A/N: What can I say? Except that I'm having lots of fun….'cause I love these characters. Oh, and due to my annoyance with the surplus of Haldir fanfics, the march-warden isn't born yet.
And I had a lot of trouble trying to characterize Celebrian. Elrond appears in the books, other characters "jumped" into my head, but Celebrian? mutters
I also have no clue as to the layout of the actual last homely house. If anyone knows where I could find a map or blueprints, I would be much obliged. As it is, I am assuming it is built something like a Greek house – a large courtyard flanked on three sides by the building.
Disclaimer (which is to the tune of "darling clementine): (You have been warned…) "Oh dear Tolkien, Oh dear TOLkien, Oh dear J. R. R. TolKIIIIIIIIIINE! Middle – Earth is bright and wondrous; and I know, it is all THIIIIIIIINE!" You may take your earplugs off and breathe a sight of relief; I've stopped singing. And, Mr. Tolkien, my deepest apologies for the mauling I am giving your characters.
The November day was cold. Everything looked dull and gray. Especially in the drizzle, which slippery-slicked down the flagstones of Imladris' courtyard. Erestor, Glorfindel and Elrond, flanked by assorted Noldor, waited in the courtyard for the party from Lothlorien to enter from the main gates. The Lord Celeborn and his family were flanked by a troop of the Galadhrim.
Neither Erestor, Glorfindel, or Elrond was feeling particularly cheerful. Elrond hated playing the polite host to Galadriel, and was bent on doing his best to ignore Celebrian entirely. Erestor, quite simply, was not looking forward to having to be diplomatic. Glorfindel simply loathed getting rained on.
Elrond attempted to paste a welcoming smile on his face (it fell far short of its intended effect) and strode forwards to greet the Lord and Lady of the Woods. The convoy had entered the courtyard. The Galadhrim were being guided towards their lodgings. The Lord and his family were being guided inside. Erestor seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Glorfindel was curious, so he stayed.
Soon, Glorfindel found out what Erestor's not-so-patient attitude meant. The party of dwarves arrived. Glorfindel mentally groaned. Celeborn and whoever was the chief of the Naugrim was sure to be a mixture whose properties would be startlingly akin to tossing a lit pine branch down a privy hole.
Erestor moved quickly to the side of the dwarf dressed in the most ornate suit of mail. Glorfindel strained his ears to catch snatches of the conversation.
"My lord…[standard flattering greetings]…Celeborn…. is unusually stubborn…be patient…your natural flexibility….your great patience….such wonderful business potential in Lothlorien…." Erestor went on, and on, and began to gesticulate excitedly. The dwarf nodded, and Erestor escorted him and his party inside.
Glorfindel attempted not to eavesdrop too obviously. Was Erestor actually being diplomatic? Had Morgoth suddenly been released? Had Sauron come bearing gifts? He decided to hold off on his speculations until after tomorrow night's banquet.
In the meantime, he walked inside after Lord Elrond. He breathed a mental sigh of relief at the welcome dryness. Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel were heavily involved with a conversation involving Elrond. The Galadhrim had absented themselves. And the Lady Celebrian was looking slightly lost in all the diplomactic bustle. She wasn't as important, diplomatically speaking, as her parents, so everyone was ignoring her at the moment.
Except Glorfindel. Glorfindel sighed inwardly and walked over. Celebrian had seemed pleasant enough in Lothlorien, but Glorfindel distrusted immediately any five-minute acquaintances. However, she also seemed lonely and shy. Glorfindel grinned at her and said.
"Dreary weather, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. Is it often like this in Imladris?"
"Oftener then I would like."
Elrond was feeling slightly desperate. The Lady Galadriel was beginning to speak of how Lothlorien hardly ever had that sort of foggy drizzle, and how she was afraid his health might suffer in the chills of Imladris. His half-mortal blood, so delicate compared to that of the Eldar. The Lord Celeborn seemed…amused. Amused?! By the Valar! Elrond glanced frantically around before he said something irreparably honest. Glorfindel was chatting up a pretty elf-maid. He couldn't see any miniature versions of Galadriel in the corridors, so perhaps she had mistakenly gone with the Galadhrim. He hated to inflict Galadriel on anyone, but he needed to get away.
"My lord Glorfindel!" he said, with perhaps more enthusiasm than strictly necessary. "Could you please escort these most tired people to their rooms? I have, er, thingummies…to confer…with…. Erestor about. Very urgent. And unavoidable. Excuse me." And with perhaps the lamest excuse to be uttered in Middle-Earth since the time Celebrimbor had explained to Cirdan that "he had simply thought the sails would go faster if they were shaped differently" (after getting midway through the largest with a pair of scissors), Elrond happily vanished after Erestor.
A/N: Ok, responses to reviewers. Answered in approximately the order in which they appear.
Olivewood401: No one's quite sure how Erestor manages to hear things…or not. Elrond? I see him as being left by nearly everyone he cared about over the course of his enormously long life…Earendil, Elwing, Maedhros, Elros…the list just stretches on and on. Yes, he is immensely dignified – but I think nearly everyone needs some point to act silly. One of the reasons Elrond is so touchy around Galadriel is because she sees Lothlorien as doing things much better than Imladris – and she takes pains to make Elrond notice.
Lady of the Twilight Woods and Crow: bows Thank you!
nevvy: Yup, trip was awesome. And thanks for your review!
Erestor: Pride indeed goeth before a fall. I am having fun. It's kind of hard to tell whether or not Erestor is that clueless – or just getting a kick out of the expressions on other people's faces.
Aerlalaith, Noldo, lily, Cheysuli and Bbuttercup: Again, what can I say except "Thanks." And yes, I really mean it.