Surprise!

"I am still not certain this is such a good idea," spoke the rider as he swayed atop his gray horse.

"Trust me," said another.

"We have researched this carefully," added a second voice.

The first rider turned to his left and arched his brow. "That alone should tell me to use caution."

"There is a," another speaker quickly searched through his vocabulary for the right word. "Precedent."

"You make it sound as though this is a negotiation for grain." Complained a rider on a white horse.

"That is his specialty," laughed a musical voice from the rear.

"I cannot believe my lord has sanctioned this." Muttered someone under his breath.

The one who had promised that their research had been extensive muttered back. "I doubt he really understands the nature of our mission."

"He is, after all, quite isolated from the rest of us."

Dark brown eyes met gray eyes. "He is not that isolated."

"You are late," someone stepped out on to the path and glared at the riders.

The horses and riders stopped as if on signal. Everyone held their tongues for a moment, each waiting for the other to make a smart comment. At last, the rider of the white horse opened his mouth to speak.

"Do not even think it," said the apparent leader of their party and the white rider closed his jaw with a snap. "We did not wish to arrive too early and spoil the surprise."

"Any later and you would be the ones being surprised. We have unexpected guests at the party. Word spread quickly among people who only speak to each other every third age or so."

All eyes turned and stared to two heavily armed riders.

"What?" They asked in near perfect unison.

"You two are the only ones I can think of at the moment who might have been inclined to invite extra guests."

"Not exactly." Said the one who always sounded as though he were negotiating for grain. "There is one other."

Heads swiveled to the front of the column.

"Not I."

"That only leaves," said the one whose lord was not quite so isolated as everyone thought. "Him." His finger stiffened as he pointed to one coming from the tree line.

"There you are. I had thought the party might be forced to start with out you," he said as he came close to the horses and riders. "You'll have to hurry, if you are going to be in time."

"I thought this wasn't supposed to be until well after dark?" Said the leader of the group.

"Well, no," said the one who had greeted them first. "We have last minute preparations to make and it is a long trek to where the party is being held."

"Oh, no," said the one whose lord was not as in the dark as everyone thought.

*~*

"These are the last minute preparations?" The leader glared around the large room, his eyes resting balefully upon a strange construct of circular wood on a platform.

"Some of them," spoke the uninvited guest. "There are a few more final touches."

"Whose idea was this?" Demanded the leader.

"Er.."

"Um.."

"Never mind," said the rider of the white horse as he began unlacing his leader's tunic.

"What in Valar's name are you doing?"

"Undressing you."

"Why?" There was a decided note of panic in his voice.

"We can't very well oil you with your clothes on, now can we?"

The note of panic turned to a note of hysteria. "Oil me?"

"I say, is that real gold in there?"

"Oh, no," answered the elf who had greeted them on the path. "This is what them Men call Fool's Gold." He shook the vial in his hand and the gold flakes stirred lazily in the thick sandalwood oil.

"Now, see here," spoke the one who was insistently divested of his clothing. "I will not have this, this, unseemly behavior." He slapped futilely at hands pulling on his clothes. "Absolutely not. I will not stand—" He abruptly found a chair being scooted under his now bare behind and he sat down rather hard without finishing his sentence as someone pulled his boots off his feet. Before he knew it, hands roamed all over his body, liberally smearing the gold-flecked oil into his skin. Hands touched him everywhere and he squeaked indignantly a few times as fingers grazed over intimate places. Try as he might, he was not quick enough to slap away the numerous hands or resist as he was turned this way and that. When, at last, they were done, the other elves stepped back and surveyed their handiwork.

"Nice," said the rider of the white horse.

"Delectable."

"Delicious."

"He needs something in his hair," said the uninvited member.

"hmm…" the stiffest member of the group glanced around. He spied a bowl containing more of the Fool's Gold and grinned. "Here, this will do." So saying, he snatched up the bowl and hurried forward. "Close your eyes," he said and barely gave time for his instructions to be followed before he blew on the fine gold dust.

The recipient of the gold coughed as gold powder settled around his hair, on his cheeks and his long eyelashes.

"Perfect," declared the one on loan from his lord for the occasion.

"I feel ridiculous."

"Here comes the cake."

"Cake?" The leader blinked and gold drifted from his lashes.

The one who had greeted them outside the forest held open the door as elves bearing several wooden platforms came in. Behind the platform-bearers, were more elves carrying what appeared to be large sections of frosted cake.

The gold covered leader pursed his lips together. "Is this also a human tradition?"

"There is a precedent."

*~*

Celeborn sat at the head of a circular table twirling his wine goblet. His birthday had turned into a bitter disappointment as no one from Imladris had come to help him celebrate. On his left sat his March Warden, Haldir, and on his right sat Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. Beyond Thranduil and Haldir ranged many notables from both Lorien and Mirkwood; including the young prince, Legolas, and Haldir's brothers Rumil and Orophin.

Suddenly, Celeborn sat up straight as he heard the sound of elven voices raised in a simple song. Glancing around, he waited to see if any of his guests made note, but when no one commented, he settled back in his chair. Lights glowed in the distance and slowly came closer, but still his guests said nothing.

At last, the singing was impossible to ignore, as were the approaching lights and Celeborn looked from Haldir to Thranduil. Both elves bore identical grins.

"What is this?" Asked Celeborn.

The elves came into view carrying on their shoulders an enormous cake. The cake was seven tiers high and decorated with white frosting. The blazing lights came from the candles circulating around the edge. Celeborn began laughing as he saw the cake bearers were none other than Galdor, Erestor, Glorfindel, Elrohir, Elladan and Gildor. Lindir walked ahead of the group and led the singing.

They sat the cake on the table and stepped back, each of them grinning and laughing as Celeborn clapped his hands in delight.

Erestor cleared his throat and stepped forward. "I believe the custom is that you blow out the candles, my lord."

Celeborn stared aghast at the blaze. "Surely you do not expect me to blow them all out?"

"We'll help, of course, grandfather," offered Elladan. Elrohir bobbed his head in agreement.

They counted to three and all the elves filled their lungs with air and blew on the lit candles. As the last one sputtered out, someone yelled surprise. Frosting and bits of cake erupted, covering the attendees in sticky confection as Elrond burst forth from the cake, glittering gold in the light of the lanterns.

Celeborn fell back in his chair in shock as he viewed his naked, gold covered, son-in-law standing in the center of the ruined cake with bits of white frosting clinging to his hair and lashes. Slowly gathering his scattered wits, Celeborn rose from his chair and then climbed on to the table to stand before Elrond. He swiped at the frosting clinging to Elrond's chest, smearing the oil and frosting together, and then stuck his finger in his mouth.

Elrond threw back his head and laughed as Celeborn's deep blue eyes light up with delight. "I was beginning to think you had forgotten."

"No, Lord Celeborn, I doubt I would ever be likely to forget your birthday," Elrond stepped carefully from the wooden platform that had held the cake, feeling bits and pieces of the desert squish between his toes. "Were you surprised?"

"Indeed." Celeborn lowered his voice. "I hope that this is not the end of the night's surprises."

"There is a precedent," Elrond winked.
Happy Birthday, OEAM!

Pax,
Hawk
2004