“Have you explained that we have filled most of the positions for unskilled labor?” Elrond’s nose was buried back in the papers he had been looking through. The construction of Imladris was a tiring yet thrilling project, and though he would have liked to have been able to allow all who wished to live in this new realm the chance, he knew that overpopulation at the beginning would cause greater problems down the road. He had been strict about the numbers of particular types of craftsmen and such, and had not overstepped his own rulings.
“He is inquiring as to the position of librarian.”
“Tell him we do not have a library and bid him a good day.”
“My lord, I have already explained this to him, and thus he has told me he will temporarily take the position of stable master for the time being, until such time that it is realized that a library is an essential part of your house,” explained the advisor.
Elrond rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was an elf thinking he could solve things better with his own ideas about running the realm before it was even completed. “Can this librarian ride a horse?”
“Ride them, train them, heal them, and on some occasions, I’ve been known to talk to a few of them.” Elrond looked up to find that the elf in question had been standing in the doorway the entire time.
Elrond stood, beckoning the elf forward. “How does it come that a librarian has such knowledge of horses?”
Sadness came into the elf’s eyes. “A few of my friends in Gondolin insisted I know at the least how to ride. I became quite taken with the creatures. One might consider riding and racing a hobby of mine, if I didn’t take it so seriously.”
“You appear to take many things seriously.” Elrond motioned that they should sit. “Gondolin. That is a realm not often spoke of these days. Were you present at the fall of the realm?”
“Aye.” The deep brown eyes glazed a bit, and were blinked rapidly. “I was one of the last to leave.”
Elrond frowned. “I am sorry, I should not bring up such things from days so sad.”
“The days were happy ones,” the elf corrected him, “it was the evening that brought us all to tears.”
“I’m sorry, I did not get your name, horse master.”
“It is Erestor, Lord Elrond. Erestor of Doriath.”
Elrond raised a brow. “I thought you said just now you were from Gondolin.”
“I lived in Gondolin, aye, but I was born in Doriath, and my heart belongs to that place still in these days when it is lost.” Erestor waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “I am not here to discuss the days of old, however, for the position available is not librarian nor historian, but stable master.”
Elrond placed his hands together, thinking. “If I were to hire you into the house as master of the stables, would you disregard the position if I were to build a library?”
“You would wish me to serve in dual capacity as keeper of your horses and keeper of your books?”
“They are two of the most prized things here in Imladris, and I would want someone capable of the tasks to oversee them.” Elrond let his gaze drift out the window where elves could be seen planting the gardens and painting the exterior of the main house. “Of course, that would take up two positions of my chief counsel. I don’t know how you would feel about holding the title of Chief Advisor as well.
“It would be an honor to have such privilege, my Lord.”
“Welcome then, to Imladris, Master Erestor. I shall send for someone to show you to your quarters.”
Erestor stood, bowed, and went with Elrond to the door. Elrond whistled for a page down the hall, giving him directions on which rooms to show Erestor to. Once the young elf had led the new employee of the house from the office, Elrond scowled at the advisor, still at the door. “Nenniach?”
“Yes, Lord Elrond?”
“The next time an elf walks into this house looking for employment, please see to it that you get their name first.” Elrond shook his head with a sigh. “That was most embarrassing.”
“My Lord?”
“That was Erestor of Doriath. Lord of the House of Silver Stars, if I am remembering correctly.”
Nenniach frowned. “I believe if that he is in fact Erestor of Doriath, it would be the House of the Morning Star.”
“Find out for me, Nenniach, I do not wish to further insult him by not knowing his house…already, I acted a fool by not knowing his name.”
“I do not believe I have a book that would contain such information,” admitted the young elleth. “If only we had a-“
“Library,” finished Elrond for her. “See to it that a suitable place is found within the house to have one. Inform Master Erestor that his first task will not be to see to the horses, but to draw up a list of the books we shall need for the library. And make sure we acquire a few on the subject of heraldry, Nenniach. I do expect you to be able to answer my question as soon as is possible.”
