A/N:  Okay, Cassie-bear01, this one's for you! :)

We sorry…we prolly should have said this before, but, just to clarify:  I, Lai, write Rhiannon's POV, while Lór writes Fiona's.  It does get a little confusing, but if you're still confused after making it this far, I should point out that Rhiannon's POV are the odd numbered chapters (1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, and now 17), while Fiona's POV are all the even numbered chapters (2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16 etc).  And well, if you still haven't managed to tell them apart…mine generally include a great deal of babble and Glorfy drooling. :)  Hee hee!

To everyone else who's ever reviewed this little thought experiment…THANK YOU AND MANY HUGS!!!  You all get a cookie.   

And now, back to our story.  We last left one of our heroines – Rhiannon – wallowing in her own chaotic, insecure delusions…

            I don't know what I expected Gil-galad to do after my tirade.  I know that what I did have in mind had nothing to do with him admitting to me that he had been wrong in pulling that stupid stunt on Fiona, and had more to do with images of me being tried for treason and likely having my head cut off. 

It would make sense – I defied the High King of my new race, and did it with as much of a 'potty mouth' as I dared.  I don't think calling him a 'dumbass' to his face had been prudent, nor threatening him with eternal hauntings if he didn't smarten up, but like I said, I'm not going to apologize for that, to anyone.  I protected my sister and I would do it again in an instant if I ever need to.  Even if in the aftermath of my anger I get smacked with guilt and fear.

The guilt had been because I'd lost my temper, which I'll explain in a moment.  The fear had been because of the thoughts of treason, but also because I had been afraid that, after my stint at going spare, Glorfy wasn't going to even look at me, let alone speak to me or kiss me again… 

I have an inkling of how fiercely loyal the Elves were – are – to Gil-galad, minus those from Mirkwood.  Sorry, Greenwood the Great, as it's known at the moment.  Whatever the damn place is called, I haven't met any of the Laiquendi yet, but I do know that they were too farking stubborn, wouldn't accept the rule of Gil-galad and ended up loosing two thirds of their people in the Marshes. 

Glorfindel, I know, prizes his loyalty to his king highly.  I won't go so far as to say how high, but…it's pretty up there in his value system.  Perhaps because he'd never experienced democracy as I know it, but…then again, I'd never experienced a monarchy, except the Queen of England visited my hometown once, and I thought that was pretty damn cool.  So would Glorfindel stand with me or with his king?  Well, seeing as how I'd only known him for a week or more (I've lost track of time since we got here…), and he's known his king for…a really damn farking long time, then I suspect he'll side with Gil-galad.  Loyalty to the big hat will win out.  I'm not sure why.  Men seem to value big hats a great deal, whereas I… 

As Fe's more than likely pointed out, I don't react well to people ordering me around.  It's the one reason I stayed away from anything remotely militaristic, even a large portion of the reason that I stopped going to Karate.  Discipline and stratified organization are necessary in a large body of people, but it drives me up the wall.  So I got out of it. 

This is all well and good until I encounter someone like Gil-galad.  He's the farking High King!  And you've seen how I react to being ordered (unless by Glorfy, but that's only if he looks me in the eyes with those wonderful blue beauties of his)…  I don't even treat Gilly's authority with respect, perhaps because I know full well that I didn't vote for him.  Enter the Monty Python sketch – only, I'm not digging filth.

Or am I?  Odds are, if I'm not executed by sundown, digging filth is exactly what I'll be doing.  Only, it'll be mucking horse stalls or turning the privies, which is a job they give to the lowliest of lows.  Would I deserve it?  Yes.

Now, don't look like that.  I stood up for my sister, yes.  I protected her emotions and her heart from someone who was on a jealous rampage over an incident that meant nothing except that we are going to stay away from chocolate for a good long while.  But I had also defied the authority of the only body of government that I would be encountering for some time.  Who am I to say that my version of democracy be imposed on a monarchy that had worked for several thousand years?  When Gilly gives out his punishment, I'll accept it with chin up and back straight, even if I'm trembling because it hurts.  I may be stubborn as all hell but, in the horribly paraphrased words of a character in a Robert A. Heinlein novel, 'I'll take my lumps'.

I know full well that it's a futile gesture to tell you to read Starship Troopers by the author mentioned above, but I'm going to suggest it anyway.  I wish to all things sacred that who/whatever brought us here had granted us books, but…memory will have to serve.  Still though – if this history makes it to what we consider 'modern times'… 

Never mind.  That's wishful thinking, at best.  I don't know how they make this paper, or from what.  The same goes for the ink.  But, if I know the Elves (and I'm starting to), then they made this book to last, at least until several copies are made of it.  So…you never know.        

Now to explain the guilt I mentioned before.  I had been in serious danger of succumbing to a huge bout of depression, which always happens after I get very, very pissed off and express it.  I've always been brought up to believe that resorting to temper tantrums is a last resort, only after making the attempt to talk it out fails. 

