Haldir walked into the house near the sea. That was not unusual. He was alone, except for a grey wolf that followed beside him. That was not unusual. He had been crying.

That was not usual.

He sniffled once as he sat down on an overstuffed chair. Elrond and Celeborn had been holding a discussion about whether or not they should cover Celebrian’s flowerbeds with straw, or if they could wait another week before the weather turned too cold. Both of them regarded Haldir with concern, but were kept from saying anything when Galadriel entered the room briskly. Whether the intuition of a mother or her power of foresight, she looked troubled and went straight to Haldir without a single word to her husband or son-in-law.

Haldir looked up and swallowed hard as his mother stooped down and took his hands into hers. “Can.. can I stay here tonight?” he asked. He looked up, past his mother, to Elrond.

“Of course. You are always welcome here,” said Elrond. He stood up, not sure what to make of the situation. “Let me.. I should tell your sister,” he said, and went to find Celebrian.

Celeborn also stood up. “What is wrong?”

“It is over,” was all Haldir would say. Celeborn gave a single nod. “Elrond was right.”

Galadriel drew her lips into a thin line as Haldir bowed his head and hid his face with his hands. “It will be alright. You came to the right place, Haldir. Your father and I will go tomorrow to collect your things so that you do not have to.”

“I do not want anything from that house,” he sobbed. “Just leave it. I took what I needed.” Greyson nuzzled his head against his master’s knee, and Haldir reached one hand down for a moment to pat the wolf. “I am sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? Really, there is no need.” Galadriel motioned for Celebrian to join them when she saw her daughter enter the room with Elrond. “Celebrian, stay with your brother for a moment,” she requested. Celebrian immediately took her mother’s place, and Galadriel pulled a throw from one of the chairs to use as a shawl.

She left the room and soon after, was outside of the house and making her way to the stables. Her steps were light but swift, kicking up fallen leaves as she went. There was light and laughter coming from the stable, but that stopped abruptly when she entered. “Artanis, what is it?” asked Erestor as he leaned on the rake he was using to clean out one of the stalls. Glorfindel was sitting on a stool nearby, milking the goats. He, too, halted his task.

“Haldir. He came back. I think.. I think he intends to stay with us,” she guessed.

Erestor leaned the rake against the wall and made sure he had secured the stalls that the horses had been moved to. Glorfindel lifted the pail of milk outside of the pen and untied the rope around the neck of the goat he had been milking. “Is he in the house?” asked Glorfindel.

Galadriel picked up the pail of milk with one hand while she used the other to keep the wrap from falling off her shoulders. “He is in the parlor with the others. Greyson is with him.”

“I am not surprised. Legolas always had a fear of that wolf.” Erestor offered to take the pail of milk, but Galadriel shook her head. He waited until Galadriel and Glorfindel were out of the barn before he lifted the lantern from the hook it was on and followed after them.

They entered the house to find that Haldir was already being settled into the parlor. The couch was covered with sheets, and a blanket had been spread out for when he felt like sleeping. Celebrian fluffed pillows as she assured Haldir that he was not a bother to anyone. Elrond was mulling wine for anyone who was interested, and Celeborn was in the kitchen making a tray of food. Galadriel brought the milk to the kitchen and kissed her husband’s cheek. “I have a feeling this is going to be a long night,” he said as he sliced vegetables and placed them on the serving tray.

“Thank you.” Galadriel stole a slice of cucumber from the arrangement. “Do you think I should start water for coffee?”

“It would not hurt,” decided Celeborn.

Glorfindel decided that everything was in control in the kitchen, and continued on to the parlor, where Erestor was already. Haldir was still sniffling, still wiping his eyes now and then, but seemed more willing to speak of details. “We were growing apart for some years. They were together long before I was ever involved. There were just some things I never..” He shrugged, reaching for the fresh handkerchief that Elrond offered him. He paused to blow his nose, but still sounded congested as he spoke. “I think I jumped into it too fast. I was still mourning for Arwen. I never gave myself the time I needed for that. I wanted to fill that void. I think part of me always knew I was the outsider, and that it would never last forever.”

He tried to blow his nose again. “They decided to move back into the palace. At first, it seemed like they just wanted some space, or they thought I needed space.” Haldir looked down. “It was yesterday. I was sitting on the porch reading, and I realized, they left me. I went straight to the palace to confront them about it. I just.. I wanted them to tell me I was being paranoid or stupid, and that it was something else.”

Elrond brought a cup of wine to Haldir, who took it but did not drink yet, as the steam was rising rapidly from the liquid. “Obviously, that was not the case. My worries were reality. I was not only informed by them that they were just avoiding what they believed was inevitable, because neither of them could decide how to bring it up. Instead, they were just avoiding it.” He pressed his lips together, not quite angry, not quite sad, but certainly not happy. “Elodien is with child again. I had no idea.”

“Are you sure that this separation is not something temporary?” asked Celeborn as he entered with Galadriel. They brought in the food they had prepared, setting it on the table at the center of the room. “Your mother and I, on more than one occasion, felt the need to spend time apart. Do you think that they might change their minds?”

“No. I will be honest.. I feel rejected. I feel terrible, but.. I am not feeling any longings over it,” he finally settled on. “It is not so much that I want to remain with them so much as it is that I do not want to be alone.”

Celebrian leaned over and hugged Haldir. “You will never be alone here,” she assured him. “It is good to have you back here, although I wish the circumstances were different.”

“As do I,” agreed Haldir. He blew over the top of the cup, rippling the dark red wine, before taking a tiny, soundless sip. “I suppose you will not need to nag me so much now about writing to you.”

“I would still appreciate a letter now and then,” said Celebrian.

Elrond changed the topic, sensing that Haldir had said all he intended to before a large audience. The entire household stayed up late, opting to discuss anything and everything that would keep Haldir in the discussion without bringing up either of his now ex-lovers. No one could miss how he twisted a ring that was on his finger around and around, and when most of the others decided it was time for bed, Haldir removed it and held it out to Elrond. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“You can keep it if you want,” offered Elrond hesitantly. “I would not have offered it if I did not want you to have it.”

Haldir looked at the blue jeweled ring in his hand and sucked on his bottom lip. He shrugged and set it aside on a table. “I suppose we can worry about it later.”

“If you need anything, feel free to call upon me,” insisted Celebrian as she bowed her head and kissed Haldir on the cheek. “Tomorrow, we will figure out which room you would like me to clear out so that you will not have to sleep here much longer.”

“Any of the rooms would be fine, except—“

“I know,” she said knowingly. “Not that one,” she agreed, knowing he meant the room that he, Elodien, and Legolas had once lived in. She hugged him twice before she followed her husband to the stairs. Celeborn and Galadriel stayed up a little later, but they, too, grew tired and finally said their goodnights and escorted each other from the room.

Glorfindel stretched his arms above his head. “I need to be up early,” he declared. He yawned, and then reached out to squeeze Erestor’s hand. “Come tuck me in and then you can come back,” he said.

“You can go to bed, Atadar,” said Haldir as he glanced at Erestor. “I will be fine. I promise not to drown in a pool of tears.”

“I would stay up late whether it was out here or in the bedroom,” said Erestor. “I will be right back.” He followed Glorfindel out of the room and to their room, which was located across from the kitchen. It was the only bedroom on the ground floor. “Will you be alright without me tonight?”

“Me?” Glorfindel pretended to think this over. “A night, spent alone… not sure. Have you any wayward sheep I can count?” he asked, but he only received a slap to his shoulder. It was Erestor who was the insomniac; Glorfindel could fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. “I should be fine. “ He lowered his voice. “I just want to make sure you do not take this personally.”

“What?” Erestor was changing into looser, more comfortable clothing, just in case he happened to fall asleep while in the parlor.

“Haldir and Elodien and Legolas. You helped orchestrate all of that; I do not want you walking around pouting about it. This happened, and not because of you.”

“Yes, sir.” Erestor saluted.

“Honestly, Ress…”

“Sorry.” Erestor sighed. “I just wish he could.. not have this always happen.”

Glorfindel drew back the covers and crawled into bed. “Waiting can be worth it,” he reminded his own mate.

“Yes. But who is he waiting for?” Erestor approached the bed and leaned over to kiss Glorfindel goodnight. “I do not want him to give up hope like I once did,” he said softly.

Glorfindel lifted a hand to touch Erestor’s cheek. “I will say something about that, but I do not want you to take this personally or be upset by it.” He waited until Erestor nodded, and then said, “Haldir is stronger than you are, darling. In many ways.” He was not sure what sort of reaction to expect, but he sighed in relief when Erestor nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. “You can leave the lamp lit,” he said, though the reminder was unnecessary.

Erestor turned the screw on the lamp to darken the room a bit, but left the lamp on the counter at the window lit. He turned back around to see that Glorfindel had already escaped into reverie.

Back in the parlor, Haldir was standing at the open window, peering out in the distance. When Erestor joined him, he said, “I let Greyson out. I think he wanted to hunt.”

Erestor smiled. “He is a wolf.” He lifted up a bundle of clothing. “I thought you might want to change into something else to sleep in. If you want, Elrond’s den is unoccupied. You could change there.”

With a nod, Haldir took the clothing. “I assume these to be Glorfindel’s and not yours,” he said.

“If you want me to, I can get some of mine,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” chuckled Haldir, smiling for the first time Erestor could recall that evening. “I prefer not to have an extra foot of fabric flopping around past my ankles.”

“You could always roll them up,” suggested Erestor helpfully as Haldir left the parlor. He leaned out of the window in order to close it before drawing the curtains. While waiting for Haldir to return, he tidied up the room and took empty plates to the kitchen. Then he ladled out a cup of mulled wine for himself and another for Haldir just as his son returned.

Haldir took hold of the cup that was offered to him and said, “I feel bad for not feeling worse.”

“Ah.” Erestor nodded and moved to sit in the chair nearest to the couch.

“I suppose, since I already dealt with this once before.. with Legolas, at least.. it hurts less this time. It still hurts,” said Haldir. “I just.. I feel less attached or something. I think it would have been worse if it had come up before they began to remove themselves.”

“It does not sound as if you want to see if anything can be done to remedy the situation,” observed Erestor.

“The situation has been remedied. They moved on, and I moved out.” Haldir looked down into the cup and poured the contents back into the kettle. He moved around the room, remembering things about it, checking to see if the same books were there before he settled on the couch. “I think it is going to be a while before I really move on again. I do know that I do not want to be around them for a while. If there are family gatherings that they are invited to, I would prefer not to be there. I will not suggest others say anything to them or do things differently; there is no need for that. I just know that it is going to be a while before I can stand to see them again.”

“I understand,” said Erestor. “We can deal with that when it happens. I think right now, everyone under this roof cares primarily about you.”

“I appreciate that, but I do not want to cause a rift between anyone,” added Haldir.

Erestor scooped up a handful of carrot slices that were on one of the trays still in the parlor. As he ate them one by one, he appeared to be in thought over the most recent events. “Is there anything I can do, Haldir?” he finally asked.

“Not really. Not now, at least. I am sure I will seek your advice or at least your ear in the near future. If it is all the same to you, though, I think I just want to spend some time alone right now.”

“Of course.” Erestor popped the last carrot chunk into his mouth and picked up his wine. “You know where you can find me,” he said as he crossed the room to give Haldir a hug. “You can interrupt at any time.”

Haldir returned the hug. “Thank you. Sleep well.”

Erestor returned to the room he and Glorfindel shared, only to find Glorfindel sitting up in bed reading. “Everything alright?”

Glorfindel looked up. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

“Not ‘fine’, but, yes, you are correct. As usual,” he added as Glorfindel smirked. “He is stronger than I am.”

“Not just you. Stronger than most people.”

“I noticed you did not put yourself in that category,” said Erestor.

Glorfindel put the bookmark between the pages he was reading and set the book aside. “Few are stronger than I am.” He winked.

Erestor tilted his head. “Not with Haldir in the parlor,” he said.

“I never asked,” replied Glorfindel with an innocent shrug.

“You were thinking it,” scolded Erestor.

“Never,” Glorfindel disputed as Erestor turned the lamp down further. “I am the perfect example of a proper elf.”

“Sure you are,” Erestor replied.

Glorfindel laughed. “That sounded sarcastic, but I will take it anyhow.”

Over the next week, Celebrian repeatedly offered to move things in the house so that Haldir could have his own room, but Haldir remained on the couch in the parlor. On the eighth day of his stay, he entered the kitchen for breakfast and declared, “I need to do something.”

“I need to shear the sheep before they are tripping over their own wool,” said Glorfindel. “Or are you looking for something more adventurous?”

“Something less.. animal related,” Haldir said.

“Your mother was going to bake bread,” Celeborn informed him. “I am sure she would enjoy the company.”

Haldir scratched his head. “What are you doing today, Atadar?”

“Oh, nothing too exciting. I am taking a boat to the island; I need to give lectures today.” He paused. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Would you mind if I did?” asked Haldir.

Erestor shook his head. “I would enjoy the company,” he admitted. “I plan to leave right after breakfast. Will that work for you?”

“Whenever you are ready, let me know.” Haldir picked an apple and a pear from a bowl, and then walked out of the room to find Greyson.

Knowing what Haldir was up to, Erestor called out after him, “You can bring Greyson, too, if you like!”

------

Four times a year, Erestor traveled to Tol Eressea to guest lecture at the institute there. Because of the small population of the island, they hand only one school, and it served both as a place of elementary and higher education. Everything was housed in a single building, with six lecture rooms and four classrooms. Often he would stay the entire day, giving one long lecture in the late morning, and following it with two shorter lectures in the afternoon. On occasion, he might speak again at night and stay over at Cirdan’s house before he returned to Alqualonde.

Today, he started with a lecture on the subject of Second Age history in Middle-earth. He concentrated most of his talk on the roles of the Noldor, Sindar, and Silvan Elves in shaping the regions of the lands to the East. Haldir found the parts about Lindon and King Gil-Galad particularly interesting, and was surprised to note that so much time had passed when Erestor received his applause and thanks for the lecture.

“I really enjoyed listening to you,” said Haldir as they were having lunch. There was an inn nearby, and it was mid-summer, allowing them to sit outside with Greyson. Greyson switched between gnawing on a bone the innkeeper brought out with their meals, and fretting over the leather collar that Haldir put around his neck before they left. “Stop that, Greyson. You need to keep it on so no one thinks you are some mongrel dog come to attack their flock.” Haldir readjusted the collar despite a minor amount of whimpering from his companion. “Hush. Chew on your bone.”

“If you like, you could come with me the next time I make it out here,” offered Erestor. “I have another session coming up at the end of autumn. You could even help me prepare the talk, or at least give some input on the topics I should cover.”

Haldir picked up his fork now that his wolf decided that the bone was much more interesting than the collar. “I think I would like to get back into academia,” he said. “I really enjoyed teaching mathematics when Elrond let me do that in Imladris. Do you think anyone would have need of an instructor of arithmetic?”

“I am sure you could find work in that field,” said Erestor. He poured honey into his tea and stirred it thoughtfully, minding the billowy sleeves that noted his profession and rank in the scholarly community. “Are you interested in higher level education, or elementary work?”

“I suppose wherever I can be of use,” Haldir said. “I would take whatever opportunities were available. I just want to sink my teeth back into it as it were.”

“Speaking of sinking teeth into things, I fear we might be in debt for a chair.” Erestor pointed down at Greyson, who learned that the oak wood of the chair leg was very tasty.

“Bad dog. Wolf. Bad boy!” Haldir reached down and pulled Greyson’s collar to get the wolf to sit up. “I just cannot take you anywhere, can I?” he asked. Greyson licked his cheek, and then grinned his wolfy grin. “Next time, you stay home,” he declared as he went to fetch the innkeeper and pay for the ruined chair.


The first afternoon lecture was as well-attended as the morning session, but it was the second afternoon lecture that was standing room only. It seemed that perhaps all of the islanders were in attendance, for the range in ages varied from little ones sitting on the floor of the stage itself as Erestor paced from one side to the other, speaking as much with his voice as he did with his hands, the flow of the fabric of his robes emphasizing his movements, to Elves that may well have been his elders sitting or standing in the hall. When he finished, almost an hour past his time, there was applause, and an opportunity for questions. Erestor took them all, even though it meant another hour of sitting for Haldir.

As Erestor stood at the doors leading out, shaking hands, receiving compliments, and answering quick questions, Haldir stood beside him. A few times, Erestor would turn to him to introduce someone or get his son’s opinion on the topic. When the hall was just about empty, a familiar face smiled upon the pair. “Good evening!” began the conversation, for the skies were already darkening.

“Rumil! What an honor!” Erestor clasped one of the loremaster’s hands with both of his and smiled brightly. “I did not know you were here; I would have invited you personally!”

“Actually, I came especially for your lectures today,” admitted the older Elf. “I would have greeted you earlier in the day, but I did not want to make you nervous,” he explained. “Haldir, it is good to see you as well!”

Haldir bowed his head. “It is always a pleasure.”

Rumil stood to the side as the final few members of the audience exited before he spoke again. “Are you returning to the mainland right away?”

“I sense that you are hoping we will not,” guessed Erestor.

“Ever perceptive. I have something I would like to talk to you about, if you have the time.” Rumil smiled to Haldir. “Nothing that needs to be addressed in private, just something that requires more explanation than could be provided in a letter.”

“If I had been traveling alone, I might have imposed upon Cirdan,” Erestor explained. “Perhaps, you would not mind traveling back with us this evening, where we can host you tonight and bring you back in the morning?”

“You would not even need to bring me back,” said Rumil. “In fact, let us begin the discussion as we travel. You may find yourself following me.”

Most of the discussion on the journey back to the mainland had been about various bits and pieces of news and a continuation from the lectures. Haldir spent most of his time listening to Erestor and Rumil talk and keeping Greyson calm, since they were navigating the waters at night, and it put Greyson on edge.

As soon as they were able to tie the boat to the dock, Greyson jumped out of the boat and romped across the sand. Haldir went ahead to alert the rest of the household of their guest, while Erestor carefully removed the crate from the boat that contained his lecture notes. “How long did you intend to make me wait before you tell me what you came to tell me?” asked Erestor as he and Rumil began a leisurely stroll to the house.

“I thought we were having good conversation,” answered Rumil teasingly. “Alright, then. You remember when you attended Sarati?”

Erestor nodded slowly. “How could I forget? It was my first ‘formal’ education. Even if it had not been, I doubt anyone who ever attended Sarati could forget it. No school like it before or since.”

“I seem to recall someone telling me once that there were many, many flaws in the way the school was run.” Rumil stooped down to pick up a particularly interesting smoothed rock from the shore.

Erestor cringed a little and slowed his pace. “The arrogance of youth?” he countered.

“No, no… when you are young, you are bold enough to speak up. When you are old like me, you continue on and on the way it has always been.” Rumil flung the stone down the beach for the next wanderer to find. “Still feel youthful enough to put your plan into action?”

“Uh..” Erestor had to turn away, loose hair obscuring his face and sheepish grin. “Plan.. right. I probably did have a plan, what, fifteen thousand years ago..”

“Feel youthful enough to come up with a new plan?” tried Rumil.

Erestor turned back again. “Are you asking me to help you reopen Sarati School?”

“I am asking if you want to reopen Sarati School.”

They stood on the beach staring at each other for a few minutes. When it was evident that Rumil had nothing more to say, Erestor responded with, “Are you certain that you want me to do this?”

“You were the only one who ever seemed to want to change things.”

“So did Feanor,” Erestor reminded his old mentor and employer.

Rumil gave a shrug and a little smile. “Feanor liked to complain about everything. I doubt he had a plan or any specific ideas.”

“I suppose it could be an interesting project,” admitted Erestor.

“The ruins were unearthed about two years ago. It took until last month for those who found it to figure out what it was. They came to me about it immediately, but I have the bar, and I am honestly not as young and enthusiastic as I once was. And the first person I thought about was you,” explained Rumil.

“I think you calling me young and enthusiastic are the best compliments I have received in a long time.”

“Think about it. I have the maps and the keys with me. Most of it has been locked up since it was abandoned, though there will probably be a significant number of items to be tended to when you get there.”

Erestor slowed down again before they reached the porch. “What are you going to do if I say no?”

“Those who found it thought it was unused land. They were going to build a residential area on the plateau, with a market built into the sides of the hill on the path to reach the grounds.” Rumil patted Erestor’s shoulder. “I can tell you are uncertain about this. I am not going to be upset if you say no. The land will still be put to good use.”

“The structures would be torn down, though,” assumed Erestor. “It would be hard to convert those towers into residences.”

“That is true,” agreed Rumil. “It is not going to happen tomorrow, though,” he assured Erestor. “You have time to think it over. I can probably stay for a few days while you talk it over with your family.”

“I will probably have an answer for you shortly after dinner,” said Erestor as Haldir opened the front door and waved them in.

