Lindir's Adventurers 18 & 19
Part Eighteen and Part Nineteen
Part Eighteen
Tallath and Iornan, at ease on the open platform beneath Tallath’s flet, heard the approach of two elves as distant voices lifted in excited talk, but did not associate the rumpus with themselves until their names were cried out.
“There they are! Come on you two! You have a visitor!”
Tallath’s eyebrows rose over the tear in his shirt he was neatly stitching. Had he come at last, then? Iornan, keeping him company after a bout of archery with a dozen of the warden’s fourth watch, trailed at his heels onto the path to one of the gathering grounds.
Lindir faced his brothers and greeted them properly, with a duck of a bow for his older brother and a dip of his head for Iornan, who caught him up in a hug.
“And how are you, Lindir? It’s been a while.” Tallath inspected him. “I see you’ve changed your hair…” The clasp was a fine silver piece, a gift, and his boots were stoutly repaired, his serviceable shirt, trousers and cloak of good quality. Lindir looked more confident, too. Tallath cast a look around at the others.
Elves thronged the grassy clearing, shouting greetings and calling jokes, fighters’ mocking sneers mingling with old lovers’ renewed kisses, sometimes both at once.
Amroth appeared and around him a little more of quiet promptly fell. “Erestor, Gildor.”
The three of them exchanged a few words and then Erestor called Lindir over with his brothers. “This is he, my lord.”
“A minstrel?” Amroth smiled.
Lindir stared. He kept meeting the most extraordinary people. He could drown in those ageless grey-green eyes. He blushed bright red and faltered for speech. Amroth looked over his head at Erestor who shrugged. Lindir dredged a greeting, bobbed an extra courtesy, and thus excusing himself promptly fled back to Iornan.
“What was that about?”
Erestor hesitated. “Well, he’s of an age to be looking about him… I think you made an impression. The war and all that, a minor matter of your riding to the rescue. You are quite the favourite in Imladris lore, you should know. Something of a legend. And after all, he is a musician - songs have been written, will be written - ”
Amroth laughed. “Poor boy. He will be quite bewildered. There’s many to choose from here.”
“Oh, I trust so!” Erestor felt no need to hide his fervor from Amroth.
“Erestor? Do you anticipate some problem?”
“Oh, maybe, maybe not.” Under Amroth’s quietly interested regard he added, “Elrond has been - concerned. I’m hoping Lindir will find someone reasonable…”
Amroth’s curious eye looked at him with a surprise and fascination reminiscent of Gildor’s humour at the idea of Erestor standing surrogate to Elrond’s anxious chaperonage.
“Elrond has too long a memory for his own calf-love,” said Gildor, sardonically.
Erestor nodded. “Yet we were all young and impressionable once, Gildor. You remember as well as I how it was with him.”
“I know but to attribute the same misfortune to Lindir just because Elrond fell head-over-heels -” he shrugged.
They watched the youth rejoin his brothers and listen to them talking, nodding yes and no but saying little. His older brother was gesturing to his things and Lindir collected them and the three of them trooped off.
Erestor sighed. “Well, Tallath can take care of him now. He can meet people, get to know a few his own age…”
“I’m not so sure, Erestor. Lindir chose you and Elrond is not as clear-minded as you generally trust him for in this. You know it, I know it, yet still you step aside.” Gildor looked askance at the trio. “Look at them - you really think that brother of his will help?”
Narrow-eyed, Erestor watched them leave. “Maybe, maybe not. But Lindir wanted to visit them, and at least he can look around him freely. It really does not have to be me, Gildor. That too is true and you know it.”
“Gildor has a point, Erestor, I have to say.” The prince looked thoughtful. “Tallath does not seem the easiest fellow to get on with and nor, I am sorry to say it, a very happy one. Iornan, the middle brother, he is the more cheerful of the pair and he shows no great affinity for the eldest’s company.”
Amroth had heard Tallath talk more than once about family and its benefits. Tallath might be more than willing to care for Lindir by his own lights. Whether the bright and lively musician he had seen gesticulating in exuberance would welcome such oversight remained to be seen.
Part Nineteen
“Tallath, shall we go down to see the others? I’d like to thank them.”
“Surely tomorrow is soon enough after such a long journey thrown in their company?”
Lindir kept himself from frowning. Why not wait until tomorrow, after all. “Well, how have you been?” he essayed.
