“Tra – la – laaaah.” A barefooted light haired elfling bounced his way through the wet grass, letting the tips of his fingers glide across the petals of flowers and the leaves of seedlings as he went. It had been a long time since both of his brothers had been home – too long, much too long. Six whole years, in fact. It was dreadful not to have them both around to play with him and tell him how pretty and cute and smart and clever he was and to find nice things like big pinecones and pretty, shiny rocks for him.

It was even more dreadful that Orophin had gone and left him with Haldir for six long years.

“Laa – la – laaaah.” Muddy feet carried him up the steps of the Great Mallorn, leaving behind him a trail that faded as he reached the higher stairs. His right hand stretched above his head, barely reaching the smooth wooden rail that he clutched as he climbed. Now that they were both here, he had made up his mind that neither of them would be going away again for a long time, if ever. Haldir would have to stop thinking about patrolling the borders and Orophin would need to choose a different career than being a messenger. There was no doubt about it. Rúmil was keeping his brothers in Lothlórien, even if he had to resort to pouting and sniffling.

Pouting and sniffling tended to work well when he wanted something that Nana and Ada wouldn’t otherwise give him.

“Tra – la – laaaah.” Rúmil began to hop up the remaining steps, steadying himself using the railing, then bursting up onto the next step, landing with both feet hard on the wood. He became rather interested in the way his feet stayed still and together as they did with each hop, and he focused all of his attention on them as he continued his ascent. It amused him also to find that every now and then some leftover mud between his toes would fly out and hit the trunk of the tree or splatter across a step leaving shapes and patterns of mud behind. After he counted to twenty-six, he found that besides his own feet on the step were a much larger pair of feet, or at least, a pair of boots, attached to legs, attached to –

“Kehl – a - born!” sang out Rúmil, throwing himself into the arms of the elf seated on the next higher step. In one hand, he still clutched one half dozen damp daisies, but his free arm hugged the older elf tightly. When he let go, he held up a single flower. Though most of the petals were now gone and it hung loosely from its broken stem, Celeborn accepted the gift, holding it carefully between two fingers.

“Ru-hu-mil,” he sang back, quieter than the elfling had, but it was enough to produce a grin from the young future warrior. Behind him, he could hear five elves approaching, and knew without looking who they were.

“Is that the sweetest, dearest little elfling in all of Arda I hear?” questioned a delicate yet commanding voice. The Lady Galadriel approached her husband and son, but was suddenly stunned as she began to take note of the appearance not only of the walkway, but also of Rúmil.

“Nay, it is the messiest, noisiest little elfling in all of Arda that you hear,” answered Haldir as he approached, Orophin and Celebrían trailing him, and Glorfindel further behind.

“Glad-dree-ell!” Rúmil leaped past Celeborn, bowed to his mother, and presented her with another of his dilapidated daisies. Smiling weakly, Galadriel took the flower, continuing to take in the state of the steps.

“Hal-ee-dear!” Rúmil ducked around Galadriel, who was steadying herself with her hands on Celeborn’s shoulders. Haldir held out both palms as if to object to the flower, but Rúmil was used to this behavior, and stuffed the stem into Haldir’s boot before proceeding to his sister.

“Cleb – ree – ann!” Celebrían stooped a bit so that Rúmil could tuck the squashed flower behind her ear, then tapped the elfling on the nose, making him giggle as he scooted over to Orophin.

“Or – o – phin!” Orophin received not only a flower, but also a huge hug around both legs, causing him to teeter from the force of Rúmil. With only one flower left, Rúmil ran the remaining way to Glorfindel, who was clearing his throat and was knelt to Rúmil’s level.

“Glor-fin-del,” sang the balrog slayer hopefully.

“Kehl – a – born!” Rúmil tucked the final flower behind Glorfindel’s side braid.

“Everybody’s a critic,” sighed Glorfindel, getting back up on his feet. Rúmil hopped down the steps again, plopping himself into Celeborn’s lap. Galadriel’s eyes widened in half horror, half shock as she watched Rúmil manage to cover Celeborn’s pure white robes in a large quantity of mud and muck.

“Now that Orophin is here,” Rúmil began, “there are so many things I can think of for us to do! Just the other night it rained, and I am sure there are many new stones washed up on the riverside. And I saw a fawn run through the brush a few days ago, and also there are the most beautiful flowers blooming not far away. Purple and blue, they would contrast quite well with my hair, and Orophin is a true expert at entwining them into my braids. ‘Sides, Haldir wouldn’t hear of flowers being placed in my hair while Orophin was gone, and with Celebrían so busy, there has simply been no one to do it for me.”

“You’re a he-elfling, not a she-elfling. He-elflings do not have flowers braided into their hair.” Haldir crossed his arms, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. ‘Or tucked behind their ears, for that matter,’ he thought, glancing sidelong at Glorfindel.

“Gladly I will braid your hair with flowers,” Orophin promised, punching Haldir in the arm as he scooted past in an attempt to keep Rúmil from weeping, as his bottom lip was protruding and his eyes beginning to water.

“Gladly you will also bathe him in the stream, as well as yourself.” Galadriel’s words were the first she’d been able to speak, and Orophin nodded, grinning sheepishly as he realized that being hugged earlier had left him in an awfully filthy state from the knees down. “Haldir, accompany them. Celebrían, I will require you help me with these stairs.”

Celebrían blinked in surprise. “Why can I not go along and Haldir stay to help you? I enjoy braiding flowers into Rúmil’s hair,” she added with a smirk.

“Because you don’t smell like a warg from training on the guard fences all week,” Celeborn said quickly. The impending nuptials between Celebrían and Elrond had caused Galadriel to come up with some ‘rules’ about the interaction among their grown children that Celeborn had deemed ‘silly’, but upheld. “Mind that you change your clothes, too. Burn those if need be,” joked Celeborn, but standing to pat Haldir on the shoulder, he realized his bluff wasn’t far from the truth.

