There was always great fanfare when Gildor’s people arrived in Rivendell. Whether it was due to Gildor riding in upon the back of a tamed Oliphant, or because he had with him the dancers of a foreign land, or if it was only the bright and bustling caravan that traveled in a snaking line across the horizon, his arrival alone was a grand event. Gildor was well aware of this, and played it up to the fullest. Acrobats and other street performers would rush forward first, and sometimes in their midst a sword swallower or a fire eater. The enchantment that they brought to the valley was the excitement wished by those living there – always with the exception of one.
“Erestor is not feeling well. He has decided not to be present for Gildor’s arrival,” explained Melpomaen to the rest of the contingent standing in the courtyard that morning.
Elrond wore a look of indifference, but one brief look at Glorfindel told the others that the seneschal hardly believed the excuse. “I doubt he is ailing from anything. The weather is pleasant today and has been for the past week.”
“Perhaps he ate something that made him ill,” suggested Melpomaen.
“More likely, he drank something that did,” murmured one of the junior councilors to another.
Elrond chose not to reprimand them. “After we have taken care of business here, I shall expect him to seek audience with me. He might at least make the effort to be present for an hour.”
Melpomaen nodded meekly, making no further excuse for his employer. “I could see if he would be well enough for that,” offered Melpomaen.
“No, thank you. I do not need you absent this morning as well.” Elrond made a motion that directed Melpomaen to an empty space between Lindir and the assistant horse master, and he slid into place as trumpets sounded Gildor’s arrival.
“Cousins!” Gildor dismounted from the back of a horse that appeared to be a unicorn – a bafflement to many of those standing in the receiving line, for the Noldorin prince’s exploits were well known to many, and unicorns had been nothing more than creatures of the imagination. “It has been far too long! What, now, twelve years since I have set foot upon the soil of fair Imladris?”
“Too long, indeed,” agreed Elrond. He stepped forward and grasped Gildor’s arm, and Gildor did the same in return. “I regret that my daughter is not here to make your acquaintance, for she is in Lothlorien.” The Lord of Imladris and the Lord of Lindon strolled past each of the members of the household who had assembled to greet the prince. First was Glorfindel, not Erestor as it should have been, and for this Elrond mumbled a few words quietly. “I must apologize for my chief councilor.”
“For his absence or for making him your chief councilor?” jested Gildor loud enough for a select few to hear. “If the latter, my deepest condolences.” Before Elrond had a chance to answer back, Gildor added, “I have news of interest to you. When we are done with the formalities, I must request audience with you to speak of your chief councilor.” Elrond nodded.
Glorfindel opened his mouth to ask just what matters Gildor wished to speak of, but Elrond made a hardly seen movement with his hand, and Glorfindel pressed his lips together. The rest of the formalities were seen to, and when Gildor reached the end of the line, he knelt down to look upon the boy who stood looking around in wonder. “And who have we here?”
“Gildor Inglorion, I would like you to meet my son, Estel.” Elrond smiled proudly and set his hand upon Gildor’s shoulder. “Estel just recently celebrated his tenth birthday.”
“Oh, my, I have been gone a long while.” Gildor looked up at Elrond and raised a brow in askance. “Where is his mother keeping herself these days?”
“She will be joining us for tea this afternoon while Estel is attending his history and literature lessons.” Elrond squeezed Gildor’s shoulder to indicate that the conversation was now over. “Estel – Gildor is part of our extended family.”
The boy stepped forward and bowed just as he had been taught, with one arm behind his back and the other stiffly positioned in front of him. “Pleased to meet you, Lord Gildor.”
“Oh, he is charming! Adorable! Watch him, Elrond, I might have to bundle him up and take him with me.” Gildor winked at the boy before he stood. “You have your father’s eyes,” he said.
Elrond cleared his throat and patted Gildor upon the back. “Perhaps we should adjourn to my study to discuss that matter which is presently concerning you.”
“Yes, we certainly should,” decided Gildor. “It was wonderful to meet you, Estel. I do hope we have a chance later to speak again.”
Estel beamed. “Did I do well? Father said that if I did well, he would reward me with a new bow – one that shoots real arrows!”
“Did he now? Well, I think you did exceptionally well. Much better than a certain absent member of the staff did today,” added Gildor with a smirk.
Glorfindel shuffled between Gildor and Estel. “It is time for Estel’s mathematics lessons. In fact, he is quite late for them.” He turned to address the youth, blocking Gildor from Estel’s view. “Hurry along, Estel, and mind that you are on time for archery practice today or I doubt that bow will be seen in your future.”
“Yes, sir!” Estel ran up the stairs of the house and right through the doors, which were propped open in the expectation that many people would travel in and out of the house throughout the day.
“Shall we see to that meeting?” asked Gildor impatiently.
Elrond nodded and extended his arm. “After you.”
Glorfindel gave the pair a head start, and then followed up behind them, doubling back to dismiss the rest of the staff. Without Erestor present, there were always a few things left unattended to, and the other councilors and staff may well have stood around the courtyard into the better part of the afternoon had they not been formally dismissed.
This meant that Glorfindel arrived to Elrond’s study slightly later than he might have liked. When he walked in, Gildor was pouring brandy and Elrond was settling into his chair. “Of course, I am not in the business of reading the correspondence of others,” Gildor was assuring Elrond, “but when one has a letter of such importance more or less slip from the pile, with broken seal, faced up so that one can read it, one can hardly be blamed for acquiring such knowledge. If I had to guess, it was meant to be loosely sealed so that someone would see it.”
“See what?” asked Glorfindel.