“Oh, so so. Iornan insists on making up to the warden’s people; there’s talk of him joining them on a regular basis.” Tallath said nothing of himself. Had he settled here better than he did at Imladris? Lindir wondered at his brother’s surly spirits. For himself, he could not wait to be mixing freely with anyone who let him. For tonight perforce, he would keep his brother company.
He did not expect to enjoy it.
Tallath eyed him a minute, and roused himself. “There’s food here, look, and drink. I’ve got a bed-roll for you to use in the flet above - there is plenty of room, I will say that for this place. Iornan said he would be along later. Now - take some supper, and tell me about Imladris.”
Lindir had so much to tell yet Tallath had almost perfected the knack of deflating pleasure. Lindir searched for mundane news about a place where Tallath lived for a year and disliked sufficiently to uproot himself again. “They found another stand of wild peas - everyone was mad for them. You’d have laughed, to see grown elves so greedy!”
Tallath barely smiled, but nodded.
Lindir kept going, feeling awkward and heavy-tongued. “And then there was the mud-slide. Straight down the hill after three weeks of rain. We saw it coming and could do absolutely nothing to stop it. There were a couple who tried to divert it round the stores with a hasty barricade - it seemed so unreal, I don’t think they quite realized what was coming down on them. They were not hurt, but the mess was awful, roots and pebbles and rocks and mud and earth. It took nearly a week to unearth what was buried and dry it all off.”
It had taken much longer to design and install a diversion system in a series of low walls that pointed sideways down the lower reaches of the scarp. Lindir eyed Tallath and decided he would not be interested in the inventive solution.
Lindir had been fascinated by the engineering and relished the atmosphere of innovation and willing work. He could picture Erestor still, laughing, mud-covered, scooping out water with a hollowed-out split log. He would certainly not be telling Tallath about the mud-fight into which their celebration of unearthing the last of the stores degenerated.
Erestor had made quite a sight. Lindir would not be telling Tallath that either.
Tallath wrinkled his nose. “It always seemed a bad place to build, to me. All that water so noisy night and day, even without bringing the mountain down on you. There’s no such problems here and a body does not get drafted to labour as Elrond thought so fitting.”
Lindir couldn’t help shrugging. “Imladris is - exciting - and you know how friendly they are. I like it there. Anyway, it’s quite safe now. And you have to admit, the water off the mountains tastes wonderful.”
“I’m sure the water here tastes just as good. No rocks falling on you, either.” Tallath started to eat and after a deflated pause, Lindir followed suit.
For a brief moment, unable to refute the fact that occasionally rocks were dislodged from the cliff heights (though never in the vicinity of the house), Lindir imagined one of them landing on Tallath…
Ashamed of the thought, he thanked Tallath for the vine-wrapped fish, pleasantly smoked in ash. Tallath grunted. They finished their meal in silence.
Part Eighteen
Tallath and Iornan, at ease on the open platform beneath Tallath’s flet, heard the approach of two elves as distant voices lifted in excited talk, but did not associate the rumpus with themselves until their names were cried out.
“There they are! Come on you two! You have a visitor!”
Tallath’s eyebrows rose over the tear in his shirt he was neatly stitching. Had he come at last, then? Iornan, keeping him company after a bout of archery with a dozen of the warden’s fourth watch, trailed at his heels onto the path to one of the gathering grounds.
Lindir faced his brothers and greeted them properly, with a duck of a bow for his older brother and a dip of his head for Iornan, who caught him up in a hug.
“And how are you, Lindir? It’s been a while.” Tallath inspected him. “I see you’ve changed your hair…” The clasp was a fine silver piece, a gift, and his boots were stoutly repaired, his serviceable shirt, trousers and cloak of good quality. Lindir looked more confident, too. Tallath cast a look around at the others.
Elves thronged the grassy clearing, shouting greetings and calling jokes, fighters’ mocking sneers mingling with old lovers’ renewed kisses, sometimes both at once.
Amroth appeared and around him a little more of quiet promptly fell. “Erestor, Gildor.”
The three of them exchanged a few words and then Erestor called Lindir over with his brothers. “This is he, my lord.”
“A minstrel?” Amroth smiled.
Lindir stared. He kept meeting the most extraordinary people. He could drown in those ageless grey-green eyes. He blushed bright red and faltered for speech. Amroth looked over his head at Erestor who shrugged. Lindir dredged a greeting, bobbed an extra courtesy, and thus excusing himself promptly fled back to Iornan.