Haldir bowed his head in acknowledgement, impatient to have a chance to speak with Orophin again. He wanted to know what the younger elf thought of Imladris, the culture, the elves who inhabited it, and of course, their future brother-in-law. Knowing his clothing would have to be washed anyway, he moved closer to Rúmil, reaching down in an offer to hoist him upon his shoulders for the long walk ahead.

“Blllpppphhhtttt,” responded Rúmil. “You smell how I look.” The others smiled in agreement, with the exception of Galadriel, who had gone back into the talan in search of other elves to help with the steps. Rúmil thrust his hands up to Orophin, who gladly swung him upon his shoulders. Rúmil stuck his nose into Orophin’s hair, breathing deeply. “Smells like horses, but its okay,” he decided.

“Glad you approve.” Orophin turned to face Haldir, who had taken the flower from his boot and tucked it inside his tunic. “Shall we?”

“Race you to the bottom.” Haldir didn’t give Orophin a chance to think as he hopped onto the rail, then fell backwards over the side. Orophin’s face paled as he rushed to the railing, carefully minding the fact that Rúmil was upon his back.

Celeborn tried to hide his grin as Galadriel came rushing down the steps. “He’s been hoping to show you that for some time now.”

“Did he just do what I think he did?” Galadriel peered down the side the others were and watched as Haldir landed on the rail every other flight, finally freefalling for the last four stories. He looked up upon hitting the ground and shouted, “If you can make it down in five minutes, we’ll call it a draw!”
- - -


“You did not learn to speak Westron?” questioned Haldir.

“Not really,” Orophin admitted. “I learned a few songs, but I don’t know what they mean.”

“I like songs,” said Rúmil, sitting perfectly still in front of Orophin while his elder brother braided his hair.

“You did not learn the history of the First Age?” questioned Haldir.

“Not much of it.” Orophin plucked a violet from between the grass and wrapped it in silver-golden strands. “Erestor was ever so cross with me, accounted my lack of knowledge to my friendship with Glorfindel.”

“I like Glorfindel,” said Rúmil, watching an ant crawl across his knee and down the other side.

“You did not learn any instrument of any sort?” questioned Haldir.

“Not in the formal sense.” Orophin used a blade of grass to tie off one of the braids he was working on. “I have a lovely voice, and it is so much more portable than any musical device might be. Don’t get me wrong, your flute is lovely, as is Celebrían’s harp, but can I not lend my singing to your merry band?”

“I like singing,” said Rúmil, trying to scoop the ant back up onto his leg, though it persisted in squirming its way through the elfling’s fingers.

Haldir took a long moment to munch on the grapes Celeborn had sent along with them as part of their lunch. “Pray, tell me, what you did do while in Imladris.”

Orophin grinned. “I met an elleth...”

“Ai, Elbereth, no, no, no, no...” Haldir thumped his head back into the tree he sat against with each no. “Orophin, you are mad, you are too young.”

“Oh, but when you see her, you will not think it.” Orophin sighed. “And when you meet her, ah, the sound of her voice, the beauty of her eyes! Haldir, I think I’m –“

“Don’t say it!” Haldir clamped his hands over his ears. “Do not speak it! By the Valar, I will not have my brother run off to Imladris for an elleth!”

“That’s the best part!” Orophin let go Rúmil’s hair and crawled the few feet to Haldir. Rúmil gleefully followed, creeping across the ground on his belly.

Haldir frowned, knowing the actions of his younger brothers would require yet another bath. Within moments they were upon him, one on each side, pulling at his hands to loose them from his ears.

“She is not of Imladris! She was an elf of Lórien, visiting kin. I am in love with a Lothlórien elf maiden!” Orophin gleefully proclaimed once he’d pried Haldir’s hand away.

“Tra-la-la!” added Rúmil, once Haldir had conceded hold of his other arm.

“How could you – will you just – I’ll deal with you later,” Haldir promised, pointing a finger at Orophin. Turning back to Rúmil, he said, “Will you please stop doing that?”

“What’s he doing that vexes you so?” asked Orophin, settling against the tree to Haldir’s left.

“Laa-la-laaaah?” wondered Rúmil, plopping himself on Haldir’s right, and leaning into his brother.

“That. That singing,” groaned Haldir. “He does it all the time, ever since you left. I cannot make him stop.”

“Traa-la-laaaah!”

“I meant to ask about that earlier.” Orophin paused, giving the matter some thought. “I don’t understand why he called Glorfindel by Ada’s name.”

“Either he can’t tell them apart, or he just likes being a brat.”

“Laa-la-laaaah!” continued Rúmil, knowing full well he was being talked about, and brought the song up a pitch, causing Haldir to grit his teeth. “Traa! Laaah! Laaaaaah!”

“Rúmil?” Orophin asked in his sweetest, softest voice. “Will you please stop singing? I think you are giving Haldir a headache, and it wouldn’t do for his head to explode.”

“Hal-ee-dear! Laa-la-laaaah.” Rúmil climbed up into the lap of his disgruntled older brother, tangling his hands in Haldir’s long hair to steady himself. Haldir winced, but said nothing.

“Halideer?” The question was shrugged off by the eldest. Orophin raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, switching from speaking in Sindarin to broken Quenya so that Rúmil could not translate. “Well do I remember a time when I would have been kicked across the river for actions such as that.”

“He doesn’t know- any- better-“ Haldir made a grab for Rúmil’s hands, as they were reaching around his back to get a grip on one of the green-feathered arrows in his quiver.

“He’s spoiled rotten is what he is.” Orophin detached Haldir’s quiver, placing it on the ground and out of Rúmil’s reach. Haldir looped his arms around Rúmil’s middle and settled his chin atop the elfling’s head so that his prisoner couldn’t escape. The youngest began to pout, arms crossed and fists still clenching strands of silvery-golden hair. “But with such an extraordinary amount of cuteness, it is no wonder he can get away with murder.”

