ACOTER: ANNUAL CONFERENCE OF THE ELVEN REALMS
Overall rating: blue/yellow (see rating system)
Category: slash (two male Elves in some kind of love) humour, romance
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel, Haldir/Rabbit impl., Celeborn/Galadriel and Aragorn/Arwen mentioned
Warnings: none
Beta: Miss Eveiya
Summary: Every year, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel and Thrandúil meet up for a conference in Rivendell. This year, Glorfindel's untiring and somewhat excentric efforts to win Erestor's love add to the general chaos - as does Elrond's wine cellar.
Author's notes: This is how it all began - how Glorfindel won Erestor's heart. This is pure humour, no angst, no drama, just warm fuzzies. Written from Erestor's point of view, this was the origin of Erestor's "Work Reports".
Day 5: The Taming of the Shrew (or not)
GLORFINDEL'S LAMENT
"A fine romance with no kisses
I'm afraid, dear Erestor, this is
We should be like a couple of rabbits in spring
But all you say is: "don't you touch me, Fin!"
Oh Erestor, now let us snuggle
Or at least, I want to cuddle
You always refuse when I ask you to dance
You never take a chance, this is a fine romance
A fine romance, my good Erestor
I say "kissing", you say "molester"
You never give the flowers I send a glance
Just like you don't give me a chance,
Indeed - this is a fine romance!"
***
Shall I rest my hands on top of my silken bedcover?
Or rather underneath it?
Ai Elbereth - how in Elbereth's name was an Elf expected to sleep when confronted with such difficult decisions?
For the umpteenth time I was tossing and turning in my bed – two o'clock in the morning, and still I was fully awake.
I even tried to close my eyes. Elrond had insisted more than once that sleeping was much easier and more refreshing if you closed your eyes. His word in Elbereth's ears – it didn't work for me. He is the only one here who sleeps with his eyes closed (it is all down to the mariner genes), a fact Elrohir had once ruthlessly taken advantage of. He had drawn Orc eyes on his father's lids in the night.
Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to tell Elrond, which led to a rather embarrassing encounter with some dwarven lord on the morrow.
If the dwarves didn't think Elves crazy before that, they certainly thought so after.
* * *
3 am, and all was awake on the bedroom front, so I decided to get dressed and take a short stroll in the garden.
Glorfinkle swooped down from the top of the bookshelf where he usually to slept with his two brothers, and landed on my shoulder. Another insomniac, it seemed.
Maybe a walk in the fresh air would do us both good and take my thoughts off rings, realms, agreements, contracts, kings, lords, possible divorces, ex wives and Glorfindel's amazingly soft lips.
Now where did that thought come from?
Out, out, you evil spirits of lust!
While I slipped into a pair of breeches, a light tunic and my boots, I tried to focus on matters not involving Fin in any way, shape or form, and ended up thinking about Orcs, which led to beasts in general, Balrogs in particular and - there was no escape - back to Glorfindel again.
Damn the Elf. What demon had driven him to ruin our friendship after all these years? And what had driven me not to whack him over the head with a candlestick, but rather to be an - admittedly not very active, but nevertheless still willing - participant in this nonsense?
"A fine mess have we gotten ourselves into here, my friend," I said to the crow who had made himself comfortable on my shoulder, pecking at one of my braids. The bird didn't answer, but dropped something on the floor, which was a very spot-on remark, if I may say so.
* * *
I was still brooding over the strawberry-incident when I went down the path to Elrond's gazebo. Much to my surprise it was illuminated by the dim light of a candle, and muffled voices and a female's laughter could be heard. Who, I wondered, was holding a romantic tryst here in the middle of the night?
A cold hand took hold of my heart – Glorfindel wouldn't, or would he?
But then it would be just so typical – kissing me and then having his wicked way with some chamber maid or, Valar forbid, one of Galadriel's ladies in waiting.
Spying and prying was beneath my dignity, but as Glorfindel likes to say: "All is fair in feeling-a-somewhat-mild-affection-for-somebody and war", and as I did feel a somewhat mild affection for Glorfindel, I felt I could stoop this low for once, so I sneaked up to the gazebo without a sound – what am I an Elf for, after all – and ducked beneath one of the bushes, peeking through the railings.
Ai Elbereth – it was Arwen! She was sitting on the floor, wearing a dress cut decidedly too low for this occasion and time of the night, gazing up admiringly at Orophin, who was just about to demonstrate exactly how he had killed this or that Orc, but from the predatory glimmer in his eyes I could tell very clearly that the prey in question tonight wasn't of Orcish kind and certainly had no fangs. At least not now.
