Hauntings by Zhie
Summary: (originally written as vignettes for the 2004 MPAs) The elves recall past Haunting Nights while in Valinor.
Categories: Stories of Arda > Bunniverse (PPB-AU) > Fourth Age Characters: Arwen, Asfaloth, Celebdreth, Celeborn, Celebrian, Cirdan, Ecthelion, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond, Elros, Erestor, Galadriel, Glorfindel, Haldir, Legolas, Lindir, Melpomaen, Orophin, Rumil, Tallasinde, Thranduil, Vilya
Awards: None
Challenge: None
Genre: Comedic
Special Collection: Elfling Chronicles
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 6 Completed: Yes Word count: 4506 Read: 57799 Published: January 06 2008 Updated: January 06 2008

1. Prologue by Zhie

2. One by Zhie

3. Two by Zhie

4. Three by Zhie

5. Four by Zhie

6. Five by Zhie

Prologue by Zhie
"How is it," wondered Erestor as he smeared a dollup of greenish-grey makeup over Gwindor's face as the elfling waited patiently, "that a holiday such a Yuletide, when everyone is cheerful and happy, and gifts are exchanged and songs are sung, is not very popular here in Valinor, while a dark celebration of the night, with all sorts of spooky things is something everyone looks forward to?"

"Exactly," answered Glorfindel with a grin from where he stood at the counter in the kitchen, wrapping warm popped-corn balls the three had made earlier in brightly colored wrappers Lhunerin had provided him with from her sweet shop.

Gwindor fidgeted in his chair as Erestor retrieved a brush and darker green face paint. "I like the candy," he informed his parents.

"There you have it. It's the candy," added Glorfindel. "Don't you like the tricks, too, Gwindor?" he asked the elfling.

"Fin, please don't ask him to speak while I'm doing this," interrupted Erestor as he hunched over and began to draw the brush over Gwindor's cheek.

"Sorry," apologized the blonde, wrapping another one of the festive treats. "It's so nice of Celebdreth to offer to take all of the youngest elflings around to the different tents, isn't it?" Although those who lived in Valimar or another of the heavily populated cities simply went door to door asking for treats, the farmers and shipbuilders, and others on the eastern coast gathered at the King's Kastle, which was turned into a haunted mansion for the weekend. Families pitched tents in the area behind the inn just before the forest, where hayrides took place. "Make sure you behave for Celebdreth, alright, Gwindor?"

Obligingly, the little elfling nodded his head, resulting in a streak of muddled green to now cross over onto his nose. Erestor sighed and pulled a cloth from the table, attempting to salvage his work.

"I'm being positively no help at all," sighed Glorfindel as he walked to the table and took the brush from one of Erestor's hands and the rag from the other. "I'll finish our dear little dragon up," he offered, "while you go and put your costume on."

"I don't have a costume," answered Erestor, trying to swipe the brush back.

"It's on the bed," corrected Glorfindel, nudging Erestor out of the chair with his elbow against the older elf's shoulder. "Go and put it on so I can go and put mine on."

Warily, Erestor wiped his hands and then made his way up the stairs.
One by Zhie
“Look at all of the elflings in their costumes,” Orophin remarks to Haldir. “I think that young elleth over there who is dressed as a lamb is just darling.”

“And that scarecrow, look at him,” Rumil nearly squeals. “Look at his hat, and the way the straw is sticking out of his tunic, isn’t it darling?”

Haldir blinks and turns to Rumil. “Rumil, that’s your son.”

“Yes, and he’s just such a cutie.”

“Rumil,” Orophin says after a long pause, “he’s over three thousand years old!”

“And it’s so nice of him to make the day extra special for the elflings by wearing a costume, too. Look, he’s even got a little sack for treats.” Rumil nudges Haldir and said, “Remember when you used to lead the elflings around? You were a corsair once, with that sword and that hooked hand, and then another time you were a nazgul.”

“That was a little creepy,” nods Orophin as he recalls it.

“I did enjoy that,” says Haldir. “Maybe next year I shall volunteer to help led them around.”

