And There Was Trouble Taking Place

Chapter 9

Imladris, the next day

It was a perfect spring day. The sun was warm enough to be felt on the skin and one could almost sense the scent of summer in the gentle winds. Up in the sky with her mistress, Arien rested on her back on a cloud, and admired another one above her in the shape of a butterfly, when she noticed a secret floating down past her. She was curious, and could not resist interrupting its descent, taking a closer look.

An astounded sigh left Arien’s lips, “Oh, the poor elf.” For a moment she considered letting the secret continue its way down, but then decided it was too dangerous to let it end up in the wrong hands. What if the elf would live the rest of his immortal life never knowing what had caused all the trouble and discomfort? Arien could not imagine a fate so cruel.

She knew she would not have the heart to deliver the secret herself, but she had to make sure it was conveyed to the one it belonged to. Perhaps revelations of this kind were better delivered in the cold comfort of moonlight? Thinking it a good idea, she started a song, calling to Tilion, the Maia of the Moon.

Take a message to my love
And do not say where you saw me
Nine riders crossed the river
And they took all the gold

Secrets whispered in shadows
While the village lay sleeping
Bang a drum and I shall follow
All the way back to my love

Colour the wind
And search deep within
By the light of the moon
We will begin again

Arien settled down her cloud to wait for her beloved, and his master, to take the troubling secret from her.

*~*

Erestor was buried deep in work when he heard the sound of a bell. It was time to finish his duties for the day and change clothes for dinner. He gathered up all the papers lying around on his desk, arranging them in neat piles, by urgency and subject matter, ready for the next day. A few letters needed Elrond’s signature, and Erestor walked to the door joining their studies. He knocked on it and stepped inside after waiting for an answer and not getting one.

Finding the room empty, like he expected, he left the letters on Elrond’s desk with a brief note about them. It was early evening and should have been fairly light outside, but suddenly the study became dark and Erestor absentmindedly wondered if they would have an evening of spring storm and lightning.

Back in his own study, he took the books he had used that day back to the bookshelf, though he knew he would need most them again the day after. Erestor believed in rules and order. He had to admit, however, that lately things like that had slipped his mind more often than they normally did. Only the other day, he had come back to his rooms after lunch and found the bed unmade. Well, that he could blame on Haldir and Legolas, who he had left sleeping in his bed. The really disturbing thing was that he had not cared about the unmade bed, but had flopped on it, burying his face in a pillow that still held the scent of both blonds.

Perhaps he needed some normality in his life? The last few days had been strange and full of unusual events. Erestor grabbed the Hobbit History book from the top shelf and took it with him, hoping he would have time to read it and, that way, gain back some of his natural peace of mind. He closed the study door behind him and started in the direction of his rooms.

An elf maiden walked along the corridor, placing new candles in holders and lighting them. “Good afternoon, Master Erestor. Look out the window. We have a miracle out there. An unexpected solar eclipse.”

“At this time of the year? Most peculiar.” That explained the sudden change in lighting and the sound of the bell in the afternoon. Everybody would be outside enjoying the eclipse.

Having seen the phenomenon many times before, Erestor decided to use the afternoon for relaxing in his room – something he rarely had a chance for. He would take a long, soothing bath and read the Hobbit book while there. Aye, that sounded wonderful.

Feeling calm and refreshed, Erestor stepped out of his rooms a few hours later. The bell had sounded a second time that day and it was finally time for dinner. He noticed the light had changed again, from the strange contained half-light to the red-orange hue of dusk. Candles had been lit and they gave the corridor an inviting feel. All was right in Erestor’s world.

He thought about his bedmates while walking down the long corridor, and wondered about his luck. For someone so inexperienced, he had done very well with his first two lovers – a marchwarden and a prince. The only ones above that would be the lord of an elven realm, but neither Elrond nor Celeborn really interested him. Then there were of course kings, but he would only entertain the thought of an elven king, the idea of men did not fill his loins with fire. But Thranduil, now there was a king Erestor would not mind bedding! Except that it would not do. He had known about Elrond and Thranduil’s relationship from the beginning, and though it now seemed that the relationship was as cold as the first dive in the Bruinen after the ice on its surface had melted, he suspected that Elrond would not be too happy to find his former lover in the bed of his chief counsellor.