But I stubbornly refused to let go of my anger at Gilly's jealousy (which is what that whole debacle was about.  If you don't believe me, look it up.  Just because you don't think that Elf King's get jealous does not make it true).  That Elf holds my sister's heart between his fine-boned hands and I will be damned if he is going to crush it because of pettiness.  Elves are rumored to be beyond pettiness, but I have my doubts.  Does the name 'Fëanor' mean anything to anyone?

            Fiona didn't speak the whole way back to our small tent, and neither did I; my mind boiled with thoughts and fears.  I don't know what she thought about my reaction to Gil-galad's little inquisition – for once our mind link was inactive.  Shock, I think.

I quivered still, but for a different reason – the adrenaline that had flooded my system a moment ago had buggered off, and I was left with the aftermath of the rush. 

            It was a long, long walk back to our tent.

            "Thank you."  Fe's first words startled me.  They had been uttered at our first steps within the tent. 

            "Pardon?" 

            "Thank you.  For standing up for me," she elaborated. 

            "Are you nuts? I think I just bought my ticket to the next life!"

            "He's not going to execute you," she said gently.  She knows me too well. 

            "How do you know?" I asked shrilly.  Some of the panic I didn't know I had been feeling was starting to emerge.  I really don't want to die; I didn't before (fat lot of good that did), and I don't now.  My earlier conviction that I would take my punishment with head up and back stiff was starting to waver under the even stronger conviction that, now that I have eternity, I'm going to use it.  "I threw his rule in his face!  I'd do it again in a second, but – "

            "Hush," she said sharply.  "He won't do it.  If he tries, I'm going with you."  That shut me up right quick. 

            "To the next life?"  Tears were pricking again, but I had to be sure that I'd heard what I thought I'd heard.  Damn it, I'm such a sap!

            "I came with you here, didn't I?"

            This time I did whimper.  It ended on a rather high note that hurt my new ears.  Next thing Fiona knew, she was wrapped in the biggest hug I could possibly give with my bruised back.  She returned it, but gingerly to make sure she didn't hurt me too much.  She would really do that, throw this life to the wind and opt for oblivion, leave Gilly behind for whatever comes next…all because we are sisters…  I have never felt so humble, or so very, very lucky to have her with me in this incarnation. 

            We found ourselves sharing tears and another embarrassed silence in which we sniffled and tried to stop crying again.  After a while I spoke again, around the sniffles.

            "We should probably go find Elrond and apologize to him for scarring him for life."

            "Nah," Fiona said dismissively.  "He'll be alright.  Besides; as much as I would have rather he'd been Ereinion, that little escapade this morning was quite a lot of fun."

            I giggled.  "You mean the eating of truffles or the emotional scarring of Elrond?"

            Her grin was wicked enough that it approached 'evil' closely.  "Both."

            I matched it.  "You know, Elrond does have a nice set of muscles on him.  You should have taken advantage when you had the chance."

            Maybe it was the residual traces of the chocolate, or maybe Fiona had finally – as I'd long since hoped – ditched her taboos and decided to have some fun.  Or maybe it was just the memory of Elrond's face when he'd sped out of our tent at escape velocity.  Either way, I got the surprise of my life when Fe giggled and tapped her chin thoughtfully. 

            "Hell yeah.  When we corner him again, I'm definitely copping a feel."  She laughed at my expression and I tried to keep my jaw from hanging off.  It was then I realized that she had been sarcastic.  I raised an eyebrow. 

            A thought occurred to me and I looked at her sideways.  "Fiona?" I asked.

            "Yeah?"

            "What if he doesn't try to execute me at all, but rather sets me to digging out privies.  Would you still come along?"

            She froze, likely panicking, as she tried to think of an answer.  Finally she grinned.  "Of course."

            More tears!  Fark!  "Thank you," I whispered past the lump in my throat. 

            That was how Gil-galad and Glorfindel found us.

            I greeted them coldly.  I was still angry with them, I realized, although intent upon keeping my life intact, and now, especially, Fiona's life since she'd said she'd come with me to whatever was next. 

            "What do you want?"  I made it clear that he was stepping into my territory.  Gil-galad may be the High King, but, damn it, this is the equivalent to my room and my house rolled into one.  If he didn't like it, he could add to whatever punishment he had in mind.

            "To speak to Anórmír.  Alone," he replied in his 'Obey-Me-Now' voice.  I didn't budge. 

            "Not bloody likely," I replied.  So much for staying alive!  I knew I was likely signing my death warrant with that, but I wasn't having any more of his emotional attacks on Fiona.  Still, though, he hadn't given me a direct order yet, so I still had a chance.

            "Lady, my patience is wearing thin," he said warningly.  I looked to Fe at her hand on my shoulder and she nodded, telling me it was all right – she would talk to him.  Only then did I move out of his way.  He watched me as I moved to the tent flaps, which Glorfy held open for me. 

            I stopped before stepping through.  "If you hurt her," I said quietly, knowing that I should just keep my mouth shut, but was strangely unable to.  I did not look at him, but I knew he heard me.   "You can expect to be un-Elfed by sundown."

            I didn't stay for his reaction.

