Prestad Dhaer vi Eregion Dithen [Big Trouble in Little Eregion (aka Imladris)]

The flaring highlights of crimson and gold streaking across the cloud coated sky had given way to deep rich maroon and smoky purple as Anor travelled ever farther from Arda's view.  The air attained that strange property of near-substance only found at the changing of night and day, whether the transition followed the ending hours of Arien's tour or prefaced the initial minutes of Tilion's watch.  Too bright yet for any star but Eärendil to be seen yet also more dim than necessary for accurate perception, all the outlines and details softened and merged just slightly under the gauzy character of the encroaching darkness.

The colours of nature turned murkier and even the water pouring over the rim of the canyon appeared as if composed of molten lead rather than the more familiar liquid mithril hue seen by day.  Soon, Bruinen would turn black struck through with wild and jagged cracks of sheen once Ithil stood fully revealed and Varda's gifts glinted in chilly reserve behind him.  Upon the half-lit height amid the misted wind the Lord of Imladris and the Hero of Gondolin faced one another.   

At dusk on the day before the convening of the Council of Erebor, the pair remained motionless in silent opposition upon the path before the clamorous turbulence of the plunging stream, the Balrog slayer not budging while the glowering countenance of his Lord wordlessly demanded he do so at once.

Elrond was not about to make any reference to the solitary sexual interlude his Master-at-Arms had witnessed, and was fairly certain Glorfindel would never do so either.

"Stand aside, Glorfindel!  I have business to attend," the Elf Lord finally growled tersely when their stalemate was several minutes old.

"It is true, yet I believe it would be best to deal with it here first, before others learn of this."

"By all means, let Gildor and Lindir manage this problem, unless you have more exploding livestock to report.  That might be worthy of my attention!  Clear the path and see me in the study if you have something to say."

"I will speak now!" the Vanya warrior argued and took a step toward the Lord of Imladris.  "Two documents have arrived from Mirkwood, of such importance the messenger would not turn back even when wounded unto death.  She has perished to bring these tidings hence.  Will you view these documents in privacy before I present them to the elves of Imladris?"  For added emphasis the inveterate soldier held up the parchment scrolls the Elf Lord had failed to notice in his hands before.

Upon hearing such words, Elrond's mouth went dry and his heart rate thudded, spurred to an irregular tattoo by the fist of dread that slammed his gut.  He did not want anyone to gain insight into his deeds and the confusion of emotions these had caused within his soul.  He held his tongue and met his old friend's eyes reluctantly, unable to summon up a fitting rejoinder.

"In light of the name you shouted just moments ago and its connection to your unexplained disappearance, I suggest you read these," reiterated Glorfindel and thrust the letters against his Lord's chest with sufficient vehemence in the gesture to cause Elrond to falter.  The loremaster had to grab Glorfindel's wrist to steady himself.

Elrond should not have been surprised to learn that his comrade had surmised where he had been, but the open announcement of this fact was nonetheless a bit unnerving.  He accepted the parchments and Glorfindel pulled away his hand but not his gaze, compelling the Elf Lord to open the missives and reveal the contents.

With a sour scowl the Keeper of Vilya did so, breaking the warrior's stare to sunder the seal of the King of the Woodland Realm.  In silence he read and his brows quirked up in surprise as a lopsided smirk bent his mouth into an unappealing expression of contempt.

"It is a birth announcement!" he said with scorn.  "Apparently, Lord Thranduil has got himself a legitimate heir!"  He handed the paper over to his companion with a sniff of disgust.  "Though that is debatable since he is not bonded to the female by any rites we would recognise here!"

Glorfindel took and scanned the document, and his smile was not bitter or rancorous but genuine in his goodwill for the little prince.  He was of the opinion that this nativity would provide a steadying influence on the Sinda Lord, long tormented by the shadow cast upon his first heir by Ningloriel's adulterous behaviour.   Indeed, the announcement was written in Thranduil's own hand and while the words were formal some sense of his exuberance managed to show forth in the very shape and flare of the script itself.

