Dinner With Námo and Vairë

Authors’ Note: You may see the painting by Ebe Kastein that inspired this challenge by going to Council of Elrond and clicking on "Gallery > Fan art > Invited artists > Ebe Kastein". You will find the painting on page 4 at the bottom of the left hand column.

WARNING: Eating and/or drinking while reading this is highly inadvisable.

****

"Will you relax, beloved?" Vairë said with an amused look. "I’ve never seen you so nervous. It’s just Glorfindel."

"And nine of his friends," Námo quipped, giving his spouse a smile of his own.

"Most of whom you’ve met, so why are you so nervous?"

Námo sighed, not sure how to answer. He had been anticipating this day for longer than even he had thought. Only Vairë had realized how disappointed he’d been when Glorfindel failed to sail West with Elrond and Galadriel. It had never occurred to him to think that Glorfindel would see his oath as extending to Elrond’s children and grandchildren.

"But he’s here now," Vairë said gently, divining her spouse’s thoughts. "He’s here and he’s never leaving again."

He gave her a deprecating grin. "You’d think he was the only Reborn I’d ever taken an interest in."

Vairë smiled, coming to lay her head against his chest and allowing him to embrace her. "You love all your charges equally, I know that," she said, "but from the very beginning Glorfindel has held a special place in your heart. He’s like the son we’ve never had."

Námo gave her a puzzled look. "You, too?"

Vairë looked up at him with a smile and nodded. "He rather grows on one, doesn’t he?" She giggled. "I remember when he was made a thrall to that jewel-smith, Martandur. Poor ellon, trying to be brave and mature about it all and failing miserably. My heart went out to him and I truly wanted to strangle Ingwë with one of my own threads over it."

Námo laughed and gave her a hug and then they were kissing and no further conversation ensued for some time. When they came up for air, the Lord of Mandos sighed. "I guess he reminds me of a certain young Ayanuz playing hide-and-seek among the stars with the rest of you." He shook his head. "I was impossible, wasn’t I?"

Vairë gave him a wicked smile. "Which is why I married you."

Námo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So does that mean if I’d been more predictable you wouldn’t have given me a second glance?"

"Hmm.... something like that," Vairë said teasingly as she stepped out of his embrace. "Now, our guests will be here soon... ah, there’s Ancalequerindë with them now."

Námo took another look around the dining room, making sure everything was in order. Vairë just smiled knowingly. "Relax, dear," she said. "It’s only Glorfindel."

And nine of his friends, he said to himself, even as the doors opened and the Maia who acted as their seneschal in Valmar was making the introductions.

****

The dining room of Námo and Vairë’s mansion in Valmar was large but not ostentatious. There were no windows but the room still seemed airy and light and the Elves did not feel closed in. The long table, made from fragrant nessamelda wood, had settings for twelve people with candelabra at each end. The centerpiece consisted of flowers from their garden surrounding a fountain from which a deep red wine flowed. Niches on the two long walls were filled with elven statues which the Lord of Mandos had actually commissioned from former charges. And against the wall opposite the door....

The Elves’ reactions upon first noticing the tapestry adorning Námo and Vairë’s dining room wall were varied, to say the least.

Glorfindel smirked. He knew the original painting of the same subject had been burned almost before the paint dried.

Celeborn paled, and cut a quick glance sideways to his wife, who merely kept her serene smile firmly in place. He breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Celebrían giggled, and Elrond was vainly attempting to appear as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Finrod blinked, his eyes widening, and then he let loose with a mighty guffaw, while Amarië gave him a scandalized scowl, though her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

Elladan and Elrohir stopped almost at the same time and simply stared at the tapestry in shock, stealing glances at the final dinner guest who started backing away in horror, only to find himself blocked by the Maia who had greeted them and brought them before her lord and lady. He looked up into the face of Ancalequirindë and cringed when she merely gave him a knowing smile. How he wished just then that he had stayed in Ennorath instead of following Lord Celeborn to Aman. Sighing, he stared at the tapestry again.

Depicted there as only the craft of Vairë could have accomplished, and in all his life-sized, arrogant, skimpily-clad glory, was none other than the Marchwarden of Lothlórien. Former Marchwarden, Haldir reminded himself grimly. Such was the skill of the Lady Weaver that the precariously placed sword Haldir held gleamed razor sharp. In the foreground of the tapestry sat Celeborn before an easel, paintbrush in hand, wearing an extremely smug expression.

Námo watched with amusement at the various reactions to the tapestry. He had had Vairë dig it out and put it on display just for the occasion. Even as he greeted his guests he noticed both Glorfindel and Finrod giving him arched eyebrows and knowing grins. The Lord of Mandos put on an innocent air, something he’d had many ages to perfect, and allowed Vairë to play the perfect hostess, showing them where they would sit.

