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“Where is Tauniel?” asked Glorfindel as he watched Aranel enter the apartment. He was unsuccessfully trying to calm Indelion by rocking him. Just over two months had passed since the elfling’s birth. As the weeks passed, Glorfindel found himself taking care of Indelion more and more. That morning, Tauniel left the baby in Glorfindel’s care so that she might arrive at the market early. She tried to entice Aranel to join her, but Aranel refused to leave until after feeding Nenniach.

The day was uneventful as Glorfindel stayed home with the babies, and though Tauniel promised to return quickly, she only arrived mid-afternoon with Aranel. Indelion was awoken, fed, and placed back in his crib before Nenniach was even halfway finished. Glorfindel angrily stomped into the nursery when he realized what Tauniel had done so that he could burp Indelion and properly settle him down for a nap.

Aranel left some time later to join Tauniel at the sewing circle that the latter was attending much more frequently than she had before the birth of Indelion. Aranel promised to return after a few hours with Tauniel, if Glorfindel might look after both children for a little while. Erestor had planned to return by the afternoon, and according to Aranel, was probably only going to be a little late.

Glorfindel agreed. Indelion woke in the early evening, and though Glorfindel was able to take care of a soiled diaper, he could do little for the hunger the child was shrieking about.

Aranel draped her shawl over the chair on her way to the nursery. “She decided to stay a little longer.”

“She said she would be home by now! In fact,” added Glorfindel as he stood up and followed Aranel, “you are both late.”

“I am late because I was trying to convince her to come back with me,” stated Aranel sharply. She approached Nenniach’s crib and picked the child up, for Nenniach had been whining about the noise from Indelion. “I need to use the rocker in the other room.”

“Of course. I am sorry,” he added as Aranel walked past. “I did not mean to snap at you. I appreciate that you tried to get her to come back.” Indelion began to squirm again, seeming to realize that while Nenniach was getting her supper, he was not about to have his. “Do you know when she is going to return?”

Aranel shook her head, picking up a cloth on her way to the rocking chair. “I suspect she intends to stay for some time. She put in her request for dinner as I was leaving.”

For a moment, Glorfindel looked about ready to start swearing, but as Nenniach yawned and looked over at him, he shut his mouth. Indelion grabbed a fist full of Glorfindel’s hair and yanked on it as he whined unhappily. “I will have to go to her then.”

“She will not be pleased about being interrupted,” warned Aranel. “I have honestly never had her glare at me the way she did tonight when I suggested she come home.”

Glorfindel retrieved a blanket from the nursery and wrapped it around Indelion, and then cuddled his son close to his chest. “I do not care. I am not pleased that she denies her son the love and nourishment he needs! She skipped his breakfast and did not wake him until lunch, which she hurried in order to go where she wished, without consideration of the duties she has. Now, she does this. I am through with begging her to do something she should not have to have a second thought about. If I have to, I will drag her back here and lock her in the nursery until our son can walk!”

Aranel sighed. “Stop preaching to the choir. Speaking of locking spouses at home, have you seen Erestor? I expected to see him here and not you.”

“I have not seen him since last night, but if I do while I am out, I will drag him back, too.” Glorfindel left the apartment, heading down to the seventh floor where Aranel and Tauniel had gone to attend the sewing circle earlier that afternoon. Erestor had left early that morning without explaining where he was going or when he would be back, which left Glorfindel alone to tend to the children. This would not have been any trouble, had he not already had plans for the day. Whatever they were, they had been forgotten as he stomped up to the door of Idril’s apartment and rapped on the wood.

“I wonder who that could be?” he heard Idril say as she unlocked the door. A look of surprise came when the door was opened. “Lord Glorfindel, I—you must be looking for your lady,” she said, looking down at the floor.

Glorfindel realized that he had come down wearing only a pair of pants that needed mending in one knee and a pair of threadbare socks. He shifted Indelion to the other side and cleared his throat. “Is my wife still in there?”

