A Prank on Glorfindel

Chapter 10 – Reaping What You Sow – Part 2

To Hazel…May your hopes and wishes come true

Flashback

A sudden firm hand on Elrohir’s shoulder and in Elladan’s neck made the elflings spin around in fright.

“Glorfindel!” Elladan wanted to exclaim.

But Glorfindel quickly placed his hand across the elfling’s mouth and put a finger on his lip. Motioning to the elflings to follow him as quietly as they could, he led the elflings back around the corner to their room.

“I do not think your Daerada will want to be observed by his grandsons at this moment,” he spoke softly after he had closed the door behind them.

“I want to talk to you, elflings.”

O-o-O-o-O

Elrohir unconsciously took a step closer to his brother when he noticed the serious expression on Glorfindel’s face.

Sitting down on the foot of Elladan’s bed, the warrior drew the elflings closer, making them stand right in front of him.

“Your Daerada was hurt very badly today, pinnith,” he spoke softly, gazing first in Elladan’s grey eyes and then in Elrohir’s.

“I understand that you did not intend for your grandfather’s backside to get burned, seeing as there was no way you could have known that he would sit in Eirien’s saddle, instead of me…”

Elrohir lowered his eyes and Elladan squirmed. Glorfindel reached out and took the elflings by the hand.

“Why did you wish to hurt me with Uruin, little ones? I have been asking myself if I could have made you angry enough that you would do this. But other than jumping down Aragond with you, I cannot think of anything.”

The sons of Elrond and Celebrían simultaneously looked up, shock and horror written on their faces.

“We did not want to hurt you, Glorfindel!” Elrohir exclaimed, tears of desperation beginning to fill his eyes as he realized what his friend must be thinking.

“We just wanted to stain your backside red!” Elladan added, grasping the hand of the Balrog Slayer and clasping it firmly.

“But you used Uruin on my saddle, little ones. Did you not even stop to think that it would burn me, then?” Glorfindel asked, gently squeezing Elladan’s hand in return.

“But we did!” Elrohir sniffled. “You would not have been hurt, because your riding pants are so thick that the Uruin could not reach your skin.”

“And Ro made sure you wore your leather gloves, so you could not burn your hands,” Elladan added between sobs.

“I would never let you come to harm, Glorfindel,” Elrohir promised, sending a pleading look at the Balrog Slayer to believe them.

“Nor Daerada,” Elladan whispered, wildly rubbing his eyes to stop his tears.

Glorfindel did not show them, but he was secretly relieved that the twins had not meant to hurt him intentionally. He was happy to learn that they had been thinking about the possible consequences of playing with Uruin. It had not been such a thoughtless action on the part of his young charges, after all.

“I believe you, elflings,” he said kindly, pulling them onto his lap. “But I do think that this prank has gone awfully astray, my little warriors.”

The twins quietly pressed themselves against the broad chest of the Chief of Defenses, hiding their faces in the white-golden brocade, weeping softly as they nestled in the Balrog Slayer’s embrace.

“Oh Glorfindel, why ever did you let Daerada ride your horse?” Elladan blubbered. “You never let anyone ride Eirien Malloth, not even us!”

Glorfindel pressed a soft kiss on the top of Elladan’s head.

“I do not let anyone ride my Eirien, because she is one of the Mearas,” he explained. “The Mearas are a race of wild horses that have come from Valinor, Elladan. Oromë himself brought them to Middle Earth many long lives of trees ago, before the Drowning of Beleriand. The Valar meant for the Mearas to be free, and therefore they will suffer no rider – save those they choose to carry, which is a rare honour, even to the Elves.

“Really?” Elladan sniffed, looking up at the warrior through his tears.

“Truly,” Glorfindel smiled. “Eirien did not want to carry me when she and I first met. She was highly affronted that I even dared ask!”

Elrohir lifted his head from the warrior’s shoulder.

“But why did you let Daerada ride her, then?” he asked, a mild accusation ringing in his voice. If Glorfindel hadn’t chosen to do something quite so unexpected and unusual today, their trouble would only be half as bad!