“Aye. Your fault on that. And Celebrían’s, too. I had nothing to do with how pretty he turned out.”

“Traa-la-laaaah!”

“Rúmil.” Haldir braved the pain it caused to turn the elfling around to face him, switching back to Sindarin. “Rúmil, you need to stop the singing. It is an annoyance. It isn’t even a real song.”

“Yesss-it-issss!”

“NO, it is not!” Haldir said, quite crossly. When he saw Rúmil’s bottom lip quiver, he sighed, and closed his eyes. “Fine, then, if it’s a real song, what is the name of it?”

“I-don’t-knoooow!” sang Rúmil.

“See, there, you made that up,” accused Haldir.

“All songs are made up songs,” Rúmil countered. When he received no response, he added, “All words are made up words. All written and spoken language, each and every single letter, is made up, used to represent that which we wish to communicate to one another. Tra. La. Lah.”

Orophin smirked at Haldir’s somewhat empty stare. “You named him, you know, and I think he’s doing quite the job living up to it.” Orophin held out his arms. “Give here the Minstrel of Lórien, and I shall finish his hair whilst you take a nap. You look to need the rest.”

Gratefully, yet with slight hesitation, Haldir gently lifted Rúmil onto Orophin’s lap. “Or-o-phin!”

“Ru-hu-mil,” replied Orophin, retrieving the comb he had tucked in his belt. “Now, let us continue with our task so that your braids will be presentable at dinner, and I shall tell you of the silly place they call Rivendell.”

“You’re encouraging him,” whispered Haldir in Quenya after he had settled down in the grass for a rest in the sun.

“He stopped singing, didn’t he?” grinned Orophin as he answered in the ancient tongue.


It took Orophin the better part of an hour to finish the braids in Rúmil’s shoulder-length mane, and he spent another hour cleaning up himself and the elfling without disturbing their hair or their brother. Celebrían had come looking for them after the stairs had been cleaned, and sat down with them to enjoy what was left of the food they had brought.

“Look, Clebrí, look!” Rúmil lifted the braid atop his head, pointing at the blossoms and buds Orophin had woven through his hair.

“Very professional! If all else fails, Oro can open a hairdressing shop,” nodded Celebrían. “Perhaps I should have him do something with mine,” she added, loosening her hair from the clips that held it.

Orophin brushed the crumbs of lembas from his tunic and sat up, cracking his knuckles. “It shall be a challenge I shall undertake, but for a small price.”

“Name your terms, Oro.”

“Once I have finished with your hair, you must do something with my tangled mess. It just isn’t right for the two of you to have flowers and I none. Besides,” he added, as he settled himself behind Celebrían, “you two have enough prettiness as it is, and I need all the help I can get to look like a halfway decent elf.”

“What about Halidear?” wondered Rúmil, biting into a ripened red apple.

“He’s beyond hope,” answered Orophin, waving a hand toward the sleeping elf. “We gave up on him being pretty long ago.”

Rúmil didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, and discarded the remains of his apple on the picnic blanket as he began to search the area for flowers. “You can put some in Halidear’s hair when you finish Clebrí’s.”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” Orophin shook his head with a smile as Rúmil romped through the grass, selecting only what he deemed the best for his brother.

“I need to share a secret with you,” Celebrían whispered once Rúmil was occupied enough with his current task not to notice his older siblings talking.

“I like secrets,” Orophin said as he smiled to himself, remembering all the things Rúmil had been listing before.

Celebrían bit her bottom lip and began to study the grass a bit too intently. Orophin quickly fastened the clips in her hair, having pulled the hair just behind her ears into a crown around her head. Blue bells and lily of the valleys cascaded down the back of her head, held in some unknown fashion. The crown itself was adorned with white blossoms. Orophin plopped down in front of his sister, pulled on her earlobe to get her attention, then contorted his face into a silly expression that would have caused an Orc to laugh in spite of himself.

“What sort of mysterious news do you wish to share with me, o enchantress of the Golden Woods?” He attempted to make his face look sillier after his question, hooking the corners of his mouth with his fingers and pulling down.

“Lord Elrond and I are to be married,” she said between giggles as Orophin stuck out his tongue, trying to touch his nose with it.

“No kidding,” he replied, voice laced with sarcasm. Celebrían slapped him on the knee, scowling a bit.

“He is coming here this evening. He was following behind the escort that you and Glorfindel were in.”

“This evening? Isn’t that a bit rushed?” Orophin moved his jaw from side to side, abandoning his comedy routine to alleviate the tenderness in his face from his antics.

Celebrían slapped Orophin again in mock frustration. “He’s coming this evening to officially ask permission from Ada and Nana. Turn around,” she instructed Orophin, motioning that she would braid his hair if he did.

Orophin followed her order, leaning back a bit to make the top of his head easier to reach for his sister. “Do they know?”

Celebrían snorted in a rather undignified manner. “What doesn’t Nana know?”

“But you haven’t told her, is what I mean,” explained Orophin.

“You’re the only one I’ve told. Elrond has informed only Erestor, for he is accompanying him here.” Celebrían scanned the area for Rúmil, crooking a finger for him to come over when he noticed her summons.

“To what do I owe such an honor?” asked Orophin. “I mean, besides the fact that I’m your favorite brother,” he added mischievously.

“Because when Elrond arrives, he is going to be telling Haldir.”

“Aww! He’s choosing Hal! What a treat that must be for you,” snickered Orophin, who was rewarded with a tug on the braid-in-process. “You must really love this elf if you didn’t object to Haldir being your protector.” For the third time, Orophin was slapped that day, but this time it was across the back of his head.

“Who do you love, Clebrí?”

