It was early evening when the escort of Galadriel of Lorien arrived in Imladris. Although dusk was now falling, many of the elves in Imladris flocked to windows or balconies to catch a glimpse of the arrival.

As news of the approaching party reached the inhabitants of Imladris, many of the youngest boys had raced down to the courtyard, eager to see the famed archers that accompanied the Lady of the Wood and her daughter. For it was not unknown for a kindly hearted archer to allow a child to examine a bow, or to boost a child onto the saddle to be led around the yard.

The remainder of the elves though were waiting to see Galadriel, famed for her beauty and feared for her powers. And they would not have long to wait; for at that moment two white horses entered the courtyard, and on them, wrapped in grey capes were Galadriel and her daughter Celebrian.

~*~

Elrond, who had been watching the proceedings from the safety of his study, strode out into the yard at this point. The crowd of archers, guards and over excited elflings moved aside so as to give him a clear path to his guests.

"Galadriel," he bowed his head in reverence before extending a hand, "It is a pleasure."

"Master Elrond," a gloved hand gently took his and she dropped lightly from the saddle. She was glad to be here, safe from the worries of the journey, finally allowed to rest. However her weariness must not show as yet. There would be much to do before she would lay down that night.

Elrond moved over to the small figure, which was looking rather anxious. A small smudge of dirty was on her left cheek and her exhaustion was evident from her position in the saddle.

"Lady Celebrian"

"Master Elrond," she muttered flushing under the attention of hundreds of pairs of eyes. It may have been her tiredness, or just discomfort under such close scrutiny that caused her to stumble as she dismounted. Slipping on the stirrup she fell forwards slightly, grasping tightly to the supporting hand in her fear. Elrond moved forwards and caught her as she fell, setting her back on her feet.

Her cheeks now a fetching shade of strawberry, Celebrian scurried to stand beside her mother, unable to continue any conversation in her embarrassment. Elrond sighed in relief as the vice like grip on his fingers was released. Celebrian certainly was not lacking in strength.

Taking Galadriel's arm, they led the way into the house, with Celebrian walking with as much grace as she could muster beside Glorfindel. Galadriel paused at the top of the steps, turning to her men and signalling that they could stand down.

As the guests of honour walked through the doors the Captain of the Guard began issuing orders, sending the wide eyed elflings who were calling excitedly to each other in high pitched voices back to their parents.

~*~

Having given his guests a brief tour of the house Elrond returned to his study to work before dinner, and Celebrian and Galadriel were escorted to their rooms.

He stood a while, watching them as they proceeded down the hallway to the finest sleeping quarters. Both women were dressed alike for the journey in grey leggings, tunics and capes with boots and gloves of a pale fleece lined leather. While Galadriel wore the unfamiliar garments with her usual grace, Celebrian appeared less comfortable. The guests drew many curious glances as they passed by and Celebrian appeared convinced that these were due to her masculine dress. Indeed Elrond had difficulty not laughing aloud seeing her walk stiffly, hopping slightly to pull down her cape to hide more of her body.

She had yet to learn her mother's poise.

Celebrian waited for the guide to depart before leaving her own room and slipping into her mothers.

"Ammë," Celebrian flopped unceremoniously onto her mother's bed, rubbing her cheek against the soft pillows, "The pillows are nice."

Galadriel observed her daughter calmly, as she removed her boots and hung her cloak on the wall. She knew why her daughter was in here.

"I fell on him Ammë, everyone was watching and I fell," Celebrian spoke angrily, irritated with herself.

Galadriel sat down on the bed beside her, drawing back the hood and stroking the soft blonde curls that had come loose from their braids.

"It does not matter, melin, it will soon be forgotten," Galadriel did not bother telling her daughter that she would learn more as she got older. She had a feeling that Celebrian was as Celebrian did, and that she would never quite be the cool graceful princess that she felt she needed to be.

"I shall not forget. Did you see his face?" Celebrian went red at the memory. Galadriel laughed softly, Elrond's face had indeed been a picture, but she did not think that was what Celebrian was referring to.

"I cannot do anything right!" Celebrian cried out, absorbed in her own imperfection. It was not easy to measure up to a mother who had had thousands of years of practice.

"Celebrian," Galadriel said in a no nonsense voice, "It does not matter what has passed, but if you do not wish to attend the feast in your riding clothes, I would advise returning to your chambers to change."

~*~

In one of the many glades found in the forests of Imladris two elves were deep in combat. The taller of the two was younger in appearance, his fair colouring ensuring he turned pink during any period of exertion. His cheeks were flushed at present and tangled strands of blond hair stuck damply to his forehead. His opponent contrasted this fair colouring with dark hair, tied back from his face in three braids. Although he moved less quickly than the younger elf, there was more thought behind his tactics, and the two were evenly matched.

Unperturbed by the clang of swords and soft curses from the combatants, an older elf sat leaning against a tree just feet away. A pile of papers lay to his side, and he sat in silence, perusing a letter that had arrived a few hours ago. Physically he did not look much older than the two before him, for all three were grown and elves do not age quickly. However there was wisdom and sorrow in the grey eyes that was lacking as yet in the faces of the other two.

This was Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor. He was not an infrequent visitor to Imladris, for its Lord held the offices of Vice-Regent of Eriador and standard bearer and they often had need to talk. Today though, his visit was to see Galadriel, for they had urgent matters to discuss. Matters of great importance.

"Surrender!" The dark-haired elf demanded, pinning his opponent against a tree. The blond elf blinked twice, dropping his arms slightly. The sword next to his throat relaxed. Ducking so quickly that he nearly lost an ear, he spun round pinning the other elf against the tree rather less gently than he had been held himself.

"That was a dirty trick Glorfindel," Elrond scowled as he was released after declaring the other the victor. Maybe he had not known Glorfindel long enough, but it was still surprising that an elf with so many ballads about his bravery and honour would be so well schooled in deviousness and deception.

Glorfindel laughed, rolling his eyes at the King.

"'Tis you who are so innocent"

Elrond flashed him a foul look as he re-sheathed his sword. Glorfindel met his look, widening his eyes in mock innocence.

"Do not look at me so Elrond! In any case you have greater things to worry about than shameful defeats," Glorfindel skipped out of the path of a well aimed elbow, glancing up at the sky, "It is not I who has ten minutes to get changed before meeting my guests!"

Elrond looked up in shock. The sun had gone down more quickly than he had realised and the shadows were now long and cool. Cursing under his breath he took off along the path back to Imladris.

Glorfindel burst into noisy laughter, watching his friend depart. Elrond stopped suddenly and turned round, his face serious apart from twitching edges to his lips.

"Glorfindel," Elrond called in his most regal voice, "As Lord of Imladris I am pleased to inform you that you will be joining me in meeting the guests before dinner."

Glorfindel swore loudly, joining Elrond in the sprint back to the house.

There was not much left for Gil-Galad to do but gather up his papers and wander leisurely back to the house, laughing to himself.

"Should we not be met here?" Celebrian asked her mother anxiously. They had been escorted to the grandly decorated sitting room near the great hall to talk before dinner. However on arrival their host had been nowhere to be seen, and several minutes later they were still alone.

Galadriel looked up from the book that she was leafing through.

"We should but I am sure there is good reason," she paused considering what comments her daughter might come up with. Celebrian was quick to speak and although she had harmless intentions she often regretted them when repeated out of context, "It is wise to pretend that you have not noticed their absence."

"Yes Ammë," Celebrian fiddled with a rose in one of the vases. Her friends in Lorien still hadn't forgotten the 'Is that your sword?' incident.

There was the sound of running feet coming down the corridor followed by a pause as whoever it was halted some feet away. The footsteps began again, this time at a more measured and careful pace.

"Good Evening," Elrond entered with Glorfindel at his heels.

Celebrian stared at the newcomers. Both had flushed cheeks and were breathing heavily. Elrond's circlet was askew and the neck of Glorfindel's shirt was rumpled under his tunic. Surprised she opened her mouth to speak.

"Ah good evening," Galadriel cut in rapidly pretending she hadn't noticed the decidedly wet hair in rather hurried looking braids, "Shall we sit?"

They greeted the women with a nod and sat down with as much dignity as they could muster.

"And how is Lorien? It is a long time since I have set foot in the fair wood," Elrond tried to make his voice sound normal.

Celebrian let the voices in polite conversation drone on over her head. She was too busy trying to avoid giggling out loud as she watched Glorfindel wriggle uncomfortably, trying to straighten out his shirt from under his tunic.

"Celebrian," her mother's voice broke across her thoughts, the tone indicating that it was not the first time that she had been called, "Elrond was inquiring as to whether you liked the valley?"

Celebrian looked up to find Elrond looking at her, waiting on a reply.

"Oh," Celebrian flushed under the interested gaze, "I . . . er. . . yes. Very much. The river you know."

Glorfindel made a strange sounding cough and looked hard out of the window. Elrond glanced at Galadriel with a small secret smile on his lips.

"Perhaps one evening you would be so kind as to accompany me for a walk along the banks?"

"Oh yes," Celebrian flustered wishing she had mentioned the trees instead. Walking with Elrond alongside large quantities of water seemed like the perfect set up for one of her humiliating speciality shows. "I mean that would be quite delightful thank you."

Elrond sat back with a smile and a nod.

"Quite delightful," Galadriel agreed with a slightly mischievous glint in her eye. Elrond was gaping at her daughter in much the same way that Celeborn had looked at her when they had first met; "We shall look forwards to that very much."

~*~

Eventually the bells sounded for dinner. Elrond stood up and turned to his guests.

"Shall we go to dinner?"

Glorfindel coughed slightly and scratched the top of his head lightly. Elrond looked, smiled at him and turned to Celebrian, offering her his arm. Glorfindel coughed more loudly and tapped his head somewhat harder. Elrond stared at him puzzled, his mouth open. His friend had clearly finally cracked. Celebrian could hold it no longer and dissolved into giggles. Even Galadriel seemed to be slightly amused.

"Here," Celebrian stood on tiptoes to adjust the circlet into a more respectable position.

"Thank you," Elrond mumbled, his cheekbones and ears burning red.

Celebrian smiled up at him, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Celebrian, come let me escort you to dinner!" Glorfindel crossed the room at speed, slipping his arm through hers.

Elrond shot him a look of pure annoyance. Glorfindel raised his eyebrows grinning.

"Galadriel," Elrond tried to sound pleased, "Let me take your arm."

"Allow me, Lady Celebrian." Glorfindel whisked the sauce to her plate the instance that she opened her mouth to ask for it. This gentlemanly act was rather spoilt by the smug grin he sent Elrond.

"Oh thank you, Lord Glorfindel." Celebrian smiled at him as she accepted the dish. Who would have thought that the young male elves in Imladris would be so much more mature and helpful than their counterparts in Lorien?

"It is a pleasure," Glorfindel smiled sweetly, glancing at his friend who was fuming quietly at the end of the table. Elrond lowered his eyebrows and scowled at his friend.

"Why Elrond, would you like some sauce too?" Glorfindel offered him the relish. As the attention turned to him, Elrond tried hard to turn his scowl into the kind of benevolent expression suitable of a leader. The result was not satisfactory causing Glorfindel to add mischievously, "Swallowed something hot?"

Elrond tried to smile as Celebrian and her parents turned to look at him. The moment they looked away his face adopted a foul look that he aimed at Glorfindel.

Gil-galad watched this exchange curiously. While he was used to the playful antics between the pair there definitely seemed to be something in the wine tonight. Glorfindel caught his eye and gave him a grin more worthy of an elfling who had just thought up a particularly devious plot. The blue eyes moved to from looking at Elrond to looking at Celebrian and back to Elrond. Gil-galad watched as Elrond's eyes lifted from his plate and glanced at the pretty young elf that was trying not to choke as she realised that she'd taken a forkful of the extremely strong tasting sauce by mistake.

The High King's sudden grin mirrored Glorfindel's in both look and intention.

~*~

"Allow me," Gil-galad grabbed the sauce dish rather hastily from under Glorfindel's outstretched fingers and dolloped a generous amount on Celebrian's plate.

"Thank you your highness," Celebrian murmured turning scarlet. There was something rather disconcerting about being served by a king. Especially when he was trying hard not to laugh. She wondered if she was obliged to eat the tasty but rather overpowering addition to her plate. She had merely been intrigued by the intricate design on the dish. After her fifth helping of sauce she was no closer to examining the artwork but her father was giving her funny looks.

"I did not know you had grown so fond of horseradish whilst I was away, Celebrian." Celeborn observed dryly as he took a mouthful of meat.

"I'm not. They keep giving it to me," Celebrian whispered turning to her mother with a pleading look, "Must I eat it Ammë?"

"Yes," Galadriel said in a low voice. She had always told Celebrian to eat everything on her plate and she was not about to bend rules during a formal feast. She raised her voice, hoping at least to distract the attention of Celebrian's all too eager 'helpers', "Gil-galad I would appreciate your council later, we have much to discuss."

Celebrian tried to smile sweetly, as the daughter of the Lord and Lady of Lorien must, as she spooned down horseradish. Elrond had started watching her with a somewhat perplexed look only increasing the rising colour in her cheeks. Desperately she grabbed her glass and gulped down the cool water.

"Allow me!" Three hands shot out for the unsuspecting jug of water, all equally enthusiastic about the prospect of refilling Celebrian's glass. Unprepared for such an assault, the jug shot down the table spilling its contents in a deluge over the tablecloth and remaining food.

"Most unfortunate," Gil-galad withdrew his hand quickly and concentrated on looking kingly as Celebrian, Celeborn and several other guests leapt to their feet as the edge of the table began to resemble the great waterfall that entered the valley.

Glorfindel and Elrond looked at each other as they regarded the flooded meal in front of them. His mouth open in surprise Glorfindel guiltily let his hand creep back to his napkin. Elrond was now looking very much the angry elf lord of Imladris. However it was his hand that was left in place when several pairs of accusing eyes turned towards them. Glaring alternately at his friend and his king, Elrond snatched back his hand and tried to murmur something soothing to the damp guests.

Soaked though she was, Celebrian could not help feeling rather satisfied. Not only was she free from blame for the disturbance, but also the remaining mound of horseradish on her plate was now only a damp puddle. And the young dark-haired elf lord that she had fallen on earlier that afternoon looked all the more. . . desirable. . . when annoyed.

"Elrond!" Gil-galad called as a rather annoyed elf lord stalked out onto the terrace. He and Glorfindel had been enjoying a drink, recalling the look on Celeborn's face as their small tidal wave had reached him. Glorfindel's face kept breaking into a big open grin, a sure sign that he was particularly happy. However both recognised that the joke had gone a touch too far and fell silent as Elrond strode towards them.

"Good Evening," Elrond said angrily, glowering at the blond elf who had the sense to look rather abashed.

"It was wrong of me. I am sorry." Glorfindel managed a fairly sincere apology seeing how annoyed his friend was with the incident.

Elrond sat down with an incredibly disgruntled air, his back to the blond elf. Gil-galad raised his eyebrows and gave his heir a 'behave' look, a look that Elrond hadn't seen since he was a tiny elfling.

"It matters not," Elrond turned around and spoke in a voice that left no doubts as to its insincerity.

"That is better," Gil-galad ignored the tone of the remark and slapped Elrond affectionately on the shoulder, "And as for my part, I too am sorry for any misfortune my gallantry has caused."

Elrond scowled at the King but accepted the glass that was offered to him, taking a long drink with a sigh.

"Is it that bad?" Gil-galad asked in an amused voice. Glorfindel caught his eye and both broke into laughter.

"It is not amusing whatever you fools may think," Elrond narrowed his eyes at the laughing pair, "Lord Celeborn is an important ally. It will not do to . . ."

"Oh Lord Celeborn!" Glorfindel interrupted with the air of one who has just made an important discovery. Elrond gave him a look that would have slain a lesser elf.

~*~

"Lady Celebrian has grown into a pleasant young lady," Gil-galad commented casually. It was the third time that Elrond had steered the conversation away from the pretty blonde elf and it was the third time that Gil-galad had succeeded in steering it back.

"Indeed! She is quite beautiful!" Glorfindel said a little too loudly in his attempts to avoid laughing, "Uncommonly so!"

Elrond glared at him, thinking of all things sharp and blood stained. There was a large armoury in Imladris and he held the key.

"Elrond?" Gil-galad asked, the left corner of his mouth twitching. Glorfindel choked on his drink and had to be slapped on the back a few times before he recovered. A task done with much gusto by Elrond.

"She is a. . ." Elrond paused as he searched for an adjective. Something bland and un-incriminating. "A good ambassador for her people."

Glorfindel and Gil-galad agreed as they watched their friend slowly turn red. Anyone who could consume that much horseradish in the name of diplomacy had gained their unquestioning respect.

"It is a warm evening," Glorfindel said with only a hint of devilry, "You look quite hot my friend."

Elrond promptly began turning a colour close to magenta and the troubled grey eyes sank to the floor. Gil-galad got up with a yawn, it was getting late and he felt that it was time that the torture of the poor lad ended. In any case he didn't know how much longer he could go without laughing out loud.

"Well, I must bid you good night."

Elrond looked up and opened his mouth as if about to say something then changed his mind. Gil-galad watched him a few seconds to see if he would pluck up the courage to continue, but he was not forthcoming. He squeezed Elrond's shoulder in support and then left, passing through the archway to the bedrooms.

"I too shall turn to bed," Glorfindel sprang up grinning broadly adding over his shoulder, "Sweet dreams Elrond!"

~*~

"Quite a scene. I do not know what came over them." Celeborn unfastened his shirt as he talked to his wife. He had been staying in Imladris for quite some time and he had never seen the young Lord quite so awkward or ungainly. The thought that his daughter was contagious passed through his mind.

"They are yet young," Galadriel leant over the edge of the bed brushing her hair, "and foolish."

"They behaved like little elflings trying to win a maiden's favour," Celeborn splashed water on his face. The silence from his wife made him whirl around aghast. "You do not think. . ."

The arrival of his daughter in the bedroom cut off whatever he may have said next.

"Adar, it is wonderful to be with you again." Celebrian embraced him tightly. She had decided that if the Lord of Imladris was allowed to wander around with a circlet hanging over his ear then there was nothing wrong with skipping down the corridor in her nightdress and gown.

"It is wonderful to see you both again." Celeborn returned the hug, trying to keep his tone from implying that it would be all the more wonderful if he were to be given some time alone with his wife.

"It was a long day child, you must be tired." Galadriel kissed her daughter before climbing into bed. Celebrian was dancing on the spot looking perfectly delighted with life, a first for the aftermath of any formal occasion. "So Celebrian, what do you think of Imladris?"

"I like it here Ammë, I think it is wonderful." Celebrian's face shone with happiness as she elaborated. "They're all so. . .so. . .silly!"

Galadriel could only hope that that explanation would not be repeated in a formal setting.

This would not do, he must know. Leaving the table in a mess Elrond chased after his friend. The sound of the hurried footsteps on the paving caused the blond elf to turn round in surprise. Elrond approached his waiting friend rather awkwardly.

"Glor," Elrond touched the dark blue sleeve of his friend's tunic, "Would you walk with me a while?"

Glorfindel turned to the dark-haired elf, looking at his face as if appraising his intentions.

"Surely."

The two strolled through the moonlit gardens and along the path to the deep pool at the edge of the waterfall. Here Glorfindel sat down on a flat moss covered stone and observed his fidgeting friend with an impatient air.

"Out with it Peredhil! What bothers you so?"

"Oh," Elrond paced along the pebbles on the shore "It is nothing."

Glorfindel rested his chin on the palm of his hand, laughing at the uneasy half elf.

"Nothing? I know you too well Elrond," he looked hard at where Elrond was tugging at his left index finger with his right hand, "And when you squirm so we know there is something bothering those worthy thoughts of yours!"

Elrond's hands dropped rigidly to his side. Glorfindel was looking at him curiously, eyebrows raised. The Lord of Imladris licked his lips nervously.

"Glor," to Glorfindel's amusement his friend flushed deeply, "I. . . I find that Celebrian. . . I like. . . she has nice hair!"

"Yes," Glorfindel agreed affably trying to hide his grin, "Her hair is indeed fine."

Elrond scowled deeply and bent to pick up a stone.

"And she is pleasant company," instead of skimming the surface the stone entered the water with an inelegant splash.

"Indeed she is entertaining." Glorfindel bit hard on his tongue to avoid grinning.

Elrond whirled around to look at his friend wondering if he was being deliberately thick.

"I like her Glorfindel! I like her a lot. I almost. . ." Elrond paused and strode over to stand in front of his friend, "Tonight you. . . are you fond of the Lady Celebrian?"

"She is a fine lady," Glorfindel broke into a broad grin deciding to torture his friend no longer, "But not in the manner you speak of, no."

Elrond relaxed, relief flooding into his face.

"Then why. . .?"

"Why?" Glorfindel's face lit up in laughter. "Why? You are so easy to bait Elrond. And I must amuse myself!"

Elrond shot his friend a look that was certainly not appreciative of the brave warrior and slayer of Balrogs.

"So you would not resent my attentions?"

"No," Glorfindel shook his head still chuckling away at his own joke.

"She is so beautiful," Elrond paced off before swinging around aggressively, "And you have no feelings for her?"

"No Elrond I do not." Glorfindel repeated as he looked up at his friend's face. Elrond clearly did not believe him. Or he could not believe that anyone who looked upon his beloved would not also fall in love. "You do not understand Peredhil."

"I will not mind if you share my attraction," Elrond said earnestly as all mirth left the younger face, "I will more than understand."

Glorfindel stood up suddenly and began striding back up the path to the house.

"No Elrond, you do not understand. You cannot."

"Glor?" Elrond rushed after his friend confused by the sudden sadness in the familiar voice.

Sighing heavily Glorfindel sat down on a fallen tree trunk and stared morosely out across the pool.

"There was one once. One who said that she would wait for me." Glorfindel dug his fingernails into the soft moss, "My heart does not belong here Elrond. My heart belongs to a place and people that no longer exist. I do not belong here."

Elrond sat down and placed his hand on his friend's arm. When this produced no adverse reactions he rubbed it slightly. He had no idea how to or even if he should attempt to comfort such an elf lord.

"You have family Glorfindel."

"My family is gone Elrond, they have left without me." Glorfindel suddenly found something very interesting to look at the opposite direction from Elrond's face. Elrond sighed. He understood that all too well. Had it not been for the King he too would no longer have anyone to call family. However in founding Imladris he had found a peace and friendship that had been so far lacking in his life.

"You are family to me. My family is your family."" Elrond squeezed his hand and was surprised a few moments later to find the squeeze returned.

Celebrian woke early when the morning sunlight peeping through the tall arched windows crept across her face. She lay in bed a while longer, replaying the events of the previous evening in her mind, her cheeks pleasantly warm from the sun. Birds were singing out in the gardens and she could hear the gentle rustle of leaves in the canopies.

However as a quite wonderful plan came to mind she slipped down from the soft pillows and peered out of the door. It was early yet, and nobody was about. And she would not take so long. And if she waited then maybe she would miss the opportunity to carry out the plan without entertaining curious eyes.

Making her decision she pulled her cape on over her nightgown and skipped down the passageways to the library, the paving stones cool and smooth under her bare feet. Pushing open the large oak doors she crept into the shadow of one of the large bookcases and surveyed the room, making sure than nobody else was watching.

No one was there. She was quite safe. And the materials she wished to access were conveniently placed on the shelves next to the large window seat. Holding down her skirt from the breeze that seemed intent on blowing the silky fabric up around her knees she scampered across the room in a manner more appropriate for an elfling than a princess, and sank down into the soft cushions. She couldn't help a happy smile from playing across her lips as she reached for a thick leather bound volume.

~*~

Celebrian was not the only one up at this early hour on the fine morning. As was his custom Gil-galad rose before the eastern edges of the sky even began to tinge on pink, thus enabling him to have some little time to himself before he had to face all the pressing duties of a King.

He was fond of Imladris. There was a peace here that was lacking even in his own sumptuous palaces. Maybe because it was not his responsibility. He was proud of what the young lord had achieved and the stronghold that he had created. But mostly proud of him for having overcome the shadows that had haunted his life from childhood.

In all his years as King, nothing had plagued him with as much shame and regret as his failure to shield the children from what they had suffered. He remembered looking into the grey eyes that had seen things that they should never have even imagined for the first time, as the boy had scrabbled desperately for a pebble with which to attempt to defend himself. It had taken both boys a long time to recover from their ordeal. Many sleepless nights walking quietly along the corridors his sleeping shirt pulled tight across his chest, the loose fabric being held in fistfuls by the skeletal hands of clinging elflings.

But he was no longer an elfling. Indeed in light of the events of the previous evening he seemed to have grown up rather rapidly of late. Although Gil-galad missed the openness that had been there as a child. There had been something that he had wished to say the previous night. Sucking in the left corner of his lower lip as he often did when making a decision Gil-galad decided to seek him out in private during the day. Providing of course that the memory of the flood incident had not festered overnight.

~*~

Celebrian brushed a tangled blonde curl out of her eyes as she reached eagerly for another book on elven history. This one was even thicker than the one she had just finished perusing, which now lay open at the relevant page to her side. Flicking quickly through the pages she soon found what she was looking for and settled back to gaze at the page. Who would have thought that a book that looked so boring on the outside would have such rewarding content?

Gil-galad wandered down the corridor munching on an apple when he noticed the door to the library was ajar. Sure that nobody but his heir would be studying the dusty tomes at this hour he hurried towards the doorway. It appeared that his wish would be fulfilled sooner rather than later.

Celebrian's head jerked up guiltily as she heard the approaching footsteps. Blushing furiously she attempted to shut some of the books and place them back on the shelves before she was discovered.

What if it was him? She would never hide the evidence in time. There was only one option available. Grabbing her favourite book she scrambled over the high carved back of the seat and out of the window, dropping lightly onto the flowers that adorned the edge of the terrace.

Smiling in relief at the close escape she skipped through the gardens, looking for a private spot in which she could study the book in peace. Eventually she came across some smooth stones on a shingle beach by the edge of the plunge pool of the waterfall. It was perfect. She curled up on the edge of the largest stone, dangling her toes in the rippling water, and resumed her earnest study of her favourite pages.

~*~

"Elrond?" Gil-galad was somewhat perplexed to find the room empty apart from a sea of books covering the window seat, shelves and floor nearby. Gil- galad strode over curiously, glancing down at the books.

Whilst his heir was not present in the flesh, his likeness peered from every open page and untied scroll. A crumpled grey cape lying on the cushions caught his eye and the High King laughed long and loudly in a manner in which he had not indulged for many years.

The sun slowly rose in the sky as Celebrian studied the picture, the water bubbling merrily beneath her feet. Much as she would dearly love to tear out to page for her own keeping it was most definitely not the sort of behaviour expected of the daughter of the Lady of the Wood, and knowing her luck she would drop the precious page. . . probably right at the Lord of Rivendell's feet. Her cheeks flushed at the very thought.

It was so peaceful in Imladris. She could imagine living here. . . Lady of Imladris! It had a nice sound. Celebrian, Lady of Imladris. Giggling at the thought she kicked her feet in the water sending crystal orbs of water flying through the still air. If she lived here nobody would think anything of it, whatever she did wrong.

~*~

The Imladris Guard consisted of some of the bravest and most experienced warriors in middle earth. It also contained some of the youngest, most reckless and bawdy elves anyone could ever hope to meet. The early morning sword drills had just ended and a group of soldiers were making their way down to the river for a refreshing swim before breakfast. Unfortunately the elves that made up the small party were quite decidedly of the latter variety.

The noise of voices making their way down the path to the plunge pool disturbed Celebrian from her pleasant daydreams. They were singing a familiar tune but with words that she didn't quite recognise. Intrigued she bent her head to listen. No wonder Ammë had not allowed that song to be sung in Lorien!

Picking up the book she began skipping across the rocks back to the shore with more haste than care.

"Oh!" A young elf with black hair loose across his shoulders emerged by the pool and gawked openly as the pretty elf leapt from stepping stone to stepping stone.

"Oh!" Celebrian turned mid-leap and tried to prevent the lofty skirt of her nightdress from revealing too much of her body. Unsurprisingly this action led to her plunging into the calm water with a splash reminiscent of the finer fountains in the great palace of the High King.

Five other elves rushed out from the trees just in time to see large numbers of ripples reaching the shore and a dripping elven princess surface in the middle of the pool. Six pairs of eyes stared at her, six mouths dropping open in surprise.

Trying to remember if her mother ever said anything about diplomatic procedure should one end up submerged in the river in full view of six handsome young elves in various states of undress Celebrian smiled sweetly.

"It is a fine morning."

"It is indeed." One of them murmured politely, the other five seemingly frozen in shocked states.

"The water is very refreshing." Deciding that the best course of action was to smile sweetly and depart, as if she intended to go swimming in her nightclothes Celebrian began wading out of the cool water.

It was only when the mouths dropped open further that she realised her mistake and swiftly stepped back into deeper water. How could she have been so stupid as to leave her cape behind? Why had Ammë gifted her with those pretty silken garments when she could have been wearing a thick woollen nightdress? Did she not use her mirror for useful purposes? Wool was so much warmer. And did not go translucent when immersed in water.

Celebrian splashed awkwardly in the water, waiting for one of the gallant young elves to come and rescue her from her predicament. Unfortunately the gallant young elves did not seem to be very co-operative this morning. Silent minute passed into silent minute, the elves on the shore beginning to shuffle awkwardly.

"I am come!" A blond elf who had just finished changing from his practice clothing leapt from the trees onto the pebbled shore, shouting joyfully as he started into the water.

Glorfindel. Celebrian smiled in relief. Such a polite and mature elf would be sure to know the correct etiquette for this situation. Even if he did prance around the gardens of Imladris wearing only shorts. Waving merrily at the blond elf she waited in anticipation.

Stopping suddenly, nearly toppling over as he skidded on the loose shingle, the blond elf adopted the gawking expression of his comrades. Sighing slightly Celebrian increased the frequency of her waves. Glorfindel turned to his friends and spoke with them, finally turning to stare at Celebrian with an expression of comprehension.

Celebrian smiled sweetly at him. The sweet smile was beginning to wear thin and she felt like she might cry if this carried on much longer.

Glorfindel stared at her, his mouth twitching slightly. Then turning slightly pink he grinned awkwardly and cast his eyes to the ground, shaking slightly from barely suppressed laughter. Taking their cue from their leader the gawking elves began to smile slightly.

Why, Celebrian thought, had they placed words such as brave and honourable in the numerous songs about his death. Unpleasant, rude and stupid would have fit better. Glaring at the laughing elf she recited the most violent sections of the verses in her head. She was fast coming to have sympathy with the Balrog.

Realising that there would be no valiant rescue, Celebrian walked out of the water covering herself as well she could with the soggy book, her head held high with as dignified an air as she had ever managed. She stalked past the grinning elf lord and his uncomfortable companions without making a sound.

However once she was hidden behind the trees she dropped the self assured walk to run as fast as she could, off the path and through the trees, hoping to find a place in which she would never have to face another elf again. She began to cry as she ran, eventually dropping to the ground in the shade of a beach tree, well away from wherever anyone might walk. She curled up, burying her face in the crook of her elbow and cried as she had never cried before, tears of anger and humiliation sliding down her face onto the grass and dead leaves.

~*~

Awkwardly Glorfindel approached Celebrian as she lay sobbing on the ground. He regretted his actions now. . . he had regretted them at the time. She would not understand that it was out of his own embarrassment rather than mirth at her situation that he had laughed.

What he had done had been unforgivable. Had one of his people behaved in such a manner towards a lady - any woman - he would have not hesitated in his judgement.

"Lady Celebrian." He touched her lightly on the arm, causing her to turn to face him. He handed her his cloak and snivelling she drew it over her body.

"I am sorry for what I did. It was very wrong of me."

Celebrian looked at him, her face pink and swollen with tears and her nose running. She wondered if it was obligatory or indeed possible to be gracious under such situations. Not feeling particularly guilty she wiped her nose on his cloak and considered her response.

"Ow!" Glorfindel recoiled quickly clutching his cheek. It was not dignified, it was not mature and if was definitely not the behaviour expected of her. However it had made her feel immeasurably better.

Celebrian looked at him, somewhat shocked at the bright red finger marks she had left on his cheek. She wondered what Ammë would say when she found out. It did not bear thinking about.

"I suppose I was deserving of that." To her surprise Glorfindel grinned roguishly and helped her up in a friendly manner, picking her up easily when he noticed that she had no shoes on. "And where does my fair Lady Celebrian wish to go?"

Celebrian couldn't stop a mischievous smile lighting up her face. He may have been rude, but there was no denying that when it crossed his mind to do so Glorfindel was a delightful companion.

"I must change. . . but I cannot walk through the halls like this."

