Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, languages, or ideas of Lord of the Rings. They belong to the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm only borrowing them because I love them so much.
Summary: Elrond celebrates his 5000 begetting day….whether he wants to or not.
Dedication: A birthday fic for my dearest sister, about a 'birthday'. What better could you ask for? Dune, we can't be home with the family for your special day, but perhaps this can make up for it a little. And if not, it'll be entertaining for you.
Author's Notes: As I have no canon idea when Elrond's begetting day actually is, I picked summer…because I could. On a completely side note (and then I'll let you read the story), I go by the date of 525 of the First Age as Elrond's birth year…which according to the elves would mean his begetting days actually count from 524. So, he would have reached 5000 in Third Age in 1501. A date which is significant for nothing, but happens to be 100 years before the Hobbits settle in the Bree area...just as a pointless LOTR fact for the day. Hey, don't say fanfiction doesn't teach you anything.
Alright, on with the tale…
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By the time one reached the ripe old age of five thousand, one generally had long since stopped celebrating begetting days, as well as counting them. Elrond of Rivendell was no exception to this rule. In fact, he hadn't marked this auspicious day in so long, that he generally forgot about the day…until someone reminded him. And someone always reminded him; usually someone with blond hair, a wicked sense of humour, and who was on their second attempt at life.
This year was no different, except that Elrond had for once remembered it was his begetting day when he arose a dawn. Because of this he had spent all morning evading Glorfindel in every way humanly (and elvenly) possible. But the elf-lord's luck was about to run out.
"Peredhel!" The call came from down the hallway, and Elrond chided himself for not having looked around the corner first. Quickly he turned and walked the other way, hoping he could make it to the safety of his rooms before the Balrog Slayer caught up with him.
No such luck.
"And how are you this fine day Elrond? Enjoying the summer air? It's a perfect day, do you not think? A perfect day indeed." His grin was far too wide, and Elrond had a sudden sinking feeling that not only had Glorfindel remembered it was his begetting day, but that it was his five thousandth as well.
"A good day, as you say," Elrond nodded in agreement. He could hardly contest it; the sun was shinning and the air was warm; there would be a new moon tonight and therefore plenty of stars shinning down upon the valley.
"Good." With a nod Glorfindel wandered off down the hallway, whistling as he went.
Elrond stood still for a full minute, completely disbelieving that that was it. No, this just meant the Gondolin elf was up to something else. And Elrond dreaded what it would be.
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But strangely enough, Elrond was left to enjoy his day in peace and quiet. Though, he was well aware that was his second clue that Glorfindel was planning something Elrond would not appreciate. However, Elrond knew that worrying about such a thing would do absolutely not good whatsoever…experience had taught him that the hard way. So, he simply spent his day relaxing in his study, completing the daily work that running Imladris entailed.
He took his midday meal with his daughter and wife; his sons were riding border patrol, but were due back that evening. The twins never forgot their father's begetting day either, and even if they couldn't always be there, they usually found some way to send a message to Elrond on the day.
Elrond's afternoon was so enjoyable that by the time the sun sank below the tree-line, he had all but put the coming evening's surprise out of his mind. Unfortunately for him, Glorfindel hadn't suffered the same problem.
"Peredhel!" came the call again, as soon as Elrond had left the safety of his study. Elrond subdued a wince. He had never minded the title...until Glorfindel had adopted it as his favorite nickname of his lord.
"Elrond, I was just coming to retrieve you. We are taking dinner in the Great Hall tonight. If you would just come with me…?" The Balrog Slayer was already taking him by the arm and leading him down the hallway towards the public rooms. Elrond had no choice but to give in gracefully and follow, even if he wanted nothing more then to run in the other direction.
He couldn't help but wonder, for the thousandth time, why the Valar had deemed it necessary to send the Gondolin elf back to Middle-earth to serve him. Hadn't he suffered enough in his life?
"Glorfindel, might I at least change before I am dragged in front of the entire Valley?"
"Oh, it's nothing like that Elrond. No need for formal robes tonight!"
Elrond gave up. It had been a poor attempt to distract the other elf, and give him a chance to escape. He should have known Glorfindel would have thought up an excuse to such a request already. Unfortunately Glorfindel excelled at planning and management, of both warriors and unwilling elven-lords.
Oh, he must really have done something quite awful to the Valar to deserve this. If only he could figure out what it was, he'd be on the next ship to leave the Havens to come before Manwë's feet and beg the Vala's forgiveness.
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But he found only his family and Erestor waiting for him in the dining room, clustered around the high table that was set with food. Elrond glanced sharply sideways at Glorfindel, but he received only a pleasant smile in return. Was it too much to hope for, Elrond thought, that this was the big surprise? He did not have that much faith.
But as the meal progressed and nothing further happened, Elrond felt himself begin to relax. By the time the final course made its way around the table, Elrond was actually finding that he was enjoying the evening immensely.
Glorfindel abruptly stood from the table, and cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention. Elrond was only half-successful in covering a sigh of despair.
A wine glass was raised, and Glorfindel smiled innocently at his lord. "Well, Elrond. Since it is such a significant day for you, I feel compelled to make a speech. But first, I think you've suffered long enough: this is it, mellon nin. I swear to you I am not planning something to embarrass you in front of the entire Valley. Even I take a holiday every now and then. So relax, Elrond, and enjoy yourself tonight." Glorfindel paused to allow all of this to fully sink in.
Elrond was well aware he had a stunned expression on his face, but he couldn't seem to get rid of it. Of all the things that Glorfindel had done that had amazed and shocked the Lord of Rivendell, this was the most impressive. And the most unexpected!
"Thank you mellon nin," Elrond managed to choke out.
"It is my great pleasure, as always. So, speech…" Glorfindel seemed to become serious from one moment to the next. "I have seldom said it, and even less have I showed it, but it is my greatest honor, Elrond Peredhel, to serve you as friend and seneschal. The Valar have given me a truly great gift. I would wish for nothing more, than to continue to serve you and your family in any way I can. Hannon le, mellon nin."
If it was even possible, Elrond was more stunned at this. So stunned in fact that he could not find the proper words to say in reply. But he managed to gain his feet, and return the embrace the Gondolin elf enveloped him in.
When he pulled away he had tears in his eyes, though they did not fall. But Glorfindel seemed to understand his lord's silence, and took it as the greatest symbol of Elrond's appreciation.
Glorfindel felt a brush at his arm and turned to find Celebrían. "Hannon le," she whispered and kissed his cheek in thanks. And then the twins and Arwen were there, thanking him as well.
"Though I can hardly equal Glorfindel in the art of speaking, I would like to extend my thanks as well; I am honored to dwell in such company, and serve such a family," Erestor spoke from nearby. And then they were all thanking him as well, tears sparkling in everyone's eyes.
Elrond finally found his voice. "The Valar had sent me a truly great gift, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower. And I count myself the most fortunate soul in Arda for it."
The two warriors and friends clasped arms once more. And the Valley of Imladris was all the more brilliant that night, with the joy of its ruling family.