Numerous massages, gropes, grunts, thrusts, and culminations later, the dinner was ruined, the sunlight streamed into the room, and the bedroom was silent.
Glorfindel was on his back, his hair a frightful mess, his body limp. He was holding the jewel up to observe its simple pageantry of light. Tauniel slept beside him, burrowed under the covers, one arm left to rest upon his chest. They would have perhaps looked like a typical Elven couple, had Faelion not been sitting at the end of the bed searching the floor for his tunic.
“Just wear one of Erestor’s,” suggested Glorfindel when he heard the young actor’s mutterings. “Or, give me another six minutes and I will aid you.”
“No, no, you need rest,” Faelion said as he got down onto the floor and reached under the bed. “Aha! There it is! How did it get...?” Faelion shrugged and shook out the wrinkled garment before slipping it on. “I will return with warm water so that you can bathe.”
“Do I stink that bad?” Glorfindel turned his head and sniffed. “I guess so...”
Faelion grinned. “Actually, you just look filthy. You smell wonderful.” To prove this point, Faelion crawled up Glorfindel’s body, sniffing at him until his smiling face was hovering over Glorfindel’s. “I will be right back.” He dipped down to kiss Glorfindel, and then hurried off to complete his self-appointed task.
Glorfindel carefully extracted himself from Tauniel and made his way slowly to the washroom. There was cold water in the basin, and soap in a dish on the counter. Glorfindel relieved himself, washed his hands, and sorted through the items in the cabinet until he found a small comb and a clear bottle of liquid with torn mint leaves soaking in it.
By the time Faelion returned with two buckets of water, Glorfindel had managed to use the water in the basin to clean his face and adequately wash the rest of his body. Washing his hair continued to be a laborious affair, and one which he welcomed Faelion’s aid in doing. His hair was combed out quickly; the only blessing of its length or lack thereof.
“Hmmm…” Faelion parted Glorfindel’s hair, then reparted it in a different direction.
“What?”
“Hmmm…” The comb was set aside and Faelion tried to tame the drying curls with his fingers. They had a mind of their own, springing about all over. “This makes no sense. When you have long hair, you have big wavy curls. When you have short hair, the curls should not shrink!”
“Well, the size of the curls seems to be directly proportionate to the length of my hair. No matter how much you debate with them,” sighed Glorfindel.
“I think I have an idea,” offered Faelion. “Wait here,” he added as he left the room.
“Wait here? Because I am prone to wandering off when I am naked and having trouble with my hair?” wondered Glorfindel loud enough for Faelion to hear while in the bedroom. He returned with the bottle of oil from the previous night. “What is your plan? Get my mind off of the fact my hair looks terrible.”
“Oh, now that is a thought,” mused Faelion. “Actually, your hair looked better when it was still wet. I have seen some Elves use oil to keep their hair slicked back.”
Glorfindel made a partial sneer. “I think I would rather stick with it this way.”
Faelion grabbed a mirror from the counter and held it up.
“Alright, on second thought, give it a try.”
It took more than the few drops Faelion started with, but eventually Glorfindel’s blond hair, now appearing darker than it really was, stayed down with the exception of a few rogue strands that were tucked behind his ears as a last resort. “What do you think?” Faelion held up the mirror again.
Glorfindel sucked in his breath and held it for a moment. “I think I look too much like my father,” he said quietly.
“We still have time to wash it out,” offered Faelion, but Glorfindel shook his head.
“No, leave it. As long as I do not have to look at myself, it will be fine.”
“I know what will cheer you up,” said Faelion once he had tidied up the washroom. Glorfindel gave him a questioning look, and Faelion replied, “Breakfast.”
Breakfast was simple and consisted of fruit and bread. They ate in the sitting room – Glorfindel sitting on the couch, and Faelion lounging somewhat across the couch, with his knees bent over Glorfindel’s lap and his back against the arm of the sofa. It allowed him the ability to feed slices of apple to Glorfindel immediately after cutting them from the core, despite Glorfindel’s initial protest he was not so disabled not to be able to feed himself.
“I know, but you must enjoy it somewhat, or you would protest instead of opening your mouth like the adorable little bird you are,” countered Faelion as he popped another piece of apple between Glorfindel’s smiling lips.
Once he was clean, dry, and fed, Glorfindel went back into the bedroom and retrieved clothing suitable for a council meeting. Tauniel was still asleep, though now she had her back to the window and the light coming in. Glorfindel pulled the curtains shut before taking his clothes with him to the sitting room to get dressed. He found Faelion cleaning up the dishes from breakfast and preparing a tray with food on it. “For when your wife awakes,” he explained. “When you come home tonight...” Faelion playfully gave Glorfindel’s rear a slap. “Round two.”
---
Walking down a flight of stairs was nothing compared to shuffling up one, which meant that Glorfindel reached the council chambers in less than five minutes but would need to set aside half an hour in order to climb up to his chambers again later. This fact did not damper the cheerful air as he entered and took his place. Voronwe and Rog both arrived after him, which put him even more at ease. He briefly smiled at Erestor upon catching his gaze, but Erestor had little time to return the expression as Penlodh was deep in conversation with him up until the moment that the meeting began.
The first discussion dealt with the children orphaned due to their fathers being killed and their mothers fading. Glorfindel immediately reminded everyone of the orphanage and that capacity could be increased if needed. Voronwe insisted upon a different plan, citing the fact that these were not discarded children from the streets, but the sons and daughters of affluent families who, in many cases, were used to a different style of living. In the end, after debate on both sides, funds were pledged to build an addition onto the existing orphanage.
