While Glorfindel’s day was filled with cattle, there was no bull about Erestor’s morning. An intensive practice with his vocal coach (who just happened to be the Lord of the House of the Harp) and a meeting with the linguist who served as part of the regular theatre staff was followed by the first full practice for Duilin’s latest masterpiece.
Of course, Erestor learned upon reading the script that he really should have been given credit as a co-writer. Learning the majority of the script was easy; bits and pieces here and there were lifted word for word from the notebook he had thought to be charred beyond recognition in the fireplace. He discovered later, from bribing a few of the maids in Salgant’s employ, that a bucket containing the soot swept from the fireplace had been left outside the door of the suite just as Duilin had happened by.
How the journal had managed to stay intact was beyond Erestor’s comprehension. It seemed, however, that Duilin did not suspect him as the author. The book Erestor had obtained was a common make; his writing had been in Sindarin and not Quenya. Nothing, not a single name, was given away.
After tossing the book into the flames, Erestor had suddenly had second thoughts about it. Acting upon those thoughts, however, risked Glorfindel seeing the book. And if Glorfindel saw the book—
“Your line, Erestor, is ‘I have watched you, for so long, from afar. Yet, now, close as we have come, you remain so far from me.’” Duilin glared from his seat in the front row.
Erestor shook himself out of the daydream he had ended up in. Faelion was standing just a metre away, and although they had yet to figure out any blocking they were able to determine enough from the stage directions in the script to get by for now. “I have watched you, for so long, from afar. Yet, now, close as we have come, you remain so far from me,” parroted Erestor.
Faelion stepped forward, closing the gap. “I have hidden my feelings too long. My heart, my soul, are yours.” Another step was taken. “They have always been yours.”
“I feel the same; I can no longer deny it.” Erestor closed the gap between them. “If I only knew what to do to show my feelings now to you.” Erestor nearly gagged on the line of poetry he was made to recite; he was certain he had drawn a line through that overly adolescent bit.
One of the chorus members walked by and said in a low, subliminal voice, “Kiss him!”
“I ponder that dilemma as well, for I share it with you,” said Faelion with a shrug. “How do we proceed? What can we do now, now that love has been revealed?”
“Kiss him.” Another actor walked by, this one playing the minor part of a stable hand.
“Perhaps there is nothing to be done. Perhaps it simply ends like this,” said Erestor with some amount of finality.
Off to the side, the chorus members, looking both baffled and exasperated, silently devised a plan to help out. One pretending to be a guard marched over a stood close behind Faelion, while a maid with a basket started to walk toward them. The warden stuck his foot out – the maid tripped – and Faelion fell toward Erestor, who caught him in his arms.
The guard steadied the maid before she fell over and pulled it back to join the rest of the chorus with him. Erestor and Faelion looked to the group standing at one end of the stage with bewilderment.
“Kiss him!” shouted the entirety of the cast, minus the leads standing center stage.
In his front row seat, Duilin was gripping the arm of the chair with his left hand and the arm of Salgant with his right. “This is brilliant!” he whispered excitedly. “That works perfectly – the little trip, that little push, before they shout their – no! NO, NO, NO!” Duilin picked up his own ragged and many times written upon script and threw it at the feet of the leads. It was the highest point he could achieve sitting where he was, but he hit his mark, and Faelion leaped back from Erestor. “What was that?”
“Kissing,” replied Erestor flatly as Faelion looked away.
“If you were five-year-old schoolchildren, I might believe you. That was pathetic! Put some emotion into it,” scolded Duilin, who was now standing up waving an arm. Salgant yanked him back down gently into his seat. “Do it again,” he grumbled.
Erestor sighed and motioned Faelion back over. They met again in the planned embrace, and once mote attempted the scene they had halfheartedly practiced on their own. There had been an attempt to try it together, but after a number of ‘wait just a moment’s, it had been decided to go for it during the practice. Their mistake was revealed as they heard Duilin kick the side of the stage.
“This is harder than it looks, Duilin,” shouted Erestor when Faelion stepped away again.
“I thought the two of you were supposed to be actors!” Duilin countered. Some of the people on stage snickered.
“Maybe neither of them has an example to work with,” reasoned Salgant as he stood up and placed his hand on Duilin’s shoulder. “You need to direct the passion you have for the one you love toward your partner on stage. If you need to close your eyes in order for it to work, so be it.” Salgant slid his other arm around Duilin’s waist and pulled his companion into the same position Erestor had Faelion in. “Watch and learn. This is how two males in love kiss each other.”
Erestor tried not to show any emotion as the two elf lords in the otherwise empty audience held one another and pressed their lips together. Unlike most kisses he had seen between an ellon and an elleth, one did not submit to the other – often, an elleth tilted her head back, and an ellon kissed with more force. He watched Salgant and Duilin, and noted that they were both somewhat dominant; they were also of nearly matched heights. The kiss continued, and it seemed it would persist until someone broke them apart. Erestor coughed as politely as possible.
