“Where are we going?” wondered Glorfindel. “The forest is that way.”
“I know. I thought we should see what Ecthelion was up to; see if he wanted to come along.”
Glorfindel took a few fast steps, coming in front of Erestor to block him. “Why would we want to do that?”
“Because... Ecthelion could use a little time off, too? Besides, I thought you two were close,” said Erestor, adjusting the pack on his back up higher.
“Well, I guess. I suppose. Sure, why not,” Glorfindel finally conceded. They continued on the path that led to the joint courtyard of the House of the Fountain and the House of the Tree. As they passed the fountain that some years ago had been their thinking place, a group of elflings with paper kites trailing after them only a few feet from the ground came running out from the archway, giddy and giggling and barely missing the pair as they chased one another by. The pleasantly cool breeze whispered through the trees as they continued along the walkway.
Streamers adorned the lower branches and bunches of flowers were skillfully arranged at the centers of tables that were placed in small groups. Erestor slowed his step as they passed more and more people, talking and mingling, carrying exotic drinks with colorful birds made of various fruits perched on the rim of their glasses. At the far end, multiple tables displaying platters of appetizers that looked almost too dainty to eat were set up to either side of a group of musicians. “It looks as if Ecthelion might be busy,” guessed Glorfindel as Laiqalasse approached them.
“I was wondering why the two of you were not here earlier!” Laiqalasse stepped between Glorfindel and Erestor and put an arm around each. “Come, let us get you something to drink.” He looked down and laughed. “Fairly drab outfits for a party.”
Erestor stopped and gently shrugged off Laiqalasse’s arm. “I do not think we were invited, Laiqalasse. We came to see if Ecthelion was free this afternoon, but obviously, he is not.”
“Oh... no, he... oh.” Laiqalasse folded his hands behind his back. “I am sure you were both invited. That would be odd...”
“What is the party for?” asked Glorfindel.
“Nothing in particular. Egalmoth suggested it at the last council session, and Ecthelion offered for himself and Galdor to host it. Perhaps the invitation was misplaced, but I am sure you were supposed to get one. All of the lords and their families were invited.”
It certainly seemed that Laiqalasse was telling the truth, for among those in attendance Erestor spotted Salgant, Duilin, and his own in-laws, while Glorfindel noted Enerdhil, Maeglin, and the king himself.
“Come on. There is Ecthelion; he will tell you. It was just a misunderstanding,” explained Laiqalasse as he tugged on Erestor’s sleeve. When the dark elf did not budge, he turned to Glorfindel. “I promise you, this is just a simple mistake. He may have even thought he was going to tell you in person and never got around to it.”
“It is fine, Laiqalasse, you need not make excuses. I understand.” Erestor turned to go. Glorfindel, after taking a final look around, followed suit.
“Wait, both of you.” Laiqalasse fell in step with them. “You should really stay. It is going to be a very enjoyable evening. Salgant is playing later, and there are competitive feats of strength—why not go home, change into something more festive, bring your wives, and stay the evening? Let me get Ecthelion – he can clear it all up for you.”
“Thank you, but we have plans,” answered Erestor curtly, and knowing he was defeated, Laiqalasse stopped with a sigh and returned to the party.
“Maybe it was just an oversight,” said Glorfindel once he and Erestor had gone beyond the civilized part of Gondolin, into the dense forest. It seemed almost as if an ent had herded the trees together in this small area to keep them from being chopped down in anticipation of Gondolin being built. Most of the city was made of stone, for only dying trees were taken for paper or timber. They trudged through the leaves that were just beginning to change color and fall; the forest was in its transition, for some trees were yet green and others sun-kissed, and some remained uncertain and showing signs of both.
“That is possible,” allowed Erestor. “It still gets to me. I know I should not let it, but it does. I still feel like the lowly, indigent farmer who everyone assumed was so backward he lacked basic etiquette, but was invited out of pity. I expect pity from no one.”
“I doubt it was that,” said Glorfindel gently. “Ecthelion may truly have forgotten.”
Erestor snorted, and Glorfindel sighed. They walked along quietly, but Erestor’s memories began to nag at him as he recalled a time long ago...
“Uncle Eresse? Where are you going?”
Erestor turned around and scratched his head. “I reckon I have no idea.”
His mannerisms made the group sprawled about at the top of the landing laugh, and Russandol motioned over the slightly confused elf. “That corridor will take you to the suite the bride and groom are using,” he was informed. “Unless that was your intention, uncle?”
