Author's notes: Well I'm back! This chapter is kind of long. I had a lot of free time due to "payroll reduction" which is corporate for "the hourly employees are costing us too much money so give them four days off." Not that I am bitter. Sorry, back to the note. Once again, feed back is nice. Strange one so shy craves attention. And, reviewer responses are at the bottom.
Summary: See Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Once again I own nothing except the occasional OC who may wander by.
Beta: Leigh. You rock! All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
"This cannot be!" Faelon slammed the door to his chambers. Faelon could not get the scene in the courtyard out of his head. How dare that . . . brute stare at Erestor in that way? He would not stand for this. He had worked too hard for too many years to get this close to the elf of his dreams and he wasn't going to lose out to Glorfindel! Twice born elf or no Faelon would not lose. "I will show him." He started to storm off toward the master bedroom.
"Show who what?" a timid voice asked from the doorway to the smaller of the two bedrooms.
Faelon gasped and turned around. "Melpomaen! What are you doing here?" He glared at his younger brother. "Shouldn't you be practicing with the other minstrels?"
Melpomaen's face lost all color and he hugged his harp closer. His brother always managed to make "minstrels" sound like such an insult. "Lindir moved practice back by an hour. Lord Elrond wanted him to greet the minstrel that came with Lady Arwen," Melpomaen whispered.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to mumble?" Faelon sighed in frustration and headed toward his own room. He turned suddenly. "I will probably find someone at the feast tonight to share the evening with. Do not come back here until the morning."
"Where will I go?" Mel asked although he knew what his brothers answer would be.
"I don't know and I don't care. For once can you think for yourself?" With that he slammed his door shut. He had an evening to plan. The first step was paying his friend, Saelbeth, a visit. The healer would have just what he needed.
Guess things went badly with Erestor this morning, Mel thought heading toward the door. The young minstrel felt sorry for whichever elf his brother managed to trap tonight. Faelon could be rather emotionally cruel at times.
Meanwhile in Lord Elrond's office:
Lorwen barely refrained from shifting nervously from one foot to another as she stood in front of Lord Elrond's desk. She couldn't think of a reason why she would be called in front of the Elf Lord. Actually, she admitted to herself, she could think of one reason, but she was rather confident that he couldn't have noticed the missing bottles of wine this soon. Why did she always have to listen to Elladan? At least neither of his eyebrows was arched.
"Lorwen, you have spent time with both your father and Lord Glorfindel today, correct?" Lord Elrond asked. He already knew the answer to that question. He knew almost everything that happened inside his borders. And that included the wine cellars. But, he was willing to let that go for now.
Lorwen tilted her head to the side in consideration. This was an unexpected topic of conversation. It took a moment to answer. "Yes, Lord Elrond. I've been assisting in getting Lord Glorfindel settled into his rooms and his office. Why?" she asked taking a seat when Elrond motioned her to.
"Did you notice anything in the courtyard today when I introduced Erestor and Glorfindel?" Elrond asked slightly perplexed. Usually, Lorwen would notice an elf's attention toward her father. It was almost a hobby of hers. Sometimes she encouraged the elf and other times she did her best to dissuade the elf.
"My apologies, Lord Elrond, but I was distracted," Lorwen answered. "Did father and Lord Glorfindel not get off to a proper start?" She had been watching Faelon watch her father and only started to pay attention to the guests when Erestor called her name. She hadn't cared for the look in Faelon's eyes when he stormed off.
"Well, our new captain seemed quite taken with your father. But, Erestor is very fair to look upon. What do you think Glorfindel's chances are?" Elrond decided to get to the heart of the matter. If he was to secure help with his plan, he had to act fast.
Lorwen was so surprised by the question she actually blinked a few times before answering. Never had Lord Elrond shown so much interest in his advisor's love life. "Slim to none if I were to be honest," she replied fidgeting with one of her sleeves. So yet another elf was set to get his heart broken by her father. Twice in one day was a record even for him.
"Why? Is there some flaw in Glorfindel that you see that I do not?" Elrond frowned. This would not do at all.
"My Lord, the only flaw with him is that he is not my mother." Not the eyebrow! Lorwen rushed on with her explanation. "Over the centuries I have seen him turn down nearly half the population of Imladris. The elves that approached him were too young, too old, too much a warrior, not enough of a warrior, not scholarly enough. He even told one elf they were too tall. The reasons are endless, but . . ."she trailed off.
"Lorwen, do you wish to see your father happy?" He waited for her to nod before continuing. "Then listen closely to what I am about to say," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone even though they were the only two in the room. Lorwen found herself leaning forward despite herself.
