Lindir's Adventurers 28
In the late morning, over a leisurely breakfast, Tallath considered himself not wholly ill-pleased despite the nights’ plethora of unsavoury company. The audience had admittedly been very mixed - elves shamelessly in one another’s arms - but the prince, too, had joined the gathering.
Music was an obsessive pleasure among many, after all. Arnedir might even enjoy the added status musical ability could confer. He chose not to say anything about how long Lindir had monopolised attention. It was time to tell his brother the facts of life, instead of letting him remain so ignorant.
“Lindir, I have a matter to discuss with you. Your stay in Imladris.”
“Imladris?” Lindir was taken aback.
“You already know I have not been easy about you being on your own there. I think it will be best for you to join us. And I am sure you should give up these ideas you have of being old enough to make up your own mind.” He frowned, quellingly. Lindir was clearly about to speak.
“No, hear me out. I will be writing to Lord Elrond to explain that family is more important than his entertainment. And you can have your music here. Last night must have shown you that. You can even have a good audience if you think it’s not showing off.”
Lindir bit his lip. He had so enjoyed last night. He thought others had. In Imladris, all those performances, had that been showing off, too? Tallath seemed so sure.
A little uncertainly, he said, “I’m happy in Imladris, Tallath. I was getting on very well there. I have come to visit you, that’s all, but you can see for yourself I’ve come to no harm. You could have stayed there, you know - is Lórien what you wanted? It seems rather - rural - here. Elrond’s people are full of plans for completing the halls. They’ve done so much already.”
“Hush, Lindir. You don’t know what you are talking about. This is the heartland where they live. Much of their business happens out along the fringes, like Arnedir’s. Speaking of him, I’m not quite sure but I think he would like to meet you again.” He smiled with approval of the proposal.
Lindir’s eyes popped open. The way Tallath had been extolling the horse-coper’s virtues recently he had thought him a little obsessed but he had never imagined this.
“He’s your friend, not mine. I thought you fancied him!”
“That’s enough,” said Tallath sharply. “No such thing. Perhaps you should think about it and get used to the idea. It’s been a great worry having you so far away and this way we will all be settled together.”
“But Tallath I don’t even want to stay- ”
“I haven’t finished, Lindir. Don’t interrupt!” His gesture swept Lindir from head to toe. “Did you think your music really earns such raiment as you are wearing? No, Lord Elrond has been generous but you cannot expect to be indulged forever. If you and Arnedir work out, you will be secure and taken care of. And your family are here. Everyone needs family.”
Lindir bit his lip, appalled by these various ideas. He might not know how much musicians should earn but he surely knew he did not want Tallath’s guidance.
What he needed, Elrond provided. He had never questioned that. Elrond had seemed glad to take him in, had said so, and the household worked together so smoothly that things like clothes and food had never seemed a concern beyond their common labour in achieving it.
Imladris had just been appointed the permanent settlement to replace poor, ruined Eregion and its city! How could anyone possibly be unwelcome there?
A few gifts of clothing occasionally as he wore his out, his meals at table, had seen to his needs: his keep had never been an issue for him. The other musicians had given him free run of their hall and their workshops and Elrond had approved a few raw materials for his use, nothing any important project needed. There were old instruments in disrepair that he was allowed to practice remaking and he could make those his own when he was successful.
His heart sank. Had he been wrong? Had he behaved in some spoilt fashion, too idle in pursuit of his music?
He looked at his brother and realized Tallath did not have music, as he did. Tallath must find his happiness and his keep by other skills. Tallath had never been indulged as Imladris had indulged him. His brother was right. He had been spoiled and never once given it a thought beyond simple gratitude and pleasure.
He could not think of what to say. He had no way of knowing if Tallath was right and Elrond’s charity outlived in all courteous understanding. There was something else he was certain of, however. Tallath did not easily take ‘no’ for an answer. Lindir would happily return to Imladris and be the cook’s skivvy, he would still love living there. Tallath would not like that answer, he was very sure.
Dismayed and troubled on several counts, he answered what most needed saying. “Arnedir is not my kind of person, Tallath…”
“Oh, you hardly know him. You can’t possibly tell at this stage. I’ll make sure he eats here again soon.”
Tallath’s approving smile was more for his own plans than his brother. Lindir felt strangely invisible to him; his knotted stomach did not resolve easily into an understanding of his feelings. Surely not fear? Anger? That was a rare occurrence for him. Frustration, annoyance? Or was it a kind of guilt, that this was his brother and he should be able to like him, respect him, get on with him?
