Author's Note: This is based on a roleplay that is still ongoing with my friend Angry Furby and I. 'Tis pure nonsense, derived from our overly-active imaginations and sick senses of humour. You have been warned.
Chapter One
The hidden valley of Imladris was bathed in a deep golden light. The sun was finally making her graceful descent below the western horizon, and was blazing in her full fiery display of glory. Her brilliance glittered like sparkling diamonds off the river Bruinen as it flowed noisily through the valley, and was reflected off of the jagged Misty Mountains, making their snowy peaks flame read. The clouds clustered around her as she sank, tinted a vivid orange, blue and purple.
In the Last Homely House, a tall, golden-haired, grey-eyed elf was walking idly through one of its many outer halls. He was watching the patterns of the sun's light flicker and dance as the shadows lengthened across the smooth flagstone floors. Just moments ago the lord Glorfindel had been in the wine cellars, having a bit of a "talk" with a friend of his. The result, a slightly drunken Elven captain trouncing through the halls, just looking for some sort of trouble or entertainment to tide him over for a few hours.
How this all came to be: a very busy day. He had been running hither and thither on different errands all day, for messengers and guests arrived since the sun had first risen. Elves came, as well as men and dwarves, all wanting counsel with the lord Elrond. There had not been such a variety of visitors since the beginning of the Third Age. This was on top of the hobbits that Aragorn had safely delivered there two nights ago. All in all, lord Glorfindel was quite content to let himself wind down. It was amazing what a few glasses of wine could do to calm one's temper and nerves. He looked about, hoping for some sort of entertainment or (preferably) company.
Soft footsteps tapped down the polished floors, tracking a sludgy substance along them as well. "I hate mud. Hate it. hate it." The owner of the irritated speech also was responsible for the watery mess, although Elrohir really couldn't care less about such trivial matters at the moment. The younger of Elrond's twins was moping down the hall; usual clean attire and hair caked in brown mud. On their way back to Imladris, something had spooked Elrohir's horse, and sent him flying into ravine of thick and dirty water... while Elladan stood above laughing. And now he comes home, and finds that his foster brother, four Hobbits, and several more visitors had arrived.
Glorfindel was ambling uncaringly down the same hall, swaggering a bit as he did so. He almost walked right into a vase, and only his lightning-fast reflexes kept the antique from dropping to the floor in a pile of a thousand pieces. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and backed up, surveying his work. In his slightly adled state he became quite pleased with the way the vase looked, completely unharmed in every way. He turned around, quite content with himself, only to be nearly bowled over by one of the lord Elrond's twins.
A bit too concerned with his own thoughts and complaints, Elrohir didn't even see the tipsy Glorfindel up ahead, and narrowly missed running right into him. "For the love of Elbereth, watch where you-Oh. Hello. Lord Glorfindel."
Elrohir really ought to have started watching where he was going. Glorfindel let out a small yelp of surprise and took a step back, sadly toppling over the vase for real this time. He stood rigid, only flinching once the resounding crash broke through the room.
"Oh good Elbereth..." he groaned.
Storm-grey optics watched as the vase went crashing down, Elrohir wincing as it shattered. He pursed his lips, giving a half-apologetic smile. "I'm eh. sorry for startling you." He muttered, glancing away from Glorfindel. Maybe he should just slink off and hope he didn't even notice the Peredhel's presence. Not likely, but it's always alright to wish.
Glorfindel blinked morosely at the mess on the ground, and hastily spun on his heel to face the twin. He blinked. He couldn't exactly tell which it was. Oh, they both looked the same anyway! His mind was working oddly slowly. He turned back to look at the smashed vase, and then the twin again. He licked his lips, his befuddled mind working fast, and then said,
"Er - er - that's just fine, Elladan, fine," something struck him. This was a very old vase -- if Elrond knew how this got broken, his seneschal could get into some rather hot water. "Say - ah, excuse me..."
He made to bustle past Elrohir, fleeing the scene, but he didn't realize that he was clinging to the twin's arm and bringing him with him. He stopped, realized what he was doing, and then continued doing it anyway. "Come with me. Er-- to the other side of the buildings. I think - I - forgot something there..."
Elrohir arched a dark eyebrow, stumbling after the Elven captain, still leaving a trail of wet mud behind them. Was he just called-Elladan? He twitched, closing his eyes a moment. That was probably his biggest pet peeve: To get confused with his brother. It was so obvious who was who, after all. Their features differed. even if it took a decade to see how, be able to know who was Elladan, and who was Elrohir. He'd let it go. since it seemed Glorfindel was just a little tipsy.
"I'm Elrohir. Well. fine. Tell me what it is and I'll keep a look out for it. But why are you bringing me along? I really... should... go... get... cleaned... off... OW!" He tripped over his own feet, twisting his ankle slightly. Lovely. Just lovely. How could things possibly get any worse?
That really wasn't the best question to ask. Ever.
Elrohir? Elladan? The lord Glorfindel shot a look backwards at the twin, squinting his eyes. He normally never made the mistake - it must be bad lighting or - or something. Glorfindel let out a slightly undignified yelp again as Elrohir tripped. Yet as he was keeping a tight hold on the elf's arm, he had to stop and step back to keep his balance and that of Elrond's son. The elven lord should have realized by then that it was perhaps better for him not to be stepping back at the time. He slipped in Elrohir's mud-trail, his feet flew out from under him and he landed flat on his back. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to fathom what had happened. He sat up, wincing at first as he made sure nothing was broken, and then began chuckling.
"You really should be more careful, Ella- Elr-- son of Elrond!"
Elrohir didn't answer, since when Glorfindel slipped down onto the floor, he'd gone with him. Giving a heavy sigh, and trying to keep a check on his temper, the Elf put a hand out, pushing his weight upon it to sit up. Unfortunately, the cursed mud he had put his hand in made that attempt fail, and Elrohir fell back down, banging his head on the floor in the process. Several. 'colorful' words followed, and he made up his mind to never wonder how it could get worse again. This was turning into a simply delightful and peachy day.
Glorfindel was slammed unto the floor when Elrohir's body - for the third or fourth time - bumped into him, and by this time he decided that this was all pretty funny. He laughed - was almost giggling, but I will not dare say that an elven lord of his supreme age and temperament could giggle - as they floundered together on the floor. Eventually he just stopped trying to get up, sagging against the wall in a semi-upright position and laughing all the more. He nudged at Elrohir playfully, sending him sprawling onto the floor all over again.
Author's Note : Alrighty then. ^^ Flame me now, but the blame is partially to be placed on Furby - she is responsible for all of Elrohir's behavior, trust me. The drunken lord Glorfindel is alllll mine...