Post by Rhonda on May 22, 2014 21:39:45 GMT -5
Chapter 6 – Confrontations and Accusations
Glorfindel took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. He was anxious to conclude his meeting with Elrond so that he could get himself cleaned up and down to noon meal. After seeing Erestor in full fighting gear, the Balrog slayer was excited to hear about the events of the day. With just the little information he had garnered from Estel, it was not difficult to imagine what went on and why. Of late Erestor had been feeling a little insecure as their all night argument affirmed. The more he tried to assure the stubborn elf that Timagol’s interest was no more than a youthful crush, the angrier Erestor became. The sassy elf was convinced that there was more going on behind Timagol’s innocent smile than Glorfindel knew. Further, Erestor asserted that he had seen that look on the faces of too many elves to misinterpret what it meant. Glorfindel was just thankful that Erestor had not launched himself into listing all those who, over the ages, had been smitten with his golden-haired self.
As he approached Elrond’s study he wondered what was so urgent that he had to see his friend immediately upon his return. He hoped that there was nothing amiss in the Homely House, but was reasonably sure that everything was as it should be, as he had heard nothing to the contrary when he rode into the practice ring. With the Captains for the Main Gate and all the Patrols sitting right there, he was certain that they would have approached him if anything was wrong. Knocking, he was positive that all was well; he could not have anticipated the quiet storm that awaited him on the other side of the door.
~~~
The dusty elf entered his room and threw his weapon down on the bed. “How dare he?” He asked aloud. “Lording it over everyone around him, he thinks himself so much better than the rest of us. Walking around with his nose in the air as if he indeed was the Lord of the Manor. Challenging everyone to spar with him, as if we should be afraid…well I am not afraid,” he said emphatically. “He will soon see that it was not wise to make an enemy out of me, not the other way round.”
Angrily he paced around the room and as usual his mind went back to his days in Lindon; there had been good times and bad, but it was the latter that now consumed his thoughts. Relocating to Lindon had been a last resort for his parents. Beleriand, after a siege of 400 years, had finally fallen and elves from many races, Noldor, Sindar, Green-Elves, and Falathrim were scattered across the west. Among those elves were his parents, who quite literally ran for their lives at the height of Morgoth’s attack.
Making their way to Ossiriand, which was later renamed Lindon, they sought to start life over, a new foundation in a peaceful place. That peace started with having children, two to be exact. He and his older brother should have thrived in Lindon, but the prospects of that were cut short when the elder son was accused of defrauding a local merchant. A wealthy merchant, it was important to mention that, because he was convinced that it was that wealth that had his brother ostracized. That and the merchant’s unbearably pompous son. Not even as old as his big brother and able to convince everyone that his brother was embezzling funds from the merchant’s accounts.
Who could have predicted that an impudent twit of an elfling, not more than 45 summers would be the cause of his family’s destruction. He, at seven years of age, was still much too young to understand all that was happening, but what he did understand was one moment his beloved brother was there and the next he was gone. Gone, as was his mother, who was too shamed by the accusations to continue living on in Middle Earth, and so she sailed. Sailed, leaving his father broken and alone; alone to work himself near to death trying to repay that which was allegedly stolen.
His brother was taken before the High-King Gil-Galad who, despite the protests of his father, exiled his brother from Lindon. To where his brother traveled no one knew; for that matter no one outside of his family seemed to care and he never saw him again. Not long after that his father, tired and broken-hearted relocated to the Havens -leaving him with an aunt and sailed to be reunited with his mother. But for his aunt he was alone, and while he struggled to come to terms with his life, the pompous genius child of Lindon thrived.
As he grew, he tried to monitor the elf’s whereabouts, but lost track of him during the Alliance. It was not until he moved to Lóthlórien that he once again became aware of the elf’s location. After years, millennia, of plotting what he would do if he ever saw this elf again he could not believe his good fortune when he was presented with an opportunity to travel to Imladris. He knew that going there on his own, as a newcomer would make him a prime suspect if anything untoward happened to the illustrious seneschal. However, as a member of a traveling party sent there at the command of Lord Celeborn, he would never be suspected. He could not have asked for a better gift. Finally, Erestor would pay for his arrogance, once and for all time; he would pay for destroying his family.
~~~
Andras lay quietly in the hay inside the stable. Glorfindel had just brought Asfaloth in and ‘Dras, as Estel called him, had spent the last half hour exercising his arm by grooming the majestic stallion. Aside from Glorfindel, Estel and of course the Lord of Imladris, Andras was the only person that the great horse had allowed into his stall for anything more than feeding and grooming. At the moment Andras lay atop a bale of hay, eyes closed daydreaming about his trip home to Lóthlórien. As beautiful as Imladris was, he could not wait to be back among the golden mellyrn, back in the home of his father, who he missed dreadfully.
