Author's Note: I couldn't resist! This is the sequel, as the summary says, to 'Curse of the House of Elrond'. Therefore, this still continues with the themes of Slash and Mpreg. Elrond and child have just returned to Imladris and they have guests who want to meet the newest Peredhil.
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"Where is the child?"
Elrond contemplated saying he had dropped her out of the window, but Bronwe chose that time to cry at the top of her lungs. He winced and stood up, steadying himself with a discreet hand on his desk. Thranduil reluctantly made a silent offer to help, but Elrond waved him away impatiently.
He walked into the other room where she was being kept and took her away from the flustered wet nurse. He made a mental note to speak with her about her habit of panicking every time the baby cried. At this rate, she'd end up in the Halls of Healing before the month was out.
"Hush, iel nin," he whispered, rocking her carefully to sooth her cries, "Your grandfather will not appreciate such a sight of you. Come now. Nothing is so bad you need cry, is it? Hmmm?"
The child hiccupped and blinked blue eyes up at him. There was not a tear to be seen, much to Elrond's amusement. He waited another minute more, simply because he wanted to hold her, and then took her into his study. The wet nurse collapsed into her seat with a relieved sigh.
"Aha! The miracle child," Thranduil exclaimed, standing to take the child from the still fragile half-elf. "Sit, sit, Lord Elrond! Before you fall and my son blames me for it."
Elrond obligingly sat and hid a smile.
The golden-haired King of Mirkwood, held the child for a minute, looking from her to her father. "She has your hair," he grumbled.
"Yes," Elrond agreed, deliberately closing his ears to the note of disapproval, "And Legolas' eyes."
Thranduil 'hmmf'-ed deep in his throat and bounced the child on his arm. The corners of his mouth titled in a surprising smile as she gurgled up at him. For the most part she was quiet, and Legolas was worried sick because she had yet to shed a tear. But Elrond raised an eyebrow as the hitherto cold King of Mirkwood fell in love in an instant.
"She likes you," he observed softly, "She normally does not acknowledge those she is unfamiliar with."
"I suppose. It is probably because I remind her of her Ada."
Elrond took great acceptation to the theory that his daughter was so short- sighted. He opened his mouth to say something harsh and fitting when a hand landed on his shoulder. He started and stared behind to find Erestor there. The Steward gave him a warning look and he subsided, closing his mouth over the bitter words he had meant to utter.
"Ah, my Lord Steward," Thranduil said smoothly, "What think you of my granddaughter?"
Erestor smiled and looked to the child, who waved an ineffectual fist at him in greeting. "She is delightful," he answered truthfully.
"Fair words, Lord Erestor. It is no wonder Lord Elrond appoints you Chief Adviser; your skill with diplomacy must be a great relief to him."
Elrond sighed ruefully. So the insults were not going to stop, were they? But something else was interesting him at the moment, so he discarded his morbid reflections to observe the two cooing over his Bronwe. That Bronwe was charming was an understatement; she had already caught the hearts of her siblings and her parents and was now establishing her supremacy over the rest of the household with a dexterous little hand.
And why, he questioned himself silently, was Thranduil standing quite so close to his oh-so diplomatic Chief Adviser? Surely the room was big enough to eradicate that necessity?
Erestor, on the other hand, seemed not to notice. He smiled and commented in his typically dry tones, looking as aloof and reserved as he always did, making no move to do more than reply to Thranduil's comments and questions. The Lord of Imladris had seen this smooth act many times before when visiting dignitaries needed to be pampered into a good humour.
A light went on, grey eyes narrowed in sudden thought and then Elrond Half- Elven sat back and smirked gently up at the ceiling. Oh, how he had missed the peace and beauty of his Imladris! And clearly he was also overjoyed to return to the numerous little goings-on that occurred behind the flower encrusted public view.
"My Lord?" broke into his thoughts just as he began to drift away on a sunbeam.
"Yes?" he asked, straightening up and looking to Erestor with an innocent face.
Erestor knew that face and was instantly suspicious. "I asked if I could speak to you in private for a few minutes."