“There you have it,” said Duilin matter-of-factly. “Just do that and you will be fine.” Duilin looked away from Erestor and to Faelion now. “Were you even watching?”
“I know you were trying to help, but Duilin, I really do not want to see you kissing my uncle,” said Faelion. Some of the other elves behind him laughed. “If I see that, I start thinking about other things you do with him, and—Duilin, he is my uncle!” said Faelion with heavy emphasis on his relation to Salgant.
Full blown laughter had broken out behind them, and Faelion grinned a little at the attention. Duilin shook his head with a sigh and Salgant winked at the chorus. “We are overdue for lunch break,” announced Duilin. “You all have an hour, and then are to return. The two of you,” he said, pointing at Erestor and Faelion, “had better learn how to kiss each other by the time we get back, or you will sit right here next to me practicing while your understudies stand in on stage.”
“Make them practice in the balcony at least,” begged Salgant. “The last thing that I want to see is someone playing tongue games with my nephew.”
“Eww, did you have to call it that?” whined Faelion as more of the cast laughed.
“One hour!” called out Duilin, and the stage cleared quickly.
Erestor changed from his stage boots into his regular ones for walking and caught sight of Faelion getting ready to leave. “Hey!” Erestor let out a whistle when Faelion did not respond. “Want to go with me to get some lunch? We can talk over the scenes.”
“I wish I could.” Faelion walked back over and dropped down in a chair next to Erestor. “I have no money with me,” he said softly. “I was going to go to the house and eat something quickly and then run back.”
“I can loan you some,” offered Erestor, but Faelion shook his head.
“I gave just about everything I had to Mirdirin – you know, Glorfindel’s herald. He was by early this morning, trying to collect money for some cows or something. He explained the whole thing fairly quickly, but I understood the fact that Glorfindel needed help. I had some savings; I was planning to buy a horse, but this sounded really important and the horse would really have been unnecessary anyhow.”
Erestor furrowed his brow. “From my understanding, Glorfindel had another way of obtaining the funds he needed.”
“Maybe he fell a little short? It sounded like Mirdirin was doing this in secret; Glorfindel might not know. Anyhow, I would love to have lunch, but I only have less than an hour now to get home,” apologized Faelion.
“We are still going to lunch – somewhere close, so you do not have to run back here on a full stomach and be ill the rest of the afternoon. This one I am paying for; consider it a ‘first date’ for our characters, if you need an excuse for it,” teased Erestor.
“Who am I to argue with logic?” replied Faelion.
The afternoon practice went better. Duilin returned in a much more relaxed mood, and Salgant came along quite a bit later. Despite their second attempt seeming much like the first, Duilin waved it off and told Erestor and Faelion to continue to practice the scene on their own. The first and third dance numbers were blocked and run through a number of times before the cast split into three groups to work on their songs.
Halfway through the climatic song of the first act, Faelion nudged Erestor and nodded toward the doors. Mirdirin had just entered and was walking down the left side aisle, looking up a number of times at the ceiling and the richly painted murals upon it. He nearly walked himself smack into the stage from his inattentiveness. A few people smiled, but since those who were practicing yet in the theatre with singing, they had to hold back their laughter.
Mirdirin spotted Salgant, walked over and bowed, and then sat down and spoke quietly to him. Salgant nodded a few times, said a few words to Duilin, and then stood up with Mirdirin. Duilin waved Mirdirin over, and said a few more things, and nodded while Salgant and Mirdirin left.
“What do you think that was about?” asked Faelion once the song they were singing was over. Erestor only shrugged in reply.
When the rehearsal finally ended, Duilin called Faelion and Erestor over. Once the theatre cleared out, he perched on the edge of the stage and asked, “Do either of you have any plans for the evening?” Both of them shook their heads. “Salgant wants to give Glorfindel his own little party, because he left early yesterday, and because he thought Glorfindel might enjoy having only certain people there.”
“Where is he going to hold it?” asked Faelion.
“Just at the house,” said Duilin. “Just a few people – Salgant and myself, the two of you, Ecthelion. We were thinking about inviting Egalmoth, but...” Duilin frowned deeply.
“Is Egalmoth very close to Glorfindel?” Faelion looked to Erestor for the answer.
“Not that I am aware of,” said Erestor. “They talk a little, but I think... well, if you and Salgant plan on... well, never mind, Ecthelion will be there, and so will Mirdirin, so—“
“So?” Duilin chuckled. “Ecthelion knows, dear, and so does Mirdirin.”
“Oh.” Erestor rubbed his chin. “Are you inviting Laiqalasse?”
Duilin shook his head. “If we invite him, we have to invite Galdor.”
Erestor blinked. “Why?”
“Well, I suppose we would not have to, but it would be rude not to.”
“But... it seems rude not to invite him,” reasoned Erestor.
Faelion rolled his eyes. “Laiqalasse is very nice, but he always gets onto the topic of religion. He keeps trying to convert us.”
“I see.”
“Does he ever do that to you?” asked Duilin. “Because, you knew him before.”