To Námo’s right was Celebrían with Finrod across from her. Elladan sat between his naneth and daeradar while Amarië was seated on Vairë’s right with Elrond across from her. Elrohir was seated between his adar and daernaneth, with Glorfindel between Galadriel and Finrod. Haldir just stood by the doors, which had closed behind him, staring at the tapestry in dismay. Vairë came to him and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I weave all the events of Arda, child," she said as she took his hand and led him to the table, placing him between Celeborn and Amarië, "both the good and the bad."

"And the artistically debatable," quipped Glorfindel with a laugh.

Námo leaned over the table and gave the ellon a sharp rap on the head with his knuckles. "Behave, Glorfindel, or I might ask my beloved to pull out some of her tapestries of you."

Several eyebrows went up and amused smiles graced fair faces as they watched Glorfindel actually blush. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged looks that clearly said: ‘Later’. Glorfindel, recognizing that look, glared across the table at Elladan, who affected not to notice.

"Why didn’t you?" Haldir asked almost petulantly, speaking to Vairë, who seemed less intimidating to him than the forbidding Doomsman of Arda. "He’s the guest of honor after all."

"I have my reasons, Haldir," Námo said as he took his own seat after everyone else had sat down.

"That can’t be good," Finrod said with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "I wonder who the real target is?"

Námo gave Finrod an amused glance. "And what makes you think, best beloved, that you are not the target?"

Now Finrod’s smile slipped a bit with uncertainty. "I had nothing to do with that," he pointed at the tapestry hanging behind the Lord of Mandos. "Amarië and I are the only people here who were not in Ennorath at the time that happened."

Námo nodded. "Perhaps, but do not discount the possibility that this tapestry holds no lesson for you, child. I would think you were not that arrogant... at least, any more." He raised an eyebrow and watched the ellon’s thoughts spin.

"So what is the story behind this tapestry, my lord?" Amarië asked, speaking flawless Sindarin, as they all were for the benefit of the newcomers to Aman. "Having never been to Ennorath myself, I am constantly enthralled by the tales my beloved Finrod has told me." She gave him a beautiful smile from where she sat at the far end of the table and Finrod returned her smile with one of his own.

"Well, Elladan and I lived in Ennorath our entire lives and we never heard about this story," Elrohir stated, giving the former Marchwarden of Lothlórien a strange look. "Perhaps someone would like to enlighten us."

"And if it were up to me, elfling," Haldir said coldly, "you would still never hear of it."

At that moment the doors opened and Ancalequirindë, along with another Maia, came in with the first course — hot cherry soup, bread and several kinds of soft and hard cheese. The guests waited until the Maiar had finished serving the dishes before speaking, studiously keeping their eyes off the tapestry. None of the Elves noticed the amused expressions on the Maiar’s faces as they served their lord and lady. When they were alone once again, Galadriel spoke, her voice low and innocent sounding. "I never heard the entire story myself," she said as her eyes flitted briefly to Celeborn sitting directly across from her, before she glanced at Námo. "As you apparently know the tale, my lord, perhaps you could tell us the full story."

Námo merely smiled as he took a sip of his wine. "I have a better idea. Why don’t we let Glorfindel begin the tale, though others might finish it." He glanced at the former Balrog-slayer, who gave a sigh before turning his attention to Amarië.

"It all began, my lady, on a spring morning in Lothlórien about fifty years after the Last Alliance. Lord Elrond and I were there discussing security with Amroth, who was king of the Golden Wood at the time, and with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel." Here he bent his head towards the two Elves who nodded graciously back. "During that time Lord Elrond began courting Lady Celebrían." He stopped for a moment to take a sip of wine, casting a look first at Haldir sitting further down the table and then at Elrond, who all this time had remained silent and was even now staring at his soup bowl. "While some, like Amroth, welcomed the courtship, others were not so sanguine about it...."

****

Glorfindel could feel the beginnings of a major headache as he went to find Celeborn. He hated politics in any form, and the less-than-warm welcome he and Elrond had received from some of the residents of Lothlórien put him on edge. Being so straightforward and guileless, Glorfindel just didn't have it in himself to deal well with the situation, especially as it pertained to one Haldir, as pompous a windbag as he had ever met. Glorfindel tried his best to stick to the matter at hand during their meetings, a simple exchange of methods and ideas designed for the protection of the Elves of both realms. And then there was the budding courtship between Elrond and Celebrían... the one bright spot that made the visit tolerable in Glorfindel's opinion. He was musing on the possibilities, when the grating voice of Haldir reached his ears. Startled and not wanting to deal with the Silvan Elf again so soon, he ducked silently into a break in the shrubbery and waited for the Marchwarden to pass him by. Instead he found himself peeking into a glade where Haldir was speaking to Lord Celeborn. The Marchwarden’s back was to Glorfindel, so all he could see was Lord Celeborn’s face.