            I didn't move far from the tent either, even though I would have loved to just take off and run, far, far away – away from the battle, away from Gil-galad, and, yes, even away from Glorfy.  But I didn't, because moving away would have meant leaving Fiona by herself with no source of backup if things were to turn ugly.

Then again…did I really want to be around if he was in there to apologize?  Apologies of this nature usually ended with…

I shook my head, refusing to think of that.  The movement caused me to gasp suddenly – I'd forgotten about my shoulders again.  You'd think with bruising like that I'd be hard pressed to forget that simple movement hurts like total Orc ass, but…well, I can forget about anything if my mind's occupied. 

"Are you well, Minaimîr?"  Glorfy had followed me out of the tent and now watched me pace back and forth, an unreadable look upon his features.  That expression now changed to one of sorrowed gentleness.

"No, I'm not bloody well," I answered testily.  "King-boy in there scared the shit out of my sister.  I don't like it when people do that."  Calm down, Rhiannon…there's no more need for anger.  I knew my inner monologue was right, but…damn it, I was still pissed.

"That is self evident," Glorfy replied ruefully, wincing.  "I do not ever wish to again be on the receiving end of one of your lectures."

"Don't mess with my sister," I replied, "and you'll be fine."

"I do not wish to mess with your sister," Glorfindel replied, shaking his head.  He stepped forward from the edge of the tent.  "But I do not understand why you reacted so strongly to the High King."

I didn't make a reply.  He knew how I felt about people messing with Fe.  Plus, anything that I could have said would have involved democracies and way too many explanations.  I know he's going to read this little journal at some point (if he hasn't already.  There have been several times when it's been out of my sight), so I'm not going to explain all of this again.  He can work it out for himself.

I resumed my pacing.  After a great deal of thought, I turned back to Glorfy. 

"What is he going to do?"

"Your pardon, Lady?"  He asks for my pardon…how ironic, on so many levels. 

"His Royal Superiority Complex.  What is he going to do to us?"

"For that you will have to ask him."  Glorfy was avoiding the subject.  I just knew it.

"Come on, Glorfy!" I snapped.  "Just tell me whether or not he's going to have us cleaning privies or searching the next life for some vacancies!"  I was not in a good mood, as one can probably guess without any prompting. 

He regarded me a moment before answering.  "I do not know, Minaimîr.  I wish that I did, but I do not."

I sighed, not liking this.  I don't like being angry and snapping at people.  I don't like having to chew out the High King of an entire race of people over something as petty as jealousy.  And I don't like Glorfy watching me as I crumble.

Which is what I did.  Without Fiona there to calm me down from my self-destructive thoughts, I was headed for super depression and fast.  The adrenaline that had come rushing back with Gilly's appearance was starting to leave my system.  Tears forced their way up and all my attempts to hold them back were for naught. 

There was no one else in the area, no other soldiers, nor messengers running back and forth.  I didn't speculate on reasons why at the time, as I was in no state to, but I knew that I was glad for their absence. 

If there'd been anyone there besides Glorfy they would have gotten quite the pathetic spectacle, because I couldn't hold back the tears any more – the tears of shame from being unable to refrain from letting out my temper, from snarling at the Elves who had done so much for us, since we'd appeared in their world, lost and confused and behaving like total idiots. 

I sank to my knees, the first large torrent of self-pity releasing itself, as it probably should have done some time before.  Not only was I about to die for sticking up for my sister but…my mother and father…my entire birth family…were lost to me now, forever and always.  I would never see them again, likely never see Fiona again, as there was no telling that what or whoever had brought us here would let us stay together again after we moved on.  On top of this, I couldn't stop from crying like a baby in the middle of a war camp.  I felt small, lost, alone, so utterly insignificant…

And then he was there, holding me, shushing me softly as he stroked my hair.  I held to Glorfindel with all the strength left in me and cried my eyes out on his shoulder.  After a while, I felt myself being lifted and didn't have the mind to protest as he carried me away; I just clung to him.  As the tears stopped, it was all I could do to stay awake.  Crying has always left me sleepy. 

I hardly noticed when he pried me off, set me down and started giving me another of the best back rubs known to all life on the planet.  I hardly noticed that I had done a face plant on his desk.  Hell, I hardly noticed that he had his hands up my shirt, which just goes to show you how out of it I had been. 

What I did notice, however, was that I no longer felt quite so alone.  

I jerked awake out of a nightmare in which Fe and I had been beheaded and then were separated for eternity.  When I could breathe again, I looked around and discovered that I was back in Glorfindel's tent.  The Golden Haired Elf was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean he wasn't on the other side of the partition.  I don't know why I was weary to be spotted by him, but I was and so trusted that instinct.  Thinking back on it now, it makes no sense, but…that's life for you.

Peeking out from behind the partition, I determined that he wasn't there and then stepped out.  Moving quickly to the outer flap, I had been about to slip through when something caught my eye. 

On a table, just on the other side of the tent was a small cloth bag.  I'd seen this bag before, usually out of the corner of my eye and had never really looked at it until now because it had always been just part of the scenery.  I remembered now seeing a corner of it stick out of his armor the day of the battle as I'd closely learned the place of the buckles.  Yet it wasn't the fact that the bag was there that snagged my look, but more of what was sticking out of it. 