"Lord Elrond, you are brilliant!" Lorwen exclaimed after hearing his plan. "But, we will need help in this matter. I can handle Ada, but we need someone to get close to Lord Glorfindel. But who?"
Just then they heard an unmistakable voice humming in the hallway going past the door. "Oh, Lindir!" they called out in unison.
In Glorfindel's office:
To say that Glorfindel was impressed with the counselor would have been an understatement. The combination of brains and beauty was amazing. Erestor had to have known he could coast through life on his looks, yet he was also a diligent worker. In the short time they had been in the office, Glorfindel had been shown a detailed map of Imladris, a roster of the warriors which were divided into who could wield a sword or bow well, and even a list of now retired warriors who would fight if the need arose. Erestor was quite possibly the most efficient elf he had ever come across. Pity he was obviously married.
"And these are the most recent inventories of weapons on hand," Erestor placed yet another parchment in front of the blond. "We are running short on training bows at the moment," he smiled apologetically. "However, a shipment will be arriving from Mirkwood in a few weeks."
Glorfindel nodded absently. He was only half listening to Erestor. He was fascinated by the way the light from the window gave the advisor's black hair dark red highlights. Glorfindel wondered how the hair would look in the moonlight. He snapped out of his musings when he realized Erestor was looking at him because he was staring. Flustered he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "You must be related to him," Glorfindel said.
"Pardon?" Erestor asked.
"Ecthelion. You remind me of Ecthelion. You resemble him greatly. Same hair color, eye color, even the same bone structure," Glorfindel elaborated. In his mind's eye he could see his friend standing beside the King Turgon in the fallen city. Those were happier times. He was so caught up in the memory he failed to notice the dark look that crossed Erestor's features.
"Yes I am related to him," Erestor said stiffly. He was saved from elaborating when the bells chimed. "It appears the hour grows late. We should retire for the day and get ready for the feast tonight." Erestor started to tidy up the desk out of sheer habit and maybe a bit of nervous energy. It had been years since someone mentioned Ecthelion to him.
Glorfindel noticed how tense it became when he brought up Ecthelion. Wanting to remove the tension he asked the first question that popped into his mind. This was no more successful than his earlier attempt at easing the tension. "Will I meet your wife tonight?" Glorfindel asked as he helped to gather up the parchments. He noticed Erestor grow still and the counselor would not meet his eyes. Glorfindel got the feeling he asked a question he should not have and may have made things even worse.
"My wife is dead. She has been for almost two hundred years," Erestor answered so quietly Glorfindel almost missed the reply. With that Erestor swept out of the room without a backward glance.
"Well, that went well," Glorfindel muttered under his breath. Could he have embarrassed Erestor and himself anymore? Probably not. "I wonder what her name was."
"Sabariel," a voice actually answered. For one moment, Glorfindel thought one of the Valar had responded then he noticed the elf in the doorway. "She was riding one of her new mares when a storm came up. Unfortunately, a bolt of lightning struck close by and spooked the animal. Sabariel fell and the horse accidentally stepped on her."
Glorfindel stared at the white-haired elf for a moment. "And you would be?"
"Lindir, chief minstrel of Imladris," Lindir did not offer to move from his position in the doorway.
"And, Lindir, do you make it a habit to eavesdrop?" Glorfindel asked.
"I wasn't eavesdropping. The only thing I heard was you asking what her name was," Lindir defended. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and struck a defiant pose. It was somewhat ruined by the fact he stood a good half a foot shorter than the warrior.
"Then how . . ."
"I saw Master Erestor leave and he had that look he gets when someone unintentionally brings up Sabariel. So I pieced it together in my mind," Lindir explained. "Among other things I have witnessed today."
"What does that mean?" Glorfindel asked.
"I saw the way you looked at him in the courtyard," Lindir said smugly. He held up a hand to stop Glorfindel from saying anything. "And, I would like to lend you a hand."
Glorfindel almost laughed out loud at the elf before him. "What kind of help could you offer me, Lindir? I doubt Erestor is one to be swept away by a song or poem." Glorfindel wanted to toss the younger elf out for his impertinence, but found himself intrigued. Could Lindir actually assist him?
"The kind of help, that comes from knowing Erestor for more than six hundred years. I've seen him turn down innumerable elves and I can help you avoid their mistakes," Lindir said growing even smugger. "Trust me."
"I fear he will never talk to me in a friendly manner. I brought up his wife," Glorfindel reminded the minstrel.
"Well, that is not a fatal error," Lindir soothed. Many elves would mention Sabariel and Erestor still remained friendly with them.
