I neither created nor own Middle Earth, Imladris/Rivendell, Green Wood the Great, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, Glorfindel, Feonor, Maglor, or Estel/Aragorn. Tolkien created them, and I am most grateful to him for doing so. However, I did create Mellolaes and Tilpithen.

This story is for entertainment purposes only, so please read and be entertained.

What were you thinking, my steward?"

Elrond could not even look at his oldest servant. The twins had just taken a weeping manling to bed. Mellolaes had still not come back. Glorfindel had gone to look for her. Erestor stood before his lord's desk head bowed, but jaw and fists clenched tight. "I … apologize, my lord."

Elrond glanced up and took in the sight of his steward. "You do not seem overly apologetic to me, and you still have need to apologize to her."

Erestor's head snapped up. His eyes snapped as well. "I realize I antagonized the elleth, but …"

"But she threw a bowl of honey and cherries at you. I know. Elladan told me." The younger ellon had not been able to get through his description of said event without laughing. His adar, however, had not been amused.

Elrond continued to stare at Erestor, before shaking his head. "Truly, my steward. All you have lived through, yet you cannot get along with one Silvan elleth?"

"Despite all else I have lived through, I've never had to live with a Silvan in such close quarters longer than a month and a half."

"And near the beginning of this age you put up with fifty of them being here so long. Regularly you have put up with Legolas for just as long if not longer still."

"The former time they mostly avoided us. They especially evaded coming indoors when possible …"

Into your domain, Elrond thought but did not speak aloud. Instead, he continued to listen.

"And Legolas is not always like his wilder kin. He possesses some of the tastes and mannerisms of his father's people as well."

"A taste for refinement and air of dignity, you mean."

Erestor nodded. "Yes, that is what I mean."

"And Mellolaes has neither? Like Lathwinn, her queen, she is 'never' impressed with our great art and always speaks plainly?"

"Well … no … she is not … 'as' unimpressed with our work, nor as plain-spoken as their queen."

A glint sparked in Elrond's eyes. A smirk spread over his face. He resembled Elladan still more. None could guess Imladris' lord had imparted his eldest son's mischievousness and cunning to him, until they saw him so. Erestor had seen this side of his lord before, and knew he'd been cornered. He slumped.

The half-elf continued to stare at him, leaning forward and interlacing his fingers with a smug expression. "Indeed. We could have gotten an even 'more' Silvan nurse, Erestor. Not all her people are so interested in fine-craftsmanship nor so polite. We could have gotten an 'all' healer or an 'all' warrior to watch Estel. You should be grateful we did not."

Erestor stifled a sigh. How often 'had' he wondered why Estel's nurse could not have come from anywhere, but the Greenwood? When he moved on from this contemplation, he wondered why if she "had" to come from the Greenwood, she could not have been a Doriath-Sindar, or even a half or "whole" Noldo? There were a few sprinkled throughout their kingdom he had heard. None of these pure Noldos of Greenwood had ever came to Imladris, however. A few half or even quarter-noldos had. He was often impressed with them. That friend of Legolas', Tirven, was a calm and polite youth. Why could not his sister, or the elleth he loved, have become Estel's nurse? They were both healers. With some surprise Erestor had even learned the latter was a friend of Mellolaes and almost as fond of young creatures as she. Why could not the other of the two have come? He "had" been busy lamenting so Silvan a nurse had come to them. So busy at it had he been, the thought had not occurred to him their call for aid could have been answered by worse.

Erestor sighed. "Perhaps, you are right, my lord …"

Elrond pinned his steward with a stare. "I am. And you are going to apologize to Mellolaes for your earlier words when Glorfindel brings her back."

. . .

Glorfindel found his quarry in a Willow Tree. She sat on a branch over a deep creek. Drooping branches veiled her from sight, but he wondered how no other had thought to seek her here.

She was certainly not still. The elleth kicked her bare feet over the water aimlessly. Glorfindel had noticed if Silvans were not tense with fear or anticipation, they could not keep still.

The Lord of the Golden Flower climbed up and out to Mellolaes. A man of his height, breadth of shoulders, and depth of chest could not have been supported by the branch. So, the sight might have seemed odd to mortal eyes. The branch neither bent nor groaned beneath them, though.

Mellolaes herself, with her ample bosom and hips, weighed hardly more than a quail. Glorfindel was like less in weight than he seemed. A man had once found carrying the Noldo's body as easy as carrying his own small child.

Instead of speaking right away, the golden-haired warrior leaned back into the tree trunk. Then he stretched out one leg. There was room, for Mellolaes was quite far out on the limb. Glorfindel stared at her then.

She had glanced at him as he climbed. Now, she kept her gaze on the water beneath them. Her cheeks were pink as a wild rose.

While no passionate attachment arose in him at the sight, Glorfindel thought she made a pretty picture so. It was a pity so many of the other servants agreed with Erestor about Estel's nurse being plain in appearance. Still, he could not sit and admire a Crafter-Silvan's beauty too long. He must get on with his mission. "Erestor is not a kin-killer."