Protruding out of the silken bag, I found as I slipped closer, was a small braid of my very own hair. 

I didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened.  Flattered because he kept a part of me close to him, frightened because he hadn't told me about it, apparently had never planned to, and hadn't even told me he'd snarked some of my hair.  I felt somewhat violated, but strove to quell the feeling.  I had to find Fiona still, make sure she was alright, emotionally as well as physically.

But should I question Glorfy about having an unasked for lock of my hair among his possessions?  I think I might have to play that one by ear.  I know I could condemn him for being so crazy obsessed that he snarked a lock of my hair before the battle, but…damn it, you've seen how I've been acting ever since I saw him for the first time!  'Obsessed' doesn't cover it.

So, no, I'm not going to question him on it.  If he someday decides to tell me then I shall act surprised until he tells me that he knew that I knew because he read this little bit of my little history journal thing.  Whatever.  I'm still keeping my mouth shut on this one.  Hopefully. 

Backing away from the table slowly, I continued on through the outer flaps.

The sun had nearly set, I found.  Fires sprang up around the camp and the tantalizing aromas of the nameless stew reached me and reminded me that I hadn't eaten since lunchtime.  But first things first – I had to find Fiona.

There had been no guard on Glorfindel's tent, which led me to believe that either I wasn't in trouble (here's hoping!) or that Glorfindel hadn't told anyone where I had been.  My emotional break down could possibly be the cause for option two…maybe he hadn't wanted anyone to disturb me?  I don't know.  I wish I could say for sure, but I can't.  But I blessed my stroke of luck and moved out into the rows of tents, marveling at the colour of the sky above as the sunset.  It was quite beautiful, the type of sunset that I'd never seen, being a city dweller for most of my life.  Stars sprinkled the horizons, shining clearly through the approaching night.  It had been mid afternoon when Gilly had come storming into the pavilion…I must have slept for a few hours, at least. 

I took a deep breath of untainted air (well, if you discount the smell of too many humans living together and the privies, but the privies are downwind, thankfully) and sighed.  The only thing that would make this night better would be the absence of the massive Morannon and the surrounding dark mountains to the East, and the sudden presence of the sea.  And, of course, if I knew what Gilly was going to do to Fiona and I.  Well, really to me.  I couldn't see him doing anything to Fiona.  Provided he'd gotten over his jealousies, that is.  I wouldn't want a spiteful Elf in charge of everyone and everything, but…I wouldn't want me in charge of an army this big either, since I'm not the best judge of such things.

The sun sank as I wondered around camp.  I was mostly lost in thought, of one thing or another – not about what I thought of earlier…I put that from my mind, for the time being – but I nodded to those I passed, or smiled a little at them (depended on whether or not they were hot…not too many Men were – I can't stand beards!).  One or two called compliments and whistled at me as I passed their cooking fires, which I usually returned with a wave.  Most of these men could die tomorrow…what was the harm in returning their fun?

But as the sun sank people saw me less and less, and I melded into shadows.  I became more and more lost in thought, until I heard laughter coming from the direction of the main dining tent, and recognized Fiona's laugh among those present.  It was hard not to.  First of all, she has a very distinctive laugh, and second of all, I'm pretty sure that we two are the only females in this camp.  I could be wrong, so don't quote me on that, but I'm relatively sure that there aren't any others.  Males get rather protective of their women in war times.  It's really a wonder that Fiona and I are still in the camp.  Especially after that stunt we pulled with the battle and running off to fight when we were expressly told not to.  Had I been in charge, I would have expressly told us to get our asses out of the camp, but, apparently, Gilly has other plans.  Provided we're not off to the next incarnation.  If there even is a next incarnation.  Of course, my hypothesis is based on the assumption that I can even die again, but I'm not going to get into that now.

Walking as silently as I could, I stopped in the shadows to see what everyone was up to, primarily because I really didn't feel like socializing at the moment.  I just wanted to know if Fiona was all right.

In a corner of the dining pavilion sat Gilly, Glorfy, Fe, and Gildor.  After I listened for a moment I realized that Fiona was replaying Elrond's escape from our tent earlier this morning to her captive audience.  This struck me as odd, because Fiona normally can't stand being at the center of attention (especially with such a subject as she was talking about).  But there she was, gesturing away, copying faces and trying to talk around giggles.

I noticed that Gilly had his arm around her waist possessively and for a moment I was mad, but told myself to stop being such a dumbass and lighten up.  They had obviously talked things over, and she had obviously accepted his apology, or she wouldn't be sitting there.  Gildor had his back to me, but his shoulders shook with laughter as Fiona's story came to an end. 

"And then," Fe said loudly, pausing for a moment to breathe before continuing, "just as Rhiannon – Minaimîr – got her hand up his armor, Elrond lets out this yelp and bolts like a scared rabbit!"

The group collapsed into helpless giggles and I wondered what Elrond would be thinking if he could hear them now.  For their sake, I hoped he could take a good joke.  I wonder if Gildor knew exactly what had made us act like that…if he did, I was going to have to hide my chocolate stash from now on. 

