“Thank you.” Caranthir took the warm mug of cider from Galadriel, as well as a cinnamon biscuit from the tray she held out. Galadriel nodded and moved to the other side of the room, where Glorfindel and Erestor were sitting together on the couch. Erestor shook his head, but Glorfindel scooped up three of the treats and after setting two aside dipped the third in his coffee.
“The guest room is ready for you, whenever you wish to retire. Celebrian is putting fresh linens on the bed right now.” Galadriel set the tray on the table nearest to Caranthir and took her leave.
Erestor broke the silence after he heard the rest of the family clear out of the kitchen and hallway to retire for the night. “The fact she is peredhel explains a few things – the time it has taken for her to heal and her height for one her age.”
“Her grandmother was one of the Haladin. As I said, I was not aware of what had happened at the time that it did. It was only when I came here that I learned of Thargethir, my son. He hates me for the fact he is half-elven. As soon as he was able to sail he did.” Caranthir set aside his mug and leaned back against the chair, then propped his feet upon a small table. “He chose to be Elven, he came here and has prospered. I do not know why he still holds such a grudge against me. Then again, I never was very likable.”
“It was a fortunate thing that you encountered Elladan and that he was able to lead you here,” said Glorfindel.
“That it was.” Caranthir said nothing more for a while, and neither Erestor nor Glorfindel wished to press him with too many questions just yet. When the Feanorian began to look restless, the other two Ellyn said their goodnights and left Caranthir in the parlor with his thoughts.
For the next week, they hosted Caranthir. Tintilien was delighted to have her grandfather close, and at times Erestor felt he was a burden for being there. The dark elf was thankful, however, that as noticeable as Caranthir’s presence was, he did not interfere with the routine Erestor and Glorfindel had imposed. Bedtimes were still abided by, no matter how much pouting and whining ensued. A tantrum had consequences, and Caranthir made no attempt to intervene with her punishment during the final evening of his stay, when at dinner Tintilien threw a roll across the table in frustration. In fact, his reaction to the incident seemed to surprise the elfling.
Erestor had been out of the room, and Glorfindel was across the table – the target of the assault, in fact, for reminding her softly to finish what was on her plate before taking more food. As the object flew from her hand, Elrond, sitting on her right, hoisted her up with the skill of a father with much practice in this sort of thing, gave her three sharp spanks on her rear, and sat her back down. “When we are finished, you will clean the kitchen,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Although she was not hit hard at all, her pride was greatly injured at having been disciplined in front of her grandfather. Her bottom lip trembled, and she turned to Caranthir, sitting at her left. She said nothing, letting the tears well up in her eyes and the sniffles speak for her until Caranthir finally turned to acknowledge her.
“You deserved about ten strikes for that, and what is more, Glorfindel still is owed an apology from you.”
Tintilien blinked, the tears dissipating. Shame colored her face as she mumbled words asking Glorfindel for forgiveness. The golden elf nodded, reached across the table, and squeezed her hand.
When Erestor entered, Caranthir waited until all greetings had been said before putting forth a suggestion. “The more I have been thinking about it, the more I think it would be a good idea.”
“What idea?” asked Erestor as he gathered up some food on a plate and then took it to the counter to eat, owing to the lack of available seating and not wanting to go into the parlor.
“For my brother to visit, if you would allow it. He always had a fondness for children.” Caranthir smiled and looked past his granddaughter to Elrond.
“Maedhros?” guessed the lord of the house, for as of yet Maglor’s fate remained to them all a mystery.
“Aye, if it would be allowed.”
The warm smile on Elrond’s face seemed to brighten the room. “I would dearly love to see him again. He is ever welcome here in my home, as he once welcomed me into his.”
“Then tomorrow, I shall set off to seek him,” said Caranthir happily. “Of course, I would wish it to be well with you, too, Erestor.”
“Of course. I have never had quarrel with your brother.” Erestor frowned. “Or is it that he thinks ill of me?”
“And they say I am jaded!” Caranthir shook his head. “No, no, I just did not wish to impose upon anyone, or interrupt plans in any way.”
Erestor shrugged before returning his attention to his supper. “I see no reason why that should be a problem.”
Midweek, when Erestor returned home from his workday in Gondolindon, he was surprised to see three horses more than were usually in the stable. One he recognized as Caranthir’s; the other two were unfamiliar to him, but also bore the symbol of Feanor’s house. Erestor wondered which other son had come along, hoping as he entered the house that it was Amrod or Amras (though that was unlikely as they always traveled together) instead of Celegorm or Curufin who had accompanied Maedhros.