Rumil grins. “Too bad I never got to see you in a costume as an elfling. I bet you were a cute little whatever you were.”

“Cute? No,” argues Haldir. “I always favored scary over cute.”

“Always?”

The three brothers turn to see a blonde leaned against a tree, a few tendrils of hair wet from bobbing for apples. He shines his prize on his sleeve before biting into the crisp fruit. “I recall that one year-“

“-I got so many treats I made myself sick and so I never dressed up as anything cuddly again,” Haldir says rather quickly, cheeks beginning to flush.

Legolas grins. “Oh, is that your version? I remember a much different story.”

“That you’re going to share,” prompts Rumil.

“With us,” adds Orophin, stepping up to lead Legolas between them so that they can hear the tale. Haldir grumbles and stomps off. “Hey, where are you going?” calls Orophin.

“To drown myself in the barrel that the apples are in!” he shouts back.

Orophin waves his hand in a shooing motion. “Oh, go on then, Legolas, what was he?”

Legolas grins and recalls the tale…



“I don’wanna go.”

“Oh, you look so cute, though. Doesn’t he look cute, Celebrian?” Galadriel glanced over at her daughter, who was biting her sleeve to keep from laughing. “Oh, nevermind.” Turning back to the little elfling, she said, “Now, come on, there are treats and tricks waiting for you. Come on, Haldir, get up off the floor.”

“Not going,” said the future marchwarden, putting his foot down.

Galadriel sighed. “You are simply adorable. You must go, this is to be your first time through the forest. It’s fun.”

“If it’s so fun,” complained Haldir, tugging on the ears that were tied to his head, “you can go ‘stead of me.”

Hanging her head, and then turning to give a wary look at her giggling daughter, Galadriel was tapped on the shoulder. “Haldir,” said Celeborn as he moved past his wife to where Haldir was on the floor, arms crossed, frown in place, “would you like to walk with me to the different homes tonight?”

Looking up, Haldir did not see his father, but a giant skunk over six feet tall looking down at him. Glancing over the elder elf, Haldir finally conceded, and gave a nod as he thrust his hand up for Celeborn to take. Celeborn pulled him up to his feet, dusted off the bunny suit the elfling was wearing, and led him toward the door.

“Wait, you’ve forgotten the tail!” insisted Galadriel. She took the puffy fluffy bit of fur and tied it with some yarn around Haldir’s waist. He looked as if he were about to object, but then Celeborn waggled his backside, causing his black and white tail to wiggle. Haldir laughed, and he and Celeborn left the flet in search of tricks and treats.
Two by Zhie
“I can only imagine,” speaks Celeborn as he hid back into the shadows of the Haunted Kastle he, his wife, and three of their good friends were running, “the trouble the three of you would have caused back in Valinor.”

“Us?” questions Galadriel.

“Trouble?” laughs Ecthelion.

“Never,” Thranduil says. “Preposterous,” he adds, and the other two laugh secretively.

Cirdan chuckles, repositioning the dangling skeleton. “Those three were born troublemakers, the most infamous known to those across the sea.”

Galadriel clicks her tongue. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, they may call those of us who were left from the Awakening senile,” smiles Cirdan, “but I recall each and every prank the three of you pulled in the West.”

“Lies, all lies,” smirks Ecthelion.

“I was always dragged into it against my will,” speaks up Thranduil. “But it was best that way, then I was there to keep them out of too much trouble.”

Cirdan shakes his head and grins. “If you really want to know the story, Celeborn, let me tell you what sort of rascals these three were...”



“OW!”

“Shhh!”

“That was my LEG!”

“Sorry!”

“Shhh!” Artanis turned around and glared at her two male companions. “You’re making too much noise,” she scolded.

“You’re making too much noise,” mocked Ecthelion back, sticking his tongue out. Artanis returned the gesture, and Thranduil rolled his eyes and pushed Ecthelion back.

“Look, I want to get back to my Adar’s gathering. He said if I was good I could even have a little wine,” hissed Thranduil. “Now, hurry up, or I’ll leave the two of you here.”