"And, I mentioned Ecthelion and he seemed to react badly," Glorfindel admitted.
"Oh, no," Lindir muttered. "Well, that is still something you can come back from. Just don't mention his grandfather again."
"Grandfather?" Glorfindel asked astounded. He wasn't aware that Ecthelion had a child. But, he was relieved to realize at least part of his friend lived on.
"Now, we must make you ready for the feast," Lindir said taking Glorfindel's arm and brushing off his last question. "Do you own anything crimson?" he asked as he led the Eldar from the room.
Erestor's rooms:
"Ada! You cannot wear that," Lorwen said the instant she saw what her father had chosen. She could tell she had her work cut out for her. She sighed. So much to do and so little time.
"Why not?" Erestor asked looking down at his formal attire. As typical of his style the material was soft, velvet, and black. "I wear it to every function."
"Exactly! This is Arwen's welcome home feast. She has seen you in that for over a decade." Lorwen threw open the doors to her father's armoire. "What about the nice formal robes she sent from Lothlorien?" Lorwen silently cheered at the look of discomfort on her father's face. He could never say no to Lorwen or Arwen. And when both of them set their minds on something it was all but a done deal. She pulled out the robes once she located them amongst all the black.
"But, they are so. . . . green," Erestor responded. He internally winced at how pathetic that excuse sounded. If he were honest with himself, he had to admit the dark green color was actually very nice. It was very thoughtful of Arwen to send him the robes for his begetting day.
"They go well with your eye color. Please?" Lorwen gave her father her best "just give in to me and save us all some time" look. She saw him wavering and moved in for the kill. "Nana always said green was your color." A low blow to be sure but when Lord Elrond gave her a task she meant to see it through.
Erestor said nothing. He simply grabbed the offered garments from his daughter and stalked into the bathroom to change. Once he was done, he stared at his image in the mirror. He did look different in the green robes. He couldn't decide if the change was for the better or not. He could be sure that Sabariel would have approved.
He came back into his bedroom to find Lorwen still there. She motioned for him to turn around which he grudgingly did. "You look amazing, Ada," she almost whispered.
"Thank you."
"Now, about your hair," Lorwen began. She wasn't really all that surprised when her father unceremoniously tossed her into the hallway and slammed the door shut. "I think I will just go get ready now," she called through the door before heading toward her rooms. She couldn't resist doing a little "happy dance" on her way however.
In one of the more secluded hallways of the Last Homely House:
Saelbeth looked around the seemingly deserted hallway. He didn't know why Faelon insisted on meeting him here or why there was a need for all this cloak-and dagger business. Sometimes the young healer truly worried about his friend's mental stability.
"Did you bring it?" Faelon asked stepping out of the shadows and nearly scaring Saelbeth to death.
"Don't do that, Faelon! Have you no sense?" Saelbeth asked whirling around to face his friend. He pulled a package from his pocket. "And yes I brought it," he said tossing the scribe the small bundle. He felt a shiver climb his spine when he saw the feral grin on Faelon's face. "What are you going to do with it?"
"You don't need to know that," Faelon responded sliding the package into his own pocket. "I'll see you at the feast." With that Faelon disappeared into the shadows as quietly as he had appeared.
Saelbeth felt a sense of dread steal over him. This is the last time I help him in this manner, Saelbeth thought. Whatever he has planned it will only end in tears. With that last thought the healer turned and went back the way he came.
The Feast:
Lindir and Lorwen smiled at each other when they noticed how almost every elf at one point or another had openly stared at Erestor and Glorfindel. Lindir had convinced Glorfindel to wear dark blue after finding a serious lack of crimson in the warrior's wardrobe. The color complimented both his hair and his complexion. Lindir had even managed to help Glorfindel braid his hair in an intricate pattern.
"They do make a handsome couple," Lindir whispered into Lorwen's ear.
"We shouldn't get too far ahead of ourselves. They've known each other less than a day," Lorwen answered back. "But, I don't think they can withstand the power that is Lord Elrond and his plan."
"Lorwen seems close to Lindir," Glorfindel remarked to Erestor as he motioned to the younger elves that were whispering about something. He silently congratulated himself. He had been speaking with Erestor for the better part of the hour and had yet to stick his foot in his mouth. After talking to the minstrel Glorfindel discovered what topics of conversation were safe. He learned that nothing opened Erestor up more than talking about his daughter.
Erestor let a small smile grace his face when his eyes landed on his only child. He had made up his mind to over look the fact that in a span of five minutes Glorfindel had managed to bring up the two most painful subjects to him. "Lindir is her closest friend," he remarked. "Has been since she was a small child. I couldn't always spend as much time with her as I would have liked. Thankfully, Lindir and Lady Celebrian stepped in and were there when I could not be."