Glorfindel gently tucked a strand of hair behind Elrohir’s ear and pressed a soft kiss on the wet, tear-stained cheek.

“Because your Daerada is my friend,” he spoke softly. “His horse was laming and I wanted to honour him by asking Daisy of the Golden Flower to carry him.”

“Why would she do that?” Elladan asked. “You just said…”

“Eirien will carry whom I ask her to bear – most of the times,” Glorfindel answered, smiling.

The warrior sighed inwardly as he realized how his own insistence that Celeborn ride Eirien had led to such highly undesirable results. He had practically – albeit unwittingly – ruined the prank. If he had only put his own backside in the saddle…

“I love your Daerada very much, elflings, just as I love you, Erestor, and your Adar and Naneth,” he assured.

“But you always play pranks on him,” Elrohir quipped sceptically.

“And Daerada on you,” Elladan added, raising the infamous eyebrow.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Yes, I do! Just like I always play pranks on the two of you, and on your Naneth, and on Erestor, and even on your Ada sometimes. Does that mean I love you any less?”

The elflings exchanged a quick glance and shook their heads. A wide grin appeared on Elladan’s face as he understood what Glorfindel was saying.

“Me and El always play pranks on you, too, because it is fun and we always laugh when you try to catch us,” he confessed, drawing a clear, ringing laugh from the Balrog Slayer.

“But we do love you very much, Glorfindel! We always will!” Elrohir stressed, wanting to be certain that that much was clear.

Now Glorfindel, like Erestor before him, was sandwiched between two elflings. They hugged him tightly, wrapped their arms around his neck and pressed two loud, smacking kisses on his cheeks. In return, the raven-haired twins were squashed in an equally warm and loving embrace by the Chief of Defenses.

Not long after the boisterous display of love, however, the elflings grew meek and still again. Elrohir chewed his bottom lip and Elladan’s brow was creased with worry, both sets of small shoulders hanging down in defeat while the two young Peredhil quietly sat on Glorfindel’s lap.

“Glorfindel?” came Elrohir’s hesitant question. “Does Daerada hate us now?” A silent tear escaped from the elfling’s eye, soon followed by another.

“Hate you? No, Elrohir, I don’t think he does,” soothed Glorfindel.

“And Ada?” asked Elladan.

Glorfindel kindly looked into Elladan’s eyes.

“Elfling, you know very well that you were not supposed to take Uruin from your Ada’s apothecary without asking. I believe that you can think for yourself what that means…”

Elladan bowed his head. “Ada will be angry,” he said quietly.

“And we will be punished,” added Elrohir.

“I think so, too,” nodded Glorfindel. “But never believe that your Ada hates you, little ones. Your Ada loves you very, very much. Even when he is cross with you.”

He smiled when he saw the familiar flicker of relief on the elflings’ faces.

“Glorfindel?”

“Yes, Elladan?”

“Are you cross with us?”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“For trying to play a prank on me?”

The elflings nodded uncertainly, four nervous grey eyes glancing up at their trainer.

The Balrog Slayer rubbed his nose thoughtfully.

“I should first like to know why you went to these lengths to play such an elaborate prank on me, elflings. Would you care to tell me?”

Elrohir and Elladan exchanged a brief glance.

“Well,” they chorused…

O-o-O-o-O

Celeborn son of Galadhon lay on his side on the soft pillows of the bed in the family healing room, breathing slowly and deeply while his daughter Celebrían held his hand. A golden light seemed to shine from the Elf Lord’s brow as the flickering light of the oil lamp reflected on the tiny droplets of sweat that slowly trickled down the fair elven skin.

The Lord of Imladris stood up to fetch another dry towel from his cabinet, softly humming a tune from long lost Doriath. It was a tune that his mother Elwing had often sung to Elrond and his brother Elros upon tucking her rambunctious twins into bed. It had always helped to soothe and calm him then, and Elrond hoped it would do the same for this Elf who had grown up under the same eaves as his great-grandmother Lúthien. Celebrían’s gentle voice joined him, and together they sang the tale of the Haven of Peace in Beleriand, safeguarded within the Girdle of Melian.

