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.