"Ah. So the window is in order?"

Celebrian smiled at him gratefully.

"And which bedroom has been assigned to such a lady? For I would not wish to pitch you into the revered bedchamber of Lord Elrond himself."

Glorfindel could not resist a grin as Celebrian turned puce at the last remark.

Celeborn was having a particularly good morning. The day was fine and he had woken up in his comfy bed to find his wife stretched out alongside him. And she had had no objection to a morning kiss and cuddle.

Even his hair seemed to have decided to be obedient and had easily been tamed into his usual style. His clothes were smooth and clean and the scent of the bath water had been pleasant and lingered about his body.

All that was needed to make his morning complete was to wish his beautiful daughter, who he had no seen for so long, a good morning.

~*~

Celeborn drifted down the corridor towards his daughter's room humming a melody to himself. To his surprise to door was slightly ajar, and rapping lightly on the polished wood he entered, walking straight into the exquisite velvet robes of Ereinion Gil-galad.

"Ah Celeborn. It is a fine morning." Gil-galad greeted the elf graciously.

"Why," Celeborn squared his shoulders and spoke in a low hiss, "are you in my daughter's bedroom?"

Gil-galad paused for a second as he remembered how his actions would appear to an impartial observer.

"Ah. I was merely returning some items of clothing. . ." No that would not do. Gil-galad stepped back hastily as Celeborn took a deep breath and exhaled noisily through his nose. "I found a ladies riding cloak and surmising that it belonged to the fair Lady Celebrian I wished to return it to her safe keeping."

The High King realised that he was babbling and attempted to edge around the tense Lord of Lorien. Celeborn stepped to the right, blocking the doorway.

"Oh. And you considered it proper to enter my child's bedroom at this hour?" Celeborn glowered at the King.

"Aye. For I knew that she did not abide in there." Gil-galad spoke in a tolerant voice that the irate father found condescending.

"She is not in her bedroom?" Celeborn exclaimed, the colour rising in his cheeks. Anxiously he barged past Gil-galad to survey the bedroom. There was no sign of a pretty young elf, although the bed had been slept in. Thankfully by only one person. "Where is she?"

But Gil-galad had already escaped, his dignified royal glide rather compromised by the necessity of great speed.

~*~

The sound of high pitched giggles supported by a boyish laugh caused Celeborn to whirl around just in time to see his daughter shoot through the window and land with a thump on the floor. The giggles faded rather suddenly into hiccups when she saw her father's face.

"Celebrian! Where were you child?" Celeborn dashed across the room, seizing a blanket from the bed to throw across her shoulders, hiding the almost everything that was visible through the wet fabric.

"Just in the gardens, Adar. I was reading." She spoke between hiccups, pointing to a soggy book that had just been heaved through the window.

"Who was he? Who did this to you?" Celeborn thundered, striding to the window and reaching out with a grip of iron. There was a surprised yelp as he caught hold of the back of someone's tunic.

"It was no one Adar!" Celebrian's eyes widened in sincerity.

"Indeed?" Celeborn yanked a dishevelled looking blond elf lord through the window and threw him on the floor. Glorfindel scrabbled away from the angry father and clambered to his feet.

"Lord Celeborn." The voice had its usual confident quality, but that could not fully disguise the quaver of nerves.

Celeborn glared at him, the dark eyes slowly moving up the younger body. Apprehensively Glorfindel followed his eyes to his rumpled and hastily put on clothing. Flushing slightly at what Celeborn might be thinking, Glorfindel tried to look like a brave, honourable and upstanding young elf lord. Celeborn finished his survey with a sharp look at the tangled hair and flushed cheeks.

"Well," Celeborn's voice held an anger than made Glorfindel cringe, "would you like to explain yourself?"

"He was only rescuing me Adar." Celebrian spoke softly, not understanding her father's rage. Celeborn turned to her, his expression softening.

"I do not blame you my little one." He suddenly noticed the red nose and puffy eyes and rubbed a tear stained cheek with his thumb. "You have been crying child."

Celebrian nodded. "I was upset."

Celeborn whirled around to Glorfindel, picking him with two handfuls of tunic and shaking him.

"How dare you do this!"

"I. . . I was only. . ." Glorfindel suddenly could find nothing to say. However his sudden deposition on the ground and the sight of Celeborn clenching his fists changed his mind.

"Ai! Ai! I did nothing!" The younger elf shot across the room, colliding heavily with Elrond at the doorway.

The Lord of Imladris dragged his friend to his feet as he surveyed the occupants of the bedchamber. He had been reading quietly but had decided that he had better investigate the infuriated bellows that were waking all the elves in Imladris.

"Is there a problem Lord Celeborn?" Elrond looked questioningly at the angry elf, his calm demeanour shattered when Celebrian stood up, the blanket falling from her shoulders.

Glorfindel chuckled slightly as Celebrian made a desperate grasp at the blanket and Elrond's eyes swivelled to the other site of the room. Both faces burned a fiery red. Elrond stepped on Glorfindel's foot with rather more force than necessary for a simple reminder.

"That. . . that. . ." Celeborn pointed angrily at the blond elf who seemed to shrink slightly.

"Glorfindel?" Elrond asked with a polite smile.

"That thing. He has betrayed my trust. He has befouled my daughter!"

Glorfindel and Celebrian began to babble simultaneously at Celeborn's outburst.

"Oh no Adar! He did no such thing. . ."

"I would not do such a thing. Honestly Elrond. . ."

"I slipped into the river and he rescued me. . ."

"He has made a mistake. I would not. I could not."

"He was nothing but kind."

"He accuses me wrongly!"

Elrond paused, deciphering the inane comments from the pair. Finally he turned to Celeborn his face serious.

"Well there seems to have been a misunderstanding. Glorfindel appears only to have been trying to help. I apologise for any distress he has caused you or your daughter."

Celeborn glowered at Glorfindel who apologised after an elbow in the ribs.

"I too am truly sorry for any misunderstanding on your part." His fear fading now he had the support of his friend, Glorfindel managed a slightly smug grin.

Celeborn made no response, attempting to bore through the blond elf's heart with his stare. Eventually Elrond realised that this was not a battle where a truce would be reached and turned to leave, pushing Glorfindel out of the door in front of him. It was only as he walked down the corridor that he remembered that he had forgotten to greet Lady Celebrian this morning.

Elrond swept along the corridor in silence, his friend keeping up without difficulty. Glorfindel snatched a glance at his friend's face with its usual expression of calm. He was lucky to have such a good friend. One who would trust him in even the most doubtful circumstances.

"Thank you for your support Elrond." Glorfindel spoke cheerfully. "I was afraid that you might see things differently."

Elrond did not reply and stared straight ahead.

"It was a difficult situation." Glorfindel rambled on giving Elrond a friendly slap on the shoulder. Elrond's entire body stiffened. "We make a fine team."

Glorfindel began subconsciously walking in step with Elrond; their light footsteps still easily audible in the quiet halls. Gaining no response from his previous efforts Glorfindel attempted a second topic of conversation, one sure to capture his friend's interest.

"Celebrian is a very pretty girl." Glorfindel was happily oblivious of the dark red spots of colour appearing on Elrond's cheeks. "She has a fine. . . a healthy body."

Elrond halted awkwardly before resuming his pace, breaking the synchrony of step between the pair. His dark brows were steadily lowering and the grey eyes did not seem to be focussed on anything in particular.

"She swims well." Glorfindel added helpfully, skipping forwards a few steps to resume the bond. He was beginning to find the conversation a little laboured. "Is that not a fine thing in a woman?"

Scowling Elrond walked faster. Glorfindel increased his pace to match that of his friend. Elrond again lengthened his strides in an attempt to outstrip the blond elf. Glorfindel, who was a little taller than Elrond, had no trouble keeping up.

"You hurry. Have I delayed you?" Glorfindel asked innocently. "Perhaps I could assist with your duties this morning if you have lost time coming to my aid."

"That will not be necessary." Elrond spoke tightly, becoming aware that their flight through the hallways was drawing unwelcome attention. Turning sharply to the left he walked to his study and allowed the blond elf to enter first before shutting the door with a deliberately quiet click.

"Oh no, I would like to help." Glorfindel said earnestly, flopping himself down on the large ornate chair and helping himself to some grapes from a bowl on the desk. The foreboding silence caused him to turn to his friend. Elrond was glowering at him, fists clenched. "Why Elrond, does something bother you?"

Elrond did not reply, instead staring at Glorfindel with an expression not unlike a bull about to charge.

"Oh." Guiltily Glorfindel stood up and slipped the remainder of his handful of grapes back into the bowl. To his surprise this action did not appear to appease his friend, leaving him no choice but to try again. "I am sorry Elrond. But for the love of Eru, if you eat all these grapes you will not have a pleasant night."

Elrond's scowl only deepened and he advanced towards Glorfindel with carefully measured steps. Glorfindel took a few tentative steps backwards. Elrond followed him with an air of quiet calm. Glorfindel quickly sidestepped to put the width of the desk between himself and the Lord of Imladris. It seemed that he had mistaken Elrond's placid expression. He may have been calm, but it had been the calm before the storm.

"Elrond. My friend." Glorfindel hastily ran around the desk to avoid the half-elf. "Surely if we have a disagreement we can sit and discuss this like. . ."

Elrond raced around the obstacle and made a grab at the blond elf, resulting in an end to his pleas as he clambered over the table to escape. Deciding to write off the discussion as a dead loss, Glorfindel cast a glance at the door.

"Well Elrond." Glorfindel tried to keep a reasonable voice as he edged towards the doorway. "I see that we have come across a slight difference of opinion."

Elrond glared at him, his face full of barely contained rage.

"I assume that you have . . . er. . ." Glorfindel took three large steps backwards, his hands held out before him in a gesture of peace, ". . .misinterpreted my actions."

Elrond looked between Glorfindel and the door, measuring his progress towards escape. He began to stride decisively towards the exit, speaking in a voice full of the hurt that his anger had masked.

"You lied to me Glor."

"No! No!" Glorfindel stood for a moment too long denying the accusation. Then seeing his escape route being cut off he turned and ran towards the door.

"Oh no you do not!" Elrond muttered and raced after the blond elf. Glorfindel however had taken a good start and would have reached the door handle had Elrond not launched himself at his friend and tackled him with a ferocious battle cry. Both elf-lords hit the ground with a crash, Glorfindel slightly the worse off as he caught his forehead on the door handle as he fell.

"You promised me!" Elrond shouted angrily as he sat up, still keeping a firm grip around Glorfindel's knees.

Glorfindel looked at him with a dazed expression not helped by the slow beading of blood from the graze on his forehead. His kneecaps had taken the brunt of the impact and he narrowed his eyes with pain as he looked at his friend.

"Honestly Elrond, you must believe me. I did not intend for this to happen."

"No?" Elrond clenched his fist and taking advantage of his opponent's dizziness took aim. "Then what happened? Did she just happen to fall?"

"Well, yes. She did actually. . ." Glorfindel spoke with apologetic meekness, his attempt to duck far too little too late, as the fist collided with his jaw with a dull thud. His blue eyes wide as he attempted to block out the throbbing pain, he again held out his palms for peace. "Elrond. I did not. . ."

Elrond's fist this time found a soft target in his eye socket. Glorfindel winced in spite of himself.

"Elrond. Please?" Glorfindel made a last attempt at peace before diving to the side to avoid a third punch, and launching his own attack.

~*~

The first thing that the High King of the Noldor noticed when he entered the west hall in search of Elrond, was the atmosphere of awkward curiosity among the elves that lingered there. The second thing he noticed was the raised voices and thumps from Elrond's' study. His interest raised, he rapped lightly on the door and entered to find the two elf-lords deep in combat, each with a firm grip on the other as they struggled to hit their target. Thankfully neither had had the presence of mind to employ the paper knifes that rested on a bookshelf.

Gil-galad was across the room in five long strides and with a firm grasp on the back of the two tunics dragged them apart. Shoving Glorfindel into a corner and holding Elrond firmly he looked between the two flushed and angry faces with an amazed expression.

"By the Valar! What are you doing?"

Miraculously recognising the question as rhetorical Glorfindel kept silent; backing away from his attacker with the mournful expression of a puppy that had been reprimanded for something it had not done.

Elrond stood up straight, shaking off the hold on his tunic and unclenching his fists to allow a handful of long blond hairs to fall to the ground. Gil- galad raised his eyebrows in silent enquiry.

"I believe that I shall change before breakfast." Elrond assumed an air of dignity and stalked out of the room, every movement and breath carefully controlled.

"Glorfindel?" Gil-galad walked over to the blond elf who was staring morosely out of the window. "What happened?"

Glorfindel continued staring out of the window for a time, his eyes moving slightly as he thought.

"I do not know. He did not believe me." He sounded so forlorn that Gil- galad placed a hand on his arm to comfort him.

"You should go to the infirmary. Have that looked at." Gil-galad indicated the blond elf's swollen jaw.

"Nay. I am well." Glorfindel insisted, his voice changed slightly by the tenderness of his jaw. "I think I shall walk a little while."

"Would you like company?" Gil-galad offered, feeling a slight sense of discomfort about letting the elf disappear when in this mood.

"No. I wish to think." Glorfindel said quietly and left the room, drifting down to the gardens like a lost soul.

Once out of the gardens Glorfindel moved briskly up the slope, through the trees and clearings. Suddenly he felt a burning desire to be out of Imladris, away from its lush forests and bubbling streams. It was only late in the morning, as the trees thinned to be replaced by shrubs and coarse grass, that he began to relax. It was good to have escaped. More than escaped. In some ways it was coming home. For if he did not look too closely, the tufted grass and herbs that grew among the rocks and scree slopes on the upper reaches of the mountain, could have belonged to a different mountain - or realm - or even age.

Eventually a sudden sharp gust of wind in his face as he scrambled over a crag signalled his arrival at the peak. It was disconcerting after a morning spent running to suddenly find yourself at your destination, and the blond elf spent many minutes wandering about, a lonely figure on the skyline, before sitting down on a large smooth boulder overlooking the valley. Spring had come early to Imladris, but the wind that whipped across the summit was icy, lashing loose blond hair across his face and cutting easily through his shirt and tunic.

Not that he minded.

It reminded him of another day.

~*~

High on a mountaintop overlooking the Hidden City two elves sat on a craggy outcrop surrounded by rough grass scattered with the reds and lilacs and golds of wild flowers. The taller of the two, a young male who had reached his majority but still retained the easy joyfulness of youth, leant back resting his hands on the rock. Neither spoke, merely admiring the beauty of the view and enjoying the warmth of the sun and the rough blustery wind. Ever so often they would turn slightly and their eyes would meet. The pretty colour was high in the cheeks of the shorter of the two, a young girl - barely come of age - her dark curls blowing in the wind.

"Here!" Glorfindel sprang to his feet and as lightly as one walking on the clouds collected some of the small golden blooms. "This - it is for you."

And she had smiled shyly, warmth reaching her eyes and her left cheek dimpling. He had lent over, gently weaving the delicate stalks into her hair to create a crown of golden flowers. The roughness of his hand brushed against her soft cheek as he had stepped back and admired his work.

"Aye. That is beautiful."

She reached to tenderly touch her hair, blushing when she realised that her companion was looking at her rather than his handiwork.

Carefully he slid a supporting hand around her back and moved closer, allowing him to feel the warmth of her body and hear the rapid beating of her heart. Looking up she smiled, their sudden shared happiness filling their world. Bending slightly and brushing a few loose curls away from her face the blond elf allowed his lips to brush hers.

She relaxed into his body, slowly moving her hand across his muscular back and up to gently massage his shoulder. Turning her head to the right to facilitate proceedings she tentatively gave him a light kiss. He responded and for a long time they held each other, enjoying the closeness of their bodies.

Eventually they broke apart, the taller elf stepping back and chewing his lip slightly for a few moments before smiling with a happiness he had not known since childhood.

"I would spend the rest of my life with you." The rich melodic tone he had inherited from his father held a new note of nervousness. "Will you pledge yourself to me?"

And with a smile that he would hold in his memory for ever after she had replied "I will."

And they both had laughed with joy and relief.

And then in his happiest hour they had been interrupted. Attack was imminent and danger loomed on the horizon. The people of Gondolin were leaving, desperate to escape before it was too late. He was needed back in the city. Needed to lead his people.

He had held her hand in his until he could no longer reach, only reluctantly allowing his outstretched fingers to separate from hers. They would have to take separate roads, not knowing when they would meet again. Not trusting himself to speak he turned and ran down the mountain, his golden hair shining in the sun.

"Promise me you will wait for me!" He turned just before the path disappeared around an outcrop, his voice raised in a boyish shout that echoed against the valley walls.

"I promise! Until all the stars fade from the sky!"

The higher pitch of her voice had joined with the echoes of the deeper shout in an eerie melody, and she had watched him leave until he was no more than a golden speck on a far distant path.

~*~

He never had gone back up there. Not that it had been his choice. But nobody had seemed to have asked his opinion on that.

He believed that she had escaped, had survived, was now living in Valinor. Maybe wished rather than hoped. For the histories contained no record of those deemed insignificant in their bloodline. She was just a name, a memory, passed from all knowledge.

His mother had warned him that he would suffer if he married below his status. And his mother being his mother, a rather formidable woman, had been right. As usual. Centuries of uncertainty and eventually frustration as an entire library failed to reveal any trace of her fate. He had spurned the library after that, although it had taken a while to placate his friend after certain choice comments. Elrond, being Elrond, took criticism of the library personally.

He felt he would know - that something would tell him inside - if she had fallen on that forsaken path. But there was no real way of knowing. Not without leaving these shores - and his duties here were not yet done.

But he would wait. And wait.

~*~

"Glor!" A certain Lord of Imladris appeared red-faced over the mountaintop. He had climbed its rocky heights far too quickly for even elven legs, and hoped to quickly locate his friend. Or at least someone who had been his friend this morning. Or, as Gil-galad had pointed out in their 'conversation' that had felt much like one of his old 'interviews' after misbehaving, his ex-friend who was rightfully aggrieved and probably was in mind to owe him a few good punches.

"Glor?" The half-elf eventually caught sight of his friend sitting motionless, some distance away on a large rock. There was no response and cursing his aching legs Elrond picked his way over the stones and heather to sit down at the blond elf's side.

Blue eyes quickly flicked to meet his, and shot back to stare at the shadows the late afternoon sun was casting over the valley. Grimacing, Elrond grated one side of his boot along a sharp rock while he tried to think of something to say. Anything to say. This process took longer than he had expected, and the sun was setting in broad beams of orange light before he had come up with anything more inspiring than 'Uh. . . Glor?'"

Glorfindel's sudden stirring at his side after hours of stillness spurred him into action. What sort of leader was he if he could not think up a way of apologising? More importantly what sort of friend?

"Uh. . . Glor?" Elrond came up with the old classic.

Glorfindel turned to him, and then to Elrond's surprise patted his hand.

"Say nothing. I know."

Elrond stared at his friend dumbfounded. He had argued with the blond elf before and it hadn't struck him that Glorfindel was one to not bear grudges.

"Uh. . . Glor?"

"Come Elrond!" Glorfindel spoke with impatience as he heaved his friend to his feet. Since one of Elrond's feet was still hooked under the stone this resulted in a rapid close-up inspection of the ground and its covering of sharp pebbles. Looking back the Lord of Imladris could not be entirely sure that this was accidental. "We have a dance to attend!"

When the two elves arrived back in Imladris, rather scratched from a tumble through the gorse bushes that blocked the quickest route down the mountain, dusk had fallen over Imladris. In preparation for the ball strings of tiny lanterns had been hung from the eaves and between the larger trees in the gardens.

The buzz of excitement among the young and eligible elves had grown to such a degree that it filled the house from the delicate arches of the terraces to the highest balconies. The excitement had even reached the finest guest bedrooms, where Celebrian was currently twirling in a flurry of drying blonde hair as she held one of her favourite dresses in front of her.

"This one?" Celebrian pulled a face at herself in the mirror and shook her curls, which seem to have decided that this was the exact moment at which to turn into steel spring ringlets. "Oh Ammë, I cannot decide!"

Throwing down the dress in a mass of pink silk on the bed, Celebrian turned to her mother who was sitting peacefully in an armchair and flopped down backwards onto the mattress. Galadriel seemed to glow in perfect splendour from the light braids to the floating silvery fabric of her dress. All it needed, Celebrian thought gloomily, was a swan boat for her to float up in graceful magnificence. And in perfect mother-daughter partnership she could be following, paddling madly to keep up, astride a log carved as a duckling.

"What is wrong with that dress?" her father asked, joining his wife in perfection as he emerged from the bathroom and moved some of the layers of fine silk to make room to sit down.

"It is too pink." Celebrian's tone suggested that anyone who knew anything would be able to recognise the shade of 'too pink'.

"Pink is a colour often worn by the younger elves." Galadriel explained to her husband, who was gazing at the frock, clearly perplexed. "The youngest elves."

"The little girls." Celebrian added, prodding the dress with one contemptuous finger.

"But she is a little girl." Celeborn blurted out in confusion, turning to look at his daughter and seeing an elfling - skirts flying as she spun to show off the rose coloured silk of her first party dress.

"Adar!"

Galadriel hurriedly broke in before Celebrian could explode. She had already spent enough time today sorting out the aftermath of this morning's 'incident'.

"Celebrian dear, why do you not fetch another gown?"

Recognising the familiar 'time-for-a-chat-with-your-father' gleam in her mother's eyes, the younger elf made her way back to her room for another rummage in the wardrobe, leaving her father opening and closing his mouth apoplectically.

"Should she not be wearing more?" Celeborn hissed, his eyes narrowing protectively. Celebrian's petticoat exposed several scandalous inches of ankle.

"We are alone on this passageway. She shall not be disturbed." Galadriel said placidly, rubbing her husband's rigid back in circles.

"But what if someone should come? Some of the young males here. . ." Celeborn began again on his favourite rant of the day.

"I feel she is quite safe." Galadriel smiled to herself. She doubted that any young male in Imladris would willingly find themselves within a hundred yards of Celebrian's chambers. The shouting combined with Glorfindel's disappearance had sparked many an imagination. Rumours travelled quickly in Imladris and by evening quite half the elves in Imladris were convinced that they would lose their manhood if they so much as looked at the blonde elf.

~*~

Celebrian flicked through the gowns in the wardrobe with the practised ease of one who was habitually unable to make up their mind. The yards of smooth silk and soft velvet ran over her fingertips as she considered each colour in turn. The deep burgundy of wine, the fresh green of grass or the ivory of hair-cream. If only there was someway of predicting the stains to be sustained during the evening before dressing.

Sighing as she staggered across the room, barely visible under the discarded pile of gowns, Celebrian felt close to tears. At this rate she might as well turn up in her underclothes and riding cape. But she had wanted so much to look pretty.

~*~

The three most eligible bachelors in Imladris stood in the candlelit splendour of the halls, greeting the guests as they arrived. Those with very good memories would think that they appeared to have retreated into the shadows a little more than customary, something that Gil-galad had deemed necessary having seen the feeble effect that Elrond's best healing potions had had on the pair's wounds, but since there were many elves meeting and greeting this was scarcely noticeable.

"Tell me again, how exactly did two elves of such fine calibre manage to run into every single thorn bush on the mountain?" Gil-galad smirked at his two scowling counterparts. He had demanded this story three times already this evening, and could see many happy years of repetition.

"If it had not been for his shortcut. . ." Elrond spat out the words in between greeting guests with his customary pleasant smile.

"The shortcut was simple. Only a half-elf could have stumbled on that path." Glorfindel hissed as he went to greet the family of a girl he fondly called one of Elrond's 'gaggle'. The subject of the Lord of Imladris' marital status was currently something of a hot topic, and plenty of the young female elves had taken it upon themselves to attempt to cure the loneliness that they felt sure must blight the young Lord's life.

"Funny. I quite remember a certain Balrog Slayer a tumbling alongside me." Elrond smirked as he returned from greeting a member of what he liked to term Glorfindel's 'pack'. To his immense satisfaction it appeared that the blond elf would be vastly outnumbered tonight.

"And I quite remember a hand on my arm." Glorfindel shot back merrily enough, turning a mischievous eye to the guests he had just ushered into the hall. "Have you seen who has just arrived Elrond?"

Elrond looked up, his eyes widening as he recognised the departing elf. This was just what he needed - a clutch of giggling girls to watch his every move. Still he could not let the others see his apprehension.

"Aye. Now who would that be?" The half-elf nodded towards the corner where three members of the pack had gathered and appeared to be attempting to bore through the blond elf's clothing with their eyes.

Glorfindel groaned quietly and let himself drop back against the wall with a thud. While his particular group was less inclined to giggle, they seemed to consider dancing a contact sport, and had no hesitation in employing kamikaze tactics to secure their chosen partner.

Safe in the knowledge that what Cirdan had christened 'The Hunt' was stuck back in Lindon, Gil-galad allowed himself an ill-disguised snigger.

The Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim swept into the hall in perfect splendour. Celeborn's exquisitely embroidered outfit was complemented by a rather smug look, as he pondered the self-satisfied knowledge that he was accompanying the most beautiful lady in the room.

Or it might have been the fact that he had successfully deterred the entire male contingent of Imladris from having even the most sketchy designs on his daughter. Who could tell?

Their daughter followed them, eyes lowered and cheeks warm as her appearance drew admiring glances and envious sighs from the assembled throng. Standing at the door, Elrond's mouth fell inelegantly open as he watched Celebrian's approach. She had finally decided on a gown of blue- violet and at the last minute the curls had consented to being braided and threaded with silver. The candlelight sparkled from the adornment, and for a moment the half-elf forgot who or where he was.

"Elrond." A voice that was brimming with amusement said sternly. Elrond turned questioningly to his King. "It might be wise to keep your mouth closed."

Elrond's face burned furiously as Gil-galad's finger lifted his drooping jaw and returned it to a more respectable position. Seeing the incriminating rosiness as the young elf-lord stared at his daughter, Celeborn detached himself from his wife and wandered jauntily over to Elrond.

"It is a fine house for a dance." Celeborn nodded approvingly at the beautiful architecture of the halls. "Almost as fine as our halls in Caras Galadhon."

Elrond nodded submissively and swallowed back his first retort. He had noticed Glorfindel craftily putting the width of a High King between himself and the elf, and decided to take this as a warning.

"Do you often have dances in Lorien?" Elrond asked neutrally.

"Aye." A rather frightening look of amusement slid over the older elf's face. "We often have dances. Celebrian especially enjoys them. She is most fond of dancing."

"Oh?" Elrond queried with rather excessive interest.

"Aye." Celeborn continued offhandedly, "My Celebrian is an excellent dancer, she always complains that her partners are too slow. And woe betide them if they should trample her toes. . ."

He chuckled ominously and drifted back to his wife, leaving Elrond's face considerably whiter than the lie had ever been.

~*~

Celebrian sat alone at the side of the room. The dancing had started, and even her own parents had abandoned their seats. Impatiently she stood and wandered along the edge of the room, outwardly placid, but wringing her fingers behind her back.

Polite custom stated that her first dance should be with the hosting elf- lord. This morning, her cheeks glowing with eager anticipation, she had considered it a wonderful idea. Now, with the attendant elf-lord clearly unwilling to do his duty, it left her in a rather awkward position. For even those elves who retained the courage to approach her would not dance with her until the formalities had taken place.

Finally after many minutes of carefully considered glances at the high table, Elrond began to move. After several suggestions that he might like to. At ever increasing volume.

The half-elf began striding purposely in a circle around the edge of the room, occasionally stopping to pause to exchange a few comments with an acquaintance, but definitely aiming for the pretty elf-maiden from Lorien. On seeing this Celebrian immediately turned scarlet, and had to turn to face away from the room to allow some subtly disguised fanning of her face.

There was a general ripple of giggling from the direction of a large group of maidens who appeared to be drifting around the room in time to Elrond's movements. Celebrian's face steadily grew warmer, until she felt that her beauty must be more reminiscent of a balrog than any of the fairer creatures that roamed Middle Earth.

He was coming closer now, close enough for her to be able to distinguish the embroidered leaf chain from the cuff of his sleeve.

Her ear tips were melting.

He was about to speak . . . no he was clearing his throat.

Now he was about to speak. But instead he had to cough.

Celebrian smiled kindly at him, for her own voice went up several octaves whenever the need to appear mature and sensible arose. But she was smiling at his back, for the half-elf had turned on his heel and hurried away to talk urgently to someone. . . anyone!

And so the evening progressed. Elrond orbited the room with an increasingly jumpy air, dashing in a panic to the nearest possible person to hold a deeply significant and meaningful conversation at surprisingly frequent intervals. Celebrian watched him with a lowering brow, ignoring the titters of the maidens who had gathered around her.

~*~

"Oh this is ridiculous!" Glorfindel sprang up impulsively from the windowsill. "She shall begin crying in a minute!"

Elrond had just made another elegant skewed-circle of the room, and the shining blonde head had dropped further in her efforts to make herself inconspicuous.

"Maybe a push would be helpful." Gil-galad mused from behind. Elrond had gone to talk to Galadriel, staring all the while at Celebrian with longing eyes.

Glorfindel and Gil-galad exchanged a look, clearly agreeing that the push would have to be mighty indeed. The half-elf was unlikely to summon up sufficient courage even if he ended on the floor, sprawled over his partner.

"I will dance with her!" The blond elf began skimming across the hall with a charming smile. "She deserves one dance at least."

Celebrian beamed as she saw her saviour approaching, his golden hair gleaming light a halo in the soft light. Now finally she would get some positive attention - instead of the curious stares that asked all too clearly what hideous disfigurement she was hiding under her gown that so deterred prospective partners.

Glorfindel gave Celebrian a rather arrogant grin and extended an arm.

"Lady . . ."

"I would love to!" There was a thunder of hooves punctuated by high- pitched screams and squeals as the pack surged towards their target. Elbows flew and nails were unfurled. A few of their number fell, trampled by their own kind, but no one cared for one of them would win.

A beautiful brunette tossed back her hair with triumph as she reached the front and sunk her talons into Glorfindel's palm.

"Why, I would love to." She purred softly.

"Er . . . excellent." Glorfindel stammered, clenching his fist to stop the flow of blood. "It would be an honour."

Celebrian smiled sweetly and thought of lilies and cherry blossom. Galadriel's daughter neither scratched nor pulled hair, even when said hair had whipped her face. But she could imagine it.

~*~

"There." Gil-galad said in a satisfied voice as a disappointed-looking Celebrian trailed miserably from the room. "She has gone to eat. Why do you not go and talk to her?"

Elrond turned white and began to fidget nervously.

"Do you think I should?" Grey eyes looked pleadingly and surprisingly trustingly at his friends. He was answered by two exasperated sighs, and grimacing at his friends he set off after the blonde elf.

"Good lad." Gil-galad's proud parental smirk faltered as Elrond turned suddenly and hurried back to grab Glorfindel's arm.

"Glor. Come with me."

As the evening wore on and becoming more and more discouraged by the dearth of dancing partners, Celebrian eventually decided to take solace in the buffet. The chefs had outdone themselves in their efforts to impress the guests from Lorien, and their scrumptious offerings were laid out along several long tables. Celebrian was more than happy to spend a while wandering around this arrangement, soothing her bruised ego with calories.

Taking up the excessively large and ornate carving knife and fork, Celebrian observed the duck with an appraising eye. Someone down in the cavernous kitchens had decided to serve the duck roast whole, stuffed with some delicious mixture of fruits and spices, garnished with vegetables. While this looked magnificent, it was not entirely obvious how to derive nourishment from the dish, and perhaps for this reason it was as yet untouched. Having no idea of how to carve such a display, Celebrian fell back to a move that was an old favourite of hers. Letting the carving implements dangle loosely from her fingers she turned back to the room and smiled sweetly at any likely looking valiant young male. Unfortunately a rescuer was not forthcoming, the likely suspects being rather over- effectively deterred by the facts that Celeborn was known to be present, and that the bait already came armed with a razor sharp blade.

Eventually, and rather under-impressed by the male specimens of Imladris, Celebrian turned back to the duck and prodded it experimentally with the fork. Cheered by the fact that it stuck fast enough that it took quite a few tugs to free it, she made an attempt at slicing off a section of flesh. Silently congratulating herself for cutting through the skin, she was lucky to keep her fingers as the knife suddenly slipped, tearing the skin off the duck before hitting the plate with an attention-drawing clang.

Three of the gaggle turned to stare in her direction, disapproving glances nearly eclipsed by their amusement. Cheeks roasting themselves now, Celebrian smiled the saccharine beam she kept for obnoxious dignitaries, and returned to the abused bird with what she hoped passed for a confident wave of the carving fork.

Deciding that further playing with the knife was more likely to result in a slice of her than one of duck - but typically for a female of her line, unwilling to admit defeat, Celebrian set down the blade and advanced on the rear end of the duck with the fork, determined to scoop out some stuffing.