***

Following supper and much discussion of what had been unearthed and Rumil’s offer, several members of the household adjourned to the porch for a glass of wine. On one side, Rumil sat with Erestor, Glorfindel, and Haldir. “I think my biggest concern is whether or not I still have the energy to keep up with this sort of project,” said Erestor.

“I think it could be done,” said Glorfindel carefully. “My greater concern is that you do not spread yourself too thin. You have obligations in so many places, that I worry you will find no time for yourself.”

“I could help,” piped up Haldir eagerly. He had not said very much for most of the evening, but had listened to everything being discussed. “I know that I hardly understand exactly what the Sarati School was, though it sounds that it had less to do with the language and more to do with everything else. However, I used to teach now and then in a formal setting, and less formally, I taught the other wardens every day when I was in Lothlorien.”

Erestor watched Haldir continue to talk, and Glorfindel watched Erestor. The blond finally poured himself more wine, certain that a decision had already been reached. There was little that Erestor would deny his son, and at such a time, anything that would make Haldir happy again would be something that Erestor would do without much thought.

Glorfindel tapped his foot against Erestor’s heel to gain his spouse’s attention. No words were exchanged, simply looks and expressions, as Haldir and Rumil carried on, voice a little louder as they exchanged stories, easy laughter, and occasionally finishing each other’s sentence. Erestor shrugged, gave Glorfindel something of a pout, and smiled. Glorfindel shook his head, sighed, but smiled back and sipped his wine.

They were in possession of the keys and maps before the end of the night.

The Sarati School was once located on an immaculately cared for plateau. Gardens were always weeded, pathways were swept, and not a stone ever looked out of place. All that was gone, replaced by wild growth and cracked bricks, paths that now had full-grown pine and spruce, thousands of years old, fourth and fifth generations of the trees before them.

Erestor, Glorfindel, and Haldir were not alone when they arrived. Besides Greyson faithfully following, there was one more in their party.

“If you thinks these maps are accurate, then the first thing I want to do is assess the structures, calculate how much wood, stone, brick, mortar, and paint we need to make repairs, and then confer with Glorfindel whether repairs will be the most effective means, or if we are better off demolishing certain buidings and starting over.” Orophin unfurled the map of the entire grounds. “In fact, Glorfindel, if we do the scouting together, we can probably make those calculations on-site.” Word of what had transpired reached Orophin quickly, and he wasted little time in coming to the Homely House to try to cheer his brother. Upon hearing of the project, he and Valarda decided it would provide Orophin a chance to spend time with his brother while still using his skills as a carpenter.

Haldir and Erestor used the time to walk the grounds, where they marked out where a path would be rerouted around a tree or where, in rare cases, a tree would be felled so that a pathway could be restructured and to provide the necessary wood for doors and furniture which would have to be rebuilt. After two days of exploration and scrutiny, Orophin and Haldir rode to the nearest town to collect supplies, while Glorfindel and Erestor began the task of clearing the land as needed and setting up a makeshift camp. Greyson seemed to know better than to follow into town and happily spent his time chasing squirrels and chipmunks through the ruins.

***

“What are you thinking of calling the school?” asked Glorfindel. He and Erestor were sitting on a blanket in the overgrown courtyard. So far, with the initial supplies they brought and the wood they had harvested, they had only managed to repair one of the buildings, and it was one of the small ones that had seen little damage. The blue on the door had faded to a very pale yellow, but it had once been the House of the Peacock. In fact, there were wild peafowl roaming the grounds, and Erestor was certain from all they had seen so far that eventually the animals from the original school which had served as pets and house guardians had been left to roam wild on the estate when the school closed.

“It used to be the Sarati School, but hardly anyone uses Sarati anymore.” Erestor smiled fondly. “I do have an idea, but I feel like it might be a slap in the face to Rumil. Not intentionally, but he might take it that way.”

“He seems very relaxed,” said Glorfindel.

“He always has been,” reflected Erestor.

“So, Tengwar School?”

Erestor shrugged. “It was that obvious?” he asked.
Glorfindel nodded.

“It just seems like that would be the most logical choice.” Erestor took a few of the nuts from the sack sitting between them and ate them thoughtfully one by one. “I guess I could try to think of something that encompasses what happens here.”

Glorfindel was leaned back, his palms on the blanket behind him for support, as he tilted his head up and looked for shapes in the clouds. “Funny how you never talked about this place before. Even now, I feel like I have to pull information from you.” He turned his head and squinted from the sunlight, but caught Erestor’s frown. “Alright, I know, you will tell me more when you are ready.”

Erestor made no attempt to further the conversation, and upon finishing the food in his hand, he stood up, brushed off his hands, and wandered off with a pair of gardening gloves and a small hand axe. Greyson caught the movement and romped after the retreating figure, while Glorfindel shook his head. “Every time I think I figure you out,” he mumbled to himself before he, too, gathered up supplies and followed after.

***

Most of the afternoon was spent cutting back branches and brush which shaded the path to the library, located in a far corner of the estate. Greyson pounced at butterflies, while the wolf’s Elven companions chopped and sawed, throwing the excess into the overgrown fields and forest. They made the decision that while a few of the areas around the main part of the estate would be landscaped, there would be far more wild and dense land on the estate now than there had once been.

“It looks like these frames could be salvaged for the windows. The overhang kept rain from ruining them. I wonder if I could get Ecthelion to come up with something for the glass. Was there a crest or anything you had in mind for..” Glorfindel spun around. “Erestor?” He circled the building, and found the main door open. “I swear, he is the one that needs the leash, not you,” he said to Greyson before he entered the tower.

Several flights up, Erestor stepped out on the roof of the library. The building itself would be one of the easiest to deal with. Rumil had moved all of the scrolls and other documents elsewhere when the school closed. At least, that was what Erestor hoped had happened. The thought of them turning to dust and blowing away or animals using them to line nests and burrows was a sad one, but he saw no trace, not a scrap of paper or an errant quill. Satisfied that the contents had been saved, Erestor turned his thoughts to happier things.

Just around the corner from the doorway that led to the roof was a barrier wall, waist-high, made of brick. It kept those on the roof from tumbling down the steps from the side, and was not particularly decorative so much as it was practical. There were only a few bricks that had fallen from the partial wall, which looked smaller now than it had seemed years ago, knee high to Erestor now. He sat down, and turned his head up to the sun. The stars would remain unseen for a few hours, and they never seemed as bright anymore anyway.

He heard someone following up after him, and Glorfindel soon emerged onto the roof to join him. “If I had known you intended to come all the way up here, I would have brought supper up for us.” He looked around at the scenery around them. The library was one of the tallest towers, and it allowed Glorfindel his first overall view of the estate from above. “This is a beautiful place.”

“Yes, I always enjoyed coming up here.” Erestor started to stand up, but then changed his mind and patted a spot beside him. “Can you wait a few minutes for supper?”

“I doubt I am going to waste away.” Glorfindel settled on the roof beside Erestor. “Did you spend a lot of time up here?”

Erestor nodded.

“Studying?”

“Something like that,” he answered. He put an arm around Glorfindel. After a few minutes, Erestor pulled on Glorfindel’s shoulder to get the blond to lean his back against his shoulder. “Just.. checking on something,” he mumbled when Glorfindel began to question what Erestor was doing. Erestor nuzzled the back of Glorfindel’s neck before coaxing Glorfindel to rest his head on Erestor’s knee. “Let me see…” He leaned down to kiss Glorfindel, lifted his head just a little, and smiled. “Much better,” he said.

“Better than what?” asked Glorfindel with a curious smile.

“Mmm… mmhmm,” Erestor said, dipping his head back down without answering.

After several minutes, they parted for a moment, and Glorfindel said, “There must be a story behind all of this.”

“Not sure you want to hear it right now,” admitted Erestor.

“Fair enough,” replied Glorfindel as he reached up to tangle his fingers into dark tresses, and pull Erestor back down again.

“Paint. Every color on your list.” Haldir lifted one of the crates down to Glorfindel and another to Erestor. “There is also a big container of white and another of grey. I have brushes and cleaner, and pans for the paint. There are several boxes of nails in here somewhere. Orophin offered to build the replacement doors, and paint them for us before they were brought here, so I left some of the paint with him. He was offered space in town, and he even took on an apprentice to help him. He seemed to think that would be much more efficient than trying to build things up here only to find out he did not have the proper tools. I hope that was alright.”

Erestor nodded. “That will help us, actually. I am sure he is going to build nicer doors than I could.”

Glorfindel nodded as well. “I just paint. And tell everyone this is a good idea.” He hoisted a crate on his shoulder and carried it to the nearest of the houses.

“I also started to work on your other list. I posted a notice in several places in the Tirion market and I spoke to one of the archivists. She said she was going to do some research for us to see if anyone who used to teach here still lives near here,” explained Haldir.

“Excellent. That will help us out a lot. Anything that we can get someone else to do,” said Erestor as he took the boxes of nails that Haldir handed to him and set them on top of one of the paint crates. “How are we doing with our budget?”

“Not bad,” said Haldir. “So far, I have only had to pay for the brushes and the nails. The paint was offered once I explained what we were doing. Apparently, the artisan had two sons who went through the school and he seemed to have fond memories of it all.”

“That is wonderful. When I next go into town, I want you to come along and introduce me so that I can personally thank him.”

Glorfindel approached again for another crate. “When you return to town, we are running low on food.”

“Oh, I took care of that. Actually, Orophin and I did.” Haldir moved another crate of paint to reveal a few small sacks of cornmeal, walnuts, and other foodstuffs. “It should be enough for a few weeks, but the plan is that I am going to pick up more when I retrieve Orophin and the doors, so you will not need to worry about stretching it out. I just could not manage the weight of it along with the other supplies.”

“It should be more than enough for us until you return,” Erestor assured his son. “There are many fruit bearing trees in the vicinity, and we found a few other edible plants near the stream.”

Once the cart was emptied, Glorfindel helped Haldir to load the large pieces of oak and pine from some of the trees they had removed from the path back into the cart to take to Orophin. The weight of the load meant that they had to hitch all four horses to the cart, leaving Erestor and Glorfindel alone with Greyson once Haldir set forth for civilization again.

“Do you think it good for him to spend so much time alone?” asked Erestor once the cart was out of sight.

“How long is the journey, two hours? Three?” Glorfindel put an arm around Erestor and pulled him closer. “I think he wants a little time alone right now. Yes, of course, he needs all of us, but he also needs to figure out a few things on his own.”

***

Six days passed, and then as promised, the cart returned with Haldir and Orophin. They brought with them ample supplies for several months, as well as five new doors, primed and painted, and a surprise as well. Behind the cart was a carriage pulled by two sturdy workhorses, and after greeting Haldir and Orophin, Erestor looked around them to see who else had arrived.

“Lo, and what wonder in the wilderness,” came a voice from the carriage. A man stepped out, smiled to Haldir and Orophin, and bowed when he saw Glorfindel. “Well met. I am Enedrion.” He spied Erestor behind Haldir and Orophin and excused himself. “Lord Eresse.” He bowed again, and then hugged his old friend.

“So good to see you, Enedrion. I take it you are well?”

“As well as I can be,” said Enedrion. “I brought a friend.” He motioned to the carriage, and now a second person emerged. “I hope you do not mind.”

“Mahtan!” Erestor approached the burly red-head and hugged him as he had Enedrion. “So good to see you both!”

“We heard that you had some openings for instructors,” replied Mahtan.

“I do. I do not suppose either of you would have the names of any potential applicants?” Erestor grinned.

“Oh, we might be able to come up with a name or two.” Enedrion winked at Mahtan and then looked around. “Seems like you have a lot of cleaning up to do before this place will be in shape for students and staff.”

Erestor looked over his shoulder. “We have already restored the library and three of the houses, plus the main building is shaping up well. The lawn will have to wait until spring; the winter will luckily kill off most of the weeds and we can start fresh. The bridge to the crafting halls needs to be repaired; I have not even looked over there yet. I do not know what the pond looks like. We might need to dredge it.”

As Erestor talked, Enedrion nodded and surveyed what he could see. “It appears you could use new benches in the courtyards as well, and perhaps a new platform for the outdoor stage. I think the steps are rotted as well.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, go ahead and put us to work, headmaster. I think I might be able to persuade my wife to join us once I assure her there will be a warm and cozy place to stay up here. She can sew, and she might even be able to help with the lessons once you get the school going again. Which reminds me.. are you keeping with Rumil’s original plan?”

“Somewhat,” said Erestor. “We will keep the population at one-hundred and forty-four. I have not decided about all of it, though.” He motioned at Haldir and Orophin. “I would like to introduce you to my son, Haldir, and to his brother, Orophin.”

“Ah! A pleasure!” Enedrion turned and bowed again. “Fine looking sons,” he commended Erestor, though he did look quite amused at the idea. Mahtan bowed his head to the young Elves with a smile.

“Well.. only Haldir is my son—“ began Erestor.

“Oh, father! For shame!” exclaimed Orophin with a pout on his lips. “I knew you never loved me!” He turned his back on them, but only so that he could grin unseen.

“We have the same mother,” said Haldir, punching Orophin lightly in the shoulder. “It is very nice to meet you. Atadar does not talk much of his past.. perhaps I can persuade you to tell me some tales later,” said Haldir as Erestor made several motions at Enedrion that he should not speak to Haldir at all about anything. Glorfindel, too, looked quite curious and smiled and nodded with encouragement.

“I would love that,” said Enedrion. “Your father was very innovative. He was in the elite group at the school – or did he tell you about that already?”

“No,” said Haldir, looking over at Erestor. “He tells me very little of who he once was.”

“I shall have to remedy that.” Enedrion leaned against the carriage and looked around again. “He was probably the most diplomatic person here at the time. Brilliant, too. Feanaro would never have developed Silima had Eresse not defined the alchemaic tables.”

Haldir looked surprised. “I would not have expected that you dabbled in alchemy,” he said to Erestor, who was blushing fiercely and shaking his head at Enedrion.

“Dabbled? Far from the truth. He was very clever when it came to that field of study. He helped me understand my mathematics lessons far better than anyone else could have.”

“Math?” blurted out Haldir and Orophin at the same time. They both gave Erestor an incredulous look. Glorfindel narrowed his eyes at this and looked downright pissed.

“It was something I used to do quite well with,” Erestor admitted quickly, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He frowned. “Well, we should have a look around, and see if there are any houses that your wife would approve of. I would not want any unhappy women on the grounds.”

“I only care about an upset wife!” Enedrion nodded to Haldir and Orophin. “We will speak more later,” he promised them. Enedrion then extended his hand to Glorfindel, who was trying to mask his unrest. “So sorry. I never gave you a moment’s time for a proper introduction. Shall we start again? I am Enedrion.”

“Glorfindel,” replied the blond curtly, though he did reach out to grasp Enedrion’s arm. “And, you are Mahtan?” he queried as the other Elf approached.

“Indeed. So.. you are him,” Mahtan said as he looked Glorfindel over. “An honor to meet you.”

“Oh.. right.” Glorfindel released hold of Enedrion to greet Mahtan.

“It is very good of you to aid Eresse with his project,” added Enedrion once Glorfindel let go of Mahtan’s arm and stepped aside. “I am sure you have more important matters to attend to.”

Glorfindel bit at his bottom lip and looked at Erestor. “Well, uh.. we have always been close, and I am happy to assist however I can.”

“And.. we are married,” said Erestor, after which, he held his breath and looked to Glorfindel for approval. Despite the earlier unexpected revelation, Glorfindel smiled, and Erestor sighed.

“Now that makes sense,” said Mahtan as Enedrion laughed and admitted, “Oh, that would have been odd. I was about to ask where your wife was, Erestor, but that seemed… well, obviously, you would not have a wife,” he said matter-of-factly. This tidbit once again caused Glorfindel to narrow his eyes, though he put Erestor under slightly less scrutiny than before.

“Well – let me help you reacquaint yourself,” Erestor offered Enedrion, and the pair walked briskly to the main tower.

The brothers waited until Enedrion and Erestor had walked away, and then Orophin said in a hushed voice, “Math. He knows math. So, either he is a very, very good actor—“

“Which he is,” Haldir reminded his brother.

“—or he played us that entire time—“

“Which he is also known to do.”

“Or he forgot it.” It was Mahtan who spoke. He had been walking back from the carriage and had caught the end of the conversation. “Or he prefers to forget it. He did know it once.”

“What happened? How do you just ‘forget’ something like that?” asked Orophin.

Mahtan shook his head twice. “Let it go. Some secrets are best left unknown.”

Glorfindel said nothing, standing quietly aside as the conversation took place. Greyson was suddenly at his side and nuzzled his hand as the others walked in the direction of the forges to assess their condition. “So many secrets,” whispered Glorfindel to the wolf when the others were out of range. “I only wish he would trust me with them.”

Haldir watched the field. He was supposed to be hunting, hoping to catch sight of a wild boar or a buck that would feed the growing population of renovators, who had spent nearly a month now working on the estate.

Actually, he was hunting, but not for supper. There was a woman there, and she was dancing. She was also fiddling, and it was a show unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Her steps were light as the music, and hastened with the notes. She tiptoed through the tall grass with every pizzicato note, and leapt like a deer when her bow slid quickly over the strings. Her dress was gauzy and of various earthen tones, and her hair was woven with branches so that it appeared she had some sort of antleresque headdress. It was a concert that she played for herself. Off she went to the forest, and Haldir followed.

As she jumped over fallen branches and logs, so, too, did he have to, quickening his pace in order to follow after her without losing sight of the wood nymph. He caught sight of her feet when he came close enough, and noted that they were bare. The bottom of her dress was ragged, not because she was unkempt, but because it snagged on the brush as she danced along. She looked at him over her shoulder a few times, so he stopped trying to hide himself. A smile played on her lips and she weaved around trees in a place very familiar to her. Her fingers never faltered, and she rushed to and fro, her laughter now mingling with her violin.

There was a cottage ahead, and Haldir sensed that she was headed for it. When she was but a few steps from the door, he called out to her. “Wait!” She turned her head, still playing the violin. Her feet daintily tiptoed back around so that she was facing him. “Do not go. Not yet.” She tilted her head, still playing. “Uh…” He bit his lip, and then recalled words from years ago and modified them. “Break my calm, my reverie. Stay outside and dance with me.”

She smiled and slowly swayed in his direction—and then, she was off again, dancing into the woods once more. Haldir fumbled in his pocket, and found it—the small flute that Erestor had given him long ago. He danced after the mysterious woman and joined in the song, and as he followed, he felt his heart sing out, his soul rejoice, and whenever he caught her gaze, he felt like this was where he belonged.

***

“Where were you?” asked Orophin when Haldir returned. It was nearly midnight, and Haldir was no longer wearing his shoes.

“Out,” he replied casually as he approached the fire and sat down beside Glorfindel. They stayed indoors now, for the main building was suitable enough and kept the mosquitos away. Haldir felt a little guilty when he noticed that the remains of the stew at the fire were something containing only vegetables, but pushed it out of his mind quickly. Orophin crossed his arms and tapped his foot after closing the door.

“Where?” prodded Orophin.

“Are you my mother?” asked Haldir.

Orophin stuck his tongue out at Haldir. “There was a time when you would tell me where you had been all night,” he pouted as he sat down next to Haldir.

“Out,” he repeated. When Orophin stopped sighing, he added, “With a lady.”

“Oh?” Orophin sat up straight. “Someone we know?”

“Doubtful,” answered Haldir. He had gained attention from both Erestor and Enedrion now.

“Nearby?” asked Erestor. Haldir nodded. “Someone who came to visit?” Haldir shook his head. “Odd; I did not realize anyone else was living in this area.”

“She lives in the woods,” explained Haldir.

“All alone?” queried Enedrion. Haldir nodded. “Interesting…”

“Who is she?” asked Erestor. Haldir shrugged. “Did she tell you her name?” He shook his head. “Did you tell her yours?” Haldir had to pause to think, but shook his head again. “Have you seen her before?” Haldir gestured in the negative again.

“Alright, leave him alone,” spoke up Glorfindel. “Sometimes, people prefer to keep things to themselves, Erestor.”

There was something of a growl to Glorfindel’s voice and everyone in the room exchanged looks but said nothing more. Mahtan decided now was a good time to retire for the night, Enedrion excused himself for a walk, and the rest stayed in their semi-circle around the fire. Erestor quietly retrieved his violin, and chose to sit back down near Orophin. Erestor played through several songs, and as Orophin felt that the tension was beginning to ebb away, he turned to Erestor. “So, this might be a bad question to ask, but—“

“Then do not ask it,” suggested Erestor.

Orophin pouted, but let it go. Haldir stirred the stew, but did not take any. Glorfindel just stared into the flames. None of them made the move to be the next to retire for the night, and so Erestor continued to play on.

