A bit of mischief by daughterofshadows

He hasn’t done this since he was a small boy, still debating whether staying or leaving the Fëanorian camp was more dangerous.

But Celebrían reignites the spark in his heart that delights in mischief and when she asks him to sneak out at night and meet her on the rooftop of the palace, he cannot deny her wish.

Elrond is grateful for whatever being that decided peredhil should follow their elven ancestors when it came to wings, for his climbing prowess is not what it had been in his youth.

Instead, he gently lands on the rooftop, where Celebrían’s bright smile greets him, her silver wings shimmering in the moonlight.

“You made it!” she says, clearly delighted.

She tugs him down beside her, and their wings brush. The touch, no matter how brief, sends tingles down his spine.

It is not appropriate to touch another’s wings, unless you are family or lovers, and even then, it was rarely done. For the longest time, Elros was the only one who touched Elrond’s wings.

Celebrían holds no such reservations. Oh, she would never touch his wings with her hands, she does not flaunt her disregard for the conventions of polite society quite so blatantly. Celebrían pays little attention to the placement of her own wings when she is near him. Where most elves are desperately careful not to invade each other’s space, to maintain a polite distance at all times, Celebrían is willing to close that distance, to risk their wings touching. And the worst of all is, Elrond cannot even find it in himself to mind.

He smiles at her. “So I have, my lady. May I ask why you chose this of all places for our meeting? Surely, one of the balconies would have done just as well, if you desired to be above the ground.”

Celebrían’s eyes twinkled and she grinned. “Ah, but a bit of mischief every now and then is good for the soul, don’t you think? And besides, the stars don’t look the same if you stare up at them from a balcony.”

Elrond hums and looks up to the glittering firmament. The even-star has already passed out of sight, but a waxing moon is still high in the sky.

“I wonder whether it would help our negotiations if we forced all the council members to sneak onto rooftops once a month. They could all need a bit of mischief in their lives and perhaps then they would be less likely to argue quite so much.” Elrond glances over at Celebrían. A satisfied smile spreads across his face when she giggles at the thought.

“I can barely imagine the king sneaking out onto rooftops, let alone the rest of the council,” she gasps between peals of laughter.

Elrond shrugs. “Gil-Galad would be the easiest to convince I am certain. No, don’t give me that look,” he says when he sees Celebrían’s sceptically raised eyebrow, “the king really isn’t as intimidating as you think him to be. He would delight in a bit of mischief. Councillor Elenvedli on the other hand… Now there is someone you couldn’t get onto a roof even if you tried to drag them.”

“They are a bit too big to be dragged, it’s true,” Celebrían agrees, desperately trying to keep a straight face, but the giggles spill forth again and then Elrond is laughing, too.

That night, Elrond falls asleep on Celebrían’s shoulder and she holds him until morning.

“We should do this again, sometime,” she says, when the first fingers of dawn creep over the horizon, and she has waved off Elrond’s spluttering apologies for falling asleep.

“Though perhaps I will pick a roof without a chimney for our next outing. The smell of smoke is rather… intense. Perhaps a bath is in order before we start the day.”

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