Mellolaes' head spun around. Green eyes stared into Glorfindel's. "What?"

"While telling me of the last hour's events in the kitchen, Elrohir said Tilpithen feared you and our Steward might attack each other. She thought so, because you are Silvan and Erestor is … something she would not finish saying. That in and of itself made her meaning clear. Before seeking you, I made certain Tiplithen's false notion about Erestor was put to rest."

Mellolaes still stared, but her expression had gone lax . She leaned her head onto a fist and her elbow upon a knee. "Is that why Tilphiten was so nervous while Erestor was angry with me?"

Glorfindel chuckled. The golden sound rippled over their surroundings and seemed to make all others, the bird and insect songs, the moving water, and the rustling leaves, more sweet. Then the Noldo replied. "Tilpithen was nervous, because she is Tilpithen. She has always been eager to please Erestor because he is the household Steward. Those nervous and needing praise wish most to please those highest in authority. You should see her trying to speak to Lord Elrond."

Both elleth and ellon laughed then. Her laugh was rawer than his, like notes from a rougher made instrument, but it still made finer the music around them. Indeed, both laughs had something in common if one listened. The ellon and elleth did. They smiled at each other when they had fallen silent again. Glorfindel broke the quiet by speaking with a gentle smile. "You and I are alike, Mellolaes."

The elleth started so she almost fell off the branch. If she hadn't been elven, she would have splashed into the creek and sunk to its depths. Green eyes stared wider than ever into blue. "I'm what?"

"Like me in a way."

Mellolaes hung half-way off the branch gripping it with one leg and both hands as she stared up and blinked again. "How?"

"We see the world as golden, you and I."

Melloleas pulled herself fully onto the limb, leaned toward him, and tilted her head in curiosity as she stared at him. Glorfindel grinned and went on. "We expect the world to be golden. Gold can be forgotten, tarnished, covered in soot or mud. Almost always though, there is a glimmer to reveal it. Gold never truly loses its glow."

Now Mellolaes' eyes and face shone. Her soul stirred in understanding at his words. The elleth nodded and whispered, "I know what you say …"

Glorfindel nodded back, but his grin disappeared. His voice lowered and softened. "Erestor sees the world silver …"

Mellolaes tilted her head and squinted. She had sensed a tension in Imladris' steward. Despite how straight and hard he held himself at all times, she sensed beneath his spirit was as restless as his body still. Her face creased in sorrow. "What do you mean?"

Glorfindel gave her a sad smile. "Silver is easily tarnished, easily loses its shine. Indeed, you might not know just how bright it can be made until you polish it. And you must often polish it to keep it bright rather than dim. Erestor works as if all in his care is silver. And when he sees you, he sees …"

Mellolaes' sorrow disappeared. A harsher edge came to her expression and tone as she turned away. "Tarnish."

Glorfinel's smiled wider at the back of her head. His voice came forth deep and low. "No, not tarnish, just someone not eager to polish. You see not silver, Mellolaes. You see gold. Where Erestor would see lost causes, you see a glimmer of goodness and hope. In nature, in rough-hewn wood, in common thread and common bread, you see gold. And he cannot understand seeing so much in such plain things. When you see his bright silver accomplishments you are in awe, for a moment, but then you move on. You see no use for your talents there. In a way, you are right. Your particular glory is needed elsewhere."

Mellolae turned wide eyes back upon Glorfindel. "My particular 'glory'?"

"The most Glorious One gave a glory to every free person to bathe their surroundings. We elves have the most obvious glory, but you have seen how each free creature imparts their dreams to the world around them."

"Though not with full intent, animals change their environment for the better too." Mellolaes' gaze had gone soft as she studied her toes. A different flush and glow painted the contours of her face. Glrofindel grinned at the sight. "Exactly."

Mellolaes' eyelids drooped as did the corners of her mouth slightly while she continued to kick her feet. "Erestor has a fine 'glory' himself."

Glorfindel's grin grew less broad, but no less warm. "Indeed."

Mellolaes' mouth twisted. She squinted again. Glorfindel's grin fell away as he studied her. Finally, the elleth looked back up and met his gaze. She twisted her mouth, not sure how to start. "You said he was not …" She shrugged. "I don't like to think of any of you that way."

Glorfindel relaxed, leaned back further into the tree, and nodded. "I am glad for that Mellolaes, more glad than you can guess."

Mellolaes tilted her head further. The she shrugged again. "How?"

Glorfindel straightened. "How did Erestor avoid it?"

Mellolaes nodded a second time.

Glorfindel gave a curt nod back. "He was with the third group."

Mellolaes blinked. "But they turned back."

Glorfindel nodded again. "They did."

"But he was not with them then?"

"He was."

"Then how ..?"

"He jumped."

"He what?!"

"He jumped overboard and swam to the second group, to the ship I was on. He'd packed a great many things to bring to the eastern shore, things we could have used or would at least have greatly treasured, but he left them behind when he chose to take a swim in the sea. I helped pull him aboard our ship. It was then I first truly took notice of him. We were all impressed, and amazed, and thought him crazy, though he spoke like a sane elf afterward."

