Gilded Rose of the House of Gondolin
By Ellie in ElfPajamas
For disclaimer and other information (Genre, Rating, Summary, Advisories) see first chapter.
Chapter two: Hunting the White Deer
Glorfindel groaned, hanging tight onto Asfaloth's mane. He looked a little green around the gills. Faelon was too far ahead to see the advisor lurch around like a sailor on a ship in a gale. Erestor felt sorry for him, sort of, but his thoughts were not in the present. His thoughts were about Melannen. He hadn't washed his face this morning because of her. He didn't want to wipe the kiss off.
"Erestor, why didn't you tell me not to take another drink?!" Glorfindel lamented.
Erestor was still lost in his thoughts and didn't reply.
"Erestor, are you still in Arda?" Glorfindel quizzed.
Erestor gave him an otherworldly look.
"What?" he asked. "What did you say? I missed it."
"By Eru! What were YOU smoking????" Glorfindel exclaimed. "Your brains have become mush!"
Erestor's eye twitched. Glorfindel was captivated.
"Glorfindel, I am inches away from offering you hair of the dog." Erestor said.
Glorfindel gagged.
"Hair of the dog? What is that?" he asked.
"Hair of the dog that bit you." Erestor said, taking out a wine flask.
"No Erestor! You wouldn't dare!" Glorfindel exclaimed.
Erestor put it away, thinking Glorfindel had been sufficiently threatened. Faelon reined Shadow back to ride with the two lagging advisors. He looked at Glorfindel uneasilly.
"I hate to ask, but did you get lost in the wine cellar last night, Lord Glorfindel?" Faelon asked.
Glorfindel winced.
"No, Faelon, he didn't. He just has an incredably low tolerance for alcohol." Erestor said, grabbing Glorfindel's cloak before the hung-over Elf could fall off his horse.
Glorfindel shot Erestor a dirty look.
"You didn't have to tell him!" he groaned.
Faelon smiled thinly. He dismounted and started rummaging through his pack. He pulled out a flask. Glorfindel paled, thinking it was 'hair of the dog'.
"You aren't the only one, Glorfindel. Drink some of this." Faelon said, handing the flask to the Balrog Slayer.
"Who else can't handle wine?" asked Erestor.
Faelon smiled again.
"Lord Celeborn and I." he said. "Last time I took a message to Lorien for Thranduil, Lady Galadriel made me stay for dinner. She can handle wine by the flagon, but Lord Celeborn and I were both sick as dogs the following morning. This helped, so I asked Lady Galadriel for a flask for other poor souls such as myself."
Erestor raised an eyebrow.
"Were you a frequent visitor to the Golden Wood?" he asked.
"Not without Thranduil's standard and livery I wasn't! They would have shot me!" Faelon laughed. "Haldir came to know Shadow's hoofbeats, and would let me pass without raising his bow to hail me. He's quite interesting, Haldir the Marchwarden. I wish I could shoot half so well as he."
Glorfindel started to look better.
That made Erestor accept the story. Why couldn't Faelon have been a messenger? He did come to Rivendell with messages all the time, why not Lorien? Erestor was not a very trusting individual, and took nothing at face value. It wasn't that he didn't trust Faelon, but other than the young Elf's frequent visits to Rivendell, Erestor knew little about him.
Faelon mounted Shadow again.
"According to uncle Enetheru, it shouldn't be much further ahead. He said the house is not like the royal palace, it's above ground." Faelon said.
As he finished his sentence, the small party crowned the hilltop. Through the trees, they could glimpse a simple, functional, visually pleasing fortress. Faelon's eyes shone with unshed tears. He'd never seen this place before, and to be coming to it for the first time in his life, and knowing that it belonged to him, was overpowering. The three stood still on the hilltop for a moment, looking down on the grounds inside the fortress walls. A well laid garden, overgrown now, lay near one wall, while the courtyard, full of dirt and rubbish, was paved with grey-green flagstones. Faelon kicked Shadow into a canter and rode down the hill, heedless of Erestor and Glorfindel. They followed him, wondering what they would find inside.
