DISCLAIMER: It still belongs to Master Tolkien.

Chapter 3: Elrond's Rapidly Developing Madness

"You broke my Candelabra!"

"Um . . . yes?" Glorfindel said weakly.

"It was an accident." Erestor replied, voice as smooth and unruffled as ever. There was no hint of the emotional turmoil of a moment ago.

The esteemed lord of Imladris uttered a few words that are best left unsaid, and whirled around, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why me?" he cried despairingly. "What on Arda did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Glorfindel replied blandly.

Elrond gave him a Look.

Erestor gave him a Look.

They both faced the blond elf and raised their eyebrows.

Glorfindel shivered and cowered back in his seat, to allow Elrond continuation of his rant.

"You yell! You shout! You break my ancient artifacts . . ."

"Incorrigible moldy relics of the Age of Stars. . . ." Erestor muttered

Glorfindel smirked, and Elrond turned on him.

"Do you find this. . . amusing, Seneschal?" he asked in a deadly whisper. Glorfindel could now understand why Gil-Galad had made the Peredhil his herald. Elrond was. . . scary, when angry.

He was currently very angry.

Very, very angry.

"No, Lord Elrond. I find absolutely nothing amusing about this matter." he replied carefully

"And what of you, Advisor?" Elrond asked Erestor, carefully scrutinizing him for any show of amusement.

The Chief advisor's face was as stoic as ever as he replied, "Nothing, my Lord."

Elrond grunted -- a most unelflike sound, and stared at the pair of them. Hard. "You both have gone entirely two far. I don't know what is it about you two that irks the other, but I tell you now, that this nonsense must cease. Immediately!"

"Of course, my Lord Elrond." Glorfindel said meekly. "No shouting, no fighting, and no breaking of objects."

"I will agree to that." Erestor said quietly.

Elrond stared at them, at loss with what to do with such a show of obedience -- he had been expecting an argument -- when he noticed something. Why does Erestor keep sending glances Glorfindel's way?

Erestor caught Elrond's puzzled look, and raised an eyebrow. Elrond stared at him, and Erestor slowly acquired a barely noticeable pink tinge.

Elrond concealed a smirk -- just barely -- and directed the two of them to leave his study before they caused him any more strife. The two rose from their seats, and bid him good day on their way out. Elrond hesitated then called, "Erestor, a word?"

Erestor slowly turned, and there was something akin to dread in his eyes. "Yes, Lord Elrond?"

"Come and sit down again, my friend. Tell me," he leaned forward. "How long?"

Erestor looked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"How long have you had these . . . feelings for our esteemed Seneschal?"

Erestor looked shocked. "I'm most sorry, my lord, but you must be mistaken! I have no feelings for Glorfindel."

Elrond looked at him.

"What I mean is- I- Not those kind of feelings. I mean, I love him -- like a brother, of course -- I . . . how you came to this conclusion is completely beyond me." He stammered, and nervously bit his lip.

Elrond looked amused. This is perhaps the first time I've ever heard Erestor stammer in my life! And I have lived a long time. "You are sure, my friend?"

"Quite sure." Erestor said firmly.

"I mean, he is rather attractive, with that long blond hair, flowing down his back, those blue eyes that-"

"Lord Elrond! I can assure you that I have no feelings for Glorfindel other then that of a deep -- if sometimes, somewhat strained -- friendship! As your advisor, I would advise you to put these ridiculous ideas out of your head immediately, and leave me and my business alone!"

The expression on Elrond's face told him that he had gone too far, but Erestor was beyond caring. "My friend, I was just trying to help . . . ."

"There are is nothing I need help with! I promise you that!" Then he stalked out of Elrond's study, muttering to himself.

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Glorfindel was slowly meandering down the hallway, when an angry Erestor brushed passed him, robes flapping as he went forward in what seemed to be a great haste. "Erestor, is something wrong?" the golden-haired elf called after him.

Erestor turned, eyes blazing, and Glorfindel regretted his words. It appeared the chief advisor was not in the best of moods at the moment. "No, nothing is wrong!" He spat out. "Other then our lord's rapidly developing insanity, of course!"

"Erestor, I don't quite understand what you mean."

"Well, of course you wouldn't understand! You're not being accused of-" His voice was escalating, and Glorfindel interrupted him.

"Erestor, as much as I would like for you to vent out your frustration for all to hear, I would deem it best that you do so in a secluded spot where Lord Elrond will be unable to accuse you of breaking your promise a few seconds after leaving his study."

Erestor was suddenly filled with dread. "NO!"

A very surprised Glorfindel stared back at him. "No . . . what?"

At a loss, Erestor stared at him for a moment, emotions flashing in his dark eyes, then suddenly he turned and fled down the hall.

Glorfindel looked after him with an expression of complete bafflement. "What did I say?" he called after him but Erestor made no answer, nor did he turn back.

There was sigh a behind him, and Glorfindel turned to see Lindir looking after the dark haired elf with forlorn eyes.

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Erestor stumbled ungracefully into his room, and slammed the door shut. Then he leaned against it, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. This emotional loss of control around Glorfindel was getting worse and worse by the day. Why it happened he had no idea -- Elrond's theory was preposterous, and thus not worth listening to -- but it had to stop. Immediately.

Then there was the shouting. He really should learn control himself better. (The thought that he had never lost his control like that before completely escaped his mind) I should go and apologize.

He turned and reached for the handle of the door, then withdrew his hand. It was shaking, and there was an ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. What is wrong with me? He thought desperately.

He reached for the door handle again, but the feeling held him back again. It left a sour taste in his mouth, and as he slowly withdrew his hand once more, he recognized it for what it was.

Fear.

He, Erestor, the most trusted advisor of the lord of Imladris, former warrior and one who had fought battles before and after the last alliance, was afraid. Too scared to go and apologize to a friend he had known for thousands of years.

It's only Glorfindel! he told himself firmly.

You lie, the hidden part of his conscious told him flatly.

What have I to lie about? he asked it, shouting to himself in the place were none (except maybe the Lady Galadriel, and she was in Lothlórien) could hear.

He is no longer 'Only Glorfindel', his conscious told him firmly.

There was no response he could think of for that.

Erestor leaned against the door again. He had never let his fear control him before. Why now? No matter what this irrational fear is, it won't control me! And with that thought, he wrenched open the door, and went coursing off in the direction of Glorfindel's rooms.

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Eithelien's Author's Note:

When I got back from camp, I was extremely plesantly shocked to find sixteen reviews for our first two chapters! Wow! Thank you, so much!

Lindir was feeling a bit left out, especially since Erestor and Glorfindel have been doing a whole lot of wandering around Elrond's study, but not much else. So he just had to make a short appearance. Many thanks to Narthoron -- she wrote the majority of this chapter.

Narthoron's Author's Note:

Yay! Reviews! And lot's of 'em! Thank you all! Sorry about the lack of updates -- the semester started, and we have been a bit busy in various places and various times. It will get better, because despite having zero classes together (grrr . . . .) we still can cause havoc in the hallways.

We're working on the next chapter as soon as we post this one. Promise.