- - -
Elrond slowly drifted out of his reverie, enjoying the last few moments of history relived before beginning a new day, here in Valinor. He had let his mind wander throughout the evening and early morning hours, thinking much about Imladris. Though he admitted it to no one, he greatly missed Rivendell, the Last Homely House, and those whom had remained after he had sailed. Few had come to the West since then, and his hope that one of his most valued friends would some day walk the shore was fast fading.
Always, a part of him felt some guilt regarding his chief advisor. Once a proud noble in lands of old, Erestor had seen more than his share of friends and acquaintances fall to evil forces. Convinced that those who held positions of high rank and power were most at risk, the elf had decided to employ himself as a lower ranked member in the households of various lords and kings. Although he likely could have founded his own realm, Erestor had merely served in Imladris, and prior to that, Greenwood, and Gondolin. He would not even allow reference to his heritage – to everyone, he was just Master Erestor, named so for being the horse master for many years, until the return of Glorfindel.
More even than this, though, was the shadow on Elrond’s conscience regarding the third position Erestor held in the Last Homely House. It was one without title, and yet it was something which had become quite commonplace. Kings, Lords, Ladies, and Queens often times kept an elf who resembled them in some fashion within their realm and close at hand should the need ever arise for a stand-in. In some cases, this could be for events such as dinners and weddings, while other times the task was more dangerous. Most used family members, a child or sibling, though on the rare occasion, another elf was chosen. Never formally stated, Erestor was Elrond’s double for all intents and purposes, and the shame of it was beginning to gnaw at Elrond the longer it took for Erestor to come to Valinor.
An odd birdcall, and one that was unreasonably close interrupted his thoughts.
“Hello, friend, what are you doing here?” Elrond sat up, turning the covers aside as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Did someone leave the door open last night? You poor thing, you must have flown in and not know where you’d gotten yourself to.” Standing near the door, blinking in confusion at Elrond, was a bright pink bird with a black beak and long spindly dark grey legs. The bird tilted its long neck to the side gracefully, and Elrond approached the creature, whispering a few words of comfort. The bird sat down upon the floor, nestling its head onto its chest as Elrond picked it up and tucked it under his arm as he reached for the doorknob. “We’ll have you back outside in no time.”
Elrond headed for the stairs, noticing that the house was unusually quiet. Even though his wife had not been in bed with him when he awoke, this had not disturbed him. Celebrian seemed to require little rest, and was often one of the last to turn in and one of the first to rise. Then again, it could still be very early, perhaps. Elrond turned the corner to the second floor and paused. “It appears your friends are looking for you,” he said to the bird he carried.
In the hallway, three more of the brightly colored birds were uneasily strutting around, poking at the items in the hall and nibbling at the crocuses in the planter. “Come along now, out of the house,” he insisted, shooing this trio down the next flight of stairs. He scowled as he looked over his shoulder, wondering why no one on the second floor had noticed the intruders. Surely Rumil, who was a lighter sleeper than any he knew, had noticed the sounds coming from the hall.
Once on the first floor, Elrond began shepherding the birds toward the front door of the First Homely House when a flash of pink caught his attention. Looking in the direction of the parlor, he saw another bird leap onto the rocking chair, knocking it over. Eyes narrowed, Elrond marched into the room, finding a small flock of the birds congregating around the empty fireplace, peering up the chimney in mild fascination. “Out, out, all of you, out!” Elrond corralled the birds and began to lead them to the door when he saw that the curtains had been drawn in the room, but through a slit in one of them, a bit of pink shone through. “What in the name of Arda is going on?!” he demanded, getting little response from the birds as he rounded them up and escorted them to the door.
Striding ahead of the birds, he was able to reach the door and pull it open before the unwelcome houseguests stumbled out the door. About to step out himself to let the errant one he’d woken up to outside, he stalled, mouth agape, eyes wide. “By the Valar…” His initial reaction was to swear like a wounded dwarf, but instead, he shut the door, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. He opened the door again and stared out. “Bloody hell.” The door was slammed shut, and Elrond headed back upstairs, a confused sea bird under his arm.
