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

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.

Part 3/3

26 Hrívë

The next morning, the morning of Lindir's fiftieth begetting day, the sun caught the newly-turned adult still abed, sleeping off the effects of the copious amounts of wine he'd drunk the night before. The lords of Imladris had been content to let Lindir sleep as they rushed around to make last minute preparations for the arrival of Gil-Galad and Círdan. They wouldn't have been in such a hurry if not for the fact that a forward messenger had arrived to let them know that the two elf lords were hours ahead of schedule and would be arriving that morning instead of early afternoon.

The warm rays of the sun finally managed to draw Lindir from very pleasant dreams and for a few moments he was content to just lay there and stare at the ceiling. Eventually, he remembered why today was such an important day and figured it would be good of him to get up and help the older elves prepare. He leisurely sat up, not noticing anything different about the setup of his sleeping chamber until a glint of something bright caught his gaze out of the corner of his eye.

He thought he surely must still be dreaming. In a corner of his room, where once a low chair and table had stood, was the most magnificent harp he had ever laid eyes on. It stood nearly as tall as he, made of solid gold with mithril inlay that swirled in between the pearly strings. Lindir slid out of bed and approached it cautiously, as if it would disappear should he get too close. It didn't, and Lindir lovingly traced one strand of mithril until it disappeared around the other side of the instrument. Lindir plucked a few of the strings, discovering that it was perfectly tuned. He knew instantly that it was a gift from Glorfindel, for who else would have gotten him such an extravagant yet perfect present? The night before he had been slightly hurt that Glorfindel had shown little care for his preference towards music by giving him only weapons, but this proved that Glorfindel truly did approve of Lindir's choice to be a minstrel rather than a warrior.

Lindir inspected every inch of his new harp and the stool and music stand that came with it, each carved with the same design as the harp. He could not wait to start writing music with the aid of the instrument, but first he had to let Glorfindel know how much he loved it.

Jumping up, Lindir stripped out of his sleeping clothes and pulled on the first pair of leggings and tunic that he came across, not caring if they were dirty or had spent the night on his floor. He slipped on house shoes and darted down the hall, correctly guessing that Glorfindel would be helping to set up in the Hall of Fire.

"Glorfindel!" Lindir cried as he entered the large room where many elves were moving around tables and chairs. The blond warrior looked up upon hearing his name and smiled widely upon seeing his disheveled elfling-now-ellon hurrying towards him. He caught the minstrel in a hug as Lindir threw his arms around Glorfindel's neck. "I love it! I love it!" Lindir exclaimed. "Thank you so much!"

"I thought you might like it," Glorfindel replied with a grin. "It's better than Elrond's flute, isn't it?"

"They're both wonderful," Lindir replied diplomatically, but the light in his eyes proved to Glorfindel that the harp had been Lindir's favorite gift.

"Well, I am glad it was well-received," Glorfindel said fondly. "Come now, you look as though you have just rolled out of bed and you smell like a vineyard. Go get dressed for the day. Gil-Galad and Círdan shall arrive earlier than we thought."

"I shall," Lindir agreed. "Thank you again."

"You are welcome. Hurry up!" Lindir laughed happily and nearly danced from the room, excited to try out a few scales on the harp before bathing and dressing. Once he was gone, Erestor sidled up to Glorfindel.

"I take it that he liked it?" the dark haired advisor asked.

"I think so," Glorfindel replied smugly.

"Lindir, dear, wait a minute," called one of the kitchen maids, Bainiel, as the young minstrel walked by on his way to join Glorfindel and the others in greeting the king and Lord Círdan.

"What is it?" Lindir questioned pleasantly. Despite the overshadowing of his special day by the arrival of Elrond's guests, he could not drown the joy he felt at the gifts he had received that morning.

"I have something for you, though it is not much," she replied. The elleth produced a small, bound book, wrapped in naught but a thin ribbon. Lindir undid the ribbon and flipped open the book, finding that the pages were all blank. "It's a journal," Bainiel explained.

"It is just what I need to keep note of any lyrics I think of," Lindir told her with a warm smile. "Thank you. You shouldn't have gotten anything for me."

"Of course I should have," chuckled the older elf. "I always did say it was a bad idea for three single ellyn to be raising a child, but here you are, fifty years old, and such a nice elf." Lindir colored slightly at her compliment. "Off you go then, child. Rumor has it that the guests have already arrived."