This plot was more successful, and she soon had a plateful of stuffing, and with an arrogant flip of the head at the gaggle she marched off to talk to some other guests as she ate. The stuffing was delicious, so delicious in fact that the prospect of seconds was just too tempting. But fortune appeared to have left her side, and as she gave the fork a rather over- confident shove into the duck's innards it sailed forwards without hindrance, eventually coming to rest firmly inside the duck, the prongs sticking in gory defiance through the duck's breast.

Rather shocked and glancing around apprehensively, Celebrian took a tentative grasp on the end of the fork and tugged. Since one end was now greasy and the other was firmly affixed in roast meat, this had no effect. Almost giggling herself now in panic at her dilemma, the blonde elf surreptitiously rolled up her sleeves and proceeded to reach inside the duck, trying to get a better grasp on the fork handle.

"Giving birth?" Celebrian spun round guiltily to find Glorfindel hovering behind her, smirking in a most annoying manner. His confidence had almost certainly been bolstered by the fact that Celeborn and Galadriel had been seen to leave the room.

"I. . . I. . . the duck. . ." Celebrian looked pleadingly at Glorfindel, ready to pour out the whole sorry tale. Then noticing the dark-haired half- elf behind him, she closed her eyes in disbelief. Of all the times to decide to approach! Now she would have to think of something sensible to say. ". . .it's dead!"

One dark eyebrow curled up pityingly.

"Evidently."

~*~

However once she had given the shortest possible explanation for the fork's presence in the duck, and Glorfindel had finished choking on his laughter, the evening did not seem so terrible anymore. In fact there was a small, slightly funny side. Maybe if she thought about it, she was secretly a little bit amused. An emotion she was sure was hidden behind the twinkle in Elrond's eyes.

"Lady Celebrian, some wine?" Glorfindel gave her no option whether to accept before whisking her over to a small table by a lantern, with a look at Elrond that Celebrian would have considered very strange had she seen it.

The Lord of Imladris followed, looking as if he would much rather bolt back to the company of Gil-galad and his collection of wine casks. Even so he managed to delay his progress by finding need to talk to several groups on the way, but eventually the trio had assembled.

"Oh you are hurt!" Celebrian's eyes widened in horror as the better lighting made the pair's bruises and scratches visible. Turning first to her saviour of that morning she ran her fingers lightly over the dark bruising on his jaw. "Is it so very painful?"

Glorfindel squirmed and shook his head, letting his eyes drop. Elrond was glaring at him, alternately clenching and unclenching his fists, and this seemed the quickest way of transferring the envied attention to his friend.

"You poor thing. Was it the enemy?" Celebrian smiled as she examined the scratches on Elrond's nose, getting somewhat side-tracked as she gazed into his eyes. Elrond's skin colour rapidly ascended through the shades of pink into scarlet.

Elrond muttered something incoherent while Glorfindel's eyes lit up mischievously.

"I was attacked." The blond elf asserted, adding as Celebrian's mouth dropped open as she gazed in admiration at him. "From behind!"

Elrond attempted to spear his friend with a jealous stare before - to his horror - the attention passed his way.

"But you saved him. Two warriors fighting together, side by side." Celebrian's eyes sparkled as she surveyed what she had decided must be the only two brave, valiant males in Imladris. Thinking back to the tales her mother had told her of brave soldiers and beautiful princesses with satisfaction, she beamed at the pair. "That's so romantic."

Glorfindel's smirk faded slightly as he glanced at Elrond out of the corner of his eyes. The dark-haired elf wore an equally bewildered expression, and shrugged.

Elrond wandered into the chambers that he had assigned Gil-galad and looked around, only finding Glorfindel who had wandered in after him. The blond elf was snickering to himself as he rambled on with a very long and involved joke, featuring three dwarves and an inebriated Balrog. Elrond had long lost track of the plot, but had neither the heart nor the inclination to tell him. In any case, there was always the risk that he would start afresh.

Trusting that the King would not mind, Elrond slumped down on the bed in defeat, leaning his perfectly combed head against the carved birds and leaves on the wooden headboard. Glorfindel made his way to the window seat with a high spirited step that was half dancing and half walking, all the while continuing his jest.

The half-elf removed his circlet, tossing it casually onto a pillow and closed his eyes, trying to block out Glorfindel's obvious self-pleasure. It was not that the golden-haired elf's voice was unpleasant, in fact it held a natural music even if the accent was strange at first, but he never ever was quiet.

There was a soft noise in the corridor outside, and the High King entered, his step effortlessly graceful in spite of the large quantity of wine consumed that evening.

"Ah, Elrond." Gil-galad raised his eyebrows as he saw the elf-lord slumped among his pillows, eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose against an oncoming headache.

Elrond opened his eyes with a look of relief.

"I came to seek you." He said quietly, his eyes betraying his hidden disquiet.

Gil-galad nodded and smiled reassuringly. He had been looking for a chance to talk to the half-elf all day, and now, with the events of the evening behind them, it looked as if he would finally get his chance. All he had to do was dispose of a certain blond haired Balrog Slayer, who apparently only thought about his words well after they had left his mouth.

". . .right. And then the Balrog said 'give me your ale and I'll sizzle your sausages', so the dwarves. . ." Glorfindel continued, oblivious to the two remarkably similar glares from those who wished him from the room.

Sighing loudly, Gil-galad decided to wait, tapping one booted foot up and down on the pale grey stone of the floor. He couldn't resist rolling his eyes wearily at Elrond, and was glad when this met with a reluctant grin.

Eventually Glorfindel reached the punch line of his joke, dissolving into laughter so rambunctious that neither of the audience could make out the words. Muttering something under his breath, Gil-galad went to sit on the bed beside Elrond, reaching out a hand to pull the half-elf to a sitting position. Hopefully now they would be left in peace.

"Now was that not funny?" Glorfindel asked, obviously very pleased with himself. Elrond and Gil-galad exchanged a look before generating some surprisingly genuine laughter. The High King could not help but wonder how Elrond had managed to survive untainted by Glorfindel's influence. It was beyond him to understand how anyone would put up with such a sense of humour.

Turning, so that his back was firmly between Elrond and Glorfindel, Gil- galad began speaking in a low voice.

"What bothers you, Elrond?"

Elrond gave him a worried little half-smile.

"You know what bothers me."

"Why did you not just ask her to dance?" Gil-galad asked gently, noting with pleasure that Glorfindel had got to his feet.

Elrond sighed and to his annoyance immediately blushed.

"I couldn't. I just couldn't, Gil."

"She was just as hesitant as you." Gil-galad's eyes were wide with concern, and he nodded slightly as he spoke.

"No, she. . . she would have eaten me alive." Elrond said sadly. "I. . ."

"Oh are we discussing Lady Celebrian?" Glorfindel asked cheerfully, wandering over with an apple pilfered from Gil-galad's fruit-bowl. Ignoring his frosty reception he bounded onto the mattress, and sat down cross- legged, tossing the apple up and down in his hand. He took a big bite and attempted to lick the juice from his chin. "Excellent!"

Deciding that Glorfindel was unlikely to take a hint in this age, Gil-galad decided to enlist him as an ally.

"She would have done none such thing." Gil-galad scolded gently. "She was really looking forwards to dancing with you, wasn't she Glorfindel?"

"Aye." Glorfindel spoke through a mouthful of apple. "Her face fell every time you passed her by."

"It did?" Elrond's voice rose hopefully.

"Aye." Glorfindel took another noisy bite of apple, deciding to embroider the truth for the sake of entertainment. "I have never seen a maiden look so woebegone."

"Glorfindel." Gil-galad said sharply, then scowled at Elrond. "It was most discourteous Peredhil. She was deprived even a single dance."

Elrond's face fell and he fidgeted guiltily.

"I did not intend to." He admitted, flushing deeply. "It is just. . . that. . . I cannot dance."

Glorfindel made a strange noise that ended suddenly as he was silenced by a High Kingly glare.

"Of course you can dance, Elrond." Gil-galad said patiently, patting Elrond's arm.

"I shall teach you!" Eager to make amends, Glorfindel sprang to his feet and bit hard into his apple to free both his hands. "May I have this dance?"

"Uh. . . Glor?"

"Excellent! I am honoured!" Glorfindel grabbed one of Elrond's hands and dragged him to an open spot on Gil-galad's floor.

"What?"

Glorfindel swiftly wrapped an arm around Elrond's waist and began jigging around the room, dragging an unwilling elf-lord after him.

"Glor, no!" Elrond protested uselessly.

"Move your feet, Elrond!" Gil-galad called helpfully. "And keep in time to the music."

"But there is no music."

"Come on, you would think that you had no wish to dance with me from your posture!" Glorfindel whirled Elrond around. "You need to loosen up, Elrond."

Gil-galad nodded in silent agreement, a wise and kingly expression on his fair face.

"Glor, no! That's enough!" Elrond stood stock still, then crashed to the floor together with Glorfindel as a step from the 'Greenwood Frolic' got hooked around his foot.

"Ouch!" Elrond rubbed his elbow with an accusing look at Glorfindel.

"I was only trying to help." Glorfindel muttered. "It is not my fault that you cannot dance."

"But I can dance!" Elrond said in exasperation. "Just not well enough for. . . her!"

"You cannot?" Gil-galad asked with some surprise. He had visited Lorien and danced with Lady Celebrian many a time, but it had never struck him that the success of their dancing had been due to anything other than a mutual ability to remove their feet from the other's path.

"No." Elrond slumped on the bed again, keeping a good grip on a pillow in case Glorfindel should renew his advances. "And I wanted to. . . I would like her to remember me."

"Ah, the delicate art of impressing a lady." Gil-galad smirked. This little chat was turning out to be much more entertaining than he had anticipated. For a brief moment he thought wistfully of fatherhood, then brushed the thought aside.

"You want to impress Lady Celebrian?" Glorfindel plopped himself down on the bed, causing the mattress to groan. "Why, that is easy! Simply take her down to the practice ranges."

"Glor." Elrond sighed. Gil-galad was grinning. Again.

"Or we could tell her tales of bravery and battles. I have never seen someone behead quite so many orcs as you, my friend." Glorfindel paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression. "Of course it would help if you could slay a Balrog. . ."

"Glor!"

". . . but I understand, we cannot all be good at everything."

"Glor!" Elrond shouted, and in the silence that followed continued more quietly. "That is not how you impress a lady. Lady Celebrian is probably fond of things like flowers, embroidery and dresses."

There was a moment of silence as the three warriors bowed their heads and endured a collective shudder.

"So," Glorfindel ventured at last, "how do you impress a lady?"

Elrond looked baffled and shrugged.

"How would I know? Did your father not say anything?"

"No." Glorfindel said in all seriousness. "Only that if he ever caught me skulking by the hidden pool on Midsummer's Eve again, he would ensure that I never knew what it was to love a maiden."

Gil-galad and Elrond looked at him.

"I was only thirty five! How was I to know what they would be doing?"

Elrond muttered something sounding surprisingly similar to 'and he calls me innocent'. Flushed now, Glorfindel continued.

"Anyway he died when I was but a child, what would he have told me?"

Gil-galad, who was still chuckling to himself, stopped suddenly when he realised that two pairs of eyes were now resting upon him.

"My father died too, when I was younger still than our golden-haired friend." He reminded them.

"Yes. . ." Glorfindel said.

". . . but you had Cirdan." Elrond finished. "He is very wise."

Gil-galad shuddered inwardly at the thought of the few awkward conversations they had had on the subject. He had little desire to relive them.

"Aye, and should I put my mind to it, I could successfully proposition any ship I pleased. But I thought it was maidens we were talking about?"

Elrond bashed the mattress hard with his pillow and sighed deeply.

"There is no wonder I have no hope with maidens! I have nobody to look up to, nobody to answer my queries!" Seeing Glorfindel about to interrupt he continued more loudly. "Among my friends I cannot think of anyone who is bound in marriage. Not one. And yes, I daresay I could glean enough information to seduce a ship or a Silmaril. But a maiden, I do not even have a glimmer of hope!"

After his outburst the friends sat, or rather sprawled, in silence on the bed, contemplating what had been said. Glorfindel took the pillow and propped it up against Gil-galad's shoulder to rest his head on. Gil-galad moved.

"Elrond." Glorfindel said sleepily at last. "There is one that you could ask."

"Who?" Elrond demanded.

"I believe that Lord Celeborn is quite happily married."

~*~

Celebrian had slipped out quietly once the dancing had resumed, and had taken to wandering the gardens. It was surprising how beautiful they could be, even in the dark. After a while she had lost track of precisely where she was, but with the bulk of the house lit up behind her, she had nothing to fear.

Eventually she had come upon a bench in a sheltered nook in the garden, and since she was feeling rather weary by then, sat down and watched the moon rise above the valley.

It was simply beautiful here, large pale roses woven around the wooden frame of the bench and coaxed along arches. The pale bluish light of the moon and the dim light from the windows of the house lighted the garden, and she had amused herself for a while in watching the shadows that lay along the smooth paving of the path.

The evening had not been much of a success. Not truly. She had enjoyed the time she had spent with the Lord of Imladris, but although she now knew Glorfindel's views on most everything under the sun, Elrond still remained a mystery. And she had assaulted a duck.

But even apart from that she could not block out the disappointment. She had spent so long on her dress, choosing the things that she had thought most beautiful. And she had truly thought that she had looked quite pretty. She had not asked for the overwhelming attractiveness of her mother, just to be pretty enough to be granted a dance.

A tear ran down her cheek, and by dint of vigorous sniffing, swallowing and eye blinking, she just managed to avoid bursting into tears.

There was a burst of laughter and the sound of running footsteps and a scuffle. She couldn't quite make out the words, but whoever it was seemed to be talking about her father. Curiously she stood up and tried to peep through the shrubbery to see who it was.

There was a muffled shout and Celebrian leapt back as a body came flying through the rosebushes. There was the sound of running footsteps as the assailant escaped. Elrond sat up, brushing down his formal gown, and scrambling to his feet.

"Lady Celebrian." Elrond tried to adopt the look he was sure that Gil-galad would wear under similar circumstances. As if he would ever get into similar circumstances.

"Lord Elrond." Celebrian greeted him formally, then as politely as she could manage. "Are people often attacked in your gardens?"

Elrond noticed that she had moved closer to his body, presumably for safety. She smelt of the tiny yellow flowers that blanketed the ground each spring in Lorien and he wanted to hold her.

"Er. . . no. Only me." Elrond said uncomfortably, then as the moonlight caught Celebrian's face. "You have been crying?"

Celebrian sniffed and shook her head.

"It was nothing."

Elrond looked hard at her and cautiously put his hand on her arm. She felt cold, and since she had not objected to the hand, he moved so that his arm was around her body. Celebrian's heart immediately began beating so fast that she was sure that he must be able to hear it.

"It was just. . . just that nobody danced with me." Celebrian admitted, then lifted her head with a proud air. "It does not matter. I care not."

Elrond smiled slightly to himself and walked Celebrian to a small lawn shielded from view from the path by entwined rosebushes.

"Will you dance with me?" To his frustration he sounded as afraid as he felt.

Celebrian beamed.

Celebrian impatiently followed her parents to breakfast, hoping that increasing the pace of her stride would cause her parents to speed up likewise. She could not wait to see him again.

"Celebrian," Galadriel said reproachfully, "I am sure that Lord Elrond does not intend to starve us. There is no need to run to breakfast."

Celebrian turned scarlet at mention of his name, and slowed her pace considerably. She did not notice her father's sudden frown.

Of course he did not intend to starve them. He was perfect in every way. She had sat up most of the night, reliving the events of the evening, and even now her entire body seemed to be bubbling with excited happiness.

Due to the danger in the gardens, he had escorted her back to her room, before giving her a tiny white rose that he had picked somewhere along the way. And when she had thanked him, he had leant down and kissed her cheek.

The only part she was less satisfied with, was the role that she had played. Uncertain of what she should have done next, she had repeated her thanks, bade him goodnight and fairly dashed into her bedroom. Hardly the behaviour of a beautiful, elegant elven princess.

But he liked her! She was special.

~*~

"Good morning." Celebrian beamed at Elrond as she took her place at the table, but to her disappointment he did not seem to hear, and started a new conversation with Glorfindel with barely a glance.

"It is a lovely morning." Celebrian commented in a louder voice as she spread butter and honey on her roll. She drew everybody's attention apart from the target elf-lord who seemed to still be under the impression that he was in conversation with Glorfindel. Glorfindel, unfortunately, appeared to be more interested in what she had to say.

"What shall we do today? It is such a fine day, I would hate to miss it!" Celebrian ignored her mother's slight shaking of her head, and continued briskly. "Lord Elrond, what do you propose I should do?"

With no choice left, Elrond turned his attention away from Glorfindel, and faced the rest of the table.

"It is a lovely day. The riverside walk is particularly fine at this time of year." That should give him the opportunity of some time alone with Celebrian. The path was not wide enough for three.

"Or we could use boats." Glorfindel suggested, reaching for the jam. "It is a very pleasant trip through the valley."

"Why, that sounds delightful." Galadriel smiled. While she trusted Elrond deeply, she was beginning to think that she had better keep a closer eye on her daughter. "I love the water."

~*~

"Lord Celeborn, it is an unexpected pleasure." Elrond spoke through his teeth with a pained smile. Celebrian was currently gliding by, trailing one hand in the water and talking animatedly to Glorfindel. Galadriel and Gil- galad were deep in discussion, barely noticing the beautiful surroundings as they talked.

He was still a little fuzzy about how in the muddle of getting into boats, he had ended up with Celeborn and Celebrian had ended up with Glorfindel. But since it had been Celeborn helping his wife and daughter into the boats, he had a target to blame.

"Aye, it is long since we have talked." Celeborn said, looking rather infuriatingly smug.

"The river is beautiful today." Elrond said seriously, nodding at the clear water. The sun was shining strongly, and the river was lit by glinting reflections. Every so often the water would spread out in circular ripples where a water beetle or dragonfly had touched the surface.

"Aye, it is." Celeborn glanced casually at his daughter who was risking a soaking by leaning out rather further than was safe. "My Celebrian is enjoying herself."

"Mmm." Glad of an excuse, Elrond stared openly at Celebrian, smiling slightly.

"She is very beautiful herself, of course." Celeborn said absently. "She takes after her mother."

"Er. . ." Elrond steeled his courage. It was only polite after all. "Yes. She is most pretty."

Celeborn watched him from under his lashes with a slightly evil twist to his mouth.

"Indeed. She has suitors aplenty of course." Celeborn kept his amusement at the sudden panicked look that Elrond gave him to himself. "A very popular maiden is my Celebrian."

"Uh. . . is she. . . has she. . . has she yet pledged herself to another?" Elrond stuttered miserably.

"Celebrian?" Celeborn paused to think, and decided to stay out of the boundaries of an outright lie. There was no knowing where a careless word could end up. It could reach Celebrian, or worse his wife. "No. She leads them on a merry dance."

Celeborn gave a scarily convincing tolerant fatherly chuckle.

"I fear that she is not yet ready to commit to marriage." He leant forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice. "But between you and me, lately I think that there has been one with a special place in her heart."

"Oh." Elrond shuffled uncomfortably, wondering if he could get away with asking who. "I hope that he is well suited for her."

"Aye." Celeborn said in a satisfied voice. "There are many elves of fine blood in Lorien, but he. . . he is all I could hope for in a son."

"But. . . what about those elves that reside in other realms." Elrond ventured cautiously. "There may be elves of fine blood there."

Celeborn shot Elrond with a 'my baby's not leaving Lorien' look.

"Those prancing elves of Greenwood!" Celeborn said with a scornful sneer. "Ha!"

"It could be wise." Elrond licked his lips nervously. "In the gathering dark it would be wise to have allies."

Celeborn began fidgeting with his hands, wringing one thumb in the palm of the other hand. When he finally spoke, his voice was tinged with frost.

"No daughter of mine, least of all my Celebrian, will enter a political marriage. It is her right to choose her partner, and no elf of honour would interfere with that."

"I. . . uh. . . yes." Elrond muttered.

"He is very suitable, tall and an admirable soldier." Celeborn said firmly. "He is kind and well-mannered, and shares much with my Celebrian. I look forward to welcoming him into my home."

"Into your home. . ." Elrond paused with a dismayed look. "Celebrian and her family will live with you?"

"Aye." Celeborn said grimly, as if daring anyone to suggest otherwise. "Where else could her comfort be assured? There is a delightful suite of rooms near our own chambers. She will be most happy there."

Elrond gulped.

"Oh."

~*~

As they climbed back onto the banks, someone hurried up and spoke quietly with Elrond and Glorfindel. Before Celebrian could get her bearings, they had been led away up some steps, heading towards the courtyard.

"Where. . ." she began, before realising that it probably was not wise to appear to curious. Her mother would never ask such questions. But then she never needed to.

"They?" Gil-galad spoke softly, and tilted his head towards the departing backs of the elves. "There is probably some pressing matter, that in their positions as Lord of Imladris and Chief Advisor, they must attend to."

Although he had taken care to speak too quietly for her mother to take notice, and disapprove of the question, Celebrian could not help feeling a little bit annoyed. The High King was battling a grin, almost as if he found the whole idea of Elrond and Glorfindel being in charge of a realm rather amusing.

"Well," Celebrian said haughtily, "I think that Lord Elrond is a fine. . . a quite wonderful leader. I would trust my life to him."

"Indeed." Gil-galad looked straight ahead as they begun mounting the steps, so it was impossible to tell if he was smiling or frowning. "Tell me, what do you think of his policy of rotating the crop harvests?"

~*~

By the time that Elrond and Glorfindel reached the courtyard, the riders were making their way along the road and the sound of hooves on stone was growing louder.

"The rearguard." Celeborn observed calmly, fending off irate glances from the advisors with looks that suggested that they should have asked him earlier if they had wanted to know.

"Ah." Elrond interjected swiftly, before Glorfindel should blurt out some entirely truthful but not exactly tactful comment. "Highly sensible."

Some twelve elves thundered into the courtyard, dressed in the armour of Lorien. One in particular caught Elrond's attention, and a swift glance sideways assured him that Celebrian shared his interest. His mail was shining silver and his cloak was shadowy grey. His fair hair fell down loose over his shoulders under his helm, and he carried a bow and long curving knife.

As the party approached the house, he dismounted and strode towards the group of onlookers.

"Haldir of Lorien." He inclined his head slightly to Elrond and then turned his Lord and Lady. His eyes lingered slightly on Celebrian's happy face. "I trust the journey was uneventful."

Celeborn spoke quietly with him for a few moments, then dismissed him with a sharp nod. He appeared well satisfied with whatever had been said, and exchanged a few words with Celebrian who started smiling.

Elrond's lip curled.

After dinner the visitors from Lorien went for a walk in the gardens. Although it was as yet early in the spring, and the light was fading, the gardens were still beautiful. Flowers bloomed year round in Imladris, and the mild evening air was scented by early daffodils and blossom.

Pausing under a willow tree Celeborn gave Haldir an appraising look. He was a loyal guard, but it was doubtful whether he was loyal enough to assist him in his plan. He was after all an honest elf. But then, perhaps his cooperation would not be necessary. For Haldir had been showing an interest in his beautiful daughter for quite some time.

"How is the orc situation in the north borders?" Celeborn asked, moving to walk side by side with the newcomer.

Celebrian strolled along the path, filtering out the constant drone of conversation between her father and Haldir, as she pondered her own thoughts.

The Lord of Imladris appeared to be ignoring her, and it hurt more than she would care to admit. He had been so nice last night, and she could not quite see how this morning he could have been so distant. Maybe she had offended him with her hasty exit. Maybe he had decided that he did not like maidens like her. He had plenty of other admirers, perhaps he had decided that another was better suited to him. Perhaps if she. . .

"Celebrian." Her mother's voice cut across her thoughts. "You are very quiet this evening, does anything bother you?"

Galadriel brushed some blond curls back behind Celebrian's ear to see her daughter's face. Celebrian looked at her mother and smiled sheepishly.

"I was just thinking of Lord Elrond, Ammë." Celebrian said quietly. "You have known him for longer than I. What sort of elf is he?"

Galadriel looked closer at her daughter, and recognised the expression there.

"Elrond, he is a good leader and a good warrior. He is both kind and wise." Galadriel smiled at her daughter. "He is skilled in both healing and battle crafts, and he is well learned."

Celebrian smiled back at his mother, pleased at this complimentary account.

"But what of his friends, Ammë? How does he choose his friends?"

"You have seen his friends, Celebrian. I know not how or why he chooses them, but they seem true."

Celebrian thought of Elrond's friends, especially valiant Glorfindel and the High King Gil-galad. They all had one thing in common - they were all mighty warriors. If she was to attract Lord Elrond then she would clearly have to have more to wield than their shared interests in reading and herbs and flowers.

~*~

The Lord of Imladris stood on the highest of his terraces, back straight and head held high. The fine spray from the waterfall was cool against his face, and from here he could see the entire valley. Tiny specks of lights moved among the shadow of the forests and meadows indicating the lanterns of those who worked in the fields and dairies as they went home for the night.

So deep was he in thought that he did not notice the movement behind him until a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"The hour grows late." Gil-galad commented, leaning on the balustrades and joining Elrond in contemplation of the valley. "Come inside."

"Soon." Elrond said quietly, tearing his eyes away from the tiny pale shadows in the gardens that were the visitors from Lorien. There were four such shadows, and since one of them glinted slightly he had no trouble guessing the identity of the fourth companion.

"It may not be considered wise to. . . spy." Gil-galad did not look at Elrond, but the half-elf could tell that he was frowning.

The High King was right. There was no reason for him to be lurking up here in the lonely shadows to keep watch over his visitors. Had it been any other but Celebrian he would have been down there with them, showing them his favourite spots. Peculiarly, although at the time he had worked hard to slip away unnoticed before Celebrian could invite him to join them, now he would have given anything to be down there with them.

Deciding that changing the subject was a better bet than trying to explain to Gil-galad why exactly he had came to be up here when everybody else was enjoying themselves, Elrond looked south-east, towards the darkening cloud in the red-tinged sky.

"Evil is rising in the east." He commented gravely.

"Aye." Gil-galad stood up and stretched, unwilling, for this evening, to think of the gathering storm. In any case, he did not know whether the half- elf was looking at the distant darkness of Mordor, or the less distant realm of Lorien.

~*~

The halls of Imladris were dark and silent by now and most elves had long retired to their own rooms. The singing had ceased in the Hall of Fire and the merry company had gradually drifted off to their own purposes, leaving only those who wished to sit in silence and think.

At this late hour only three remained, talking quietly, shadowy silhouettes against the glow of the flames.

"I cannot let this rest." Elrond said grimly, pressing his clenched fist down onto the arm of his chair. "I will not let this happen."

He turned to his friends with a look that reminded them of what a fearsome opponent he really was.

"You will help me." It may or may not have been a question.

"I stand with you, Elrond." Glorfindel assured him, with a nod of his blond head. "We shall defeat this new evil."

"I will tell you now, Peredhil, this is a foolish plan." Gil-galad shook his head. He looked again at Elrond's darkly intense face, and grimaced slightly. "But I shall help you, though it be against my better judgement."

"Elrond." Gil-galad called, striding along the corridor. He had been searching for the Lord of Imladris, and to find him standing aimlessly at the doorway to one of his sitting rooms had been quite a surprise. The half- elf was not normally prone to loitering.

Elrond spun round guiltily, his face bearing an expression that spoke of annoyance. Maybe it was a trait of High Kings, or maybe it was the result of growing up under the guidance of the Shipwright, but Gil-galad always seemed to expect his commands be followed instantly and to the letter. And the High King's tone was particularly grating when you had just plucked up the courage to approach your beloved.

"Why do you wait here?" Gil-galad queried, and peered around Elrond's shoulders into the room with blatant curiosity.

"Um. . ." Elrond was cut off by Gil-galad's deep chuckle.

The sun was steaming in through the tall arched windows of the room, which was empty save for one occupant, seated on the window ledge. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, the blonde enhanced by the golden morning light. Her eyes were cast downwards to a square of fabric, and her tongue stuck out slightly from between her lips with concentration. Her fingers were moving carefully and smoothly, guiding the needle and the colourful thread in delicate stitches. Lit from behind she seemed to glow with some otherworldly presence, and the High King could well understand why his standard bearer was apparently paralysed.

"Ah, Celebrian!" Gil-galad slapped Elrond's shoulder affectionately. "Well, do not let me detain you. Go on, talk to her!"

"But, I do not know. . . what shall I say?" Elrond agonised, turning quite pale at the thought.

"By the love of the Valar, Peredhil!" Gil-galad's voice boomed so loudly that the antagonised half-elf was sure that Celebrian would hear, and think less of him for the hearing. "Speak of whatever you like, as long as it interests her!"

"But what? What could I say that would interest her? What if she thinks that I am foolish?"

Gil-galad gave his Vice-Regent a quick look. He was almost sure that he was hyperventilating.

"Eru, what is the worst that could happen?" Gil-galad sighed, the look on his face diminishing any doubt that Elrond may have had about the rhetorical origins of the question. "You could die, but better to perish in walking than talking."

Placing an arm around the half-elf's shoulders Gil-galad strolled into the sitting room, hoping Celebrian would not misinterpret the friendly gesture as wrestling due to the half-elf's obvious unwillingness to participate.

"Greetings, Lady Celebrian!" Gil-galad grinned jovially, and gave Elrond a small shove.

"Good morning." Elrond stuttered, beginning to flush yet again. He was going to say something stupid, he knew it! Something that would make Celebrian totally aware of his mortal heritage, or worse maybe even make her suspect dwarvish blood! She might be a most enlightened elf-maiden, but after centuries of her father's influence, he doubted that her cross- cultural relations extended much further than a polite greeting to those of 'inferior' descent.

"Good morning, my King." Celebrian nearly dropped her embroidery in surprise, and smiled so happily that it lit up her whole face. "Good morning, Elrond."

There was an awkward pause, during which Celebrian waited expectantly, Gil- galad treated Elrond with a significant look, and Elrond began to feel like a beached fish. He had to think of something to say - something sensible and profound. Wise in all lore was Master Elrond. People had said so. So why had his brain betrayed him now?

"What occupies you this morning?" Gil-galad increased the intensity of his significant look, and approached Celebrian with casual interest.

"Oh." With a feeling of disappointment that it was only the King who was paying her attention, Celebrian displayed the exquisite pattern of honeysuckle and cornflowers. "I am making a nightgown."

"Ah." Gil-galad attempted to cut Elrond down with a significant look of Kingly magnificence. Why couldn't the dratted child follow his example? "I see; the leaves are most beautifully designed."

Celebrian blushed a little and beamed with delight.

"I designed them myself." She opened a small basket and drew out several silks of different colours. "You see, if I highlight the sun on the leaf with this green, and then pick out the shadows with this green, but do the edging with that green, the leaves look so much more real."

She beamed at Gil-galad, who nodded understandingly.

"This green of course, was a different matter. . ."

As Celebrian continued, clearly delighted to find another who shared her interest in needlework, Gil-galad cast desperate looks at his friend. Elrond was slithering silently backwards towards the door, and before the King could issue an invitation to join them, the half-elf had slipped through the door with a teasing grin and a jaunty tilt of the head.

"And then I chose to use this stitch here, it's nice and smooth, look. . ."

He could manage this of course; he was the High King after all. He just had to sit here, smiling and nodding. It could not be that long before dinner. It was all perfectly manageable.

Celebrian smiled at him, and handed him a fresh square of linen.

"Here, you try."

~*~

In Elrond's study two heads, one dark and one golden, were bent over a large map. Two voices, as different as the speakers, alternated in familiar rhythm as fingers were traced over the map and old alliances were spoken of.

Their lands were at present in peace, evil having been driven back for the moment. But the one thing that they could almost guarantee was that evil would rise again with yet more power and wrath. For men maybe, it was a great victory. They would have peace for many lifetimes, stretching deep into their tales and memory. But for elves - for elves it was an interlude - a time to rejoice in, but yet to prepare for the inevitable.

Eventually the blond head rose and its owner fidgeted. Sitting still was not a natural occupation for Glorfindel, although he had grown more accustomed to it of late. As Chief of the House of the Golden Flower he had often governed and given orders as he strode around his halls, but now he had chosen to serve the half-elven Lord of Imladris, and half-elven lords were inclined to prefer being seated as they worked.

"Perhaps, with the aid of the armies of Lindon, we could attack." Glorfindel ran the tip of his right index finger firmly across the map.

