Beyond Canon
RSS


- Text Size +
It was not often that Erestor skipped a council meeting. In fact, he had not intended to skip it at all, but three of his students needed extra tutoring, and he had lost track of time. As he hastened to make it to the chambers before it ended, he noted that many of the councilors were strolling about in pairs and trios, and he ascertained that he had missed the meeting entirely, and so retreated to the office he shared with Glorfindel in the lower level of the house.

“Tell me about the meeting,” he said as soon as he entered and found Glorfindel standing at one of the shelves of books looking over the volumes housed there. “What did I miss?”

“Hmm? Oh, I forgot what we talked about already. Elrond missed it again, and the junior councilors are now making it a habit to only attend as we are wrapping things up, for they know we can act on few things without him there.” Glorfindel selected one of the books and took it to his desk, but did not sit down. “How many times have you been arrested?” he asked smoothly, using the same tone.

“Well that is a fine greeting.”

“Seriously, Erestor. I was trying to do the math, and it came up, so—“

Erestor held up a hand in order to pause his friend. “What do you mean, it came up? Something like that does not simply ‘come up’.”

“Elrond had plans to ask you to take Estel with you when you travel next month, but Lady Gilraen has some concerns. She was about to consent when one of the councilors made a comment about ‘arrest-or’ and then I had to try to muddle my way through an explanation, which I miserably failed. I attempted to make it seem as if it was all very political, which it was, but I think she is a bit concerned about the whole idea now that she has some inkling of your past.” Glorfindel waited for a moment, and pressed on. “No comment?”

“I am thinking.” Erestor dropped down into his chair and gripped the armrests. “Seven. No, eight? Shit... I think eight. Does Gondolin count?”

“Are you still pretending you never lived in Gondolin?”

“Most of the time,” admitted Erestor.

“The trouble with lies is they are harder to keep track of than the truth.” Glorfindel pulled another book from the shelf. “Do not be surprised if she confronts you later today. Elrond seems to think this would be a very good test for Estel, and though Gilraen is not exactly fighting it, she is apprehensive. You need to be aware of the fact that you are under scrutiny.”

Erestor reached over the joined desks and picked up one of the books to examine it. “Who called me ‘arrest-or’, if I might ask?”

“Someone who thought they were being amusing.”

“Not Lindir,” guessed Erestor, knowing the musician to have a mischievous streak from time to time.

“Yes, Lindir. He thought he was being clever, really, but it certainly did not help a single ounce.” Glorfindel rearranged a few volumes to keep the remaining ones from slipping down into a slumped pile on the shelf.

From the bottom drawer of his desk, Erestor pulled a bottle of amber liquid and a pair of glasses. He poured one three-quarters full, and cleared his throat to gain Glorfindel’s attention. The blond shook his head, and Erestor replaced the second glass in the desk. He corked the bottle, but did not return it to the drawer. “I suppose he was singing one of his songs or reciting a few lines of poetry.”

“It was a limerick.”

“He wrote a limerick about me? Cheeky lad... remind me to return the favor. He is no innocent to be sure.” Erestor gulped a good amount of the liquid from his glass. “Do you remember it?”

“No, I was much more concerned with Gilraen’s opinion of you than I was with being able to recite a lewd poem later on.” Glorfindel opened a drawer of his own desk, expecting to find a stack of narrow scrap papers he typically used to mark books. They were there, but his gaze wandered to the side, where somehow the implement he and Gildor had used a few nights earlier was propped up so that it was leaning erect in the drawer. He slammed the drawer shut and then sat down on the edge of the desks where they were pushed together. “Pretend you did not hear of all this when you do see her. I do not wish her to think me... uncouth.”

There was a knock on the door before Erestor was able to make any promises to Glorfindel, and instead of waiting for permission, the door was pushed open. It was Gilraen, as anyone might suspect, and she had her hands upon her hips now as she entered, giving Erestor a slightly accusational look. “I have heard it upon good authority that you have been in trouble with the law on many occasions.”

“It might have happened once or thrice,” answered Erestor, feigning surprise. “I do not understand what that might matter—“

“If you are going to take my son on an extended journey, I must be assured of the fact that he will be safe and free of any uncomplimentary adventures.” Gilraen glanced at Glorfindel. “You may leave us alone.”

“This happens to be my office as well. I have business to attend to,” said Glorfindel firmly, but Gilraen glared at him in such an angry manner that Glorfindel hopped off of the desk and grabbed his abacus and the books he had selected from the shelf. “Actually, I was about to see Elrond about something anyhow...” He mouthed ‘good luck’ to Erestor while out of Gilraen’s line of sight and left quickly and quietly.