Erestor grinned to himself thinking of the fit Elrond would throw. But no, he would not even entertain the idea of Thranduil. And, because Erestor was not interested in ladies or queens, that left him with only one elf to pursue if he wanted to do better with his *next* lover. For only one title, in his opinion, existed between a prince and a lord, and that was Balrog Slayer – killer of the most fearsome beast, the elf of all elves, the epitome of maleness, the picture of strength and courage. In a word: Glorfindel. No matter how hard he tried, thoughts of the seneschal did not leave him alone. Becoming somewhat miffed at himself for that, Erestor become aware of something flickering in his peripheral vision. He stopped, and looked left and right, noticing that the candles on the walls next to him had died.

Was there a window open in one of the storerooms? That would explain the blown-out candles and the chilling coldness in the corridor. Erestor looked behind him, but saw no open doors, just a dark corridor. He had a sudden feeling that it was not only odd, but actually a little frightening. Telling himself it was only his nerves – and conveniently forgetting how relaxed and collected he had felt just a moment ago –he continued towards the dinner hall.

He walked on and watched the candle flames closest to him flicker and die. He did not dare to stop anymore. What on Arda was happening? Was he a victim of a prank? In case someone was playing him for a fool, he kept his gait unhurried and appeared outwardly calm. Hesitantly stepping past the next set of sconces, he kept his eyes to the floor and hoped that gesture would keep the candles aflame. When they remained lit, he lifted his head in relief and poof! A breeze of air blew out both of them.

Erestor stopped dead in his tracks. There were no noises to be heard, no one else in sight. He was alone, undeniably alone. The chilliness he felt in the hallway had a damp quality to it, and as he stood there, it enveloped him tight, making him want to go back to his rooms and stay in a steaming hot bath forever. He took a deep breath and tried to understand what was behind the chaos, to think analytically. All logic, however, failed him when he saw the candleholders on the wall began to melt; they became red hot and molten metal fell to the floor in big, heavy drops. For a moment, Erestor struggled with indecision whether to rush back to his rooms or to dash towards the dining hall. Then he heard another gust of air approaching from behind, grabbed the hem of his robes and started to run.

The next pair of candles exploded when he passed them, sending warm wax flying in the air. Erestor faintly felt the sting of heat on his skin, but could not care less about it. He dodged something that flew in his direction, and was almost thrown by a door that slammed open before him. Stumbling forward, he barely managed to stay on his feet. He ran faster, and for a moment he thought he had outrun the chaos that chased after him. He arrived at the dining room door in tears, still holding his robes.

Elrond was surprised at the noises coming from the hallway to Erestor’s quarters. The only occupied room in the corridor was Erestor’s, the rest were storage rooms filled with books that did not fit in the main library. There was no reason for the amount of tumult drifting in through the doors.

The counsellor appeared in the doorway and, for the second time in as many days, the whole room fell silent at the sight of him. That night, however, it was for different reasons and did not last as long. Erestor looked, simply put, dishevelled. He had pieces of what Elrond thought looked like candles wax in his hair, his clothes were also covered in the same white bits and there was something hanging from the folds of his robe. When Elrond realized it was a candleholder, his eyes widened. What on Arda had his chief counsellor been up to? When he saw Erestor’s eyes, large as saucers and with a look of a deer having somehow caught a whiff of its hunter, it convinced him that it was not Erestor but someone else who had been up to mischief. With that thought, he immediately turned and frowned at the twins.

Erestor’s wild eyes fell upon them and Elrond saw him sag with relief. Then he stepped inside the hall and it seemed Udûn (hell) exploded in their midst. Plates broke, glasses shattered, food flew everywhere, a fearsome tornado swept through the room. Everything was in motion except for Erestor who crouched to the ground in terror and held his head.


TBC

Author’s notes: Arien’s song is a modified version of “Light of the Moon” by the Pretenders.