Lindir's Adventurers 15
Part Fifteen
“What’s toward, Erestor?”
“Why, nothing,” said Erestor lightly, patting a rump. He moved on through the horses, mostly checking for scratched legs while they assembled to travel on. Gildor kept pace.
“I could distract him for you…”
Erestor minutely paused and then moved on evenly. “And to whom would you be referring, my Lord Inglorion?” The playful banter gave no insight as to Erestor’s thoughts. His discretion was wasted.
He waited for a reply but heard only the easy laugh, and then gradually realized the silence betokened Gildor’s departure.
The hand that rested on the last horse’s shoulder lingered there. He addressed the patient animal, who listened, ear acock, with solemn attention. “It is not the done thing, you know, to refuse such a request as his. Not at all the done thing. Comfortable with him as I feel, custom would have me oblige his request. Yet my Lord will not approve it. By no means will my Lord approve it.”
He sighed, whistled up his own animal and swung himself up easily onto Theru’s height.
Fellerien gave the signal. Hooves thudded on earth, elves on foot melted into the silvan fringe, equine conversation travelled in whickers and a whisking of tails. Among them, a pretty grey mare wended with her rider among taller members of guard a-horse and wanderers afoot. Talk welled up, and laughter.
When Erestor saw Gildor join them, he made no move to prevent.
He could put Lindir off until Lórien. Then he must choose between the young minstrel’s dignity and his lord’s displeasure. He thought of Glorfindel, and sighed. His reputation would not survive this. It would make no difference that custom dictated he say Lindir aye.
Glorfindel had been kind, but adamant, the night before they left. Erestor’s proclivities were not for him, no matter how charming. (Of course Glorfindel had been exquisitely polite as well as kind. Erestor almost winced at the recollection of that compliment.) He would not change his mind. Erestor was forthcoming with his favours and Glorfindel was not attracted to such ways.
Glorfindel thanked him gravely for the compliment of the attempted courting, but wanted none of such free and easy approaches. He would be grateful if Erestor would believe him.
Erestor was very glad indeed to be taking this road. He was in no hurry to return. He would not be missed.
He told himself so and ignored his heart’s cry that Lindir was in good hands: he could turn about northwards and try again, and again as many times as it took, to convince Glorfindel otherwise.
Steadfast southerly he refrained from cursing love’s tangles.
Lórien’s store of elves offered diversions in plenty to distract a heart rejected. Comfort - was too much to expect.
He hid his mood beneath solitary quiet, alternated with vivid wit when any came alongside to pass the time. Lindir was singing softly again; no need for great wariness with the road clear all around in these high granite plains before they dropped down again into wooded country. There were no clefts and caves for residue enemy to hide in ambush.
Gradually talk fell by the way, and Lindir sang the morning to its zenith, before descending gracefully into the lower registers to deliver a heart-stopping conclusion to the lay. The silence lasted. The hours wore on to another camp and another meal and another rest for the animals.
The company was cheerful, and if Lindir and Erestor were not the most vocal contributors, Lindir maintained a pronounced interest in his surroundings and Erestor hardly wore his heart on his sleeve.
Gildor forbore to tease either of them. Erestor, grateful for small mercies, trusted him not one whit, despite - or was that because of? - his unusual tact.
“What’s toward, Erestor?”
“Why, nothing,” said Erestor lightly, patting a rump. He moved on through the horses, mostly checking for scratched legs while they assembled to travel on. Gildor kept pace.
“I could distract him for you…”
Erestor minutely paused and then moved on evenly. “And to whom would you be referring, my Lord Inglorion?” The playful banter gave no insight as to Erestor’s thoughts. His discretion was wasted.
He waited for a reply but heard only the easy laugh, and then gradually realized the silence betokened Gildor’s departure.
The hand that rested on the last horse’s shoulder lingered there. He addressed the patient animal, who listened, ear acock, with solemn attention. “It is not the done thing, you know, to refuse such a request as his. Not at all the done thing. Comfortable with him as I feel, custom would have me oblige his request. Yet my Lord will not approve it. By no means will my Lord approve it.”
He sighed, whistled up his own animal and swung himself up easily onto Theru’s height.
Fellerien gave the signal. Hooves thudded on earth, elves on foot melted into the silvan fringe, equine conversation travelled in whickers and a whisking of tails. Among them, a pretty grey mare wended with her rider among taller members of guard a-horse and wanderers afoot. Talk welled up, and laughter.
When Erestor saw Gildor join them, he made no move to prevent.
He could put Lindir off until Lórien. Then he must choose between the young minstrel’s dignity and his lord’s displeasure. He thought of Glorfindel, and sighed. His reputation would not survive this. It would make no difference that custom dictated he say Lindir aye.
Glorfindel had been kind, but adamant, the night before they left. Erestor’s proclivities were not for him, no matter how charming. (Of course Glorfindel had been exquisitely polite as well as kind. Erestor almost winced at the recollection of that compliment.) He would not change his mind. Erestor was forthcoming with his favours and Glorfindel was not attracted to such ways.
Glorfindel thanked him gravely for the compliment of the attempted courting, but wanted none of such free and easy approaches. He would be grateful if Erestor would believe him.
Erestor was very glad indeed to be taking this road. He was in no hurry to return. He would not be missed.
He told himself so and ignored his heart’s cry that Lindir was in good hands: he could turn about northwards and try again, and again as many times as it took, to convince Glorfindel otherwise.
Steadfast southerly he refrained from cursing love’s tangles.
Lórien’s store of elves offered diversions in plenty to distract a heart rejected. Comfort - was too much to expect.
He hid his mood beneath solitary quiet, alternated with vivid wit when any came alongside to pass the time. Lindir was singing softly again; no need for great wariness with the road clear all around in these high granite plains before they dropped down again into wooded country. There were no clefts and caves for residue enemy to hide in ambush.
Gradually talk fell by the way, and Lindir sang the morning to its zenith, before descending gracefully into the lower registers to deliver a heart-stopping conclusion to the lay. The silence lasted. The hours wore on to another camp and another meal and another rest for the animals.
The company was cheerful, and if Lindir and Erestor were not the most vocal contributors, Lindir maintained a pronounced interest in his surroundings and Erestor hardly wore his heart on his sleeve.
Gildor forbore to tease either of them. Erestor, grateful for small mercies, trusted him not one whit, despite - or was that because of? - his unusual tact.