“Here you are, dearest.” Elrond handed a slip of paper to Celebrian, who had been sitting on the porch reading letters that had come from her friends in Valimar. She set the one she was currently reading down on the empty part of the bench beside her and took the paper.
“What is- wait, is this for the Yule celebration?” Celebrian jumped out of the porch swing, scattering the letters across the porch. She raced inside as Elrond began to pick up the parchments lest the wind blow them across the lawn. Minutes later, she stomped back out. “Damn.”
Handing her the letters he had collected, Elrond gave her a questioning look. “El-nin, I wanted to choose my own,” she pouted. “Now Haldir will not allow me to pick another, and I shall have to wait an entire year to do so.”
“Well... next year you can choose mine as well,” offered Elrond. This did not seem to entirely satisfy his wife. “Look at it, though,” he said, reaching for the paper she still held folded in her hand. He smoothed out the creases and handed it back. “I cheated,” he admitted in a whisper. “I could feel that these two were the same, so that was why I took them. I thought it would be nice to spend the time planning with you.”
At first, Celebrian smiled and appeared delighted at this gesture, but when she read the paper, she groaned. “What is the matter now?” questioned her husband.
“Singing, again? I did that last year,” she complained. “And the year before. In fact, I seem to pick this one most often.” She crumpled the slip between her fingers.
“Let me speak to Haldir,” offered Elrond. “Perhaps he will let you pick again if he knows of your past history with this task.” Elrond began to walk inside, but Celebrian stopped him.
“No, no, then it would ruin your plans for us to spend this time together.” Celebrian closed the gap between them, embracing her husband and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I wonder who else pulled ‘Caroling’ from the bag? Lindir always gets to because everyone always knows he will anyhow, but we still have two others that will be assigned to the group.”
“Ah, that was the other part of what I wanted to tell you,” he said, happy that she was snuggling against him. “Your mother and father pulled the same thing. Wonderful, isn’t it?”
Celebrian pulled away and blinked. “What?!”
“Uh... you sound less than happy,” he replied as she groaned and started to smack her forehead against his chest.
“No, no, no, no, no...” Celebrian whined quietly. “This is terrible! Do you know how difficult this is going to be?”
“No... not yet...” Elrond smiled immediately as Galadriel emerged from the house, followed by Celeborn, who gave both his daughter and son-in-law a look that said, ‘I apologize ahead of time for... everything’.
“Well, come now, we haven’t all year to plan,” directed Galadriel, ushering everyone down to the swing that Celebrian had been sitting on. She took up a spot on it and patted the space beside her as she looked at her eldest child with a warm smile. Celebrian forced a smile of her own and then sat down next to her mother while Elrond and Celeborn each sat in one of the chairs across from them. “Now, the first thing we need to decide on are the costumes.”
Celebrian cleared her throat in order to interrupt before Galadriel plowed right in. “Sorry, I would have thought the first thing we wanted to discuss was the music.”
“Once we have the right attire, everything else will fall into place. Now, do you still have that red dress?” she asked, pulling out a small notepad and a quill practically from thin air.
“The one you hate?” blurted out Celebrian, a bit miffed.
Scribbling on the notepad, Galadriel laughed. “I don’t think I said that I hate it,” she said, and laughed again. “So you still have it. You will wear that, and I have a green one that will contrast it well. Very festive. As for our husbands...” Galadriel regarded each of them for only a few moments, and shook her head dismissively as she scribbled again. “I suppose it doesn’t much matter what they wear. Now, as for the songs...”
Elrond glanced over at Celeborn, and began to open his mouth, but decided he could leave the witty comments for later. Or...
‘What does she mean, doesn’t much matter? I have half a mind to show up in a potato sack’
Celeborn smirked, hiding it behind his hand as if it were a thoughtful expression that bloomed from whatever it was that Galadriel had said and not the comment spoken to his mind by Elrond. ‘I would not mention that to her if I were you. She decide it a wonderful idea and make us do it.’
‘It could not be any worse than the year she came up with the skit with the goats.’
There was no reply from Celeborn, as there was a growing argument between the two ellith. “The whole point of that dress is so that it does show... a little something,” Celebrian said angrily.
“It is too cold for a sleeveless dress,” Galadriel replied matter-of-factly.
“I am not sewing sleeves onto it to ruin it just for this. You always did hate that dress,” she pouted.
Again, the laughter, a little uneasy now. “It will not ruin it. It will make it more practical.”
“And more archaic,” countered Celebrian.
“You could wear a shawl over it.” Celeborn received glares from both of the ladies, but when Celebrian saw that it upset her mother, she smiled brightly and nodded.