I was still pondering how to break up the party without finding myself with one or two vital organs skewered by Orophin's sword or my face scratched by Arwen's finger nails, when a male in a dark cloak came storming up the path.
He made a noise like a herd of Oliphants, and Orophin broke off his tale and reached for his sword, preparing to fight off the intruder. Arwen jumped up, hiding behind him.
So much for the vaunted emancipation of the modern Elf maiden …
"How dare you …" began Orophin, brandishing his sword at the intruder, but before he could finish his sentence, a hurricane stormed in, and Estel's fist collided with Orophin's face. The Galadhrim hit the floor hard, his nose started to bleed and he looked up at the infuriated young man with an expression of complete bewilderment.
Estel growled at the Elf, grabbed Arwen's wrist, pointed with the thumb of his other hand back to the Last Homely House, and barked: "You. My talan. NOW."
And Arwen obeyed immediately.
So much for the emancipation of … but we've covered that already.
Which left me to deal with one heart- and possibly also nose-broken Galadhrim.
I helped Orophin up, and offered him a hanky to stop the bleeding. He pressed the cloth to his face, then he glared at me.
"Mordor – that was my line!"
I suggested he should file a claim for plagiarism.
*[author's note: click link and check out "The Orophin Manoeuvre"]
* * *
Some time later, I continued my walk through the garden. The stars were shining brightly above me, and I remembered how my nana used to tell me that the blinking ones were winking at me. I believed her, of course. I also believed her when she said I'd go blind if I looked at naked maidens bathing, and that the tips of my ears would fall off if …
The flow of my thoughts was broken when I caught the highly unexpected sight of Lord Celeborn, draped over the branch of an old oak tree like a tired cat. When he saw me, he stretched, again very cat like, and smiled.
"Ah, another restless soul. Well met, dear Erestor – what drives you out into the night?"
"Well met, too, my lord. I must say – there seem to be more Elves out in the garden than in the house this night. Did sleep fail you, too?"
Celeborn grinned, and stretched out on the branch again, this time on his back. I was sure I'd have fallen off by now, trying the same, but the Lothlórien Elves seemed to be part of the trees, and Celeborn certainly looked like a natural extension of the branch – one very tall, very impressive silver leaf.
"The Lady Galadriel has decided that my presence in her bedroom is not required at the moment, and most probably not for another couple of centuries. I thought that the situation would not improve if I looked for shelter with one of the chamber maids, so I decided to retire here."
I decided not to comment on this, and also ignored the black eye and the scratches his lordship sported.
"But enough of this. Tell me, dear Erestor – what is it that troubles your mind? What has had such an impact on your placid soul that sleep evades you and your restless heart is driven out into the night?"
I blushed (something I seem to do a lot lately), and when I didn't answer, Celeborn added slyly:
"Or should I reword it and say: who?"
I cleared my throat, and replied:
"I do not know what you are referring to, my lord, but I shall leave you to your solitude now", and made to leave.
"Wait. My apologies, dear advisor – I was a little fresh. But if there is something that troubles you, maybe I can help? Though, of course, if you should prefer the company of your crow …"
Glorfinkle had flown off my shoulder and was now scratching in the grass in front of me, eyeing Lord Celeborn suspiciously.
Maybe I should have summoned the feathered beast and left, but there was something in Celeborn's voice which made me feel that I could trust him, and I just had to talk about this with somebody – and anybody else in Imladris was out of question. I walked up to the Lord of the Golden Woods, and said:
"I pray, my lord, tell me - is it possible that love should of a sudden take such hold?"
Celeborn was suddenly very alert.
"Love? By the Valar – love? That I live to see the day – nay, the night – that you shall talk of love! Is it possible? Has some lucky Elf finally found the suitable hammer to knock down your walls?"
I frowned and preferred not to answer this. Celeborn thought about it for a moment, then he smiled – one of his rare genuine smiles, with warmth that one did not expect from him.
"I see … correct me if I am wrong here, but has, by any chance, some great warrior pierced your heart with his broad sword? No pun intended, of course."
"I feel … a mild attraction," I muttered.
"Of course you do. And I am an elderly hobbit female who spends her time knitting."
"Ai – my lord, do not make fun of me!"
"Please, Erestor – there is no need to pretend. You care for him, he cares for you – so where is the problem?"
I shrugged.
"My lord, how shall I put it – I do not feel the wish to boost Lord Glorfindel's collection. It is already the biggest in Middle earth, and I do not think there is any need to add another trophy."
