Chapter Text
On a pleasant afternoon in ethuil, a blond elf with a soldier’s bearing made his way out of the Last Homely House, following a merrily murmuring brook up into one of the smaller side valleys. Further up, the brook entered a copse, and the elf slipped in-between the dense greenery, soon reaching a small clearing with an even smaller pond. The pond was his destination today, and he started to hum a merry melody in anticipation.
It was rare that the Captain of Imladris found himself with some free time during the day, and he had decided to make the most of it, and try out his new implement.
Glorfindel loved to fly-fish, but much to his surprise, this particular variety of angling was not common in his new home, so in order to pursue his favourite pastime, he had first needed to manufacture a suitable fishing rod. Over the winter, he had worked with an archer for the rod itself, a spinner for just the perfect line, and one of the tool-smiths to make the delicate hooks this technique required. Good relations with the hunters had provided him with all the different kinds of feathers he could want, and many a blissful hour had been spent since fashioning the delicate artificial flies he would use as lures.
And now, finally, the day had come to try all of this out. The little pond might not be the best spot for a good catch but that did not matter; for this first trial, Glorfindel preferred a secluded spot without spectators. His new rod might not work as desired, and he was out of practice with the casting - it had been a good while since his last time, in Gondolin.
It was a good day for casting, he thought as he put down his gear, the weather was just right. Taking off his boots and rolling up his leggings, he waded into the shallow water, and then, when he had found a good spot, cast out his line. The first few times were awkward but he quickly gained back his old skill, and it was not long until he made his first catch: a large, beautiful, trout.
Pleased with his success, he put the trout into the bucket he had brought, and cast out again. The line had just settled when he heard voices - somebody was coming through the trees, heading towards the clearing. Bother! There went his solitude - but at least he had already something to show for his efforts.
The voices came nearer, and with a sinking heart, Glorfindel recognised his lord and master and his wife entering the clearing. Worse, they were dressed very casually, carrying a picnic basket and blankets, and were clearly surprised to find themselves not alone. Bother - this must be a favourite spot of the lord and the lady, and he clearly in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Captain, a good day to you," Elrond called, looking from his wife to Glorfindel and back with a frown.
Glorfindel turned, wading a few steps towards the shore. Just at this moment, his line jerked. Another bite, and at a somewhat unfortunate moment …
"Good afternoon, my Lord, my Lady," he called back. "I seem to have invaded your sanctuary. Please forgive - I was not aware, and will withdraw forthwith."
"Oh no, no, Captain, do not worry, there is no need to leave," Elrond said. "There surely is sufficient space for the three of us, and we - OUF!"
The jerking was increasing and Glorfindel turned back, focusing on his fishing rod. Had the lady just elbowed the lord in the side? She clearly was giving him a piece of her mind, although he could not make out any words. Time for strategic and diligent retreat. Quickly pulling in his line, he walked to where his bucket stood, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. When his catch broke the surface he reached for it without looking, eyes still on the bickering couple, but gave a startled gasp at what he touched - that clearly was not a fish! It had long strands of something and - arms? A fish with arms?
Elrond approached him, and in an attempt to not complicate the situation any further, Glorfindel hastily shoved whatever he had caught into the bucket. "I was done anyway, my lord, and will be gone in a moment."
He winced when something sharp was driven into his hand. Had this not-fish just bit him? He retreated a few steps to get some distance between Elrond and his bucket, lest the other would want to inspect his haul, and started pulling on his boots.
"Ah, we did not mean to drive you away," Elrond said, giving his wife a piercing glance.
Celebrían made a valiant attempt at looking regretful. "A good day to you, Captain, I hope we will have your catch served at dinner. I would like to try some!"
"Gladly, my lady." Boots on, Glorfindel gathered up his other belongings and turned to leave.
Elrond chuckled and winked at him. "Do not feel obligated to do so, your catch is yours to do with as you please. And - thank you for your consideration, Captain. I do appreciate it."
Glorfindel blushed slightly, relieved that he apparently had not fallen out of his lord's favour after all. Awkwardly balancing the bucket and the fishing rod in one hand, since the line was still attached to his strange catch, he hurried back to where he had come from, only slowing down when he had left the copse behind, and found himself a spot where he could pack up his gear properly and dry his feet. And, of course, find out what exactly he had caught.
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