Gilraen took up the spot that Glorfindel had vacated and stared down at Erestor. “Your offenses. Name them.”

The door opened and Glorfindel tried to sneak back in. Despite his silence, Gilraen’s intuition alerted her to his return. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“Yes ma’am.” Glorfindel quickly slammed the door shut. Gilraen left her post and walked over to the door, locking it from the inside.

“That is hardly necessary. In fact, anything you wish to speak about can be stated in front of him, because we basically tell each other everything.”

Gilraen smiled sweetly. “So that means he has already informed you of my intention to interrogate you.”

“First of all, I am, as you have already surmised, very familiar with being interrogated. Secondly, he is an honorable man – did you tell him he was not to tell me?”

There was a slight pause, and Gilraen answered, “No, I do not recall stating that.”

“Then that might have been why he thought he should inform me. Now, had you asked him not to speak to me of it? He certainly would not have, or, he would have told you that he could not make such an assurance. He is very honest. Extremely honest. Ask him anything, and he will answer you with an honest and complete answer.”

“By that, you mean to tell me that he is your exact opposite.” Gilraen sat down on the desk again and peered down at Erestor, which was not a very long distance considering his height even while seated. “I am not sure that I am comfortable putting you in charge of my son.”

“I can assure you, if Elrond thought that I was a hazard, he would not have given me such a high position here in Imladris,” said Erestor.

“And just what is your position here in Imladris?” asked Gilraen.

“I am second in line to rule this realm.” Erestor smiled at the discomfort that this obviously caused Gilraen. “Did he never mention this to you? Indeed, it is my duty to perform all tasks otherwise assigned to him in his absence.”

“He has two grown sons,” argued Gilraen. “What of Elladan? Is he not Elrond’s heir?”

“He is,” Erestor agreed. “He most certainly is. The fact of the matter is that neither of his sons has made their decision regarding their heritage. Will they be counted among the Men? With they choose Elvenkind instead? It is baffling; however, the matter remains that there must be a specifically chosen predecessor, if anything should happen to Elrond, Eru forbid.”

“And why did he choose you? He might have decided upon Glorfindel or Gildor or someone else. Why you?” asked Gilraen.

“Simple. My father was the firstborn of the Elves of the Noldor. I am his firstborn son. Had my father not sent Finwe as the emissary of the Noldor to Valinor, and gone himself, I would most likely have been in higher power than the line of Finwe. There are many Elves who remember that and consider me to be the true heir of our people. It puts Elrond in a powerful position among both the Nandor and the Noldor of the elder ages.” Erestor picked up the glass he had poured for himself and drank from it. “In addition, I am brilliant when it comes to negotiations and tactics. I am at best an excellent ally, and at worst a formidable and dangerous foe. No one wants me as an enemy, even if not many wish me as a friend.”

“I see.” Gilraen was looking over the items on Erestor’s desk, choosing not to look directly at the elf. “So you are telling me that I should fear you.”

“Nay, that is not what I meant,” corrected Erestor. “I am explaining the reason Elrond placed me in the position that I am in. I am powerful, and I am also a force to be reckoned with. Nazgul might run from Glorfindel in fear at first sight, but they do flee from me all the same. I am wise, and have managed to survive many ages to this point. I am persuasive, and while perhaps I am not the friendliest person he might have chosen, I am the best candidate. I also have no heir,” he said, which was really only a half-truth. “That means that when his sons do decide their fates, they will be free to take up the mantle of the realm, or join their brethren in Gondor, and no one shall challenge them. It is the best choice that Elrond could make. Furthermore, I have served in this capacity since the Second Age, long before he married, so this was not a sudden decision that was made. He has long trusted my abilities.”

“Have you ever ruled a realm before?”

“No.” Erestor smirked. “Neither did Fingon or Gil-galad or Finarfin before they ruled. Neither did Elrond.”

“But is it not far to say that Elrond was once ruler of Imladris under the kingship of Gil-galad, and is now truly the ruler of Lindon?” she pressed.

Erestor shook his head. “Also untrue. Elrond is certainly not the king of anything. If anyone is, it is Gildor who claims kingship of Lindon, and Cirdan in the north of Mithlond. But none of them call themselves king. There is only one elvenking who remains in Middle-earth, and he is far to the North and fairly disinterested in leaving his realm.”

Gilraen appeared ready to continue the conversation, but she shook her head. “You are trying to sidetrack me from my original purpose.”

“I was doing a fairly good job of it,” Erestor complimented himself. “Did I mention I am skilled as a debater?”

“That is not what I wished to find out. I want to know of your past transgressions and the accusations against you.” Gilraen took a sheet of paper from his desk and pulled a quill from its holder.

