“Luthien’s kindness has been a blessing to you,” said Hisre as she served breakfast to the group assembled at Oropher’s home. It was customary now for Thranduil to bring his family for breakfast, and for Erestor to join them. On occasion, Thaladir made an appearance as well. Today was one of those times when all of Oropher’s ‘clan’, as he referred to them, were eating together.
Erestor dipped his half-eaten biscuit into a bowl of gravy leftover from the night before. “A blessing in keeping me out of jail, but I am of so little use. I will not let Thingol win this, though,” vowed Erestor. “He agreed to this because he knows how vexed I am to be made to follow his daughter and her ladies around like some sort of pet, and sing for them on their whims. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing my displeasure in it.”
“Poor Daeron,” commented Avisiel. “He is so lovesick over Luthien, and now he never has much of a chance to see her.”
“Is he really?” Erestor shook his head. “I had not noticed.”
Everyone agreed with this assessment, including Thaladir. “He watches her, follows her, compliments her at every chance. Listen to his songs – nearly all of them are truly about her.”
“Really?” Erestor dunked the last of his meal into the bowl and finished his breakfast. “How interesting,” he said to himself in a thoughtful voice.
“Take care of yourself, Erestor,” said Hisre as the dark-haired elf stood and picked up his fiddle from the desk. “And try not to do anything that might get you arrested again, please!” she called after him.
Thranduil smiled and kissed his wife before finishing his glass of juice. He patted Ilmendin’s head, tweaked Legolas’ nose, and assured his mother that no harm would come. “My turn to ‘keep an eye on Erestor’,” he explained. Thingol had assigned each of his middle-ranking officials to a day at more or less being a chaperone to both Erestor and his daughter, not that he expected the two of them to do anything together, but there were reasons he wished to watch each of them separately. Thranduil’s was the third day of the week every second week of the rotation, and he hurried to catch up to his charges.
- - -
“Sing us another song. Sing us one we can dance to!” declared one of the curly-haired rosy-cheeked young ellith who had been sitting in the grass picnicking with Luthien.
Erestor cleared his throat and raised his instrument. One tune after another flowed from him, and just as the elven minstrels and their great gifts to project their thoughts upon their audience, Erestor filled the empty valley with color and light, and the young maids danced into the afternoon, until they tired. Each of them eventually found a soft spot to rest, and finally Luthien, the last to exhaust her energies, requested that Erestor sing to them peaceful songs, ballads and lullabies, until they were all lazily watching the clouds pass by while birds accompanied the low notes of the elf. Even Thranduil was feeling the effects, and had to fight to keep his eyes open.
Another elf passed by just as thoughts of returning to the caves for supper began to come to mind. It was Daeron, having been dismissed until the evening, and Thranduil observed him truly for the first time. He had always respected the bard, for he was more than a simple minstrel. Even in Valinor, Thranduil had yet to hear another who sang so sweetly, save the Valar themselves.
“Daeron, good day to you!” called out Erestor, causing Daeron to jump. Perhaps Erestor would believe now that everyone had indeed told the truth- Daeron’s eyes had been fixed upon Luthien, and he only first noticed the others who were there when he was called to. Meekly, Daeron raised a hand in greeting, and Thranduil returned the gesture. Erestor was bolder. “Come, sit with us a while,” he offered.
Luthien sat up in the grass, as did a number of the elven maids. “The sun is low in the sky- Daeron, you should be in the hall preparing to sing at the evening meal.”
“Yes, m’lady,” he answered with a dutiful nod, and quickly dismissed himself back to the entry of the cave.
Erestor frowned, and Thranduil did not take note soon enough to stop him. “Why did you dismiss him, Lady Luthien?” queried Erestor as he idly strummed the strings of his fiddle with his thumb. “Surely, the master musician needs no time to prepare to sing his songs.”
Luthien did not answer, choosing to gaze at the sunset. “There is a lovely mix of chestnut and gold on the horizon tonight,” she said to no one in particular.
Thranduil gave Erestor a warning look, but stubborn as he was, Erestor chose to ignore it. “Tomorrow, then. We can ask for Daeron to accompany us.”
With a heavy sigh, Luthien looked casually over her shoulder. “Lady Finduilas was right. You are a troublemaker.” She looked back to the sunset. “I find I now prefer silent solitude to the sounds of your music. You are dismissed, Erestor, and I have no further need of your services. Master Thranduil?” Thranduil stood and joined Luthien as she stood. “We wish to be escorted back inside.”
Giving Erestor a quick look, Thranduil led the ladies back to the entrance of the cave, being dismissed himself as they filed down the corridor to the dining hall. Thranduil returned to the yard, waiting for the rest of the residents whom had been outside to retire within the safety of the rock fortress for the night. Finally, the only two left were himself and the tall, dark elf who took his time meandering back.
“My list of references for any future employment is looking downright grim,” assessed Erestor as he joined Thranduil at the mouth of the cave. “Are you alright?” he asked upon noting the concerned look the younger elf wore.
“Luthien said something that has given me reason to pause.” Thranduil looked to the glow of the sun and the sliver of moon in the darkening sky. “She named Finduilas as the one who said you were a troublemaker.” Erestor nodded. “All this time, I have assumed it was either Gildor or Halmir who went to King Thingol about your heritage. But then, what would either of them gain, and what reason would they have for it?”
Erestor became entranced with the same thoughtful look. “If it was Finduilas, it makes more sense. She has spoken of marrying Gwindor; Gwindor is Guilin’s son. Guilin is one of Thingol’s chief ‘spies’, or at least, I believe he is.”
“She betrayed you.” Thranduil’s eyes were dark and angry. “She betrayed all of us.”