Idril looked back into the room, but Glorfindel could not see where she was looking due to the door partially blocking his view. “It would seem she is not interested in answering your summons,” apologized Idril.

A hungry whimper from Indelion caused Glorfindel to make the decision to force his way into the room. A number of ladies in the room turned at the commotion, and a few glared and clucked disapprovingly. “Unless you are interested in joining our group, m’lord, you are unwelcome here,” spoke one of the ladies, whom Glorfindel did not know. One of the others leaned over to her and whispered something, to which she announced, “I care not who he is, he is not to be here, invading our meeting!”

Ignoring the ladies, Glorfindel took three long steps over to Tauniel. “Your son is hungry. Feed him.” He held Indelion out to her, but she merely crossed her arms. “I am not going to tell you again, so help me, I will tear off your dress right here and make sure he is fed if you deny him.”

“I would more than gladly do as you bid, but the strain of his birth has weakened me and I am unable to feed him right now,” said Tauniel, feigning tears. “You do not think I would abandon him willingly do you?”

“You claim not to have abandoned him, and me, and yet here you sit! You are not worthy to be his mother!”

There were some gasps and colorful commentary from those who were present, and as Glorfindel took another step toward his wife, one of the ladies stood up. “Glorfindel, might I have a word with you in the hallway?”

With some reluctance, and after a long glare at Tauniel, Glorfindel backed out of the room. He mumbled a few words of apology to Idril, and waited for Meleth to join him outside the door. “Glorfindel, walk with me.”

Glorfindel drew Indelion close to him again and attempted to shush the little one with a few kind words. The elfling stuck his thumb in his mouth and cried softly when his little stomach growled. “How can she turn her back on him when he is starving like this?” He rubbed the little one’s back and followed Meleth down a flight of steps, and then another. “Where are we going?”

“Outside. You are more pale than usual and look as if you could use some air.” Meleth was unabashedly rubbing her right breast as they walked. “Have you considered, perhaps, that your wife is telling you the truth? There are some who do have trouble feeding their children.”

“She has enough milk to feed him. Word of her complaints to others has reached me. It is that she does not enjoy it and believes she is wasting her time. How can she say that of her own child?”

“Not everyone is so graceful when it comes to nursing their children.” Meleth held the door for Glorfindel, and the two of them proceeded to walk down the side path that would lead them back to the old courtyard of the king. As she unwrapped a scarf from around her waist, Meleth nodded at a bench between two oak trees. “Come and sit with me,” she bid him as she folded the cloth in half and placed it over her shoulder.

The pair sat down, and Glorfindel tried to calm Indelion again, who was now beginning to squirm once more. Meleth held her arms out. “Let me see what I can do for him.”

“Meleth, I cannot ask you to—“

“You do not need to ask. Unlike your wife, I do not mind this task.”

Glorfindel placed Indelion into Meleth’s arms and sat back, looking on hopefully. “I appreciate it.”

“You are very welcome.” Meleth pushed down the side of her dress, the scarf allowing modesty. “Oh, you poor thing, you are hungry!” she said as Indelion pushed his head under the fabric and latched onto her nipple. The sound of his slurping made her laugh merrily. “Ah, well, what he lacks in table manners he makes up for in cuteness.”

The night was clear, and Glorfindel relaxed for the first time that day and simply looked up at the stars. Meleth’s free hand pressed against the back of his neck, cool fingers kneading away the tension. “Mmm... oh, that feels good,” he mumbled, going limp and breathing deeper.

Meleth continued to massage his neck and worked her way down to his shoulders, still using just one tiny hand. “You need to get Tauniel to do this for you, if you are going to be taking care of the baby all day. Child rearing is hard work.”

Glorfindel gave a little grunt. “I am lucky if I can get the time of day from her.”

“Have you considered the possibility of a wet nurse or at least a nanny?” asked Meleth. She removed her hand so that she could place her full attention on Indelion and burp him.