Faelon ran his hands over a small section of the wall, his sensetive fingertips seeking the small crack that would tell him the gateway was here. His right hand found it, and he spoke the spell that Enetheru had told him. The gates swung wide, startling Erestor. Faelon walked in, leading Shadow, looking around the courtyard.
"Well, I suppose I should welcome you to my home, but as of yet it isn't my home." Faelon said sheepishly. "It's in need of cleaning, that's what it is!"
Erestor laughed, watching leaves blow past his feet.
"I suppose I should grab a broom." Erestor said.
"No, that can wait. I need to see the house, and ascertain what needs repairs or replacement. Then I can start cleaning." Faelon said. "You and Glorfindel are not obligated to help, you can just go on your hunt now."
Erestor wouldn't hear of it. His curiousity had not yet been satisfied, he wanted to see the rest of the grounds and the interior of the house. He wondered how Faelon would manage this place without a staff of servants. Cleaning it was going to be a huge chore in and of itself. Enetheru had said that when Eruvyr had gone missing, the house had been closed up, all the furniture covered, and everything left as though readied for winter. A thick coat of dust increased the stillness of the rooms. A thousand years of not being cleaned caused a lot of dust to build up. Faelon glimpsed his reflection in a gauze-draped mirror. He didn't look like himself, he didn't recognize the figure in the mirror. He looked like the lord of this manor now, a few days had made a lot of difference. Curiousity seized him, and he gently folded up a dust cover to take it off a chair. Rich red fabric and finely worked dark wood greeted his eyes. Erestor was now *really* curious, and started taking dust covers off with reckless abandon. He managed to keep the dust in the fabric and off the floor. He discovered the floor rug rolled up in the corner. Faelon found a broom and swept the dust off the floor and out of the room. Glorfindel went to the well to get water for cleaning.
Faelon, though dressed as a lord and in title a lord, was busilly cleaning like a little servant girl. His hair was tied up out of his face, the sleeves of the robe he disliked so much tied in knots to keep them out of the way. He dunked his sleeve in the bucket of mopwater, and in frustration took the robes off, wearing only his leggings. Erestor realized how much more practical this was, and said nothing about it. He and Glorfindel had left their lordly robes in the palace of Mirkwood, and brought their hunting garments. Faelon wasn't allowed to dress like a servant anymore, so he was stuck with his robes and one hunting outfit that he hadn't brought with him. Faelon did have a power, one that would have been of no use to Saruman. Diligence. Once he'd begun a task and applied himself to it, he wouldn't stop until it was done. That had shown in how he'd gone about courting Calad, and now it showed in how he was cleaning the house, as though in preparation for a visit by Calad. Glorfindel started polishing a mirror. He stepped back to admire his handiwork and stepped in Faelon's bucket of mopwater. There was a terrific crash and clatter as the Balrog Slayer fell backwards, dumping the dirty water in his face as his legs shot up into the air.
Faelon looked down at Glorfindel in wide eyed surprise, leaning on his mop as he looked at the fallen lord. Faelon's shoulders began to shake as he could no longer control his laughter. There was two thousand years worth of grime in Glorfindel's hair, making it a dark gray. Faelon caught his breath.
"Lord Glorfindel, get yourself a bucket, head out to the well, and rinse your hair out. Eru only knows what all that grime will do to your golden locks." Faelon teased. "You're on your own for soap."
Erestor laughed.
"Honestly, Glor, I thought you were much too young to go gray like that, you don't even have children!" Erestor taunted.
Glorfindel gracefully picked himself up off the floor and seized a bucket. He walked out the door with exagerated grace, leaving Faelon and Erestor giggling helplessly.
"Really Erestor, you would think he'd have learned by now not to step back without looking first." Faelon said, shaking his head as he went back to mopping the floor.