“You are going to record our conversation?”

“Just this part.”

Erestor opened another drawer, and brought out blotting paper and ink. “Here.” He stood up and pulled the chair from the desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Gilraen hesitated, and then took the chair that she was offered and sat down in it. “Shall we begin at the beginning?”

“That does seem like the most logical place to start. So, let me see... the first time that I was accused of something unlawful was when I was barely of age. It was of a personal nature, however, and I was acquitted of all charges.”

“What was it?” pressed Gilraen.

“Something personal. I was also found innocent, so it is of no consequence to your investigation. The next time was in Doriath – I was imprisoned for ignoring the law that stated one was to speak only in Sindarin, not Quenya. I sang a song in Quenya, and was incarcerated for it.”

“It was illegal to speak a language? Why?”

“King Thingol wished to punish the Noldor and their allies by deeming their language unfit to be heard in his realm. I was making a point; that not all Noldor were evil. He still believed that I was, or was too stubborn to admit otherwise. Whatever the reason, I was instructed never to speak in that language again. Instead, I taught it in secret, and sang in it, and spoke in it – and I did so directly to him.” Erestor was walking about the room in a large circular pattern, and stopped at the shelf of books, pulling from it one large volume. “Poetry, written by me. It is all in Quenya; the original copies were all burned in Doriath after I left. This is the only one that remains.” He set it on the desk next to the writing that Gilraen was doing.

The woman was no longer recording their conversation, but instead was watching Erestor with interest. “What did you do next?”

“Doriath again. I accused the king of... well, a number of things. I more or less told him that he was not the king that I would answer to. He was not pleased. I was banished from the realm.” Erestor pulled the chair away from Glorfindel’s desk, but did not sit down. Instead, he placed his hands upon it and used it to lean upon. “The next place that I lived in, I did better for a little while. I have a terrible habit of doing or saying things that are inappropriate, though, and I ended up in a fix when I insulted a lord for insulting a friend of mine. Then, I physically attacked him.”

“So your misdemeanors tended to escalate over time.”

“You could say that.” Erestor paused as he debated just how much to say. “I was protecting a dear friend of mine. It was rather disturbing to hear what was said. I punched the lord in question; I was not formally charged, but punished nonetheless.”

“How so?”

Erestor took a long hard look at Gilraen. “I was flogged.”

This answer seemed to have an odd effect on the woman; she seemed almost to gain extra respect for the man standing before her at the words that he said. “I see. This was done in public?”

“No. And neither was it the second time it happened. The king was not one to make public displays if he could help it. He was rather kindly, for a king. I respected him greatly.” Erestor looked down. “I miss him. He was a good friend.”

The quill was set down. “Your good friend sentenced you to be whipped?”

“The punishment must fit the crime. If he had allowed me to do as I pleased without repercussions, how would he have controlled the rest of the population? I am, in a word, stubborn. Sometimes, it works to my advantage. Other times, I get myself into trouble. I have still managed to outlive everyone who has ever accused me, be it truthful or not.”

Gilraen folded her hands together and looked across the desks at Erestor. “What was the worst thing that you were ever accused of?”

“Murder.”

“Did you do it?”

“I do not believe so.”

“Explain.”

“I was drugged. I have a lapse of memory. But there was no evidence that I actually committed what I was accused of.”

“You were found innocent?”

Erestor shook his head. “I was smuggled out of the city when it was shown that the trial was being rigged and false evidence was being collected.”

“Where did this happen?”

“In Bree.”

“Interesting.” Gilraen nodded slowly. “I believe it is in Estel’s best interest if he does not accompany you anywhere.”

“If it helps my case any,” said Erestor, “the man who was killed deserved it.”

“How does anyone deserve to be murdered?” wondered Gilraen.

Erestor shrugged. “He was beating his wife and he sold his young daughter into slavery to pay for his gambling debts. He was found dead in his home, and I was awakened upon the doorstep, as I said, after I was drugged.”

“Just how did you become involved to begin with? A random traveler in the city?”

The chair was pushed back beneath the desk that Glorfindel used. “Not at all. I came to the city on business, to meet with a number of delegations to negotiate water rights. While there, I happened to be in a pub where the man brought his daughter. He began to display her like a horse at auction. She was fourteen, and there were many showing interest in her for unhealthy reasons.”

“Did you try to stop him, or call the authorities?” asked Gilraen.

“No. I bought her. I gave her my horse and a purse of coin and set her free. A friend of mine from Mirkwood who has served as my legal counsel many times took the initiative to search for evidence when I was accused and found a number of things that seemed to point to her brief return to the city after her departure. If I had to guess, it was the girl who did the deed.” Erestor took to pacing about again. “Even if there had not been clues to her return, I am certain I did not commit the crime.”

