“Of course, we are cutting our meeting short for a very special occasion that only happens twice a year. You are all invited, I believe.” Turgon looked to Rog for confirmation of this.
“Yes, you are all welcome to attend,” said Rog. “I found the recruits this time to be a bit of a challenge, but they all have proved themselves more than worthy of their ranks.”
“More than ten words in a sentence,” whispered Egalmoth to Duilin. “That must be a record.”
“Do you mind?” questioned Duilin tersely. “I am trying to pay attention.”
Egalmoth let the smile slip from his face and folded his arms over his chest. Where once there had been comraderie between the two warriors, there was now mostly silence. Since the day that Egalmoth had been held back in council, neither Duilin nor Salgant had wanted anything to do with the powerful house lord, though he had many times ensured them that he had done nothing dishonorable…
- - -
“If you are not the one who is unclean, then who is it?” pressed Salgant, poking a fat finger into Egalmoth’s chest. “Surely it is not Erestor; he took the place of the cowardly scoundrel! I care not if you are, but I have dined with you and drunk from your glass; I am not about to be called out as one of your kind!”
“It is not me! The king said nothing to me!” swore Egalmoth in a panic. “It must be Ectehlion or Glorfindel! Or perhaps someone else who he sent away! You have been deceived, my friend-“
“You are not my friend, you deceitful liar! The king had his reason for keeping you back, and I will not listen to any more lies.” Salgant spat upon Egalmoth’s boots and turned away. “Never speak to me again,” he sneered, and waved his hand behind him. “Take your filth outside of my house.”
“Salgant, please, I beg you listen to me!” Egalmoth fell upon his knees, crawling around to face Salgant, who backed up and looked away in disgust.
“Out!” roared Salgant. “Out, and never return!”
Egalmoth looked to Duilin pleadingly. “My old friend, do you turn me away as well? Do you not recall our time as younglings, growing up together? Duilin, please, please, believe me.”
It seemed as if Duilin had wanted to believe Egalmoth, but he exchanged looks with Salgant and then shook his head. “You had better leave before he calls for his guards,” said Duilin softly.
Those had been the last civil words the archer had said to him. Since that time, Duilin had aligned himself more and more with Salgant and the House of the Harp. With a sigh, Egalmoth turned his attention back to the king. There was suspicion now- for although he was never close to Erestor, some wondered if they were secretly friends, and if Erestor was covering for the Lord of the Arch. On some level, this theory of conspiracy worked: Both of their lines came from the houses of Elbereth, those linked to the stars. Even Egalmoth’s wife distrusted his fidelity after Salgant had paid her a visit, and their relationship had become strained in the past years.
He had a growing desire to discover who had cost him his friends, his reputation, and the love of his wife. It was no mere coincidence, he later decided, when he was approached by the Lord of the Fountain as the meeting ended.
“Glorfindel and I are going to the ceremony after lunch. I thought perhaps you might like to dine with us beforehand; I know you like to attend Rog’s presentations.”
In the past, Egalmoth would have refused, perhaps with laughter. Today, however, he glanced over his shoulder to see Salgant and Duilin exiting the room, cheerfully discussing their plans for the revitalization of their shared stables - stables that Egalmoth’s horses once lived in as well. Looking back to the captain, Egalmoth nodded. “Sure,” he said, and he could tell that Ecthelion was as surprised as he was.
- - -
Through the main doors of the Hall of Light marched the most recent graduating group of recruits from Rog’s program. Although he always had a small number in each unit, these were soldiers whom everyone was in awe of. Their armor was black and brilliant red, and from the tops of their helmets thick plumes of scarlet and sable feathers marked them as the House of the Hammer of Wrath.
Around the edges of the room, the commonfolk who wished to see the presentation of the new troops gathered. Some had small children up on their shoulders, while others crouched down beside their elflings and pointed to the warriors as they came to a halt. There were twenty-two of them, lead by another whose height made his feathers rise above the others, and whose cloak signified him as the leader of this platoon.
With all of them in the same uniform, accompanied by sabers at their hips and bows carried with dignity, it was difficult to tell who anyone was. Only the lead ellon’s weapons were different than the others, for he carried no sword and had at his side only a trumpet which he would use to rally his soldiers.
After most of the ritual words were spoken from Turgon, who stood at the balcony with his council members, he motioned forward one of his own honor guards. They bowed to him, and brought forth a sword of shining steel. Walking down the stairs to the ground, the king stood beside Rog and asked, “Who shall lead these soldiers, in battle and in training, in times of peace and in times of war?”
“I will.” The elf at the lead, whose deep voice was heard by everyone watching, now removed his helmet. The reaction from those remaining upon the balcony was varied as the officer pledged his loyalty to Gondolin.
