A/N: Not too much Erestor- Glorfindel in this chapter, I'm afraid. Barring unforeseen typing, the next chapter should contain the Big Showdown.

I'm having waaaay too much fun with Lord Elrond. And Celebrian. Shouldn't forget her. Noooo precious.

Disclaimer: All Tolkien's. Except the mauling I'm giving his canon.

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Lindir thought Erestor looked as though he was about to cry as he surveyed the wreckage of about a dozen experiments.Lindir had to admit that Glorfindel had demonstrated intelligence. Erestor loved to tinker and play around with things. So, around the walls of his enormous bedroom (and he used every square inch), he had set up experiments and things. There was his family of white mice, his balls and their ramps, several bowls of water, a small stove, various metals and gems, prisms, mirrors, crucibles and other weird and wonderful apparatuses. Glorfindel hadn't destroyed any of Erestor's materials; He had rearranged numerous objects, and destroyed all of Erestor's notes.
Erestor looked around him in despair. He had been so close! To what, he wasn't quite sure, but he had thought he had been on the verge of a scientific breakthrough. And now, although he could easily categorize his gems again, he would have no idea where to start with the mice. They all looked the same. And so did some of the prisms, and bowls of water – one had salt, another sugar, a third arsenic and so on – what was he to do? Glorfindel had burnt all his notes to a fine gray ash on Erestor's stove.
All those notes represented all the years of research Erestor had devoted to the Natural Sciences. And Glorfindel had destroyed them! He was sure it was Glorfindel – there was a small golden flower pinned to a golden lock of hair on the door.
He turned to Lindir and said, very quietly, "Do not warn Glorfindel."
Lindir had never realized before exactly how much taller than he Erestor really was. He had also never realized how much menace the gangly figure could project. He nodded, quickly.
"Thank you. Excuse me."
And Erestor strode off. Lindir had effectively promised not to warn Glorfindel. He decided it was time to find Lord Elrond.

Lord Elrond was, at this moment, being very happy that he was able to talk to Lord Celeborn without the Lady Galadriel.
"My Lord Celeborn," he said.
"I am he," Celeborn replied. "What do you want?"
"Exactly what are the movements of Orcs by Lothlorien?" Celeborn began speaking, of how they were encroaching, and how the wardens were beginning to need to exercise caution when patrolling the fringes of a land that was theirs.
Elrond nodded, and took mental notes. Finally! He was finally able to accomplish something.

Glorfindel was busy in the kitchen. All of the Eldar living in Imladris were expecting to take a turn at every chore. Lord Elrond usually managed to evade the dirty dishes by usually being the person to concoct various effective and foul tasting healing herbal brews.
Glorfindel enjoyed cooking. It gave him a chance to wield a knife in a constructive way. Granted, he couldn't cook anything particularly fancy, but he could make an excellent stew. He grinned, and shoved the onions and mushrooms into a saucepan, and let it simmer for a while. Although not everyone in Imladris liked mushrooms in their soup, Glorfindel was cooking. And since Glorfindel was cooking, there would be mushrooms in the soup. There was leftover bread, meats and beans. It wouldn't be particularly elaborate, but it would be good. He didn't think either Celeborn or Celebrian would mind, and he would be sure to "remind" Galadriel to be a gracious guest. Unfortunately for Lothlorien-Imladris relations, it slipped his mind.
Although there were usually other Eldar working in the kitchens, Elrond had organized them into a hunting party because tonight's dinner would be using up the last of the meats. Lord Elrond had been working on acquiring domestic animals, but until they arrived, the hunting parties would have to suffice.
Glorfindel was beginning to worry about that. He added his chopped-up vegetables to the soup pot. There were not very many Eldar currently living in Imladris, but their ranks were quietly swelling. That trend seemed as though it would continue (he was one example, and he fully intended to stay), and with the party from Lothlorien staying, he was beginning to feel concerned that they might be over hunting the local area.
Although there was every chance Lord Elrond might figure this out and avert that potential tragedy, Glorfindel had no intention of waiting until things reached a crisis point. He resolved to research the types of domestic animals that could be kept and fed in the valley of Imladris that very night. And he would use his funds to obtain them. He lived in Imladris too. And this, Glorfindel remembered.