Elrond looked at him and his eyes held his unseen smile. The blond elf had become bored, and until there had been some release of his energy, there would get no more sensible suggestions. His friend may have enough power to bring down a Balrog, but getting rid of that energy during a normal day of discussions and council meetings could be quite a challenge. He could remember Gil-galad's face when the blond elf's rather over enthusiastic signing of a document had led to a pitcher of water being upset into his lap.

"Perhaps we should ask Gil-galad before commissioning his host?" Elrond suggested lightly with eyebrows raised. Glorfindel looked at him and grinned boyishly.

"Ah. He will not notice." The blond elf stretched out about as much as it was elvishly possible without actually getting out of his chair, and looked at Elrond enquiringly. "He has not yet missed. . ."

Elrond coughed loudly, drowning out whatever Glorfindel may have said, and looked around stealthily before continuing. "He has not spoken of it, and I see no reason for him to need it."

Glorfindel looked smug and raised his eyebrows at the half-elf, "Excellent."

The room fell into silence for another while, as the elf-lords perused the map. Then Elrond pushed his chair back and finally spoke.

"Mmm, Glor. . ." Elrond paused and looked out of the window to hide his mischievous smile. "We must discuss this with the High King. I believe that he is in the southern sitting room. Will you fetch him for me?"

~*~

As Glorfindel took the long route round, through the gardens and across the streams, he did not notice the watcher.

Haldir was seated on one of the higher branches of an oak tree, leaning against the rough bark as he thought of what had been said. Old though it was, the oak made a poor substitute for the mallorn trees of his homeland, but it was only in trees that he would find the peace and silence to think, so he would have to make the best of whatever this graceless valley had to offer.

The Lady Celebrian was lonely here, friendless and alone. The Lord of Imladris, and whatever disorganised medley he had put together to advise him, clearly had not spared a second to think of their guest's comfort. He had known her since childhood, and he would not let her suffer so.

He had long ago decided that the fair Celebrian was beyond him, that their worlds were too far apart. He had never even imagined that her father would even acknowledge his existence beyond that of a mere guard.

But it seemed that the world had changed.

Glorfindel crouched by the doorway to the sitting room, his smile brighter even than the gold of his hair. He had been sitting here hidden for quite some time, for he found the spectacle inside far more amusing than anything yet displayed in the Hall of Fire.

The High King sat at the window, Celebrian at his side. Celebrian was stitching steadily and talking and laughing merrily, carefully embroidering swords, spears and stars onto a scrap of blue linen. Gil-galad was evidently yet at a more basic level, and seemed to find the conversation somewhat distracting, as his square of linen was stained with blood from pricked fingers.

"I see what your trouble is," Celebrian bit off an end of thread and spread out the fabric on her knee to admire her handiwork, "Your fingers are just not dainty enough."

"They are not?" The dark eyebrows rose and the High King held out his inadequate hands for observation, spreading out his fingers, and looking at them thoughtfully.

"No." Celebrian took his hand in her own, and rubbed the rough callused areas of his palm gently. "You will never shine at needlework with hands like these. I am sorry."

She looked so sympathetic and distraught at his plight, that Gil-galad felt uncomfortable and Glorfindel had to bite his fist to avoid laughing.

"You cannot do anything about the size of course, but perhaps. . . perhaps if you spent less time with your sword. . ."

Gil-galad coughed loudly and Glorfindel dissolved into merry laughter, gliding in with a superior smile just as the High King turned his ferocious gaze on the doorway.

"My King." Glorfindel swept into a deep bow, still smirking, then turned to Celebrian. "Lady Celebrian, I beg leave to borrow your pupil, for Lord Elrond requires his counsel."

Celebrian gifted him with a beautiful smile, and patted Gil-galad's arm. "He has done very well for his first time. See."

Gil-galad was far too well mannered to engage in a tug-of-war with a lady, but only gave up his handiwork with extreme unwillingness.

"Oh," Glorfindel pranced and over to sit by Celebrian and admire the rather wobbly looking daisies and primroses, not bothering to hide his amusement, "Most delightful. I must congratulate you, Gil-galad."

The High King scowled at the ground, flexing his fingers around an invisible neck.

"Now, do not sulk." Celebrian smiled at him, her voice musical and kind. "You have done very well, considering."

"Aye, a most kingly effort." Glorfindel's eyebrows quirked upwards as he grinned broadly at his own wit.

Celebrian looked at him, pursing her lips appraisingly.

"Please do not tease him so." She frowned at the blond elf. "It is not kind when he has tried so hard."

Gil-galad got to his feet, declaring his intentions to not keep the Lord of Imladris waiting any longer with unnecessary force.

"Tease him?" Glorfindel sprang to his feet and went to stand just over an arm's length from Gil-galad's side. "I would not dare to disobey you, my lady. A fool would I be to stand before the one who has drawn blood from the King!"

Celebrian giggled, and with a last bow, Glorfindel allowed himself to be yanked from the room. Celebrian gathered up her threads and needles, smiling to herself. Imladris was truly the most wonderful place in Arda.

~*~

Smirking, Glorfindel walked alongside his King, speaking innocently of the plans they had made, and the suggestions that had been put forth.

Gil-galad listened, occasionally nodding, and sometimes frowning as he considered the plans.

"The armies of Lindon will indeed march against the might of Mordor," the High King glared at a perfectly innocent bunch of daffodils as he thought, "but I will not lead my people to certain death and defeat. Even with Cirdan's aid I doubt that we can take on Sauron alone."

"You believe that Cirdan will march with us?" Glorfindel queried. He had sat on many councils with the Shipwright, and the ancient elf had been more of a dampener on the more impulsive and reckless suggestions, than a proactive member.

"I do not doubt it." Gil-galad frowned slightly. "If I ask it of him."

Glorfindel did not look convinced. It was his opinion that the Shipwright would happily see all lands but the Havens overwhelmed by shadow before he would even consider standing against the onslaught.

"He is not quick to anger, Glorfindel." Gil-galad said. "But when he is revealed in his might, I would not stand against him."

"Aye." Glorfindel said with doubt. "What then do you suggest if, with all our armies, we cannot bring down the Dark Lord?"

Gil-galad grimaced and shook his head, and the pair lapsed into silence, their aura of gloom marring their enjoyment of the beautiful gardens.

Eventually, unable to take the silence any longer, Glorfindel slapped the High King playfully on the shoulder, "I did admire your petticoat."

Gil-galad scowled at the blond elf, his dark brows drawn closely together, "It was not a petticoat."

"No?" Glorfindel pranced forward a few steps, removing himself from the range of possible retaliation. "In that case, I think daisies would look quite delightful on your banners. . ."

The High King grinned good naturedly, laughing at himself, "Aye, but you would have to explain to my worthy standard bearer why such symbols had appeared among the stars. Ah. . . I was quite trapped, my friend. If you had not rescued me. . ."

Glorfindel laughed, his eyes crinkling up with mirth. "You looked quite at home with needle and thread. . . perhaps with Lady Celebrian's aid, we may make some progress. She can be quite. . . forceful."

"Aye." Gil-galad smiled ruefully and shook his head. "You have no idea."

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Being acquainted with the thirty seven shades of green, I doubt that I shall ever look at the colour quite the same way again." Gil-galad rolled his eyes and smiled. "I am sure that several thousand shades of black could be produced. . . give her a few hours and the Dark Lord would be whimpering in a corner. . ."

Glorfindel grinned and the two walked on in friendly silence before the blond elf snorted loudly, and collapsed in helpless giggles.

Nudging the kneeling elf with his boot, Gil-galad sighed wearily, and enquired as politely as he could manage as to the state of Glorfindel's mind.

He was answered with a splutter of laughter and desperate gasps for breath, and he wondered a little guiltily whether he would be glad or sorry if the misfortunate Balrog Slayer choked to death on his own sniggers. It would be a difficult death to explain to Elrond, certainly.

"Come along." Hooking his arms underneath the blond elf's shoulders, Gil- galad yanked him to his unsteady feet and shoved him forward. "And you can explain to Elrond why it took so long for us to meet him."

Still chuckling, Glorfindel staggered along, clutching his stomach. Every time he looked at his King fresh peals of laughter broke out, and Gil- galad's calm countenance became rather strained.

"What." Gil-galad snapped at last, his amusement in this particular topic long passed. "And it better be breathtakingly funny. . ."

Glorfindel sniggered something that might have been, "Against the Needle of Gil-galad, none could stand!"

Gil-galad bit his lip and clenched his fists, giving the blond elf such an icy stare that the chuckles abruptly stopped, and were replaced with hiccups. They proceeded through the gardens, the only sound breaking the frosty silence being Glorfindel's periodic sniggering, suggestions for the name of such a mighty weapon and the odd hiccup.

Eventually, the High King stopped still and turned to the blond elf, placing a hand on Glorfindel's shoulder and squeezing it painfully tight.

"Be quiet, Glorfindel of Gondolin, for otherwise you may well find the Needle of Gil-galad inserted into various parts of your anatomy." Gil-galad thundered, then chuckled ominously, his eyes lighting up with wickedness. "And trust your King when he says, Balrog Slayer though you be, afterwards you will not be standing."

Something which Glorfindel, suddenly quite pale, obeyed without question.

In Glorfindel's study, a cosy little room in a forgotten nook of Imladris, one blond-haired Balrog slayer was hard at work at his desk. Or at least, he appeared to be.

The impression may have been a little more convincing had he been actually writing with his quill instead of sculpting one end with his tongue. Even more so if he had been bent over the books that were piled on his desk, rather than rocking back on his chair and basking in the late afternoon sun that filtered in through the west-facing window. But this was as studious as Glorfindel got, and Gil-galad was loath to disturb him.

But there were important matters to discuss, and since he had no intention of completing the task himself, he would have to delegate it to his inferiors. And the blond elf seemed most suitable for such an activity.

"Hail, Lord Glorfindel." The High King glided into the study with his usual grace, and nodded seriously at the occupant of the chair before taking a seat. "Do not rise, I merely deliver a message from Elrond."

Glorfindel - who had never had any intention of rising in the first place - swung around on two of his chair legs to face his visitor. Blond brows raised questioningly, he watched the King with a hint of mischief. While etiquette stated that he should gently enquire as to the King's health, comment on the scintillating changes of the weather, and otherwise ease him in his passing of the news, it was far more interesting to bait him. For Gil-galad was of orderly practice and mind, and nothing frustrated him more than inefficiency and disorganisation.

It amused Glorfindel greatly to send him official documents decorated with doodles or blotches of ink, purely for the pleasure of seeing the firm irritated swish of his quill as he signed. Once he and Elrond had enjoyed an exceedingly amusing contest to see who could provoke the longest tails on the ornate Gs, but when they had unexpectedly been assigned charge of the council on the leech infestation along with the associated fieldwork, the enthusiasm for a rematch had petered out.

"Eru, Glorfindel!" Gil-galad burst out at last. "Must you spin on your chair so? You shall strain the wood, and one day you shall choke on that quill."

Smirking, Glorfindel allowed his chair to fall forwards with a bang.

"My apologies, my King. I find the motion soothing to my thoughts." The blue eyes twinkled mockingly.

"Aye?" One dark brow quirked upwards, "Like the sea?"

Not recognising the tone in Gil-galad's voice, Glorfindel continued blithely. "Aye, just like the sea."

"Excellent." The King said with great satisfaction, causing Glorfindel's blond head to whirl around, his fair face a picture of confusion. "Cirdan has been complaining of a lack of hands in the shipyards, and since you do little good here. . ."

Glorfindel's eyes widened. While he was almost sure that the High King was joking, it was always difficult to tell where Gil-galad was concerned. And a few centuries scraping barnacles. . .

"The message?" Glorfindel spoke rapidly, fumbling on his desk for parchment and removing his quill from his mouth.

Chuckling quietly, Gil-galad stretched back, folding his arms behind his head. "It is a small task, concerning our pledge. . ."

The two elves spoke quietly together for several minutes, the smooth melody of their voices punctuated only by a startled yelp and a despairing, "For the love of Eru, why me?"

Eventually the conversation lapsed into silence, and the pair observed each other over the desk.

"Did Elrond specify that it was I who must complete the task?" Glorfindel asked at last, observing the King suspiciously. Honourable and wise though the High King was, he had had several millennia more experience at shirking unpleasant tasks than most of his advisors.

Gil-galad's cheekbones reddened slightly, and he gave Glorfindel a frustrated grin. "Not as such, no, but I feel that you are well suited to the task."

"Indeed?" Glorfindel looked questioningly at the King. He could of course use certain hidden advantages to dodge the assignment, but he would rather keep such a mighty weapon for more important purposes. He would need Elrond's cooperation in any case. "What about that spear of yours. . ."

"Tempting. . . yet, I doubt that slaying is necessary and Aeglos would find the activity most dull. I think not." Gil-galad shrugged easily, "One of us must do it, and it is such a simple assignment."

"Then why do you not do it?" Glorfindel burst out irritably. He had plotted with the High King and his herald before, and each time it was he who walked the rockiest path.

"I would do it, and gladly." Gil-galad stretched the truth slightly. Taxing though the job of High King was, it did have its perks. "But I have royal duties this evening. You may take the first turn".

"Royal duties?" Glorfindel snorted and crossed his arms across his chest. "There is no reason why you should not take the first turn."

The two elves glared at each other, blond and dark heads bent together, and matching eyebrows drawn together in mirrored valleys. Determined blue eyes met stubborn grey ones, neither elf willing to compromise.

"Very well," said the High King at last, "Straws shall be drawn."

~*~

Elrond strolled peacefully through his gardens, deep in thought. He needed to show Celebrian how deeply he felt for her, but to decide how to do so was an entirely different matter. At present everything seemed to be conspiring against him.

Long stuffy hours of councils stretched insurmountably before him, his frustration only increased by the knowledge that Celebrian would be out enjoying the rivers and woodlands in the company of her mother, her father and the march-warden. He had tried convincing both himself and Gil-galad of the sense of skipping councils and engagements to 'broaden' cross-cultural relations, but his mentor had merely pressed his lips together and shaken his head.

He wondered where Celebrian was now. . . she had said something about visiting a glade that was famous for its numerous butterflies. Haldir was probably with her. He did not even have the evening to look forward to, for he had spoken to Celeborn that morning, and had been informed that their family would be dining separately that evening. Apparently Celebrian was finding the social schedule rather tiring.

He had accepted this news with remarkable calm, and had even retained the presence of mind to step on Glorfindel's foot as the blond elf began to protest that since she had spent the previous evening out-dancing him and all the other young soldiers in the jigs, it was hardly Elrond's fault if she was tired this morning.

All the same, a day without any prospect of speaking with her or covertly admiring her over the dinner table held little joy, and he had racked his brains for any reason that would allow him to butt in on the family meal.

No suitable excuse had been found, but by listening to the slightly less honourable regions of his brain a plan had been concocted that would ensure that although his relationship would not profit from the evening, then neither would Haldir's.

~*~

Well satisfied at the way the division of labour had turned out, Gil-galad strode purposely down the corridor, intending to work his way through most of his outstanding paperwork before anyone else found him.

The finger and thumb trick had been taught to him by an old childhood friend and, over the years, had served him remarkably well. Perhaps it was not the most honest or kind activity to indulge in, but the look of frustration and annoyance on the Balrog Slayer's face had made it all worthwhile.

Chuckling to himself slightly, the High King disposed of his length of grass stem out of the window and was about to make for the study that he had acquired during his stay, when he noticed a small figure moving down among the trees.

He had promised himself to speak to the half-elf, had he not? The boy certainly needed someone to speak with him, and there was nobody else to do it. Shelving all thoughts of paperwork for the moment, Gil-galad turned out though the doors onto the terrace and proceeded into the gardens, seeking Elrond.

~*~

"Elrond!"

The Lord of Imladris whirled around guiltily at the sound of the High King's voice. Although Gil-galad looked considerably less imposing in tunic and leggings than he did fully armed and in battle armour, the half-elf still held him in healthy respect. He had never been able to look upon either of the gentle - if remote - elves that had taken over his upbringing in quite the same way after he had marched with them into battle.

"Oh. . ." Elrond licked his lips slightly. "The defence section is almost finished. . . I was just. . . clearing my head."

Gil-galad reached his side and clapped a friendly hand onto his herald's shoulders.

"Do not let it bother you, my friend." The High King smiled reassuringly at the half-elf. "I came to speak with you, not my Vice Regent."

Elrond gave him a grateful look and relaxed, and as they resumed walking though the trees volunteered, "I was thinking about Lady Celebrian."

Gil-galad raised his eyebrows slightly and waited in understanding silence.

"I. . ." Elrond began uncertainly. "I believe that she favours Haldir over me. I do not even know if she has yet noticed me."

The High King grimaced slightly as he considered what he should say. In matters of the heart he had had little to say, and less to draw on. At the subtle and not so subtle hints of his counsellors he had tried, but yet. . .

"Have you told her of your feelings?"

Elrond looked at him, and Gil-galad suddenly remembered the pale little elfling earnestly explaining to him that he could not possibly play with a sword because he had seen what soldiers did with them. Or had that been Elros?

It was hard to remember now.

Neither twin had ever played with wooden swords, or spoken lightly of war. Even Elros had been well past his twentieth year before he began to show any interest in fencing lessons. It made sense that Elrond would now show the same hesitance in matters of the heart. Too many of the people or places that he had dared to love had been snatched from him.

"Perhaps some time alone would help?" Gil-galad pondered aloud, then grinned as Elrond simultaneously turned rosy and looked delighted. "You should speak to her, at least."

Giving the High King a withering look as he emphasised the word 'speak', Elrond slowed and came to a halt, leaning against the broad trunk of an ash tree.

"But what should I do? What should I say?" The half-elf's voice rose in panic. "How shall I even get the chance with that Eru forsaken march-warden forever hovering. Those wood-elves. . . he might be lurking here as we speak. . . watching. . ."

"Elrond!" Gil-galad spoke firmly and with exasperation as the half-elf's thoughts grew ever more anxious. As the half-elf petered into silence, he gave him a reassuring grin. "The time shall come for you. We shall see to that."

Haldir sat cross-legged on the grass by the housing of the Imladris Guard. Ignoring the curious looks from the numerous dark-haired soldiers that passed his way, returning to change after training, the march-warden continued sharpening his knives, regardless of the more traditional accommodation for such a task inside the building.

He could hear the muttered comments that his counterparts made as they watched him and the other Lorien elves occupying the grassy space beside the path, but he paid them no attention. He had little desire to sit in their darkened rooms, listen to boots clattering on stone floors, and drink strange tasting mead from their engraved metal beakers. And having to keep the banter and 'friendly' contests between the soldiers of the two realms under control. He was not quite sure who commanded the Imladris Guard, but whoever it was seemed to be egging them on.

Far better to sit amongst wild things, enjoying the scent of the grass and the singing of the birds, and drinking fresh spring water from cupped hands. But even the water of this valley tasted different. Inferiorly different, naturally.

The arrival of a pair of boots between him and the clump of daisies that he had been admiring caused him to halt his disparaging thoughts and glance upwards.

"Lord Celeborn!" Haldir's voice was slightly high-pitched with shock, and he shot to his feet with speed, his lithe body stiff as he stood to attention.

"Haldir of Lorien." Celeborn motioned languidly to the march-warden, telling him to be at ease. "I bid you to join us to eat tonight. My daughter will be there. She is most looking forward to your company."

The Lord of Lorien's face was calm and apparently disinterested; the corners of his mouth turned down slightly in his usual arrogant expression. Only a slight flickering of his eyes betrayed his true feelings, and that was a sign recognised only by his wife. He appeared serious enough to convince the march-warden that this was neither test nor jest.

Haldir's eyes widened slightly, but he merely nodded firmly and stood in silence as the Lord of Lorien turned and strode off back towards the house. Once Celeborn had departed from earshot however, the Lorien elves bubbled with muffled laughter, facetious comments and feigned noises of anticipation.

"Aye, and I wonder what else shall be on the menu!" Rose brightly from a group of soldiers sitting too close together to enable the march-warden to pick out the culprit.

"It will be delicious, I am sure!" Another soldier broke in, tossing his newly sharpened daggers in the air and juggling them in a flash of silver blades.

"And most beautifully presented." A young soldier added rather more shyly and seriously, watching the juggled daggers intently, trying to understand how the trick was done.

The other soldiers paused in their comments to Haldir and turned to look at the young soldier - blond brows raised and mouths opening into grins of wicked intent. Then, as the youth blushed scarlet and hastily tried to amend his comment, they broke into laughter and catcalls.

His scarlet face contrasting nicely with his golden hair and silver mail, Haldir sat down again, balling up a dirty rag to throw at the nearest sniggering soldier.

"'Tis nothing. Merely a formality."

But the excuse did not sound convincing, even to him. And that was pleasing.

~*~

The glade was beautiful, even this early in year. Sheltered by the high walls of the gorge and the thick leafy forests at the base of the valley, the clearing was gloriously warm and calm. Colourful flowers were already blooming on the mossy ground, and while the butterflies that the glade was famed for were not yet as plentiful as they would be by midsummer, there was still plenty to hold her attention.

She sat down on a moss-covered branch that was bowed almost to the ground, tapping her toes lightly against the grass to make the limb bounce slightly. She had been thinking long and hard as to the best way to attract the attentions of her desired elf-lord, and finally she thought that she had the answer.

She had known that the Imladris Guard practised down on the lower ranges every morning, but now she had come across even more important information. It had been so simple, merely pretending to be seeking her host, and then the helpful young trainee had come up with exactly what she wanted. Apparently the Lord of Imladris did not always train with the other members of the guard, but he could be found every other day on the northern training fields before breakfast. Tomorrow morning she would have to find time to explore the northern reaches of the woodlands around Imladris. But first she had much to think about.

Celebrian extended her slender fingers gently, barely breathing in her delight as a small blue butterfly came to rest on her fingertips. The butterfly flapped its wings, and paused in stillness, the only movement being a slight lift and fall of its body.

Galadriel would not think much of the plan, for she was of the opinion that if an elf loved an elf-maiden, it was entirely up to the male to chase after his chosen one. Galadriel had never had any shortage of chasers. Her mother had not divulged much of her romance with her father, but Celebrian was not entirely sure that even if she did know her mother's secrets, that they would work for her. Or even if she would want them too. She would rather have someone admire her for her thoughts and conversation, than the inherited glory of her hair.

In any case, her mother had never had to win over the various unfortunate incidents that she battled against. She doubted that a pretty face would make a nightdress any less translucent, or that remembering the correct formal greeting would disguise the fact that she had turned scarlet at precisely the time she most wished to appear cool, calm and collected.

Celebrian sighed deeply, disturbing the butterfly, which fluttered silently from her hand. She never even got to see the Lord of Imladris these days, he was so busy in councils and meetings. At present the prospect of even getting to know him properly, let alone persuading him to return her feelings, seemed a distant dream.

~*~

"So, you think that we will see war?"

Galadriel's question hung tensely in the hot, stuffy air of the study, and the High King did not answer immediately - instead getting slowly to his feet and wandering over to the window. He pushed open the frame with a rather unnecessary jolt, and took several deep breaths of fresh air. Only then, when the frustrated redness of his cheekbones had faded, did he turn back to the other elf.

"I feel that it is inevitable," Gil-galad paused for a moment to look at the Lady of Lorien, "if we do not want to be driven out of this land."

Galadriel frowned slightly, and stared distantly at the nearest bookcase for a few moments. When she spoke her voice was carefully measured, but she had done nothing to disguise the power she held.

"My people will not be driven unwillingly west. Not while I still hold strength to prevent it." Her thumb seemed to brush against with something invisible on the base of her fingers. "And we have not yet tested some of our. . . defences."

Uncomfortably aware of the intent blue gaze focused on his right hand, Gil- galad hastily removed it from the window ledge and buried it in the thick velvet of his gown. Some nameless unease warned him against discussing the whereabouts or potential uses of the remaining Rings of Power. He thought she knew - she suspected of course. But it would not be wise to confirm that.

"Yes." His voice was slow and careful, and he fingered the silver embroidered trim to his robes thoughtfully. He did not want to see any of the elven realms become dependent on the use of these trinkets. It would be all too easy for distrust and whispers to grow around the continued battles and bloodshed once their people thought they understood what power their leaders held.

It would not be wise to forget who had given the gift.

Celebrian continued along the rough path, humming softly to herself. Although she was trying to enjoy the scenery and wildlife, in reality she was becoming rather worried.

The woods were rather thicker than they had seemed this morning, when she had followed a guide through the forests. She had assured him that any elf that had been brought up in Lorien would easily be able to find her way back through the woods, and eventually he had left her alone to enjoy the peace and quiet of the beautiful glade. But now the different ends of the clearing looked remarkably similar, and the path that had seemed so obvious this morning now looked rather indistinct as it wound between the tree trunks. She could not see the sun through the thick canopy, and she was not even sure that she was heading in the right direction.

She continued as light-heartedly as she could, ignoring her hunger and growing unease as she threaded through the trees. Sometimes she would see landmarks that she was sure that she had seen before - a clump of yellow primroses, or a nest high in the branches of a tree - but other times she would round a corner and be certain that she had not crossed that stream, or clambered over that fallen log.

Why had she sent that guide away? Only to have a little time alone in peace and quiet so that she could think about matters of the heart. But now she was fast becoming less and less sure of her whereabouts, in woods that were becoming less and less familiar.

Her Ammë would probably not list losing oneself in a really rather small patch of woodland a suitable way to impress one's chosen elf-lord.

~*~

"Elrond!" A cheerful voice, bubbling over with enthusiasm dragged Elrond's attention away from the document he was composing. "I have made a plan!"

Groaning, the Lord of Imladris tried to ignore the unwelcome visitor to his study, and turned his full concentration to the diagram he was constructing in a neatly ruled box. He already had a headache, and he could predict that the arrival of his friend would not soothe matters.

". . .a very good plan." Glorfindel allowed his words to dangle tantalisingly in the air, knowing that his target would not be able to resist questioning him.

Elrond sighed, and tried to keep his mind on the complex arrangement of circles and arrows, but eventually his diligence was in vain. Resting the nib of his quill against a sheet of blotting paper, he looked up, arching his left eyebrow questioningly at his friend.

"Fear not, my friend." The blond elf gave Elrond a friendly slap on the shoulder, earning himself a warning glare. "All will go smoothly. It is most cunning. . ."

Elrond made no reply, but Glorfindel was seemingly unperturbed by this blatant lack of enthusiasm. Eyes sparkling brightly, he plucked the quill from his friend's hand and twirled it between his fingertips as his face lit up with a mischievous grin.

"He will not know what has hit him."

~*~

The Lord and Lady of the Wood were sprawled lazily on the cushioned window- seat of their bedchambers. The sun was streaming in through the tall arched windows, and it was comfortably warm even though it was yet early in the year. Galadriel leant back against her husband's chest, reading as he played with the golden strands of her hair.

"She is visiting a glade renowned for its butterflies. It is most beautiful. Perhaps later you would accompany me?"

Galadriel smiled at him. "I would like that. Is it far?"

"Not far, yet it is a difficult path to follow. I have sent an experienced guide with her, she will be quite safe." The Lord of Lorien smirked slightly. "I meant to send out our march-warden with her, but he was otherwise occupied, and the woods here are yet unfamiliar to him."

"Celeborn," Galadriel paused, and pursed her lips disapprovingly. "You would not presume to interfere in matters of our daughter's heart?"

Celeborn stiffened slightly, and he paused in running his fingers through the soft golden waves. "Naturally not, but I will not see my Celebrian hurt."

Galadriel raised a blonde brow. "I doubt we need worry yet. . ."

"Why?" Celeborn asked suspiciously. "Do you know of what will come to pass?"

Laughing at the way the silver brows were drawn into a tense doubtful line, Galadriel turned to kiss him on the forehead. "Naturally not. It would not be right to invade her privacy so."

"Aye." Celeborn said slowly, then asked dubiously, "So you know not what plans others have for her. . ."

"Do not worry so, Celeborn." Galadriel wrapped some silky strands of silver hair around her fingers and tugged gently. "I know not what the future holds, but I know Elrond. The child will not leap recklessly into such things."

Celeborn let out a long sigh of exasperation, and he pouted grumpily.

"Celeborn." Galadriel tutted disapprovingly, and stroked a finger along his stubborn cheek. "Relax, meleth-nîn. They will come to no harm."

Celeborn looked hardly convinced at this statement, but smiled affably enough and returned the kiss his wife moved to give him. However, once she had returned her attentions to the open pages of her book, the silver- haired elf-lord sighed deeply and took to staring out of the window with a distinctly broody expression.

~*~

The orchards of Imladris were blossoming at this time of year and the apple and pear trees were white with small flowers. Stronger gusts of wind would sometimes blow waves of pale petals from the trees, and they would drift downwards to the grass - or, more rarely, sail on the breeze down the steeply inclined mountainside, and across the forests and meadows to the valley floor and the winding river. Tiny figures could be seen fishing, grinding corn, or simply splashing their feet in the water.

There were so many people here, survivors of Ereigion. He would not let them suffer again.

Letting his breath out in a deep sigh, Gil-galad let his face rest in his hands, his smallest fingers outlining the bridge of his nose, and his thumbs hooked under his ears, and stared pensively out into the valley. There were so many to listen to, so much to be considered. So many mistakes to be made.

Smiling a little, Gil-galad removed his ornate circlet from his head, and ran his hands over the silver and mithril bands for a few moments before tossing it high in the air.

It was high time that he met with Lord Celeborn to discuss the thoughts and rumours in Lorien.

The High King turned, caught his circlet neatly with one hand and strode towards the doorway, arranging the shining bands on his dark hair as he made his way down the steps, two at a time.

~*~

Haldir stood alone in the washroom long after the other guards from Lorien had dispersed to talk, eat or sing. A long mirror was hung over the bench where the basins and pitchers of warm water were left, and with his comrades gone he had the whole expanse of glass to himself.

After looking slyly behind him to make sure that none of the elves of Imladris were as crafted in sneaking, peeking and creeping as their counterparts from Lorien, Haldir slowly turned this way and that, eyeing his reflection with pursed lips. It was not bad. . . not bad at all.

His profile pleased him - the nose suitably straight and the chin held proudly high. The harsh air of the mountain passes had taken something out of his complexion, but with a little oil of lavender that should pass. Maybe his hair left a little something to be desired, but compared with the dull browns and black of the Imladris elves it was glorious, and with luck it could be washed before this evening.

Licking his finger and thumb, the march-warden drew out a few strands of golden hair, allowing them to fall casually across his forehead. It looked good. Better yet when viewed from the side. With a smirk, Haldir spun round, admiring himself from all angles before setting off for the dining hall, loudly humming a merry tune.

~*~

With Glorfindel gone, hurrying to deal with matters that Elrond judged it was wisest not to enquire after, the Lord of Imladris quickly finished off the report he was working on. Sitting back with a relieved sigh, Elrond ran an appraising eye down his work, checking that all letters were crossed and dotted, and that all the commas were in the proper place.

Amazingly, although his golden-tressed friend had been in the study for but a few short minutes, and as far as Elrond could remember he had been nowhere near the precious document, there was a large smudge across the left hand margin of the parchment. He was almost willing to blame himself for the error, until he noticed some inky finger marks at the top right hand corner, and a trail of ink blotches across the desk. Ink blotches in the exact position one might expect to find them if one had been so stupid as to twirl an ink-laden quill in mid-air.

Hissing in annoyance, Elrond briefly considered rewriting the document and turning in a masterpiece of immaculate perfection. But it was not as if his words were any less legible. . . and it was not he who had made the smudge. And he had no intention of missing a meal on Glorfindel's behalf. Not when the Lady Celebrian might be there.

Hastily, the half-elf initialled the bottom right of the pages, blotted the final one dry, and bundled them into a pile to be fastened by a wooden peg. It looked perfectly in order, especially if one did not seek to examine the fifth page, and he could see no cause for Gil-galad or any of the less demanding advisors to complain.

He tucked the report into a thin leather cover, and placed it under his arm as he proceeded to the door, hoping to reach the High King's study before Gil-galad left to prepare for lunch. Whilst most of the report had been straightforward, the task had sparked some ideas as to future attacks that he would like to discuss with his leader.

As Elrond stepped from the doorway, the sound of light running feet combined with childish laughter disturbed him from his thoughts, and he had barely time to raise his eyebrows in surprise as a small boy came careering around the corner, his soft leather moccasins skidding on the polished floor.

"Oh. . ."

"Ooooh!"

There was a dull thump roughly loud enough to be a small head colliding with another elf's knees, and elf-lord and elfling went flying in a flurry of limbs, papers and immaculately ironed velvet robes.

"Mandos." Elrond sat up, rubbing his bruised elbow gingerly. Luckily he seemed to have survived the impact relatively unharmed, but his papers seemed to have escaped rather less lightly. Crumpled pages were now being blown gently down the hallway by the breeze from the open terrace doors. More worrying however was the tiny elfling, lying quite still on the floor beside him. Biting his lip in concern, Elrond got to his knees, shuffled over to the child's side and gently checked his breathing and pulse. "Are you hurt, little one?"