On the second floor, he stopped at each door, throwing them open without knocking. The rooms were completely empty, and as he crossed over the walkway to the second floor of the Second Homely House, he had a feeling he would only find more of the same. He tried the third floor of each as well, again with the same results. It was only as he reached the second floor of the addition that he felt anyone’s presence.
“Galadriel!” The lady sat up at the sound of her voice, so rudely shouted, and shaking her from her reverie. Giving an odd look at the elf in the doorway, and the strange creature he held, she sat up, waiting for an explanation. “My yard and my beach are filled with flamingos. Thousands of them! Some of them are even taking over my house!” He tossed the one under his arm in the direction of the bed, and it landed gently next to Galadriel. She patted the head of the bird as Elrond crossed the room in exasperation. “Do not tell me your sons are not involved, for I am certain they are. And likely my wife and children as well.”
Galadriel took a second look at the spot where the flamingo was now preening itself, raising a brow. “I have a good feeling that I can tell you whom the mastermind of this operation was.”
“No doubt,” said Elrond dryly, pulling back the curtain to look outside. “They are all over! It will be nigh impossible to rid this place of them…and the mess!”
Galadriel stepped toward the window, next to Elrond now, pulling a pale grey floor-length shawl around her shoulders. “My word. There have to be five, six thousand at least.”
“I am of a mind to bet there are exactly six thousand and six hundred plus forty of them, Sa’Nana.”
“I am of a mind to throttle my husband if I catch him red-handed before my temper is cooled.” Wrapping the shawl tighter around herself, she left in the direction of the door, Elrond following her close behind.
They stepped out into a sea of pink. Galadriel narrowed her eyes as she took notice of the porch of the First Homely House from her position on the porch of the Second Homely House. Elrond initiated his intimidating stare down, but it mattered very little, for none of the occupants of the porch of the First Homely House were noticing them.
“How much longer do you want to wait for him, Ada?” Rumil was standing next to a table that had been positioned off to the side, rows of champagne glasses lining it. Nenniach was busily repositioning the glasses from the edge of the table.
“He’ll be back out soon. He has to leave the house sometime.” Celeborn had a mischievous glint in his eye as he added, “If he doesn’t we can always go in and get him.”
Orophin frowned. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get this up the stairs,” he said. He was holding onto the back of a specially designed wooden chair that Bilbo Baggins sat in much of the time now. It was comfortably padded and easy to fall asleep in, but it also had two large wooden wheels, one on each side, and a handlebar across the back, so that it could be tilted slightly and pushed with the occupant still sitting on it. For now, it had been decorated with ribbons and bows – pink, just like the flamingos. The esteemed Mr. Baggins was currently residing on the porch swing, sleeping as he did quite often these days. On either side sat an elderly hobbit, these two leisurely smoking pipes, watching the scene with amusement. Nearby, a cloaked figure, looking much like an old man and also smoking a pipe, chuckled to himself, then met the stare from Elrond for only a moment, then again dropped his gaze.
“No, but we can certainly get him down the stairs,” Valarda told him.
Elrond slipped back inside the Second Homely House, followed by Galadriel. “What am I to do? They have brought the hobbits, and Mithrandir, and besides which, I have the worst feeling of all about that thing Celeborn was holding.”
Galadriel allowed Elrond to continue his rant a bit longer, nodding at the appropriate parts. “And even my wife! My sweet wife, standing their, and my children, with who knows what else planned for me.” Elrond crossed his arms, irritated and breathing heavily.
“And the birds, do not forget them,” Galadriel reminded him. Elrond rolled his eyes.
“How in the name of Eru did they find that many flamingos in Valinor? The Valar must hate me,” he finally reasoned.
“But your family must love you. I can’t imagine any other rationale for what they’ve done. Unless they’ve all gone mad,” Galadriel told him.
“We both know that is impossible, Sa’Nana,” responded Elrond. “They’ve all been mad for years now.”
Galadriel nodded. “So do we face them, or sneak away while they all watch the front door?”
