“I really hope we find some deer tomorrow,” said Huor between bites of his meal.
Although deer had been scarce, the hunting had gone well. Erestor had managed to instruct Glorfindel by making it seem as if he was explaining things for the sake of their young guests. The brothers had been so excited to be hunting with elves that neither noticed Glorfindel flinch when Erestor made the first kill, or when he nearly threw up when Erestor sliced open the belly of the rabbit and showed them all how to best skin one.
The second day was mostly spent tracking. Instead of rabbits for supper, they practically tripped over a plump turkey. Glorfindel had yet to make a kill, and Hurin beat him to this one as well. The bird was far more difficult to prepare, but proved tastier than supper the night before.
Tonight was rabbits again, mostly due to the fact they were virtually everywhere and involved very little hunting or tracking to catch. This time, although he had yet to shoot anything, Glorfindel was given the task of cleaning the conies. He accomplished it with a fair amount of ease, due mostly to not wishing to make a fool of himself in front of Hurin or Huor. Erestor’s compliments on his fast, accurate work helped him as well.
“Tomorrow, we will head deeper into the forest. I promise you, we will find deer there,” said Erestor as he tended to their campfire.
That night the winds became harsher, making a fire unsafe. “We need something to ward off the wolves, or we might as well go back into the city for the night and come back in the morning.” Erestor brushed off his hands, having covered the last of the embers with dirt. “Maybe we should head back. We can use your training barracks and be back tomorrow.”
“That really interrupts it, though,” replied Glorfindel as he dug through the sack of supplies. “I like what we have been doing, hunting, tracking, camping under the stars, not another soul in sight.”
“But, there is a safety concern,” warned Erestor. “We know there are wolves, and without a fire, they might get bold.”
“Not with this.” Glorfindel pulled out a vial from his pack, holding up the liquid so that Erestor could see it. “I knew I put it in there!”
“What... is that?” asked Huor, reaching forward to touch the glass container.
“Tiger urine. Wolves might be bold, but they are hardly stupid,” explained Glorfindel. Huor withdrew his hand and made a face. “All I have to do is dribble it around the perimeter, and we will have no wolves to worry about.”
“Have fun with that,” said Erestor, crinkling his nose as Glorfindel removed the stopper. “Should I even ask—“
“Probably best not to.” Glorfindel set about marking the trees around them with the potent liquid. “That should do the trick,” he said as he settled down on his bedroll again.
As the wind whipped through the trees, Huor said, “The wolves w-would be stupid t-to try coming out anyway.” He had his cloak tightly wrapped around himself. Hurin had done the same.
“Maybe we should go back,” said Glorfindel quietly to Erestor as the stars became brighter in a sky devoid of clouds. “Turgon will not be pleased if they become ill.”
Erestor contemplated while staring up at the heavens. “No, I know it would be the easy solution to return, but something makes me think we should stick it out.”
Glorfindel nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Huor shivering. “Next time, we should do this in the spring,” he said as he stood up and unfastened his own cloak. He walked around the extinguished campfire and draped the cloak over Huor’s shoulders. “That should help,” he said, catching himself from giving Huor’s head a gentle pat. Although they were both matured by the standards of Men, in Glorfindel’s eyes, they still looked barely out of their childhood.
It was not long before Erestor’s cloak was being worn by Hurin, and shortly thereafter the menfolk had burrowed under the warm fabric and were peacefully sleeping.
Few words were exchanged as Glorfindel and Erestor settled in, or rather, on their bedrolls, for the night. The breeze was uncomfortable and chilly, but not unbearable. Glorfindel felt reverie wash over him swiftly.
In the morning, he awoke as the sun was rising, and not quite where he had fallen asleep. He was now sharing a space with Erestor; one of their rolls had been drawn up over them. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact he seemed to be clinging to Erestor, but since he was not being pushed away, did not yet withdraw. “What are you doing here?”
“You must not remember.”
“If I could remember, I would not be asking.”
With his gentle smile, Erestor explained, “I had nearly drifted off when I heard you crying. At first, I thought it was one of the boys, but after I checked on them I realized it was you. You were very upset, though, I am not sure exactly why.” Erestor glanced over to make sure that the brothers were still sleeping before he continued. “You were pleading to someone to stop and when I tried to wake you, you pulled me down, burrowed against me, and sobbed for some time. I... I think you thought I was your mother.”