As the Lord and Lady’s harmonious voices described the beauties of Neldoreth and Region and the flowing river Esgalduin, Celeborn felt himself drifting towards the happy memories of his childhood years. He remembered the sweetness of the songs of Lúthien Tinúviel, his grandfather’s niece, who had often sat him on her knee when he had been a small elfling. He had danced under the trees with the other elflings while she sang, and even the squirrels had stopped their frolicking to listen to the voice of the Lady.

While the images drifted in front of his mind’s eye, it almost felt to Celeborn as though he were back in those years of innocence and peace. But Valar, back then his nether regions had not hurt the way they did now!

Although…that one time when grandfather Elmo had caught Celeborn and his young friend Beleg in the royal armory, doing practice swings with Aranrúth, the royal sword of the King…

“Adar, drink,” Celebrían said softly.

Elrond held out a cup to the Lord of Lothlórien.

“You do not need to grimace, Celeborn, it is only peppermint tea,” the Peredhel smiled.

Celeborn scowled indignantly, but then he accepted the cup and drank thirstily.

“How are my warriors?” he asked between sips.

“Still the same as they were fifteen minutes ago,” Elrond replied patiently. “When last I went down to check on them, they were being tended to – as you are – by caring ellyn and ellith: my healers and apprentices. They have had the salve and the tea, and songs are being sung for them to support them through their agony. Like you, they hurt. But they will be well.”

Celeborn lowered his head back to the pillow and winced as he tried to get comfortable.

“Where are my grandsons?” he asked. “I feel well enough now. Why have they not yet come to greet me?”

Elrond and Celebrían exchanged a brief glance.

“Adar, Elladan and Elrohir are in their room,” Celebrían replied casually, knowing full well that her father had ever and always seen through her mask, and that he would not fail to read his daughter now.

Elrond watched the staring-competition between father and daughter with rising amusement. Celeborn gazed deeper and deeper into Celebrían’s azure eyes, while his strong-willed progeny stubbornly stared back, captivating his lighter blue eyes with an aura of strength and power not unlike her mother’s, willing him to see only the outer layers of her mind – and no more!

For several minutes a tangible silence hung in the room, but then Celebrían’s face lit up in a smile and Celeborn grinned broadly.

“I do not seek to read your heart, child,” the Lord of Lothlórien chuckled. “But I now know what I suspected from your earlier tone, nínim-nín: You are hiding something.”

“Am I now?” Celebrían asked with obviously feigned innocence, waggling her eyebrows.

The two silver-haired Elves delighted in these mental sparring games. With a highly perceptive set of parents such as Celeborn and Galadriel, Celebrían had been determined to learn how to close her mind – even from a very young age. Though she had mastered it to the point where barely an elf could read her if she did not permit it, against her parents she had always drawn the short end of the stick. It did not, however, stop her from trying.

“Nínim-nín, be a good elfling and tell your father what you have gotten him for his begetting day,” Celeborn teased, tugging on a strand of his daughter’s silver hair.

“A pair of bottom-warmers,” Elrond chortled.

The gentle tinkle of Celebrían’s laugh mingled with the deeper, softer chuckles of her husband. Celeborn scowled indignantly.

“May I remind you that I am in pain?” he drawled, chiding his caretakers. “Have you no respect for your patients?”

“Celeborn, I apologize,” Elrond chuckled, standing up to change the damp cloth on Celeborn’s brow.

Behind the Sinda’s back the Lord of Imladris turned to his wife, his expression becoming more serious.

‘Now?’ Elrond asked wordlessly, using his eyes to point to Celeborn’s burning backside.

Celebrían looked at her father. He was still in a lot of pain, but he was certainly doing far better than he had been in the previous hour. If he was able to banter with her despite his pain, then he could also deal with what the Lord and Lady of Imladris had in store for him.

