“Glorfindel was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and keen and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom and in his hand was strength.”
Soft chuckling and snickers caused Elrond to look up from the book he was reading. “Hush,” he scolded, his comment directed towards his eldest son, the loudest culprit. His eyes darted across the room, to where the blond Elf was sitting. He, too, was smirking, and offered the following words regarding the situation: “Apparently, Mr. Baggins or whomever wrote that part did not know me very well.”
“But you are young, and fearless, and joyful,” countered Erestor. “Or, youthful, if you prefer,” he corrected in answer to rolled eyes.
“Even if you toss out the years I spent dead in-between, I still managed to make it through a few millennia,” stated Glorfindel.
Erestor shrugged. “It is all a matter of perspective. To me, you are young.”
“Craddle-robber,” joked Glorfindel.
“And to him, you would be tall.” Erestor nodded to himself. “You and Elrond are about the same height – about average. And an average Elf, to a Hobbit, is tall.”
“You do have a musical sort of voice,” said Elrohir. “At least, when you yelled at us, it was much more pleasant to hear than when we got in trouble when Ada or Erestor were around.”
“And he got the bright part right,” added Elladan. “Keen? Well...”
“I can count the number of hairs on the back of a wild boar from a hundred paces,” argued Glorfindel gently. “I doubt he would ever have seen me wearing my glasses.”
“You still use them, though, right?” asked Elladan.
Glorfindel nodded. “Only when I need to. Between your father and Erestor, I have become spoiled. All I have to do is find a comfortable spot near them in a warm room, and chances are that one of them will start reading something out loud. I think we can safely forego any disagreements over wisdom and strength.”
“That was not the reason I was laughing,” said Elladan.
“We know why you were laughing,” Elrond said in a quiet, yet stern voice. He lifted the book to continue, but Glorfindel, unashamed of his sexuality since his rebirth, cleared his throat.
“Undoubtedly, he did not know how it was that Mr. Baggins noticed my impeccable poise and posture, for that could be the only meaning of the word straight, as mentioned by Mr. Baggins.”
There was a little more smirking and snickering. Elrond sighed. “Are we done?”
It was not one of the twins who burst out in giggles, but the very fair Celebrian, who until now had been the best behaved of the group. “Sorry, I trying to think of a way to combine the part about being straight with the wisdom in hand, but... I cannot bring myself to say it in front of the children.” She snorted in the most unladylike fashion and raised her hand to chortle behind it.
Elrond sighed again. “Glorfindel, do you have your spectacles with you?”
Glorfindel produced the eyewear almost immediately from the pocket of his vest. “To what end?” he asked as he wiped the lenses clean of any dust and perched them on his nose.
The book was passed in his direction. “At least if you are reading, you will be less likely to be a troublemaker.”
“As you wish.” Glorfindel opened the book and repositioned his glasses. “Let me see... where were we... oh, yes, right at that part about the handsome fellow from Rivendell...” He smiled and pretended to read, “Glorfindel was of average size, though tall to a Hobbit, and straight in stature; that is, he stood straight, though he was himself a little bit queer—“
“A little?” interrupted Erestor.
“—a lot bit queer... quite queer,” he amended. The snickering started again. “Glorfindel was almost tall, and really gay. He was so gay, and so good at it, in fact, he managed to make Elrond’s chief counselor gay, too.” By now, Elladan was laughing louder than his mother, and Elrohir had slid down off his seat to the floor, where it was apparently much safer to laugh. Even Elrond, and the aforementioned ex-counselor, were not immune to the mirth. “Alright... seriously now... uhh...” Glorfindel fanned through the pages quickly. “After our hero is described, stuff happens, people die, more stuff happens, something about a ring... and... oh, here we are... very important thing here... First rode... couple of people, not important... oh! And then came Glorfindel and Erestor,” he said in a musical voice, face full of joy and eyes keenly upon his companion in a way that made Erestor's cheeks flush, “and all the house of Rivendell, and so on, and more stuff happens, the end. Oh, and then there’s more about this Glorfindel fellow in the appendix, but I can paraphrase for you. The Witchking scared a horse, and made the rider look like a coward, but then Glorfindel was there, and he took care of it. The end, for real this time.”
“And you wonder why I suggested you be the one to read?” asked Erestor of Elrond once the chuckling faded.
“Tomorrow I shall find a nice Second Age tale to read,” decided Elrond.
For OEAM Writer's Circle, Characters.