“What are you doing tomorrow?” Erestor flashed a smile at Glorfindel, that sort of smile that was usually followed by the asking of a favor.
Glorfindel was hardly fooled. “What do you want me to do?”
Erestor sighed. “I have a meeting that I need to attend tomorrow afternoon; I cannot reschedule it. Tintilien has her lesson in the morning, but then she is to stay and watch the rehearsal in the afternoon of those from the school. I was supposed to be there with her, since Taralawen will obviously be with the other students coming in, and some of Tintilien’s ex-classmates will be there as well. We do not want an incident. There is also no guarantee that my meeting will end in time to pick her up even after that.”
“Ah.” Glorfindel nodded. “I can take the carriage with Thay and Took if you want to ride Asfaloth.”
“Thank you!” Erestor leaned over and gave Glorfindel a tight hug. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
“She is my daughter, too,” reminded Glorfindel as he snuggled against Erestor. “It will be nice to spend a little time with her.”
***
“We are too early!” Tintilien worried as the carriage halted in front of the theatre. “We should wait in the carriage. Master Findekano will not be ready for us!”
“It is always better to be early than to be late,” insisted Glorfindel as he stepped onto the ground and then helped Tintilien out as well. “I am sure he will be pleased with your punctuality.”
Tintilien frowned and did not look so sure, but she walked along beside Glorfindel without argument. Glorfindel noticed that her lessons with Findekano had not only improved her dancing, but they had changed her attitude. There were far fewer disagreements and tantrums now, and she even volunteered to help with chores instead of being constantly reminded about them. It was a welcome change, and one that had happened in a brief time.
When they reached the door, Glorfindel knocked, but Tintilien walked past and opened it. “He never locks them,” she explained before Glorfindel could speak.
A startled calico who had been cleaning herself in the middle of the hallway looked up at them with sudden interest, one leg straight up in the air. She yawned as they passed, Tintilien leading. Two more cats, one black and one grey (or perhaps they were both black and grey, for it was difficult to determine), were wrestling further down the hall, while an orange tabby sleepily looked on from his watch at one of the doors.
“I do not recall the cats being here last time,” said Glorfindel as he was taken to a bench. He sat down next to Tintilien, who looked a little annoyed.
“They hide from strangers, but they know me.”
After a few idle minutes, Glorfindel asked, “What are we doing?”
“We have to wait. The doors are closed, so Master Findekano wants his privacy.”
Glorfindel nodded, and in a quieter voice asked, “Does he ever leave this place?”
Tintilien sifted through the items in the back that contained her gear, making sure she did not bring two slippers of different colors. She seemed quite nervous, and Glorfindel put an arm around her to offer some comfort. “I never see him leave, but maybe he does at night.”
Before further questions could be asked, the front doors flew open. The sudden noise made Tintilien hop closer to Glorfindel, almost into his lap, and wrapped both of her arms in what way should could around one of his. Taralawen entered the building and swept down the hallway with two aides walking in her wake. She gave Glorfindel an odd sort of look, but dismissed his presence with a roll of her eyes before she proceeded to open the door to the nicer of the theatres and slip inside, entourage following.
Tintilien’s eyes widened considerably and she whispered, “That was not a wise choice.” She and Glorfindel stared at the door. Minutes passed, and some talking could be heard even through the walls that helped to muffle the sound. It was only Taralawen’s voice, and it cut off sharply just before the doors burst open. The aides rushed out first, and then Taralawen was backed into the hallway.
Findekano stood in the entryway, arms outstretched in order to keep both of the doors open. He glared at the lady until she stopped sputtering her outrage and in his calm, quiet voice said, “You were not to arrive until this afternoon, per our contract. You may wait in the hall until that time.” He started to drop his arms for the doors to swing back, but saw his pupil waiting and said, “Tintilien, it is time for your lesson.”
The elfling sprang up gladly, yanked her bag from the bench, and bravely walked past her old instructor and around Findekano. After a moment’s thought, Findekano caught Glorfindel’s gaze and motioned with his head for him to follow his daughter into the theatre. As soon as Glorfindel entered – he ducked under one of Findekano’s arms so that the dancer could keep up the dramatic display for Taralawen and her associates – Findekano took hold of the handles of each door, stepped back, and slammed them shut in Taralawen’s face.
“That was enjoyable,” said Findekano softly as he walked around Glorfindel, who was crouched on the floor in order to help Tintilien put her slippers on. Findekano backed up and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Helping her—“
“Sorry, that should be, why are you doing that?”
Glorfindel’s hands fell away as he looked up. “I... guess I thought she needed help.”
Findekano shook his head and motioned for Glorfindel to stand up, while Tintilien struggled but managed to remove her other boot and replace it with a dancing shoe. “She can do this.” To his student, he said, “When you are ready, start your warm-ups. I need to speak to Glorfindel for a moment.” Tintilien nodded and after stowing her boots into the bag she skipped down the aisle and climbed up the steps to the stage.
Findekano walked toward the back of the theatre, and Glorfindel followed him until they were almost to the last row. “I need you to take a message back to your husband.”
Glorfindel furrowed his brow as Findekano disappeared into a little room at the back and reemerged with a small sack of coins. “Tell him to stop leaving money for me. Not only is it insulting because I promised that I would require no payment, but I have no need for it. Knowing your occupations, you probably do. Farmers who work part-time as librarians and unemployed accountants tend to have low incomes.” He held out the sack, and with mild hesitation, Glorfindel took it.