It was quite a shock to him when he came into the parlor. The happy little nonsense song he half-sung, half-hummed died on his lips as he saw who was there. He turned abruptly, hoping no one saw him, and walked to the nearest open room, which happened to be Elrond’s study.
Glorfindel was immediately on his heels, having known he was home before catching a glimpse of him in the parlor. “Glad you are back. I missed you.” The golden elf draped his arms down over the back of the high leather chair Erestor plopped into and gave his husband a kiss on the side of his head, the easier place for him to reach in this position. “I made vegetable pies for supper.”
“What is he doing here?” Erestor asked, half whisper and half whine. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Did you invite him or did he invite himself? And why is he on one of their horses?”
“Actually, it is his horse, and the blanket that adorns it is for the same reason you tell others you belong to the House of the Golden Flower.”
“What happened to Fingon?”
“I do not know,” said Glorfindel with a shrug. “I thought it rude to ask.”
Rubbing his head, Erestor sighed. ‘I have a headache. And I need a drink.” He stood and roamed the room, gathering an empty glass, a bottle of the cordial Elrond was so fond of, and a vial of blue-grey powder. The powder was sprinkled liberally in the bottom of the glass, a sip of cordial added and swished around.
“I thought that is to be administered with water,” voiced a concerned Glorfindel as Erestor drank the concoction, then poured himself a full glass of the liquid. The bottle was more than halfway empty now, and Glorfindel stealthily snuck it away and replaced it upon the shelf. “Erestor, for what it is worth, he has been very polite.”
Erestor turned his head to the side and looked about to say something, but drank again instead.
Crouching down beside the chair, Glorfindel placed his hand on Erestor’s knee. “Slow down. You know how that stuff affects you.”
“Yes, I know. I have to be amiable enough not to... do something to him.”
“Maybe you should go to bed; I can get Tintilien to sleep later.”
“No. I should go out there and be a good host.” He downed the rest of the alcohol and licked his lips. “Disadvantage of not having our own home anymore,” he said gruffly.
They walked out of the study and back into the parlor, where Tintilien sat on the floor with Caranthir playing with a set of colorful toy blocks he had brought with him. “Good evening, Erestor,” greeted Caranthir without getting up or looking that way.
Erestor nodded, his eyes on his daughter, who was so engrossed in her new toy she did not look up. Briefly, Erestor glanced at Maedhros and the elf that sat beside him. Glorfindel had taken a seat on one of the chairs again. “Just had to take care of something in the other room,” apologized the blond. He touched the arm of the chair next to his. “Erestor, come sit by me, you must be tired.”
Again, Erestor looked uncomfortable at the idea of entering the room. “I think I am going to go out and get some air,” he said abruptly.
Tintilien suddenly looked up. “In the dark?”
“I take walks at night sometimes,” he gently defended. “I was cooped up all day and I think I could use a little stroll.”
“Are you sure? It feels like rain is coming,” said Glorfindel.
With a frown, Erestor said, “It was a clear sky when I came in. If there is rain, it is far off.”
“Can I come?” Tintilien shoved the blocks she was playing with aside and started to stand.
“I may be out past your bedtime, sweetie.”
“Uncle Gildor said he would tell me a story. If you do not get back before he does, can he tuck me in, too?” asked Tintilien as she pulled the pile of blocks closer.
Erestor swallowed the knot in his throat. “Glorfindel can take care of that,” he said curtly before walking briskly down the hall.
His stomach rumbled as he passed the kitchen. Per usual, he had managed a meager breakfast and skipped lunch altogether, yet Erestor kept walking. He reached the door and pulled it open as a crash of thunder sounded overhead.
Narrowing his eyes, Erestor scanned the front yard. The rain was persistent and was turning the sand further east into soppy mush. Still, a little water never hurt anyone.
Placing one foot outside, lightning streaked again and the resounding crash that followed rattled paintings and dishes in the cupboards. A torrent spilled forth from the heavens and Erestor resignedly shut the door. He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a bit, trying to decide whether to hide in the depths of the house or to return to the parlor. Movement caught his eye and he saw Glorfindel going into the kitchen and followed. “Why did you do that?” he accused in a low hiss after he closed the door and was facing the blond.
“Do what?”
An angry streak of lightning sizzled across the sky and the boom of thunder that accompanied it made Greyson, Haldir’s wolf who had been sleeping in a corner of the kitchen, awake with a yelp. The wolf slunk under the table after a reassuring pat from Erestor. “You know exactly what I am referring to.”
“No clue,” replied Glorfindel quickly, though his smirk as he took a tray of food from the oven said otherwise. “Do you want potato bread or wheat?”