It was fairly late when a knock was heard on the door. Erestor lowered his violin and looked at Orophin who shrugged. “No one else told me that they were going to come here yet,” he said. He in turn looked at Haldir. “Perhaps it is your mysterious friend.”

Glorfindel walked to the door and opened it without a moment’s hesitation. On the other side was a bearded ellon. “Good evening,” he said with a bow of his head. “Am I to assume that this is the base of operations for the school which is set to reopen?”

“Indeed. Please come in,” offered Glorfindel, but the ellon held a hand up.

“In a moment. I must inform my companion that this is the correct address,” he said. He disappeared again, and Erestor set down his violin and scrambled over.

“Fin! Do you know who that is?”

“Uh.. no,” admitted Glorfindel. “You tend to know people better than I do. Being, you know, old and all that,” he added when Erestor gave him a disappointed look. He was rewarded with a scowl.

“That is--“

“Beleg Cuthalion,” answered Orophin in awe. He grabbed Haldir’s arm. “Beleg Cuthalion was just standing in the doorway!” He bounced on the bench. “Halli… Halli… Beleg Cuthalion was just here!” he squeaked.

“Yes. Yes, I gathered as much,” answered Haldir as he pried his brother’s fingers from his arm. “Maybe you should go and introduce yourself,” suggested Haldir.

Orophin, for once, was suddenly shy. “Oh… no, no, no… that is *Beleg*. The best bowman ever. Ever ever. Forever. The end.”

This amused Glorfindel and Haldir. Erestor ignored them and stepped outside of the house—to find another unexpected visitor. “Your majesty,” he said, bowing at the doorway. It made the others curious, and they joined Erestor at the door.

“Whoa.” Orophin looked stunned. “How did they know to come all the way out here?”

To the side of Beleg stood a tall, slender ellon. His hair was braided with threads of gold, and his eyes keenly took in everything. “It is not ‘your majesty’, Erestor, you know that,” he corrected.

“How can I not give you the respect you are due,” replied Erestor.

The elf shrugged. “Just call me Fin.” He closed his eyes a moment and smiled. “Ah, right, I forgot.. that could be tricky.”

“It would be even trickier if I was a Fin, too, but I happen to be a Phin,” noted Orophin. When Beleg gave the young ellon a confused look, Orophin quickly apologized. “Just a joke. Sorry! Orophin – I am such a big fin of yours. I mean, fan.. big fan. Huge.” He cleared his throat. “I will just be hiding inside,” he declared as he ducked back into the house again.

“That was Orophin,” explained Haldir. “He is my younger brother; he really does happen to be rather fond of you, Beleg. Well met,” he added with a bow. “I am.. Haldir Erestorion,” he said, and Erestor smiled dotingly upon his son.

Beleg bowed back. “I am pleased to meet you. Erestor; it is good to see you again. I.. did not catch your name,” he said apologetically as he looked to the blond ellon near Erestor.

“Glorfindel,” came the answer. “The other Fin.”

“Ah! Certainly a pleasure,” declared Beleg. “My Fin is fond of your Fin,” he said to Erestor with a smirk.

Haldir caught it first. “So..” He smiled as he noticed Fingon bite his tongue and gaze sideways.

Beleg turned his head and noticed that Fingon was a good pace behind him. He beckoned the other elf nearer. “I hope it is alright that we came unannounced. As soon as Fingon heard about it, we were packed. We considered waiting, but, we were packed.” Beleg shrugged and looked at Fingon for further explanation.

“I never had the opportunity to attend the school,” Fingon said. “I was busy with gymnastic competition. The very last class through the school would have been the very first one I was eligible for. Even if I had wanted to, I would have been too old following my eligibility for competition. When Enedrion told me what was going on, I thought this might be my chance to be a part of it.”

“Any help is appreciated,” said Erestor. “I regret to say that Enedrion stepped out for a walk and has yet to return.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” said Fingon quickly as he looked up at the sky. “I expect we will see him tomorrow in the afternoon.”

Glorfindel looked concerned. “He did not say he would be gone that long.”

“He will be,” said Fingon firmly. “Do not worry. He does this often. He was the one who wrote to us, you know.”

“Shall we go in?” offered Haldir. He held the door open as the others filtered in. Fingon nodded in the direction of the horses, and without further explanation went to tend to them himself. “Would you like any help?” Haldir asked when the others entered the house. Fingon looked over his shoulder and shook his head. Haldir followed the rest inside and shut the door to keep the wind out.

Inside, they found that Orophin had put a kettle on for tea and set out bowls of dried fruit and nuts as well as some sliced cheese. “I did not know if anyone would be hungry, so I fixed something. I can make more of a meal if you like,” he offered nervously.

“How thoughtful. Thank you; I think we will be fine.” Beleg waited until Orophin was seated, and then he took the seat beside him. “I take it you are a fellow archer?”

Orophin seemed to have forgotten how to speak for a moment. “Wh—ah.. uhm… yes. Yes, I arch. I mean, I shoot. I… yes. Archer. Me.” He groaned. “Excuse me. Me, idiot.” Orophin stumbled over the bench as he stood up and nodded quickly to everyone before he left the room to go to the level that they used for sleeping.

“He seems very.. skittish,” noted Beleg after Orophin closed the door behind him.

“Not usually,” said Haldir. “It is an honor to meet you, sir. I think he will be a bit better tomorrow when he grasps the fact that you are really here and that he can talk to you just as he talks to every—“ Haldir cut himself off. “On second thought, perhaps it is best for you that he remain this way.”

The group, which began with three, now numbered eleven. Erestor was the self-appointed headmaster, while Fingon was something of an advisor to the project. Mahtan was busily getting the crafting halls into shape so that they would be useful for the incoming students, and two of the newest additions to the team, Amarie and Finrod spent their time making lists of what was needed in the barracks and what could be salvaged. Orophin and Haldir took up the duties of building and painting, and Beleg aided them when he was not assessing the game and fields. Enedrion was only there half of the time; he had taken up the task of recruiting others and getting the word out to potential students. Galugil, Maglor’s wife, and Glorfindel had not been able to adopt specific roles, but helped however they could be of use, knowing that they would be most helpful when it came to the fine tuning of the school. More and more, Greyson spent time outdoors and away from the Elves.

“I still think calling it Sarati School is deceptive,” said Erestor. They were gathered around a bonfire made of some of the ruined and rotted benches and bed frames from the barracks. “I do intend to teach Sarati, but I prefer a name that encompasses the mission of the school.”

“What is the mission of the school?” asked Galugil. “I know it is a creative atmosphere you are seeking, but is there something else you want to concentrate on besides that?”

“Just the idea of everyone being able to be creative and accepting of others and… I want it to be a sanctuary of sorts,” explained Erestor. “I.. I want it to be better for others than it was for me,” he admitted. He looked away, and Glorfindel put an arm around him comfortingly. “I want it to be a safe haven.”

“I like that name,” spoke Finrod.

“What name?” wondered his cousin.

“Haven. We should call this place Haven. If that is what you want it to be, then we should make it that, and we should call it that,” said Finrod. “I think Haven is very good for.. future changes. If you want it to be more than a school, since I get the feeling that it may have purpose not only for those attending, but for those who will be teaching as well.”

“Are you going to be exclusive to Vanyar and Noldor?” asked Fingon. “I know that the reason for that back in the beginning had to do with the fact that the Teleri did not set foot into the mainland—“

“A few of them did,” Erestor reminded Fingon. “They were just very rare. I do not want any exclusivity, though.”

“If that is the case, then I have to ask why you would hold auditions at all.” Fingon stared off in the distance for a moment, and then looked back. “Why not offer the opportunity to anyone, limit the number of years they can be here, and then put others on a waiting list. Then they need not reapply. If there is someone who seems to be a truly terrible fit, then exclude them. However, the reason Sarati eventually closed had to do with the availability of other schooling opportunities, did it not?”

“It was something like that,” said Erestor. “A combination of more schools and tutors being available, some parents decided to have governesses and live-in scholars for their own children – well, Feanor was a perfect example of that. He was enrolled in the school but he employed two of his fellow classmates to teach his children.”

“Yes, I know,” smirked Fingon.

Erestor nodded slowly. “Right. Sorry. Sometimes I act very old and forgetful. I am allowed,” he declared as the others chuckled softly.

“Fingon has a very good point,” agreed Enedrion. “If you do not want to be exclusive, why exclude anyone?”

“Are there any elements you want to keep?” asked Haldir. “Or, do you just want to start fresh? No one said you had to follow everything exactly.”

Erestor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I think if I start over completely, I am going to have a lot of work to do. Perhaps I can.. modify things using the suggestions that are being given. There must be ways to prevent the negativity of the old system.”

“Do you want to keep the houses?” asked Enedrion. “That was always a very big part of it all.”

“Right. I think..” Erestor frowned. “There needs to be some sort of structure.”

“True, but I think you might have thrived had you been able to choose your own house. Instead, you were somewhat forced to be in a house where everyone else was bullying you,” Enedrion pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Erestor shook his head. “There must be a better way about it. I do not want to allow the students to decide on their own, though. I think there needs to be something in place. And I do not think that doing it randomly is good, either.”

“So would the interview be to allow the students to talk about what they most enjoy, and from that you would then place them in houses?” asked Fingon.

Enedrion shrugged. “Now we are back to the old method.”

“The old method also restricted things like what gender someone was. I was not allowed into the houses that I would have done better in because I did not balance the demographics of the house I should have been in,” said Erestor.

“I think you were more suitable than others might have been,” said Enedrion in disagreement. “However, I do see your point. Perhaps instead of restricting house to what they would do, the houses function more as a family unit. A place to go in order to get mentoring and spend time with others away from classes.”

“Why have houses? You could just let people establish their own sorts of groups,” suggested Orophin. “You might have six in one and eighteen in another, but if that is what everyone wants—“

“And you will run the risk of having someone who is all alone,” Fingon argued. “I doubt that is going to aid anyone.”

“Some people like being alone,” said Haldir.

“That seems to limit the purpose. If everyone just does their own thing,” said Galugil, “then what need do you have for the structure of a school. You could just have this be a workplace for anyone, and let them come and go as they please.”

Erestor rubbed his head, unable to get a word in as the conversation bounced back and forth. At the first break, he stood up abruptly. “I think I am going to retire for the evening,” he said wearily. “If anyone wishes to discuss this further, perhaps we can schedule a formal council.”

Following Erestor’s departure, several others went back into the house as well. Eventually, only Finrod, Fingon, and Enedrion remained. “I hate to seem nosy,” began Finrod, “but did Erestor not have a particularly pleasant time when he was enrolled here?”

“There were good things, but there were also a lot of bad things. We were all tied in for twelve years,” explained Enedrion. “He had problems early on, but it was isolated at first to the fact that he – and I – had both reached our majority. Everyone else in our class was under fifty. There were many upper classmembers who were younger than we were. He was not as good at adapting to the idea that people younger than he was should have more responsibilities and power than he did. After some things in his personal life became known, he was marked.”

“Marked?” asked Finrod.

“Targeted,” revised Enedrion. “He could not eat in the hall without someone making a comment, or just looking at him and laughing. He did have some friends, and I think things may have been worse had it not been for Feanaro. A lot of the students were afraid that Feanaro would send his father after them or something. Erestor was his best friend, and these children were not stupid. That being said, they were still children.”

“Why would he want to come back here, then?” asked Fingon. “I dealt with the arrogance of youth when I was a competitive athlete. I have had no desire to return to any of those places. In fact, when I retired from competition, I was given an opportunity to coach. I just could not deal with the way things were run, so I left.”

“I think that is why Erestor is doing this. He wants to create something that keeps everything that was good about the school and gets rid of everything negative. At least, he wants to try to suppress the negativity.” Enedrion tossed another rotted chair leg onto the waning fire. “He has some utopic idea in his head, but he is still trying to express what it is.”

“This is seeming like.. like a way to get back at the bullies he was facing,” analyzed Finrod. “I am not sure if this is the best way to go about that.”

“I am not sure why he should care so much after all these years,” added Fingon. “Like I said, I just avoid my demons.”

“Do you ever talk to anyone about them?” asked Finrod.

Fingon tilted his head to one side and then the other, and then back again. “Sometimes?” He added a shrug. “I talk about the parts that really got to me. Mostly I did that with Turgon. He was a good listener. Sometimes I talked to Aredhel about it, too. I think I know where you are going next on this from that look you are giving me,” he said as he pointed at Finrod.

“You had support,” Finrod said. “I had siblings to talk to; I had parents to talk to. I had a lot of friends to talk to. All of us had that. Erestor sort of had Uncle Feanor; he also sort of had my sister.”

“Did he now?” muttered Fingon, and Finrod reached out and slapped his shoulder without further comment. “Yes, I see what you mean. He was very isolated; he had few friends. Eventually, he was just.. when your sister left, he was basically just a hermit living in a farmhouse, right?”

“Right.” Finrod frowned. “And then after everything with the silmarilli being stolen, he suddenly showed up in Middle-earth. We know he did not come across on the ice with all of us, and I highly doubt he was on the ships.”

“He might have been,” remarked Fingon.

“Possibly, but then why was he not at Maglor’s camp when we got there?” Fingon shrugged, and Finrod continued. “Well, that part does not matter. Suffice to say, he spent a very long time all by himself during a bad period of his life. That always seems to be what happens with him.”

Enedrion nodded slowly. “I heard some rumors about what happened to him near the end of the First Age. If any part of it is true..”

“One thing right on top of another,” finished Finrod. “I think someone needs to have a talk with him.”

“I elect you,” said Fingon immediately.

Enedrion agreed. “As do I.”

“Good. Because I was going to do it anyhow.”

-----

Someone was screaming. Whether they were in pain or it was fear was hard to tell, and who it was remained a mystery until Erestor belatedly realized it was his own voice as he grabbed blindly in the dark.

Someone held him up and helped him into a seated position. He grabbed for them, clung to them for a few moments before he shoved them away and silenced his own screams.

By now, everyone was awake and a few were approaching with concern. Glorfindel shook his head and waved them off, but this did not discourage Finrod. “How can I help?” he asked softly as he reached the bed, one leg off, the other knelt on the edge of the mattress.

“He just needs to finish waking up,” apologized Glorfindel. Finrod nodded but did not retreat. “Ress, are you alright? Do you want to try for sleep again?” He rubbed Erestor’s shoulder as he waited for an answer.

For a moment it seemed that Erestor was going to try to settle back into bed, but he shook his head and pushed away again. “I need to get out of here,” he muttered. He shoved the blanket away and tried to get up. He winced as soon as he put weight on his legs, and both Glorfindel and Finrod started to move closer to him in case he should fall.

“Would you like me to come with you?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor sat back down on the edge of the bed and shook his head. “Are you sure? You look like you can use company.”

“No, you need to sleep,” decided Erestor.

“I can go downstairs with you,” offered Finrod. “I sleep very little, so I think Amarie would prefer I stop waking her with my tossing and turning.” He smiled. “I feel like an elfling being made to take a long nap.”

For a moment it seemed that Erestor was going to argue, but Glorfindel decided for him. “That would be great. I am tired,” he admitted.

Erestor pulled the top blanket from the bed and put it around his shoulders before he gingerly stepped down and winced. Glorfindel watched but said nothing. It took a minute, but Erestor eventually hobbled out of the room and one by one went down the steps of the spiral staircase until he reached the bottom platform.

Finrod remained behind him, but did not offer aid. If Erestor wanted it, he would ask. Once they were in the sitting room, Finrod rekindled the fire while Erestor settled into one of the chairs with his blanket. There was still a bottle of wine sitting out from the night before. Finrod picked it up and took a drink, then offered it to Erestor, who shook his head.

There was a chair near to the one Erestor was in, and Finrod sat down in it. “I do not think that this school is what you need. I think you need to find yourself.”

Erestor gave Finrod a good, stern look, and then sighed and looked away.

Finrod took another drink from the bottle before he asked, “When was the last time you did something for yourself. Honestly. Not something for Glorfindel or something for another friend or your son or a stranger, but something you did purely because you wanted to?”

Erestor shrugged.

“You cannot remember, can you?” asked Finrod. “Because it always seems as if everything you have your hands in is not because you love it or you are having fun, but because it has to be done for someone else. Or because you think it would benefit someone else.”

Erestor tucked the blanket around his legs and reached down to massage his sore calf muscle. “I am sure I have done something recently.”

Finrod leaned forward and peered intensely at Erestor. “Let me try this. When was the last time you did something without worry over how others were going to perceive it?”

“I am always aware that my behavior is being judged by others. One should appear respectable at all times. Or, as often as they are able,” he added.

“Hmm.” Finrod drummed his fingers on the side of the bottle. “I can usually tell when people are masking their thoughts and emotions. You hide that fact well. But I think you are masking your entire identity. I think you are far too concerned over the reactions of others to who you are. I doubt you could walk up to a mirror and look at your reflection and say ‘I like myself’. In fact, I think you hate yourself, or elements of your being, and I think you self-impose torture upon yourself for it.”

“That is simply not true,” said Erestor.

“Alright, let us try something else. Can you give me three words that you would use to describe yourself?” Finrod waited, but Erestor said nothing. “Do you know why this is so difficult? Because you have your identity, and your perceived identity, and they are constantly at war with each other.”

“I prefer not to talk about this,” said Erestor abruptly.

Finrod leaned back in the chair. “So you admit it is an issue.”

Erestor’s jaw twitched and he stood up. “I think I should go back to bed.”

Finrod declined further comment until Erestor passed by close enough for him to reach out and grab hold of Erestor’s elbow. “You know where to find me when you want to talk. I think you want to, but I think your perceived identity is preventing you for some reason.” He let go, but when he heard Erestor on the steps, he added, “Do this for yourself. Not for Haldir. Because if you are here because of him, you are only setting yourself up for certain disappointment.”

There was a pause, but Erestor did not reply before he ascended the stairs again.

The next morning came and went, with Erestor sleeping until well past noon. The sky was grey, the clouds low. He woke and went to the window and peered down to see the wet courtyard and the wood soaked. There would be no bonfire to sit around tonight. He noticed Greyson sleeping near the door. The wolf must have returned recently, and upon closer inspection, Erestor saw that the wolf had a bandaged paw. He frowned as he stood, and then retrieved clothing and his hairbrush. The expectation was that after the previous night, everyone would be avoiding him, even Glorfindel. He and Glorfindel had never quite reached a point where they could discuss the events that followed the fall of Gondolin, at least, it had not happened yet, and Erestor did not feel as if this morning was the time for it, either. He navigated outside without being noticed, and walked quietly past those working in the drizzle of rain.

Erestor was somewhat surprised to find Finrod meditating near the falls that they were using for bathing. He walked by, and Finrod, without opening his eyes, said calmly, “Good afternoon, Erestor.”

“Afternoon,” he replied back without stopping.

As Erestor found a rock that was not too damp to set his things, he heard the rustle of the wet grass nearby and then the approach of Finrod. “I hope you are feeling better today,” he said.

Erestor gave a brief nod, but did not turn around. “Yes, thank you,” he replied as he shed his robe and tossed it aside before he headed under the water. For a few minutes, he was shielded by the curtain of water. Then, he heard the splash of someone else entering the water and sighed loudly when Finrod came into view. “You do realize I am less likely to want to talk to you if you keep following me around.”

“Oh. I thought this was the perfect plan,” answered Finrod, but it was clear he did not really think so. He tilted his head. “I was actually pondering all of this last night after you went back to bed. There are very few that I consider the same intellectual caliber as I am. Celeborn, for one, and also Turgon, and if you would stop being so evasive, you.”

“You told me last night to do things for myself, not for other people.”

“Right. Then I realized, if you do not know who you are, how are you supposed to decide what you are doing for yourself and what you are doing for others?” Finrod perched on one of the polished rock platforms that jutted out under the falls. “So I thought of something else. When was the last time you were absolutely happy?”

“You think I am in a perpetual state of depression?” Erestor sighed again. “Because I—“

“You are always wearing black. I hardly see you smile. You are defensive about everything that happens or is said to you.” Finrod picked up the soap cake that he realized Erestor was looking for, gave a whistle and tossed it so that the other elf could catch it easily. “If that is happy for you, I would hate to see you when you are upset.”

Erestor decided to turn around in hopes that Finrod would cease his commentary.

It only worked for five or six seconds.

“Shall we start with the black? Why are you always in a state of mourning? Usually, that is what is worn at a funeral.”

“Scholars wear black,” Erestor reminded Finrod. “It keeps the ink stains from permanently ruining shirt sleeves.”

“And you.. scholar every day?” asked Finrod. “It seems unnecessary to wear the same color all the time.”

“It makes it very practical,” corrected Erestor. “I never need to worry that my shirts and pants do not match my shoes or boots.”

“That is the weakest excuse I have heard from someone as intelligent as you,” scolded Finrod. “When did you start wearing black?” he asked.

