“What if we built our own theatre?” Glorfindel sorted through the rocks in his pile until he found the one he wanted.
“That sounds expensive,” replied Erestor. “Would we even have enough money to do that?”
“Maybe. Actually, it will be more difficult to buy the land to build it on, although, we might be able to use some of the land that my stables are on. How much money do you have?”
Erestor tilted his head to the side. “From what?”
“From your farming and your soldiering and everything else.” Glorfindel picked up another stone and threw it across the water. It skipped twice, and sunk.
Shifting his position slightly, Erestor nudged a few of the rounder rocks off of the top of his pile and lifted up a thin, flat piece of granite. “Probably... not much? I have some, but just what I need plus a little more.”
“What did you do with the rest, though? Did you save it? Invest it?” Glorfindel sighed at the blank stare he was being given. “Erestor, when you got your profits or when you got your weekly pay, what did you do with the excess – the part you did not need for room and board or other necessities?”
For a moment, Erestor stared back, and Glorfindel wondered if he intended not to answer or perhaps still did not understand him. “Come. I will show you.”
Erestor stood up and brushed the dust from his pants. Glorfindel did the same, and pushed the stones off the edge of the fountain they had been sitting on. It had become part of their morning ritual over the last few days to take a morning walk after breakfast and end up at Ecthelion’s fountain, where they would skip stones until it was time to return for lunch. Without an office at the present time, Glorfindel took the comments and complaints from those in his house in the courtyard. By far, there were more complaints than comments that week.
There was a great deal of concern in regards to what the elf lord intended to do now that there were no barracks or training areas. He had yet to tell anyone that there was no money coming from the king now, either, since Ecthelion’s house had grown to such capacity that the Golden Flower’s meager resources were no longer seen as necessary. A vast treasury, mostly acquired when Ecthelion bought out Glorfindel’s part of their joint barracks, kept Glorfindel’s current soldiers and all debts incurred paid, but it would not last very much longer. It was also a curious thing that Glorfindel was referring those of his house to other houses for the mandatory training, but something no one had yet to question openly. It was more than evident that a new source of income was needed, and fast.
Glorfindel mulled over these thoughts as Erestor led him down the main avenue, and from there down a few lesser traveled paths. They passed the entire length of Glorfindel’s pasture and stables, the last bit of space where the flag of the Golden Flower was still flying. Years ago, Ecthelion had built his own stables; adequate for the few horses he kept, and moved them off of Glorfindel’s land. Erestor walked a few metres further. Then, they stopped.
“This,” said Erestor pointedly, “is mine. From this post, to the forest to the east, and then all the way to the river and across for half an acre, all the way up again, flush with this fence. Actually, a metre or so past, but the fence for the land beside it was here, and it would have cost extra to extend it the extra metre.”
“Wait.” Glorfindel held up his hand. He looked over his shoulder, checking to be sure his stables and horses were still where he thought they were, and then back at the land that Erestor was showing him. “You own this plot of land?”
Erestor looked over at Glorfindel as if he was deaf. “I think I just said that.”
Glorfindel walked up to the fence. “You own... ALL of this?” He motioned with his hands from the post toward the north. “All of this, this is yours?” When Erestor began to nod, Glorfindel burst into laughter. “So you,” he said, pointing to Erestor, “own this,” he motioned to the fenced in area, “while I, own that.” He thrust his arm in the direction of the plot of land directly next to Erestor’s.
“Is there a problem with that?”
“Erestor!” Glorfindel stomped his left foot into the ground. “Erestor, sixty years ago, I tried to buy this land to expand my own area. Do not tell Ecthelion, but I had a plan to build new barracks there, and make him pay out to me for my share of the ones we had been sharing. Of course, I was outbid, but I never knew who else was interested. I was surprised anyone else would want it, considering the location.”
“Oh... so you were the other bidder,” mused Erestor. “I had no idea... well, it was a secret auction, how would I?”
“Erestor, that is not the point! I bid eight thousand for it, and it is only really worth seven. To me, it meant more because of the location, but... why would you have paid nine thousand for it?” questioned Glorfindel.
