Disclaimer: I do not own any of this, except Maeluiwen, in all her *ahem* 'ample' glory.

Elrond clasped his hands together, sitting at the head of the table wearing 'Thoughtful yet Stern Expression #43'.
"There was a time when I thought there could be no-one more unsuitable for my daughter than Estel. It appears I have been proved wrong."

Aragorn took a few seconds to work this one out. "Hey!"

"Shut up, Estel."

The future King of Gondor sulked. "I do not understand all of this. What could Maeluiwen offer Arwen that I can not?"

There was a snicker from the general direction of Glorfindel. Elrond and Aragorn both glared at him.

"What? It would be inappropriate for me to comment on Maeluiwen's more, ah, prominent assets. Or to refer to certain recent events, although I am sure that the naked frolicking in question was completely innocent."

"You're still having those woodcuts made up, right?" whispered Lindir, leaning over.


All eyes turned back to Elrond. If looks could kill, Glorfindel would have been Elf-Flavour Balrog Treats all over again. Aragorn was trying to imitate the Elven Death Glare, but due to lack of six thousand years or so of practice, just looked like he was squinting.

"If we could get back to the subject at hand, please." said Elrond. "It is necessary that we find something to keep Maeluiwen away from my daughter. There is only so long we can fob her off with Erestor, after all, even if we did get him to wear a dress."

From somewhere in Imladris came an ear-piercing scream. Several of those in the room winced.

"Bzzz. Time's up."

"Shut up, Glorfindel."

"We now have only one choice," continued Elrond, bravely ignoring the fact that his advisor and his foster child were making faces at each other across the table. "Maeluiwen must join the fellowship. Kick her down the first bottomless abyss you come to, if at all possible."

Aragorn nodded. "And if not, well, there's always my sword."
"Or my bow." added Legolas.
They turned to Gimli.

"Wait a minute! That Erestor-thing's male?"


Two delicate forms embraced upon a bridge, conveniently placed in front of a romantic waterfall. The one had hair like unto a raven waterfall, the other, flame-coloured curls streaked with silver to match her mithril-hued eyes.

"Do not weep, my fair one. For I go to save all Middle-earth, and I will return. And while I'm at it, I might even get Aragorn to take a bath."

"Your dangers will be many, but your cause is true. I would offer you this," Arwen held up the Evenstar "but I fear it does not match your outfit. Instead, perhaps a kiss would suffice?"

"Indeed," replied Maeluiwen, "But although I fear death not, I will admit to disliking splinters muchly. Perhaps we should move to somewhere more comfortable?"

Both gasped when, in the gardens of Imladris, there became apparent a space upon the soft grass, surrounded by hundreds of flickering candles. Arwen thought Maeluiwen had arranged it. Maeluiwen thought Arwen had arranged it.

The real culprit was currently wedged half-way up a tree clutching his sketchbook.
"About bloody time." he muttered. "I thought they'd never get off that bridge, and the light over there is terrible. But between the money I'll make off this, and the money I'll get from suing Arwen for stealing my horse, I should be able to get an early booking to Valinor. There's no way I'm sharing a boat with Elrond. I hear he gets sea-sick."

"Ah, Undomiel! Truly you are well named, for your beauty is more radiant than the stars themselves!"

"And you too, Maeluiwen, are well named, for…" Arwen giggled. "Well, you know, because."

They kissed, falling to the ground as they undressed each other. This was a rather noisy business, given Maeluiwen's penchant for mithril underwear, as well as her tendency to carry around more weaponry than an Uruk with 'size issues'.

Up in the tree, Glorfindel merrily sketched away, dreaming of his own house in Alqualondë, one with lots of soundproofing.

Right then, a lot of things happened at once.

From one side, Elrond strode in, yelling in Sindarin and waving Aeglos, retrieved specially from the Imladris armoury, in a vaguely threatening manner. Aragorn followed him, mostly yelling variants on 'Yeah! What he said!'.

From the other side, the hobbits, who had defied all efforts to keep them in their rooms and out of trouble, including but not limited to tying them up, locking them in the rooms, locking them in the rooms with large amounts of food, and drugging them, (Hey, this Elvish stuff's not bad! Doesn't compare to the Old Toby, but then again, what does?), had wandered in on this scene, proving once more the existence of their dual ability for A) Wrong Place, and B) Wrong Time. They mostly stared, although Merry had attempted to shield Pippin's eyes and got a kick in the ankle for his troubles.

Somewhere in Imladris, Erestor woke up screaming and had to be sedated. That really has no bearing on the plot whatsoever.

Then Legolas walked in, apparently trying to find out what all the noise was about. He was not wearing a shirt.

It was at this point that Lindir, having decided to climb up Glorfindel's tree to take a look at the draft sketches (really, he was getting a bit obsessed), and managed to snap the branch, causing two Elves to topple ungracefully into the middle of it all, pages of sketches flying everywhere.

One of them landed at Elrond's feet.

In a probably futile attempt to retain a little dignity, gentle reader, we shall pull a curtain over the remainder of this scene. Preferably one with lots of sound-proofing.

A/N: Legolas not wearing a shirt is from 'How to Write a Story Everyone Will Read ', by Artemis.