“Squirrels. Galdor is using squirrels.” Turgon shook his head and swirled the wine in his glass. “Squirrels.”
“Does that mean I am forgiven for the thrush?” asked Erestor. They had already finished dinner, and were now enjoying wine with their dessert – a chocolate crusted cheesecake flaked with chocolate that Turgon was reported to make himself. Glorfindel was already on his second slice. Everything of interest to Turgon had been reported to him, and though Glorfindel was somewhat anxious to return home, he was also not one to deny himself cheesecake.
“Erestor, I wish I knew what to do with you,” said Turgon, and he sounded quite sincere. “I think you might have been a better challenge for my brother.”
“I suppose I am a challenge for anyone,” admitted Erestor.
Turgon nodded in agreement. “Why did you choose to come here?”
“It was an accident. I was actually hoping to reach Greenwood.”
“That I believe.” Turgon noticed Glorfindel scraping his fork across his plate to collect the crumbs. “Another piece?”
“Oh, no, I really should not,” said Glorfindel as he set the plate aside on the table.
The king was already sliding the pie knife into the tin. “Lembas and blueberries for a week – I think that gives you leave to eat as much cheesecake as you want. Besides, to me, it is a great compliment.”
“Well, if you insist.” Glorfindel could not help but notice that Turgon gave him a piece twice as large as the last. “It is very good.”
“I shall be certain to send you the recipe.” Turgon turned his attention back to Erestor. “Salgant told me that your role was reassigned because of your anticipated absence.”
Erestor shrugged. “I was getting bored with that play anyhow. Anything that runs more than four months tends to drag a bit.”
“Ticket sales have been so good, Salgant tells me it is scheduled to run through the end of the summer,” remarked Turgon. “That leaves you with quite a bit of free time until the autumn auditions.”
“I take it you have an idea of what I should do with that time,” said Erestor before he took another sip of wine.
There was a serious, almost reluctant look in Turgon’s eyes. “You once represented the House of the Hammer in the summer games.”
“As a boxer,” confirmed Erestor.
“Will you be representing the House of the Hammer in any of the events this year?”
“Rog and I are not on the best of terms,” said Erestor carefully. “I think most everyone prefers to avoid having me on their team.”
“Boxing is a solitary sport.” Turgon stood up and walked to a desk which allowed the person sitting at it to look out through one of the many windows. He picked up an envelope and brought it back to the table. “The late entries are due in one week.”
Erestor took hold of the envelope. “Late entries are only allowed for sports with low entrance counts.”
“Indeed. This year, those sports are boxing, swimming, and spear-throw. Late entries also allow for representation outside of one’s chosen house.” Turgon waited until Erestor pulled the sheets out of the envelope, already filled out and awaiting his signature. “I want you to represent my house in boxing, and I think you might do fair throwing a spear as well.”
Erestor stared at the two sheets, looking first at one, and then at the other.
“You have a week to think about it.”
“I can answer you now,” said Erestor as he set the papers upon the table. Glorfindel held his breath, sure that Erestor was about to say something foolish and regrettable. Instead, Erestor asked, “Do you have something I can use to sign these?”
Turgon smiled and went again to the desk. “You will have full access to the facilities where my warriors train. There will be a coach assigned to you, and you need only ask for whatever you require.” He returned with ink and a quill, which Erestor used to sign and date the papers. “Excellent. I would suggest taking these to the registrar immediately.”
“Are you afraid I will change my mind in the morning?” chuckled Erestor.
The king did not laugh. He blinked and nodded. “Yes, I never know what you might do.”
“Then I shall ease your restless mind and take these down right away. Perhaps I will take a look at the training rooms as well,” added Erestor.
“Wonderful suggestion. I shall bid you good evening, then,” said Turgon as he walked Erestor to the door. Glorfindel hastily scooped up the rest of his dessert and gulped down a mouthful of wine as he stood, but Turgon waved a hand at him. “No need to rush, Glorfindel, there are still things for us to speak of.”
Uneasily, Glorfindel sat down again and waited for Turgon to return. After the door was shut and locked, Turgon did. “I spoke to my daughter while you were away,” said Turgon. “She happens to be a good friend of your wife,” he continued when Glorfindel said nothing.
