The lord of the valley was drunk. Drunk, and quite amusing. Some might say later that he provided the best entertainment of all.
Although Erestor and Glorfindel had managed to covertly push the festivities ahead a week, it turned out to be for the best. The cook was put off at the idea of having to arrange for a special feast with so little lead time, and the musicians of the house were in a funk over the idea of being left out of the party planning. Erestor complained more than once (but never directly to Elrond) that he had a score of more important things to do, and Glorfindel simply spent his time attempting to keep the peace between all individuals involved.
The event itself proved to be a delight, even with the Valabronwin declaring it a late celebration of the eve of Tarnin Austa. If anyone was concerned about this, they did not speak about it, and surely they all still had a remarkably wonderful time. The singing, dancing, and feasting was all perfect – and then, there was the wine.
The wine had been procured not from the nearest city of men, nor from elvenkind. It came, along with many barrels of good ale, from a small colony of dwarves that Gildor knew of because of his travels. The price was much better than if they would have gone elsewhere, and the taste according to Gildor was superb. No argument had come from Erestor (who was known to prefer beer to wine and was happy about the ale), and Glorfindel was too busy playing peacekeeper to give the idea much thought.
It was only after Elrond had finished three glasses, then playfully grabbed his wife’s posterior in public with a feral growl that the advisors began to rethink the plan. “I never thought about how he would react to the strength of the wine,” murmured Erestor under his breath as Elrond sat down on one of the benches, pulling a startled Celebrian down on his lap. “Apparently his ‘no debauchery’ rule does not apply to him.”
“Do you think he still plans to drink four bottles of wine?” Glorfindel asked.
“Ah, you managed to get father drunk, I see,” said Elladan, suddenly walking up behind the pair. Placing an arm around each of them, he looked from one to the other, nodding his head. “Very nice. This is going to be the best entertainment of the night.”
“Only if he keeps drinking.” Elrohir approached as well and said, “It wears off of him pretty quick. We found out long ago, unless you keep him drinking he manages to flush it out of his system fast. Of course, if it wears off here, chances are he will be furious that anyone let him get to this point to begin with.” He turned his head, looking to each of the elder elves in turn. “Then again, if he stays drunk all night and gets back to his room to sleep it off, the chances are very good he will remember very little of it tomorrow morning.”
“Erestor,” sighed Glorfindel, “we had best go over and stop him.”
Nodding, Erestor said, “You are absolutely right. He should be drinking right now, not fondling his wife.” Picking up a full bottle from the nearest table, Erestor headed for the intoxicated elf-lord.
And that was how Elrond came to be sitting on a bench he could barely keep from falling off of with a bottle of wine in his hand, ruddy red cheeks, and a smile that was split from ear to ear. “I remember all of the times that I would sneak off to Lothlorien to woo Celebrian. Sometimes, I made it in without any of the guards seeing me and would spend the entire time hidden in her rooms. Not that we ever did anything inappropriate,” Elrond assured his captive audience, but then he smirked and rolled his eyes and followed that with, “Alright, that is a lie, but let us not tell her parents about that.”
Elladan cocked one brow high as he squinted his other eye and turned to give his brother a most amused look. “Your secret is safe with us, Ada,” he mumbled, nudging Elrohir, who was hiding his mouth with a napkin and managed to nod after wiping the tears from his eyes. “Tell us, what other mischief did an elf such as yourself cause?”
“I cause no trouble.” Elrond lifted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply again, chuckling and spilling some as he placed the bottle onto the bench beside him and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt- a shirt that was oh, so luckily, burgundy in color. “Alright, alright, that is a lie as well.” He snorted and chuckled at some private joke while Celebrian, keeping a safe distance away from the group, gave her husband’s chief advisors a withering look.
Waiting until neither Elrond nor Celebrian was watching, Erestor stealthily swapped the almost empty bottle for a full one that he had kept hidden off to the side. When Elrond picked up the bottle again, he nearly dropped it. “This cannot be mine,” he reasoned with a slur in his voice, “mine was practically drained.”
“You must be tired, m’lord,” spoke Glorfindel, looking away from the bonfire where Gildor danced around it wantonly with others of his traveling kingdom. “Surely, the bottle only appears to be heavier than you think it is.”
“Sure.” Elrond seemed to need no solid evidence of this, taking the word of his seneschal as he lifted the wine and drank once again. “My, this is delicious. I hope I am not overindulging- how many of these have I had?” he wondered aloud.
“Three,” said Elrohir as his brother said, “Two.” The twins glanced at one another in a panic, and as their father began to examine the bottle again, Elladan amended, “You have had two full bottles already – that is the third one you are starting right now.”
Elrond’s mind was already occupied elsewhere. “That is spectacular – I should have a go at that,” he said, and stood up to walk to the smaller rings of fire where elves were jumping forth and back over the flames individually or in pairs.
Immediately, Erestor was on his feet as well. “I would really suggest against it, m’lord.”
“Elrond, have you had dessert yet?” Glorfindel put his arm around the elf-lord’s shoulder and tried to steer him in the opposite direction. “The kitchen staff has outdone themselves – come, try the cheesecake.”
“Ullch.” Elrond gave Glorfindel a look of disgust. “Cheesecake is about the most unhealthiest thing you can eat! Do you know what is in it? Nothing but fat and sugar and lard. No wonder you are putting on weight,” he remarked, glancing at Glorfindel’s middle as the balrog slayer’s jaw dropped.
Elrond received no resistance as he turned and made his way once again to the elves leaping over the flames. “Fin, come on, you have to help me!” insisted Erestor, for the twins were now happily leading their father to the bonfires and encouraging his plan, giving him more wine as they walked. Celebrian had become distracted, and the twin peredhel were careful to avoid a path that would take them near their mother.
“Absolutely not. Let him burn, see if I care. He just insinuated that I am fat!” Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest, and then peaked down at his waistline, frowning. Perhaps he did put a few extra pounds on while he was off duty here at the house, but he more than worked them off during his tours on the border.
“We have already been over this,” Erestor said quickly. “He is the one who is fat, and you are just--” Erestor bit his bottom lip at once, and sheepishly grinned. “Nevermind. I have to save Elrond,” he announced as he sped away.
“Well, that is a fine thank you for letting you hide underneath the desk! And I am just what, exactly?” shouted Glorfindel, glaring after Erestor. The dark elf turned around and shrugged with a grin before heading once more after Elrond and his sons.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Elrond gets drunk.