Beyond Canon
RSS


- Text Size +
“Fighting from the black corner, Rog!” Thunderous applause greeted Rog as he entered the area for the match. “Fighting from the red corner, Erestor!” Again, the audience applauded as Erestor took his place. “Bow!” instructed the referee, and the two did. “Begin!” he shouted.

Gritting his teeth together and trying not to show his worry, Glorfindel found Aranel taking hold of his hand. “Hold me; I cannot bear to watch!” she said, and the blond was thankful for the act for his benefit.

As he wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, he blinked in surprise. “What is he doing?”

Ecthelion made a noise of disgust. “After all that, he kneels? Fuck, no one does that for these games!” Out of habit, his hand wrapped around one of the soft tomatoes that was beneath his bench, like many others were doing. Lifting it up, he turned to Glorfindel and said, “Give me one good reason not to throw this at him.”

It was not only the Lord of the Fountain who was irritated; Turgon made known his ire as well. “I do hope,” shouted the king from his seat at the arena, “that there is an explanation for this.”

“Peace. I mean no dishonor to these games.” Standing, Erestor addressed Turgon in a loud voice. “I came to the sudden conclusion that it would be a terrible idea for someone to hit his future father-in-law.”

“Would you care to elaborate upon that?” prompted Turgon as the audience started to buzz with commentary.

Scratching the back of his head and giving a sideways glance toward the area that Ecthelion and Glorfindel were in, Erestor further said, “I approached Lord Rog this morn prior to the games to ask his permission for the hand of his daughter. I planned to ask her about it in particular after the fights,” he said in something of a sheepish tone, “but I think now she may know of it.”

Glorfindel felt himself go numb despite the forewarning he had of the situation. He barely registered as Aranel let go of his arm and stood up with a theatrically practiced squeal of joy before daintily making her way through the crowded benches to the ground. She stood at the waist-high blockade of baled hay that fenced off the bleachers from the arena itself, and leaned forward, calling to Erestor.

It took the blond warrior a few extra moments to realize everyone else was standing up or cheering, until Ecthelion shook his shoulder. Of course, Ecthelion had no idea what was secretly going on, and Glorfindel swallowed his emotions, forced a smile on his face, and stood up to applaud along with his friend as Erestor ran over to the barrier and smoothly leaped over it with only one hand on a pile of the bales for balance. The dark ellon lifted Aranel up at the waist, spun her around, and kissed her before the whole of the audience and participants of the games. Aranel said something to Erestor and pointed to the tower. While he headed off to get dressed, she accepted the congratulations of those in the first rows.

Praying that no one took a good look at his awkward expression, Glorfindel fought to keep the happy look on his face despite the fact he felt as if his heart was collapsing in his chest. When Aranel rejoined them, now with Erestor as well, Glorfindel offered his congratulations, and blamed the unexpected stray tears on how happy he was for his friend. Erestor’s response was a questioning look before accepting the well wishes with dignified gratitude.

Watching the rest of the matches kept Glorfindel’s mind focused on something other than his personal thoughts, but he later had difficulty recalling specific fights or moves, other than the fact that Rog had won the competition, and managed to break the jaw of his final opponent, a cocky young archer from the House of the Swallow. Duilin looked more upset that his house had lost than he was about Rog winning, but that seemed to be the way of things. Few were as determined or as strong as Rog.

“I am still unsure if I agree that the trade is a fair one,” debated Egalmoth. “No doubt, your intended is a most charming and beautiful young lady, but do you not think perhaps dealing with her father will offset your gain?”

“Nonsense. My dealings with her father will be no more difficult than the months I spent training in his company,” Erestor assured the elf lord. He paused to drink from the tankard of beer he held in one hand, his other arm around Aranel’s waist for she was sitting on his lap due to the lack of seating available at this point of the day. “You know as well as I that Rog is a reasonable fellow. He only breaks jaws on special occasions.”

Both Egalmoth and Ecthelion laughed at this comment, while Aranel disputed this claim, smiling and rolling her eyes at her future husband’s silliness. Glorfindel pretended to be uninterested as he observed the clearing of the ring and the set up for the final jousts.

---

“I will need to go soon,” Erestor alerted Aranel, speaking loud enough for the others to hear. Glorfindel opened his mouth to ask why, but shut it immediately, knowing it was no longer his place to respond to the dark ellon first.

The elleth on Erestor’s lap frowned and leaned her head on his shoulder. “What for?” she insisted to know, giving Glorfindel a reassuring wink only he saw. It made Glorfindel sigh in temporary relief.