In his appreciation of these glad tidings, Glorfindel missed the look of horror that swept over Elrond's features upon learning the subject of the second message.  An inarticulate cry of wrath yanked the warrior's attention back to the legendary loremaster, who was now pacing to and fro upon the ledge in furious agitation, clenching the parchment tightly in his fist.

"What is it?" demanded Glorfindel.

"Read for yourself!" shouted Elrond and flung the paper away from him.  It spun on the air a moment before settling into the damp dirt and curling up at the Noldo's feet.  "I will not be so accused, like some common spy.  How dare they make this declaration official, without even trying to ascertain the validity of such a claim?"

Now Glorfindel was alarmed and hastily retrieved this scroll from the mud.  In trepidation he began reading and a sharp gasp escaped him ere he had finished half the words.  His eyes darted to Elrond, still striding the measure of the stony shelf, before returning to complete his scrutiny of the letter's contents.  Though not recorded in Thranduil's hand, the manuscript was officially from the King of the Woodland Realm, his signature and seal affixed upon it.  Penned by some scribe under the direction of the Head Councillor for the Sylvan folk, one Iarwain the Elder, it was attested by an additional dignitary.  The content could not have been more serious had it been a proclamation of war.

"To the people of Imladris, Realm of the remnant Noldor from Beleriand, Lindon, and Eregion, to the residing Council of Government among this population, and to the Lord of these lands:

"Long have the Sylvan people of the Teleri resided among the boughs and bolls of the Greenwood north of Anduin, free of subjugation by any Dark power, content to serve Tawar.  Since the Great Journey have we dwelt here according to our own ways and beliefs, centuries before Doriath arose, millennia before the foundation of Nargothrond, Ages prior to the settlement of Eregion and the subsequent retreat of the Noldor to Imladris.

"Ever have we respected the sovereignty of these younger nations, be they short lived or long, and expected the same in return from the inhabitants of those lands.  Yeah, at tremendous cost in precious life, the Wood Elves agreed to add our numbers to the might of the eldar in the Last Alliance.  Our losses then never precipitated any reaction from this Realm, for such is war and none could lay blame upon any one country or people.

"Yet now the just wrath of the Greenwood must be acknowledged, for we have been trespassed, invaded in secret without cause, as though we were a colony of Mordor, from among the First Born of Imladris.

"We formally charge Elrond, Lord of Imladris, and Erestor of Gondolin, seneschal to Imladris, with subversive activity within our borders.  Without the consent of King or Council, these elves journeyed to the southern regions of Greenwood, there to seek the abetting aid of an outcast under Judgement from our Laws.  The purpose of said alliance, while unclear, by its character must be injurious to our Realm.

"Let it be revealed to the Noldor of the Hidden Vale that an answer must be made and redress exacted for this gross affront.  A response is demanded forthwith in the form of the accused conspirators' appearance before the King of the Woodland Realm and the Council of the Greenwood, along with any witnesses pertinent to the events.  Given the nature of the rising population of Orcs within the Misty Mountains, the indicted may be accompanied by a contingent of armed warriors from a Realm other than Imladris as protection and safeguard.

"A formal reply is required within one cycle of Ithil, counted from the first Gwain Ithil [New Moon] following this document's arrival.

"So Charged,
"Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm

"So Witnessed,
"Iarwain Oromëndil [Eldest, Friend of Oromë], Principal Councillor of the Greenwood

"So Noted,
"Fêrlass [Beech-tree Leaf], Councillor of Record."

The statement was brief and took less time to read than that required for consuming an apple to its core, yet the worthy re-born elda gazed for several minutes in numb denial at what he held in his hands.  He must have reread the words a dozen times before the shock wore off, shoved from his mind by a searing surge of anger.

This was no empty ploy at revenge by a cuckolded husband!  This was a serious accusation and only grief could come of it, whether it was proved or disproved, for now a deeper chasm must yawn between the elven realms on either side of the Misty Mountains.  He turned to Elrond, who had stopped pacing and was staring out over the valley beyond the falls.

"What is this!" shouted Glorfindel.  "What exactly does this mean, Elrond?"