Celebrían cursed under her breath, forgetting that she had beckoned Rúmil over. “Rúmil, if I tell you, you mustn’t say anything about it to anyone. What I am going to tell you is a secret so sacred, the Valar themselves would be angered if you were to share it with another.”

Rúmil nodded emphatically, and emphasized this point by bowing his head and placing his hand on his heart, a gesture he had seen his older brothers make when something very, very important had been said to them by their parents or other big elves. Celebrían suppressed a giggle at the action, but retained her composure. “Lord Elrond is coming tonight to ask Ada and Nana if he may marry me.”

“You’re leaving?” Rúmil looked crushed at this news, but Celebrían shook her head.

“Not right away, not yet. One day, I will. But you will be older then, a grown elf. And you’ll be able to visit me, in Imladris.”

“Oh. Alright,.” Rúmil replied, still unsure of whether he liked the idea or not. “But, Orophin says that Imladris is a silly place, Clebrí. Why do you want to go there?”

Had Rúmil not been present, Orophin would have been disciplined by his sister once again, and likely would have ended up in the river instead of being reprimanded with a slap. Instead, Celebrían smiled sweetly and said, “You will have to judge for yourself when you come to visit.”

“Oh. Alright.” Rúmil shifted his feet. “But why can’t I tell anyone?”

“Because Lord Elrond wishes for Haldir to be one of the honored elves of this marriage. The groom chooses one, the bride chooses the other. These elves not only help to counsel the spouses through dark times, but rejoice with them when events of great joy occur. If something should happen to cause husband and wife to part, they are bound by duty to comfort the grief. They are to be the surrogate parents to any children from the union, if something were to happen to the parents. It is not a decision one makes without deep consideration and careful thought.” Celebrían let Rúmil consider her words and waited to see if he had any questions. Surprisingly, Rúmil seemed to understand, and nodded.

“Oh. Alright.” He took a few steps as if to run off and play elsewhere, then turned when he remembered he’d been summoned. “Was that what you wanted me for?”

“Actually, I wanted to know if I could use some of the flowers you picked for Orophin’s hair,” she told him, patting the ground beside her. Rúmil sat, handing her one of the stems.

“You may. But some of these are for Halidear.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, Rúmil, but Haldir isn’t going to let you put those in his hair,” Orophin explained.

“He should have flowers, too,” Rúmil said, apparently unyielding in his decision.

“That he should,” Celebrían mused, glancing over at the sleeping elf. “Orophin, is he still as sound a sleeper as ever?”

Orophin sat up a bit. “Has not our merriment in his slumbering presence been proof enough for you?”

Celebrían carefully finished her work on Orophin’s hair, all the while contemplating Haldir as she wove the flowers. Once finished, she and her brothers crept up to the elf in the grass. He was sprawled on his side, eyes casting a vacant look to the trees. “This is madness!” giggled Orophin, handing Celebrían the kingsfoil she had pointed to. “If he wakes, I am not above blaming it all on you!”

Celebrían grinned, pulling flowers from Rúmil’s hands. “He should know better than to nap in our presence.”

“You weren’t here when he fell asleep,” hissed Orophin. “He wouldn’t have let down his guard for you. You’re too sneaky.”

“I don’t see you stopping me,” replied Celebrían, standing back to admire her work. She smirked, victorious. “Not a word, either of you,” she warned.

Rúmil was the one to break the silence. “He can be made to look a little pretty, Oro.”

Orophin pulled Rúmil away as Haldir shifted, and began to wake. “Clebrí! Go! If he finds you, he’ll know something was up!” Celebrían nodded, scampering off into the trees, minding her hair as she went. The two brothers rushed over to the bank of the river. The normally transparent water was glazed over, the clouds overhead having temporarily eclipsed the sun, and they admired their reflections for a moment until the sound of an elf approaching caused them to turn.

Orophin had to muster all of his strength not to grin at the sight before him. Haldir may not have been pretty as Rúmil claimed, but the look was an exotic one. Celebrían had opted for mostly green, and had tucked leaves, weeds, and a few flowers behind his ears, and then trailed them around his head and down the wide center braid. Haldir eyed one brother, then the other. “I shall deny kinship to you both if you come to dinner thus.” He turned swiftly on his heal. Orophin shoved the sleeve of his tunic in his mouth, a move meant to keep him from howling in laughter.

Haldir signaled them forward, and Rúmil and Orophin scurried to gather the remnants of lunch before following Haldir back to Caras Galadhon, detouring here and there as Rúmil pleased when he caught glimpses of birds and rabbits.


As they began to climb to the top of the Great Mallorn, they were met halfway by Celeborn. He quirked a brow at the odd sight before him, but Orophin, who stood behind Haldir, placed a finger to his lips.

“I regret to inform you that your sister and mother have plotted against the larger yet seemingly less dominant male population and locked us out of the tree.” Celeborn sighed heavily, glowering in mock consternation. “Therefore, I hereby decree we shall pass the time upon a quest.”

“A quest?” questioned Haldir.

“A quest,” agreed Orophin.

“A quest! A quest! We’re going on a quest!” Rúmil danced down the steps excitedly, stopping once he’d hit bottom to look up at Celeborn. “Where are we going, Ada?”

“We are going on a quest to pick the berries that are best.” Celeborn lifted Rúmil off the ground, and the elfling perched upon his shoulder. “And return back for the festival to dine with all the rest.” Rúmil clapped at Celeborn’s impromptu song.

“Festival?” Haldir raised a brow at his father.

Celeborn began to stride toward the berry fields. “Your brother returned, Glorfindel is here, and all of my children are once again in my tree. Do you fault me for searching for reasons to celebrate?”

“Nay, Adar.” Haldir kept it to himself that he believed his father to be obsessed with throwing parties and making merriment. One day, he would ask why. For now, there was a quest at hand, and Haldir took all quests, even berry-picking ones, seriously.