“We do not even have a maid, and there are days when we need one of those even more.” Glorfindel sighed. “I do not particularly like the idea of strangers being in my home. I do not think it would work.”

“Because of the ‘situation’.” Meleth gave Glorfindel a knowing look, which startled him. “I know what goes on in your apartment. I must say, it greatly surprised me when the birth announcements were made. My husband thinks he is protecting me from the truth by not talking about it, but mothers are not so blind to what their children are doing. I am glad for your sacrifice, which allows my daughter and her lover happiness.” Meleth patted Indelion a few extra times after he belched and cooed happily. “Here is your little darling, oh, yes, what a little sweetheart you are,” she said as she placed Indelion back into his father’s arms. “We should come up with a feeding schedule. If Tauniel can feed him once a day, I should be able to take care of the rest of the feedings.”

“I cannot expect you to be available at all times of day and night, though,” said Glorfindel. “What I need to do is sit down with Tauniel and find out what we need to do to fix this.”

“Glorfindel, I am not sure if you understand this or not, but she may indeed be telling the truth. Some ellyth are simply not able to produce very much milk, especially if they are under a lot of stress.”

“I do not know what stress she could possibly be under.”

Meleth took a moment to adore the elfling, and then reminded Glorfindel, “She lost her parents, unexpectedly. She never really had a chance to say goodbye to her father, and her mother faded before her eyes. She could do nothing to stop it. She thought a baby would help fill that void, and she jumped at the chance when you agreed, but she never gave herself a chance to grieve what she lost. You also may not think she cares, but she does worry what she will do if she loses you as well.”

“Oh.” Glorfindel brushed back the blond curls from Indelion’s face, and looked down sadly at the sleeping elfling. “I just hate imposing upon you.”

Meleth smiled. “This is what I do. This is what I am here for. The Valar have granted such a gift to me, and I adore babies.” She fixed her dress in place again and took the scarf from her shoulder. “I just had a sudden, wonderful thought. What if I were to move into the apartment, just temporarily, to help out with the babies?”

“I...” Glorfindel mulled it over. “What about Rog?”

“Rog would enjoy the quiet time without me fussing over things. Do you know how hard it is for such an old war horse to entertain his Generals and Captains when I keep dusting the place and putting lace doilies on everything? He would appreciate some time without me at home... and, it will make him appreciate me more when I come back. We did this once before, right before Aranel was born. Sometimes, you just need a little time on your own.”

Glorfindel looked amused. “So I should expect lace doilies on all of the tables by the end of the week?”

“Precisely,” said Meleth. “Do you accept my offer, then?”

“I should probably talk to Erestor about it—“

“The great thing about being Erestor’s mother-in-law is that I get to trump him from time to time. What is your thought on the matter? I can sleep on a bed in the nursery, and beside helping with the little ones, I cook and clean, and tell the best bawdy jokes.”

“Meleth! I am shocked!” laughed Glorfindel.

The elleth giggled. “I am the wife of a soldier, Glorfindel. There are certain perks to that. Have you heard the one about the Elvenking and the Dwarf?” she asked with a wicked smile.

“No... tell me as we walk. I need to put Indelion in his crib for the night,” said Glorfindel.

---

When Glorfindel came back into the apartment, the lights had all been extinguished. He crept into the nursery, using the moonlight to guide him. Once Indelion was safely and snuggly tucked into bed, he drifted to Nenniach’s crib for a moment and then wandered to the bedroom that Erestor and Aranel shared. The door was open just a crack and he could make out a single figure in the bed. He rapped gently on the door panel and Aranel stirred slightly.

“Did Erestor ever come back?”

Aranel yawned and shook her head, then rolled over.

“I put Indelion to bed in the nursery. Your mother has made an offer which I have tentatively accepted.”

“What was that?” mumbled Aranel.

“She offered to move in for a little while to help with the elflings. What are your feelings on that?”

