Chapter Two: Subtle Invasion

Elrond felt like humming to himself. Glorfindel had only been in Imladris for a week, and already the entire household loved him. The golden-haired Elf had immediately set himself to work revising the manner in which Imladris was run; even Erestor had had to admit that they had benefited from Glorfindel's involvement.

That was the strangest thing, he mused. He practically had to force Erestor to admit that Glorfindel was a help to Imladris. The advisor seemed bent on seeing the new arrival as a problem. There was no reason for it that Elrond could see, and what was worse, Glorfindel returned the coldness. Though their first meeting had been cordial enough—due to his own presence, he realized—they mostly avoided one another now, and could only be made to agree if they were forced to.

It really was the strangest thing.


Erestor wanted to throw his books down in frustration. It took every bit of willpower he had not to stomp out of the council-chamber like an angry child. He had to be satisfied with simply glaring at his own reflection as he passed a mirror in the hallway, but he hardly felt appeased by the action.

"Valar, why did you decide to torment me with that... that... Glorfindel," he growled under his breath, spitting out the Vanya's name as if it were a curse.

"Gracious, Erestor, is there a problem?"

Erestor jumped at the sound of the familiar voice coming from across the room that usually served as his study. He smiled shakily at the vibrant green eyes that met his without hesitation. "I am sorry, Belegon, I did not see you standing there. My mind was on other matters, I am afraid."

The captain chuckled and took a seat directly across Erestor's desk. "Apparently. Are you having... difficulties... with Lord Glorfindel? If I remember the past correctly, he was the one you most admired in the tales of Gondolin."

He snorted. "You are correct, and had he simply stayed in the tales of Gondolin, he would still be the one I most admire. At the moment, though, I could not agree more with the Balrog that pulled him over the cliff."

One chestnut-colored eyebrow rose. "What has he done to so upset you?"

Erestor opened his mouth to speak, then sighed and closed it again. In all honesty, he could not name any particular incident that had soured his opinion. "I do not know," he finally admitted. "Lord Elrond would entrust the whole of Imladris to his keeping without a second thought, and everyone else bends over backwards to see that his every need is met. He does not even have an official position, yet he is easily the most revered Elf east of Lindon. It just seems as though he looks for ways to fray my nerves. He always finds the most demeaning or insulting things to say to me. He has little to no regard for protocol. Why, just this afternoon, a perfectly organized council meeting seemed at one point little more than a jovial dinner-party of old acquaintances! And the fault all falls on Lord Glorfindel. I doubt that that he could be serious if he tried."

Belegon shifted in his seat and gazed at Erestor thoughtfully. "You seem to judge him very harshly. Do you think he annoys you on purpose?"

"I do not know," he replied honestly. "It could be that he simply does not think before he opens his mouth. But even when he sees I am offended by his careless words, he does not look even the least bit apologetic."

A small smile crossed the lined face of the captain. "Erestor, if I have learned anything as the Captain of the Guard, it is that some personalities cannot coexist peacefully without extreme effort. Would you leave a dog alone in a room with a wolf?"

"No," said Erestor. He tried to imagine what a wolf would look like with golden hair.

"Exactly. They would tear one another to pieces. Yet in gravest need, it would be possible for them to put their quarrels behind them to confront a common foe. Perhaps it is that you and Lord Glorfindel simply have personalities that do not easily mix. Has it ever occurred to you that he may be as frustrated with you as you are with him?"

Erestor did not answer. He was not doing anything to Glorfindel to antagonize him. He simply did what had to be done, in a firm and businesslike manner. Glorfindel was the one who had come in and caused problems.


Glorfindel strode down the hallway, singing a pleasant tune to himself as he walked. Golden sunlight streamed in through the windows and painted moving yellow patches all over the long burgundy rug.

The council had gone surprisingly well, considering the dry matter that had been discussed. With only the slightest bit of encouragement, most of the advisors and council members had relaxed. Even Lord Elrond had contributed his dry humor.

The only person that had left the meeting in a sour mood was the chief advisor. Oh well, thought Glorfindel. If Erestor wanted to be a grouch, there was nothing stopping him. He seemed to take every available opportunity to become offended.

