Vacation

Part 8…

“Quite the turn out for this little event wouldn’t you say Erestor?”

Erestor discreetly rolled his eyes, confident that his exasperation would go unnoticed as Elrond was currently surveying the crowd of elves that had gathered to watch the advanced sword fighting competition, or more importantly watch that pretentious blonde ‘I’m-so-wonderful-I-slew-a-Balrog-and-died-heroically-won’t-you-all-worship-me-and-fall-at-my-feet-in-puddles-of-devotion’ defeat everyone. “Yes, quite.”

“Erestor, just because I am not looking at you does not mean I’m oblivious to your eye rolling… and don’t glare at me either.”

“You do realize you are far to cunning for your own good.”

“Perhaps. Or it could be you are becoming far too predictable.”

Elrond seated himself in his high backed chair located on the raised pavilion, adjusting his robes as Erestor seated himself on his left. Smoothing the dark green fabric across his knees he glanced to the side when he sensed Erestor stiffen, finding the councilors odd facial expression comical. Erestors eyes were wide in what looked to be half panic, half horror and he was staring worriedly at a figure just in front and to the left of him. Following Erestors gaze he found the source of the advisors terror and pursed his lips to contain his laughter. Feeling slightly devious Elrond leaned casually to the left and, placing his elbow against the arm rest, drew the attention of the short blonde elf whose mere presence was causing Erestor to become distressed.

“Almaravarion.” Ignoring Erestors combined glare of pleading and warning, most likely borne out of a desire to avoid anymore of the smaller elf’s insanity, he tried again. “Almaravarion”

Lórien spun around to face the person calling him, mentally chastising himself for forgetting his new name. Bowing formally at the waist he smiled. “My Lord Elrond. Lord Erestor.”

Elrond nodded in acknowledgment of the greeting, eyes twinkling in merriment as Erestor grumbled an inarticulate response.

“Perhaps you would like to join us; we have a perfect view of the arena.”

Elrond shot a piercing look to his left at Erestors unkindly muttered comment about short elves needing ladders, before looking back at Almaravarion as he stepped up onto the raise platform and smiled apologetically, relieved to see that the petite blonde did not seem upset over his somewhat surly advisor.

“I would. Very kind of you to offer my Lord and much appreciated at that. It should be a most entertaining contest.”

“Contest? What contest? We may as well just award the champion now.”

Elrond pointedly ignored Erestors peevish little outburst and attempted to involve Almaravarion in idle chitchat until the match started. “Lovely day, wouldn’t you agree Almaravarion.”

“Yes, splendid. Lord Erestor, why would you say such a thing about declaring a winner before the outcome has been decided?”

“Because the outcome has already been decided.”

Lórien feigned a look of utter shock and lowered his voice to whisper in disbelief. “You fixed the match?”

“No. No, no, no, no!” Elrond rushed to dispel the horrified looking blonde elf’s conclusion. “What Erestor meant was that Glorfindel has always won at these competitions. In fact he has never been beaten”

“Oh, of course.” Lórien grinned. “Although there is a first time for everything, is there not.”

Two sets of eyes regard him in surprise before Erestor snorted in amusement. “My dear, naive little Almaravarion, Glorfindel has never been defeated. Now as much as I would enjoy seeing our adored Balrog slayer taken down a notch or two it simply will not happen.”

“It will. And it will happen this very afternoon.”

Elrond smiled in a condescending manner, having heard the same statement made many times in the past by skilled young warriors wishing to make a name for themselves.

Erestor laughed outright. “Would I be correct in assuming that you refer, not to your self but to you overly large companion…what was his name? Poldórion?”

“Yes. He may be a little on the dense side but he is not without some skill with a blade. Perhaps you would be interested in a wager?”

Erestor frowned. “Wager?”

“Unless of course you are afraid that you might loose.”

“The odds of Glorfindel being defeated are extremely slim indeed. Name your stakes.”

Lórien bent his head forward and stared at his feet as if in thought before tilting his head slightly to the side and raising his eyes to meet Erestors, a smirk upon his face and his voice soft and teasing. “If I win, you will consent to a private, romantic, dinner for two tomorrow night… and a kiss.”

A short pause. “And if I win.”

Lóriens smirk widened. “You may have anything that is within my power to give. What ever you wish, if I am able, you shall have.”

“Agreed!”

“Agreed.”

And with the shaking of hands and Elrond watching on in amusement, Erestors fate was sealed.

TBC…