As if in reply Erestor tripped over a rug. He'd stepped backwards.
"Come to think of it, Erestor, why don't you join Glorfindel outside." Faelon said, realizing he was the only one who regularly cleaned, and thus the only one who really knew what he was doing.
By nightfall, industrious Faelon had set much of the house to rights, including rooms for his guests to sleep in. The two advisors were quite greatful for this, they had spent their day weeding the gardens and cleaning the courtyard after Faelon had kicked them out of the house. Erestor awoke late the following morning, and was surprised to here many Elven voices mingled with Faelon's voice. The house had once had a staff of servants, and upon hearing that the heir lived and had returned, they had also come to set the house to rights. The Elves were bantering with Faelon in a friendly manner, none of them had seen him presented as a Lord in Northern Mirkwood, and as of yet, they thought he was a servant sent ahead.
"What's the lord like, Faelon?" asked one Elf-maiden, a cook by trade.
"He's my height, he has dark hair and green eyes, he has the same build as I do." Faelon said simply, helping the servants out with the chores.
"Is he wedded?" the cook probed.
"He's betrothed." Faelon replied.
"To whom? Who will be the Lady of the Beriorchan household?" asked the cook's husband.
"Well, keep mum on it, because her father doesn't know yet, but it's going to be Caladriel Thranduillion, the princess of Mirkwood!" Faelon said, gossiping about himself and enjoying it.
There was a collective gasp.
"Really?" was the surprised exclaimation.
"Are you jealous, Faelon? The Lord Beriorgan marrying the Lady you served so long?" asked the cook's husband, feeling sorry for the young Elf.
"No, I'm not jealous." Faelon said seriously, then flashed his contagious grin. "I'm looking forward to it, actually."
"How is that? Have you found a bride at last?" asked the gatekeeper.
"Yes, I have. The most beautiful she-Elf in all of Mirkwood." Faelon said, throwing another log on the fire in the stove.
"Come now, we all know that's Caladriel." said the gatekeeper. "Surely you aren't going to steal her!"
Erestor chose to be a spoilsport.
"No, he's not stealing anything. He *is* Lord Beriorgan. You've been reprimanding your lord like a servant boy!" Erestor cackled.
The servants all looked at Faelon and paled. They'd been saying some pretty obnoxious things before Erestor had joined them.
Faelon smiled indulgingly.
"Have no fear. I didn't expect you to know that I was Lord Beriorgan, and I liked listening to your gossip." Faelon said, holding out a hand to the gatekeeper in a gesture of goodwill. "I also did not mean to play any tricks on you, but it felt more comfortable to be known as the servant I was last week. I didn't come into this fortune knowing how to handle it. To be looked upon as a servant is not a bad thing, and I rather enjoy it."
The gatekeeper, Innas, refused Faelon a handshake and embraced him instead.
"I'll be glad to serve one who knows the life of a servant." he said, looking at Faelon with loyal, proud eyes.
Rilaisseth, the cook, and her husband, Gwanunig, looked on with admiring expressions.
"Lord Erestor, what would you like for lunch?" Rilaisseth asked, turning to the bread she'd been making.
"Anything." Erestor said. "I'm not particular when I first get up."
A halfhour later, the whole group sat down to eat in the large dining room. Servants and lords together, and none thought it a breech of station. Erestor looked at the light, golden muffins made by Rilaisseth with admiring eyes. There was more than enough for all, and Erestor certainly got his share.
Midafternoon an Elf rode into the courtyard, bearing tidings for Faelon.
"My lord," he addressed Faelon, bowing low, "their majesties, King Thranduil, Prince Legolas, and the Princess Caladriel wish to pay you a visit in three days. They will bring with them the remainder of your staff and your relatives."
Faelon nodded, bowing to the messenger.
"So be it. Tell the royal family I am honored that they will be so kind as to pay me a visit." Faelon said, sounding like a practiced noble.
