“Is he always this clingy?” asked Glorfindel as he and Lindir waited for Elrond to return to his office.
Lindir, who was perusing Elrond’s private collection of books, shook his head. “Actually, he hardly wants anyone to touch him. A few times I tried to touch his shoulder to get his attention or something like that, and he would always lash out and slap me. I am surprised he is still allowing you to hold him.”
“He will not let go,” answered Glorfindel, laughing a little at his situation. “I could not pry him from me if I wanted to.”
“Though it would seem you would rather not let him go,” mused Lindir.
Glorfindel did not have to answer this question, for Elrond entered the room at that moment. “Well. According to one of my sons, I am a terrible father, a ‘meany’, and he currently hates me.”
“And this is new how?” asked Lindir from across the room.
Elrond wearily sat down behind his desk, then apologized to Glorfindel. “My eldest sometimes gets it into his head that he can do whatever he likes just because he is the heir to the realm. In reality, it is Elrohir who has the greater amount of common sense and would make a better leader, but Elladan is the older of the two.”
“Ah.” Glorfindel noticed that the elf he held had stopped trembling, and he tilted up the shaken ellon’s chin. “Are you alright?” he asked calmly.
“He will not answer,” sighed Elrond. From his desk, he retrieved a worn leather sack, untying the strings at the top. Onto the desk, he spilled out a hundred or so different wooden tiles, each with a different image painted upon it. “Try this.” Elrond fished through them and found a few that had pictures of an elf’s face making different expressions. One looked happy, another sad, yet another angry. He snapped his fingers a few times, but when Erestor did not respond, Elrond motioned that Glorfindel should bring him closer.
Standing up, Glorfindel helped Erestor back onto his feet. Although the slighter ellon now stood on his own, he still had one arm firmly around Glorfindel. “Clever,” remarked Glorfindel as he looked around at the different tiles.
Elrond pointed at the small grouping as he looked up at Erestor. Tentatively, the little elf slid the picture of a worried elf out of the bunch, as well as a sleepy looking one. Elrond nodded and collected the rest of the emotion tiles while Erestor reached forward and searched through the others. He pulled out a picture of a fireplace with a blanket in front of it.
Frowning, Glorfindel shook his head. He picked up the tile and tossed it into the garbage, to Elrond’s amusement and Erestor’s fright. “No more of that,” he said as he picked up Elrond’s quill and sketched on the corner of a sheet a rather crude drawing of a bed. It confused Erestor for a moment, but as soon as he realized what it was, he threw both arms around Glorfindel once again, snuggling himself against the tall blond warrior.
Elrond and Lindir exchanged looks. “Glorfindel, if you are truly serious about wishing to take care of him, no one will stand in your way. However, I do not believe you know how daunting a task this will be at times.”
“As we already confirmed, it will be a challenge,” said Glorfindel. “But I am willing to accept such a challenge. Perhaps this is why I was sent back. I may lack the proper social skills to get along with everyone here, but I do have a vast amount of patience.”
“Good.” Elrond gathered up the tiles and placed them back into the bag. “You may need these,” he said, handing the bag to Glorfindel. “Two other things I will mention to you. First, if you can hold his attention for long enough, he responds sometimes. Erestor.” Elrond snapped his fingers a few times in front of Erestor’s face, and the slender elf looked directly at him. “You are going with him,” said Elrond, drawing out each word very clearly. Erestor stayed focused on Elrond the whole time, and nodded at the end of the sentence. “He will take care of you.” Again, Erestor nodded, and tightened his grip on Glorfindel.
“What is the second thing?” asked Glorfindel, holding the sack in one hand, his other arm protectively around Erestor.
Elrond wadded up the sheet of paper Glorfindel had drawn on and tossed it into the garbage. “He is slow, but he is not a child. Treat him with patience, but remember that he is not in his youth. He understands things you might not think he does. In the reverse, there are many things he is ignorant of, and thus you must be patient. If he misbehaves or gets angry, however, simply give him time by himself. We do not strike him back when he hits us; he does not understand what he is doing is wrong.”
“I see.” Glorfindel nodded. “I think I can handle things from this point. Thank you for the advice.” Gently, Glorfindel led the ellon out of the office, leaving Lindir and Elrond alone.
“Am I making a mistake?” asked Elrond after the door was shut.
Settling down in one of the chairs with a book, Lindir said without looking up, “You asked me that when he first came here, when his parents abandoned him and went to the west. Galadriel wanted him to come to Lothlorien, but you decided the dangers there were too great, that he might fall from a tree or something. If you are making a mistake, it is not one that cannot be corrected.”
“But do you think it is a mistake?” Elrond reached over the desk, pushing the book out of the way until the steward looked at him. “Lin, am I making a bad decision?”
Contemplating for a minute, Lindir shook his head. “What were we able to do for him? Practically nothing. Plus, you must admit, it looked bad when you motioned that he just sleeps on the floor.”
“Because he would not sleep on a bed!” argued Elrond.
“I know,” said Lindir, but Elrond continued.
“I hope Glorfindel ends up dealing with the same thing we did – a disagreeable, biting, angry little thing who only calmed down when we took him to the library!”
With a chuckle, Lindir said, “No, you do not.”
Elrond huffed. “Alright, yes, I hope things work out. But still, it would serve Glorfindel well if he has to contend with some of the things we had to.”
