­-Note- I need to tell you this: November is off-limits. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (as well as a monster history paper). I don't plan on finishing, but I want to set aside that month solely for my original work. I'm in the process of hording short stories which I'll post during then, but unless I give up, the likelihood of seeing an update is very slim. One month is a long time to be away from a story, but I promise I will come back to it in December. Until November, though, I will post as often as I can. Thank you for your patience and understanding!

-Disclaimer- Please see Chapter 1.

A Good Day

Wednesday evening, and he and Alyaran walked along the deserted beach. It had been cool and windy all day, the waves were choppy and white-capped, the sunbathers and swimmers were all indoors.

He did not leave footprints behind him in the damp sand, but hugged his green cloak tightly to him as he watched Alyaran play with something at the surf line. At first he thought it was a stone, dark lava rock, perhaps, but he moved closer, inspected it.

It was a hermit crab, stuffed tightly into an ancient, barnacled shell. He shooed Alyaran away from it, took the crab in his hands. After several minutes of patient waiting, it stretched out a tentative leg, then another. It walked slowly across his palm, retreated back into the shell when it had reached the edge. Glorfindel looked up, searched the beach. Years earlier, blocks of sandstone had been dropped into the water to create a fishing pier; much of it was now submerged, and all that could be seen was a crumpling pile of rock, smothered in seaweed.

Glorfindel sighed, looked to the creature in his hand, looked back to the rock, back to the shell. He set the hermit crab on the sand, took off his shoes, socks, and cloak, rolled up his khakis. Picked it up, waded out through chilly waves.

He left the hermit crab there, in the shelter the rock provided in the shallow water. He didn't know much about them, but he was relatively sure hermit crabs lived in water. Relatively sure. After all, they lived in shells- which they had probably found underwater.

Alyaran barked at him from the shore.

He realized two things, then:

Firstly: he was using the word "water" far too much.

Secondly: He needed a vacation. Badly. If he was spending so much time thinking about hermit crabs, it probably meant he needed to spend some time not thinking.

He ignored the first revelation, almost laughed out loud in joy at the second.

A vacation!

Vacation!

Where in all of Arda was he going to find one of those?

He glanced thoughtfully at his feet- he couldn't see them. Ah. He should probably get back to the beach. Right.

On land once more, he sat back on his elbows, waiting for his legs to dry. A vacation...where should he go?

Alyaran jumped into the surf, swam after a stick.

And what would he do with his dog?

Ah.

Hmm.

Ah ha! Of course! He'd even told the twins he'd go.

He stood, whistled to Alyaran, who came running, a ball of wet, sandy fur. He picked up the leash still attached to the dog's collar, equally wet and sandy, carried his shoes and socks in his free hand. Together, they walked back to the apartment, not far away.

He did not deny how odd it felt to be going barefoot in public. The cold concrete sidewalk felt rough against the soles of his feet, gone soft from wearing shoes for so long.

He unlocked his door, wiped his feet on the mat. Alyaran shook himself unceremoniously in the hall, spattering water on the floor. Glorfindel laughed, slid past him.

He was in such a good mood, in fact, that he called off work for the very next day, Thursday, and the day after. Glorfindel had not called off work in...at least half a century. He even summoned up the courage to take the box of noodles from his pantry, boil them up, and make spaghetti.

All in all, it wasn't half bad, for the third time he's made it; not at all undercooked.

When it was done, he fed Alyaran, went to his room, stared into his open closet. For a moment, he stood before the neat piles of shirts, the suits hanging from hangers, staring blankly. Then, he retrieved his suitcase from the corner, and started packing.

Alyaran swaggered in some time later, saw Glorfindel sitting on the bed, carefully tucking away a pair of pants into his case. He leapt up onto the bed beside him and watched.

Alyaran's tale thumped the bedspread, his wide, brown eyes trained on Glorfindel. Glorfindel finished, lay back.

"This was a good day, I think," he said. "But tomorrow will be better."

(l)

I apologize for the shortness of this chapter- I've had a crazy week and not much time for writing.

Thanks for reading! Review responses:

Dark Borg Drone: Thanks- here's another chapter, but I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out due to some unusual circumstances next week. :/

Pacific Drifter: :D Thanks! There are a lot of modern-day stories out there. I've read some very good ones, but I don't want mine to be the same as everyone else's!

Kazbels: Wouldn't it be wonderful if they really did exist? It's certainly nice to think about. /sigh/ Fictional characters... :P

Nerwen: Thanks! I will do my best to post another chapter next week, but at this point, I'm not sure.

Noldo: Exactly! I'd be far too uncomfortable! :) I don't know if that specific little boy will be back, but I hope to include more children. But I do have a dog. I can see a lot of him in Alyaran, but my dog is a bit...less bright that Glorfindel's. I love him very much; he just passed his sixth birthday. :P I encourage you to get a dog as soon as possible!

Unsung Heroine: Thanks! I like to admire cars, too, especially old cars. I'm more of a cycling person, myself, though!

Neoinean: Well, Glorfindel is going on his "vacation" now, so we'll see about Celeborn. I was in the backyard last week and had the strangest picture of Celeborn gardening... :P I think I must be going insane. :D