Interruptions and Consequences by Belladonna Poisoning

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Story notes: Can be read as a sequel to Swimming Lessons.

Disclaimer: Belongs to Tolkien, I don't own, you don't sue. The particular emphasis on 'consequences' is an idea I cannot claim; it comes from a wonderful book called "A Baroque Fable" by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro. Also, there's a line lifted from the movie Shrek. Extra brownie points to whoever catches it!


This little ficlet and its mate are the result of two extremely slash-deprived weeks out in the boonies, during which I went completely stark raving mad from withdrawal and HAD to write something. I guess vacation's good for SOMEthing... I almost wept when I got home, I was so relieved to see my computer. Thanks go to Simone, my faithful friend, who reads every darn fic I post and has to listen to the entire production process while I angst it out. I love you, Simone!
Glorfindel watched his colleague worriedly from beneath his ridiculously long lashes. Blessed-or perhaps cursed-with thick eyelashes that any maiden would kill to possess, he found it relatively easy to keep a close eye on Erestor while seeming to examine his own work.

Erestor was all of three seconds away from collapsing over his books. Glorfindel's lips twitched involuntarily as his friend's eyes drooped shut, then snapped open and blinked vigorously.

"Perhaps we might work better with a break for food?" Glorfindel suggested mildly.

Erestor glared.

"I merely wished to call to your attention that you have worked through both lunch and supper," he continued, unperturbed by his companion's unfriendly gaze.

"If you are hungry, by all means, feel free," he responded curtly. "I am not." Glorfindel shrugged and returned to scanning the document in front of him. It was written in Quenya, but Glorfindel was fluent in the old elvish tongue and had no difficulty in understanding it. As his grasp of the old language was less certain than the blond's, the dark-haired scholar had the more difficult task of translating and reading documents in all dialects of Dwarvish.

Every few minutes or so, Erestor would begin to nod, then shake himself awake once more. After the fifth repetition of this routine, Glorfindel again suggested than a meal might be welcome, this time remarking that a servant could easily bring up a platter of fruit or cheese to the library.

"I am not hungry," Erestor snapped. "If you wish to eat so badly then leave."

Glorfindel merely smiled serenely and continued working, musing as he did so that anyone else would have viewed Erestor's comment as a challenge, and remained whether he wished to or not. The blond, on the other hand, was accustomed to his colleague's working habits; Erestor was crabby because he had worked straight through three days and two nights, and appeared to intend to continue through this night as well. Normally nothing short of the arrival of all nine Nazgul would elicit more than a vague 'hmm' from the councilor once he was immersed in his research, but as sleep-deprived as he was, he would probably bite Glorfindel at his next interruption.

Naturally, Erestor would vehemently deny that his short temper was at all due to the fact that he had had no sleep in three days. If he bothered to make an excuse at all, it would be that Glorfindel had irritated him with his repeated, needless interruptions. The only way to force Erestor to give in to the need for rest would be to knock him unconscious, gag him, and tie him to a bed. And even then he would likely wriggle free and return to the library, muttering direly about interruptions and consequences.

Arwen, Elrond's youngest and most inquisitive child, poked her head through the door. Catching her eye, Glorfindel shook his head frantically. As fond as Erestor normally was of Elrond's children, Arwen would be unceremoniously booted out of the room with as much consideration as the scullery maid's brat if she dared to distract him. No one in his right mind interfered with Erestor when he ran short of sleep. It was tantamount to suicide.

Arwen shrugged helplessly at Glorfindel and entered as quietly as possible. She tiptoed to a bookshelf, removed a single volume, and exited as silently as she came. Glorfindel heaved an internal sigh of relief that her presence had gone unnoted, and she had escaped without the tongue-lashing Erestor would have unhesitatingly delivered had he noticed her. Elrond must have sent her in search of the book. He was the only person who had no fear of Erestor's exhausted, cranky wrath.

Although in Glorfindel's view Elrond might not work Erestor so hard if he realized what a nightmare the scholar became during long-term assignments. A diplomatic dispatch to Mirkwood, a seating plan for a formal banquet-those were the work of an hour at most for Erestor. Glorfindel would cheerfully admit that his friend was the most brilliant diplomat he had ever met. However, research....

Even Glorfindel cringed when Elrond gave Erestor research projects, and he was Erestor's closest friend, not to mention well-acquainted with the principles of self-defense. He was unlikely to be mauled for standing between Erestor and his bed. He truly pitied the servants who were forced to communicate with Erestor during his stints of self-enforced insomnia.

Not that Erestor was incapable of research, of course. He was as good at extracting information from books as he was at everything else. Unfortunately, he was also as single-minded at extracting information from books as he was at everything else. Which led to the problem of lack of sleep, which led to the general viciousness.

Erestor's head fell forward for the fifteenth time in as many minutes, and Glorfindel's self-control snapped. "Enough," he said, quietly but firmly, and shut his book with a heavy thump.

Erestor glanced up, startled out of his momentary doze. "What-" "Enough," he repeated, leaning over to close the book Erestor had been fitfully perusing. "You need sleep more than Elrond needs this research tonight."

"I will judge whether or not I need sleep," Erestor retorted indignantly, before letting out an undignified squawk as he found himself hauled out of his chair and tossed unceremoniously over Glorfindel's shoulder. Although he attempted to put up a fight, between his lack of energy and lack of muscles, not to mention sheer lack of weight, Glorfindel easily ignored his struggles and carried him, still kicking, out of the library and down the hall.

"Put-me-down!" Erestor snarled. "This is not dignified!"

Anyone they might have encountered during the short walk to Glorfindel's suite wisely chose to be elsewhere; no one wanted Erestor's revenge to worry about. The door firmly bolted, Glorfindel dumped his friend on the bed and fearlessly faced down his fulminating glare. "I'll get you back," he warned Glorfindel, the menace of the phrase somewhat ruined by the enormous yawn which escaped him before the last word was quite finished.

"I'm sure you will," his future victim agreed, clearly amused.

"After I sleep," he added, yawning again. Much to Glorfindel's bemusement, he proceeded to curl up into a ball and, to all appearances, fall fast asleep. Glorfindel shook his head and dropped onto the bed beside him, straightening his long limbs into a comfortable position. Just as his eyes began to glaze in reverie, Erestor struck.

Glorfindel let out a girlish shriek as he was tickled unmercifully. Both of his hands trapped in Erestor's left, he did the only thing he could to end the attack: he rolled on top of his assaulter and kissed him.

Erestor's hands fell limply by his sides. A few minutes later, he stopped participating, and Glorfindel opened his eyes to find that Erestor had slipped into reverie in mid-kiss.

He smiled, kissed Erestor's forehead, and curled his body around his lover's, to wait for morning and the completion of his revenge.
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