The trio decided to set out early in the morning, when the first light was still hours away and the air was cool and crisp. Gilraen did her best not to embarrass her son with last minute good-byes, but her moderate fussing earned her a few eye rolls and impatient coughs. Elrond himself made sure that the supplies that Glofindel and Erestor had packed were sufficient for the journey, despite having complete faith in the chosen escort. “Keep an eye on him, Glorfindel,” said Elrond in parting.
“Do not worry, Elrond. Nothing will happen to Estel,” promised Glorfindel.
Elrond smirked. “I meant Erestor.”
“Who, me?” asked the councilor. “Better I should keep an eye on him,” he said with a nod towards Glorfindel.
“I think not,” replied Glorfindel stoically. Before Erestor could launch another snarky comment, Glorfindel used his riding crop to swat the rear of Erestor’s horse, who started off at a faster pace than Erestor had expected.
It took a few seconds for Erestor to recover, but he shouted back behind him, “I am going to beat you to the Greenwood!”
“It is not a sprint, darling, it is a marathon,” called Glorfindel back. Elrond offered a curious look. “We agreed to a little friendly competition. First one past the archway leading into Mirkwood wins the right to choose the guest room they prefer when we get there.” Elrond narrowed his gaze, showing his dislike of the bet. “Oh, it hardly matters. I farspoke to Thaladir in advance. There is one room with three beds that we will be using, so the point is moot. It will just keep him busy while we travel.” Glorfindel looked to Estel, who appeared somewhat surprised. “Ready to go?”
“You tricked Master Erestor?” He was in awe.
“Yes, I suppose I did,” replied Glorfindel.
Estel smiled. “I always thought he was second smartest, next to Ada and Momi. I guess you are.”
“I guess I am,” agreed Glorfindel. He winked at Elrond. “See you in the autumn.” He patted Asfaloth on the side of the neck instead of using the reins and began to follow after Erestor at a leisurely pace.
“Be good,” advised Gilraen to her son. “Listen to Lord Glorfindel.”
“What about Master Erestor?” asked Estel.
“Listen to Lord Glorfindel first,” said Gilraen. “I love you,” she added hesitantly.
It was the cue Estel needed to leap off of his horse and run over to his mother. “I love you, too!” He embraced her fiercely. “I promise I will listen to Lord Glorfindel.”
“Good boy.” Gilraen decided to be the first to step back, and she settled her hands upon Estel’s shoulders. “Enjoy the journey, but be mindful and cautious. Use your instincts.”
Elrond came forward, doting upon the child for a moment. “This is your first step into manhood, Estel. When you return, you will be changed, but for the better.”
Estel looked confused. “You mean, elfhood.”
For a fraction of a second, Elrond flinched. “Yes. Well, it is manhood either way,” he corrected.
“Oh. Alright.” Estel puffed his chest forward. “Then I look forward to returning as a man!”
Gilraen bit her lip, but quickly turned it into a smile. “And you shall. Now go, or you will be stuck here, a boy with his parents. Look – Glorfindel has nearly reached the horizon!”
And truly, Glorfindel had pulled his horse back and was waiting on the far reaches of sight for Estel to follow. Beyond, but not too far from him, another rider – presumably Erestor – waited as well. “Well... good-bye, then,” said Estel. He took a step towards his horse, but then doubled back and threw his arms around Elrond. “I love you, too, Adar.” The hug was very brief, with Estel unsure of whether or not he had broken some rule or displeased his father.
Elrond was initially shocked, but before Estel could scoot away, he put a hand upon the top of his son’s head. “I... love you as well,” he said. He gave Estel’s head a bit of a pat, but realizing it seemed more like he was rewarding a favorite pet than showing affection for his child, he knelt down and welcomed Estel into his arms. It was the first time they had ever really solidified that bond, and two conflicting feelings blossomed in Elrond. First, there was a connection that had up until now been almost ceremonious than familial. Second, he felt a deep sorrow in knowing that this, like so many other relationships in the past, would someday end. The knowledge that one day, he might stand beside the tomb of this child, as he feared he might for all of his children, brought tears to his eyes. He kept hold of Estel until he was able to blink them away. “Take care.” He stood up again and motioned to the horizon to distract Estel. “If you are a moment more, I fear Glorfindel may return and cancel the journey.”
“Oh, I would not want that!” Estel mounted his pony again swiftly and raised his hand towards his parents. “Farewell!”
Elrond raised his arm in return. “May Elbereth bless the road before you.” He kept his hand up until Estel reached the point that Glorfindel was at. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden aura around the small travel party. “He will be well. He is in good company.”
Gilraen nodded, and only now did she lift her wrist and use the sleeve of her dress to wipe away her own tears. “Our baby grew up so fast,” she said softly.
Unsure of whether the comment was directed towards him or to a husband long dead, Elrond did not respond at first. When he felt that flicker of emotion again as the riders disappeared from view, he moved closer to Gilraen and pulled her into his arms. “He will be back before we know it.”
