Afflicted

Lord Elrond of Rivendell both adored and loathed spring. Although every possible myth and legend spoke of the contrary, Elrond had what could only be described as atrocious allergies. None of his kin seemed to suffer this odd affliction, yet Elrond was cursed to endure it with each turn of the year when Rivendell blossomed with the very essence of life, every hillside and crevasse shaded with lush, green foliage and unfurling floral accents of every hue.

Wondrously beautiful to his eyes, sheer agony for every other part of his body. Yet, the dignified Elven Lord showed no outward signs of distress, remaining as elegantly composed as ever, his grace never faltering. At least not in the presence of his people. Behind closed doors was certainly another story.

Today, however, he did not have the luxury of privacy. Rivendell was expecting visitors from the realm of Lothlorien, sent to protect the borders of the Elvish lands while their own warriors saw to the needs of a vulnerable human community recovering from an attack by an enemy tribe.

A warm breeze ran its delicate fingers through the long locks of Elrond’s dark hair, bringing with it the pleasantly sweet fragrance of lilies. The Elven Lord sniffled. Of the many flowers, this was the worst of all.

“Ah, they come at last!” the scout from the nearest hilltop shouted.

Thank the Valar, Elrond thought, brushing a bit of dandelion fluff from the sleeve of his dark green robes. The air was far too fragrant for his liking.

The figure that crested the hill was one he recognized and knew well. Haldir of Lorien, flanked by several of his loyal archers. The Warden of the March led the way down the hillside, his dark red cape billowing proudly behind him.

Elrond smiled welcomingly as Haldir came to stand before him, bowing respectfully to the regal Elven Lord.

“Welcome, Haldir of Lorien. It is good to have you and your companions among us once again,” Elrond said, laying a hand on the archer’s shoulder in a gesture of fond greeting.

Haldir’s deep blue eyes, so dark they almost appeared black at times, swept upward to meet Elrond’s gaze.

“We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Elrond,” Haldir said sincerely in his warmly silken voice, which always brought a ring of pleasure to Elrond’s ears.

“Come, my friends. Let me show you to your chambers, for you must be weary from travel and eager to relax before the Council convenes,” Elrond suggested, for it was, after all, an excuse to get away from the torment of the day’s beauty.

“We would be most grateful,” Haldir said, bowing his head slightly and lowering his gaze once more in acknowledgement of Elrond’s nobility.

Elrond smiled in mild amusement, fully aware that Haldir’s grace was more for formality’s sake rather than actual supplication. He and the March Warden were well aquatinted, old friends, in fact, having fought many a battle together as well as sharing many hours of simple companionship, speaking tales of their respective lands. Although many years older than Haldir, Elrond always enjoyed the other elf’s company and his ever-present hint of vanity and bravado, for it lent him much character. However, beneath the arrogant sneer of Lothlorien lay a heart of such valor and fierce loyalty, that it was nearly impossible for one not to admire and possibly even fear him. This was the aspect of Haldir that Elrond liked most of all.

After introducing the small band of archers to their respective rooms, Elrond turned to Haldir with a sweeping flourish of one arm.

“Shall we adjourn and discuss things of greater importance, my friend?”

A slow smile curved the March Warden’s lips. “And what sweet liquid ambrosia have you to inebriate my senses this time?”

Elrond laughed robustly. “Why, blackberry wine, of course!”

Haldir threw back his head and laughed as well, the sound reverberating and ringing throughout the hallway as he came to stand beside Elrond, slipping a hand beneath the thick robes and linking arms with the Elven Lord in an almost intimate gesture as the two walked towards the entrance to the courtyard.

“I have much to tell you, my friend,” Haldir said, smiling mischievously. “It all began with this beautiful stripling with eyes as fresh and clear as Rivendell’s finest greenery. . .”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Elrond was unable to maintain his usual air of dignity as Haldir finished his tale and laughed without restraint, carefully sipping the tangy wine in between fits of amusement.

“And of course, I changed his mind, you realize,” Haldir was saying with dismissive yet conversational ease, stretched languidly across one of Elrond’s fine chairs. “Poor human. Never actually having seen the full beauty of our kind.”

“And I’m certain you showed him, did you not, you shameless scoundrel of an Elf?” Elrond said, knowing full well the answer to that statement.
Haldir arched his back, sliding further over the arm of the chair, his silvery locks nearly dragging the ground where he gazed up at Elrond from the most peculiar of angles, an impish smirk curving his lips. “That and more, my friend.”

Elrond chuckled, shaking his head. Haldir’s brazen tales of the seduction of mortals never failed to amuse him.

“Just how is that impetuous daughter of yours, Elrond? Still dreaming of a love affair between herself and the Ranger, Estel, I take it?”

