A/N - I'd like to thank Kiricat for her wonderful review! It means a lot! This chapter's dedicated to you!
Also, if anyone else at all is reading, please give me some feedback even if it's only a few words. Thanks!

Chapter Four - Moonbeams and Mayhem

Golden rays dappled the soft shade of the balcony where Steve had taken to secluding himself. It was not that he was unsociable by nature; quite the opposite - the lack of company was driving him slowly insane. However, it was a small price to pay in order to avoid the attention of certain members of the Rivendell community. Elladan had continued to hound him, and had been pushing rose petals, scraps of rather bad poetry, and even lacy Elvish undergarments under Steve's door on a regular basis. And on one truly distressing occasion, Steve had returned to his chambers to find his door wrenched from its hinges, and the grinning Elven Prince sprawled upon his bed, entirely naked but for a strategically placed frog. Steve shivered at the memory. Although he himself was more than a little mentally scarred by the experience, he supposed it was nothing compared to what the poor frog had gone through. Seriously though, that Elf had issues. And he wasn't the only one. Almost all the males of Rivendell were paying Steve an unusual amount of attention; gawping at him wherever he went, and trampling over each other in their haste to hold doors open for him, and cast their richly embroidered cloaks at his feet to save him walking through a puddle. The people back home had always stared at him too, but for quite different reasons. They had never been so eager to perform social niceties, and shower him with sugary compliments; they had not hung upon his every word, or followed his every gesture as these folk did. They had not gaped at him with a mixture of awe and longing, but with horror, disdain and mockery. For years Steve had yearned for this kind of male attention - would have coined his very soul for it - but now that it was his, he felt only awkward and isolated. He had no idea how to respond to their smiles and compliments, what to say or do, or how to behave under the constant scrutiny of so many eyes. More to the point, he had had no idea how to politely refuse Lord Elrond's invitation to accompany him for a carpentry session. As a result, he had been forced to spend a weary morning pretending to be impressed as the Elven Lord hammered nails ineptly into a rather terrifying object which was allegedly an ornate spice-rack, but more closely resembled a squashed and splintering wart-hog with a most unfortunate case of leprosy. If this wasn't bad enough, Steve had had Elrond's murky advances to endure. Whoever could have guessed that a hobby as seemingly innocent as carpentry could hold so many opportunities for shameless sexual innuendo? By lunchtime, Steve didn't ever want to hear the words hammer, nail, wood, shaft, screw, or chisel ever again (that last one really had to be witnessed to be fully appreciated). Thankfully, however, he had managed to escape afterwards, and had spent the rest of the day upon his secluded balcony, pondering his unhappy situation as Rivendell glowed on regardless, a languid green beneath the amber autumn sun.

At that moment, there came a sudden rustling from behind him. Steve turned to investigate with feline reflexes, rising a little in his seat in case a sudden getaway proved necessary. He was quite taken aback by what met his gaze: a tall, slender man in a long green cloak, his dark hair peppered with grey and hanging limp and distinctly greasy across his ruggedly handsome face. Judging from his unwashed state and notable lack of comedy ears, Steve guessed that before him stood not an Elf, but a mortal man. The stranger sketched a sudden bow, seeming momentarily quite as alarmed as Steve was.

"Your pardon, Lady," he spluttered, with a watery smile. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I...I thought no others knew of this place."

"That is quite all right, sir." Steve replied, at a loss. The stranger strode forward and slumped heavily upon Steve's bench without being invited, looking sullen and distracted. As he did so, Steve noted the unusual click of the man's footwear on the stone floor, and lowering his eyes, he realised that the stranger was sporting brown open-toed sandals. Steve's nose wrinkled a little in distaste, but he didn't like to comment.

"The folk of Rivendell can be so tiresome and mean," the man sighed, seeming barely aware of Steve's presence. "With all their talk of war and hardship...and killing. 'Down with the Dark Tower!', they say, and 'Death to the Orc!' But I say, why can't we all live in harmony, running free with the mighty bear? Flying with the mighty eagle? Swimming with the mighty prawn? Just imagine it! Elves and Men and Orcs and Hobbits and Dwarves all holding hands, united under a banner of peace and love and cuddles. Well, maybe not Dwarves, they smell so. But you get the idea. The Rainbow will save us all, my child, the Rainbow will save us all...'