He lay there absentmindedly chewing on a piece of straw as he sang one of his favorite songs. Asfaloth seemed to be enjoying the company; surprisingly he laid down in the straw, and quietly nickered along with Andras as he sang. Everyone who had seen the young elf interact with the horses was astounded at how the four spirited stallions and Elrond’s bay mare Barandir, who took too very few, took to Daenir’s son. Colwandë, Elrond’s seasoned stable master, was amazed at the affinity this young one seemed to have with the horses. In particular, the always-twitchy twin grays Gaer–sûl, and Gaer-âr, the mounts of Elrohir and Elladan. These two high-spirited horses always calmed whenever the ostler’s son was around. The fourth stallion in the enclosure was Erestor’s magnificent black, Sûl-linnon, considered the most intelligent of the animals, he was notorious for letting himself out of his stall and searching the gardens for his master. Normally Colwandë would have been looking for a way to exercise some of the nervous energy out of their systems before he bedded them down for the night. However, today all five were peaceful, serenely walking through the stable listening to Andras sing.
It was this scene that Elwaith came upon in his search for the young elf. With Dras missing from the house there could only be one place to look for him, the stables. Moreover, as much as Colwandë appreciated the lad’s help, Lord Elrond would not be pleased that Dras was not following the directions of his nestron. Limited exercise meant just that in Elrond’s book and if he were to find out that Andras was disobeying him again he would probably ban him from the stables altogether.
Approaching the open stable door Elwaith could see the stallions milling around one stall in particular. Having had to locate the elf on previous occasions he knew that stall to be the one that was occupied by the temperamental Asfaloth and he was reticent to go any further. With the other three big males moving about unrestricted his resolve to remove Andras back to the house was shaken. So he called out to him from the doorway. “Dras what are you doing? You know you are not supposed to be out this far away from the house, if Lord Elrond finds out we will both be in trouble.” Andras pressed a finger to his lips and ‘shooshed’ the horses further, while trying to keep himself as small and hidden behind the great white horse as he could.
“Dras I know you are in there…I heard you singing. If you do not come out of your own volition you will force me to come in there and get you.” Knowing himself to be found the elf responded laughingly, “I would not try that if I were you Elwaith, you know how unpredictable stallions can be with strangers.”
“Dras, this is your final warning, if you do not come out I will have no choice but to…to find Lord Glorfindel and have him remove you…and I promise you if you make me do that I will ask Lord Elrond to restrict you from the stable altogether.”
“You would not that Waith, I know you too well, this is the only pleasure I ask for and you would not take that from me.”
“Watch me,” the little elf said as he straightened his robes in an Erestor-like fashion. “You take advantage of Lord Elrond’s’ good nature, and mine. Or would you prefer it if I had Haldir come and get you? I assure you these stallions will not pose a threat to him, and if he has to interrupt his duties for this it will not go well for you…or the stallions.”
“Oh all right,” he replied, “have it your way, but know that I am not at all happy with being confined to the house.”
“You have not been confined to the house, Lord Elrond has graciously given you complete freedom of his gardens and the surrounding areas, but as you well know the stables are much too far away for you to walk. And what makes it worse, when you get here you want to take care of the animals” he said in a raised voice, “it is too much for you to undertake.” At this point Sûl-linnon raised his head from the grain bin, shook it violently and then pawed at the ground.
“I would be careful of my tone if I were Dras, Sûl is very sensitive, he does not like being referred to as an animal, he is a prince among horses, are you not Sûl?” he asked. “You might want to apologize for that remark before you attempt to come in.”
“I have a better idea Dras; I am going to return to the house if you have not followed in the next five minutes, when you finally do return I will have your privileges revoked altogether, and if that does not work…I will step aside and allow Udalin to do as he has wanted to do from the beginning – sedate you until you are completely healed. That will stop your wandering quite nicely.”
“You would not.”
“Try me. As Lord Elrond’s first assistant he has been wanting to be in charge of your care from the beginning. It is only by Lord Elrond’s grace and my insistence that I am your primary care giver. Push me on this and I swear to you I will step aside and let him have his way.”
“You would not turn my care over to that martinet; you would not do that to anyone.”
“But I will do it to you if you are not out of that barn in the next five seconds,” he said losing his patience. “I have had enough of these games, whether you understand it or not I have other responsibilities, Lord Celeborn has tasked me with learning all I can from Lord Elrond while we are here and I do not have time to waste chasing you all over Imladris. So what is it going to be? Are you coming out or do I have to take stronger measures?”
“Oh all right,” the petulant elf said as he exited the stable. “I hope you are satisfied, you know, you are beginning to sound more and more like Lord Erestor each day.”
