Ebony, Gold and Mithril

Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.


Ebony, Gold and Mithril

Chapter 1.

Anor’s light struggled to filter through the thick, dark clouds that hung low in the sky over Imladris, but with little success. To add to the gloom, rain had begun to fall heavily several hours ago, and it seemed that the misty shroud of grey that enveloped Imladris had drained the very colour from the world. At least that was Glorfindel’s perception as he sat under the protection of the eaves on the small stone wall that formed the edge of his balcony peering out into the weather that had conspired to prevent him from engaging in sword practice, archery or any of his usual outdoor activities. Leaning back against the wall, he yawned tiredly and then frowned in frustration. He hated being confined indoors and he was tired of watching the rivulets of water that ran across the stone courtyard bearing the fallen leaves that normally carpeted it to some unknown destination.

Boredom caused Glorfindel to yawn again and he found almost himself envying Erestor’s delight in the necessary paperwork that kept Imladris functioning. The captain of the guard normally found report writing to be tedious at best, and the task of organising the rosters for those under his command to be a most unpleasant pastime, but it was fast becoming an attractive alternative to doing nothing. Suddenly tired eyes brightened with mischief as a better way of spending the afternoon crossed his mind.

Perhaps an exchange of friendly insults with Erestor, who was undoubtedly holed up in his study working as hard as always, might provide him with some entertainment or, better yet, maybe he could find a way to convince his friend to work on the rosters for him. A pleasing thought indeed, Glorfindel mused as he made his way to the advisor’s study.

Without so much as a tap on the door to announce his arrival, the golden elf lord sauntered into the dimly lit chamber and casually sat with one hip resting on the corner of the desk while waiting for the advisor to acknowledge his presence. Other than a slight frown, Erestor chose toore ore his visitor until Glorfindel picked up a pile of documents and idly glanced through them. He was not the least interested in the content, but knew without doubt that his action would attract the advisor’s attention.

“What are you doing, Glorfindel?” Erestor asked as he all but grabbed the papers from the seneschal’s hands. He hated being disturbed, particularly by Glorfindel who was the only Elf in Imladris aside from Elrond who was immune to the almost deadly glare of disapproval for which the advisor was both famous and feared.

“Why, I am merely here to spend some time with my friend, and I thought you might like some help since I am confined indoors due to the weather,” came the all too innocent reply. Erestor was not fooled for a moment.

“Help from you, I think not. You hate paperwork. Anyway, it is more likely that you have come to seek amusement at my expense rather than to offer assistance.” The seneschal merely smiled infuriatingly and pointedly ignored the dismissal and the icy stare with which it was delivered.

“Are you certain there is nothing I can do for you?” Glorfindel asked with a wink and in a tone of voice that sounded more seductive than pleading. Erestor raised his eyebrows in surprise, not at the playful innuendo that he was well accustomed to hearing, but at the brief flutter of his heart as he momentarily considered accepting the offer, just to see how Glorfindel would react.

“Go away, I have much work to do,” stated the advisor rather testily as his inner voice of reason chided him for his foolishness and reminded Erestor that he and Glorfindel were friends, and nothing more. Glorfindel sensed the other’s discomfort and made no move to leave, becoming more serious as he looked more closely at the letter in his hand.

“Is this a letter from Thranduil?” he asked curiously as he recognised the Woodland King’s strong yet elegant script. Whilst he rarely left Mirkwood, messages were regularly exchanged with Imladris, usually passed along by one of Glorfindel’s border patrols.

“Not that it is any of your business, but Thranduil has requested a meeting with Elrond, and I am sending a reply indicating that he will be more than welcome to visit,” offered the advisor, knowing full well Glorfindel had already read the missive addressed to their Lord.

“I wonder what he wants so badly that he is willing to travel to Imladris?” the seneschal mused. It was rare for the two rulers to meet and Glorfindel suspected that the reports he had given of the increased orc activity in the Misty Mountains had something to do with the King’s plans.