“Whichever is fresher – the rain is a little extreme,” insisted Erestor as he wandered to the window seat and sat down while Glorfindel filled a plate for him. “Who told Tintilien to call Gildor ‘uncle’?”
Glorfindel looked a little guilty as he put the plate onto a tray and buttered the bread. “By association, if Maedhros is her great-uncle, then Gildor... well, it was that or have her call him ‘aunt’.”
“I still want to know where Fingon is.”
“You sound like the midwives in the marketplace,” scolded Glorfindel. “I am sure if Maedhros wants that known, he will say something; else, leave it be.”
“I had no intention of asking him.” Erestor looked away from the rain outside as the plate was held out to him. “Thank you.” He took it and the glass of water as he stood. “Good plan. Give me something to put into my mouth so that I cannot put my foot in it.”
“I think it irrelevant what you put in your mouth as long as you do not speak,” winked Glorfindel.
“You know me only too well.” The pair reentered the parlor to find Maedhros on the floor with his brother and Tintilien, while Gildor stood by the window staring out at the rain pelting the barn.
“Tintilien,” said Glorfindel, “I think it is bedtime for you.”
There was a minimal amount of pouting before the elfling bid her goodnights to everyone, with hugs all around. When she came to Erestor, she climbed onto his lap after he set the plate aside and gave him a huge hug. “Uncle Maedhros and I decided we get to make a special club.”
“Oh?”
“Uh-huh. But no one else can be in it so I cannot tell you the secret password,” she said solemnly.
“Ah.”
“But you could try to guess it.”
“Hmm.”
“Or not. Maybe not. No, because you might get it. No guessing!” she giggled, putting her hand over Erestor’s mouth.
“Alright, say goodnight, snowflake,” prompted Glorfindel. Tintilien, still giggling, did as she was told, and Glorfindel picked her up to take her to her room.
“Wait!” Wriggling out of Glorfindel’s arms, Tintilien ran to Gildor, almost stumbling into him. “Uncle Gildor, are you still going to tell me a story?”
Gildor looked down and put his hand gently on her crown of golden locks, then shifted his gaze to Erestor. As he chewed a mouthful of bread, Erestor returned the look with a long, hard stare before finally giving a little nod. “Sure.” Gildor followed behind the happy little elfling and Glorfindel, keeping a few paces distance from them.
When the room settled down, Maedhros lifted himself back onto a chair opposite Erestor while Caranthir set to putting the blocks away. The rain was dying down, going almost as quickly as it had come, so the sound of the crackling log in the fireplace battled for dominance over the pattering against the windows. “So, is it that you are overly protective of her, or of him?”
Erestor soon realized the question was directed to him. “What do you mean?” he pressed Maedhros.
“That glare you gave Gildor, as if you were hoping your gaze might bore a hole in the side of his head.”
What Erestor wanted to say was ‘As if he would need aid from me’, but instead he said, “To be perfectly honest, and I speak ill only because you approached the subject, I hardly trust him.”
“Him... Gildor? Or Glorfindel?”
“I trust Glorfindel implicitly,” Erestor harshly replied.
“Do... we really need to discuss this right now? They will both be back in a few minutes-“ But Caranthir’s odd and unlikely attempt to stave off a possible war of words was unnecessary.
Maedhros laughed. “Peace, Erestor. I have no intention of quarreling with you.”
Erestor stuffed a large bit of pie crust into his mouth to keep from saying anything more.
“I just wanted you to know, if you thought he would say or do something he should not in front of Tintilien, that he adores children and would never do such a thing.”
A pause, then Erestor nodded.
“There are other things you should be made aware of,” said Maedhros at length. “We should talk sometime, Erestor, there are things you know that I wish to find out.”
Before Erestor could find out what Maedhros was talking about, the footfalls came from around the corner. “Sound asleep almost immediately, and dreaming of gnomes and treefairies,” said Glorfindel as he entered, Gildor still a few steps behind. Glorfindel sat down beside Erestor on the couch, while Gildor assumed his place by the window again.
The pokes and nudges that Glorfindel gave to Erestor were indiscernible to the others as Caranthir stowed the toys in a corner and took a seat himself. Finally, as he finished his meal and set the plate aside, Erestor called out, “Gildor, are you going to join us, or is the rain all the more interesting?”
“I would say the rain, but you would know I was lying.” Gildor gave the barn one last look before he came over and sat down between the two Feanorians.
“Why do you call her ‘snowflake’? That seems an odd choice of pet names.” Maedhros was resting his chin on the stump of his right wrist as he regarded Glorfindel and awaited the answer.
“Blame me; I came up with it,” spoke Caranthir. “If you do not like it, feel free to create one of your own design.”
