Trouble

Celebrían did not speak: she did not need to say anything.  Indeed, she knew from experience that silence was by far more powerful than words when it came to expressing her displeasure.  She had, after all, learned at her mother’s knee all the most effective techniques for impressing the recalcitrant.

Her sons – now both taller and broader than she was – shrank, just as they had when mischievous elflings, avoiding the cool grey of her gaze and shuffling their feet.  The other miscreant, however, refused to be intimidated.

‘Oh, come now,’ Glorfindel said easily, ‘it is not that serious a matter.  You are making too much of it.’

Both twins took an instinctive half-step backwards. 

It was good to see that her reproach still had the power to affect them – but doubtless too much to hope that one who had combated a Balrog and faced Lord Námo would crumble before her wrath.  Celebrían decided to cut her losses and addressed herself to her sons.  ‘You will be here,’ she said.  ‘Properly clothed, conducting yourselves as befits your adar’s sons and treating every visitor with the courtesy for which Imladris is known.’  She decided against issuing specific threats – challenges tended to inspire resistance, and she found that a nebulous doom was so much more worrying.  She smiled at them lovingly.  ‘Make sure you are back in plenty of time.’

She needed only to cut them away from Glorfindel and leave him without support to make him much more likely to fall in line.  It was, she felt, much like herding sheep and guiding them into their pen.

‘As you command, Naneth.’  Elrohir sounded resigned.  It was a good thing that she had caught them before they had managed to sneak away, or they would currently be halfway to the river, congratulating themselves on their lucky escape.  Elladan looked rather more disgruntled – but then, flight had probably been his idea in the first place.

‘Elladan?’

‘If we must.’

She nodded.  Their word, however reluctantly given, was enough to ensure their presence, and she could now offer them the consolation of rest of the day to themselves.  

***

They had reached the stables before they risked speaking.  Celebrían’s hearing could not be that much more acute than any other elf’s, but she somehow managed to be distressingly aware of all rumbles of discontent uttered within several leagues of her. Elladan looked around carefully, seeing nothing but placidly chewing horses, hearing nothing more ominous than the twittering of the birds, but he still confined his complaint to a long and despairing groan.

‘Contemplating flight was, perhaps, not the wisest response,’ Glorfindel said thoughtfully.

‘You have always said that the best battle is the one avoided,’ Elladan snapped. 

‘But avoiding this battle would leave us far more vulnerable to future attacks.  Sometimes you just have to stand firm.’   Their mentor perched himself on an upturned bucket, managing somehow to keep his look of elegant sophistication.  ‘Your naneth would never have forgiven us for embarrassing her.’ He twiddled a length of golden straw between his fingers.  ‘We need a better plan.’

‘Easier said than done.’  Elrohir rubbed his horse’s nose as the gelding blew soothingly in his ear.  ‘It is not as if advanced weapons’ skills will be useful here.  And we have already been pushed into agreeing to conform to Naneth’s standards of clothing and behaviour.’

‘They are not that dangerous.’  Elladan sounded as if he was trying to convince himself that what he knew for truth was, in fact, illusion.

‘Of course not.’  Sarcasm bit through Glorfindel’s agreement.  ‘As long as they are on the far side of the Sundering Seas.  But tonight you … we … are about to face the greatest perils known to ellyn – and, if we want to escape unscathed, we need to do something about it.’

‘Surely if we just stick together – watch each other’s back.’ The first-born twin was displaying the bravado that frequently saw him through.  ‘They will not be able to get through our defences.’ 

‘I hate to shatter your illusion,’ his brother observed, ‘but Naneth will slice through our defences like a hot knife through butter.  She has demanded courtesy and good conduct.  That means we will be dancing to her tune.’

‘Then think, my friends,’ Glorfindel advised.  ‘What do we do?’

***

‘This is not a good idea,’ Elrohir warned, as he and his brother lurked in the shadows beyond the kitchen doorway. 

Elladan sighed with exasperation.  ‘It might not be a good idea,’ he said, ‘but it is the only idea we have.  Naneth has tied our hands – I cannot think of anything else we can do.’

A golden head glinted briefly in the light from the open door, then disappeared into the darkness, sneaking over to join them by the bushes.  ‘I have it,’ Glorfindel announced.

Two pairs of identically grey eyes narrowed.  ‘That is not fish,’ Elrohir said.

‘They come from the Havens, Elrohir,’ Glorfindel emphasised.  ‘They are used to the odour of fish and doubtless would have no objection to smelling it on your breath.  They probably look on it as an aphrodisiac.’ His eyes gleamed wickedly.  ‘You would probably appear even more alluring.’

‘But garlic!’ Elladan protested.

‘Just imagine,’ the older elf told him.  ‘You ask one to dance – she starts to flirt with you …’ He fluttered his eyelashes in exaggerated imitation of a wide-eyed maiden on the hunt.  ‘You breathe on her – she chokes … and suddenly getting close to the sons of the Lord of Imladris becomes rather less appealing.’

During the silence that followed, the chatter and rattling of pans from the kitchen seemed designed to cheer them on.

‘Give some to me,’ Elrohir said grimly.