"Thank you again, Bainiel. You shall be the first to see any new lyrics I come up with."

"I'll be counting on it."

Lindir continued down the hall, but this time heading for the main entrance to the house where he suspected the older elves and their guests would be. He was correct and came down the marble stairs to stand beside Glorfindel just as Gil-Galad and his escort dismounted from the horses.

"You've hidden this valley of yours too well, Elrond," complained Gil-Galad once he had pulled the half-elf into a quick warrior embrace. "I was here the day it was founded, and I still missed that entrance the first time."

"Only because you refuse to listen to anyone else's input," Lord Círdan said gruffly.

"Don't listen to him," Gil-Galad told Elrond. "He's been in a mood the whole trip." Círdan didn't dignify the comment with one of his own, instead choosing to look completely put-out by the king.

"Besides missing the entrance, I trust your journey was safe?" Erestor spoke up from just behind Elrond.

"Most boringly so," Gil-Galad said with a sigh. "How do you do, Erestor?"

"Well, my lord."

"I am glad to hear it." The king turned now to Glorfindel, a wide smile stealing across his face. "Glorfindel, I am glad to see you are still among us. Between surviving both Erestor and Elrond, you are quite the cunning elf."

"It hasn't been easy," Glorfindel joked, earning himself a scowl from both of the elves in question. "Fortunately, Lindir here has always been on my side." Glorfindel dragged the minstrel around from behind him, noting with pride how handsome Lindir looked in the new robes he had received the night before.

"Mae govannen, Ereinion Gil-Galad and Lord Círdan," Lindir greeted respectfully. He bowed slightly at the waist.

"Mae govannen, young one," Círdan responded with equal formality. Gil-Galad, on the other hand, clasped Lindir on the shoulder.

"Ah, my boy, you must be the one who turns fifty today," deduced the king eagerly. "Tell me, is my presence here the best gift you have received so far?" Lindir was too stunned that the king had even known what today was to formulate a response before Glorfindel jumped in to defend his own honor.

"I gave him the best gift," insisted the balrog-slayer.

Lindir finally found his voice and argued, "All of my gifts were very nice. Ereinion, I am surprised that you even knew what today is."

"As if Glorfindel would let anyone forget," Erestor deadpanned.

"Come, come," Elrond interjected, herding his guests and friends towards the house. "We can speak later, but Menelluin has prepared a fantastic feast, and you know how he hates his dinners to be delayed."

"To dine sounds like a fine idea," Círdan agreed. "I do enjoy a good feast." Elrond shot Glorfindel a smug look, which the balrog-slayer pointedly ignored.

"After the feast I shall show you all the improvements and additions we have made to Imladris since you were last here, Gil-Galad," Elrond offered enthusiastically. Glorfindel rolled his eyes, but Elrond didn't notice.

"That would be swell, my boy," Gil-Galad accepted the invitation. "Now, where is this feast? I am famished!"

On the way into the house, Glorfindel caught Elrond's elbow and drew him briefly to a halt while their guests proceeded without them. "I thought you weren't going to grovel at his feet anymore, Peredhel," the blond whispered.

"I am not groveling," Elrond hissed in return, pointing his finger in Glorfindel's face angrily.

"Boys, we're not fighting already, are we?" Gil-Galad called out jovially over his shoulder without even looking back. Lindir and Erestor both swallowed laughs at the expressions on Glorfindel and Elrond's faces at the chastisement. Lindir decided that he very much liked the High King.

Erestor called for a servant to ring the dinner bell to alert the rest of the inhabitants that the feast was about to be served. The group made their way casually down the hall towards the Hall of Fire to allow others to arrive before them. By the time they made it to the temporary dinning hall, many of the diners had already arrived and taken their seats. Lindir usually sat at one of the lower tables during the large meals but this afternoon Elrond invited him to sit at the head table with the esteemed elf lords. Lindir didn't miss the dark look Elrond sent Glorfindel as they headed in opposite directions to reach their designated seats. The half-elf hadn't appreciated being embarrassed in front of the High King.

"Sit here," Elrond instructed Lindir in a low voice, motioning to the chair directly to the lord's right.

"But shouldn't Gil—" Lindir questioned, wondering if it was intentional that he was being shown to the seat of highest honor.

