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Chapter Thirty

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SUMMARY: Elladan stews over his father's revelation. Surely something could be done!

Right? Right?

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But first…

I'm glad to be back to writing. The problem is, there were some downsides I forgot about during my time away...

*Cue the cheesy harp music*

I can't breathe! My mind rises out of my dreams as I sit up, gasping through my mouth. Only to find Gandalf standing beside my bed, pinching the hose to my CPAP.

I yanked off my mask and I scrubbed my hand over my face. "You didn't bring coffee," I said. "We talked about this—if you guys are going to try and give me a heart attack on a regular basis, you could at least bring coffee. That's just good manners."

"Sorry, I forgot," he said. "Next time."

"Where's everybody else?"

"You'll see," Gandalf stepped back and rubbed his hands together.

I turned my head slightly and gave him a wary look out of the corner of my eye. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"You see, I've been thinking…"

"About?"

"Well, you did write me as a sort of matchmaker," he said, "and since Elladan has featured heavily in your most recent chapters, I took it upon myself to find him a wife."

"But I don't—"

"It took some doing, but I think you'll like what I've come up with."

My right eyebrow shot up so fast I'm surprised it didn't hit the ceiling.

"Just hear me out, okay?" With the wave of his hand, my bedroom was filled with music.

70's game-show music.

"Oh, my God," I groaned and covered my face.

"I know!" the Wizard beamed. "Isn't it awful?"

"Uh."

"Anyway, welcome to my version of The Dating Game. I am Gandalf, your host, otherwise known as "The Loooooooove Doctor!"

"This is a joke, right?"

He waved his hand up and down his body. Grey robes and pointed hat morphed into a lime-green polyester leisure suit, hot-pink shirt, and a bright purple bow tie. His long, silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail and topped with a purple fuzzy fedora.

"You can't be serious," I grimaced. "Jim Lang never looked like that."

"Don't you like it?" he raised his arms and twirled around.

"You look like a pimp."

"That's good, right? Anyway," Gandalf smiled, and his dazzling, white teeth shimmered (so help me God, they actually shimmered). "First up, let's meet our contestants!" He snapped his fingers and three stools appeared.

"Bachelorette Number One," he said, "hails from Butte, in the great state of Montana, but don't let her catch you looking at her 'Butte' or she just might break your arm! She can shoot a tin can off a stump at 50 yards, and can bench-press 275 pounds. She likes long horseback rides in the mountains, and her hobbies include bear-wrestling and needlepoint. She's a rugged broad whose arms are as big as her thighs, but don't let that fool you, folks; she can be gentle as a lamb. Give it up for Artemis,otherwise known as 'The Butcher!'"

Tin-can applause accompanied the music. My closet door opened to admit a six-foot-two muscular woman with a no-nonsense look worthy of the Fabulous Moolah.

"Um, Gandalf—" I began.

"Next up is Bachelorette Number Two! She is an accountant from the City of Light—yep, you guessed it, folks, this groovy gal's hometown is Paris! English might be her second language, but her accent could seduce even a cave troll. She likes sipping wine at her favorite outdoor café, doing crossword puzzles and lounging around in silk pajamas on weekends. Boy can she rock that sexy-librarian fantasy with those black, horn-rimmed glasses! Let's hear it for Suuuuuuuuuuzette!"

More canned applause.

"But—"

"And last, but certainly not least, let's meet Bachelorette Number Three! She was born in a castle, but not one of those damp, moldy ones—this lady grew up with cartoon animals who helped her look after her evil stepfamily. Her first marriage wasn't the fairy-tale she'd hoped for," Gandalf pouted and "Awwwwww," replaced the music for two seconds. "But she dumped Prince Charming's cheating ass after catching him between the sheets with his valet. This gal's newly divorced and has done really well after her stint in rehab. But don't let that scare you. She won the house and full custody of all the cartoon servants! Let's give a big round of applause for Ciiiiiiiiiiiiiinderella!"