“The minstrel competition is forthcoming.” Erestor took the opportunity to sneak a pair of kisses onto Aranel’s neck.

“So?”

“So...” Pausing, Erestor rather boldly nuzzled the crook of her neck, putting on a much better show than Glorfindel would have liked to have seen, “I need to tune my fiddle.”

“Tune your... oh! Oh, you are not, surely!” Aranel pulled back to see the grin slowly emerging on Erestor’s face. “Oh, you! You are going to! Oh, I love you!” she squeeked, throwing her arms around his neck.

“You better,” he replied, his own arms pulling her closer.

“You are going to compete in the minstrel competition?” asked Glorfindel softly.

Erestor shrugged. “I was playing and singing for Aranel one night, and she made the suggestion. And how can I say no to this face?” he asked, using his finger to tilt her chin back to face him.

“I see.” Glorfindel folded his hands in his lap, each gripping the other tightly.

“Glorfindel has made the suggestion nearly each year for Erestor to enter the minstrel competition,” explained Ecthelion to Egalmoth. “Every year, Erestor has refused.”

“But not this year,” Aranel said happily as she sat back down, having given Erestor a good luck kiss before sending him off.

Egalmoth chuckled and then said around Ecthelion to Glorfindel, “Funny, how a friend can know exactly the thing best for someone, and yet it takes an elleth to give him that final push to change his mind.”

Glorfindel did not think there was anything funny about it at all.

- - -

Without Salgant in the competition, it was quite obvious that the others who were partaking were putting forth a much better effort than they might have. It was a rare chance that one of them might take the prize this year that Salgant coveted so. By far the best was a cheeky young elf playing a harp, until Erestor strolled into the arena to present his piece.

Who sings the sweetest evening lullabies?
Whose silvery voice reaches out to the stars?
Pride of our people and lord of our bards;
Prince of the harpers and master of the musical arts.

“Who... he... is he doing what I think he is-“

“Shhh!” Ecthelion was hushed by everyone around him, not just those he was sitting with. The elf lord shut his mouth, listening with as much intensity as the rest of the audience.

It would never be argued to be a great song; indeed it was a bit raw in some places. The presentation of it, however, was quite beautiful, and the subject matter was one which both amused and confused members of the audience, as well as the judges. No one had ever chosen to sing of Salgant before, though Erestor had now proved it could not only be done, but it could be done favorably.

“I am not sure what to say to that,” admitted Ecthelion after the applause for Erestor died down.

“I doubt I could be more surprised if someone walked over and slapped me in the face,” said Glorfindel in reply, and Egalmoth gave something of a snort to what he believed was a private joke made in reference to Erestor and Salgant.

There was a lull while the top three were decided upon to return and play once more. As the group sat and chattered about whether or not Erestor would make it to the next round, a young elleth with hair that was dirty blond in color and eyes that were dark blue stepped her way up and through the bleachers. Glorfindel caught sight of her first, waving seemingly at him. He raised his hand in confusion, but the elleth shook her head and pointed discretely to Aranel beside him.

Nudging the elleth, Glorfindel nodded in the direction of the newcomer. Once again, Aranel let out her patented squeal of happiness and stood, stretching her arms out. “Tauni! Get up here and give me a hug!”

The elleth gave a cheeky little look and made her way faster towards them. The ellyth embraced, and Glorfindel felt incredibly jealous as he watched them. He knew exactly who she was without ever being introduced. Taking a deep breath, he tried to act as casual as possible.

“Oh, Tauni, I am afraid there are no seats left,” apologized Aranel. “We may need to go to the ground level and stand at the barrier.”

“Nonsense. There are many good seats still available. Such as, this one.” The elleth smoothed the back of her dress properly and then sat down on Glorfindel’s lap.

Ecthelion paused in his conversation with Egalmoth immediately, turning in shock to look at Glorfindel and his new companion. In order to cover his reaction, he insisted, “And what is the matter with my lap?!”

“Your lap, sir,” said Tauni, “is too broken-in for me. I like an unused lap, if I can find one.” She wrapped one arm behind Glorfindel’s back as he encircled his about her waist. “Yours will do nicely,” she told Glorfindel.

“Glorfindel,” said Aranel, touching the blond warrior on the shoulder, “this is Tauniel. Tauni, to everyone who knows her.”

“Pleased to meet you,” answered Glorfindel with a polite smile. He did his best to look thrilled over the fact an unknown young lady had decided to perch upon him, and hoped it did not look too strained.

Tauni looked amused at the blond’s unease, but simply made herself comfortable for the second part of the competition and said to him, “Likewise.”
You must login (register) to review.