“We’re not making you come,” replied Artanis. “If you’d rather be a lush than see the spider, go on then,” she insisted.

Thranduil cross his arms and said nothing.

“Alright, then let’s go. Quietly!” she insisted, reaching around to straighten the butterfly wings she was wearing. The antennae on her head bobbed up and down as she began to climb up the rocks.

“Not fair, you going first! I’m the one who found out about this place!” Ecthelion took hold of the rocks and pulled himself up, neglecting to watch the black kitten tail that followed him. It snagged for a moment, and he haphazardly yanked it free. “Are you coming or not, Thranduil?”

The little elfling dressed as a lion sighed and finally relented, taking up the rear and cautiously keeping an eye on things behind them as they climbed.

A short distance away, Cirdan shook his head. “You were right, Erestor, they did decide to come. I wish Feanor had not made his sightings of spiders seem so glamorous,” he added.

“Well, one cannot blame him,” said Erestor quietly. “I think his intention was to scare the elflings, not encourage them to find a spider of their own.”

“He apparently doesn’t know these three very well,” said Cirdan. “So, what now, my friend? If we stop them, we shall need to tell their parents, and then I fear it will be a short evening for them all.”

Erestor nodded. “Perhaps we could scare them away?”

“We might toss a few rocks in the general direction, make them think the spider is really big-“

“But we don’t want to hurt them,” Erestor reminded Cirdan.

“True.” Cirdan’s face lit up. “I know what we can do. Can you make any scary noises? Howling or something?”

Erestor blinked. “Howling?”

“Or something.”

“You want me to howl?”

“To scare off the children,” insisted Cirdan.

“Why don’t you howl?” asked Erestor.

“Because I’ll be coming up with something even scarier to say, and they know your voice too well.”

“If I didn’t always have to chase them from my garden,” smiled Erestor. “So, howling then?”

“If you please,” said Cirdan.

Erestor cleared his throat and cupped his hands to his mouth before taking a deep breath and letting out a menacing, barking howl.

“What was that?” asked Artanis as she froze.

“What?” questioned Ecthelion.

“That!” All three elflings listened, and a mean, growling howl rose up from the cliffs.

“Wolves,” gulped Artanis.

“Bigger than wolves,” whispered Thranduil, beginning to climb down.

“Wolves?” came a deep, menacing voice. “Wolves? You insult me,” it sneered.

Artanis whimpered, looking down toward the ground. They had made it quite a few feet up, and she now shut her eyes and began to climb down, following Thranduil’s lead. Ecthelion was bolder. “Who are you?” he called out, his little but loud voice carrying into the night.

“I am your nightmares, your fears. I am what haunts you, what torments you in the darkness. And these, which you call wolves are my hounds of hell, the beasts of Melkor released upon the whole of Ea!” There was a loud, maniacal cackling that followed.

The howling abruptly stopped. “Hounds of hell? Melkor? Cirdan! We’re trying to scare them off, not cause them to die of fright!” whispered Erestor warningly.

“Sorry,” Cirdan said sheepishly, “I got carried away.”

Erestor shook his head. “Well, it worked, at least,” he said, pointing toward the three terrified elflings running away from the cliffs.

“Yes. Yes it did,” Cirdan said smugly. “Now, off to the party.”

“Party?”

“The gathering at Oropher’s,” Cirdan said matter-of-factly.

“But we weren’t invited,” Erestor reminded him.

“So? We’ll all be in costume. Come on, I want to listen to see how the elflings explain the noises to the adults!”



“Us, troublemakers? You were the troublemaker!” pronounces Thranduil, wagging a finger at Cirdan.

“Me? Never,” he smiles as a group of young elves cautiously approach the Haunted Kastle.
Three by Zhie
“Do you recall the first time we went spooking together in Rivendell?” questions Lindir of Melpomaen. The scribe nods.

“That was the year that Lady Celebrian came to spend the fall and winter,” replies Melpomaen. “She brought the tradition from Lothlorien.”

