Imladris

A/N: I don't know if Elves waltz, but Tolkien never said they didn't, so it's open! Reviewer responses can be found at the bottom.


Chapter Two: A Party

Lindir sat in the Hall of Fire by himself, his harp in his lap. The melody ran through his head over and over, yet he could not get it to play right when his fingers ran over the strings. Night was falling, and soon there would be others in the Hall. He wanted to finish it before they came. They had planned a gathering of sorts, just a small party-like gathering where they could dance and have a bit of fun. Lindir desperately plucked out notes, trying to get the song just right. He had hoped to finish in time to play it at the party, but inspiration was not on his side. He couldn't get it to sound…stirring enough. Sighing, he laid the harp down and leaned back in his chair, resting his head against it.

A whole day wasted. He heaved another sigh. He would just have to play older songs at the party. Ah, well, he thought. What else can I do?

But he was disappointed with himself. He glared down at his beloved harp balefully for a moment. With resolve, he reached down and seized it. He would compose that song in time for the party.

Or die trying.


Everything was ready. The giant fireplace for which the Hall of Fire was named was aglow with a blazing flame and the red-gold light danced all over the walls. Elves were steadily streaming in, and already groups could be seen chatting and laughing. There were even a few merchants of the race of Men. All were welcome in Imladris. Elrond stood in a corner, waiting for his wife to show up. He had not yet planted the mallorn seed. In fact, he hadn't even gotten it from Glorfindel. He had a plan.

An Elf maiden came up to Elrond and lifted the tray in her hands slightly. "A drink, my lord?" she offered.

"No, thank you. I already had– "

But no one found out what Elrond had already had, because just then, Celebrían strode into the room. She was always beautiful, yet she never failed to take his breath away. Whether she was bouncing an Elfling on her knee, dirty and laughing after gardening, or peacefully poring over a book, she was stunning. But tonight…

Her golden hair poured down her shoulders in a bright cascade, her white hands, devoid of rings, anxiously twisted the thin silk of her emerald-green skirt. She wasn't wearing a single piece of jewelry, but her own simple beauty made up for it. Her hair was loose and hung far past her waist, bunches of it falling over her shoulders as she turned. She didn't see him.

"My lord?" the Elf maid asked.

"What?" Elrond asked quietly, not taking his eyes off Celebrían. The Elf maid followed his gaze, then shook her head with a smile and walked away. A few Elven voices burst into song, and Elrond could restrain himself no longer. He walked up to Celebrían, who was busily talking to some Elf women, and tapped her shoulder.

Celebrian turned her head slightly to look at him. When she saw him, she broke into a smile and said, "Yes, my lord?"

Elrond was confused. Why in the world was he shy of his own wife? "Would you like to dance, my lady?" he asked, bowing. He was thankful that his dark hair covered his face as he looked to the ground, because he could feel it flaming.

Celebrían laughed and took his hand. They stepped into a gliding waltz, her skirts and his robes brushing along the floor.

Glorfindel looked on and laughed as his lord and lady swept off into a dance, while Erestor looked out of place and bothered beside him. The golden-haired Elf stretched his arms and slid them behind his head, tilting his chair back a little. "What troubles you, Erestor?" he asked serenely.

Erestor looked up at him from the floor at his feet. He was so much different from Glorfindel. Where Glorfindel was frivolous and playful, Erestor was quiet and serious. Where Glorfindel was laid back, he was tense. Even their postures were different. Glorfindel leaned back in his chair, his loose hair falling over his shoulders and back, while Erestor sat straight as a rod, his hair braided neatly and his robes unwrinkled. Erestor looked at his friend, who stared out over the crowd tranquilly, and gave a rare smile. "The usual, Glorfindel," he said, looking back at the firelit room. "The usual."

Glorfindel nodded, only half-listening. Then, he sat up, a perky grin on his face. "Erestor. You know Nathariel, correct?" he asked, turning his gaze to the dark-haired Elf.

The advisor stiffened visibly. "Yes," he said slowly. "What about her?" Nathariel was an Elven healer, and she and Erestor had a thin friendship.

"Nothing much," Glorfindel said, shrugging. "It's just that she's looking at you."

"She's – but – no, she isn't!" Erestor protested quietly.

"Oh, yes she is," Glorfindel nodded. "Why don't you go talk to her? You need a friend."

Erestor's nervousness dropped away and he turned to Glorfindel, an eyebrow quirked.

Glorfindel laughed. "I mean other than me."