“Thel, look! Can you believe it?” Glorfindel was grinning madly. “An officer! I remember when he could not mount a horse or hold a sword!”
Chuckling, Ecthelion said, “I thought that might surprise you. Rog told me this morning of Erestor’s decision.”
“Erestor? That cannot be Erestor.” Salgant leaned a little further over the balcony, squinting to see better. “That elf? Erestor?”
“Imagine him with less muscle and more hair,” whispered Galdor. To this, both Penlodh and Laiqalasse snickered.
Idril sighed and shook her head. “What a shame,” she murmured, and walked past the lords and captains standing at the railing to leave through a door that would take her back into the palace.
Those present stopped their conversation and looked to Maeglin, who had been standing beside her for the duration. “My cousin... must be ill. I will see to her.” The young ellon hurried after Idril as applause traveled up from the crowds below.
“We must go congratulate Erestor,” insisted Glorfindel as the council members either left the balcony or joined the throng on the ground. Ecthelion nodded, and motioned to the stairs.
Beside the Lord of the Fountain stood the Lord of the Arch, and both had been in deep conversation many times during and after lunch. “I will join you in a moment. Ask him if he wants to dine with us at my house tonight,” added Ecthelion as Glorfindel headed down the steps. He jumped down the last few and easily found his target. “This is probably sounding redundant, but congratulations!”
“Thank you.” Erestor had his helmet tucked under one arm and craned his neck a little. “I need to get outside for a bit – much too stuffy in here.”
“I shall split a path through the crowd,” offered Glorfindel. In minutes, they were well away from the hall, and rounding the corner to a series of ponds and statues in a secluded part of the courtyard. “I am simply in awe,” Glorfindel finally said. “You look terrific. You... well, you must be awfully proud of yourself.”
“I guess.” Erestor fluffed the plumes of his helmet before setting it on a bench. “Would you like to see my sword?”
“I would love to,” replied Glorfindel, but the joke was lost on Erestor, who nodded and removed the polished weapon from its scabbard. Handing it to Glorfindel, the Lord of the Golden Flower gave a low whistle. “Nice,” he said, examining the blade. “Going to go slay something with that now, are you?”
Erestor paled. “I hope I never have to. I mean, combat is not the reason I stayed in this. I just feel I am not quite ready to leave yet.”
“I understand,” said Glorfindel, handing the sword back.
“No, I mean...” Erestor looked at the shining sword, a bit of a smile curving his lips, before he slid it back into the folds of leather. “I mean, I feel safe doing this. I have been on my own having to make decisions- very difficult and complex decisions sometimes- for most of my life. When you have someone telling you what to do instead, there is a certain amount of security there. I guess I could say I am taking the easy path right now.”
“Interesting,” mused Glorfindel. “I prefer this lifestyle because I think that the sort of work you were doing as a scribe, no offense, was rather boring overall.”
“Funny how we perceive things differently sometimes,” answered Erestor.
“Ecthelion wanted me to ask you about coming to dinner at-- Oh! I nearly forgot.” Glorfindel looked around, making sure no one was within hearing range. “Egalmoth had lunch with Ecthelion and I today.”
“Oh?”
“He started to question us as to who... who you stood up for a decade ago.” Glorfindel met Erestor’s gaze, and they stared at one another until Glorfindel looked away and said, “Ecthelion told him we did not really know the identity of that elf, and that if he was so inclined he should be inquiring with Turgon.” Again, Glorfindel looked at Erestor, and this time, Erestor looked away first.
‘You should not be here,’ said Erestor in Glorfindel’s mind. ‘He is watching us right now. He hoped that by telling you, he would flush the one I was protecting out in the open for him to catch.’
While Erestor seemed deep in thought at the moment, a look of dawning crossed Glorfindel’s face. He opened his mouth to answer, but Erestor spoke first.
“Glorfindel, I do not care that he wishes to know,” said Erestor sternly. He placed his hands on the blond’s shoulders, clamping his fingers so tightly that Glorfindel squirmed a little. “You tell him that if he wants to know something, he should come and talk to me directly.” Erestor’s voice was a bit louder now, and some who might not have quite been able to hear the conversation were turning their heads. “Go! Tell him that!” Erestor let go of Glorfindel and turned his back on him, giving a statue of a winged nymph with birds encircling her a dark look.
“But-“
“Go,” growled Erestor.
Swallowing and stumbling a few steps, Glorfindel walked away, looking over his shoulder once to see Erestor still staring at the statue.
A moment later Glorfindel heard a voice in his head say, ‘I am sorry I scared you, but it had to be done. I have learned from Rog that sometimes, one must be cruel to be kind. I will see you and Ecthelion tonight at dinner.’ Then, the connection in his mind between himself and Erestor closed.