He only knew how uncomfortable he felt and that he might as well not say a word: Tallath never had been able to set aside his own opinions and actually listen.
Music was an obsessive pleasure among many, after all. Arnedir might even enjoy the added status musical ability could confer. He chose not to say anything about how long Lindir had monopolised attention. It was time to tell his brother the facts of life, instead of letting him remain so ignorant.
“Lindir, I have a matter to discuss with you. Your stay in Imladris.”
“Imladris?” Lindir was taken aback.
“You already know I have not been easy about you being on your own there. I think it will be best for you to join us. And I am sure you should give up these ideas you have of being old enough to make up your own mind.” He frowned, quellingly. Lindir was clearly about to speak.
“No, hear me out. I will be writing to Lord Elrond to explain that family is more important than his entertainment. And you can have your music here. Last night must have shown you that. You can even have a good audience if you think it’s not showing off.”
Lindir bit his lip. He had so enjoyed last night. He thought others had. In Imladris, all those performances, had that been showing off, too? Tallath seemed so sure.
A little uncertainly, he said, “I’m happy in Imladris, Tallath. I was getting on very well there. I have come to visit you, that’s all, but you can see for yourself I’ve come to no harm. You could have stayed there, you know - is Lórien what you wanted? It seems rather - rural - here. Elrond’s people are full of plans for completing the halls. They’ve done so much already.”
“Hush, Lindir. You don’t know what you are talking about. This is the heartland where they live. Much of their business happens out along the fringes, like Arnedir’s. Speaking of him, I’m not quite sure but I think he would like to meet you again.” He smiled with approval of the proposal.
Lindir’s eyes popped open. The way Tallath had been extolling the horse-coper’s virtues recently he had thought him a little obsessed but he had never imagined this.
“He’s your friend, not mine. I thought you fancied him!”
“That’s enough,” said Tallath sharply. “No such thing. Perhaps you should think about it and get used to the idea. It’s been a great worry having you so far away and this way we will all be settled together.”
“But Tallath I don’t even want to stay- ”
“I haven’t finished, Lindir. Don’t interrupt!” His gesture swept Lindir from head to toe. “Did you think your music really earns such raiment as you are wearing? No, Lord Elrond has been generous but you cannot expect to be indulged forever. If you and Arnedir work out, you will be secure and taken care of. And your family are here. Everyone needs family.”
Lindir bit his lip, appalled by these various ideas. He might not know how much musicians should earn but he surely knew he did not want Tallath’s guidance.
What he needed, Elrond provided. He had never questioned that. Elrond had seemed glad to take him in, had said so, and the household worked together so smoothly that things like clothes and food had never seemed a concern beyond their common labour in achieving it.
Imladris had just been appointed the permanent settlement to replace poor, ruined Eregion and its city! How could anyone possibly be unwelcome there?
A few gifts of clothing occasionally as he wore his out, his meals at table, had seen to his needs: his keep had never been an issue for him. The other musicians had given him free run of their hall and their workshops and Elrond had approved a few raw materials for his use, nothing any important project needed. There were old instruments in disrepair that he was allowed to practice remaking and he could make those his own when he was successful.
His heart sank. Had he been wrong? Had he behaved in some spoilt fashion, too idle in pursuit of his music?
He looked at his brother and realized Tallath did not have music, as he did. Tallath must find his happiness and his keep by other skills. Tallath had never been indulged as Imladris had indulged him. His brother was right. He had been spoiled and never once given it a thought beyond simple gratitude and pleasure.
He could not think of what to say. He had no way of knowing if Tallath was right and Elrond’s charity outlived in all courteous understanding. There was something else he was certain of, however. Tallath did not easily take ‘no’ for an answer. Lindir would happily return to Imladris and be the cook’s skivvy, he would still love living there. Tallath would not like that answer, he was very sure.
Dismayed and troubled on several counts, he answered what most needed saying. “Arnedir is not my kind of person, Tallath…”
“Oh, you hardly know him. You can’t possibly tell at this stage. I’ll make sure he eats here again soon.”
Tallath’s approving smile was more for his own plans than his brother. Lindir felt strangely invisible to him; his knotted stomach did not resolve easily into an understanding of his feelings. Surely not fear? Anger? That was a rare occurrence for him. Frustration, annoyance? Or was it a kind of guilt, that this was his brother and he should be able to like him, respect him, get on with him?
He only knew how uncomfortable he felt and that he might as well not say a word: Tallath never had been able to set aside his own opinions and actually listen.