Chapter Four
“You—“ He was at loss for words again. Had he just been called an infant hobbit? Now that was going too far. Elrohir scrambled up, trying to look half dignified. It certainly wasn’t working.
”Not only are you poncey, you’re a lying... a lying thing that... resembles... eh a... a wight! That’s right.” He’d never been too skilled at comebacks. "Whose word do think father shall believe? Yours, or his own son’s?” A grim shadow fell over his face, still not realizing that he was still blatantly insulting Glorfindel. “Well, perhaps he shall take yours but... you were the one who dragged me! You broke the vase... and you were—no, I was still the one who told you lies about Elladan. But that’s not the point! Just... it’s not fair!”
So much for proving maturity.
Glorfindel arched an elegant eyebrow at the younger elf, though he was now thoroughly enjoying himself and in his state the insults just rolled off of him like oil and water.
“Yes, yes, neth-perenian,” he said with a reserved smile. “Very good, very good. Yet I am afraid, young son of Elrond, that you are incapable of speaking your way out of a hobbit hole. Your insults are as weak as your literary skills, and I suggest you go back into the study with lord Erestor to brush up on them. Now, please, excuse me while I inform your father of your less than satisfactory behavior for the day...”
Leave it to Glorfindel to use big words while he was smashed.
Elrohir’s face truly paled at the thought of facing his father... for about the third time within a three-month period. There was absolutely no chance he’d spend another perfect day stuck in the library, especially since he could be spying on Arwen and Estel having some snooky time together. ...Whatever snooky is.
”You wouldn’t really do that, would you? Besides... everyone would notice you’re less than sober. Is there... is there nothing I can stop from doing such a petty thing? Besides, if I have to tell all of Imladris that the great Lord Glorfindel, was on the floor... giggling, I will, to stop you from doing this.”
Lovely, blackmail would surely do the charm.
Glorfindel snorted at the very thought, and had a hard time to keep from being immersed in those very same giggles. But he managed a dark glare instead. It might be true – though he could not remember the event quite clearly, he had no doubt that he had been giggling on the floor. Yet the lord Glorfindel – as old as the hills – had been drunk many times before, and was caught in some surprisingly sticky situations. So long as he kept his wits about him for more than three minutes...
“Do you think your father would believe such a thing, Elrohir?” he asked, almost chidingly, as if he was scolding a young – no, an infant hobbit. “I am not giggling now – am I?”
Oh, how he felt like laughing at the look on Elrohir’s face!
“I—I could blackmail Elladan into saying he saw you as well. I could blackmail anyone... even you, if I had to.” He smiled in an arrogant manner, feeling his usual cocky nature coming back once more, and even went so far as to pluck a golden hair from the Elf’s head.
”You see? With this one bit of hair, I could plant it by the broken vase or even better! I could plant it in the wine cellar. And then, my dear Glorfindel,” He pointed at his sleeve, where there were slight, yet ever- there markings of where the Elven lord’s fingers had been while dragging him along. “There is this proof, that you indeed did drag me, thus winning my case.” He nodded triumphantly, raising a dark brow. Had that made... any sense at all? Probably not, but it made him sound smart.
The elven seneschal was now far less than amused. His patience failing him, he took a step towards Elrohir, once again taking advantage of his superior strength, height, and – under normal circumstances – intelligence. He yanked his hair back out of Elrohir’s hand, snatched a few of the twin’s own dark strands, and then grinned in triumph.
“Ha! Now I can plant you – to – hmm. Perhaps just outside the door to the Hall of Fire where Estel and Arwen have been ... ... ... speaking with each other this morning? Speak not of blackmailing one who has been blackmailing others since his birth! Remember not how Erestor was blamed for --” he blinked, realizing that perhaps he was saying something he shouldn’t be saying. He shrugged. Next he pointed to his robes. “Covered in mud! Proof that you’ve been pushing me around, young Elrohir. I did that –“he pointed at his arm. “Only from sheer defense.”
Little did he know it, but by using his brain the effects of the alcohol began to become less and less. If Elrohir did not act soon, he would be faced with a very sober, and very annoyed elf of Gondolin.
If any bit of sense or intelligence remained in him, Elrohir probably would’ve stopped now and accepted that Elrond would yell at him for a while, and then ship him off to the library... or if luck had abandoned him, off to the Grey Havens for a while. No. Not Elrohir. His pride and arrogance just made him be even mouthier.
”Who’s to say, then, it wasn’t Elladan supposedly outside that door... which he probably is any way, and not me?” He crossed his arms, puffing out his chest to look more... Mean. “Oh yes, I always push around Elves, just for a sheer fun of it. And yet, that’s odd. I wasn’t the one rolling on the floor giggling, and obviously past the line of just ‘tipsy’. You—you can’t intimidate me!” He exclaimed the latter part, widening grey eyes for further effect.
”And no one touches my hair!”
It could’ve only been stupidity that made him pluck yet another light colored hair off Glorfindel’s head.
That was the last straw - or, well, hair. Glorfindel snarled in anger, and then in a split second he had grabbed a fistful of Elrohir's hair and pushed him back against the wall. Not that he was hurting the son of Elrond in any way - but he wanted to prove, once and for all, that he, the lord Glorfindel, elven captain and Elrond's old friend and seneschal, was not one to receive such cheek.
"You - Elrohir - are indeed the finest example of an impudent whelp I have ever met," he said darkly. "You are either naturally daft or have taken a trip to the wine cellars yourself to have me mistake you for a spoiled humanling prince. And I, Elrohir, will touch your hair as much as I bloody well want to..."
Elrohir simply stared, opening and closing his mouth several times, rather stunned that the drunk Elf had suddenly become so much more... well, sober. After a moment of simply gaping, he shook his head, nodding meekly.
”I-I merely meant that... it’s not fair of you... make up such lies about me, that could get me shipped off to Elbereth only knows where! I was only trying to get back at Elladan.” He murmured, looking more like an Elfling being scolded.
”The days are dark. I wouldn’t truly blackmail you.” Well, perhaps he might’ve before, but when a shadow was spreading over the land. “And eh... I only wanted your hair because it’s... eh... shiny?”
o_O
Author's Note: And, alas. ;-; My computer died, and so there is no more for me to post. u.u Alas. Very sad, I know. Shoot me. If anyone has the full version... anywhere... ._. I'd be much oblidged for you to give it to me. I'll... give you cookies. >>;
<3