"Are you…are you busy?" asked the quiet voice by the door.
Rumil turned in his chair, his face lighting up. "No, dear child, I am not busy at all. Come in, come in, and find yourself a seat." Rumil did not give the very young elf the chance to find himself a seat, as he was already up and pulling a second chair to his drawing table.
The young elf - or was he more an old elfling? - smiled and sat down rather shyly. He said nothing for some time as Rumil went back to his work, sketching pictures for a book Celeborn had yet to write. "Was there something you wished to talk about, or is this just an unexpected and most appreciated visit?"
"I just…I had some questions…" the elf's voice tapered off with the rest of the sentence, so that Rumil had to lean closer and still did not hear.
"You will have to repeat that. I'm an old elf now, you see, I can't catch everything on the first try," said Rumil. The elfling smiled and tried again.
"There are questions I have, personal ones, that I have wanted to ask, but I did not wish to ask my Nana or Adar…you know how they can be."
Rumil nodded, and when nothing more was said, he suddenly became aware of the fact that the aforementioned personal questions were not about to be asked. "You want to ask me these questions," guessed Rumil, putting down the charcoal he had been drawing with. "Gimlin?"
"Yes."
"Because?"
"I'm not going to ask Adar," Gimlin said quickly. "He gets flabberjawed when he talks to me."
"Flabberjawed?" questioned Rumil.
"My new word for the day. Do you like it?"
Rumil nodded his approval. "It fits your Adar, I believe."
"Besides," continued Gimlin, "You're my favorite Uncle."
'I knew it!' thought Rumil, suppressing the urge to gloat or dance about. Instead he moved the page he was working on aside to lean on the top of the slanted table. "Is that so?"
"Well, what else have I to choose from?" Gimlin asked. "I could not ask my brother or sister, or my aunts - it wouldn't be appropriate. Besides, I feel most comfortable talking to you."
"Well, anything you need to know, I will tell you, or do my best if I do not know the answer," said Rumil. "I know how your father and your uncles can be - and I will admit, I didn't ask these sorts of questions of my own father, either."
"You know what I am about to ask you, then?" Gimlin pushed his blonde hair behind his ears nervously. "I hope you don't mind my coming to you."
"Of course not," said Rumil, putting a comforting hand on Gimlin's shoulder. "All young elves have such curiosities."
"They do?" asked Gimlin, slightly shocked.
"Aye," Rumil nodded, "and most of the elleths, I would wager," he said, with a wink.
"Even those born in Middle Earth? And those of the Third Age?"
"I was an elf born in the Third Age of Middle Earth," exclaimed Rumil, "and probably more curious than most! As it was, I married at a very young age, and to a much older elleth."
"Is that why you joined the guard when you…were…wait." Gimlin paused and gave his uncle a strange look. "Married?"
"Guard?" asked Rumil. They both shook their heads to clear them, and Rumil folded his hands upon his lap. "Gimlin, what was your first question?"
"What are orcs and why do we hate them so much?"
Rumil's face fell. "That's your question?"
"One of them," nodded Gimlin
"And the rest - are they all related?"
Gimlin shrugged. "More or less."
"Nothing about intercourse, then," continued Rumil, just to be sure.
Gimlin looked taken aback. "Intercourse? Dear uncle, to what end would I ask questions about that? I already know all I need to from living beneath this roof."
"You're an elfling of forty-eight years. I hardly think you know 'all' you need to, but I can see how a fair bit of knowledge could be gathered simply by living here," admitted Rumil.
Gimlin crossed his arms. "Elves take one partner, and only one partner, for life - with the obvious exceptions," he said, nodding in the direction of a half-finished picture of the twins and their lover that was set on a table at the side of the room. "Grandna' has a strange obsession with dwarves, something Gran'ada indulges her in, and apparently, the ways are most…unusual. Uncle Elrond can do nothing unless the lights are dimmed, but nothing again if they are off completely. You and Aunt Nenniach have a preference for the roof. Or the gazebo. Or anywhere outside where no one can see you but everyone can hear you. And Ada-"
"Saes!" Rumil finally pleaded, covering his ears. "You know more than I do about this household, and some of those things, I wish I had never heard," he admitted with a shiver. "Dwarves…yechh…"
"Perhaps I should have gone to Uncle Elrond…" Gimlin said, beginning to stand, but Rumil stopped him.
"No, you don't want to go to Uncle Elrond…he once told the twins that masturbation would cause them to lose their immortality to try to get them to settle down and marry." Rumil shut his mouth and pulled his drawing back to the center of the table. "Or, you could just go talk to Uncle Elrond."
"It's just, when I think about it…" Gimlin stood up and Rumil waved him in the direction of the door. "Well, he isn't related by blood…" Rumil's hand continued to wave. "I might have a chance in getting him to actually tell me about orcs, is all…" Gimlin moved to the door and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. "I shall…see you later, Uncle."
As soon as Gimlin left, Rumil let his head sink into his hands with a groan. A moment later, he heard the footfalls of Gimlin approaching the room once again.
"That…that thing Uncle Elrond told the twins…"
"No need to worry, Gimlin. Not true. Not true at all," said Rumil, not looking up.
"Oh, good," sighed Gimlin with relief, leaving the room once more.
