Traditional Recipes for Disaster
by Ithiliel Silverquill and Erestor
Disclaimer: Neither of us owns Lord of the Rings or anything pertaining to it. This story was written for entertainment only.
CHAPTER FOUR
Glorfindel.
For the first time in many years, I try to be unobtrusive while entering the dining hall. I fail in my attempt. Naturally.
I do not usually mind being what someone (Lord Erestor, for example) would call 'the center of attention'. I'll listen to the Elves of Imladris when they want to talk to me. When they are sad I'll try to cheer them up, and when they are happy, they know that I'll be happy with them. I love to be a part of things.
A child comes over to tell me about his new puppy, and one of my young warriors advances on me to discuss whetstones, and two maidens bring me something to eat and blush when I thank them. I make a half-hearted effort to get away to somewhere where I can think properly, but the child's recounting of his dog's antics is very amusing.
Just as he is telling me about the puppy's first attempt at catching rats – perhaps Imladris is infested –, someone grabs my sleeve, says something polite to the child, warrior, and maidens and hauls me to a table.
Lindir is a rather strange Elf. He has a fondness for analogies and almond paste and ludicrous situations. At the moment there is a smirk on his face, which quite honestly worries me a little. He plasters on a wide-eyed, hopeful expression the moment he sees me looking at him. This worries me even more.
"Erestor, are you quite all right?" I ask absently, glancing down at my plate of food.
"You called me Erestor," he says accusingly.
"What? I did?" I hate feeling confused. That's why I try to avoid Lindir, I suppose. "I hope you were not offended."
The smirk returns.
"Not that being called Erestor is offensive," I say quickly. Too quickly. " Erestor is an honorable. . .er. . .scholarly Elf. . .I'm sure."
"Valar, this is worse than I thought," says Lindir. "First you ask me, 'Erestor, are you quite all right?' and then you sit here and stare at me in almost a piscine fashion. Did Lord Erestor knock you over the head with one of his books? You're acting even more dazed than usual."
This tirade is quite startling, but it gives me time to collect myself. "No, I'm fine. I've just had an unpleasant afternoon."
"Ah, yes. You were book hunting with Lord Erestor."
"How did you know?"
"I know everything."
I lean back in my chair. I do not doubt Lindir when he says he knows everything. He probably does. Or at least, he probably knows everything that's worth knowing. He can be found in any corner of Imladris. He turns up in the strangest places. He hounds me doggedly. He is the only Elf, other than Lord Erestor (and Lord Elrond, on occasion), who I try to avoid. Sometimes I think he only pretends to be harmless.
The maidens have kindly provided me with a slice of bread. I pick it up and take a bite.
Lindir, observing that my mouth is full, seizes his opportunity to ask me a question. "You didn't find the book, did you?"
I shake my head, annoyed. By the time I'm done chewing, Lindir is talking again. "No, I didn't think you'd find it," he says airily.
"Why did you think that?" There is no use in being angry with him. That's what's so frustrating.
Lindir tries to look mysterious, fails dismally, and looks mildly ill instead. "Can't say."
I finish the bread and sample some soup. "I'm no good at finding things. Unless they're in my bedroom, of course. Then I know to look in the least likely place."
Lindir smiles smugly. "Sometimes things aren't even in the least likely place."
"I don't see how that works," I mutter. I stir the soup pointlessly for a few moments, and then say, "Please don't tell anyone this."
"Don't tell them what?" Lindir's ears prick forward.
"Do you think Erestor has the book?" I ask. "I'm beginning to wonder, but it seems unfair to suspect such a thing. Lord Elrond trusts Erestor. And Lord Erestor seems intent on pleasing Elrond, but then, I don't really know anything about Erestor, and I really want to find this book, and I'm going to investigate his bedroom."
Lindir blinks. I'm rather surprised at my conclusion as well, but now that I think on it, it makes sense. "You're going to snoop through Lord Erestor's things because you think that he might have stolen Lord Elrond's book?" asks Lindir.
"Not stolen. Misplaced."
Lindir sits down. "Glorfindel..." He sighs, shakes his head. Then he smiles at me. "So, what do you want me to do?"
"Keep him out of his bedroom while I'm sneaking through his stuff," I say, being direct and to-the-point.
"How? Do you want me to lock him a hall closet?"
I grin at the thought. Occasionally I love the way Lindir puts things. "Good idea."
Lindir knows that sometimes I joke very seriously. He is one of the few people who realizes this. "You don't really want me to do that, do you?" he asks carefully.
I shake my head. "While a few hours in a closet would probably do Erestor some good, it wasn't the tactic I was thinking of. I thought you might begin talking about books or something. Say you want to read more and ask what books he recommends." My cunning revenge on both of them. "That should distract him long enough." And it should be pure torture for you, Lindir.
I lick my soup spoon, well satisfied with my idea. If Erestor has the book in his bedroom, then I'll find it. If Erestor doesn't have the book, then it won't matter if I snoop through his things. It's perfect.
"So why this sudden suspicion of a poor innocent advisor?"
I snort at the description, as it's not one I'd use in context with Erestor, and it's certainly not one I'd have thought Lindir would use. Lindir and Erestor seem to dislike each other quite a bit. When I reply, I'm more serious than usual. "I don't really know. Lord Erestor makes me jumpy. He's always glaring at me. No matter what I do, I feel as though he's judging me. And I'm not used to being disliked." I reflect on this profound thought for a moment. "But I do not dislike him back. Not really."
