As Overseer, Erestor found the title was more than simply ceremonial in nature. In Glorfindel’s place, he was expected to do everything that Glorfindel had. Luckily, Erestor was a fast learner, and had a temperament well-suited for the position. With Glorfindel gone, it gave Erestor something to concentrate on, for it was only with Glorfindel gone that he realized how attached he had become to the Elvenlord.
He still made time to see his family now and then, often taking them some provisions or a small purse of coins. His father had managed to spend away the money he had received years early when Erestor had left, and the farm continued to decline despite the hard work of Erestor’s brothers and their wives. This afternoon, he had been given a message from Salgant, that not only did Erestor’s family have need of supplies, his father was also digging himself back into debt. A sack of coins was carefully and secretly placed into the saddlebag of Erestor’s horse, and he rode off near dusk to visit his family’s home.
His second-oldest brother greeted him before he reached the door. He leaned upon a shovel, and wiped his arm across his brow to chase off the droplets of sweat. “Hail, little brother! What news do you bring?”
Erestor slowed his horse and swung his leg gracefully around to dismount from the grey mare he had been riding. He patted her on the side of the neck; his hands gloved up to the elbows in black leather that matched the pants, boots, and jacket that he wore as well. Only his shirt was white; a stark contrast to the rest of his outfit. A gold chain was around his neck, a gleaming opal set at the center. He pushed his hair, pulled back in a ponytail, over his shoulder as he approached. “Good evening, Lindir. Is father here?”
Lindir shook his head. “I have not seen him since this morning.” He lowered his voice. “We find him in the gambling houses more and more often. Mother is frantic about what to do. Two days ago, he was supposed to go to market to bring feed for the chickens; instead, he spent it on horse races.”
At this time, Erestor went back to his horse and removed the bag he had brought. “Here. Feed the chickens before they are too thin to even be slaughtered. Perhaps I should have given you or Saeldir the money the other times I have come.”
“You know that we would have to tell him,” said Lindir. “He would want to know where things came from.”
“So tell him, but do not tell him how much you have received,” said Erestor. He held the bag out. “Give him half. Hide the rest, and use it slowly.” He paused. “I have brought you all that I have. Until Glorfindel returns, it will be difficult for me to obtain more money. I can, but it will be slow and difficult.”
Lindir took hold of the sack. “Where did you find such wealth?” he asked in amazement when he looked into the bag to find not copper or silver, but golden coins within.
“I earned it. Every bit of it.” Erestor took a step away so that Lindir could not easily hand the pouch back to him. “I have found I have a knack for writing.”
“What do you write?” asked Lindir as he pulled one of the coins from the purse and tied up the rest in the pouch again.
“Anything. Mostly I write poetry, but I have written letters and ballads and even someone’s wedding vows.”
“Ballads?” Lindir looked thoughtful. “There is a singing competition I want to enter, but I fear if I use a known piece, someone else might sing it, too. Would you write something for me?”
“Absolutely,” promised Erestor. The sun had full set, and Erestor rocked back and forth on his heels. “I should go. I have yet to eat supper.”
“I would invite you in, but mother has only prepared enough for us,” said Lindir apologetically.
Erestor shook his head. “If I come in, she will insist I stay. I cannot do that; she always insist I eat her portion...” Erestor swallowed back his emotions. “I need to go.” He reached out and touched Lindir’s elbow. “I will write that song for you by next week,” he vowed, and then he quickly mounted his horse and pulled the reins back towards the House of the Golden Flower.
Lindir raised his arm in farewell, and hurried toward the house as the bell rang for dinner. Erestor willed himself not to turn around. He stared forward as the horse trotted away from the farm and down to the path that would lead him home.
“Hail, Erestor.”
Erestor tugged the reins and looked about. A lady in a pale blue cloak that hooded her face rode forward on a pure while horse and stopped beside Erestor. The hood was lowered, and Lady Idril was revealed. “I am glad to confirm that father’s fears were unfounded.”
“What fears were those, your highness?” asked Erestor.
“He has seen you bringing money often to your family since Glorfindel’s departure. Someone suggested that perhaps you were slowly raiding the treasury, and thus he sent me to follow you.” She tilted her head at the angered look on Erestor’s face. “Please, do not hate my father for his scrutiny. You must understand it. He loves Glorfindel like a brother.”
Erestor retained the stern look, but his features loosened slowly as he made the decision that, had he been in the reverse position, he would be as questioning of the situation. “You can let his majesty know that there is nothing to fear. I am now without any further funding of my own, and the journeys here will be sparse.”
Idril sadly smiled. “I apologize. I am certain you are sore, but my father did not truly believe it himself. Is that not shown by the fact I am the one watching you, instead of a guard?”
Erestor shrugged in response.
“Come. I heard that you have yet to eat. I am to dine with my father. Your return with me will show him my favor with you.” She motioned to the path that they should take, and Erestor slowly gave a nod after a long thought.
When they arrived, King Turgon looked pleasantly surprised to see Erestor standing alongside his daughter, and they were both welcomed into the private quarters of Turgon at the top of his tower. Dinner was served upon a silver tray, succulent slices of duck with a brandied sauce and vegetables that were steamed at the fire. There was a mint crème trifle for dessert, and glasses of wine at the fire to follow.
As Erestor found himself sleepily listening to tales that Turgon told, Idril sat on her rocking chair and stitched flowers upon a quilt she and her ladies-in-waiting were making. At first mention of Glorfindel, Erestor felt the yearning he had since the lord’s departure, and Idril sighed sadly. “I do miss him so,” she said. “As much as I miss Aunt Aredhel.”
“They will return soon enough,” Turgon assured his daughter.
“I know, but still.” Idril set her work aside and stared into the fire. “I miss him dearly. The first thing I shall do is throw my arms around him and hug him fiercely! And then, I think I shall bake him his favorite cake.”
Her sorrow was too familiar for Erestor, and in his hazy jealousy he vowed to keep an eye on the pair when Glorfindel returned, for his mind began to recall times when they would walk alone, or share a private joke, or even that Glorfindel had kissed Idril’s cheek on more than one occasion. When his sudden silence and sour mood was questioned, Erestor blamed it on fatigue and excused himself, but came no more to Turgon’s tower until Glorfindel’s return.