The child was pale, and bleeding freely from his nose and a scratch on his forehead. As Elrond moved to pick him up, the child stirred and began sobbing loudly, although a quick examination showed that there were no more serious injuries.

"Hush," Elrond moved to sit cross-legged on the ground, and shifted the child into his lap. "Hush now. All is well."

The elfling sniffed and rubbed at his wet cheeks with a tightly curled fist, then sobbed out something indecipherable in between gulps for air.

"Are you hurt?" Elrond gently wiped the child's face with the cuff of his tunic. The flow of blood was quickly slowing, and he used one finger to tilt up the child's chin as he mopped up the blood and tears. "There now, there is no harm done."

The child gingerly touched his nose, then, on seeing the woeful state of his tunic and Elrond's robes began howling remorsefully.

Realising that the boy's tears had more to do with who he had bumped into than the actual bumps and bruises that had been sustained in doing so, Elrond got up and set the elfling on his feet.

"Now, do you think you could help me gather up my papers?" Elrond surveyed the child interestedly. He would be five or six, old enough to be able to recognise his letters and numbers. "I need them in the order of the numbers up here."

The half-elf picked up a page, and pointed at the carefully scripted numbers. "Why do you not begin with page one, and I shall begin with page twenty?"

The child nodded, and struggled to control his tears as he hiccuped miserably. "Yes, Lord Elrond."

"Good boy." Elrond was glad to see that the tiny elf seemed to have cheered up slightly once he had something he could do to redeem himself. "That is very helpful."

The report was now looking decidedly less respectable. While he could smooth out the crumples, there was not much he could do about bloodstains or tear marks. He carefully tried to repair each page as the little elfling scrambled over furniture and scurried here and there to fetch the sheets of parchment.

"I have found it!" The elfling seemed rather grubbier than when Elrond had last seen him disappear out onto the terrace, and he was waving the elusive page twelve proudly above his head. He came to an abrupt halt at Elrond's feet and gabbled excitedly. "It was caught in the vines, but I climbed up and got it out, but then the wind blew so, so hard and it decided to fly over the edge of the terrace and into the garden, but it must have been thirsty for it flew right down to the pond. . ."

"It did?" Elrond asked despairingly, accepting the green streaked and soggy sheet.

"I got it out though." The child beamed his best smile, and prodded at the page and frowned in concern. "It is a bit damp though, is it not?"

"Aye." Elrond tried to blow the wet paper and rapidly spreading ink dry. It was a hopeless task, and eventually he tucked it into the folder with the remainder of the pages. "Come along."

A clammy little hand took his proffered larger one, and together the pair walked to the north hallway, where Elrond hoped the child would manage to stay out of harms way. "You must not come into the studies and council chambers again, unless you are invited."

The child turned scarlet, and looked at the floor as he mumbled an apology then looked up with a hopeful smile as he spoke guilelessly. "Will you invite me? Sometimes?"

"Erm. . ." Elrond paused, rather surprised at the child's forwardness. He had pegged the boy as a shy little thing, for he flushed whenever required to make a comment, and his dark hair was forever falling over his face.

"When I grow up, I shall be a counsellor." The boy informed him calmly, with a slight hint of pride. "A very important counsellor. I can already read the green book with all the sad poems in it."

"Indeed?" Elrond smiled down at the eager little face. "I must remember to invite you to tea then, for I would love to hear you read to me."

The child's face lit up with a smile so bright that Elrond was sure that if he hung out his damp sheet of parchment before it, it would dry instantly.

~*~

His new young friend waved off, and guided to the care of a kindly looking female elf that he dimly remembered as having seen in the orchards from time to time, Elrond and his ill-fated report headed back towards Gil- galad's study. The High King would be long gone by now, for the midday bells were already chiming for the meal, but he could at least leave a note explaining the absence of the promised documents.

Not expecting any company, Elrond knocked lightly and entered without waiting for a reply.

"Peredhil."

The voice was quiet and matter-of-fact, and Elrond looked across the room in some surprise to find his King sitting on the window-seat, elbows placed on the wide wooden ledge, and his head in hands. The solemn grey eyes were focused only on the smooth curved edge to the window ledge, and Elrond was surprised that Gil-galad had even seen him.

"Your knock is far too distinctive, Peredhil." The High King spoke as if he had read his herald's thoughts, and looked up with a deep sigh. "Elrond?"

"I had. . ." Elrond motioned vaguely at his papers as he looked hard at the High King. "Is all well?"

Gil-galad looked up bleakly, and tried to school his face into a smile. "Aye, all is well."

Elrond raised an eyebrow, but pushed the matter no further, knowing all too well that High Kings were apt to become testy when pressed.

"The report. . ." Gil-galad held out a hand, his thoughts and attention still focused well out of the window.

"Yes, well. . ." Elrond reluctantly handed over the dishevelled document, and frowned, slightly ashamed of it's state. "I believe that it may need drafting. . ."

The High King's face darkened slightly as he flipped through the first few pages of the report, and the black brows drew a little closer together. Elrond tensed apprehensively, his mouth hanging a little open as he waited for the High King to look up before making his excuses. However, as Gil- galad continued his perusal of the document, the tightness around his mouth softened until he was almost smiling.

"This is a most admirable account, Peredhil." He chewed slightly on his lower lip as he glanced at the streaked tearstains and droplets of blood, and his eyes twinkled with hidden amusement. "It would appear to have had an adventure of its own."

"Ah." The two pairs of grey eyes met, and Elrond gave his mentor a quirky grin. "It is certainly well travelled."

"Courtesy of an elfling courier. . ." Gil-galad smiled to himself as he noticed the small grubby handprint on the edge of one page. Occasionally as a little elfling he had been entrusted with the important task of bearing notes around the Havens. His pride at being assigned the task had faded somewhat when he had seen the official document sail off on a gust of wind, over the cliff edge and down to the stormy sea below. Even less pleasant had been trying to explain to a fuming shipwright what on earth had possessed him to try and create a wind ship with a vital letter.

"Aye." Elrond took the report back, and rearranged the pages back into a single pile. "I have made a new friend."

Gil-galad grinned broadly then, as he caught sight of the dark stains on Elrond's sleeves and chest, looked questioningly at the half-elf. "Have you been healing in your formal gowns again?"

Laughing at the paternal disapproval in the High King's voice, Elrond examined his robes critically, holding his arms out before him as he twisted his wrist to the left and right. "It is not as bad as it might have been."

Once, as a young guest of Gil-galad's court, he had come across a litter of kittens that had been attacked by some wild animal. Apparently blood did not come out of small gowns of white silk and cream velvet, even after repeated washings.

"Indeed, no." The High King's voice became excessively considerate and regal, a favourite of his for teasing. "I believe I can see some patches of blue here and there. . ."

Elrond grimaced playfully at him. "It is not that bad. I could not have left him unsoothed."

"No." Gil-galad said shortly, his face suddenly becoming grave as thought of his problems overwhelmed him again. "Matters can not simply be left."

Elrond looked at the High King sympathetically, detecting his inner turmoil, and flapped the report gently. "I shall have this for you by dinnertime."

He would be heartily sick of that miserable report by sundown. It would be difficult enough to find time to rewrite it amongst the afternoon's councils.

Gil-galad looked at him seriously for a few moments, guessing the sum of Elrond's thoughts from the half-elf's face. Then he shook his head slightly. "No, Elrond. If you have some hours unfilled, I would rather spend them in counsel. I have much on my mind."

Elrond nodded, and smiled slightly. Judging by the slight stressful twitching of the High King's left brow, he had far too much on his mind.

"Aye, I shall meet you in an hour." Elrond said, and when Gil-galad opened his mouth to protest, repeated himself in the calm authoritative voice of a healer. "In an hour. Some food and fresh air will ease your thoughts."

Gil-galad turned to the desk, muttering something similar to 'dratted Peredhel'. However, once he had shuffled his papers a few times he strode across the room and grabbed his cloak and followed Elrond out of the doorway with a rather rueful grin.

Elrond had chosen to leave the traditional paths today, and instead headed towards a peaceful little known pool in the curving path of the river. It would be silent there, except for the gentle rush of the river, and he would be able to think, free from distractions or overzealous counsellors.

He munched on his lunch as he walked, a tasty bread roll filled with cheese, herbs and slices of warm venison. The combination of a full stomach and the quiet of the ancient woods quickly eased the frustrations of the morning, and soon he was humming a tune happily as he walked through the trees and scrambled over fallen branches.

It had been a while since he had last walked this path, and the narrow way through the trees was almost covered by last season's dead leaves, small branches and acorns. The leaves were still damp underfoot from the rain in the night, and water dripped occasionally from the leafy canopy.

It smelt green and earthy in the stillness of the trees, sounds muffled by the leaves and tree trunks until all he could hear was the birdsong from the trees. The shady woods had a subtle eerie beauty, and he briefly considered inviting Celebrian to come with him to enjoy them, before deciding that compared to Lorien these woods would be nothing to admire.

"Oh! Lord Elrond." A female voice, almost gasping with relief, sounded through the trees, and Elrond turned to find Celebrian running lightly over the leaves towards him. "I. . . I. . ."

She was rather pale and frightened looking, her blue eyes appearing far too large for her face. Her blonde curls were loose and tangled with bits of twigs and dirt, and there was a dusty green mark across her nose and one cheek. Dead leaves were sticking damply to the knees of her leggings, and the embroidered border of her tunic was torn.

As she reached the Lord of Imladris, Celebrian paused, feeling rather silly. She had been so glad to see another elf - anyone else who could rescue her from this awful predicament - that she had not stopped to think before calling out and running to him. Perhaps she should have stalked after him, and followed him in secret - he would have to return home eventually. He might not want her company for he must chosen to set out alone, and now he would pretend that he was not annoyed and actually glad to see her. And she hardly looked her best. Despite his mortal blood, not even a half-elf could manage to have lustful thoughts about an elf-maiden in grubby leggings and a scruffy tunic.

"Lady Celebrian." Elrond's face lit up with a smile reminiscent of an elfling handed a syrup-dipped apple, and he held out his hand to the hesitating elf-maiden. "Please join me."

A hand slipped into his, and Celebrian fell into step at his side with a murmured thanks.

"You are cold." Elrond turned the slender hand over in his, noticing that her nails had turned slightly blue. "You have been in the woods a long time?"

Celebrian blushed to a pleasant shade of strawberry, and shivered slightly. The woods were shadowed and damp after the rain, and she had neglected to bring her cape with her this morning.

"A little time. I. . . I went to the butterfly glade, but then I took the wrong path back and. . ." Celebrian trailed off, looking down at the ground as the flush on her cheeks deepened further. What sort of Lorien elf became lost in the trees anyway? And now Master Elrond, the esteemed lore master, would be thinking that she was really rather dim.

"Ai, I am sorry." Elrond bit his lip and shuffled awkwardly. He had failed to have these poorly frequented paths cleared of fallen leaves or maintained, and it seemed that there had not even been anyone to guide her home. What sort of host allowed his guests to wander frightened amongst the trees? Celebrian must be thinking that he was incredibly rude and ungracious.

"Here." Elrond hastily unfastened his thick green cloak, and gently draped it around the elf-maiden's shoulders.

Celebrian gratefully folded the warm woollen fabric around her shivering body, and tried to persuade numb fingers to fasten the small mithril brooch at her neck.

"Let me." Elrond bent down slightly to fasten the brooch with practised fingers, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Celebrian's flushed cheeks and proudly held chin. He could feel her warm breaths against blowing a wisp of dark hair on his forehead.

"There." Elrond stood up hastily, his limbs seeming awkwardly gawky and angular. "That is the insignia of Imladris."

"Oh." Celebrian murmured quietly, her face still burning rather too much to think up any intelligent conversation.

"It looks well on you." Elrond commented, not quite meeting his companion's eyes.

"Oh." Celebrian fingered the ornately crafted brooch, tracing her finger around the star. "It is pretty. . . I mean. . . beautiful."

Somehow it did not seem right to compliment an elven warrior's brooch as pretty. But it was.

"It is." Elrond looked appraisingly at the brooch, his gaze shifting upwards slightly until his eyes met a shy blue gaze.

"You are staring." Celebrian said quietly, surprised at how calm she sounded despite her pounding heart.

"Aye. Aye, I was." Elrond gave her a small smile, then shook himself slightly and reached into his leather pouch and removed a second sandwich and tore it roughly in half. "Are you hungry?"

Half relieved and half disappointed, Celebrian nodded. She was not really hungry, for her stomach was fluttering nervously, but it would help to have something to do. Long silences made her uncomfortable.

"Thank you."

~*~

The pair strolled together through the woodlands for a while, munching contentedly on their sandwich, the comfortable silence occasionally punctuated by one or other pointing out objects of interest. The woods were filled with the signs of spring, patches of pale primroses blooming in the shade of the oak trees and yellow buttercups growing among the lush grass of the glades. Blackbirds and thrushes sang from branches hidden by the year's new growth, and here and there they would find fragments of eggshell or soft downy feathers nestling in the dead leaves under the trees.

"It is always surprising." Celebrian said softly, bending to pick a few primroses and daisies. "These little flowers have pushed their way through the fallen leaves - it has not choked them. But a few months ago all that was here was dead leaves and the bare branches of the winter trees."

"Aye." Elrond looked a bit worried, and rubbed the toe of his left boot against the heel of his right foot in embarrassment. It might have been an innocent comment, it had sounded as such, but then it may have been a gentle hint. He was sure that a lady such as Celebrian would hesitate before risking hurt to her listeners. "I should have. . . I will have. . . the paths shall be cleared. I should have not allowed them to become so overgrown."

Celebrian paused in squinting at the thin stem of a daisy to flash him a curious look and a mischievous smile. She was beginning to warm up by now, and her cheeks had regained their usual rosy flush. "It matters not, but you must beware my father. He cares deeply for me."

Elrond made a noncommittal murmur, judging that airing his opinions on the Lord of Lorien was perhaps not the wisest move at the present time.

Celebrian looked at him, only just managing to hide her mirth at the expression of panic that crossed the elf-lord's face at mention of her father. It was strange how all the elves that she had entertained with her company had displayed the exact same response to any mention of the elf- lord. She supposed that they were just shy. Some of them had even resorted to meaningless babbling and nervous twitching when faced with the elf himself. Young males could be sweet at times, although she viewed them with more of the indulgent eye of one admiring nervous, pink-eyed baby rabbits with fluffy white fur and damp snuffly noses, than with the feelings that she felt sure should be attached to matters of the heart. Not that she was not exceedingly fond of baby rabbits, but she did not wish to marry one.

"He sought her ever, wandering far. . ." The elf-maiden murmured with a mischievous glint in her eyes, watching her chosen elf-lord's face carefully as she pretended to be absorbed in threading the stem of a primrose through the green eyelet that she had cut in the other stem.

Elrond smiled a little ruefully, managing to suppress a shudder as he remembered the conversation in the boat, and quoted the ancient words quietly. ". . .Where leaves of years were thickly strewn."

"You know it!" Celebrian squealed in delight, and gifted him with a beaming smile. "It is a favourite of mine."

"As it is one of mine," Elrond grunted a little apologetically, and gave her an embarrassed look as she failed to conceal her surprised smile. "You did not expect that."

"Oh. . ." Celebrian blushed and covered her mouth with her hand. "I did not mean. . . it is somewhat unusual. . . I mean. . . you are. . ."

"I am a warrior?" Elrond supplemented blandly, then stuck his fists firmly into his pockets and began striding rapidly down the path. "But have you not heard them speak of me? 'Wise in all lore is Master Elrond' - a fine lore master I would make if I knew not of the history of my family."

Suddenly aware of his sharp tone, the Lord of Imladris halted and turned round to face Celebrian, speaking apologetically with a distinct hint of weariness. "I will fight to protect my people, but I do not wield my sword through choice. I wish that this did not have to happen."

Celebrian looked at him in silence for a few seconds, biting her lip slightly as she watched the half-elf.

"I am sorry." She offered timidly, one hand subconsciously fingering the chain of flowers that hung loosely around her bare wrist. She could not imagine what it must be like to have to stride into battle for the sake of your people, especially if your soul was that of a healer.

"No." Elrond relaxed with a great sigh of defeat, and walked back over to her side. He dug his hands deeper into the fabric of his leggings and spoke with honest regret. "I am sorry. I should not have burdened you so."

Celebrian looked at him a little dubiously, her brow furrowing slightly.

"I mean. . ." Elrond hesitated, thinking how best to phrase his concerns. "You should not know of such things. You shall be protected always."

Celebrian's eyebrows rose in two elegantly sculpted arcs, but she allowed Elrond to blunder on for a few moments before intervening. Drawing herself to her full height she halted, waiting for the half-elf to turn to her.

"Do not underestimate me Elrond Peredhil." The blue eyes narrowed warningly, and her usual gentle tones took on a distinct firmness. "I may not wield a weapon, and I may not match you for brawn, but I have a heart and it shall match yours beat for beat. I may seem but a maiden to be protected and cosseted from the evils of this world, but even I have ears. Do not seek to hide things from me, merely because you wish that they were not there for you to hide."

"Ai. . . I. . ." Elrond frowned deeply and shook his head slightly. "I did not mean that. . . no offence was meant."

The working of the minds of elf-maidens was beyond him. If one took a good elf such as Gil-galad or Glorfindel for instance it was possible to predict how they would react to certain situations. They would certainly not become angry over a simple act of kindness. Unsure of how to proceed, Elrond let his shoulders slumped and he absent-mindedly attempted to drill a dry leaf into the dirt.

"No." Celebrian's face fell guiltily, and she suddenly seemed smaller and more fragile. "I am sorry. I should not have. . ."

"No." Elrond suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt as he saw how uncomfortable the elf-maiden had become. "I was wrong. . . I should not have tried to. . ."

The pair paused in silence for a moment or two, looking at each other anxiously, then Elrond grimaced apologetically and held his hand out to the elf-maiden.

"Let me show you a favourite spot of mine."

~*~

Elrond led her through the trees and thick brambles and undergrowth until they reached the banks of the river. Here the heather and rough grass grew in tussocks around the craggy grey stones that jutted out into the fast flowing water, creating small waterfalls and swirls of busy white froth. The trees extended far down into the valley at this point, growing almost to the water's edge, and providing a tall green wall behind them.

The two elves moved rapidly upstream, leaping lightly from stone to stone and scrambling up the steep inclines and small cliffs. Much as Elrond would have liked to help the maiden with the more difficult leaps and footings, he was abashed to find that Celebrian was well able to look after herself - and indeed even had to wait for him at some points. He had spent endless hours of practice to ensure that his movements were as smooth and precise as any of his kin, but next to this maiden he felt slow and clumsy. Celebrian's feet seemed to dance over the stones and purple clumps of heather, and she climbed the boulders and muddy banks with an ease that the half-elf did not expect.

"Here." Elrond caught her arm for a moment and inclined his head towards a small stream that rushed down some water-smoothed rocks towards the main flow of the river. "It is a little way along here. I think that you shall like it."

The half-elf frowned suddenly, causing Celebrian to quickly reassure him, "I am sure that I shall, it is nice to have a chance to stretch my legs after all."

"Aye." Elrond held out a hand to steady his guest as they made their way down a slippery slope. He had no wish to try and explain to the Lady Galadriel why her daughter had returned covered in mud. "You often wander from your halls?"

"Oh, yes!" Celebrian did not release the half-elf's hand immediately, and swung it gently with hers as she hopped over a marshy patch of ground. "Adar and I often go off into the wilds together. He would often take me swimming or fishing as a child, and even now we accompany each other."

The elf-maiden paused for a moment, and peeped up at Elrond from under her lashes with a slight smile. "He likes to keep me safe."

"Aye." Elrond agreed perhaps a little too wholeheartedly, then hastily added. "Here, this is a spot that is a favourite of mine."

At this point the stream widened into a lagoon, the water bubbling around a large flat stone that extended into the water like a low bench. A spindly young birch tree that leant over from the opposite bank shaded the seat, and the thick encircling trees protected the spot from harsh gales or gusts of driving rain.

"It is beautiful." Celebrian smiled at Elrond's rather anxious expression, and allowed herself to be ushered to sit on the end of the boulder. This place had an air that made her feel as if she was the first visitor to the place for years and although it was rather wilder and more than remote than she would have liked alone, she felt safe with Elrond next to her.

"I often see deer here, and birds and butterflies." Elrond sat down awkwardly beside her, shifting nervously as he tried to assess what distance would avoid crowding her without making her feel as if he was avoiding her. "Last spring I saw a doe drinking here with her fawn and in summer there are dragonflies."

"Oh!" Celebrian beamed in delight and leant unwisely far out over the lagoon as she peered into the clear water, a handful of blonde curls falling down over her face. "Look at the fish!"

A number of small silver minnows darted across the pool, perhaps seeking to avoid the maiden's shadow as Celebrian teetered over the icy waters. Panicking, Celebrian grabbed at the rock with slipping hands. Surely she would not humiliate herself in front of the one person she most wanted to think her interesting, beautiful and graceful. Surely Iluvatar had some sense of mercy.

Moving quickly, Elrond leant forwards and caught her arm before she could tumble into the pool and helped her to safety. Blushing until she resembled an overripe raspberry, Celebrian hurriedly adjusted her position into a more secure seat.

"How do you like my realm?" Pretending not to notice his guest's discomfort and blatant relief Elrond waved vaguely around at the trees and rapids with a rather embarrassed air. "I hope that in time it shall become a place that you too consider your home."

Celebrian smiled very sweetly at him. "Thank you. I love Imladris, and I think I shall be very happy here. While I stay here. With Ammë and Ada, of course."

Fortunately Elrond did not seem to notice her hurried additions to her statement, or the increasing amount of warmth being emitted from her flushed cheeks, but was wearing a rather troubled expression.

"But you must miss Lorien," Elrond wondered aloud, "Your father was telling me how fond you were of the woods, and that you would live there with your husband and children."

"Oh no!" Celebrian shook her head rapidly then seemed to remember to whom she was talking and added more diplomatically. "I mean, should I choose to bind myself to a kinsman in Lorien then there I shall stay. But if I should marry an elf from another realm then I shall move to live with his people, such is the tradition in my culture."

The elf-maiden touched her chin with the index finger of her right hand and stared down rather dreamily at the running water. "I rather hope that that shall happen. I wish to see more of the world."

"But. . ." Elrond stumbled awkwardly over the words, digging his fingers into his thighs. "But. . . will you not live with your father after marriage? In the same halls?"

"For the love of Mandos, no!" Celebrian made a poor attempt at stifling a shudder then looked at Elrond with rather pitying curiosity. Who knew what half-elves got up to when with others of the same kind. "What made you think that? Is that the tradition in your culture?"

Elrond's face twisted into an expression reminiscent of one that had mistaken the vinegar for the wine, and he began coughing violently. "No. . . No! It. . . I. . . No!"

Adopting a politely concerned expression, Celebrian patted his back gently. A few fisher-elves were passing by on their way home, and gave the pair some rather strange looks as they passed.

"He is fine!" Celebrian called cheerfully, thumping the half-elf's back with great enthusiasm. "Are you not, Lord Elrond?"

His face puce from coughing and tears streaming from his eyes, Elrond nodded mutely, causing Celebrian to give him a proud smile.

"See." Celebrian nodded towards him with a maternal air and whispered conspiratorially. "I fear that he may have swallowed something disagreeable."

"Ai! Do not open your eyes!"

Gil-galad jerked up his cloth to dab at the Balrog-slayer's face before he be tempted to peek out from under the now rather thick and dark lashes. Rather too thick in fact. He would appreciate some time to attempt removing the worst of the mixture before the blond elf realised that his lashes were not merely shut but fastened.

"Have you not yet finished?" Glorfindel wrinkled his nose and fluttered his eyelids to try and get some feeling for what was going on. While he would have given his life to defend his King, he did not quite like being alone in his presence and so disadvantaged. He was sure that Gil-galad had been the kind of child that had never quite grown out of his fascination with mud-pies, and he seemed to have fallen on this task with rather undignified eagerness. Shuffling in his chair, the blond elf scratched his cheek and spoke peevishly. "It itches."

"Oh hush!" Gil-galad swatted the hand away with a slight slap and touched up the points of Glorfindel's ears. It was but a little soot and treacle, and neither was likely to irritate the Balrog-slayer's notoriously thick skin. "You do not wish to be noticed."

Glorfindel huffed and played his fingers in an arc against the edge of the chair, staining the delicate white upholstery with a perfect likeness of his fingerprints. Deprived of his sight, his other senses seemed strengthened, and the messages they conveyed to him were far from reassuring.

"Do you wish to know why I swore allegiance to you, Ereinion Gil-galad?" Glorfindel tried to make his voice as imperious as possible despite the High King's continued sniggering, which in truth, he found rather unnerving. "For it is a tale that has been seldom told."

"Seldom?" Gil-galad chuckled softly as he hummed the jaunty lines of a Teleri sea shanty. "Last time I heard the legend I was of the impression that it was for the wine."

"Well. . . aye." Glorfindel admitted, fingering the side of his cheek, which seemed to have set solid. "But also other less frivolous reasons."

"The food?" The elegant dark brows quirked upwards, and from his voice Glorfindel could tell that the High King was trying not to smile.

"Nay. . . well only the little biscuits with the fish and spice. . ."

"Quite understandable." Gil-galad nodded seriously. Despite outward appearances, several of the shipwright's recipes were surprisingly edible. "They are quite delectable."

"Precisely." Glorfindel agreed, then continued in a more jovial tone. "And nor was it for your sword or lance, however long or keen they may be."

"Nay?" Feigning surprise, Gil-galad tilted leisurely back in his chair. "Aeglos would be distraught to hear that, my friend. Pray tell me, was it for my helm and shield?"

"Nay. . ." Glorfindel shook his head with a mischievous grin. Whilst the High King's enthusiasm for highly polished bits of armour was a source of amusement to the Balrog-slayer and his half-elven friend, who had whiled away many dreary hours of duty by attempting to position their King's shield so as to reflect the suns' rays directly into some unsuspecting dignitary's eyes, it had not been that that had led to his allegiance. In any case, the pastime had become considerably less amusing since Cirdan had realised what was going on. "It was out of loyalty to your uncle."

"My uncle?" Predictably, Gil-galad's voice rose with interest, and Glorfindel had to swallow a slight pang of guilt. "Did you know him well?"

"Aye," Glorfindel said slowly, suddenly deciding that the joke did not need a punch line after all. "You are much like him."

~*~

"Glorfindel!" Celebrian's voice cut joyfully across the hallway, and the blond elf came to an abrupt halt before swivelling slowly around on one foot to face the elf-maiden with a rather guilty smile.

"Celebrian," Glorfindel tried his hardest, but his voice could not quite reach the happy heights of that of the elf-maiden. "What brings you here at this hour? Are you lost?"

"Oh no!" Celebrian smiled sweetly at him, pleasantly surprised at how convincing her lie sounded. And when she had had so little practice too - lying to her mother was rarely successful, and when one's face lit up like a beacon at the slightest untruth it was rarely worth the effort. "I was merely admiring the view."

"Ah, yes." Glorfindel nodded sagely and pranced over to her side, only the jauntiness of his step betraying his inner feelings. "The views over the gardens are particularly fine from the westerly windows."

"Yes, it is most beautiful!" Celebrian linked arms with the Balrog-slayer and led him over to the window where she leant rather further out than was wise in order to point at the corner of the rose garden - the bushes barely visible behind the smooth arches of the overhanging gables. "The rose garden is wonderful."

"Indeed." A slight smile quirked the corner of the Balrog-slayer's mouth and he glanced thoughtfully at the closed doors that lined the passageway. "There are other chambers that have yet more magnificent views, especially the sitting rooms."

"Oh. . ." Celebrian smiled sweetly as a hand was waved vaguely in the direction of the doors, then returned her gaze to Glorfindel and in particular his unusual garb. She had heard that the elven-lord was of Gondolin, and the cultural differences had always fascinated her. "Are you in traditional dress?"

"Me?" Glorfindel pointed to himself with an exaggerated expression of surprise, brain working frantically to think of a suitable excuse. "Nay, I am but celebrating."

"Celebrating?" Celebrian asked curiously, smiling happily at the thought of some excuse to dance or sing. "Which festival is this, for I fear it is unfamiliar to me?"

"My pardon, it is not one that you would know of." Glorfindel shook his head seriously then on an impulse added sadly, "It is of a personal nature."

Celebrian's face softened in sympathy and she rubbed her fingers in small circles on the back of the elf-lord's palm.

"Not so much a celebration as a time of support for my lord." Glorfindel lowered his voice to almost a whisper and softly clasped Celebrian's hand in his. "It is a difficult time for him, with these memories."

"Memories? Oh. . ." Celebrian's face softened with sympathy, and she looked up trustingly at Glorfindel's fair face. "Was it. . . his. . . his. . ."

"Aye," Glorfindel nodded sadly, his face full of kindness and understanding, "The tadpole. Quite tragic, how these things do pass and how they affect the half-elven kind. It was a dearly beloved favour from the High King himself to a close relation of his. The niece of his great- grandmother's cousin, I do believe. It is very sad."

Glorfindel tongue peeked slightly out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes almost crossed as he attempted to navigate the complex ancestry of the Lord of Imladris, then he lowered his voice and touched Celebrian's arm conspiratorially. "Half-elven custom, you know. I do what I can to ease the burden."

Unfortunately though, Celebrian no longer seemed to be swallowing these tales of kindnesses as easily as she once had been. The elf-maiden was frowning a little, the blue eyes rather perplexed as she attempted to follow the Balrog-slayer's reasoning, and then she looked at him in great puzzlement.

"The High King Gil-galad gave my mother a tadpole? Why?"

Celebrian's gullibility seemed to have decreased somewhat since her arrival at Imladris, for her words were tinged with a distinct note of disbelief. Cursing the foul luck of all those that ventured into the dark entwined tunnels of the Noldorian family trees, Glorfindel managed a somewhat shaky smile and hastily added, "He would have been but small. . . this high at the most."

Glorfindel waved his hand vaguely at a level of an ideal height to lop the head from a toddling dwarf-child of particularly stunted growth, and continued speaking at a speed rather too fast to allow his intellect to keep up. "He was not the High King, then of course. More of a Kingling, as it were. Quite endearing, I am told. But. . ."

The Balrog-slayer risked a quick glance at Celebrian to assess whether his companion's eyes were yet suitably glazed over, and finding them as bright and guilelessly interested as before, turned desperately to the window in search of cause for escape.

"Ai!" Glorfindel widened his eyes dramatically, arm long and lithe as he pointed from the window. "The moon is high in the sky! I am afraid that I must leave you, for I have important tasks yet to do."

Following the Balrog-slayers pointing finger, Celebrian peered out of the window until she just saw a thin edge of the ivory just peeking up over the rough silhouette of the Misty Mountains. Brow furrowed a little in confusion, Celebrian turned to question the blond elf, but the hallway was empty and no sign remained of her black-garbed companion save for a door swaying silently and a number of sooty fingerprints on the window ledge.

~*~

"The march-warden will be joining us?" Galadriel enquired disapprovingly, reaching behind her neck to fumble with the catch of her necklace.

"I have invited him." Celeborn said steadily, reaching out and lifting up some of his wife's golden tresses to make the task easier.

Galadriel fastened the necklace and looked into the mirror, gently adjusting the pendant into the most becoming position.

"Celebrian will enjoy some young company." Celeborn said, accompanying the calm words with an almost imperceptible lowering of his brows. "It will do her good to speak with another of similar inclination."

"Yes," Galadriel said smoothly, "And you shall enjoy entertaining him."

Celeborn's thin silvery brows arched up in questioning displeasure.

"I believe that our daughter has departed seeking. . ." Galadriel turned her head to the side, admiring the necklace from all angles and smiled, ". . .rather less mature company."

~*~

Left to her own devices, Celebrian lingered in the hallway a little while, watching the moon rise over the mountains. Then feeling rather cold and lonely, she once again set off in search of pleasurable company. Although it had become dark the moon and stars were bright, and eager to gain a clearer look at the rose garden, Celebrian headed towards the sitting rooms that Glorfindel had so kindly pointed out. Someone was bound to soon join her, and with any luck she had navigated the hallways and passages of Imladris correctly and that somebody would be the one that she sought.

Smiling at the thought, Celebrian carefully opened one of the doors and peeped inside. It was indeed a fine sitting room, furnished with a number of comfortable padded benches and several splendid tapestries and paintings adorned the walls. A large fruit-bowl and a selection of pastries had been set ready on a low table, and her stomach rumbling rather indelicately, Celebrian hurried across to the tempting dishes and sat down. Someone had rather unkindly taken all the apples and apricots but a number of large juicy pears remained and since she was hungry and there was nobody about, there seemed no harm in taking one.

