Beyond Canon
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“Trick or Treat!”

Grinning back at the happy faces, Glorfindel handed each little elfling a candied apple wrapped in waxed paper while Erestor dropped a popped-corn balls into each open sack. Waving as the children ran off giggling, Erestor said, “Don’t you miss it sometimes?”

“Miss what?” questions Glorfindel, unwrapping an apple.

Erestor looks over the balrog slayer, dressed in a balrog costume, chewing the caramel off of his apple. “Nevermind. Silly me, I forgot that you never grew up.” Erestor himself was wearing light leather armor that bore the crest of the House of the Golden Flower, his dark tresses hidden under a wig of golden horse hair.

“Not what you were saying just a half hour ago when I let you slay the balrog,” grins Glorfindel as Erestor glares at him with a ‘you know what I mean’ look. “I don’t quite miss my childhood... it was adequate at best, between my father and keeping my secret from everyone, so I’d rather not go into detail.”

“But surely, you must have gone out haunting like these young ones,” argued Erestor as another group came to the stoop where they were sitting. "It was still common in your part of Beleriand, and even Doriath celebrated it from time to time. Did you not go romping from house to house when you were young?"

Smiling nostalgically, he says, “Oh, just once.”

“Only once?”

Glorfindel nods. “My parents thought it silly and never let me go, but once, when I was in Gondolin, there was another elf who was very insistent that everyone needed to have fun…”



“Why so glum, chum?” Ecthelion looked down at the young blonde elf who sat on the edge of the fountain sighing to himself. “Tonight’s the big night- aren’t you handing out treats at your door, or will you be tricking the elflings as they pass by?”

Glorfindel shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Ecthelion sat down next to the youth. “You haven’t much time left to decide. ‘Tis nightfall soon. Which did you like better when you roamed the streets – the treats or the tricks?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” laughed Ecthelion. “How can you not know?”

“I don’t know because I never went.”

“Not ever?” Ecthelion asked with a frown.

“No.”

“And how old are you?” he questioned.

“Forty-uh, three hundred and forty-nine," Glorfindel lied, "for we last celebrated my three hundred and fiftieth begetting day this year past.”

Trying not to smirk at the elf whom he knew was not as old as his claims, Ecthelion clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Not too late for you, then. Almost, but not quite.”

“Not quite for what?”

“To have a proper holiday. Come along, I think I may have a costume that will fit you,” offered Ecthelion as he stood.

Glorfindel shook his head. “I’m too old for it.”

“Not in my book! We shall pretend you are merely forty-nine, and gain three hundred years back tomorrow," he winked. "And ‘tis treason to speak against the Captain,” added the dark haired elf quickly. “Besides, you can come along with me when I help lead the children through the streets tonight. It’s quite a task,” he informed Glorfindel as they walked to the Captain’s house, “but well worth the rewards.”

“It must make the elflings happy to have you dress up and walk with them,” commented Glorfindel.

“Well, yes,” admitted Ecthelion. “but I’m talking about the candy!”
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