Work Text:
The Valinorean court was.
Ossified.
Yes. That was the correct word. Very, very ossified in it’s traditions.
Elrond had, naturally, assumed so was the code of dress in it, and his attendants that remembered the Trees would not have any issues with it.
Well.
He had not taken into account that his attendants were inherited from his foster fathers. Feanorian, extremely so in fact.
And Valinor ever had an allergy to all things Feanorian.
But, Elrond mused, watching with faint amusement the reddened faces of the other courtiers and the hidden mirth in Arafinwë’s eyes, perhaps it was a good thing. Nobody would bug him for the crown anymore.