She was so fond of pears.

~*~

Gil-galad rubbed his towel vigorously over his head one last time then slipped the thick fabric around his shoulders, letting the unruly mop of damp hair tumble down over his eyes. As usual he had left himself ample time to prepare for the evening meal, and he had no need to hurry to dress. Admittedly the remaining smudges of soot had taken much scrubbing to remove, and he anticipated being woken in the middle of the night by a distressed Balrog-slayer, but for the moment the valley of Imladris seemed to be a haven of perfect peace.

Humming to himself, the High King wandered from the bathing chamber through into his dressing room and opened the low chest in search of his most shiny circlet. He had gathered many such adornments in his years, but there were still some that he valued more highly than others and some that he missed. It was strange how thoughts of a trinket such as a brooch or a ring could still capture his attention even many years after having passed it on.

Gil-galad dressed quickly in silken shirt and leggings, leaving the donning of the heavy velvet gown to a later hour, and padded barefoot out into his sitting area. It would be a relief to have a few quiet minutes to sit and remember with naught to bother him but the gradual pilfering of the contents of his fruit-bowl. Certain friends of his had taken his casual invitation to help themselves rather too literally.

A loud and extremely juicy slurp interrupted his ponderings, and the elf pivoted abruptly around on one foot to level a grey gaze of Kingly disapproval on the back of an elegant head of blonde curls.

"Oh!" Celebrian turned at Gil-galad's distinguished harrumph, blushing guiltily as she slyly licked some drips of sweet juice from her pear. "My King. . ."

Sweeping back his hair from his face and behind an ear, Gil-galad looked severely at the elf-maiden, the effect rather lessened by having to puff a few errant strands of hair away from his cheek.

". . . why, your shirt is not tucked in!" forgetting her own failings, Celebrian turned a critical eye on the High King, her eyes quite round with surprise, ". . .and your collar is all askew, are you quite well?"

Voice tinged with concern, Celebrian set down her half-eaten pear and got to her feet. She swiftly slipped to the King's side and pressed the flat of three cool fingers against his forehead. "You feel quite hot. Are you feverish? Have you been poisoned?"

Celebrian's voice rose with rather badly hidden excitement at the thought of a seriously ill elven-King and her chosen elf-lord in healer's garb.

"I fear to tell you, no." Gil-galad said, his dry tone touched with a hint of amusement. "Unless the sickness that afflicts me is caused by immersion in water tainted by soap and the scent of almonds. . ."

Celebrian looked at him, a picture of incomprehension, her pale brows drawn closely together as she tried to follow what was being said.

"I have been reclining in the bathtub, Celebrian." Gil-galad told her kindly, taking pity on her bemused expression and stepping back to allow her hand to drop back lightly to her side. "And. . . what brings you to my chambers?"

The High King's tone was but gently questioning, but Celebrian turned sharply towards him, face aghast.

"Y. . . your chamber?" Celebrian said weakly, looking around her surroundings in shock and the colour in her cheeks fading. "Your. . ."

"Fruit bowl?" Gil-galad followed the elf-maiden's glance towards the rather lopsided arrangement of fruit and nodded with a quiet smile. "Aye."

"Oh!" Looking an unhappy cross between taken aback and mortified, Celebrian glanced up at her King. She had never been intimidated by such dignitaries, perhaps because her mother had told her a number of stories regarding the antics and exploits of certain members of the line of Fingolfin that would make listeners' ears curl, but she could not help but feel a little daunted nevertheless. Trespassing in another's private chambers was not easily explained. Especially when the aforementioned other was a partially dressed High King, and a bachelor at that. "I. . . I. . ."

Gil-galad folded his arms across his chest and raised one enquiring eyebrow.

"I knew not!" Celebrian spoke quickly and rather breathlessly, looking back longingly at the door since the floor seemed unwilling to swallow her whole. "I apologise, I was merely seeking. . ."

"Lord Elrond." Gil-galad said seriously, his eyes focused over the elf- maiden's head, and eager to make amends, Celebrian nodded the affirmative. "Nay, I was addressing my host."

His expression of confusion rapidly turning into one of mild amusement, Gil- galad tilted his head towards the rather suspicious looking half-elf standing in the doorway.

"Oh! Elrond!" Celebrian turned, simultaneously turning a charming shade of raspberry and attempting to turn her delighted smile into a look of profound sympathy. To her relief the half-elven lord did not seem to be suffering from his grief unduly, but that was no reason to bypass common courtesy. Bowing her head and glancing up through her lowered lashes, she spoke solemnly. "I am most sorry for your loss."

~*~

Haldir hurried along the path, eager not to be late for the dinner. He had seldom dined in such company before, and never at the specific invitation of Lord Celeborn. His chances certainly were looking up.

He allowed himself a few moments of frivolous daydreams about life in Caras Galadhon in the halls of the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Warm dry beds, endless warm water, sweet smelling soaps, and splendorous gowns. And his beautiful wife of course. . .

Haldir continued on his way, whistling merrily in tune with the nightingales that sat in the lush branches of the trees that surrounded the path. It was a fair night indeed, with a thin crescent of new moon and Eärendil shining brightly in west as he watched over the valley. But unbeknownst to the march-warden there was something beside nightingales perched high in those overhanging branches, and another beside Eärendil was watching over his son's half-elven heart.

As Haldir passed under the dark branches of the tallest oak tree something dropped through the rustling leaves, and he half-spun to see a grotesquely grinning dark shadow pouncing down on him. He stood, paralysed by shock and terror for a few fractions of a second before hitting the ground with a skull-splitting crunch.

"I told you to ensure that he did not disturb my evening." Elrond hissed around the edge of the door, hoping that Celebrían was unable to hear him. "I did not ask you to kill him."

"I did not mean to kill him." Glorfindel's whisper rose slightly in volume. "And I do not think that he is dead yet. He is just rather pale and I thought it wise. . ."

"Can you not find someone else?" Elrond jammed his boot down at the edge of the door to prevent the blond elf's weight from pushing it open. "I am somewhat. . ."

"Can I not come in?" Glorfindel gave the door a hefty shove, sending his half-elven friend sliding back before he managed to regain his footing. "Must I whisper through a crack in the door?"

Elrond scowled at a most undeserving vase of flowers, then slowly allowed his friend to shove the door open. It had taken some little while for him to extract both himself and Celebrían from Gil-galad's company, and a great deal longer to reassure Celebrían that the High King would not hold the unfortunate incident against her. For his part, despite the lengthy explanation, Elrond was not sure that he could manage to be so generous. It was one thing for the pair to practice embroidery together, but quite another to find them together in the King's chambers - one in a dishevelled state of partial undress.

"Mandos, Peredhil!" Glorfindel slipped into the room and shut the door heavily behind him. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were large in his blackened face. "One might think that you did not want my company. . ."

Elrond glowered at him, and Glorfindel's keen eyes caught site of a head of silver-blonde hair over the back of a padded seat.

". . . Ah, you did not want my company." Glorfindel smirked at his friend and raised his eyebrows rather obviously at Celebrían. "I did not disturb anything, I should hope."

Elrond produced a rather magnificent harrumph, and made a sharp motion with his head towards a chair in the corner of the room. Whilst Glorfindel's excessive enthusiasm for delaying the march-warden permanently would cause enough problems; if Celebrían or her parents got wind of anything, the whole affair would quickly descend into the kind of Valar-forsaken mess that not even the famed diplomatic skills of Ereinion Gil-galad could free them.

~*~

"Gil!" Elrond called loudly at the back of the retreating High King. Gil- galad was going at quite a pace - a pace that seemed to have picked up somewhat since their footsteps had been heard in the corridor. "Gil-galad!"

The last shout was loud enough that not even the most ancient and doddery of the Númenorean Kings could have failed to hear. Gil-galad stopped and turned around with an air of great reluctance.

"Elrond." A quick glance confirmed that his herald was accompanied by the famed balrog-slayer - and if he was not mistaken, at a much greater distance, the shadowy figure of a young elf-maiden.

"Gil-galad," Elrond inclined his head respectfully, regardless of the King's raised eyebrows, "I beg your aid."

Gil-galad's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he glanced quickly from Elrond to Glorfindel and back again. "What aid might be this be?"

Elven-lord and balrog-slayer looked at each other for a moment, then both began speaking at once.

"This. . . this. . . imbecile. . ." Elrond spluttered.

"It is quite simple." Glorfindel said smoothly.

"This cretinous fool. . ."

"We have a corpse." Glorfindel said concisely, adding a touch reluctantly at Gil-galad's exclamation, "a yet living corpse."

"This witless. . ." Elrond began, only to be cut off by Glorfindel's uplifted hand.

"An unfortunate incident, but that cannot be helped. We require help moving him to somewhere," the blond elf looked unmistakably smug, "more appropriate."

Gil-galad barely wasted half a second on thought, before coming to his wise and well-reasoned decision.

"No."

"No?" Elrond said loudly, the disbelief in his voice obviously put on for the occasion.

"Why can you not?" Glorfindel demanded, wrinkling his nose in scorn. "What must you do that is more important than assisting a friend in a time of need?"

"I am High King." Gil-galad said regally, turning on his heel and gliding down the corridor at speed. "I must go and be High Kingly."

~*~

"I would not be worried was it not for the blood," Glorfindel added offhandedly - as if talking about one who's wounds had nothing to do with him, "and of course the bruising. He cushioned the fall most beautifully."

Haldir, when they reached him, was still as cold and still as he had been when his assailant had run for aid. The bleeding from the many scratches and the graze that ran down his left cheek had slowed and the wounds had started to scab. A large bump was rising on the side of his forehead where the weight of two elves had made contact with the stonework, and as Glorfindel had promised, he was quite wonderfully pale.

"He will live." Elrond spoke with a tinge of regret that was not quite becoming in a healer. "We shall take him back to his rooms. He must have fallen down the steps."

Both elves looked back some twenty yards to where three low steps led from the orchards to the path through the oak woods.

"Nasty accident," commented Glorfindel blandly, "Must have been hit by an acorn at the critical moment, poor fool. Sent him right off balance."

~*~

"A delightful meal," Gil-galad said contentedly, walking slowly with Celeborn and Galadriel down the hallway to their chambers, "Such a shame that the Lady Celebrían could not join you."

"And the march-warden." Galadriel added softly, gliding placidly alongside her husband. She had watched Gil-galad throughout the meal and suspected that he knew more about the absences than he had said. Whilst it had undoubtedly been kind of him to drop his plans and join them for food, wine, and talk when their dinner guests had failed to materialise, he had seemed just a little too eager to keep them occupied.

Celeborn grunted something indecipherable. Whilst he did not know what had kept the ungrateful march-warden, he did not lack for ideas as to how he should be assigned over the coming months. There were seldom enough volunteers for mucking out the stables or the gathering of honey.

However, not even he could stay disgruntled for long. Imladris was beautiful tonight, and as they walked along the wide hallway they stepped over alternating patches of dark shadow and the silvered half-light that flooded in through the archways that led out to the courtyard.

"The waterfall is quite beautiful." Galadriel paused in an archway and looked east towards the sound of the rushing water. The falls were like a silvered veil in the half-light, and a faint whisper of a rainbow had formed from the spray and the moonlight.

The two males joined her in the archway, watching silently as the night wore on. The only sound was the distant singing from the Hall of Fire mingling with the tune of the river. Even the shadows seemed calm and quiet and at peace. Celeborn had taken Galadriel's hand in his and their fingers were wound together as one. For a moment Gil-galad felt Imladris to be as perfect as he had ever hoped it to be, and then, chancing to glance west he started so suddenly that he was afraid that Celeborn at least would notice.

The Balrog-slayer and the half-elf had shown some sense in keeping to the dark of the shrubbery, but evidently they seemed to have forgotten the light from the hall that sent their shadows in wonderful silhouette against the pale walls of the stables.

While the identity of the two furtive cloaked figures was not immediately obvious, the fact that they were dragging a limp corpse between them was, and Gil-galad dreaded the consequences should either of his companions notice.

"It is a beautiful night." Galadriel said, smiling softly as she looked back at the waterfall. "The moon is high and the stars are bright. Perhaps we may go for a walk under the trees."

"Aye," Celeborn took his wife's arm and the pair turned slowly towards the woods and stables, "Why not?"

"No!" Gil-galad exclaimed, hurriedly side stepping to fill the archway and block any view that might be forthcoming. "You must not!"

Half a second later he paused to consider how his action might appear to his companions, and he glanced across at them to find them observing him with expressions that could be interpreted anywhere from tolerant amusement to utter bemusement. Fumbling for a plausible excuse, he smiled toothily at the Lord of Lorien and added, "I require your council."

"My council?" Celeborn's eyebrows rose in perplexed silver curves. "At this hour?"

"Aye," Gil-galad neatly hopped across the archway, blocking the view before Galadriel could take it upon herself to move to her husband's other side, "for it is most urgent."

"Indeed?" Celeborn enquired.

"Aye." Gil-galad said with a note of desperation. "It is imperative that I have both your opinions on this matter."

"Oh?" Galadriel asked with just the right note of curiosity for humouring a small child. Whilst she dearly wished to spend some quiet time alone with her husband, her interest had been sparked. If nothing else, it was tempting to discover just what had unnerved the High King so that he was jiggling from foot to foot like an elfling that had neglected to visit the bathhouse before heading out.

"It pertains to the cultivation of mallorn trees." Gil-galad continued, slapping a hand rather forcibly on Celeborn's shoulder and turning him aside.

"Mallorn trees?" Celeborn blinked twice and shot his wife a questioning look. "In Lindon?"

"In the sand dunes." Gil-galad affirmed, noting gladly that Glorfindel and Elrond had nearly made it to safety.

"The sand dunes. . ." Galadriel pretended to be pondering the matter, and then with a sly grin at her husband added, "this is at Cirdan's command, of course."

"At the wishes of Lord Cirdan." Gil-galad said hesitantly. He was uncertain as to why Cirdan's name had been brought into the discussion, but he felt it held warning of things to come. The shipwright was the last person to be amused by such behaviour.

Celeborn and Galadriel looked at each other silently for a minute, then Galadriel spoke with a hint of wickedness that left Gil-galad rather uneasy.

"Very well, Ereinion Gil-galad. As you command."

~*~

"He will soon recover." Celeborn said heavily, coming into the small sitting room where his wife and daughter were waiting for him. "He is shaken and a little dazed, but there will be no permanent harm."

His wife seemed satisfied at this pronouncement, but sadly Celebrían showed little concern as to the fate of her would be suitor. While the weight on his shoulders had seemed to have been lifted slightly when his daughter had darted down the stairs - ploughing straight into the High King - calling loudly about a casualty in the garden and having seen Elrond and Glorfindel trying to assist the victim of this unfortunate accident, it had quickly resumed its normal place during the long hours in the infirmary. He did not think that his daughter had once lifted her eyes from the half-elf's face during the procedure. Not that Elrond had had any time spare, being too busy with needles and lotions and bandages, but the thought had been there. And it rankled.

"Elrond said that he tripped down the steps." Celebrían said, thinking wistfully of her half-elf as he had knelt to take the march-warden's pulse. "Perhaps something distracted him. . . a feather perhaps, or a leaf. . ."

"Tripped down some steps!" Celeborn grunted loudly and stalked to the window-seat. "That was quite some acorn that attacked him."

"But Adar," Celebrían persisted, "Lord Elrond said. . ."

"Elrond Peredhil, Ereinion Gil-galad, and Glorfindel of Gondolin." Celeborn gave a derisive snort. "I suspect that there is scarce a thread of sanity amongst the three of them."

~*~

"If this does not discourage him," Gil-galad took a long drink and finally set down his glass with a deep sigh, "I do not know what will. And I tell you now, Glorfindel of Gondolin, I shall not blunt Aeglos on that march- warden's thick skull."

Glorfindel's mouth shut rather quickly. He did not know how the High King had discovered what he had been thinking, but it seemed neither the time nor the place to enquire.

"There shall be no more attacks." Elrond said severely. "No more injuries."

Glorfindel had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"From now on we shall be more careful." Elrond continued. "We shall delay him by friendship rather than warfare, and soon he shall find companions more suitable that Celebrían with which to spend his time."

"Friendship?" Glorfindel asked, his face falling considerably.

"Friendship?" Gil-galad's asked with doubt. "You wish to be friends with the elf?"

"Aye," Elrond said firmly, "By friendship."

"And after this counsellor of yours," Gil-galad gave a quick scornful glance at the now rather smudged and smeared Balrog-slayer, "now that he has ambushed and brought the march-warden down, how do you suppose he will initiate peaceful relations, let alone a friendship?"

Elrond and Glorfindel looked at each other and shrugged.

"That will not arise." Elrond said mildly.

"It is not my turn." Glorfindel blinked at Gil-galad and tried not to grin. "It is yours."

"My turn? It is already my turn?" Gil-galad sighed with resignation and looked tiredly at the grinning pair. "What must I do?"

"You must find a way to occupy his time." Glorfindel smirked. "I am sure that he will be most enamoured with your attentions."

"Glorfindel," deciding that he would rather know the worst that remain in the dark any longer, Gil-galad leant back in his seat and drained his glass of wine. "Exactly what is it that you intend me to do?"

"It is time." Glorfindel said solemnly. "Desperate measures must be taken."

Only a slight twinkle to Elrond's grey eyes betrayed his amusement as Glorfindel leant forward and whispered softly in a pointed ear of High Kingly importance.

While both elves knew that Gil-galad was fluent in the languages of Quenya, Sindarian, Westron and the Dwarven-tongue, the expletive that left his mouth appeared to belong to none of them.

Despite that neither Elrond nor Glorfindel had any problem interpreting its meaning.

"No?" Glorfindel feigned surprise.

"That is your final choice?" Elrond said with mock solemnity. "You will break your vow after Glorfindel has completed his task so. . . enthusiastically?"

"Elrond," Gil-galad said desperately, "Surely you understand that I could not do such a thing. This is not a simple matter of attacking a guest, this is. . ."

"But you have broken your word." Glorfindel said grimly, interrupting the King with no hint of apology. It was shadowy in the corner in which they sat, and the Balrog-slayer's blackened face suddenly appeared quite ominous. "Few love the oath breakers."

"But you must understand. . ." Gil-galad began, then decided that it was a lost cause and trailed off. "I am sorry, Elrond, but nothing could ever persuade me to follow such a path."

Glorfindel and Elrond looked questioningly at each other, and Elrond gave his friend a small nod. Smirking, the Balrog-slayer turned back to the High King.

"Have you not found something missing of late?" Glorfindel looked meaningfully towards Gil-galad's bedchambers. "Has a dark shadow of fear not crossed you as you slept?"

Gil-galad looked uncomprehendingly at the elf, eyebrows quirked in puzzlement.

"Eru!" Glorfindel rolled his eyes and spoke very slowly and loudly. "We have something of yours. Should you not fulfil your promise, it may find its way into situations unfamiliar. . ."

"Yet amusing." Elrond said thoughtfully. "Most amusing."

Gil-galad glanced through the doorway, noticing for the first time the empty space on the lowest shelf of his bedside cabinet and groaned. He silently swallowed a few times, then poured another large glass of wine and proceeded to down it with remarkable speed.

Elrond and Glorfindel looked at each other, their smirks slowly growing until they spread from ear to ear.

The morning after dawned suspiciously bright and fresh considering what had happened the night before. The forests and grasslands smelt clean and fresh, and the icy water that splashed down over the rapids and waterfalls of the Bruinen were crystal clear. The small flowers that brightened the meadows near the river were just beginning to open and among them, undisturbed by their comparatively murky consciences, three elves stood.

They were, to put it mildly, armed to the teeth. The tallest, one Ereinion Gil-galad, was brandishing a particularly shiny spear so close to Glorfindel’s face that unless one knew that he had been practising with that particular weapon from many thousands of years, one might be tempted to take a step back. In fact, Glorfindel was more than just tempted to take a step back, but Elrond was in the way, and in any case he had no desire to lose face in such a manner.

The Lord of Imladris, resplendent in the shining armour and blue and silver livery of the standard bearer, could have spoken up in his friend’s aid – but admiring the buttercups that were sprinkled amongst the grass was proving a far more time consuming task than one might have thought possible. The events of the previous night still rankled.

And Glorfindel, frozen like a rabbit in sudden lantern light as the High King’s blade flashed silver before his eyes, could not help but reflect that perhaps it had not been the wisest move to suggest an early morning training session after the events of the previous evening. Breakfast would not be served for some while yet, and it would be at least a few hours before any of the Guard would come to his aid. In the meantime, his own splendid sword could only remain untouched at his side, for Gil-galad seemed intent on aiming at anything that moved.

~*~

Gambolling merrily down the path that led to the river, another thick and beautifully illustrated volume on the history of Middle-earth tucked under her arm, Celebrian burst into song. It was such a beautiful morning, and the whole day seemed to promise nothing but good things.

Elrond had declared that Haldir should stay in bed for several days, and when her Adar had immediately volunteered her for the task of entertaining said march-warden, Elrond had recommended most strongly that he be left in peace to recuperate.

This left her free for many other more pleasing pursuits, and for the present none could occupy her more happily that her continued perusal of the splendid library. In one corner, close to several comfortable chairs she had found a number of large and lavishly illustrated books, many of which held pictures of her chosen elf-lord. Although she did not feel entirely safe reading such volumes in a room where the object of her affections was so prone to lurk, there were many beautiful spots in the gardens where she could linger at her leisure.

Still singing, she paused at the top of a rocky outcrop and surveyed the valley below her in search of a suitable hideaway. The sky was a beautiful blue, and at the skyline the mountains swept down in a shadow of purples and greys until they met the darker green of the forest. The woodlands extended as far along the valley as she could see - only the winding silver trace of the river making any impression on the sea of trees. She could hear the roar of the waterfall in the distance and the chirping of the blackbirds that nested in the ash trees, and just visible through the leafy branches were acres of meadows sloping down to the river.

And then Celebrian started, almost immediately turning a shade akin to cherry blossom, for standing in the middle of a green meadow were the three most splendid examples of elfdom that one could wish to see. There was Elrond, shining like a bright star in the early sun, and beside him were Gil-galad and Glorfindel – their swords moving in smooth, almost musical motion as they fought. The trio were gleaming in shades of silver and gold, and deciding that reading under the birch trees would be every bit as pleasant as dabbling her toes in the river, Celebrian skipped down the steps to meet them.

~*~

On closer inspection the three splendid examples were, to Celebrian’s dismay, somewhat less glorious than they had seemed from half a mile away. They had evidently been practising for quite some time for their faces were pink and beaded with sweat, and they had a distinctive -if not exactly pleasant - odour about them. She could see the dirt and layers of grime on their boots and tunics, and their overly polished armour proving to be rather good at reflecting painful flashes of light into her eyes. Even the attacks and defences that had looked so much like dancing from a distance now seemed no more poetic than small elflings playing with sticks.

“Lady Celebrian,” Gil-galad’s voice rang cheerfully across the meadow, “Greetings.”

“Greetings!” Celebrian gave him her sweetest smile and narrowly avoiding wrinkling her nose as she took the hand that was offered to her. “It is a beautiful morning.”

“Aye, Imladris has been blessed with fine weather.” One corner of Gil- galad’s mouth twitched as he saw Celebrian badly suppress a shudder as she caught sight of the dirt under his fingernails. “What brings you down this path so early in the day?”

Unable to contain himself, Glorfindel added wickedly, “Are you seeking Lord Elrond?”

Elrond, who had previously been hovering in an awkward and lanky manner, promptly turned a particularly violent shade of lobster and muttered something incoherent about buttercups.

Fortunately for all concerned, Celebrian was too busy attempting to cool her own burning cheeks with surreptitious fanning motions to notice the half-elven lord’s admirable impersonation of a strawberry, and Gil-galad managed to silence the Balrog-slayer with a glare of quite fearsome vigour.

“If you were seeking some quiet place to read, may I recommend the birch copse. There is a fine view and a comfortable bench there.” Gil-galad said in a voice loud enough to drown out any other interruptions.

“Oh!” Celebrian beamed at him and clasped the book to her chest with an expression that made the High King wonder whether she was imagining that it contained the half-elf himself rather than just his likeness. “Thank you. I am sure that will be most suitable.”

Gil-galad smiled graciously, and stepped aside to allow Celebrian to continue on her way. But unfortunately, at that moment, Elrond decided to stop behaving like an elf not yet within sight of their majority and ventured to speak.

“I think you will enjoy that book.” Elrond sheathed his sword and blinked a little as he focused on the leather-bound cover. “I have always found the history of the Fingolfinian line a most absorbing read.”

“Oh!” Celebrian’s eyes widened slightly and she glanced down at the title, hoping that there would be some even partly intelligent comment she could make about it. “Ammë would tell me bedtime tales of the sort, and I would always beg for more.”

“Oh,” said Elrond politely, somehow unable to picture this exchange.

“I loved those tales,” Celebrian’s eyes sparkled as she warmed to her subject, “They were so gruesome and bloody. I found them fascinating.”

This floored Elrond for a moment, but to his credit he wasted little time in taking the book and flicking deftly through it to a page on which a rather small blue and silver figure seemed to be brandishing a pinhead against a small black mountain. “In that case I think you will particularly enjoy this tale... there is this passage here which is especially...”

At this point, Gil-galad felt it wise to make a small harrumphing noise to remind the duo of his presence, and the pair turned to him with expressions of quite excessive horror and dismay.

“My pardon,” Elrond’s seemed to have once again resorted to admiring the buttercups, for his eyes did not raise from the ground. “I...”

Noting Elrond’s anguish at having inadvertently insulted his King, Celebrian moved slightly in front of him and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“It was my fault,” she smiled rather nervously at Gil-galad, who thankfully did not look quite as distraught as perhaps he ought on finding a blood- lusting maiden intent on finding details of his grandfather’s demise. “Ammë always said that it was not healthy to be so interested in such things, but...”

“But?”

One dark eyebrow quirked upwards, its owner obviously curious as to the excuse she would event.

“Adar would only tell me tales of beautiful maidens and kittens, you see...” Celebrian trailed off into awkward silence.

“I see,” Gil-galad accidentally caught Glorfindel’s eye and narrowly avoided smirking. “Cirdan would tell me of nothing but ships. It matters not; I was not offended.”

“You were not?” Celebrian’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment Gil- galad was reminded rather forcefully of her mother. Her fingers closed protectively around Elrond’s arm and she spoke with a slight note of indignation. Poor Elrond had been hurt and worried, but the High King had merely been amusing himself. It was most... un-High-Kingly.

“Not overtly.” Gil-galad said smoothly, making several rapid mental notes that teasing the half elf whilst in Celebrian’s company was far from wise.

“Well,” Celebrian huffed slightly and gave Elrond’s arm a last reassuring squeeze before gifting the more ancient pair with a ferocious farewell glare, “In that case I must continue with my studying.”

Fortunately both Glorfindel and Gil-galad were able to smother their laughter until Celebrian was well out of earshot - a mirth that Elrond, now a miserable shade of maroon and dreading the several hours of teasing that would doubtlessly result from this episode, had no inclination to share.

It was late afternoon by the time Celebrían grew tired of her studying, and finally setting down her books she began making her way slowly up the winding path that led through the forest. The year had moved on since they had arrived here, although it seemed to be but a few days before. It was still cold in the nights, but the sun had warmth now, even this late in the day.

The path was steep at this part of the valley, and with the sun at her back her dress felt thicker and heavier than it had this morning. The book seemed heavier too, every needless page of text that insisted on flanking the glorious illustrations weighing heavily and causing her arms to ache.

"Lady Celebrían!"

A strong, warm voice rang out across the valley, and looking up in surprise, Celebrían found the High King himself and the esteemed Balrog-slayer of Story and Song sprawled high in the branches of a great chestnut tree.

"Join us," Gil-galad smiled warmly at the maiden and gave Glorfindel a sharp nudge with the toe of his boot, "We are idling away the hours until dinner."

"Allow me to help you." Glorfindel said gallantly, leaping down onto the path and sweeping into a bow.

Celebrían blinked, and peered up at the High King more closely. They had obviously been idling for quite some while, judging by the streak of dirt on the elf's cheek and the moss stains on his clothes, and she could not help but wonder precisely how long they intended to continue. It would be several hours yet before night fell on the valley, and a little while after that before the bell would chime for dinner.

"Fear not," Gil-galad grinned boyishly and extended a lazy hand for the book, "We shall entertain you."

Celebrían 's dark pupils widened slightly at this, but nevertheless she tossed the volume to the High King with a suitably demure smile.

"My lady, allow me to escort you to our fair chamber," there was a slight pause as an expertly thrown horse chestnut, its spines still thankfully green and soft, bounced off Glorfindel's head and plopped onto the grass beside the path, "The High King awaits!"

Narrowly avoiding giggles at the Balrog-slayer's suitable pompous tone, Celebrían ignored the proffered hand, leapt for a branch and climbed fluidly into the treetops with far greater ease and skill than either of the two males would ever manage.

"My Lord Gil-galad," Celebrían sprang lightly onto the branch on which the High King was lounging, leaving Glorfindel scrambling around through the leaves somewhere below her.

Rather taken aback by this unexpectedly sudden arrival, Gil-galad uncrossed his arms from behind his head, and swung his legs from the branch, moving into a sitting position. Although she did not smile, there was a whisper of a dimple in her left cheek that hinted at her pleasure at having caught him at a disadvantage.

"Celebrían ," quickly recomposing himself, Gil-galad waved leisurely at a smooth spot on the branch beside him, "Come, I often sit here."

Gathering up her skirts, Celebrían moved to sit down beside him. It was cooler up here in the green shadows of the leaves, and she was glad of the warmth of her dress. Wondering what cause anyone could find to perch in such a spot with such regularity, she was about to ask when she took a long look at her king.

"Why, you are not wearing..." Celebrían began, only just remembering to quieten in time. Admittedly she had never seen the High King in anything other than fine robes or battle dress before now, but it was certainly not her place to comment on it.

In the branches below her, Glorfindel opened his mouth with a gleeful smirk, but before he could make a sound he found it filled with another chestnut, expertly aimed.

Chuckling wickedly, Gil-galad turned his attention back to the elf-maiden, making only the tiniest shrug in response to her shocked expression.

"The finest gowns of silver and blue?" the High King's eyes twinkled as Celebrían flushed, "Not today, no."

"Oh." Celebrían said succinctly, still staring at the High King's simple tunic and leggings, cut from some grey-green cloth from the Havens. Gil-galad had taken to digging around in the lower reaches of his tunic with a rather curious sense of purpose. Whilst she knew him to be an elf of far to fine a calibre to be seriously alarmed, it was all she could do to prevent her mind from wandering.

"Do not fret, fair maiden. I am sure..." Glorfindel's cheerful voice was cut off suddenly as Gil-galad let another chestnut fall, followed a moment later by three more at somewhat higher velocity.

"I am at leisure," Gil-galad reached smoothly into the green canopy and brought down a fresh bunch of under ripe horse chestnuts, stuffing them into the already bulging pockets of his tunic, "and I find more simple attire far more appropriate for my... pastimes. Sssh!"

Pressing a dirty finger to his lips, Gil-galad stiffened and crept silently to the end of the branch, peering through the leaves to the path.

"Is it..." Glorfindel had reached their branch by now, and edged carefully around a somewhat baffled looking Celebrían to join Gil-galad.

"It is."

The crouched pair exchanged self-satisfied smirks - Gil-galad on hands and knees and Glorfindel perched somewhat precariously on his toes with one hand keeping a firm grip on Gil-galad's collar - more to avoid accidental nudging, than to keep balance.

Intrigued, Celebrían remained still and silent as she watched an elf make his way down the steep path below her. She did not think that he had seen him before save for a brief glimpse at meal times, but he was evidently a counsellor of Elrond's house. He seemed to be looking for someone, peering through the tree trunks, and shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun as his keen gaze searched the distant meadows of the valley floor. He was too hot in his thick velvet robes of red and gold, his face tinged with pink and sweat beading above his dark brow.

And then, so quickly that Celebrían wondered if she had imagined it, a flash of green sped towards the counsellor before heading off to the long grass beneath the birch trees.

Turning sharply and rubbing a red weal on his temple, the counsellor gave the tree to their left a suspicious look, even going so far as to poke around in the lower branches, before hurrying onwards with an expression of profound disgruntlement.

Silence reigned for a few moments more before the pair crept back to sit beside her.

"Nethil." Glorfindel spoke in a low tone. "A counsellor of Lord Elrond."

Lolling his head back against a neighbouring branch, eyes shut to savour the moment and an expression of pure bliss on his face, Gil-galad added, "and keen proponent of extended meetings, wordy reports and additional sheets of parchment."

