"No, no, no," Erestor said, his frustration quite audible in the tone of his voice as he ran a long-fingered pale hand through tangling strands of black. "Lindir cannot be spared from the Guild; he shows too much promise to be forced into the Guard this season."
"He is young," Glorfindel persisted. "He must see all the options open to him; it is only a year, not nearly long enough if you ask me. He must fulfill his obligations—"
"And he will," Erestor argued, glaring at the paper-strewn desk between them. "But not this season. He is not meant for the sword."
"And still he must learn to wield it."
"I do not deny it," Erestor agreed, "But he is young and the molding of his make as a musician is at stake! The Guild is willing to overlook his responsibilities and postpone them, if only you would agree to do so!"
Glorfindel sighed, running his own hand through golden tresses that were beginning to snarl as well, after being thusly abused all the day long. "Let us talk of Dinendal."
"Fine," Erestor spit out, trading several papers over. "Dinendal is not working hard enough."
"That is because his interest does not lay in books. Give him to the Guard and he will prosper."
"I will trade Lindir's place in the Guard for Dinendal's."
Glorfindel glared, disbelieving blue eyes meeting determined black. They were, for a moment, silent. "That is hardly fair, Erestor."
Erestor waved his left hand, the mithril ring flashing in the candlelight. "That is a generous offer," he corrected.
"The two situations hardly compare," Glorfindel readily argued, sitting forward in his seat. "Dinendal is young yet and has many more services to undergo. Lindir has but his place in the Guard to complete; if I let Lindir loose to the Guild, I shall never hear the end of it. The precedent we are setting—"
"The only precedent we are setting," Erestor growled, leaning toward the desk, "is one in which you place the value of pure talent in its rightful place. Have you heard him?"
Glorfindel sat back in his seat, his head wearily falling into his hand as his elbow rested on the arm of the wooden chair. He sighed. "I have heard the beauty that is Lindir's skill and talent. You are right," he agreed, his head falling back to the chair. "Let the Guild have him. If Dinendal joins the Guard, we are even."
"Agreed."
Someone let out a breath of heavy air.
Glorfindel and Erestor turned to Elrohir, all but having forgotten his presence.
"I am sorry, Elrohir," Erestor said kindly. "You must be hungry, and weary as well. We have kept you overlong. Go seek your dinner and do not return this night. We shall start anew in the morning."
Elrohir stood, stretching weary limbs. "You need not let me go at once, my lords. I can remain yet a little longer; I know there is much to do. Besides, tomorrow is the Equinox and—"
"Don't be silly," Glorfindel told him, a false smile in place at the mention of the holiday. "Go, Elrohir," he ordered with a truer grin. "And we shall see you on the morrow."
Elrohir nodded thankfully and placed the notes of his labors on the long desk. "Good night," he wished them before closing the door behind him.
"He is a good lad," Erestor thoughtlessly said.
"Aye," Glorfindel agreed. "And much like his father. Shall we continue?"
Erestor nodded and they began rearranging the duty roster for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Perhaps it was.
Elrohir moved at speed toward the kitchens. A golden head of hair flashed in the distance. He halted. "Legolas?!"
The Prince turned. "Elrohir!"
They ran to one another and embraced in the hall. Elrohir pulled back, grasping Legolas's silver-clad shoulders. "I did not know you were in Imladris!"
"It was a bit of a surprise," Legolas admitted. "I requested something of a vacation from my duties at home and found myself here after several weeks of wandering, and just in time for Spring Equinox as well. Your sister told me that the lords Glorfindel and Erestor had you sequestered away the whole of the week doing work!"
"They are not so bad as all that," Elrohir good-naturedly argued. "They have just released me and I was on my way to the kitchens."
"I shall accompany you," Legolas offered, and they continued down the open corridor.
In the morning, Elrohir joined his family for breakfast at the large table in the parlor just off the main dining room. He sat between his siblings with Legolas beside Elladan and Arwen seated next to her mother. Elrond and Celebrian sat at the head of the table with Glorfindel seated beside his Lord and Erestor between Legolas and Glorfindel.
Arwen and her mother talked secretly about some feminine things no doubt as Elrond contemplated his plate. He never had been a morning person. Elladan and Legolas were content in some discussion about arms, but Elrohir watched his tutors curiously.
"Please pass the butter."