Celeborn nodded.
"I see. You are worried that this is not a matter of the heart, but one of a hunter stalking his prey. "
"I should think so."
Celeborn climbed down from the tree, and brushed the small pieces of bark off of his leggings, carefully avoiding Glorfinkle who pecked after the lordly ankle with his beak.
"And you think him a rogue, one who takes life easy and likes to play with hearts, breaking them in the process and leaving a trail of weeping lovers behind him?"
I winced, but nodded.
Celeborn put a hand on my shoulder, and gave me a stern look.
"Erestor. Glorfindel may act the fool, but he is none. He saw the fall of his home and his family slaughtered, saw his lover die, fought the Balrog, died in the process and returned from the halls of Mandos. If anybody has earned the right to be a nuisance, it is him."
He paused a moment, then he asked:
"Does he call you silly names?"
"Yes."
"Plays pranks on you which leave you embarrassed?"
"Indeed."
"Gives you tasteless presents?"
"He does."
"Then, my friend, I can only give you one advise, and you would do well to heed it."
I looked up at the majestic, wise Elven lord in anticipation.
"I will, my lord – and what is your advise?"
Celeborn squeezed my shoulder.
"Stock up on Wild Thyme Oil – strawberry-scented will just not last."
With that, he turned around, and climbed back onto his branch.
When I walked back to the last homely house, I said to Glorfinkle:
"And this, my feathered friend, is exactly the reason why he is the lord and I am the advisor, for Middle earth would be lost if it were the other way around."
* * *
Back at the Last Homely House, I heard a strange noise, coming from Elrond's wine cellar.
The nerve! Who dared to desecrate Elrond's sanctum sanctorum? I heard two voices singing, but not the lovely Elven melodies I was used to. It was more something like
"Two jolly Elves sat in Rivendell's cavern
And they decided that they would have another
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober.
Here's to Galadriel who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober,
She falls as the leaves do fall,
She'll be sick before October.
Here's to Elrond who drinks Miruvor and goes to bed quite mellow,
He lives as he's supposed to live
He'll die a jolly old fellow.
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and runs to tell her mother,
She's a little foolish foolish Elven maid,
For she'll not get another.
Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and stays to have another,
She's a boon to all Elvenkind
For she'll soon be a mother.
Two jolly Elves sat in Rivendell's cavern
And they decided that,
And they decided that they would have another ."
I left Glorfinkle in the great hall, lit a candle and hastened down the stairs, ready to call the miscreants fooling around in Elrond's sanctuary to order.
When I opened the door to the wine cellar, it was, alas, nobody but Elrond and Thranduil, both as drunk as Dwarves at a banquet.
Thranduil sat on a barrel, wore a ridiculous paper helmet and, armed with bow and arrows, was shooting bottles off the shelves.
Elrond was just in the process of folding another paper boat - about twenty of them were already floating on a red sea – sometime through the evening, the two had opened all the barrels and flooded the place.
"What in Elbereth's name is going on here!" I howled, and both Lord and King looked up at me. Elrond sported a dopey grin.
"Ooooh, 's good ol' Erestoh ... huuuhuu, Erestoh! We shusst build a fleet t' sail to the 'avens!"
He pointed proudly at ship number 21.
I tore my hair out.
"Ai Elbereth, Lord Elrond - you cannot do this!"
Elrond pouted and folded his arms, giving me a sulky look.
"Of c'uz I can - I'm the son o' a mariner, aft' all!"
Thranduil nodded.
"Yes, he is, I can confirm it! And we are the bestest of friends! And I am the King of the Woods! And you are a spy!"
With that, he aimed his next arrow at me, and I was out of the door faster than you could say "Gil-galad".
* * *
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Elrond and Thranduil, both suffering from the mother of all hangovers, decided to continue their newly-found friendship, and an agreement was signed, which ensured military and humanitarian support for Mirkwood as well as a delivery from Thranduil’s realm for Elrond's wine cellar.
Galadriel oversaw the positive developments on the diplomatic front with a mild smile. Celeborn stood beside her and waved a palm leaf to cool the air – as if anything could have been as frosty as Galadriel's looks in his direction. Alas, the divorce seemed to have been postponed - at least for now – and I had no doubt that it would take Celeborn only a couple of days, a new silk coat and some charming compliments to get back into the lady's good books and bed.
For now, though, he was waving the palm leaf as if his life depended on it, and, judging by Galadriel's expression, it most probably did.
