This is mostly a filler chapter…I suppose. If Erestor does go to the library, that chapter will be next. Thank you, everyone, for the lovely reviews!
There was a light patter of feet as a brunette elleth entered Erestor's study, a tray in one hand and a pot of something in the other. Erestor glanced up absently when she came in, then returned to reading the letter in front of him.
"Lisondrë," he said, tapping a line of text near the middle of the message. "This will need to be addressed specifically – that's the whole point of this letter, the rest is just sociable blather. I need to reply to this soon."
"I'll write it for you whenever you wish," Lisondrë agreed. She set the tray down on the small table that was a few feet away from the desk and deftly poured a steaming cup of tea. Sliding the cup onto the small plate with a few scones and berry tarts, she put it all next to Erestor. "Your tea has arrived."
"Tea? Oh. Yes, thank you." Reaching for the elegant teacup without looking, he sipped carefully and then frowned at something else he read in the letter. "And this – this is nonsense. It will have to be ignored; they're just trying to provoke us."
She peered over his shoulder at the letter and scanned it, nodding the whole while. "Hmm…that sounds right."
After a moment, Erestor set the teacup down and tossed the letter onto a growing pile to his left. "Confounded diplomats," he snapped under his breath, and Lisondrë was wise enough to not reply to that.
"You're getting better using your left hand," she noticed, and Erestor snorted.
"Of course I am, it'd be rather ridiculous if I couldn't use it for anything. I can't write with it though, and that's what I need."
Lisondrë waited a long moment for him to say anything else, but when he didn't she nodded and headed to the desk in the corner. Erestor had gotten someone to install it the day after she had been employed as his assistant. "Whenever you're done, my lord, I'll just take the tray back to the kitchens." She added the title 'my lord,' though she found it hard to think of him as that when she still remembered him as a nervous youngling adviser in Lindon.
"You didn't need to fetch me tea," Erestor told her, but she noticed that wasn't stopping him from popping a few berry tarts in his mouth and humming appreciatively at the taste.
"Well, you forgot lunch again, so I decided to bring you something." Lisondrë had just settled down and begun her compilation of yesterday's reports when her head snapped up. "Oh! Is that inventory of the new food supply approved? The cooks were asking me about it earlier."
"It's on the out pile," Erestor said, waving a hand distractedly at the small stack of neatly arranged papers that were on the edge of his desk. He tugged another paper toward him and began reading it, then picked up the teacup and took a small sip out of it.
Lisondrë nodded, though she wasn't sure he had seen it, and then she went back to her work. A few minutes later, with glances snuck over at him, she finally dared to speak, but didn't use a bit of tact. "My lord Erestor, is there something wrong with you and Glorfindel?"
He slowly looked over at her, regal face unreadable, and his fingers stilled where they had been tracing over the lines of the letter. "Why would you ask?"
"Well…you seemed to be avoiding him, before he went on that really long patrol, and now that he just got back yesterday, I haven't seen you talking to him." She hesitated, not wishing to really intrude on something that seemed personal, but she did know that talking about things could help someone. "Are you still…friends?"
Those dark eyes fixed unnervingly on her, and for the first time she could remember, she felt a shiver snake up her spine, but she managed not to shudder. After a long moment, he broke the gaze and looked away toward the door.
"We are still friends, I suppose, but this, Lisondrë, is something you should not meddle in." He glanced back at her, inscrutable as always. "Remember your status."
She ducked her head in deference and apology, aware of his higher ranking though she was older, and returned to her work without another word. They continued on in silence; Erestor surveyed the incoming letters and planned what to write in reply, and Lisondrë scrawled down in her elegant writing what the orders for the next week would be. After a while, Lisondrë moved to the third desk in the room, the one used just for writing and calligraphy, and Erestor stood behind her and dictated as she wrote out letters and reports to send the next day.
Lisondrë was startled when the dinner bell rang, but Erestor gathered the letters she had just finished addressing and waved her away.
"Go and eat," he ordered, putting the envelopes in neat little stacks where the courier would pick them up the following morning. He really was getting quite handy with using just one hand. "We'll finish the last of the inventories tomorrow morning – you can have the rest of the day off."
She bowed in thanks, grabbing the forgotten tea tray from earlier on her way out, but then paused at the door. "Will you not come for dinner?"
He shook his head. "No, I have a few things to finish – confidential information, you understand."
Lisondrë tilted her head in acceptance. "Should I bring you some supper, or have a maid bring a tray by here?"
"Just a light meal, mention it to the Master Cook and she'll have someone bring it." Erestor frowned at his quill; it looked a little dull. "And if you don't mind, stop by the penmaster's shop and tell him we need the quills sharpened."
"I will do that," she agreed, and sensing that he wanted solitude, shut the door behind her.
Erestor dropped the dull quill and sighed. A long moment later, he rose quietly to his feet and padded to the little-used door beside the window that was half-draped with silky filigree curtains. He hadn't wanted them there, but Celebrían had insisted upon it - to make it look more approachable, she had said, but he still didn't see the reasoning in that.
Turning the lock, he pushed the door open and ducked through, coming out onto a small balcony that had a simple table and two chairs. There were a few pots containing flowers upon the railing, and Erestor wasn't surprised to see that a few delicate spider webs nested between petals.
He ran his finger along the metal railing, feeling dust catch on his fingers, and made a note to mention that to the maid who was supposed to keep his office clean from dust, webs and such. Brushing the collected grime away, he dusted the seat of a chair and lowered himself into it with a quiet exhalation. His dark gaze scanned the view before him – the lower level of Imladris stretched out below, and the river was visible in the distance. Right beneath him, however, there was a good-sized lawn, paths along the edge, and neatly-clipped grass. Flowers he couldn't identify grew along the edges – he had never been good at remembering names of plants – and the stone paths were swept tidily.
Erestor felt the tension he had been harboring all day slowly seep away at the peaceful, quiet scene before him. There was no one in sight but distant elves heading toward the dining hall, which Erestor could barely make out nestled between two housing buildings and the kitchens behind it. All in all, it was quite serene. In a show of very inelegant behavior, Erestor slid down into his seat, losing his perfect posture and relaxing. The sun, still a few hours from the horizon, didn't bother him as the balustrade's roof protected him from the warm rays.
He didn't quite understand why Lisondrë had asked him about Glorfindel. Was it her insatiable curiosity, or was she trying to tell him something? In any case, he was going to the library tonight and they would...continue...the tradition of playing chess, though the thought of confronting the Elda once again made Erestor feel slightly nauseous - he would never admit that, however. It was, as he had admitted to Glorfindel earlier, his fear at being rejected by a friend again. If Erestor was to be completely honest with himself, he didn't even know why he had said all of that, and he was sincerely hoping Glorfindel wouldn't remember most of it.
In the utterly silent minutes following, and his thoughts spiraling in endless circles about tonight, Erestor fell asleep without meaning to do so, the stress of the last few weeks finally catching up to him.
When he woke, it was to utter darkness.