- - -
“Quick! Places! He’s coming back down!” hissed Orophin. Everyone scurried to his or her specific marks. Once the door opened and the lord of the house emerged, he was showered in white and pink confetti from above, where the twins and Celebdreth had been perched on the roof. “Surprise!” Everyone, including the now awakened Bilbo, applauded as Elrond smiled and shook his head at the group assembled on the porch.
“Considering your age, we thought you might need a little extra rest today,” Celebrian said, leading Elrond over to the decorated chair. He laughed as if he’d not yet seen it, and sat down only after Celebrian threatened that if he did not, she would have to administer a birthday spanking immediately. Orophin stepped up behind the chair and maneuvered it carefully down the stairs onto the lawn, where Elrond now saw that the majority of the flamingos were nothing more but painted cutouts on thick paper.
Rumil walked alongside the chair as Orophin pushed it. “Here’s the best part, though.” As they reached the edge, Elrond found that a fence, consisting of wooden flamingo-shaped panels had been erected around the property, keeping the real flamingos from fleeing.
“The toughest job went to Haldir, really,” admitted Celebrian when Orophin had wheeled Elrond back near the porch, where a number of tables were now being brought out and set up to accommodate food and drink.
Haldir shook his head. “I had little to do with this party.”
“You only say that because you know he will seek revenge and wish to avoid it,” snorted Orophin. “You might as well admit now your part in all this. Besides, you were quite proud of the feat once it was accomplished.”
The eldest brother, unable to hide his smirk, finally confessed. “It was I who placed the flamingos in the house.”
“Charming. I promise you shall know of the vengeance sought against you before such time that it happens so that you might at least be prepared in advance to be humiliated. The rest of you, I think it safe to say, should sleep with one eye open for a while,” warned Elrond.
“We’re elves, peredhil. We sleep with both eyes open.”
“Wait, that…you know full well what I meant, Orophin.”
“Well happy, happy birthday to you, Lord Elrond,” piped up Bilbo from his perch on the porch. “And now if you’ll not mind an old Baggins, I think I shall take a nap before the fireworks this evening.” Elrond waved to the little hobbit, attempting to stand up from the chair to make his way to the porch, but he was pushed back down.
“We don’t want you to waste your energy, now, my lord. In your newly enfeebled state, you might fall and break a hip or something. Best to just stay here,” Orophin suggested.
“Oh, yes…the revenge I seek against you will be most enjoyable, Orophin.”
Orophin grinned. “I look forward to nothing less than your best, my lord.”
Celeborn stepped slowly to where Elrond was, though whether it was to prolong the inevitable, or because he was flanked by a slow-moving hobbit, none could say for sure. When at last he and Frodo reached Elrond in his seat of honor, Celeborn produced a pointed hat covered in fluffy pink feathers and settled it onto Elrond’s head. “A little something for the birthday elf. I must say, I think pink is your color.” Elrond said nothing. Galadriel had already informed him what her birthday gift to him would be, and he relished the thought of it already.
“Happy birthday, dear Lord Elrond, and many more to you,” greeted Frodo. He took in the flamingos, a little confused. “I must ask, either you are quite fond of the bird, or this is some elf ritual I know nothing of.”
All of the elves in the area either grinned or smiled, and Celebrian said, “There is a very silly and peculiar Westron nursery rhyme about elves that I used to recite to Elladan and Elrohir. It was something my father used to say to me when I was young and needed cheering up," explained Celebrian. “Elrond nearly had a fit when he found the boys could manage the entirety of it, yet still struggled with basic arithmetic. He proclaimed it was silly and that none of the song was true.”
“But not anymore! Ada’s verse ten, now!” Elladan giddily raised his glass. “Here’s to year number six thousand six hundred and forty!”
“I must say,” began Elrond after everyone had toasted. “I am happy to know that the chant has only ten verses and that I can no longer be burdened by it. However,” his lips curled into an almost sinister smile. “I have taken a few moments to think about whose birthdays might yet be complicated by this lovely rhyme, and I can delightfully tell you that there will be another such odd birthday celebration before the year is out.”
“Oh, balrog wings! It’s probably me.” Orophin began to busy himself with figuring out how old he was. Elrond said nothing, continuing to grin. Another hobbit approached, leaning on a walking stick.
