Merry Christmas! I wanted to get an actual HS chapter done, but I only got about halfway in the chaos of this week. So here's an Interlude chapter gift for all the 1/8 of my audience that actually reads the Interlude.
Lord Glorfindel was an incredible elf. Handsome, noble, and wise, he was truly a superb example of what the Noldor could be.
He also had the rather uncanny ability to resemble a kicked puppy, thought Lord Elrond as he carefully daubed an herbal tincture on the bruise between the noble Lord's eyes.
"I do not understand," said Glorfindel forlornly for about the twentieth time, shoulders slumped. "Why would the little one run from me? Why would he hit me? I'm not that scary… am I?"
"No, my friend," replied Lord Elrond (also for about the twentieth time) with truly godly patience. "I am certain it was merely childish mischievousness."
On the other side of the room, his sons were firmly tucked into Lady Celebrian's side. Despite their nearly 1,500 years of life, the twins took great delight in being coddled by their mother, who was equally delighted to indulge them. In this case, however, Elladan and Elrohir looked truly sad and distressed.
"I am worried," said Elladan as his mother gently carded her fingers through his hair. "Where are his ada and nana? Who were they, to teach their son such skills at such an early age?"
"What a fierce little Balrog," said Celebrian with fondness, likely remembering Arwen's youth. The Evenstar had been quite the willful, demanding little thing. "I look forward to meeting him."
"If we can catch him," murmured Lord Elrond pensively. "I am more concerned with how he managed to travel so swiftly." The group fell silent, stymied. There was no conceivable way for the little one to traverse such a distance, much less in so short a time.
"Perhaps... the trees helped?" Elrohir said hesitantly. "We heard him sing, and it was very strong."
"Perhaps," agreed his father, then sighed. Another mystery to solve. He had the feeling that no one would catch this mysterious boy-child until he wanted to be caught. Bring him to us soon, he prayed, lifting his eyes to Elbereth's heavens. I beg you.
Far, far away (in Valinor, to be precise) Varda heard Lord Elrond's prayer. She pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. "My apologies, Child," she murmured, more to herself than to him, "but I am a Valie, not a miracle worker."