"Betrayal!" raged the Elf Lord, rounding on his old friend in a frenzy of seething fury, fingers fisted and visage twisted into such an expression of wrathful indignation that the Balrog Slayer fell back a step.  "You wished to know where Erestor is?" Elrond continued.  "Here is your answer!  He has betrayed Imladris, all for the pleasures of bedding a low-born, bastard, Wood Elf trollop!"  

"You cannot expect me to accept such an explanation!  I have been Erestor's friend longer than I have been yours.  No elf is truer to Imladris save only yourself!" he bellowed, for he had fought beside and died to ensure that Erestor and their remaining warriors brought to safety the progenitor of the elf before him.

"Ah!  Then what would you believe Glorfindel?  Tell me to my face what you suspect instead of speculating secretly and spying on me in private."  Elrond advanced to within less than a foot of the noble warrior and glared defiantly into the cobalt blue eyes of the Vanya elda.

With admirable restraint Glorfindel kept his ire under control as his chest heaved with the effort to vent the excessive heat gathering in his heart upon receiving such a challenge.  As though I am at fault!

"So be it!" he snarled.  "I think it is you who has become enamoured of this outcast elf.  Do you deny it?  Empty your pockets of those trinkets!  Cast them over the falls and prove me wrong!"

The Lord of Imladris glared in livid outrage upon this utterance, lips agape and eyes narrowed, yet without his conscious knowledge one fist opened and dived down into the silken velvet robe to protectively encase the tokens of his obsession in a concealing clasp.

"You dare speak such words to me, whom you are sworn to serve until I depart for Aman?" his incredulously mocking tone rang out over the thundering rush of the Bruinen's voice and he shook his head, loosing a scathing lash of laughter upon his trusted friend.

"Aye, I dare it!" retorted Glorfindel, hiding the wound forming in his soul to hear his noble colleague belittle his concerns and ridicule his loyalty.  "It is because of that oath that I do so, even if you fail to see this.  Look to your hand, Elrond, for there the truth is shown," and he pointed to the hidden appendage.  Observing Elrond's startled jerk as he comprehended what his body was doing, quite on its own, Glorfindel was moved to pity for his friend's plight.  "Shed this obscene desire; throw away those keepsakes!  By Namo, that is your lover's child, probably your own!"  

"That spawn is no seed of mine," hissed Elrond.  "Whatever you may think, I am not so base as to bed a child of my loins."

Now it was Glorfindel's turn to stand with mouth hanging and eyes glazed in denial.   For Elrond to have harboured feelings of lascivious cupidity toward his former mistress' child, mooning and masturbating over stolen mementoes, was horrendous enough.  The Balrog Slayer had not allowed himself to imagine what the Elf Lord's words suggested.  He held up his hands in front of him as if to fend off some crowding miasma and violently shook his head, eyes pleading with his comrade.  "Tell me you did not take him in your lust and grief for Ningloriel?"

The dark, empty eyes of Eärendíl's son revealed the futility of such a hope and at last Elrond admitted his deception and possession of the wild elf, telling the tale in a voice devoid of emotion, flat and unadorned with any kind of remorseful overtones.

"Ai!  Valar!" The Balrog Slayer was overcome with revulsion for what Elrond had done and grabbed the Elf Lord's arms, shaking him roughly in the futility of his anger and the widening rift between them.  "What manner of elf are you to conceive and then enact such a hideous crime?  What of Legolas?  Does he survive it?"

And at that Elrond's eyes blazed back to life and he pulled free of the warrior's grasp, shoving his Master-at-Arms back from him with wild ferocity.

"You need not fear!  He was quite healthy when last I saw him, fucking Erestor for all he was worth.  For that bit of Nandorin arse our esteemed colleague has abandoned his lands and people, his bond mates and his friends.  He remains in the Greenwood to succour his lover."

"How so?  What are you talking about?"

"Apparently, the wanton profligate has been in a long-term affair with Maltahondo, also his mother's lover and the most likely candidate for fathering the bastard.  It seems he was unaware of that little titbit of information and Erestor inadvertently revealed it.  He fled into the wilds, overcome with despair, according to our seneschal."