“Perfect solution. Thank you, Ada!” She went so far as to grin at her mother, who missed the expression, for she had her narrowed eyes set on Celeborn. “Now, more importantly, the songs. Obviously, we will do all of the hobbit ones that Samwise likes the most, and the one Rumil wrote, everyone likes that one. What about the one with the magic goats?”
“Absolutely not,” said Galadriel.
Celebrian flinched. “I thought you liked goats.”
“I just think we should skip that one this year. Besides, magic goats? Complete nonsense.”
“Alright,” sighed Celebrian. “What shall we sing instead?”
Again, notes were being made on the pad of paper. “There was a wonderful little song about flying reindeer that I think we should try.”
Squinting her eyes shut and counting to six, Celebrian opened them and smiled cordially as possible. “How are flying reindeer better than magical goats?”
“Reindeer are noble animals. Goats, on the other hand, smell funny,” reasoned Galadriel.
“But you like goats!” argued Celebrian. Looking to her father, she demanded, “Doesn’t nana like goats, ada?”
“The only ones that smell are the ones that aren’t castrated,” he answered.
There was silence, and Elrond shifted just a tad uneasily in his chair.
“I think we should do the goat song,” said Celebrian. “It makes more sense than reindeer.”
“Not really,” disagreed Galadriel.
Closing her eyes again and feeling a headache coming on, Celebrian said, “Yes, it does. We actually have goats, right here. The only reindeer in Valinor are in the Helcaraxe.”
“Yes, but goats aren’t native here in Alqualonde,” returned Galadriel, which came with another faked, tight smile.
Elrond wondered if Galadriel had ever listed among her qualifications ‘Does not play well with others’. That earned a snort covered by a cough from Celeborn, whom he had not severed the mindspeaking connection with yet. “I like the goat song,” he said, speaking up on his wife’s behalf.
“It’s nice that you like it, Elrond,” said Galadriel, scribbling a few more notes down, “but if the planning were up to you, you’d probably have us all singing the goat song and wearing potato sacks. Well,” she said, ignoring the baffled look on his face, “I think I have everything I need. Next week, same time, we’ll meet for practice in the parlor on the south side of the house.” And with that, she was already standing and quickly had gone back into the house.
Waiting until the door was closed, Elrond pointed at the empty doorway and asked Celeborn, “Did she...?”
“Afraid so,” he apologized. “I suppose I can’t complain, though, I’ve done my fair share of eavesdropping on her thought conversations, too.”
Celebrian furrowed her brow and then snapped her fingers. “Oh, the potato sacks!” She giggled at the thought of it, and then sobered up. “Probably best not to think of it again or it may well come true.
“Hurry, hurry, no time to waste. Celebrian, were is your dress?” Galadriel was dressed in dark green flowing fabric, with a shall that matched.
“I didn’t know we were supposed to come in costume,” she said dumbly as she was ushered out of the room.
“Don’t worry about your shoes,” called Galadriel. “Just put on the dress and come back down! Lindir will be here any moment!” Stepping back into the parlor, she picked up a large bundle from the couch. “Celeborn, this is yours,” she said, dumping the package into his hands, nearly causing him to drop it. “Elrond, this one is for you.” A second large bundle was thrust into the dark-haired elf’s arms. “Quickly now, go into the study and change, both of you. I want to make sure the fit is right.”
Lugging the package along as he exited the room with Celeborn, Elrond complained, “This thing weighs a ton. What’s in here?”
“I tried to get them to make your outfits out of potato sacks,” shouted Galadriel, “but they were completely out. It’s all the rage in Valimar now, walking around in a potato sack.”
Once safely out of earshot, Elrond grimaced. “She is never going to let that go, is she?”
They changed relatively quickly, and actually found that the clothing Galadriel had chosen for them was flattering and very well-made. Upon entering the parlor again, they found that Lindir had indeed arrived, and was lounging on the sofa, with a small drum sitting on the floor. Galadriel looked a bit nervous about this, but her mood changed when she saw the ellyn enter. “Perfect! I was hoping they would fit. You both look great! Now, just as soon as Celebrian gets here, we can begin.”
“Good day, Lindir,” said Celeborn to his son-in-law who was staring somewhat dazedly at the wall. He received no reply and looked at his wife for an explanation.
“Lindir’s, ah, under the weather,” she said quickly, and Celebrian chose that moment to enter. “Oh, splendid. And look, with that shawl, you are presentable, who would have thought?” Galadriel missed the daggers glared at her back. “Now, I thought we would start with the song that Rumil wrote and then work on the ones we aren’t so familiar with. Lindir?” Galadriel waited until the minstrel slowly looked in her direction. “Would you accompany us, please?”
