“Let me ask Aranel,” suggested Tauniel after she and Glorfindel had finished their breakfast. They were lounging in the sitting room when Aranel returned from visiting with her mother. “Have you seen Erestor today?”
Aranel shook her head, and placed a basket with eggs and bread on the counter. “I do not seem to recall him even coming home last night,” she said with some concern. “I believe he was scheduled to train father’s troops in the morning, and then he has the dress rehearsal for the play in the evening.”
“Your poor husband is going to wear himself out by opening night. I hope he doesn’t fall asleep on stage,” Tauniel added as Aranel joined them. She turned to Glorfindel and said, “Please tell me you have given him leave this week from tending to the horses.”
“I have, but that has not stopped him from it. In fact, I am wondering if that is where he was last night.”
“Last night?” asked Aranel.
“He never came home, as far as I could tell,” Glorfindel explained.
With a roll of her eyes, Aranel said, “Well, I hope he did not go drinking and pass out at the pub. Ada will be furious.”
“Maybe I should go down to the practice fields, make sure he made it there this morning,” decided Glorfindel, his announcement for no one in particular. Aranel took one of the loaves from the basket and wrapped it in a cloth for Glorfindel to take with him, but he shook his head and left after retrieving his sword and his copy of the script.
Many greeted him as he made his way to the foot of the tower, and many more as he navigated through the crowded midday market. When he reached the edge of the training grounds that Rog owned, he was easily able to see Erestor, and to hear him barking commands to the bedraggled warriors-in-training. Rog was nowhere in sight, but Glorfindel still kept his distance, walking the edge of the field instead of through it.
Erestor whistled sharply and the trainees fell in line. Two lieutenants held up a wooden board. Erestor spoke words that Glorfindel was too far away to hear, and then, after repositioning himself, struck the board with a high kick. The crack of the wood as it splintered in two made Glorfindel flinch, and he hoped no one had caught notice of him. Erestor directed his students to pair off as he pointed to a pile of boards nearby.
Not wanting to disrupt whatever Erestor was doing with his soldiers, Glorfindel decided to go directly to the playhouse and see how the preparations were coming along. It made sense for him to protect his investment, and Erestor had to come to the theatre eventually. On his way he checked on things at the stables, and after deeming things satisfactory, took up residence in the balcony of the theatre with Duilin.
“I had expected Salgant to be up here,” he said as he settled into a seat.
Duilin smirked. “Not the day before. He has to go bustling around checking and double checking everything, giving advice that comes far too late to be taken all that seriously. It makes him feel as if he is still in control when, at this point, all control is lost to him and now it is up to the individual performers to band together as a team and make the audience love them. No words of encouragement or threats of firing will do any good anymore.” He turned his head to regard his fellow lord, seated a few chairs over. “When is your boyfriend getting here?”
“My...” Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “Look, Duilin, I have already explained this once. He and I are not in a relationship.”
“And I only sleep with Salgant because he keeps my feet warm.”
“Well, maybe you do,” replied Glorfindel, pretending that he needed to concentrate now on the moving of scenery on the stage below. He leaned forward a little, putting Duilin out of his view until the other elf moved to the seat beside him. A few moments later, Duilin was leaned over the balcony as well, elbows on the railing much in the same position as Glorfindel. The smirk on Duilin’s face was annoying, as were the occasional sideways glances and nudges. Glorfindel shoved Duilin’s shoulder back the third time. “There is nothing going on between Erestor and I.”
“You share a room, and you follow each other around like lost puppies. Even Salgant and I do not spend as much time together as the two of you do.”
“Erestor is not interested in me whatsoever,” said Glorfindel.
Duilin rested his chin onto his hands and looked down at the rows and rows of seats on the floor level. “But in the reverse, it seems you have certainly taken an interest in him. Salgant thinks it was all some elaborate plan that Erestor constructed to hide the fact that Aranel and Tauniel have been bound for years, and that Rog has been paying Erestor to keep things quiet.”
Torn between trying to keep the secret of the marriages and disputing Erestor’s motive, Glorfindel finally decided on the latter. “I doubt very much that Erestor is being paid.”
“Ah.” Duilin settled back in his seat. Shortly thereafter, so did Glorfindel, looking weary as he rubbed his forehead. “There is no need for you to worry. Have you ever played with dominoes, my friend?”
“Sure, the game with the tiles, where you match the numbers up.”
“No. Have you ever set them up on end in a row and then pushed them over?”
“Oh, that. Sure. They all knock into each other.”
Duilin nodded. “Exactly. We all need to stick together, or else if one of us goes down, so will the rest. That is why, much as Salgant and I dislike Gildor, we leave him be. As annoying as Enerdhil has become, we leave him be. Despite the fact we can see into your bedroom window – well, used to, nice curtains you put up, by the way – neither of us would ever mention it to the king.” He scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. “I am still confused about Erestor, though.” He began to tick of the items on his fingers as he went through them. “There is no monetary gain. There is no additional power he is getting. He decreased his land by giving what he had to you, so there was no gain there. He is allegedly interested in ellyth, and yet is condemning himself to sleeping in a bed with you. Why?”
Glorfindel answered with silence.
