Two: Family life

Some days later, Elrond sat reading in his private study, a room that others seldom entered, and which was cleaned only once a century or so. Not that it was a horrible mess - Elrond was, in general, good at keeping order. Just some cobwebs near the ceiling, and dust on those books he did not use often enough. He had placed the Palantír on a pedestal, since that seemed to be the current fashion, in an alcove hidden behind a secret door. When the door was closed the alcove remained pitch-black, and isolated from all sounds. He was taking no changes.

There was a tentative knock on the door of the study.
'Who is it?' Elrond asked. He had not been reading anything secret, just the Quenta Silmarillion, yet he closed the book and put it back in the shelf.
'Relax. It's only I.'
'Brian? I've told you not to disturb me while I'm here.'
'This is important.'
'All right, come in.'

Celebrían entered and closed the door behind her. 'Well, what is it?'
'First of all, haven't I told you not to call me "Brian"? It sounds like a guy's name.'
'Yes, you have.'
'Second, you have not only allowed Elrohir to go all the way to Rohan to buy a horse, but you made Elladan go with him!'
'So?'
'They are both over three hundred years behind in their studies! I hardly ever see them these days! They prefer the company of rangers and horses to their own kind!'
'So? Everyone can't be a scholar. Rivendell is too small for them. They need to spread their wings.'
'You just don't care, do you?'
'Is this the important matter that could not wait?'
'No. The important matter is your daughter.'
'Oh, no. Not again.'
'I'm afraid so. Her ladies have not seen her since yesterday, which is when her brothers left. Her horse is gone. Also, your sword is no longer in its place on the wall.'
'I wonder whether she dressed as a ranger boy again, or followed them in secret. I wish she didn't steal my sword every time she goes out adventuring.'
'You wish she would go unprotected?'
'Of course not! But that is a valuable blade. It used to belong to my grandmother, Idril Celebrindal. Gondolinian blades are hard to come by these days.'
'Perhaps you ought to give her a sword of her own?'
'And encourage these mad pastimes? She should learn embroidery or something. A woman's place is at home.'
'I wonder what my mother would think of that particular notion?'
'Your mother this, your mother that, blah blah blah. If she's so wise, why did she leave Aman in the first place? By now she could be Varda's right-hand woman, she's so good at bossing people around.'
'I bet you won't dare to say that to her face.'
'One crazy woman nagging at me is enough.'
'I'm not crazy!'
'So you admit you are nagging, Brian my love?'
'Don't call me Brian!' Celebrían raised her hand to strike her husband. He caught her wrist and gripped it painfully. His eyes were full of cold hatred.
'I thought I had trained you better.'
'Don't hurt me! I'm sorry! Let go of me!'
'All right, but I'm warning you. I'll come to meet you tonight. You'd better behave yourself.'
'Y-yes.'
'Yes what?'
'Yes, my lord.'
'See, it's not so hard to please me, is it? You may go, Brian.'

Tears in her eyes, Celebrían stumbled from the room. She pulled the door shut behind her, leaned against it, and breathed deep, trying to calm herself. She muttered almost soundlessly:
'And you may go to hell, Ellie.'