The 'Life in Imladris' Arc – stories focused on the inhabitants of Rivendell.
A Cause for Celebration

Author's Note: The date I have selected for Lindir's begetting day, 26 Hrívë, exists on the calendar used in Rivendell. It is the equivalent to Dec 26 of the Shire Reckoning and Dec 17 of modern calendars. Hrívë is Quenyan.

For those of you who haven't read Deception and Heartbreak, Dandelion, or Severence, you should know that Lindir's history is that he was orphaned at the age of 22 and brought to Imladris where Glorfindel recognized him as the son of one of his past loves and decided to raise him as his own son. Lindir doesn't know about Glorfindel's relationship with his mother at the time of this story. Though chronologically this story takes place before those three, it might actually be better to read those first, if you're interested.

Disclaimer: This fictional story is completely made up for fun and no profit is made from it. Any similarities to real events or other writings is purely coincidental. The relationship between Lindir and Glorfindel is not an original idea but I took great pains to portray it in an original way. No beta, all mistakes were missed by myself only.

You know the drill… Please leave me a review or constructive criticism. I want to be a better writer.

This story takes place in Second Age 1748.

Part 1/3

19 Hrívë

One week. Seven days until The Day. Lindir couldn't decide if he was excited or nervous for his fiftieth begetting day to arrive in the hidden valley of Imladris. He'd had his last twenty-odd begetting day celebrations in Elrond's home, but this was the one where he'd officially be seen as an adult, though he had been helping out around the house since his handwriting had become legible enough for official documents. Everyone had always been very kind to him on his begetting days, giving him little extra treats or small gifts in the case of Glorfindel and Lord Elrond, and he had been happy with those, knowing that he was lucky enough to have a home and didn't deserve much more. Still, it was The Day and he couldn't help hoping it would be something special.

Lindir knew the older elves hadn't forgotten the special event either. Earlier in the day Elrond had asked him to retrieve a few forgotten papers for him and in the process of locating the requested documents, Lindir had found Elrond's open monthly calendar. Written in Elrond's perfect tengwar in the box for 26 Hrívë was 'Lindir's Beg. Day.'

Now Lindir was helping Meril, one of the older ellyth who was in charge of keeping the grounds of the house in good shape, to rescue a few late blooming flowers from the light dusting of snow that was in the process of painting the landscape white. It wasn't the first snow of the season, but none of the snow until this point had lasted beyond the peak of the afternoon sun, and Lindir doubted this snow would last much longer. The heavy snows wouldn't come until the very end of the season. The two elves were just putting the last of the frozen flowers into a clay pot when Glorfindel showed up, the snow doing nothing to diminish his unusually vibrant glow.

"Good afternoon," the legendary warrior greeted with a wide smile. "Flower rescuing?"

"Even flowers need a hero," Lindir laughed, standing and wiping the dirt from his bare hands onto his leggings.

"Yes, I suppose they do," Glorfindel said with a shake of his head. "How are you today, Meril?"

"Fine, fine," the elleth replied absently. "I'm almost looking forward to the big snows this year. These simple dustings are a larger nuisance."

"I know how you feel," Glorfindel muttered. "My warriors seem to think it is impossible to train in less than pleasant weather and run indoors at the slightest hint of snow or rain," he complained. He was not too upset, however, for it was a time of relative peace and he knew his guard was very capable and well-trained. They could afford indulgences now and then.

"Well then, since you're already a hero and you're not busy, you can help carry pots," Lindir declared, holding out a few of the clay pots for Glorfindel to take. Glorfindel pretended to be put out, but took the flowers anyway.

"What would the balrog think if he saw me now?" the Elda asked morosely as he looked down at the pots he held.

"I'm sure he'd laugh himself to death," Lindir teased, collecting his own survivors. "Where are you going to put these, Meril?"

"In the glass room for now, I suppose," she answered, referring to the room off of the pantry that closely resembled a modern-day greenhouse. "Have we all of them?"

"It looks as though we do," Glorfindel replied, glancing at the uprooted garden. The three elves carried the flowers into the glass room, placing them on an empty shelf near the door. Lindir and Meril washed their hands while Glorfindel waited patiently, poking at one of the more exotic looking plants that was growing in a large trough.

"I am finished now," Lindir informed him.

"Good," Glorfindel said with a fond smile. "I shall see you later, Meril," he told the elleth who was inspecting the rest of the plants for ailments.

"Good-bye," she mumbled with a weak wave, clearly more interested in her task than the two ellyn.

