lord Elrond, dressed in his lightweight, flowing silk nightshirt with a V-neck design and long, loose sleeves, sat on his bed, quietly sipping his morning tea and enjoying the tranquil solitude of his chambers. The nightshirt fell to just above his ankles, providing modest coverage, and he wore long, soft cotton trousers, his feet bare as was the elvish way. As he quietly sipping his morning tea, enjoying the quiet solitude of his chambers when a knock at the door interrupted him. Elrond on his bed, he thought to himself "Who is it?" Elrond's brow furrowed slightly at the disturbance, but he schooled his expression into one of calm receptiveness. "You may come in" he called, setting aside his teacup and clasping his hands in his lap.