“You keep saying there is nothing between the two of you, and, I believe that. Like I said before, we can – could – see your room from ours,” Duilin reminded Glorfindel. “It is the worst show in the city. However, the question is still there. What is Erestor getting out of this?”
“Maybe he is just doing it to be nice,” suggested Glorfindel. “Is it so unheard of for someone to perform a random act of kindness?”
“A random act of kindness would be offering to look after someone’s elflings so that they can have a day of peace with their beloved, or fixing someone a meal after a hard day’s work and giving them a backrub. An elaborate plan that includes a fake marriage seems a little in the extreme.”
“Obviously you have some theory you would care to opine,” Glorfindel said, rubbing his closed eyelids and feeling very drained.
Duilin leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Maybe he saw this as an opportunity to get close to you in a way he could not admit he wanted to. Perhaps he has the same sort of feelings you have for him, but is too afraid to consider the possibility.”
Below, Salgant’s barking of orders brought the focus for both of them back to the stage. The plump Elven-lord was scolding a dancer who had forgotten her slippers, while the set builders struggled to repair a bit of scenery that had fallen over and cracked earlier in the day. “Where is my star cast?” rumbled Salgant, and one of the leading ladies peeked out from behind the curtain. She said something inaudible to the pair in the balcony, and Salgant threw his hands into the air before shooing her away. “Ten minute delay,” he announced to the rest of the company. “Our leading ellon just arrived and needs to get in costume.”
Glorfindel sighed in relief to know that Erestor had not been kept too late at the training fields. Duilin did not miss the reaction, and smiled knowingly. “You really must love him or something.” Glorfindel avoided answering by continuing to concentrate on the stage. “He might come around someday, you know.”
“Erestor? I doubt that,” replied Glorfindel, though he had to admit to himself that there was always the tiniest glimmer of hope. “I mean, you either are or you are not. He was probably stealing kisses from ellyth when he was a little boy, and when I was an elfling, had we been the same age and living in the same place, I likely would have tried to steal a kiss from him.”
Until the curtain was drawn in preparation for the rehearsal, Duilin watched the rushing about of the cast and crew. As they waited for the swell of the music and the opening of the curtain once again, Duilin said, “He could still change.”
“Doubtful.”
“I did.” Duilin settled into his seat and waited until he had Glorfindel’s full attention. “Salgant and I became friends because our parents thought it would be ideal for him to marry my sister. For a while, everyone seemed to like the idea. He courted her, she sighed and swooned over him, and I played chaperone to their outings as any respectable, concerned older brother should.”
“So, what happened? You and Salgant fell in love, obviously.”
“You are incorrect, sir. It was my sister who fell in love, but not with Salgant. She had become infatuated with the local blacksmith. On the night that Salgant proposed, she rejected him and admitted who her true love was. My parents were delighted, for blacksmiths are respectable and always in demand, and hardly gave the elf who had nearly joined our family, whom they had to that point treated as their own son, a second thought.”
The orchestra began to play, and the lights dimmed as the ushers hurried to put out most of the candles along the aisles. Glorfindel nodded to Duilin to continue, and he did so in hushed tones. “I sought him out, and found him distressed. We walked around Nevrast and talked for a while, ending up on the back stoop of some abandoned house. He asked me to answer a question honestly, and then he asked me if I had ever thought that maybe, if someone had no want of children or of a wife, if I felt it was wrong for two males to love one another and live together. Of course, I have always considered myself fairly liberal in my judgments, so I answered that if there were in fact two males who were interested in such a thing, that I saw no harm in it.”
“Then he asked if I had aspirations to have a wife of my own, and a family, and I told him honestly that I had not really considered it, but that I probably should if I was to carry on the family line. He prodded me further – if I was just a peasant, without an impressive heritage and a duty to my family, would I still marry and raise children. And, honestly? I have a severe disdain of children. I am not sure I even liked myself as a child. So I told him this, and his mood brightened slightly.” Duilin lowered his voice further as the curtain rose up. “Then he asked me, was it something I would ever consider, if there was an ellon who thought I was attractive, if I would ever consider it. I shrugged and said, I supposed I would consider it.”
“And then?” asked Glorfindel. It seemed rude to talk through the opening scene, but he had seen it so many times that he could recite all of the parts from memory.
“And then he kissed me.”
“Ahh.”
“And then I ran away.”
“Ohh.”
Duilin ruefully smiled. “I think it was all too much for a single day. My sister’s announcement, her rejection of someone who had become such a good friend, and then the transition, that instead of Salgant being like my brother, that he wanted to be my lover. It took me a few weeks to come around to talking to him again, and then it was just a greeting here and there when we passed in the market or on the street. I think it was, maybe four years later, perhaps five... it was after his father died, I remember that much. It was actually at a play, oddly enough. We chanced to be seated next to one another, and with a sold out theatre, there was no opportunity for either of us to switch seats. It was during the curtain call, when everything was so loud from applause and cheers that I could hardly hear him, that he whispered an apology to me. It was so... heartbreaking and so sincere. I invited him back to my house to have a drink with me, and he accepted.