“Might have been,” answered Erestor casually. The group was laughing again, none more than Feanaro himself, who nudged two of his younger offspring off of the ornate settee in order to make room for Erestor, who sat down. “For a couple of newlyweds, it sure does not sound as if Turukano and Elenwe are.”
There was an awkward silence about, which was when Erestor noticed Findekano cuddled beside Russandol. In an attempt to cover it, Makalaure played his harp a little louder. Erestor considered an appropriate apology, when Carnistir spoke up. “You know why they had to wed, right, Uncle Eresse?”
Erestor shrugged and tried not to look at Findekano, who was obviously not very comfortable with the current conversation. “I am going to assume it had something to do with love.”
“If that was the only reason, they would have been engaged for a year or more,” Tyelkormo said with a smirk. “I suppose it would have been in bad form for them to have to interrupt the ceremony in order for Elenwe to nurse the baby. So, Fin, are you ready to be an uncle in, what is it, six months? Five? It explains why things are so quiet, though,” continued the fairest of Feanaro’s sons. “He is probably getting what sleep he can while she stuffs herself with the rest of the desserts from the reception.”
Findekano glared silently at Tyelkormo before wrenching himself out of Russandol’s arms. He left hastily, taking the stairs down to one of the lower levels of Finwe’s expansive house.
Again, Makalaure strummed the strings harder. Feanaro drank from a glass tumbler that had been rested on his knee. “Go apologize to your cousin, Turka.”
“What? Why? Is it my fault his brother cannot keep his pants up?” demanded Tyelkormo.
Feanaro shook his head. “No, but there was no reason to say what you did, and despite not being fond of most of my relatives, I actually like Fin. I am actually surprised that your brother has not punched you for that remark.”
“Oh, do not worry, I will,” vowed Russandol as he finished gathering up some books that had been strewn on the floor. He tucked the pile under his arm and excused himself before following the path that Findekano had taken.
With a very serious look at Tyelkormo, Feanaro pointed to the stairs. “Go apologize. It is not a suggestion.”
“Fine.” Tyelkormo stood up, tapping Curufinwe on the head as he went. “Come with me, penneth,” he said, and Curufinwe immediately stood. “How come you always protect Fin even though you hate Uncle Nolo?”
“Because Fin, unlike the rest of my bastard relations, knows his place – beneath us,” replied Feanaro. Carnistir snickered; the other brothers smirked, except for Makalaure, who kept his head down and continued to play. “Go; you are just wasting time now.”
Tyelkormo and Curufinwe headed down the stairs, and Erestor stretched out his legs now that there was a little more room in the alcove. “So why are all of you hiding up here, instead of down in the hall with everyone else?”
Feanaro turned a look of amusement upon his long time friend. “Because my family is down there, the ones I am stuck with and not by my own choice. You have met my family, right? Couple of annoying bastard half-brothers, and the stupidest sisters anyone could be stuck with... why would I want to force myself to stay there any longer than I had to?”
Carnistir laughed again. “Of course he knows your family, Ata. You are still sharing a bed with our cousin, are you not, Uncle Eresse?”
“Is that really a topic for polite conversation?” asked Erestor, but his look of bemusement showed he was not at all angry. “Artanis and I are still cohabitating, if that is what you mean.”
“Cohabitating! My goodness; a polysyllabic word!” teased Feanaro. He was given a playful shove by Erestor as he chuckled to himself.
“Uncle Eresse, why are you and Cousin Artanis not married?” questioned Ambarussa.
“It is... complicated,” answered Erestor.
“Obviously. It is Artanis; of COURSE it is complicated,” said Carnistir. “Artanis is not worth your time or talent, Uncle Eresse. If you really want to marry into this family, then you should get rid of Artanis and go for Irisse instead.”
“Sure, if you want Tyelkormo to slit your throat.” For the first time since Erestor’s arrival, it was Makalaure who spoke. “He has his eyes set upon her, and I would not dare another to even think such a thing.”
“Sound advice from my serious child. Humor your father and play something happier,” insisted Feanaro. Makalaure repositioned his hands and began another song. “Maybe Turukano has the answer to your problem, Eresse.”
Erestor made himself a little more comfortable, slouching against the back of the settee. “And what would that be?”
“Get Artanis pregnant. If you think Nolo was quick in getting Turukano and Elenwe wed, Ara will be five times as fast in making sure the two of you are married.”
At this, Erestor could not help but laugh. “You think that would solve my problem? It would only create others, not the least of which would be acquiring the scorn of the entire family.”
“Scorn? Nay, I will be the first to congratulate you!” Feanaro sat up as his ears twitched. “Sounds as if we have been found out,” he said to his sons.
