Summer sweltered on, and autumn arrived without much relief from the heat. The harvest was poor, with many crops being ruined in from the brutal sun. On a day when snow should have been falling, little more than a stagnant breeze was forecasted. Gondolin was in need of entertainment to take such worries from the minds of the people more now than ever.
At Salgan’t playhouse, the company was hurrying to provide some of the much needed distraction. The first rehearsal for ‘Tears of Sirion’ was rushed through, on account of Erestor having other business to attend to. After a few minor changes were made with him present, he quickly gathered up his fiddle and jogged backstage to put things away.
By the time he had come out the exit of the theatre, dressed in his red and black uniform for the House of the Hammer, Glorfindel was waiting for him. “I thought maybe I would walk back with you,” he offered.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I have to run to make it on time. I need to go now.” He gave Glorfindel a reassuring pat on the arm and sprinted off.
Glorfindel gave chase, catching up and matching speed. “Oh, I thought I would come along with you. Maybe help you out again, only this time, maybe I will not end up on my ass. I am back in practice, now that I have use of Galdor’s arena.”
“This is one I need to attend to myself,” answered Erestor with a small smile. He slowed a little due to the heat, for there was already sweat seeping through the front of his uniform. “You should stay back at the theatre and protect our interests. Make sure that Salgant does not change his mind and turn the production into a harper concert.”
“I would rather come with you.”
“No. You cannot.” Erestor stopped, and Glorfindel jogged a few steps ahead before he doubled back around. “Glorfindel, I am sorry, but this is a private training session.”
“Oh.” Glorfindel dug his hands into his pockets. “If you are teaching it out in the open, though, how can it be private?”
“It... I just think it is best for you not to come along,” explained Erestor.
“Is this the torture class Rog asked you to teach?” questioned Glorfindel. “Because... I did not want to say anything at the time, but I feel really uncomfortable with you doing that.”
Erestor laughed. “Glorfindel, do not worry. I will be fine. I am an expert in... are we still going to Ecthelion’s house for dinner?” he asked, changing the subject when he saw the worried expression on Glorfindel’s face.
“Yes.”
“I will see you there, then,” promised Erestor as he sped down the path. “Go back to the playhouse and distract my understudy!” he shouted just before rounding a grove of trees. “Make sure he does not do better than I did the first run-through!”
---
Later that evening, hours after the second rehearsal had wrapped up and Glorfindel had arrived at Ecthelion’s, the two lords were still sitting on Ecthelion’s balcony, awaiting their comrade’s arrival. Although a sudden burst of rain was cooling the air, both had unbuttoned their vests and loosened their collars some time ago. They now listened to the patter of droplets on parched ground and of the soil thirstily absorbing the rain. “Are you sure he was going to meet you here?”
“That was what he told me this morning. He had some... things to teach Rog’s recruits, and then he was going to come over here.” Glorfindel shrugged. “Perhaps he needed to take a shower and get a change of clothing?”
“Or, he forgot. He forgets things sometimes, Glorfindel.” Ecthelion set down his empty goblet and considered opening the bottle of wine that was set aside for their dinner. “He is fairly old, Glorfindel. You need to keep that in mind. He promises to do things, and forgets. He says things, and forgets he said them. When he gets drunk, which is not very difficult I have noticed, he is completely unaware of his actions.”
“Tell me about it,” muttered Glorfindel as the butler came onto the porch to announce Erestor’s arrival. Glorfindel waved his hand toward the interior of the house after the butler left, as if signaling that he knew all along that Erestor would eventually arrive.
Ecthelion picked up his goblet and sighed. “I wonder what his excuse is going to be.”
“I am certain it is valid,” replied Glorfindel as they came back inside to find the dining room empty. “He must yet be at the door.” The pair walked through the dining room, and down the stairs into the vast foyer that held a fountain cut of crystal that sprayed water up three stories. The droplets fell back down like diamonds as they passed by. When they reached the hallway, they found Erestor sitting on a bench, removing his mud caked boots as carefully as he could.
“Should I even ask?” pondered Ecthelion as he watched in amusement as Erestor struggled and failed miserably. There was a trail of mud leading into the house that a pair of maids were trying hard to clean up, as well as the specks of mud that were getting on the marble floor and carved stone statues every time Erestor pulled on his boot.
The look on Erestor’s face was grim. “It is raining outside,” he announced rather tersely.
