"It seems to be that time of year again," remarked Lindir. He was sitting on one of the window benches in the Hall of Fire, a mug of steaming liquid in his hands. The windows were frosting up where the steam came near them. Outside, a team of foresters were cutting logs for the winter ahead. They had a good pile started in the courtyard, where most of the flowers had wilted and many of the bushes had lost their leaves. While snow was not as prevalent around the immediate area of the house, the power that Elrond possessed only reached so far. The woods and outlying areas would receive more than a dusting, and there would be drifts on the hewn stairs that led into the valley, making travel in or out nearly impossible. If there was an emergency, there were a few eagles living in the cliffs of Imladris that could be coaxed to assist. Their services were almost never called upon.
Near to the stables, the Winterguard was readying their gear and horses for the seasonal migration of soldiers. The Winterguard was only a third of the size of the guardians that patrolled during the spring and summer, though some of the fair-weather soldiers were Elves who would travel back to their homelands of Lothlorien, Mithlond, and Mirkwood for the colder months. For Glorfindel, it meant a six month exodus away from Imladris as he coordinated the efforts on the borders. For the soldiers and scouts who chose this patrol, it was grueling, but the pay was better, and the benefits of spending the warmest and best parts of the year with their families in Imladris were not to be forgotten. In fact, most of the seasoned warriors were the ones who chose to be part of the Winterguard.
"I suppose the guard will leave tomorrow," said Lindir as he attempted to start a conversation with someone else in the room. At the moment, it seemed that everyone was much too interested in their own tasks -- reading or needlework or generally staring out the windows. "I suppose the evenings will be grim in here after that."
"You will have a new group to entertain," Erestor reminded the minstrel. Erestor was not partaking in any of the activities formerly mentioned, but was instead fletching arrows at a table that he had snuck into the hall earlier in the morning.
Lindir walked away from his perch and pulled a stool up to the table that Erestor was sitting at. “I know, but I like the Winterguard better. They appreciate me more. They never get demanding, and they never act like ungreatful gits.”
“What do you mean?” asked Erestor.
Lindir picked up a feather that needed to be trimmed and began to assist Erestor. Though he was not a warrior himself, Lindir had been trained to use a sword and to fire a bow, in case an attack ever reached Imladris. He spent a few years as squire to Celeborn – and promptly came home as soon as that time was up. “I really hate to say it, but they come in here, they get drunk, and they act like children. If the song is not fast enough, if they have heard that tune before, whatever, they throw a fit. It never happens when you or Elrond are here,” explained Lindir, knowing that Erestor was about to claim to never see such behavior.
“Maybe I will need to sneak in some day so that I can catch some of these grown children,” said Erestor.
Lindir shook his head. “It would only make it worse. They might shape up to begin with, but in the end I would still end up in the hall alone with them at some point. I would not want them to go from throwing insults at me to throwing mugs of beer or chairs. I resign myself to the fact that my audience will only have class half of the year.” Lindir’s help was speeding Erestor’s work, and he looked over the finished arrows that were already stacking up. “Who are the arrows for?”
“Whomever happens to need them. Glorfindel commented that the guard was returning with few to spare for the Winterguard. He will need to empty the stores of them, and that leaves nothing for hunting and no reserves.” Erestor pushed the feathers closer to Lindir. “I have most of the scribes and junior councilors making them in the library, and we ran out of tables. This one came from the greenhouse. It was too humid there for me to work on them. The glue cannot dry and the feathers curl and I end up with an awful mess. I just hope Elrond stays away from here until I am done.”
“You should have asked me sooner. Do you want me to recruit some of the other musicians?”
“Can any of them make arrows?”
“Even if they do not know now, I can teach them how to do some of the preparatory work. Nimble fingers work fast.” Lindir stood up. “I will be back momentarily.”
“Bring another table – but do not let Elrond see you,” warned Erestor. “You know how he hates having tables in this room.”
