Elladan's head was still throbbing as he made his way back to the festivities. He'd considered dragging Lindir along with him just to make sure he stayed out of trouble for the rest of the evening, but as long as he was amongst guests and not orcs he supposed he was safe enough to let loose for the time being. Manwe knew Lindir hated being treated like a burden more than anything, so it was better to leave him be rather than attempt to babysit him.
He himself had wanted to stay with Amathion and continue patrolling. Much as he liked parties, he was not particularly convinced that the danger had passed or there was not more coming, but the idea had been firmly vetoed and he'd been shunted back toward the beach. No amount of 'My father will hear about this!' would convince the captain to let him stay- no indeed, it received a laugh and a 'Good, maybe I'll be promoted!' in answer. Granted, he'd been a little relieved at being rejected, considering the unpleasant feelings the skirmish had dug back up. He was really tired of all his emotions being tangled together and hard to figure out. It felt like he was being pulled in too many directions at once.
With the gilded rabbit mask back in place, the gold cord braided through his hair a la heroic High King Fingon amazingly intact despite his adventure, he weaved his way back through the crowd. He was glad the mask covered his forehead, because he was fairly sure he was going to have a lump there later. Lindir's skull was surprisingly hard.
Momentarily wondering where Elrohir was, and coming to the conclusion he had probably sequestered himself away in his room with a stolen tray of pies, he wandered around aimlessly for a bit, watching the gaiety unfold as he sipped at a glass of wine plucked from a table. Being so close to the sea and hearing the waves roll along the shore made him feel uncomfortable, and he regretted losing track of everyone. This was the first he'd been out of Imladris since… well. Since being so close to getting shoved on a Westward-bound ship himself.
Sighing, he gave up the attempt at mingling and trudged back up the shore, dropping down to perch on the edge of the decorated deck to watch the crowd. His eyes drifted back toward the entrance where people continued to trickle in in outlandish gear. He'd thought his own mask was pushing it, but he realized quickly that he'd been extremely conservative in his choice of costume. Still, all the glitter in Arda couldn't make him forget the unease that still lingered. After only a few minutes he realized he couldn't take sitting down and hopped back to his feet, weaving his way back through the guests toward where they had been staying. He should find Elrohir.
Despite knowing Elrond's costume as well as his own, finding his lord in this garish crowd was like looking for a monarch in a flame. The party was in full swing, the attendants blissfully unaware of the danger just beyond this jubilant gathering. Though he had been ordered to keep quiet about the affair, Lindir had virtually no intention of keeping any of what had transpired from Elrond, or Cirdan, or Glorfindel. While he had faith in the guards to do their duty, something about it all felt off.
The orcs had worn costumes. Orcs, as a general rule, did not bear enough intellect to disguise themselves. Lindir knew enough to understand that meant someone was behind the attack, that it was orchestrated - but he also knew it wen't deeper still than that. Whoever had ordered this attack inspired enough fear and reverence in the orc brutes that they had yielded to shielding themselves as anyone else.
Whomever was behind the attack was likely among the guests; the orcs would have needed to know when to begin their attack and that was not something Lindir felt could or should be overlooked. Add on to that the fact that he - a clear non-combatant - as well as Elladan, who had been deliberately kept from the draft list (Lindir had double checked!) had been out amid the city during the thick of it and there was no denying there were specified targets.
The fact he could find neither the Lord of Imladris nor the Lord of Lindon was doing little to lessen his nerves, and the pounding ache in his head was making him grumpy with those who did approach him. His rope was wearing thin, so he fetched himself a glass of wine to ease his emotions to a duller place. There was no need to panic just yet - he had to believe in that, above all other things.
Lowering his glass, the aide noted a rabbit in the crowd and made his way toward the familiar mask with a sense of relief. Admittedly, he was worried about Elladan as much as he was grateful to the other ellon for his interference. Sighing, Lindir spared only a moment's regret for the fact it was necessary before he stopped near the other and commented mildly, "The music seems to be giving me a headache."
It was the closest he dared get to acknowledging matters in the thick of the event, but he smiled after saying so to show Elladan that all pain aside, he was glad for the intervention. Raising his glass he inclined his head, then, "Why don't we go someplace a little quieter. I'm sure if we search through the darker crannies we can unearth that wayward brother of yours," He added with an amused lilt to his tone.