Lindir strums a few chords on his lute. “We sure had a lot of fun back then,” he said to Tallasinde, who was leaning up beside him, blowing on her hot cider to cool it.

“I remember a haunting night that turned out fairly amusing in our later years,” says Melpomaen, resting against a great pile of pumpkins with Vilya. "Your sister's first hayride," he adds to the dark haired elleth beside him. "Do you recall that year, Lindir?"

“Oh...” Lindir grins. “That took us quite a lot of work, didn’t it, Figwit?”

Melpomaen laughs. “Indeed it did, Lindir. Indeed it did...”



“I don’t think we should just let them go on this alone,” Celebrian whispered to her husband. “Who knows what sort of devilish things Lindir and Melpomaen have rigged in the forest.”

Elrond shook his head. “Nonsense. Haunted hayrides aren’t ever very scary. Besides, the rest of the parents are all letting their elflings get into the wagon without a fuss.” He lowered his voice. “Arwen already feels out of place with her peers, she will socialize better if you allow her these small freedoms.” Howling and ghostly sounds came from within the trees, and the elflings on the cart shivered, or their eyes grew wide as they looked to the darkening woods as Glorfindel lit the lanterns of the wagon and whispered a few words to Asfaloth.

Arwen, who had been clutching her father’s hand and trying to push the mouth of her dragon costume open enough to see better looked up and said, “I think I want to stay here with Nana.”

“I thought you wanted to go this year,” Elrond said, crouching down so that he was eyelevel. “There will not be another hayride until next autumn.”

Arwen shifted a bit. “I don’t know. I want to go, but...”

“Do you want your mother with you?”

“No!” Arwen bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

“What if your brothers came along?” asked Elrond.

Arwen nodded. “That would be good.”

“Elladan! Elrohir!” Elrond waited for his twin sons to approach. They were well past their majority, but did not always act as such. “I’ve changed my mind about the hayride. You may go- but, I am warning you,” he said, wagging a finger. “Do not try to further scare the elflings. Whatever Lindir and Melpomaen have planned was approved by Erestor. I will not have a group of irate parents at my door this evening.”

“Oh, that’s no fun... I don’t want to go, then,” pouted Elladan, and Elrohir nodded.

“You’ll go to keep an eye on your sister,” scolded Elrond, “and you’ll go because I said so.”

Elladan huffed and Elrohir rolled his eyes. “Come on little dragon,” he said, picking up his sister. “Let’s get this over with.”

- - -

“Old sheets.”

“Wet string to make the cobwebs.”

“Those spiders are fakes.”

Elladan and Elrohir continued the commentary that had been happening ever since they were out of earshot of the adults. The elflings were looking bored and were concentrating less on the ride and more on how long before they reached the end of it. Asfaloth had turned his head and snorted a few times at the rude pair in the back of the wagon.

Within the trees, two elves were fuming.

“I can’t believe they’re doing this!” hissed Lindir, stomping his foot. “Do they realize how long we spent putting this together?!”

“No, they’re spoiled brats,” Melpomaen said, glaring through the trees. “You know, they wouldn’t be doing this if their father was here.”

Lindir looked suddenly at Melpomaen. “No. No they wouldn’t. Here.” Lindir shuffled through a basket that was keeping their few extra props hidden. “Wrap this sheet around you like a robe.”

“Why?”

“Because... I have a plan...”

- - -

“How much lamer can this ride get?” questioned Elladan as they passed by a number of animal skulls that were hanging in the trees. He picked up a rock that was in the cart and pitched it at one of the skulls, knocking it out of the branch.

Elrohir was half napping, and the rest of the elflings were looking absolutely bored.

“Elladan! Elrohir!” boomed a voice.

The twins both sat straight up and were startled to see their father in the path. Asfaloth reared up, but only enough to look scared, not enough to upset the cart.

But it was not their father, for it was Melpomaen, who in the darkness drew up his height and masked his voice. Both Elladan and Elrohir were clutching one another.