“I know. We were watching it from the balcony.” Ecthelion snapped his fingers at the maids, and they scurried over to aid Erestor with his task. “Do not tell me the path to the house is flooded.”
“No. I came from the stables.” Erestor looked at Glorfindel, and holding his gaze, said, “We lost Canary Blue. The foal may not make it, either. Something went wrong and she went into labor early; the stable hand managed to find me first because I was out on the training field. I did what I could.”
Glorfindel hung his head and nodded. “Damn. Pumpkin, and now this.”
“You lost Pumpkin?” Ecthelion touched Glorfindel’s shoulder sympathetically when the younger elf nodded. “I am sorry. I know how much you loved that horse.”
“He was old. It was time,” was all Glorfindel said in answer, not mentioning it had been mere days earlier. He pinched the bridge of his nose to regain his composure before looking up again. “Dinner is getting cold. We should eat.”
“I would understand if you wanted to go to the stables to see to things, Glorfindel,” said Ecthelion.
“The stable hands are probably doing exactly what I would be doing.” Glorfindel glanced at Erestor for confirmation, and Erestor nodded. “I think I could use another glass of wine, though.”
Conversation at dinner centered around the opening of the play two nights later, and to how things were progressing with the stables, barracks, and arena that Glorfindel was building. “The weather has allowed us to progress much faster and further than we had hoped. I expect within a month to have all of the officers moved in, and the rest of the soldiers by the beginning of the year. After that I will begin actively recruiting from the valley.”
“Good luck with that. I understand that Fingon is pleased to know that someone here is taking care to train the less fortunate members of our society.”
“I guess I feel a kinship to them,” replied Glorfindel thoughtfully. “When I came here, like most of them, I had nothing. I was lucky enough that you took me in, fed me, clothed me, trained me, and kept me out of trouble. The only reason I achieved what I have is because of my friends, yourself and Erestor, and the others who have come to my aid in hard times, Galdor and Idril, and now, Salgant and Duilin. I think I owe it to others to give back some of that good fortune in whatever way I can.”
The meal was hurried through, on account of Erestor’s tardiness and the long day that was ahead of all three of them the following morning. The rain had stopped, with puddles and a cool breeze being the welcomed aftereffects. Glorfindel insisted upon stopping at the stables while Erestor headed straight for the tower. Smoke was rising up from the small crematorium at the far end of Glorfindel’s land, and he knew Canary Blue’s body had already been taken there. It was probably for the best, he decided, as he entered the stables. Grieving over her corpse so soon after dealing with Pumpkin’s death wasn’t going to do him any good. Instead, he went to her old stall to find it empty. Signs of birth and death were evident, and with a sigh he sat down on a crate next to the gate of the pen.
One of the stable hands passed by a few minutes later, carrying a bucket of water. “If you came looking for the foal, m’lord, we moved her.”
Glorfindel looked up. “Is she still alive?”
The boy nodded. “Barely, sir. We took her in with Sunshine, since she’s the only one nursing right now.”
“And Sunshine is letting her nurse? This I have to see,” replied Glorfindel as he stood. Recalling the incident much earlier in the year when Sunshine had almost run off her own foal, he was surprised when he approached her stall. There he found a very healthy little Lemondrop, now nearly a yearling, prancing about the stall in excitement over having this new adopted sibling, while Sunshine kept the tiny foal on her feet with gentle nudges as the newborn suckled between shivers. “It seems a little drafty here. Can we get those main doors closed or else move them to another stall?”
“We are planning to move them in the morning, m’lord, but Sunshine does not let us get near the little one. I think she knows how vital it is to feed her right now.”
With a nod, Glorfindel entered the stall, knowing that none of his horses would dare resist him entering. It looked as if he was going to be chased away as well, but Sunshine suddenly recognized her master and lowered her head. “Changed your mind about being a good nana, I see,” he said as he approached. She snorted. He spent some time in the stall calming Lemondrop and tending to Sunshine and the foal. Before leaving he gave instructions to the stable hands that he should be informed of any other incidents immediately and where he could be found.
By the time Glorfindel finally made it home, the first rays of the morning light were visible on the far-off horizon. He crawled into bed and fell asleep almost right away; it was only after he woke up that he realized that Erestor had not been there when he had come to bed. Assuming that Erestor had simply left very early, it was only after speaking to Tauniel at breakfast that he discovered that Erestor had not made it home the previous night.