Slowly, he nodded, his eyes drifting over to Celebrian. An odd look washed over his face, as if he was contemplating something very hard, as he stared at her.
Uneasily, Celebrian slid closer to Elrond. “El-nin, why is he staring at me like that? Tis a bit creepy.”
“Your mother said he’s under the weather,” he whispered back. Observing Lindir, he added, “Perhaps he is... hallucinating and thinks you are Tallasinde,” he reasoned, referring to Celebrian’s younger sister. “Galadriel, what exactly is Lindir under the weather from?”
“Well...” Galadriel shrugged, and then discretely made the interrealm ‘drinky-drinky’ sign that basically told everyone...
“Great. He’s drunk. Just what we were missing. A drunk drummer.” Celebrian shook her head and walked over to Lindir, picking up the drum. “For now, I can keep the beat,” she said, lifting the drum from the ground. It was quickly snatched from her hands.
On the sofa, Lindir was now hugging the drum to his chest. It was an amusing picture, the fair, lean minstrel cuddling his drum with wide eyes and a wreath of holly and ivy perched on his head, cocked to one side. “I will play for you,” he said quickly, and though he was clearly ‘under the weather’, he struck up a beat and kept perfect rhythm.
“I suppose when your brain is a metronome,” mused Celeborn, and said no more.
“Lindir, that’s very nice, but you can stop until we choose a song to practice,” suggested Galadriel, however, Lindir did not stop. “Alright, everyone,” she shouted over the din. “That song Rumil wrote, from the top.”
“That won’t work; Snowflake Lullaby is a slow song, he’s drumming to march an army in,” pointed out Celebrian. “How about the goat song?”
“No, not the goat song. We decided not to do that one,” Galadriel said with much irritation, more that the drumming was increasing in volume and making it difficult for her to be heard.
“All in favor of the goat song, raise your hand!” Celebrian’s was the first in the air, followed by Elrond’s, and then, almost reluctantly, Celeborn’s.
Looking quite betrayed, Galadriel tried to think of a comeback, but nothing came to mind with the incessant banging. “Lindir! Enough!”
Either Lindir did not hear her, or he, too, was waiting for them to sing the goat song, for he did not stop. Galadriel took a step towards the minstrel, but was held back by Celeborn’s hand around her wrist. “Why don’t we let Elrond and Celebrian take care of things here, and you and I can go up to our room and discuss the list of songs?” Without giving her a chance to argue, Celeborn led Galadriel out of the room.
“Do you think he-“ began Elrond, but Celebrian raised her hand.
“I would rather not think about it, but I have a feeling when they get back she’ll be fairly willing to let us pick whatever songs we want. I do think I am getting a headache, though,” she said, glaring at Lindir. She walked over to him, and yanked the drum off of his lap, bringing quiet to the room. Before he could look up, she had hidden it behind her back.
“My drum. My drum disappeared,” he said in alarm, his wreath around his head drooping further down to cover over one eye. Celebrian nodded.
“The magic goats came and took it away. They said that you can get it back from them in dreamland.”
Lindir blinked as the words swam through his personal fog, until he rose up from the couch. “Then I must go. Find the goats. Get my drum back.”
“Then, you should go do that,” she suggested.
Scrambling around the couch and bumping into a number of inanimate objects along the way that he begged pardons from, he reached Elrond at the door. “There is a king who might come looking for this,” he said, taking the crown from his head, and plopping it onto Elrond’s. “If he asks, you never saw me.” Lindir held his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, looking very serious. When it appeared he would not leave until Elrond assured him of this, he made the same motion. Lindir nodded, backing up down the hallway and continuing to signal that Elrond should be silent about the matter.
- - -
“I was wondering where it had gotten itself to that day,” Thranduil said, chuckling. “Luckily, the ivy grows wild at the Kastle so all I needed to do was have someone go out and make another one,” he said, referring to the leafy crown he often wore.
“For the record, I was not drunk. I was mildly inebriated,” said Lindir in his defense.
“Slightly intoxicated,” offered Melpomaen. “Sounds better,” he added.
Tallasinde exchanged a mirthful look with Vilya and said, “There’s a story that goes with that, isn’t there?”
“And you are going to tell us what it is, aren’t you?” prodded Vilya.
“With pleasure,” announced the minstrel. “It all started when we were getting ready for the celebration…”
Yuletide 495 by Zhie