Lindir raised a finger to his lips before he dashed out of the room. Erestor paused his work and looked out the window that Lindir had been staring out of earlier. Glorfindel was going over a list he held, making notations on it as he surveyed the supplies in the courtyard. Squirrels with fat, fluffy tails leapt from crate to crate hoping to find an opening that would allow them to explore the contents. In the winter, Erestor found that he sought out extra tasks such as the one before him, to help keep his mind off of the dangers that were being faced on the borders.
“Can I help?”
Erestor was drawn away from his musings by Gilraen, who had come to the side of the table. The embroidery she had been working on was left on the chair she had occupied, and beside the chair was a blanket spread on the floor, where little Aragorn was stacking and moving some wooden blocks that Elrohir found in a chest of childhood items he had kept. “Can you make arrows?”
“I made all of the ones used by my husband after we were married. If you do not mind that I shall occasionally need to attend to my child, I am more than happy to offer assistance.” Gilraen sat down on the stool that Lindir had been sitting on and picked up the spool of linen thread. “Would you like me to bind the arrows you have already finished?”
Erestor picked up one of the arrows from his pile. He had managed to glue the feathers onto some sixty arrows thus far, but was piling them up to be bound later. “Here. Show me your skill.”
Gilraen began to wind the thread tightly, spacing it precisely with ease. “Would you have doubt in my skill if I were a man?”
Erestor glanced up from the jig that he was currently working with. Briefly, he considered a diplomatic answer. Somehow, he knew Gilraen would see through a waste of breath. “Probably not.”
“Why is that? Have you encountered many incompetent women in your long years, or do you just have a general disdain for women? Or,” added Gilraen just as Erestor was about to open his mouth, “is it one in particular?”
Erestor picked up an arrow from the pile that Lindir had readied for him and spread glue on the edge of the feather he was about to attach using a small brush. “You seem to value honesty, so I admit: I have misgivings when it comes to most women.”
“That they are incompetent, or is it something else?”
“The woman is the weaker sex,” answered Erestor.
Gilraen’s brows rose, but she did not throw down the arrow or become angry as Erestor had expected. “That is rather intriguing, coming from an elf.”
“I see it in every race. It is the women who require protection, and the men who do the protecting.”
“Firstly, that does not necessarily make women weak. What of Haleth? She was by no means a weak woman,” argued Gilraen.
“Always, there are exceptions. I knew a fellow in Gondolin who qualified as a weak man,” added Erestor. “On a whole, however, it tends to hold true.”
“My. And what would your own Elbereth have to say about such an opinion?” wondered Gilraen.
Erestor set aside the jig he had been working on, and pulled another closer to remove the arrow from the hold. “I am hardly interested in her opinion. I suppose I would be more curious as to whether or not her husband agrees with me.”
“Just remember,” pointed out Gilraen as she held up the arrow she finished for inspection, “you came from the womb of a woman. Weak as she might have been, she had the strength to carry and birth you. She had the power to create – something you do not possess.”
Erestor smirked, but said nothing. This prompted Gilraen to ask just what amused him so. “I just happen to know something you do not.”
“Care to share it?”
“Not really,” said Erestor. “I approve your work,” he said, and switched back to the initial topic. “And, I apologize for scrutinizing your abilities.”
“So you can be humble,” said Gilraen as she picked up another unfinished arrow.
“Being cynical has little to do with good manners.”
They worked a little while in silence until Aragorn crawled over to them, dragging the blanket with the blocks on it as he went. “Almost time for lunch,” said Gilraen as she reached down and lifted Aragorn up onto her lap.
Erestor adjusted the clamp that held a feather that was proving particularly difficult to adhere to the wood. “Are you offering to put an order in with the cook?”
“I was actually testing to see where your line was between gentlemanly gestures and thinking a woman’s place was to be in the kitchen,” said Gilraen. She kissed the top of Aragorn’s head and moved his hands away from the linen thread that he obviously wanted to help with. “I am not that hungry yet, but Aragorn will start to fuss soon.” She gave him a sly sideways look. “I can handle a crying child. How is your fortitude?”