“I was just about to get to that,” promised Gildor. He removed from his vest a very thick sheet of paper folded in thirds. From it hung the ribbons and seal of the King of Greenwood, but the seal had been broken. Whether accidental or otherwise, it was now free to reveal the secrets hidden within. “You can imagine my surprise when I read it. I thought you would want to know.” Gildor tossed the letter onto the top of Elrond’s desk.
Elrond looked down at his desk as if someone had just thrown a snake before him. “I suspect you are aware of protocol that suggests that messengers should not be reading the messages of others when sealed in such a manner.”
“It was not sealed, though. Or perhaps it was at one point, but when I acquired it to transfer it here, the seal was broken,” said Gildor. He sipped his glass of brandy.
“What does it say?” asked Glorfindel as he shut the door behind him.
The letter was picked up by Elrond, who unfolded it. He read through it, suddenly looking up abruptly at Gildor. “Are you certain this is not a forgery?”
“I have no doubts as to the authenticity.” Gildor shook his head. “Who knew? All these years, you have had a traitor in your midst.”
“There is no evidence that Erestor is a traitor,” said Elrond.
“Erestor?” Glorfindel briskly walked around the desk to stand behind Elrond so that he could read the letter. He had to bend over and peer very closely with eyes squinted in order to make out the text. “This says only that he is to return to Mirkwood to vote. What is traitorous about participating in an election?”
“It clearly addresses him as a citizen of the realm of Greenwood,” pointed out Gildor. “Is this something he ever made either of you aware of?”
Elrond shook his head. “This is the first I have been informed of his residency.”
“His residency is here,” argued Glorfindel.
“The letter specifically addresses him as a loyal subject of Mirkwood,” stated Gildor. “It names him as a Lord of the Fifth District, whatever that exactly means. The point is, he has a standing there in the court. Considering the size and population of Mirkwood, he seems to rank fairly high.”
“So? Sometimes people refer to me as a Lord of Gondolin. Is my fealty questioned?” Glorfindel had his arms crossed angrily over his chest and was glaring across the room at Gildor.
Gildor drank from his glass and shook his head. “No one has ever questioned your loyalty, have they, Elrond?”
“No.” Elrond folded the letter back up and smoothed out the ribbon that was attached. “But you are not Erestor.”
“I still see no difference. Has he not served you for longer than I? Has he not been a protector of this valley and of your family?” asked Glorfindel. “Did he not serve in our army during the Last Alliance?”
“He did, and for that, I am thankful,” replied Elrond. “However, this is a serious matter. He might have mentioned something during the many years he has been here. Did he ever reveal this to you?”
Glorfindel shook his head slowly. “No, but perhaps it was because he did not think it was an important issue. It may mean nothing to him – an empty title.”
“Let us find out.” Elrond tapped the letter and slid it towards Gildor. “It must be delivered to him or we will not know his reaction.”
“With pleasure,” said Gildor. He walked over and reached for the letter, but Glorfindel placed his hand over it to stop him. “What now?”
“If you are going to give it to him, it will need to be resealed or he will suspect something is amiss.” Glorfindel motioned to Elrond. “Have you any green wax? It will need to match.”
Elrond opened a draw of his desk and sorted about the contents until he found what Glorfindel had asked for. Carefully, Glorfindel heated the stick using a candle, and then even more cautiously held the seal of the letter over the flame. The heat licked it a few times, just enough to soften the original seal and make it easy for Glorfindel to manipulate. He dripped two drops down on the paper, folded it over, and pressed down on the original seal. “There we are,” he said softly, handing the letter to Gildor. “Now you can take it to him.”
Gildor nodded. “If you have no further need of me this afternoon, I am famished! Shall I see either of you in the dining hall for lunch?”
“I will be there momentarily,” stated Elrond while Glorfindel shook his head.
“Too busy?” asked Gildor. “He always works so hard,” he commented to Elrond.
“Just not hungry,” said Glorfindel.
Gildor tilted his head to his side. “I will see you tonight?”
“Of course.”
The messenger grinned and left the office, depositing his empty glass on a side table before he went. Elrond settled back in his chair. “Do you think we have reason to worry?”
“I hope not,” answered Glorfindel, though in truth, he was already beginning to wonder what was going on.
“If he does go to Mirkwood,” said Elrond, “I would need to send someone with him. Someone who could keep watch on the situation and report back to me without hesitation or emotional distraction.”
“Are you suggesting I would become disloyal to you if it were discovered that he had not been loyal?” asked Glorfindel.
“You tell me.”
Glorfindel shook his head. “I took an oath to Turgon, and I took an oath to you. Those are the only promises currently governing me.”
“If I asked you to follow him, and to report back to me—“
“I would need to say I was escorting him as part of the security detail. I would tell him nothing of it in confidence. As much as it would pain me, as his friend, as your captain, it would be my duty to you. However,” added Glorfindel, “I doubt there is anything we need to worry about. Erestor forgets a lot of things. I know that is a weak defense, but he may very well have forgotten to tell us about this for all of these years.”
“Perhaps. I just need to be ready for any eventuality,” said Elrond. “No one ever suspected Maeglin.”
Glorfindel bristled. “While I respect your need to protect Imladris, I would appreciate it if you did not compare that traitor to Erestor. Nothing to this point would lead anyone to think that Erestor did not have the best interests of Rivendell in mind. Furthermore, Mirkwood is not exactly Angband or Mordor.”
“And I ask again, will your judgment be clouded if it turns out that he is indeed disloyal to Imladris?” asked Elrond.
“You need not ask, for if it turns out that he is, I will be certain that there will be no need for you to tend to the matter when I return.”
