Aranel entered the apartment, offering apologies. “Tauniel is still at the gathering.”
It was becoming common for Aranel to announce such a thing, so Glorfindel did not press her about it. It was not worth it to ask when she thought Tauniel might be back, or what was detaining her. Instead, he nodded and offered her the spot on the couch beside Erestor, moving to the chair beside Meleth, who was in the rocker tending to Indelion. Aranel settled on the couch and took Nenniach from Erestor.
“How are things coming along at the stables?” asked Aranel once she had arranged herself comfortably with Nenniach at her breast. Erestor had gone to the kitchen to bring food for Aranel, so Glorfindel answered with a brief nod and said, “Things are going well. I am actually going in the morning to look at a pair of horses that Galdor wants to sell. Hopefully I can snag at least one of them before someone else does. That would bring us up to thirty-eight stallions, thirty-nine if I get both of them. We have six mares with foals, and another thirteen that have been bred recently or that are pregnant. Erestor has been keeping track of staggering the dates so that we do not have them all birthing at the same time.”
“Time – shit, I have to go.” Erestor hurried out of the kitchen and set down a tray a food on the table nearest to his wife, then leaned down and kissed her gently, lingering for a moment. “I promised Ecthelion not to be late, and here we have been talking so long that—“
“Go, go on. Go.” Aranel gave Erestor another quick kiss before pressing her palm against his shoulder. “No need to explain. You will be back late?”
“I will return as soon as I am able.” Erestor kissed Nenniach’s nose, hurried to retrieve his violin, and before leaving gave his mother-in-law a quick kiss. He even hurriedly kissed the top of Indelion’s wee head before racing out the door.
Glorfindel glanced at the door when it shut. “Goodbye, Glorfindel, see you later,” he mumbled, visibly hurt as he closed the ledger and threw it onto the coffee table. His glasses soon followed, skidding to a stop just before they reached the edge. Meleth reached over to pat Glorfindel’s arm, but he had already managed to stand up and move away. “I am going to bed.”
“Glorfindel, he was in a hurry,” began Aranel, but Meleth hushed her daughter while Glorfindel walked off in a huff.
After about ten minutes, he returned, having washed his face and changed into a pair of pants for sleeping. “I thought I would tuck Indelion into bed.”
Meleth nodded as Glorfindel lifted his son up and cradled him close. “He still needs to be burped.” Glorfindel nodded. “Stop brooding. It is unbecoming.”
Glorfindel attempted a smile. “Just having a bad day.”
- - -
In another part of the tower, someone else was having a bad night.
“No, I hate that one. It reminds me of a death march.”
Erestor lowered his bow. “Perhaps you can give me a little more direction on what you are looking for.”
“Wedding music. How difficult is that to figure out?”
Resisting the urge to crush his resin in his fist, Erestor tended to his bow and replied, “You did not like the first selections because they are too fast; you did not like the last few because they are too slow. Maybe you can hum a few bars of something you do like.”
Idril frowned. “You are the musician. Do you only know those few songs?”
Erestor looked past Idril to the ellon sitting beside her. Ecthelion only shrugged apologetically. “Tell me what your thoughts are on this one.” He began another tune, but less than a minute into the trilling of the jig, Idril was shaking her head again. “I want something announces me. Something that lets everyone know I am entering.”
“I am a violinist, not a trumpeter,” responded Erestor tersely.
“And I am a Princess, not a common bride-to-be,” countered Idril. “Trumpets are coarse and unrefined. I do take pity on you for having to put up with me, though,” she added. “Violin is only my second choice, but since the best flautist in the realm will be otherwise occupied at the altar, you shall have to do.”
Instead of looking to Ecthelion for support, Erestor turned to Laiqalasse. “Are there any other traditional wedding songs you might recommend?”
“I think you have played all that I know, and a few I had not heard.” Before Erestor was able to argue with Idril that she would need to choose from the ones that had been auditioned, Laiqalasse quickly suggested, “I know that you have composed some songs yourself, Erestor. Why not write a new song especially for the wedding?”
With mouth gaping slightly, Erestor tried to formulate an excuse not to. His words were too late, for Idril clapped her hands together like a giddy child presented with a ribboned pony. Her eyes were lit with delight as she said, “You could compose an entire aria to be played for the duration of the ceremony! If you coordinate with Laiqalasse, it can be planned to be the perfect length!”