After making the decision to discard the problematic feather for another that was straighter, Erestor checked to see that all of the feathers were adhering well before he stood up. “Is there anything in particular that young Lord Aragorn prefers to eat for lunch?”
“So your chivalrous side bests your chauvinistic side.”
Erestor sighed with his hands placed upon the top of the table. “We have already established that I am an elf.”
“Indeed, we have, and a fine elf at that. I am still going to wager that there is someone in particular who vexed you to give you such a foul opinion of women,” said Gilraen. “As for Aragorn, he will eat nearly anything at this stage. If there is fresh fruit, I would prefer that.”
“I shall do my best to charm the cook into finding some fresh fruit.” Erestor left the room, finding Lindir in the corridor approaching with four other entertainers. Three were female, and Erestor was uncertain on whether to be thankful for that or not.
“Pendir and I are going to see if we might acquire a table from the stables,” explained Lindir. “It seems many of them are in use, and we did not wish to drag a desk into the hall.”
“Good idea,” commended Erestor. “I am on my way to gather some lunch. Are there any others we should be expecting?”
“A few more, once the morning lessons have finished. They are teaching their classes at the moment.”
“I will plan for ten,” said Erestor as he walked the other way toward the kitchens. He placed a request for a simple luncheon to be brought to the Hall of Fire, including an ample amount of dessert (of which he happened to be a fan, because in his opinion no lunch was complete without cookies or cakes), then returned to the hall to find that two additional tables were brought in, as well as all the remaining jigs and tools that were found in a storage shed outside. Some of the jigs were a little worn, but with steady hands were still usable.
“I hope you do not mind, but I asked Lord Glorfindel to join us for lunch,” said Lindir as he carried a few more chairs to the makeshift workshop that had been set up. “I thought he might like to see where we were at with the arrows, and I also know he will neglect lunch and work right through given the chance.”
Erestor nodded just as the last person they wanted to see entered the hall and stopped in his tracks at the doorway. In an extreme act of absurdity, Erestor stood up in front of the tables in an attempt to block them from Elrond’s view. “Good afternoon!”
Elrond skipped the pleasantries entirely. “What is going on here?”
“I thought you would be busy with the changing of the guard, or we would have invited you,” said Erestor. “Obviously, you are just taking a break from your duties which you will soon need to return—“
“Are those tables?” Elrond walked briskly around Erestor and stopped upon seeing the large pieces of furniture. He narrowed his eyes, and glared sideways at his chief councilor. “Why are there tables in my hall?”
Gilraen pulled Aragorn into her arms and stood up. “It was my idea,” she said before Erestor had a chance to give an explanation. “I thought it would be fast work if we found a place where we could spread out the tasks,” she said, for different areas were set up like stations for different people to complete different parts of the arrow making. “No one will be using the hall for songs and stories until after supper, and by then we shall have this all cleaned up and everything will be back in place where it belongs,” Gilraen assured Elrond. She gave him a very pretty smile, and his look softened.
“I suppose as long as it is all back in place by this evening,” he mumbled. “And I do have work to tend to in my office; I just stopped into the greenhouse and wondered why the table was missing when it was there this morning. As you were.” Elrond shifted back and forth for a moment, and then looked at Gilraen. “Might I have a word with you in private?”
“Of course.” Gilraen followed Elrond out of the hall, handing Aragorn to Erestor on her way. The group of elves sat or stood silently as they watched the lord of the valley leave with Gilraen. They actually closed the doors of the room, which was very unusual for the entrance to the hall. A few minutes later, Gilraen returned and took Aragorn back into her arms.
“Are you in trouble?” whispered Lindir when Gilraen sat down again.