Suddenly Glorfindel heard the sound of soft music. Startled, he stopped and stood still, then looked in the nearest doorway. That seemed to be where the lovely music was coming from.

A young Elf sat alone beside a shaded window, a harp in his lap. He appeared to be barely half-grown, just a child. His pale blond hair was tied back at his neck, and he had a vacant smile on his face, as if he was completely lost in his music. Thin, quick fingers moved effortlessly over the harp strings. He hummed quietly in harmony with the tune.

The harpist opened his eyes, startled, as Glorfindel strode into the room. "Lord Glorfindel!" he said when he recognized him. "Forgive me, milord, I didn't know you were standing there."

Glorfindel grinned wryly and waved away the title. "Never mind that. I heard you playing, and I thought it sounded beautiful."

The startled consternation on the harpist's face gave way into a pleased, shy smile. "It is kind of you to say so, Lord Glorfindel. I am still learning."

"What is your name?"

He dipped his head with respect. "Lindir Aerlindilion, milord."

"You need not call me 'milord,' Lindir," said Glorfindel, smiling at the young Elf. "Just 'Glorfindel' will do."

Lindir's eyes widened, but a tiny spark of admiration glinted in the light blue depths. "If that is what you wish, Lo—I mean, Glorfindel." He said the last word almost shyly.

"Good afternoon, Lindir," broke in another voice from the doorway. Both Glorfindel and Lindir looked up to see Erestor walk in.

Lindir smiled. "Good afternoon, Master Erestor."

"Good afternoon, Master Erestor," echoed Glorfindel, a frown falling over his face before he could stop it.

Erestor glanced over at Glorfindel as if startled to see him. The shadow of a frown flitted over his pale features, but it passed just as quickly as it had come. "Good afternoon, Lord Glorfindel. I do not suppose you have come to work with Lindir?"

Lindir leaned over to say something quietly into Glorfindel's ear. "Master Erestor is helping me with a few new songs," whispered the young harpist. "I create the melody on my harp, and he helps me to write the lyrics based on the old tales."

"What kind of tales do you use?" asked Glorfindel.

Lindir shrugged. "Whatever story seems to fit the mood of the tune. Last week we wrote a song about the tale of Beren and Lúthien. It was lovely, but at the same time very sad."

"I see," whispered Glorfindel.

Erestor, who had been rummaging around in a shelf on the wall of the room, returned with a parchment rolled up like a scroll. He unrolled it and handed it to the boy, then sat down beside him. "I thought that this tale might work well with that last melody you invented. This is the story of Aredhel Ar-Feiniel. Do you remember my telling it to you last month?"

Glorfindel's jaw clenched. Could Erestor have not picked a less painful subject? What was he trying to accomplish by pouring salt on an old wound?

Lindir nodded, oblivious to Glorfindel's discomfort. "She was Turgon's sister, the daughter of Fingolfin. She married Eöl the Dark Elf, and her son was Maeglin. Eöl killed her in Gondolin."

Erestor nodded gravely. "Yes. Do you think it will fit the melody?"

"Actually," put in Glorfindel before any further discussion could continue, "was that the tune I heard you playing when I walked in?"

"No," admitted Lindir. "What you heard was one I was making up as I went along."

Glorfindel smiled, ignoring Erestor's obvious annoyance at the interruption. "It reminded me of a song that we used to sing in Gondolin."

Lindir's eyes grew wide. "You remember songs from Gondolin?"

"Of course I do."

"Will you teach them to me? It would be wonderful to play songs in the Hall of Fire that have not been heard there before."

"I would be happy to," smiled Glorfindel. "That is, as long as Master Erestor does not mind." He looked pointedly up at the smoldering advisor.

Lindir shrugged. "He is not my teacher. My real teacher asked if he would help me with one of the older songs, and then I asked him for help with making new songs. Besides, you're an Elf-lord. Even if he did mind, he would have to do what you told him to, right?"

Neither of the Elves answered. Glorfindel noticed that Erestor did not look at either Lindir or him; the advisor kept his eyes on the paper in front of him and gripped it until his knuckles were white.