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

But of course, Gandalf wasn't finished.

"Now, let's meet our eligible bachelor: He hails from Rivendell, otherwise known as Imladris in his native tongue. His dad is a half-Elven healer who runs an artist's colony near the foot of the Misty Mountains. This dude is an all-around badass like his pop, and he looks miiiighty sexy on on his horse! His hobbies include playing practical jokes and slaying Orcs! But don't be scared, this gorgeous Elf's a lover, not a fighter. He's just come out of a bad relationship—"

Another wave of "Awwwww" filled the room.

Gandalf held his hand at an angle to his mouth, "His ex turned out to be a spree-killer," he whispered conspiratorially, then resumed his car-salesman voice. "But our boy's not ready to give up on love just yet! He's looking for that special Elleth to share his life and polish his…er…armor, if you get my drift, wink-wink!" Gandalf opened his arms with a flourish (another smile as bright as an old photo flash) and boomed, "Put your hands together for Elllllllllladan Elrondion!"

This time the applause included Beatles-concert screams and colored spotlights waving around the room. I looked worriedly at my bedroom closet. No one appeared.

"Just a second, folks; our bachelor is just a little bit shy." Gandalf stepped sideways and reached behind his back to open the door, stuck his arm inside, and pulled.

Elladan stumbled out, cheeks ablaze, looking absolutely murderous, dressed in bell-bottom jeans, a silky psychedelic shirt unbuttoned to his waist. Four-inch platform shoes, a beaded headband across his brow, and a brown suede vest (with three-foot fringe), completed his ensemble.

Oh, this was great. My hands flew to my mouth to stifle a giggle, and I had to clench my thighs together to keep from peeing my pants. As soon as my stomach stopped shaking, I cleared my throat and plastered on a concerned frown. "Are you okay?" I asked Elladan in a sotto voce.

"Would you be?" he scowled.

My eyes narrowed. "Ulmo's balls," I gasped in horror. "Is that…chest hair?"

"He made me glue it on!"

I winced in sympathy. "That's going to hurt coming off."

"Are you happy now?" Elladan shook free of Gandalf's hand. "And no matter what you threaten me with, I refuse to wear that stupid medallion!"

This has gone on long enough. "Gandalf—"

But the wizard was facing Cinderella's stool with a sad frown on his face. Shaking his head, he reached into her pocket and took out a silver flask. "We talked about this, Cindy. Does your sponsor know about this?"

"GANDALF!" I pulled back the covers and got to my feet. "Enough!"

The colored lights disappeared, and a record scratch replaced the music.

"Ai!" Elladan covered his ears. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"What?" the wizard whirled back to me. "This is fun!"

"For you, maybe, but what happens when poor Elladan needs to get rid of that rug?"

"What she said!" Elladan fumed.

"It would've looked better with the gold peace sign," Gandalf sniffed.

"And have the chain get tangled in all this Warg hair? Look, wizard or no, I'll slice off your nose in your sleep if you don't get me out of this!"

"Calm down," I put a soothing hand on Elladan's arm. "I'll take care of this. Gandalf, you haven't by any chance watched Shrek, have you?"

The wizard had the grace to look sheepish. "I sort of borrowed your DVD last week?"

"You don't have a DVD player," I pointed out.

"I swiped that, too." He raised a finger. "But I brought it right back. You never even noticed, you're so into streaming these days. In fact, that's where I found Cindy. She said she'd never have started drinking if it weren't for that Magic Mirror."

"It was humiliating!" Cindy wailed, eyes streaming. "Fiona was always too competitive, and, okay, I'll admit Farquad was an asshat, and you wouldn't catch me turning into an Ogress to keep my man, but look who I ended up with? A closeted Prince who only wanted me to be his beard!" she took out a handkerchief. "I should have known; his skin was so perfect, and h…h…his…closet was b-bigger than mine!"

"Come here, girlfriend," Artemis slid off her stool and took the poor Princess in her arms. She withered Gandalf with her eyes. "What the fuck were you thinking, putting her through this?"