Moments later, Finwe appeared to them on the steps, and came around to address the group, with Indis behind him, keeping a careful distance from her husband’s progeny from his first wife. “I was wondering where you were keeping yourselves hidden. Are Russandol and Findekano here as well?”
“No, Atar, they left a little while ago. Tyelkormo and Curufinwe went to find them.”
“Hmm.” Finwe’s eyes flitted briefly to Erestor, then back to his eldest son. “I bid good evening to those two in the hall. They appeared just as I was about to retire. I suppose I shall have to forego bidding them a good night. I shall offer all of you my wishes for a fine evening, or, is it morning already?” He looked at Erestor again. “You are not one of mine, are you?”
“No, sir,” answered Erestor, standing up and offering out his arm in greeting. “Eresse Tataion. I, uhm, was invited,” he began as Finwe simply stood and regarded him warily.
Indis dared to step closer, and curled her fingers around Finwe’s biceps, her cheek resting against his left shoulder. “Artanis’ beloved, darling. You met him a few summers ago when we were at Arafinwe’s garden party.”
“Ah, yes. The farmer.” Finwe turned his head to look down at the four grandchildren on the floor. “Does your grandfather get a proper hug before he retires for the evening?”
The twins were up from the floor immediately, and Erestor dropped his arm and moved aside to give them room. Makalaure was next, lifting his harp from his lap and carefully setting it aside. As the minstrel passed his younger brother, he yanked Carnistir up by his collar. “I was coming!” laughed Carnistir as he was pulled along by Makalaure, who was wearing a silly grin and with the help of Carnistir practically tackled Finwe.
Erestor used the moment to disappear around the corner to wait until Finwe and Indis had gone. Feanaro seemed to have the same idea, for seconds later he joined Erestor in the darkened hallway. “I hate it when he brings her with him,” mumbled Feanaro as he leaned his back against the wall. He made a sort of growl of discontent in the back of his throat and added, “I hate that bitch.”
“No, you hate what she did.”
“Nooooo, I hate that bitch. Slut. Bitch.” Feanaro peeked around the corner. “Dammit, I wish they would not give her hugs, too.”
Once Finwe and Indis began to make their way down the main hallway, Feanaro motioned for Erestor to follow him back to the alcove again. “Father, can we—“ began Ambarto, but Feanaro held up his hand.
“Go ahead.” Before he even had time for the words to completely pass his lips, the remaining four sons were gathering their things and heading for the steps. “You can both let Tyelkormo and Curufinwe I will deal with them later.” The four left and Feanaro stretched out on the settee that the twins had been sitting on previously. “I doubt very much they encountered Fin if they made it to the reception again.”
“Why were you keeping them from the reception?” asked Erestor as he sat down on the other settee.
“Silent protest. Nolo refuses to grant his blessings to Maitimo and Findekano, but he was practically ecstatic when Turukano told him about this little scandal.” Feanaro shook his head. “One of these days, he is going to realize he alienated his eldest son, and I just hope it will not be too late. Knowing the stupidity level of my brother, however, I have my doubts he will ever realize it.” He rubbed his forehead. “I should turn in. Nerdanel went to bed hours ago, but she never sleeps well without me there.”
“I will walk with you,” offered Erestor. “I think the guest room I am in is close to yours.”
“It is,” Feanaro confirmed. “Just down the main hallway, not the one you were about to wander down earlier.” They both stood, and Feanaro led the way. “Is Artanis still downstairs?”
“To tell you the truth, I have no idea. She kept wandering away from me. I just assumed that eventually we would end up in the same place,” said Erestor. They paused when they came to a series of doors. “I think I recognize my room.”
“As you should,” answered Feanaro as he pushed Erestor down the hall a little. “Next one,” he added when Erestor took a hold of one of the handles. “Good night,” he said, opening his own door.
Erestor gave a slight wave and quietly opened the door to the guest room, not wanting to wake Artanis if she was asleep. It was dim as he entered, but there were candles lit past the small wash chamber. He took a few steps and heard voices, and decided to stop just in case he was in the wrong room. It would not have been unheard of for Feanaro to play a harmless trick on him – or the reverse to happen, for that matter.
“We just want to make sure you are happy, dear.” The voice belonged to Indis, Erestor has heard it recently enough to recall it immediately.
“I know.” Artanis, without a doubt. Erestor held his breath.
“He just seems so very... plain,” Finwe settled on. “Are you certain he is the one?”
There was a long pause. Erestor bit his lip to keep from shouting, ‘Of course I am! I love her!’ He felt the numbness travel from the tips of his toes and fingers through his entire body as the silence dragged on.