* * *
“Master Erestor?” Estel tugged on the fringe of Erestor’s sleeve. “Master Erestor, I need to go,” he hissed.
Erestor glanced around. He was busily trying to aid Glorfindel in building a suitable fire after a full day of riding, having stopped only once to eat a quick meal. Glorfindel had insisted upon pressing on even further, but Estel had fussed a bit. Worried that he was saddle sore, Erestor made them stop for the night with a complaint of a bad back (which was not all that far from the truth). Now, it seemed that all of the potential firewood was damp from an unexpected rainshower. To make matters worse, the tent lacked the proper poles, despite it having been checked over the night before by both of the adults. This oversight aggravated Erestor to a point that simple questions made him irritable, and Estel’s were no exception. He attempted not to look too exasperated as he pointed south. “That tree over there looks like a good place.”
“Noooo... I need to go the other...” Estel was squirming uncomfortably and looking around quite uncertainly. “I went where Glorfindel said he went before, but I could not find a pile. Just lots of little brown rocks.”
“Oh!” Erestor stopped his work and frowned. “Uhmm...”
“Come with me,” instructed Glorfindel. Getting away from Erestor and his mood was a blessing, even if it was to dig a shithole. He checked for his hunting knife and continued on towards the tree. On his way, he reached up and took hold of the low-hanging branch of a maple tree and cut a clump of leaves from it. “Here,” he said, handing the leaves to the youth who trotted beside him. Glorfindel squatted behind the tree that Erestor had pointed to and cut a hole in the earth with his blade. He pulled away the chunk of dirt by the tuft of grass that was on top of it and set it aside, then expanded the hole a little. “There you are. I am going to go back to help Erestor. Call if you need something.”
Estel nodded and began to untie his belt as Glorfindel jogged back to the campsite.
“Everything alright?”
Glorfindel patted Erestor on the shoulder. “I think so. Poor kid. He was probably holding it since we left.”
It took a little while longer to set up the tent using makeshift branches and to get the fire going. Glorfindel called to Estel to be sure he was still fine, and then disappeared off into the woods for a brief time to catch dinner for himself and the youth. Erestor portioned out lembas and fresh fruit they had picked from low branches as they traveled, and heated some mushrooms he found in the area to go with whatever Glorfindel brought back.
“Master Erestor? Do you have a sack I can use?”
Erestor turned around to see Estel near the tree with something cupped in his hands. “Of course. Whatever for? Did you find a walnut tree?”
“No – look what I did find!” Estel held up something small and dark brown, almost black. It was about the size of a peanut. “These rocks are neat!”
“Estel, those are not rocks. Put those down.” Erestor stood up and went to the horses. There he dug through his saddlebag and pulled out a cake of soap wrapped in a cloth. “Do not touch anything. When Glorfindel gets back, we need to wash your hands.”
“Why?” Estel still had his newly discovered treasure in his hands, and examined the one he held individually.
“Estel, those are not very sanitary,” said Erestor carefully. “Please put them down.”
“What are they?”
Erestor sighed. “Those are Elf pellets.”
“What are—ugh! Blehh!” Estel dropped them to the ground and looked at his hands disdainfully when he realized what Erestor meant. “That was Glorfindel’s...?”
Erestor nodded, his nose wrinkled. “Just stay right where you are and do not touch anything. Glorfindel should be back in a few minutes.”
Estel stood still, hands held as far from his body as he could manage. “I do not make pellets like that,” he stated. “Why does Glorfindel?”
“Glorfindel is a grown elf. Elves that are adults are able to process all of their food better than children, so they create hard pellets instead of... the alternative,” lied Erestor, for in fact, all Elves produced small, compact waste, much like rabbits.
“So I will make pellets when I am a grown elf?”
“Most likely,” answered Erestor, continuing to make it up as he went along. “When Elves reach their majority, they go through many changes. That is one of them.”
Glorfindel heard these last few lines as he came around a tree. He smiled to himself and was ready to offer some sort of congratulations. “Did his voice just drop an octave?” he asked as he recalled in his mind the point when his own voice lowered slightly. He smirked slightly as he wondered how much cracking Erestor’s voice had gone through in order to deepen as it had, or if the elder elf had always had a lower than normal voice.
“No...” Erestor ushered Estel off towards the stream they had passed. He pointed to the spot where the pseudo rocks were. “Can you find something to cover those with?”
“Cover what... oh...” Glorfindel was holding three fish he had caught from the same stream that Erestor and Estel were now heading to. “Here,” he said, gathering up the water skins. “Fill these before you dirty the water.”
Erestor came back for the canteens. “What does it matter? We will be bathing in the same water tomorrow, and refilling the water again.”
“I know. Still. Just... please?” Glorfindel shook them by their straps until Erestor took them. “Thank you.”
