“You head back to the border in just a few days.”
Erestor’s comment was a jolt back to reality for Glorfindel. “That is correct.”
“Hmm. Ever think about staying in the city and giving up the patrols?” wondered Erestor. They were lounging in the grass in a little glen near the house. Nearby was a basket of apples and another with plums. One of the few tasks performed by everyone during the week was the harvesting of the late season fruit before it was either taken by wild creatures or left rotting on the trees and bushes. It was done lazily by all involved, however, with everyone doing a little bit it did indeed get done.
“Sometimes. I like the solace, though. I also have a need to feel I am doing my part to protect the valley,” said Glorfindel. “Of course, there are some very good reasons for me to stay here all of the time.”
“I would think there would be.” And Erestor left it at that, for the sounds of two very frustrated children were advancing upon the pair. The dark ellon sat up, and seeing Arwen and her new playmate, waved them over.
Bounding across the grass and plopping down into Erestor’s lap, Arwen snuggled against her uncle. “Uncle Ressor,” she pouted, “Bolin wants to hurt the trees.”
“I ‘on’t want to ‘urt the trees,” defended the dwarfling, swinging his wooden toy axe back and forth. “I only wanted to reach the top o’ the trees. I was only joking.”
“He said we should just cut them down,” sobbed Arwen.
“I said cou’d! We COU’D cut them down,” the dwarfling argued.
Glorfindel was sitting up now as well. “I would advise against the cutting down of any trees around here.”
“I wou’d not really,” pouted the dwarfling, and there was nothing so sad as a dwarfling in the midst of a pout.
“We cannot get to any of the fruit in the trees. Everything is much too high for us!” exclaimed Arwen. She pointed to the baskets they had discarded some feet away. “They are empty! Ada will be so mad!”
“Oh, hush, no he will not,” scolded Erestor gently, wiping away Arwen’s tears with his sleeve. “Come now, where are these trees with fruit that is unreachable?”
“But we want to pick them, not you,” complained the little peredhel as she was lifted off of Erestor’s lap.
He nodded. “And you shall.” Hoisting up his own bushel basket, he held out his other hand for Arwen and the pair walked to the smaller baskets. “Pick up yours and take the other to your friend. And, I think you should apologize to him – he really is not going to cut down anything, trees or otherwise.”
Arwen bowed her head and nodded, then picked up the baskets. She raced with them back to the dwarfling and handed his to him. “I am sorry Bolin. Friends again?”
“Indeed, m’lady,” he said, which made Arwen giggle.
She ran back to Erestor to take hold of his hand again. “He called me a lady,” she said in a quiet voice. “I think he likes me.” She giggled again.
Erestor smiled and looked back over his shoulder at Glorfindel, who was smirking as well. The blond picked up his basket and followed the trio where Bolin led them.
“There it is,” sighed Arwen as they came to a lone peach tree hidden beneath some tall old oaks. “We found it this morning, but the branches are too thin to climb without hurting it, and Ada would not let us bring a ladder out here.”
“I have an idea,” said Erestor after he took a walk around the tree. Crouching down on the ground, he said to Arwen, “Remember when you would ride on my shoulders when you were smaller?”
“Oh, do I!” she exclaimed, and scrambled up onto his shoulders with her basket tight in her hand. “This is great!” she shouted happily when she was settled and Erestor was standing up again. “I can nearly reach the top.”
Bolin looked on wistfully as Arwen reached out and plucked a peach from the tree for her basket. He turned his head when he heard a chuckling tenor voice say, “I am not doing this for my health, you know.”
Although Bolin was quite a sturdy lad, he was not as heavy as Glorfindel thought he looked. He stood with the dwarfling on his shoulders with ease, and soon a peach picking competition had begun.
- - -
After a day of picking fruit and watching clouds, the children had fallen asleep in the grass with Erestor and Glorfindel watching over them. The sun was just beginning to think about setting, while the moon appeared to have arrived a bit prematurely in the east. “Someday, I am going to follow the sun and make my way back to Valinor,” said Erestor, appropriate of nothing as the pair relaxed against the trees beneath the boughs of the oaks.
“I look forward to going, but I have yet to hear the call. Even when I am in Mithlond, Elrond says he can hear the sea harken unto him, but I myself have not,” admitted Glorfindel.
“Neither have I. Which, perhaps because of my heritage I never will, but I will go back someday,” Erestor said with confidence. “I shall go back, find myself a little piece of land with good soil, and start farming again. I think this time I will forgo fields of corn and carrots and potatoes and just care for fruit and nut trees instead.”
“Your own little orchard in Valinor,” remarked Glorfindel with a smile. “That sounds nice. I can see you finding a spot near the seaside, or next to a pond or a lake. Some place with a nice spot for you to sit and commune with nature and read.”
“That would be nice,” said Erestor, closing his eyes and imagining it. “I used to think, I would marry and have many children with my wife, and all of us would live together in a cozy cottage with a cat and a few dogs, maybe some rabbits. I would have a stable for my horses, and in the winter and early spring we would stay indoors and talk and sing and generally be... happy. But I have given up most of that dream,” Erestor confided to Glorfindel. “If I can have the farm and the cottage, and a few horses, I think that will suffice and I would be able to survive alone.”
“I would not want that for you.” Glorfindel stretched his arms over his head, fighting off fatigue. “I hope you find someone who truly makes you happy, and I hope you have these children you are always talking about. But if you do not, or even if you do, consider finding a spot with enough room next door for me to build a house of my own.”
“You would want to be my neighbor?” laughed Erestor. Glorfindel nodded emphatically. “That is just silly – if you want to live that close, we should just build a house big enough for both of us, and our families. Who knows – perhaps I will find a wife one day, or perhaps you and Gildor will want to finally settle.”
“Or perhaps we will end up living together with only each other for company during the long winters in a cottage beside an orchard with a cat, some dogs, and a few horses,” suggested Glorfindel.
Slowly a smile spread across Erestor’s face. “Perhaps we will,” he said.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Dwarflings say the darnedest things