And you may find yourself in a beautiful house; with a beautiful wife. And you may ask yourself, well...
“How did I get here?” Glorfindel turned his head and yawned. “I fell asleep.” His eyes were blurry and slightly damp. “How did I get here?”
“Salgant carried you from the carriage.” Tauniel brushed a strayed curl back from Glorfindel’s face. “It was so sweet, you were snuggled up against him and you clung to his arm when he tried to put you down onto the bed.”
Glorfindel groaned and drew up the blankets over his head. “One disgrace after another.”
“No, it was adorable, and no one else saw, save for Faelion, who giggled at the sight – so there, you have something on him now.” Tauniel tugged down the covers. “Are you interested in breakfast?”
“Maybe.” Glorfindel sat up and found he was still mostly dressed. “I should take a bath, too.”
“I can help you with that and I can wash your hair,” offered Tauniel.
“Why bother? Is there any left to get dirty?”
Tauniel smiled. “I meant to tell you yesterday how cute it looks.”
“Oh, no... now I am adorable, sweet, and cute. My reputation as a soldier is in jeopardy,” he warned. Tauniel laughed and walked into the sitting room. Glorfindel shouted, “Make sure you bring something bulky and masculine for breakfast... no fruit and cheese or anything that could ruin my reputation further!”
“How about a big, fat sausage?” The reply was not from Tauniel, and Glorfindel looked to be contemplative as Faelion entered and plopped down on the end of the bed. “Sausage with a side of cream?” he asked cheekily.
“Under the orders of the healer, no physical activity for him until she says so.” Tauniel shook her head as she entered with the tray and placed it over Glorfindel’s lap. “No sausage, no fruit. Hard boiled eggs, cheese, and bread with jam. There was no knowing when you were going to awaken and I did not want your breakfast to spoil.”
“Thank you.” Glorfindel craned his neck and managed to successfully land a kiss on Tauniel’s cheek. In turn, she bent back down and smooched him on the lips before leaving to fetch a maid to draw a bath. At the end of the bed, Faelion let out a long ‘awww’ and grinned when Glorfindel looked over at him. “If you had brought me something to eat, I would have kissed you, too.”
“I offered,” Faelion reminded him with a wink. He stretched out along the end of the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “I am going to be so happy when this run is over. There is absolutely no chemistry between the other lead and myself, and the script was horrible to work with. Even if I have to go back to being an understudy, it will be better than being booed on stage because the writing sucks.”
“How much longer will the play run?” asked Glorfindel as he peeled an egg.
“It was scheduled for another three or four weeks, but we were having trouble selling tickets. I think this is the last week and then they are going to cast for the next one.” Faelion sat up and stole a piece of cheese from the tray. “I heard Duilin telling Uncle Salgant he had suddenly come up with the most brilliant idea. I do hope it is something fresh, because we are drowning with the current material.”
Tauniel returned and assisted Glorfindel with the rest of his breakfast before helping him into the next chamber to bathe and dress. She had brought more clothing the previous night, and Glorfindel chose loose, comfortable garments. He slipped his feet into a pair of house shoes and padded into the sitting room where Faelion insisted upon combing out his hair. “Why bother?” muttered Glorfindel, but he found it soothing and intimate. When asked if he would come with them to join Duilin for tea, he nodded and took the cane along, though he found he needed it less than the day before.
They arrived in an atrium on the same floor minutes later. Duilin was there, as was Thrangorn. “I am glad you could all make it.” He specifically nodded to Glorfindel as the trio sat down around the table. “Salgant is attending council; there are no matters to vote on today so I saw no reason to be there myself. Bickering is bad for my nerves.” As soon as the tea was poured, Thrangorn was dismissed. Duilin leaned back in his chair and swirled his spoon in his cup. “We have... an issue.”
Duilin’s voice was calm, but the words were uncertain enough for Glorfindel to know there was trouble. “What happened?”
“Nothing yet,” replied Duilin. “I sent someone to do a little digging. What she found out is disturbing. There is no need to panic, not yet, but there needs to be a plan and I cannot figure this one out on my own.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Faelion. “Is uncle in trouble?”
“Again, not yet.” Duilin added more sugar to his tea and selected a cake from the tray; no one else had touched the food or drink. “I have been investigating Enerdhil. Salgant’s worry was that there might be something known by him about you.” Duilin pointed his spoon out at Faelion. “He was happy when I reported that there was nothing, nothing at all known to Enerdhil. In all likelihood Enerdhil does not even know who you are.”
“What does Enerdhil know?” asked Glorfindel cautiously.
Duilin set his spoon down. “He knows a little about you. At least, he knows that Gildor was with someone of importance, and it was someone very young and foreign. Your age is of no consequence, but most of us came from Nevrast. It would not take much for Enerdhil to put it all together. In term of actual evidence, he has none, so I doubt he would attack you first.”
“He knows something about uncle?” guessed Faelion.
“He knows... enough. There is no need for details, but he knows, and he has evidence and a witness.” Duilin sighed. “We... I cannot take the chance he goes to trial. I am safe; he cannot name me because I will be on the jury panel. However, Salgant is a witness against him and he is allowed to attack the character of the witnesses.”