Now it was Laiqalasse who looked uncomfortable. “There are solemn parts of the ceremony which require no music. In fact, I believe it would be blasphemous to chant Eru’s Prayer over the sound of music.”
“Firstly, how so?” wondered Idril. “If everything was created in song, how could He dislike music at any time? Secondly, I think the chant is rather archaic.”
“Archaic?” Laiqalasse paled. “Eru’s Prayer is an important part of every Sedrynerin marriage. In fact, I hardly feel comfortable performing one without it. Surely, you are in agreement, Ecthelion.”
Ecthelion, who had said very little and seemed to have been trained to nod each time Idril asked if he liked whatever she had picked out, looked as if he might agree with Laiqalasse. A look exchanged with Idril made him reach for a compromise. “What if the prayer was just said by you instead of the chant by everyone?”
Laiqalasse frowned. “I will make a note of it as a suggestion,” he said, though no one made mention of the fact that he made no notation of this despite having taken several pages of notes throughout the evening. “Will you be using the traditional vows, or writing your own?”
“I want Duilin to write them for us,” interrupted Idril before Ecthelion could say anything. “He has such a way with words. That last play he wrote nearly had me in tears. It was so passionate, written as only Duilin could.”
For a moment, Erestor wanted to announce that it was he who had written those passages, that his diary had been stolen when it failed to be destroyed, and that Duilin was a fraud. He managed to hold his tongue while Idril continued to praise the playwright. Better to let her go to Duilin; if she was insistent about an aria, there would be little time to help write vows, let alone anything else.
Set upon the task of aiding Ecthelion and Idril with the planning of their wedding, Erestor found little time to do much else. It left Aredhel in charge of taking care of Nenniach, while Meleth tended to Indelion as much as she could. Glorfindel would gladly have cared for his son, had it not been for the task that Turgon had appointed to Egalmoth and himself. There were the horses as well, and the livestock, the soldiers, the land, and the theatre. Too often, Glorfindel woke to find he had dozed off in the chair while rocking Indelion to sleep.
Now and then, the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower took the time to stop and smell the flowers, as it were. At least once per month, Meleth forced Glorfindel to spend the entire day with his son, without worries of work or anything else. “Cherish these moments,” she advised him one morning when he almost called it off to see to the rosters and ledgers. “Everything else can wait, but one day you are going to turn around and see a grown man where your son was, and wonder to yourself, how was I so foolish to let it go so long?” They were sent off to enjoy the day with a picnic lunch and a few of Indelion’s favorite toys. Instead of venturing far from the tower, Glorfindel found a pleasant spot not far from the courtyard under the sway of a tall leafy birch tree.
Few could resist the temptation of the charming little elfling, and many ladies and other children stopped by on their way from here to there. At lunchtime, they were joined by Mirdirin and his son, who brought with them berry tarts from the market and a toy horse, which Indelion seemed to find tastier than the food. Lunch was followed by a quick abandonment of their spot to freshen up, and then outside once more to enjoy the remainder of the sunny day.
“Well, look at you!” Egalmoth waved for those he had been walking with to keep on going as he left the path to join Glorfindel, who was sitting on the grass with one leg stretched out to either side. Indelion was standing up with his feet between Glorfindel’s knees, his hands grasping a finger of each of Glorfindel’s hands. At every movement of a tree or sound of a bird, the elfling turned his head in awe. “He is growing so fast! Has he spoken yet?”
Glorfindel grinned. “Indelion, who am I?”
The little one watched intently as a bee buzzed up from a flower and quickly flew off.
“Indelion.” Glorfindel gently coaxed his son to take a few steps forward and turn around to face him. “Who am I, ion-nin? Huh? Come on, you said it this morning.”
“Nnggh.” Indelion opened his mouth and drooled down the front of his gown. Egalmoth laughed and sat down in the grass a few feet away, facing Glorfindel.
“Sure, make me look foolish in front of my friends,” teased Glorfindel, tickling Indelion’s side. The elfling squirmed and squealed with delight and Egalmoth grinned. “He really did say it, I swear he did.” In a sing-song voice, Glorfindel added, “But nana said you did not because nana is very jealous but nana is never there so nana does not get her name said first.”
“Has Tauniel given him a name yet?”
“No,” sighed Glorfindel. “But we like Indelion, right, my love? Yes, we do.” Glorfindel bent down and kissed the top of his son’s head.