"Nay!  Nay, that is horrible!  How can any of this be happening?  Valar!  Consumed by a fit of jealousy, you left them both to their dooms.  Elrond!  You must wake from this black dream!"  Glorfindel knew not what to do; were this any other save his Lord he would have expelled him from Rivendell at once, so unthinkable was the behaviour described.

But this was the Loremaster of Imladris.  He was bound to serve this elf and up until now had been proud to do so.  That made the revelations so much more foul and the desire to find some reasonable explanation stronger.  Is it grief, centuries of it, layer added to layer, with the Woodland Queen's abandonment the crushing lamination?  With a sinking soul the warrior perceived it did not matter, the cause of such behaviour, for the impact this news would have upon the younger generation of the Mariner's line would be no less devastating if some excuse could be named.  All at once his body refused to stay upright and Glorfindel slumped upon the rocks, holding his head in his hands as though to stop the whirling thoughts within it.

"Mayhap it is time to put away Vilya from your person, for you are much changed in nature of late, and I am beyond understanding it," he mumbled half to himself.

"This has nothing to do with Vilya.  There is no power of evil within the elven rings, Glorfindel, and well do you know it."

"Do I?  Whence, then, comes the strength of those singular adornments?  From Celebrimbror, their maker or perhaps from the wearers?"

"Nay, that is not the way of it.  Only the Dark One's ring is imbued with his living essence.  The elven rings draw upon the Music of Arda herself and of the Valar."

"I am not convinced that is so," Glorfindel sounded defeated,  "for something has altered your normal behaviour.  I only comprehend that you did not consider anyone else in all of this plotting.  How will you face your children?  What words will you speak to Erestor's bond-mates?  Can you explain this to our people?  Is there no sorrow within you for the torment you have inflicted on the unsuspecting Wood Elf?"  With this series of queries Glorfindel drew a long sigh and looked at his friend, finding instead an elf he knew not at all.  

The warrior's questions at last broke through the Noldo's veneer of wounded pride and self-centred indignation over his own suffering as he envisioned his family torn apart.  If word of his actions reached his children, the shame and humiliation they must endure due to his selfishness would be a punishment unto itself and a torment upon his soul.  How would he bear to look his son's in the eyes?  What would he behold upon Arwen's features when she learned of this?

They will despise me, and rightly so.  Their own reputations will be tainted by my deeds.  Their hearts will break, for I abandoned them to chase after that immoral slut.

"Eru forgive me!  They must not suffer because of my weakness," he howled in impotent fury.  "We must find a way to stop this public trial.  Would that I had never seen Ningloriel!  May that accursed hecilo harvest the fruition of his grief.  I hope he ends up in Dol Guldur!"

At this pronouncement Glorfindel leaped to his feet again, not truly believing his ears as he approached Elrond with speed and power usually reserved for beheading Orcs, landing a solid blow upon the Elf Lord's face that sent him sprawling into the dirt.  Elrond gaped at him in stunned disbelief.

"I do not know this Legolas, but even so I have heard from your own lips that you manipulated and took advantage of him, for he did not recognise who you were.  How then does the fault lie there?  He deserves not the greater cruelty found in those dread dungeons.  Look to yourself for blame in this endeavour!  No Wood Elf has crossed our borders and seduced you."

Now it was Glorfindel who paced across the ledge, muttering to himself and twisting his hands together as though he needed to give them something to do other than strangling his Lord.

Elrond spat blood upon the ground. With a sharp groan and a flick of his tongue he dislodged a molar from his mouth to land in his lap.  Gingerly he felt along his jaw, searching for any break, and was glad to note only a very large contusion forming.  He watched his Master-at-Arms silently, and rubbed his cheek as he reflected on the morning's events.  In a strange way, the blow jarred his reason and he was able to perceive the results of his little game more clearly.  He winced, not from the bruising of his flesh so much as from abhorrence for the view of himself through Glorfindel's perspective.  He drew a heavy breath and exhaled it filled with the tangy stench of the iron rich fluid still pooling from the tooth's empty socket.