The three crunched into the cloves, pulling faces as the juice spurted over their tongues.  Glorfindel teased out a few more cloves and passed them round.  ‘We might need to keep some handy … to liven up the fragrance,’ he said.

‘I hate garlic,’ Elladan complained, tucking the cloves into his pocket as he straightened up, shrugging moodily.  ‘I suppose we should go and get dressed before Naneth comes looking for us and catches us at this.’

‘Celebrían will be very busy,’ Glorfindel said optimistically.  ‘As long as you look as if you are carrying out her instructions, she will not bother you.  We will get through this.’

***

Glorfindel forced himself not to flinch.  He was the Balrog-Slayer, for goodness sake – he should not be afraid of having his ears boxed by a furious elleth.  He folded his arms, determined to appear calm – reasonable – in control.  It did not help that Celebrían was circling him like a warg, sniffing out his weak spots.

She turned and jabbed a finger at him.  ‘I cannot believe that you would be so …’ She pressed her lips together, suppressing her urge to use language that was clearly less than ladylike.  ‘The twins – well, I am not surprised.  For all their theoretical maturity, they have yet to outgrow the tendency to act as if they think that maidens are about to pass on something both embarrassing and highly infectious.  But you are old enough to know better!’

He cringed a little.  Elrond’s wife had a nasty tongue on her when roused – and she was most definitely roused.  It was at times like these that he found himself trying to work out her exact degree of relationship with Fëanor – and it usually turned out to be a good deal closer than made him comfortable.

Celebrían stepped closer to him.  Close enough that he definitely felt vulnerable.  ‘You were only being asked to dance with a few young ladies.  To speak pleasantly to them about innocuous matters and compliment their gowns.’  Her voice was becoming progressively quieter, until it was little more than a hiss.  Unfortunately, it reminded him of nothing more than a venomous serpent preparing to strike.  He swallowed, but was not foolish enough to interrupt.  ‘A simple evening of socialising is not asking you to undertake the commitment of marriage.  It is not asking you to abandon your customary occupations of supping large quantities of wine and playing ridiculous games of chance. It is not taking you away from horses and patrolling and the masculine pleasures of the fight.’ 

She circled him again.  Glorfindel gave up any hope of Elrond noticing his plight and coming to his rescue.  Of course, between the three of them, he and the twins had decidedly irritated the Lord of Imladris, too.  ‘I am disappointed in my sons,’ Celebrían informed him.  ‘But I am disgusted with you.’

‘It was only a joke,’ he protested, knowing, even as he said the words, that opening his mouth was a mistake.

She smiled – and his blood ran cold.  ‘And it was so amusing,’ she said, ‘that Círdan has invited you and my sons to spend the next few seasons taking the coast air while brushing up on the … elements of courtesy, and my lord and I have decided that you will accept the invitation.  I hope you find the experience – educational.’    

***

Elladan moaned.  ‘We were only trying to protect ourselves.’

His brother tightened the girth and slid his stirrups down the leathers.  ‘I believe that Naneth has made it plain that she feels that our explanation is inadequate.’ He stroked the gleaming neck and leaned into his horse as if seeking comfort.  ‘There are times when her female characteristics overcome her good sense – she really does not seem to understand the danger those maidens represent.’

‘And she has abandoned us to the hunt.’ Elladan shuddered.  ‘That fair-haired one – the one in blue – has made it plain that she finds us desirable.  She cannot tell which of us is which and does not seem to care much, just as long as she lands one of Elrond’s sons.  And she is keeping ahead of one or two of the others simply because she has sharper elbows.’

‘At least Glorfindel is being sent into exile with us.  With luck we might be able to push some of them his way and hide behind him while he fends them off.’

‘Perhaps we can sneak off on the ride to the Havens and head south – Mordor cannot be any more dangerous.’

‘I do hope to be permitted to return home some time this age,’ Elrohir sighed.  ‘We had better not do anything to enrage Naneth further.’

‘Hold that thought.’  Glorfindel checked over his shoulder as he ducked round one of the wagons holding the vast quantity of luggage returning with the departing visitors.  ‘You will survive this – I have endured worse and come off safely.’

‘If you consider a protracted visit to Námo’s Halls safety.’

‘But at least he was protected there from maidens with matrimony in mind,’ Elrohir remarked. 

Slender arms curled round him, causing him to stiffen, relaxing only when his naneth said, ‘Consider it part of your training, my son.  A warrior who can fend off orcs and survive in the wild, but who resorts to gibbering inanity when confronted with a predatory elleth is hardly prepared to face the world.’  She stretched up and placed a kiss on his cheek.  ‘No maiden can make you submit to anything you refuse to do.’  She turned from him to hug Elladan.  ‘And the same goes for you, my dear one.  Treat them as you would your sister,’ she advised, ‘and remember there is protection in numbers.’  She narrowed her eyes at Glorfindel.  ‘Look after them,’ she commanded. 

‘Most gracious lady!’ Glorfindel bowed elaborately over her hand, placing a gentle kiss on her fingers, even as he watched her as a mouse watches a cat.  ‘Rest assured, I will bring them home uneaten – you have my word on it.’ A sly smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.  ‘Would I dare do otherwise?’