Dinner was eaten quietly this evening. After the typical exchange of greetings, there had been little said, with the exception of passing a basket of rolls or the bowl of gravy, and sometimes these had been done with a nod or a look. It was only when Gilraen offered to wheel the trolley into the hallway that Elrohir asked the question that had been lingering for months. “Are you planning to marry her?”
Elrond was midsip when asked, and he actually spit the wine back into the goblet slowly, setting it aside as if the taste was acrid. “I have no intention of replacing your mother,” he told them.
“That was not an answer,” scolded Elrohir, and Elladan raised a hand to quiet his brother as Gilraen entered again. Elrohir lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth, and then stood up. “Excuse me. I have work to do. Thank you for a lovely dinner,” he added before he rushed out the door.
Elladan did not leave with as much haste. “Yes, thank you for dinner.” He lifted his hand to wipe at his mouth, and left his fingers there to tap at his lips in thought. “I wonder if Estel is enjoying his visit in Mirkwood,” he mused. “I suspect he is having some grand adventures there.”
Elrond shook his head as Gilraen moved to pour more wine for him. She frowned slightly at his change in demeanor, and looked to the door that Elrohir had left through only moments ago. “More wine?” she asked Elladan.
“Please,” he said after a moment of consideration. He sat forward and lifted the glass toward her so that she did not need to move. “Thank you,” he said as she tilted the bottle. When she smiled and caught his gaze for a moment, he added, “Thank you for bringing joy into these rooms again.”
It caught both Gilraen and Elrond offguard, so much so that Gilraen nearly overpoured the wine. She set the bottle down again and nodded once. “Your father is.. he has been..”
“You are good for him,” continued Elladan, sitting back to nurse his wine. “And I suspect that he is good for you.”
At this, Gilraen blushed, and Elrond gave Elladan a warning look, but Elladan only chuckled. “Am I my brother, father? Nay, I have not his temper, nor even his thoughts.” He raised his glass. “To your continued happiness—and I am most sincere about that. I have much enjoyed... having a...” He cut himself off and gave a little shrug. “If that is...”
He cringed suddenly as Elrohir shouted at him. The words were not for the others to hear, and came into his head through the connection they shared. ‘Elladan! Where are you? So help me if you call her mother, I will strangle you!’
Well aware of what had transpired, Elrond gave a nod of his head toward the door. “He awaits you, Elladan. Do not upset your brother more than I have already.”
Elladan sighed and stood up. “Have a good evening,” he offered them both. He drank the wine in his glass in one go, and then stopped to lean down and give Gilraen a hug. “He will come around some day. He is just stubborn – like my father.” Gilraen smiled slightly at this and nodded.
Elrond quirked his brow in his usual fashion at Elladan’s words, but accepted the hug from him when his son came around to him. “I think, father, you must do what you wish. Elrohir’s all smoke and no fire. I think, given time, he will learn to accept much, and see that your happiness is worth it.”
Before it became more awkward, and before Elrohir shouted at him again, Elladan took his cloak from the hook (as well as the one that Elrohir forgot when he stormed out) and left the suite. It did not take long to find Elrohir, who was standing around the corner of the back stairway. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to leave me here.”
“No, I would never do that,” answered Elladan. “What would you care to do this evening?” he asked as he fell in step with his brother.
“I am tired of this scandal,” spat Elrohir as they made their way down to the main floor, walking through the inner courtyard. “This is ridiculous! She is mortal!” he continued, and several heads turned toward the identical pair as they walked beyond the fountains and statues, around the columns, and crossed the area to reach the doors that would take them into the Hall of Fire. “If father is unwilling to act as he should, then I see no reason for us to.” Elrohir turned and pulled both of the great doors open at the same time, and marched forward down the steps.
Elladan glanced behind them, noticing that those in the courtyard were busying with something other than looking at the Hall of Fire entrance. With a sigh, Elladan followed after his brother.
There were few in the Hall of Fire at this time; most were still dining with their families or friends. Those who were here already were those who were often here. Lindir, the chief minstrel, stood near the entry and greeted those who were already coming to enjoy the evening in the hall. A little further in, a small group was gathered around Sogadan, who was providing wine to those who wished it. Near the fires, a harper sat and played, nearly blending into the surroundings if not for his music alerting others that he was there.