"Once again, Aragorn, you turn a perfectly happy occasion into a simpering hippie pansy-fest!" Came a sudden voice from behind them. Steve turned, and beheld a most curious sight. A tall, blond male Elf with a startlingly pretty face and a somewhat vacant expression stood before them. Accompanying him was the Lady Arwen - at least, Steve decided it was probably the Lady Arwen. It wasn't very easy to tell, as her upper body had somehow been stuffed into a straight-jacket and her face tightly encased in a faintly comical muzzle. She could only really be identified by the glint of madness in her eyes. She was strapped to a makeshift sort of wooden wheelchair (judging from the splinters, and ominous creaking noises, one of Lord Elrond's creations) steered by the pristine golden-haired Elf. However, more intriguing still was the aforementioned male Elf's most outlandish choice of headgear.

"Glorfindel. Are you wearing a bonnet?" Aragorn demanded, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Aragorn. Have you been using your hair to clean the frying-pans again?" The Elf retorted snappily. 'Isn't it nearly time for your annual bath? And for your information, I am in fact wearing a new-wave lace-trimmed Elvish Summer sun-visor!"

"My mistake," Aragorn replied, grinning. His face fell, however, as his gaze dropped to Arwen. "What are you doing with my dear little Featherduster?"

"Your 'dear little Featherduster' was caught trying to skewer Lord Erestor with a pitchfork. I suspect her father would have been more lenient with her had it been the first time it's happened." Glorfindel declared with a withering glare at the now squirming Lady Arwen.

"Ah, my sweet dove. What have they done to you?" Aragorn murmured softly, brushing his grubby fingers against Arwen's simmering cheek. "Ah, my Undomiel. Moonshine to my night; string to my harp; strap to my sandal. These barbaric folk couldn't possibly understand you," he looked up at Glorfindel, ignoring the muffled hisses and growls emanating from Arwen's muzzle. "She needs only love; only love and understanding."

"Oh, good grief, that's what you said about the Orcs!" Glorfindel spat, with his hands on his hips. "Remember the spectacle you made of yourself at the Battle of the Troll Fells last Spring? Handing out anti-violence pamphlets and complimentary jam tarts to the forces of Mordor! And the less said about your campfire songs the better! Honestly, I've never been so embarrassed in all my life..."

"I wasn't the one wearing a skirt," Aragorn mumbled moodily.

"A sarong, Aragorn! A neo-Sindarin multi-terrain combat sarong! And thank Eru you weren't wearing one, with those hips!"

"What did you come here for, Glorfindel?" Aragorn asked wearily, his hand straying defensively to his hips.

"Merely to deposit her," the Elf gave Arwen's frail-looking wheelchair a small shove. "And to inform you that Lord Elrond will be holding a frightfully important meeting tomorrow and you're to be there, probably under pain of carpentry."

"Oh lorks, what's he flapping about this time? Not the squirrels again?"

"How should I know. Although rumour has it Legolas of the woodland realm will be putting in an appearance. Ha! Now there's a lavendar-scented nancy if ever I saw one!" Glorfindel declared, tugging his bonnet - or rather, his new-wave lace-trimmed Elvish Summer sun-visor - into a more jaunty angle.

"Indeed," said Aragorn, investing the word with a wealth of irony. Glorfindel made a huffing noise, turned on his heel and began to leave. His exit was hampered slightly by a number of low-hanging branches getting caught in the trimming of his bonnet. He tore himself free, barking a whole host of Elvish expletives in the process, and finally flounced grumbling out of sight.

"I know how to cheer you up, dumpling!" Aragorn cried genially, patting Arwen's arm. He was seemingly impervious to her twitches and growls, and her furiously scarlet face; but on the other hand, he hadn't been foolish enough to remove her muzzle.

To Steve's - and apparently, Arwen's - complete horror, Aragorn suddenly produced a jangling tambourine from the folds of his cloak and waved it at Arwen with a flourish. He launched without warning into a rather disturbing musical number, which Steve soon gathered to be called 'Just Ask the Moonbeams'. It was all tree-hugging hogwash of the highest order, complete with a sickeningly sing-a-long chorus and enough botanical metaphors to upset anyone. His singing was only marginally better than Elladan's, and if anything his lyrics were worse. Arwen reeled about in her seat, groaning, but entirely powerless to escape. Steve on the other hand, after his initial terror had worn off, simply leapt to his feet and ran, barely pausing to consider whether his sudden departure might be considered rude. He didn't slow his pace until the echoes of Aragorn's tambourine faded into silence. On the way back to his chambers he was obliged to crouch amid some undergrowth in order to avoid Elladan, but his walk was otherwise uneventful. He sat at last upon his bed, wondering uselessly why every last inhabitant of Rivendell was criminally insane, and resolving once and for all that he must be rid of the place, one way or another.

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Tune in next chapter and witness the Council of Elrond! oO