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.