Infestation

Infestation

Posted: April 18, 2008
Title: Infestation
Author: LK
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own any, just playing; I'll put them back when I'm done.
Warnings: Implied Slash; oh, and don’t be put off by the title
Beta: None, so any mistakes are mine alone
Challenge: Daily Drabble, word of the day "Zhie.”
Author's Notes: Please be sure to read the endnote.

Summary: Glorfindel makes a discovery.

*****

Imladris, Early Third Age

Whistling a happy tune, the newly reborn Balrog Slayer strode down the corridor leading to the administrative offices of the Last Homely House. It was a cool spring day and the sun was shining, giving him a perfect excuse to persuade his beloved husband to put off work for a few hours so they could continue celebrating their reunion.

“Good morrow, Glorfindel,” Elrond said in greeting as he passed the golden elf in the hallway.

“Good morrow, Elrond!” a smiling Glorfindel responded cheerily.

Carrying several documents, the Lord of Imladris had been about to enter Erestor’s office. Upon seeing Glorfindel round the corner, however, he redirected his steps toward Melpomean’s door. He needed no explanation of the reborn elf’s purposeful strides toward Erestor’s office, nor the reason for his presence. With Glorfindel retruned to Arda, the hardworking counselor deserved some extra time off, now more than ever. Elrond and Melpomean could handle the workload by themselves for another few days.

Not bothering to knock, Glorfindel opened the door to Erestor’s office and entered, only to stop dead in his tracks at the bewildering sight before him.

Erestor was standing in front of his large bookcase with his back to the door, a rolled up piece of parchment held tightly in one hand as if it was a weapon. That in itself was unusual enough, but the tension in Erestor’s body and the way he was muttering angrily was so uncharacteristic that it was downright disturbing. Silently watching his husband for another moment, Glorfindel was just about to speak when Erestor swatted at something on the bookshelf so suddenly it made Glorfindel jump. The string of foul curses that came from his husband’s ruby lips gave him almost as much of a start.

“Erestor?” Glorfindel called softly. He tried, but he could not keep the surprise and confusion from his voice.

At the sound of his name, Erestor whirled around, his beautiful face marred by an angry scowl until his saw who had called him, and his expression instantly smoothed out.

“Oh, Glorfindel. Greetings, beloved,” he said, almost absently before turning back toward the bookcase.

“Uh, my love . . .” Glorfindel began tentatively, jumping once more when Erestor violently swatted the bookshelf again with the rolled parchment, irately muttering to himself. “Is something amiss?”

“ . . . pesky creatures. Such a nuisance!” With a frustrated sigh, Erestor turned back toward his husband, his irritation plainly evident. “I thought we were rid of them. We were never troubled by them in Gondolin, so I believed we had somehow managed to leave them behind. But, Gondolin’s good fortune was not shared with the rest of the elves in Middle Earth.”

Glorfindel’s eyes grew wide at Erestor’s words. His husband’s odd behavior with the bookcase and his weapon of rolled parchment finally made sense. “No! Surely you do not mean . . .” he said in a scandalized tone.

“Aye, I do!” Erestor replied, his own voice reflecting his frustration. “They were the only bane any elf ever had in Aman until Morgoth’s appearance, and then they followed us here,” Erestor said savagely, stabbing a finger at the ground to emphasize his point.

“How did they manage to travel all this way?”

“I do not know, but anywhere there is parchment, books and elves, you will find them, and Imladris is INFESTED with them!” Erestor growled as he swatted the bookcase yet again.

“One never knows when they will lunge. The library has become a hazzard zone. The Elflings love them, of course. They think the creatures are “cute” and “adorable.” The floor and reading tables of the juvenile section of the library are littered with the creatures. They perch on the top of any open book being read by a elfling, just gazing adoringly at the elflings, stroking their hair lovingly and purring. When one of the children begins to read aloud, they actually congregate in groups to listen! I even saw one sitting on a little elleth’s shoulder almost as if it was reading along with her. It had locks of her hair clasped firmly in it little paws. It is like bliss for them. But I cannot understand how their parents can stand to have those little – uh! – so close to their offspring, let alone touch them.”

“Well, they are exceptionally clean little book dwellers and they do no real harm, but . . .” Glorfindel shook his head in disbelief. “I cannot believe it! A Zhie infestation in the Last Homely House!” he said to himself in a shocked whisper.

It was true that the younger elflings adored the tiny inhabitants of the libraries and book cases in any elven home, but as they grew older, the children quickly outgrew their fondness. Usually, it was when a particularly difficult schooling assignment suddenly had an inkwell tipped onto it, with suspicious little paw tracks scampering over it, or some such other tragedy, that the romance began to tarnish. After such incidents, Zhie’s were suddenly not quite so cute anymore in the eyes of the maturing elf and they began to be a nuisance.

“And they seem to like my office, in particular,” Erestor snarled as he viciously batted at another one of the creatures as it skittered across the top of several books before disappearing again.

Glorfindel’s preoccupied expression cleared and he gave a leering grin. “Well, beloved, I can hardly blame them. You are, after all, one of the most beautiful elves in Imladris and likely all of Arda, and you certainly keep enough books and parchment . . .”

Erestor gave his husband a sardonic look before he said, “Well, my dear husband, this is not entirely my fault. We have always had a problem, but it was controllable. They began to swarm – actually SWARM – the moment you set foot in the House. I believe it has less to do with me than it does you. It has something to do with their preference for the feel and scent of golden locks.”

Glorfindel took a step back as another one of the creatures lunged out from between the books. It made a grab for Erestor’s silky black hair with one of its little paws and, with its other, the parchment the elf was holding, only to be rewarded with a particularly hard bop on its snout.

“Ugh!” Glorfindel grunted at the sight of the creature. He clearly recalled the difficulty he had with them in the past. Their taste for elves and parchment made it particularly difficult for any of the Firstborn to read in bed at night. Any Zhie infestation was most troublesome, but these seemed particularly aggressive.

“My only consolation,” Erestor said, his attention riveted to the bookcase as he waited for an opportunity to swat another one, “is that both Celeborn and Thranduil have just as much trouble with them as we do. Apparently, their Zhie infestations become particularly active whenever Haldir or Legolas enters one of their libraries. Both realms have strict rules against the two of them ever being in any library together at the same time.”

“There are none of those . . .” Glorfindel pointed a finger vaguely at the bookcase and the little creatures living in it, “in our rooms, are there?” The question was posed hesitantly, as if the mighty warrior feared the answer.

Erestor looked at the Balrog Slayer with a wary expression. He well recalled the early years of their marriage. Every night, he would enter their chambers first while Glorfindel waited on their doorstep until Erestor had inspected their entire chamber and flung back the bedcovers to be sure there was no stray Zhie lurking about ready to latch on to one of them. A Balrog Glorfindel could face without fear; a Zhie, on the other hand, gave his husband the screaming willies. The golden elf drove his husband mad with his aversion to the little beasts. It had all started the morning Glorfindel had woken to find a Zhie perched on his chest chirping at him adoringly.

“Nay! Of course not,” Erestor replied with a fake smile, praying he sounded more convincing to Glorfindel than he did to himself.

*****

Author’s Endnote: My apologies to Zhie, a writer I admire greatly for the rich and complex universe she has created, but this just begged to be used as the name of an adorable little creature who was completely enamored of elves, and who has a passion for libraries, parchment and reading. Where else would such a little fellow live but in the libraries and bookshelves to be found in every elven home?

*****

THE END

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