Vacation

Part 17…

Manwë was rather pleased with himself. The entire morning he’d managed to avoid Lórien, not an easy feat considering the little Vala seemed determined to talk to him about Lindir. That morning he’d been washing his face when Lórien had started going on about him and Lindir and how he should get to know the minstrel better, putting a little more emphasis on the ‘know’ part of his speech than had really been necessary. After listening to Lórien chatter away as he braided his hair and got dressed he had wandered out onto the balcony for a moment’s respite, only to have the blonde menace follow him. Waiting until Lórien’s back had been turned he’d ditched his cup of morning tea and scaled the railing, successfully making a clean escape.

He’d been dodging the blonde ever since.

Now it was just past noon and after begging the cooking staff for a quick lunch, not daring to venture to the dining hall for fear of running into Lórien, he was currently hiking the country side, a small bag containing four meat pies, two dessert tarts (one blueberry and one cherry) and a water skin slung over one shoulder.

Finding a quiet spot beside the river, about a league away from the house, he sat down in the shade of a large poplar tree and began to unpack his lunch, smiling as he remembered how the cook had tried to get him to take double the food on account that he was such a large fellow.

Sitting back he munched on the first of the meat pies and simply enjoyed the silence.

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Lórien smiled as he watched Manwë walk away from the house and disappear over the crest of the hill, heading towards the river. Finally. He’d been hounding the blonde all morning hoping he would go for a walk so he would be able to do a little meddling without getting caught. If there was one thing he’d learned in all his years of scheming, it was that when you needed to talk about someone without them over hearing, it was best to make sure they weren’t anywhere nearby. Turning away from the window he went in search of Lindir.

So much to do, so little time to do it in.

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Erestor sighed as the days light slowly faded and the sun gently set herself to sleep for the night. It was almost time for him to go to that blasted dinner with Almaravarion. Sighing again he picked up the note that had been delivered mid-afternoon and re-read it again.

Dearest Erestor,

Dinner will be served an hour past the chiming of the dinner bell, which will allow you time enough to go to your room and refresh yourself and perhaps put on a different colored robe. Red would be nice.

Also, dinner is being served in the East greenhouse instead of the West gardens as you had suggested. Did you really think I would not discover that the West gardens are a popular location at any given hour? Wouldn’t want a private dinner to be intruded upon, now would we?

Almaravarion

Tossing the small piece of paper back atop his desk Erestor returned to his work, attempting to ignore the tiny voice in the back of his mind that was suggesting he be, at the very least, flattered by the blonde attentions.

Snorting in annoyance, ignoring the odd look Melpomaen cast his way, he mentally gagged the whispering voice and focused on the volume in front of him again.

Red robes indeed.

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Glorfindel walked towards the Eastern greenhouse, balancing an assortment of objects in his arms, forced to stop and wobbly about on one foot while the other was poised in mid air as he used his hip to keep the bottle of wine tucked under his arm from slipping to crash on the stepping rocks. Judging the bottle to be secure once more he continued on his way, once again asking himself why he was helping a half crazed stranger seduce his Erestor. Adjusting his grip on the candles in his left hand he shrugged his shoulder to keep the table cloth he had slung there in place.

According to Almaravarion the shorter elf hadn’t the faintest idea how to create a romantic atmosphere and had begged Glorfindel to aid him. All he had to do was select the wine, set up the table, disappear and a servant would bring the food after he had left.

All nice and simple, except for the odd pinching feeling in his gut that felt surprisingly like jealousy. This happened every time someone courted Erestor and every time he ignored it and did nothing. Just like he would again this time.

Passing through the glass door way of the greenhouse he made his way towards the center where a small cobbled patio had been placed, the perfect location for a private dinner for two.

Rounding a large fern he stopped short, wondering just how he was going to explain himself… and who was going to do some explaining to him in turn.

TBC…