Erestor’s head hit his desk with a thud as the futility of what he had been asked to do overwhelmed him. For all that Elrond was a great ruler and had the gift of discernment and foresight, he could be rather obtuse at times. For over a century his youngest son had been in love with and bedding the prince of Mirkwood. Indeed, one would think that as Elrohir’s father, Elrond would have realized that his son only became animated when he was either enroute to Mirkwood or when Legolas was in residence in Imladris. Elrond, however, still remained in the dark.
When large hands settled on Erestor’s shoulders and began to knead the tense muscles, the advisor let out a groan of appreciation. He needed no sound or sight to know whose hands these were. “Glorfindel,” the dark haired councilor moaned as a particularly sore knot was worked out. “What are we going to do? This marriage idea of Elrond and Thranduil is bound to fail. Why can they not see what is before their eyes? If they want a union between their realms so badly, why not go with the obvious and choose Elrohir straight up?”
Glorfindel laughed, but it was a bitter laugh devoid of humor. “You have not been reading the missives closely have you, my love? They do not care about a union between the realms. What they want is grandchildren and Elrohir and Legolas cannot give them that as a couple. That is what this farce of a marriage idea is all about. Elrond is sitting in his office coming up with names as we are speaking. Last I heard, he had come up with Eustace, Stanley, Petunia, Dorkfish and Moe. We seriously need to get him out of his office and into contact with the real world more often if this is the best he can come up with.”
The blond general smiled at his mate as he felt the shoulders beneath his hands begin to tremble from the silent laughter.
“You lie,” Erestor garbled out as he lifted his head to peer at his lover. “No way would he ever name a grandchild, Dorkf..., never mind; he probably would in a fit of insanity. I tell you, he is getting worse with each year that Celebrian has been gone. We need to tie him up and put him on a ship so he can get laid and get over it. Thank the Valar we do not have that problem.”
The loud, gleeful laughter of the General filled the halls and several heads glanced in the door of the Chief Advisor’s office. “Fin, Tor, what has you in stitches?” a delicate, feminine voice asked gently, while her eldest brother stood leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
Seeing Arwen and Elladan had Erestor groaning again and dropping his much abused head upon the desktop with an audible thud yet again, then gesturing at the assorted wads of paper strewn across the normally immaculate office to give Arwen a clue.
Elladan reached down and picked up one crumpled ball nearly at his feet and gently opened it. He began to read. “What? No way! Are they insane?” he shouted, crumpling the paper and then beginning to shred it as well in his ire. “Does father have rocks in his head? What would make his think Wen would do that to Ro? I think I am going to go beat some sense into that think skull of a father, I am.”
Glorfindel reached out and grabbed Elladan by the shoulders and shook his head. “You know they do not want their fathers to know about them. You cannot say anything without speaking to your brother first. With him being in Lothlórien with Legolas at the moment, there is no way to do so. We just need to change your father’s mind without letting on why the union is a bad idea. What say you to all of this, Arwen?”
The young lady in question was still standing, staring at the paper she had rescued from the floor, her mouth gaping like a fish out of water. “He wants me to do what?” she screeched in a very un-Arwen like manner before tossing the balled up paper at the wall with a force that would have normally impressed the golden General, but since the paper went off its mark and smacked him on the shoulder, it merely caused a wince instead. “I think it is time for me to start cavorting with some of my lady friends instead of ogling the males. Maybe that will get him off of this kick and allow my beloved brother to rut in peace.”