She nodded briskly.

Elrond walked back to Celebrían’s side of the bed and stood beside his wife.

“Celeborn, I would like to apologize for the behaviour of my sons. It seems that Elladan and Elrohir meant to prank Glorfindel by putting Uruin on his saddle. I regret that I did not notice their disobedience earlier, else I would have tried to prevent today’s misfortune.”

The Lord of Lothlórien frowned.

“Are you saying that…my grandsons…?”

His eyes obtained a distant expression as he carefully mulled over the information. So he had fallen in a trap meant for the balrog slayer… Ai! If his backside would not hurt so much, he could actually appreciate that his grandsons had meant to set up the notorious blond. Especially after the surprise Glorfindel had prepared for him on his last visit to Rivend...

The silver-blue eyes slowly widened as a terrible thought crossed his mind.

Knowing her father better than anyone, save perhaps her mother, this was the tell-tale sign Celebrían had been waiting for.

Fixing her father with a stern glare, she challenged in a low voice: “Elladan and Elrohir seemed to be under the impression that they were doing this for you, Adar. They said they had promised. Now where could they have gotten such an idea?”

Elrond’s eyebrows rose towards the ceiling. “I would very much like to hear that, too,” he informed the Sinda, leaning forward.

Celeborn hid his face in his pillow and groaned from the bottom of his heart.

“Adar, does this have anything to do with your watery leap in the saddle?” Celebrían demanded.

The cornered Elf Lord grimaced and turned to face his daughter.

“I asked them to avenge me,” he confessed quietly.

“What?!” Celebrían jumped to her feet in anger.

Elrond’s face was set, his mouth a thin line as he glared at his father-in-law.

“I knew I should have demanded to know what that smug grin on your face meant when you were leaving last Spring,” he spoke accusingly.

“They are elflings, Adar!” Celebrían exclaimed. “Have you no notion what kind of ideas you could have put in their minds?!”

“I do!” Celeborn muttered, wincing as he shifted on the bed. “I had hoped they would put a frog in his bed. Or perhaps hide his boots!”

“Celeborn! Elrohir and Elladan hold you in very high regard!” Elrond spoke sternly. “They feel very honored to be your grandsons. I have no doubt that they wanted nothing more than to make you proud, and to devise a scheme that would be worthy of a Lord of Lothlórien!”

“That they did!” Glorfindel spoke from the doorway.

The Chief of Defenses walked into the room and pulled up a chair, seeking eye-contact with each of the three Elves.

“I request that you hear what I have to say before you pronounce judgment over the elflings,” Glorfindel besought.

“We will listen,” Celebrían said icily. “And then I shall speak with my father.”

O-o-O-o-O

Erestor was overseeing the night time ritual of washing, cleansing teeth and brushing long strands of raven hair.

The twins had long ago taken to braiding each other’s hair before bed, but while Elrohir’s nimble fingers quickly twisted Elladan’s mane, there was no trace of their usual banter. No requests for stories or songs had yet been made, no pleading for warm milk with honey…the twins had not even tried to get the Seneschal to chase or tickle them yet!

Erestor inwardly confessed that it made him feel uncomfortable. He was far happier when the elflings were at peace with their parents. The guilty faces of the twins unsettled him.

The door to the bedroom opened, and from the sound of it the Lord and Lady of Imladris were entering the room.

“Hurry now, little ones,” Erestor said softly, ushering the elflings out of the bathroom. “Your parents are here.”

Elladan visibly paled and Elrohir let out a barely audible whimper. Without a word they reached for each other’s hands, holding on tightly as Erestor gently urged them through the door into the bedroom.

o-O-o

The Lord of Imladris towered over his sons, glaring down at them with a look of deep disapproval. The Lady Celebrían stood by his side, hands on her hips, still fuming.

“My sons, have you stolen Uruin from my apothecary?” Elrond demanded sternly.

