That evening, Glorfindel had Mirdirin summoned to him. The merchant-turned-herald appeared at the door with speed to match that of a fox. He stood straight and saluted upon entering, and then shifted his gaze sideways. “There is a rumor that you are unwell.”
“At least it is only a rumor right now and not being considered fact.” Glorfindel explained the situation to Mirdirin grimly. His herald listened intently and swore to tell no one without prompting from his employer. “The one blessing in all of this is the state of my wife.”
“Blessing?” Mirdirin furrowed his brow. “I heard of the tragedy of her parents. It seems as if terrible tidings have befallen her as well.”
“There is a bright star that shines upon us, even still,” said Glorfindel, managing a sincere smile. “We are expecting a child.”
“Wonderful! Congratulations to you both!” Mirdirin immediately realized the reason for his being there. “Sir, I am not suitable to take your place in this situation. There must be another-“
“No one that I trust,” admitted Glorfindel. “I know I can trust you.”
“I have no actual political experience. I may well ruin your house's reputation!" Mirdirin began to pace. “Sir, I am nothing more than a simple merchant! There must be another of nobler blood who can take up this task. I cannot- Sir, I will do it if you ask it of me, but I beg you to reconsider your choices.”
Glorfindel stepped into Mirdirin’s path. “Then I beg it of you.”
“Oh, Sir, I-“ Mirdirin sat down. “When do you need me to start?”
“The next council meeting is in two weeks. We will attend that one together. After that, you shall be my eyes, ears, and voice in council, for a year or more.” Glorfindel picked up a group of folios that were loosely wrapped in thick brown paper normally used for binding books. He retied the green ribbon around them to keep any from slipping out. “These are my ledgers for the last ten years, my notes, my appointments, and all else that might aid you. Guard them well, and ask any questions you might have.”
Mirdirin accepted the bundle and saluted before he left. Glorfindel watched the door close sadly, and then readied himself for bed. Tauniel had yet to return, but he somehow knew she was safe and well, for he sensed that Aranel was with her.
He had never managed such ability before, though it was not as strong as many said it was with bonded couples. ‘Because we never really bound’, he reminded himself. He slept and dreams, not reverie of remembered thoughts, came to him in slumber. He saw within his mind a cheerful little girl, with rust colored hair and playful green eyes not so much unlike his own. He saw himself taking her to the market, and outside to play in the tall summer grass. She sat with him upon his horse, and they gently trotted around the fields before coming back inside where everyone fawned over her greatly.
He knew, when pounding upon the door awakened him, that his decision was the right one. He happily swung his legs over the bed and pressed a kiss to Tauniel’s lips as she began to stir. With bleary eyes, she looked at him questioningly, but he motioned for her to stay in bed and whispered, “I shall get the door.”
Glorfindel found Mirdirin there, the bundle of papers under his arm. His other hand played with the now frayed ribbon with mild agitation. “Good morning,” said Glorfindel cheerfully.
“We need to talk.” Mirdirin swept into the room, depositing his cape in a heap upon a chair near the door. “I stayed up all night reading through your budgetary plans. You are running your house into the ground. You either need to cut your workforce or cut their wages. Better yet, give up the patronage of Salgant’s theatre. You barely break even there, and the money could be better spent in other ways.”
“I cannot do that. These people trust me. I will not compromise that trust.”
“Then you need more resources. More diversity. The price of feed has increased. The price of metal has increased. Leather. Wood. Arrows. Everything is increasing in price. You are strained as it is now. With the addition of the refugees taken from Hithlum, and the soldiers who are maimed, and the increase in population expected, I do not know that you can survive as you have been. Si-- Glorfindel, something must be done!”
The tirade had awoken the rest of the household. Erestor was peeking out of his bedroom, with Aranel looking around his shoulder. Tauniel called from the bedroom, “Is anything the matter?”
“No, dear, go back to sleep,” Glorfindel hastily answered. He motioned for Mirdirin to sit with him on the sofa. After only a moment of hesitation, Mirdirin did so. “Everything you have said is true. I keep digging into a hole I may not be able to climb out of.”
“You still have possibilities,” Mirdirin assured him. “I think now is the time to take action, though.”
Erestor whispered something to Aranel and shooed her away with an embrace and a kiss before entering the sitting room. “Do either of you want any tea?” he asked on his way to the small kitchen area. With an affirmative answer from them both, he returned some minutes later and into their discussion with the kettle and three cups.
“So, anything that requires a large amount of farming land is out; anything that is too long-term will not help us. Smithing is not a possibility, for we do not have the resources.” Mirdirin and Glorfindel had drawn up a long list of everything that was heavily traded in Gondolin, and then began to cross off items that were not viable. The list was dwindling by the time Erestor set the tray onto the table and walked around to take a look over their shoulders.
“Look at what is the most profitable,” suggested Erestor.
“Gems and jewels, obviously, and silver, but we cannot do anything with those,” Glorfindel replied.
“No, no, those are expensive, yes, but they take longer to sell. You are also limited to selling only to those who can afford such things. Think of things that everyone needs, from the lowest peasant to the highest lord.”
“Food, water, wine... and again, that puts us at a disadvantage as there is no land for it,” explained Mirdirin.
Erestor sat down on one of the empty chairs after pouring himself a cup of steaming tea. “Which house makes the most money?”
“Easy. Turgon’s house.” Glorfindel smirked. “I have an idea. If we start taxing everyone like he does—“
“Some of the houses do that.”