Elrond sighed heavily as he folded his hands into his lap, a hinting of his characteristically somber nature returning. “Such as it shall remain, I fear. I have made every attempt to dissuade her from such a venture, but she is young and head-strong.”

Haldir groaned dramatically, practically rolling his eyes at Elrond’s sentiment. “I’ve told her that mortals are not made for such long-term endearments, but rather for short-lived pleasures of the flesh, yet she turns a deaf ear to my wisdom. Ah, youth. . . so passionate, so heedless.” Still dangling like a draping vine with hair now sweeping the marbled ground, he turned his gaze to Elrond from the same odd position once more. “So utterly stupid.”

Whether it was Haldir’s bizarrely languid posture or his witty commentary, Elrond laughed uproariously.

Haldir twisted his lithe body and righted himself into a proper sitting position, lifting his chalice in a toasting gesture.

“To the ludicrous audacity of youth,” he said.

“Indeed,” Elrond nodded in agreement, raising his glass as well.

Haldir took the liberty of replenishing their wine before the cups were even partially drained.

“Do tell me of this war between the mortals, dear friend. As much as I would enjoy speaking of lesser things, I realize the matter at hand is of enough concern to warrant some degree of protection.”

Elrond sighed again, falling into reserved dignity once more. “Dark times are ahead, I fear. The humans, they squabble over such petty matters of rank and wealth, yet the elves are there to protect them as they have protected our forests from fire and other moral hostility. They wish to-”

He paused as the teasing aroma of lilies invaded his senses, tauntingly defiant and noticeably stronger than before.

Haldir leaned forward slightly, placing his hands on the table before him, carefully watching as Elrfougfought to regain control of his conversation. “Yesss?”

Elrond put a hand first to his lips and then to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and shaking his head. “Ah, you must forgive me, my friend. Something about the air of this season does not agree with me, I’m afraid.”

Cocking his head with what appeared to be an oddly curious interest, Haldir said simply, “Oh?”

“Yes. It plagues me with. . .ah. . .”

Haldir arched one gracefully curved eyebrow. “With?”

The remainder of the sentence never came forth. Elrond raised one arm, shielding his face from Haldir’s view with the draping sleeve of his robe and sneezed twice rather forcefully, the sound only slightly muffled by the thick material of his attire.

Haldir jumped in surprise, not from the act itself but rather from the sudden sharpness of its volume, for he had always known the Elven Lord for his quiet calm. This, however, attested otherwise to some degree.

“Galu, Elrond,” he said politely, a hint of some strange fascination glossing his already smlken voice.

“Thank you,” Elrond said, failing to notice the sudden shift in Haldir’s demeanor. “As I would have said, the mere fragrance of the air torments me in this manner incessantly.”

“Incessantly,” Haldir repeated thoughtfully, the word rolling from his tongue with a musing purr.

“Yes,” Elrond sniffed. “It is inescapable, this torment.”

“How torturous that must be!” Haldir exclaimed as he reached to lay his hand atop of Elrond’s in a gesture of sympathy.

“It is, admittedly, an annoyance more than a hindrance. Ah. . .” Elrond said, slipping his hand from beneath Haldir’s to suddenly fan his face briefly, blue eyes fluttering closed, breath hitching desperately.

This time, the harshness of such a simple action shook his body in a manner that alarmed Haldir to some degree, calling forth his protective instincts. His hand descended gently yet firmly onto Elrond’s thigh as he leaned closer still as if both captivated and worried by the curious turn of events.

“Galu,” he said again, this time sounding genuinely concerned. “Perhaps we sh ret retire indoors if the air plagues you so. I would hate to see you endure misery such as this on my account. Please, let us converse where your comfort will return.”

“Ah, Haldir, my very dear friend. Your concern for my well-being touches me,” Elrond said, smiling through his now somewhat bleary eyes from breathing the fragrant air so lso long a period of time.

Haldir watched as the Elven Lord rose gracefully to his feet, his uncommonly dark hair lying against the green fabric of his robes in a richly contrasting manner. Elrond was, by far, one of the most beautiful elves Haldir and most others of his kind had ever laid eyes upon, with his finely chiseled features and nearly ebon hair accented by eyes the color of clear summer skies. He was, quite possibly, the living embodiment of Elvish beauty.

Haldir loved him dearly, more so because of his kind wisdom and grace rather than his striking appearance. Yet this was not an asset that the sensual-loving elf overlooked. Also, though he knew not why it affected him in a such a manner, the new development of Elrond’s odd sensitivity to the Spring flora was enticingly interesting to Haldir. Very interesting indeed. . .

TBC...

Galu- "blessings"