Stranger in a Strange Land. by Cheeky

Chapter 5

Galadriel was a cooking demon. Flour, sugar and butter flew around the kitchen at high speed. Erestor was amazed. It had been so long since he had seen her like this he had completely forgotten she had it in her.      "What are you making?" He asked nervously deftly dodging some baking power as he did.       Galadriel looked up from her work with what could only be described as a grin. She had a smudge of flour on her nose and her hair was all over the place. She looked young and mischievous and Erestor felt oddly disorientated.       "Scones!" She exclaimed, "Fast and comforting. Don't you remember our picnics in Tirion, Erestor? I used to make scones then. Glorfindel will love them."       He did remember those but Galadriel had transformed herself so much since those days he hardly believed she still had it in her.        "Cheese?" He asked, "Those were my favourite."       She paused for thought.   "What was Glorfindel's favourite?"       "Ah he had refined taste. Cream and jam for him."       "Then cream and jam it is!" She really did seen to be enjoying herself, and Erestor was briefly crestfallen at the thought of no cheese scones. He was pretty sure he wouldn't see Galadriel making scones again on this side of the sea.  
  His mouth watered as the delicious aroma wafted towards him from the tray of freshly baked scones Galadriel carried back down the corridor to Glorfindel's room. He began to daydream about the taste of them melting in his mouth. They paused outside the door and Galadriel looked him up and down.  
  "For goodness sake Erestor. Go and get some trousers on. It will make Glorfindel happy to see you as you were and he is right. This fashion for robes is ridiculous."  
  "Celeborn wears them!" He felt quite defensive all of a sudden. Why all this ridiculing his dress sense?  
  "And I have told him he looks ridiculous as well."   Galadriel turned her back to him and he knew he had been dismissed. The lure of the scones proved too much, he knew he was only going to get some if he did as he was told so he trudged away to hunt for some trousers.  
  It took him longer than he thought, he ransacked his wardrobe searching for trousers....any trousers....... Glorfindel had taken ownership of his hunting gear and there was very little else to be found. What would he do? The scones would be disappearing into Glorfindels stomach as he wasted time finding suitable clothing.   
  Finally he found some right at the back of the wardrobe. An outfit he kept for sentimental reasons and never wore. He gazed at it in contemplation. Well if Galadriel wanted him to look as he used to this would do the trick. It dated from the days of Maglor, that should be early enough for her.  
  To his great surprise when he struggled into it he found it was a very tight fit, in fact  positively uncomfortable. Had he put on weight since the early days? Too many curries? He had to do something about this. When he eventually went searching for Maglor he did not want him to think he had let himself go.   
  The walk back to Glorfindel's room was rather difficult. He found he could not bend his legs properly and holding in his stomach was proving to be not that easy.  When he reached Glorfindel's door and cautiously placed his ear against it all he heard was peels of laughter, Well that was an improvement from sobbing he supposed.        Gently he pushed open the door and the sight before him was rather astonishing. Galadriel and Glorfindel were both seated on the floor surronded by crumbs and the remnants of the scones. He noted with extreme regret there seemed to be none left at all, and then he realised the both of them were very, very drunk. He stood awkwardly not knowing quite what to do.       "Erestor!" Glorfindel cried when he spied him, "Come here and sit down. Have a drink," he held out a large half empty bottle of wine. "Galadriel has bought some vintage wine, It is delicious. You are sure to love it."        Erestor sidled cautiously across the room. He could not sit down, he was terrified of what might happen to his trousers if he did so instead he leaned nonchalantly against the wall, (well he hoped he appeared nonchalant and not just incredibly uncomfortable.)       Glorfindel handed him a glass of the wine.   "We have had the most wonderful scones. So much better than that muck Elrond keeps feeding me!"    Glorfindel was the most animated he had seen him since his arrival. Briefly he felt ashamed that Galadriel had cheered him up so easily when he had not even given it a thought.       "Artanis was just filling me in on some of the changes."        "Was she?" Erestor looked at her questioningly,        "Yes, keep going Artanis, tell me about this Gil-Galad. They have told me he is Fingon's son? I never knew Fingon even had a son, how did that happen? What about Maedhros?"        "Ah," Galadriel had the grace to look slightly sheepish, "Well perhaps not Fingon's son, maybe he is Orodreth's. We are uncertain....."       "He is High King! How can you not know whose son he is? That makes no sense! Surely you know if he is Orodreth's, you own brother how could you not?"       "Well..."        Erestor smiled to himself. Galadriel looked incredibly uncomfortable and it was sight they did not see very often, if at all.       "Well Cirdan produced him after Turgon died, and he does such a good job, why question it?"        Glorfindel frowned,   "That's just not right. You can't take a random elf whose parentage nobody knows and make him high king. Surely you should have been queen, that would have been better.....or what about Gildor?"       "Nobody knows about Gildor, Glorfindel. You know that!"    Erestor couldn't help himself and joined in the conversation.       "Nobody admits to knowing of course, but we all DO know he is Finrod's, surely he has a better claim than this.....fatherless Gil-Galad?"       "Look Glorfindel, it is like this." Galadriel took a breath, "It became obvious that being High King meant you suddenly had a very short shelf life. Think about it, Feanor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Turgon, they are all dead! Why would I want to take that on? Why would Gildor? Neither of us wanted a bar of it so Cirdan went out and found Gil-Galad. It suits us all. If people are foolish enough to believe he could possibly be Fingon's who are we to argue?"       Glorfindel was astonished.       "You mean he is not even remotely Finweian and yet you are quite happy to hand him all the power?"       "If it saves me from a messy death by Balrog then yes. Surely you of all people understand that! Anyway who knows what Fingon got up to, he wasn't with Maedhros every single second of the day!"       Galadriel took another large swig from her glass and smiled.       "Anyway enough about Gil-Galad. He is proving to be most competent and what more could we ask for. Why don't we talk about something else? How about crossing the Helcaraxe, I haven't thought of that for years, do you remember?"       At that Erestor shrunk back against the wall, Why on earth did she want to talk about that? Didn't the pair of them just want to forget it. He glanced nervously at Glorfindel. It was the one thing the two of them never ever mentioned. After all he had sailed across in the boats with the rest of Feanor's people while Glorfindel had been forced to cross the ice. They had a mutual agreement never to raise the subject.       He began to feel very,very nervous.    He did not think this conversation would end well at all.       ..........................................................................................               Elrond strolled down the hall feeling perplexed and rather insecure. He wasn't at all used to feeling insecure especially in his own domain. Glorfindel's comments had completely thrown him. Did he really look like Turgon? He would rather look like one of his more.....exciting relatives. He had just come from hours spent rearranging his hair and the results were less than stellar. He desperately needed someone to give him some advice.       As luck would have it he turned a corner and there was Celebrian coming down the hall towards him. She would know how to sort out this problem! However much to his disappointment she was rather distracted by something else.       "Elrond!"   At least she seemed pleased to see him he thought.       "I have been looking for you everywhere..." She paused for a brief moment. "Whatever have you done to your hair?"        "Ah, I was hoping you could help me with that. I just......fancied a change of image, do you like it?"        "It is.........different." She seemed less than impressed.       "Anyway,"she continued, apparently dismissing his request for help.   "You must come quickly. Something is seriously wrong with my mother."       He was startled. What problems was Galadriel causing now?       "What do you mean, she seemed quite well when I saw her last."       Celebrian leaned towards him and whispered under her breath.       "She has been drinking. Come and see."        She led him out to the balcony and when he looked down he saw immediately what the problem was. There below him in the fountain in the courtyard were Galadriel and Glorfindel, the both of them soaking wet and shouting loudly in ancient Quenya which he struggled to understand. Erestor was there too dangling from the statue in the middle waving his sword wildly and wearing a rather archaic set of trousers.        "What on earth are they doing?" He exclaimed       Celebrian sighed loudly.       "She told me they were re-enacting crossing the Helcaraxe."       Elrond was confused.       "But.......there is no ice there.....only water."       "The next best thing, she said."        "Hang on!" A thought had just come to him. "Erestor wasn't even there. He came on the boats!"       Celebrian rolled her eyes.   "They have given him an honorary part. He is Fingolfin apparently, on account of his dark hair. Elrond, you have to put a stop to this. It is so embarrassing."        This was just great, Elrond thought to himself. Just what he needed, trying to deal with a drunk Galadriel, still what choice did he have. Reluctantly he trooped down the stairs and out into the courtyard.       "Galadriel," he called, "I need you to stop this....it is not very seemly."       He was met with a deluge of shouting.       "There he is!" cried Erestor from his perch on the statue. " look it is Feanor come to gloat! After him!"        "Erestor, it is me. Elrond!" He cried.       Much to his despair Galadriel and Glorfindel joined in the shouting.    "Down with Feanor!"    The two of them started to stagger out of the water in his direction. Erestor stumbling after them once he had clamboured down to the ground.    He did not like the way Erestor was waving that sword around one little bit.       He tried again to regain some semblance of control.       "Stop this. You are making a spectacle of yourselves! I command you Erestor!....."      
The shouts grew louder as the three elves made their way towards him.

"You do not command me. I am
Fingolfin, I am the High King!" Erestor cried.

"And we know who his father is!" Glorfindel joined in.

"After him! We will get our revenge. He abandoned us to the ice." Erestor was getting nearer and his sword looked to be very very sharp.

"I am not Feanor! I am Elrond!"

Elrond found himself feeling rather anxious, why would they not stop? He took one last look at the three of them, completely wet and obviously crazy and decided discretion to be the better part of valour.

Then he turned and ran.