“I suppose we should try to find homes for them quickly, then, before they are subjected to such a horrible fate,” Glorfindel overheard Maeglin say to his advisor. He tried not to let it get to him as the council moved to the next order of business.
“We have a number of soldiers who have been injured beyond any measure of repair,” announced Ecthelion. “It must be decided how aid shall be distributed. I would like to make the argument that some sort of balance must occur.”
Galdor lifted his arm and spoke after being recognized. “Exactly what do you mean by balance? That we should all contribute to a fund from which they would be paid a sum on which to live? What if one house has more such soldiers than another? Are we all expected to pay out the same amounts from our treasuries?”
“Allow me to further explain,” said Ecthelion. “I meant, there should be a fixed amount no matter what house they are from. For instance, I have eight such soldiers, all having lost limbs or their sight. I mean to pay them a fixed amount, but I want to be sure it is the same amount you are paying to each of yours. If I pay one of mine, say, twenty per month, I would expect you are paying each of yours twenty per month, and Rog is paying his twenty per month, and so on.”
“That sounds fair.” Galdor sat down as Laiqalasse sitting behind him leaned forward and whispered something to him. Galdor lifted his hand to be recognized again. “Is twenty the amount you are proposing?”
“I had not determined an exact amount, but that would seem fair to me,” said Ecthelion. As Galdor sat, Rog lifted his arm. “The council recognizes the House of the Hammer.”
Rog cleared his throat and said, “I aim to pay more than that. I wish to see the amount set at thirty.”
“I am amiable to thirty, if Galdor is.” Ecthelion looked to Galdor, who, after a brief consultation with Legolas, gave a curt nod. “Thirty, then.”
Tentatively, Glorfindel raised his hand.
“The council recognized the House of the Golden Flower.”
“What if we had plans of another sort entirely, that involved something more of a... well, I had intended to keep on any such soldiers, but in another capacity.”
“Such as?” asked Ecthelion.
“I raise horses; there are many tasks to be done in the stables.”
“Would they be receiving pay equivalent to what they received while in your army?” questioned Turgon.
“Yes. Better, in some cases, in fact,” added Glorfindel.
“Then you are exempt from this discussion,” said Turgon. “This is only to determine what to do for those completely unable to work any longer.”
Glorfindel nodded and sat down as Voronwe lifted his hand.
“The council recognizes the House of the Wing.”
“My query is for the House of the Golden Flower.” Voronwe waited for Glorfindel to stand again. “It is my understanding that you have some soldiers who were badly maimed, blinded, and even one who lost his hearing completely. Still, they are employable?”
“Yes... my herald has spoken with all of them already, and they have all agreed to such positions,” answered Glorfindel carefully.
“Well, in that case, I think all of us should just send our soldiers to Glorfindel. Surely, he can find jobs for them if he has so easily done so for his own,” reasoned Voronwe.
Before Glorfindel was able to answer, Turgon waved an arm and said loudly, “Point of order! This discussion is about what each of you will pledge to do for your soldiers, not what you want Glorfindel to do because you are too lazy and too cheap.” Salgant could be heard chuckling at that comment. “As stated already, the House of the Golden Flower is exempt from this discussion.”
“The council recognizes the House of the Swallow,” said Ecthelion.
Duilin stood. He was not one to speak often at the council, but ever since the failed vote of no confidence, had decided to make more of an effort to participate. “I think it might be better if we follow the example of Lord Glorfindel and find jobs for them. I know if it was me, and I was told I was useless and to stay home except to come to accept a sum of pity pay every month, I would be utterly depressed.” Duilin sat down again, looking relieved at being in his seat once more.
Turgon nodded, and held a hand up as three more arms rose in the air. “This discussion is tabled; by next council meeting, I want each house to outline their course of action, to be approved by me. Until that time, I will see to it that each soldier in need of aid will be paid from my treasury. Each of you is to submit a list of those soldiers to Carynien by noon tomorrow.”
“Our next order of business is the temporary resignation of Erestor from the council,” stated Ecthelion. Glorfindel looked momentarily confused as Ecthelion continued with, “As many of you are already away, Lord Erestor’s wife is expecting their first child within a year. Per King Turgon’s orders, any ellon due to become a father is to be given one year free of military duty, and up to five additional years as requested. As this council is a war council, and Lord Erestor in such position as he is in, would serve upon the request of Lord Penlodh, his temporary resignation will be accepted on the basis he will return in six year’s time to this council. You are to name your temporary replacement, Lord Erestor.”
“I have,” answered Erestor. “I name to my post Lord Celebrimbor, to serve in my stead beginning now for a time not to exceed six years.” Celebrimbor, who had been sitting quietly behind Erestor and Penlodh the entire time, stepped quietly forward.
Turgon hesitated for a moment before giving a nod. “So be it. Lord Erestor you are excused from council for a time not to exceed six years. Congratuations,” he added with a smile. “My understanding is we are to reconvene at Lord Galdor’s house for a brief celebratory lunch following the meeting, which is now adjourned!”
As almost everyone began to leave their areas, many of them congratulating Erestor or Celebrimbor as they shuffled to the door, Glorfindel remained at his desk and began to worry. If Tauniel became pregnant, which he hoped for, he would be removed from the council for a year – perhaps more. He had never considered such a possibility, and the thought made him nervous. War was possible – very possible. The thought of his army in the command of anyone else was making him positively sick.
Everyone in the room turned to face the doors as a loud and urgent thumping came upon them from the other side.