Glorfindel shoved the butter dish at Erestor, who viciously severed a slice of the yellow cream to smear on his bread.
"May I have the salt?"
Erestor thrust the saltshaker at the golden lord, who grabbed it up and shook it vigorously over his eggs.
Elrohir shook his head and ate his breakfast.
Elrohir knocked at Erestor's office. He was neither early nor late, so was surprised when there was no answer. "Erestor?" he called, knocking again. He tapped his foot impatiently, a frightful idiosyncrasy he'd picked up from his younger sister. Finally, he just opened the door and peeped within.
Hmm.
No Erestor. No Glorfindel.
Elrohir shut the door.
He stood a moment in thought before finally making up his mind and setting off down the hall. Erestor's and Glorfindel's rooms were placed one next to the other in the north wing of the house and he reached the golden Lord's first. He knocked upon the door.
No answer. "This is getting tiresome," he muttered to himself.
He proceeded to Erestor's rooms and knocked.
Shuffling noises sounded beyond the strong oak door.
"Erestor?"
The door opened a crack and the dark-haired Elf peered through. "Yes, Elrohir?"
Elrond's son raised an eyebrow in unconscious imitation of his father. "I thought we had work to do today?"
"Yes well," Erestor flushed and looked away. "I . . . Lord Glorfindel and I agreed it might be better to postpone the completion of the rosters. Tomorrow will be little later than today. I had forgotten you were to help us . . . Oh, Elrohir, I am sorry. Come in." The flustered counselor stepped back, folding the lapels of his robes back in a self-conscious gesture that Elrohir was all too familiar with, the remarkable ring on his finger flashing in the light, remarkable only because it was the solitary piece of adornment ever worn by the sedate councilor, aside from his pendant of office, which he only wore on the most formal of occasions.
"Why are you nervous, Erestor?"
"Nervous? What? I'm not . . ."
Elrohir sat in a spare chair and pointed to Erestor's robes. "You're fiddling with your lapels again, Erestor."
"Oh." The usually contained counselor froze. "Well."
"It is Spring Equinox today," Elrohir pointed out. "You always did get more frazzled this time of year."
"Frazzled?"
Elrohir grinned. "The Valar know why," Elrohir said. "Your hair is half undone and your robes are wrinkled. You and Glorfindel, you two always get tetchy with one another round Spring Equinox."
Erestor's eyes were wide.
Elrohir seemed a little taken aback. "Certainly I'm not the only one who's noticed it. And I consider myself better than to gossip about it as some people do."
"Gossip?" Erestor thoughtlessly echoed. "What do they say?"
Elrohir laughed and blushed and looked away.
"What do they say?" Erestor repeated, in an authoritative tone of voice.
A nervous laugh answered him. "They say it is a lover's quarrel, that you two are affected by the Spring madness. But I know better."
"Oh, do you?" Erestor inquired.
"Surely you would have informed your closest friends if you were in such a relationship. There is much affection between you even if you do not show it, but there is nothing of passion in it. At least, not that I can see. Erestor?"
The Chief Counselor looked to the window. His eyes were large, his pale face framed by a riotous snarl of black.
"Counselor Erestor?"
"In Lorien, the petals are falling."
The young Peredhel wondered at his tutor. "I have witnessed the famed Blossom Drop," Elrohir softly answered the murmur.
"In days of old," Erestor continued in little more than a whisper, "the mellyrn lined the shore of the sea from Lhun to Forochel, and on the day of Equinox the trees would weep, and the mallorn blossoms would fall to the earth in a day of beauty unknown to any but the Elves."
"It must have been breathtaking," Elrohir muttered.
Erestor still looked to the window. "It was."
In a moment of silence the only sounds to be heard were the birds outside the window.
Elrohir fidgeted in his seat.
"We shall do no work today. Go outside, Elrohir, and revel in the beauty of the day, such as it is."
"It is marvelous wonderful outdoors," Elrohir agreed. "Will you not grace me with your company?"
"Not this day."
"What haunts you, Erestor?"
Finally, those dark eyes turned to him, troubled and full of sorrow. "Have they truly all forgotten?" Erestor asked.
"Forgotten what?"
"Ask Lord Glorfindel. Mayhap he has the strength to speak of it, for I do not."