"She’s what?" Haldir’s voice rose almost to a squeak. "Not to that half-baked Imladrian upstart? This cannot be happening! What are you going to do about it?"

Celeborn shrugged. "Galadriel seems to think it’s a good idea. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I had hoped she would marry closer to home."

"Say, Greenwood the Great for instance?" Haldir asked, thinking fast. "Would that be close enough?"

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?" Celeborn enquired, letting doubt seep into his voice.

Haldir paused. Something didn’t seem quite right about Celeborn’s willingness to derail the budding courtship. "No, merely a thought... unless?" If Celeborn was ambivalent about Celebrían becoming attached to Elrond, he thought to himself, feeling his way across treacherous ground, surely there was a way to turn the situation to his own benefit. "I was merely considering a distraction for your lovely daughter, my lord. And a possible alternative."

"And how is this to be accomplished?" Celeborn inquired innocently.

Haldir smiled knowingly. "The eldest son of Thranduil is long overdue for a visit to our fair realm, is he not? You could issue the invitation, and I will arrange for the romantic possibilities." No point in mentioning the inclusion of himself in those plans. Within Lothlórien still counted as ‘close to home’ and he did not doubt the effects of his own considerable charm. Celeborn had just as good as given him free rein….

Celeborn looked thoughtful. "I would consider it a personal favor if you could accomplish this, but I don’t know if I have the faith in your abilities that you have in this instance."

Haldir smirked. "Would you care to place a small wager, my Lord Celeborn?"

Celeborn put on his best diplomatic face as he closed the trap. "I do not see why not. Nothing ventured is nothing gained. Shall we say… loser has to do anything the winner asks... within reason."

"In public?" Haldir grinned.

"Of course. Now I suggest we not be seen speaking so earnestly together, nor for any noticeable length of time. I shall expect you to keep me discreetly apprised of your progress."

"Yes, my lord. I shall implement your wishes immediately." Haldir gave the Elf-lord a bow and, passing Celeborn, strode purposefully away.

Celeborn waited until Haldir was safely out of sight before letting out a grin. His Marchwarden was loyal to a fault, and Celeborn was genuinely fond of the Elf, but he was long overdue for a lesson in humility. Then he turned and stared directly at Glorfindel’s hiding place. "You can come out now."

Glorfindel paled. This was bad. Great, Glor, he thought to himself with a grimace as he came out of the bushes to face Celeborn, a diplomatic incident in the making, spying on them. He gave the Elf-lord a brief bow. "Forgive me, my lord," he apologized without looking up. "I didn’t intentionally overhear."

"Probably not, but you did nonetheless."

Glorfindel finally looked up and found that Celeborn’s expression was more benign than angry. The silver-haired Elf gestured for Glorfindel to come closer. "No need to be concerned, mellon nîn," he said. "Do not think I haven’t noticed Haldir’s treatment of you and Elrond. Therefore, it is my thought to enlist your aid in a little plan I have for him." Then he added with a faint smile, "I do commend you on your remarkable patience with him, as a matter of fact."

"I learned from a Master," Glorfindel replied, thinking fondly back to a certain Vala and all that he had had to put up with from a certain ellon. He smiled at the memory, unaware that Celeborn was watching and weighing his every word and gesture. "So, my lord, how might I help you?" he asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

"I need you to reassure Elrond that all is well in spite of appearances, and also do whatever necessary to snarl Haldir's efforts... without either Elrond or my daughter catching on."

"A rather tall order, my lord," Glorfindel said, looking doubtful. "What about Prince Brethilion? What do I do about him?"

"You leave Thranduil’s son to me," Celeborn assured him.

Glorfindel gave the silver-haired ellon a feral grin. "I do not envy you, lord. I have heard that he is rather... difficult."

"Then you have not met him personally?" Celeborn asked curiously. Glorfindel shook his head. Celeborn sighed and gave him a look the younger ellon could not interpret. "Then your luck is about to change."

Glorfindel gave him a perplexed look. "If the rumors are true, I’m surprised that Lady Galadriel would allow him across the border."

Celeborn gave him a rueful look. "I’m afraid she has no say in the matter, as Amroth is lord here, but in this instance, mellon nîn, he shall serve our purposes well."

"You mean there is someone worse than Haldir when it comes to arrogance?" Glorfindel asked in disbelief.

Celeborn merely shrugged, refusing to comment.

