After spending the next day sorting through a variety of old books that were to be added to the library and notices that should long have been dealt with by lesser members of the staff, Erestor wearily left his office and yawned his way down the hall to his rooms. He was there for only a short while when he recalled having been asked early in the day by Elrond to stop by his quarters before retiring for the evening. Luckily, it was the same floor and the same wing, and Erestor did not have to travel far to reach the door of the Lord of Imladris. He knocked, and after a short time the butler answered the door and ushered Erestor in.
“Ah, I wondered if you were going to come or if you would end up falling asleep at your desk, my friend.” Elrond was cheerful, moreso than usual while off-duty (or as off-duty as one could be when they were the lord of the valley). “I thought you might enjoy having a drink with us this evening.”
Erestor saw that he was not the only guest being entertained, for Glorfindel, Lindir, and Melpomaen were all seated in the parlor. Glorfindel and Melpomaen each held a glass of wine, while Lindir had chosen a drink of a darker hue. “Just water, please, unless you want me to fall asleep on your sofa.”
The butler was already pouring a glass before the entire sentence was finished, and a moment later Erestor held it in an already drooping hand. “Too much to do today,” explained Erestor. “I really do need to retire for the evening soon.” He looked around, and noted the lack of tin soldiers, wooden horses, and most importantly, the young lad who by now would have made his presence known. “Did Gilraen take Estel to the Hall of Fire for the evening?”
“Gilraen is in the next room,” said Elrond. “She plans to join us momentarily.”
“Did Estel go to bed already?” guessed Erestor.
“Certainly not. Do you know how difficult it—never mind, you do,” Elrond reminded himself. “Here, let me take that,” he said, grasping the glass before it had a chance to slip from Erestor’s grip. “I have some tea, if you would prefer that. It might help you stay awake.”
“But I... thank you,” he said as a cup of tea was placed in his hands. Elrond led him to an empty chair and made sure that the tea was safely on a table before moving down the hallway to knock on the door of the master bedroom.
A muffled voice was heard, and Elrond answered with, “He just arrived.” He turned his head to listen better, and added, “I think so. Let me ask.” Elrond walked back to the group and asked, “Is anyone interested in fruit or dessert?”
While the others spoke and voiced their pleasure at the idea of treats, Erestor shook his head miserably and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.
“Erestor? Fruit or dessert?”
“No thank you.” He opened one eye. “I hate to be the wet blanket, but can I go home?”
Elrond chuckled and patted Erestor’s shoulder. “You are home.” He wandered back down the hall to the bedroom door.
At this, Erestor turned to address the nearest person, who happened to be Melpomaen. “What is going on with him? I have half a mind to break something just to see him scowl like normal.”
“He has changed a little since you were gone,” Melpomaen informed his supervisor. “Everything has changed.”
Erestor growled slightly and reached out for the tea that had been given to him. It was not sweet enough for his liking, and he put it back down with a grumble of dissatisfaction. “I just want to sleep. If he wants me up in the morning for his council meeting, he should not be hosting late-night parties.”
“We are only two hours past nightfall,” argued Lindir gently. “I am sure he will not keep you overlong.”
The only response Lindir received was a glare, but with eyelids drooping and fatigue written across his face, Erestor appeared less threatening and more drunk than anything else. It caused both Melpomaen and Lindir to laugh, while Glorfindel attempted not to.
Presently, Gilraen emerged from the bedroom, and was escorted to the parlor by Elrond. Erestor noted a few major differences in her appearance and demeanor since the last time he had been in Rivendell. First, her style of clothing was changed completely. She was no longer wearing the thick, heavy fabrics and simplistic style of clothing that was native to the Dunedain. Instead she wore a breezy green gown made of a light, flowing material. It was the sort commonly seen on Elven women. Her hair was not braided back in the practical style she had worn since her arrival, but instead was brushed until it shone like copper and draped down her back, curling up at the ends.
Erestor stood, as did the others, in proper respect as all gentlemen do when a lady enters into their presence. Before he was able to sit back down, however, the lady walked towards him and stopped just shy of where he stood. “I wished to apologize to you, Master Erestor,” she said, holding out one hand. It appeared well-manicured and cared for, not at all the way it had when they had first met over breakfast many years ago. “I wanted to thank you for the experience that you provided to my son. It is something that will be carried by him for many years and will help to shape his future. I appreciate your generosity in the matter.