“I would think it would be best to ask Elrond that, for he surely has some idea since they have been close friends for millennia. I believe you will find him in his private study,” suggested Erestor hoping the annoying Balrog slayer would take the hint and turn his attention to their Lord.

“And leave you all alone in this depressing chamber? I think not,” scoffed Glorfindel, certain he would be called upon to attend any relevant discussions when Thranduil arrived. He also had every intention of waiting until their usual morning meeting before seeking an audience with Elrond.

For now he wished to spend some time with his friend, but not in the advisor’s office with its single window and no balcony. It was as dark and dreary as the colourless day or the black robes Erestor always wore. Glorfindel had to admit that the Noldo’s choice of attire suited his stern and aloof personality, but he also knew that there was a far lighter spirit hidden behind the eyes that rarely smiled. As he did on occasion, the elf lord wondered what his dark haired companion would look like in another colour and a brief smile lit the handsome features as an idea for his latest means of teasing Erestor crossed his incorrigible mind. It would take some planning, but he hoped the results would be worthwhile. However, before he embarked on his latest mischief, there was still the small problem of the rosters that needed to be ready so that assignments could be handed out after the morning meal.

“Come, mellon nin, put your work aside and join me by the fire in the library for some wine and conversation,” suggested Glorfindel as he removed his hip from the desk and neatly restacked the pile of papers he had pushed aside.

“What are you planning, mellon nin?” asked a very wary advisor with just a hint of sarcasm. Even had he not known the elf lord so well, the wicked gleam in his friend’s bright eyes told him something was afoot. Elrond’s sons were well known for their mischief making, but it was Erestor’s firm belief that they were merely applying the lessons learned from the master before him.

“You wound me Erestor, do you not trust me?” Glorfindel managed an almost convincing pout that swiftly turned into a smirk when he saw Erestor relent a little and offer a warm smile.

“With my life,” acknowledged the advisor in all seriousness as he replaced the top on his inkwell and put his desk in order. “Except when you smirk like that!”

“Yet you apparently intend to accept my invitation nonetheless,” commented Glorfindel with a triumphant smile. For some reason he liked the feeling of having someone know him as well as the Noldo did, and who was not afraid to speak plainly as well.

“Partaking of a glass or two of wine while you try to convince me to assist you in some task sounds quite appealing,” conceded Erestor with a wicked gleam in his eye. He knew he would likely agree to whatever it was, but there was no harm in making the Balrog slayer beg a little first.

“As is my company,” added Glorfindel shamelessly with a brilliant and affectionate smile, little realising that Erestor had always found the Balrog slayer to be a very charming companion, even when he was at his most annoying. It was not something he had ever voiced, even in confidence to Elrond, but the seneschal’s carefree love of life and the ease with which he brought smiles of delight to those around him always brightened Erestor’s day and at times he even envied the casual lovers who sought and won Glorfindel’s favours. Not that Erestor would ever consider doing such a thing of course!

********

The library was unoccupied when they arrived and although there was a warm glow that accompanied the sounds of wood crackling in the fireplace, Erestor chose to stand near the archway leading to the balcony and watch the rain fall while Glorfindel poured them both some . Th. The seneschal then moved to join his friend who accepted the goblet with a smile and a slight tilt of his head.

The two Elves who stood side by side were complete opposites in many ways, from the colour of their hair, to their temperaments and interests. Their often caustic remarks addressed to one another and continual bantering suggested to anyone observing their behaviour that they were constantly at odds, yet underlying their supposed animosity was a strong regard, respect and an unvoiced, deep affection. That they were friends of long standing, and were completely at ease in each other’s company was a fact only Elrond seemed to appreciate.

“So Glorfindel, I assume that you asked me here because you want some help with completing your rosters?”

“Ai, but how did you know?” Asked an astonishment Captain of the Guard.

“I am Elrond’s Chief Advisor, it is my duty to know such things,” tor tor answered with a shrug. “What I do not know, however, is what it is you are offering me in return for my assistance?” The question was a in in the same playfully suggestive tone as Glorfindel had used earlier that caught both the advisor and the seneschal totally by surprise.