He had helped Elrond carry the unconscious Erestor back to the advisor's chambers and as soon as they had laid the body upon the bed, the Lord of Imladris had dismissed him. Dismissed! Him!. As if he were the chambermaid and not the only other elf besides the Peredhel that the advisor called friend. Elrond had told him succinctly that he could not speak of Erestor's condition, as he had sworn an oath of silence on the matter. Then the lord had all but shoved his seneschal out the chamber door.
The Balrog Slayer stomped his way down the halls as he headed for one of the exits to the gardens, feeling the need for open air and solitude to help clear his ill-tempered thoughs. What he found instead, was what appeared to be almost the entire populace of the Last Homely House, milling about in nervous chatter on the lawn. Chatter that ceased abruptly, as a multitude of elven eyes turned to the figure of the golden-haired Lord upon the steps. As Glorfindel stared back at the expectant faces, only one thought ran through his mind.
{ Melpomaen! I am going to wring that wretched, skinny elf's neck! }
The Seneschal of Imladris opened his mouth to address the waiting crowd.
" Is there no work needing to be done this day?!" He roared.
The entire foremost row of elves took a collective step back, before a few of them prodded the unlucky one elected to voice their concerns, forward again. It was Lindir. The minstrel bowed low before the formidable Lord and began to speak in his dulcet, sing-song voice.
" My Lord." The white-haired elf lifted troubled sea-green eyes to the powerful figure towering above. " Please forgive this departure from our usual dilligence in our duties."
The seneschal nodded, acknowledging the beautifully-worded rebuke that would have done Erestor proud. The minstrel though, seemed to falter as he continued.
" It is just that..." Lindir looked around him for support before plunging on in a rush of words.
" My Lord. What has happened? We have heard nothing! Is Lord Erestor well? Was he attacked?. Is he..." murmurs stirred through the crowd as he finished " ...dead?"
Glorfindel could not help but be moved by the concern he saw in their faces. While it was true that the somber chief advisor did not exactly inspire affection among many of the elves residing in the Last Homely House, he was highly respected by all. For it was well known that the realm of Imladris enjoyed peace and prosperity in large part, due to his sage councel and stately management. The Balrog Slayer, however, did not possess the gift of sage council, nor the gift of diplomatic words to dispense it with. He was a warrior, and as such latched on to the one question that called to his warrior's instinct.
" Who told you Lord Erestor was attacked?"
He surveyed the crowd, his thoughts once again turning uncharitably towards Erestor's shy assistant.
" No one told us anything, my Lord." Lindir reiterated " Many of us heard the screams as we crossed the yard for the breakfast bell."
" They could be heard from the balcony of Lord Erestor's study!" An elleth exclaimed.
" Aye." Another voice piped up " And when we rushed to the library to see what was amiss, we were turned away by the guards!"
Their voices surged toguether as the normally placid elves gave vent to their agitation. Glorfindel held his hands up, waiting until all were silent, before speaking.
" Lord Erestor was not attacked and he most certaintly is not dead."
The crowd exhaled in relief.
" All I can tell you at this time is that Lord Erestor had an unfortunate accident and is presently being treated by Lord Elrond himself."
Before the gathered elves could start up with a barrage of questions, the seneschal once again held his hands up for silence.
" Nay, good elves, your concern does you credit. But the best thing you can all do is to return to your duties, so that when Lord Erestor recuperates, he will have no cause to give us all a dressing down for neglecting our work."
Those words caused a ripple of chuckling among the elves, who were well aware of the advisor's exacting standards since most had, at one time or another, felt said advisor's scathing reprimands when failing to meet them. The laughter broke the tension and the crowd began to disperse of its own accord, just as Glorfindel had intended.
The golden-haired lord found his own tension easing and he turned his steps towards a secluded area of the gardens that was his most favored spot. As he rounded the high ledge, he heard a soft, indistinct sound coming from the gazebo at the far end of the verdant site. Glorfindel approached quietly and saw the small figure of Erestor's assistant hunched over a bench, weeping dejectedly into his folded arms. Something must have alerted the young elf to his presence, for just as the Balrog Slayer was about to back away and leave, he found himself staring into the most beautiful violet eyes he had ever seen...
TBC...