“I will admit that I was apprehensive to begin with. I was uncertain, once I discovered some of the details of your past, whether or not I should allow you to be the primary caretaker of my only child while he was away. I am glad that my fears were unfounded. He had blossomed under your tutelage.”
“You are most welcome,” replied Erestor, dumbstruck.
Gilraen was not finished. “I wished for you to know that I am forever grateful and in your debt. Elrond respects you and your opinions greatly, and I shall now as well.”
“Thank you,” managed Erestor, though he tried to read the riddle of the underlying tone of her voice. “May I leave now? My day was long, and I have much to attend to in the morning.”
“Of course.” Elrond stood. “I will see you in the morning.” He nodded to the butler, who stepped out of the corner and opened the door.
Erestor said his farewells to everyone, and was met at the door by Melpomaen. “If you do not mind, I had a few items I wished your opinion on.”
For a moment, Erestor thought to dismiss Melpomaen, but he was tired, and when he was tired it was very difficult for him to argue. “Fine, then.” He shooed Melpomaen out before him and then left the room himself. “You have two minutes or however long it takes me to reach my room, whichever arrives first.”
“I wanted to know if you were going to hold service next week.” Melpomaen bit his lip nervously. “There were some who were asking, and by now we would have held at least two gatherings, plus the observances, and none of that has happened with you gone.”
“Oh... right...” In Rivendell, the majority of the inhabitants chose the Aphasadorin faith, while a few still favored the Sedryner teachings. As the highest ranking member of the Sedryner faith who lived in Imladris, it fell upon Erestor to plan out many of the religious ceremonies and gatherings. “I would like to think that we will have at least one event before the end of the summer... I may need to hold it at the beginning of the harvest, though. I doubt I am going to have the time to plan anything now.”
“Well... and I hope that I am not overstepping my boundaries, sir, but I have been planning the gathering in your absence. It can be called off at a moment’s notice, if you do not approve.” Melpomaen drew out from his pocket a list of prayers and songs. “I tried to choose readings that shared a common theme. It seems that we could all use a little reassurance of the ability for good to overcome evil, especially these days. Are you upset with me?”
Erestor briefly looked over the list as they walked. “I am not upset,” assured Erestor. “I am pleasantly surprised, and relieved. Do not let me stand in the way; I think you should take control of this, having shown the initiative.” Erestor handed the sheet back to Melpomaen, who looked a little nervous. “I will still offer to give some of the readings, if you like, but there is nothing better in our faith than for others to step up when they feel the calling to gather our folk or to preach among them.”
“Really? I thought you would be mad, being a...umm, well, I am glad you are happy about it,” said Melpomaen quickly.
“Being a what?” wondered Erestor.
Melpomaen fell back a step. “Being a control freak.” He clasped a hand over his mouth, and then apologized. “I am sorry, sir, but you did ask me to clarify!”
Erestor half-slumped up against a wall to prop himself up. “I did ask, indeed I did. And, well, at least you are honest about it all. I appreciate that. Control freak? A myth not easily dispelled. It is not so much that, as it is my not trusting most people to do complete a task correctly.”
“Am I one of those people?” asked Melpomaen.
“Good gracious, no. If that were the case, I would have torn up your sheet, thrown it into the air, and walked away from you,” stated Erestor. Melpomaen carefully folded the paper and tucked it into a pocket safely away from Erestor, just in case. “I trust you, Melpomaen. In fact, I would trust you with my life.”
“Truly?” The scribe beamed. “Then I shall continue with my plans?”
“Please do. And Melpomaen? If you should ever have a desire to train for one of the higher positions within the faith, do let me know. We would be honored to have one such as you helping to lead the flocks.”
The compliment was overwhelming for the scribe, who could not stop smiling to himself as he walked down the hall.
Erestor fumbled with his ring of keys. Somewhere, there was a silver key with a red mark on the side that would open his door. He studied each key on the ring again briefly, and could not find it. It should have been right between the one he used for the council chamber and the ones that locked the stalls for his horses, but it was not there. He retraced his steps in the hall for a few feet in case it had fallen off of the ring when he removed it from his pocket, but he saw nothing. He looked near his door and could not find it either.