“Excuse me?” Glorfindel chuckled. “But Turgon taxes everyone. Damn Gildor for bringing that idea here with him,” he grumbled under his breath.
Mirdirin nodded. “Turgon taxes everyone, and then, some of the houses impose their own taxes, so their people are taxed twice.”
Glorfindel blinked. “I did not know that.”
“My wife’s family are under the protection of the House of the Heavenly Arch; Egalmoth has a chart of yearly taxes to be paid. Her family was overjoyed that she married me and we and our children would be free from that burden.” Mirdirin sighed. “You might have to start taxing people, if we cannot find another solution.”
“No, I will not do that,” said Glorfindel. “There has to be something we can do. Next to Turgon, Ecthelion is second when it comes to making a profit. Of course, he owns all of the vineyards, and makes all of the beer.”
“And who after him?” pressed Erestor.
“The House of the Hammer, I think. And the House of the Pillar after that.” Mirdirin shuffled through the sheets Glorfindel had given to him, and found what he was looking for. “The Mole follows, and then the Tower, and then the Tree, and after that—“
Glorfindel suddenly sat up. “Hold a moment.” He took the paper from Mirdirin’s hands and scanned it. “What does the Pillar do that is different from the Tower?”
Erestor shrugged. “Nothing, really. Even the crests are nearly the same.”
“If the Tower and the Pillar had never been split apart, they would be as a whole wealthier than Turgon’s own house.” Glorfindel looked up at Erestor again. “Forgive my naïveté, but what is it that Penlodh does?”
“He raises but one thing: cattle. That means milk, beef, leather, weapons from bones, powders and ointments and other such things.” Erestor briefly looked away; a look that always meant an idea was forming. “You could potentially keep some in the fields with the horses; they just smell awful and then you would need to figure out what to do in terms of a slaughter house and a tannery, and forgive me, but you have difficulty enough putting down a lame horse.”
Glorfindel bit his lip. “If I am not the one to do it personally... I would have to buy them from him. From Penlodh, that is. He would know what I am up to.”
“I would just tell him up front,” advised Erestor. “As it stands, he has unfilled orders in all of his shops. He cannot fill the need for shoes and saddles and belts and everything else fast enough.”
“Instead of trying to do it all right away,” suggested Mirdirin, “maybe you should start with dairy cows. Purchase six or eight of them, and a steer, and you should be set to go.”
“Glorfindel?” Erestor was smirking. “Buy a bull, not a steer. I am sure Penlodh would explain that when you went, but... no steers.”
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “I knew that.”
“Oh, sorry.” Mirdirin shrugged. “That should tell you just how much I know about cattle. Is eight too many, Erestor?”
“Eight at a minimum, but it all depends on just how much money you have. You will probably not turn a profit immediately. What savings do you have with which to do this?” asked Mirdirin.
Glorfindel bowed his head in answer. “Therein lies the problem.” He contemplated silently for a time before standing up. “Wait here,” he instructed as he walked to the bedroom.
Tauniel was at rest again, her eyes glazed over. Quietly, Glorfindel crouched down on the floor and reached under the bed. He pulled out from underneath it a small, tattered box. It contained a number of miscellaneous items, from a pair of worn out shoes that were torn open at the toes and heals, to a mucky looking rag doll with a stain on her dress and mismatched eyes where someone had attached a button where the thread had come loose. Glorfindel smiled and stroked the dolls hair as he sat on the floor, then nestled her back into one of the shoes before lifting up a few sheets of parchment upon which were his first attempts at writing his name to find two brilliant jewels beneath them.
The blood stone, only recently added, pulsed its throbbing pink light, while the emerald given to him by his brother sparkled with genuine brilliance. His hand hovered over them, and with little hesitation, his hand settled over one and pulled it from the box. The rest of his treasures were secured again, slid safely beneath the bed.
He approached the pair in the living room but did not sit down. “I would go myself to barter with this, but I do not want anyone to know how dire the need is for me to obtain the money for the cattle. Being a merchant, though, Mirdirin, I am sure you would know where to take this in order to get the best price.” He let the jewel slip from his palm, and the chain slowly through his fingers, allowing the sparkle to catch more than a glance from the others. “Go and sell it, and bring the profit back so that we may yet go to see Penlodh today.”
“Are you sure about this?” asked Mirdirin.
“Why would I tell you to if I was not sure about it?” questioned Glorfindel.
Mirdirin inspected the necklace. “This looks like a family heirloom.”
“What if it is? We need the money,” said Glorfindel as dismissively as possible.
His herald exchanged a quick look with Erestor before standing up. “If you are certain—“
“Certainly certain,” cut in Glorfindel.
Mirdirin nodded. “Alright. I will return as soon as I am able. It will take me a time in order to have it appraised, so that I might receive a fair price for it.”
“Do what you must,” instructed Glorfindel as he walked Mirdirin to the door. The merchant took his cloak, but left the ledgers and other things he had read through the night before. The door was closed and locked behind him, and Glorfindel stood motionless for some time before taking a seat on the couch again.
“Should I go and stop him?” asked Erestor softly as he noted the emotion of regret in Glorfindel’s eyes. Glorfindel shook his head. “Tea?” Another shake of his head. Erestor put his own cup down, at a loss now for words. “What should we do now?” he finally asked.
Glorfindel shrugged. “Just wait, I guess,” he noncommittally answered.