Glorfindel cleared his throat uncomfortably. He had the distinct impression that he had gone too far. "Well, there is no reason why I should simply order him around. He is Elrond's chief advisor, after all. If the both of you are busy with something, I can wait until later to teach you the songs."

He had expected Lindir to be the one to protest, but instead it was Erestor who stood suddenly and gathered his books and papers with an unreadable expression on his face. "There is no need, Lord Glorfindel," said the advisor in a terse voice. "As the boy said, I am not his teacher. It was merely a favor. If he wishes to work with you instead, I do not have the authority to protest."

Glorfindel started to answer, but was silenced by a quick glance from Erestor. The advisor's blue eyes were angry, but there was something else in them as well. They shifted back to the paper before Glorfindel had the chance to identify the expression.

"I bid you both farewell," said Erestor. He turned and left the room without another word.

Glorfindel felt a slight tug on his blue robe. "Which of the songs do you remember, Glorfindel?" asked Lindir, his voice high with excitement.

"What kind of song do you want to learn?"

"Something happy," the harpist said with a frown. "Master Erestor always picks the sad tales. I want to learn a song that will make people smile."

"Very well," said Glorfindel. He thought for a moment and then smiled. "I know just what tune to teach you. It was a favorite of mine when I was your age, and I think you will enjoy it too."

They sat in the small room until the sun began to set, and by the time they were finished the lesson, both Lindir and Glorfindel were pleased.

"Will you sing it with me in the Hall of Fire after dinner tonight?" asked Lindir, his eyes bright with anticipation.

Glorfindel shook his head. "It is not a duet, I am afraid. It would mean much more to the elders to hear their ancient song from the hand and voice of a child than it would to hear it from me."

"All right," said the boy, though he clearly did not understand Glorfindel's logic. "Will you come and hear me, then?"

He smiled and gave the child a quick hug. "Of course I will."

Lindir picked up his harp and trotted merrily to the door. He stopped before he exited and turned around to smile at Glorfindel one last time. "Thank you for the lesson."

"You are most welcome, Lindir. I will see you tonight, then."

The boy nodded and went out the door, the smile still gracing his childish face.

Glorfindel sighed and looked out the window. That last incident had undoubtedly ruined any chances he had had of befriending the prickly Erestor. He had really only meant to change the subject, not have Erestor dismissed completely.

Oh well, he thought. He stood and walked out the door. I did not mean anything amiss; it was Lindir who took the idea and ran with it. If Erestor is truly wise enough to be Elrond's chief advisor despite his personality, then he will see that fact easily.

Though for some reason, he doubted it.


Author's Notes

seeing-spots: Thank you so much for your kind words for both "First Impressions" and "Snowballs"! I know you read a lot of work from the fanfiction "greats," so it's an honor to have a review from you. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the ones to come!

Lady of the Twilight Woods: Yes, they're my favorite Elves, too. I'm glad you enjoyed this, and thank you for reviewing! I hope you are not disappointed with the rest!

Silabrithil: Your encouragement means a lot to me. Thank you for taking the time to review, and I hope you like the rest of this story just as much!

Lady Elwen Iluvalatari: Thank you, Lady Elwen! I appreciate knowing that I can keep "serious Tolkienites" happy as well as casual readers. I think I'm somewhere in between. I have to agree about my beta... she catches all of the silly mistakes I make and turns my "sloppy copy" into something passable. What do you see OOC about the characters? I wasn't aware of any OOC-ness, but I'm certainly not perfect!

Erestor: Praise where praise is due, my friend. You take all that time to beta for me; the least I can do is give you three lines. ;) As for the quote, I found it in Bartlett's and I couldn't resist. I was torn between this one and one from Aristotle, but this one applied more closely to the story. And I promise to update soon.

Noldo: Thank you so much for reviewing "Snowballs"! I was blown away to get a review from you, since I've admired your work for so long. I hope I can do more pieces like "Snowballs," but that story was very random. I will do my best. I think that Erestor deserves every fan he has, and more. I'm a diehard Erestor fangirl now. :)

Coming Soon: Chapter Three: Departures