I watched and listened for a moment.  Gilly's laugh was rich and deep, Gildor's a good tenor – clear as a bell.  Fiona, of course, has her trademark giggle, but Glorfy…everything about him is golden, his laugh, his face when lit up by the lanterns on the table they sat about.  His hair shines like liquid gold, and the smile playing about his features…  I had never seen an Elf look more gorgeous by lantern-light.  I sighed, wishing I could run my hands over his beautiful jaw...

Glorfy stopped laughing abruptly and looked up, directly at me.  This startled the crap out of me, so I did the only sensible thing (I thought) I could do and ran, further back into shadows.  Talk about bolting like a scared rabbit!

When I finally managed to make myself stop (there's nothing like a good run through the night, with your hair blowing out behind you…), I continued walking to try and calm myself down. 

For the life of me, I could not figure out why I'd run.  It made no sense.  Yeah, Glorfy had noticed me, but it would have made more sense if I'd come forward and revealed my presence to all of them, rather than running like a spooked deer.  Yet run I did, and now I didn't know where I was because it was dark and I had run blindly.

I shook my head and laughed low to myself and then stopped, looking back the way that I had come.  I should go back and talk to them, join the circle, laugh and be merry…I shook my head.  Nah, I decided, they were having enough fun, and I'm no good a socializing.  Plus, I wasn't sure where I was, as I said already.  I knew I was still in the camp, but…the nearest campfire was some distance away. 

I didn't see the hand reach out and grab me from between two tents, but before I could scream, another had covered my mouth as I was dragged into deeper shadows.  Eyes wide, I struggled like mad, trying to see my captor's face in the dark, but the shadows prevented even my new Elvish eyes from spotting who it was.  But, a moment later, I had my answer.

"If you don't stop struggling, melyanna, we're going to be interrupted again."  The murmured voice sent shivers down my spine and my muscles turned to jelly from one instant to the next.  I stopped struggling, but my heartbeat didn't go back to normal.  If anything, it got worse, near ready to break free from my rib cage.

The hands released me for an instant, but only to change to an angle that would allow for better support…of me.  I found that out as a pair of lips crashed into mine, stealing my breath away.

It was Glorfindel.  It had to be.  No one else tastes like that – not that I would know otherwise.  After a small eternity, he pulled back.  If it hadn't been for his hands I would have collapsed into a boneless heap at his feet.

"You have no idea," Glorfy whispered, his voice choked, "how long I have been waiting to do that to you.  That and more." 

More?  Oh my! 

"This day has seemed an eternity, since you let me smell the chocolate, and I could hardly restrain myself from finding you." 

"I almost wish you had," I managed back.  "It might have saved some grief."  My back throbbed but I ignored it completely.  There were other, more important things to keep me occupied. Like his scent.  Bloody hell!  I thought I was going to swoon just from the wonderful scent of sun-warmed fields that seemed to cling to him and surround me.  I buried my head in his chest, arms around him.  "I'm sorry I went spastic on you today," I murmured.

"Hush, tithen pen.  It is water under the bridge, and long since past."  His lips brushed the top of my head.  After a moment he pushed me back and put one fine-boned finger under my chin, tilting my head upwards.  "You have no more need for worry."

Worry?  I wasn't worrying…not now, at any rate.  Glorfindel was very close, and very comfortable, and very, very kissable.  I now know the true meaning of heaven.

"Now," he said, a beautiful smile in place on his gorgeous face.  I didn't so much see the smile as heard it in his voice.  His breath moved past my ear and shivers chased themselves up and down my spine.  "I believe we have some catching up to do."

Catching up?  What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Oh!  That! Electric touches and murmured Elvish words and whispers and me getting some 'hands on experience' with his chest…  His muscles firm, yet covered with soft skin…I could keep my hands there all day.

Plus, I found out through exploration that he's ticklish.  The great Glorfindel the Golden Haired, ticklish!  I never would have guessed until he yelped (I would have said 'squeaked', but you know Elves and their dignity) suddenly as I trailed a finger down his side and then grabbed my hand almost roughly.  With a wicked grin my other hand slipped out to get his other side, but it too was captured.  I noticed that just one of his hands could encircle both my wrists. 

"Now, now, Minaimîr," he said playfully.  Any minute now I was going to drown in the puddle that my knees, bones and heart were making beneath me.  It was a wonder I could stand at all, given how he was speaking.  "Do not touch me there unless you wish to invite retribution."  I didn't answer that right away.  I was slightly interested to see what he meant by 'retribution'.

"Not fair," I muttered, tugging experimentally on his grasp.  It didn't budge.  "How come you get one hand free?"

I found out a moment later.  Tickle torture is a painful thing to endure, especially when trying to keep squeals to a minimum.  Squeals attract visitors, and I was having too much fun to be able to put up with being interrupted.   

I'm getting really sick of this farking bruise.  I was having all sorts of fun until one side twisted the wrong way and I yelped.  Glorfy released my hands.

