Headers, author's notes, disclaimers, and translations may be found in chapter 1.
*****
"Elrond!!" came the bawled entreaty from the lead wagon.
Elrond resisted the urge to groan and nodded to the lieutenant who, for the nonce, rode in Glorfindel's place, a signal to lead the column.
The Elf-Lord, himself, turned to ride back to the wagon carrying Glorfindel, Eledril, and a few other wounded elves.
The little elfling was crying loudly, obviously terribly upset about something.
"What is it, Glorfindel?" Elrond asked over the racket.
"He's crying," Glorfindel said bluntly.
"I can see that," Elrond said with exaggerated patience.
"Why do you suppose he's crying?"
"Come now, Glorfindel, there are only a few reasons babies cry. They're either hurt..."
"...he's not..."
"Or tired..."
"...just woke up..."
"Or wet..."
"...he's dry; I checked..."
"Or hungry..."
"Aha, a prize for the Elf-Lord!"
"So feed him."
"Feed him what, exactly, in the middle of a war party full of males, with nary a wet-nurse in sight?"
Elrond blinked. "Oh dear, I hadn't thought of that."
"Obviously," Glorfindel said dryly, bouncing Eledril up and down in an attempt to placate the child.
"He looks to be of an age to be eating some solid food. Perhaps some lembas, soaked in enough water to make it very soft?"
And so it was that Glorfindel of Gondolin found himself crumbling lembas into a drinking goblet and dousing it in fresh water. The war party had been hastily assembled, and it had not been expecting a protracted absence from Imladris, so all they had with them were trail rations, supplemented by whatever small game the archers could bag as they marched. As such, dishes and silver had not been on the list of necessary items to pack. So, once he deemed the lembas-paste soft enough for a nearly-toothless mouth to manage, he could do little else but scoop the sodden stuff onto his fingers and encourage the little elfling to nibble at it from there.
As all younglings are wont to do when first trying something new, Eledril screwed up his small face and took a tiny bit, mouth working furiously at the unfamiliar substance. As the taste finally registered, he smiled, evidently finding it acceptable.
"Good!" he said decisively and clapped his hands. He seized Glorfindel's fingers and made a good effort at devouring them to get at the sweet paste on their tips.
"Here now!" Glorfindel exclaimed as a couple of newly-cut teeth sank into the pads of his fingers. "I still need those, you little monster." He dipped his fingers back into the goblet and offered them to Eledril, who licked them clean in seconds.
By that time, the little boy had gotten the gist of how food was to be obtained, so he plunged his own hands into the goblet and then tried to stuff them both into his mouth at once.
"Not so fast, tithen pen," Glorfindel chuckled, pulling gently on one small wrist to help Eledril eat a bit more slowly.
Eledril, however, misinterpreted the gesture, and twisted in Glorfindel's grasp until elf and child faced each other.
"Share?" he piped, smiling brightly and offering one soggy fist to the golden warrior.
"Er...," Glorfindel fumbled, curiously spellbound by the first expression of genuine happiness the elfling had exhibited since he'd been found.
Eledril took that as a "yes" and smushed the lembas-paste against Glorfindel's mouth and chin, giggling delightedly. "Share!" he crowed.
Glorfindel spluttered as the other wounded elves in the wagon started laughing helplessly.
Eledril sat expectantly in Glorfindel's lap, clearly waiting for something.
"Uh, thank you?" Glorfindel guessed.
Eledril beamed and giggled before dunking his hand back into the goblet and shoving more lembas-paste into his mouth. He reached up and patted Glorfindel's cheek, leaving a sticky handprint behind.
Glorfindel watched the elfling eat with a silly smile on his face.
*****
tbc...