“When I was here,” Erestor finally answered as he began to wash his long hair. “I was in the House of the Wolf, and our color was black. We were issued uniforms that consisted of neutral colored items and things in the colors of our house. I became used to wearing black.”

“And you never wore anything else after that?” prodded Finrod.

“Not often.” Erestor paused. “In Gondolin I did,” he admitted, realizing that it was going to make Finrod go away faster if he just answered the questions he was being asked.

“Gondolin. Yes, you rarely talk about Gondolin.”

“That is because I prefer it not be remembered that I had anything to do with Gondolin.” Erestor tossed the soap back to Finrod, who caught it and managed to hold on despite how slippery it was. “That was a very painful time in my life.”

“Why did you wear colors other than black, then?” questioned Finrod.

“Occupational hazard.”

“You were not a scholar there?” Finrod asked.

“No, not exclusively. Actor and soldier.”

“Interesting. I suppose everyone was a soldier to some extent in those days,” reflected Finrod. He lowered himself down into the pool of water that the falls emptied into, submerged himself, and came back up for air a minute later. “So you were essentially forced to wear things that were colorful,” stated Finrod as he started to wash his own hair.

“Not always,” Erestor answered tersely.

Finrod finished scrubbing his blond locks and then ducked under the water several more times. “Something is very, very wrong with you,” he finally said, and Erestor shot Finrod a narrow-eyed glare. “It is because I want to help you that I am bothering you about it. I think everyone else here, and most of the other people in your life, your spouse included, are happy enough to stand aside and wait for it to pass. I cannot do that. If it was a matter where you really did not want help, I would not be out here waiting for you in the mist of a dreary day. But you hesitated yesterday on the steps—you almost asked for help.”

“You are reading too much into things,” argued Erestor.

“Am I?” Finrod stepped through the waterfall, presumably returning to his meditations. Erestor finished bathing and then went to the ledge to sit. His plan was to wait until he suspected that Finrod would tire and leave. He stayed over an hour, but when he emerged from the water, he hid his surprise at seeing Finrod still waiting for him. Instead of sitting on the grass, he was lounging on the plateau of a boulder that had mostly dried, due less to the meager sunlight and more because of the wind. “I was going to send in a search party,” he said as Erestor picked up his hairbrush.

“Gondolin was the best thing that happened to me, and the worst thing that happened to me,” said Erestor.

Finrod straightened up with interest. “Were the happy and the sad intermingled, or was it because of the fall of the realm?”

“For the most part, I enjoyed my time there. Once in a while, there were some issues, but if I had to go through it again I..” He made a noise that was a cross between a sigh and a growl. “I would prefer not to go through the fall, but for the sake of the rest, I would.”

“Interesting. So sometimes, you actually wore bright colors without any coercion?”

Erestor frowned. “Occasionally.”

“You know that it is perfectly normal to arraign oneself in different colors. Perhaps not all of them at once,” Finrod cautioned. “Generally, though, I think it would be fine if you decided to do that again.”

“People are used to me being like this,” Erestor replied.

“Ah. I suppose that is the trouble. It is not that you are adverse to the idea; it is that you are against change.” Finrod changed the topic. “Why are you restarting the school? Is it for yourself, for the students, or for some other reason?”

“Clearly, the students will be the main beneficiaries of the school,” said Erestor sternly.

“I understand that,” agreed Finrod. “What I mean is, what are you going to gain from it? Will this make you happy? Or is this just another task to mask your unhappiness and keep you busy?”

Erestor set the brush down and started to dress. “I see this as an opportunity for me to give back something. I do want to give others the chance at the experiences I had – the good experiences that I had at the school.” He climbed up to sit with Finrod after dressing in everything except his shoes. “There is little I am going to gain from doing this.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because it should be done.”

“Why not leave that to someone who really wants to do it? Enedrion or Fingon could take over the project.”

Erestor looked up at the clouds in an attempt to gauge if there would be more rain later in the day. “I started it. I should see it through.”

“Again, someone else could do that,” reasoned Finrod. “Are there reasons *you* want to do this?”

“I want to make sure it is done correctly,”

“You want control of it,” corrected Finrod.

Erestor thought for a moment. “I suppose I do,” he answered.

“Do you trust the others, if you suddenly had to give it up? Do you think they could finish it?” asked Finrod.

“Not really,” answered Erestor with little hesitation. “They could complete it, but it would not be quite as I would want it to be.”

“Have you been able to enjoy yourself?” asked Finrod. “Is the process fun for you?”

“It is work. I expected it to be work when I started, so this is not something I was unprepared for,” said Erestor.

Finrod shrugged. “I think you need to reassess everything that is going on here. I think your idea is sound; I think your execution of the project is where you need to rethink things. You need to delegate a little more, and you need to ask with every task, do I need to do this? Can I have someone else do this? Can we skip this completely? Right now, you are undertaking something that is eventually going to cause you to hate the entire thing, and possibly even walk away from it.”

“I would never walk from it,” said Erestor firmly.

“How can you be so certain?” wondered Finrod. “Are you using this as a way of getting back at those who tormented you when you were here the first time?”

“N—maybe a little,” admitted Erestor. “Maybe I want to create something where no one will feel like I did.”

“That is a noble thought, but I think we both know that no matter what, there are always bullies. The task is not to keep them away; the task is to discover them and to find out why they do such things and to educate them. In order for that to happen, well, there will be some here. It is just the way of life. I think, though, with a headmaster such as yourself, there is a chance that they will be educated.” Finrod patted Erestor’s shoulder. “Come. It is going to rain again soon. We should return to the house before a search party is really sent out for you.”

As they walked back, Erestor only nodded to conversation that Finrod made. Before they reached the house, Finrod slowed his pace and Erestor did the same. “If our roles were reversed, I would want you to do the same for me,” he requested.

“You would want me to be a stalker and a nuisance? You would want me to follow you everywhere, ask you every conceivable question, and generally make you want to stuff a rag into my mouth for the few seconds of peace you would gain?”

“Everything up to the rag. We should leave your sexual yearnings out of this conversation,” suggested Finrod.

“That was most certainly not a ‘sexual yearning’,” mumbled Erestor, but his cheeks were tinged red and Finrod smirked with an innocent shrug. “How did you even make that correlation?”

“I just wanted to see if I could invoke an emotion other than disgust from you,” stated Finrod. He caught sight of Amarie near the house and sped his pace to a jog. “We will speak more later, Erestor,” he called out without looking back.

-----

When Erestor reached the house, he called everyone together for a meeting. The rest of the day was spent moving everyone who came with a spouse or other partner to shared rooms so that they did not need to all be in the one barrack room.

“Is this because I pissed him off, or because of the nightmare he had?” asked Finrod as he passed by Haldir at one point in the reorganization.

“Who knows,” answered Haldir. “You could just ask him.”

“He does not seem to like answering my questions,” whispered Finrod as he caught Erestor walking toward them out of the corner of his eye.

Haldir moved a dresser into the nearest room, and then came back into the hallway once Erestor had passed. “He likes answering questions. He is an adviser and a librarian. He just hates answering questions about himself, for the same reason.”

“Explain, please,” requested Finrod as he helped Haldir move one of the bedframes into the same room they were working on.

“He takes the jobs seriously. In those capacities, one is supposed to give advice or answer questions based on facts. That means that he seems to think he cannot express any opinion as it relates to himself. In fact, there are many things where I do not know what he personal stance is.” Haldir lowered his end of the frame when Finrod nodded that they were in a good spot for it. “The things that he has taken a side on are.. I do not want to say trivial, but they are oddities.”

Finrod shut the door to the room to keep any eavesdropping to a minimum. “Such as?”

“His views on women for one thing. He expounds upon how they should be educated only in domestic skills, be obedient to their male counterparts, and spend their time raising children.” Haldir shook his head. “It always sounded rehearsed. It reminded me more of when he would be performing a play. Like he was on stage, being watched, so he had to say his lines perfectly.”

“Interesting.”

“I do not know if that helped you much with whatever you are trying to find out,” said Haldir as he walked across the room and opened the door.

Finrod followed him out. “Actually, I think it did.”

-----

“Glorfindel, do you have a moment?” It took Finrod most of the day to catch Glorfindel alone, but when he finally did, he wasted no time. There was a moment after dinner when Erestor wanted everyone go to the upper levels to select rooms. Finrod whispered his plan to Amarie, and she made sure to distract Erestor with conversation as everyone made their ascent to the third and fourth floors. Finrod waited until only Glorfindel and Fingon were left at the bottom of the stairs, and then intercepted the blond. Glorfindel nodded to the request, and Finrod tilted his head at the door that led outside.

The pair left the house, and Finrod led the way to the courtyard. It was looking better and better each day, though after the rain they could both see that there were certain areas where the bricks had sunken down over the years and would need to be readjusted to keep the puddles from forming. A few new benches had been added, but Finrod walked beyond these until they were centered in the courtyard and able to see someone approach from any side. “I wanted to talk to you about Gondolin,” Finrod said when they were a suitable distance from the house. “Erestor spoke of it being both the best time of his life and the worst time of his life.”

“I think the best part of it, if I had to guess, was the theatre. He spent a lot of time there, and was a respected thespian. I would venture he was even proud of the time he spent with Rog’s army. He was a lot different then,” added Glorfindel as he worried at some of the bricks that were breaking apart with the toe of his boot. “He was…”

“Relaxed? Happy?”

“I was going to say ‘fun’. He got drunk, he joked around, he danced on the tables with Ecthelion, he sang at the top of his lungs. It was obvious he was a Noldo—the clothing, the jewels, the attitude. *I* was the subdued one in those days,” added Glorfindel with a dry chuckle. “Sure, I think happy, mostly, yes. There were a few… issues. He never held it against King Turgon for what he did, though. I mean, he brought it on himself. Funny, though, one of the things he did that got him into trouble with the King was strike Salgant. They eventually became great friends.”

“Tell me more about Salgant,” insisted Finrod.

“Salgant owned the theatre; he controlled the lesser market. He was very influential when it came to entertainment and commerce. They went from hating each other to being inseparable at times.” Glorfindel smiled as he recalled those days. “His house was the most impressive. I found it more beautiful than the King’s Tower. When you entered, there were marble floors in the foyer and a grand harp with chairs for people to sit around it and listen. Upstairs, he had a stargazing tower. It was a room that was not as large as most of the rooms there, but it was so cozy. Erestor loved it. If I could not find him anywhere that he should have been, then that is where he was, drinking wine with Salgant as they watched the stars and discussed everything and anything.”

“Are there other friends that he had in Gondolin?” Finrod asked.

Glorfindel considered the question. “Well, Duilin, Ecthelion, and.. hmm. Oh! Umm..” Glorfindel chuckled uncertainly again. “Uhm.. my ex-wife.”

Finrod only looked shocked for a moment. “I see. I take it that would be an uncomfortable situation for you, that he remained friends with her.”

“On the contrary, the four of us—Erestor and I, and Tauniel and Eruluinde – get together often.”

“Interesting.”

“Now, after Gondolin, he had a few friends who would visit him in Rivendell, and then of course, Elrond, Celebrian, and myself. Prior to Gondolin, there was Thranduil, but things are a little strained with that at the moment,” said Glorfindel.

“How so?” wondered Finrod.

“Haldir was in a.. it was sort of a marriage. I suppose it was a marriage. Haldir was married to two other people. They were all together. It recently ended, and it did not end well. Thranduil is the father of one of the other.. ex-spouses.”

“So that has been uncomfortable for the fathers, I imagine.”

“Indeed, for everyone involved.” Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest. “What is this all about anyhow?”

Finrod smiled and shared his plan, and Glorfindel nodded in agreement. “In that case,” he said, “let me write down their addresses for you.”

Glorfindel lounged on the bed of the room he and Erestor had claimed. Down the hall on the same floor were Beleg and Fingon, and Amarie and Finrod, whom he had not seen since late the previous night, when Finrod insisted he was going for a walk and that no one should wait up for him. It was late morning, and the weather outside had not changed. The darkened sky harkened further rain showers and the sun was hiding behind the gloom. The trees were bare, their skeletal branches contrasting against the grey sky, but leaving little to look at outside. Consequently, Glorfindel had drawn the curtains a hour ago. The coffee-colored drapery was still not colorful, but it seemed warmer and less somber than the picture he would have seen through the window.

He looked up from the novel he was reading when Erestor entered the room. Before he could speak he was silenced. Erestor simply held up a hand and continued into the walk-in closet. A candle within was lit, and Glorfindel turned the book over to keep his place, resting it on the velvet of the burgundy coverlet on the bed. He stood up, moving away the loose gauzy curtain of the canopy. When it was evident that Erestor was not about to offer explanation for his behavior, Glorfindel followed.

The closet was not cramped for one person, but it was certainly intended for one person, not for two to attempt to fit inside. Nonetheless, Glorfindel joined Erestor. He placed a hand on Erestor’s shoulder and peered around to see what he was doing.

One by one, Erestor was sorting through his side of the closet in an attempt to find something that was not black. He would have settled for something that was not entirely black, if he could find it. Just as the school was, in a way, to prove others wrong that he had been a failure, he was about to prove Finrod wrong about his choice of clothing.

So far, it was not looking as if he would.

Glorfindel began to notice a pattern in what Erestor was doing. He kissed Erestor’s cheek and excused himself. He only needed to walk a few paces away, knocking on one of the tall, white doors down the hall. Fingon answered it, having also been chased inside by the rain. A brief explanation from Glorfindel was all it took for him to follow the blond back to where Erestor was taking a second look through every article of clothing he owned.

Fingon said nothing. Instead he stood back, unnoticed by Erestor, and looked the frustrated elf up and down. He nodded to Glorfindel and left the room, only to return a few minutes later with a selection of outfits from his own inventory. Glorfindel tapped Erestor on the shoulder and nodded to the bed, where Fingon was setting out the various outfits for Erestor’s perusal.

Erestor peered out of the closet, made a face, and walked to the bed. One by one, he picked things up, looked them over, and put them down. After several minutes of this, Fingon rolled his eyes and pulled the most recently inspected item from the pile. He then selected a pair of trousers and handed both of these to Erestor. He shooed him into the closet to try them on, and gave Glorfindel an understanding look once Erestor closed the closet door. “Maedhros was the same way,” he said.

When the door to the closet opened again, Erestor called out, “Glorfindel, will you come look at this?”

“That sounds ominous,” whispered Fingon to Glorfindel. Glorfindel frowned and went to the doorway. “Everything alright in there?” called out Fingon.

“This is nice,” said Glorfindel, loud enough so that Fingon could hear.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“It seems awfully bright.”

“That is the point.”

Fingon walked to the closet and looked over Glorfindel to inspect Erestor. “You look fine,” he assured Erestor. “Actually, you look normal.” Fingon looked closer. “Actually.. take it off a moment.”

Erestor hesitated but did as Fingon instructed.

“Now turn it inside out,” directed Fingon.

Erestor’s cheeks flushed as he realized his own mistake and pulled the sleeves back around where they were intended to be. He pulled the shirt back on over his head and Fingon moved around Glorfindel to get a closer look. He stepped into the closet without invitation and tucked the shirt in, then fussed over the sleeves and retied the lacings. “This is an ideal color of blue for you,” Fingon explained. “I know, because while we have the same color hair, it always looked a little off on me.” Fingon’s complexion was so pale it was a milky white, while Erestor had darker skin that often tanned further from his time spent in the sun. “Keep it,” he added once he was satisfied.

It was now Glorfindel’s turn to offer fashion advice. “I have a sash that would look great with that,” he said, pulling it from a hook in the closet. Without permission, he wrapped it around Erestor’s waist and tucked in the loose ends.

“Let me fix your hair for you,” offered Fingon as he took Erestor by the arm and led him back into the bedroom to the chair by the desk. “Glorfindel, maybe you can find a pair of boots that will go with these trousers.”

“I think most of his footwear is black, too,” answered Glorfindel as he looked from the brown trousers to the floor of the closet.

“There should be suede house slippers in the back that are brownish black,” said Erestor. Glorfindel happily retrieved them as Fingon made some simple braids to keep Erestor’s hair from falling in front of his face.

When Fingon finished, Glorfindel set the slippers down for Erestor to step into. Erestor then stood up and glanced for a moment in a mirror. He did not frown, but he did not smile, either, which made Glorfindel’s shoulders slump. “I hope this is not a once a century occurrence,” remarked Glorfindel hopefully.

Erestor took another look at himself in the mirror but did not answer.

***

Finrod returned just in time for lunch. No one seemed to wonder at his absence, or why he reported nothing on why he had been gone for so long. He did, however, give Erestor a nod and a smile. “Very nice choice of colors,” he commended before he followed Amarie to help her set places for the meal.

For some reason, Finrod was very insistent about keeping everyone in the parlor after they finished lunch. Every time someone had some task that they planned to do elsewhere, Finrod would go with them and bring them back with whatever supplies they needed. The room was becoming cluttered and in a state of disarray. When either Fingon or Glorfindel made mention of this, Finrod waved it off and reminded them it was better than when they had arrived.

There was a knock on the door just before suppertime, and when everyone else looked up with uncertainty, Finrod said without seeming surprised, “Enedrion, would you mind getting the door?”

Enedrion gave Finrod a curious look but did as he was asked. He stood at the open door for a moment and scanned the area outside before he bowed and motioned with his arm for whomever was on the other side to enter.

Several of the occupants looked up, but it was not until he heard Glorfindel gasp that Erestor turned his head to the doorway. “Salgant!” he exclaimed. He stood up so quickly that he almost spilled the tray of paint he was holding.

Behind Salgant came Duilin, and then Tauniel and Eruluinde, and finally Eledu and Gwyndir. As each person entered the house, Erestor’s grin became a little wider. He set the tray down in order to properly hug and greet everyone. “I heard from Finrod that you were building an inclusive school or something,” said Salgant as Erestor was hugging Duilin. “You do understand that means you have to educate ladies, too.”

“Right. You better watch out, Erestor, if you teach them to read, no idea what they might do!” Duilin faked a look of horror on his face before he laughed and tugged on Erestor’s sleeve. “Nice shirt. Good color for you.”

“No worries about that,” spoke up Tauniel. “I am sure he will offer all of the important classes. Sewing and cooking and husband hunting.” She nodded seriously as Eruluinde laughed.

“Erestor is well aware that skills like cooking and sewing are not exclusive to ladies,” spoke up Eledu as Enedrion shut the door now that everyone was inside.

Salgant had already procured a goblet of wine and a honeycake (which was very odd, because no one recalled any honeycakes in the house before that point), and added, “I would also like to point out that husband hunting is not a task exclusive to the fairer sex.” Before Salgant could take a bite from the honeycake, Duilin had stolen it from his hand and was sniffing it curiously. Duilin then lowered it down and fed the treat to the tail-wagging wolf who was happy to see that his master was adding so many more two-legged wolves to the pack. Salgant’s displeasure was only evident for a second; he was soon holding a second mysterious honeycake, to which Duilin merely shook his head.

In the midst of the introductions, Erestor looked over to see where Finrod was. The plotting elf was sitting by himself, hand over his mouth to hide his smirk. Erestor considered not acknowledging what had been done, but when Finrod looked up and locked onto Erestor’s gaze, the older elf smiled and mouthed a thank you to him. Finrod closed his eyes and gave a single nod of his head before he stood up to meet those he was unfamiliar with.

“Shall we get going?” asked Salgant once he had licked the residual honey from his fingers. Those who had just entered the room began to nod in agreement while Erestor looked puzzled.

“Where are we going?” Erestor asked as Glorfindel brought him a cloak.

Eledu winked at his long-time friend. “Dinner. We discussed it, and this place is not that far from some of the places on the outskirts of Tirion. There is a lovely establishment we are going to take over for the evening. Then, we are going to hold discussions in the morning on how to proceed.”

“What about Greyson? And the painting?” asked Erestor as he was being ushered out the door.

“Do not worry, Atadar,” said Haldir. “Orophin and I are going to stay here to tend to the estate. Go. Have fun.”

***

The particular pub that they came to was none other than Rumil’s own establishment. He greeted them all at the door and settled them inside at the tables, where drinks were already awaiting them. Erestor found himself separated from his husband. When everyone finally sat down, he was sitting at a table with Salgant, Eledu, and Amarie. “Amarie, I think you know Eledu. I am not sure you have ever met Salgant.”

Amarie held her hand out to Salgant. “A pleasure.”

“All mine,” replied Salgant.

“And Eledu, have you met—“

“Is there anyone who does not know Eledu?” asked Salgant with a smirk. He still held out a hand and he and Eledu shook with a shared laugh. “His husband runs an exquisite establishment. Have you ever been?”

“On several occasions,” confirmed Erestor.

“I adore the trained turtles,” admitted Salgant. “It gives me more time to peruse the bread basket.”

At the next table, Duilin chuckled at Salgant’s comment. “If only that was the only thing he perused. He prefers the dessert cart.”

