Lifting the latch on the gate, Erestor swallowed hard as he walked out into the pasture. The sun was shining brightly down on the fields, and the horses grazed here and there.
At one end stood the stablehands, with Glorfindel at the center. Gathering his courage, Erestor drew himself up onto the fence, resting on the high wooden barrier. He tried to act as if it were a most natural thing, to be sitting here in the middle of the day. Knowing that a good number of those tending to the horses were now watching him, he kept his focus on the lazily moving clouds.
Curiosity brought Glorfindel over, as Erestor expected it would. Like a moth to flame, Glorfindel sauntered over to the misplaced scribe. "Something I can do for you?" he asked curtly, his arms heavily draped over his chest.
"There is," replied Erestor. "But first, I must make apologies to you," he said as Glorfindel joined him on the fence. "It was absolutely inappropriate for me to laugh at you. I am truly sorry, but I honestly thought you to be jesting."
"Apology accepted," said the blond, keeping himself steadied with one hand resting on each of his own thighs. "I do hope, however, you do not respond in that manner every time someone asks you for help."
"No, I do not," Erestor answered. "You must understand, I thought that you must be making some joke."
"Is it funny, that an elf was never instructed on how to read and write?"
"Nay again," came the answer. "I only assumed, wrongfully, that you were teasing me. Again, I am sorry. I would gladly tutor you in these subjects."
"Privately," insisted Glorfindel. "Please, I want no one to know. Least of all Ecthelion."
Erestor nodded. "A shame that Ecthelion did not teach you; I would have thought he would have most willingly."
"He does not-" Glorfindel cut himself off and grasped for an explanation.
"He thinks you older than you truly are," offered Erestor. Glorfindel's eyes met his with sudden fear in them, and Erestor discretely raised his hand from where it rested on the fence. "I have no reason to tell him or anyone else, but to me it is obvious you are barely past your majority. How you came to be here at such a young age, and to have been given such responsibilities- I can only imagine the hardships you have endured on your own."
Scanning the area as if he were simply watching the horses and not making sure there was no one within earshot, Glorfindel gave Erestor a sideways glance. "Perhaps one day I shall tell you that tale, but for now know that I am older than my years, made so by my own choice."
"Fair enough," said Erestor. "But now, let us speak of the terms of my instruction to you, and yours to me."
"You would have me instruct you?" Glorfindel tried to think on what, and finally voiced this concern.
Looking out at the beautiful horses that grazed and romped across the grass, Erestor said, "I wish to learn to ride. If you teach me to ride, I shall teach you to read."
"And what is your exchange to tutoring me in the art of writing?" questioned Glorfindel.
"Teach me to fight." Erestor breathed in sharply, and it was obvious this had been difficult for him to say. "I do not know how to hold a sword, let alone wield one. I am against war and battle; I do not wish it or to partake in it, but times may come when such skills are needed. If it should come to it, I would want to have means to defend."
"Make me a scholar, and I shall make you a soldier," promised Glorfindel.