“Sweetie, we just want to make sure you are taken care of. He is hardly nobility, and you know he is never going to amount to anything more than what he is now.” Indis again. “You know, we would never invite his kind to events like this if not for the fact he is with you. But why is he with you? He is probably only using you for his own gain.”
Then Finwe cleared his throat, and in a very clear voice, said, “You can do better.”
“I know,” came the quiet answer.
The words were so simple, stinging him. Unable to hear more, unwilling to, Erestor backed his way out of the room. There was more, some talk from Indis on how she could introduce Artanis to some bright, young ellyn from noble houses, closer to her age, more interested in her interests, better, stronger, richer, younger, smarter. Erestor did not bother to close the door as he stumbled a few steps down hallway and absently knocked on another entrance.
Feanaro appeared a minute later, robe hastily tied around his waist. “This better be good, Eresse. Nerdanel and I were working on number eight, and... are you crying? Are you hurt?” Erestor shook his head and was ushered in and the door was closed. “Alright, who was it and what did they say?”
All Erestor managed to get out as he was settled into one of the plush chairs in the waiting room was, “Indis.”
Feanaro dropped down in the opposite chair and nodded as he adjusted his robe. “I told you, I hate that bitch.”
---
“Erestor? Erestor?” Glorfindel poked his friend’s shoulder. “Erestor, are you hearing me?” he hissed. There had been some movement in the trees, and hushed whispers. Glorfindel’s shouts of greeting to whomever they encountered were returned with silence, and he feared orcs and a trap. “Erestor!”
“Huh?” A tear strayed down his cheek, which he concealed by pretending to have to wipe his nose with the edge of his cloak. “What?”
“In the trees.” Glorfindel pointed and nodded toward them. “My... I left my glasses at home. Can you see anything?”
“You mean we are out here with you hunting half-blind?” Erestor sighed, and looked up into the trees. “Yes, I see them,” he said, and then shouted up into the branches, “You can come down, Hurin, and bring your little brother with you.”
Hurin dropped down from the tree, landing with an ‘oof’ in a crouching position before standing up with a grin on his face. Huor followed a few seconds later, and brushed the bits of leaf from his tunic. “I beg your pardon, m’lord, but I am not the little one,” argued Huor as he pulled himself up to his full height, which topped Hurin by a few inches. “Younger, perhaps, but not littler for two summers now!”
“I am just resting my bones, little brother. I will catch up to you, and then we shall see who calls who little!” Hurin was still grinning madly. “Did we surprise you?” he asked hopefully.
“Hardly,” replied Erestor. Both he and Glorfindel were smiling. The young brothers who had arrived unexpectedly in Gondolin not long ago had been of interest to all of the residents, though their time was often spent shadowing Turgon and Ecthelion. Upon thinking this, Erestor asked, “Why are the two of you not at the party Lord Ecthelion is hosting?”
“Because this is much funner than that,” answered Huor.
“Much more fun,” corrected Hurin before either of the elves could, as he poked his brother in his side.
Huor snorted. “Yes, yes, LITTLE brother, much more fun!” He scooted away before he could be poked again. “We wanted to come out here where we would not be stared at and questioned all evening.”
“It gets tiresome being the only man in the city,” nodded Hurin.
“You the only man? What am I?” wondered Huor.
Hurin grinned. “You? Still just a boy, I believe.”
“As if you act adult!” Huor kicked his foot at Hurin, which led to a playful little scuffle.
“Well, I guess we should leave the two of you to your tree climbing,” said Erestor, stepping blatantly between the brothers as he passed. He paused and looked over his shoulder and added, “I would invite you along to hunt with us, but I doubt it would be as exciting as what you have been doing.” He turned to Glorfindel and winked as Hurin and Huor separated themselves and hurried up to them.
“You would let us go hunting with you?” asked Huor incredulously.
Erestor nodded. “Of course, if you had something else to do—“
Hurin, still grinning, fell in step beside Erestor. “This is grand! To hunt with elves, Huor! I bet either one of you can fell a buck with a single arrow!”
“Well, Glorfindel is a little younger than I am, so it might take him two,” said Erestor. “In fact, it is why I came with him. Sometimes, he needs a little help and-“
“Oh, you think I cannot take a buck by myself, is that it? Is that your challenge?” asked Glorfindel. Erestor shrugged. “Alright, then, I will take one down, with these fine men as my witnesses, with a single arrow.”
“Well, alright then, we had best stop talking about it and start tracking them,” said Erestor.
