Chapter Twelve
She woke before the sun had even risen, bouncing out of bed excitedly. Out of the corner of the window she could see the faint glow leaking past the eastern tip of the waterfall and decided that it was a good time to get up. The living room was still in darkness, the door to her uncles' room slightly ajar.
"Uncle!" Yarna called, running for the bed. In one leap she landed on Glorfindel's chest. His groan was drowned out by Erestor's laugh and the blankets were drawn up against her.
"I warned you she would do that." Glorfindel glared at his husband before trying to sit up.
"Off." Yarna found herself shunted onto the flat bit of bed between them. How anyone could still be asleep on such an exciting day was beyond her. Gradually she was faced with two awake but not particularly impressed uncles.
"It is my name day," she said proudly, jumping up and down on her knees.
"I believe that requires us getting up," Erestor murmured, receiving a vigorous nod in reply. He pushed back the blankets and scooped her up into the air. "Fin." Glorfindel had taken the opportunity to curl back up and pull a pillow over his head. "Up." Yarna joined in on Erestor's side of the glaring match that followed until she had succeeded in getting both uncles up. "I appear to remember hiding a small wrapped parcel around here somewhere, but my memory fails me as to where exactly it was." Erestor grinned at her. "Would you care to help me find it, tithen pen?" Her nodding was frantic enough for him to put her down. "I believe it was by Lindir's lute." She ran out and looked for the instrument. There, behind it on the shelf, was a sealed envelope.
"Uncle!" Then Glorfindel was there and lifting her up so she could reach it. She ripped it open and pushed it into his face.
"No, you read it." Carefully, she looked at the words, her face screwing itself up into a frown as she tried to make sense of Erestor's writing.
"I lie in wait upon the floor, to keep all mud beyond the door." She frowned again before wriggling out of Glorfindel's arms. "Here!" Triumphantly she pulled the doormat back but it yielded nothing. Rugs at doors kept mud outside, so where was her present?
"If there is mud at our door, then someone did not wipe their feet," murmured Erestor. Yarna pulled the door open and ran down the corridor towards the front doors that led to the courtyard. There were few other elves about as the sun only just made itself known over the mountains and she went unchallenged to the doors, pulling the mat back. Sure enough, there lay another envelope. Inside was not only a letter, but a chain and necklace too that fell out into her palm. The charm was of a horse, forged of silver on a golden chain.
"A truer steed I never saw, hidden underneath the straw." Necklace firmly in her pocket and the clue in her hand, she ran to the stables. The horses were huge compared to her, she could just tickle their stomachs if she reached up. Still, docile in their stalls they watched her passively as she ran by. It would be Asfaloth, the white stallion in the last box, she knew it would be. "Mae govannen, Asfaloth." Her uncle's horse nudged her head gently, knocking her towards the pile of hay that had formed next to the wall. She pulled it back and grinned. "Hannon le, mellon nin." The third package, no longer an envelope, was quickly opened. Onto the hay fell a cloak, dark blue wool lined with purple satin. Yarna put it on, and the necklace for good measure, fastening the golden flower clasp. The note was in the pocket.
"Find me where my fellows lie, use me and your words will fly." She frowned, sitting down in the hay. "Asfaloth?" She had no intention of making words fly or lying down.
"Having trouble?" Nairn was smiling over the gate to the stall. "Erestor though you might find this one more strenuous. They say when he writes, his pen moves so fast the words fly off it onto the page." Yarna tilted her head for a moment before it dawned on her.
"Hannon le." She gave Nairn a hug around the knees as she passed. Erestor's study door was open, which in itself was unusual and inside she looked around, confused. There were piles of paper on the desk and shelves, but none of the small blue envelopes that had contained her presents. For a better view, she climbed up onto his desk. She did not want to give in and say she could not find it, yet it eluded her. "Fellows." She looked down for envelopes like the ones she was hunting, but saw only a tray of pens. "Oh." One was wrapped in blue paper, neatly folded and lying alongside the others. It was pretty, carved with her name on it and went into her pocket along with the other notes. "A drop we have, or one, or two, but this is not a drink for you." She looked at the locked cabinet and frowned. Erestor did keep mead in there, Lindir had told her when Glorfindel caught him trying to open it. Somehow she did not think it would be in there. Instead she ran back out into the corridor and down the stairs to the kitchens. It was another game, darting between the tables and the feet to stay out of the way and cross the floor before getting shooed out. One she played well, on accounts of being half the size of anyone else who played. Dodging around the half a dozen elves baking she sprinted to the low wooden door that lead down to the cellar. She thought about trying to purloin something for she had run around since waking and was hungry.
Wine racks covered the walls and huge barrels of beer and mead stood at the far end. Erestor had dragged her and Edweniel out of the cellar once, so she was not surprised when the envelope peeked out from underneath the barrel nearest the door. Crumbs fell out first, then the whole round biscuit. It did not survive the journey to her pocket and was eaten before she even read the note.
"Beneath this seat, many paths and errands meet." She wandered back out of the cellar and was quickly shooed into the corridor again. No sooner had the hand nudged her out though, she was running again. In less than a year she had come to know Imladris well and the gardens best of all. In one tree, Elrond had built a seat, high up in the branches overlooking the two paths that led through the flower gardens. If she scrambled through the hedge, through the tiny hole that only she and Edweniel could fit through, then she could reach the lowest branch and climb up to the seat. There, wrapped again in blue, was another package. Inside she found a wooden carving of an archer, painted in green and brown. The note, however, was not written by Erestor.
"For this he has given you a book, but forgot to tell you where to look." The library was empty, the scribes not yet at work and as she looked around. A book was her next present, but there had to be hundreds there. None were wrapped in blue paper. She looked at the note again and it revealed nothing. No title or shelf, or even subject. Out of ideas, she walked up and down the aisles, looking at the bottom shelf for it was all she could reach. She passed large volumes on herb lore and history, nothing exciting. Nothing with pictures either. So she continued for the better part of an hour until she was bored and picked out the first book that was neither factual or twice her weight. It was a book of maps that she opened to Lindon. Out fell an envelope.
"Far we both have made you roam, now quickly come back home." The book under one arm she raced towards her uncles' rooms and went head first into the door.
"What an odd way to knock," Erestor murmured as he let her in. Lindir, Valandil, Edweniel and Nairn had joined her uncles at the table, cakes and sweet milk were lain out before them.
"Last one!" cried Valandil. "I helped with this one." Yarna looked down at the large wooden box sitting in the centre of the floor. Erestor had taken her cloak and book so she could open it.
"One for each winter," Glorfindel said quietly. Dozens of tiny stones filled the box, some merely coloured pebbles, others crystals and semi-precious stones. Yarna clapped with joy, running her hands through them to marvel at them all. Seven gifts and a hundred and forty stones, although she did not count the latter.
"You can tell she is Noldo," she heard Nairn whisper.
"Hannon le!" Erestor's knee was assaulted with a hug, Glorfindel's soon after.
"You are most welcome, tithen pen," they replied, smiling. Valandil was already helping himself to the food and Lindir had begun to play quietly on his harp.
"May the stars watch over you, tithen pen," whispered Glorfindel as he sat her on his lap to eat. "For this year and the rest."
This is as close to a Christmas present as I can do in Middle Earth. For those who celebrate, have a happy holiday. If not, thank you for reading so far!