"I am disgraced, and you are correct; the cause is my own folly.  Eru help me, I am in love with that elf," he admitted quietly and dared not look up to see what new punishment this would bring forth from his loyal retainer.

"Love?" came the incredulous retort.  "Elrond, whatever is in your heart it is not anything akin to that!  If you care about Legolas, you must drive out this unhealthy fantasy of ever owning him.  Given the charges from the Woodland Realm, he must understand by now who has used him, that is if he is yet alive."  The Balrog Slayer advanced to stand before his Lord and held out his hand to help him back up to his feet.   Somehow he must salvage his Lord; too many depended on him to just let him fall.

Elrond accepted the assistance wordlessly.

"If you wish truly to make amends for your actions, you will have to face them openly.  We cannot finagle a secret settlement with the Woodland King, for we both appreciate he will not be appeased until he has brought you down.  He would only reveal such manoeuvring in order to cast further shame upon you.  Any hope for reclaiming the esteem you have thus far enjoyed depends solely on your true contrition.

"And you must find the strength to redeem yourself.  You have a responsibility to your family and to our people.  Start by relinquishing those objects you have kept, the fetishes of your unclean lust.  You must ask forgiveness, not from Eru but from those you do love, and most of all from the one you have wronged.  You must plead for pardon from Thranduil and his Council, also.  You will have to go to Mirkwood."

In wordless dread Elrond stared at Glorfindel, for only in the hearing of those words did he at last come to comprehension of the inevitability of his disgrace.  The power to halt this lay not in his hands, but in those of the one elf he most despised.  The Lord of Imladris had the unpleasant realisation that he had given over control of the situation of his own free will the moment he had composed that expose of his brief affair with Legolas.  In blossoming panic he rejected this knowledge.

"I will not go to the Woodland Realm and stand before their Sinda Lord for punishment!  I am Thranduil's better in both lineage and character.  We must have the charges redressed in Lorien."

"That may not be possible," Glorfindel shook his head firmly.  "At any rate, it matters little in what location this remediation occurs.  It must be done and your remorse must be genuine."

"And if I endure this public humiliation and submit to whatever concession Thranduil requires, this will remedy my sullied character?"

"I believe so, given time, if it is honestly desired and you accept gracefully and contritely whatever penalties arise," encouraged Glorfindel, not quite certain if he did believe it, desperately hoping Elrond would not ask forgiveness from him, for he knew he could not grant it.  Not yet.  "Can you face these things in yourself and unburden your spirit from this affliction?  You must make the decision now; either withdraw your hand and dispose of those tokens or seek a remedy for this ill news without my counsel."    

Slowly Elrond withdrew his hand from the hidden pocket and held it between them as he forced his fingers to relinquish their steely grip, opening his palm to the darkening sky.  There resting upon the smooth, unlined skin of the healer's hand was the evidence that condemned him, reduced him to a gross caricature of the reputed honour and revered wisdom he had spent so many centuries acquiring.

Such small things to bear witness to so monumental a failure.  How did it come to this?

Yet he could not make himself toss the bits of stuff away, and shook with the effort not to curl his fingers back over the humble objects.  A strangled sob escaped him as Glorfindel snatched up the arrowhead and the lock of hair and with a shout of virulent fervour flung them into the foaming fury of the falls.

It took all his legendary strength of will and cool-headed resolve to prevent himself from sending the Lord of Imladris after them.  With a rough shove the Balrog Slayer directed Elrond to the pathway and they descended to meet with their councillors.

Half way down Glorfindel groaned aloud and came to a stand still as a most unpleasant idea formed in his brain.  Elrond turned a questioning expression upon him and waited.

"Elrond, has Galadriel attempted to reach you through Ósanwë-cento [mind-speak]?" he demanded.

"Nay.  Why?  I contacted her as soon as you told me about Elladan and Elrohir's journey; she will tell them I am here and safe when they arrive in Lorien even as she reassures me that they are unharmed."  He paused.  "She knows nothing of these events; I merely indicated I was detained and have at last returned."

"I see," You lied, in other words. "I am pleased she will ease the twins' worry but I am wondering now if she might have other news to share also."
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