“Oh?” Glorfindel fought to recall, but it was as if his dreams had been erased. “Why is that?”
“As I was holding you, you kept saying things like, ‘Please, Nana, do not leave’. You... do not remember any of this, do you?” Glorfindel shook his head. “Ah, well, perhaps it is better that way. I only wish Irmo had intervened before you had your nightmare.”
“Sorry,” apologized Glorfindel, now withdrawing himself from Erestor. “I did not mean to cause trouble.”
Erestor tried to catch Glorfindel’s arm as the blond stood, but his fingers only brushed the hand of the other. “You need not be sorry. It was not your fault.”
Hurin was beginning to stir, and the bright sun promised to wake Huor soon as well. “Well... thank you,” said Glorfindel uneasily as he riffled through a sack to find something for their breakfast. Erestor nodded and began to fold and roll their bedding, saying nothing more of the incident.
The hunt was yet again not the success that had been hoped for, but it was far from a failure. Deer evaded them at every turn, and the one they came upon, a doe, was deemed by Erestor far too young for them to shoot. “If all of the children are killed, and only their parents left to live, who will bring on the next generation?” he questioned after shooing off the doe. Hurin grumbled at this, but Huor nodded in agreement. Glorfindel simply sighed to himself in relief.
Their spirits brightened, however, when, as they were trying to decide whether to head back south or go northwards, a wild boar made his appearance in the distance. Glorfindel caught sight of it first, though without his spectacles, he was slightly uncertain just what was nosing about in the bushes. Trees were climbed, and of the four, Glorfindel found he was the one with the clearest shot.
His eyes were closed as he drew an arrow from the quiver and positioned it. His hands began to sweat as he focused on the creature and aimed. A branch somewhere cracked, and his arrow flew at nearly the same moment. The head dug into the ground barely a whisper from the pig’s snout, for the creature had taken a step back from the previous noise. As if on instinct, Glorfindel’s hand had drawn another arrow even as the first flew, and his second shot squelched a warning squeal. The boar toppled over, dead.
For a moment, Glorfindel expected the animal to stumble back up and flee, but when it made no further movement he shouldered his bow and climbed swiftly to the ground. Erestor was at the bottom of the trunk to greet him; the brothers were already running towards the boar and chattering about a job well done. “Congratulations,” said Erestor softly once Glorfindel was out of the tree. “How do you feel?”
“I feel bad about killing it, but... I have to admit, these last few days have been a lot of fun. And, up there, that was fairly exciting just now.”
“Good. Sorry it was not a deer. I really thought we were going to have a shot at one of them,” said Erestor.
Glorfindel shrugged as they walked to join Hurin and Huor. “I suppose it is better that it was not. Maybe next time.”
“Next time. That is good; I am glad to hear that,” said Erestor as he gave Glorfindel a pat on the shoulder.
---
The next day brought them back into the city, and late in the afternoon Glorfindel was once again training with his recruits. It seemed that most of them were performing better than they had been the week before, which was a welcomed change. A few, he noted, had dropped out, but whether it was to pursue a more difficult plan with another house or because they thought his methods were too difficult, Glorfindel did not worry himself about. There was far too much going on to worry about individual soldiers.
After the final exercises of the evening, Glorfindel received a message from one of the stablehands that someone was waiting for him in his private chambers inside the barracks. He pulled off his shirt as he headed inside, draping it over one shoulder after using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Ecthelion was in the small multipurpose sitting room when Glorfindel arrived. The blond began to point to the door and open his mouth, but Ecthelion spoke first. “Before you throw me out, thinking I am no longer your ally, hear me out.”
Glorfindel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Speak.”
Ecthelion snorted. “Here.” He tossed two envelopes onto the table.
“What are those?”
“The invitations for you and Taniel, and Erestor and his wife, for the celebration last week that you did not attend.”
“A little late to deliver those,” remarked Glorfindel.
“A little late for you to receive them, actually. They were delivered weeks ago – placed on your chairs at council. Only, neither of you have shown up for a meeting in months.”