“I had no idea he was doing this,” admitted Glorfindel. He slipped the pouch into his pocket and added, “The reason he only works part-time is because he makes enough not to need to work at the library all of the time.”
“Glorfindel, let us be honest. He is working more than his share of hours tending to farm work, and then spends the rest of his time in a library. Do you ever have much of a chance to see him?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you see him as much as you want to see him?”
Glorfindel, unable to dispute this, countered with, “For the record, I am not unemployed. I take care of the finances of that farm and for the orchard on the cliff, and I work in those fields as much as he does; probably more.”
Findekano took a step back, and Glorfindel realized he was nearly shouting. Before he could offer and apology, Findekano raised his hands and said, “So you admit you work hard for your earnings, whereas I live leisurely and acquire funds simply by renting my theatre. Keep the money, Glorfindel, and tell Erestor to stop leaving it. Use whatever excuse you want; I do not need it.”
As Findekano walked away, Glorfindel called to him, “If that is so, why is one theatre in ruin? Why do you not fix it?”
Findekano turned sharply, and it was evident that this was not a topic he enjoyed speaking about. “If I wanted to fix it, I could. However, I do not want to.” He turned again and walked to the stage.
-----
The rest of the morning, Glorfindel silently watched his daughter practice and tried not to dwell too much on what Findekano had said. By the afternoon, he had mostly put his mind at ease, but knew that everything would be dredged up again when he spoke to Erestor about the matter that evening.
Findekano invited Tintilien and Glorfindel into a dining hall in the lower level of the building for lunch. They walked slowly through the basement, with Findekano pointing out various items of interest, such as the expansive area for costume storage and the eighteen private dressing chambers beyond the communal ones on the upper level. The corridors appeared to stretch indefinitely, and everything was in immaculate condition. It made Glorfindel wonder about the theatre that lay in ruin all the more.
Following lunch, Findekano finally opened the doors to the theatre for Taralawen, whose dark demeanor was even more wretched now. Instead of turning her anger on Findekano, the instructor snapped at her students impatiently and barked orders to her staff.
As the seats of the theatre filled up with young dancers, some with their parents and siblings, Glorfindel found a spot a few rows from the front for him to sit with Tintilien. They watched dancers warming up in the aisles while the stage was set for the rehearsal. Musicians were beginning to enter and maneuvered their instruments down into the orchestral pit below stage.
Somewhere in the midst of everything, Taralawen stormed down the aisle to where Findekano was standing, only a few feet from Glorfindel and Tintilien. “We just tried the curtain, and it is too high off the ground. It should sweep the floor so that no one sees the feet of the dancers underneath.”
“The curtain is tasseled. If it drags, it is going to look odd.”
“I want it to drag,” Taralawen announced. “Before you argue with me, might I remind you that curtain height is up to my discretion, as set in our contract.” She stressed the last word and Findekano licked his lips and sighed. “Fix my curtain, Fin.”
Findekano yawned as if bored and headed for the stage. He walked up the steps and behind the curtain, leaving Taralawen standing in the aisle with her hands on her hips. After a minute, Findekano walked out onto the stage. He was looking up and had a puzzled expression on his face. Over to the opposite side he walked, and again emerged with concern.
“Is something wrong?” shouted Taralawen smugly.
Findekano mumbled something that sounded like ‘the ropes were cut’, and after another minute of examining things overhead called out, “I can fix it from the catwalk. It will just take a little longer.”
As Findekano strolled back behind the curtain, Glorfindel noted that Taralawen was still standing in the aisle, blocking half of it as she watched the stage impatiently. The faint sounds of someone climbing up the metal stairway led to a hint of a smile on her face. Something about it made Glorfindel uneasy, and he turned to Tintilien and said, “Stay here. I will be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Tintilien panicked and grabbed hold of Glorfindel’s arm as she had in the hallway earlier, only this time she dug the nails of her hand into his skin to anchor him.
“Oww... please, Tintilien, I need you to stay here.” He extricated himself and said quietly, “I am going to go and help Master Findekano. Those curtains are heavy.” It was a bit of a bluff, but not a complete untruth.
Before Glorfindel had the chance to stand up, a shout of surprise echoed into the upper part of the theatre, and a moment later, Findekano fell from the catwalk. He landed mid-stage on his back with a hideous noise that was a cross between a thump and a crack. Glorfindel hurried up the aisle, shoving his way past Taralawen to get there. “Move back!” he roared at the curious dancers and musicians who were crowding around the fallen elf. Glorfindel pushed his way through those who did not listen to him and checked immediately to be sure Findekano was still breathing.
He made a grave initial assessment – a broken leg appeared to be the worst of the injuries. As Findekano groaned and opened his eyes slightly, Glorfindel asked, “What happened?”
“I fell,” replied the other elf in a tired voice.
“I mean, how did you fall?” Glorfindel asked.
“Balrog, I think,” answered Findekano, and Glorfindel frowned.
Tintilien joined Glorfindel as he began to instruct everyone to leave. When Taralawen argued about her contract, he gave her a look that immediately changed her mind. As everyone else filed out of the theatre, Glorfindel looked to Tintilien and asked, “How far from here is his house?”
“His house? He lives here,” explained Tintilien. “This is his home.”
“I suppose no one lives here with him, do they?” Glorfindel was preparing to move Findekano, who was easing in and out of consciousness.
Tintilien shook her head sadly. “Just Master Findekano and his cats.”
“The cats will need to stay here. Master Findekano is coming home with us.”
Next installment: ‘Taking can be more difficult than giving’
Author's Chapter Notes:
A routine day goes haywire, and while some secrets are revealed others only become more mysterious.