Disclaimer: All Tolkien's
Word count: 1566/2702
Glorfindel's gaze was fixed on the door to his study, lips pressed tightly together in discontent, one finger tapping impatiently on the desk, feeling the minutes pass by. There was barely anything more he hated than waiting, being used to always have people around him to obey his orders at once.
The finger stilled as the door moved and opened with a soft creak, revealing two shy eyes peaking inside.
"Come in," Glorfindel snapped, seeing the figure in the doorway flinch at the hard tone of his voice.
Hastily Erestor slipped into the room, closing the door a tad too loud, earning another frown from Glorfindel. Making his way over to stand in front of the big desk he bowed shakily and forced himself to whisper "My Lord", remembering only too well the slap from the day before.
"You are late," Glorfindel growled, staring intently at the boy standing in front of him, head lowered, looking horribly lost in his new attire. Gaelion had taken his dirty peasant clothes and given him the long, dark robes worn by the young scribes-in-training. It was clear that Erestor wasn't used to this, he didn't stop fumbling with the unfamiliar cloth and pulling at it to straighten it, unsure how exactly it was supposed to be worn.
Glorfindel noted with a tad of amusement that he wore the outer robe backwards and his anger lessened slightly. How could he expect from this boy to follow his instruction impeccably? He was just a simply peasant and he couldn't expect him to be able to memorize his instruction on the very first time. He was not intelligent enough for this, after all. Furthermore, the nobility and perfectness of this place must put him in such an awe that he could not concentrate on his tasks properly. And who could blame him, he was only used to his tiny, dirty peasant shack after all, which they probably shared with their animals.
"You are late," he grumbled once more, slightly less intimidating now. "You're lessons begin at six in the morning. No earlier, no later. It is at exactly this time that I want to hear you knocking on my door, properly dressed. Let Gaelion explain to you how to wear those clothes, you put them on all the wrong way."
The boy's gaze instantly moved to look at the dark robes he wore as he blushed a soft red in embarrassment. "Yes, my Lord," he mumbled softly.
"Tell me." Glorfindel leaned forward, curious to see if those few repetitions had been enough to make the boy understand and memorize them. "When do you come to my study?"
"At six, my Lord," the soft voice mumbled again.
Glorfindel raised his eyebrows appreciatively. He remembered, good. This didn't mean, of course, that he'd still remember it in a few hours, but for now it was a good start and he would make sure to continue to repeat it throughout the day.
"At six," Glorfindel agreed, nodding towards a chair on the other side of the desk. "Sit down."
"Yes, my Lord." The boy hurried to do as he was told, nervously fumbling with the unfamiliar robes to fold them in a way that would allow him to sit down.
Glorfindel watched his attempts, amused. Yes, it would be fun to train this boy.
"Well, as you know you are here to be taught a few things few of your status and intelligence have a chance to learn. Such as writing and reading, which we will do today. I will explain some things to you and show you how to do it, then you will return to your rooms and practice the rest of the day. Understood?"
The boy nodded, gaze fixed on his lap.
"By the Valar, boy, don't just stare at your feet, you'll find nothing to write with there."
Erestor's gaze instantly snapped up, briefly looking right at Glorfindel, trying to read in his face what he expected from him, before looking at the desk and the things that were piled in front of him.
"This," Glorfindel slightly leaned forward to point to a parchment lying in front of the boy, "is the table with all the letters of the alphabet." He paused for a moment, frowning at the boy thoughtfully. "Do you know what letters are?"
"I… I think so… my Lord…"
"Letters," Glorfindel started, deciding to erase every doubt to make sure the boy knew what he was talking about, "are written signs, each representing a sound, such as 'e' or 'p' and all the others. Put together they can be used to form words, of course not in a random order, the right letters need to be chosen for the sound required. This way you could write your name, for example, choosing the signs for the sounds 'e', 'r', another 'e', 's', 't', 'o' and another 'r'. This also works with my name, as well as with any other word there is. This way whole sentences and even long texts can be written. Do you understand this?"
The boy nodded, gaze fixed on the parchment with the alphabet.
"Do you understand this?" Glorfindel repeated, his voice a touch colder, displeased about the boy's silence.
"Yes, my Lord," Erestor hurried to say, lowering his gaze once more in embarrassment.
"Good. I know this is very difficult for you, especially for you, as a peasant, so we will start very slowly, one letter at a time. The first letter you can see here," once again Glorfindel leaned forward to point to the letter in question, is the letter 't'. Remember it's name and every time you write it I want you to loudly repeat it. Tell me, what is this letter's name?" Expectantly Glorfindel stared at Erestor, feeling excited like a child, now that his experiment had finally started.
"It's called 't', my Lord," Erestor repeated obediently, gaze fixed tightly on the letter.
"Now take your quill and your ink and try to copy it," Glorfindel instructed, pointing to the empty parchment in front of Erestor.
"Yes, my Lord," the boy answered, but despite his words the only thing that moved were his eyes, sweeping over the things in front of him.
Glorfindel furrowed his brow. Had the boy even listened to him? "Erestor," he said firmly, waiting for the boy to raise his gaze and look at him. "I told you to take the quill and the ink and to copy the letter."
Erestor nodded, his gaze dropping back to the desk. "Yes, my Lord." But once again he did not move to obey Glorfindel's instructions. He lifted one hand, uncertainly touching the empty parchment, then the parchment with the alphabet, before moving to hesitantly touch several things in front of him, always looking up at Glorfindel to observe his reaction.
"Erestor," Glorfindel repeated once more, the displeasure now having returned to his voice. "I told you something. Why aren't you doing it?"
"My Lord…" the boy mumbled softly, pulling his hands back to hide them under the table. "Excuse me but… the quill… and the ink…"
"Yes?" Glorfindel urged him on, impatiently.
He saw the boy swallow hard, before he whispered softly; "What do they look like?"
"You don't know what a quill looks like?" Glorfindel asked carefully, astonished.
"No, my Lord," the boy whispered, staring at his feet.
"Or ink?"
"No, my Lord," Erestor whispered again, his voice barely audible now.
Glorfindel sighed deeply, raising a hand to push the objects in question right in front of the boy. It seems like he had overrated the boy.
"This is a quill," he explained, waiting for the boy to take the object in question. "And this is your ink." With a quick movement of his hand he opened the small bottle of ink. "To write, you dip the tip of your quill into the ink, it will soak up some of the fluid and you can write with it afterwards. You will need to repeat this on a regular basis, once you have used up all the ink in your quill. Never forget to close the ink once you're finished, or it will dry out, or to clean your quill. Now…" Having explained this Glorfindel leaned once more back into his chair, nodding towards the empty parchment. "Copy the letter."
Erestor stared at the quill in his hand, turning it uncertainly, before he hesitantly lifted it and dipped it into the ink.
Glorfindel sat upright with a start, stilling the boy's hand. "Not that deep! You will never be able to use the ink so high on the quill. You'll only waste it."
"I'm sorry, my Lord," the boy mumbled, moving the quill towards the parchment, producing a shaky stroke on the clean surface.
"No!" Glorfindel interrupted him, horrified about the way the boy was holding the writing utensil. "Look at your quill, you broke the tip. Don't put that much pressure on it!" He pulled the quill out of the boy's hand and examined the broken tip, frowning discontentedly. This quill was ruined. Sighing he put it down onto the desk, studying the boy in front of him.
Erestor was once more staring straight at his feet, his face tainted red.
"I think," Glorfindel decided after some moments, reaching out to put the alphabet away, "we'll rather start your lessons with teaching you how to hold a quill."