“I knew him when he was this big,” said Erestor, lowering his hand to show how tall Laiqalasse had been when King Thingol had banished the scholar from his realm. “What do you expect him to be, though? He is going to be religious – he is a... priest or minister or... whatever it is he is in his religion. I have no idea how the Sedryners actually operate,” admitted Erestor.
Faelion lifted himself backwards up onto the stage to sit next to Duilin. “I always thought you were one of them, and that was why he never bothers you about it.”
“No, not I,” said Erestor. “I think he just remembers me from his childhood. As soon as he converts the rest of you, he will start working on me, too.”
“What are you, then?” questioned Duilin. “If you do not mind my asking – are you Valabronwin? I never see you at the gatherings.”
Erestor shook his head. “No. Aphadsadorin. I guess.” He shrugged and smiled. “Not that I practice much. I do not think of myself as very religious.”
“I can relate. I just go to the celebrations because Salgant always plays at them. I like some of them; I think some of it is silly.” Duilin sighed. “If you think we should invite Laiqalasse, then we can.”
“No. You are right about Galdor. If it gets mentioned later, he will feel badly. I think the few that you will have there is enough. Glorfindel hates big crowds,” said Erestor.
Duilin nodded. “Right. Would you mind letting his wife know? I mean, as long as you would have to let yours know about it.”
“Of course. I expect we will be out for the duration of the evening?”
“Would not be much of a party otherwise,” answered Faelion with a smirk.
“Glorfindel is going to be busy for a while,” Duilin explain. “Mirdirin came to retrieve Salgant because they are choosing cattle at Penlodh’s. After they finish, Mirdirin is going to go with Glorfindel – I have no idea what excuse he plans to use. From there, Ecthelion is going to get him to the house.”
Erestor rolled up his script and shoved it into his back pocket. “Do you want me to come back to the house once I let Aranel and Tauniel know what is going on?” asked Erestor.
“Please – we can use some assistance with the setup. Just come in and tell the butler you are there to speak to me. He is the only one in on this.” Duilin lowered his voice and said, “We are beginning to... suspect that some members of our staff are spies. Salgant wants to get rid of nearly all of them, but I convinced him to keep them on until we have a little more proof of his convictions.”
“I see. I will take care with what I say,” promised Erestor. He changed his footwear again and left his theatre boots tucked under one of the chairs. “Do you want me to bring my fiddle?”
“Yes,” said Duilin and Faelion at the same time.
“Uncle always looks forward to hearing you play,” added Faelion.
“So do we all,” said Duilin.
A small smile was not hidden. “I will return as soon as I am able.” Erestor turned and began to walk away. He heard a sharp whistle and turned around to look questioningly at Faelion.
Faelion blew him a kiss and gave a cheeky grin. Erestor rolled his eyes as he blushed and hurried up the aisle and out of the theatre. When the door closed, Duilin ruffled Faelion’s hair. “So? How does the straight boy kiss?”
“Meh.” Faelion shrugged. “Although...”
“What?”
Faelion put his elbows on his knees and leaned his chin on his hands. “I get the feeling he has done this before.”
“Really?”
“But...” Faelion looked sideways towards Duilin. “Not with Glorfindel.”
“Really... huh.” Duilin gave Faelion a mirrored glance. “Do you really think so?”
“As someone who has kissed a lot of people,” said Faelion, “yes, I think so. He just... he knows. He pretends he does not know how he should kiss another ellon, but he does a bad job of it. He knows. He did it before. There is the ‘I do not like this’ and the ‘I do not want you to think I like this’.”
“Ah. Interesting...” Duilin raised his brows. “I wonder if it was in Doriath. You know, he was removed from Doriath.”
“They let you do that sort of thing in Doriath, though,” Faelion reminded Duilin.
Duilin shrugged. “Depends on who you do that sort of thing with.”
“Where was he after he left Doriath, before he came here?”
Duilin smiled. “I bet that was when it happened.”
“Certainly is worth pondering,” decided Faelion.
“Well, it would explain the whole thing with Glorfindel.”
Faelion sat up abruptly. “What thing?”
Duilin pursed his lips. “Nothing. Never mind. We should head back to the house.”
The grip Faelion suddenly had on Duilin’s arm was like iron. “Tell me what you are talking about.”
There were a few moments of silence. “He... he has some romantic feelings for Glorfindel, but something is holding him back from saying anything. I keep hoping he will, but he never does. He has the opportunities; he has a captive audience as it were. All he needs to do is say his bloody lines.”
Faelion remained quiet.
“I know you like Glorfindel,” said Duilin, placing his hand on Faelion’s shoulder. “He is older than you, is a respectable person, and he has a fair amount of power. His looks are nothing to laugh about. I can understand why you are attracted to him. I know the two of you have had a few very intimate meetings. But let me be honest with you, Faelion. I do not see anything lasting between the two of you.”
“Glorfindel is NOT out of my reach,” growled Faelion.
“I never said that,” corrected Duilin. “It is not him, it is you. You are young, and yet immature. One day you are going to wake up, and move on.”