There was no disagreement from Erestor. “If it is true,” he reminded Thranduil.
“Then let us find out.” The blond elf secured the door for the night and with Erestor beside him set out to locate Lady Finduilas, the king’s appointed minister of education and only elleth on his council.
They found her sitting in an alcove near the soldiers’ barracks, sitting upon Gwindor’s knee while they laughed at some jokes being shared between a few of the lieutenants. Thranduil cleared his throat, disregarding whatever was being said.
The current lively tale being told came to an abrupt end. “M’lords, how can we be of service to you?” questioned Gwindor, still fair and full of energy despite his being on the training fields the better part of the day.
“I have a question to ask the Lady Finduilas in private,” requested Thranduil as calmly as he was able.
“Go on, then.” Gwindor nudged Finduilas forward so that she was forced to stand up or fall from his lap. “Hurry back, love,” he said, blowing her a kiss.
She gave him an uneasy smile in return, having no doubt noticed the look in Thranduil’s eyes. Still, she followed him around the corner. Erestor had stayed behind; it was silently agreed that it was too out of sorts to ask for a private audience and bring an extra elf with you. Thranduil came to the point right away. “Were you the one who told Thingol about Erestor?”
“Thranduil, I’m not sure what you’re-“
“Answer me, Finduilas. Did you tell Thingol that Erestor is a Noldo not of Finwe’s line?” demanded Thranduil.
“Not like that,” she said. “I- I may have said things that led him to believe-“
“Yes or no?” Thranduil growled.
Finduilas let her gaze wander to the floor. “Yes,” she said quietly. “But I did it for-“
“I care not why you did it. It sickens me no matter what.” Thranduil refused then to look upon her, and closing his eyes said, “I release you from the guardianship of my sons. If anything should happen to myself and my wife, I would much rather they be with Celeborn than with you.”
“Thranduil, please, just let me explain things!” begged Finduilas, but he did not hear her words as he walked back to where the group was sitting. Everyone must have heard the shout from the elleth, for Erestor was gave him a wary look upon his return, and Gwindor appeared quite concerned.
“Is she alright?” questioned Gwindor as Thranduil motioned for Erestor that they should leave.
“She will be fine,” Thranduil answered casually as Finduilas came around the corner.
Grabbing hold of his arm, Finduilas tried to plead with him one last time. “Thranduil, I did it because King Thingol is right; we can not trust anyone we do not know so well! No one really knows his heritage; no one knows his motives.”
Pulling her hands away from the grip she had on him was easy, and Thranduil gladly allowed Gwindor to draw Finduilas into his arms. “I know him very well; I trust him with my life. I let someone’s actions speak for them. He may be sly and stubborn, but at least he is no liar and no traitor.” It was the last time Thranduil and Finduilas would speak until her rebirth.
Walking down the corridor together, Erestor could not keep his thoughts to himself. “Thranduil, I am sorry about Finduilas, but I thank you for what you said.”
Thranduil slowed down, found an empty bench along one wall, and sunk down upon it. “Despite the fact I called you stubborn?”
“And sly, let us not forget that one. I like that one, though. Most of the time,” admitted Erestor, “I hear ‘Tis Erestor, he is stubborn and arrogant’.”
“Arrogant? No, I would not say that.” Thranduil motioned that Erestor should join him on the bench.
As Erestor sat, he said, “I would.”
“You are self-assured, confident, and knowing of your own worth,” corrected Thranduil as laughter was heard in the hallway coming towards them. He would have continued after waiting for whoever was passing by to be on their way, but it was his father and the king who turned the corner. Bewildered, Thranduil stood, in respect for both his father and the lord of the realm.
“Ah, Erestor! We were just talking about you,” announced Thingol in a jolly sort of voice.
“Were you?” questioned Erestor hesitantly. “And... I am to believe I was the topic of some amusement?”
“Oropher has explained everything to me,” Thingol said, giving him an assuring and downright friendly slap on the back. “Had I known in the beginning, this misunderstanding would never have occurred.”
“This... misunderstanding...” Erestor shifted his gaze to Oropher.
The philosopher gestured that it was all quite simple, really. “Once I explained to Thingol that your parents perished in Valinor, and that I adopted you, and that in all truth you are Sindar by name if not by blood, well, we had a glass of wine, a good laugh, and we even had the chance to burn those pesky decrees about you being in jail and all.”
“Oh... right...” Looking more confused than before, but left unnoticed for Thingol had perhaps had a little too much wine, Erestor floundered for words and found none.
“It was a hastily made decision to imprison you, but, one can never be too careful these days.” Thingol stopped as the bells rang for dinner. “Come, Oropher, sit with me at my table. Erestor- I must say, much good has come from this regardless,” called the king as he disappeared down the hallway. “The new scribe that replaced you is simply marvelous, and doesn’t speak a word of Quenya! Your talents are much better suited as a minstrel.”
Once Oropher and Thingol were well out of earshot, Erestor gave Thranduil a look of concern. “Did I just hear him right or was that a jest?”
“’Tis very unlikely it is a joke,” warned Thranduil. “And although it seems a perfect solution to what was an impossible situation, I fear my father will be quite happy to go along with this ruse. Including the fact, that he now has an actual claim for nagging you about things, and you will have less of a chance to easily escape when he starts to pester you.”
“Then now is likely not the best time to inform him that I have been dismissed and am currently unemployed and unemployable,” mused Erestor.
Thranduil shook his head. “No. Probably not.”
“When would be a good time?” Erestor asked.
“Well... ‘brother’...” said Thranduil, contemplating the question hard. “Probably... never.”
