A/N: See? I haven't abandoned this fic! Well, I had, sort of. But then I realized that I'm a very greedy little person who wants more reviews. So mwahaha. Besides, I had trouble figuring out what Erestor would be doing. However, this should be a nice long chapter to make up for the delay.
This seems to be turning into an Elrond/Celebrian fic. So sue me.
I should be working on studying for my finals. Feh. But I'm really bored. And I wanted to get another chapter out already.
Disclaimer: They're all Tolkien's. I'm just having fun playing.
Elrond looked around at his formerly tidy library. Erestor was known for making piles of miscellaneous objects when he was researching – but Glorfindel was something else. Even a week ago, he would have sworn it would be impossible for any one Eldar to take over an entire corner of his library indefinitely.
He was wrong.
Glorfindel was surrounded by piles of books, rolls of parchment, ink, and freshly sharpened quills. Until Elrond saw Angrentur walking past him with a loaded tray of food, he hadn't understood just how Glorfindel was managing to survive.
He walked behind Glorfindel's growing wall of books to confront the eldar directly.
"Glorfindel," he said. "What are you doing?"
Glorfindel grinned up at him. "It's a surprise." He made another note on his parchment. "Trust me. Would you mind lending me that meadow? Indefinitely?"
"Which meadow?" Elrond asked. Then he saw that the parchment Glorfindel was holding was really a map. "Oh. That one. I hope you realize that that meadow has more rocks than –"
"Exactly why I wanted it. It gets water, but it's got too many rocks to make good farmland. On the other hand, it's fairly sheltered – and manages to put up lots of grass and things. Has Imladris got a working construction crew somewhere, or should I hire Edain?"
"The somewhat local town could use some fresh currency. But we should really have Eldar working on the finer bits – hire Edain for the rough construction. We can finish it off ourselves. What are you planning on building?"
"You'll see. But stay out of that meadow until it's done!"
Elrond shrugged. He trusted Glorfindel not to try something horribly outrageous. He was a fairly levelheaded elda, capable, and possessing a fair share of common sense.
If it had been Erestor, on the other hand, he wouldn't have been able to sleep until he knew exactly what the elda was planning and how he was planning to accomplish it.
Elrond walked through Imladris' halls, the start of an idea growing in his mind. He came up with most of his best ideas when walking. Something about exercising his limbs freed his mind up. Erestor could be brilliant at planning, strategy, and getting the most unlikely of people to cooperate (including resolving Cirdan's furor over those sails, and allowing Celebrimbor back into Cirdan's workshop). However, if you wanted Erestor to organize anything – no, Elrond considered – you didn't want Erestor to organize anything. He had no idea how the elda managed it, but whenever Erestor was put in charge of organizing something concrete, it would go wrong. Witness what had nearly happened with his banquet; he was just grateful that he had removed Erestor from his kitchens before Erestor had had the chance to thoroughly confuse his staff-of-the-day. He ran Imladris on a communal system. Granted, being its Lord had its advantages; he never had to wash the dishes, but he usually did sign up for double laundry, which he considered fair.
But, he considered, he really did need somebody to help him handle the day-to-day running of Imladris. Somebody who could not only convince other Eldar to cooperate, but who also wouldn't abandon a project mid-go to go chasing down some kind of interesting little butterfly, someone with excellent organizational skills, who could organize the everyday things as well as the major ones. Someone whom even Lady Galadriel would respect. He decided to wait and see what Lord Glorfindel was planning with the meadow.
In the meantime, he decided that he needed to find Erestor. Perhaps he could talk him out of vengeance until the Lothlorien party left Imladris. That this could take as much as a year certainly crossed his mind. It would be a wonderfully indefinite period of time in which he could be sure that Erestor would not be planning something fiendishly ingenious that might backfire and splatter on other eldar.
So, he walked over to Erestor's rooms. He knocked on the door.
"Goooood afternoon Lord Elrond! Feel free to enter." Erestor's voice sounded out cheerfully from the inside.
Elrond felt slightly unnerved. Granted, Erestor was usually on the batty side of cheerful, but he would expect even this elda to be upset. Secondly, how in Middle-Earth had Erestor known that he was knocking on the door? Then he noticed the peephole set in it. He walked in. For once, Erestor's room was completely uncluttered. Nearly all the objects had been emptied out. The shelves along the walls were clear of weird apparatuses. He could actually see the floor. And the mouse cages that had hung from the ceiling were gone.
"Good afternoon, Erestor. Are you plotting something?" Erestor tended to be good at either ignoring conversational subtleties, or missing them completely. Given the number of diplomatic successes Erestor had pulled off, Elrond was starting to believe the first possibility.
Erestor grinned, "now, why would you think that?" But, Elrond, thought, Erestor hadn't really answered his question.
"Could you please answer the question?"
"Well then, I'm not plotting."
Elrond felt highly relieved. "Oh, good."
"I've just finished setting my plan in motion a few minutes ago. So it's not in the present tense." Erestor rubbed his hands together and gave Elrond an "evil grin." Elrond was feeling a bit disconcerted.
"Oh. Do you suppose you could put it off until Celeborn, Galadriel, and company leave Imladris?"
"But it's quite amusing! And besides, I've already started it. It can't be stopped now."
Elrond felt troubles brewing on the horizon. "Would you at least tell me what it is beforehand? Many eldar have trouble with your sense of humor."
"But that would spoil the whole thing!"
Elrond muttered a short prayer to Manwe, then stood up. Manwe was obviously very busy just now. "Very well. I will probably be wandering around Imladris for the rest of the day. And I expect to be conferring with Angrentur and the Dwarves at some point. I expect to see you at dinner."
"Farewell, my lord!" Erestor walked him out of the room. Elrond wondered if he could detect the prank before it happened.
Most of the rest of the day was uneventful. That night, however, something happened.
As usual, when Erestor was attempting something, Elrond was having trouble sleeping. He knew that his Chief Advisor could be brilliant when he really tried. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Erestor wouldn't be content with some kind of mischievous and harmless prank; no, Erestor would feel as though he needed to outdo Glorfindel.
So he walked to his library at approximately midnight. Maedhros had used to read out loud to Elros and he when they were children. Maedhros and Elros were dead, but Elrond still enjoyed being read to. However, since nobody would read out loud to the Lord of Imladris, etc. Elrond read out loud to himself. He would admit that Erestor would read out loud to him, but he didn't feel up to coping any more with that particular elda.
The library was unoccupied. Even Glorfindel had left to go to sleep. He carefully avoided Glorfindel's miniature fortress of books and scrolls, and walked over to his section on tales and histories.
Elrond ran his hand over his tomes. He always found his library a relaxing place. There were several bunches of chairs and tables on the right side of the room, (the same side with the large windows). He had arranged for lamps to be set along the walls. And, lastly, there were the books. He could smell the papery scent – and found it to be a kind of aroma. He didn't feel up to reading anything too serious tonight. Although he wanted something entertaining, he also didn't feel up to something entirely silly. And he didn't want to deal with anything especially personal.
That left . . . a fair number of choices. But he knew exactly which one he wanted. He selected a volume in the tale of Tuor and Idril, and sat down. He had picked out the version with parts he would consider a bit. . . unsuitable for elflings. However, it was amusing.
He started to read out loud to himself. And reading out loud is nothing without dramatic reading. So he had fun with the voices. And after a bit of reading, he heard a muffled snort, and then a giggle. He looked up, alarmed. And then he saw Celebrian.
He wondered if he could persuade Mandos to take him to his halls immediately. Mandos did not seem to be listening.
Apologies for the abrupt ending; I need to reread my Silmarillion!