Friends of old, friends anew
The silver ones, and golden, too
Greet the old ones from your past
And make anew friendships to last
The very last week of the summer in Rivendell was spent in a most peculiar way, according to the elves of the other realms. Everyone in Imladris, whether resident or traveler, elf or man or dwarf, young and old, and everyone in between, hailed the coming harvest and the colder weather to follow along with the blocking of the pass with a tradition created not by Elrond, nor his wife, nor any of his counselors. It was the proud contribution that Elladan and Elrohir had made to the realm. When you woke, you went to the Great Hall, where you chose a crown of flowers to be worn at all times beginning that evening (except for bathing and sleeping). For one week, no one would be a lord or a lady or a servant or a maid - everyone would be friends.
Food was prepared for the week well in advance, and the first day would consist of a late afternoon feast. By then, most everyone had their crown, but these would be kept hidden in everyone’s personal living quarters. Although there were tables and chairs in the Great Hall, everyone would be in constant movement, for every five to ten minutes, Elrond would bellow from wherever in the room he was ‘SWITCH!’ and everyone was expected to move to a different seat, or to sit instead of stand or vice versa. This would ensure that everyone would meet at least one person they had not in the previous year, and see someone they had not the time for since last autumn.
In the afternoon, the rest of the flowers would be plucked from the gardens, for the chill in the air would cause them to wither and die anyhow. The children would weave them into garlands for adorning the now bare trellises and the gazebo, as well as the doors to the stables, barns, forge, and every other building they could find. The rest were taken inside and wound about the banisters, and if any were left, might be used in the Hall of Fire.
Then came the party in the evening, with an ample flow of wine. It was now that everyone would wear their floral crowns, and the trick was to find your match for the week. This was the one you would converse with, the person you would spend your meals with, and generally all of your time for the next six days.
Secretly, as Glorfindel adjusted the daisies and violets that were wound around his head, he hoped that Erestor would be wearing the same combination of flowers. He took a deep breath before leaving his room. The likelihood was very bleak; not once in all the years had that occurred, and with a growing population it was less and less likely.
The first person he encountered in the hallway was Melpomaen, with Tor on his leash sporting a carnation from Melpomaen’s crown wrapped around his tail. Pink and yellow carnations, which made Glorfindel grin at the stark contrast against the secretary’s dark hair. “How are things with you today, Mel?”
“Oh, just marvelous!” Melpomaen decided to pick up his puppy to keep them moving quickly down the hall, converging with others going to the party. “And you?”
“I am well,” lied Glorfindel, making a note to himself he would have to speak to Eru about that small transgression later. “I am anxious to discover who I am paired with for the week.”
“So am I – oh, I am being summoned,” laughed the scribe, seeing Lindir waving madly from down the hall with both arms above his head. The minstrel had donned a crown of white carnations and red roses. “He always gets the best ones,” muttered Melpomaen.
“He weaves them, does he not?” winked Glorfindel. “Enjoy the celebration,” he called, unsure of whether Melpomaen heard him as they were swept in different directions down the hallway.
Glorfindel spied the twins – Elladan with ivy tilted on his brow and a smattering of tiny purple clusters. Elrohir was not far away, but his head was covered in bright orange lilies and he had already found his companion – one of the men apprenticing as a blacksmith.
Each time he passed another with a different crown of flowers than he, his hopes rose a little. Glorfindel had yet to look for Erestor in the crowd that was in the Hall of Fire once he arrived, but instead sought out Elrond at the hearth. Beside the lord of the valley stood his wife, looking about with a watchful eye, her crown of carnations making Glorfindel grin. “I know who your ma-atch is,” he told his cousin in a sing-song voice.
“I do not real-ly ca-are,” she sang back. “I will fi-ind them my-y se-elf.”
Elrond gave Glorfindel a look as if to ask if it was anyone he need worry about being alone with his wife for the better part of the week, but Glorfindel grinned wider and shook his golden mane. “Where is little Arwen?”
“With a young dwarven lad near her own age – she was thrilled, compared to last year,” said Elrond. The previous year, Arwen had been paired with an accountant from one of the nearby towns of men. Her experience was abysmal and made her ask her parents if she could skip learning math. Glorfindel had ever since been unsure of whether or not to ever mention to her that beyond his duties as the horse master of the realm and chief of the military when required, that he was also the house accountant.
It was during his mind wandering that Glorfindel’s eyes betrayed his head and fell upon the dark counselor. Indeed, his heart sank, for resting on the silken black hair he so secretly longed to touch was a ring of red roses and white carnations. He sighed as he took note of the serving girl whom Erestor was speaking to, for she had a crown of daisies and violets.
Excusing himself, Glorfindel turned back to greet the maiden, but was surprised when he could not see her in the crowd. Frowning, he walked from one end of the room to the other, utterly bewildered.
“Will you please hold still for a moment! My goodness, it is not a race!”
Glorfindel turned around, finding Erestor standing behind him, a bit winded. “Mingle, Glorfindel, mingle,” panted the dark haired advisor. “What part of mingle makes you think run willy-nilly from one side of the hall to the next?”
That was when Glorfindel realized that Erestor was not wearing red roses any longer. “What happened to your crown?”
“Nothing,” said Erestor quickly, shooing Glorfindel outside into the hallway as the blond said, “I could have sworn you had carnations and roses.”
“Shh!” Erestor looked around, and saw an abandoned alcove away from the crowds. He took hold of Glorfindel’s hand (‘He’s holding my hand!’ screamed the excited little voice in Glorfindel’s head.) and pulled him into the hidden space. “Do you want to get me in trouble? I swapped with someone,” he hissed in a low voice. “Nice young girl, she was so hoping to be paired with Lindir. I do hope he does not tell on me – I had already found him, and then when I came into the Hall to see Elrond for a moment, I bumped into her.”
“She told me how much she had been hoping to match with him for the week, so I cleverly switched our crowns,” finished Erestor.
Glorfindel looked mightily impressed. “How did you manage to do that without everyone noticing?”
Motioning for Glorfindel to stand up, Erestor positioned himself as close as he had been to the young maiden. Placing a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder, he said, “Well, I am sure you will have a chance to spend the time you like with him in the very near future.” He lifted his arm up, but caught his wrist on the edge of the crown, causing it to flip off of Glorfindel’s head and onto the floor. “How clumsy of me! Allow me,” he insisted, stooping down to the floor.
While bent over, Erestor bowed his head low, causing his own crown to fall to the ground. As he stood up, Glorfindel realized that the dark elf had placed the other crown on his own head, and was offering the crown originally belonging to the maiden to Glorfindel. “There you are, my dear. Now, off you go.”
“Brilliant!” smiled Glorfindel as he took the crown and settled it on his golden hair.
“I hope you do not mind being stuck with me for the week,” apologized Erestor.
Glorfindel could do little more than smile.