"I am sorry, mel nîn, if I have caused you pain."  He sounded concerned.  We faced each other in the shadows until I couldn't stand not being in contact with him, and put my head on his chest.  His arms went around me loosely to make sure he didn't hurt me any more.

"I can hardly wait," I muttered against those wonderfully firm pectorals of his, "until this bruise is healed.  It gets in the way of so many things!"  I deliberately left that open to innuendo.

It paid off.  Glorfy leaned down by my ear and whispered in his most seductive tone yet, "I too can hardly wait, my lovely one.  Time until then shall be a torture that I will endure, until you are well enough for..." he left his sentence where it was.  After a moment he added a word in Elvish.

The boundary between rational thought and gibbering mass of incoherence was thinning…if things were going to be like this forever, I wasn't going to need the chocolate!  Well…maybe for special occasions.  I inhaled sharply (you would have too!) and turned my head to look up at him.  What a beautiful profile.  Now, if only I could get my fingers on those ears of his... 

I opened my mouth to speak but found it claimed instead by…well, you can guess.  I'm not going into too many details.  Just rest assured that every sensation was new to me and most, very, very welcome.  At least until…

"Rhiannon?"  It was Fiona.  She was getting closer.  I wanted very much to keep Glorfy doing what he was doing, but he pulled away and muttered something that had a distinct swearing edge to it. 

"Damn!" I whispered myself.  "Looks like we got found anyway, Glorfy."

"So it would seem, Minaimîr," Glorfy replied, rueful again.  "Do we stand a chance if we remain hidden?"

"One would think, but Fiona has an uncanny ability to find me when I'm hiding on her.  Watch."

We watched.  Fe appeared, on Gil-galad's arm.  As they neared our little hiding place, Fe stopped suddenly, looking around.  Finally she looked straight up and at us. 

"Rhiannon, Glorfindel, come out of there!" she said loudly, grin wide across her face.  A soldier or two, passing by on night rounds, looked up for a moment and then returned to their duties, smiles in place.  "I know you're in there!"  We had no choice but to step out. 

I didn't realize until then what we looked like.  Clothes at odd angles, hair messed, blushes colouring our cheeks…I looked down at the ground and tried to stop from turning any more red.  Fiona, however, had other plans.

"Now," she said, still quite loud.  "What, precisely, were you two up to back there?"  Oooo…she was inviting payback.  Just as soon as I could speak, she was going to get it.

"Nothing that need concern the Lady Anórmír," Glorfindel replied smoothly with a slight bow.  "However, if the Ladies will excuse me, I must retire for the night."

"And not escort your Lady back to her tent?" Gil-galad sounded offended but he had a huge grin across his face.  I had apparently been forgiven for my earlier behavior.  "What manners, Glorfindel!  I expected more from you."

I expect a lot more from my golden Elf as soon as I get better, but I didn't dare say that.  Not out loud, anyway. 

Glorfy blushed.  "Perhaps you are right, my Lord," he said and bowed again over my hand.  "My Lady Minaimîr.  Will you allow me the pleasure of escorting you back to your tent?"

"Of course," I said, blushing like an idiot now.  I turned to Fe to find that she was grinning for all her worth.  Glorfy offered his arm and I took it.

Side by side, our Elf Lords escorted us back to the tent we shared as sisters, which was probably for the best.  There was no telling what would happen if we slept over in theirs.  Well, actually, anyone with two ounces of gray matter could have worked it out, but…I'm thinking specifics.

Point is, we all knew that none of us were ready.  Mentally ready.  Physically…well, if we really needed to, we could just eat chocolate.  It wouldn't take much. 

Glorfy and Gilly left us at our tent door, bowed over our hands (and then Glorfy swooped in for a kiss goodnight that lasted a little longer than it probably should have if I was to be getting any sleep), and moved gracefully into the night.

I shared a look with Fiona as we moved into the tent, and then a sigh.  This was followed rapidly by a squeal, a hug and a sudden outburst of "Details!" and "No, you first!" and other exclamations. 

We fell gradually into explanations of what had gone on earlier, after I had left Fiona with Gil-galad in her tent and then had had an emotional breakdown.  Sitting down on my pile of cushions, I listened with eager ears.                 

Even when explanations were finished, and the night half over, I still couldn't get to sleep.  Now that my fear of loosing Glorfy over my actions of earlier had buggered off…and such a way to find out too!  I'm going to have to do that sort of thing more often…sneak into dark places with Glorfindel, I mean. 

As if you didn't already know that. 

I sighed for the umpteenth time that night and turned over again.

"Rhiannon, go to sleep," Fiona growled sleepily from the other side of the tent.

"I can't," I replied.  "There's too much on my mind."

"I know the feeling," my Elf-sister replied.  "Too much on my mind too."

"What are we going to do about the future?"

"Don't worry about it?" Fiona suggested. 

"But…are we going to marry our Elves, or just have illicit affairs with them, or…" I trailed off.  "Will they even marry us this young?  I thought Elves married off at around fifty.  We've got a long way to go before we hit fifty."

"Rhiannon, I swear, if you don't sleep right now I'm going to –"

"I suppose both Glorfy and Gilly are a couple thousand years old a piece…did you know that Glorfy's died once already?"  I knew I'd cut her off in mid sentence, but… Tiddly boogles.