The messenger smiled.
"Good luck to you, Faelon. Your story is all over the palace, it is quite sensational. The servants all send you their congratulations." he said.
"It is good to know that, Tholvell. Tell them I send them my highest regards." Faelon said. "And tell Prince Legolas that I spotted some of the white deer."
Thovell smiled, then rode out of the courtyard.
"Now if only Lord Elrond were coming too." Faelon mused out loud.
"And why do you desire my presence, Faelon?" asked a voice from the gateway.
Elrond, flanked by Elrohir and Elladan, followed by Estel and Rinn, rode into the courtyard.
Faelon smiled.
"Because I desire instruction in how to run a house full of servants!" Faelon laughed. "This is the first time I have been in the position to order anyone around."
Elladan laughed.
"Well, Faelon, you don't exactly look the part of a Lord right now." Elrohir quipped.
"Ever notice how incredably difficult it is to clean a house while wearing a noble's robes?" Faelon fired back.
Elrond smiled.
"I have. We did bring the rest of your wardrobe, though, the seamstresses finished it this morning." Elrond said kindly. "There are some hunting outfits, a set of those scorned robes, riding outfits, and some normal everyday tunics, leggings, and undershirts."
Faelon smiled appreciatively.
"Thank you, my lord. That was most kind of you." he said.
"Faelon, did you manage to clean the house all by yourself? It looks awfully big for you to have done that!" Rinn piped up.
"No, the servants arrived very early this morning and helped me to finish. I just cleaned what I could yesterday." Faelon said. "The lords Erestor and Glorfindel cleaned the courtyard and weeded the gardens."
Erestor smiled wearilly at Elrond.
The weariness was too obviously faked. Elrond smiled at his right hand Elf.
"Well, Erestor, are you glad to be hunting the white deer at last?" Elrond asked.
Erestor's vigorous nod sent his hair bouncing.
"They set out tomorrow, Lord Elrond. They need not be present for the feast if they do not want to." Faelon said. "I dare say my cellars are lacking."
Glorfindel clapped Faelon on the back.
"Surely you jest, Faelon. We'll stay until after the feast, just keep the wine away from me." Glorfindel laughed.
"Will you ask King Thranduil for Caladriel's hand at the feast, Faelon?" Elrond asked gravely.
Faelon nodded with equal gravity.
"Good. I fear I cannot keep the secret any longer. I already started Faeliel on Caladriel's dress, and Faelien on your robes." Elrond said.
He loved to play the guiding father. He was particularly enjoying arranging Faelon's wedding. Elladan and Elrohir found their father's involvement in this whole matter quite amusing, and Estel no less so. He wondered if Elrond would make as big a fuss over his wedding when he was King of Gondor.
Faelon took the reins of the horses and led them into the stable. Elladan looked around the courtyard at the walls. They were made of a green stone, beautifully carved, and they looked as fresh as they must have when erected. Elrohir ran his hand over some of the engravings. They were deeply cut into the stone, so that the passage of time would have a difficult time wearing them away.
"Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain........Great is virtue, valor and bravery are nought without it.......To everything there is a season, a time to live, a time to die, a time to take up arms, a time to lay them down.......The house of Beriorchan, enter and be blessed....." Elrohir read off softly.
He liked the walls even better now. They seemed friendly and soft to him, not hostile and hard. The builder must have known that words of wisdom would soften the walls for the inhabitants and travelers who came within them.
He followed his father into the house. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy his time here, and hoped he would get to hunt the white deer too. Elladan beaned him with a pillow as he walked in the door. Faelon snatched the pillow, smacked Elladan with it, and laid it gently on the chair it had originally been taken from.
"Leave the furniture alone, both of you." Faelon said.
He left the room to change his clothes.
Elladan raised an eyebrow.
"Is it just me, or did he just sound like father?" Elladan asked his twin.
"No! You are absolutely right!" Elrohir said. "Eru save us, father's contagious!"