Glorfindel pursed his lips and stared down at the embossed letters, sealed with blue and silver wax. “I owe you an apology.”
“No, you need to get your ass to the council meetings. With the two of you gone, it makes the room very empty. No one is as vocal as Erestor, and there are times when you are the only one who can keep the peace. It has been a nightmare trying to get anything done,” explained Ecthelion.
“I had no idea,” admitted Glorfindel.
“Will you be there tomorrow?” asked Ecthelion.
Glorfindel nearly made an excuse for himself, but instead, nodded. “Aye, though I cannot speak for Erestor.”
“Good. And Glorfindel, never think we are not friends,” Ecthelion reminded him.
Glorfindel nodded.
“After council tomorrow, you and Erestor should come and have lunch at my house. It has been too long since we have had a chance to simply talk.”
“That would be good. I will be there, and hopefully, so will Erestor.”
“Excellent.”
They exchanged farewells, and then Glorfindel washed up quickly. A council meeting meant rising early, reassigning his work with the recruits, and actually getting to the meeting on time. A night of rest on the couch sounded delightful compared to sleeping on rocks and leaves.
Glorfindel emerged back into the sitting room, towel around his waist and another over his shoulders. Once again, he found he was not alone. “How do you keep getting in here?” he demanded, more curious than sore.
“Sorry, sir, I knew you would be here. I just had to talk to you about something, sir.” Faelion was still in his uniform, though he had changed to a different pair of boots so as not to track mud inside.
Glorfindel rubbed his eyes tiredly. “It cannot wait until morning?”
“Please, sir, I would rather get it off my chest now.”
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Glorfindel crossed his arms over his chest, still damp from his shower. “You have two minutes. Start talking.”
Faelion wrung his hands, twisting his fingers as he stared at the wall. “I want you to know, sir, this is not an act.”
“Alright,” replied Glorfindel, sitting down on the couch next to Faelion. “So what did you want to tell me?”
“I have a little problem, sir. I wanted to come to you about it, because... I do not think I can bring it up to my uncle. Actually, I do not want to bring it up to him, sir. I do not know what he would say about it. Maybe that is not quite true,” amended Faelion. “More, rather, I think I know what he would say.”
“And just what is it that you are not wanting to tell him, but could not wait a few hours to tell me?” prodded Glorfindel as he toweled off his hair.
He took a deep breath, and then Faelion said, “I am having trouble concentrating while I train.”
“Ah. Well, the library has a number of books on how to focus on a particular task while blocking out all other distractions,” said Glorfindel. “Perhaps before practice tomorrow you should check a few of them out and read them during the midday break.”
“I do not think that will help me, sir. You see, the distraction is on the practice field. There—“ Faelion looked around, and then almost fearfully locked his gaze with Glorfindel’s. “There is an ellon I am... attracted to,” he said, whispering this concern very quietly. “I am finding it hard to keep my focus with him around. I would not have said anything, except I know you are not against such things, for uncle told me so, sir.”
“Well... I suppose there are a few options. The first is to move you into the other company.”
“That would not work, sir. I would still see him.”
“Oh... one of the officers?” Glorfindel smirked as Faelion nodded bashfully. “Alright, well, you could be discharged and join up with another army, but we both know that is not something you want to do. The only other option you seem to have is to check out those books and find something in there, for I am all out of ideas for you.”
“What would you do, sir?” asked Faelion.
Glorfindel retrieved his comb from a small side table. “I think I would go for the books. You may come across many distractions, and in battle, it is best not to have to worry about any of them, be they foe or friend.”
“I mean, what should I do? I already know... well, I think I know... I am fairly certain that this sort of behavior is not repulsive to him.”
“Oh, about that...” Glorfindel combed through his hair thoughtfully, thinking on the possibilities. “I suppose, if you are certain that he might be interested, it would be best to tell him or at least ask his views. I would be careful, though. Even though King Fingon’s rules allow for it, King Turgon is much closer and less tolerant. Make sure you speak to him somewhere private or secluded.”
“But you think I should tell him?”
“Absolutely.”
“Sir...” Faelion was pulling at his fingers again as he took another nervous breath. Then he lunged and surprised Glorfindel with a very brief and awkward kiss.
