window and door window had bars in them to prevent escape. Vienasar grabbed her and held her against the wall. "Listen, bitch, I will shag the most beautiful elf in Imladris before I leave, and you will consent willingly, because you will stay here until you do."
Arwen scowled defiantly at him. "You cannot keep me here. You do not have the keys."
"I don't need them." Setting a hand on the wall, he continued, "I seal this cell so that none canonical may enter." The walls of the cell began to glow slightly and then faded. "Oh, and I do have the key. Your father was so trashed at dinner he failed to notice when I took it."
As a wave of despair and fear washed over her, he had hit her hard in the back of the head, sending her into the unconsciousness from which she had only lately returned.
(A/N: Nothing canonical is mine. I'm sure you know that by now. I forgot to mention in the last chapter that dyeing Glorfindel blue is yet another tribute/allusion to TreeHugger's Elrond's Most Forgettable Birthday. Dragon-of-the-north suggested the continuation of the Monte Python allusions, so blame her, not me. The line between Middle-earth and the world of TK and Crowbait is quite obviously fading.
TreeHugger: Yes, there are too many bunnies running around, though now at least they've fallen into a pattern I know what to do with. Your review was really fun to read and made my day. Tell your silver-haired friend to stay tuned; his time in the spotlight should come next chapter.
Erestor: Thanks for your reviews. It's great to get compliments from an author as talented as you. And yes, for whatever reason, the twins have mostly avoided targeting your namesake.
makoto-47: I think we've seen all we're going to of the plot bunnies. They come, they bite the fangirls, and, as often as not, they cannot be tamed to the point where the resultant fic is publishable.
Dragon-of-the-north: If I'm ever really bored, I may take your suggestion and do an outtake version with the bridge scene- an ensemble songfic. I think Legolas' joke was on par with Elrohir's the chapter prior, turnabout being fairplay.
Hope to see you next episode for the Council!