"Halt! Who goes there?"
The tall Elf in Lorien grey and black swiftly dismounted, bowing to the unseen sentries hidden amongst the drab winter foliage. "I am Haldir of the Golden Wood."
"Haldir!" came the reply, a dark-haired Elf dropping from the trees. "Welcome to Imladris; you are expected! I am Calanna." The young, dark-haired sentry bowed and she signaled to others that Haldir could not see. "It is my honor to escort you to the House."
"I thank you, Calanna."
A nimble horse – bright white with greying mane and tail – pranced from the brush and Calanna leapt upon her. Haldir remounted and the two Elves swiftly took to the path hidden to all but Elven eyes.
"Ah, here he is at last. I thought you never would make it, Haldir."
"Glorfindel!" Haldir crowed, practically falling from the mottled stallion in his haste, his feet hitting the well-cobbled courtyard of Imladris.
The two blonde-haired warriors embraced tightly, Glorfindel landing a kiss on his comrade's cheek. "It is good to see you, my friend," he confided in a whisper.
Haldir stepped back, a look of chagrin on a typically proud face. "You were right; Imladris is fair beyond imagining..."
"But you cannot in good conscience leave your post; I know this. I was most astonished at your message; how then came you to be here?"
The Lorien Elf looked away and absently rubbed the back of his neck in a most uncharacteristic gesture. "Well, my Lady suggested a holiday..."
Glorfindel grabbed his shoulders and eyed him speculatively. "Haldir, what did you do?"
"Nothing!" he said quickly.
Glorfindel glared, hands on hips as stood there in the wintering courtyard bedecked in the reds and browns and golds of Imladris.
"Well, it was hardly my fault," Haldir started. "T'was my brothers began it."
"Began what?"
Haldir mumbled something unintelligibly.
"What was that?"
"Ah, something to do with the Old Running tradition," Haldir murmured.
For a moment, Glorfindel merely stared. Then he stepped back, clutching his stomach and howling with laughter. "Haldir! I didn't know you had it in you!"
"I was drunk," he whined defensively, crossing his arms with a terribly injured expression.
Glorfindel could only laugh.
"And these are the libraries," Glorfindel spoke quietly as they entered the huge, airy room where shafts of golden sunlight illuminated the swirling dust motes and row upon row of shelves upon shelves of books. Rough, ragged books bound in strips of leather sat agreeably beside finely crafted journals of fine spun silk. Fragile scrolls in satin ribbons were corralled in many glass shelves behind mithril locks. Rarely used references glared down from their high spaces in the walls, accessible only by the spindly ladders that rolled gracefully along. A maze of bookcases wound through the cathedral-like room in a seeming mishmash of corners and angles where a few Elves wandered with or without purpose among them, some glancing around the titles and others toting piles of texts in their robed arms. The windows along the south wall were shaped like huge leaves sheltering the room and were open to the little wintery breeze that drifted in. The ceiling overhanging all this was a work of art unto itself, dark wood arches curving high overhead in miraculous carvings like branched trees arcing over a clearing.
A comfortable silence embraced the place like a warm blanket in winter, disturbed only by the turning of a page or soft thump of a book, a muffled whisper or a song from a trespassing bird that hung about the rafters.
"Impressive," Haldir admitted in a slightly awed tone. "If I had any great love of books, I do believe I could spend all my waking hours here and never tire."
Glorfindel nodded. "If that were the case, you would get on more than admirably with this old rascal," he said, snagging the thin black braid of a passing Elf. "Erestor, this is my old friend, Haldir."
The dark Elf closed the bedraggled book he'd had his elegant nose buried in and blinked for a moment before dragging himself into the world of reality. Erestor glared a moment, yanking his hair from Glorfindel's sneaky grasp before turning to the newcomer. "Ah, Haldir," he murmured with a deep bow. "It is an honor and my great pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Haldir nodded in return. "Chief Counselor."
Glorfindel lightly slapped the back of Erestor's head when he rose from his obeisance, dark robes gathering around him like a shroud. "Erestor. You are far too formal. Haldir is my good friend and so he shall be to you."
Erestor growled lowly at Glorfindel and then eyed the flaxen haired stranger doubtfully.