“How long have the two of you been together?” asked Beleg. He and Fingon were at the table, as well as Eruluinde.

“Long enough to know that he is already plotting ways to eat the extra desserts,” Duilin answered as he glanced over his shoulder.

Glorfindel was at the table with Gwyndir, Tauniel, and Finrod. “I had no idea that we were this close, or we might have considered taking more meals down here,” Glorfindel apologized.

“Neither did I,” admitted Finrod. “Once I found the school, I did not give the location of other things a second thought.”

“I have to admit,” said Tauniel cautiously, “I expected it to be slightly better than what we saw.”

“The outsides of the buildings need a lot of work,” confirmed Glorfindel. “We have many of the buildings painted inside, and floors replaced where they had to be. The steps are all solid; anything that had rotted was redone.”

“Much of the furniture had to be scrapped, but Orophin is a master crafter. He has built so many things, completely without plans, in a short amount of time. I am confident that we will not have difficulty with that,” said Finrod. Noting that Gwyndir had yet to speak, Finrod engaged him in conversation when Glorfindel and Tauniel began to discuss the fabric needs with all of the bedding and curtains that would be required for one hundred and forty-four people. “I have not often seen such mastery of craft,” he said of the jewelry Gwyndir wore.

“Oh. Thank you. My father taught me,” answered Gwyndir shyly.

“You made all of this?” Finrod admired the rings and bracelets, and the gems embedded in them as Gwyndir nodded. “My wife made a suggestion many years back that she wanted to see me with jeweled ears.. perhaps I shall commission something and surprise her.”

“It would be an honor,” said Gwyndir as he bowed his head.

“I leave the creativity to you. Name the price, and you shall have it,” promised Finrod.

Gwyndir smiled. “I would not charge you for it, not exactly.”

“And what exactly would you require for payment?” Finrod asked.

“My daughter saw you as her hero when she was growing up,” explained Gwyndir. “If you might find the time to pay her a visit, that would be payment enough.”

“A toast!” announced Rumil suddenly, and the conversations abruptly ended at the individual tables. “To Headmaster Erestor and his school! May it be a haven to all those who attend!”

There was a great deal of applause and cheering, and insistence of a speech. Erestor was finally persuaded to stand and raise his glass. He thanked those who had been working on the project, and those who were joining them now, and all those in Tirion who had offered their assistance. The entire time, Erestor found himself forcing smiles and laughter, and he was only too glad to sit down again and relinquish the floor to Finrod, who further praised the project and those tending to the estate. Dinner began when Rumil brought platters around to each table, and the conversations were renewed.

Erestor managed enough activity on his plate to make it look as if he was eating, and excused himself for a moment when wine glasses were refilled. No one seemed to notice that he did not return to the merriment that evening.

No one save Glorfindel, whose goblet was refilled more often than all others.

***

While everyone else was having dinner a few miles away, Orophin and Haldir were in the barracks. Haldir was sitting on the floor tending to Greyson and scratching under his muzzle while he wrote a letter to Celebrian with his other hand. Orophin sat on one of the trunks against the wall as he carved a small figurine that would join the others he had worked on here and there. He had collected all of the pieces of scrap wood from the doors and furniture and was turning them into chess sets after he convinced Erestor that they should paint a chess board on the middle of every table in what would once again be the dining hall, so long as Orophin would be able to supply each one with a chess set. He was on set number fourteen of he did not want to think of how many anymore.

The brothers exchanged a few words back and forth, but for the most part each was engrossed in his task. Orophin sometimes hummed to himself, but Haldir was silent. In the middle of a song, Orophin lifted his head and stilled his hand. “Halli, I think I hear something outside.”

Haldir lifted his head, as did Greyson. Orophin put down his tools and went to the window. The muffled sound of a violin could be heard outside, and when the window was open, it was evident that the fiddler was close by. Haldir joined Orophin at the window and looked out. As soon as he did, the music became louder. He looked down and saw his forest nymph below the window. “Would you like to come inside?” he called out. She shook her head. “Would you like me to come down?” She nodded.

Haldir drew his head back into the room. “Oro—“

“Go on. I can take care of Greyson for you.”

“Thanks. I owe you!” He gave Orophin’s shoulder a squeeze, then crouched down to pet Greyson again and kiss the top of the wolf’s head. “Be a good puppy for Uncle Oro,” he said before he hurried to pull a cloak off of a hook on the wall.

The next morning was drearier than the last two. Some of Rumil’s guests woke to thunder before they would have liked. Rain beat upon the windows as they group had breakfast in the main room.

Due to the weather, there were no members of the Brotherhood of Manwe, Rumil’s writing fellowship, in the inn that day. It gave the group from the school the freedom of taking over the space. The rooms were found in the upstairs, and the pub below. There was a smaller meeting room through one of the doors, and Rumil opened this up to a select group. It was decided that while some of the participants in the project would do best developing courses and workshops, the others needed to establish the overall direction of the school, if it was to be a school after all. It was this task that Erestor undertook with those interested in defining what Sarati was to become.

“I think that our first order of business is to confirm the name of the school,” suggested Enedrion. “And that it is a school.”

“I have been thinking about that. I do want to keep with the idea of it being a school,” said Erestor. “I also think that we need to change certain things. Ideally, though, it did work. For the most part, it worked. We just need to find a way to tweak things.”

“Discipline is one of the things that I think we need to work out,” said Enedrion. “That was the trouble with what happened with Sarati. No one had any sort of consequences. No one could be expelled once they were accepted, and everyone was held to twelve years. Maybe that is too long.”

“Those were tree years,” Finrod reminded Enedrion. “The span of a year is far less now. Perhaps twelve years of the sun is an acceptable period.”

“Will it be enough?” wondered Amarie. “There were those final projects were were expected to create.. we needed the time to manage them.”

Erestor picked up a quill. In the middle of the table was a large sheet of paper with a line down the middle of it. On one side there was a notation marking the items they did not want, and the other side noted things that were to be kept in the school. “I would prefer to get rid of the project requirement. I think that we would do better with a variety of capstones. If someone wants to do a large project they can, but they could also give a presentation or a lecture or something that would be the summation of what they had done. I prefer not to limit our students.”

“What if you have a student who only uses the school for exploration of ideas, and does not have anything ‘final’ to show for it?” asked Finrod.

“I think that they would at least be able to keep a journal of what they did during their time at the school,” said Erestor.

Enedrion nodded. “Actually, we were all required to keep journals while we were there. I hated those damned scrolls. Good thing you fixed that, Erestor.”

Erestor smiled. “I was not going to spend an entire year of rolling and rerolling those damned things, let alone twelve.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Duilin.

“Books,” answered Enedrion. “Erestor’s final project, after twelve years of schooling, was to create an object that was basically the first book in Valinor. Of course, it was eventually discovered that the Teleri were using books a few years earlier, and that their version allowed for more pages and ease of use. Still, it was impressive for someone just over sixty to solve the trouble with scrolls.”

“I was fifty when I figured it out,” corrected Erestor, but he looked down at the table as he spoke. “They just refused to let me submit the project until I was in my last year.”

“Alright, so, what I am hearing here is that we do not want to limit the submission of projects and ideas,” realized Finrod. “Maybe instead of having a final project based upon the number of years someone has been there, you could instead give everyone the opportunity to turn in their projects on a yearly basis.”

“How many people were in each house?” asked Tauniel.

“Eight,” answered Amarie. “Eight students, that is. Every six years a new group of four would be admitted to each house.”

“We should get back to that,” suggested Enedrion. “First, the name. Is anyone not satisfied by the name Haven?”

“Erestor was telling me about the idea of the name during dinner last night,” said Eledu. “I do not know if this is in line with what you were thinking of, but what is the thought on the name Iaunlond?”

Everyone gave the name a little thought. Tauniel asked, “Would it just be Iaunlond, or Iaunlond school?”

“Perhaps when it is announced, it will be called Iaunlond, and then there will be mention of it being the school to replace Sarati,” Enedrion said.

The focus was placed on Erestor, who was sitting at the head of the table tapping the feather of the quill against his cheek thoughtfully. “I rather like it,” he said finally.

“Wonderful. Now that the baby has a name, we can figure out the details. These houses.. they all had colors and animals assigned to them, correct?” Erestor, Amarie, and Enedrion all nodded in answer to Finrod’s question. “Do they need that? Should it be a symbol? Can it be something.. not an animal, because I think with animals, there could be issues—“

“The butterflies,” said Enedrion under his breath as Amarie spoke up with, “I was a hippo.”

Tauniel giggled. “I like hippos.”

“Oh, I do, too. I have been more fond of them ever since,” said Amarie. “It was still something where other groups would make fun of the animals.”

“Or the colors,” added Erestor. “Then again, it seemed like it was usually a combination. Lavender and butterflies, versus brown and bears.”

“I think it would be different if it was all the same sort of animal.” Amarie picked up another quill and made a list of the different houses. “All of the literary houses were birds. If all of the houses were birds or maybe cats or something like that, then I think there would be less trouble with it.”

“I like the idea of the birds,” agreed Enedrion. “We could keep the four that were already there, and modify the other houses.”

Erestor added these notes to the paper at the center of the table. “Do we still want eight students, four every six years, in the school?”

“I would prefer smaller classes more often,” said Enedrion. “If that were the case, students would not have to wait so long for a chance to get in.”

“What is your suggestion?” asked Erestor.

“I would say if we had twenty-four new students every three years, and we still had the twelve year span for each student, that would allow for more opportunities,” said Enedrion.

Amarie shook her head. “That still limits us to the same number of students total. What if we doubled the numbers – could we handle that?”

“Everything in the school was based upon the idea that one hundred and forty-four was the perfect number,” said Erestor. “However, life is not based upon one hundred and forty-four.”

“Are you open to a larger number of students?” asked Amarie. Erestor shrugged.

“I think you need to look at how much space you have,” suggested Tauniel. “Can you house more people if the school was built on the idea of a certain number of residents?”

Finrod picked up a quill and started to sketch the layout of school. “Here is what we have to work with. There are several large buildings, a library, crafting halls, and then we have the smaller houses. There was one assigned to each of the twelve houses. What were those used for?”

“Anything that the house wanted them for, really,” answered Enedrion. “If it was the theatre group, it might be used for practice. If it was the cooking group, they might prepare things there. I was a writer, I pursued literary things, so the house was just a quiet place to write.”

“If the houses are not going to be for that reason—if they are more just a pseudo-family in a way—do we need to structure them the way they used to be?” Amarie looked around and then continued. “What I would like to do is move the barrack areas into those spots. If we did that.. how many people could we fit in each one?” she asked no one in particular.

“They are pretty large buildings,” recalled Erestor. “I think.. well, each one was a large main room, and then another exterior room that could only be entered through the main room. Mostly, those were used for storage, but I think we could work out some way of turning that space into private rooms for the… right now, let us call them housemasters. And mistresses,” he added quickly when Tauniel pouted at him. “The private barracks could be utilized by the instructors and staff. I think.. I actually want to do away with the junior professors,” he said in a rush, looking between Enedrion and Amarie.

“We can discuss that in a moment,” interrupted Finrod. “How many people could live in each of the twelve houses?”

Erestor sighed. “Probably.. fifty-two if we really crammed people in. I would not go more than thirty-eight, to give everyone a little extra room.”

“Alright, so that being the case, if we have thirty-eight, and twelve houses..” Finrod began to scribbled down numbers.

“Four hundred and fifty-six,” said Erestor before Finrod had a chance to make the calculations. “We could keep it in multiples of twelve, and make it four hundred and thirty-two, and that would put thirty-six students in each house.”

Duilin raised a hand. “If that is the case, could you have it on a four year rotation, adding a full group of one hundred and forty-four every four years, twelve to each house. That would certainly allow more students the opportunity to attend.”

“I think it makes it more difficult for cliques to form, too,” remarked Finrod. “If we are all set on that, I think we can move on to discussing the junior professors. Erestor, did you have some thoughts on that?”

Erestor looked as if he still had more to say on the previous topic, but he shook his head. “I already said what I wanted to about that.”

Finrod nodded. “Any other discussion on the junior professors?” he asked. “Personally, I think we should not be too hasty to get rid of them..” The meeting continued on, with Finrod leading the discussion more and more, and Erestor finding he was more the consultant than the organizer.

***

It was another peaceful night, and a nice break for the brothers. With the rain beating down, there was little that could be done outside. They left a few of the windows cracked open for a breeze, and generally lazed about, exchanging stories as they ate the rest of the cheese and fresh fruit, drank a little wine, and tended to Greyson, who was strong enough now to put some weight on the injury.

“I still wish I knew what he got himself into,” said Haldir as he rewrapped the wound in soft gauze, and rewarded the wolf’s good behavior with a slice of the cheese. “Poor thing. Do you think it might have been a trap?”

Orophin shook his head. “Trap would have made it to the bone. Same thing if it was another animal that he fought with. There are so many jagged stones and bricks and pieces of wood out there, I doubt we will ever know. Possibly, before the rains, we might have found blood on something, but I doubt that now.”

Haldir scratched Greyson under the chin and lifted the wolf’s giant head in his hands. “Too bad you cannot tell me what happened, boy.” Greyson sneezed and stretched his neck to lick Haldir’s chin. “I love you, too, silly wolf.”

“If he tried to sneak into a pasture, he could have caught it under a fence or something,” suggested Orophin as he whittled swans for a special chess set he was building in secret. There were white swans on one side, and blocks of cherry wood which would become phoenixes later.

“He knows he can come back here and be fed. Why would he try to sneak into a pasture?” asked Haldir.

Orophin gave Haldir a sideways look. “Because he is a wolf. He has always been a wolf, and will always be a wolf. You have no more tamed him than Glorfindel has tamed Erestor.”

Haldir laughed loudly at the comment. “How true – have you found out any more about the mathematics fiasco?”

“No – have you?”

“No.. you know, Glorfindel is going to confront him on all of these things. I can tell.. he is letting it go for now, but I just hope I am there to see it,” Haldir admitted.

“Me, too,” Orophin agreed. “Strange, that we are just waiting and hoping for the conflict.”

“I am not sure it will be a conflict so much as a massive confession,” said Haldir. “I have no idea why he seems to have so many secrets.”

“Because he is old,” pointed out Orophin. “Really, really, really, really old. Anyone who remembers as much as he does is bound to forget at least as much.”

“How can he forget—“

“What did you have for lunch on Tuesday?”

“—that much..” Haldir paused. “Maybe.. fish, I think?”

“Fish was on Wednesday,” corrected Orophin.

“What I had for lunch nearly a week ago is hardly a fair comparison,” Haldir argued.

“It is an example.”

Haldir smirked. “You are taking Erestor’s side.”

“It was bound to happen at some point.” Orophin set the completed figure aside and started work on a matching rook. “All I am saying is that sometimes, I think he forgets what happened to him in the past. He might block it out, too, like Mahtan suggested.”

Haldir appeared to have something further to dispute, but he turned his head to the window and listened. Orophin, too, raised his head and slowed his hand. “Music.. are they back already?”

“No.” Haldir hurried to the window and pushed it open the rest of the way. The rain had stopped, but the droplets clinging to the shutters dripped down onto his head. The music was faint, but whomever was playing was getting closer. Haldir grinned and rushed up the stairs to find his flute and kick off his shoes beside his bed. When he came back down the stairs, he took them two at a time before he stopped abruptly as he saw Orophin staring at him with stilled hands. “I.. uh, I..”

“I am not waiting up for you,” Orophin chided playfully.

“Good, because I might be out all night,” said Haldir as he stooped down to scratch Greyson behind the ears. “If they get back before I do—“

“I will make up some nonsense about you going out to hunt or fish or.. something. You know I will cover for you- but Haldir?”

Haldir stopped with the door half-open. “Yes?”

“I do not think you need to cover this up. I think everyone is very happy for you.” Orophin made a shooing motion at him. “Have fun! No talking to dark lords or nazgul! Eat all your vegetables!”

“Good night, Oro,” replied Haldir with a chuckle as he left.

***

The evening was spent in merry revelry at the inn. Dancing, singing, storytelling, and a harp that was passed from Salgant to Finrod to Fingon kept the night lively. It was when Eledu noticed that most everyone was on their second or third glass of wine or mead, and Erestor had not yet been seen, that he excused himself from the task of aiding Rumil at the bar and weaved through the merrymaking to check the rooms before he ventured outside.

A quick scan of the ground allowed the hunter to track his prey, and he came upon Erestor within minutes. “I was beginning to wonder if you had decided to return to the school already,” he remarked as he sat down beside his friend. He could not help but notice the ornate wooden box sitting on the ground.

“I hardly drink anymore,” said Erestor quietly. He had his eyes closed and was leaning against a tree, his hands threaded back behind his head as a cushion against the bark. “Messes with my head too much.”

“Mmhmm.” Eledu kept his gaze on the box. “Probably a good idea to stay away from the temptation, then.”

Erestor loosened one hand to bring it around and rub his nose. “Right.”

“You know, this is probably not my place to say,” began Eledu, “but you seem.. fatigued. It seems like this project drains you daily. I do not think this council approach is working for you; at the same time, you seem very worried that your decisions are going to be scrutinized. ”

“The entire project is under scrutiny,” Erestor said. “I am under scrutiny.”

“Why do you think that?” wondered Eledu.

“Finrod is on my heels. I know that he wants to lead this project, even if he will not say it,” said Erestor. “He is just waiting for me to make a mistake.”

“I think he wants to see this succeed as much as you do.” Eledu frowned. “Are you sleeping well?” he asked suddenly.

Erestor flinched. “More or less,” he answered.

“Uh-huh. I got that feeling.” Eledu was eyeing the box again. “Have you thought to ask Eru for guidance lately?”

The reply was slow, but finally Erestor shook his head. “I did not want to bother Him.”

“Oh, Erestor..” Eledu did not try to mask the worry in his voice. “You know that He will not be bothered. He wants us to come to Him when we do not know which way to turn. Will you pray to Him with me?”

“Sure.” There was slight hesitation in Erestor’s voice, but Eledu blamed it on the contents of the wooden box. For the next few minutes, Eledu cupped Erestor’s hands within his own and spoke the words, while Erestor bowed his head silently and suppressed his sighs.

“Erestor,” said Eledu when they had finished, “you are always welcome to seek me out as a listener. I may not always have the sage advice you have offered me in the past, but I have two perfectly good ears.”

“I know.” Erestor rested against the tree again as Eledu stood up. “Eledu?”

“Yes?”

“If Fin should ask, I would prefer you not tell him why I was out here.”

Eledu looked down at the box with a frown. “I doubt he will ask,” Eledu replied, without adding ‘because I think he already knows’.

Erestor was beginning to think that he should move his office to the waterfall. It seemed that any time he needed to talk to someone or someone needed to talk to him, they would track him down at the waterfall. He could only suspect it was because it was one of the few places where he would be in generally the same spot for more than a few minutes.

This time it was Gwyndir. He had asked Gwyndir when they finally returned to the estate if they could speak privately later in the day, but all of the activity and the additions of assistants had made that fairly difficult to do. He was halfway to the falls to wash away the multicolored paint from his arms and anywhere else it had managed to go when he realized he was being followed. He turned and beckoned for Gwyndir to follow along, and the shy Sinda did so, but spoke very little as they traveled. Erestor tried not to dominate the conversation, but it was difficult when the other person only shrugged, smiled, or shook their head to every question asked.

When they reached the river, Erestor stripped and dove in. It took Gwyndir a little more convincing to join his friend, but eventually they were under the rush of the waterfall, one of them still carrying on rapid conversation, and the other shyly keeping his gaze down at the ripples in the water.

Erestor managed to get most of the paint from his skin, but then came the matter of his hair. He started to work on the strands with the most outrageous colors, namely yellow and pink, but eventually gave up with a sigh. “Did you bring a knife with you?” he asked Gwyndir.

Gwyndir hesitated to answer, but eventually gave a sideways look over and nodded before he left the curtain of water to retrieve the item. He handed it handle-first to Erestor who gathered up his hair, slid his hand down to where he felt he could live with it, and sliced the knife through without giving it too much thought. He let his hand drop down, fingers letting go. The current swept the discarded tresses away and Erestor held the knife back out to Gwyndir who said nothing as he took the knife back to shore.

When Gwyndir returned, Erestor was perched on the ledge. “I was thinking about some things today,” said Erestor as he worked the remaining bits of color out of what was left. “This school was founded when there was no conflict. No one knew what a war was or what evil was or any of that. The studies were scholarly, artistic, and creative. We crafted and we sang and danced and thought those were the skills we needed, and the only skills we needed.