Looking a little uneasy, Erestor said, “I paid eleven for it.”
“Eleven thousand?!” Glorfindel shook his head, looking around. “Erestor, it would be hard to build on, there are no natural resources, and nothing but the land. At least when I bought mine from Turgon, it came with the stables. Besides, I only paid six thousand for mine.” Glorfindel rubbed his jaw. “Of course, that means there was a third party interested, since I was told I was outbid by a bid of nine thousand.”
“That was me, but my nine was outbid by ten, so I went to eleven.”
“Ah. Hmm. I wonder who else might have wanted it, considering how little it is good for.” Glorfindel looked past the river, but the next parcel belonged to the king, and it was unlikely that Turgon would have intentionally tried to raise the price on land he would already have made a good profit on.
“I was going to use it to farm on. With the access to water and the main road it seemed like a good idea at the time. Then, of course, I had the trouble with Turgon and joined the army and no longer had the time for it. But it would still be good to farm on, probably more for an orchard than crops, to raise the profitability.”
Glorfindel looked around. “I suppose you could do that. I admit, my knowledge of farming is limited. The land would be good for it?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor nodded. Becoming quiet, Glorfindel walked back and forth, looking out over the empty area that Erestor had, and then back to his own area. “This is perfect.”
“Sorry. I did not know at the time that you wanted it.”
“No, I did not mean it sarcastically. Honestly, this is perfect. All we need to do is take down the fence and we have all the land we need.”
Erestor nodded reluctantly. “You want to build on my side.”
“No... well, a little something. My side has been so trampled, but yours would be great for the horses. I would assume you could still plant trees and the horses could graze around them. On my side, we can build the theatre.”
“Who wants to go to a theatre that smells like horse manure?”
Glorfindel contemplated this new bit of information. “You do have a point. It would be difficult to build structures on yours, though. See how damp the grass is near the water? I have a feeling if we started to dig for a foundation, we would hit marsh or clay.” He leaned his arms on the tall fence that surrounded his stables and field. One of the sickly looking foals tripped its way over and made a sad sort of noise that resembled a whinny. “At the rate things are going,” Glorfindel admitted, “I may not need the stables very much longer. I have my doubts on whether this next generation will be able to breed or not.”
Pushing the gate open, Glorfindel walked with heavy steps to the stable and opened a box that was nailed to the wall. “Ecthelion believes it to be something in the water or that the feed crops have been bad, though Penlodh assures him that nothing has changed.” From it he took a lump of sugar to give to the foal. He frowned when he turned to see it had not followed them, and went back outside, Erestor following.
“I have heard them arguing in council,” said Erestor. They found the foal sitting in the grass nearby, looking utterly exhausted. His mother, who was grazing some distance away, seemed not to notice or even care. “Who do you breed your horses with?”
Glorfindel crouched down next to the foal and offered him the sugar. It was sniffed at, but the horse gave a tired whuffle and leaned his head against Glorfindel instead. “I do that myself.”
Erestor grinned. “I can see how you are having such trouble with them, then.”
“Pardon?” Then Glorfindel heard Erestor snicker, and he shot him a dark look. “Funny, Erestor, very funny. You know what I mean! I do not hire someone to come and take care of it, I just... oh, never mind.”
“Oh, no sulking, Glorfindel.” Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “What I meant was, whose horses do you breed yours with? Whose horses sire the ones your mares have, and who do you lend your stallions to?”
“Nobody. Why would I want to give them the advantage? And why would I want to taint the lines I have here? My horses have been pure for centuries. I will not take a chance now at having mottled coats and odd colored tails.”
Looking down at the struggling foal, Erestor said, “You will have no horses at all if you continue like that. Hundreds of years, and you have not interbred? No wonder the horses are all dying.” He began to walk toward the gate.
“Where are you going?” demanded Glorfindel.
“Stay here. I will be right back.”
Glorfindel spent the time next few minutes coaxing the young horse to stand, and after a few failed steps, actually carried him to the mare. “You take care of your baby, Sunshine. No more abandoning him.”
The mare snorted, and stepped away as soon as the foal tried to nurse.