"No, just sit," Elrond repeated patiently. Lindir did as he was told. Elrond remained standing, waiting for all of seats to be filled before sitting down himself. Lindir found himself seated across from Gil-Galad and next to Círdan, feeling rather awkward at having usurped the most prominent seat besides Elrond's. The king smiled reassuringly at him, but Lindir didn't feel much better. Fortunately, Glorfindel was next to Gil-Galad and Erestor next to him, so Lindir could still speak with them throughout the meal.

Gil-Galad was surprisingly interested in the young minstrel and after a few hesitant answers to the king's first unexpected questions, Lindir grew more confident and went into more depth with his answers. It helped to have Elrond beside him, filling in gaps in the conversation with entertaining stories about life in Imladris and Lindir in particular. Lindir actually enjoyed himself.

After the main course but before dessert was served, Elrond rose from his seat once more, causing the room to fall silent as the diners waited for him to speak. Lindir knew this was when Elrond would announce his guests.

"Thank you all for joining us today in celebration," Elrond started, smiling broadly at his subjects and guests. "I'd like to start by introducing Lord Círdan from Mithlond…" The bearded elf stood from his seat to acknowledge the murmured greetings from the others. "And Ereinion Gil-Galad, who would like to say a few words." Elrond remained standing as Gil-Galad rose to speak.

"I'd like to think you're all here to see me," the king started, earning himself a few quiet chuckles, "but today there is one here more important than I. Today is a celebration not of a safe end to a journey, but of the start of a new journey, one that will last much longer than the one I took to be here today. I proud to be here on the day Lindir Loswanion reaches his majority and becomes an adult." Thunderous applause filled the room as Lindir gaped at the High King. There was no way that this feast was in honor of him. He was just a silly little orphan.

"Don't be shy my boy!" exclaimed the king. "Stand up."

Lindir was sure that his face was bright red, and probably his ears too. It suddenly made sense as to why Elrond had seated him in the place of honor. He wanted to refuse to stand up and instead hide beneath the table, but the look he received from Glorfindel gave him the courage he needed to force himself out of his chair. It was a look of unconditional love and pride, like that of a father for a son who had just accomplished something great.

If it was possible, the din in the room grew louder as Lindir hesitantly stood. "I…I wasn't expecting this," Lindir admitted as it grew quiet enough for him to be heard. "I thought this feast was for Ereinion and Lord Círdan."

"Surprise," Glorfindel mouthed, followed by a huge smile.

"But I am greatly touched, and I thank you all," Lindir concluded. He went to sit down and end his embarrassment, but Elrond caught his elbow and forced him to stand through another round of applause and shouts of congratulations. It seemed like a century before Elrond finally let him sit. Lindir was still shocked that this entire feast was actually for him, but at the same time, he was deeply honored that the three unfit-males-to-be-raising-an-elfling had taken so much time and care to plan this surprise for him.

"After dessert we shall remain here for more of Lindir's celebration," Elrond announced before finally taking his seat again as well. Dessert turned out to be Lindir's favorite and he had eaten two servings of it before finally convincing the wait staff that he couldn't eat another bite.

After the last diner had finished, it took only minutes for the servants to move the tables, dishes and all, out in the hall so the room could be freed up for dancing and merrymaking. Lindir found himself a cozy seat in the corner, still slightly overwhelmed at all that had been done on his behalf. Glorfindel and Erestor joined him shortly, taking seats on either side of him.

"I can't believe all of this," Lindir told them, his hazel eyes wide. "You had this planned, all along?"

"We did," Glorfindel admitted. "Were you surprised?"

"I had no idea. I was completely convinced that last night was it."

"As if I would allow this day to pass unmarked," Glorfindel huffed good-naturedly.

"You have lived with Glorfindel for twenty-eight years now. I would you think you wouldn't be surprised at this extravagance," Erestor said with a laugh. "I say you deserve it, for all you put up with living next door to Glorfindel."

"I am hurt," Glorfindel pouted playfully. "It wasn't my intention to have Círdan and Gil-Galad here, originally. They truly are here on business and tomorrow shall see them locked away in Elrond's study, but Gil-Galad immediately loved the idea and insisted on making his speech at dinner. Elrond mentioned that he'd been working on it during his entire trip here. I had made it perfectly clear that nothing would interfere with my celebration."

"Your celebration?" Erestor questioned dubiously.

"Well, I planned it," Glorfindel pointed out.

"I planned it," Erestor corrected, pointing at himself for emphasis.

"It was my idea," Glorfindel amended.

"It was Elrond who figured out how to make it a surprise," Erestor reminded him.