Elladan watched as his brother wandered to where the wine was being dispersed, and narrowed his eyes with some concern as Elrohir slid beside one of the junior councilors and whispered to him, hand upon the councilor’s shoulder. A smile slowly formed on the younger Elf’s face, and with a nod, he craned his neck to whisper back. Elrohir took three bottles of wine from Sogadan, then sauntered back to Elladan. “He said you can come,” said Elrohir as he passed by and slid a bottle of wine into his brother’s hand. Not a moment later, the Elf that Elrohir had spoken to came past Elladan as well, smiled, and winked as he left. Elladan glanced around. It seemed that the minstrels were engaged in their own world, minding their harps and lutes. Sogadan was busily speaking to another wine connessouir, and the few others who had entered the Hall of Fire were sitting in groups of two or three, talking softly.
Taking a deep breath, Elladan turned and left the hall again, finding his brother was standing at the entrance watching something across the room. Elladan shifted his gaze and saw the Elf from the hall standing by one of the traveling healers Gildor kept in his company, looking over a selection of balms, oils, and salves. “You know, I have.. I go along with a lot of your crazy ideas, El, but I think you are rushing into things.”
Elrohir turned his head. “He said you could come along, but no one is forcing you to.” As the elf in question deposited a few coins into the healer’s palm, he looked up and winked in the direction of the twins. “Stay here. Why not go up and have dessert with father and his mistress?”
“She is not—“ Elladan bit his tongue as they were approached. Elrohir linked arms with the Elf from the hall. “El,” hissed Elladan.
“You told him he could come, right?” purred the Elf on Elrohir’s arm. Elrohir nodded and led the way outside. Elladan made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper before he drew the hood of his cloak up over his head and followed at a considerable distance, every moment turning his head to give wary looks behind.
Meanwhile, one of the valley’s forgotten guests was searching high and low in order to find the acting seneschal about a matter he was rather bothered by. Of course, he was state he was ‘rather bothered’ or ‘mildly concerned’ when he really meant he was pissed as hell over the whole thing. “Ah, Master Lindir,” called out Gildor when he found the minstrel standing in the middle of the council balcony holding a mop. “I was hoping to find you so that we.. could discuss..” Gildor paused, for Lindir was wearing a very sour expression upon his face. It did not take Gildor long to realize it had nothing to do with him. “Whatever happened? Bring your elfling to council day?”
There was food everywhere, and plates and bowls and cups overturned and smashed. Far too many empty bottles of mead were discarded for this to have been an event for children. “The Dwarves,” grumbled Lindir. “Every day, every night.” There were several other Elves around with buckets and brushes, scrubbing off rails and statues and places that it seemed should not be caked with the assortment of foods Gildor saw.
“Did you say Dwarves?” Gildor’s mood brightened. “What a surprise! Where are they?”
Every head turned to regard the wandering lord oddly. “Gone, sir,” replied Lindir. “Thank Eru and all of the Valar.”
“Gone? Gone where?” Gildor’s foul mood returned in an instant. “Away?” Several heads nodded to him. “What a shame! And no one thought to call upon me?” He huffed when all those present shrugged or frowned. “Gildor IN-GLOR-I-ON. Inglorion, Felagund, my father, the friend of Dwarves. I speak fluent Khuzdul,” he added when he realized that none of them were catching on. They all stared, and he added, “Buzunal ai-menu Duzhuk!”
“Oh. That might have helped,” replied one of the brigade that was tidying up before he rejoined his companions in their scraping and scrubbing.
Lindir bowed his head apologetically. “Sorry, sir. Without Erestor here, no one suspected there was anyone here who would speak to them. Lord Elrond managed what little he could.”
“Erestor.” Gildor’s eyes darkened. “Erestor is a hack. Everything he learned about Khuzdul he stole from me. He gets the pronouns wrong all the time!” He straightened his tunic before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Just where is Lord Elrond?”
“Lord Elrond has asked not to be disturbed.”
Gildor shook his head in disbelief as he turned and took the steps down from the balcony. “Why am I even here?” he grumbled to himself.