“That would be nice.” Aranel turned back, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “She asked me about it before Nenniach was born, but I never had the chance to mention it. Actually, I was not sure how everyone else would feel.”

“I like your mother. I think we should take a vote right now – oh, look, unanimous!”

Aranel smiled and snuggled deeper into the blankets. “Good. She was really hoping she could. She loves her granddaughter, and she thinks Indelion is adorable.”

“I will not keep you from your rest. I just wanted to let you know that I am going to see if I can find Erestor.” Glorfindel waited for confirmation from Aranel before leaving again. He checked in all of the places he could think of as he made his way down each flight of stairs. As he passed the council chamber on his way to one of the smoke rooms, the glow of light from beneath the door made him pause. It was far too late for a meeting to be held, which made Glorfindel wonder just what was happening. He pushed open the doors, which led to the antechamber before the council room. Guards stood posted between Glorfindel and the entrance, but in very few cases was he ever denied entrance.

“Is something going on this evening?” asked Glorfindel casually.

“Just a slight misunderstanding over a bird, I believe,” said one of the guards, but the other shook his head and said, “Sounds a little more serious than that. They have been in there for hours.”

Glorfindel motioned for them to let him pass, and they opened the doors for him. Turgon was seated at his throne, with Ecthelion at his side and holding something in his hand. Both of them looked to Glorfindel at the door, while the third occupant of the room turned his head. It was Erestor, with a very uninterested look on his face. All Glorfindel could wonder was ‘what has he done now?’

“Ecthelion, I was not aware that you had asked Glorfindel to join us,” said Turgon.

“He did not. I saw the light. Actually, I was looking for Erestor.” Glorfindel glanced at his friend as he came to stand beside him. “Is something wrong?” Something caught his eye, and Glorfindel looked down to see that Erestor’s hands were shackled together at the wrists. There was a length of chain hanging down to the floor. When Glorfindel looked up again, his face registering shock, he took in the swelling around Erestor’s left eye and the blood that had dripped from his nose and dried on his chin and tunic. “What happened here?”

“I would appreciate knowing that myself,” said Turgon darkly. “Are you aware of any unauthorized correspondence between Erestor and anyone else?”

“No,” lied Glorfindel, knowing full well that there would be a penalty against him if Turgon knew he was being untruthful. The image of Erestor hunched over the desk, secretly writing on scraps of paper came to his mind, and he hoped his thought remained hidden.

The king seemed to be fully aware of Glorfindel’s fib, and motioned Ecthelion forward. “Does this look familiar to you?”

Glorfindel peered forward, and saw in Ecthelion’s hands a tiny bird. It took a few moments for him to register the fact it was a thrush, and the same type that Erestor used to send messages to Saeros. “Oh, that,” he replied, deciding suddenly that he was done attempting to appease Turgon in every way he could. If Erestor was to be punished for such a thing, Glorfindel would not allow him to be alone this time. “Yes, I have seen them, now and then.”

“So you are aware that he has been secreting messages, compromising the security of our city, and you said nothing?” Turgon stared directly at Glorfindel, who was unflinchingly staring back.

“What should I have said?” asked Glorfindel boldly. “That his method was better than yours? That sending a party of three or four elves upon horses to Doriath and the Falas twice a year was a stupid idea?”

“Glorfindel! That is quite enough,” Ecthelion regarded him sternly, placing his hand upon Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Sire, obviously, Glorfindel is overly tired from his parental duties—“

Shrugging Ecthelion’s hand away, Glorfindel shook his head. “No. Let us discuss this. Each and every time Gildor and his company come through, they risk giving away our location. At least with the birds, it is unexpected. Morgoth is just watching, waiting for someone to slip up. All it would take is one wrong move, one encounter close enough for him to know where we are.”

“Birds can fall into enemy hands,” argued Turgon.