“Yes Ada,” Elladan whispered guiltily.

Elrohir nodded solemnly.

“I trust that I do not need to tell you that you are in deepest trouble for this serious breach of the house rules?” Elrond asked austerely. “You know better than to touch any healing herbs without permission. I am highly disappointed in you Elladan, and in you Elrohir.”

The elflings repentantly hung their heads, not daring to look up at their parents.

Celebrían knelt in front of her sons and gently lifted their chins with her hands.

“Have you any idea what you have caused today, my sons? There are sixteen warriors with burning hands in the healing ward. Your Daerada is hurting in an area of his anatomy where it would be better his two grandsons were feeling the blaze…”

Here she frowned sternly and Elladan and Elrohir blushed a deep shade of pink.

“...You had the entire Valley in an uproar. All warriors were called on high alert, search parties were dispatched to track the mysterious attacker who was believed to have harmed your grandfather…and then I have not even begun to mention the deep fear you gave all the Elves who believed that an unknown threat had managed to slip into the Valley unnoticed.”

Elladan seemed to shrink with every word his mother spoke.

“We’re sorry, Nana,” Elrohir whispered.

“Not as sorry as you are going to be, my son,” Celebrían said quietly, looking into the eyes of her youngest. Her tone was no longer firm, but neither Celebrían nor Elrond were going to let their children get away with the havoc they had caused.

“We did not mean for all of this to happen,” Elladan sniffed, trying to hold back his tears. “Ada, we were so careful. No-one was supposed to get hurt: not the grooms, not me or El, and not Glorfindel.”

“We talked and planned so long to make sure that there was no way the Uruin could touch anyone’s skin,” Elrohir added in a pleading voice. “But then Glorfindel let Daerada ride Eirien…”

“And then things no longer went as planned?” came Elrond’s calm and understanding voice.

Elrohir and Elladan shook their heads, guilty tears dripping down the elflings’ cheeks.

Elrond wrapped his arm around Celebrían’s waist and sat down on the bed, pulling his wife down beside him. Then they held out their hands and pulled their children closer, making them stand in front of them.

“With an herb as dangerous as Uruin, you must always be prepared for the unforeseen, ion nín,” Elrond addressed his sons. “You must let neither Uruin, nor its traces, out of your sight, ever! For you have seen today what might happen if you do.”

Elrohir released a barely audible sigh, looking down at his toes. Elladan stared at the hem of his tunic, folding and unfolding the blue velvet garment, hoping that somehow, if he would next open his eyes, the misery would have been undone.

“When you next try to avenge my father, I would appreciate it if you asked my help,” Celebrían added, drawing a startled gasp from her elflings.

“Nana! Did Daerada tell you?” Elrohir exclaimed.

“He did – and Glorfindel has told us of your elaborate scheming on your Daerada’s behalf,” Elrond informed his children.

Elladan squeezed Elrohir’s hand hard as he nervously looked up at his parents. Ada and Naneth knew everything?

But before he could worry how his parents would feel about the full revelation of the prank, he felt the warm arms of his mother snaking around his waist, pulling him onto her lap and hugging him tight. Elrohir burried his face in the silver velvet of Elrond’s robes and sobbed desperately as his father embraced him.

“We know that you did not mean for anyone to come to harm today, little ones,” soothed Celebrían’s gentle voice. “But you must understand, my sons, that you must always calculate the unexpected into your schemes when you play with danger.”

Two identical raven-haired heads nodded solemnly.

“Are you going to punish us?” came Elladan’s muffled voice from Celebrían’s neck.

“Yes, Elladan,” spoke Elrond calmly, reaching out to stroke his son’s hair. “You have broken several rules, my sons. You have lied to Laedros, you have stirred up a lot of commotion in the Valley, and seventeen warriors now lie hurt in the healing rooms, including your grandfather. However, I shall take in account that your intentions were good, and that you took many precautions to make sure that Glorfindel and the grooms would remain safe. Tomorrow your Daerada’s pain shall have worn off. Your mother and I will then speak with him – and Glorfindel – to determine your punishment.”

