Vacation

Part 14…

Erestor gaped at the sight before him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Glorfindel stood just off the center of the pit, his weapon at his feet while the sword of his opponent pressed against his neck, the blunted tip resting just over his thrumming pulse point. The silence around the pit was deafening, odd how silence could seem such, as if no one dared to breathe as they stared at what had once been an unimaginable scene before them.

Glorfindel had lost.

No one moved as Poldórion removed his sword from Glorfindels neck, and the two combatants stood face to face, speaking quietly as the audience continued to watch in stunned silence.

Erestor blinked twiceore ore snapping his mouth shut with an audible clacking of teeth, twisting his head to the side to stare in astonishment at Almaravarion, feeling a twitch start just below his left eye as the little blonde tart smiled at him and munched merrily from his personal plate of treats. Growling when the smaller elf went so far as to take his goblet of honey wine and drink from it. Reaching forward he snatched the cup roughly from Almaravarion’s hand, sloshing a fair amount over the rim in the process, before setting it down with a clunk on the small side table.

Watching Almaravarion’s lips curve up until he was grinning unrepentantly at the irate advisor Erestor felt his blood boil. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You agreed to the terms dear councilor… you owe me a romantic dinner.”

“Forget it.”

“A deal it a deal.”

“I am not subjecting myself to your loathsome presence for an entire meal.”

“Yes, you are. Tomorrow night in fact”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Are.”

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Not”

“Are.”

“Not.”

By now the two elves were shouting at each other, effectively breaking the silence and diverting the shocked stares from the two beings standing in the pit to the two currently glaring daggers at each other on the pavilion. When it became obvious that Lord Elrond was not going to do anything to stop the argument taking place beside him, in fact the dignified Lord was too busy laughing to be of any assistance, Elladan stepped in to break up the fight before any violence could be wrought upon the small blonde elf. Deftly diffusing the situation he led a flustered and red faced Erestor back towards the house, having to forcibly restrain him as Almaravarion couldn’t seem to resist and blew a kiss as he departed.

Turning once again Lórien smiled winningly at Elrond and the crowd that was now staring at him before hoping nimbly down from the pavilion and darting away before Manwë could reach him and start asking questions. No need to have his plans ruined this earlier in the game after all.

As he walked briskly back to his room Lórien whistled gaily, things were falling into place perfectly, tonight there was the bonfire, tomorrow a romantic dinner for two… ah yes, this vacation was proving more amusing than one could have hoped.

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“By Manwës balls Elrohir, would you please…” Hysterical choking caused Elladan to stop speaking and look towards Almaravarion, finding the petite blonde bent forward over the table, pinching the bridge of his nose and laughing uncontrollably as tears leaked from his eyes, wither it was from the force of his mirth or the fact that a fair portion of wine had been snorted out his nose was unknown. Beside him Poldórion appeared to be utterly shocked, goblet partially raised to take a drink, staring at Elladan in something akin to horror.

“Man… Manwë…s…” Lórien couldn’t continue as he dissolved once more into giggles and snickers, interspaced with a snort or two.

The twins had been happily entertaining the two visitors with grand stories when they had started to bicker over who had thought up one of their more daring pranks. Elladan had suddenly burst forth with his statement in irritation and now the mirror images watched as Almaravarion continued to convulse into fits of laughter while Poldórion quickly downed the rest of his wine before snatching the goblet that was closest to him, which happened to be Elladan’s own, and downing that as well. With a light flush to his cheeks the large blonde elf stood, nodding graciously to the young elven lords before snatching Elrohirs glass and excusing himself, leaving a still chortling Almaravarion with a pair of mystified twins.

The impromptu bonfire that Elrond had ordered for that evening had turned out gloriously. The large gathering of elves had feasted on a selection of spit roasted meats, ranging from deer to rabbit, and wine was flowing freely now that dinner was over and the dancing had commenced. So far Manwë had managed to avoid his sudden crowd of admirers that was following him around like newly hatched ducklings. Glorfindel had warned him that he would become very popular now that he held the title of champion, and the Lord of the Valar had to admit his blonde friend had been right. Between hiding behind trees and being rescued by Elronds sons and Glorfindel himself he had thus far escaped unscathed and with all his clothing still upon him.

Spotting one of his more forceful admirers heading towards him Manwë turned to beat a hasty retreat, only to see another of the enthusiastic elves bearing down on him from the other direction. Feeling trapped, and with a sneaking suspicion that this approach had been coordinated into attack formation he glanced around for one of his handy saviors, only to find that they were still on the other side of the clearing, apparently trying to get Lórien, now almost purple from lack of air, to breathe before he passed out.

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Lindir stood off to the side, watching as the troop of elves intent on seducing Poldórion advanced and fidgeted indecisively before squaring his shoulders and taking action. The blonde warrior wasn’t going to notice him if he kept cowering in the shadows all night. Taking a deep breath he moved forward quickly.

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Orophin grinned victoriously at his brother over Poldórion’s shoulder before turning the full force of his dazzling smile on the large blonde before him, licking his lips seductively. “Poldórion, I was wondering if you would care…”

“To dance with me?”

Orophin blinked as a slender elf darted in front of him and stole Poldórion’s attention by finishing the question he had meant to ask. Crossing his arms Orophin glared sourly at the back of the other elf’s head, the gleaming white strands giving the others identity away immediately. Only two other elves possessed hair that white and neither was currently in residence at Imladris. Glancing over Poldórion’s shoulder again he made eye contact with Rumil and both resigning themselves to watching the unfolding scene. One thing was certain, Haldir would not be pleased that his own infatuation had taken an interest in none other than the elf who had knocked him on his ass.

Perhaps his brothers fit that was sure to follow this development would be worth loosing out on his prize, just this once.

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Manwë gazed down at the fair creature standing before him and instantly became lost in the dark emerald eyes. “I would.”

Lindir beamed at the acceptance to his offer and, before he lost his courage, clasped Poldórion’s hand in his own and, entwining their fingers, moved towards the dance floor, casting an apologetic glance at the glaring Galadhrim as they passed.


Haldir couldn’t believe his eyes as the white haired beauty that was Lindir lead that lumbering blonde menace towards the dance floor. His mood further deteriorated as he noticed that the two were holding hands. Sighing he slumped dejectedly against a tree located near the fire, depression creeping up on him at the thought that all the meticulous scrubbing to remove every last misplaced grain of sand was a wasted effort as his targeted seduction wasn’t going to be noticing him anytime soon.

This vacation to Imladris was turning out to be the worst trip of his entire existence.

TBC…