“Why is that?”

“It was too sloppy,” he explained. “Too many hacks and slashes. If I had been the one to kill him, I could have done so with one stroke. Even if I had been drunk.”

Gilraen considered Erestor’s epilogue and shook her head. “Do you understand why I am so apprehensive? He is my only son.”

“I understand. I will not hold that against you. You need to do what is best for him. However, you need to consider the opportunities and what will aid him in the future. He is safe here, yes, but unless he learns to live outside of Imladris he will never leave Imladris. Let me take him with me; I will offer you this – Glorfindel will gladly travel with us. If he does, there is less chance that anything will happen. Glorfindel is often my conscience,” he admitted.

“I will consider that as a possibility,” Gilraen finally said. “For now, I will stay my judgment.”

“Does it help to know that I have never been arrested in Mirkwood?” he asked.

Gilraen frowned. “Not really.” She stood up and left the sheet of paper on his desk. “Good day, Master Erestor.”

“Good day.” Erestor waited until Gilraen let herself out before he cleaned up the items on the top of his desk, tossing the sheet of accusations and convictions into the fire and finishing the rest of his drink just as Glorfindel stepped back in. “You missed something fun.”

“I hope it went well?”

“In hindsight, I think I should have insisted you stay. You might have explained things a little better,” admitted Erestor.

Glorfindel frowned. “So you were unable to convince her?”

“She has not decided yet. In the meantime, I think you need to ready yourself for a journey. If she does say yes, it is with the addition of you to the party.” Erestor glanced up apologetically. “I hope that will not impede you much to go with me to Mirkwood.”

An extreme amount of relief washed over Glorfindel. “I suppose I could clear my schedule in order to accompany you. That is, if you think that would be best for us both to be absent from Imladris for an extended amount of time.” He appeared thoughtful. “Maybe I should inquire with Elrond first before committing to this.”

“That would be a wise decision,” agreed Erestor. “Did you really go to see him?”

“No, I just needed to make it sound like she was not chasing me out. Which, she was. She scares me a little, in a ‘I think she might be able to best me if given the chance’ sort of way.”

“She is tough. At least, outwardly. Inwardly, too, I guess. I wonder if she descends from Haleth.” Erestor set the glass back in its place in the bottom drawer and gave the desktop a final wipe of his sleeve. “I am done here, I suppose. Shall we go to Elrond?”

The pair traversed the halls with easy familiarity, but found when they knocked upon the door of Elrond’s office that no one answered them. “Perhaps he went to the council chambers,” reasoned Glorfindel, and they headed off in another direction. When that search ended fruitlessly, Erestor gave a nod of his head towards the residential wings of the house. “He is probably in his rooms, with Gilraen, discussing all of this now.”

“Shall we try there?” asked Glorfindel.

“I think you should go on your own. I do not want to appear to be pushy in this matter. It is likely that Gilraen will decide in my favor if I do not press the issue with her. If she is with Elrond right now, it will be best that I do not show up there. I am, honestly, more or less indifferent. I need to go to Mirkwood, be it with Estel or not. If she wants to offer him this opportunity, so be it. If not, I am not insulted. It is the mother’s prerogative to keep her son safe, especially in such a time as this.” Erestor motioned towards the dining hall. “I think I might take supper early tonight. Do you wish to dine with me, or do you have plans with Gildor? I plan to eat in my rooms.”

“No plans. He has a performance this evening. It would be nice to join you.” Glorfindel felt immediately sick to his stomach that he was willingly deceiving his friend at Elrond’s request. “I can meet you after I have finished speaking to Elrond.”

“Good. I hope to see you soon.” Erestor turned to walk away as Glorfindel continued on towards Elrond’s quarters.

At the door, Glorfindel stopped to listen. He could hear Elrond speaking, but until he heard Gilraen answer he could not be assured of the fact that the lady was there as well. He hesitated, and then announced his presence with a firm knock on the door. He had to wait until Elrond answered, for the butler was not on duty in the afternoon or the early evening. “I was hoping that I would have an opportunity to speak with you.” Glorfindel looked past the lord of the valley, and upon seeing Gilraen realized that the woman indeed terrified him a little, though he could not quite say why.

“I am having a discussion with Gilraen at the moment. Might you return after supper, or might we be able to speak in the Hall of Fire later?” suggested Elrond.

Before Glorfindel was able to acquiesce, Gilraen stood up. “You are welcome here, Glorfindel. I was discussing a matter which actually concerns you as well.” She beckoned him in with a wave of her hand, and he timidly entered.