“I hardly recall how it happened, but as soon as we were inside, we were practically all over each other. He had gained a little weight by then, and became embarrassed by it when we disrobed. He had been eating his way through his depression. I remember telling him it had nothing to do with the physical, it was all about the spirit and the mind, and it was then that finally I understood as well. There should never be set boundaries to love.”
“The trouble I have with Erestor is that he already believes all of that, but he really wants a family. He would make a good father, too, and I would feel terrible trying to dissuade him from that,” Glorfindel admitted.
Duilin nodded. “Fair enough. Still, I think you stand a better chance with him than you are leading yourself to believe.”
---
After the final rehearsal, Glorfindel rushed down from the balcony to make it backstage. His plan was to walk back with Erestor, but he not only did not find his friend with the rest of the cast, it was evident from the state of his dressing room that he had left in haste. Glorfindel jogged outside, but no matter which direction he looked in, there was no sign of Erestor anywhere.
Arriving home, it was the same story as the night before. Erestor had not returned, and when Glorfindel turned in for the night, he was alone for only the second time since moving into the apartment with Erestor and the ladies.
When Glorfindel woke the next day, it was to the sound of splashing water and light humming. He hastily pulled on a robe and entered the washroom to find Erestor taking a bath. “Where have you been?” questioned Glorfindel as he pulled the stool over to the tub. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he waited for Erestor to answer.
“Is there a reason you entered without knocking?” asked Erestor back. He was sitting in the tub lathering his hair and looking quite harried.
“Because I have been worried about you,” answered Glorfindel as a knock came upon the main door.
“I appreciate it. Hand me that pitcher, will you?” Erestor motioned toward a pitcher of warm water sitting on the counter.
“Answer my question, and maybe I will.” The knock on the front door became more insistent, and Glorfindel wondered why neither Aranel or Tauniel was answering it.
Erestor leaned out of the tub managed to reach the pitcher on his own. “You had better get the door,” he said as someone switched to banging on the door instead of the polite knocking.
Glorfindel scowled and left the washroom, tying the belt of the robe so that it would not accidentally fall open. He yanked the door open, and one of the stable hands practically fell into the room. “Sir, you need to come at once! There was a pack of wolves and they managed to get into the stables before we chased them off. It was a nightmare!”
At once, Glorfindel held up his hand to silence the distressed lad, and then took quick, long strides into the bedroom to change into leggings and boots. He tied back his hair on his way out, motioning for the stable hand to come with him. When he reached the bottom of the tower, he entered the royal stables. Mounting Dragonsong without a saddle, Glorfindel pulled the stable hand up onto the horse with him, and then set off, racing across the city, hoping he was not too late.
The fastest path was through the greater market, and Glorfindel took the chance, shouting for people to clear the path. He almost knocked an elleth into a well, and had to leap clear over a baker who was concentrating more on the over-laden tray of bread he was carrying than with the horse that was galloping in his direction.
There was a crowd at the fence of the stables when Glorfindel arrived, and he could see Sunshine near the gate in obvious distress. Even with the crowd blocking a fair amount of the view, he could tell that something was terribly wrong. He leaped off of Dragonsong and approached, shoving the masses out of his way without much heed to who he might be offending.
“The wolves came right into the stables and scattered the horses in the pasture. They must be hungry to try that. We killed two of them, but I think the pack leader got away. Some of them leaped into the stall with Sunshine and the foals, so we opened the gate in hopes they would get out. Sunshine kicked at them while the babies made it out and we got them far off. By then, some of the wolves were turning on us – it was a mess. Sunshine bolted when she had the chance, but she ran blindly and tried to leap the main fence. By then, the wolves were rounding back into the forest.”
Glorfindel cursed the fact he had never built a real fence on the side that bordered the woods. There was a knee-high stone wall, but nothing significant enough to keep out wolves or tigers. Neither had ever been a problem; the tigers tended to stay up in the mountains, and the wolves were never bold enough to come into the actual city.
Sunshine continued to struggle, but she weakened more as she did so. The foals, her own and the orphaned one she had taken to, were being restrained some distance away. Glorfindel motioned for them to be let go as he came close to Sunshine, the crowd parting for him.
The mare had attempted to leap the high fence, and whether she failed due to fear or something else, she had only made it halfway. Three of the ornate pickets had spiked through her, and she was caught on the fence. Every twist and turn only dug further into her, and Glorfindel reached out to touch her head and try to calm her. He looked down, the blood dripped down the fence and pooling beneath her. The horse wearily rested her neck over his shoulder and gave a tired huff. “You did good, sweetheart. You saved the little ones,” he said, disregarding the fact he was now crying openly in front of a hundred or more curious onlookers. “See? Both of them are right there. I promise we will take care of them for you, sweetheart. You did everything you could, but you deserve a rest now,” he said, stroking her mane. She wuffled against him as he sniffled and asked for the oldest of the stable hands to bring him a long knife.
“I was wrong about you, Sunshine,” he said as he waited and painstakingly tried to ease her pain the best he could. “You are a great mother.” As she gave a weak whinny in agreement, Glorfindel felt the knife being placed in his free hand. He stepped back slightly and kissed the mare on the forehead, and then did what he had to.
