“I spoke with Guilin last night,” remarked Oropher. “He has a cousin who works in the kitchens, and they are in need of someone to wash dishes in the evenings.”
Erestor stopped eating his breakfast. “You want me to go and wash dishes?”
“The hours are decent. It would give you time to look for something else,” reasoned Oropher.
“Adar, Erestor is already employed; teaching Ilmendin,” Thranduil reminded his father, for Ilmendin had been removed from Lady Finduilas’s classes shortly after the revelation that she had been the one to tell Thingol of Erestor’s heritage.
“Teaching Ilmendin and doing Thaladir’s filing are ways for him to keep busy, but neither one is a real occupation,” stated Oropher. “I already took the liberty to speak with the head of the kitchen staff. You are expected to start this evening, so you will need to have supper as soon as the bell rings and report to the kitchens once you have finished.”
Erestor opened his mouth to argue, but Hisre made a shushing motion. Any argument against Oropher was as good as lost. After finishing his meal, Oropher left to meet his philosophy students in his office. As his plate was cleared away, Erestor slumped over the table. “I have nine hours to find a job. I am not going to wash dishes for a living.”
“He means well, dear,” said Hisre with a smile as she herself disappeared into the kitchen. Avisiel had stayed home with the children, as Ilmendin refused to wake up on time for breakfast at his grandparent’s house. Their home was now also Erestor’s home, for as he was no longer in the employ of the king or his family, he lost his privileges to the quarters he had once had. Consequently, he had been welcomed into Oropher’s home, and now occupied the room that Thranduil once had.
Thranduil gave Erestor an encouraging smile. “If anyone can do it, big brother, you can.” Having not had siblings, Thranduil had used every opportunity to refer to Erestor as his elder brother, leaving out the part about him having been adopted and yet not really. In return, Erestor came to call often at his ‘little brother’s’ house, and doted upon his nephews as any uncle should, for Erestor had also been an only child in Valinor.
“Wish me luck, little brother. I hope to return employed, and without dishpan hands,” joked Erestor as he stood up to leave, sounding confident, yet looking anything but. Thranduil continued to smile until Erestor was out the door.
“Nana, why does Adar not recommend Erestor for some sort of teaching post?” suggested Thranduil. “He would be excellent as a teacher. Thaladir said that he taught him privately, and he had done more with Ilmendin these past weeks than Finduilas did over the last four years.”
Hisre exited the kitchen, still wearing her apron. “Thranduil, he would if it would work, but it never would.”
“Why not? Surely, they must have an opening for something,” said Thranduil.
“They do have openings, but Erestor does not have the necessary skills.”
“What? That’s rubbish!” argued Thranduil. “How can you say that?”
Sitting down beside her son, Hisre explained to him. “Erestor knows a lot of practical things, and yes, he has a lot of basic knowledge. He can teach young students, but there are never openings for that. Everyone wants their young ones taught by ellith, so that they are properly nurtured. No one wants an ellon teaching their child.”
“Well... I have no problem with it,” blurted out Thranduil.
“You are in the minority, then. I admit, I would not have been pleased to have had you schooled by an ellon when you were younger,” said Hisre.
Thranduil huffed. “Fine. What of the advanced classes?”
“Erestor has the mathematical abilities of an elfling. He is slow to read, and his Sindarin is very choppy, both in writing and speech.”
“But he is brilliant! Does no one see that?” Thranduil sighed and leaned on the table. “I wish someone would.”
“I think someone already does,” said Hisre, and she stood up and kissed Thranduil’s cheek. “Better get off to work or you’ll be late.”
- - -
The day overall was very uneventful. Thranduil spent it at his desk doing the usual transcription work and trying to think of something, other than dishwashing, that Erestor would excel at. Not once did he see the dark elf, and he hoped that he had indeed found some sort of job somewhere in Doriath.
On his way to the dining hall, more curious as to whether he would find Erestor in the kitchens than because he was hungry, he passed a beautiful elleth in the hall, excusing himself at first, and then stopping when he realized who it was.
“Artanis?” Thranduil blinked when the elleth turned around. “Artanis! What are you doing here?”
“Gracious me, no one calls me that anymore!” Laughing, she said, “Call me Alatariel- or Galadriel, I rather prefer that name now.”
“What are you doing here? How are you? I had no idea you were, well, if you had made it or not!” Thranduil’s thoughts were jumbled as he approached the maiden with silver-gold hair. “Galadriel, now, is it?”
“Yes, please. As per the dashing young lord Celeborn- do you know, is he...?” Galadriel raised her brows in askance.
Thranduil was about to answer in the affirmative, when it hit him as to who she should really be inquiring about. “Does Erestor know you are here?”
Galadriel turned away harshly. “Aye. He saw me but an hour ago; he would not speak to me.”
“Really?” Thranduil tried to imagine why, but gave up quickly. “When did you arrive and how long do you plan to stay?”
“Just this morning, and surely, I know not. I felt drawn here, I wished to visit, and so I came.” She laughed gaily. “Isn’t the freedom of this Middle-earth grand?”