The fields were separated from the orchard by a shallow chasm. Much as Haldir was tempted to jump to the bottom and climb up the next side, he reluctantly crossed the wooden bridge arm in arm with Orophin. They each grabbed a wicker basket from the pile stacked on the other side. Other elves were in the fields as well, the crop being ripe year round in this blessed realm.

It was senseless to attempt to corral Rúmil, and the elfling began his exploration of the fields. “He’s better off wandering and chasing butterflies,” reasoned Celeborn as he set to filling his own basket with strawberries. “We’ll bring him back red and purple if we let him help.”

Orophin and Haldir had finished their task in no time, impressing Celeborn with their speed. “Probably shouldn’t tell him we’re so good at this ‘cause we usually have to sneak them out of here late at night when no one's watching,” whispered Orophin to Haldir, who answered with a glare.


The sky darkened as they returned, and overhead the clouds drifted low. They stopped briefly to deposit their harvest at one of the lower level kitchens before continuing to their flets. As the quartet began their ascent, Orophin spotted a pair of riders on the horizon. Celeborn handed Rúmil to Haldir, walking back down the stairs and picking stray leaves and twigs from his tunic and leggings as he approached the pair. The three brothers peered over the railing, observing the activities below.

“Elrond and Erestor,” remarked Haldir, noting the solemn exchange below. Suddenly, as if something had just hit him, Haldir rolled his eyes, landing them on Orophin. “What did you do in Imladris?”

“Nothing Ada and Nana don’t already know about!” defended the tall elfling, leaning on the rail. “Why do you always suspect me?”

Haldir shifted Rúmil to his other hip and drew a breath. “Waking up and finding no walls surrounding one’s room. Asfaloth – bald. Fake Palantir in the garden. Spirit of a nazgul haunting a talan. Rúmil – bald.” Rúmil nodded, frowning at the memory. Orophin leaned further over the rail to hide his smirk. “Celebrían with red hair – truly, you have an obsession with hair, muindor. Mithrandir’s staff as a-“

“Haldir!”

Haldir froze. Orophin’s smirk widened into a smile. “What did YOU do in Imladris?” Orophin waggled his brows and grinned wider.

Haldir shoved Rúmil into Orophin’s arms, tossed the loose hair back over his shoulders, and descended to the ground. As he slowly approached the three elves, he noted that while Celeborn and Erestor were speaking of current events and the weather rather casually, Elrond was shifting around a bit nervously.

“Ah, Haldir, Lord Elrond was wondering if you might grant him a few words in private. He and Master Erestor have just arrived from Imladris, and I shall be taking the counselor to visit with your brothers in case you have need to find me.” Celeborn nodded to Erestor, and the pair began to make their way to the top of the mallorn.

There was an awkward pause as Elrond waited for Celeborn and Erestor to leave, and he did not speak until Orophin and Rúmil had withdrawn from the railing. Even then, his request was strange. “Is there anywhere we might go where we could speak without disturbance and have some wine or ale?”

Haldir nodded as Elrond uneasily fiddled with the sleeve of his tunic. Haldir thought Elrond’s clothing to be a bit too decorative for a ride into Caras Galadhon, but did not mention it as he led the way to the nearest tavern in the city. Small droplets of rain had begun to tap the ground here and there around them as they entered the shelter of the multi-level pub. Haldir retrieved two wine glasses and a bottle of deep red liquid and found an area to sit nestled in some wayward branches. Elrond gladly took the glass he was offered, drinking a large quantity of it as he scanned the others in the tree.

“Do not worry, no one will pay mind to what we discuss. If you are unsure, speak in Westron. None here could translate.” A crash of thunder overhead caused a few of those in the tree to glance in apprehension skyward, but Haldir kept his gaze fixed upon Elrond.

The elf lord nodded, took a deep breath and leaned forward. Haldir tilted his head as well, so that the two could speak softly enough that none would hear. Elrond still chose to speak Westron. “I am in love with your sister. I intend to marry her. I have come tonight to ask your parents for their consent.”

The corner of Haldir’s mouth twitched up in a moment of weakness, shattering his normally formal and cool façade as he gave a rare smile to Elrond. He often had wondered how he would react to the elf who would take his older sibling from the Great Mallorn. He found he was happy, and somewhat relieved, that it would be an elf he had such great respect for. “You say that as though it were a secret, when many could have guessed the match.” Haldir refilled Elrond’s glass, and the half-elf nodded in thanks.

“We may not wait long before holding the ceremony.” Elrond paused to sip his wine, listening to the lightning announce itself above. When Haldir said nothing, Elrond met the gaze of the Lórien elf, whose face suddenly gave away a look of understanding.

Elrond began to turn away, but Haldir’s hand impulsively shot out, steadying the jaw of the elder. Lost was the lackluster look from the Lord’s eyes, which now glittered and glowed as if some deep magic enchanted them. “You’ve bound yourselves to each other.” Haldir’s voice was low, and somewhat in awe of his discovery. Slowly, Elrond nodded and Haldir released his hold.

“I want you to be part of the ceremony. Be one of the honored ones.” Elrond spoke quickly, then took up his goblet again. “I know I may have made a few comments in the past about you being conceited and arrogant, but so are Glorfindel and Erestor in some ways, and I hold them both in high regard, as I do you.”

“Why not one of them, then? Surely, they both have greater experience, and have known you much longer, either would be an excellent choice.”

“Because you show a strong devotion to your sister and brothers. You have only ever shown to have the best of intentions in mind regarding them. I could think of no one better than you for this role. Will you accept?” Elrond did not receive an answer immediately, for above, a sudden downpour began, and the patrons on the uppermost levels now began to flood into the lower flets, many of them drenched and laughing.