“How does the rhyme go?” asked Samwise. “If’n you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, the verse that counts, or the lines pertaining to events right now, goes like this:
If I should ever chance to be
Six thousand six hundred and forty
When I awake I want to see
That many birds beneath my tree
Make them pink and from the sea
All of them shall flock to me
I shall count them all and set them free
Six thousand six hundred and forty.”
Celeborn smirked. “Luckily for me, that is where the poem ends, so I at least know that I needn’t worry about retaliation.”
“I don’t need a rhyme to retaliate, only reason,” said Elrond. He pointed to the pink-feathered hat. “This is reason enough.”
The conversation lulled, and Celebrian seemed to be a bit nervous as she bit her lip, watching the members of the small group mingle with one another. Rumil and Nenniach began passing glasses of champagne out to everyone present, and as soon as the last elf had glass in hand, Celebrian tapped the side of her own glass to gather the attention of everyone.
“I know we’re going to end up having a lovely day of celebration, and a lovely evening of avoiding flamingo droppings,” she began, capturing the laughter of the group. “But I wanted to take a moment not only to personally wish my husband the happiest of birthdays, but also to give him his birthday present.”
“There are children present!” Orophin reminded her, causing more laughter. He then proceeded to use one hand to cover Celebdreth’s eyes, and the other, to cover Celeborn’s, causing more laughter still.
“Elrond, my husband, my lord,” Celebrian gazed lovingly at Elrond, still stuck in the chair with the party hat on, “I can not begin to express the happiness I feel when you are with me and the sorrow for when you are not. We have shared so many things together, and indeed, I hope our adventures together are not yet at an end.”
Elrond smiled. “I doubt they are. I mean, it isn’t as if I’m over seven thousand.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, Elrond,” said Celeborn, countering the insult. “Remember, though I may be over seven millennia, my wife…is…ah…very beautiful and lovely and seems as if my glass is empty and please, Celebrian, dearest, continue, my apologies.” Behind him, Orophin acted out the task of digging a hole.
“As I said, I wanted to give you your birthday present. But I can not.” Celebrian knelt down in front of Elrond, taking his hand into hers. “Not yet.” She placed his hand on her stomach and smiled shyly. “Happy Birthday.”
“I had wondered…I mean, I had hoped…” Elrond said softly. “I was fairly certain…”
“Wait, hold on, that’s old news,” interrupted Orophin. “We knew about this months ago.”
“Truly, we only thought we knew.” Haldir shrugged. “It was my fault. I made it all up so that the nursery would get built.”
“It is a good thing you did,” said Elrond.
Haldir smiled ruefully. “I am sorry. I did not mean to cause such a great deception for so long a time.”
“Deception?” Elrond cleared his throat. “I was never deceived.”
“Were you not?” Celebrian asked, standing once again, but holding onto Elrond’s hand still.
“My dear, for the better part of six thousand six hundred and forty years, I have been a healer. I may not know everything about elvish medicine, but certainly I can tell after a few weeks whether or not an elleth is with child. There are obvious signs.”
“Very obvious signs,” added Galadriel. “Hugely obvious.” She patted her swollen belly with a laugh.
“Well, all’s well that end’s well, then.” Orophin lifted up his glass. “Happy birthday, Elrond, and may the next be not quite so pink.”
“May the next six thousand be not quite so pink,” added Mithrandir as a near-sighted flamingo ran into the wizard’s leg.
The party continued well into the night, ending with one of the fabulously famous fireworks displays. The three brothers sat on the shore, bare feet caressed by the tide as dragons and flying horses lit the night sky.
“Oh, no,” groaned Haldir in sudden realization.
Orophin and Rumil looked at him with alarm as a burst of gold showered the sky above. “What is it?” questioned Orophin.
“Guess how old I’m going to be this year?”
“Oh, no…” Rumil’s words of sympathy came out as a chuckle.
“Ah, yes…verse five, then, isn’t it?” Orophin laughed quietly, then added, “You are in deep trouble, brother.”
“Ai…” groaned Haldir again, hanging his head, as a mist of pink and white sparkles rained down upon them.