“War and strife are known to us now. A knife like that would never have existed back then,” added Erestor as he nodded to where the shore must be beyond the falling water. “I am not so naïve to think that war will never come again. Perhaps it will not be as Finrod and Andreth believe it will be, but Morgoth will not stop, and neither will others who would see all this destroyed. If we never go to the aid of men again, it will still come to us some day,” decided Erestor. “We need to be prepared for that. To that end, I do not want to simply teach our students how to paint and make dye and write poetry. I want them to know how to protect and how to fight and if they have to, how to kill.”

Gwyndir listened to all of this keenly, and then asked, “Is that what you are wanting with me?”

“Actually, I am wanting something else of you. I still think that you are happiest when you are cooking. Am I correct in assuming that?” Gwyndir smiled at the question he was asked and nodded. “Then that is what you shall do. As for me, Finrod brought up and interesting topic recently. He wanted to know what made me happiest. Instead of dwelling on everything that had ever gone wrong, what is it that I enjoy. It took me a very long time to answer that question.”

Erestor eased himself back down from the ledge and approached Gwyndir. First, he held out the cake of soap, and then, he took hold of Gwyndir’s free hand and moved it so that they were both looking at Gwyndir’s palm. “Look at your hand. The span between your fingers; the length of them. Yours are not the hands of a sculptor or a floutist. They are the hands of a soldier. And mine.” Erestor let go of Gwyndir’s wrist and Gwyndir could see that while Erestor’s fingers were slightly more tapered than his own, his hands were huge. “I was not made to hold a quill. I was made to wield a sword. I was meant to protect Him,” he said pointing upwards, “and our people.”

Erestor backed up to the falling water and leaned his head back to wash the soap from it. He then went back to his perch while Gwyndir finished bathing. “If I remove everything that has to do with personal relationships, anything with family, anything with pleasures of the flesh, I am left with very few bright spots. Yes, I enjoy violin, and I like writing poetry,” he said. “There are a great many things I like to do, but when it comes to what is it that made me happiest, I am reminded of a time in Gondolin.”

“What did you do in Gondolin?” asked Gwyndir, for he had spent little time talking to Erestor in the past.

“Oh, well, I did quite a few things. There was one thing in particular that I did which made me very proud. It was right after I did some of the stupidest things I did. Someone gave me a second chance.” Erestor let one hand dip down to flick at the water. “I spent time training as a soldier. Properly. Without any special treatment, without any special consideration for who I was, what I had done, who my father was, who I knew, or any of that. Every other position I ever had, everything that I was ever granted, happened because someone knew I was Tata’s boy, or because they thought that my connection to Finwe’s son should somehow factor for some reason, or because they thought that perhaps the friendship I had with Thranduil meant that I should be different. That I should not earn things because I worked hard and deserved them. That one time in Gondolin, I worked my ass off, and I earned that title, and I was damned proud of it. That is when I was happiest. I want- I need that again.”

“I will do whatever I can to help you out,” said Gwyndir as he scrubbed his red hair and checked for any wayward paint in it.

Erestor cracked his neck and then answered, “Training. I need someone to spar with, and Glorfindel, while he will not pull punches, will also not want to do anything that might hurt me. I think I need to get knocked on my ass a few times, come home with a black eye, split lip, really get back into all of it.”

“Not.. now, though, right?” asked Gwyndir uncertainly.

“Oh, no, not right now. Right now there is so much to do with the school. I just want to start lining things up. I need to find others who can train as well; I think this will give Beleg something to look forward to. He had worried that he would not have a place here at the school,” shared Erestor.

Gwyndir finished washing up but stayed under the waterfall, enjoying the peacefulness of the place. “I would have guessed that you would have wanted to train the future rune-keepers of Valinor.”

“Just because I learned early on how to use rune stones to do things does not mean that I am some sort of magical rune-keeper. In fact, I am not all that good at it, truth be told. I just sort of fling insults and shout them loud enough as I randomly set things on fire or freeze things solid. My technique was dreadful,” he admitted. “However, I had all the charisma and confidence that a rune-keeper needs, so few caught on to the fact that I was not that great. Now, as a loremaster I did a little better, but not by much. I can speak to animals, but that is really where that ends. I still relied on my sword more often than I used my staff. In fact, I thought the staff was a little ridiculous compared to the sword.”

Gwyndir stood and listened with interest. “What would you classify yourself as?”

“I would say guardian, except I think I was much more prone to charging in and going after the biggest, meanest looking things on the field and killing as many orcs as I could find. Of course, the alternative then is to name myself as some sort of champion, and that seems rather arrogant of me,” explained Erestor.

“I suppose, but if you really do that, then you are some sort of knight.” Gwyndir tilted his head a moment as if recalling something and then asked Erestor, “Is it true that you used to joust?”

“I still do when I get a chance. There are few opportunities for it now,” he said. “I used to race horses as well, and I boxed, too.”

This surprised Gwyndir. “You are a boxer.” His eyes squinted a little as he recalled something. “Many years ago, you were punched several times in a short span of time. I know. I was one of the people who punched you.” He paused to allow Erestor to nod as he recalled the incidents. “Why did you never fight back?”

“Oh, I did,” replied Erestor. “Remember? My nose attacked someone’s hand…”

***

When they returned to the school grounds, the conversation between Glorfindel and Erestor was brief. “When did you decide to do this?” he asked, reaching out to brush a hand through the shorter hair.

“Just sort of happened,” said Erestor.

They looked at each other for several moments while Gwyndir hurried away just in case there were any negative feelings. Glorfindel took a step back, walked once around Erestor, and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I think I might just sort of happen to stop shaving,” he replied.

Erestor considered this for a moment, and then said, “It does get windy here in winter. I suppose a beard would be helpful.”

Glorfindel blinked. “You hate the beard.”

Erestor shrugged. “Do you hate it?”

“I never had a chance to decide if I did or not,” he answered. When Glorfindel reached his third stage of life and started to wake to bristly whiskers, Erestor was the first person to voice his displeasure.

“I guess if you want to know, you better start growing one,” decided Erestor before he walked away.

Autumn was fast approaching, and while the last month had been spent as a continuation of previous work, it was also evident that preparations would need to be made for those intending to spend the winter. At this point, there were over fifty people working on the project, and these were split into several groups. Orophin handled the outdoor carpenters, while another team led by Eledu set to constructing shelving for the library and the workbenches and desks that the crafters and scholars would need. Mahtan found himself in charge of the rest of the construction operations, and Amarie organized the tailors and other artisans. Finrod and Erestor coordinated the gathering of books and scrolls, and the constant attempts to attract a balanced group of professors.

There were a few whose tasks were somewhat unaccounted for. Glorfindel had been managing the assets from the beginning, but now it seemed that was all he really did for the project. The rest of his time was spent in the main room, smoking his pipe, reading or writing, or talking to Greyson. Haldir was almost entirely unaccounted for; he would be gone now for days at a time, and no one, save Orophin, Glorfindel, and Greyson, seemed to take notice. Finally, there was Beleg, who had always seemed on the outside of it all from the beginning.

Beleg admitted privately to Glorfindel on the night of the return from Rumil’s inn that he had never formally attended a school, could barely write, and only understood pieces of what he read. This had forged a bond between them, with Glorfindel able to recount to Beleg how Erestor spent time teaching him how to read and write when they were in Gondolin. This revelation seemed to put Beleg a little more at ease, but whenever the opportunity arose for him to venture beyond the estate, he took it. Such was the case when it was discovered that the weeds had so overtaken he property that there were no healing herbs of any sort left growing there. Beleg immediately accepted the task of scouting the hills alone in order to gather components, should there be need of them later. It was expected to take the better part of two weeks, but it was more difficult than expected, and took Beleg three weeks before he made it back.

The first person Beleg encountered when he returned from his scouting of the grounds was Glorfindel. He entered the room, waved at the blond, and then sunk down in one of the upholstered chairs which were now in the room and looked about to take a nap. He closed his eyes, and then opened one eye to peek at Glorfindel. “Well, that is certainly interesting. I had no idea you were able to grow a beard.”

Glorfindel was reading one book and making notes in another. He yawned as he nodded. “I had one for all of two weeks once, but Erestor did not like it.”

“Huh. Changed his mind?”

“He cut his hair. I am rebelling against him.” Glorfindel looked up and added, “Though, I find I sort of like it.”

“His hair, or your beard?”

Glorfindel checked over his shoulder to be sure they were alone before he answered. “Both, actually. He is gorgeous with long hair, but when he is not hiding behind it, he acts differently. Looks different, in a good way. As for the beard.. I feel older. Again, in a good way.”

“It looks good on you. Then again, I might be a bit biased,” Beleg said as he stroked the goatee on his own chin. “Are you just going to let it grow, or did you have a style in mind?”

“I have no idea right now. I suspect it needs to grow a little before I can make a decision about that.” Glorfindel set his work aside and asked, “Did you always have yours trimmed that way, or is that how Fingon likes it?”

Beleg looked taken aback from the question. “Why would he have an opinion about it?”

Now Glorfindel looked unsure. “I.. just thought..”

“Oh.” Beleg shook his head. “No..” He tapped his left index finger on the arm of the chair. “I mean, we are companions, I suppose I would consider any advice he would have, but.. you thought we were lovers?”

“I.. well, yes,” admitted Glorfindel.

Beleg smiled. “We fill a void for each other, but he does not have the desires that most have. I have accepted that; I have no desire to force change in him.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel thought a moment and then asked, “Are you both sleeping in the same bed in the room, though?”

“Ah.. that. No.” Beleg looked embarrassed. “We were not sure what to do about that in the beginning. He and I have been trading off on sleeping on the floor.”

“We could move another bed into the room,” offered Glorfindel.

Beleg shook his head. “I prefer not to be a bother.” There was a knock on the door, and Glorfindel folded his spectacles and tucked them away before he went to answer it. Beleg took the opportunity to move a stool, which he used to prop his feet up.

Glorfindel returned with a stack of letters and a few packages. “The weekly post just arrived. I hope you do not mind if I distribute these.”

Beleg’s answer came in the form of light snoring.

With a smile, Glorfindel left what had become the main house and traveled about the estate, poking into buildings here and there to find the recipients. He saved the items addressed to Erestor and Finrod for the last, and reached the library to find the pair working silently yet diligently on labeling the shelving that had already been installed. “Break time,” Glorfindel announced as he separated the items and handed them out.

Finrod walked over to accept the letter from his son and the package of sweets from his sister. He held out the box once he opened it, but Glorfindel declined the offer as he held up his own box and showed Finrod that one had been delivered for Erestor as well. “I feel as if Artanis has been here with us in spirit if nothing else. I am actually very surprised that she did not join us here.”

With a little coaxing, Erestor finally joined the others to open his gift and flip through the letters he received. “I asked if she had interest in teaching, and she declined. I think she and Celeborn are very settled at the farm.” Erestor set aside two envelopes with requests for admission to the school and another from a prospective instructor. There was a letter addressed to both himself and Glorfindel that had come from Tintilien, and another from Elrond. There was also one from Cirdan, and Erestor set everything else aside to tear this one open. “Oh, damn.”

“Something wrong?” asked Finrod as he licked sugar from a piece of marzipan off of his fingers.

“I forgot about Tol Eressea.” Erestor frowned guiltily at the letter. “They are requesting the nature of the lecture I will be giving in three weeks.. and this is dated from..” He flipped the page back to the front. “I need to be there in four days. I am going to have to leave tomorrow. Tonight, maybe.”

“You can make it if you leave tomorrow,” said Glorfindel as Finrod picked up his letters and walked back across the room to give the couple a little privacy.

“I do not want to abandon everything here.”

“You are not abandoning things,” Glorfindel assured him. “Everyone will understand that you had this commitment before you came here.”

Erestor fidgeted with the sheet in his hands. “What if something goes wrong while I am away?”

“I can always farspeak to you.”

“You are not coming with me?” Erestor looked a bit concerned.

“Do you want me to?” Glorfindel smiled. “I never have before.”

“But.. well, before was always just.. you were only in Alqualonde,” said Erestor, lowering his voice, though Finrod could still hear his words. “I am going to miss you terribly,” he admitted.

“Good,” whispered Glorfindel back. “Come on. We need to get you packed if you are going to set out in the morning.”

“I will be back in less than two weeks,” promised Erestor as he petted the top of Greyson’s head. The wolf whimpered and wagged his tail. “I know. I guess you just have to settle with everyone else spoiling you while I am away.” He held out a lamb bone that had been leftover from the previous night and offered it to the wolf, who had yet been able to hunt on his own. Greyson greedily chomped down on it with wide eyes and limped off to enjoy it in the corner.

Erestor said his farewells to the rest of the group, left Finrod in charge on Glorfindel’s suggestion, and was presented a large basket of baked goods, dried meat, and brightly wrapped candies by Salgant. “These are for your trip,” he informed Erestor as the carriage was being loaded. “I had to promise Duilin I would not eat anything before I gave it to you.”

“Thank you.. I doubt I will need all of this food for such a short journey,” said Erestor as he explored what was in the basket. “Are you certain that you do not want to leave some of this here for the others?”

“I promised Duilin I would give it to you,” answered Salgant, but he was already in the process of gathering up some of the treats. “Now, remind me, Erestor, are you a vegetarian or a vegan?”

“Vegetarian. You can leave a couple of those,” he said when he noticed Salgant managed to stack up all of the sweetrolls in one hand. One of them was placed back into the basket, and Salgant scooped up all of the jerked beef. “Here.” Erestor reached out to take an apple pastry from the top of Salgant’s stack and then held the basket back out. “Keep it for your stash. If Duilin asks when I return, I will deny everything.”

“Ah-ha! Thank you, Erestor, you are a true friend!” Salgant dumped the food into the basket and reached out to pat Erestor’s back. He realized his fingers were coated in sugary frosting, and he drew them back to lick the sweetness off. Erestor took the opportunity to climb up onto the carriage. “Safe travels to you!” called out Salgant as Erestor picked up the reins in the hand not holding his pastry.

“I will only be gone for a few days,” Erestor assured Salgant. “You better go hide that before Duilin catches you.” He watched Salgant sneak away with the basket and shook his head as he bit into the pastry.

Glorfindel held out a hand. He had been perched on the carriage after loading it, and was waiting for Erestor. The plan was for him to travel with Erestor for an hour or so to allow them to talk in private for the first time in months that seemed like years, and then to rehitch the carriage with one horse so that he could ride the other back to the school. “Would you like me to take the reins?” he asked.

Erestor took a second bite of the pastry and then handed this to Glorfindel instead. “How can he eat so much of that? I like sweets as much as the next person, but that is positively saturated with sugar.”

Glorfindel tried the treat as Erestor got them underway. “I see what you mean. I barely taste the apple. Do you want the rest of this?”

“Not really.”

Glorfindel looked over his shoulder and waited until they were out sight of the hilltop, and then flung the remaining part of the pastry off onto the grass. “I just made some bear cub’s day,” he said as he wiped the stickiness from his fingers. “Have you decided on the topics of your lectures?”

“I know one of them is going to be about Tengwar’s evolution from Sarati. Wonder where I got that from,” he said as he smirked at Glorfindel. “Not sure on the others.”

“Have you ever given a talk about Gondolin?” Glorfindel wondered.

“No. I refuse to discuss Gondolin. I have a few ‘off limits’ topics that the institute there is aware of.” Erestor tied off the reins and leaned back when it was obvious the horses knew where they were going. “I do talk about you when I discuss Imladris.”

“I did not mean it like that.”

Erestor put an arm loosely around Glorfindel and nodded. “I was just teasing you.”

“Perhaps I should have planned to come with you.”

Erestor sat back up. “You still could if you wanted to,” he offered.

Glorfindel shrugged. “I think I should stay here. I.. get the feeling you need some time alone.”

Erestor scratched his brow and sighed. “A lot has happened very fast. You are probably right that I need some time to think, but I would not mind spending the time with you.”

“You will be back with me soon enough,” said Glorfindel.

“With you and fifty or sixty of our closest friends,” remarked Erestor. “I may not make it back in time for the workers that are coming from Valimar. Considering the reaction some Vanyar have to Noldor, I appreciate your decision to stay and play host in my absence. However, if you want to change your mind, I am positive that Finrod and Amarie would manage the situation.”

“I am certain they could as well,” confirmed Glorfindel. “All the same, as much as I want to be with you, I can tell you need time to think.”

“On one hand, I wish you would just come with me,” admitted Erestor. “On the other hand, you know exactly what needs to be done and what I intend to have happen. I would hate to return to disarray and disagreement.”

“In that case, perhaps this is where we should say our farewells.” Glorfindel reached for the reins and gave a gently tug to lead the horses off the path. It only took a few minutes for he and Erestor to unhitch the carriage and rework everything. Fool of a Took was hitched up again and Glorfindel mounted Thay. “Take the time you need,” said Glorfindel in parting. “If you want to stay away for a few days and think about things, I understand. I would rather you return with a clear mind than befuddled thoughts.” He leaned down to kiss Erestor. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. I still plan to return soon.” Erestor climbed back onto the carriage, but did not make any additional progress until Glorfindel directed Thay to gallop down another path. As he watched Glorfindel race away, Erestor knew he was not the only one with a clouded mind.

Erestor exited the lecture hall to find an old friend waiting for him in the foyer. “A pleasant surprise as always,” he said, joining Cirdan near the center of the room. “Do not tell me that you came for the lecture.”

“I always attend them,” he said. Cirdan motioned that they should take a seat on one of the benches, and Erestor joined him. “Are you able to stay on the island for a while longer?”

“How long?”

“Maybe a few days, maybe a month.”

“I might be able to make time for that. I would need to make sure that I can get back before the water freezes,” Erestor reminded him carefully, for winter was due to come early this year.

Cirdan looked up to the glass dome that separated them from the sky. “There are no storms on the horizon. You should have safe passage back for a week or two. What I am proposing would likely only take a few days.”

Erestor fiddled with the black velvet hem of his robe sleeve. “ If you are certain… but I do need to return to a project I am working on. I am leading an effort to rebuild the Sarati School.”

“Yes, I have heard,” admitted Cirdan. “Do not worry about making it back. I can guarantee it. If it does freeze, I have ships to cut through the ice. We will get you back to the mainland, Erestor, and sooner than you think.”

Erestor shrugged. “Alright. I have a few days. If I am going to spend that time here, though, I also need a horse. I only have that small boat that I paddled out here.”

“Done. In fact, I will leave the entire carriage; I have friends who can get me back to my home. Meet me there after you have finished for the day. Nenua is looking forward to seeing you, as are the girls. We will even put you up for the nights you are here,” offered Cirdan.

“Alright, then, I accept.” Erestor stood up. “I have two more lectures here, but they are after lunch, and they are shorter than the one I gave this morning. I should arrive at your home before dark.”

Cirdan smiled and stood as well. “We look forward to having you as our guest.”

***

As promised, Erestor knew no end to the hospitality and entertainment at the house. He had a focused audience when he spent time during supper explaining what the Sarati School had been to Cirdan’s quartet of daughters, two of whom had since married and had their spouses living at Cirdan’s estate with them. During dessert, which was served in a lavish library that Erestor had yet to see, he informed everyone as to his plans for the upcoming admission process, and what changes were going to be made. He also spoke at length about the professors and others he had managed to tempt to join in on the project.

Once everyone had retired with the exception of Cirdan and himself, Erestor looked to his old friend for an explanation. “Are you up for a late night carriage ride?” Cirdan asked. Erestor picked up his glass of brandy, tipped it back, and then nodded and followed Cirdan to the door.

***

“Glorfindel?”

Previously mid-doze, Glorfindel blinked and looked up. “Yes, Fingon?”

“I was wondering if we could talk.” Fingon entered the room with slight caution. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” Glorfindel sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What is on yor mind?”

“I was hoping you might be able to offer some advice,” explained Fingon.

“I shall do my best,” promised Glorfindel. “How can I help?”

Fingon sat down in the seat nearest to Glorfindel. He was just on the edge, the very edge, so that Glorfindel, even tired as he was, wondered how Fingon kept his balance. “I know how friendly you are, and what a great relationship you have with Erestor. I was hoping that you might be able to offer some advice on what one could do if they were.. a curmudgeon who was not sure what to do because they had experienced so many failed relationships they clearly were doing something wrong.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brow. “You want relationship advice?”

“Yes.”

“From me?”

“I think so,” said Fingon with a bit of hesitation.

“You are aware that Erestor and I have only been together a short time in the realm of things. We did live together on numerous occasions, but it took millennia before we were a couple, and longer still for us to marry.”

“Alright, but of my current choices, you seem to be the most qualified,” said Fingon. “I am certainly not going to speak to my cousin, and Salgant, honestly, he scares me a bit. Duilin scares me for other reasons. And suffice to say, I have a list of reasons I would not approach anyone else.”

“What about Beleg?” Glorfindel asked carefully.

Fingon frowned. “Are you that thick or are you being facetious?”

“Ah.” Glorfindel steepled his fingers. “So.. I take it you have not.. made any advances?” he asked, poker face on, not about to give away anything he had chatted with Beleg about.