Unable to keep the surprise from her face, Celebrían glanced from Balrog-slayer to High King and back again.

"Does Lord Elrond..."

"Nay," Gil-galad met Glorfindel's gaze for a moment, his lips twitching, "he would not approve."

---

They were still talking, or rather Glorfindel was still talking - albeit with ample interruptions from Gil-galad, when the bell chimed out for dinner several hours later. Night had fallen during the intervening hours, but none had noticed, being far more absorbed in the details of the tales that had been told, and the musical peals of the bell came as something of a surprise.

Keeping his groan to himself, Gil-galad pushed himself to his feet and was out of the tree and disappearing from sight, before either Celebrían or Glorfindel could stifle their laughter at the thought of a somewhat younger High King stumbling over the hem of his new robes and sending a deluge of wine over the Shipwright.

"I shall see you at dinner." Gil-galad's voice drifted down through the trees causing a sudden increase in urgency in the actions of the stragglers.

The duo were half-climbing, half-falling through the branches to the ground before another cloud had drifted over the moon, and soon they were dashing through the woodlands and leaping up steps, four or five at a time, Glorfindel's hand warm and steadying on Celebrían 's arm.

"I did not know that the High King was so..." Celebrían waved her hand vaguely in the air as they pelted up the path. "So..."

"He is so." Glorfindel said sagely.

Celebrían was still considering this as they reached the edge of the gardens, where the sweet scent of the roses lingered.

"Ah, and I meant to add." Glorfindel grinned mischievously as he helped Celebrían over a stile with rather more speed and enthusiasm than was wise. "I should not fret should our King not be seen in the colours of his house. I have it on good stead that his tunics are not his only garments woven from the softest strands of sapphire silk and embroidered with silver threads and pearls."

A comment that, on consideration, sent Celebrían into such peals of laughter that Glorfindel considered it a miracle that they both managed to make it to the dining hall on time and with straight faces.

---

"Celebrían !" Galadriel's eyes widened in horror at the sight of her daughter, still pink-cheeked from their headlong dash across the terraces. "We are having dinner."

"I am sorry, Ammë." Celebrían said meekly, resolutely avoiding Glorfindel's eye as she allowed her mother to swiftly sweep her curls back into order and brush bits of twig and bark from the back of her dress. "We... I... had no time to change."

"Aye." Celeborn said sourly, turning a gaze of steel on Glorfindel as that elf made valiant attempts to tidy himself in the distorted reflection that a silver wine jug afforded him.

Fortunately for all, before he had a chance to approach, Elrond joined his friend, enquiring urgently as to the High King's whereabouts. Despite having had quite ample time to prepare himself for the evening, the half-elf looked somewhat the worse for wear, having spent the afternoon in a fruitless search for his King, trying to ignore the throbbing headache that the growing piles of parchments seemed to being.

"Nay, my friend." Glorfindel sounded so honestly regretful that Celebrían was hard put to swallow back a renewed fit of giggles. "I searched high and low, long and hard. My only consolation that this fair maiden saw fit to accompany me on my quest and..."

"Nethil," Huffing in impatience, Elrond held up his hand in a feeble attempt to silence the Balrog-slayer and turned to his more faithful yet still rather peeved looking assistant.

"I found no sign of him, my lord. I can only assume that he is..."

"He was resting." Gil-galad swept silently into the dining hall, gliding smoothly across the polished floor to his seat at the head of the table. Every hair on his head was immaculately arranged and not a hint of leaf dirt remained on his hands. He was dressed once more in a pristine silk shirt and leggings of deep grey, embellished with whorls of cream embroidery and tiny seed pearls, and his rich blue robes were as smooth as a calm sea, flowing without crease or rumple as he raised his goblet. Even the ornate circlet that he wore on such occasions that he did not see fit to wear his crown, spoke of an air of perfect calm. "We shall speak after dinner, Elrond."

Whilst nobody spoke against this, both Elrond and Glorfindel, threw him glares of utmost loathing - Elrond in sheer frustration at the High King's thoughtlessness and Glorfindel on account of the sudden discovery of a prickly horse chestnut, nestled snugly in the small of his back.

Celebrían though was left staring at him with an air of surprise, and although she was loathe to admit it, the hollow feeling of disappointment of having lost a friend. Gil-galad was talking to her parents now, every movement smooth and fluid, and every word spoken with perfect confidence. Had she not been sure that unlike Elrond, the High King had not been blessed with a twin, she might have thought that there were two different elves. This elf belonged with her parents, perfectly poised and composed, speaking quietly of war and men, and having little time for a stumbling, blushing elf maiden.

Suddenly awkward, Celebrían let her gaze fall to her plate and remain there. Blinking, she pushed a piece of carrot around through the untouched meat and potatoes. The High King was well practised at being a perfect companion, and he had entertained her kindly, as one might have done a child. The lump in her throat had become so large that she did not think that she would be able to swallow anything, even if she managed to bring a forkful to her mouth without her hand shaking.

Later, when he and Elrond were alone, they would probably speak of their days, and they would laugh.

"So, did you enjoy your day, my Celebrían ?"

Celeborn turned his attention from his wife and the High King for a moment to speak to his daughter, who seemed to have become even more awkward and tongue-tied than was usual for such occasions. Admittedly this was possibly due to her seating between her mother and Gil-galad himself, two of the more imposing elves that currently resided in Middle-earth, but he had keen knowledge of that which went on in young elves' minds and held no reservations about altering the seating plans for his own gain.

"Yes, thank you, Adar." Celebrían looked up to find all of her parents, her hosts and her King watching her expectantly. "I studied the histories and..."

Across the table Glorfindel choked on a mouthful of wine, requiring violent thumping on the back by Elrond.

Unnoticed by any but Celebrían , Gil-galad gave an almost imperceptible wink before busying himself with a loaf of bread. Elrond's hand had just made heavy contact with the offending horse chestnut, and despite the probability of any noise being drowned out by the blond elf's anguished yell, it would not be wise to allow his mirth to surface.

"...and I spent a pleasant afternoon gathering chestnuts." Celebrían finished happily. "It was most illuminating."

"They are a bad influence on her!" Celeborn glowered at a perfectly innocent strawberry before stabbing it through the heart with his fork. "I would prefer it..."

The strawberry was plunged into a bowl of whipped cream with such vigour that a clang was heard as the tines of the fork hit the fine china base.

"...if you and Celebrían, once these councils are over..."

A long trail of sticky honey was drizzled over the unfortunate fruit.

"Departed with Lord Cirdan and did not return until..."

"...both Elrond and Glorfindel are happily married off?" Galadriel interjected calmly, opening her mouth to receive the strawberry. She and her husband were enjoying a pleasant evening alone whilst Celebrían spent a couple of worthy hours entertaining the invalid marchwarden with a mixture of embroidery and ledgers from the First Age – Elrond had been most kind in supplying a selection of suitably calming literature. It was rare for them to have time to themselves, and she had no intention of allowing her husband's bad temper spoil the moment. She yet had plans, come nightfall.

Caught out, Celeborn harrumphed magnificently and proceeded to attack a raspberry.

"Celebrían does not wish to go to the Havens," Galadriel looked shrewdly at her husband, "And I will not be happy there."

"Círdan will be glad to welcome you," Celeborn protested. Even if glad was not exactly the word that would spring to the Shipwright's mind, he would not object. At least not loudly.

"It was not Círdan's hospitality that I doubted. You would not be there."

Their eyes met for a moment then Celeborn blundered onwards.

"I have noticed Celebrían looking a little pale lately. The sea air will bring colour to her cheeks!"

Galadriel raised her eyebrows. Celeborn flushed, the deep colour above his cheekbones contrasting badly with the smooth silver of his hair.

"I worry about the strain that this... these..." the fork flailed in the air as Celeborn struggled to convert his feelings into words, "she is but a child. I do not wish her to grow up too soon."

"Ah," Galadriel wisely concealed her smile, "and she will blossom in the Havens, far from the fumbling attempts at romance of one misguided half-elf..."

Celeborn gave a sharp nod, clearly relieved that his wife had finally decided to wield her daunting intellect and catch onto his train of thought.

"...but yet flattered by the undivided attention of one most eligible bachelor."

Galadriel received a questioning look from her husband, Celeborn obviously ranking Círdan low on the list of likely contenders for his daughter's hand in marriage.

"We are not the only elves who Círdan will welcome into his home," Galadriel reached across the bed covers to pat the larger hand consolingly, "I can think of at least one other that he will be pleased to host, with no excuse at all."

"But... but..." Feeling like someone had pulled away a rug from under his feet, Celeborn floundered.

"I have a feeling that Celebrían," finally tired of waiting for her husband to return to his duties, Galadriel seized control of the fork and began executing fruit at speed, "will not find herself deprived of a suitor for long. She did not spend this afternoon alone."

"With Gil-galad..." Celeborn's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he threw a furious glance in the direction of the High King's opulent chambers. Then, on thinking about the comment, added darkly, "So you knew where he was, whilst Elrond searched."

Galadriel smiled quietly and pressed a finger to her lips.

"Had he been found he would have been yet more difficult to seek out next time," she picked out one long golden curl from her head and wound it lazily around her little finger. "I like to keep our King precisely where I expect him."

---

It had been a long evening in the Hall of Fire, with pleasant company accompanied with ample supplies of wine and song. In Glorfindel's case the supply of wine had been particularly ample, and his mood had only been heightened by the fact that the minstrels had sung of the glory of the High-King at great length whilst neglecting other more ancient elves in their midst.

"...one might think that slaying a Balrog was but a lowly task compared to being High-King. After all, what is wielding a sword compared to nancing around in a crown and gown..."

Ignoring the muttering emanating from the disgruntled figure of the blond elf, Gil-galad strode placidly down the path beside Elrond, talking quietly of the trading agreements with the dwarves of Moria.

The trio had managed to slip away in the shadows of the hall as the last of the songs came to an end, thus avoiding those elves that seemed to assume that late on a social evening was an appropriate time to approach the High-King and his herald with their thoughts, problems, or beautiful young daughters.

"They claim to be able to supply mithril," Gil-galad slight grimace was lost in the dark, "more rapidly than I had thought possible. They must have delved deep..."

"...the burden of such a glittering headpiece must be great," Glorfindel continued merrily, either unaware or unconcerned that his audience was not listening, "although it must have some consolation in its very brightness, for such a glaring object atop a simple head can disguise its dullness..."

There was a slight silence on Gil-galad and Elrond's behalf as High-King and Vice Regent looked at each other with matching expressions of bewilderment, then with a shrug and upward flick of the eyebrows Gil-galad returned to his previous topic.

"It is wise to trade for good metal whilst we can," Elrond spoke quietly, body turned slightly towards the High King in an effort to keep the topic from unwelcome ears, "it shall be needed before long, I fear. The dwarves will not..."

There was a query in his voice that both wished had no cause to be there.

"I think not." Gil-galad said thoughtfully, shaking his head slightly. They had not had time to change properly from the evening before heading out, but he had had time to leave outer robes and jewels behind in his chambers. It was a relief to be out of the heavy formal garments and all that they entailed, and he feared that if he was still in possession of his crown he may have clobbered Glorfindel around the head with it by now. Delicate though the bands of mithril and silver may look, it had a hidden strength and should anyone make the dire mistake on sitting on the heirloom there was no need to even ponder which would come off worse.

"Your people have been betrayed before now." Elrond said grimly.

"Aye, but I have not." Gil-galad said in a low voice before reaching up to the branches above him and speaking richly and clearly. "Come, let us stop here."

---

The trio settled onto the boughs of a great oak tree that overhung the plunge pool of the waterfall where Elrond and Glorfindel had sat a few nights before. Both Glorfindel and Gil-galad had swung up into the branches with the greatest of ease, leaving their half-elven friend struggling to join them. The chosen tree was not over-endowed with hand or foot holds.

"Just take hold, Peredhil!" Gil-galad said heartily, keeping one hand resting loosely against the trunk whilst kneeling on a narrow branch and peering down to watch his Vice-Regent's progress. Naturally he had no difficulty in balancing in even this precarious position. "There is a rough patch on the left some five foot above you."

"My thanks," Elrond said through gritted teeth, struggling to avoid sliding down into the brambles and nettles at the base of the tree. At present snaking one leg over his shoulder blades to make contact with the elusive rough patch was not high on his list of priorities.

Knowing Gil-galad the rough patch would be little more than a cracked piece of bark. Supposing that he should at least be thankful that after some two thousand years of Kingship, Gil-galad had outgrown his habit of eating apples hanging upside down with knees hooked around a friendly branch, Elrond huffed and dragged himself a little further up the trunk.

"Perhaps we are in need of rope," Glorfindel mused to himself then turned to the half-elf with a smirk, "Do you wish for rope, Elrond."

"No," snapped Elrond darkly.

"Now do not suffer for thought of sparing me, Peredhil." Glorfindel leapt lightly from the bough, landing softly in a patch of fresh green grass some seven feet away. "For I can run to the stables and back in the time it will take you to gain but a few inches in height."

The Lord of Imladris muttered something foul.

"Leave him, Glorfindel. Rope will not make him any less a half-elf," Gil-galad grinned and stepped aside to allow Glorfindel to move effortlessly to join him, "although it may make him a lesser half-elf."

Still fuming, Elrond grimly struggled upwards, teeth clenched firmly together. When he reached his King...

"Here, Elrond." Realising that the Lord of Imladris was not finding the situation anywhere near as funny as either he or Glorfindel was, Gil-galad took pity on him. Placing a hand under each of the half-elven arms, the High-King hauled Elrond up to the bough on which he stood in a manner that was wholly without dignity. "Is that not better?"

Elrond glowered at him, but was too well-mannered not to growl resentfully, "My thanks."

---

Some three hours later, with the moon high above the valley and the stars bright in the night sky, the little party was still in their precarious resting place. Gil-galad had abandoned any attempt of a serious discussion with Elrond long ago and now all three were lounging along the wide bough, talking and laughing quietly.

"Keen lance, what in Arda is that supposed to mean..." Glorfindel continued to grumble cheerfully, flicking last year's old acorns at Gil-galad, "as if any King worth their salt would carry a blunt weapon..."

"I am glad you think I am worth my salt, my friend," Gil-galad sounded amused rather than offended, "it is a compliment worthy of a King."

Ignoring the bickering continuing over his head, Elrond lay on his stomach watching the flickering of moonlight on the water below. It had been a long day and he was beginning to feel drowsy.

"And this mighty sword of which we have heard so much," Glorfindel wrinkled his nose in mock scorn, "I did not know that you so much as owned a sword."

"I own a sword." Gil-galad said unconcernedly. "But I do not like to bring it out too often. Neither you nor Elrond could stand the strain."

Glorfindel snorted loudly. "'Tis but a euphemism for thy mighty ego..."

"Nay," the High-King said dryly, dark hair falling casually over his face to hide his grin, "'Tis but a metaphor for my mighty..."

"Gil-galad!" Elrond said in a voice both shocked and disapproving. Both elves turned to him, eyes alight with laughter, but on seeing the cause for the half-elf's displeasure adopted matching expressions of prudishness.

Below them two elves were gallivanting merrily on the shingle at the edge of the plunge pool. Nobody had any trouble as identifying them as Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, despite their attire.

They were not wearing very much.

Fortunately Galadriel's long golden curls shielded her from all but the most penetrating gaze, but the Lord of Lorien had somewhat shorter silver locks. Glorfindel's mouth puckered with distaste.

"We must go," Gil-galad said in a hollow voice. Neither Elrond nor Glorfindel seemed to have picked up on the very peril of their situation, but with Galadriel possessed with the gift of foresight and Círdan soon to arrive, there was only one option. "Come now. Quickly!"

"But surely we can wait here, they will not be long." Glorfindel protested lazily, hiding his smirk behind a curtain of golden hair. "We need not look."

"Nay," Gil-galad said urgently, "This is wrong. We must leave."

And all might have been well, had they managed to exit as quietly as they had come, but Elrond, surely due to his half-elven descent, as Gil-galad had been pointing out, was unable to keep his footing on the rough, bone-dry surface of the branch. Wearing an expression of outright horror, he had stumbled forwards into the High King before Glorfindel could make a rather lazy movement to steady him.

"Ah," Glorfindel said in a voice of golden satisfaction, leaning against the trunk of the tree, taking advantage of the protection of the shadows to watch the events unfold. "It is fortunate that he swims so well."

"Aye," Elrond grabbed hold of his friend's shoulder, pulling him out of sight before one silver-haired elven-lord could glance upwards, "and it is yet more fortunate that we can run equally well..."

He was racing through the woodlands, jumping lightly from branch to branch before the Balrog-slayer had a chance to reply. After a flicker of hesitation, obviously weighing up the joys of seeing the High King flounder in icy water under the even more frosty gazes of the Lord and Lady of Lorien against the risk of imminent discovery, Glorfindel pelted after him.

"He will never..." Glorfindel protested, leaping to the ground at the edge of the forest. The moon was shining brightly over the long grass, making it seem like a vast grey and silver sea, stirring in the wind.

"Glor," Elrond hissed as he too dropped down into the long cool grasses of the meadows, "it is not our King of which I speak."

Glorfindel froze, and turned back towards the woods with a wary expression. Pausing in a manner that reminded Elrond of a cat, waiting with ears pricked, he remained silent for a few moments longer then turned on his heel.

"Celeborn."

Spoken in a harsh voice of warning, normally reserved for matters of more serious danger such as orcs or indeed the famed-Balrog, Elrond could not help but wonder what had been said or done in that bedchamber to inspire such fear in the elf. He wasted several valuable seconds attempting not to snigger, before a rough hand at the back of his tunic dragged him into life. "For the love of Eru, Peredhil, run!"

And the two slipped silently away, slender grey shadows moving fluidly over the rippling expanse of the meadow.

---

"Ereinion Gil-galad," Galadriel smiled serenely, drawing a silky towel smoothly in front of her body and extending a hand to pull him to his feet, showing surprising strength for a lady, "Seeking Mallorn seed?"

Gil-galad, being a fairly even-tempered soul, had every appearance of a High-King that had forgiven if not forgotten the incidents of the night before when he appeared at breakfast the next morning.

Nevertheless, Glorfindel handed Gil-galad the butter knife with utmost care, and Elrond was most attentive in his efforts at filling his King's cup. Both elves had retired to bed – or more precisely had barricaded themselves in Glorfindel's chambers - by the time they heard the High-King squelching his way back to his own rooms. Despite that, neither had missed a particular rhythm to his step or the sharp controlled click as he swung his door to that meant that he was not a happy monarch.

"We shall be holding council this morning, it is likely we shall continue to the afternoon." Gil-galad looked up at the duo as he conveyed a forkful of scrambled egg to his mouth. "Elrond, I should like you to act as scribe. Glorfindel..."

Bright blue eyes met more solemn grey ones for a moment.

"...I should like it if you were a little less forceful in your opinions. These are important guests and we need their allegiance."

The Balrog-slayer's cheeks reddened a little above the cheekbones, but he did not respond beyond a curt nod.

"We shall commence at the stroke of ten." Gil-galad toyed with the last scraps of his meal, frowning as he thought. It was essential that they gained the confidence of their counterparts amongst Men now, before any choices had to be made.

"Celebrían, why do you not spend an hour or two entertaining the marchwarden." Celeborn suggested, scraping a little black cherry jam over his bread and casting a dubious glance at Elrond. "I trust that will not overtire him."

"Nay," said Elrond with a particularly sour expression, "it will not."

"Would you care for honey, Lord Elrond." Celebrían dangled the honeypot under his nose, smiling sweetly.

To Celeborn's disquiet, his daughter seemed to be playing some sort of private game in which she attempted to pass Elrond every available item at the table. Should his hand brush hers as he accepted the item – and he always accepted the item - then her eyes would light up and her cheeks flush like some beacon for her heart rate. Much as he disapproved of such ventures, the Lord of Lorien could not help but feel amusement at the thought that the glowering half-elven lord might require something of a personality sweetener.

"Then, as the council starts, you may join your mother." Celeborn said firmly. Galadriel, to her great chagrin had been requested to abstain from the council, for Men did not rate the wise among the women highly.

"To ensure my safe-keeping." Galadriel said sarcastically. "Save I interrupt a council by my feminine presence."

The four males exchanged rather weary looks - Elrond and Glorfindel's glances towards Gil-galad in particular being fuelled with a particular significance.

"Erm..." Gil-galad cleared his throat, scheming as to how best to word his request. Much as he hated the idea of participating in the two younger elves' plans, Glorfindel was in sole charge of one of his most treasured items, and what little chance of having it returned to his safekeeping unharmed had to be grasped.

"Although perhaps it would be wisest to allow ladies and maidens in such meetings," Galadriel narrowed her eyes at the High-King, "for otherwise the deprived counsellors might be required to observe their wiser halves in less suitable surroundings."

Gil-galad turned an interesting shade, intermediate between the shades of white, grey and green, but courageously continued. "Perhaps I may be of aid in entertaining our invalid. It was, after all, my Kingdom in which he was attacked."

Celeborn gave him a searching look that was none too friendly. "Aye, but there is little purpose in Celebrían also spending time there. She may engage in her needlework instead."

"Splendid." Gil-galad said heartily, wisely concealing his grin as Celebrían gave her father a piqued look. Not only would Elrond have a chance to speak to his beloved, he felt it would do his herald good to suffer at the hands of the maiden's boundless enthusiasm. Needlework was a fine skill in a standard bearer.

It might even prove useful.

---

The marchwarden, to Gil-galad's relief, was whole - although pale and adorned with the miscellany of bruises, scratches and grazes that one might expect on one that had been attacked by a great golden acorn of widespread acclaim.

"Haldir of Lorien," the High-King of the Noldor entered the humble chambers in which the marchwarden was resting with a cheery smile. Elrond had evidently felt that a window might exacerbate the elf's headache for he had a distinct recollection of this dingy little room being a broom cupboard on his last passing, "my Herald tells me that you are feeling a little better this morning?"

Haldir narrowed his eyes most effectively, and Gil-galad did not entertain any delusions that it was a result of the brightness of the light from the doorway. "I find myself quite recovered, my Lord Gil-galad."

"That is most excellent news!" Gil-galad said jauntily, strolling into the bleak interior of the room and sitting on the hard wooden chair, "Although I am sure that Elrond is not keeping you here without good cause..."

Haldir made a small noise that could have passed as either a snort or alternatively, "Schmah!"

"...after all, there may be small matters of delayed concussion to deal with. We would not want you to suffer unduly."

The Lorien elf looked far from convinced although, in recognition of his King, he made attempts at looking more amenable.

"I feel sure that he does not seek to detain me without reason."

Gil-galad was unable to stop his chuckle until it had already crossed his lips, but he did well in disguising it with several loud and unlikely coughs.

"Indeed not!" Speaking with High-Kingly sincerity, Gil-galad smiled expansively at the invalid. "We are all missing your company, so much so in fact that it has brought me here, to seek you out!"

Haldir gave him a look that was closer to sceptical than rightly honoured.

"So tell me," Gil-galad smiled cheerily at the stricken marchwarden and brought his elbows to rest on his knees, bobbing his feet up and down as he thought, "do you come to Imladris often?"

---

"My Lady Celebrían," Elrond strode with admirable confidence into the sitting room where Celebrían sat, although sadly the tentative note to his voice betrayed his inner feelings, "May I have the pleasure of your company this morning?"

Celebrían gifted him with a beaming smile. Her half-elven lord was already dressed for the councils that would begin within the hour, wearing a shade of deep red that Celebrían felt was most becoming on him. He was carrying a pile of manuscripts, two bottles of ink and numerous quills and he set these down on the bench first, moving the feathers so as to cover certain words on the uppermost piece of parchment.

"Please, join me!" Celebrían moved her sewing basket aside and swept several squares of clean linen onto the floor to make space for the half-elf. "I am just finishing this."

Elrond blinked at the handkerchief that she waved at him, wondering if she had taken it upon herself to trim and adulterate the banner that it was his duty to carry. The linen was of a very familiar blue, but it was embroidered with not only silver stars, but tiny spears, eagles and even the odd miniature shield.

"Is that for the High-King?"

A trace of incredulity remained in his voice despite his best efforts, and biting her lip, Celebrían snatched back her handiwork.

"Yes, it is." Impressed at how calm she sounded in spite of her hurt, Celebrían returned to stitching around the edge in silver and deep blue threads. "He mentioned that he often found himself mislaying his own."

"I did not mean..." Elrond began, horrified at the thought that she might think that he meant to hurt her. Horrified that he had hurt her. Then he added doubtfully, "You are making something for Gil-galad?"

"Yes." Celebrían said curtly.

"But..." Elrond began, feeling a vicious little snake of jealousy rising inside him.

"My lord," a voice sounded forebodingly from the doorway and elf and half-elf looked up to find a tired and muddy guard standing in the shadows, "if I may have a word?"

"My pardon," Elrond rose to his feet and hurried to join the elf with barely a hindward glance.

He spoke quietly and quickly with the guard for a number of minutes, his handsome face first showing disbelief and then worry. At last he turned back to the elf-maiden with an expression of regret.

"I must beg your leave," Elrond said formally although Celebrían could tell from his eyes that his thoughts were already far from here, "I am needed elsewhere."

---

"Ammë?" Celebrían wandered through the gardens, searching for her mother.

"Celebrían?" Galadriel leant out from a hidden bench in a small grotto. "I am here."

Celebrían rushed over to her side, leaping down a flight of steps in a flurry of skirts. She had spent a pleasant morning wandering the gardens, happily getting side-tracked from her search in admiring the pools and glades, but now she wished to find her mother.

After all, they had pressing matters to discuss.

"Ammë!" Celebrían sat down cross-legged on the lush grass in front of her mother. "I must ask a question of you."

Galadriel gave her a long look, noticing the happy flush in her cheeks and the shy smile. She would not need to probe further to guess the subject at hand.

"Grass stains, Celebrían," the Lady of Lorien said wearily.

"Oh." Celebrían leapt to her feet and brushed at the back of her gown, hoping it was still the soft peach it had been this morning.

"Come, sit." Galadriel moved to the left to provide space on the seat for her daughter. "What was it that you wished to ask me?"

"Oh!" Celebrían smiled again, and the flush on her cheeks grew a little darker. "Oh, I was going to say that I think that I have seen one who I admire."

There was a pause as Celebrían looked at her mother intently, adding for effect. "A lot."

"Really." Galadriel smiled at the little half-glance Celebrían gave her. "I expected that this would come soon. You grow older, my child."

"I feel happier just to see him, Ammë." Celebrían confessed. Her flush grew deeper still, but she continued resolutely. "He is the best. . . the most magnificent. . . he is very valiant, Ammë."

Galadriel smiled to herself, imagining the temperature that the Lord of Imladris' face would reach if he happened to overhear her daughter's comments.

"But. . ." Celebrían paused and bit her lip. "I am not sure that he feels the same of me."

"But why not?" Galadriel asked, honestly perplexed. Either her daughter was blind, or she had a second, as yet unidentified suitor.

"I. . . I. . ." Celebrían stopped, unsure of how to phrase her problem to her mother. How was one supposed to describe one's suspicions that the object of one's desires appeared more concerned in his efforts to dispose of a marchwarden from one's homeland than seducing one anyway? "How does one impress such an elf, Ammë?"

"Well," Galadriel wisely ignored the change of subject and thought of her early efforts at reeling in a handsome elf-lord of Doriath, "I would talk to him, spend time with him. If you are meant to be joined for eternity you will soon find that you cannot bear to be apart."

"Yes," Celebrían rolled her eyes at how far her mother's thoughts were departed from reality, "But what do I do and say to impress him?"

Galadriel looked sharply at her daughter.

"If he is meant for you, Celebrían, you need do nothing to impress." Galadriel gave herself a little smile to herself and traced a circle around her little finger with the index finger of the other hand. "No daughter of mine should have to chase after a husband. I never had to."

Celebrían sighed, and set to untangling some of the curls that had come loose of their braids. Those tactics may appeal to some elves, but not her half-elf.

Half-elf.

Half-elven. But half-man too.

Celebrían started suddenly. Of course, he was a half-elf, and who knew what strange customs and courtship rituals he was expecting. If she was succeed in her quest then she must surely seek aid elsewhere.

---

"Elrond," Gil-galad strode into the infirmary, his long council robes flowing behind him. The Lord of Imladris was standing at a sink with sleeves rolled up, scrubbing blood from his hands and wrists.

"Gil-galad?" Still deep in thought, Elrond reached for the small tray of bloodstained instruments and began washing them prior to dipping them in boiling water.

"The council." Gil-galad said shortly, chin set and his mouth in a thin tight line.

Elrond turned to him, his eyes widening as he remembered how he should have spent his morning.

"I do not expect any those in my service to neglect to attend to the duties which they have been set."

"My apologies," honestly distraught Elrond walked to his King's side and touched his hand with soapy fingers, "Three women were brought in unexpectedly..."

"I care not for excuses," Gil-galad said coldly. However worthy the half-elf's actions were it did not change the fact that he had allowed Elrond to speak on behalf of the elves of Imladris – elves under his own rule and protection – and they had been without a voice this morning.

"Gil-galad, they needed help!" Elrond spoke with exasperation, setting down his instruments on the tabletop with a clatter. "My duties extend beyond mere councils!"

"You are leader of the people of this valley," the High-King glared at his Herald, every word carefully measured to avoid the depth of his anger becoming truly apparent, "People whose interests you were to represent this morning. Understand me, Elrond, the people of this valley take second place to no one."

"Good morning." Celebrían entered the room with her usual finesse, and smiled at its dumbfounded inhabitants. "May I sit with you?"

After an awkward pause one of the women got to their feet and brought over a chair to join the three at the fireplace. Human visitors in Imladris were rare, but for any such guests to be visited by one so beautiful as Celebrían was unheard of.

"Please sit, Lady." The woman shuffled uncomfortably back to her own seat, wondering to the cause of the visit. The maiden appeared more like a fairy queen than one who belonged amidst folk of humble means, and she could have little cause to sit with three weary and injured wives.

"Celebrían, please." Celebrían graced them with a beautiful smile. For some reason they seemed scared, and she was eager to put them at ease. "I wish to ask advice of you."

---

Several hours later Celebrían was hurrying back to her room, her eyes gleaming and a spring in her step. Against this onslaught any last manly doubts that Elrond may harbour were sure to fall.

---

The evening was falling fast over Imladris by now, and as lanterns were lit and fires kindled within the House of Elrond, the blue-grey dusk outside seemed ever darker.

The fire was flickering merrily in Celebrian’s chambers by the time she had finished her bath, and standing on the soft rug at the fireside it was quite warm enough to linger over her examination – or perhaps more aptly, exploration - of the borrowed gown.

Its mortal owner was obviously rather more sturdily built than she, and the brightly patterned fabric swamped her slender body. It had taken her quite some time to discover in which hole she should place her head from inside the lurid tent of a bodice, and struggling into the gentle light of her chambers she had been surprised to find that despite its voluminous qualities the dress was rather lacking in the neckline.

Nevertheless, the tailor had been generous enough in other areas, and Celebrían suspected that it would have better fitted a broad shouldered warrior such as her father. The general bagginess was especially noticeable around the chest, and she couldn’t help wondering if mortals made up for their stunted ears by rather excessive growth in other areas.

With a mixture of curiosity and eager anticipation for its effect on the target half-elf, Celebrían improvised a woman’s chest with a pair of delicately embroidered handkerchiefs – being sadly deprived of the pair of hollowed grapefruit halves which would do the task true justice – and proceeded to weave her hair into what she was assured was a suitably alluring style.

Finally, as close to satisfied with her appearance as she could be, Celebrían quietly left her chambers and ran on tiptoes to the Hall where the dancing had already started.

- - -

The three bachelors of Imladris milled around a table of refreshments, talking quietly as the rest of the elves present joined the singing and dancing. Gil-galad, who had evidently forgiven Elrond for the morning’s misdemeanour, was filling his herald in on the discussion he had missed. Disinterested and unwatched Glorfindel wolfed down several platters of small pies, a couple of glasses of wine and the better half of a roast chicken. Training had not finished until late, and he had barely had time to wash and dress before joining the party.

For that matter, it seemed that Lady Celebrían seemed to have suffered the same problem. She was not yet in the Hall although her parents were ready.

Craning his neck to gaze around the Hall, Glorfindel scanned the faces of the maidens present, wondering what heinous plot Celeborn had conjured up this time. He certainly looked well pleased with himself, although that might have something to with having the most beautiful lady in the room held close beneath his arm.

“My Lord Glorfindel,” a female voice purred below him and cool fingers forced their way between his own, “Are you looking for me?”