“No,” she said as she settled Aragorn onto his blanket. “Lord Elrond simply worried that I might have moved or helped to move the tables. My constitution is rather delicate, you know,” she said, shifting her gaze to Erestor. “I assured him that was not the case. Then he insisted that in the future, if I were to have such ideas, I should bring them to him so that he could have enough tables brought ahead of time.”
“Wait – he said you could bring tables in here again?” asked Lindir.
Gilraen confirmed this with a nod. “He also wished to invite me to dinner this evening. He and Glorfindel were going to have supper, but he thought I might want to join them, since Lord Glorfindel has been so kind to me since my arrival.”
Once food was distributed to everyone at the table, Gilraen asked, “What was that you were saying earlier about women being the weaker sex?” The question was addressed to Erestor, who had just been able to take a bite of an apple.
He chewed and swallowed before he answered. “I... concede that there are cases when women find a way to gain the upper hand in a situation,” he said slowly.
“Hmm... just not able to admit that you might be wrong about something, are you?”
The rest of the occupants of the table were listening with great interest. It was not often that anyone challenged Erestor, and there was no doubt that some of the discussion would become evening gossip. Erestor set his apple aside and leaned forward. “If we were to partake in a wrestling match, there is no doubt that I would best you.”
“But in a war of words, you can be defeated,” remarked Gilraen.
Erestor shook his head slowly. “I may not win every debate, but I will still win some of them. I will, however, win every test of physical strength. Added together, a draw and a win still equals a win for my gender.”
“And yet, had I not been present, Elrond would have thrown you and your tables out of this room,” reasoned Gilraen.
Erestor shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Hard to say.”
“You are incorrigible,” she scolded.
“And you are feisty yourself,” said Erestor after a pause. He smiled. “I like that in a woman.”
Gilraen, who had been busy feeding Aragorn as she argued with Erestor, finally looked up at Erestor. “So you not only see women as unequal, you see them as prey.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. Erestor’s lips curled upwards. “Are not men meant to hunt and women meant to gather?”
“If I were less polite, you would be wearing this bowl of porridge, Master Erestor,” Gilraen promised.
It was then that another visitor entered the hall, and he needed no introduction, for everyone raised their hands in greeting and it was difficult for him to return the greetings to any of them first, so he merely gave a few friendly waves in the general direction of everyone before coming to the arrow making workshop. “Thank you all for doing this. I know how busy all of you are, and the guard appreciates your work more than you know.”
“Please, Glorfindel, it is the least we can do,” said Lindir. He pulled out an empty chair. “Sit, join us for lunch – no working, though, you have been hard at work all morning.”
“Thank you.” Glorfindel sat down, finding himself between Lindir and Erestor. “No matter how much I plan, it always seems as if I am missing something.”
“Are you leaving this evening or waiting until tomorrow morning?” asked Erestor.
“Tomorrow afternoon, actually. I have planned to meet the other captain for breakfast tomorrow before I leave. It will give us a better chance to talk than to do so on horseback as we pass each other traveling, which had been the case in the past,” explained Glorfindel.
Erestor nodded. “Good plan. If you are free, would you care to have dinner this evening? We can go over the plans for the next few months and make sure everything is in line for the supplies to be sent out as needed.”
“Oh... well... I was supposed to dine with Elrond and Gilraen this evening,” said Glorfindel. “Of course, it was originally meant to be Elrond and I, and then he asked if I would mind if Gilraen attended – and I do not,” he assured the woman sitting at the table with them, for her expression was somewhat shocked. Glorfindel, of course, did not know it was due to knowing that Erestor knew full well what Glorfindel’s plans were for the evening. “What is one more? I am certain Elrond will not mind. I will let the cooks know before I go back out to the stables.”
“I would not wish to intrude,” said Erestor. His face showed sincerity – a gift of all of the years he had spent in the theatre. Glorfindel looked to Gilraen, who could do no more than shake her head in shock. “Well, then, it is settled. I will join you this evening for supper.” He made sure to sneak a smirk at Gilraen before lunch was over.