“No ceiling on the highest part,” Haldir explained, taking in Elrond’s confused expression as dozens of happily soaked elves poured into the surrounding areas. Among them, Glorfindel emerged, laughing and shaking out his golden mane.

“Oh, not him, not right now, anyone but him.” Elrond buried his face into his hands at the sight of the Vanya, not wanting this conversation to be intruded upon. A moment later, he was on his feet, being pulled up into the branches. Haldir helped to navigate through the foliage onto a branch that offered little shelter from wind and rain, but kept them from the others in the tree. The goblets had been ignored, but Haldir held out the open wine bottle to Elrond.

“A drink to you and your future wife, my future brother.” Haldir grinned as Elrond sighed in relief and drank from the bottle, passing it back once again. “I would be honored to be part of the ceremony. Truly, it is a privilege you think this highly of me.” Haldir tilted his head back and finished what was left in the bottle, hearing Elrond gasp. He looked to the half-elf with a frown.

“Your hair, Haldir, it will be ruined in the rain.”

“It will dry.”

“No, the things in it.”

Haldir stared ahead with a blank expression for a moment, then reached up, felt around, and plucked a leaf from his braids. “Well, hello. It would seem someone had a burst of creativity while I took a nap.”

“That’s no ordinary leaf,” remarked Elrond, peering closer. When Haldir did not respond, he added, “Pipeweed. You smoke it.”

“Smoke it?” Haldir’s confusion was temporary. “Oh, like Mithrandir.”

“Yes, exactly. He may have dropped some here and there on one of his past visits, and here you’ve been fortunate enough to be crowned with it. Though, it seems you were unaware at the time. Shall I remove it for you?” offered Elrond.

“Nay, not unless it begins to fall apart on its own accord. So, tell me, how soon would you like this ceremony to take place?” asked Haldir.

“Are you free this evening?” asked Elrond. He grinned, but he was not joking.
- - -


The Great Mallorn was full of activity for a dark and stormy night. Galadriel had foreseen the coming events, and though she refused to consent to a marriage that very evening, she agreed fully with Celeborn that at the very least, an engagement ceremony and festivities to announce her daughter's betrothal were in order. Thinking it would be some time before Elrond and Haldir would return she set to organizing an impromptu semi-indoor feast, expecting that everyone could gather on the many covered balconies that surrounded the tree. The Lady busied herself now in the kitchens after shooing out a much too helpful Celeborn, following her exclamation of “There most certainly IS such a thing as too much chocolate!”

Celeborn was presently overseeing Orophin’s decorating of the railing. The young elf was twining thin silver fabric about the uppermost portions of the guardrail. From afar, it gave the effect of mithril spun around the trunk. Celeborn followed behind, puffing up the material so that it caught even more of the moon and starlight.

“Erestor has told me Celebrían is not my only child who is infatuated with another elf.”

“Aye. But worry not, for I would never leave Lothlórien. And she resides here in the Golden Woods, thank Varda, so she would not have to part from her kin, either.” Orophin tied off the last of the fabric. “But, I think it should be long before you need worry about throwing such a party as this for me, for I would be content not to rush into an arrangement until I was certain of my actions.”

“Orophin, you surprise me sometimes,” laughed Celeborn, “for though you often act the youngest, I believe if you put your mind to it, you might be the wisest of us all.”

“I’ll leave wise to you, Ada,” grinned Orophin. “I’m perfectly happy just being the tallest.”


At the very bottom of the tree, Celebrían was aiding Erestor in using more of the poofy fabric and some curved branches to create an archway that led up the path to the steps. Erestor cringed each time Celebrían stepped close to the threshold.

“It is bad luck if you accidentally go through it before your parents give consent!” hissed the dark haired advisor as Celebrían affixed a handful of flowers to the top of the portal.

“I’ll just go back through the other way,” retorted Celebrían, carefully keeping under the boughs of the mallorn so that she did not step in the path of the rain that still fell.

Erestor shook his head as he looked over his masterpiece once again. His ears picked up on faint movement not far away, and he turned his head in the direction. “Celebrían, they’ve returned earlier than expected! Run up to the tree and call for your parents.” Erestor waited for Celebrían to go, then jogged to where Rúmil had fallen asleep on the steps. “Come, little one, time to wake up. There is much excitement to bear witness to.” He nudged Rúmil gently until the elfling stretched his arms wide above his head.

“Did I miss it?” he questioned, scampering down the stairs past Erestor.

“Hardly. I dare say there will be much to see this evening, and it would be near impossible to sleep through it.” Seeing Rúmil approach the entranceway, he pulled the elfling back, a hand on his shoulder.

The trio of elves were still some ways off, and Celebrían had yet to return to the others. Rúmil, devoid of entertainment, began to create his own.

“Tra – la – laaaah. Laa – la – laaaah. Er-ess-torr. Tra – la – laaaah.”

Erestor was familiar with Rúmil’s tune, and knew it could annoy after the shortest amount of time. Instead of telling him to stop, which he knew would not work, he decided to ask about the song’s origin.

“It’s something Ada sings when he bathes,” Rúmil said. “Only, he just does the singing, not the naming. I came up with that myself.”

So Celeborn sang in the shower. Erestor filed this information away for future reference.

“Sometimes, though, he keeps singing even when he’s done with his bath. But that’s only when Nana is there. And when that happens, they say other strange things, and then they tell me to go outside and play.”

So the Lady and Lord of the Golden Woods weren’t afraid if the elfling population was boosted by one. Erestor filed this information away for future reference as well, though more reluctantly.

“Except once, when they told me to go out and play, but I was mad at Haldir, so I hid under my bed, instead.”

As Rúmil opened his mouth again, Erestor was happy to note that the party of elves was within shouting distance, and so called to them over whatever information it was that Rúmil had decided to share with him now.