Haldir's hazel gaze was true and free of guile. "It would give me great delight to call you such, Erestor."
Dark eyes, almost black, were still suspicious. "Hm," he huffed skeptically before stalking away into the stacks, black robes slithering along behind him.
The two Elves watched his departure with raised eyebrows. "That is Erestor," Glorfindel said simply.
"He is just as you described him."
Glorfindel pushed aside a beautifully woven tapestry depicting a many-leafed forest to reveal a hidden doorway in the high wainscoted wall. He grinned. "This is the fastest way to the kitchens from your guest room."
They made swift passage through the narrow, windowless corridor full of darkness to come out in a wide, open hallway full of Elves bustling about. A series of windows facing south let in the gay yellow light of the sun to shine on the scrubbed wooden floor and pleasantly cheery yellow walls of the place, always decorated by bits of art or shelving or this and that. The Elves themselves carried baskets of laundry and trays of food, buckets of water and baskets of fresh fruit. Some were messengers, very young, who ran past with barely any heed to those they disrupted with their hasty flight.
No one batted an eye at the passing of two beautiful Elves as Glorfindel led the way along the long hall to the very end where the low-ceilinged kitchens were alive with the scents of bread and meat and with the hurried labor of many busy Elves. "Mmm, dinner smells especially delicious tonight," Glorfindel told a passing maiden whose sleeves were rolled up past the elbow and whose apron and dark hair were spattered with flour.
She grinned and nodded at him. "Well, thank you very much Glorfindel; it would be all the better if you weren't pestering us every hour of every day," she said cheekily with a wink and took up a great wooden spoon to attack the huge cauldron before her.
"Isn't that the truth," said a passing Elf who was loaded down with carrots.
"Lindir," Glorfindel exclaimed. "You work in the kitchens today?"
"Nay, but I knew they needed an extra hand," the pale-haired bard shrugged as best he could with an armful of vegetables.
"Ah," Haldir interrupted, "You are Lindir of Imladris? The Chief Minstrel?"
"Yes, yes I am," he replied.
Haldir bowed respectfully. "I am Haldir of Lorien. I have heard much of you and your talents and look forward to hearing you play and sing in the great Hall of Fire."
Lindir seemed somewhat taken aback. "Uh, thank you. I have heard much of you as well, from this scoundrel." He nodded at Glorfindel with a friendly smirk. "It is a pleasure. And if you both are seeking the illusive Lord, he's back there," he indicated the rear of the kitchens with a nod and continued on his way.
"Ah, so that's where he's been hiding," Glorfindel grinned maliciously and pulled Haldir through the crowd in the kitchen to a small table in a back corner where a beautiful dark-haired Elf held his head in one hand and a well-crafted clay mug of something steaming in the other. He was clad in a neutral grey robe, as if he could blend into the background, and his hair was loose.
"Lord Elrond!" Glorfindel chortled as loud as he could manage, slapping the Lord on the back. "What are you hiding from back here, you old dog?"
Bleary grey eyes glared up at him.
"Ah," Glorfindel delightfully exclaimed, "but you cannot hide from a hangover." If possible, his grin widened as he confided to his newly arrived friend in nothing resembling a whisper, "It's the Man-blood in him you know; he can drink any of us under the table, but he pays for it the next day." He turned again to Elrond to shout, "Isn't that right, my Lord?!"
"Glorfindel," came the anticipated growl. The golden Elf waited expectantly. "Your words are crude and my temper short this horrible, horrible morning." Glorfindel watched with excitement and rocked on the balls of his feet as Elrond slowly rose to tower over both of them. "If you can do no better than taunt and insult me before my staff, my family, and my guests, than I suggest to take yourself out to the stables where you belong and converse with the beasts that best understand you."
"The pigs?" Glorfindel asked curiously.
"The hens," Elrond corrected in a rumble. "You are no better than a clucking chicken, Glorfindel, pecking about the kitchens for any scrap of food and fluttering about the court squawking your gossip and everyday prattle like so much useless fluff and fowl."
The Lord finished his speech with a raised eyebrow and turned to Haldir. Immediately, his eyes cleared and his expression was honest and welcoming. "I am in no fit state to greet guests," he sorrowfully admitted. "But all the same it is an honor to have you here, Haldir of Lorien."