"He is just her friend?" Glorfindel asked sipping his wine. He grimaced at the gritty taste. It must be from Minas Tirith, he thought. He held little esteem for the wine making abilities of the second-born. There had been some bad experiences in Bree when he was traveling with Haldir and his brothers.
"Just a friend," Erestor said taking up his own goblet. "He knows I would kill him if he touched her." Glorfindel chuckled. "I mean it. I can make it happen. They would never find his body. Lord Elrond and the twins would probably help."
Glorfindel looked at Erestor. The advisor certainly looked serious. Glorfindel once again wondered if he had crossed a conversation line. He decided not to push the issue. He went to set down his goblet at the exact moment Erestor chose to set his down. "Oh, I am so sorry!" Glorfindel apologized as the contents of both goblets spread across the once white table cloth.
Both Lorwen and Lindir chuckled as they watched the two elves try to mop up the mess. "Poor Ada. It's because he's left handed you know," Lorwen remarked. "That's why I usually sit next to him. I have a system."
"Which is?"
"Never do the same thing he is doing. If he is eating then I drink. If he is drinking, I eat. So far it has worked," she answered smugly. Suddenly she shivered as a feeling she couldn't place hit her. She scanned the table trying to locate the source of her discomfort. Then she noticed Faelon. She followed his gaze to Glorfindel. If looks could kill there would be no doubt they would find out if he was to be called the thrice-born Balrog slayer.
"Are you okay?" Lindir asked squeezing her hand under the table. He too noticed Faelon's stare. Why would the scribe be so mad about spilt wine? It wasn't like he would be the one to clean the table cloth.
"I'm fine," she squeezed his hand back. "Could I talk to you later? I am a little concerned."
"About what?"
"Erestor is looking," Elrohir cut in from Lorwen's left. The pair quickly let go of each other. "I don't think he noticed anything but you should be careful."
"Ada knows we are just friends," Lorwen responded.
"Yes and my Ada knew Arwen and Gildor are just friends, even when he had caught them holding hands in the garden at night. And how long has it been since he has been here? Fathers are overly protective of their daughters. It is the way of the world," Elrohir responded before turning back to his twin.
"Was he just holding her hand?" Erestor asked.
"I am sure it was an innocent gesture," Glorfindel assured him. He didn't like the look on the councilor's face. The word predatory sprang to mind.
"You are probably right," Erestor agreed as he took a sip from his new goblet of wine. "Glorfindel, how much do you know about hiding bodies?" he asked in his most innocent tone.
Glorfindel sputtered on his own wine. "What? Why do you need to know?" He wasn't fooled by the innocent look on the dark-haired elf's face. He also knew why that question had been asked. He would need to keep an eye on Lindir in the next few days and make sure nothing "unexpected" happened.
"Oh, no reason," Erestor turned back to his plate. Maybe Gildor needs a new minstrel. I will have to ask him if Lord Elrond ever allows him back. Or maybe Celeborn would take him back to Lothlorien?
Elrond silently congratulated himself. Those two were getting along famously. He felt they were definitely on the right track with this plan. He looked toward Lorwen and Lindir and raised his goblet. The two returned the gesture. It was a pity the trio did not see Faelon stalk out of the room as soon as dinner was over. Maybe they could have prevented what was to come.
Reviewer responses:
GJ: Yeah, knowing how much time has passed would be important. I can't believe I missed that. Yeah, I can. That's what happens when you write at five in the morning. Anyway, using 50 as the age elves reach their majority (compared to humans at 18) Lorwen would have been 19 when her mother died or equal to a 7 year old human. It's been 250 years with Celebrian sailing 50 years before chapter 2. So the year is roughly 2560. I see Lindir as more of a mentor to Lorwen right now, but that may change. I still have the last 3 chapters to actually write.
Haldir's Heart and Soul: Erestor may give him a chance. Especially if Elrond has his way. And as for Faelon cooking up trouble, he seems to be more emotionally unstable than I at first imagined him to be.
Nevermind: A) Thanks for pointing out the Noldor Noldo mistake. I can't believe I missed that when I re-read the chapter before posting. Hopefully, I was able to correct that but you never know with B) Keep in mind I never promised they would end up together. They haven't told me how they wanted this story to end yet. And C): Curse you for giving me that link in your first review. I now return to that site every other day to see if there are any new essays. However after reading Writing Arda Immortals I did have this mental image of the characters from "Friends" in Middle Earth. It was disturbing (shudders).