By Ellie in ElfPajamas
For disclaimer and other information (Genre, Rating, Summary, Advisories) see first chapter.
Chapter two: Hunting the White Deer
Glorfindel groaned, hanging tight onto Asfaloth's mane. He looked a little green around the gills. Faelon was too far ahead to see the advisor lurch around like a sailor on a ship in a gale. Erestor felt sorry for him, sort of, but his thoughts were not in the present. His thoughts were about Melannen. He hadn't washed his face this morning because of her. He didn't want to wipe the kiss off.
"Erestor, why didn't you tell me not to take another drink?!" Glorfindel lamented.
Erestor was still lost in his thoughts and didn't reply.
"Erestor, are you still in Arda?" Glorfindel quizzed.
Erestor gave him an otherworldly look.
"What?" he asked. "What did you say? I missed it."
"By Eru! What were YOU smoking????" Glorfindel exclaimed. "Your brains have become mush!"
Erestor's eye twitched. Glorfindel was captivated.
"Glorfindel, I am inches away from offering you hair of the dog." Erestor said.
Glorfindel gagged.
"Hair of the dog? What is that?" he asked.
"Hair of the dog that bit you." Erestor said, taking out a wine flask.
"No Erestor! You wouldn't dare!" Glorfindel exclaimed.
Erestor put it away, thinking Glorfindel had been sufficiently threatened. Faelon reined Shadow back to ride with the two lagging advisors. He looked at Glorfindel uneasilly.
"I hate to ask, but did you get lost in the wine cellar last night, Lord Glorfindel?" Faelon asked.
Glorfindel winced.
"No, Faelon, he didn't. He just has an incredably low tolerance for alcohol." Erestor said, grabbing Glorfindel's cloak before the hung-over Elf could fall off his horse.
Glorfindel shot Erestor a dirty look.
"You didn't have to tell him!" he groaned.
Faelon smiled thinly. He dismounted and started rummaging through his pack. He pulled out a flask. Glorfindel paled, thinking it was 'hair of the dog'.
"You aren't the only one, Glorfindel. Drink some of this." Faelon said, handing the flask to the Balrog Slayer.
"Who else can't handle wine?" asked Erestor.
Faelon smiled again.
"Lord Celeborn and I." he said. "Last time I took a message to Lorien for Thranduil, Lady Galadriel made me stay for dinner. She can handle wine by the flagon, but Lord Celeborn and I were both sick as dogs the following morning. This helped, so I asked Lady Galadriel for a flask for other poor souls such as myself."
Erestor raised an eyebrow.
"Were you a frequent visitor to the Golden Wood?" he asked.
"Not without Thranduil's standard and livery I wasn't! They would have shot me!" Faelon laughed. "Haldir came to know Shadow's hoofbeats, and would let me pass without raising his bow to hail me. He's quite interesting, Haldir the Marchwarden. I wish I could shoot half so well as he."
Glorfindel started to look better.
That made Erestor accept the story. Why couldn't Faelon have been a messenger? He did come to Rivendell with messages all the time, why not Lorien? Erestor was not a very trusting individual, and took nothing at face value. It wasn't that he didn't trust Faelon, but other than the young Elf's frequent visits to Rivendell, Erestor knew little about him.
Faelon mounted Shadow again.
"According to uncle Enetheru, it shouldn't be much further ahead. He said the house is not like the royal palace, it's above ground." Faelon said.
As he finished his sentence, the small party crowned the hilltop. Through the trees, they could glimpse a simple, functional, visually pleasing fortress. Faelon's eyes shone with unshed tears. He'd never seen this place before, and to be coming to it for the first time in his life, and knowing that it belonged to him, was overpowering. The three stood still on the hilltop for a moment, looking down on the grounds inside the fortress walls. A well laid garden, overgrown now, lay near one wall, while the courtyard, full of dirt and rubbish, was paved with grey-green flagstones. Faelon kicked Shadow into a canter and rode down the hill, heedless of Erestor and Glorfindel. They followed him, wondering what they would find inside.
