“I like how you dance with me more than I like how Ada dances,” admitted Arwen to Erestor.
“Do you, now?” Erestor smirked. “I would think it would be fun to step on his toes.”
“He makes me stand on his feet so that he does not step on mine,” pouted Arwen in a most adorable way.
Erestor led his partner around the outer edge of the room. “He has great concern for you,” said the dark elf, who had to slouch a bit to reach Arwen’s arms. “He does not wish to see you hurt.”
“I like this way,” she said, allowing herself to be twirled again. “You dance more fun than he does. Glorfindel dances weird with me,” she added.
“Does he?” smiled Erestor.
Arwen nodded. “He picks me up and dances with me in his arms. I think he gets confused sometimes about what to do with a lady.”
To this, Erestor could not help but burst into laughter, and Arwen, thinking she had made a grand joke (which she unknowingly had), giggled along with him.
Away from the dancers at a nearby table, Elrond leaned toward his wife, placing his hand behind her neck to rub it and then kissed her cheek endearingly. “I wonder, sometimes.”
“Wonder about what?” she asked, winking at Glorfindel, for she knew what was coming.
“I wonder about Erestor. And little Arwen,” he replied, putting his arm around her shoulder and watching his daughter dotingly.
“What about Erestor and Arwen?” questioned Glorfindel before hungrily stabbing his fork into a bowl of fruit salad. After the initial greetings and congratulations from the other partygoers, Glorfindel had made himself a permanent resident of the table closest to the food.
Elrond smiled, and Celebrian grinned. Glorfindel looked up with a most confused look. “What? Am I missing something?”
“My lord husband has the idea in his head that he might make a match between them some years to come. They already adore each other, and Erestor is an honorable elf,” said Celebrian.
“Erestor?” squeaked Glorfindel. He cleared his throat and in a more masculine tone, once again asked, “Erestor? I mean, no doubt, he is honorable. A very good and kind ellon – but for Arwen? She is so young, and he is so, so, so, so, so, so, very, very old.”
Shrugging, Elrond said, “It is merely a thought. Only time will tell.”
Setting his fork down on his plate, Glorfindel pushed it away a bit. His appetite lost, he turned his attention to the dancers. Arwen was yawning more and more, and when the song ended, Erestor escorted her back to her parents. “Nana, I want another dessert,” she said, crawling up onto her mother’s lap.
“Oh, I think it may be time for bed instead.” Celebrian cuddled Arwen close and lifted her up as she stood. “Say good night to everyone.”
“Night night.” Arwen waved her hand to her uncles and her father, who stood up and gave her a kiss and a hug before Celebrian walked out of the Great Hall with her.
Elrond sat back down and studied the crowd. “Had Lindir been up there all night now?” he asked, motioning to the minstrel on the small stage that had been erected in the corner.
“Yes, I do believe so,” said Erestor, looking over his shoulder. “He wanted to keep the music going all night long.”
“When does he get to dance?” Elrond looked at his advisors, neither of whom had the answer. “Do you think he ever wants to?”
“Probably,” said Erestor. “He just never gets the chance.”
Leaning back in his chair, Elrond mused this over. “Do you still play fiddle, Erestor?”
“Aye, m’lord. My violin is in the music room, last one on the rack. It should still be in fairly good tune from last month when I practiced,” he answered.
The elf-lord looked to Glorfindel. “Someone told me that you sing very well.”
“Oh?” Glorfindel glanced at Erestor. “I wonder who that was.”
“Melpomaen,” answered Elrond. “He said that by the river some of you were singing and your voice was so very rich and clear you put the others to shame.”
“I would not go so far as to say that,” Glorfindel argued, his cheeks flushing.
“I would.” Erestor was swiping chunks of fruit from Glorfindel’s discarded bowl. “With the exception of Ecthelion, no other save the Valar have a sweeter voice. I even prefer your singing over Daeron’s.”
With a grin, Elrond stood up. “It is settled, then. I shall retrieve our instruments, Erestor. I hope we will know some tunes we can play to accompany you.” The peredhel was already on his way before Glorfindel could protest further.
“Right now,” said Erestor, “is your chance to escape if you like.”
“No, I... I can sing a few songs,” relented Glorfindel. Watching as Erestor finished off the rest of the fruit salad, he slid his plate of cheese and roasted duck in the older elf’s direction. “Care to finish this, too?”
“Mmm, yes, I am starving – not the meat, though,” he said, pulling a face.
“Arwen would not touch it, either,” said Glorfindel. He sighed, somewhat sadly. “Elrond is right about that, I suppose.”
“Right about what?” asked Erestor, folding the slices of cheese until they would not fold anymore and then popping them into his mouth.
Glorfindel twisted the stem of his wine glass, spinning it slowly back and forth on the table. “That you and Arwen would be a good match.”
“What?!” Erestor coughed and nearly choked on the food in his mouth. Reaching over Glorfindel’s arm, he snagged the goblet and drank the remaining wine. “Arwen?”
“Hmm? Yes.”
“Arwen... and myself? Elrond’s daughter is only just barely learning to read and write and he is already trying to find her a prospective suitor?” Erestor’s mouth gaped open as he waited for Glorfindel to confirm this.
“And you are the lucky elf he has chosen!” Glorfindel grinned, relief washing over him. “Your thoughts?”
“Uhm, let me think. How about... no. I positively refuse to court anyone whose dirty diaper I have changed.”
“My, what high standards you have!” teased Glorfindel.
Erestor lightly punched Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Oh, shut up, you git. Actually, it does make things rather difficult holding to that – do you know how many diapers I have actually changed in my lifetime?”
“No, but I can gladly say you never changed mine!”
Before Erestor could ask Glorfindel just exactly what he meant by that, Elrond returned with the pair of fiddles. “Shall we?” asked Elrond.
The trio approached the stage, with Erestor plucking the strings of his violin to check the pitch. Elrond climbed up the stairs and went to Lindir, whispering something to the musician. He grinned, and cut the song he was playing short. “Dear ladies and gentlefolk,” said Lindir, bowing to the crowd who unexpectedly stopped the dance, “I wish to present to you an absolute treat this evening. Our three resident elf-lords are going to entertain you with what I am sure will be a plethora of songs and ballads that are from well before I was even born.” This received laughter from the audience and a friendly sort of glare from Elrond. “Please welcome them, and do enjoy the rest of the evening.”
“What do you want to sing first,” asked Erestor to Glorfindel.
The blond thought about it while he climbed the steps and then spoke so that both Erestor and Elrond could hear. “Do you know the song ‘Birds of a Feather’? Nice, simple, fast tune.”
“I only know the melody,” admitted Elrond, and Erestor said, “Play the melody, I can work out something for the harmony. Ready? One, and two, and-“
As they began their musical debut, Lindir hurried down the stairs in hopes to find a dance partner. He did not need to wait long.
“You may have the next dance with him; I asked him first,” said one elleth to another in a wary tone.
A third came over and batted her eyelashes, smiling prettily to the minstrel. “Might you have time to dance with me as well?”
“Ladies,” Lindir said with a smile, “I have ample time and have been resting my legs all night. I have hours of dancing before me!”
“Elrond?” Erestor nudged the peredhel where they were sitting behind Glorfindel, having heard what the half-elf would not have. “We are going to be here for a while.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
A bit of dancing is a cheerful thing