30 DAYS TO LEAVE YOUR LOVER
Genre: LOTR, slash, het
Rating: yellow (PG-13)
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel, Ecthelion/OFC, Orophin/Elladan, OMC/OFC and others.
Warnings. AU - and how! Mary-Sue! Nonsense!
Summary: Ecthelion returns from the Halls of Waiting, and thanks to Gandalf's curiosity, the celebrations take a most unexpected turn.
CHAPTER 1/?
Curiosity killed the wizard.
The return of Ecthelion from the Halls of Waiting was a great opportunity for the Elves of Middle-earth to gather in Imladris, enjoy the legendary hospitality of the Last Homely House and meet old friends again. The celebrations would last for a whole week. Erestor had his doubts if Middle-earth was prepared to deal with two Balrog-slayers, but as he was married to only one, he decided to leave the other to Elrond to deal with.
Gandalf would not have missed this week of celebration for all the 2946 2nd Ager in Thranduil's wine cellar. The cuisine of Imladris was famous, and he knew that, once most guests had gone to bed, Glorfindel would break out that very special Sloe-liquor from Mirkwood, at which moment the real party would start.
But it was not merrymaking only that had lured Gandalf to Imladris. He was currently writing his memoirs, and decided to spend some of his time going through some old books in the library. His memory was not what it used to be, and who could blame him after all the ages he had lived! There were some details about the First Age he wished to look up, and so it came to pass that Gandalf read scroll no. 34798, neatly catalogued by the ever-efficient Master Erestor.
Or rather: he tried to read it. The scroll was written in a language Gandalf did not know, and this alone had piqued his curiosity. Gandalf spoke all languages known to Elf, Hobbit, Dwarf and Man, even knew the dark language of Mordor, so his vanity demanded to solve the riddle of this scroll.
"Gandalf, you are still here?" Erestor asked. He had not expected to find the old wizard at the library at this late hour. He had come to pick up a fairytale book for Estorel, who was whining and refused to go to sleep.
"Why? Oh, good grief, I must have forgotten the time, my apologies."
Erestor stood beside Gandalf and smiled. Then he looked at the table and frowned.
"I see you are still in a hard battle with that scroll. How is the translation coming along?"
"I think I am very close to solving the riddle," Gandalf said. "I fear I have been trying to find a complicated solution when there was an easy one all the time. Let me see..."
He returned to his studies, already forgetting Erestor, and the Elf had to hide a smile. Glorfindel had joked that Gandalf would be unbearable once he realised that he had spent weeks on translating an Orcish cooking recipe for Mirkwood Spider sautée, but Erestor thought privately that nobody would have gone through the trouble of writing a scroll in a secret language about something without importance. He had an eerie feeling that it might be better if the content was never translated at all, but he did not feel it was his place to give advice to Gandalf, of all the people.
Erestor walked to the part of the library where the books for Elflings were stored, and he had just picked the classic "Three Little Wargs" when Gandalf gave a loud, victorious cry.
"I have found it! I have found it!"
Erestor, still holding the book, hurried to his side.
"You have? But this is wonderful! Pray tell, share your findings with me!"
Gandalf, eyes sparkling with excitement, waved the scroll through the air, making him look like a herald holding the banner of his house.
"It was so easy – how could I have missed that? I am really becoming too old for my trade," Gandalf laughed, then he sat down again and studied the scroll.
"It is a poem, Master Erestor. Agreed, information on a hidden treasure would have been more interesting, but it might be that this poem is a riddle in itself. Now listen."
Gandalf held up one hand while he prepared to read, the index finger drawing circles in the air.
"It says:
One who was lost
Will return
What has been hidden
Shall be seen
For thirty days
The choice may last
Of fair true love
The spell is cast."
Erestor just wanted to mention that this might be a riddle, but also very bad poetry, when the walls of the Last Homely House began to tremble. It was as if the hands of a giant had grabbed its foundations, shaking the building like a child may do with a young cherry tree to make the fruits fall down.
"By the Valar, what is happening?" Erestor cried. He tried to make for the door, all his thoughts on Estorel and the Elfling's well-being, but the tremors made it impossible for him to walk. He was lucky he could even keep his balance and did not fall down.
"Earthquake! An earthquake!" Gandalf yelled. He clutched at the heavy desk with all his might, trying not to tumble off the chair. He had experienced earthquakes in the past, near Mount Doom, but here? In Imladris? How could this be?
After a while, the ground stopped trembling. Erestor, face chalk white, hurried out of the door to look for Estorel and Glorfindel. Gandalf stared down at the scroll and wiped the sweat off his face.
"I think I might have done something very stupid here," he said to himself.
Within the hour, all of Middle-earth agreed with him.
***
It was one thing to produce amazing fireworks, turn a river into stallions or exorcise an evil spirit from a king of Rohan, but making Imladris visible to the outside world was another kettle of fish altogether. Elrond was well aware that it would take mere minutes for the entire world to notice that Ireland was now connected to the British Isles by a small strip of green pastures, woods, waterfalls and marches.
Middle-earth existed in that dreamy dimension between reality and dreams, and Elrond had not the slightest wish to associate his home with the so-called reality. The men out there were not like the men of Middle-earth. There was no honour, no mercy.
Elrond looked at the members of his council, gathered under the blue sky on a mild spring afternoon, and sighed deeply.
"My friends, I have gathered you here to discuss the possible consequences of this incident and ways to avoid said consequences having an impact on our lives here. Thanks to Master Gandalf's curiosity, Imladris has become visible to the outside world for thirty days, if we may believe the scroll."
He made a short break, giving Gandalf the eyebrow and seeing with no small satisfaction how the wizard seemed to shrink back into his seat.
"If we may, yes," Glorfindel threw in. "Might as well be that we stay visible forever. In that case I say: let us pack our things and go to the Grey Heavens. If we hurry, we might be able to leave before they come here and bring war, greed and a bad sense of dressing."
Erestor rolled his eyes.
"Let us not be so negative. As I understand, Vilya protects our home from any intruders. Agreed, I am not happy about the outside world knowing of our existence, but there is nothing they can do, really. The worst thing to happen is that they have to learn that their fairytales and myths are true. And I do not know if this is such a bad thing."
Elrond nodded.
"It is true. Vilya keeps us safe, and as long as nobody invites any of the men of the outside world in here, nothing bad can happen to us."
"Thanks the Valar for small mercies," Glorfindel said. "This I know, nobody here would do such a foolish thing. Well, maybe with exception of Master Feronil here, but I shall keep a firm eye on him."
Feronil huffed and curled his lip.
"I would rather say that I shall keep a firm eye on you, Lord Glorfindel, for I would be the last one to wish for contact with those – peasants. I would not be surprised if they could not tell linen from velvet. But this aside, I find myself in the rare position of agreeing with Lord Glorfindel," Feronil continued, addressing Elrond now. "Nobody in Imladris would do such a foolish thing."
* * *
Eldanar had sneaked out of the Last Homely House to pick some flowers...
TBC