"Yeah," Fiona murmured.  She was near to dreams.  "Fighting a Balrog, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."  Why is it everyone knows everything except me?  "So…do you think he'll marry me now or thirty one years from now?  Would their customs and rituals even allow for this?  I mean, are we considered to be children by them?"

"Shut up and go to sleep, Minaimîr.  I'm quite sure that if we were still children in their eyes, Ereinion wouldn't have pinched my arse the way he did today."

"What?" I half sat up, looking across the dark tent to where I knew Fiona to be attempting to sleep.

"Nothing.  Go to sleep."

"Gil-galad pinched your ass?"

"I said, go to sleep!"

I stayed quiet for only a moment before my over active mind was off on another tangent.  "What does 'Minaimîr' mean, anyway?  Do you know?  Glorfy wouldn't tell me when he gave me the name."

"Ask him in the morning."

I sighed again and flopped around on my pile of cushions, trying to get comfortable.  I heard a growl from the other side of the tent and suppressed a grin. 

"I did ask him once already and he didn't tell – ow!"  A cushion had come sailing across the tent and had smacked me in the face.  "What was that for?"

"I am trying to sleep!"

"Well, you didn't have to smack me with a – ow!"  I whipped the cushions back across the tent.  A muffled squawk at the other end told me they'd hit their target.

"Cow," Fiona called out.

"Moo," I replied.

"Go to sleep!"  That sounded suspiciously like a whine to me.

"I'm trying!"

"So am I!"

Have I ever mentioned how cranky Fiona can be if you don't let her get to sleep?  It's quite amusing, really, which is why I kept waking her up again.  Part of the reason why, anyway.  The rest had to do with the fact that my thoughts wouldn't leave me alone.  When Fiona quieted down all I got in my mind were images upon images of Glorfindel and his wonderful, muscular and very comfy chest, and his silky hair hanging between us, and his breath on my cheek as he leaned down to whisper…

Fark.  The number of times I've written this into stupid fanfiction stories!  Who would have ever thought that when used in conjuncture with oneself, sap doesn't sound anywhere near as bad? 

Okay, it does sound bad, but…well, you won't understand until something like this happens to you, and then you'll understand perfectly and condemn anyone who says sap is stupid.  Because sap is what makes the world go 'round, my friend.  Well, sap and money.  And some other things too, but I can't think of them right now.

I contemplated beating myself with a cushion but rejected the idea, figuring it wouldn't help my state of mind any.  Thought about going for a walk to, but…well, I just might go for a walk.  Maybe I'll run in to Glorfy…

No, I'd better not run in to Glorfy, because…well…I'm caving, and fast.  And today's chocolate episode got me thinking.  Well, it stopped me thinking and jumpstarted my hormones.  Whichever you prefer, I still don't think meeting up with Glorfy in the dead of night would really be conductive to…sanity.

With a growl I rose.  "I'm going for a walk, Fiona," I said, mostly as a matter of courtesy.  She didn't answer, and after a moment or two of listening, I could hear her snoring from the other side of the tent.  With a half-hearted laugh, I shook my head.  Never would have guessed that Elves snore. 

It was chilly, I realized, but not until after I'd been walking for some time.  I never really noticed until I shivered involuntarily and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.  Just goes to show you how out of it I really had been – I hadn't even brought a cloak.

What I wanted to know, however, was precisely why my thoughts had turned to marriage after only knowing Glorfy for…let's say two weeks.  It has to be by now, but I'll ask Fiona. 

Yes, I am head over heels for this guy, to use a cliché, but that doesn't mean…crikey, what if he has an Elf-maiden waiting for him back at Imladris? 

Well then, Rhiannon, he wouldn't have kissed you like that.  Enter the inner monologue.  Well, really, mine's an inner dialogue, but…whatever.

Unless he's a two-timer-player-sort. 

Glorfy?  Are you nuts?

Apparently I am because I'm talking to myself. 

And I'm answering, too.  Maybe you are nuts then.

In that case, we're both nuts because we're both the same person.  There is a certain amount of logic that one must accept when presented with such a thought.

Whatever.

Yes, I know.  I talk to myself, and answer too.  This would probably be grounds for institutionalization, if there was an institution around her for me to be committed to, but, well, this is how I deal with thoughts that need more than one opinion, or, at least have more than one side to their consideration.  So don't mind me and help me with my hypothetical situation here. 

Say Glorfy's got some über-Elf-babe waiting for him back at Rivendell.  Now, the attraction could be one sided, on her part (and I can fully understand why!) but…what is she going to say if we show up, and Glorfy's got what amounts to a child hanging off his arm, and we waltz right up to her and say "aren't you happy for the happy couple?"

I'd suspect she'd go spare. 

Damn straight she'd go spare!  I would to, if I were her!  If some little Elf crumpet that Glorfy picked up at the battlefield stole my Elf, I'd definitely go rabid ass wonky!

Are you saying that I'm a crumpet?

