It had been a month since Erestor had put in action the plan to interbreed Glorfindel’s horses with others in the realm. They were fairly satisfied that at least four, including Aranel’s horse, were pregnant. “We will need to watch them closely and make sure they come to full term, which should be a little less than a year from now.” Glorfindel was making notations in a ragged book he had that listed all of the previous breeding at his stables. “Do you think you can bring Dragonsong back again? Cordial Cream is back in her heat again.”
“Of course. We still might want to find another stallion to use, otherwise we will only prolong things another generation or two. We have to be more aggressive about this venture.” Erestor was lounging on the couch and having a glass of wine, while Glorfindel was perched on the arm of the sofa at Erestor’s feet. “We need to acquire more mares, too. It will help make the foals stronger, the more we can mingle the lines.”
“I believe we are going to exhaust our resources sooner than you think. I could try to purchase a few, but horses are more sought after than you can imagine, Erestor.” Glorfindel tapped the feather end of the quill against his cheek as he thought. “I suppose that is all we can try to do, though.”
“Taunos owns a pair of horses.”
“Yes,” confirmed Glorfindel.
“See if we can borrow them. We do not need to purchase more necessarily, if we can borrow mares, and keep the foals. I will ask around and see if there is anyone who is not having successful breedings. Those are the horses we have to try for. We could offer a small fee for just attempting the breeding, and if there is a foal born, then we give them a bonus sum.”
Glorfindel frowned. “What about the ones who keep the foals afterwards? There will be some who will go back on the deal, once they know we can breed their horses.”
“Well, we could set up another course of action, and charge a higher rate for a successful breeding with one of our stallions, working on the same principal. They pay for use of our stallion, and if they end up getting a foal out of it, then they pay us another fee on top of that.”
“Do you think anyone will actually agree to that?” wondered Glorfindel.
Erestor swirled the wine in his glass before drinking from it. “It does not hurt to try.”
A very faint tapping came from the window of the balcony. Erestor put down his goblet and swung his legs back around to stand up before Glorfindel could even wonder what the noise was. He walked briskly to the balcony and opened the glass door. In hopped a thrush, a tiny metal tube attached to its left leg.
“What is that?” asked Glorfindel curiously, standing up now as well.
Erestor had picked up the thrush, which was now sitting in his hand. “Private message.” He walked to a bookshelf and picked up a thin metal rod, which he inserted into the tube. The thrush waited until a tiny little rolled scrap of paper dropped into Erestor’s palm before flying up to perch on top of the bookshelf. “Friend of mine in Doriath.”
“We get regular deliveries from Doriath. Why do you need to use a bird?”
“Because the messages need to be sent in secret, and not via Gildor.”
“Oh.” Glorfindel sat back down in his chair. “Is there anything of interest?”
“Nothing I can discuss... well, I suppose I could but I do not know if you would really understand it.”
“Try me.”
“Alright.” Erestor read through the piece of paper and then said, “Daeron is still in love with Luthien, she still is not in love with him, and Thingol’s hoard grows ever larger. Oropher has continued to side with Thingol in every matter, though he refuses to pledge aid to Thingol in the case that something should happen.”
“Who are these people?” asked Glorfindel.
“No one you know, and no one of great importance to you. Thingol is the king in Doriath I apparently like to curse in song when I am drunk; he fancies himself king of all Beleriand, but it is far too vast for him to control, and he is truly not up to such a task anyhow. His wife is powerful, a maia, and that is most of how he has been as successful as he has been. Luthien is his daughter, and Daeron is a talented minstrel who would make Salgant sound like a court jester. Oropher is the king of Greenwood, and grandfather to Laiqalasse.”
Glorfindel joined Erestor at the desk, where his companion was setting out quill and ink. “So who sends the messages?” he asked, taking a seat beside Erestor on the bench.
“Saeros, a friend of mine in Doriath. However, Saeros is also the chief counselor of King Thingol, and since Thingol would rather I not even exist, my being friends with Saeros is not something he needs to know. Saeros would lose his position, and more than likely worse.” Erestor gave Glorfindel a sideways look. “You do know I was Thingol’s chief counselor before Saeros.”
“How would I know that, Erestor? You rarely tell me anything about yourself. I knew you worked for him, but I did not realize that was the position you held. It does explain how Turgon so readily accepted you when you arrived here, though.” Glorfindel leaned his elbow on the desk so he could rest his cheek against his hand while watching Erestor write. “So, you used to be chief counselor to the elf you hate the most.”
“Yes. Only, at that point in time, I actually had quite a lot of respect for him. It was after Thranduil’s wedding he started to investigate me. I would have left then, had I thought the others would have been safe without me there. Maybe I should have left then. Once he found out who was who, I was really the only one he had issue with being there.” Erestor shook pounce over the ink on his tiny message. He whistled, and the thrush flew over and lifted his leg. After inserting the message into the hollow tube, Erestor took the tiny bird to the window. “Then again, I would not have seen her again. Whether that was a good thing or not, I am not certain.”
“Her?”
“Artan—Galadriel. I keep telling myself I am never going to utter her name again, and it just keeps happening anyhow.” To the thrush, Erestor said, “Safe journey, little friend, and thank you.” He held out his arm, and the thrush flew away.
“I think we should check on the horses again,” said Glorfindel after they watched the thrush disappear into the clouds.
“You go on ahead. I want to see if I can sneak Dragonsong out again.”
Glorfindel nodded, put away his notes, and tucked his spectacles into their case on the table. He doubted he would have any reading to do at the stables, and it was less worry on him that they might fall out of his pocket and be stepped on, or get bent by an excited horse nuzzling him in order to find some treats. As an afterthought, he grabbed a bag of candy from the kitchen, and then headed down to the stables.
-----
“Erestor!” Glorfindel looked around, feeling as if there could be a spy from the House of the Fountain lurking in the trees. “Are you mad?”
“I thought you had established that several years ago.” Erestor was leading not only his horse past the fence of Glorfindel’s property, but had also gained permission to borrow Taunos’ equines as well. The fourth was a tall stallion who looked slightly perplexed as to where he was going, but did not fuss over it. “Ecthelion was not home, so I took that as an invitation to give his horse a little exercise.”
“He is going to kill me. Ecthelion is going to kill me.” Glorfindel shook his head as Erestor grinned and walked past him, letting go of the reins of all four. “He is going to kill you,” he added, poking his finger into Erestor’s chest when he turned to face him, “and then he is going to kill me!”
“Shh, relax. He will never find out.” Erestor patted Glorfindel’s shoulder. “See? Dragonsong is taking care of Saddle Sleeper quite handily, and as soon as High Stepper figures out what to do with Featherflight... ah, there he goes... I will take him back to Ecthelion’s stable.”
“Wha—How—Someone had to have seen you,” Glorfindel protested. “Someone is going to know!”
“No one is going to know anything as long as you stop shouting like that.” Erestor closed the gate and leaned against it, watching and waiting for the horses to finish their couplings.
Glorfindel, on the other hand, turned away, blushing furiously. “Give them a little privacy.”
“How am I to know when they are done?” asked Erestor, but he turned around anyhow. After standing with their backs to the horses for a few minutes, Erestor checking over his shoulder every now and then, he finally said, “I cannot see why you refuse to let me watch.”
“Pervert,” shot Glorfindel as Erestor started to laugh at him.
“Takes one to know one,” answered Erestor in a singsong voice as he walked away to retrieve Ecthelion’s mount.