“Good. I will take that as a compliment,” he said smiling, and turned on his heels and walked away. “A fine compliment indeed.”
Glorfindel took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. He was anxious to conclude his meeting with Elrond so that he could get himself cleaned up and down to noon meal. After seeing Erestor in full fighting gear, the Balrog slayer was excited to hear about the events of the day. With just the little information he had garnered from Estel, it was not difficult to imagine what went on and why. Of late Erestor had been feeling a little insecure as their all night argument affirmed. The more he tried to assure the stubborn elf that Timagol’s interest was no more than a youthful crush, the angrier Erestor became. The sassy elf was convinced that there was more going on behind Timagol’s innocent smile than Glorfindel knew. Further, Erestor asserted that he had seen that look on the faces of too many elves to misinterpret what it meant. Glorfindel was just thankful that Erestor had not launched himself into listing all those who, over the ages, had been smitten with his golden-haired self.
As he approached Elrond’s study he wondered what was so urgent that he had to see his friend immediately upon his return. He hoped that there was nothing amiss in the Homely House, but was reasonably sure that everything was as it should be, as he had heard nothing to the contrary when he rode into the practice ring. With the Captains for the Main Gate and all the Patrols sitting right there, he was certain that they would have approached him if anything was wrong. Knocking, he was positive that all was well; he could not have anticipated the quiet storm that awaited him on the other side of the door.
~~~
The dusty elf entered his room and threw his weapon down on the bed. “How dare he?” He asked aloud. “Lording it over everyone around him, he thinks himself so much better than the rest of us. Walking around with his nose in the air as if he indeed was the Lord of the Manor. Challenging everyone to spar with him, as if we should be afraid…well I am not afraid,” he said emphatically. “He will soon see that it was not wise to make an enemy out of me, not the other way round.”
Angrily he paced around the room and as usual his mind went back to his days in Lindon; there had been good times and bad, but it was the latter that now consumed his thoughts. Relocating to Lindon had been a last resort for his parents. Beleriand, after a siege of 400 years, had finally fallen and elves from many races, Noldor, Sindar, Green-Elves, and Falathrim were scattered across the west. Among those elves were his parents, who quite literally ran for their lives at the height of Morgoth’s attack.
Making their way to Ossiriand, which was later renamed Lindon, they sought to start life over, a new foundation in a peaceful place. That peace started with having children, two to be exact. He and his older brother should have thrived in Lindon, but the prospects of that were cut short when the elder son was accused of defrauding a local merchant. A wealthy merchant, it was important to mention that, because he was convinced that it was that wealth that had his brother ostracized. That and the merchant’s unbearably pompous son. Not even as old as his big brother and able to convince everyone that his brother was embezzling funds from the merchant’s accounts.
Who could have predicted that an impudent twit of an elfling, not more than 45 summers would be the cause of his family’s destruction. He, at seven years of age, was still much too young to understand all that was happening, but what he did understand was one moment his beloved brother was there and the next he was gone. Gone, as was his mother, who was too shamed by the accusations to continue living on in Middle Earth, and so she sailed. Sailed, leaving his father broken and alone; alone to work himself near to death trying to repay that which was allegedly stolen.
His brother was taken before the High-King Gil-Galad who, despite the protests of his father, exiled his brother from Lindon. To where his brother traveled no one knew; for that matter no one outside of his family seemed to care and he never saw him again. Not long after that his father, tired and broken-hearted relocated to the Havens -leaving him with an aunt and sailed to be reunited with his mother. But for his aunt he was alone, and while he struggled to come to terms with his life, the pompous genius child of Lindon thrived.
As he grew, he tried to monitor the elf’s whereabouts, but lost track of him during the Alliance. It was not until he moved to Lóthlórien that he once again became aware of the elf’s location. After years, millennia, of plotting what he would do if he ever saw this elf again he could not believe his good fortune when he was presented with an opportunity to travel to Imladris. He knew that going there on his own, as a newcomer would make him a prime suspect if anything untoward happened to the illustrious seneschal. However, as a member of a traveling party sent there at the command of Lord Celeborn, he would never be suspected. He could not have asked for a better gift. Finally, Erestor would pay for his arrogance, once and for all time; he would pay for destroying his family.
~~~
Andras lay quietly in the hay inside the stable. Glorfindel had just brought Asfaloth in and ‘Dras, as Estel called him, had spent the last half hour exercising his arm by grooming the majestic stallion. Aside from Glorfindel, Estel and of course the Lord of Imladris, Andras was the only person that the great horse had allowed into his stall for anything more than feeding and grooming. At the moment Andras lay atop a bale of hay, eyes closed daydreaming about his trip home to Lóthlórien. As beautiful as Imladris was, he could not wait to be back among the golden mellyrn, back in the home of his father, who he missed dreadfully.