“They share many interests,” agreed Glorfindel.
“I pardon myself if I wade into matter too private for you to wish to discuss, but Idril told me that your wife has taken to living in her parents’ home, leaving you to care for your child alone.” Turgon’s voice was sympathetic, his gestures and expressions ones of concern.
Glorfindel swallowed hard. It was a topic he had not spoken to many about. “Tauniel has distanced herself. She appears to be depressed and distant; I do not have the time to figure out what is wrong. I need to be sure that Indelion is cared for. To that end, Meleth, Rog’s wife, has been good enough to aid me, and of course Aranel and Erestor have provided invaluable assistance.”
“Being the lone parent is difficult,” said Turgon sagely. “Even temporarily.”
Glorfindel nodded.
“If you ever wish to speak to someone, my door is open to you,” said Turgon simply.
For a minute, Glorfindel did not know how to respond. Finally, he said, “Thank you.”
---
Indelion whined as Glorfindel tried to set him back into his crib. “Sleepy time, little one. Let go of Ada’s hair. Ow.. please let go of Ada’s hair,” pleaded Glorfindel. He winced as he untangled one of his son’s hands, only to get yanked with the other. “Why are you so clingy tonight?”
“Perhaps he wants you to stay with him tonight,” suggested Meleth from the doorway. She came in and sat down on the bed, where she began to unbraid her hair. “He is probably afraid you are going to go away again. He might be small, but understands much. You were gone most of the week, and he was such a good boy. You should reward him with some father-son bonding and snuggle time.”
“Alright.” Glorfindel lifted Indelion back into his arms. The baby sighed and nuzzled against him with relief. “Are you done with the rocking chair for the evening?”
“Yes, but you do not have to sit there and give yourself a backache.”
“Well, I cannot fit into the crib with him,” said Glorfindel matter-of-factly.
Meleth grinned. “Of course not, silly elf. But you have a huge bed, half of which seems to be going unused.”
Glorfindel looked concerned. “What if I rolled over onto him accidentally?”
“You will do no such thing. Come, I will show you. Once he falls asleep, you will bring him back in here.”
“But I might fall asleep before he does. He might fall off the bed,” added Glorfindel as he followed Meleth into his bedroom. “Or he might tangle in the sheets and suffocate.”
“It is so obvious that you are a new parent,” responded Meleth. She took the pillows from Tauniel’s side of the bed and placed one on the floor next to Glorfindel’s side. Then she put the other next to the edge on Glorfindel’s side and moved his pillows to the center. “Keep him on this side, in case Tauniel happens to come in and does not notice him. That way she will not disrupt him, if he were in the middle. It usually works best if one parent is on either side, but this will do.”
Glorfindel cautiously sat down, and then maneuvered onto his side with Indelion still beside him. “Like this?”
“Yes. Good night.”
“Good night,” replied Glorfindel as Meleth extinguished the candle near the door.
For a few minutes, Glorfindel was very tense, checking Indelion every few moments. Once his son fell asleep, one hand still entangled in golden hair, Glorfindel relaxed and observed the elfling beside him, for the first time really noticing the tiny nose and fingers. Indelion had indeed been small when he was born, and although he had grown some since then, he was still petite. Glorfindel put his thumb into the open palm of his son, and emotion flooded through him as the baby reflexively held on. “I can do this,” he whispered.
Indelion sleepily blinked his eyes and yawned, sticking his tongue out of his toothless little mouth.
“Alright. We can do this,” Glorfindel amended. Indelion rubbed at his face with his fist, and then relaxed again into a state of reverie.
“Pretty amazing,” said Erestor quietly from the doorway. Glorfindel nodded, and Erestor stepped further into the room, holding his own sleep-eyed elfling in his arms. “I hope you are regretting it less than you were a few months ago.”
“I have no regrets. I had a few reservations, but I am glad now that Tauniel convinced me to help her.” Glorfindel stroked the hair back past his son’s ears. “It is fortunate we had a boy. Now I will not have to worry about who will succeed me later. Future Lord of the Golden Flower, right here,” he said, stroking Indelion’s cheek with two fingers. Indelion made a little squeak, and a cooing sound, and Glorfindel smiled.