"I must object to the stereotyping of our homosexuel brothers and sisters, Cindy," Suzette said, "but what I am most furieuse about is the whole premise of this 'game,' as you like to call it. Women should not be put on display like cuts of beef in a boucher's shop!"

"And," I interjected, "even if Elladan was looking for a wife right now, which he is not—"

"A wife?" Artemis glared at us as she patted Cindy's back. "You didn't say nothin' about no wife! I ain't lookin' for a husband. I just wanted to have a little fun!"

Cinderella hyperventilated. "I just got out of a bad marriage, and I'm not even supposed to be going out with anybody for another year!"

"Non! Zis is faux advertising," Suzette put her glasses back up her nose. "You lied to moi! You told me I was going to be on Match Game! My attorney will be in touch, you…you… connard!" Suzette ripped off her glasses, climbed off her stool and waved them in Gandalf's face, swearing at him in French so fast I doubt even he could keep up.

"Could you…write her doing that again?" Elladan asked under his breath. "That was hot."

I gave him a hard jab in the ribs, and waited it out. What else could I do?

"Gandalf," I said, when things calmed down. "Elladan can't go out with any of these girls."

"Why not?"

"Number One: none of them are Elves. And number two: none of them are from Middle Earth. Two of them are from my world, and the other one is from Far, Far Away."

"Far, Far Away is a fictional land, too," Gandalf pointed out.

"True, but it's not Middle Earth!"

"I could fix that."

"No, you can't." I threw my hand in Cinderella's direction. "She's a cartoon!" I cast a smile to Cindy. "No offense."

"None taken," she hiccupped.

"I'd like to talk to you about borrowing the squirrels and the birds from time to time."

"Sure."

"You were saying?" Gandalf crossed his arms.

Right. "But even if Elladan could go out with them—"

"Not the cowgirl," Elladan whispered in my ear. "She's enjoying holding Cindy a little too much. The one with the glasses is kind of cute, though."

"Non!" Suzette hissed.

"Gandalf," I tried again. "Elladan could never fall in love with one of them—"

"Again, ixnay on the cowgirl," Elladan said. "And the boozy, digital one is right out. You can't cop a feel on a computer-animated woman."

"Vous animal!" Suzette spat on the floor. "Not if you were le dernier homme on Earth!"

"Oooh… she's feisty," Elladan grinned. "I like it."

"You're not helping," I told him. "You wanna be stuck looking like Austin Powers for the rest of your life? I'll write you that way, if you don't button it, pal." I jabbed him again. "Gandalf, these women will disappear as soon as Two Thrones starts another chapter!"

"But I'm a wizard!" Gandalf stomped his foot.

"You're a wizard whose power is written by me," I pointed at myself. "Now, get rid of the dames, and let this poor Elf go change his clothes. He looks ridiculous!"

"Not as ridiculous as Mithrandir," Elladan sneered. "He looks like the Easter Bunny's pimp."

"And, finally," I gave the wizard a warning glance. "Weren't you supposed to be find a wife for Ohtar?"

"How can I? You're the one who moved SCOM's dates back a year. We haven't even gotten to Tur's and Evvy's wedding yet!"

"So you've got someone all ready, then. You've had over a year, not to mention six months off."

"Well, I…"

"That's what I thought. Now, clean up this mess." I waited expectantly.

"Fine!" Gandalf did his jazz-hands thingie and my room was back to normal. "Are you happy?"

"Very," I opened my closet door. "See you soon."

He swirled his robe and stomped inside in a huff.

Just before the door closed, I caught a glimpse of an object hidden in his skirts.

"Gandalf!" I grabbed the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. "Gandalf Stormcrow," I pounded with both fists, "you put that Magic Mirror right back where you found it, do you hear me? Do you have any idea what Disney's lawyers would do to me if they found out you had it? Gandalf! Gandalf!" I pounded. "Gandalf!"

And that's when I woke up…

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"She had blue skin,

And so did he.

