"Was that meant to be a jest, or are you simply amused at the sound of your own voice?" Erestor replied without looking up from his last minute preparations for the meeting. Beside him, Haldir tried to cover his chuckle, but it came out as a snort. "Doriath one, Gondolin zero. The ball is in your court, Fin."
Glorfindel pouted and opened the top folio, looking down the list of pupils. "I do wish he would not make us meet every month," complained the seneschal, who served as the horse care and riding instructor and taught weapons and warfare classes to the elder students. No response was given for this, so he asked, "Why aren't you wearing black today? What's the occasion? Did someone die?" Glorfindel looked to Haldir when Erestor did not answer. "You don't happen to have a clue why he's so cheerful, do you?"
Haldir put down his quill. He had been correcting papers from the advanced mathematics course he taught, but now folded his hands, carefully minding the red ink on the current page, and asked Glorfindel, "Where were you last night?"
Glorfindel gave a roguish wink, but Haldir merely raised a brow, and not in an amused way, either. Melpomaen entered the room, closing the door quickly behind him. "Was I supposed to be somewhere?" asked Glorfindel as he gave a nod in Melpomaen's direction.
Melpomaen glanced up at the other educators around him and suddenly became very interested in the book he lectured from to his politics and social protocol classes, despite the fact it remained closed on the table. He snuck a look at Erestor, who appeared to be on the edge of exploding, and looked back to the book.
"Do you know what today is?" Haldir asked, putting away the math papers and straightening his records for his other class, that being tracking and survival. Glorfindel shrugged.
"Midweek? Really, I don't understand why I am being interrogated, Oh Great Warden of the North." Glorfindel sighed, dipping his quill into the jar of black ink that had been neatly placed on the table. "So, after the meeting, then, who is up for a ride by the river?"
Only Glorfindel jumped as Erestor's hand slammed against the table, palm down. "This afternoon, after our meeting, we have a recital and reading scheduled, for which the rehearsal was last night."
"Oh...yes, of course..." Glorfindel looked down at his folio sheepishly, and looked back up when he felt he was still being stared at. "I was supposed to be at the rehearsal, wasn't I?" Three heads nodded up and down.
Lindir chose this moment to enter the room with Celebrian, and taking a look around the table, selected seats as far from Glorfindel as possible. Glorfindel twirled his quill between two fingers, making ripples in the jar of ink. "Well, I'm sure I can throw something together before the show."
"Of course. Just throw something together." Erestor threw his arms into the air. "Don't come prepared like the rest of us. We've only been working on this for the last six months. By all means, just throw something together."
Glorfindel cocked his head, looked over Erestor's outfit once again, and said, "You're playing the part of Feanor, aren't you?"
"Do not make me answer that with a kinslaying." Erestor rather noisily took out a scroll with a list of names on it. "Here is the order for the performance, 'Gil-Galad', you're lucky you die after most of the rest of us." Erestor rolled the scroll down the table, where Glorfindel caught it just as it was about to roll to the floor.
"Erestor - I don't die," Haldir reminded him quietly as Glorfindel searched for a fresh sheet of parchment.
"Yes, yes," Erestor said, waving him off, "a minor technicality."
Haldir pulled out his notes from the last meeting. "I'm telling Thranduil you said that."
"Go ahead," challenged Erestor, speaking quite a bit louder than he normally did. "I created the Silmarils, the Palantiri, and led the Noldor back across the sea - let him confront me."
"Erestor really gets into character with these things," Celebrian whispered to Lindir, who nodded.
"Should have seen him when we reenacted the awakening…quite a flair for the dramatic," Lindir answered back.
" 'Gil-Galad was an Elven-King; Of him the harpers sadly sing'," recited Glorfindel after scribbling onto his page.
"Is that all you have?" questioned Erestor after the group waited for the next lines.
"Yes, do you like it?"
Erestor sneered. "No, it's terrible."
"Great! I'm using it!" Glorfindel shouted back.
"This could get ugly," Lindir warned Celebrian, who was keeping the books and notes for her linguistics classes close at hand.
" 'His sword was long, his lance was keen; His shining helm afar was seen'," continued Glorfindel.
"Everyone has a sword that is long," Erestor said in an exasperated tone. "If it weren't long, it would be called a knife."