There was total silence as the three guests looked around at one another. Finally, Faelion said, “What can I do?”
“Help me think of a plan.” Duilin sipped his tea and ate another pastry. “I have wracked my brain for two days to no avail. Enerdhil and the pair he coerced to defile the games are being held in a single cell in the dungeon. There are two guards posted at all times, but they are only checked twice a day. That means it is possible to either distract the guards or get two of the guards to do something without it being known immediately. The trouble is actually getting into the cell itself. Only Turgon has the key.”
“What are you trying to accomplish?” asked Glorfindel.
“Obviously, I need to find a way to kill Enerdhil. It is not that I want to,” said Duilin quickly. “I never particularly liked him, but neither would I wish him dead. However, he affects my wellbeing and more importantly, Salgant’s life.”
Faelion frowned and considered their options. “Right now would be the ideal time to do it. We, that is, Uncle Salgant’s soldiers, are still on duty for the next few days until Turgon’s army takes over again. I do not know how long it will be, though. Things are quickly getting back to normal now.”
As Duilin and Faelion brainstormed, Glorfindel sat silently staring at the steam that rose from the kettle. Tactics was second nature to him, and once he knew the desired outcome he could easily develop a strategy. The only thing holding him back was the label such an act carried, and by association, he would be an accomplice. On the other hand, by standing idly by he would be at fault for the death of at least one other, and who knew how many more that Enerdhil might try to bring down with him.
“Poison.” Glorfindel waited for the banter between the other three to stop before he spoke again. “All three are sharing a cell, and Turgon has no intention of letting any of them live.”
“We still have the trouble of trying to get into the cell,” Duilin reminded him.
“There is no need to,” said Glorfindel quietly. “Tell the other two prisoners what we already know and they have already guessed – they will not be alive much longer, no matter what they use as a defense. Then offer them this trade: If they kill Enerdhil, someone will supply them with the poison needed to take their own lives. Provide it in small vials cleaned of any residue that might incriminate someone else, and only after proof that Enerdhil is dead is given. The slits in the door should be big enough to get a few vials into.”
Tauniel shuddered after Glorfindel finished detailing the plan. “I think I would like to retire back to the room now, please.” She stood quickly, and Glorfindel did so as well.
“As would I. My appetite is lost.” Glorfindel settled his hands on the back of the chair to steady himself and said in a grave voice, “The plan should work, and there should be no investigation back to the cause. If you do follow it through, though, I do not wish to know which of you carries it out.”
Glorfindel and Tauniel returned to the rooms they were using. They settled in the sitting room, each of them with a book from the shelves. Shortly afterwards, there was a sharp knock on the door. Tauniel opened it, and found Thrangorn on the other side. “Lord Erestor and Lady Aranel have arrived to see you. Would you like me to send them in or ask them to wait.”
“Send them in, please,” said Tauniel as she opened the door wider. Once the pair entered and the door was closed, Tauniel hugged Aranel and brought her to the couch while Erestor wound his way to a chair and dropped down into it. “How have you been?”
Aranel smiled and squeezed Tauniel’s hand. “I will tell you all about that in a moment, but we really came to see how Glorfindel was doing. How are you, dear?”
Glorfindel was sitting in a chair with his feet propped up on a stool. “I feel like I was trampled by a dragon. Wait – I was trampled by a dragon. In that case, I feel pretty good for being trampled by a dragon. How are you?”
For a moment, Aranel held Glorfindel’s gaze with a polite smile. She looked to Erestor and asked, “Do you want to tell them.”
“You can tell them,” he said. His hand was rubbing the base of his neck as he continued to nurse his hangover.
“I already got to tell my parents and Ecthelion and... I think you should tell them,” insisted Aranel.
“Tell us what?” asked Tauniel. “Good news? Bad news?”
“Good news,” said Aranel. “Definitely good news.”
Tauniel pouted. “Well, what is it, then? Erestor, what will she not tell me?”
Erestor was staring at the empty fireplace, his gaze distant. “We are going to have a baby.”
“Oh, this is why I should tell it. Listen to him – I think he is still in shock. We are going to be parents! Is that not the most wonderful news you have heard today?” asked Aranel.
Both Tauniel and Glorfindel were temporarily shocked, but Tauniel shook herself out of it first. “Congratulations! This is most wonderful news! Glorfindel, you and I are going to be an uncle and an aunt – well, more or less,” reasoned Tauniel.
Glorfindel looked over at Erestor and forced a smile. “Congratulations are indeed in order. I am very happy for both of you.”
As the ladies chattered about nursery colors and knitting and other such things, Glorfindel followed Erestor’s gaze to the empty fireplace. Not even the ashes remained, for it had been cleaned in its entirety by the maids. A fresh bin of logs rested near the door. “Would you like me to have the maid light a fire?” asked Glorfindel. He watched Erestor shake his head, but nothing was said.
“Glorfindel.” Tauniel waited for a response and tried again. “Glorfindel!”
The blond turned his head to his wife and smiled. “Yes, dear?”
“Aranel just made the most wonderful observation.”
“What was that?” asked Glorfindel.
Tauniel smiled and said, “Now that she and Erestor are going to have a child, now would be the most perfect time for us to start a family, too!”