There was a pause, and only the barest bit of expression could be seen, and it was not one of happiness. “I shall deal with you both later,” growled Melpomaen in the best rendition of Elrond he could muster, and then, he backed away into the darkness.

“Well, they didn’t fall out of the cart like you had hoped,” Melpomaen whispered to Lindir as the cart moved on. “They did shut up, though.”

“I can’t wait to watch them tonight. They will be avoiding their father like the plague!” chuckled Lindir.

“You two are in Trou-ble,” sang out the little dragon in the cart as it went past.
Four by Zhie
“Trick or Treat!”

Grinning back at the happy faces, Glorfindel handed each little elfling a candied apple wrapped in waxed paper while Erestor dropped a popped-corn balls into each open sack. Waving as the children ran off giggling, Erestor said, “Don’t you miss it sometimes?”

“Miss what?” questions Glorfindel, unwrapping an apple.

Erestor looks over the balrog slayer, dressed in a balrog costume, chewing the caramel off of his apple. “Nevermind. Silly me, I forgot that you never grew up.” Erestor himself was wearing light leather armor that bore the crest of the House of the Golden Flower, his dark tresses hidden under a wig of golden horse hair.

“Not what you were saying just a half hour ago when I let you slay the balrog,” grins Glorfindel as Erestor glares at him with a ‘you know what I mean’ look. “I don’t quite miss my childhood... it was adequate at best, between my father and keeping my secret from everyone, so I’d rather not go into detail.”

“But surely, you must have gone out haunting like these young ones,” argued Erestor as another group came to the stoop where they were sitting. "It was still common in your part of Beleriand, and even Doriath celebrated it from time to time. Did you not go romping from house to house when you were young?"

Smiling nostalgically, he says, “Oh, just once.”

“Only once?”

Glorfindel nods. “My parents thought it silly and never let me go, but once, when I was in Gondolin, there was another elf who was very insistent that everyone needed to have fun…”



“Why so glum, chum?” Ecthelion looked down at the young blonde elf who sat on the edge of the fountain sighing to himself. “Tonight’s the big night- aren’t you handing out treats at your door, or will you be tricking the elflings as they pass by?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Ecthelion sat down next to the youth. “You haven’t much time left to decide. ‘Tis nightfall soon. Which did you like better when you roamed the streets – the treats or the tricks?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” laughed Ecthelion. “How can you not know?”

“I don’t know because I never went.”

“Not ever?” Ecthelion asked with a frown.

“No.”

“And how old are you?” he questioned.

“Forty-uh, three hundred and forty-nine," Glorfindel lied, "for we last celebrated my three hundred and fiftieth begetting day this year past.”

Trying not to smirk at the elf whom he knew was not as old as his claims, Ecthelion clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Not too late for you, then. Almost, but not quite.”

“Not quite for what?”

“To have a proper holiday. Come along, I think I may have a costume that will fit you,” offered Ecthelion as he stood.

Glorfindel shook his head. “I’m too old for it.”

“Not in my book! We shall pretend you are merely forty-nine, and gain three hundred years back tomorrow," he winked. "And ‘tis treason to speak against the Captain,” added the dark haired elf quickly. “Besides, you can come along with me when I help lead the children through the streets tonight. It’s quite a task,” he informed Glorfindel as they walked to the Captain’s house, “but well worth the rewards.”

“It must make the elflings happy to have you dress up and walk with them,” commented Glorfindel.

“Well, yes,” admitted Ecthelion. “but I’m talking about the candy!”
Five by Zhie
“We’re nearly out of apples, Ada,” says Elrohir, holding up the last basket of shiny red fruits.

Elladan plucks one out of the basket. “That’s probably a good thing, most of the elflings are falling asleep, and everyone is getting ready for the party afterwards,” he remarks before biting into his apple.

Elrond closes his eyes and shakes his head, still unable to say anything to his sons.

“What?” grins Elladan, sitting down on the bench next to where his father has been overseeing the Bob for Apples booth. “Don’t tell me you and Uncle Elros never dressed alike for Trick or Treating.”