Glorfindel sighed. He was definitely going to have to do something about his current headache before the next one began....

****

Námo turned to Finrod at that point. "So you see, your gwador is still capable of getting into trouble without actually trying," he said with a smirk.

Finrod laughed outright at that. "One of his more endearing traits."

Glorfindel snarled at them both. "I was trying to mind my own business," he protested, though from the expressions on the other diners’ faces, no one seemed to believe him.

At that point, Elladan looked over at his twin. "Does it begin to occur to you that we might not be here if this had turned out differently?"

Instead of answering, Elrohir turned to his daernaneth. "Was Prince Brethilion really that bad? I think he died a few years before we were born, didn’t he?"

Galadriel didn’t answer immediately, giving Námo an indecipherable look. "He was his adar’s son, with a few extra foibles thrown in for good measure... and yes, he did."

Námo gave Elrohir a gentle smile. "He learned his lesson, though. You might even like him now... all of you," he added, eyeing each of his guests, ending with Glorfindel.

The ellon nodded, well aware of what the Lord of Mandos meant. Brethilion had had some endearing qualities in spite of himself, Glorfindel mused. After all, he had loved Thranduil dearly.

"So what happened next?" Elladan demanded, breaking into Glorfindel’s ruminations.

Námo looked over at the young ellon and smiled. "I think this next part is Haldir’s to tell." He glanced at the former Marchwarden who swallowed nervously, then straightened, giving the Lord of Mandos a nod.

"A week later, Brethilion arrived," he began without preamble, "and I proceeded to put him in Celebrían’s path." He paused to steal a glance at the elleth in question, who arched an eyebrow at him. "She wasn’t impressed...."

"I should say not!" Celebrían interrupted with a huff. "Truly, Haldir, what were you thinking?"

"Quite honestly, Celebrían," Haldir said with a scowl, "losing the bet was foremost on my mind." He glared up at the tapestry. All around there was an uncomfortable silence and Celebrían had the grace to look abashed. Elrond still said nothing. Indeed it seemed as if he was not paying any attention to the others at all.

"Sorry, Haldir," Celebrían said more meekly than any had ever heard her. "Please go on."

Haldir cleared his throat nervously. "I spent every opportunity extolling Lady Celebrían’s many virtues to Brethilion: What a good candidate for a future queen of Eryn Galen she would make, how fortunate the denizens of the Greenwood would be to have her and so on. I knew her daily habits, and so I took every opportunity to disrupt any spare moments she might have otherwise spent in Elrond’s company." He sighed, rubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose. "Only it didn't work as well as I had hoped. Every time I turned around, there was Glorfindel...or Lord Celeborn would turn up, needing Brethilion’s presence for something or other...."

****

Haldir watched from behind one of the mellyrn as Brethilion attempted, in a not so subtle way, to waylay Celebrían who no doubt was on her way to see Elrond. The prince was carrying a cloth-covered basket and oozing charm. Thranduil’s eldest son was handsome, Haldir had to give him that, with his dark Silvan hair and sculpted features. Any elleth worth her salt would be throwing herself on the prince, he opined. Unfortunately, the one elleth he wished would do just that was not cooperating.

"I was wondering, my lady, if you would like to go on a picnic with me today," Brethilion said with a winning smile. "The cooks were gracious enough to provide us with this lovely basket. I would hate to disappoint them and be forced to return it still full."

Celebrían seemed to think about it, her eyes, as grey as her naneth’s, but warmer, fixed on the prince’s face as if trying to see past the façade of friendliness. Finally she gave a dimpled smile. "Thank you, I would love to."

Brethilion smiled and offered her his arm. Haldir started to breathe a sigh of relief that finally something was going right with his plans when Celebrían spoke again, looking unusually coy. "If Lord Elrond could join us," she added. "I was on my way to meet with him you see and it would be rude to leave him waiting."

Haldir watched Brethilion’s smile falter for a moment, and then he plastered it back on and gave the daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel a proper, if rather stiff, bow. "As my lady desires, so shall it be."

Celebrían just smirked as she accepted the prince’s arm and Haldir watched them go off.

"Damn!" he muttered out loud.

"Marchwarden?" came a low voice from behind.

Haldir turned to see Amroth, King of Lothlórien, standing there, his eyes dark with questions.

"My lord," Haldir said, giving Amroth his obeisance. "I’m afraid I don’t...."

"Haldir," Amroth said in a tone that was all the more dangerous for its softness, "you are one of my chief Marchwardens. Don’t you think you should actually be on the March warding rather than skulking behind bushes?"

Haldir gulped and gave Amroth another bow. "Yes, my lord. Forgive me, I...."