Confused at his words and troubled by the pain in Erestor's eyes, Elrohir stood and nodded and turned to leave. But then he halted. "Do you know where I would find the Captain of Imladris?"
"He is not in his rooms?" Erestor asked, seeming only half-awake as he gazed into nothingness.
"There was no answer at the door."
Erestor suddenly strode across the room to push aside what Elrohir had always taken to be a decorative tapestry. All this time, it had concealed a door. He spoke before he thought. "Your rooms are connected to Glorfindel's?"
Erestor did not answer, but opened the door and pushed away the curtain on the other side. "My Lord?" He stepped back. "You are right; he is gone." Erestor shook his head, closing and hiding the door once more. "The gardens," he said after a moment's thought. "He will have gone to the gardens."
Elrohir paced the flowering paths of Imladris as a man on a mission. But nowhere could he find the golden tresses of the tall Elf whom he sought. Finally, he gave up on his search and his feet led him to the orchards where flowering tree stood before flowering tree.
The fruits had only just begun to bud, and many blossoms still adorned the trees: orange and pear and apple and peach. And a booted foot swinging in the air.
Elrohir approached the brown boot, swinging from the branch of a tall pear tree. He stopped and looked up. "Well hello there, Glorfindel. And here I had thought I would not find you this day."
"You were searching for me, young one?" the old Lord asked.
"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, scaling the limbs of the tree to seat himself beside his old mentor. "You see, I had thought we were to continue our work this morning. Once I found Erestor and he told me I was mistaken, I was more than content to laze the day away. But you see, I could not help but notice that Erestor seemed a bit distraught. He and I talked a bit."
"About what?" Glorfindel asked when Elrohir stopped talking.
"Oh you know," the young Peredhel dithered, picking absently at the loose bark of a branch. "This and that. Spring Equinox. Mallorn blossoms. Gossip."
Glorfindel's whole demeanor changed. He sat up tall and proud, and Elrohir was suddenly impressed in this rare moment of clarity of what Glorfindel was, who he used to be, and what he was capable of. The sun glinted in sky-blue eyes. "What did he tell you?" Glorfindel demanded, his voice husky.
Elrohir blinked. "Nothing. He told me to ask you."
Looking away, Glorfindel ran both hands through his hair and then clasped them before him, twisting the silver bands on his fingers in his personal peculiarity indicative of nervousness. "Ask me what?"
"Why it is that you and he develop this itchy sort of regard for one another when you seem to get along well enough the rest of the year."
"Go ask your father," Glorfindel said. "Elrond and Legolas can tell you all you might want to know. I have not the strength to speak of it."
Elrohir watched wide-eyed as Glorfindel dropped gracefully from the tree like a huge cat to saunter off between the orchard trees.
Elrohir sat in the chair, his simple tunic princely enough in the fabric and design, but seated across from Elrond and Legolas, he felt very small.
Elrond was truly a lord of his people, with stars on his brow, his dark hair a free cascade, in robes of silvery gray. And Legolas always looked princely, as he did now with flaxen gold locks straight and proud over his green-clad shoulders. His smile was beautiful.
"What did you want to speak of, my son?"
Elrohir startled, looking at his father, whose voice was a low rumble like the ocean. "It's my tutors, Glorfindel and Erestor. The way they behave around one another this time of year."
"Oh?"
"Yes, they . . . are different. They forgot about my work this morning; neither of them will work today, and neither would tell me why."
Legolas leaned forward curiously. "What did they tell you?"
"They avoided my questions. Erestor told me to ask Glorfindel. And Glorfindel told me to ask you. Why? Why are they like this?"
Elrond and Legolas exchanged a knowing look.
Elrond looked to his son and leaned forward in his seat as if sharing the most intimate of secrets. "Today is their anniversary."
"Anniversary of what?"
Legolas smiled gently. "Their wedding."
Elrohir blinked. "Excuse me?"
Elrond and Legolas grinned at one another, but the expressions were not wholly of joy. "What say you, Legolas?" asked the half-Elven Lord. "Do we know enough to piece together the telling of this story?"
Legolas looked at Elrohir. "I should say we do. We do at that."
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Story notes: WARNING: Canon blissfully ignored. So, my friends, open your minds and take it all in stride. This one's just for fun, folks.
This is AU. Alternate Universe. I know that this story is AU. You do not have to tell me that this story is AU. I know that; I wrote it.