He lay there absentmindedly chewing on a piece of straw as he sang one of his favorite songs. Asfaloth seemed to be enjoying the company; surprisingly he laid down in the straw, and quietly nickered along with Andras as he sang. Everyone who had seen the young elf interact with the horses was astounded at how the four spirited stallions and Elrond’s bay mare Barandir, who took too very few, took to Daenir’s son. Colwandë, Elrond’s seasoned stable master, was amazed at the affinity this young one seemed to have with the horses. In particular, the always-twitchy twin grays Gaer–sûl, and Gaer-âr, the mounts of Elrohir and Elladan. These two high-spirited horses always calmed whenever the ostler’s son was around. The fourth stallion in the enclosure was Erestor’s magnificent black, Sûl-linnon, considered the most intelligent of the animals, he was notorious for letting himself out of his stall and searching the gardens for his master. Normally Colwandë would have been looking for a way to exercise some of the nervous energy out of their systems before he bedded them down for the night. However, today all five were peaceful, serenely walking through the stable listening to Andras sing.
It was this scene that Elwaith came upon in his search for the young elf. With Dras missing from the house there could only be one place to look for him, the stables. Moreover, as much as Colwandë appreciated the lad’s help, Lord Elrond would not be pleased that Dras was not following the directions of his nestron. Limited exercise meant just that in Elrond’s book and if he were to find out that Andras was disobeying him again he would probably ban him from the stables altogether.
Approaching the open stable door Elwaith could see the stallions milling around one stall in particular. Having had to locate the elf on previous occasions he knew that stall to be the one that was occupied by the temperamental Asfaloth and he was reticent to go any further. With the other three big males moving about unrestricted his resolve to remove Andras back to the house was shaken. So he called out to him from the doorway. “Dras what are you doing? You know you are not supposed to be out this far away from the house, if Lord Elrond finds out we will both be in trouble.” Andras pressed a finger to his lips and ‘shooshed’ the horses further, while trying to keep himself as small and hidden behind the great white horse as he could.
“Dras I know you are in there…I heard you singing. If you do not come out of your own volition you will force me to come in there and get you.” Knowing himself to be found the elf responded laughingly, “I would not try that if I were you Elwaith, you know how unpredictable stallions can be with strangers.”
“Dras, this is your final warning, if you do not come out I will have no choice but to…to find Lord Glorfindel and have him remove you…and I promise you if you make me do that I will ask Lord Elrond to restrict you from the stable altogether.”
“You would not that Waith, I know you too well, this is the only pleasure I ask for and you would not take that from me.”
“Watch me,” the little elf said as he straightened his robes in an Erestor-like fashion. “You take advantage of Lord Elrond’s’ good nature, and mine. Or would you prefer it if I had Haldir come and get you? I assure you these stallions will not pose a threat to him, and if he has to interrupt his duties for this it will not go well for you…or the stallions.”
“Oh all right,” he replied, “have it your way, but know that I am not at all happy with being confined to the house.”
“You have not been confined to the house, Lord Elrond has graciously given you complete freedom of his gardens and the surrounding areas, but as you well know the stables are much too far away for you to walk. And what makes it worse, when you get here you want to take care of the animals” he said in a raised voice, “it is too much for you to undertake.” At this point Sûl-linnon raised his head from the grain bin, shook it violently and then pawed at the ground.
“I would be careful of my tone if I were Dras, Sûl is very sensitive, he does not like being referred to as an animal, he is a prince among horses, are you not Sûl?” he asked. “You might want to apologize for that remark before you attempt to come in.”
“I have a better idea Dras; I am going to return to the house if you have not followed in the next five minutes, when you finally do return I will have your privileges revoked altogether, and if that does not work…I will step aside and allow Udalin to do as he has wanted to do from the beginning – sedate you until you are completely healed. That will stop your wandering quite nicely.”
“You would not.”
“Try me. As Lord Elrond’s first assistant he has been wanting to be in charge of your care from the beginning. It is only by Lord Elrond’s grace and my insistence that I am your primary care giver. Push me on this and I swear to you I will step aside and let him have his way.”
“You would not turn my care over to that martinet; you would not do that to anyone.”
“But I will do it to you if you are not out of that barn in the next five seconds,” he said losing his patience. “I have had enough of these games, whether you understand it or not I have other responsibilities, Lord Celeborn has tasked me with learning all I can from Lord Elrond while we are here and I do not have time to waste chasing you all over Imladris. So what is it going to be? Are you coming out or do I have to take stronger measures?”
“Oh all right,” the petulant elf said as he exited the stable. “I hope you are satisfied, you know, you are beginning to sound more and more like Lord Erestor each day.”
“Good. I will take that as a compliment,” he said smiling, and turned on his heels and walked away. “A fine compliment indeed.”