Quill and Ink

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Quill and Ink


Elrond sighed heavily and moved reluctantly from his comfortable armchair where he had spent the last few hours sitting in nt cnt contemplation, to the more functional chair behind his desk. It was habitabit to first mentally compose suitable replies to the various missives that had found their way to his attention, and now he was ready to put quill to parchment. The Lore Master was as meticulous in the way he arranged the various items on his desk as he was in his letter writing and as Elrond reached for a clean sheet of parchment, he distinctly sensed all was not as it should be. On closer inspection he noticed that his papers were not in set out in their usual orderly fashion, and there was a hint of a dark ink stain that had been hurriedly, but not completely cleaned away. Taking a clean cloth from the bottom drawer, he quickly rectified the problem to his satisfaction, trying to think of a suitable punishment for the perpetrator, and sighing with resignation as he realised he was not likely to find out who had been rummaging through his private papers unless sne cne confessed.

Wiping his hands clean, he sat back down and had barely written the formal greeting with which he began all his letters when he noticed that his finely engraved silver ink bottle that had been a gift from Celebrían was empty. A puzzled frown creased his brow for he distinctly recalled refilling it towards the end of the previous day’s work. Well, that certainly answered the question of who had been here, he thought, suspecting it was merely one of his sons’ pranks and he could not help but feel amused at the evidence of their youthful exuberance as he walked over to Erestor’s desk to borrow his advisor’s inkpot. A casual glance at the also usually tidy work place told him that the ever proper Erestor had also apparently fallen victim to the mischief for the feather of his favourite quill now had a rather serious bend in it that would likely render it useless. He knew Erestor would be furious and rightly so, and Elrond found himself disinclined to interfere should the Advisor seek to punish the vandals when he discovered the damage.

Setting aside his work for the moment, Elrond decided to seek out his sons and express his displeasure at their recent activities. To his surprise they were not in the school room with Erestor, as he had expected to find them but a glance out into the gardens he saw that they were seated beneath one of the trees, watching as their tutor showed them how to make a quill. Apparently Erestor had decided that Elladan and Elrohir were ready to forgo their chalk and charcoal for ink and Elrond wondered if his friend would reconsider the wisdom of that decision in light of the damage in his study.

“Now it is your turn,” he heard Erestor say to his students as he gestured for them to choose their own quill from the small box of feathers he had placed before them. Elrond decided to join in the lesson, and take advantage of the appropriate opportunity it presented to chastise his sons for their recent behaviour. He made his way outdoors as the sound of childish laugher mingled with the elder Elf’s half hearted demands for them to cease reached his ears and as Elrond approached he saw the cause of the merriment. He allowed himself a small smile. Erestor was pinned to the ground beneath the young ones, his normally immaculate robes pulled awry and his undershirt unbuttoned to the waist to allow better access to his pale skin that was being mercilessly tickled with feathers.

“Elladan! Elrohir! What is the meaning of this?” Elrond demanded, the stern tone to his voice causing his young sons to cease their attack on Erestor.

“We are simply having some fun, Adar,” said Elladan with little remorse.

“Erestor does not mind,” added Elrohir as he looked to his tutor for confirmation. He was rewarded with a warm smile.

“Perhaps he would not be so pleased if he knew that someone has been into our study, spilled ink all over my desk and rendered his favourite quill useless,” he said pointedly addressing his remarks to his sons.

“It was not us, Adar!” the brethren declared in vehement unison.

“Who else could it have been?” Elrond asked with annoyance.

“I accept the blame in this instance,” said Erestor as he raised himself on one elbow the better to see Elrond’s face.

“I see, so you are the one who spilled the ink and also clumsily broke your quill all in the same day?” replied Elrond incredulously. While it was not unusual for his Advisor to look through the papers on his lord’s desk, it was rather unusual for him to be so careless. “Would you care to enlighten me as to how that happened?” Not really, Erestor thought, but he would not lie to Elrond, nor would he allow the young ones to take the blame for an act they did not commit.

“Glorfindel and I were having a… ‘discussion’…” Erestor began, speaking softly and dropping his gaze in embarrassment as a pink tinge coloured his cheeks, knowing. Elrond would realise exactly the kind of ‘discussion’ to which his advisor referred. He did and simply shook his head with mild exasperation.

“Surely not on my desk?” he asked with disbelief. Erestor nodded. “That explains the ink, but what of the quill?” Elrond asked, his eyes widening as he suddenly thought of a rather erotic use for a feather. “Oh.” Was all he said as he followed Erestor’s glance towards the two very curious elves who were far too young to be privy to this kind of conversation. “I will say no more on the matter, but next time, please try and make your discussions a little less…forceful,” he smirked, taking the hint.

Elladan and Elrohir had not moved from their positions on either side of their dishevelled tutor as they listened to the explanation of which they understood very little, except that they were no longer in trouble. Two pairs of eyes filled with mirth and mischief turned to look at their Ada and then back at each other.

“Beware, Elrond, they are in a dangerous mood,” warned Erestor with a twinkle in his eye as he saw the look exchanged between the brethren. Unfortunately his words came too late, and before the great warrior and once herald of the High King knew what was happening, he found himself knocked to the ground and being subject to the same torment as his Advisor had been. For a few moments Elrond allowed his small sons to think they had bested him, then quickly but gently grabbed their wrists and confiscated the feathers. Erestor watched with mild amusement as, bereft of their only means of defence, the two young ones quickly decided that retreat was in order, and swiftly ran from the garden with their Adar in fast, and totally undignified pursuit. Squeals of delighted laughter shattered the peace of the river valley and the grateful advisor sighed with relief at his timely rescue.

“That was well handled, my love,” said a soft voice as a shadow crossed his prone body. Erestor looked up to see the smiling eyes of his bond mate.

“I think that next time you wish to ‘help’ me with my work, I should bring it to our chamber,” said Erestor as he reached out his hand, expecting Glorfindel to help him up, but the Balrog slayer made no move to do so.

“That may be wise,” agreed Glorfindel as he lay beside the dark haired elf he loved so well, took him in his arms and kissed him passionately. “I see you have made yourself a new quill,” he said once they separated. “I hope this one is far sturdier than the previous one,” he whispered as he picked up the forgotten feather and proceeded to apply an entirely different kind of torment to the Advisor’s exposed skin.