"Off you go, now," Amroth said with a shooing motion, acting like any Ada sending his elfling off to play.

Haldir felt himself go pale and then warm with embarrassment. Without another word he turned and headed off towards his duty post....

****

There was laughter all around as Haldir described his confrontation with Amroth. The former Marchwarden was red in the face. "I was halfway to the southern gate before I remembered I wasn’t due to report for three more days. Amroth was not someone to trifle with," he ended lamely.

"No, indeed not," Celeborn said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "He was a good king and a wily warrior for all that he was pure Silvan and never crossed the Hithaeglir. I missed him terribly when he...." He shook his head, as if clearing away unwanted memories.

"We all did," Galadriel said in her serene manner. "He and Nimrodel both." She and Celeborn shared a look that none there, except perhaps the two Valar, could interpret. Celeborn started to say something when the doors opened and the two Maiar serving came in with the second course: baked trout almondine, a cheese, onion and current tart, and creamed onions. The wine flowing from the fountain changed from a burgundy to a light yellow. The diners waited silently until the Maiar left, never realizing that Ancalinquirindë and Tindomerel were quite aware of what was going on.

"So what happened at the picnic?" Finrod wanted to know, taking a bite from the trout on his plate, savoring the subtle flavors of the sauce.

Haldir merely shrugged. Celebrían refused to look up from her plate. It was Elrond who finally spoke, much to everyone’s surprise. "It was a disaster... for everyone."

"How so?" Vairë asked sympathetically, well aware of what transpired.

Elrond sighed, shaking his head. "I was a fool and an idiot besides." He did not notice several eyebrows go up at that admission. "I had nothing against Brethilion, though he reminded me too much of Oropher for me to feel comfortable around him, but I couldn’t see what Celebrían saw in him and thought the worst... and... acted accordingly...."

****

Elrond wasn’t sure what he was doing at a picnic that was clearly designed with only two people in mind and he knew he wasn’t one of them. He had the feeling Celebrían was using him and he was beginning to resent it.

"So, Elrond," Brethilion said as he handed the Lord of Imladris a plate of cheese and an apple, but no chicken, bread or even a hard-boiled egg and naturally there were only two goblets and he wasn’t getting either one. "I can call you Elrond, can’t I?"

"Er mai polin ty’ esta urcucás," Elrond said with a smile as he picked at his cheese.

Celebrían gave him a frown, while Brethilion just looked a bit blank, not understanding Quenya.

"Excuse me?"

Elrond kept his smile plastered on his face, ignoring Celebrían’s thunderous scowl. "I said I remember your daeradar," he replied, now speaking Sindarin again. "In fact, I remember when we received the announcement of your birth." His smile turned just a tad cold. "Gil-galad thought your name was quite appropriate."

Brethilion gave him a strange look, clearly unsure if what Elrond had just said was a compliment or an insult. He recovered quickly enough, giving the lord of Imladris a smirk as he bit into a chicken leg. "So how is that valley you live in working out for you? What’s it called again? Imrathlith?"

Elrond stiffened slightly but kept his smile firmly fixed in place, speaking as if he were complimenting the Silvan prince on his taste in bows and bowstrings. "Tyé matindo hirdio urcuva. And it’s Imladris."

"Ah... my error," Brethilion replied with another smirk.

"iRánë né rantanna atartyo," Elrond muttered and nearly bit his tongue off when Celebrían hit him on the back of his head. He gave her his best innocent look, though he knew she wasn’t fooled. Too bad. If she really wanted to marry this... this... Sinda, she was welcomed to him.

"So... er... Elrond," Brethilion continued, "how long will you be staying in Lothlórien?"

"It depends on how well the negotiations go, of course," Elrond answered reasonably. "Amroth is too savvy a ruler to give anything away for free."

"Ah... and of course you’re not about to sell yourself cheaply." There was just something wrong about the twinkle in the ellon’s eyes when he said that and even Celebrían uttered a small gasp of shock at the prince’s innuendo.

For a moment there was a stunned silence that seemed to take in even the trees surrounding them. Elrond had to remind himself that Brethilion was, tinco, young and parma, Amroth’s guest. It wouldn’t do to shove that chicken leg down the ellon’s throat, however much personal satisfaction it would give him.

"iUsquë olmëo hröatyo er atahortyuva Melkor Cúmanna," he said blithely, taking a bite of his apple. Celebrían just rolled her eyes.

"Come again?" Brethilion asked in confusion.

Not likely, Elrond thought irrelevantly, and certainly not with you. "Amilletya eyérië urcuin?" he offered. At that moment he realized that perhaps he may have gone too far when Celebrían suddenly upended her goblet of wine over his head and stalked off, leaving the two ellyn staring at each other.

Elrond licked the wine running down his face. "Hmm.... a little too sweet for my taste...."

****

"And the funniest thing," Glorfindel said between snorts of laughter as the entire table broke out with guffaws, "is that I happened to be hiding in one of the trees watching it all and I couldn’t decide who I wanted to kill more — Elrond or Brethilion."

"What were you doing in the tree?" Elrond asked.

"That would be telling," Glorfindel rejoined with a smirk.

Celebrían broke in. "I was absolutely livid. If it hadn’t been for Glorfindel, I would have called the whole thing off. As it was, I almost punched him when he fell out of that tree!"

"Well, I did almost knock you down," Glorfindel mumbled contritely. "I still think the tree threw me out!"

"It did," Galadriel said, a twinkle in her eyes. Celeborn rolled his eyes and the twins snickered. Finrod flashed his sister a brief, knowing smile, then turned to Glorfindel.

"Seriously, though, what were you doing in the tree?" he asked.

"I was looking out for Elrond's interests," Glorfindel replied, trying to look virtuous and failing.

"And you, sister?" Finrod then asked Galadriel. "What part in this sorry tale did you play?"

"I was fond of Elrond," Galadriel stated with serene amusement, "and he needed all the help he could get at that point. Brilliant in everything but handling a courtship. He reminded me of Celeborn."

Celeborn choked on the wine he was sipping and Elladan laughingly pounded him on the back. Elrond looked suitably embarrassed, though Celebrían flashed him a loving smile from where she sat.

Galadriel continued, as if there were nothing amiss. "I admit having enjoyed it all, but things were getting out of hand. After Brethilion hunted up Haldir to give him a piece of his mind for dragging him into all this, he left, swearing never to set foot in Lothlórien again for any reason." She sighed and for the first time they all saw the grief that lurked behind her serene smile. "We later learned he died, one of the first victims of the spiders that began to infiltrate the Greenwood from Dol Guldur."

They were all quiet after that until Námo spoke, his voice gentle. "He died as he lived, in defense of the forest that he loved. He is well now and has been reunited with his family."

Glorfindel cleared his throat, deciding to bring the conversation back to the original topic. "It took quite awhile to get Celebrían calmed down, but in the end, she forgave Elrond." Here he gave them all a cheeky grin. "But not until much squirming on his part to get back in her good graces."

"So, just how did you lose the bet, Haldir?" Amarië asked the former Marchwarden.

Haldir closed his eyes and sighed. "Not easily and not without a fight," he replied at last. "Brethilion went back to the Greenwood in high dudgeon and Lord Celeborn was about as helpful as a drunken orc at a Hobbit’s tea party." They all laughed at that. "Everyone from Amroth on down was standing in line to comment on the error of my ways," Haldir continued once the laughter died down. "Everyone except Celebrían, that is, and I was soon to find out why...."

****

Celebrían was still not speaking to Elrond, Galadriel was not speaking to Celeborn, and Glorfindel refused to speak to anyone, pleading a vicious headache and retreating to his talan with two skins of Dorwinion. They didn’t see him again for three days. In the meantime, Prince Brethilion asked leave of Amroth to return to Eryn Galen, which the king graciously allowed, though insisting on a farewell feast for him. He left as soon as he decently could after the final course.

Even as they watched the Sindarin prince ride off with his escort, Celeborn and Amroth gave each other significant looks and went back to the feast, standing on either side of Haldir’s chair. Haldir looked up just as he was about to dig into the cherry trifle.

"Haldir," Amroth said smoothly, "we need to talk... now."

Haldir gulped and put down his spoon reluctantly and got up. It did not escape his notice that Lady Galadriel was speaking to her daughter and Lord Elrond and the three of them followed the ellyn to Amroth’s study.

Once they were all settled, Celeborn spoke. "With Prince Brethilion gone you lose," Celeborn said to Haldir.

The Marchwarden cringed. He knew that statement packed a world of hidden meaning.

"But first you will apologize to Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond," Amroth said, his expression grim. "I think extra duty at the border might do you, and us, a world of good, don't you, Marchwarden?"

He could only nod in agreement, with a softly spoken "Yes, my lord." As a matter of fact, border patrol was looking more attractive with each passing moment. Haldir drew a deep breath. He really didn't know if anything he could say would convey the regret he felt. All this was his own fault, and he knew he had not only deeply hurt Celebrían, but had also damaged whatever amicable relationship he might have hoped for in the future with Elrond.