Lord Elrond was getting his daily exercise. He had bid farewell to Lord Celeborn, and walked around Imladris, trying to see if any problems were developing. Imladris seemed empty today. Most of the Galadhrim and a fair number of Imladrin hunters had been put to hunting the forest surrounding Imladris. They needed meat. And it was winter; the fish would not grace their tables until the spring runnings.
Still, he walked around, looking for any knots of Eldar. It was a cold and rainy day; most Eldar were inside, playing board games. Chess was a favorite. He couldn't see any trouble spots. Lord Celeborn and he had realized that they would soon need to stockpile weapons and Galadriel was out of his hair. He would have to do something about Celebrian, but right now, he decided to find something else to occupy his time. His Chief Librarian had threatened him with a weighty tome on etiquette if he organized his library one more time. There were no serious diseases threatening Imladris (Eldar don't get sick – and this time of year saw very few broken limbs). He couldn't really harvest any more plants until spring – what in Middle-Earth could one extremely bored Peredhil do on a rainy Monday afternoon?
He had it. He would go for a walk outside. He grabbed his cloak (deep gray, with a silver clasp) and strode outside. It was the middle of February and absolutely gray outside; he blended right in. He walked around his gardens. He gently ran a finger down some of his plants trunks, frowned at the crocus beds, mentally willing them to grow. And touched the plant stems that were standing.
He behaved in this serious and dignified fashion until he was out of easy sight of the house. Then he pulled back the hood of his throat, tilted his head back, and let the cool water slick his hair to his head and ears. And then, he began to spin around, faster and faster - because it was rain and the fact that it wasn't snow meant that spring was really coming - until he fell down on his back. He lay on the grass, not much caring about the stains, and watched the droplets come plummeting from the sky. It was quiet. Nothing was singing. The only sounds were the plops of the rain droplets.
Elrond lay there for an unmeasured span of time, and then he got up. He stood, looked at his cloak – at least green doesn't go badly with dark gray – and wrung out his hair. He pulled the hood of his cloak back over his head, and walked back inside the Last Homely House, feeling that all was well with the world.
Until he almost bumped into Celebrian.

It was almost dinner-time. Celebrian had decided to get out of Imladris: she had hoped her mother would leave her alone now that they weren't at home. No such luck, and Galadriel was worse then ever. The weather had put her mother in a foul mood. Her father had not been around to mitigate her mother's bad temper.
Galadriel had sniped at her, "Don't even think about it."
"You are thinking about it."
"Yes, you are."
"Don't give me that look."
"Don't even think about it; I know what you're thinking."
"Don't even try it."
"I don't have the strength to deal with you right now. Stop."
So she had decided to leave the room before she said anything. Anything she would say to her mother right now would be extremely hurtful. She loved her mother dearly, but she wished her mother couldn't read her mind.
She hadn't bothered to grab a cloak. It was chilly outside, but she liked the cold. And she didn't think anyone else would be outside. It just went to show that the Valar were having too much fun with her day; she bumped into the one elda she did not want to see (after her mother).
"Good afternoon, Lord Elrond." She said.
"Good afternoon, Lady Celebrian. Why have you come outside without a cloak?" asked Elrond. He knew it was rude, but she was his guest.
"I'm afraid I've forgotten one."
"Here, you can borrow mine – the inside is still dry – and I was about to go inside. I apologize for the grass stains."
"Thank-you. And I don't mind grass stains." She said. And she hurried off into the twilight, clutching his cloak around her. And when she had reached a small rivulet of the Bruinen, whose bank was guarded by an old tree, she sat down, leaned against its trunk, and felt very sorry for herself. And thought that maybe Lord Elrond wasn't so bad after all.