A/N: I am taking serious liberties here, building on the quote from the last chapter. I like the idea that Elrond had a sense of humour; and that the Elves, though they could be a bit mean sometimes, never meant any harm. In one of my stories, I gave Lindir a job as Elrond's minstrel. It's not canonical, it's my idea; but since Tolkien never specified Lindir's role, I think I'll get away with it.

At the top table, Elrond and Celebrían looked at their children. Elladan was drooping, and every now and again would jerk backwards to wake himself up. Elrohir leaned against his mother, who had her arm around him.

“I think it is time our treasures went back in their box,” said Elrond, smiling at his boys.

“Indeed,” replied Celebrían, “for there are things little ears should not hear, and I expect they will be starting that soon.”

“Yes,” agreed her husband. “Let us put them to bed now.”

Erestor, who was sitting nearby, spoke up. “Elrond, Celebrían, would you like me to sit in the family room? I will hear the boys if they need anything, and you will be able to remain out here to enjoy the proceedings.”

“Thank you, Erestor, but what about you?” asked Celebrían, grateful for his offer. She liked to laugh at the naughty things some of the Elves got up to, though she would never admit it.

“This kind of thing does not appeal to some of us as much as it does to others,” he explained. “Others chafe against the restrictions they feel their position and status impose upon them, and only feel free to express themselves fully when they are either in the company of friends or on occasions like this.”

“That is true,” said Elrond, with a shake of his head. “I often feel like an ox tethered to the plough; I have to drag a heavy weight along a narrow path, or be whipped if I want to go my own way. It is as if being the lord of a realm, with all that entails, means I am forbidden to laugh, or tell a joke, or do anything considered unseemly. I am a person, not a monument! It is impossible for me to go through this long life without finding some pleasure somewhere from time to time. Those moments when we are laughing, whether with or at each other, are when we are truly together. Yes, I laugh at others sometimes, but they laugh at me, usually in the lampoons. And if everybody laughs, we can all be happy.”

“Another proverb for my book,” remarked Celebrían. Her husband had so many of them! The book would be a large one, it seemed.

“What book?” asked Elrond. He rose and went to pick up Elladan.

“I am writing a book of your sayings and proverbs,” said Celebrían. “I am very proud to be your wife, you know.”

Elrond smiled. “Thank you, beloved.”

The parents picked up their children and took them to their room, followed by Erestor.

Brethilgwen watched the lampoon from her seat in a towering rage. The idea of the lampoon was that, for a few days in the year, nothing was sacred. Anyone, however high their status, could be mocked with impunity. However, the people who performed in them understood that they themselves could easily be the next target. Brethilgwen herself had composed many of the lampoons and performed in them, ridiculing people for anything she deemed foolish or outrageous. Heneblhûndî, who was now called Maerdess, was her favourite target, though others had been satirized too.

Few people had dared to make fun of Brethilgwen at the lampoons, for she could make life very uncomfortable for those in inferior positions to hers if she so chose. All she had to do was tell them she had no fabric, needles or threads when they wanted them, and someone would have to work with a worn or torn apron. New clothes would be hard to get hold of, or curtains and coverings would arrive late. The blame for this rarely fell on Brethilgwen, for she was cunning, and her excuses believable.

“Heneblhûndî...” said one of the serving maids, who was playing the role of Brethilgwen.

“I am Maerdess now,” interrupted the maid playing Maerdess.

“Your eyes are no less blue than before, and you are still a lady, are you not?” sneered the pretend Brethilgwen.

“That is true,” said the mock Maerdess with exaggerated patience, “but the lady Losgael considers me to be a better person than you do, so she gave me an epessë that means just that!”

Laughter erupted around the tables, for Brethilgwen's contempt of Maerdess was well-known in Rivendell.

Brethilgwen scowled. She did not like people to think of her as being ungracious, even though she had been rude to everyone she considered to be beneath her.

