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.