* * *
When all papers were signed and the good-bye's made, I stepped out on the balcony, took a deep breath of the fresh evening air and watched the Mirkwood party preparing for their departure. Thranduil sat on his white steed, his regal air ruined by the ice pack on his head and a couple of paper bags which were discreetly fixed to his saddle – just in case.
"Master Erestor – I come to bid my proper farewells."
I turned around – it was Rúmil. Of course – who else but a Galadhrim could sneak up on me unnoticed.
Beside Glorfindel, of course. Not that I'd admit that fact, though.
I managed a smile.
"Rúmil – that is very kind. I hope you enjoyed your stay in Rivendell?"
The youngest of the magnificent Lórien brothers gave me a radiant smile. By the Valar – he must have 64 teeth!
"But most certainly, my lord! Any place you are is like home to me." he said, and bowed gallantly.
Eh?
"What …" I stuttered.
"Oh do no tell me you did not notice … and you did like my present, did you not?"
Notice? Present? What was this – National Erestor Confusing Day?
I must have looked very puzzled, for Rúmil moved closer – very much closer, to be more precise. Close, actually.
"I don't hunt down Wargs for just any handsome Elf that crosses my path, my lord. Only for the truly exquisite ones."
Finally, even I got it.
"The – the Warg was a present from you?"
Rúmil laughed, and his hands came to rest on my waist.
"Of course – or did you think I'd present an exquisite treasure like you with a wicker basket of blackberries? That I leave to love struck chambermaids and foolish Elflings who don't know any better, my lord."
And for the second time in two days, this Elf here got kissed without being asked first, this time, alas, by a true expert who knew what he was doing. He found just the right angle, there was no awkward fumbling, his tongue was exactly where it should be, and all this on top of the feeling of being held in the strong arms of one of Lothlórien's most handsome Elves.
And what happened?
Nothing.
It was about as exciting as kissing my aunt.
Or biting into a piece of raw liver.
Just as I tried to pull away, the Forces of Evil attacked, in the form of Glorfindel, eyes blazing, golden tresses flying, looking like one of the very flattering paintings of him in Elrond's gallery (of the "Heroic Elven Lord in Shining Armour Slaughtering Big Ugly Beastie, 25' x 50' kind), grabbing Rúmil by the neck and shaking him like a pup.
"That's from the 'love struck chambermaid', you Orc! This is MY advisor you are messing with here – if you need one, get your own!" he bellowed, and Glorfindel's fist collided with Rúmil's nose, an ugly sound announcing that another Lothlórien-nose had suffered serious damage, and then all hell broke lose.
Rúmil and Glorfindel wrestled and fought on the floor like two mad dogs, fists flying, and while Fin had the battle experience of many millennia on his side, Rúmil was young and very agile, and outsmarted Fin more than once. He didn't get his reputation for being a fiery warrior and lover for nothing.
I stood there like one of Mr. Baggin's trolls, and couldn't move a limb – so I was relieved when Elrond, Celeborn, the twins and some guards stormed in.
"By the Valar!" Elrond boomed, "what is going on here?!?"
No answer, just the sound of fighting and muttered curses in dwarvish.
"Interesting language", Celeborn remarked, then he decided it was time to end this nonsense, and grabbed for the first limb to come his way, which just happened to be Rúmil's foot.
He dragged the squirming and protesting Galadhrim away by the leg, and Elladan and Elrohir got a hold of Fin, though he gave them a hard time, struggling and trying to break free.
The Lord of the Golden Woods took in the scenery, then he shook his head.
"I should think that enough noses have been broken for one visit, so we shall take our leave now. Rúmil, get on your horse, and make haste, and Glorfindel – you are an old fool."
With that, Celeborn turned and left the battlefield, followed by his guard and the twins, who had released Glorfindel and were having a hard time stifling their laughter. Rúmil, touching his broken nose and wincing, glared daggers and worse at Glorfindel, who couldn't resist showing him his tongue.
How mature.
Elrond cocked an eyebrow, did the Lord of Imladris thing and towered above Fin, who looked up sheepishly at his lord.
"Glorfindel, you are the nail in my coffin." Elrond said, and sighed, covering his eyes with his long hand and turning around.
"I have a headache … I'll be in my quarters … or the wine cellar …"
Which left Fin and me alone.
May the Valar have mercy on me.
* * *
Having been on the receiving end of Glorfindel's endless hackneyed tales on the subject of "How I killed the Balrog", I had never wasted much thought on the Balrog's point of view.