Lindir takes a pastry off my plate and nibbles on it. "Well, I don't feel sorry for you."
"Thanks."
"You have to learn how to handle being disliked. You can't retaliate in kind – I know you're capable of being mean, Glorfindel – and you can't get depressed. Everyone is disliked by somebody," says Lindir wisely, continuing to scoff my dinner.
"Is Erestor even in here?"
"No."
"He's probably off to read his beloved book then," I say. The one about the rats, I add mentally. Lindir raises his eyebrows at me. "All right, Lindir. For your sake. He's probably retired for a much deserved rest and is most likely reading a book. How's that?"
"Much more charitable."
"Then, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and look for this book."
"And what if Lord Erestor is in his bedroom?"
"Then you can bang on his door and yell things about termites attacking the library. He'll dash out to save his books, and I can dash in and look for Elrond's cursed recipes."
"Your mission is doomed to failure."
"Lindir, have I ever told you how much I appreciate your optimism in situations such as this one?"
"Very funny, Lord Glorfindel."
Lindir and I exit the dinning hall, two Elves on a mission.
Erestor.
I walk down the hallway, scarcely able to believe my luck. Can my day actually be improving? Not only is Glorfindel far away from me at the moment—and he will be for quite some time, as I am sure that there will be plenty of people in the dining hall that are eager to talk to him—but I will be able to finish those invitations to Greenwood. Elrond's book will be found some time today, I have no doubt, and for an hour or so I will have peace and qui—
"Lord Erestor!"
I freeze. It would seem that I spoke too soon.
"Ah, Lord Erestor, there you are! I was looking all over for you!"
I slowly turn around to face my pursuer. Thank the Valar for small mercies—it is not Glorfindel. However, this is almost as bad.
"Yes, Lindir?" I say, trying to infuse all my annoyance into his name by enunciating it very clearly.
"I was wondering if you could help me in the library," he says cheerfully. If he noticed the threatening way I spoke, he does not give it away. "You see, there is a book that I am trying to find…"
Oh, no. Not another book…
"…and since I know you love the library so much, I thought that you would be just the one to ask!" There is a triumphant smile on his face.
I take a deep breath, inwardly counting to ten in every language I know. "Do you need this… book… right away?" I ask, hoping that perhaps he will say no.
No such luck. "Actually, I do need it right away," he says, nodding fiercely. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, because I know that you probably know the library better than anyone else in Rivendell, and you could help me find it more quickly than the other librarians."
"Very well," I say, hoping that he will be put off by the scowl I give him. "If it is very important."
He grins. "Oh, it is."
I am beginning to wonder if perhaps I am simply cursed. Considering the day I have had today, it is a very likely possibility. I have no idea what great crime I have committed to anger Manwë and Varda and Eru Ilúvatar, but apparently I have done something. Perhaps they are simply angry because I was mean to their pet Elf Glorfindel. It appears that he is as much their favorite as he is the favorite of everyone else.
I sigh to myself as I walk down the hall, Lindir close behind. Valar, I am in a bad mood.
Perhaps if Lindir's book is easy to find, I can simply help him and get back to my work. Then again, considering my luck today, Lindir's book will probably be about as easy to find as Elrond's.
We enter the library and I immediately walk to the shelves. "What is the title of the book, Lindir?" I ask.
He thinks deeply. Come on, Lindir, I am no fool, and I know that you are not a fool either. It was not that difficult of a question.
"It is called Essays on the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, I believe. Yes, that was it."
I raise an eyebrow. "Lindir, you are a minstrel. Why do you want a book of essays?"
My question seems to have caught him off guard. "Well… I am… trying to write a song, you see, and I want it to be completely accurate. Essays are very scholarly, and so I thought that they would probably have the best information."
I cross my arms. "Since when are you concerned about the 'facts' in your songs? If I remember correctly, the last song you wrote was I Faroth Beren, "The Brave Hunters," in which you stated quite clearly that I was to blame for the fact that Elladan and Elrohir went off looking for their lost dog!"
A flash of annoyance flickers in his eyes. "Well, you always said 'Morgoth take that despicable creature' so often that when the dog disappeared, they thought that Morgoth had done what you asked him to, and so they went off to get their dog back from him! I thought it was very brave of them, actually."
"Yes, well, you seem to have conveniently forgotten that I was the one who finally found the beast in the stable with a litter of puppies. In the song, you said that Glorfindel found her."
He blinks. "That was… artistic license. Glorfindel's name fit the rhyme scheme better than yours did. Besides, if I had included the fact that you were the one who found her, I might also have had to include the fact that you leapt nearly a foot into the air when she started barking at you."
I narrow my eyes at him. "What are you insinuating, Lindir?"
He smiles at me. Lindir has a very dangerous smile, especially when he knows things that you never wanted him to know. Unfortunately, I see that smile quite often. "Only that Elladan and Elrohir would be very interested to learn that you are afraid of their dog."
"I am not afraid of that loathsome animal! I simply… do not like it."
"Oh, I'm sure. Is this the same way that you 'do not like' telling Lord Elrond that you can't find his book?"
I start to retort, but then his words sink in. How did Lindir know that Glorfindel and I were unable to find Lord Elrond's book? I give him a suspicious glare. "Have you been talking to Glorfindel?"
He shrugs. "Why would that be important?"
"I just wondered." I turn to the shelves. "Essays on the Dagor-nuin-Giliath… I think that you would probably find it over here."
And so I begin another long stay in the library, looking for another book that no one except Lindir seems to remember seeing.
I was right. I am cursed.
TBC
