After Melpomaen left him standing that morning in the garden, with a surprising ache in his heart and a not-so-surprising ache in his loins, the Balrog Slayer had asked himself why he had felt driven to kiss the shy assistant, who was nothing like the warriors Glorfindel usually preferred to tumble.
The answer, when it came, shocked him so much that he had to brace himself against the gazebo for support, as his mind reeled with the implications set forth by his heart. He had spent the next hour arguing with himself as he paced around the secluded cove like a madman, before finally bowing to the inevitable. As he did, Glorfindel had felt a wondrous peace settle over his fea and with newfound resolve, he had left the garden in search of the young elf.
Only to be waylaid a short time later by the head of the groundkeeping staff.
Then the heads of the housekeeping staff, the kitchen staff, the serving staff.... Each with a crisis that required inmediate attention, lest the whole of Imladris be placed in dire peril. As the afternoon wore on, the increasingly frazzled seneschal found himself longing for the relative tranquility of say, a rampaging orc horde. He did not know how Elrond and Erestor always managed to look so composed, when he was ready to tear out his braids in frustration after only a single day.
Though in truth, he knew his frustration stemmed in large part not only from being inevitably delayed from seeking Melpomaen, but also from the smouldering resentment he felt at being shut out of Erestor's chambers.
So he ignored the dinner bell, choosing instead to finish the household reports in Elrond's study, knowing he was in too foul a mood to be fit company. It was there, an hour later, that the Lord of Imladris found him.
" It has been brought to my attention that you have single-handedly kept the house running smoothly through out this most difficult day."
Elrond looked at his friend affectionately from the doorway, before crossing the room towards the elaborate sideboard. There, he retrieved a beautiful etched crystal decanter and two matching crystal goblets, taking them to a low table set between two cozy-looking chairs before the dormant hearth.
" Come, join me mellon nin. We could both use a drink."
Glorfindel got up from behind the desk, lightly streching his somewhat aching back and went to his Lord and friend. He took the offered drink and sank down into the plush chair, sipping at the sweet elven liquor, pensively. Silence streched for a few moments before Glorfindel spoke.
" Am I allowed to ask how Erestor fares?"
He had not meant to sound so petulant. He really had'nt. His lips pursed slightly and he rolled the goblet between his hands, staring moodily at the swirling liquid. Elrond sighed, understanding the hurt behind the shrewish words.
" He rests, meldiramin. The last infusion I gave him will insure that he sleeps deeply until late tomorrow." Elrond looked at his frowning friend.
" Glorfindel, I cannot tell you..."
" Yes, I know. The oath you took." Glorfindel interrupted. " It just hurts Elrond. It hurts that he could not trust me as he trusted you. I, too, am his friend."
" This has nothing to do with trust Glorfindel." Elrond sighed again. " For in truth, he has not put his trust in me either. What little knowledge I have came purely by chance."
Upon hearing that, Glorfindel looked sharply at his friend, waiting for him to continue. Elrond did, meeting the colbat eyes with his own troubled ones.
" Do you remember when Erestor was wounded at the Battle of the Last Alliance?" He asked.
The seneschal nodded, his mind instantly assailed by the sights and sounds of that horrific battle.
" Yes. You had him brought to your tent and insisted on treating him yourself."
" It was there that I became aware of his...malady." The Lord said, quietly.
" That long ago? He has been ill all this time?! But..." Glorfindel sputtered.
" That is all I can say, mellon nin. Perhaps even that was too much."
Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumd and forefinger, a clear sign of the depth of his distress.
" Forgive my childlish words Elrond." Glorfindel said ashamedly, laying a hand on his friend's arm.
" There is nothing to forgive meldiramin." Elrond gave him a tired smile. " All we can do now is hope that when Erestor awakens, he chooses at last to trust us both."
With those words, the Lord of Imladris and the Balrog Slayer settled back into their chairs to drink in companiable silence. Until Elrond, in an attempt to lighten the mood, lifted that renowed eyebrow of his.
" I must say Glorfindel, that I have seen you look more...refreshed." The lord said, with a grin. " I should chastise the household staff for mistreating your delicate person so."
Glorfindel fixed his lord with a baleful stare, which did nothing to quell Elrond's sudden bout of levity. The Lord made a show of looking his seneschal up and down before continuing.
" For Elbereth's sake, just look at you!. Your braids are a mess, you have soot on your cheek, ink on your fingers and... What is that stain on the front of your tunic?"
Glorfindel looked down at the crotch-level stain on his garment and felt a most uncharacteristic blush creep upon his cheeks.
Melpomaen...
TBC...