Chapter 3
Dinner was not going to plan.
While Glorfindel beguiled Prince Amroth and Lady Celebrían with stories about their besiegement, Elrond sat stock still in his seat, grinding his teeth. Even though the Vanya desperately tried to include Elrond, and even painted him as the hero who single-handedly won the day, the half-Elf barely spoke.
It was obvious that Lady Celebrían was enamored with the Balrog Slayer.
While she held the place of honor next to the Lord of Imladris, her attention was riveted on Glorfindel, who sat across the table beside Prince Amroth. She appeared oblivious to Elrond's presence as she laughed at all of Glorfindel's quips, was horrified by his description of injuries, and managed to turn the conversation back to him whenever he brought attention to Elrond.
"If it were not for Lord Elrond's cleverly crafted enchantments, this Valley would have fallen," Glorfindel said, inclining his head and toasting the half-Elf. "He is truly a masterful weaver, of which I am quite envious. Had it not been for him, my defensive lines would have broken long before the High King and the Númenorians came to our aid."
"Oh please don't be so modest milord," Celebrían responded. "I have no doubt that your skills were a great asset that helped save Imladris. Of which I am grateful, had this Valley been conquered there would have been nothing to prevent Sauron from turning his attention to Dwarrowdelf, then Lothlórien and the lands beyond. We truly owe you a debt of gratitude."
Glorfindel heard Elrond exhale loudly through his nose.
"I quite agree," Prince Amroth said. "What you did truly saved more people than you will ever know, it was a commendable and heroic feat."
"I thank you kindly for that Your Highness," Glorfindel replied, trying to avoid eye-contact with Elrond, who viciously stabbed at the salad on his plate. "But I contributed no more than any other soldier, I do not deserve all the credit. There are plenty of others here who performed many heroic feats. Why, did I not tell you that Elrond here killed three war trolls single-handedly?"
The following story was a half-lie, Elrond noted as he listened to Glorfindel. It was actually the Vanya who slew the trolls, as Elrond was away from the front that day. From what he heard, Glorfindel skewered them in rapid succession and caused the attacking orc company to flee in terror. Though he recounted pretty much what Elrond was told, he made wild exaggerations about their height and ferocity. He made it seem like they were the troll equivalent of Ancalagon the Black.
"My word!" Prince Amroth exclaimed, turning to Elrond. "Were you not fearful at all?"
Elrond choked and took a prolonged sip of his drink. He didn't miss Celebrían's skeptically raised brow as she waited for him to respond.
"He didn't seem like it to me," Glorfindel answered for him. "But I can attest to the fact that you often don't think, nor feel fear when you're in the thick of a fight. Once you see an obstacle you only know it has to be eliminated and set about doing that. Isn't that right, Lord Elrond?"
This he could answer with some tact while dodging Prince Amroth's question.
"That is correct, though I often wonder if the sensation is due to rigid training or if it is an effect caused by the rush of adrenaline," Elrond said, keeping his gaze fixed upon Glorfindel and Prince Amroth. "As a healer, I'm curious to know how the mind and body responds to highly stressful situations, and why certain people react differently to the same stimuli."
"And how would you go about determining that?" Celebrían asked, snapping Elrond's attention from Glorfindel and the Prince. "I don't see how you could conduct an adequate study in the midst of a raging battle."
"Um—" he started, getting the wide-eyed stare as he did earlier that day. Even though she wasn't looking upon him with the same reverence as Glorfindel, he still thought she was the most perfect creation in all of Arda.
"Yes Lord Elrond," Prince Amroth said. "How would one go about determining whether certain people are prone to heroics or cowardice? It is a rather intriguing topic the more I think on it."
Elrond glanced at Glorfindel, who was busy sipping his wine and staring at some indistinct spot on the ceiling. Likely Glorfindel saw this as an opportunity for Elrond to show off his wit, or he had no idea what he was talking about and couldn't help him.
Elrond suspected it was the latter.
"Well, you see, that's the problem," Elrond started, hoping he didn't sound foolish because of his answer. "Though I am curious, I can't think of an adequate means of determining it one way or another. I've seen knights tremble before the onslaught of battle and seen the lowliest squire pull a spear from his own body and defend his dead master. Heroisms are not something that can be predetermined, when I think on it, but I can tell you that most heroes suffer some kind of trauma when all is said and done."
"Really?" Celebrían asked, intrigued. Elrond felt his heart start to thump with a mix of nervousness and elation. For the first time her attention was fixed upon him and not Glorfindel.
"Oh yes," he responded. "While, as Glorfindel said, one may not think of one's own safety or of anything at all in the midst of battle, once all is said and done realization hits. It can have an adverse effect on the mind and develop into what's commonly known as battle fatigue. I've catalogued several variations, but they all have the same underlying symptoms. Despite that, not everyone responds to the same method of treatment. It can be quite time consuming and difficult to heal from."
"Fascinating!" Prince Amroth exclaimed. "I had no idea that such a thing was possible, but I'll readily admit that I have no experience when it comes to warfare. I can't imagine someone who performed a famous heroic feat could later become so fearful. Is this true Lord Glorfindel?"
"Uh," the Vanya cleared his throat and squirmed in his seat when Prince Amroth and Celebrían turned their attention to him.
It wasn't a difficult thing to admit that this was often the case. However, he didn't want to be bombarded with questions regarding the aftermath of his own famed battle with the balrog. Though he was fortunate enough to have benefitted from Lord Námo's candid counsel and time in Aman afterwards, his fight and death wasn't something he enjoyed talking about.
Especially since he felt his accomplishment overshadowed that of his friend and mentor, Ecthelion.
Thankfully, at that moment he saw Lindir lingering just outside the banquet hall. Though he promised Elrond he would be there to help him, this line of questioning, and Lindir's obvious attempt to see how the night was progressing, made him promptly excuse himself from the table.
"Oh dear," Prince Amroth said as he watched Glorfindel make a hasty retreat. "I hope what I said did not offend him."
"I wouldn't worry," Elrond said with a frown when he saw the Vanya run straight to Lindir. He would have given anything to follow him and find out what the two were talking about.
"You said you catalogued several variations of battle fatigue, Lord Elrond," Celebrían said, snapping the half-Elf's attention away from the two conspiring Elves. "Can you elaborate on that?"
Elrond gulped when he realized he would be left to face Celebrían alone. However, she seemed genuinely interested, and Elrond could confidently talk at length on the subject, since he made careful observations when treating his own soldiers and those from other realms. He was hoping to one day write a book using his detailed notes.
With Glorfindel's advice in mind, he took a deep breath, banished all potential wrong doings from his mind, and then launched into a lecture that would have better suited medical apprentices than dinner guests. But at least he was talking to her without blushing or stuttering, and that was a huge accomplishment.