Giving a snort of his own, Glorfindel walked to the front of the creature and dropped down on one knee. “Look at me.” When the horse continued to graze around Glorfindel’s leg, he took hold of her head and forced her to look at him. She clenched her teeth and glared, but did not pull away. “If you are not going to take care of him, then I am sending you off to be made into glue. You want to be made into glue?”
The horse snorted.
“Then take care of your baby.” Glorfindel let go and stood up. He helped the foal to stand again, and this time when the baby started to suckle, the mother stayed put, harrumphing and gnashing her teeth.
A whistle caught Glorfindel’s attention, and he turned to see that Erestor had returned. His friend was riding bareback upon a midnight colored stallion with pure white boots and hooves. Trotting beside him was a dark grey mare, dappled with light grey and brown. “Which ones are your stallions?”
“I only have two. They are still in the stables; they rarely come out anymore.”
Erestor dismounted. “So, if I bring her to them, are they going to be able to handle it?”
“To tell you the truth, I am not sure.”
With a nod, Erestor patted the side of the darker horse. “This is Dragonsong. I doubt you will need to tell him what to do... well, and there he goes...” Erestor and Glorfindel watched as the black stallion sauntered his way down to the end of the pasture where a trio of mares stood.
“Who is this?” asked Glorfindel, nodding at the grey mare Erestor led into the stable.
“This is Aranel’s horse, Cloudancer. Hopefully she will not mind.”
“Who, the mare or your wife?” wondered Glorfindel as they made their way to the stall where two somewhat elderly male horses resided. Each had a thick blanket draped over their back. One looked slightly stronger and was chewing slowly on his feed, while the other stood stock still, staring wistfully out the window that faced outside. Down at the far end of the field, Erestor’s horse was mounting one of Glorfindel’s. The blond became flustered after watching the dark stallion ride the xanthic female for a few moments, and so rushed to close the shutters and block the view.
“Is that Pumpkin?” asked Erestor, somewhat disbelieving. “I did not know he was still around.” Erestor left the mare outside of the stall while he slowly entered and approached the forlorn male.
“Poor thing is losing weight and will not tell me what is wrong.”
Gently, Erestor touched the horse’s side, pressing just a bit as he went. He reached midway before the animal suddenly flicked his ears and pulled to the side. “Some sort of growth, I fear. There is a tumor inside of him, right here... steady, boy,” whispered Erestor when the horse flinched again.
“Is there nothing we can do for him?”
“Other than what you are already doing for him, I do not believe so. He just needs to be kept comfortable.” Erestor rubbed the side of Pumpkin’s face, frowning at the sunken features. “If it was one of mine... well, he is in pain, Glorfindel, and I hate to see him suffer as he starves and wastes away.”
The other male seemed to sense what was being discussed and raised his head from the feed basket. Stepping over, he forced Erestor out of the way and stood between the Elf and the horse. “This one is Birch,” Glorfindel said in reference to the lighter, younger male. “Pumpkin sired Birch, and Birch sired Lemon Drop.”
“Lemon Drop?” Erestor looked around in confusion.
“The little one outside that probably will not make it.”
“Oh.” Erestor nodded. “It seems Cloudancer is getting impatient.” The young mare was pacing at the gate, and nudged it a few times to try to get in. “Is there an empty pen we could take her and Birch to?”
For the better part of the afternoon, the pair waited outside, checking every now and then on the horses in the stable. Each time they checked, Cloudancer would be prancing herself about looking rather discouraged, while Birch ate and Pumpkin watched from across the stable, eyes glued on the newcomer. As they began to watch people heading home after work for supper, Erestor shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose we will have to hope for the best with your mares, because your stallions are of little use.”
“That is that, I guess,” resigned Glorfindel. He opened the gates to lead Birch back to the large stall he shared with his father, but as Birch lazily made his way down the aisle, Cloudancer pushed past and entered the main stall. Pumpkin sprang into action immediately, circling around her. Shoving Birch out of the way, Pumpkin mounted Cloudancer.
“Never underestimate the power of experience,” joked Erestor as he quickly led Birch back over to an empty stall.