Mellolaes stared open-mouthed. She blinked before speaking. "Why?"

Glorfindel's smile fell away. He bowed his head and intertwined his fingers. He stared at them. "We all went for differing, yet, similar reasons. I was enraged at the destruction of the Trees. Even if we failed to get back the last of their light, I at least wanted to make Melkor pay for destroying them. Feonor, I think, wanted the same. His sons did too and believed in him. Others believed in or had sworn friendship to them. Erestor though ... He had no desire to see the eastern shores nor tame them then. He believed not in Feonor. He had his doubts we could either retrieve the silmarils or avenge the Trees. He …" Glorfindel sighed.

Mellolaes leaned forward and land a hand on his clasped ones. He looked up with widened blue eyes into her wet green ones. She spoke soft and sweet. "He had a friend?"

Glorfindel stared even wider eyed, but then relaxed and nodded. "His only friend."

Mellolaes straightened. Her mouth dropped slightly open. "Only?"

Glorfindel gave a sad grin and sighed. "Erestor was the eighth child born to his parents with four older brothers, and three older sisters. His mother was often silent and busy, but she spoke prettily when she did. His father spoke less prettily, more boldly and bluntly, and was stubborn. He had many friends, though. His wife made them all feel comfortable in their home. Two of her daughters helped her in this. Another liked to work with her father and brothers building walls. Erestor was the fussed over baby at first, which he grew to hate. He liked the preparations for the parties when he was able to help, but not the parties themselves. He'd grown to hate crowds, being the cute child there."

Mellolaes giggled at the images in her mind. Her cheeks flushed prettily. At the sight, Glorfindel smiled and went on, though he knew Erestor would long to kill him for sharing so much already. "Eventually, he grew to love drawing. He could create whole rooms, whole houses that needed his talents to make them straight and clean even if they were confined to a page. Then he became so obsessed with perfect lines and angles he gave up drawing real things and just made designs. He was quiet and solitary doing so. Once he lost his cuteness, his family almost forgot him. That was when he was noticed by his friend. One famous craftsman noticed his drawings. He was entranced by them and determined to see real things with such complexity and perfection. That seemed a true challenge to him. He mastered it. Then Erestor was entranced. He began not only drawing more, but taking care of other matters for his friend, so the other could put his whole attention to bringing solidness to paper and charcoal images. The friend had only younger brothers more restless than he. His parents liked the help Erestor provided them with at home.

Mellolaes had once again set her cheek in the cradle of her hand and elbow in the nest of her knee. "What happened?"

Glorfindel bent his head and sighed. "His younger brothers loved Maglor. They believed in him and Feanor's quest. Their eldest brother did not, but he could not let his younger kin go on such a dangerous mission without him. He went as well."

"And Erestor followed him."

"Yes."

"What happened to his friend?"

Glorfindel bowed his head further still. His voice came forth barely audible. "He did not survive past the first century. He was pulled from his mount in a skirmish. His brothers got away." Glorfindel went silent for a moment and then finished. "Erestor came to hate them. He left their city before it was destroyed. Then he left the next when destruction came for it as well. He finally reached the shore of the sea and settled down to help other refugees. He came to serve most willingly the remnants of Doriath and Gondolin. So it was no wonder he eventually swore fealty to their shared royal sons."

Mellolaes sighed. "It is a sorrowful story, yet lovely in a way."

Glorfindel sighed also and looked up catching her gaze. "You see, Merilvihdian, Erestor spent much of his early days here bolstering others in their fight against attempts to destroy them, attempts which often succeeded. Now he attempts to keep as it ever was the Last Homely House even as the world seems to grow grey, tarnished, and dim around it."

Mellolaes eyebrows rose. "Seems to?"

Glorfindel grinned and gave her a wink. "We two can usually find a glimmer even now."

Mellolaes grinned back showing the dimples in the corners of her mouth. Glorfindel gazed back into the openness of her eyes. The elleth's eyes grew moist and voice dropped to a coo. "Thank you for telling me this."

Glorfindel reached out and took her hand. "You are most welcome, Mellolaes." He spoke her name carefully. The elleth blinked and looked into his entreating eyes as he bent closer to her. "Now, I have a request to make of you, one most important to me."

Mellolaes' voice came forth breathless and trembling. "Allllrrrriiiight …"

A grin flashed over the Noldo's face. "Do not tell Erestor I told it to you all this. He would be most furious with me."

Mellolaes yanked her hand away and laughed at him. "What? Is the Balrog Slayer frightened of one who has never seen battle?"

Glorfindel's grin fell away. "He did see a few, though he did not participate. He defended himself and others at times, but only behind walls. However, I do not fear him truly in 'that' way. You know yourself, though, how he can make his displeasure felt in any room he enters and for some time after he leaves it. I am not Tilpithen, but I have my limits in what I wish to live with." He winked at Mellolaes.

The Silvan's grin became a soft smile. She winked back. "I shall never tell."

Here is the next chapter. Please review if you can, so I can make the next one even better.

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes