Chapter Fifteen
“Ammë!” cried Celebrían, running to meet her mother as she slid off of her stallion’s back. Galadriel, who normally would have scolded her daughter for her unseemly behavior, pulled her into a tight embrace.
“You’re getting along, aren’t you, dear?” she asked, stepping back and smoothing down her daughter’s golden tresses.
“Soon, I’ll be a mother myself!” laughed Celebrían, a hand on her protruding belly.
“Celebrían!” came Celeborn’s happy shout as he reached her. Before she said a thing, he’d lifted her into the air, twirled around, and bound her in a hug as her feet touched the ground again. He kissed her cheek. “My child, how are you?”
“I’m fine, Ada,” she said, hugging him tightly.
“Are you sure?” asked Celeborn anxiously. “Has Elrond been good to you? Has he – “
“Ada, Elrond’s wonderful,” Celebrían said. “Don’t worry!” She beckoned to tiny escort into the Last Homely House, asked the stable-Elves to take care of their horses.
“My, Lady Celebrían!” came Haldir’s voice from beside her. “I remember when you were only an Elfling! Now look at you! How many months do you have left?” he asked.
Before Celebrían could answer, Galadriel pulled her aside. “I want to ask you a favor,” she said, glaring at Haldir.
Celebrían followed her mother’s gaze, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “What kind of favor?”
“Haldir’s too nosy for his own good,” Galadriel said, looking greatly annoyed. "Your father and I want to teach him a lesson.”
Celebrían was slightly worried. “What kind of lesson?”
Galadriel leaned close to her ear. “Well…”
Haldir meandered into the kitchen silently, making his way toward Morwen, the cook.
“Hello!” he shouted from behind her, trying to startle her.
“Hello, Haldir,” she said calmly, taking a wooden spoon from the drawer in front of her. She remembered him from the Lord and Lady’s wedding.
Oh, he’d gotten on her nerves.
“So what kind of soup is that?” asked the marchwarden.
“Vegetable,” Morwen said shortly. She pushed a strand of brown hair from her face and took a deep breath.
“What will the main course be?” he asked, lifting the lid from one of the simmering pots.
Morwen groaned softly, and against her better judgement, was the first to enact the revenge of the leaders of Lothlorien.
With as much speed as she could gather, she thwacked him over the head with her wooden spoon.
“Ow!” he yelped, dropping the lid so that it crashed to the ground, rolling and spinning before it came to a stop. He rubbed his head. “What was that for?”
“What was what for?” asked the cook, placidly stirring the soup with the spoon. Seeing her so passive, one would wonder how she could wield the cooking utensil with the same deadly precision a seasoned warrior used to wield a sword. She disregarded that fact and began to hum.
“That smack!” exclaimed Haldir.
Morwen didn’t look at him, resisting the grin that was pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
With a huff, Haldir stomped from the room, his silver braids swinging. Morwen shut the door behind him, dissolving into helpless giggles.