There was one place in all of Lindon where the king was not the king. That place was the choir room.

"No, no, no," Lindir said, waving his hand to get the singers to stop. He shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his noise. "It's 'Laa laa la-lala-laaaaa'," demonstrated the minstrel. "'Laa laa la-lala-laaaaa'."

Gil-galad sighed, turning to Elrond. The peredhel was paying attention to every detail of what Lindir said, instead of wondering why he had been talked into this in the first place - which was what Gil-galad was pondering. Some distance from them in the tenor section, Glorfindel had a very bored look on his face, and was threatening to fall asleep.

"Perhaps someone else should demonstrate - Findel!" shouted Lindir, noticing the sleepy balrog slayer as well.

Glorfindel covered a yawn, and wet his lips, then swallowed and cleared his throat. "In what key would you like to hear it?" he cheekily asked.

"In the correct key," glared Lindir to some muffled snickers.

With a nod of his head, the golden elf sang:

Over trees everywhere
Under stars bright and fair
See the ea-gles take flight

In the skies they prepare
Look keen, be aware
They are such a won-der-ous sight

Glorfindel stepped off his place , turning to give a little bow to the few members of the chorus who had decided to applaud his short performance. Lindir waited until he was back in line before giving his verdict. "You stayed in tune with yourself, but you were sharp the entire time. I wish we had someone with a higher range..." sighed the minstrel.

"What about the cellist?" asked Elrond after Lindir excused the choir, for the orchestra members were beginning to file into the room for their practice.

Timidly, the elf in question looked up and squeeked, "Who, me? Why? What?"

"Ease yourself, Erestor, Lindir is only looking for someone to sing something rather impossible," said Glorfindel.

"Impossible? Hardly, just beyond any of us," replied Gil-galad. "But... Elrond might be right. Erestor, do you think you might try something?"

"Me? Oh... oh, no, I... I do not sing." Erestor tried to laugh at this, but it came out rather terrified, so he quieted and returned to rosining his bow.

Lindir picked up a sheet from his stand and walked with it to the shy ellon. "Here. Just try these few lines here," he instructed.

Looking positively petrified, Erestor froze in his place and said, "I really cannot sing. I am rather terrible and horrific sounding."

"Give it a try," coaxed Gil-galad, and Erestor was not about to defy the king.

What everyone next heard caused each and every musician in the room to pause in what they were doing. Erestor sang softy, but in a clear and beautiful voice, hitting notes an octave above what Lindir expected. Once finished, the cellist shyly looked to the floor.

"That was indescribable," whispered Elrond to Gil-galad.

"I think I'm in love," added Glorfindel, his eyes set upon the sweet, shy nightingale.

Lindir rubbed his chin. "We can work on your acoustics later. Choir practice is for an hour after lunch every day. I expect you there tomorrow," he said to Erestor in no uncertain terms.