Ahead of them, Glorfindel showed acknowledgment with an overhead wave. All three were sopping wet, their high leather boots sloshing through the grass. Elrond was a few paces ahead, flanked by the two elven warriors. Erestor smirked, thinking that the Lord of Rivendell looked more like he was going off to battle than to speak with the parents of his beloved. It also amused the advisor to note that all members of the group wore leafy garlands through their hair, and that Haldir had removed the flowers from his.

“You all look as if you’ve run headfirst into a tree,” remarked Erestor when they stopped just before the gateway. Glorfindel crooked a finger at Erestor, who narrowed his eyes and frowned. “What?”

“Come here,” insisted Glorfindel, opening up a small sack that was tied to his belt. From within, he produced a number of strands of ivy leaves.

“Glorfindel, I can’t. Everything is set up, and it’s bad luck to go through the – Fin!” Erestor gasped as his wrist was grabbed and the rest of him pulled through the archway. He stood in front of Glorfindel indignantly as the vines were quickly woven into his dark hair.

“It is worse luck if all the well-wishers do not have their heads adorned with pretty things,” Glorfindel informed him, nudging Erestor back to Rúmil.

Erestor crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “That is not at all true. You made that up.”

“Everything is made up. All languages, words, and letters; all stories, songs, and rhymes,” Glorfindel countered. Haldir looked with suspicion from Glorfindel to Rúmil, and back again, wondering what else his youngest brother had picked up from Glorfindel, or perhaps, vice versa. He had little time to ponder this as he caught sight of his parents walking down the stairs that twisted around the tree, followed by Orophin and Celebrían. Those below stood in respectful silence, even Rúmil, as Celeborn escorted Galadriel to the arch that separated Elrond, Haldir, and Glorfindel from the rest. Above and all around, elves had stepped out on their balconies to witness the event, despite the drizzle and the wind.

As Celeborn approached Elrond, Glorfindel leaned forward a bit to tell the Lord of the Golden Woods, “I know I’m really supposed to be on the other side of this thing, but it’s terrible bad luck to step through either way before the bride, so I’ll just stand back a bit.” With that, Glorfindel moved himself away from the entrance, flashing the irritated Erestor a mischievous grin.

Celeborn nodded, and then focused his attention on Elrond. Behind him, Celebrían stood, and next to her, Galadriel. Orophin had joined Erestor and Rúmil off to the side.

Elrond took a number of deep breaths, steadying himself. For some reason, Celeborn looked an awful lot taller and more imposing than he had ever before. And the fact that the elven lord was dry in contrast to Elrond’s semi-bedraggled appearance didn’t much help matters. He fought off the urge to apologize for his appearance, knowing protocol was for him to present himself and ask for Celebrían’s hand in marriage, but practically all thought seemed to have left him. It wasn’t until he felt a strong squeeze on his upper arm, and turned to see Haldir nod with encouragement that he was able to express his thoughts.

“Your daughter is the most captivating, charismatic, and enchanting elleth I have ever met. She has the best qualities of her parents, and is most beautiful, in mind and in spirit. I am deeply and completely in love with her, and ask for your consent of our marriage.” Elrond held his breath as Celeborn took a step closer, bending so that he could speak softly for Elrond alone to hear.

“I appreciate that you have come to ask formally for her hand in marriage, for it seems you had forgotten to do so before joining.” It was a mild jest, but Elrond still noted that their was a hint of hurt in it, and the half-elf’s ears reddened in embarrassment as Celeborn resumed his former posture.

“Who here will vouch for you and your intentions?”

“I will.” Haldir stepped forward so that he was aligned with Elrond, and looked up at his father, his expression never again more serious. “Elrond is good and just, an honest elf, a hard working elf. He has shown his strength with his deeds, his compassion with his words. And though character such as this is not enough to merit the success of a union, know that Elrond cares for Celebrían, loves her, and respects her.”

Celeborn beamed with pride at his son’s speech, but resisted his urge to embrace Haldir, deferring to proper etiquette as he stepped to the left, revealing Celebrían to Elrond. “Then I give my consent, freely and completely to you, Elrond son of Eärendil. The decision itself, of marriage, is my daughter’s.”

Celebrían stepped forward, reaching toward Elrond, who took both of her hands in his. The archway was still between them, and Elrond softly spoke his simple plea, drawing her hands to his heart. “I need you. I love you.”

“I feel as if I have forever loved you. I cannot bear to think of a future without you.” Celebrían walked under the arch as Elrond pulled her into his arms. A burst of applause and shouts of excitement rang through the trees, and Celeborn called over the din that all were welcome to partake in the festivities in the Great Mallorn.
- - -


Rúmil yawned, trying hard to disguise it as a cough. He had been given permission to stay at the party, provided he did not wander from Orophin, and would retire without a fuss when he became sleepy. Looking up, he found Orophin had been listening to a joke Glorfindel was telling him, and he was thus saved temporarily from his fate.

“Hmm hm hmmmm.”

The sound perked up Rúmil’s ears and he listened, trying to block out all of the noise around him.

“Hmm hm hmmmm.”

Someone was humming his song, and it was most definitely not Ada. Rúmil entered back onto the flet from the porch he’d been on, and listened again.

“Hmm hm hmmmm.”


Through the flet he went, approaching the stairs, he listened again.

“Hmm hm hmmmm.”

His feet padded up two flights before he weaved his way across the flet to another balcony. Standing in the moonlight, barefoot, but mostly dry, was his eldest brother. Haldir had finally torn himself away from the many well-wishers and merry-makers in the lower levels of the tree and was selecting fruit from trays perched upon a windowsill, humming as he sampled the berries he had helped to pick earlier.

“Hmm hm hmmmm.” Haldir picked up a ripe strawberry, still in the midst of swallowing a slice of melon, then paused. Without shifting his gaze from the fruit, without moving away from his spot, he quietly sang out, “Ru-hu-mil.”

“Hal-ee-dear.”