He leaned his hand against the door, and to his amazement (and worry), it suddenly swung open. There was a light in the room, and he peered around the doorway.
“Ah, there you are.” Gildor was occupying his favorite chair, and had his feet up on the tea table. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to get back,” he said.
“Get your feet off my table! What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Gildor pouted. “Not happy to see me, dearheart?” he asked.
“Certainly not. Remove yourself this instant,” demanded Erestor. “And never call me that!”
Setting a glass of brandy down on the table (from Erestor’s private stock, no doubt), Gildor smiled happily. “I missed you, though, my pet. We had such a nice talk yesterday. I was hoping we might converse a bit tonight. Possibly even relive the good old days?”
“No thank you. I have no interest in your poisoned words this evening,” said Erestor. He pointed to the door. “Out.”
“Not interested at all why I am here?” asked Gildor as he stood up. He paused to drain the rest of the glass, and set it aside on the table where his feet had been.
“I assume you found my key, were bored, and decided to play a bit of a trick on me,” assessed Erestor.
“There is more to it than that,” said Gildor. “The truth is that I pocketed the key from you earlier in the day when you were not paying very much attention to your personal effects. Then I waited until you were to be at whatever gathering it is that Elrond was having to let myself in. I do like your bed. Where are those sheets from? Lindon? They are lovely,” purred Gildor. “They really took me back to those nights in Eregion…”
“What the fuck were you doing in my bed?” demanded Erestor.
“What one does in a bed. If you like, I can show you.” Gildor grinned widely, and began to walk about the room, pretending to be interested in each piece of artwork and every vase or sculpture that was found in the room. “I was thinking – are you ever bored at night? Glorfindel has an even larger bed than the one in the guest chamber, and—“
“No thank you,” remarked Erestor tersely. “I was surprised last night that you would suggest such a deviant thing!”
“Are you? Too bad; one can always hope. Anyhow, that was not my true purpose,” said Gildor. “What I really wanted to do was challenge you to a horse race this weekend.”
“What? You do not race horses.”
“Who says I do not?” Gildor picked up a paperweight that was a carved Oliphant. “I thought it would be an interesting hobby to take up. I enjoy it immensely. I rarely have the chance to partake when I am traveling for long distances. I thought we might have a good time, a little friendly challenge.”
Erestor shook his head. “Not interested,” he said. “Now leave.”
“Ah, but perhaps you will be when I tell you what the prize is. Whomever is the winner gets to keep the unicorn.”
Erestor frowned. “I thought we had already come to a consensus on that issue.”
“Changed my mind,” said Gildor casually. “I thought this would be more interesting. Besides, you should win, right? Champion racer that you are.”
“What is the catch?” demanded Erestor.
“Catch? No catch,” said Gildor. “Why would you think there was a catch?”
“Because you are involved,” said Erestor simply.
“Good point.” Gildor shrugged. “Just you versus me, on horseback, pet.”
Erestor narrowed his eyes doubtfully.
“It would be part of a festival that Elrond is letting me plan for next weekend,” said Gildor. “Since you were not present over the summer for Tarnin Austa or the rest of the merriment, it seems proper that you would find a way to participate. What better way than to show your horsemanship and racing prowess?”
“I still do not trust you. What will happen if I lose?”
Gildor tilted his head. “I get to keep my unicorn.”
“That still seems an odd tradeoff.” Erestor crossed his arms over his chest. “I have no intention of humoring you.”
“Fine.” Gildor lifted up the small key he had used to gain entry. “I guess I will be keeping this, then. First Glorfindel’s, and now yours – I am gaining quite a collection.”
“That is not yours. Give it back,” hissed Erestor.
Gildor held it up. “Race me.”
“Certainly not.”
“Then no key.” He began to attach it to a metal ring of his own keys.
Erestor sucked in his breath. “Fine,” he said suddenly just before the key joined the others that swung from the small copper ring. “Give me my key. I will race you, on horseback. No carts or chariots. One horse apiece.”
“Excellent.” Gildor wound the key off of the ring and tossed it up into the air towards Erestor. The other elf caught it and closed his fist protectively around the small metal object. “I look forward to our race.” He walked to the door. “Tell me,” he said as he reached the doorway, “have you ever managed to win a race against Asfaloth before?”
