No one recalled how it started, but it was much too obvious how it ended.
"Produce evidence to the contrary, young Lord Glorfindel," spat Salgant, emphasizing the fact that the fair elf was indeed the less long-lived of the two, "but until you do, you are nothing more than the bastard son of a forgotten elf, making his way only upon his charm and his luck. There is no doubt in my mind that you surround yourself with the more intelligent lords of the realm in an attempt to have some of their wisdom rub off on you."
Glorfindel had tightened his fists until his nails dug into the skin of his palms. As Salgant sniffed at him and turned his head, Glorfindel made to spring forward and leap upon him, but it was Erestor's hand that held him back.
There was a very unamused and almost bored look in his dark friend's eyes. "Never get angry at stupid people," he said rather nonchalantly. Glorfindel blinked, for normally Erestor said nothing or spoke later. Today, he had chosen not only to voice his opinion, but to do so while Salgant and his friends were within distance to hear such words.
"Did you... say something, Lord Erestor?" Egalmoth's words pricked with a sudden anger. Erestor drew himself up to his full height, standing nearly an impressive six and one-half feet. "I thought I may have heard something, but I think again I may have been mistaken."
"I was not speaking in reference to you, Lord Egalmoth, but perhaps I should have been."
Duilin had made it the furthest from the group, but now he came racing back. They had been waiting on Ecthelion's balcony, having been asked there by the high captain himself. When he had not arrived on time, Salgant had seen what he had believed to be an opportunity to persuade Lord Erestor to reorganize his small house under the banner of the House of the Harp. Currently, both Glorfindel and Erestor had their flags flying beneath the House of the Fountain. Rumors had circulated that Glorfindel was moving to establish himself as one of the twelve true house of Gondolin, for Turgon believed to have twelve houses would bring good luck and fortune to the now completed city.
"Lord Erestor, peace, I do not know what comes over him at times," Duilin said now to Salgant in an attempt to calm the seething musician. "A jest, perhaps," he added with an uneasy laugh. Erestor narrowed his eyes.
"A jest only to one who is a fool himself; I do not know who is worse: the idiots or the one who follows them."
"Slander!" shouted Egalmoth, and looked to the door in hopes that Ecthelion had arrived. Accusingly he pointed at Erestor. "You tread on a fine line, friend."
"It is friend only because I have something you wish to have." Erestor's house, though small, was comprised of scribes, scholars, and farmers. The 'outcasts', as he had once heard Egalmoth refer to them. Wealth came to them when they were able to find ways to use what little land was available for raising crops, and by creating new ways to utilize areas such as the rocky cliffs to grow things usually needing rich soils. It seemed perhaps trivial at first, but when the market square began to see items such as oranges and strawberries filling the booths assigned to the House of the Silver Stars, it gave the other lords reason to pause.
Salgant was not so careful with his words as Egalmoth had been. "You have nothing I want. You spend your time in the dirt like a pig, laboring in the sun like a commoner. You would disgrace my house with your presence- 'twas a favor I offered you protection beneath my own banner."
"I would rather be a pig than a coward, though," and now Erestor smirked, "I can see by your girth that you are a bit of both."
With a growl, Salgant turned and retreated with his minions in tow. When he reached the door, he turned again. "Tell Ecthelion I do not wish to have part in any plans that include a mud-wallowing creature and his bastard companion."
Taking himself to the door with swift, long strides, Erestor's sudden movement had shocked the trio into standing quite still, while Glorfindel also remained frozen in his place on the balcony. It had happened in a split second- Erestor's glove was yanked from his hand the thrown to the floor. With the back of his bare hand, he slapped Salgant across the face, sending him stumbling back against the door. "I shall let him know," said Erestor, retrieving his glove.
"You... you..." Salgant shook a chubby fist at Erestor. "I will have your title for this! I will see your house disgraced and disbanded! How dare you strike me!"
"That, was a warning," Erestor heard himself say.
"A warning? A warning!" Egalmoth's eyes were filled with rage. "To think I once sat in council with you." He spat upon Erestor's boots. "I stand with Salgant- (to this, Erestor rolled his eyes) I will see your doom."
"Well, if you are so certain of that," said Erestor, and again he surprised them for his hand, still bare, now came in contact with Salgant's jaw. The impact his fist had was much harder than his open palm, and Salgant fell down upon his posterior. "There. Now it will be worth losing my title over."
"Hold!" Ecthelion had come in through the side entrance, and hearing the commotion raced to the balcony, but reached it too late, except to pull back Glorfindel as he was about to assist Erestor. "Lord Erestor, to the side please. I will have word with you and Lord Glorfindel in the study," he said sternly.
For a moment it seemed as if neither were about to go, but finally Glorfindel walked to Erestor and touched him upon the shoulder. After one final exchanged look of contempt with Salgant, Erestor followed Glorfindel into the small office.
The door slammed shut behind Ecthelion as he continued to stride into the room. He made his way clear across, past the two elves who sat and remained silent, one looking to the floor and the other looking straight ahead and lounging on the chair more than he sat upon it. After pouring himself a drink, Ecthelion turned back around, looking at each elf in turn. “Glorfindel, look at me,” he said, not in the harsh tone he was about to speak in, but in a fatherly manner meant to comfort the younger one. When he did, he smiled solemnly, and then turned his momentarily masked ire upon the other.
“Damn you! Did you have to hit him?” Ecthelion drank the entirety of his glass before setting his eyes upon Erestor again. “What were you thinking? This is not Valinor; rules here are different. No matter what, no one strikes a lord or a king, despite whatever terrible things are said!”
“He was only defending me,” said Glorfindel dumbly, apologetically. He was embarrassed; his cheeks were aflame, and he could not bring himself to look at Erestor, though he forced himself to look at Ecthelion at least.
“Yes, I assumed as much.” Ecthelion sighed. “It was a matter of time before one of them did something they should not have. They can say whatever they damn well want, and unless they outright vilify the king no punishment will be imposed.”
Standing up suddenly, Glorfindel interrupted. “But they are both lords- surely it can not be so bad as-“
“Glorfindel, sit down!” Ecthelion even pointed to the seat with fury in his eyes. Unsure of what to do, Glorfindel glanced finally at Erestor, who gave a little nod and looked to the chair. Numbly Glorfindel felt his legs give way as he sat back down. Ecthelion took a deep breath. “Erestor, I have one elf calling for your dismissal, one calling for your execution, and one calling for both.”
“It is ever so nice to know that Duilin, Egalmoth, and Salgant all have their own opinions. For once,” Erestor said bitterly.
“Erestor.” Ecthelion made his way to the counter where the liquor was kept, set down his glass, and picked up the bottle. “Erestor, this is serious. They wish for us to go before the king himself. At this very hour. A time which was to be joyous and instead will be full of misery. Do you not know why I called both of you here?” Neither answered, but Ecthelion did not expect them to. “King Turgon wished to have twelve houses, of that you must have known. Glorfindel, yours he chose without hesitation to fill one of the vacancies. He has had his eye on you since the day you came into the city,” said Ecthelion, his voice a mixture of pride and sadness. “His second choice was more difficult, for he had two ideas in mind; the first to split a house, for Egalmoth’s followers are numerous. The second was to offer someone else the chance at the honor, and Erestor, he had chosen you.”
For a moment, Glorfindel began to smile. He and Erestor would be lords of the same level as Ecthelion, equal to Salgant and the others. His smile faltered. “Ecthelion, you do not think the king will change his mind because of this, do you?”
But Ecthelion did not answer this question. “Salgant has demanded that you be brought before the king tonight, Erestor. As captain, I must take you there.”