"Of course," Elrond agreed sweetly, struggling back to his feet and wincing as the stitches pulled rather brutally. He hurriedly sat back down. "Perhaps, King Thranduil, you would prefer to take Bronwe out for a walk?"
The King shrugged. "As you prefer, Lord Elrond. I will bring her back in one hour."
"Thank you." They waited until Thranduil had left before Elrond gestures Erestor to take a seat. It was most provoking but none of his old friends would sit until he asked them to; and that was after centuries of helping him govern this valley! "Was there something wrong?"
"Estel has returned and brings news of trolls in the western provinces."
"But they have been there for years," Elrond frowned, "Unless we were to start warring with them, there is nothing much we can do about that."
"Yes, Elrond, but they are not containing themselves in the western provinces as before. Estel says a village had been attacked."
Ah yes... what had he been saying about the peace of Imladris again? "Tell Glorfindel and ask him to return here to discuss sending guards to drive them back to their caves. And ask Estel to return with you as well; I need to question him further. Or no! Send Aragorn and Glorfindel and you, if you please, can keep Thranduil occupied and away from me."
"Very well, if you think it necessary. I can't think why, but... oh, and Elrond? The young Prince will not be happy to know you are working again," Erestor smiled, rising gracefully in his plain black robes, "I would exaggerate the danger if I were you."
"No, you would not," Elrond retorted, "because then the young Prince would assign himself to the guards who are to go and will likely get himself hit in the head and killed if you did. And do not think to tease me because then I will stand and- and... do something drastic to you."
"And break the stitches?" Erestor raised a mock severe eyebrow, "That would be dangerous indeed! For not only would Legolas be angered, but Elladan and Elrohir will tie you to a bed and Arwen will scold. And I shudder to imagine Glorfindel's reaction. And, of course, there's your healer who has warned you thrice this week of doing exactly that and..."
"Erestor?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"You are very close to being banished."
"Of course, my Lord. Should I tell Glorfindel?"
"Yes! And Aragorn!"
"Yes, my Lord. And King Thranduil?"
"Erestor! We've been over this!"
"I apologize, my Lord. It was the shock of being banished."
Elrond collapsed into his chair and contemplated screaming or crying. Only Erestor, he despaired, and the steward could just wait until he was strong enough to do something about it!
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"Where is the child?"
Elrond contemplated saying he had dropped her out of the window, but Bronwe chose that time to cry at the top of her lungs. He winced and stood up, steadying himself with a discreet hand on his desk. Thranduil reluctantly made a silent offer to help, but Elrond waved him away impatiently.
He walked into the other room where she was being kept and took her away from the flustered wet nurse. He made a mental note to speak with her about her habit of panicking every time the baby cried. At this rate, she'd end up in the Halls of Healing before the month was out.
"Hush, iel nin," he whispered, rocking her carefully to sooth her cries, "Your grandfather will not appreciate such a sight of you. Come now. Nothing is so bad you need cry, is it? Hmmm?"
The child hiccupped and blinked blue eyes up at him. There was not a tear to be seen, much to Elrond's amusement. He waited another minute more, simply because he wanted to hold her, and then took her into his study. The wet nurse collapsed into her seat with a relieved sigh.
"Aha! The miracle child," Thranduil exclaimed, standing to take the child from the still fragile half-elf. "Sit, sit, Lord Elrond! Before you fall and my son blames me for it."
Elrond obligingly sat and hid a smile.
The golden-haired King of Mirkwood, held the child for a minute, looking from her to her father. "She has your hair," he grumbled.
"Yes," Elrond agreed, deliberately closing his ears to the note of disapproval, "And Legolas' eyes."
Thranduil 'hmmf'-ed deep in his throat and bounced the child on his arm. The corners of his mouth titled in a surprising smile as she gurgled up at him. For the most part she was quiet, and Legolas was worried sick because she had yet to shed a tear. But Elrond raised an eyebrow as the hitherto cold King of Mirkwood fell in love in an instant.
"She likes you," he observed softly, "She normally does not acknowledge those she is unfamiliar with."
"I suppose. It is probably because I remind her of her Ada."
