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."