Thranduil found he could not answer that question in the way she would have expected, and so he smiled, and saw that, while he had changed in the years since they had seen one another, so had he. Instead he asked, “Have you been in contact with Ecthelion?”
Casting a look to the floor, Galadriel said, “He and I have not spoken since the crossing. We both went in opposite directions; I with my brothers and he with a handful of like warriors. I have not seen him since.”
“Ah, well. At least he made it across,” concluded Thranduil.
“Speaking of that, what caused you to cross the sea?” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Was the thought of such a boring life in Valinor too much for you as well?”
“Well... no. Erestor said he had a reason for returning, and I came along with a few others.” Thranduil felt a little uneasy about revealing this. “Where did you see Erestor, if you do not mind my asking?”
“On the stairway behind the main hall. I... spoke to him, but he did not speak in return.”
Thranduil held her gaze for a minute or two, until she shied away. “What did you say?” he inquired. Galadriel remained silent, he lips pressed together. “Tell me what you said to him!”
“Does it matter that much? My words were for his ears, not yours,” answered Galadriel sternly. “It matters little; he is leaving now.”
“Leaving? Leaving for where? When?” A sick feeling washed over Thranduil. “What did you say, elleth?”
Galadriel’s eyes darkened. “Do not address me like some commoner. I am a noble, and will not be talked down to by... you.”
“Or by Erestor, I imagine. I still wonder just what he ever saw in you,” Thranduil sneered. “You are a wicked one, Artanis.”
“Do not call me that,” she warned with a glare.
Thranduil stared back for a moment. “You can call yourself what you like, but you will always be Artanis. You will always be Nerwen. You will always be that nasty little girl who deserved a dead mouse down the back of her dress.”
“And you will always be a peasant, the boy in the mud who could never hope to achieve what I will,” she answered.
Thranduil stepped close, much closer than he would have intruded upon a lady’s space, but in his eyes, she never quite was a lady. “At least I can say that I never killed anyone to get where I am.” Turning away from her, he headed down the hallway to his parents’ home.
- - -
“What is all this?” demanded Thranduil when he arrived at the entrance. Guilin and two guards stood in the hall, and the door was wide open.
“Orders of the King,” replied Guilin, words that were coming more and more frequently heard by Thranduil. “He has given Erestor until noonday tomorrow to leave. We are simply here to make sure he does not make contact with King Thingol’s niece.”
“Who would knowingly make contact with her?” Thranduil blurted out, and then clenched his teeth, but apparently the guards weren’t all that interested in protecting Galadriel’s name from slanderous remarks. “Just what is going on? Has Erestor been banished?”
“Erestor went to Thingol this morning for references, which he was gladly given,” began Thaladir from the doorway. He was just stepping out into the hall, and continued to explain. “There were no openings anywhere in the court, but there were a few private postings for a personal scribe or some such thing as that. Erestor had plans to apply for these, but then, something seems to have happened on the stairway as he was going to the main hall. I know not what exactly, but he is now packing to leave. The king has ordered banishment.”
“What? Ridiculous!” spat Thranduil. “There is no reason that-“
“Thranduil!” At the door now stood his father, and Thranduil shut his mouth. “Come inside,” Oropher directed. Thranduil did as told, and heard Thaladir shut the door behind him. “Thranduil, you are going to have as difficult a time with this as I am,” said his father, “but in part, this was Erestor’s choice.”
“But why-“
“Erestor,” stated Oropher, a little louder to stop Thranduil from interrupting, “was confronted by Thingol. When Artanis was admitted into the city, she was very careful not to answer many of the questions Melian answered her directly. She and Erestor had some sort of run-in on the stairs, and King Thingol witnessed a very distraught Erestor leaving Artanis there. Neither of them will tell him what happened, and so, he is sending Erestor away.”
“Still- banishment?” questioned Thranduil.
Oropher grimaced. “While Artanis simply refused to answer, Erestor said a few things to Thingol which he had wanted to tell him for some time that were probably best left unsaid.”
“Worse than ‘You are not my king’?” Thranduil frowned deeply when his father nodded. “He has such a temper sometimes,” he whispered.
“The fiery Noldorin spirit,” offered Thaladir from the doorway.
Thranduil looked to the entry that led into his old room. The curtain that covered the door was slid party back, and a light came from the room. “May I speak with him?” Oropher nodded and patted his son’s shoulder, then went to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink.
Erestor was sitting on the bed with a small bundle of items beside him. His eyes were red, but other than that, there were no signs he had been crying. Thranduil came and sat on the other side of Erestor, folding his hands in his lap.
“Adar told me what happened. I wish you were not leaving, but I think you have wanted to go for some time. You just needed to wait for her to get here, I think.” Thranduil looked to Erestor, who said nothing but cast his gaze to the floor. “I wish you would not continue to protect her. You can not cover up what she did forever.”
“Thranduil,” began Erestor, “my brother,” he added affectionately, placing his arm around the younger elf’s shoulder, “You will learn someday that you will do everything within your power to protect those whom you love, even if it means losing them, for a time, or forever.”
Thranduil let out an uneasy breath. “You still love her, then.” He saw the tears well up in Erestor’s eyes once more.
“I will always love her.”