He decided to tackle the easier apology first. Turning to the Lord of Imladris, he gave him a deep bow. "My lord Elrond, I do not deserve your forgiveness. What I have done is unpardonable, and I have only my own prejudice to blame. I have allowed the mistakes of the past to color my view of you, without taking the time to know you as a person. If Lady Celebrían finds you worthy of her affection, I should have trusted in her judgment instead of interfering with her happiness. I am truly sorry, and I hope someday you will be able to forgive me."

Elrond nodded graciously, but said nothing. Haldir turned to Celebrian, whose expression had softened somewhat as she listened to what the Marchwarden had said. "Lady Celebrían, I have watched you grow into the most beautiful lady to ever grace our fair forest, and in my misguided way I hoped to turn your regard from one I felt unworthy of you. I shall miss you when you go, but I wish you every happiness." He paused and gave them both another bow. "Again I most humbly beg the pardons of you both." Then he turned to Amroth, Celeborn, and Galadriel with another bow, "And your pardons as well, my lords, my lady."

"Better, Marchwarden, much better," Amroth said with approval. "I think we’ve all learned our lesson here, haven’t we?"

They all nodded. Then Celebrían gave Celeborn a wicked smile. "Ada, just what is it you will have Haldir do now that he’s lost the bet?"

Celeborn gave his daughter a searching look. "Why? Did you have something in mind, my dear?"

Celebrían’s smile just turned even more wicked....

****

Haldir’s predicament was turning into quite a party. It seemed as if every unattached elleth in the Golden Woods had shown up to ogle Haldir, and it seemed a great deal of shift splitting was

occurring among Haldir’s peers to allow everyone a chance to enjoy the show. As it was, intermittent wolf whistles and off-color remarks from this particular contingent kept the proceedings very lively indeed.

Elrond and Celebrían were standing arm in arm. She stretched up to whisper in his ear, and he laughed, nodding. She grinned and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then made her way through the crowd. Gathering up a few of her more adventurous friends, they quickly and quietly conferred, then advanced in a united front on the hapless Marchwarden.

"Nice legs, Haldir," cooed one, leaning in very close.

"Love the view, don’t you?" opined another, giggling. "I must remember to compliment his tailor."

"Careful with that sword, Marchwarden. We wouldn’t want you to …um... damage yourself," offered a third, leaning in over his shoulder. The others laughed uproariously as they watched Haldir turn bright pink.

"Stop squirming, Haldir," called Celeborn cheerfully.

Celebrían ran a feather she had been holding slowly and lazily up Haldir’s extended arm.

"Ladies," she opined in mock concern, "We may need a bucket of water. Our es- "steamed" Marchwarden appears about to self ignite."

If anything, Celebrían’s comment served to deepen Haldir’s blushing another three full shades.

"Stop that, Haldir," Celeborn groused. "I’m running out of that shade." And Celebrían, dear," he continued, "move a little to the left, you’re blocking the light."

Haldir breathed an inward sigh of relief, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on an unknown point in the distance. He would take any reprieve he could get.

Celebrían, however, wasn’t quite finished with him. She merely changed position and leaned down to whisper in his other ear. "Hal-dear, if you should ever be so misguided as to consider meddling in my love life again, I will make sure the next portrait Adar paints will leave even less to the imagination, and I will issue invitations to everyone in Imladris beforehand. Do we understand each other?"

Haldir swallowed with difficulty, and gave a minute nod.

"Good." Turning to her friends, she smiled brightly. "Ladies, I do hope you continue to enjoy the festivities. I, however, am late for a certain overdue picnic." With that she returned to where Elrond stood waiting, picnic basket in hand. He took her arm and gave her a kiss before leading her away.

Galadriel, standing next to her Celeborn as he painted, smiled serenely at her husband, who gave her a wink. "Stop squirming Haldir, you’re ruining the picture."

Haldir sighed, straightened, and did his best to endure the ribbing he knew would probably still be haunting him until the end of Arda....

****

It was several minutes before the laughter died down and only because the Maiar servants had entered to take away the dishes of the third remove — venison custarde, frumenty, and gingerbread — and replace them with strawberries in snow and plates of oatcake and shortcake. The fountain flowing with raspberry wine that had accompanied the third course now changed once again to a mulled cider. Once the Maiar were gone, Elrohir turned to his naneth with an admiring look.

"I never knew you could be so... cruel, Nana," he said, stealing a glance at the tapestry and snickering.

"Your naneth learned from the best," Haldir said, lifting his goblet towards Celebrían in salute. Celebrían gave him a saucy grin, while Celeborn and Galadriel exchanged amused smiles.

"So the point of this entire evening has been... what?" Glorfindel asked Námo.