Faelon ran his hands over a small section of the wall, his sensetive fingertips seeking the small crack that would tell him the gateway was here. His right hand found it, and he spoke the spell that Enetheru had told him. The gates swung wide, startling Erestor. Faelon walked in, leading Shadow, looking around the courtyard.
"Well, I suppose I should welcome you to my home, but as of yet it isn't my home." Faelon said sheepishly. "It's in need of cleaning, that's what it is!"
Erestor laughed, watching leaves blow past his feet.
"I suppose I should grab a broom." Erestor said.
"No, that can wait. I need to see the house, and ascertain what needs repairs or replacement. Then I can start cleaning." Faelon said. "You and Glorfindel are not obligated to help, you can just go on your hunt now."
Erestor wouldn't hear of it. His curiousity had not yet been satisfied, he wanted to see the rest of the grounds and the interior of the house. He wondered how Faelon would manage this place without a staff of servants. Cleaning it was going to be a huge chore in and of itself. Enetheru had said that when Eruvyr had gone missing, the house had been closed up, all the furniture covered, and everything left as though readied for winter. A thick coat of dust increased the stillness of the rooms. A thousand years of not being cleaned caused a lot of dust to build up. Faelon glimpsed his reflection in a gauze-draped mirror. He didn't look like himself, he didn't recognize the figure in the mirror. He looked like the lord of this manor now, a few days had made a lot of difference. Curiousity seized him, and he gently folded up a dust cover to take it off a chair. Rich red fabric and finely worked dark wood greeted his eyes. Erestor was now *really* curious, and started taking dust covers off with reckless abandon. He managed to keep the dust in the fabric and off the floor. He discovered the floor rug rolled up in the corner. Faelon found a broom and swept the dust off the floor and out of the room. Glorfindel went to the well to get water for cleaning.
Faelon, though dressed as a lord and in title a lord, was busilly cleaning like a little servant girl. His hair was tied up out of his face, the sleeves of the robe he disliked so much tied in knots to keep them out of the way. He dunked his sleeve in the bucket of mopwater, and in frustration took the robes off, wearing only his leggings. Erestor realized how much more practical this was, and said nothing about it. He and Glorfindel had left their lordly robes in the palace of Mirkwood, and brought their hunting garments. Faelon wasn't allowed to dress like a servant anymore, so he was stuck with his robes and one hunting outfit that he hadn't brought with him. Faelon did have a power, one that would have been of no use to Saruman. Diligence. Once he'd begun a task and applied himself to it, he wouldn't stop until it was done. That had shown in how he'd gone about courting Calad, and now it showed in how he was cleaning the house, as though in preparation for a visit by Calad. Glorfindel started polishing a mirror. He stepped back to admire his handiwork and stepped in Faelon's bucket of mopwater. There was a terrific crash and clatter as the Balrog Slayer fell backwards, dumping the dirty water in his face as his legs shot up into the air.
Faelon looked down at Glorfindel in wide eyed surprise, leaning on his mop as he looked at the fallen lord. Faelon's shoulders began to shake as he could no longer control his laughter. There was two thousand years worth of grime in Glorfindel's hair, making it a dark gray. Faelon caught his breath.
"Lord Glorfindel, get yourself a bucket, head out to the well, and rinse your hair out. Eru only knows what all that grime will do to your golden locks." Faelon teased. "You're on your own for soap."
Erestor laughed.
"Honestly, Glor, I thought you were much too young to go gray like that, you don't even have children!" Erestor taunted.
Glorfindel gracefully picked himself up off the floor and seized a bucket. He walked out the door with exagerated grace, leaving Faelon and Erestor giggling helplessly.
"Really Erestor, you would think he'd have learned by now not to step back without looking first." Faelon said, shaking his head as he went back to mopping the floor.