" 'In the Battle of Daggorlad is where he fell; Erestor, you can go to- Hello, Elrond!" Glorfindel said, a little too eagerly and a little too cheerfully, and Elrond, instead of offering his usual morning salutations, narrowed his eyes at his seneschal and took his seat. Although the rest of the group sat, waiting attentively to Elrond's announcements, Glorfindel continued to scratch at his sheet of paper. Elrond stared at the elf, clearing his throat a number of times.
"Where were you last night, Glorfindel?" asked Elrond finally, but Glorfindel was more intent on finishing his poem.
"In Mordor…where the shadows…are…" Glorfindel mumbled, finishing the last word on the page.
"That is your worst excuse yet," said Elrond, shaking his head at Glorfindel. "I expect you shall not be late for the event itself."
"No, I shall not, for I have written an excellent poem - which I shall dedicate to my dear friend, Erestor - and am quite eager to share it with the whole of Imladris," grinned Glorfindel, rolling his poem up and tucking it away.
Erestor smiled, but it was somewhat menacing, as Elrond began the meeting. Taking a sheet of fresh parchment himself, he scribbled something and slid it to Haldir.
'If only he were Teleri, he would give me reason for a true reenactment.'
Haldir waited until he had given his report, then took up his quill and wrote back furiously, eventually sliding the paper to Erestor.
Glorfindel was an Elven-Lord
When at meetings he becomes bored
Do not ask of what he did slay
Unless you want to listen all day.
His hair was blonde, his flowers were gold,
He acts quite young but is really quite old
From the kitchen he is known to steal treats
You'd think him a hobbit from all he eats
On Asfaloth he rides away
And where he goes none can say;
If his attention strays, Elrond may send him far
To Mordor where the shadows are.
"So what I am hearing is that we need to have some sort of a remedial class for those who are failing…Erestor? Is something the matter?" Lord Elrond looked over to his advisor with concern.
Erestor had his hand over his mouth, his eyes were closed, and he was beginning to turn an unhealthy shade of red. Elrond began to stand, looking to Haldir for an answer.
"You shall have to forgive him, my lord, he's…ah…he's…" Haldir shrugged his shoulders, realizing his attempt to explain was fruitless. He didn't have to try for much longer, for Erestor could no longer contain himself, and let out an undignified and rather loud snort, before bowing his head to the table and laughing whole-heartedly.
"I…I don't get it…" Melpomaen said as the rest of the table, with the exception of himself and Elrond, grinned and smiled as Erestor attempted to compose himself.
"Such is the madness of Feanor," Glorfindel told him with a grin.
Elrond began to stack and restack his papers, looking every few seconds at his chief councilor and getting more and more upset as time wore on. Finally, he heaved a great sigh and scooped his papers up into his arms. "Obviously, we shall have to discuss matters further later when everyone is of a mind to discuss matters of such serious importance." No one responded, and Erestor, though quieting, was still laughing into his arms. Unable to come up with anything else to say, Elrond said crisply, "Meeting adjourned," and left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Erestor's composure was regained. "Right, then. I want everyone ready within the hour. We need to make sure everyone has the correct order for the performance. Glorfindel, I expect you will have whatever that nonsense is memorized before the beginning of the production." When Erestor realized everyone was simply staring at him, wearing expressions of some degree of confusion, he clapped his hands as he often did to dismiss his classes. "Go on, then! Not much time left, everyone!"
Chairs were shoved under the table and the elves left from the room. The final one to exit, save for Erestor, was Haldir. He turned around and said, "Am I speaking to Erestor or Feanor right now?"
"Which would you like to speak to?" asked the councilor with an entirely straight face.
"I'd just like to know if that was all an act to get Elrond to end the meeting, or if you really thought the poem was amusing."
Erestor shrugged, rolling up the sheet that the poem was on. "It was entertaining, but it would take quite a lot for me to lose my composure. To the stage, Haldir, you need to get into costume yet," he said, waving him out of the room with a motion of his hand.
As soon as the chambers were empty, Erestor unfurled the page and reread the lines, smirking and chuckling. "Glorfindel the hobbit…" he mused to himself, shaking with laughter. Carefully, he put the page away in his scroll case and exited the room, presenting a perfect example of a proper elf.