"Do you have any more rescuing to do, or are you free for the afternoon?" Glorfindel asked the younger elf once they were a few paces away from the glass room.

"I am free unless Erestor has found something else for me to do," Lindir replied.

"Well, I shall inform him that you are otherwise engaged now," Glorfindel decided, turning down the hall in the direction of the library. Both Elrond and Erestor, as well as a few of Elrond's lesser advisors, had private offices or studies close to the library and Hall of Fire.

"Am I?"

"The commanding officer of Imladris' guard has decided that you need a few private lessons so you will be fit to join the ranks after reaching your majority," Glorfindel informed him. Lindir tried not to let his dislike of the idea show on his face. Even though Lindir had shown little more than passable skill with any of the weapons he'd been taught to wield and even less interest in the them, Glorfindel still held out hope that the elfling he had promised to act as a guardian for would become a warrior, like he was. Lindir wanted nothing more to make the warrior that he both loved and idolized proud of him, but he just couldn't muster up any enthusiasm for the arts of war. He much preferred the more sedate arts of music and poetry.

They reached Erestor's office only to find that the Chief Advisor was not there, but Lord Elrond was, shuffling through the drawers of Erestor's desk. He looked up when they entered. "You've returned already?" he asked Glorfindel, glancing out the window to see where the sun was and what time it was.

"Your warriors can't handle a little snow," Glorfindel shrugged.

"It's snowing again?" Elrond looked a little rough around the edges and he seemed somewhat edgy about something. Lindir watched him curiously as he returned to pulling papers, books, and other random items from Erestor's desk.

"Aye, though not for long, or very heavily. What, exactly, having you been doing all day, Elrond?" Glorfindel questioned, also noticing that Elrond looked a bit frazzled.

"Gil-Galad and Círdan will be arriving in a few days," Elrond explained hastily. "There is absolutely no time to prepare for their arrival, what with all the things that need to be done before the snow. Erestor said he had a list of what had already been completed, but I cannot find it anywhere."

"When will they be here?" Lindir asked curiously, inching over to subtly help Elrond look. Erestor would not be happy when he saw what Elrond had done to his perfectly organized study.

"Seven days… the twenty-sixth, near midday," the half-elf answered wearily. Lindir bit his lower lip at this news, forcing himself to not remind the already stressed lord what else was supposed to take place on the twenty-sixth.

"Elrond, you know that Gil-Galad and Círdan will not expect a huge welcome on such short notice, especially at this time of the year," Glorfindel reasoned.

"They might not expect it," Elrond agreed, "but wouldn't they be impressed if I did manage to pull it off? After all, Gil-Galad is the High King! He deserves fanfare and feasts and the like."

"It's Gil-Galad, for Elbereth's sake," Glorfindel sighed. "He'd be happier with a honey bun than any fancy feast. He hates ceremony."

"Círdan is going to be here," Elrond reminded him. "Círdan likes ceremony. Valar! I thought Erestor was organized. Where is that list?" He slammed the drawer shut, causing a the mess on top of the desk to wobble dangerously and a few sheets of parchment to flutter to the floor. Lindir hastily picked them up before Elrond stepped on them without realizing it.

"Why are they coming?" Glorfindel queried, moving out of Elrond's way as the half-elf brushed by him, heading towards a low cabinet that Erestor also filed papers in.

"Gil-Galad is doing rounds of his kingdom and I think he mentioned something about Oropher, as well. The Silvyn are still having trouble with Sauron, despite his retreat to Mordor. By the time the missive reached here, he and Círdan would have already left Mithlond."

"Then surely they cannot expect a high-to-do reception. Perhaps that is why Gil-Galad waited so long to send word of his coming," the balrog-slayer suggested. "He doesn't want one."

"Or maybe it's a test to see if I'm truly capable of running my own land. Círdan never has trouble planning feasts, even if he is given one day's notice," Elrond pointed out, tossing papers haphazardly onto the floor. Lindir hoped for his lord's sake that Erestor didn't return any time soon.

"All Círdan does is sit around in his comfortable port and plan stupid feasts," Glorfindel argued. "He probably has a feast planned for every day for the next yení, just in case some poor fool comes to visit him."

"Círdan does more than plan feasts," Elrond countered. "And don't let him hear you say that."

"He doesn't scare me," Glorfindel laughed. "When are you going to grow up and stop groveling at Gil-Galad's feet?"

"I do not," Elrond huffed, turning away from his task to give Glorfindel a dark look. He started pulling out papers again, barely glancing at them before tossing them aside. After a few seconds he jumped up triumphantly. "I found it!" He waved the parchment under Glorfindel's nose happily. "Come now, let's go find Erestor and figure out what can be done before Gil-Galad arrives and what can wait for a few more weeks." Elrond made his way purposely towards the door, unmindful of the papers he trampled in the process. Glorfindel and Lindir followed him.

