Intermezzo
The day dawned with a clear sharpness; from the balcony of Glorfindel's apartment, Orophin felt the first breath of autumn. He heard, far below, the early morning traffic. Somewhere behind him, Elladan was humming in the shower and the tea kettle was beginning to shriek an ear-bending harmony.
Glorfindel had already gone, with many promises to return by lunchtime. Orophin had felt the other's eyes on him all morning and knew that he had been carefully examined. But that wariness in Glorfindel's voice seemed to have contented itself, for when the telephone rang later with one last assurance of a quick return, he sounded as merry as he had ever been.
The kettle had launched into an all-out scream, so Orophin thought he ought to attend to it. Pouring two mugs, he added extra sugar to his own and set the other on Elladan's bedside table. Clutching his tea in both hands, he spent a pleasant morning exploring the place; brushing the dust off the old books, sweeping patches of dog hair from the rugs, opening the windows. He left Glorfindel's room alone, but found himself somehow standing before the closed door beside it. Elladan was still humming in the shower (by now, a different tune) and the dog rolled over, asleep. Like a small child, he touched the handle and quickly stepped back, biting his lip. And like a child, he went in.
The curtains were drawn, a fine layer of dust stood on the floor. He realized quickly, guiltily, that this was Glorfindel's private study. The walls were covered in shelves and old paintings- paintings so old their subjects were all but forgotten. And the books, as he squinted at their crumbling spines, were now naught but fantasy.
He was not supposed to be here. There were similar books outside, he knew, in the sitting room; but here, he was trespassing. He sidled past two tattered chairs and a small coffee table, unwilling to disturb them.
The desk was a messy shuffle of papers and tomes; on further inspection, Orophin saw that at least one was being meticulously recopied. In new frames were sketches of people he had known long ago and places that had fallen to dust. The one on the corner, perilously close to the edge, was not a sketch- could not have been. The paper was glossy and smooth; a photograph, he supposed.
He was rather astonished to find that it was a photograph of a woman.
He saw the corner of another photograph marking the page in a book; he slid it out gently. It was the same, smiling woman, this time with a small, wavy-haired child on her shoulders.
Later he blamed his deafness on his surprise- for he did not hear the apartment door open and close, nor did he hear the footsteps at the threshold behind him.
Glorfindel cleared his throat. Loudly. Orophin did hear that.
"Am I interrupting-?"
"I apologize, my lord, I was…"
"No, no," said Glorfindel, stepping over the threshold in his dark suit and tie. "You needn't. What is a closed door, but an invitation to be opened?"
"It was rude of me, Glorfindel, and I do apologize."
"As I have said," Glorfindel replied with dainty diplomacy, "you needn't. Thank you for cleaning the dog hair, by the way."
Orophin knew that had he been any younger, he would have blushed. Instead, he looked fixedly at a point beyond Glorfindel's shoulder; he felt suddenly very small.
"Do sit down," said Glorfindel, his voice placid. "I am not scolding you, no," he added as he eased gracefully into a chair.
"How was your work?" Orophin finally asked, struggling not to sound intimidated.
"Oh, fine," replied Glorfindel with a wave of his hand. "I'm thinking a little of giving up the business and going someplace else."
"Why? You started it, did you not?"
"Well, yes, under a different name. But I grow tired of it, and I think my colleagues may be growing tired of me. They are not young forever, you know, and I have never in all my years had grey hair or arthritic knees. I sense, sometimes, a little resentment for my youthfulness. And," he pursed his lips, "the idea of a real house is beginning to please me."
"I must admit I see no advantage of…this," said Orophin. "Apartments, you call them? Where are the trees?"
"That," said Glorfindel with a grin, "is precisely what I was thinking."
They fell into a peaceful silence after that: Glorfindel pressed lazily into the back of his chair, Orophin leaning against the arm of his own.
"Even in the woods with the others, you must be lonely," said Glorfindel finally. "I have been there. Do you not wish for more life? It is so often leaving and fading; I think sometimes living is neglected."
"This is true, I think. Be careful, though: you are not less lonely here though, just differently so." Caught in this situation, Orophin concluded that it was best to simply speak the truth. He swallowed his anxiety and ignored the cold feeling inside his ribcage.
Glorfindel chuckled. "At least you're honest!"
"Who was she, if you don't mind?"
"Is, not was."
"Ah." Orophin cleared his throat awkwardly. "I am sorry...am I the only-"
"Nay, Elrohir is aware, but he speaks naught of it to me; it was several years ago, understand. It hardly matters now. She made a different life." He heaved a great breath, and Orophin felt the unspoken words on Glorfindel's tongue. "After all," Glorfindel continued, "she wouldn't have believed me, anyway."
"What wouldn't she have believed?" Elladan was leaning against the doorframe, a towel over his shoulders and a brush in his hand.
"I was worried you had drowned yourself," Orophin said, looking quickly away from Glorfindel and raising an eyebrow.
"But your shower is so nice," Elladan said plaintively. "And clean, and-"
"Maybe you ought to clean yours out, then?" asked Glorfindel.
"Thank you, I have. It's just not the same."
Glorfindel laughed, Orophin grinned and sat back in his chair.
"What are you doing in here? I've never seen this room open, Glorfindel."
"It is a study, of sorts, and you are welcome to use it," said Glorfindel, still smiling. Orophin knew Elladan's inquiry had been dismissed. "But I am not going back to work, so the day is ours."
(Tbc)
Thanks for reading!