"Well, I was the one who decided it would be a good idea to be a surprise," Glorfindel said sourly.

Lindir laughed at his expression. "Now that I have stopped reeling from it, I loved the surprise," he assured the balrog-slayer. Glorfindel gave Erestor a victorious look as he slung his arm around Lindir's shoulders.

"That's my boy. Now, where are all those presents we have to open?"

"More presents?" Lindir exclaimed. "Please tell me that you didn't get me anything else. You've already done too much!"

"No, none of these are from myself, Ere, or Elrond. There are many other elves in Imladris, you know."

"They shouldn't have."

"It is not every day that an elfling turns fifty," Erestor countered with a smile. "Everyone is happy for you."

"No one more than I," Glorfindel declared.

"Must you make everything a competition?"

"You are simply jealous because I always win. I gave Lindir the best present and I am the happiest for him and the proudest of him." Erestor simply shook his head and sighed with exasperation. It almost seemed as if they should be celebrating Glorfindel's fiftieth instead of Lindir's for how maturely the Elda acted sometimes.

Lindir's begetting day celebration lasted late into the evening, though the honored elf himself snuck out around midnight, accompanied by Glorfindel. They hid away in Lindir's bedroom, speaking of Lindir's life in Imladris so far and his plans for the future.

"Nandaro says that he is pleased with your mastery of the instruments he has been teaching you," Glorfindel commented, referring to the head minstrel of Imladris.

"That was kind of him," Lindir answered sleepily. He rested his head against one of the wings of the wingback chair he was sitting in, letting his eyes fall shut tiredly. Glorfindel sat on one of the arms of the chair, his arm draped over the back for balance. His hand rested near Lindir's head and once in a while he would stroke the fine blond hair.

"I'm sure he was being truthful, Lin. He said he could spend more time with you, if you're interested in that path."

Lindir opened his eyes at that and turned his head so he could see Glorfindel in the dim candlelight. "You're not disappointed, are you, that I'm not a warrior?"

"Of course not," Glorfindel answered quickly. Lindir gave him a Look. "Well, surely I'd want you to chose the path of a warrior, but more than that, I want you to do what makes you happy. Clearly, there is a reason that your mother-name is Lindir and not Maethor or something silly like that."

"Good, because I really like my harp and I'd hate for it to sit here collecting dust while I'm out on patrol."

"That would be a shame. After all, it is a beautiful instrument, if I do say so myself," Glorfindel replied proudly.

"You are so vain," Lindir jested, lighting smacking the warrior's leg. Glorfindel laughed along with the newly-turned adult. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that. "I am quite tired, though. Shall I see you in the morning before your meetings with the lords?"

"Perhaps. We should order breakfast in bed."

"I think this celebrating has gone quite far enough," insisted Lindir.

"Nonsense. Fine, go to bed. I shall see you in the morning, breakfast or no." Glorfindel leaned down to drop a kiss on Lindir's forehead before standing and offering a hand to the minstrel. Lindir took it and allowed Glorfindel to pull him up from the chair.

"Thank you again, for everything," Lindir said humbly.

"You are most welcome, sinquelë."

Two weeks later…

Glorfindel groaned irritably as the monotonous scales invaded his sleep. He had tried ignoring it, but the redundancy of it proved to be too much to bear. He'd tried covering his head with his pillow, but the feathers did little to block out the notes. He'd tried drinking himself into a deep sleep, but it took too long and too much wine to accomplish that. It was just too much to handle.

Glorfindel glanced out the window and judging by the stars and lack of moonlight, it was well into the early hours of the morning. He'd been kept up all night, again.

"That's it. Last straw," Glorfindel growled, sliding out of his bed and pulling on his house shoes. He exited his suite and approached the next door, eying it as if it was another balrog to be slain. Uncaring of anyone else in the vicinity, Glorfindel began pounding on the door. "Lindir, if you do not stop that infernal racket this instant I swear I will throw that Mordor-spawned harp into the Bruinen!" he shouted. The music stopped immediately.

Glorfindel sighed in relief. Blessed silence accompanied him as he crawled back into bed, looking forward to the first few hours of sleep he'd receive in two weeks.

The End!

Please tell me what you think.

Thank you HazleSilver, my only reviewer for this part. grins I think that line of Elrond's is funny too, but I hope I don't overdo it. Before this series I never realized how fun it could be to write Elrond into fiction. Thank you again!