Elrohir tightened his hold on Elrond’s robes.

“Ada? Is Daerada very angry?”

Elrond smiled down on the raven head on his chest. “I believe that, at the moment, your Daerada’s mind is occupied elsewhere, ion nín.”

“Is Daerada hurting very much, Nana?” Elladan asked.

“What do you think, Elladan?” Celebrían asked kindly.

“Can we go to him, Nana?” Elrohir now pleaded.

“Please, Ada?” Elladan joined in.

“We want to say we’re sorry…”

O-o-O-o-O

Glorfindel and Celeborn looked up from their hushed conversation when two twins in pyjamas quietly slipped into the healing room.

“Ai! My grandsons! Finally!” Celeborn smiled, opening his arms to welcome his young heirs.

Glorfindel caught Elladan in mid-air when the elfling wanted to jump on his grandfather’s bed.

“Careful, elfling,” he chuckled, lowering the oldest twin in Celeborn’s embrace and stepping aside to allow Elrohir to climb up beside his brother.

“Daerada, we missed you!”

“Daerada, we’re so sorry you got hurt!”

“Did you have a good journey?”

“How is Daernaneth?”

“Are you angry, Daerada?”

“Did you slay any orcs in the mountains?”

Glorfindel and Erestor – who had just entered with Elrond and Celebrían – exchanged amused grins as the twins simultaneously shot a barrage of questions at their grandfather, meanwhile snuggling onto the bed beside him.

Celeborn lay back on his pillow with a huge smile on his face.

“I have missed you, too, my little ones. I have heard that you have made much progress on the archery fields?”

As one the twins began to chatter about their lessons with Glorfindel, to the amusement of the older Elves. Forgotten – if only for a moment – were the day’s unfortunate events.

Tomorrow, Elrond knew, would be a different day. He would have to discipline his children. Mete out punishment. A formal apology to the contingent of warriors that had escorted Celeborn from Lothlórien would have to be made.

But all that could wait.

Tonight his elflings would sleep in the full knowledge that they were loved. For indeed, though Elrohir and Elladan had not thought through all the possible consequences of their actions, neither had their Daeradar.

Celebrían sat down on the foot of the bed beside her elflings and glanced over at Erestor.

“How about seven mugs of hot milk with honey?” she mouthed quietly, tilting her head and sending the Seneschal a pleading smile.

Erestor chuckled when the Lady of Imladris even went as far as giving him her sweetest doe-eyed impression of a begging young elleth. He bowed politely and walked from the room.

o-O-o

When the seven mugs were empty, Elrohir sleepily snuggled in his mother’s embrace while Elladan lay tucked under the blankets beside his grandfather, fast asleep. Glorfindel’s bariton and Erestor’s tenor softly sang a song of the white shores of Aman, their harmonious voices wrapping the room in deepest serenity while Eärendil and Ithil slowly sailed between the stars.

As Elrohir, too, slipped away onto the path of waking dreams, the older Elves remained seated by the light of the oil lamp, deeply enjoying the peace and each other´s company.

The Lord of Imladris gazed down on his sleeping children. His eyes found Celebrían’s and he smiled when her fëa blended with his, bathing him in her love.

“How can anyone punish such innocent faces?” Celebrían wondered aloud as she pressed a soft kiss on Elrohir’s sleeping face.

Celeborn chuckled as he carefully brushed a strand of dark hair from Elladan’s face.

“Your Naneth and I often asked the same question, nínim-nín,” he spoke softly. “You shall not have to worry about it until the morning.”

TBC

Translations:

pinnith – little ones (plural of penneth / pen neth – little one)

ellyn – male elves (plural of ellon)

ellith – female elves, or elf-maidens (plural of elleth)

nínim-nín – my snowdrop (snowdrop is a flower)

AN: I am a little behind with my review replies - my apologies! My thanks to all those who reviewed. I shall reply to you, though. I promise! Esteliel