“Sure. Just... take care of that,” said Erestor as he gave a nasty look towards the ground.
“I have to itch my nose,” called out Estel.
“Just wait!” shouted Erestor as he hurried after the boy.
* * *
Back in Imladris, the evening brought less excitement. With his chief councilor and seneschal away and their protégés tending to two jobs apiece, there were fewer discussions to be had, and Elrond found himself home early that night. Gilraen was there already; she rarely left the rooms except to eat and occasionally walk in the gardens, though these excursions were typically made only when Elrond asked if she was interested in taking a walk.
They were both in the parlor at the moment, Elrond writing out a list of items he wished to collect over the summer for his apothecary, while Gilraen read the book of poetry that Erestor had shown her two weeks prior. A sudden noise made them both look up from their tasks, and then to each other.
“Just the house settling,” explained Elrond with a smile. “It still does that from time to time, after all these years.”
“I rather like it. It makes the house seem alive almost.”
“Yes, I suppose so. It is in a way,” he said, setting his quill aside. “There are many trees which run through the porches and balconies and have continued to grow through the years. We felled as few as possible to build Imladris; that is why it winds and curves so.”
“I suspected as much. It is beautiful because of that – a square house can be cozy, but it lacks the charm that your home does.” Gilraen looked back down to the book.
At first, Elrond was prepared to return to his task as well, but he decided to ask what he had hoped to for the last few hours. “Would you care to dine with me tonight? Not in the hall, but on the balcony, perhaps. The weather should be good for it.”
Gilraen looked down the length of the room to the corridor, at the end of which was a large rounded balcony with a cover built over it so that even on pleasant rainy days or breezy days with much sun the area could be enjoyed. “I suppose that would be nice.”
“Good.” Elrond placed the lap desk aside and stood up. “I should arrange it with the cooks, then. I will return shortly.” The lord of the valley left the room and swiftly walked to the main kitchens, hoping no one would see his nervousness. Not for thousands of years had he been so uncertain and giddy at the same time. He entered the kitchen to find preparation in full swing. He located his favorite cook immediately, and asked to speak privately to her.
“Rozalia, I would like a private meal to be brought to my quarters tonight.”
The cook nodded and started to return to the kitchen, but Elrond stopped her.
“It needs to be special.”
The cook raised her brows. “How special?”
“Flowers, and something nice for dessert. Strawberries with chocolate. Wait, no,” he said in a panic, stopping her again. “What if she does not like chocolate?”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but most women do,” advised the plump hobbit.
“But it might be too much. Do you think it would be too much?”
Rozalia shrugged.
“What if the strawberries were for dessert? Then again, she might not like strawberries...”
“What if I were to make a platter of small desserts – chocolate covered strawberries, and other things. Variety is the spice of life,” Rozalia reminded him.
“Good idea. Thank you, Rozalia.” Elrond headed off, and then turned suddenly. “Do not forget the flowers,” hissed Elrond.
“I will pick them meself.” Rozalia grinned. “An’ good luck, sir!”
Elrond blushed and jogged back up to his room. He stopped outside of his rooms. Momentarily, he had had the thought to change into something more flattering, but with Gilraen in the rooms it would be a little obvious if he did so. He paced back and forth at the door until an idea struck.
He raced back down to the kitchen again and pulled Rozalia aside. “Have you melted the chocolate for the strawberries yet?”
“No, I just came back in with the flowers.”
Elrond looked around the immediate area. Spying a canister labeled powdered sugar, he pointed to it. “Will that stain?”
“Stain what?”
“Clothing.”
“Well, if it gets all over, you jus’ need to brush it off.”
Elrond frowned and toured about the kitchen, avoiding others who were busily working. “I need something...”
“Somethin’ fer what?” questioned Rozalia as she followed him about.
“I need to dirty my clothing – but not too dirty,” he warned. “I do not wish to ruin anything. Just enough to give me an excuse to change.”
Rarely did Rozalia question her boss, and she declined to now as well. Instead, she picked up a bowl and tapped Elrond’s arm. “Mister Elrond, sir?”
Elrond turned around, and was immediately doused with a bowl of cold water from his elbows down.
“Oh, clumsy me!” blurted out Rozalia. She dropped the bowl onto the counter with a clatter and grabbed up the corner of her apron to dab futilely at the damp clothing. “Oh, bother, I think you shall hafta change. No chance in it drying before dinner.” Others nearby in the kitchen looked worried to see the lord of the valley in such a predicament, and thus kept out of the way with their heads down. Rozalia secretly gave Elrond a wink.
“No worries. It happens.” Elrond winked back and whispered his thanks before he left the kitchen.
* * *
“You poor thing,” said Gilraen when Elrond arrived back at the room. He explained that in the bustle of the kitchen, an innocent mistake was made and caused him to run right into someone carrying a bowl of water. “Here, let me help you out of those wet clothes.”
They never heard the knock on the door when the dinner tray was brought.