No, I'm saying that I am a crumpet.  You're just along for the ride, so get used to it.  So what now?  Are we going to just 'go with the flow' of things and see where they turn out?   

If we just 'go with the flow', as you so adequately put it, who knows where we'll end up?  And, that's another thing.  Why the hell do you care what some two bit Elf cracker thinks?

Good question.  I stopped and looked around, wondering just where the hell I was.  My inner dialogue had left me with some serious questions.  Like 'what the hell am I doing out here with no cloak?' and 'should I even be worrying about this?'

The answer to the second question is more than likely 'no'.  There's just no point.  I keep forgetting that I've got eternity to worry about two bit Elf crackers trying to steal my Glorfy, so I might as well just lighten up and stop being so…

Stupid.  Pathetic.  Whiny.  Sappy…and lots more words to add to that list.  I'm only eighteen for crying out loud!  Why the hell am I worrying about something I've got eternity to think about?

"Good question."

I'll admit it; I let out a startled squeak.  I hadn't even realized that I'd been talking out loud.  I spun around only to find…Elrond. 

Damn it, not him again!  After today's fiasco, I would have thought he'd be keeping his distance, but…

"Yo," I greeted him in the correct fashion for teenagers of my time.  At least, I think it's the correct fashion.  I never really paid much attention to those sorts of things while I was still alive. 

"You, Lady, have a very interesting method for the solution of problems."

I gave him a weary look.  "How's that?"

"You speak to yourself.  And answer."

"It's a habit."  Well, it is!  I can't help the fact that I'm a raving loony.  A thought occurred to me.  "How much did you hear?"

Elrond's stern face held a definite grin.  It was small, but it was there.  "Enough," he answered shrewdly. 

Has anyone seen a convenient hole into which I could crawl to die?  No?  Pity.  I could use one right about now…I put my face in my hands and groaned.

"You must think I'm totally psychotic."  He wasn't far from the truth if he did.

He looked puzzled.  "'Psychotic'?"

"Yeah.  Psycho, insane, mentally unbalanced, wacko, total nutjob, lunatic, mad, foolish, crazy, harebrained, nutty, round the bed, off my rocker, a few cards short of a deck, the lights are on but nobody's home, out of my mind, whacked on crack, broken record –"

"Alright, Lady, I believe I catch your meaning."  Elrond held up his hands and shook his head, almost pleading with me to stop my list.

"And?  Do I fit in one of those categories?"       

He tilted his head to one side and regarded me.  "Nay, Lady, I believe that you are just mildly…" he trailed off.

"Unhinged?"

Another of his barely-there smiles.  "Perhaps."

The eyebrow rose but I yawned suddenly and spoiled the effect of my skeptical look.  "I think I should get back to my tent, Elly," I said, stifling another yawn.  Somehow my fears had gone away.  Or maybe I was just too tired to think of them.

"Perhaps.  Although, as an Elf, fatigue should not really touch you, after so long a rest."

"Meh.  Being human is a habit harder to break than talking to yourself."

"So it would seem." 

The silence was deafening.  Sorry…that was one cliché that I just had to add.  And, well, Elrond looked like he was struggling with something on the inside of his brain.

"Would you like me to escort you to your tent?"  He sounded like the words were being pulled from him with a grappling hook.  I grinned half heartedly, thinking that maybe Elrond wasn't such a bad guy after all.  I mean, after our little…chocolate induced haze…if I were him, I wouldn't have even dreamed of going near me!  And here he was, putting it all behind him, at least until Fiona and I did something overly stupid again.

"Sure," I said, and gave him a true smile, rather than a grin.  It seemed to put him at ease.  I'll admit to a slight ulterior motive, though.  I didn't know where the hell I was in relation to my tent. 

We didn't speak on the way back to my tent.  One could almost say that the silence was companionable.  Almost.  There was still some tension, which might have come from Elrond being weary about me being close to him.   

Before he could leave, I stopped him.

"Um, Elrond," I began hesitantly.  I'd been thinking of doing this the whole way back here. 

"What is it, Lady?" he asked, something that could almost be concern on his features.

"Well, I just wanted…I think that I should…" I stopped, taking a deep breath.  "I'm sorry for…molesting you," I finally managed.  I looked down at my feet, face burning.  Wasn't he going to say anything?  . 

"There is no need for apologies," he began.

"There isn't?" I interrupted and looked up, incredulous. 

"The High King has heard your case and forgiven you, and that is enough for me."

I didn't know what to say…but I sure did feel a lot better about what had happened earlier today! 

Before I could formulate a response that would have done his simple words justice, he left me with a slight bow and a "Lady Minaimîr", before fading off into the night back to whatever it is that he does.  And wherever it is that he does it. 

With a sigh I pushed through the tent flaps and flopped down on my pile of cushions.  I was asleep before my thoughts had a chance to catch up with me.         

A/N:  Yes, another author's note.  Hee hee.  These are fun.

Anyway, I just thought I should tell you (if any of you care) that I went and updated my other fic, Be Careful What You Wish For Part II, after only four months of not doing so!  Go me!  So, yeah, this is a shameless plug, but go read it.

~Lai