“Is he walking yet?”
“Almost. Really needs my help doing that yet, and sometimes standing. Should we try you standing on your own again, Indelion? Here we go. Try not to fall.” Glorfindel moved his hands from Indelion’s fingers and placed them at his son’s waist. After giving him a few seconds to steady himself, Glorfindel moved his hands away. Indelion teetered a little, but held his own for almost a minute until a cloud distracted him and he fell onto his butt. Instead of crying, he laughed and clapped his hands together as Glorfindel showered him with many kisses and words of praise.
Egalmoth smiled fondly, as if recalling something from the past. The question was in Glorfindel’s eyes, and the elder ellon said, “Galdereth used to do that. He would fire an arrow, it would fly up into a tree, and yet he would get so excited just from the fact he managed to shoot it despite it going terribly wrong.”
Glorfindel’s joy over his son was muted considerably as he sadly remembered the loss of Galdereth, and so many others, not more than two years prior. “I did not know Galdereth was your son.”
“He was my nephew,” corrected Egalmoth. “My sister died in the crossing and her husband did not follow her. He was Telerin. Galdereth was fourteen at the time. I never knew why she decided to take him along, but it was at a time when we questioned little. We were all so wrapped up with the journey and the desire to slay Melkor. I made sure that Galdereth made it safely across and took guardianship of him. My wife and I never had any children, so he was as a son to us, for the time that he was here.”
Glorfindel bowed his head and helped Indelion stand again. “I am sorry.”
“It happens. We are at war, though we live here in peace, under some sort of false pretense that we are hidden and safe. The war will come to us, in time. I do not worry for the ones who have already fallen. I worry for those who may yet fall.” Egalmoth averted his eyes away, squinting at the sun. “Has he tried walking from one person to another?”
“Not yet. He tends to be asleep by the time Erestor gets home, and Tauniel wishes nothing to do with him. She rarely visits, and when she does, she is brief. Aranel has her hands full with Nenniach.”
“Shall we give it a go, then?” Egalmoth held out his arms, giving Indelion a distance of eight little steps to cover. “Indelion, can you come over here? Good boy, take another step!”
Indelion’s eyes were wide in concentration as he toddled away from Glorfindel, who kept his hands upon him as long as he could. After four steps, Indelion lost his footing and fell forward, but Egalmoth leaned in and caught the elfling. “Almost! Good show! Want to try to go back to your Ada?”
As Egalmoth turned the elfling back around, Indelion, seeing Glorfindel only a few feet away gave a little outcry of delight and nearly tripped over his own feet racing back to him. “Ada!” he yelled happily, and was scooped up into Glorfindel’s arms.
“See! I told you he could say it! Say it again, Indelion,” prodded Glorfindel.
“Ada!” Indelion clung to Glorfindel. Proudly, Glorfindel hugged his son close.
“So you did, and I was here to bear witness to his words.” Egalmoth pushed himself up from the ground and gave Indelion’s golden locks a little tousle. “Keep your Ada on his toes, little one. He will enjoy these little moments all the more if you spit up on him from time to time.”
“Oh, he already does that quite enough, thank you,” said Glorfindel distastefully. “There are all sorts of delightful things from the other end as well.”
“As there should be!” called Egalmoth over his shoulder as he headed back down the path to rejoin the group he had fallen back from. “Take care, Glorfindel! And you, little lord Indelion!”
Indelion was sitting on the ground now, and had noticed a fat beetle minding its way through the blades. He tried unsuccessfully to pick it up twice before Glorfindel saw what he was up to. “No, no, we must not do that.”
A pout came upon Indelion’s face and he reached over again. “Dahh!” he shrieked when Glorfindel pulled his arm away.
“No. You must leave the little creatures alone. He has his own business to attend to.” Glorfindel picked up Indelion and drew him close to his chest as he stood up. “We have things to do, too, my love. It will be time for dinner soon, and bath and bed after that.”
“DAHHH!” Indelion twisted himself backwards in an attempt to get free of his father’s grasp. Glorfindel managed to have a good grip, and righted Indelion again.
“None of that,” he scolded as he began to walk back to the tower. “Be a good boy, Indelion.”
Instead of heading his father’s plea, Indelion made a second attempt to squirm away, and when that did not work, let out a high-pitched scream and then began to cry. Glorfindel sighed and made numerous attempts to shush him as he carried him and the mostly empty picnic basket home, receiving many mirthful looks from fellow parents as he went.