"I am the one honored, my Lord," Haldir said with a bow. "All your lands are beautiful, all your House enchanting, and all your people welcoming."
"Kind words," Elrond acknowledged. "It is good to see you again, Haldir," he said, dropping formality and taking him in a light embrace, willingly returned. "And after I recover," the Lord said with a rueful smile, stepping back, "we shall feast."
The wine flowed freely that evening as the Elves merrily gathered in the great dining hall after sunset. The long fireplace – the mantle overhung with evergreen sprigs and scraps of bright cloth – roared in the wintertime and the rest of the room was fairly filled with brass candelabras, wooden chandeliers, and glass candleholders. The tables were covered with clothes of deep green linen or spotless white satin. The silver twinkled like burnished starlight in the candle's illumination and the goblets flashed brilliantly as they were waved about in long-fingered hands.
Haldir was pleased to greet Arwen again, as he had met her many times on her forays to the Golden Wood. The twins were not at home, as was not unusual, but still the House was filled with an exuberant joy and free laughter.
Haldir sat to the left of Glorfindel, who sat to the left of Lord Elrond. Arwen was placed beside her father, and Erestor beside her. Lindir and Erestor were engaged in some serious, low-voiced discussion as Glorfindel gleefully informed his Lord and the Lady Arwen of Haldir's sudden appearance.
"The Old Running?!" Elrond exclaimed with some surprise. "Haldir, I didn't know you had it in you!"
Haldir tried to hide behind the fall of gold hair, but his blush was still quite evident.
Arwen perked up with interest. "What is this old tradition? I am not familiar with it."
Glorfindel's wicked grin turned on her as Haldir seemed to slip downward in his seat. "Ah, the Old Running! This dates back to the old Yule feasts when Kings dared their nobles to brave the winter weather in only what the Valar blessed them with at birth. Can you imagine, all these Lords and Ladies running through the streets, their hair streaming gold and silver and black and brown behind them through the snow!"
"Haldir!" Arwen accused. "What on Middle Earth did you do?!"
"It was Yule. I was drunk."
"And naked," Glorfindel added.
Haldir's head fell into his hand with a groan. "Rumil started it."
The Hall of Fire was filled with wine and merriment after the late dinner. The moon outside was full and the fire inside was blazing high as the somewhat rowdy crowd begged another song of Lindir.
Haldir, still in his Lorien colors, and Glorfindel, in Imladris red and gold robes, joined the chorus of, "One more, Lindir! One more song!"
The minstrel, more sober than the lot of them, waved them to quiet and again took up his harp, smiling joyfully as he did so. Various requests were thrown out to him and he argued amiably back and forth with the masses, long bell-sleeves flapping as he did so, the green of his robes highlighting his leaf-colored eyes.
Haldir watched with interest as Lindir turned suddenly to a shadowy corner where a dark figure in somber robes stood, a glass of something blood-colored in a graceful hand.
The hall grew silent as Lindir addressed him. "And what would you hear, Counselor Erestor?"
The Elf shuffled, almost seeming to slip further back into the shadows behind the pillar at finding himself the center of attention. His voice was low and quiet, but his words still easily heard in the Hall of Fire. "How many times must I tell you, Lindir, that 'Erestor' will suffice?" His sigh was almost audible.
The bard laughed, a merry sound. "As many as it takes to sink into my failing memory, Counselor!" he said with a laugh.
Erestor could be seen to shake his head at the minstrel's antics as others laughed at the familiar exchange.
Lindir continued to play the crowd until he finally set fingers to strings, and the Hall quieted at once as his enthralling voice filled the smoky air.
"This one again," Glorfindel shook his head.
"Beren and Luthien?" Haldir asked. "Tis a lovely ballad; why do you grumble so?"
Glorfindel sighed. "He sings it overmuch." But then he smiled, "Though I do not tire of his voice."
Haldir raised an intrigued brow at his friend's statement and then closed his bright eyes to listen to the ancient tune, artfully sung.
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Story notes: WARNING: Movie canon (character death implied.)
The first song Lindir sings is one of my own. The second that he sings, however, is slightly adapted from 'This Piece of Earth' as performed by West of Eden.
DEDICATION: For Dayast Joy and for Sally; you girls rock!