“Do you really think a new name can change the way people here see you, Maerdess?” asked the pretend Brethilgwen. She exaggerated the way the real Brethilgwen put her hands on her hips, leaned forwards and pouted when she was being particularly aggressive.

The mock Maerdess smiled sweetly, knocked her knees together and clasped her hands. “The people here see me the way you do, my dear. I have often wondered why that is!”

Everyone laughed. Some people nudged each other with a knowing wink.

The pretend Brethilgwen scowled and said, “Ohhhhh!” Then she turned around and took a few steps away from her foe. When she was halfway around, she looked over her shoulder and warned, “There will be trouble!”

The actors turned and bowed to their audience, who lavished applause on them. Then they went to where the dressing up boxes were to change out of their costumes.

Brethilgwen's face was a picture of fury. How dare they mock her thus? Shame crept into her heart as she realized what she had done to create the impression people had of her. As she slunk away, she went to her room, and resolved to be kinder to others from that day forth. At the very least, she would refrain from getting into arguments with others, shouting them down when she could not win.

Elrond and Celebrían returned to their seats as the actors for the next scene took their places in the space before the king and queen of the festival.

“What did we miss?” asked Elrond.

“They were making fun of Brethilgwen and her feud with Maerdess,” said Lindir, who was passing by on his way to the performance area.

“Ai!” said Celebrían. “I wanted to see that one!”

“Perhaps they will do it again, my lady,” said Lindir. “Excuse me, I must go now.”

Elrond and Celebrían watched their minstrel take his place. He was wearing a circlet that looked a lot like the one Elrond wore on special occasions. A lady with white powder in her hair, who was apparently supposed to be Celebrían, walked over to him.

“Beloved,” said Buiowen, who was playing the role of Celebrían, “people say you are much too serious all the time.”

“I am not!” protested Lindir in his deepest voice. He mimicked Elrond's stately walk, then took the fingers of his lady's left hand in his own, and lifted them up, saying, “I am the epitome of mirth in Rivendell!” as he led her around in a circle.

Giggles broke out in the audience.

“But my darling,” persisted the mock Celebrían, “you spend your days immersed in books when you are not healing people and helping those in need. Will you not come and dance with me in the woods?”

“Ai, Beloved!” the pretend Elrond complained, letting go of her hand and cupping his chin. “I am busy with preparations for a trade delegation from Gondor, and reviewing the patrols along the border with Eriador...”

“That is what I mean,” explained the mock Celebrían as she slowly, sadly walked away while her 'husband' continued to outline his great responsibilities, evidently lost in his thoughts and oblivious to his 'wife's' departure.

After a while, the pretend Elrond looked around and asked, “Now where has she gone?” with a confused expression on his face, to the wry amusement of his audience.

The real Elrond and Celebrían applauded as the actors left the performance area.

On the platform where they sat as king and queen of the festival, Losgael and Glorfindel sat and laughed at the lampoons. Losgael looked at Glorfindel from time to time, and made a mental note of the acts he found the most amusing. They had a lot in common, and seemed to enjoy the same things.

As the night wore on, the dances began. One of the roles of the king and queen was to dance together first, then other couples would join them. The dances would be officially begun then, and they could either return to their “thrones” or continue to dance.

When no more actors came to perform in the lampoons, Glorfindel turned to Losgael. “Would you like to dance now?” he asked, with a wan smile.

“Yes,” she replied simply. He seemed to think that she might believe they were destined to be together just because they had been made king and queen of the festival. If she was not forward with him, he would relax and stop worrying that she was plotting something.

Glorfindel leaned forward. “Minstrels and musicians, come forth. Let us dance!”

Everyone applauded as their king and queen rose from their seats and went to take their place to begin the dance. The couple faced each other. The music began. They each crossed their wrists and clasped each others' hands, then whirled around, their feet a blur on the ground.

'I hope I remember all the steps,' thought Losgael as she parted from her partner, then moved back towards him, her left arm raised in an arc above her head.

TBC...