Erestor looked back at the crowd, silent. Glorfindel sighed and got to his feet, his arms crossed. "I guess I'll just have to do it, then," he said, looking at Erestor from the corner of his eye. The dark-haired Elf jumped to his feet.

"No, I'll do it!" he exclaimed, and without another word, he strode off into the crowd to find Nathariel. Glorfindel laughed and sat down.

Erestor needs some fun once in a while, he thought. If he stays locked up in his study much longer, he'll become a wraith!


Soon, it was time for Lindir's solo. He sat in a seat in front of the fire, ran his hands experimentally over the strings. They gave a soft, discordant melody.

Satisfied, he began to pluck at it. The song was the same one that he had tried so hard to perfect that afternoon. As he played it, he could see Imladris in his mind. That's where his inspiration had stemmed from, and now he played it out.

But the other Elves didn't only see Imladris. While Lindir's fingers gently coaxed the music out of his harp, the notes rang through the air like warm raindrops on a still summer's evening. They sat in awe, enchanted by the music. It flowed as if it were part of the waterfalls and rivers of the valley, as if it were the voices of the stars. A couple of them shuddered at its beauty. Lindir's head bowed over the harp, his eyes closed in concentration. He'd played the song so many times that day that his fingers knew it better than his mind.

Many eyes were bright with unshed tears as the song ended. There was an outburst of applause from the Elves. Lindir stood, bowed, and walked from the room.

He set the harp down in the hallway, leaning out a window. The spring breezes caught his tresses and lifted them, making them dance. He was proud of himself, and thankful that nothing had gone wrong. After a few moments of solitude, he was ready to return to the Hall of Fire. He gathered the harp up and strolled back in and was quickly swept up into the conversations and merriment.

"Play us another one, Lindir," said a young male Elf.

Lindir gladly obliged.


The festivities were over, and all the Elves were sleeping. Except one.

Elrond lay in bed, wide awake. He was tired, but he forced his mind to stay conscious. Finally, long after midnight, he turned to his wife. She lay on her back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Celebrían?" he asked softly. She didn't stir. The Elf-Lord smiled and got up from the sheets, pulling a dark robe on. He hurriedly rushed from the room and stopped in front of Glorfindel's.

"Glorfindel!" he called, trying to be quiet. Unfortunately the Elf was a heavy sleeper. "Glorfindel!" he cried, a little louder. Still no answer. He beat on the door.

"All right, I'm coming." Glorfindel sounded groggy. He opened the door and leaned against it sleepily. "Yes, Lord Elrond?" he asked, yawning. His usually tidy hair was messy and tousled from sleep, and his robes hung loosely upon him. "What in Arda do you want at this time of night?"

"Can you give me the seed?" Elrond said.

Glorfindel's eyebrows furrowed in extreme annoyance. "Can't this wait 'til morning?" he asked.

"No, it can't!" Elrond argued, sounding firm. Glorfindel rolled his eyes and headed back into his room. There were some scuffling noises, a thud, and a groan, and Glorfindel appeared back at the door. He handed Elrond the mallorn seed.

"There. Now may I go back to sleep?" he pleaded.

"Yes, yes," Elrond said distantly. He hurried outside and made his way to Celebrían's garden. As he walked in, he fell into a lavender bush. He hastily pulled himself out of it and found a spot of unplanted soil in the center. He dug a hole with his hands, dropped the seed in, and covered it up with the earth.

Feeling pleased with himself, he walked regally back into his bedroom and fell into bed. He was asleep almost instantly. Celebrían, however, had been startled awake. She sat up. After a moment, she looked at her dreaming husband. She smiled and kissed his cheek. As she pulled back, she noticed something surprising.

He smelled like lavender.


And here are the reviewer responses!

Malara – Thanks! Maybe you could help me with the summary? I'm lost in that sense. :) Quite liked that line about the chess game, myself!

Kalayna – I love chess and Glorfy, too!

Miss Piratess – Yes, that's always a fun storyline!

Laer – Thanks! That was a great review, by the way. I always saw Galadriel as very proper, myself. But that's a matter of opinion. ;) And I hate my summary! Suggestions are welcome! (Thanks for the holiday greetings, but just so you know, I don't celebrate Christmas. I'm Muslim! It was very sweet of you, though!)

Randa-chan – Here it is!

anticipationnation – Thank you! I always thought that Celebrian would be the cheerful sort of Elf.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and if you review this time, please don't curse!