Beyond Canon
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“Buttercup, Sunflower, Daffodil, and Daisy. Sunflower is the only boy of the bunch,” said Glorfindel as he gave each of the horses a rub or a pat as he walked down the line of stalls that displayed the crest of the Golden Flower on the wall overhead. “None of them are saddle-trained, and that was why I hesitated using them. There is a greater desire to ride with a saddle rather than without.”

“Well, if you ride without a saddle, I can probably learn that way.” Erestor’s voice was a little unsure as Glorfindel opened the gate and asked- not told as many of the other elves in the stable said to their horses- if Daffodil would be so kind as to come out for a ride.

As the horse emerged, Glorfindel led the way out of the stable. “No bit, no bridle, no restraints of any kind. I will use a blanket on their backs to show the house colors and to keep my armor from hurting them if I am wearing it, but I do not believe in such a thing if I can help it. They are kind enough to carry me, and I even dislike the harnesses I must use if they are pulling a wagon.” Glorfindel fished a handful of large chunks of carrot from a pouch he was carrying and handed the rest of the pouch to Erestor.

“How is my girl today?” Glorfindel asked, and he received a whinny back. He fed her the chunks one at a time as he told her of his plans. “There is a clearing near the water’s edge I think we should go to. I promised Lord Erestor I would teach him to ride horses. Poor Buttercup had a workout yesterday, and Daisy needs to stay with her baby. And we both know about Sunflower.” Both he and the horse laughed at some private joke, and Erestor smiled as he followed, listening to the two of them, horse and rider, carry on a conversation. Along the way they passed various others who bid them good-day, and Glorfindel took the time to give each of them his regards.

“It seems everyone here simply adores you,” remarked Erestor as the trio began their journey through the woods.

Glorfindel gave the last of the carrot pieces to Daffodil. “It takes very little effort to be nice; it takes much more to be an angry little spiter.”

Furrowing his brow, Erestor asked, “So, why do you so dislike Salgant?”

“He deserves it. He picks on people. I do not trust him. He called me a bastard once because I have claimed not to know my father, however, just because my father will not acknowledge me does not mean I do not have one.” Glorfindel paused, both in speech and in step. “Please do not allow this conversation to be repeated elsewhere, that is not something I meant to say.”

“I will tell no one. I was asking on my behalf; not so that I could start rumors across the city.” Smiling wryly, Erestor added, “Some who have known me a long while know for a fact that I truly am a bastard, so if ever discussion arises on the topic, I am a much easier target for such things.” Glorfindel seemed shaken by this and Erestor continued. “That is not the response you expected.”

“I suppose I just assumed you had a wonderfully loving mother and a brilliant and important father and were brought up in a fine household on a gorgeous estate somewhere.” Glorfindel shrugged. “Completely wrong?”

“Could not be further from the truth. I was born in a river, I was raised in a tent, neither of my ‘parents’ did a lick of hard work from what I could tell- though it took a good swift kick for me to put two and two together and realize my father was not my father. The last place I lived was a cave in Doriath, where I was jailed twice, on trial once, and practically run out of the city.”

“Damn.” Glorfindel took a deep breath and then shook his head. “I guess you win.”

Erestor placed his hand upon Glorfindel’s shoulder, and the blond felt his heart race at the simple contact. “I may have great troubles of my own, but I can tell your life has not been an easy one, either.”

“I- I cannot-“

“There is no need for you to tell me. Just know I will listen if you need someone to lend an ear.” Erestor gave Glorfindel’s shoulder a squeeze. “And I am here even if you do not wish to speak. Sometimes it is simply nice to have a kindred spirit close by.”

---

"This is ridiculous.” Glorfindel threw down the brush in frustration, splattering ink across his paper and the table he sat at. “Almost all of these look the same – how can anyone remember what anything is? It looks like scribbles!”

Calmly, Erestor removed the ruined page and positioned a fresh sheet. “Let us start with ‘noldo’ again.”

“I meant to ask you about that,” Glorfindel said, picking up the brush. “Why is there a letter called ‘noldo’ and not one called ‘vanya’ or ‘teleri’ or anything of the sort?”

“Because it was a Noldo who created this,” answered Erestor simply.

“Well, that was bloody arrogant,” complained Glorfindel. He began to practice the letter, placing two rows of ‘noldo’ across the page before he let out a snort of frustration. “Whoever designed this should not have made nwalme and noldo and numen and malta the same-“

“They are not the same,” interrupted Erestor quietly.

“-and hyarmen and yanta are the same bloody thing. Look, hyarmen,” and Glorfindel hastily dipped his brush in the ink, trailing speckles onto the page from the bowl. “And, yanta.” He drew the other letter beside the first, and then haphazardly tossed the brush aside, leaving it to roll toward Erestor.

The elder picked up the brush. After dipping it into the ink, he smoothly painted the two letters onto the page. “Hyarmen has a long stroke here along the right side, and yanta has a short stroke, like... that...” Erestor offered the brush back to Glorfindel. “Try it again.”

“I hate this,” he grumbled, but took the brush anyhow. His hand had not the practice that Erestor had in writing, and so shook as he dragged the brush across the paper. “There,” he said when he had finally finished.

“Very good,” complimented Erestor. “Perhaps we should stop for the evening?” The midnight bell had tolled from the watchtower some time ago, and more than once the scribe had needed to stifle a yawn.

Glorfindel nodded. “Can you- would you- oh, nevermind,” he said, but Erestor put a hand upon his shoulder.

“What is it?”

Squirming a bit in his seat, the warrior replied, “I was wondering, if you would mind showing me, well, not how to write my whole name, but... I can never sign anything. I always get one of my scribes to do that, I have always told them I have not the time for it. I would like for it to be my mark on the pages.” Glorfindel smiled wryly. “Stupid, is it not?”

“No, not stupid at all, my friend.” Erestor turned the paper to give them more free space to paint on. “This is anga, the first letter of your name.”

“Oh, it would be one of those complicated curly ones,” mumbled Glorfindel as he took the brush. He concentrated for the next few minutes, making one anga after another, over and over and over, until they began to look more and more like the one Erestor had placed on the page. “This should be enough, then, right?”

“For now. We shall continue to practice. Wait until you know all of the letters.” Erestor dipped the brush into the bowl and then proceeded to write the rest of the letters in Glorfindel’s name. “Or, you can join them together like this,” he said, and rewrote them, flowing one letter into the next.

“That is nice,” remarked Glorfindel, looking at the connecting characters. “What does yours look like?”

“Mine? Oh, well, just like this.” Erestor made fewer curves and lines on the paper, and shrugged.

“Beautiful,” murmured Glorfindel, touching the part of Erestor’s name that had dried.

Erestor gave him a little smile. “Well, if you want to write like this, we must start at the beginning and work our way to that point.”

With a sigh, Glorfindel plucked the brush from Erestor’s fingers and tried to copy the letters of his name. “Aiya, this is so hard!”

“Practice, Glorfindel,” Erestor said, patting him on the back. “Practice, and more practice, and a whole lot of patience.”
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