“Argh!” Leaping back instinctively, Glorfindel made his best attempt to turn his expression of horror into a mere pleasantry. “Ah, I…”

“And I too am amenable to that!” the maiden gave him her most winning smile, and dragged him bodily into the mass of dancers. “I am honoured to be chosen as your partner!”

Standing in the shadows by the fire, Elrond and Gil-galad allowed themselves to smirk before continuing their conversation.

“They were of the race of men.” Elrond’s face darkened with disgust. “They sought to barter for food and blankets.”

“They were traders?” Gil-galad took another sip of wine. “They have come with no tools?”

Elrond coughed awkwardly, flushing from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. “They need them not.”

“Ah!” dark eyebrows lifted involuntarily and the High-King took a long draught from his goblet.

Still mirroring the colour of his wine, Elrond looked as if he was about to say more, but before he could elaborate, Glorfindel had once again sauntered into their midst.

“Protect me!” Glorfindel sank into a chair with an exaggerated sigh, reaching for his goblet of wine. “I understand that for one so endowed with good humour and so fair of face, much must be expected, but this… this is a matter of war!”

Neither Gil-galad nor Elrond replied to this provocative comment, and glancing up to find both elves turned towards the opposite end of the Hall, the Balrog Slayer spoke peevishly, “I do wish that you would listen…”

There was a strange silence in the hall, notes of disbelief and disapproval ringing from the high arched ceiling and echoing around the great fireplace, and it seemed that all present were intent on whatever had just appeared in the far doorway.

Rising to his feet once more, Glorfindel strode to Gil-galad’s side, frowning a little and instinctively reaching for a sword that was not at his side. But even he was not prepared for what he found standing before him, silhouette shadowed against the warm light of the east hallway.

“Is that…” not trusting his fine eyesight, the Balrog-slayer squinted across the heads of those present. “Nay, it cannot be.”

Gil-galad, being a few inches taller than either of his two friends – a fact that he attributed to his noble Noldorian descent and Glorfindel put down to an excessive fondness for milk in early childhood – could see a little further and shook his head slightly.

“I am afraid that it is true, my friend. That is indeed the Lady Celebrían.”

Despite his best High-Kingly efforts at maintaining a suitably composed expression, Gil-galad’s broad shoulders shook slightly with mirth. On his left hand side, Elrond too seemed to be having difficulty in controlling his emotions. While he had succeeded in taming any errant guffaws of laughter, the sparkle in his grey eyes and broad grin spoke all too clearly of his true feelings.

“I fear that Celebrían may have sought advice from most unsuitable counsel.”

- - -

Suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of what must surely be the entire population of the Valley of Imladris, Celebrían gave the rippling seas of her gown a critical glance. Although the indelicate shades of scarlet and darkest maroon were not entirely to her taste, she had been so sure that her half-elf would appreciate the effort that she had failed to consider the opinions of others around her.

Her mother evidently did not think much of her attempts to embrace half-elven culture, if the wearied sigh was anything to go by. And as for her father – he gave her a cursory glance that quickly transformed into a horrified stare, then fixed the three bachelors at the opposite end of the hall with a particularly malevolent glare.

“Celebrían, iell nîn, what are you thinking!” Galadriel winced as she surveyed the vulgar gown with an expression of disgust. Never had she thought that her daughter would have the desire to dress as the most foul of mortal women. “You shame yourself!”

Suddenly very pink, Celebrían felt her eyes fill with tears and her lips begin to wobble.

Remembering a similarly regretful incident involving a leather jerkin and a suit of armour that had proved to be far harder to remove than to put on, Galadriel hurried to her daughter’s side and softly brushed a stray lock of hair behind a pointed ear, speaking gently and quietly. “This gown does not become you, Celebrían. Run and change before you humiliate yourself further.”

Unfortunately for all concerned, her husband’s response was a little less tactful.

“What have you done to my daughter?” Celeborn thundered, bearing down on the bewildered half-elf from the other side of the room.

Elrond gulped, flapping his robed arms at his side as uselessly as a Balrog’s shadowy wings. Glorfindel had providently taken a step back, leaving him to face the wrath of the Lord of Lorien alone, and the High-King was nowhere to be seen. Swallowing panic, Elrond braced himself for the onslaught and gave the rampaging elf-lord what he hoped approximated a diplomatic smile.

“My lord Celeborn?”

Even more unfortunately the generously proportioned gown had slipped to a rather precarious position on Celebrían’s chest. Certain that any movement to secure the garment would merely cause it to tumble immodestly to the ground, Celebrían could only watch in horror as each new breath caused the coarse fabric to edge ever closer to its terrible fate.

But Gil-galad was not High-King only in name, and it was for his ability at remaining cool and unruffled in the most unpromising of situations that he was most famed. Despite showing no sign of haste in his traversing of the dance floor, he was already at Celebrían’s side as her bodice began to sag alarmingly, and even managed to gift Galadriel with a pacifying smile on his way to gallant rescue.

With elegant ease, the High-King whipped off his cape, slung it artfully around Celebrían’s shoulders, and lifted her easily into his arms - fortunately all before her neckline decided to relocate itself to her ankles.

“I shall escort you to your chambers.” Leaning back against the heavy doors to open them, Gil-galad cast an anxious glance to the far end of the Hall where Galadriel appeared to be doing stalwart work in ensuring that his herald would still be in one piece when he returned. “I fear that your mother has found herself occupied.”

“Oh!” Turning even pinker, and if possible looking ever more miserable than she did already, Celebrían bit her lip. “I am sure that Adar will not blame Elrond without cause.”

Gil-galad chose not to reply, merely shaking some strands of dark hair from his eyes as he navigated a particularly tricky doorway.

“Elrond will be well, will he not?” Evidently sharing some of the High-King’s doubt as to her father’s self-restraint – or more precisely her mother’s ability to restrain him – Celebrían gave Gil-galad a worried glance. She should probably go to defend him, but at the moment even the thought of having to face him made tears sting her eyes.

It had been busy in the Hall of Fire, but for one with eyes only for one particular half-elf it had been easy enough to find the object of her affections, and even in the few seconds before her bodice had begun its descent she had seen his face. He had been laughing.

“Aye, he will manage well.” Gil-galad said reassuringly, adding with a chuckle. “There are enough of my guards present to ensure that he will come to no real harm.”

Celebrían smiled weakly at Gil-galad, and more ferociously at a pair of gawping stable-hands, attempting to give the impression that being carried back to one’s chambers in a state of partial undress by the High-King himself was the normal end to a pleasant evening.

“Thank you.” Celebrían said quietly as Gil-galad placed her down on her bed and straightened up, the silver threads in his velvet gowns sparkling in the flickering light of the fire. “I am sorry for disturbing your evening.”

“Not at all.” Ever gracious, Gil-galad waited for Celebrían to take refuge under a delicately embroidered wrap before continuing, “May I ask why you were wearing that… thing?”

“I was hoping… hoping…” Celebrían’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He is not only half-elven, he is half-mortal too.”

“Ai, Celebrían!” Laughing gently, Gil-galad dug his hands into his pockets and stared heavenwards for a moment. “He would admire you in a sack, can you not see that?”

Blushing profusely, Celebrían found herself unable to meet the High-King’s eyes and busied herself in being a perfect host. “Perhaps I can offer you a drink? Some tea?”

“I am afraid that I must go to rescue my Vice-Regent,” Gil-galad turned with a final grin and strode back towards the Hall, adding over his shoulder. “For valiant though Glorfindel may have been in facing his Balrog, he has not yet met one such as your father.”

- - -

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Note: Fanfiction. Not mine. Thanks to all who reviewed!

- - -

The next morning dawned very crisp and bright, and despite it nearing spring a late frost had fallen during the night. The smooth grass of the gardens was pale in the weak morning sunlight, and in the distance the snow over the peaks of the Misty Mountains was stained pink. It was still far before breakfast time, and with a hard morning’s walk ahead of them, Gil-galad and Elrond would have been peckish had they not first stopped by the kitchens.

The room had been near empty, so early was the hour, but all it had taken was a kindly elf-maiden, a heavy frying pan and the run of the pantries for them to head on their way with some warm bread rolls stuffed with buttery scrambled egg and apples in their pockets. Despite all expectations to the contrary, the High King was a surprisingly good cook.

“I did not expect this,” Elrond took a juicy bite of his roll and licked egg from around his mouth. “It does not seem a High-Kingly task.”

Whilst all those who marched to battle were able to cook themselves simple, nourishing fare, the High King himself usually had more pressing matters to deal with than toiling over a hot fire. Indeed had Elrond known how adept his King was with a spatula, he would have insisted that he had taken a turn with the cooking before now. Managing an army was but a simple task compared with conjuring something edible out of salt meat and soggy waybread.

Gil-galad smirked and took a bite from his apple. “I can do many things, Elrond Peredhil, not all of them High-Kingly.”

“Círdan did not teach you?” Elrond queried doubtfully. Whilst still a small child, Gil-galad had been sent to Círdan at the Havens for safekeeping, and it was obvious that his mother could not be the source of the King’s culinary prowess. Nevertheless, he had reservations about whether the Shipwright could be credited with this development. Círdan was a singularly anti-social elf, speaking few words and showing little pleasure in anyone’s company save the High King. It was easier imagining him wielding a rolling pin to ward off an inquisitive child than inviting him to join a lesson.

Gil-galad almost choked on his apple as he laughed. “Círdan? Nay, Elrond, you know him as well as I!”

Grinning himself, Elrond swallowed the last of his roll and reached into his pocket for an apple. “But it could not have been your Naneth?”

“And why not? Naneth taught me many things. Do you not remember the pig?” The High King’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “But no, I had learned how to cook before my Naneth joined me.”

Still chuckling at the memory of a very young King wielding an over-sharpened carving knife against a whole roast hog and the subsequent disastrous consequences, Elrond shot Gil-galad a questioning look. “Then who?”

“Círdan had a housekeeper in the Havens, Thatharien was her name. I was missing my Naneth very badly and often she would allow me into the kitchens to help.” Gil-galad smiled ruefully in memory. “I must have been a nuisance, for I insisted on doing everything, even that which I could not manage.”

“And she taught you?”

“All I know.” Gil-galad confirmed. “Most especially the manufacture of gingerbread sailors. She was very kind.”

“She was not with us on the Balar, though.” Elrond’s brow furrowed in thought. “I believe that Elros and I must have known all those in the kitchens.”

“I believe that they were warned against you!” Gil-galad grinned, although his smile did not reach his eyes. “No, she was not with us then.”

Elrond gave his King a puzzled look and Gil-galad sighed. This story was seldom told, and was a painful one.

“When the Havens fell there were not enough boats to carry all to safety. She chose to give up her place.” Gil-galad caught Elrond’s expression and explained gently. “She wished to be with her family.”

“Her family were in the Havens?” Elrond sounded appalled, “Could Círdan not…”

“No.” Gil-galad shook his head and smiled sadly. “They were with Mandos.”

Both fell silent for a while, walking side by side along an avenue of tall ash trees. The first crocuses of spring were beginning to emerge – clenched white and purple buds wrapped in deep green leaves. Eventually as they passed over the small humped bridge, and looked down at the busy torrent swollen by melt-water, Gil-galad spoke again.

“But that is not what has brought us out of our beds at this hour. I meant to speak to you about Celebrían.”

Elrond turned puce and swallowed half his apple in a single bite.

“She is a pleasant young lady.” His voice came out high-pitched and uneven, and the Lord of Imladris coughed several times before continuing. “And she is…”

“A good ambassador for her people?” Gil-galad asked with only a hint of amusement.

“Well… yes!” Elrond said in exasperation. “She is a fine maiden, and does her mother credit.”

“But not her father?” Gil-galad chuckled quietly to himself. He had only just reached his Herald in time the previous evening, and it had taken several hours to soothe the fuming Lord of Lorien.

“She has inherited great strength of character.” Elrond spoke grudgingly. “And an impressive conviction in her beliefs.”

“Elrond.” Gil-galad spoke sternly, suddenly adopting a voice and expression sufficiently High Kingly to cause even the most wicked of elflings to confess their sins.

“I… I… uh… Gil?” Elrond stumbled across his words, then as Gil-galad turned on him with a look worthy of the strongest and most powerful of the High Kings of the Noldor, burst out the truth. “I admire her greatly. She is the most beautiful maiden that I have ever seen.”

Gil-galad made a small encouraging grunt and found need to examine his apple in great detail, allowing Elrond to continue without interruption.

“She is happy and kind, and merry company. She is quite perfect.” Elrond caught Gil-galad’s eye and added somewhat grudgingly. “I admit that at times she is somewhat lacking in sense…”

Gil-galad grinned and for a High King came dangerously close to giggling.

“It was a regrettable incident.”

“Indeed.” Elrond’s mouth twitched. “I had not thought that…”

“I doubt that any had.” Gil-galad chewed the corner of his lip to restrain himself from outright laughter, “I believe that your Celebrían has been gifted with a creativity quite beyond the scope of any normal elf.”

Elrond’s cheeks flamed. “She is not my Celebrían.”

“Not yet.” Gil-galad’s eyes twinkled, and Elrond suddenly grew suspicious. “But I should imagine it would help your cause if you were to spend time with her.”

“But, I cannot! Surely you can see that, Gil.” Elrond turned a miserable shade of vermilion and crumpled a corner of his tunic up in his fist. “What if she refuses my company? What if she has no wish to speak to me?”

Gil-galad observed his apple thoughtfully, took one last bite and threw the core into the bushes.

“One day Elrond, you will have to leap where you have not looked. Do not lose her through your own fear.”

- - -

“Celebrían.” Celeborn greeted his daughter with a curt nod and a somewhat strained smile as she tentatively entered the breakfast room. Whilst he did not hold Celebrían in any way responsible for the unfortunate incident of the night before, he had no intention of it being repeated. “I trust that these are yours?”

Celebrían bit her lip as two delicately embroidered handkerchiefs – one decorated with daisies and the other with apple blossom floated down lightly onto the breadbasket. Indeed, they looked remarkably familiar.

“I… believe that they are mine, Adar.” Cheeks pink, Celebrían hastily stowed the scraps of linen into the depths of her gown. “I must have dropped them.”

Celeborn gave her a particularly searching look, and seeing that her daughter was about to break down and speak of the full extent of her misdeeds, Galadriel hastily intervened. Whilst she herself was fully aware of all that had happened, she saw no need for her husband to share that knowledge. It would not be good for anyone’s blood pressure.

“You must be more careful, Celebrían.” Galadriel gave her daughter a deeply significant look, warning her to remain quiet. “It is only due to Gil-galad’s kindness that they have been returned to you.”

“Gil-galad returned them to me?” Celebrían’s face lit up with pleasure and relief - perhaps a little unwisely considering how closely she was being observed. Unseen, her mother and father exchanged quick and surprised glances.

“Yes, and Celebrían, a High King has no time for such trifles.” Galadriel continued briskly, happily ignoring her husband’s look of appalled and dawning comprehension. “Do not be so careless again.”

“I will not. I am sorry, Ammë.”

Slightly flushed, Celebrían bent over her breakfast, still smiling a little. Happily unaware of the anxious looks that were being passed over her head, she busied herself with her porridge and cream with a sigh of satisfaction. She had worried about those missing handkerchiefs, but it seemed that Elrond, at least, had heard no further of her humiliation.

- - -

It was decided that Celebrían should spend the rest of the day entertaining the marchwarden whilst quietly contemplating her sins. Although the small room in which the patient had been bidden to stay was dark, there was candlelight aplenty and Celebrían found herself quite able to continue with her embroidery.

“Lord Elrond says that you are improving.” Celebrían said brightly, threading a needle with a fine piece of silk thread. “It will not be long before you are back on your feet!”

Whilst the lump on Haldir’s head had gone down at last – no doubt thanks to Elrond’s healing hands – the bruising had yet to fade, and a painful looking bluish-purple blotch disfigured his fair face.

Haldir kept providently silent, but any elf that cared to listen closely might have heard the rough sound of grinding teeth.

“Elrond says that you will have to keep quiet for a little while, even once you are back on your feet.” Celebrían warmed to her subject, eyes firmly on the tiny eagles she was embroidering. “Elrond thinks that dancing and parties may be a little much for you.”

Haldir made a grunt that could, at a pinch, be interpreted as polite.

“Elrond believes that it is only the dark that has saved you from most unpleasant headaches.” Celebrían smiled fondly at the wall that separated the cupboard from the main ward. “Elrond said that he was sorry that he could not give you anything for the pain, but he was afraid that it might deepen your concussion.”

Haldir forced a toothy smile as Celebrían tied off a silver thread and resumed stitching in brown.

“Elrond is quite sure…”

Unable to take any more pearls of wisdom quoted direct from the Lord of Imladris, Haldir sat up – a difficult task considering how tightly he had been tucked into his blankets – and gulped down half a glass of water.

“So, tell me, how is your father?”

- - -

“Gil-galad, we call for your aid!” Glorfindel strode into the study, his boots heavy on the wooden floor, and sat down on the desk at which the High King was working.

“Glorfindel, will you get…” Gil-galad prodded the Balrog-slayer’s rear end somewhat peevishly with his quill. It was a difficult enough task interpreting these ancient maps without having someone sit squarely on top of Mount Doom.

“My utmost apologies!” Glorfindel exclaimed insincerely, rising to his feet and upsetting a bottle of ink into the High King’s lap. “But I fear that I must disturb you…”

“Fear not. You already have.” Gil-galad spoke darkly, leaping to his feet and attempting to mop up the ink with the tail of Glorfindel’s cloak.

Looking surprisingly unconcerned, Glorfindel shook back his hair and shrugged off his cloak to allow Gil-galad to tidy himself more effectively. It would not do to delay the matter whilst the High King changed.

“Come.” Glorfindel grabbed his King’s shoulder and dragged him down the winding corridors of Imladris to the infirmary. “It is a matter most urgent.”

“Glor…” Gil-galad began sternly, giving up the attempt to struggle against the Balrog-slayer’s iron grasp. “If I may have a minute…”

“Oh shush! Nobody shall notice.” Glorfindel brushed aside the High King’s complaints with a nonchalant wave of the hand. “It is not as if your leggings were not black anyway.”

Gil-galad fell quiet and gave the door in front of which they had halted a particularly hateful look. It was familiar from the day before. “What would you have me do?”

“She is in there!” Glorfindel hissed. “With him.”

“With Elrond?” Gil-galad asked hopefully. Although this was the broom cupboard inside which the marchwarden of Lorien was incarcerated, miracles could still happen.

“Eru, no!” Glorfindel said impatiently, despairing of the High King’s dullness. “Come, distract them!”

Gil-galad narrowed his eyes at the Balrog-slayer.

“Do you wish to have it returned to you or not?” Glorfindel asked with a smirk, putting his hands on his hips and standing just out of reach.

Swallowing, Gil-galad reached for the door handle. “I am warning you, Glorfindel. If it is not returned to me unspoiled…”

The blond-elf chose to ignore this and rolled his eyes as he kicked open the door with one booted foot, being careful to keep out of the line of sight.

Gil-galad stood tall and mighty in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the soft light of the hallway before an almighty shove sent him staggering across the room to land bodily on the already bruised marchwarden.

Gasping in surprise, Celebrían gave the door a suspicious look as it clapped shut rather too smartly for a day without wind.

“My apologies,” Gil-galad rose from the groaning elf and gave Celebrían a rather too wide smile as he fumbled for an explanation. “I found myself so enamoured of your company that I was unable to restrain myself.”

- - -

The evening sunlight shone in through the arched window, surrounding the Lady of Lorien with golden light.

“Perhaps,” Galadriel pondered, winding one golden curl around her finger as she pursed her lips appraisingly, “perhaps it is not such ill chance after all.”

Her husband shot her such a dark look that it became immediately obvious where he ranked High Kings in relation to lowly yet local marchwardens in his list of potential suitors.

With the ease of one long practised in such arts, Galadriel breezed over a glare that would have left her masculine counterparts quaking in their boots, and continued unperturbed, “For I do not think that it is our honourable border guard that our daughter admires.”

The High King would not make a bad son-in-law. He was tall, of good blood, and – she suspected – in sole charge of a couple of trinkets that would make a good addition to the heirlooms of the family. And if he should accidentally be slain before his time as was customary to those of his bloodline, it was only natural that they should pass to her. They would be in good hands…

Celeborn’s eyebrows lowered, and his lips curled into something suspiciously similar to a pout. “I will never allow such a match.”

“He is the High King.” Galadriel said sternly, eyes gleaming as she thought of quite another type of ring.

“Nevertheless, I shall not allow it.” Celeborn snapped, and as his wife turned to him with an expression of annoyance elaborated, “Gil-galad comes from a long line of Kings…”

“Very honourable Kings, who have served our people well.”

“Kings…” Celeborn took a deep breath, “Who have all died singularly horrible deaths in facing foes who are beyond them. They have been hewn in two and beaten into the dust. Chopped, incinerated, spliced and diced! Only Eru may know what gruesome fate awaits Ereinion Gil-galad, but I will not have my daughter any part of it.”

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I hope you enjoyed reading! If you have time please leave a review!

(The next updates relating to this story – unless I start scribbling madly - will likely be a Midwinter Story set the following winter, whilst Elrond and Glorfindel are guests of Gil-galad in Lindon.)

Note: This is fanfiction and so very little of it is actually mine.

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It was another crisp, clear morning in Imladris. The sun was rising over the snow-capped peaks of the mountains and down in the depths of the valley the Lord and Lady of Lórien and their daughter were being escorted on a morning walk by the Lord of Imladris himself. In the trees by the river, the High King was sitting quietly enjoying an early breakfast, and one Glorfindel of Gondolin, having just left the King's company was holding a sword inspection on the south training field.

Still dressed in the snugly fitting black suede leggings and shirt that he usually wore for informal weapons practice, and with his silver mail gleaming in the morning light, Gil-galad sat back against the broad trunk of a willow and watched the progress of his Herald along the river bank. Even through the mask of the overhanging leaves one thing was clear. However much the half-elf extolled the virtues of the beautiful views with which the valley had been gifted, if he wished to be in any way convincing he must at some point remove his focus from the equally fair face of the maiden at his side.

Nevertheless, things seemed to be going surprisingly well for the half-elf, and satisfied that he would manage to avoid steering himself into any further perilous situations in the next hour or so, Gil-galad turned to contemplate the newly finished spear practice.

Although Glorfindel was not overly skilled with the spear - indeed, Gil-galad suspected that had the famed elf even approached the Balrog with such a weapon it would have taken barely a minute before he would have been discarded as a great golden kebab, skewered on his own lance - there were distinct advantages in practising with him. For a start, the Balrog-slayer was brutal and cared little about the propriety of injuring the High King, and as such was one of the few people Gil-galad could rely upon for a good fight. Secondly, his style, although unorthodox, was curiously similar to that of orcs and fouler things themselves, and thus provided excellent practice. And thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, Glorfindel was quite capable of pilfering some hot apple pastries and a canteen of milk from the kitchens before breakfast.

Even High Kings did not enjoy duelling on an empty stomach.

It was whilst munching the last of these turnovers and enjoying the sweet spiced apple that oozed from the flaky pastry that Gil-galad strolled up through the valley, under the avenue of tall birches and up past the training fields.

"Psst!" There was a rustle in the leaves above him and a beckoning hand and a long golden braid became visible amidst the leaves of an oak tree. "Gil-galad!"

The High King paused and looked up at the solemn face of the Balrog-slayer, smeared with the green of lichen dust to help break up his outline among the trees.

"Glorfindel?" the High King failed to hide his grin and jerked the last half of the pastry away from the Balrog-slayer's outstretched fingers. "How may I be of aid?"

"I am being tracked." Glorfindel cupped his hand over his mouth and glanced furtively around, lest any of his over enthusiastic recruits be ready to pounce. "We have not got much time."

Gil-galad had met these young soldiers before, and had drawn his own conclusions as to why they had been assigned to Glorfindel's legion. Elrond did his best to ensure that all those who wished to fight for the valley did so under a commander whose inclinations matched their own. Glorfindel seemed to have attracted the young, the foolhardy, the reckless, the dazzled by fame and the downright stupid.

Fortunately he was still wearing armour, which should offer some protection against any stray arrows that they might let fly.

"The marchwarden is on the move. I have seen him!" Glorfindel spoke in a low and urgent voice, pressing his mouth so close to Gil-galad's ear that each warm breath tickled. "He must be delayed."

Giggling involuntarily, Gil-galad moved away, being far too ticklish for full High Kingly composure.

"And I suppose that I am the one to do it?" Gil-galad said testily, his eyebrows betraying much of his opinion on the matter.

The previous evening Elrond had finally seen no choice but to consent to the delicate invalid sitting outside the next fine morning. Unfortunately the next fine morning had dawned far too soon, and delicate though the invalid may be, it was doing little to slow his flight to the trees. Whilst such an escape might be put down to the peculiarities of concussion, the fact remained that Elrond and Celebrían were currently wandering happily through those glades and they were not to be disturbed.

"Oh, yes," hearing the crack of a twig behind him, Glorfindel tensed, ready to dodge, "I think he shall find himself quite enamoured..."

There was a terrible cry and a shape leapt from the treetops brandishing a dagger. Rather unfortunately for the shape and rather fortunately for Glorfindel, it had misjudged both the wisdom and the angle of such an attack and missed the branch altogether, instead landing with a heavy thump at Gil-galad's feet.

Gasping for breath, the young recruit struggled onto his knees only to have the not inconsiderable weight of the Balrog-slayer fling itself upon his slender shoulders and the cold edge of a mithril blade press against his jugular.

"One." Glorfindel scrambled back to his feet letting the sulky-looking young elf deposit himself grumpily against a tree trunk to sit out the fight, cheeks quite hot under the appraising stare of the High King.

There was a distant roar and a group of five elves could be seen charging towards them from further down the path. Their swords were being brandished wildly, they had left the archers behind and one of them kept breaking ranks.

Glorfindel looked at Gil-galad wearily and rolled his eyes.

"I do not suppose that you will require my aid." Gil-galad stood Aiglos upright and placed a hand on the smooth wood and inlaid metal of the shaft. In the distance the charging quintet quailed quite noticeably.

"Ai, do not scare them!" Glorfindel shoved Gil-galad aside and smiled encouragingly at the stampeding trainees, sword firm in his hand and golden braids blowing in the wind. "It took me quite three months to persuade them to stand against me."

"Indeed?" Crediting the young elves with a little more intelligence than he had initially reckoned on, Gil-galad gave the rampaging elves one last disdainful look and ambled off, intent on once more coming to his Herald's rescue.

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"Haldir of Lórien!" Gil-galad's deep voice boomed over the rose garden as he ran swiftly after the scampering woodland elf.

It was imperative that he reached the elf before the elf reached the trees. Elves of Lórien could be tricky creatures, and if displeased had an unfortunate habit of disappearing into the treetops and sniggering from afar. He had discarded Aiglos on the terrace, deciding that the great spear would only hinder his progress, but on afterthought it would have been helpful in this hunt. Being an elf of fine strength and stature, Gil-galad could throw his spear quite a distance and his foes always fell.

Not that Haldir was a foe, he reminded himself somewhat belatedly.

Indeed he was a valued ally.

"My King Gil-galad," safely in the loving embrace of an ash tree, Haldir risked a pause and paid due reverence to the rather peeved looking King currently circling the trunk some twenty foot below, "My apologies, I did not hear you call."

"Quite understandable," Gil-galad forced a High Kingly smile and narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun to peer up through the leaves at the bothersome marchwarden, "I was concerned for your concussion, I would not want you to slip."

"Your concerns are received with due gratitude." Haldir nodded his head with due respect and shot off into the branches, just a shadow and then a whisper among the leaves. "But do not fret for me. It is not the trees of Imladris that I fear."

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"Well, I see that Imladris is not entirely without beauty." Celeborn spoke grudgingly, surveying the scene with an imperious air.

They had paused by a small glade at a bend in the river, where a pool of clear blue water was lingering on its descent of the valley. Tall irises with bright yellow flowers bordered the path at this point, and in the shelter of a small dell, crocuses and daffodils were beginning to bloom.

"Indeed." Elrond said dryly.

The overhanging leaves of ancient willow trees brushed the water, creating little eddies in the smooth mirror surface of the pool, and behind the leafy veil small balls of fluff in the shape of ducklings could be seen paddling frantically behind their mother.

"Oh, look at those!" entranced, Celebrían broke away from Elrond's arm and skipped closer to the water's edge. "Are they not perfect?"

"Aye," suddenly sounding less than sure of himself, the seasoned warrior moved to admire the little string of ducks, "In Imladris we breed our own ducks..."

Suddenly taking pity on the blundering half-elf, Galadriel providently trod on his toes before he could discuss stuffing and the sweet taste of a home bred roast.

"And look at that moorhen!" Smiling, Celebrian gathered up her skirts and hurried over the dew-laden grass to a curving tree trunk that had been laid across the river as a bridge, her silver curls bouncing against her back as she ran. "There are a whole family of them!"

Elated she scrambled up onto the highest point of the tree trunk to watch two little black puffs with ridiculously large feet paddle beneath her. But it had rained over night and the moss on the trunk was slippery and damp, and all it took was a sudden rustle in the leaves above her to send her teetering off balance.

"Celebrían..." Galadriel barely had time to sigh with resignation before her daughter plunged headfirst into the icy water and was washed several yards downstream.

And Celebrían knew there and then exactly why she liked this valley so very much.

In Imladris it was quite literally raining elves.

"My lady!" Glorfindel's fair voice called from afar, golden hair flowing behind him as he pelted down the meadow. "I come with aid!"

And indeed he did. Already stripping out of his training clothes ready for a suitably swift rescue, a flying shirt momentarily blocked Celebrían's view of the path, but as it fell an entire legion of soldiers could be seen following their captain. Two by two, they jogged down the steps, silver mail gleaming in the morning sun, braids swinging in time with the soft padding of their boots, and shining swords erect.

With quite fifty elves rushing to assist, any further attention was quite evidently far from necessary, but that did little to dissuade either the half-elf on the footpath or the elf in the treetops. Without even waiting to shed his outer gown, Elrond jumped into the stream and dashed through the water to his beloved's aid, only pausing as an almighty splash signified the arrival of Haldir of Lórien from the overhanging treetops.

For a moment it looked as if it would be Haldir who reached the maiden first, but today fortune was uncharacteristically sweet to Elrond Peredhil. Reaching the river, Glorfindel plunged bravely into its icy depths and if his collision with the Lórien marchwarden looked closer to a rugby tackle than a misplaced dive, all were too polite to comment.

"Go! Go!" Glorfindel hissed at Elrond, ducking a punch and attempting to submerge the marchwarden whilst still appearing to be practising a little breaststroke.

But Elrond had lingered a moment too long, and as he stepped forwards Haldir surged towards him with a ferocious battle cry. Landing with all the grace of a beached whale - perhaps due to the snarling Balrog-slayer attached to his ankles - and sending a great fountain of water up over the riverbank, Haldir grappled with Elrond's knees. Knocked off balance, the Lord of Imladris flailed desperately in the air - the loose velvet sleeves of his gown flapping in the wind, and plunged backwards into a somewhat grimy pool.

Quite safe and treading water most competently, Celebrían looked on in disbelief as her three most heroic rescuers appeared to get caught in some invisible whirlpool, tumbling and struggling to free themselves from what must have been the water, although it looked suspiciously like each others' grasps.

Eventually coming to the conclusion that rescue was unlikely to be either prompt or dignified, Celebrían reached the shore with a few strong strokes and found her feet in the shallows, lifting her sodden skirts up around her knees to ease the process. On the shore, Celeborn drew his breath in sharply.

Gloriously gallant, Gil-galad strode into the water and extended a cool hand.

"My lady." One dark eyebrow was raised.

"My King." Celebrían glanced back at the trio, currently wallowing in the rapids, and smiled with a tinge of alarm.

"My daughter." Celeborn muscled in between the pair, deftly jabbing an accidental elbow into the High King's midriff.

"My husband!" Galadriel's voice was heavy with disapproval and she placed a gentle hand on her beloved's arm and held him with a grip of steel. "I am eager to continue our walk. I am sure that Gil-galad..."

She gave the High King - currently doubled over with tears in his eyes - a look quite fearsome enough to cause him to straighten and offer Celebrían an arm.

"...that Gil-galad will be quite eager to escort our daughter to her chambers to change." Galadriel gifted the wincing King with a deeply meaningful look. "I am sure that they shall have much to discuss."

The High-King's grey eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his alarm at the Lady of Lórien's plotting and Elrond's predictably venomous glare concealed with High Kingly ease - although considering the events that would follow, perhaps a little too quickly.

"My Lady Celebrían." Gil-galad placed a warming arm around soggy elf-maiden’s back. "If I may be of aid."

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Please review! It was my birthday… um… three days ago! And I meant to finish this for then, really I did. Hobbit-style as it were.