He kept it hid

And so did she.

They searched for blue

Their whole life through,

Then passed right by-

And never knew."

– Shel Silverstein, "Masks"

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Rivendell, 18th of June 2946 T.A.

"That's what the child said, Ada," Elladan rubbed his eyebrow nervously in Lord Elrond's study. "I do not know how Melui knows it, but I believe her. She knew what I have been worrying about out in the orchard, and, well I do not know what she did, but it helped me a great deal."

Elrond's interest peaked. "What exactly did she do?" As Elladan explained the scene in the orchard, the Elf-Lord's fingers steepled, as he always did when concentrating. "That's fascinating. Have you told Mithrandir?"

"No, Ada," he jutted his chin. "I am more concerned about what Melui said about Vildan's state of mind! He's giving up!"

"That is not quite true, Ion nîn."

"To use his plan to sail as motivation to recover, is giving up on Middle Earth!"

"Elladan, had I not worked with Thranduil after he faced the Dragon, I would have sent them both to Mithlond months ago," he sighed. "And now, I begin to wish I had."

"But why?"

"Vildan is not a powerful Sindar like Thranduil, who could withstand the agony until I could teach him to use his glamour. I had hoped Vildan's pain would be less, but you know that is not the case. He could barely contain his screams when we helped him with his exercises yesterday. Not only are his muscles making him miserable, I cannot stop the pain from the nerves. Not even Mithrandir has been able to help with that.

"Pain like that can damage an ordinary Elf's fëa, but short of removing all feeling in his lower extremities again, there is nothing we can do. Moving and stretching and strengthening atrophied muscles, even without the nerve injury is an agonizing process. If he still suffers after, I cannot blame him if he wants to leave these shores."

"But—"

"If anyone in Imladris wants to sail, I have always accepted their decision and provided a safe escort. I will not change that policy, no matter how much I want Vildan and Melui to stay."

Elladan squirmed in his chair. "You are right, of course, but something in me says he cannot go. At least, not yet." He analyzed his father's face. "You sense it, too, do you not?"

Elrond was quiet, as he rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. "It does not matter," his voice was laced with regret. "It is not up to you or I to choose for him."

"So you do see it!"

"A free Elf's wishes cannot be usurped by whatever I might or might not see. The future is never certain. If the Valor sends guidance, no Elf is obligated to follow it, though turning away could cause their destruction."

A thought struck Elladan. "I know he said he didn't want Tauriel to know about his condition, but maybe she can help—"

Elrond dropped his hands. His thick, dark brows drew together. "No, Elladan." His voice was like granite. "That was Vildan's decision, and I will not allow anyone to break his trust in us!" He pointed at Elladan. "You will not contact Tauriel, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ada." Elladan meekly nodded. He gathered his robes and saluted. "I must return to Vildan and Melui."

"That is well," Elrond inclined his head. "Tell Vildan I will be in later to check on his progress."

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888

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21st of June 2946 T.A.

Elladan stewed over it for three full days before he couldn't take it anymore. He went to find his brother, who was in his rooms, naked from the waist up, practicing with his fighting knives.

"Gwanunig, do you have a minute?"

Elrohir set his weapons down on a nearby table and picked up his tunic. "Is something wrong?"

"I think so."

Elrohir waved toward the tray of pitchers. "Pour us a drink while I get dressed."

Once they were seated, Elladan caught him up on recent events. Elrohir crossed his legs and tapped his forefinger against his chin. "You cannot go against Ada's orders, my brother."

"I know," Elladan shook his head and covered his face. "But every instinct I have says not to let Vildan leave. He belongs here, with us!"

Elrohir tilted his head and studied Elladan. "You do understand, that by 'here' you mean 'not here.'"

"No! I mean, yes!" Elladan blew out a frustrated breath. "What I mean is, if Vildan gets better, of course he will want to return to the North. I hate the idea of him leaving us, but he will not be happy in Valinor! Not without Tauriel. We have to make sure he says on this side of the sea!"