When he finally climbed all seven flights of stairs and kicked open the door to the apartment, Glorfindel looked positively frazzled, and Indelion was just getting his second wind. “Someone take him. Please, take him,” begged Glorfindel, holding out the wailing elfling to whomever would respond.
“Ah, there is my little Eruion!” Ecthelion plucked Indelion from Glorfindel and cuddled him thoroughly until his tears ceased. “Have you been giving your Adar a hard time?”
“Ada!” shouted Indelion suddenly, as if only now realizing he had been pawned off on another ellon. His arms reached toward his father, who had come from the washroom after straightening out his hair and cleaning off his hands. “Ada! Ada! Ada!”
“I see you have changed your tune. I thought you did not like me anymore,” said Glorfindel, taking Indelion back from his friend. “Are you going to be a good boy now?”
Indelion snuggled against Glorfindel and nodded his head after giving a little yawn.
“Dinner is not yet ready,” announced Meleth from the archway to the kitchen. “The sitting room is all set for eating, so you should both go out on the balcony and watch for Erestor to get here.”
“But I am here,” spoke a voice from the doorway. Erestor set the case that held his fiddle by the door before closing it. “I should like to wait on the balcony, though, and watch to see if I get here.”
Meleth used her dishrag to swat Erestor’s rear. “Quit that. Go get your guest a drink before I swat you again.”
“Promises, promises, mother-dear,” teased Erestor. He went to the bar and brought out a tall bottle of brandy and a shorter one that had vermouth. “What can I get for you, Thel?”
“Brandy, neat, thank you.” Ecthelion waited as Erestor poured the drink and then took the glass that was offered to him.
“Glorfindel? A glass of wine?”
Still holding onto Indelion, Glorfindel shook his head. “No, thank you. Just some water for me.”
Erestor shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He poured a second glass of brandy, and then took one of the wine goblets into the kitchen and returned with it full of water. “Are you sure you do not want a shot of something to help you relax before dinner?”
“Perhaps after dinner. I want to be alert, now that he is walking.”
“He is walking?! That is great news! How long has this been going on?” Ecthelion led the way through the nursery out onto the balcony.
Glorfindel blushed slightly. “Just this afternoon. Egalmoth was there, and it was only a few steps.”
“Still, that is wonderful news,” said Erestor. “I suppose this is a double celebration, then.”
“Oh? What else has happened?” asked Glorfindel. Both Erestor and Ecthelion grinned, and Glorfindel narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what is going on.”
“Well, I wanted to wait and tell everyone at dinner, but I suppose I can tell you now. I was offered a role in the upcoming play at the Four Feather’s Theatre.”
“The king’s own playhouse... Erestor, that is great news!” Glorfindel sat down in one of the chairs with Indelion while Erestor perched on the rail of the balcony. “Oh, please do not do that.”
“Why not?”
“You might fall.”
Erestor laughed. “I am not going to fall.”
“Glorfindel is right, Erestor; come down from there.” Ecthelion had seated himself in another chair and had pulled out of its case his silver flute. “Come down and be a good boy, and I shall play you a song.”
Erestor stuck his tongue out at Ecthelion, but did as was requested. Indelion was half asleep, but as the first few glimmering notes wisped through the air, the elfling opened his eyes with interest.
“Do you like that, little one?” Ecthelion played a trill, and Indelion cooed. “Yes, I like those, too.”
They sat and drank, and listened to the sweet music that Ecthelion effortlessly played. As the delicious scents drifted out onto the balcony, the telltale sign that dinner was being set out and would soon be ready, a faint knock could be heard upon the entrance door. “I wonder who that could be,” said Glorfindel.
Ecthelion lowered his flute and shot Erestor and accusing look. “You said you would tell him.”
“I thought you should tell him.”
“But you told me you were going to.”
“I said I would if you did not.”
“You live with him – I took that to mean—“
“What are you talking about?” Glorfindel, moments ago relaxed and rested, was now sitting very stiffly, with Indelion held close. The babe seemed as concerned as his father. “You know who is at the door?”
Ecthelion, had he been the sort of person to blush, would have. “I know who it should be.”
Meleth happily opened the door to the balcony and stepped out. “Guess who just arrived?”