"Erestor is going to be very upset," Lindir whispered to Glorfindel as they followed a few paces behind Elrond. Glorfindel grinned at this.

"I do not see why Elrond is so worried about Gil-Galad and Círdan thinking he does a good job running his valley, because it is truly Erestor who keeps Imladris from collapsing," Glorfindel murmured.

"What are you whispering about?" Elrond questioned, glancing over his shoulder at them. He didn't wait for a response for they had reached Erestor's suite and the half-elf knocked quickly on the door. At Erestor's invitation to enter, Elrond hurried inside, followed more warily by Glorfindel and Lindir.

"I found it," Elrond informed his Chief Advisor and long-time friend. He handed the paper to Erestor, who took it and placed it on top of a very neatly stacked pile of papers on his desk before returning to writing out a letter of some sort. "It wasn't in your desk."

"No, I told you in was in the low cabinet," Erestor replied. "At least you found it. I'm almost done with this letter, and then we can schedule the rest of the week."

"Good," Elrond nodded. He sat down in an extra chair across from Erestor's desk and glanced over at the two blonds who still stood unobtrusively by the door. "Erestor, tell Glorfindel that I do not grovel at Gil-Galad's feet."

"Glorfindel, Elrond does not grovel at Gil-Galad's feet," Erestor parroted obediently, never looking up from his work. Elrond gave Glorfindel a 'so there' look.

"Perhaps not," Glorfindel shrugged. Lindir noticed the mischievous look in Glorfindel's blue eyes and instinctively looked for someplace in the room to take cover when one of the elf lords before him exploded. His best guess was that it would be Erestor. "I think you'll be groveling at Erestor's feet when he discovers what you did to his office." Lindir cringed as Erestor's shoulders tensed and he slowly set his quill down and looked up at Elrond.

"What did you do to my office?" Erestor asked gravely, his dark gaze focused unwaveringly on the half-elf.

Elrond tried to look innocent, and he was very successful except that Erestor had known him since he'd been found under the waterfall with his twin, Elros, and was not at all tricked by the act.

"Decorated," Glorfindel answered when Elrond remained silent. "Though, I didn't know 'papers-everywhere-including-on-the-floor' was the new trend. I must be behind on the times." Lindir took a step back, trying to edge behind Glorfindel's broad frame so he would be shielding from any projectile Elrond might launch at the Elda.

"That is not true!" Elrond exclaimed, jumping up. "I'm going to send you back to Mandos with a note saying 'Do not come back.'"

"You can try." Glorfindel grinned infuriatingly. Lindir couldn't believe Elrond hadn't managed to kill Glorfindel a second time for all the grief the Elda caused the half-elf.

"You strew papers all over my office?" Erestor demanded, drawing Elrond's attention away from Glorfindel and back to him. "They're out of order now?" Erestor's voice was rising in volume.

"No, they are perfectly fine! I thought we were working on the schedule…"

"Come, let us go," Glorfindel whispered to Lindir, nudging him towards the door. They slipped out, closing the door behind them as Erestor started to rant at Elrond.

"I can't believe you!" Lindir hissed, incredulous.

"I don't know how you can work with them everyday," Glorfindel shot back, linking his arm through Lindir's and leading him towards their own suites.

"Usually they don't have some buffoon antagonist starting fights between them," Lindir pointed out.

"Who me?" Glorfindel laughed merrily as he pushed open the door to Lindir's room. "They need to relieve some tension. Erestor is even more stiff than usual and Elrond needs to stop thinking about Gil-Galad. They'll thank me for this tomorrow."

"I doubt it," Lindir replied. He headed over to his wardrobe to locate clothes that would be suitable for sparing with Glorfindel in the colder weather.

"While you are changing, I am going to do something in my room," Glorfindel announced, heading towards the door again. "Come find me when you're ready."

"I will," Lindir agreed. Once Glorfindel left, Lindir slowly changed. Even Glorfindel hadn't mentioned anything about Lindir's begetting day being the same day that Elrond was so worried about. Lindir supposed that Glorfindel, and especially Elrond and Erestor, had good reasons for not remembering. They were all so busy, and the begetting day of an orphan wasn't important, even if it was his fiftieth.

Determined to not feel sorry for himself and be thankful for what he had, Lindir composed himself again and headed next door to retrieve Glorfindel.

tbc…