"Why do you say that?"

"There is something the Valor wants from him, or perhaps it is Melui who must stay, and he must be here to take care of her. They would not have given her Lusiël's power unless they had a purpose. War is coming in less than a century, and what good could Melui's gifts bring us if she is not here?"

"But Ada is right; Vildan's trust in us makes him feel safe, especially when he is so physically helpless. And if we go behind his back, it could harm his fëa and prevent his recovery!" Elrohir shook his head. "I sympathize with your dilemma, and I share your views. But there is nothing you can do. He does not want Tauriel to know any of this, and you must respect that."

"But—"

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Elrohir rose and admitted Mithrandir. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Please," Mithrandir nodded. "The strongest you've got." He sat on the couch, arranged his robes, and took the goblet Elrohir offered. "I just came from your father," he said, gravely.

"Hah!" Elrohir pointed at the wizard. "You see, Elrohir? He agrees with me!"

"I agree with you, as well," his brother glared. "But I cannot go against Vildan's or our father's wishes! And neither will you. Ada finds out these things, Elladan. He always does."

"I agree with Elrond's concern for Vildan's well-being," the wizard swirled his drink. "I also agree that Tauriel should not be told."

"You cannot mean that!"

"I do. You will not say anything to Tauriel, do you understand me? If you do otherwise, it won't just be your father you will answer to."

"I give up." Elladan slumped in his chair, defeated. "Vildan will sail, take Melui with him, Tauriel will be heartbroken, and King Thranduil will be furious. Sauron will win and we will be forced to leave Middle Earth to evil."

"You're being melodramatic," Mithrandir chided.

"But I am helpless!"

"Helpless, you say? I don't know about that."

The twins blinked at Mithrandir. Who looked right back at them, blue eyes twinkling under silver brows.

Elladan stared at him, confused, until—

"Oh. Oh!" he said. "Do you mean—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mithrandir studied his drink, his foot bouncing over one knee. "I'm just saying you shouldn't go against your father's specific orders."

Elladan exchanged a long look with his brother, whose mischievous smile mirrored his own.

"If you will excuse me, I need to…" he jerked his head toward the door.

"Have a wonderful afternoon, Elladan," Mithrandir lifted his drink to his mouth and drained the cup.

"I will!" Elladan waved as he walked out the door and ran down the hall.

Elrond looked up from his book and called out. "Neledho!"

Mithrandir came into Elrond's private sitting room and made himself comfortable. "Your sons," he groaned.

"What happened?" the Elf-Lord's eyebrows danced with amusement.

"We had an interesting discussion."

"Is that so?"

"I'm certain they will keep their vow."

"That is good news, indeed." Elrond said.

"They're honorable Ellyn. You raised them well."

"Only to a certain point. It was just as much Glorfindel, who put the fear of Mordor into them to make them behave." Elrond's eyes narrowed. "So?"

"So, what?" Mithrandir smirked playfully.

"You know."

"Oh, you mean…"

"Ah. Ah." Elrond waggled a finger. "Not a word, remember? Are you confident that my son, shall we say, tapped into his natural creativity?"

"It looks that way, my friend."

"Ah. Good." Elrond leaned back in his chair and put his book down. "I believe I will send word to the falconry that, should my son just…happen to want to send something, they will use my fastest bird."

"That's probably a good idea."

"With an escort of two."

"You can never be too cautious."

"I will ask Erestor to help Estel prepare a letter, as well. He enjoys his letters from Legolas, but he is not always so disciplined when it comes to responding."

"Well, that would just be rude." Mithrandir's mouth twitched.

"It would."

Elrond heaved a sigh and shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe they didn't come up with this on their own. I waited for three days. Three whole days, Mithrandir, and nothing! What is the matter with those two?"

"I wish I knew," the wizard shook his head in mock-despair, "I thought it was frightening when they would misbehave. It's absolutely terrifying when do what they're told!"

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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

Gwanunig – twin brother

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