“I asked why, that was all,” Maedhros said, grinning a little. “Just once, brother, will you answer a question with the expected outcome, or do you prefer to always be asked twice?”
Caranthir harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “Because even as a babe, her eyes sparkled with such delight, it reminded me of the way the snowflakes catch the light of the moon and stars as they drift to the ground.”
“But snowflakes eventually melt into nothing.”
“They melt into water,” countered Caranthir.
“Alright, alright, water then. Still, they go from beauty to... blah.”
Shaking his head, Caranthir upbraided his brother. “Do not let Lord Ulmo hear you say that.”
“What about something more permanent, like diamonds?” suggested Maedhros.
“You and your sparkly rocks... you and father both,” mumbled Caranthir.
Gildor bit his lip at this, and Maedhros seemed ready to say something he might regret. Instead, he turned his attention to Glorfindel and said, “I believe I shall go to see Elrond before I retire for the evening. His room is on the... second floor?”
“Third,” said Glorfindel, wishing Maedhros a good evening. The eldest son of Feanor nodded and left with Gildor trailing close behind.
Caranthir waited until Maedhros and Gildor had gone before looking to Glorfindel and Erestor apologetically. “This is why I wish father had chosen to have eight sons instead of seven.” When Glorfindel furrowed his brow, Caranthir explained further: “Maedhros and Maglor always had each other; they still speak though Maglor is so far away. Amrod and Amras of course were practically one in the same, and Curufin’s mood was so alike to Celegorm. And then, there was me. The stubborn one in the middle with the ugly face.”
“Your looks are fairer than you may think,” argued Glorfindel.
“Therein lays the problem. When my brothers anger they do not look so odd, but as for me I change colors like a chameleon. Well, it is goodnight, then, until tomorrow.” Caranthir stood and left to go back to his room.
“Well, at least this... odd gathering seems to have helped Tintilien,” said Glorfindel as he and Erestor stayed in the parlor until the fire burned out. “She was so relieved to talk to Maedhros and learn about everything he accomplished after his unfortunate incident.”
Erestor pushed the embers around in the fireplace before returning the poker to the bin. “Did Tintilien enjoy the story Gildor told her?”
“Truth be told, she fell sleep almost right when her head hit the pillow.”
“Ah.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Glorfindel placed his arm around Erestor as the dark elf sat back down. “No, that ‘ah’ definitely meant something.”
Erestor concentrated his gaze on the fireplace. “You were both gone an awful long time.”
For a bit, Glorfindel was silent. Finally, he asked, “Are you hoping to be left alone in here?”
“That was not an answer.”
“You never asked me a question.”
“Do I need to ask?”
“Do you think you have to?”
“No,” Erestor sighed. “No, forgive me, I just... I trust you. I trust you. I do not trust him.”
“Neither do I. Why do you think I went with him when he wanted to tell her the story?”
“Right. Sorry. I did not mean to accuse you of anything.”
Glorfindel gathered up the dishes as he stood. “I am going to tidy up the kitchen while you finish with the fire. You are coming to bed after that, yes?”
“Yes, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”
“You and I both. Maedhros and Caranthir plan to spend a week, and I doubt Elrond wanted to play host for so long.”
Erestor nodded, smiling to himself in the darkness. Perhaps Glorfindel believed Elrond did not like it, but then, why was he so welcoming of others into his home, both here and in Imladris? In reality, Glorfindel did not want to miss out on the fun of playing host himself.
After the final bit of orange faded into soot, Erestor stopped in the kitchen. Glorfindel was just putting away the last of the items he had washed and dried. “I thought I would wait for you,” said Erestor. “No fun crawling into a cold bed by yourself.”
“Thank you.” Glorfindel offered him a dazzling smile and quickly resumed his task. “Still curious?”
“About what?”
“About what I was doing with Gildor after Tintilien fell asleep but before we came back.”
“A little. We have already established I have a terrible attraction to gossip.”
Glorfindel set the rag on the counter and stepped here and there, extinguishing the candles. “I wanted to know if he was well, and if he was happy. I wanted to see if he was serious about Maedhros. He claimed he was on all three counts. Then, I was a bit callous as I demanded to know if he had chased away Fingon or done anything wicked to him as he once did to us.”
Erestor raised a brow, and Glorfindel continued. “He assured me he had not, and that he and Maedhros began their relationship only after Maedhros and Fingon had parted ways.”
“Interesting.”
“I thought so, too.” Glorfindel picked up the last candle and carried it to the door. “Bed? Sleep?”
“Bed. No sleep.”
Glorfindel smiled and blew out the light.