“Elrond and I were discussing the upcoming plans that Erestor has to travel to Mirkwood. As you know, he offered to take Estel with him so that he can be presented to the court of Thranduil. I am apprehensive to allow him to go; I am not used to dealing with criminals.”

“If I may,” interrupted Glorfindel, “Erestor hardly qualifies for that term. He may have a sorted past, but his life has been long and his lack of judgment due out of a need to make his opinions known. There are times that he has been wrongly accused, as it is simple to blame one who has a past like his. Erestor is a kind person, and he would take excellent care of Estel. I am sure that if it came to it, he would place his life before Estel’s – but his prowess as a warrior is contested by few.” He paused, unsure of how far he would need to go, and decided to say what was on his mind. “Against him in battle, I would not be confidant that I would win. He is that skilled as a fighter.”

Gilraen and Elrond looked at one another, and then Gilraen said, “I appreciate your loyalty to your friend, but I worry in part about his loyalty to Elrond.”

“That is precisely why I am going along,” said Glorfindel. “Or has Elrond not explained that to you?”

“He did,” admitted Gilraen. “But do you think he will reveal such a secret to you, if he knows where your loyalties lie?”

With a guilty look at the floor, Glorfindel said, “I intend to investigate further than that. If he is a traitor, I will find out.”

“Do you think he might be?” asked Gilraen.

“Personally, no, I do not believe so. However, until I have evidence to the contrary... I must do as my lord asks,” answered Glorfindel softly. “Though it does pain me to think that he might be unfaithful, I will do as I have been asked by Elrond. Not commanded; requested. My loyalty, in this life, has always been to Imladris.”

Glorfindel moved further into the room and sat down on the chair that was usually occupied Arwen when she was home. Her knitting was in a bag beside the chair, though one of the balls of yarn looked to have been unraveled by little hands and rerolled. He settled down but sat on the edge, looking up at Gilraen until she sat down again. “I want you to understand Erestor, because I admit on the surface he seems like a very curious and untrustworthy person. The truth of the matter is, he is coarse and opinionated and harsh at times, but deep down he is one of the most beautiful people I have met. He is gentle with children, and he plays violin in a way that makes kings and soldiers weep. His poems are written by one who has a caring and compassionate soul, and he outwardly projects an image of insensitivity to protect not only himself but those he is responsible for. He will come to the aid of all whom he believes are wronged, whether it is his responsibility to do so or not. Nothing that he has done is reason to think him a threat or a bad influence to your son. He is my hero.”

“From you, that is saying much.” Gilraen reflected quietly for a little while. “I will agree to this, but I want your complete assurance that you will be present throughout the entire journey.”

“My duty will be twofold: To do as Elrond asks, and to protect you son at all costs.”

“So be it.” Gilraen rose, and Glorfindel did the same. “When will you leave?”

“Two weeks and three days from this evening. We will begin our travel in the early hours,” said Glorfindel.

Gilraen appeared appeased and nodded. “Expect that I shall speak with you in regards to the planning for this trip. Will you do me the favor of letting Erestor know of my decision?”

“I shall. We are dining together tonight.” Glorfindel felt his cheeks flush slightly at this admission. “Good afternoon to you both.” He hurriedly left the room.

Elrond waited until the door was closed to converse again with Gilraen. “Are you at ease with this decision?”

“For the moment, I am. I cannot expect that anything ill will happen with Glorfindel there.” Gilraen looked at the door that Glorfindel had gone through. “Is it my imagination, or is there more than a friendly relationship going on between them?”

“Glorfindel has long been enamored with Erestor,” said Elrond. “For many years, he and Gildor have been lovers, but it is a known fact that Glorfindel would much rather spend his nights with my chief counselor.” Elrond walked to his liquor cabinet to retrieve a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“And your chief counselor?”

“Erestor wishes for a wife. He wants children; a family. His preferences are also not in line with those of Glorfindel. I fear that the infatuation is one-sided. Perhaps Glorfindel holds out hope that someday Erestor would change his mind, but that is impossible. I only hope that this does not hurt Glorfindel or their relationship in the long run.” Elrond uncorked the bottle and poured half a glass for each of them. “At least Glorfindel does not seem to be disuaded by the lack of affection on Erestor’s part,” he added as he moved a glass closer to Gilraen.

“Oh?” Gilraen picked up the glass that was offered but did not yet drink from it. “What do you mean by that?”

Elrond leaned back in his chair. “Only that I am not sure I could suppress feelings as he has, if I were to spend each day so close to the object of my desires.”

“A challenge, to be sure,” answered Gilraen before she sipped from the glass.
You must login (register) to review.