Folding his napkin and placing it beside his plate, Gwindor turned to Glorfindel and said, “Dinner was wonderful, Nanafin. I never thought plain rolls could taste better, but they did tonight.”
“Thank Lasiavis- it was she who made them,” explained Glorfindel.
Gwindor’s face fell. “I see,” he said softly.
“Gwindor.” Erestor’s voice was very quiet, but very stern. He looked from his son to Finduilas, who sat with her hands in her lap now, across the table from Gwindor. There was a hint of a frown on her face, and Erestor looked back at his son again without saying anything more.
“The rolls were very good, Lasiavis.” His words barely made it through his clenched teeth.
A little smile was given to him, and she looked up. “Thank you, Gwindor. I made the pie for desert. It’s blueberry.”
Nudging his napkin forward, Gwindor leaned down to pick up the walking stick from the floor. “I find I have overindulged. May I be excused, Ada?”
“Yes, of course.” Erestor sipped from his goblet, turning to watch Gwindor make his way to the stairs. Once the sounds of his ascent drifted away from them and were followed by his door being closed, Finduilas set down her own napkin on the table. “Yes, you are excused as well,” said Erestor before Finduilas could open her mouth. She gave him a nod and followed the way Gwindor had gone, but her footsteps went in the opposite direction before the closing of a door was heard.
“How odd. He has not asked you for permission to leave since reaching his majority,” observed Glorfindel.
Erestor played with his goblet as it rested between his fingers before drinking from it again. “I wish I knew what to do to ease this animosity he has towards her.”
“All that needs to happen is for him to regain his memories,” reasoned Glorfindel quietly. “Once that happens, we shall have no problems at all; he shall sweep her into his arms and they will live happily together forever.”
“But why have his memories not returned?” Erestor shook his head. “He should have regained them years ago. No, Fin, I think he needs to accept her again before everything simply falls into place.”
Glorfindel shrugged. “Suit yourself. I still think all it will take is that little memory jog and-“ Glorfindel snapped his fingers.
“Just like that, eh?” Erestor smiled into his goblet as he drank. “Just-“ >SNAP< “-that easy. Just whom are you basing your-“ >SNAP< “-theory on, hmm? Surely not us, so I am curious just how you discovered it.”
With a smirk, Glorfindel wagged his finger at Erestor. “Just you wait and watch and see, darling.”
- - -
Yawning and trying to focus his eyes, Gwindor blinked and tried to stay awake. He flipped over onto his back, shaking out the wrist that had fallen asleep on him. Only five more pages until the end of the chapter, and then he would turn in for the night. His candles were growing dim, and this had been the third chapter he had made this decision.
“Good night, ion.” Erestor gave his son a wave as he passed by the doorway on the way to his own room.
Gwindor shook his limp wrist towards the door and flexed his fingers. “Night,” he called in the direction of the door.
As Glorfindel came up the stairway, he blew out the candles in his path. Entering Gwindor’s room, he extinguished the one at the entry, but left the next two alone until he reached the bed. “Past midnight, peanut. Are you going to keep reading?”
“I want to. Do you mind? Will it keep you awake?” asked Gwindor. “I could close my door if the light is bothering everyone,” he added as Glorfindel sat down on the edge of his bed and shook his head with a smile.
“No, no reason for that.” Glorfindel pulled the blanket up a little and bent down to kiss Gwindor’s head. “Ten minutes, and then the lights go out, alright?”
“Yes, Nanafin.”
“I just don’t want the house burning down.”
“Yes, Nanafin.”
“Good night, Gwindor.” Glorfindel stood up to leave, but Gwindor reached his arms up, and Glorfindel stepped back to hug him. “Alright, fifteen minutes, but that is IT.”
Grin. “Good night, Nanafin.”
“Good night.” Glorfindel left the room, closing the door halfway to allow Gwindor a bit more privacy if he wished it.
Lounging on his back, Gwindor lifted the book up and started to read again, promptly falling asleep after rereading the last twelve words he had on the previous page. He awoke again as he felt his book being removed from his hand. The candles had all nearly burned down to the ends of their wicks, so he had to squint to see anything in the darkness. “Nanafin?”
“Shhh.” It was not his mother, but a feminine voice that answered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Auntie?” The voice didn’t sound like his Great-aunt Galadriel’s, nor did he recall her being around at all, but it was the only female who had ever tucked him into bed before, as this one was doing now.
“Shhh, no, tis Lasiavis. Go back to sleep,” she said again as she fluffed his pillow and then repositioned him so that he was resting better. The book was placed on the table, but only after the page had been marked. Gwindor watched her through bleary eyes as she tidied her way about the room, pushing in the desk chair and blowing out the candles. At the door, she turned around and motioned him to rest. “Good night, Gwindor.”
“G-good night, Lasiavis,” he said, feeling a mixture of bewilderment and something very strange indeed.