The Vala gave them all a measuring look and one or two found themselves squirming for no particular reason. "Elrond and Celebrían were always meant to be espoused." He stole a look at Finrod and Glorfindel, both of whom had grim looks on their fair faces as they remembered another couple from long ago and the disastrous consequences of their marriage. Námo continued. "Haldir’s attempts to derail their courtship... had it succeeded, might have spelled disaster for all of Arda, even Aman." He stopped and gave Celeborn a significant look. "And betting on your daughter’s future happiness just to bring Haldir down a peg or two...." He let the inference hang there for a moment.

Vairë took up where Námo left off. "The tapestry serves to remind us that we have to be very careful with the fine line between caring for others and arranging things as we would have them be."

For a moment, there was complete silence as the Elves digested the Valar’s words. Then Námo gave them a wry grin. "And in the future, I suggest you leave the betting to the experts."

Finrod, Glorfindel and Amarië all laughed at that, well aware of the Vala’s propensity towards betting on which way the Elves would jump.

Vairë arched an eyebrow at her spouse. "Before you become too full of yourself my dear, need I remind you of a few other tapestries I have tucked away?"

Several of the Elves gave Námo startled glances before turning curious eyes to Vairë, who smiled. "Like I told Haldir... I weave all the history of Arda., even the artistically debatable." Vairë cast a coy look Glorfindel's way and laughed lightly at his blush. "And there have been a few occasions where my beloved spouse has been caught in less than aesthetically pleasing circumstances," she continued, blithely ignoring said beloved’s murderous looks, "namely a bet he lost to ME a few centuries ago. It was a bet that I very much enjoyed collecting." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively as Namo groaned in remembrance.

"So, do we get to see any of these tapestries?" Glorfindel asked ingenuously, refusing to look at the Lord of Mandos, who was vainly trying to remember how to pull a Wrath-of-Mandos on them all without much luck.

Vairë simply shook her head and rose, forcing the Elves to follow suit. Námo remained seated, wishing he could run and hide in the core of some nice little blue-white star. Vairë, meanwhile, caught the eyes of the three ellith. "Ladies, if you will follow me, I will give you a private tour of my gallery."

The Elven ladies all giggled and followed the Weaver of Arda out, leaving Námo alone with seven ellyn, who returned to their seats once the doors to the dining room had closed. For a long moment none of them spoke, and none of them dared look at Námo. Then, Finrod lifted his goblet. "How much do you want to bet we all end up posing for a portrait after this?"

There was a second of stunned silence and then Námo threw back his head and laughed. Soon, they were all laughing as the fountain in the center of the table turned once again to a red wine. Námo stood, his goblet raised in a toast. "I don’t know about any of you, but I will not be betting on anything for a very long time to come."

"Násië!" came the heartfelt reply from more than one elven throat as they all drank the toast. Just then, they all ‘heard’ Irmo bespeak them from Lórien.

*Care to make a wager on that, brother?*

****

All words are Sindarin unless otherwise noted.

Ayanuz: (Valarin) The original word for a Vala.

Naneth: Mother; Nana: Mama.

Adar: Father; Ada: Papa.

Daernaneth: Grandmother.

Daeradar: Grandfather.

Mellon nîn: My friend.

Ellon: Male Elf.

Brethilion: Son of a Beech. Brethil means both "beech-tree" and "silver-birch".

Hithaeglir: Misty Mountains.

Gwador: Sworn brother.

Elleth: Female Elf.

Imrathlith: ‘Long narrow valley with a watercourse running through it full of ashes’. Obviously Brethilion is not above his own insults. Imladris means ‘deep valley formed by a ravine’.

Tinco: (Quenya) The first tengwa in the Eldarin writing system. In this context it would be equivalent to our saying ‘a’.

Parma: (Quenya) The second tengwa in the Eldarin writing system. In this context it would be equivalent to our saying ‘b’.

Násië!: Amen!

Elrond’s Quenya insults:

Er mai polin ty’ esta urcucás: ‘Only if I can call you orc-head’.

Tyé matindo hirdio urcuva: ‘You eater of orc entrails’.

iRánë né rantanna atartyo: ‘The error was on your father’s part’. Ránë actually means ‘straying’, but has the additional connotation of ‘erring’. Elrond is making a double entendre.

iUsquë olmëo hröatyo er atahortyuva Melkor Cúmanna: ‘The reek of your body odour alone will send Melkor back to the Void’.

Amilletya eyérië urcuin?: ‘Your mother has sexual desires for orcs?’

****

The menu at Námo and Vairë’s dinner:

First course: Hot cherry soup, bread, cheese, burgundy wine. 

Second course: Baked trout almondine, cheese/onion/current tart, creamed onion, yellow wine.

Third course: Venison custarde, frumenty, gingerbread, raspberry wine.

Fourth course: Strawberries in snow, oatcakes, shortbread, mulled cider.