“So can elves,” shot Glorfindel back. “There is very little for the bird to tell him, but there is a great deal that an elf could.”

Turgon fell silent. He looked hard at Erestor for a good, long time. “Do you know what I was going to do to you this time? I was going to have Ecthelion break each one of your fingers, and see how well you could write then.”

“Creative, as always, your highness,” answered Erestor. “I thought that the fact that my bird is dead was penalty enough. Personally, I would have come up with something more demeaning, and public, to scare the masses into submission.”

“The masses are already submissive,” said Turgon quietly. “It is you I have such trouble with. I keep thinking that there has to be something that will quell this need for you to rebel against me. The whippings, the torture... they would have broken a lesser elf. Even the threat of death does nothing to deter you anymore.”

“I fear neither pain nor death,” replied Erestor.

“Yes, I know.” Turgon shook his head. “I cannot remove you from Gondolin. Your death would come at too high a price for me now. You would be a martyr to them.” The king stepped down from his throne and stood before Erestor. “I thought – I had hoped – that you had changed.” His voice softened and he asked, “Tell me where I have failed as king.”

This change took Erestor by surprise, and he eventually shook his head. “I do not know what you mean.”

“What have I done to make you put the security of this realm in jeopardy?”

“I never meant to do that,” said Erestor. “My intention was only to stay in contact with Doriath what little I could. The thrushes are well-trained not to take a direct path, and never to take the same path twice.”

Turgon stood silently, then paced from where they stood to the doors, and back. “Ecthelion, how likely is it that someone might have seen one of these birds and realized its purpose?”

“To be honest, it would be very unlikely. The message tubes are quite small, and thrushes are not the most common candidates. If it was a pigeon, perhaps.” Ecthelion regarded the dead bird solemnly. “I can gather a party to scout the area outside of our borders to see if anyone did, if that is a concern to you.”

“No. This is not your fault.” Turgon stepped back around in front of Erestor. “You claim you are still loyal to Gondolin, despite your err in judgment. You are going to walk the borders thrice, at two hundred, five hundred, and one-thousand hundred paces out. If you discover anyone, deal with them.” Turgon looked at Glorfindel. “You will go with him.”

“Sire, it may be best for me to organize a party to do so,” said Ecthelion. “Both Erestor and Glorfindel have matters to attend to at home—“

“Their current situation is not foreign to me,” interrupted Turgon. He pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the shackles the held Erestor’s wrists together. “I am well aware of the fact that you are both newly fathers. However, if this were a situation where a party of orcs had been following the path of that bird, they may well have been in the city already, leaving no time to deal with family matters.” The metal cuffs fell to the floor upon the chain that they were attached to. “You will leave now, tonight. Ecthelion will inform your families of this.”

Glorfindel’s mouth hung open a little. “Can we not—“ he dared to say, but was cut off by Turgon.

“No, you may not, whatever it is. Ecthelion will inform your families that you have been assigned a special task; when you return, you may choose whatever wording you like to explain yourselves to your wives. You will take weapons and supplies from the my armory.”

“What about horses?” asked Erestor.

“It would not be much of a punishment if you were allowed the luxury of riding the distance. Besides,” added Turgon, “they would be much to obvious if there is anyone out there stalking us. Now go; get out of my sight. Ecthelion, see them away from here, and do not allow them back within the gates for at least six weeks, for I doubt they will finish this task even by then.”

Erestor turned and stormed out of the room, practically ramming into the doors that led to the antechamber. Glorfindel did not move so quickly, numb and stunned at the predicament he was in. His steps were heavy, and he felt torn between falling to his knees and begging Turgon to reconsider, and catching up to Erestor so that he could slap some sense into him.

“Glorfindel, listen to me carefully.” Turgon’s words caused the blond to turn around. “He is nothing but trouble. I respect that you are great friends, but what I cannot tolerate any longer is his attitude. Talk to him while you are out there, because I am so very close to throwing him off the Echoriath myself.”
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