“No, we never did,” Elrond finally blurted out. “And honestly, never in... in... anything like that!” he says, waving his hand up and down and between his sons.

Elladan leans against his father as he eats his apple. “You should be proud of us, dressed up like healers. Just like you!”

“No, not just like me!” Elrond crosses his arms. “It’s a good thing your mother isn’t here to see this.”
Elrohir brushes a bit of dirt off of his skirt, which is cut much shorter than a female healer would typically wear such a garment. "You do know Nana sewed these for us, don't you?" he asked, taking off the apprentice cap and smoothing his hair back before placing it back on his head.


“As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Elladan takes another bite and continues to grin. “There must have been some point when you were an elfling when you put on a dress. I mean, you’re constantly wearing these robes, there must be a reason for it.”

Elrond, despite trying to remain calm, blushes. “It’s very boring, and a very long story, and-“

“Storytime!” Elrohir skids to a stop, nearly toppling over in his heels- completely inappropriate, but all part of the bet lost to Orophin and Rumil. He sits down on the other side of his father and waits to hear the tale.



“I’m going to play the Adar, and you get to play the Naneth,” Elros said sternly, handing a worn apron to Elrond.

“Why do you get to be the Adar? I don’t want to be the Naneth!” he complained, crossing his arms.

Elros crossed his arms as well. “Because I’m the taller one and you’re the prettier one,” he informed his twin before heading in the direction of the toy chest again.

“We’re exactly the same!” shouted Elrond with a pout. “That’s why they say we’re ‘identical’ twins!” He was given no response and Elros began to dig through the box, pulling out a wooden sword, which he soon discarded. “Get one of them to play the part of the Naneth!” Elrond added, pointing toward a group of three young ellith playing with a set of wooden blocks in a corner of the nursery.

Elros rolled his eyes and approached the group, clearing his throat. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said in a low gruffed voice like he heard some of the menfolk speak in, “but I’m looking for someone to pretend play my wife because my brother doesn’t want to.” Elrond, across the room, rolled an identical set of eyes as the ellith giggled to one another.

“We’re too young,” one of them finally said.

“Well, it’s only play,” Elros said in his normal voice. The ellith shook their heads and Elros shrugged, returning to Elrond. “See? They don’t want to.”

“And neither do I!” shouted Elrond. “Besides, I can’t. I don’t have a dress.”

With a gleam in his eye and to Elrond’s horror, Elros ran to the chest and yanked a dress from the box. It was positively ugly – red with orange bows and lacey frill. “No,” said Elrond sternly.

“Oh, girls,” Elros called out sweetly, causing the ellith to turn their heads. “Miss Elrond needs a makeover.”

Sadly, Elrond did not escape the stampede, and ten minutes later was pouting profusely. “I hate you,” he finally said to his brother as one of the ellith tied a pink ribbon in his hair.

The door to the nursery swung open suddenly. “Alright everyone, time to get dressed for- oh! Well, that’s nice that the girls helped you find a costume for tonight’s haunting, Elrond,” spoke the caretaker. She looked him over for a moment and then said, “I think I might have a pair of white gloves that my daughter can’t fit into anymore, I’ll find them for you. The rest of you, clear the mess away, I’ll be in to help find costumes for the rest of you in a moment. Lord Maglor is very excited about taking all of you around to the other houses tonight.” The door closed again and their was eerie silence.

“Have I mentioned yet that I hate you?” asked Elrond, glaring at Elros.

It wasn’t until much later that the tune changed.

“Oh, how darling, and what a brave one you are to wear such a costume!” giggled a maiden at the next door. She placed treats in all of the sacks the elflings held out, and added an extra handful to Elrond’s and then kissed his forehead. “You’re such a cutie!” she said before waving farewell to the group of young trick or treat seekers.

“Have I mentioned yet that I love you?” Elrond asked his brother, happily munching on an extra piece of fudge he had been given down the road.

“Yes, now quit it. And next year,” warned Elros, “I get to wear the dress!”
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