Elrond took great acceptation to the theory that his daughter was so short- sighted. He opened his mouth to say something harsh and fitting when a hand landed on his shoulder. He started and stared behind to find Erestor there. The Steward gave him a warning look and he subsided, closing his mouth over the bitter words he had meant to utter.
"Ah, my Lord Steward," Thranduil said smoothly, "What think you of my granddaughter?"
Erestor smiled and looked to the child, who waved an ineffectual fist at him in greeting. "She is delightful," he answered truthfully.
"Fair words, Lord Erestor. It is no wonder Lord Elrond appoints you Chief Adviser; your skill with diplomacy must be a great relief to him."
Elrond sighed ruefully. So the insults were not going to stop, were they? But something else was interesting him at the moment, so he discarded his morbid reflections to observe the two cooing over his Bronwe. That Bronwe was charming was an understatement; she had already caught the hearts of her siblings and her parents and was now establishing her supremacy over the rest of the household with a dexterous little hand.
And why, he questioned himself silently, was Thranduil standing quite so close to his oh-so diplomatic Chief Adviser? Surely the room was big enough to eradicate that necessity?
Erestor, on the other hand, seemed not to notice. He smiled and commented in his typically dry tones, looking as aloof and reserved as he always did, making no move to do more than reply to Thranduil's comments and questions. The Lord of Imladris had seen this smooth act many times before when visiting dignitaries needed to be pampered into a good humour.
A light went on, grey eyes narrowed in sudden thought and then Elrond Half- Elven sat back and smirked gently up at the ceiling. Oh, how he had missed the peace and beauty of his Imladris! And clearly he was also overjoyed to return to the numerous little goings-on that occurred behind the flower encrusted public view.
"My Lord?" broke into his thoughts just as he began to drift away on a sunbeam.
"Yes?" he asked, straightening up and looking to Erestor with an innocent face.
Erestor knew that face and was instantly suspicious. "I asked if I could speak to you in private for a few minutes."
"Of course," Elrond agreed sweetly, struggling back to his feet and wincing as the stitches pulled rather brutally. He hurriedly sat back down. "Perhaps, King Thranduil, you would prefer to take Bronwe out for a walk?"
The King shrugged. "As you prefer, Lord Elrond. I will bring her back in one hour."
"Thank you." They waited until Thranduil had left before Elrond gestures Erestor to take a seat. It was most provoking but none of his old friends would sit until he asked them to; and that was after centuries of helping him govern this valley! "Was there something wrong?"
"Estel has returned and brings news of trolls in the western provinces."
"But they have been there for years," Elrond frowned, "Unless we were to start warring with them, there is nothing much we can do about that."
"Yes, Elrond, but they are not containing themselves in the western provinces as before. Estel says a village had been attacked."
Ah yes... what had he been saying about the peace of Imladris again? "Tell Glorfindel and ask him to return here to discuss sending guards to drive them back to their caves. And ask Estel to return with you as well; I need to question him further. Or no! Send Aragorn and Glorfindel and you, if you please, can keep Thranduil occupied and away from me."
"Very well, if you think it necessary. I can't think why, but... oh, and Elrond? The young Prince will not be happy to know you are working again," Erestor smiled, rising gracefully in his plain black robes, "I would exaggerate the danger if I were you."
"No, you would not," Elrond retorted, "because then the young Prince would assign himself to the guards who are to go and will likely get himself hit in the head and killed if you did. And do not think to tease me because then I will stand and- and... do something drastic to you."
"And break the stitches?" Erestor raised a mock severe eyebrow, "That would be dangerous indeed! For not only would Legolas be angered, but Elladan and Elrohir will tie you to a bed and Arwen will scold. And I shudder to imagine Glorfindel's reaction. And, of course, there's your healer who has warned you thrice this week of doing exactly that and..."
"Erestor?"
"Yes, my Lord?"
"You are very close to being banished."
"Of course, my Lord. Should I tell Glorfindel?"
"Yes! And Aragorn!"
"Yes, my Lord. And King Thranduil?"
"Erestor! We've been over this!"
"I apologize, my Lord. It was the shock of being banished."
Elrond collapsed into his chair and contemplated screaming or crying. Only Erestor, he despaired, and the steward could just wait until he was strong enough to do something about it!