“Of course not! He is the most proper Elf I have ever met,” said Fingon. “That is not a complaint, exactly, just an observation. He would much rather talk for hours and listen to music and sit in a tree than anything ‘Eastern’. Except he is from the East, just not.. Glorfindel, I am going to be blunt. It has been a long time since I felt quite this way about someone. Maedhros made me feel this way, but this time, it is not just when I am around Beleg or thinking about Beleg. It is all the time. He creeps into my thoughts the first thing every morning, and is the last thing I think of as I fall asleep. I dream of him. I dream of him as I never dreamed of Maedhros. I am tired of sleeping on the bed while he sleeps on the floor.”

“I thought you were trading off.”

“No, we had been, but he decided since I have that pain in my legs from time to time that—“ Fingon narrowed his eyes. “How did you know about that?”

“He told me.”

Fingon’s eyes lit up. “What else did he say about us?”

“Oh, you have it bad,” replied Glorfindel.

Fingon shrugged. “Look. I am.. old. Older than you,” he added. “I would like to have sex more than once in my life.”

“I.. you know, that is something I could have lived without knowing,” decided Glorfindel.

“It is the truth,” said Fingon unabashedly. “Lucky for me, I have great aim, or else Ereinion would never have been born.”

“Now you have confused and scarred me,” muttered Glorfindel.

“What, you thought I slept with Maedhros?” questioned Fingon. “He never wanted to make love. He wanted to rut,” said Fingon rather pointedly. “I was young, I was stupid, and I thought I was in love. And Eru forbid it if I even hinted at the idea of cuddling. We were intimate, yes, but thankfully, I had enough sense not to bond with him. I could have done without participating in his bondage fantasies – funny how that all ended up.”

Not expecting to answer questions like this, Glorfindel changed the subject to end Fingon’s verbal meanderings. “Have you considered asking Beleg what he thinks?”

“Do you think I should be that forthright?” asked Fingon.

Relieved that his distraction worked, Glorfindel suggested, “You have been more than forthright with me. I think what you should do is.. whatever you feel the right thing to—“

“No. I need real advice.” Fingon crossed his arms. “What would you do in this situation?”

Glorfindel looked to the door helplessly and wished someone would interrupt them. “Well… what is stopping you from approaching Beleg?” asked Glorfindel. “You have told me things that are rather private; how is telling Beleg your feelings more difficult?”

Fingon shrugged.

“What is holding you back?” Glorfindel was fully awake now, and he studied Fingon. There was something he was not saying – or perhaps, it was what he was saying. “Is it Maedhros?”

Fingon scrunched his nose. “What? No. It has been over between us for a long time.” He laughed, but it was not because there was humor to be found. It was that knee-jerk reaction when the alternative is to sniffle or sob. And Glorfindel knew; he knew because he had been there before.

“You need closure with Maedhros before you can move on.”

Fingon bowed his head and rubbed his face. “Maybe,” he finally conceded.

“Well.. then I suppose you need to speak to him before you will be able to speak to Beleg.”

***

“Would you mind taking the reins?” asked Cirdan when they arrived at the stable. “I can guide you to what I want you to see,” he added.
“No need to ask me twice. This must be something fantastic if it was worth keeping me on the island.” The night was crisp, but clear, and the stars seemed brighter here than they did on the mainland. Erestor found that it was hardly necessary for him to drive the carriage, and he held the reins loosely in one hand. “Will you at least give me a hint?”

Cirdan laughed and motioned ahead with his hand, though all that was before them was the path and tall trees to either side. “You will see it soon enough. Tell me more about the Sarati project. Do you think your school will be opening soon?”

“As soon as the weather prevents working outdoors, we will be concentrating more on the interiors. With as many people as we have working on it, I am hopeful that we will be able to announce the reopening in the spring, audition through the summer and open in the autumn.” Erestor leaned back to stargaze as he talked. “Finrod is more ambitious than I am. He thinks when the workers from Valimar arrive, the school will be finished before the first freeze. He wants to audition through winter and open in the spring.”

“If anyone can get that place in shape in time, it would be you. You have a good team, too. I wish I could help you out there, but I have so many duties here that prevent me from traveling very often.”

Erestor smiled. “Your moral support is appreciated.”

“Let me know if you find yourself needing any boats. I could build a little fleet for you,” offered Cirdan.

Erestor turned his attention away from the stars. “Actually, there is a river and a good sized pond. If you are so inclined, having a few canoes or sailboats would be an excellent idea!”

“Turn right here,” Cirdan directed when they reached a fork in the road. “I can arrange that. How many houses are there?”

“Twelve, but that seems like a lot of boats.”

“I think I can come up with a dozen canoes. As for sailboats, I would want to make sure they were well built. I can probably get two smaller ones for you, something that would comfortably fit six to eight people. I will need the depth of the pond so that I do not make the keel too long. Will you have time to build docks?” asked Cirdan.

“Orophin is always looking for another challenge. I am sure he can design something for us,” Erestor assured Cirdan. “I can just imagine it now – a dock for each house, and maybe a race course with buoys. They can use them to go fishing, too.”

“You are going to want to make a right when you reach those trees,” interrupted Cirdan. “In that case, consider it done. I will get to work on the canoes tomorrow, and I will only need the measurements before I can start on the sailboats. I can store them here until spring, and then we can figure out how we will get them there.”

“Where are we?” asked Erestor suddenly as the trees began to close in on them.

“You will need to go a little further – can you see the pathway?”

Erestor squinted and looked ahead. “Yes. What is this place?”

Cirdan waited until they were close enough for Erestor to make out the structure at the end of the pathway. “The Cottage of Lost Play. It has clearly seen better days.”

Erestor pulled on the reins to slow the horses. “I have heard of this place. This is fantastic!”

“I just thought you might like to see it, with your current interest in decrepit schools.”

When the carriage came to a halt, Erestor jumped down and surveyed the building, looking for a door that would lead inside. “Who owns it now?”

“No one. I checked.” Cirdan followed and showed Erestor where the nearest doorway was. “Everyone who had anything to do with it gave up claims on it. I like how isolated it is. It is the sort of place someone can really have a good think at.”

Erestor reached out to touch the handle of the door. “Can we go inside?”

Cirdan reached out to show Erestor that the door swung in and was not locked. “Sure. No one will stop us.”

The cottage had not been inhabited for centuries, but the mostly brick construction meant that it was sturdy and still standing. “We have had trouble with a rabbit infestation,” explained Cirdan as something scurried by their feet in the darkness. “The island is lacking for cats and wolves, and while there are some foxes here, the rabbits still outnumber them. The cottage is full of them.”

“All the bunnies,” murmured Erestor as they climbed up a staircase, several more rabbits leaping by. “When was it abandoned?”

“Oh, probably four hundred odd years ago. It was already overgrown at that point, but it was still used. Then, everyone just moved away and headed back to the mainland. Without anyone here to repair minor things, it became even more lost and forgotten. It was only recently that someone stumbled upon it when they were driving their flock and some goats wandered onto the property.” Cirdan led the way up another flight of stairs. “It would take a lot of work to clean it up,” he added as they found several families of bats living on the next floor.”

“I can see that.”

“That is why the island council voted to have it torn down this spring.” Cirdan had to walk back around to collect up Erestor when he froze in his tracks. “You said yourself. The place is in ruins.”

“It could be salvaged,” disputed Erestor.

“It could be, but who will see to that? No, everyone on the island has been asked. We have had committees and councils to discuss it, and we even offered that anyone who chose to take up the task to do whatever they wanted with it so long as they lived there and it was used. No one came forward in thirty years,” explained Cirdan.

“I never heard of this until now,” said Erestor. “I am certain there are others who might have seen this as an excellent opportunity.”

“No one on the mainland cares what happens here on the island,” said Cirdan.

“I do,” Erestor argued. “I would not make four or five trips a year to make sure you had a scholar for lecturing if I did not.”

“Then you are one of the few,” Cirdan said. “Those who are on the mainland are not going to relocate here. In the winters, it gets very cold, and our weather is not as ideal as the weather on the mainland. We do not have the theatres and gardens and craft halls and libraries you would want to have access to.”

Erestor ran a finger along the dust on the brick. “It kind of reminds me of Imladris,” he admitted. “No waterfalls, but there is water. It looked like there was a river that ran through the back.”

“It is a lovely estate. Too bad no one had interest in revitalizing it.” Cirdan opened the door to the roof and led Erestor up. Many of the bats followed them. Overhead, a blanket of stars twinkled down in greeting. “At least this way the land can be reused.”

“What if someone came forward and wanted to reclaim the building?” asked Erestor as he took in the view from the roof. “Would it need to be someone from the island? Or is it too late for that?”

“I think the council could be convinced to reverse their decision,” said Cirdan. “They did look for someone for over thirty years. No one actually wants to see it torn down.” Cirdan surveyed the rooftop. “We should return before Nenua sends out a search party.”

Erestor chewed on his lip. “Would you mind if I stayed a little longer? I can even walk back.”

“I can leave one of the horses for you,” offered Cirdan. “Do you think you will know the way?”

Erestor nodded slowly as he walked the edge of the roof, hand running along the bricks. “I will make it back.”

Cirdan nodded. “Good night, then.” Before he disappeared down the stairs, he added, “If anyone can get this place back in shape, it would be you.”

Erestor perched on the rooftop of the Cottage of Lost Play and looked out over the sparkling water of the sea to the East. The stars shined brightly down, and unlike Alqualonde or Tirion, there were no lamps in windows or on the streets to distract a viewer from the starlight above. The wind was not yet bitter, but the darkness and the breeze that carried up from the sea caused a chill. Erestor’s hands were wrapped around a mug of cider he had warmed before climbing the three stories up. It was rustic compared to stargazing in Tirion -- no dome of crystal to magnify the beauty of the light above or keep the cold at bay, but there was something to be said for ‘roughing it’, where the salty air and the scent of pine burning in wood stoves and cinnamon and mulled wine and hot apples and bread cooking for the next morning’s meal was more comforting than the comforts he had left.

He set the mug aside and leaned back, hands placed with the palms down behind him to keep him steady. Up into the heavens he looked, unsure of what he was seeking. A sign, perhaps, but he had a feeling he would have to make the decision on his own. A little help from friends, though, never hurt.

Artanis?

I am here.

Did I startle you?

No. I was expecting you.

Looking in your mirror again?

With you, I never need a mirror.

Never?

Almost never.

Their casual banter always made him wonder what it would have been like if they had only stayed together. It had not always been this way; it was in the beginning, and it was now, but so many years were lost to bitter jealousy and a harsh desire of wanting her to suffer. Erestor realized how much he had grown since then.

I am trying to make a decision.

Ah. The councilor needs a counselor.

The councilor needs a drink, a warm place to sleep where he is not fawned over by four of his friend’s daughters, and more hours in the day than their currently are.

Shall I ask Arien to slow down?

Why bother? Tilion never listens to anyone. It would throw the whole thing off.

Then I fear you are stuck with only twenty-four.

Pity. I much preferred the old way.

We all did.

Erestor sighed despite the fact no one was there to hear him. “Yes, we did,” he said to himself before continuing the discussion.

I have been given a unique opportunity.

Yes, you have.

No, not Sarati.




Oh?

Ah, so you did not use the mirror.

You did not believe me?

I.. well, if I had such a trick, I would use it all the time.

He could tell that she was laughing at that, and possibly took a moment to share what he had said with Celeborn. He was certain of this when she spoke again.

Celeborn said you can have it.

I thank him, but I do believe I shall stick with logic and reason.

There was another moment, and Erestor smiled. He could almost feel the presence of the two of them, Galadriel to his right and Celeborn the right of her, so that after her whispers to one, she would return to the other with the reply.

He wants to know why you would start with such nonsense as logic and reason now?

Now Erestor laughed into chill, and the puffs of air swirled off, visible on this cold night.

Something which was lost was discovered, but it shall become lost again if someone does not step in to claim it.

Oh?

Have you ever heard of the Cottage of Lost Play?

I have. Has our councilor decided it is playtime now?

Our councilor does not want to see an estate with a rich history and a great amount of potential go to ruin.

And our councilor is afraid that if he switches horses midstream, the first horse might be abandoned?

I always thought you had a way with words.

What does our councilor want?

He most certainly does not want other people to think he walked away from something he started to pursue something else. He does not want people to think he became bored.

What did he become? And why does he still worry about what other people think?

You have been speaking to your brother.

We just finished our nightly discussion before you called upon me.

You shall have to send him my regards tomorrow.

I shall. First, your dilemma. If both options were presented right now, which would you choose?

I think you know the answer.

If I did, I would not ask the question.

Whether it was true or not, Erestor ‘felt’ as if Celeborn had left the room, or fallen asleep, or some such thing. In any case, he felt like he was finally alone with Galadriel and at liberty to speak freely, and addressed another topic of unease.

I saw my parents today.



How did that come about?

I asked Cirdan if he knew where they were, and suddenly I was having dinner with them.

It went well?

They want to meet my husband. They actually-- my mother actually called him that.

I am very happy for you.

Artanis?

Yes?

What should I do?

Erestor held his breath while he awaited the answer. He prayed that she had not become distracted or fallen asleep when several minutes passed and he heard nothing. He even began to wonder if she was repaying him for his cruelty over the years, but finally, the answer came.

You lost your childhood not once, but twice. You slipped into madness, over me, and over the things that were done by friends and enemies alike. I think you need the cottage as much as it needs you. The school can wait, or it can be tended to by others; you need to reclaim what was taken from you.

***

Back at the estate where the Sarati School was quickly becoming Iaunlond, there were two not present for the evening meal with the others. Fingon and Finrod had left early that morning. All they would say was ‘unfinished business’, and only Glorfindel knew their true destination.

Fingon now paced the well-worn rug in his grandfather’s library as he waited for the door to open. In contrast, Finrod sat perfectly still behind the desk of the room, only occasionally turning a page of the ledger he was looking over. “Would you like to sit with me by the fire?” offered Finrod without looking up.

“No, no, I have all this nervous energy,” admitted Fingon. “Not quite sure why I thought I should do this.”

“Better to pace here and have answers than to pace at home and spend your life worrying about it?” suggested Finrod. “If this has been eating at you all these years, get your answers.”

Fingon walked to the desk and set his palms down on the surface. His height was such that the chair he hovered over was little barrier to him. “Do you know how this all plays out? You have been so quiet, like you always are when you know the outcome already, like when you would watch us play chess, and you just knew ahead of time whether I would win or lose against him.”

“This is no chess match,” answered Finrod. “I can guess the outcome; I can assume I know what my son will say.”

“I asked that Maedhros be brought alone,” answered Fingon as he looked down at the surface of the table. “I need him to speak his mind freely.”

Finrod nodded as the sound of the knob turning alerted them both and caused Fingon to stand up. “Perhaps I should not have come either.”

Maedhros entered the room and looked surprised for only a moment when he saw Fingon. He then took note of Finrod and narrowed his eyes. “I was led to believe that grandfather wished to speak to me.”

“He will speak with you after I have,” said Fingon as he walked to the fire and poked at the single log that burned within the glowing chamber. “He was good enough to allow for this arrangement.”

“I see. To think it has come to this, deception from my own grandfather.” Maedhros swept his gaze to Finrod. “Have you a part in this?”

Finrod raised a hand up, palm facing Maedhros. “I am but a bystander in all this,” he remarked. “An arbiter, if you will.”

“Arbiter?” Maedhros still had his hand on the knob of the door. “Do I detect a debate?”

“Not a debate,” corrected Fingon. “I wish an answer; I will not argue for a change in your answer.”

Maedhros took a step further into the room so that he could stand beside the inside surface of the door, hand on the other side of the door knob. “And you needed a chaperone to ask a question?”

Fingon set the poker aside and turned to Finrod. Finrod lifted a brow, and Fingon made a nod of his head toward the door. Finrod stood up and clasped Fingon’s shoulder as he passed, and then closed the door behind him. Maedhros took another step into the room, shoulders squared, arms crossed over his chest, stance wide. “You said that you have a question.”

There was a brief nod, but no words came for a little while. When Fingon finally spoke, he said, “I have come because I need to put my mind at ease. I think I know the answer, but I want to hear it from you.” He took a deep breath, slowly moving in an indistinct path from the fire to the desk, to the window, and finally into the center of the room. His hands were at his sides, arms limp, he looked defenseless. He stared at a shelf of books, and then he looked to the floor.

Maedhros grew impatient. “Maybe Finrod should have stayed. At least I could have conversed with him while you chose your words.”

Fingon looked up, hurt, and he tried not to show it, but the look in his eyes let Maedhros know he was wounded. “I need to know if he means more than I did to you. Does Inglorion make you happier than I ever did? Do you love Inglorion more than you ever loved me?”

“You.. just asked me two questions,” stalled Maedhros. He relaxed his stance and walked closer. “It does not matter. My answer is the same to both of them.” Maedhros came to stand before Fingon and raised his right arm. His wrist moved towards Fingon cheek, and at the final moment before the smooth, scarred stump reached its destination, Fingon turned his head aside. “How can I love someone who cannot love me?”

Fingon’s neck snapped back around, eyes wide in anger. “It was love that brought me to you, and love that saved you that day. I still love you.”

“So that is what this is about, then. You say you look not to sway me, but you wish the answer you would have me say, not the answer I have for you,” accused Maedhros.

“I want the truth.”

“Then yes,” spat Maedhros. “Yes, and yes again! He means more than you ever did, more than you ever will, cousin. He is my anchor; my strength. He is my everything!”

“Then I mean nothing to you,” said Fingon quietly as he looked away.

“No,” replied Maedhros. “You meant nothing. You would have done well to have listened to your father, you stupid, stupid lovesick fool. You were so eager, fawning over me like you did.. and so willing.”

“Do not say you never wanted me,” warned Fingon. “You could not have lied to me for all those years.”

Maedhros reached out and grabbed hold of Fingon’s chin. When Fingon tried to jerk away, he tightened his grip. “It was a dumb mistake,” he stated slowly, repeating words he had told Fingon once before. “I was young, you were younger. You gave me everything I wanted.. but I did not want you. I did not need you. I did just fine after you were dead.”

Fingon shoved Maedhros away and walked to the fire, fists clenched to keep his fingers from trembling, but Maedhros did not stop. He advanced, his voice rising. “Inglorion is everything you are not. He does not worry whether or not his father is placated, nor does he constantly need time alone with his thoughts, or refuse to go somewhere because he does not like the company he shall be in. In fact, unlike you, Inglorion has never told me no.”

“Maybe I should have said no more often,” said Fingon as he found he could retreat no further and turned to face Maedhros. “Know this – he would not have fought your battles for you, nor would he have risked his life to come to save you as I did.”

“Few would,” answered Maedhros. “I would have been better off dead. I died anyhow, eventually. Perhaps I would not have had this to deal with,” he shouted, shoving the stump of his arm to Fingon’s chest, which caused Fingon to flinch. “You still fear it – look at it! Look at what you did to me!” Maedhros grabbed Fingon’s throat with his left hand as he pressed the stump of his right against the bridge of Fingon’s nose. “Look at it! You made a monster of me!”

“I saved you!” Fingon gripped Maedhros’ left wrist with both of his hands, but felt unable to move him. “You speak of death – I died that night! I still have nightmares about what I did. I never wanted to hurt you! I love you!” He coughed when Maedhros let go of his throat. “I loved you,” he amended.

“You should move on, cousin,” advised Maedhros. “You are living in the past; you have no future with me. Honestly, you never did,” he added as he began to walk away.

“I am,” spoke up Fingon as Maedhros reached the door. “I just had to make sure I was not making a mistake. I suppose you are right. It was a dumb mistake.” Fingon turned back to the fire. “I wonder if Inglorion will ever say that to you.”

Fingon heard Maedhros stomp back across the room, but he did not flinch, nor did he turn his head. When Maedhros grabbed his shoulder and spun him, back slammed suddenly against the nearest shelf of books, Fingon did little more than look up calmly. Maedhros let go, hand drawn around, and then his arm snapped back.

“No.” Fingon blocked with his left arm, and then reached up with his right hand to force Maedhros’ arm down. “I will not have you attack me as your father did mine,” he snarled, and it seemed for a moment that the air around them crackled with the energy of a storm. Fingon stepped forward, and it was Maedhros now who retreated. “I will exchange words with you, but not blows, cousin. If ever you are again in peril, know that my duty to my family will bring me to your side, but I am your puppet no more.” He had Maedhros backed into a corner near the door, and here he finally made his stand. “I am Findekano, heir of the heir apparent, rightful heir to the throne. You no longer rule me, nor my heart.”

“Lovely words, but I fear they mean nothing without action,” replied Maedhros.