As if in reply Erestor tripped over a rug. He'd stepped backwards.
"Come to think of it, Erestor, why don't you join Glorfindel outside." Faelon said, realizing he was the only one who regularly cleaned, and thus the only one who really knew what he was doing.
By nightfall, industrious Faelon had set much of the house to rights, including rooms for his guests to sleep in. The two advisors were quite greatful for this, they had spent their day weeding the gardens and cleaning the courtyard after Faelon had kicked them out of the house. Erestor awoke late the following morning, and was surprised to here many Elven voices mingled with Faelon's voice. The house had once had a staff of servants, and upon hearing that the heir lived and had returned, they had also come to set the house to rights. The Elves were bantering with Faelon in a friendly manner, none of them had seen him presented as a Lord in Northern Mirkwood, and as of yet, they thought he was a servant sent ahead.
"What's the lord like, Faelon?" asked one Elf-maiden, a cook by trade.
"He's my height, he has dark hair and green eyes, he has the same build as I do." Faelon said simply, helping the servants out with the chores.
"Is he wedded?" the cook probed.
"He's betrothed." Faelon replied.
"To whom? Who will be the Lady of the Beriorchan household?" asked the cook's husband.
"Well, keep mum on it, because her father doesn't know yet, but it's going to be Caladriel Thranduillion, the princess of Mirkwood!" Faelon said, gossiping about himself and enjoying it.
There was a collective gasp.
"Really?" was the surprised exclaimation.
"Are you jealous, Faelon? The Lord Beriorgan marrying the Lady you served so long?" asked the cook's husband, feeling sorry for the young Elf.
"No, I'm not jealous." Faelon said seriously, then flashed his contagious grin. "I'm looking forward to it, actually."
"How is that? Have you found a bride at last?" asked the gatekeeper.
"Yes, I have. The most beautiful she-Elf in all of Mirkwood." Faelon said, throwing another log on the fire in the stove.
"Come now, we all know that's Caladriel." said the gatekeeper. "Surely you aren't going to steal her!"
Erestor chose to be a spoilsport.
"No, he's not stealing anything. He *is* Lord Beriorgan. You've been reprimanding your lord like a servant boy!" Erestor cackled.
The servants all looked at Faelon and paled. They'd been saying some pretty obnoxious things before Erestor had joined them.
Faelon smiled indulgingly.
"Have no fear. I didn't expect you to know that I was Lord Beriorgan, and I liked listening to your gossip." Faelon said, holding out a hand to the gatekeeper in a gesture of goodwill. "I also did not mean to play any tricks on you, but it felt more comfortable to be known as the servant I was last week. I didn't come into this fortune knowing how to handle it. To be looked upon as a servant is not a bad thing, and I rather enjoy it."
The gatekeeper, Innas, refused Faelon a handshake and embraced him instead.
"I'll be glad to serve one who knows the life of a servant." he said, looking at Faelon with loyal, proud eyes.
Rilaisseth, the cook, and her husband, Gwanunig, looked on with admiring expressions.
"Lord Erestor, what would you like for lunch?" Rilaisseth asked, turning to the bread she'd been making.
"Anything." Erestor said. "I'm not particular when I first get up."
A halfhour later, the whole group sat down to eat in the large dining room. Servants and lords together, and none thought it a breech of station. Erestor looked at the light, golden muffins made by Rilaisseth with admiring eyes. There was more than enough for all, and Erestor certainly got his share.
Midafternoon an Elf rode into the courtyard, bearing tidings for Faelon.
"My lord," he addressed Faelon, bowing low, "their majesties, King Thranduil, Prince Legolas, and the Princess Caladriel wish to pay you a visit in three days. They will bring with them the remainder of your staff and your relatives."
Faelon nodded, bowing to the messenger.
"So be it. Tell the royal family I am honored that they will be so kind as to pay me a visit." Faelon said, sounding like a practiced noble.
The messenger smiled.
