Red Silk

"He mopped his face with a red silk handkerchief - no! not a single one of his own had survived, he had borrowed this one from Elrond - for now June had brought summer, and the weather was bright and hot again." ~ The Last Stage, The Hobbit


````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````


“If you’d be so kind Master Elrond sir, well, I haven't got a single intact handkerchief left...all lost on the road you see, snagged the first one on a tree running from the goblins, Master Gandalf used another to start a fire with...terrible business... I’d be much obliged if you can lend me one or two before we leave again...terrible hassle going without a handkerchief you know, it’s not decent...”


Elrond patiently smiled and nodded understandingly at the appropriate intervals as the Halfling ran off into another long tangent on the miseries of being handkerchief-less. At last, when he had fully expressed himself on the topic, Elrond rose and politely told the Halfling (or Hobbit as he often insisted to be called) he would have a look to see if he could spare a couple of his own.



It was well past midnight when the revelries in the Hall of Fire ceased and the elves retreated back to their respective quarters for the night. The moon splashed on the cold stone floor of Elrond’s chambers as he entered. Silently, he strolled past the dark rooms and into his bedchamber, sitting down on the sizeable bed, smoothing the bed covers. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he recalled the Halfling’s polite and rather longwinded request earlier and stood again, walking to his clothing chests in search of the required item.

For the Halfling, the request of a handkerchief might have been quite reasonably made, but the truth was that the neri of the Eldar are not accustomed to using handkerchiefs – they were purely feminine items carried only by the nessi. A splash of red silk nesting amongst the sea of solemn grays and browns caught Elrond’s attention as he rummaged. As he pulled it out, he thought he could hear the quiet chuckle of the memories that he released with it from under the heavy velvet.



“What. Is that.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow as the silver-haired maiden pulled a red silk handkerchief from her gown and taunted his face with it not a little seductively.
“Why milord, surely you are not so blind as to see that it is a handkerchief.” She said quite seriously, though the twinkle in her eyes told him otherwise.
“And what exactly do you intend to do with it meleth?” Elrond eyed the handkerchief suspiciously.
The elleth smiled and leant close to his ear, her silver hair falling in a curtain about his face as she leant over him.

He shivered as her warm breath caressed his ear.

“You’ll soon find out.”

Shortly after that, his vision was blocked out by a gentle hand pulling blood red silk over his eyes.




The memory faded as his eyes focused once more on the empty dark room before him. He turned the soft fabric over in his hands, its colour dulled in the darkness.
“Yes, this will do.” He said softly.

And as he carefully folded it up into a neat square, a rather unbecomingly wicked smile played on the corner of the mouth of the Lord of Rivendell.