Fingon took a step back and reached to his neck to pull up the gold chain that hung around it. At the end dangled a locket which he opened in order to remove the contents. For a moment, he looked down at the curl of red hair in his palm, then to Maedhros. He turned on his heel and walked briskly to the fire. Once there, he blew the hairs into the crackling flames, but he did not stop there.

From each of his long braids, two on either side, he unwound the golden threads. These, too, were fed to the flames. As he walked back to Maedhros, Fingon tugged hard on the locket, breaking the chain behind his neck. He threw the damaged piece of jewelry at Maedhros’ chest as he passed and spoke as the metal hit the floor. “Your blood is on my hands no longer, cousin. Half-cousin,” he amended as he left without looking at his ex-lover.

***

In the morning, Erestor went to see his parents again. Tatie greeted him at the door, where she hugged him, fussed over his weight (or lack thereof), insisted he come in for breakfast, and would not allow him to leave the breakfast table until he had finished three pancakes, two eggs, and a large portion of fried potatoes. Erestor was glad that she was not questioning him about his refusal to eat the sausages or ham she offered him, and his father talked cheerfully and asked questions all through the meal.

“Can I ask you something?” he queried when he finally had a chance to get a word in. Tata nodded. Erestor looked down at his hands and picked at the skin around his nails and at a bit of ink dried under one of the nails themselves. “After you found out what I was, why did you try so hard to fix me? Why not try to have another child who was not.. broken?”

Tatie stopped stirring the eggs and flour for dumplings she planned to make for lunch, and Tata’s shoulders relaxed, slumping, his mouth doing the same, a frown emerging where his grin had once been.

“I mean I.. I do not hate you for it,” added Erestor. “Not anymore, at least.”

“My boy, that was never our intention to make you feel that way,” answered Tata apologetically. “We thought--”

“I thought,” corrected Tatie. She did not yet turn around, but she made sure her son knew she was responsible for the decision. “I thought we were doing the right thing. I thought.. I thought Feanaro had somehow corrupted your mind. I thought he was using you. When we found out what was going on, I was not going to have you hypnotized into thinking whatever Feanaro wanted you to.”

“I always thought you were loyal to Feanaro,” replied Erestor.

“We were loyal to Finwe,” explained Tata. He paused, eyes shifted to look at his wife. Tatie set the fork she was mixing with aside and finally, slowly, quietly she turned around to face her husband. “He should know,” whispered Tata.

“Know what?” Erestor looked from one parent to the other.

“We decided on this already,” hissed Tatie. “It is better he not know.”

“I am right here,” spoke up Erestor. “If something happened to me, I think I have a right to know.”

Tata stared back at his wife and then calmly looked back at Erestor. He reached one hand out, and with slight hesitation, Erestor put a hand upon the table and reached across until it was close enough that his father could grasp it. In a low voice, Tata looked at his son and said, “You died.”

Erestor nearly choked on his next breath. “When did that happen?” He furrowed his brow. “I do not recall it.”

“Not once, but twice,” added Tatie. “If we are telling him, we are telling him everything,” she added as she picked up the bowl. She stirred the mixture again, but now it was to keep her hands from being wrung. “The first time, you were five. It was our first encounter with Orome. He was fond of you -- you were one of the youngest among our people at the time. You were not afraid of him like so many others were. You really liked his dog and his horse, and he named you, for we had not chosen your names yet.”

“You could not say my name,” recalled Tata. “You kept missing the first T and would call me ‘Ata’, except you were still new with words, so it sounded like ‘Atar’, so--”

“I invented the word ‘father’?” Despite the other news that he had just been told, Erestor grinned. “I do think that may well trump inventing silima.”

Tata smiled proudly. “There were other words as well.” He looked down to the table. “Then, just when it seemed we were making progress with Orome, tragedy struck. He was speaking to us, trying to learn the language, and one of the words you created was being used. I wanted you to say it, to show how much you had learned.”

“What was the word?” asked Erestor when the room became silent.

Tata shook his head. “To this day, no one uses it any longer. When no one could find you, we all began a frantic search. You had wandered off -- you were five, you were quite the sprinter. When we found you, there was nothing to be done.”

Erestor’s eyes were locked on his father. “What happened? No…” He looked away just as his mother was about to answer. “I know this… I dream it… I thought it was some irrational nightmare…” He closed his eyes and the scene flashed before him from so long ago. When he opened them, he saw his father, still forlorn, and his mother silent yet sobbing, tears dripping into the bowl of uncooked dumplings held with one arm. “It was Cuiviénen. I drowned in it.”

Tatie nodded. “We tried everything, but there was nothing we could do. Orome left shortly after. We buried you by the riverside.”

Erestor shuddered and squirmed, but held fast to his father’s hand. “I was chasing something, I think, or maybe it was something in the water. A reflection, perhaps.. something made me go into the water.”

“No one knew what swimming was at that point. We learned soon enough, not wanting fear to overtake us completely. We mourned your death for a year.. and that was when ‘he’ arrived.” Tata drew his lips together and shook his head.

“He?” Erestor looked between his parents again, and then he took a guess. “Morgoth?”

Tata closed his eyes and nodded once, while Tatie finally set the bowl aside and sat down on the other side of her son. Grasping his free hand with both of hers, Tatie began the next chapter in the tale of woe. “He offered us something that Orome had not. He offered us the chance to have you back. He declared that he was not the evil spirit that we thought he was, and that he would bring you back to us.” Tatie swallowed hard. “He seduced our minds, and then, he seduced me. He claimed that in order to bring you back, you would need to be stronger than you were. He claimed that he and I would need to lie together for that to be possible.. and so I did.”

Erestor’s short intake of air made his mother clutch his hands tighter. “Do not hate me for it!” she pleaded. She bowed her head and kissed his hand. “I only wanted my son back. I did it for you, for my baby boy. I had not been able to protect you; I thought now that he could.”

Tata wiped tears from his face now. “It was worth the price to have you back, and in a year, we did.” He took a deep breath. “If only it had been that simple. We knew it was you-- you acted like you always had, at first. The first thing we noticed were your eyes.. they were not blue, they were violet, like there was fire burning in them. When your hair grew, it was dark, almost black.”

“What.. color.. was it before?” asked Erestor, looking dumbfounded into the gleam of a spoon on the table, his distorted reflection seeming even more distorted now.

“Blond,” answered both fair-haired parents at the same time.

“Huh.”

“Still, we loved you, and we did not question it.” Tatie scooted her chair closer without letting go of Erestor’s hands. “We had peace in our lives for three years.”

“Then something happened. War came, and he sent servants to bring you to him. They surrounded us with demons of fire and demanded your return to him. It was you, or everyone. The promise was made not to harm any of our people if you were given back to Morgoth.” Tata trembled. “I still have not forgiven myself for what was done. It was a moment of panic and of fear, followed by two lifetimes of regret. If I refused, I abandoned my people. If I consented, I was doomed, for it meant at any time any one of them might be the next victim. I handed you to them, and they were gone, and an instant later I resigned from my self-appointed leadership.”

“Finwe had been a friend, ever since his youth. He was one of the first who was born; I aided his mother in the shock of the delivery, and in turn, she was midwife to me years later when you came, both times. The second birth was harder on me, and I was still weakened from it when they came to take you from me.” Tatie took a deep breath. “We did not know what became of you over ten years. During that time, Finwe and his parents comforted us, and we did all we could to see to it that Finwe had the support of our people.”

“When Orome returned, one of the first things that was asked was what had become of you. The answer was grim,” said Tata. “Morgoth had raised you as his own, and kept you safe. In return, he used the clever mind of an imaginative child to create atrocious beasts and demons, the likes of which had never been seen before. You were a hazard, and when Morgoth was captured, you were put to death before him.”

“Who did it?” wondered Erestor, his hands clenching a little around his parents’ fingers.

“The one who would steal you back from the Halls of Waiting,” Tata said. “When Orome came to tell us of the offer the Valar made to have us live with them in paradise, we were unsure. As you know, we sent ambassadors. While he was there, Finwe discovered exactly what had happened, and he confronted Orome about it.

“It was a bold and brave move on his part, but he was very convincing. He made promise to Orome that if you were not returned to us, none of the Noldor would travel to the blessed realm. Orome consented, and when he sent Ingwe, Elwe, and Finwe back across the sea, he sent back with them a bundled child. Newly born, the third time. That, of course, led to an often-said phrase.”

“Third time’s the charm,” said Erestor without having to take a very wild guess.

Tata nodded. “We were greatly in Finwe’s debt from that time on. We ultimately followed Feanor because Finwe had given us our son back, and we were willing to do whatever was necessary, after Finwe’s death, to keep his son alive.”

Tatie stroked the top of Erestor’s hand with her thumbs. “I became so protective of you. I could not bear to see something foul happen to you after everything you had been through. Everything we did was because we thought it was what was best.”

Erestor let go of his father’s hand so that he could move his chair closer to his mother and put his now free arm around her. She looked up at him. “I was a bad mother. Forgive me?”

“Oh, Nana..” Erestor blinked his eyes a few times as they blurred. He sniffled and drew her close. “I love you. I love both of you,” he added as he blindly reached a hand in the direction of his father. Tata had already moved behind Erestor’s chair and bent down to hug his son. “I always thought you were disappointed with me,” he blurted out when he was sandwiched between his parents.

“We have always been proud of you, no matter what,” whispered Tata.

“Th..” Erestor lifted his hands up to his face to wipe the remaining tears away. “I.. I know.”

“No, that is the trouble. We always assumed, and we never told you,” said Tatie. “We love you very much. When you died, we had people suggest we just have another child. But you were special to us. We only wanted you, Erestor. We will always love you.”

Erestor was sniffling again, and nodded, unable to speak now. Tata gave him another hug. “We are very proud. We will always be proud of you. Always.”

Glorfindel stood in the doorway of the main tower. He stared straight forward for several more seconds before he finally asked, “Who are you and what have you done to my husband?”

“We can discuss that later.” Erestor ducked under Glorfindel’s outstretched arm that blocked the passageway and entered the room. Last minute outdoor preparations were in full swing, and Erestor had to dodge his way around workbenches and busy workers in order to find the person he was looking for, all while Glorfindel trailed after him, making silent, incredulous hand gestures at the recently dyed hair on Erestor’s head.

“Finrod! There you are—we need to talk,” said Erestor once he found the younger Elf. Finrod was in the midst of showing one of the recently hired painters exactly what needed to be done in the room they were in. Once finished, he turned around and did a double take. “Finrod, I was thinking that you might be happier with a position other than.. what did we decide on?”

Finrod smiled in amusement as he tried to take the exuberant Elf standing before him seriously while watching a very frazzled balrog slayer off to the side with a look of worried confusion making helpless gestures . “We never did decide,” he reminded Erestor.

“Oh, right… let me think…” He rubbed his chin and puffed out his cheeks for a moment and then asked, “What would you say to Headmaster?”

Now it was Finrod’s turn to look shocked. “But.. Erestor, you are the Headmaster.”

“I am the.. founder. No, this is just a rebirth.. I am the project coordinator.” He thought for a moment and smiled. “Yes, this was my project… final project, took me long enough,” he said, speaking more to himself than to anyone else. “Well? What do you think?”

Finrod looked beyond Erestor. Glorfindel approached and put his hands on Erestor’s shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Do you want the position?” asked Erestor.

“I do, and.. I will be honest, I was a little jealous of the fact you came up with the idea to do this before I did,” Finrod finally admitted.

Erestor shrugged. “Just luck.” He held out his hand. “Good luck with your venture, Headmaster. If you ever need a guest lecturer for anything, let me know.” Erestor walked away with a lightness in his step that Finrod had never seen before.

Glorfindel was on Erestor’s heels. “Just a minute! Answers. Now.”

“Give me three minutes, and I am all yours.” Erestor made his way up another level, but stopped abruptly when he saw that the basket where Greyson usually slept was gone. “Where..”

“Gone.” Glorfindel swallowed hard. “When you left, he spent two days with everyone, eating leftovers, limping after things that rolled across the floor.” Glorfindel pressed his lips together and sniffled, and Erestor walked back slowly and wiped his own tears after he wiped away his partner’s. “He fell asleep to Fingon playing harp, and he just never woke up.”

Erestor embraced Glorfindel and held him tightly. “We buried him next to the library, and Orophin is going to build something there in the spring,” continued Glorfindel. “I thought he was going to get better,” sobbed Glorfindel. He squeezed his eyes shut. “He was happy, though. He just drifted off. Just.. just fell asleep.”

“He had a good life. I cannot think of an animal who was more loved or spoiled than that wolf.” Erestor produced a handkerchief and handed it to Glorfindel, who blew his nose and took a moment to compose himself.

“Haldir is also gone,” said Glorfindel. “He left the following night. All he took was his flute and the clothes on his back. Sometimes, we can hear him playing in the woods, but.. I think he does not mean to join us again for a while.” Glorfindel sniffled again, and then touched Erestor’s face. “You even dyed your eyebrows. Why? What—“

“Give me half a minute,” Erestor said as he half-walked and half-jogged down the stairs until he was back to the main room

“Twenty seconds,” replied Glorfindel as he stayed on Erestor’s trail, still using the corner of the handkerchief to dry his tears. He was so close that when Erestor stopped, he actually walked into him and had to grab Erestor’s arm to steady himself.

“You!” Erestor pointed at Fingon, who was sitting beside Beleg. “Do not make the same mistake I did.”

It took Fingon a moment, as he was distracted by Erestor’s hair. Beleg, still calm as ever, barely seemed to notice. Fingon shook his head and then asked, “Excuse me?”

Erestor motioned his hand between the pair sitting on the couch. “Just kiss him already.”

Fingon looked positively dumbfounded, skin paler than could be imagined. Beleg looked up at Erestor, looked to his left at Fingon, and then back again. “Alright,” the hunter said, and a moment later, a wide-eyed yet pleasantly surprised Fingon was the lucky recipient of Erestor’s suggestion.

“Not exactly who I meant, but.. just as good. Right, then.” He stepped to turn around and bumped into Glorfindel. “Ah, there you are.”

“That took more than thirty seconds,” scolded Glorfindel as he held out the used cloth.

“My apologies.” Erestor took hold of Glorfindel’s hand and raised it to his lips. “You now have my full and undivided attention, you amazingly beautiful creature,” he said before he placed a kiss upon Glorfindel’s wrist.

“That is not going to distract me,” Glorfindel warned.

“It was not meant to.” Erestor smiled at the glare he was being given.

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes further. “What happened to you?”

“It is not what happened,” corrected Erestor. “It is what will happen.”

“And what is that?” questioned Glorfindel. “Look, I know I was the one who suggested you take some time and think about things, and obviously you have thought about a lot of things. I would just like to know when you are going to make such major changes. I thought we were partners,” he said as he motioned between them. “I thought I had a little say in what we were doing. We. What we do. I was all set to stay here with you – I was excited, in fact, at the idea of having an office with you again, and teaching again, and I was even considering what you were saying about having some sort of warrior training here. Now, I feel like we are being ripped by the roots again and—“

“Shut up,” interrupted Erestor. It was not shouted, but calm. He took a step closer to close the gap between them.

“—I do not… appreciate… what did you say?” Glorfindel narrowed his eyes as Erestor took another step closer to him.

“I said, shut up.” Erestor reached out and grabbed hold of the front of Glorfindel’s shirt. “It is not our place to be here,” he said once Glorfindel drew his lips into a thin line. “We were trying to make ourselves happy here. I know I was; I think you were, too.” Glorfindel frowned at this, but did not deny it. “I stumbled upon something better; a place that feels like home. I know this is all very sudden, but you trust me, right?”

“Maybe..”

“Please try.” Erestor loosened his grip, settling his hand against Glorfindel’s chest. “It is a small estate, on the island. The Cottage of Lost Play. It will be secluded, quiet, and ours. No one else to tell us what the majority should or should not do or want or rules or any of that. A place that will be our haven,” Erestor explained.

Glorfindel sighed. “You know I can deny you nothing,” he muttered. “I just wish you would have.. sent a message to me, something,” he requested.

“I am sorry, Glorfindel. It was sudden, and so much has happened. I have learned so much about myself, and.. every moment of my day, things are making so much more sense.” Erestor wrapped his arms around his spouse and smiled at him. “There are so many things I need to tell you. Things I should have said, things I forgot to say, and things I did not know myself until this past week. Not here,” he said. “But soon. Very soon. I promise.” Erestor lifted Glorfindels hand again to kiss it, but Glorfindel pushed away Erestor’s hand so that he could grasp Erestor behind the neck and pull him forward for a proper kiss.

“I love you, you idiot. You know I am going to follow you anywhere.” Glorfindel kissed Erestor again. “Come on. We should go pack.”

Nearby, someone cleared their throat and Glorfindel and Erestor both looked embarrassed to realize that Beleg and Fingon were still in the room. “Sorry to eavesdrop on that,” spoke up Fingon, “but.. this cottage.. would there happen to be a guest room there?”

Erestor looked to Glorfindel, and he reached around to rub Erestor’s back. “Would you disapprove of—“

“Of course not.”

Glorfindel smiled and motioned to the pair. “Go pack,” he whispered.

“Quickly,” added Erestor as Orophin entered the room with a wrapped package. “I do not want a caravan of people following us,” Erestor warned Glorfindel as Orophin approached them.

“I have no intention of joining you,” said Orophin as he held out a box. “It sounds dirty and dark and also not fun.”

Erestor looked at the box quizzically and took it when Orophin nodded to him. “What is this for? And how do you know anything about where we are going?”

“I am my mother’s son,” replied Orophin. “Go on. Open it.”

Erestor lifted the lid of the box. Within, he found the red and white chess pieces Orophin had been carving. “These are lovely. Thank you, Orophin.”

“No, thank you. This was a very interesting adventure. I think I learned more about myself here than I did when you were trying to teach me in Imladris.” Orophin leaned in to hug each of them. “Maybe I can come visit you down there when you get settled in.”

“That would be lovely, Orophin. I suppose you are going to be leaving soon as well,” said Erestor.

Orophin shook his head. “Uncle Finrod promoted me on my way down here. Valarda is going to join me before the winter. I think we are going to be here for a while.”

“Then perhaps we will come visit you now and then,” offered Glorfindel.

“That would be lovely, Glorfindel,” replied Orophin as he attempted to emulate Erestor’s accent. “By the way,” he added as he started to leave the room, “I like the hair, Erestor.”

“About that..” began Glorfindel.

“I know. Everyone has been put off by it,” Erestor admitted. “It is nothing permanent. I am going to let it grow back naturally.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel sounded slightly disappointed as he wrapped a lock of unnaturally blond hair around his finger.

“Unless you like it like this?”

Glorfindel continued to wind the hair around his finger. “Actually..”

“Hmm?”

“I was just wondering what you would look like as a redhead..”

“Were you?” Their noses were nearly touching.

“Mmhmm. This gives me hope that I might get that chance.”

“You know what else you might get a chance at?” murmured Erestor as he kissed Glorfindel’s neck. He leaned in to whisper into his ear, and despite it being just the two of them in the room now, Glorfindel blushed.

“You have changed,” scolded Glorfindel, but there was mischief in his eyes.

It was midnight, and somewhere, there were wolves howling. Somewhere, a pair of new lovers were shyly sharing glances over a bottle of wine. Somewhere, plans were being made. Somewhere, songs were sung, secrets were learned, and someone was falling asleep.

But here, now, on top of the roof of the library, a memory was being made. Under the starlight, after the passion of their lovemaking, it was silent except for the deep exhales and quick inhales as they held one another.

They had made a pact – no more talking tonight. There was too much to learn, too much that would overwhelm. Lips spoke without words, and hands said what lips could not. Glorfindel had his back to the low wall, legs wrapped around Erestor. Erestor rubbed Glorfindel’s calves as hands played in his hair, braiding the pale strands only to unbraid them and begin again.

When he tired of this, Glorfindel pressed his cheek to Erestor’s back and hugged him tightly. Erestor hugged his arms around the embrace and closed his eyes. In the distance, the faintest sounds of a flute and a fiddle playing in harmony could be heard.

“Glorfindel?” Leave it to Erestor to break the rules.

“Mmhmm?”

Erestor took a deep breath. “You need to know something.”

“Hmmm?”

Erestor tightened his hold on Glorfindel’s arms. “I died. And not just once. That was why everything from my childhood never made sense. Nothing was ever in order.”

“Mmhm.”

It was not the answer Erestor expected and he shifted so that he could look at Glorfindel. “What, mhm, what is that for?”

Glorfindel untangled one of his arms and brought his hand up to rub the back of Erestor’s neck. He pushed the hair away and said, “I suspected you must have died at some point. You have freckles.”

“What? Where?”

“Back of your neck. On your back, too, and right behind your ears.”

“Huh.” Erestor rubbed the back of his neck as if he could feel them now. “Why did you never tell me?”

“There are a lot of things we need to tell each other,” was all Glorfindel would reveal before he pulled Erestor close again.