But standing here now, facing a furious Glorfindel, every inch a warrior and quite obviously mad as hell with me, I started to feel sympathy for the poor beast. If the Balrog had been only half as scared as I was right now, death must have been sweet mercy to it.
"Youuuu …" hissed Glorfindel, and started to approach me slowly, his eyes literally blazing with anger.
"I can explain this …" I started, but an almost animal-like growl cut me off.
I didn't know Elves were capable of producing such sounds.
I took a step backwards, then two, and when Glorfindel lunged, I almost tumbled over the railing, knocked over by the force of the attack.
Before I could yelp (and by then, I felt very much like yelping), The Gondolonian Wonder had grabbed me, spun me around and thrown me over his shoulder, stomping out of the great hall and carrying me off like a sack of flour.
I beat on his back with my fists, but it was to no avail. How humiliating! Elves were standing in the hallway, eyes like saucers, snickering, and I wished I was dead.
"Let me down! Glorfindel – I am not joking! Let me down immediately!" I shouted, trying to wriggle free. But Fin held tight, and barked:
"Forget it - one cannot leave you unsupervised for even a minute, you goggle-eyed scarecrow!"
I started to kick.
"Will you stay put now, Erestor, or do I have to bind you?"
"You would not dare!" I howled, and almost fainted when I heard Elrohir calling Elladan, offering him a bet on whether Fin would or not.
Traitors! Vipers I've nursed at my bosom!
Nothing could stop Fin. He carried me all the way through the hallway, up the stairs and finally arrived in front of my quarters, kicking the door open and breaking the doorframe in the process.
He dropped me unceremoniously, and grabbed me by the shoulders so I was facing him. I was fuming by now, and shouted:
"Release me, you miserable outcome of an unhappy love affair between an Orc and a Warg!"
And what did this infuriating mad Elf say to that?
"First, kiss me, Erestor, and I will."
I blew a strand of hair out of my face.
He wanted a kiss? Fine.
"I did not mean on the nose, Erestor."
I had no doubt that Glorfindel would learn in time to be more precise with his statements.
* * *
I woke up because Glorfinkle tried to make off with one of the beads in my braids. I shooed the bird away, and was a little disorientated at first. It was still deep in the night, the moon was illuminating my chamber, and outlining the form of the tall Elf sleeping beside me with a sheen of silver.
One moment - "tall Elf"?
I frowned. How did Fin get into my bed? And, after having a peek under the sheets, how come we were both naked?
Oh …
Oh oh ...
And ouch.
One sore advisor here.
Another peek under the bedsheets. Ah, indeed – the trees grow tall in Gondolin.
With growing awareness, the memories returned. Memories of gentle touches and whispered words of love, of sky blue eyes turning dark blue like the stormy sea with passion, of tears and hot lips and callused fingers on my skin, of being held and holding, of Fin's taste on my lips and the all-consuming, overwhelming feeling of love and belonging.
My perfectly organized world had been turned upside down, had been conquered and won over by Glorfindel of Gondolin, and I had surrendered, waved the white flag and entrusted him with my soul, life and heart for all eternity.
If you gonna do it, do it right, as my nana used to say.
Well, the first thing you learn in diplomacy is to make the best of every situation, so I snuggled up to Fin as close as possible. Mmm … nice. He looked so peaceful while sleeping – the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes were almost gone, so was the slightly arrogant smile he usually sported, and I took the liberty of running the back of my hand over his cheek.
Nice feeling. Could get used to it. Possibly will.
I buried my face in the curve of his neck, taking in his scent. A mix of leather, horse, stable, Miruvor, beech, arrogance and irony, a scent which covered me like a soft blanket – a blanket so comforting that I fell asleep almost immediately when my head touched his chest.
The last thing I noticed before I fell asleep was the empty bottle of Wild Thyme Oil on the side table.
* * *
The End
(so far)
Author's note:
I would like to thank all of you who gave me feedback – as I never got feedback before, I'm totally flabbergasted. Thank you, thank you, and thank you.
"Glorfindel's lament" – spoof of "A fine romance", sung by giants like Fred Astaire, but my favourite version is the one by Satchmo and Ella.
"Two jolly fellows" is an old English tavern song, dating back to the Elizabethan age, and I have no idea who originally wrote it.
Please forgive us, Master Shakespeare, we meant no harm – at least not to you. The following quotes were shamelessly used in this work report - all coming from "The Taming of the Shrew":
"I pray, sir, tell me,--is it possible/ That love should of a sudden take such hold?" 1.1 (Tranio)
"First, kiss me, Kate, and we will." 5.1 (Petruchio)