"Good luck to you, Faelon. Your story is all over the palace, it is quite sensational. The servants all send you their congratulations." he said.
"It is good to know that, Tholvell. Tell them I send them my highest regards." Faelon said. "And tell Prince Legolas that I spotted some of the white deer."
Thovell smiled, then rode out of the courtyard.
"Now if only Lord Elrond were coming too." Faelon mused out loud.
"And why do you desire my presence, Faelon?" asked a voice from the gateway.
Elrond, flanked by Elrohir and Elladan, followed by Estel and Rinn, rode into the courtyard.
Faelon smiled.
"Because I desire instruction in how to run a house full of servants!" Faelon laughed. "This is the first time I have been in the position to order anyone around."
Elladan laughed.
"Well, Faelon, you don't exactly look the part of a Lord right now." Elrohir quipped.
"Ever notice how incredably difficult it is to clean a house while wearing a noble's robes?" Faelon fired back.
Elrond smiled.
"I have. We did bring the rest of your wardrobe, though, the seamstresses finished it this morning." Elrond said kindly. "There are some hunting outfits, a set of those scorned robes, riding outfits, and some normal everyday tunics, leggings, and undershirts."
Faelon smiled appreciatively.
"Thank you, my lord. That was most kind of you." he said.
"Faelon, did you manage to clean the house all by yourself? It looks awfully big for you to have done that!" Rinn piped up.
"No, the servants arrived very early this morning and helped me to finish. I just cleaned what I could yesterday." Faelon said. "The lords Erestor and Glorfindel cleaned the courtyard and weeded the gardens."
Erestor smiled wearilly at Elrond.
The weariness was too obviously faked. Elrond smiled at his right hand Elf.
"Well, Erestor, are you glad to be hunting the white deer at last?" Elrond asked.
Erestor's vigorous nod sent his hair bouncing.
"They set out tomorrow, Lord Elrond. They need not be present for the feast if they do not want to." Faelon said. "I dare say my cellars are lacking."
Glorfindel clapped Faelon on the back.
"Surely you jest, Faelon. We'll stay until after the feast, just keep the wine away from me." Glorfindel laughed.
"Will you ask King Thranduil for Caladriel's hand at the feast, Faelon?" Elrond asked gravely.
Faelon nodded with equal gravity.
"Good. I fear I cannot keep the secret any longer. I already started Faeliel on Caladriel's dress, and Faelien on your robes." Elrond said.
He loved to play the guiding father. He was particularly enjoying arranging Faelon's wedding. Elladan and Elrohir found their father's involvement in this whole matter quite amusing, and Estel no less so. He wondered if Elrond would make as big a fuss over his wedding when he was King of Gondor.
Faelon took the reins of the horses and led them into the stable. Elladan looked around the courtyard at the walls. They were made of a green stone, beautifully carved, and they looked as fresh as they must have when erected. Elrohir ran his hand over some of the engravings. They were deeply cut into the stone, so that the passage of time would have a difficult time wearing them away.
"Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain........Great is virtue, valor and bravery are nought without it.......To everything there is a season, a time to live, a time to die, a time to take up arms, a time to lay them down.......The house of Beriorchan, enter and be blessed....." Elrohir read off softly.
He liked the walls even better now. They seemed friendly and soft to him, not hostile and hard. The builder must have known that words of wisdom would soften the walls for the inhabitants and travelers who came within them.
He followed his father into the house. He had a feeling he was going to enjoy his time here, and hoped he would get to hunt the white deer too. Elladan beaned him with a pillow as he walked in the door. Faelon snatched the pillow, smacked Elladan with it, and laid it gently on the chair it had originally been taken from.
"Leave the furniture alone, both of you." Faelon said.
He left the room to change his clothes.
Elladan raised an eyebrow.
"Is it just me, or did he just sound like father?" Elladan asked his twin.
"No! You are absolutely right!" Elrohir said. "Eru save us, father's contagious!"