Haldir smiled and bit into the strawberry as the sound of more elves approaching could be heard on the steps.

“We’ve been looking for you all over!”

Haldir looked over at his sister and her future husband sheepishly. “I was hungry,” he admitted, popping the rest of the berry into his mouth and sucking the juice off of his fingers.

“How you can eat now is beyond my comprehension,” Elrond laughed, less nervous and much drier now than he had been earlier.

“Haldir can eat any time. All the time.” Orophin was now climbing the stairs, Glorfindel behind him. “Ah, here he is.” Orophin bent down and picked up Rúmil.

“Or-o-phin,” Rúmil sang, wrapping his arms around his brother’s neck.

“Ru-hu-mil.”

“Oro, Oro!” Rúmil’s finger pointed to Haldir. “Halli sang back to me, he finally sang back to me!”

“Ridiculous,” mumbled Haldir, picking up the wine goblet he’d set on a bench.

“Ridiculous, and yet we heard you humming and singing three flights down. You sing so loudly, we could have found you in the dark.” Celebrían rolled her eyes as Haldir blushed and turned back to the fruit trays.

“Cleb-ree-ann!” Rúmil reached out to hug his sister, twisting away from Orophin’s hold.

“Ru-hu-mil.”

“Clebrí.” Rúmil looked at her with a serious look. “Clebrí, you are going to leave the woods and go to the silly place, aren’t you?”

Celebrían nodded slowly.

“But you’re going to be happy? And you’ll be okay? And I can visit?”

“Yes, yes, and anytime you want.”

“Then I’m happy, too.” Rúmil tightened his hold on her, resting his head on her shoulder, and peered over at Elrond. After a moment’s contemplation, he frowned, causing Elrond to glance around at everyone in an attempt to figure out what he had done wrong. “Your name doesn’t work.”

“My name?” Elrond looked to his beloved, who smiled, patting Rúmil’s head.

“With his song. Ada taught it to him, he uses it to help him remember people’s names.”

“Ah.” Elrond thought for a minute. “There are some who call me half-elven, for I am part elf, and I am part man. A half-elf.”

“Half-elf.” Rúmil repeated the Westron words Elrond had offered, but frowned again. “Nope. No good.” Rúmil shook his head.

“Per-red-hel.”

Everyone turned to look at the elf still on the balcony. Haldir looked back. “It has a nice sound to it. Per-red-hel,” he sang again, shrugged, and drank some wine.

“Per-red-hel,” agreed Rúmil, and grabbed now for Elrond, who plucked the elfling from Celebrían and hugged him.

“Ru-hu-mil,” he sang back, to the delight not only of Rúmil, but the rest as well.

The golden-haired Glorfindel cleared his throat, and boldly let out a “Ru-hu-mil!” trying not to cringe at the anticipated result.

Rúmil considered Glorfindel’s question, and responded with, “Glor-fin-del!”

“Yes!” Glorfindel punched his fist into the air in triumph as the rest of the elves present filled the air with joyful laughter.

“Hal?”

Orophin waited a moment to make sure he still heard Rumil’s even breathing, then tried again.

“Hal?”

Orophin blinked up at the ceiling, arms stretched behind his head. He really didn’t want to move from the comfort of this position, but if need be, he would creep to the other side of the room to wake Haldir. Normally he would have, but after six years of sleeping in a bed that was not his own, he didn’t really want to.

“Hallidear?”

There was a rustle of sheets, a pause, and then a growl. “What?”

“You said you would not have me run off to Imladris for an elleth.”

“That I did.” Haldir recalled the conversation from lunch. “But it matters not for you have already said that your mysterious love lives here, and so you will not stray from the Golden Woods.” Thinking the conversation at an end, Haldir drew up his sheet and closed his eyes.

“Hal?”

This pause was much longer. “What?”

“You would not let me run off to Imladris for an elleth, but...” Orophin sat up in his bed. “You are letting Celebrian run off to Imladris for an elf. I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but are you not being biased in some fashion?”

“Orophin...” Haldir sat up in his own bed so that he could face his roommate. “You are my brother. We share a closer bond, and though Celebrian is close to us as well, she has always had a path separate from ours, or so it seems. I have always thought that we shall do great things, the three of us.” He nodded in the direction of Rumil’s bed. “Elrond told me today that I show a strong devotion to my siblings. But, I think with you and Rumil, it’s more than that. I depend on both of you, just as the two of you depend on me.” Haldir left his bed and went to the pile of cushions in the corner of the room, lounging against them as he sat down on the floor. “I might be the one to protect and watch over you, but you are the ones who make me laugh and enjoy life. I may have to bandage your scrapes and heal your wounds when you take a tumble, but you are the ones who return my caring and concern with a greater love. I would miss you terribly if either of you decided to leave.” Haldir brushed a tear from his cheek. “Celebrian, well, there’s an elleth that can take care of herself,” he said with a laugh.

Orophin had by now crawled out of his bed and onto the floor next to Haldir. He’d waited this long to sleep in his bed, another night wouldn’t kill him, he decided, as he snuggled next to his older brother. Haldir draped an arm around him, pulling him closer. Within moments, his other side was occupied as well, Rumil having woken and silently joined them on the floor. Haldir sighed, content, as he placed his other arm around Rumil, kissing each brother on the top of his head.

“So, who is she?” Haldir asked sleepily when Rumil had drifted back into reverie.

Orophin smiled. “Her name is Valarda,” he answered before he, too, slipped back into a restful state.

Haldir considered the name, eyelids drooping as he relaxed back into the cushions. “Valarda, hmm?” he whispered, before Orophin was asleep again. “Sounds like the adventurous type. Suppose we’ll need an elleth in our little group once Celebrian leaves for Imladris, for I certainly don’t have the time to braid flowers in your hair.” And the three brothers of Lorien slept peacefully to the morning.