“What was that about?”
Erestor hesitated. “Well, he’s of an age to be looking about him… I think you made an impression. The war and all that, a minor matter of your riding to the rescue. You are quite the favourite in Imladris lore, you should know. Something of a legend. And after all, he is a musician - songs have been written, will be written - ”
Amroth laughed. “Poor boy. He will be quite bewildered. There’s many to choose from here.”
“Oh, I trust so!” Erestor felt no need to hide his fervor from Amroth.
“Erestor? Do you anticipate some problem?”
“Oh, maybe, maybe not.” Under Amroth’s quietly interested regard he added, “Elrond has been - concerned. I’m hoping Lindir will find someone reasonable…”
Amroth’s curious eye looked at him with a surprise and fascination reminiscent of Gildor’s humour at the idea of Erestor standing surrogate to Elrond’s anxious chaperonage.
“Elrond has too long a memory for his own calf-love,” said Gildor, sardonically.
Erestor nodded. “Yet we were all young and impressionable once, Gildor. You remember as well as I how it was with him.”
“I know but to attribute the same misfortune to Lindir just because Elrond fell head-over-heels -” he shrugged.
They watched the youth rejoin his brothers and listen to them talking, nodding yes and no but saying little. His older brother was gesturing to his things and Lindir collected them and the three of them trooped off.
Erestor sighed. “Well, Tallath can take care of him now. He can meet people, get to know a few his own age…”
“I’m not so sure, Erestor. Lindir chose you and Elrond is not as clear-minded as you generally trust him for in this. You know it, I know it, yet still you step aside.” Gildor looked askance at the trio. “Look at them - you really think that brother of his will help?”
Narrow-eyed, Erestor watched them leave. “Maybe, maybe not. But Lindir wanted to visit them, and at least he can look around him freely. It really does not have to be me, Gildor. That too is true and you know it.”
“Gildor has a point, Erestor, I have to say.” The prince looked thoughtful. “Tallath does not seem the easiest fellow to get on with and nor, I am sorry to say it, a very happy one. Iornan, the middle brother, he is the more cheerful of the pair and he shows no great affinity for the eldest’s company.”
Amroth had heard Tallath talk more than once about family and its benefits. Tallath might be more than willing to care for Lindir by his own lights. Whether the bright and lively musician he had seen gesticulating in exuberance would welcome such oversight remained to be seen.
Part Nineteen
“Tallath, shall we go down to see the others? I’d like to thank them.”
“Surely tomorrow is soon enough after such a long journey thrown in their company?”
Lindir kept himself from frowning. Why not wait until tomorrow, after all. “Well, how have you been?” he essayed.
“Oh, so so. Iornan insists on making up to the warden’s people; there’s talk of him joining them on a regular basis.” Tallath said nothing of himself. Had he settled here better than he did at Imladris? Lindir wondered at his brother’s surly spirits. For himself, he could not wait to be mixing freely with anyone who let him. For tonight perforce, he would keep his brother company.
He did not expect to enjoy it.
Tallath eyed him a minute, and roused himself. “There’s food here, look, and drink. I’ve got a bed-roll for you to use in the flet above - there is plenty of room, I will say that for this place. Iornan said he would be along later. Now - take some supper, and tell me about Imladris.”
Lindir had so much to tell yet Tallath had almost perfected the knack of deflating pleasure. Lindir searched for mundane news about a place where Tallath lived for a year and disliked sufficiently to uproot himself again. “They found another stand of wild peas - everyone was mad for them. You’d have laughed, to see grown elves so greedy!”
Tallath barely smiled, but nodded.
Lindir kept going, feeling awkward and heavy-tongued. “And then there was the mud-slide. Straight down the hill after three weeks of rain. We saw it coming and could do absolutely nothing to stop it. There were a couple who tried to divert it round the stores with a hasty barricade - it seemed so unreal, I don’t think they quite realized what was coming down on them. They were not hurt, but the mess was awful, roots and pebbles and rocks and mud and earth. It took nearly a week to unearth what was buried and dry it all off.”
It had taken much longer to design and install a diversion system in a series of low walls that pointed sideways down the lower reaches of the scarp. Lindir eyed Tallath and decided he would not be interested in the inventive solution.
Lindir had been fascinated by the engineering and relished the atmosphere of innovation and willing work. He could picture Erestor still, laughing, mud-covered, scooping out water with a hollowed-out split log. He would certainly not be telling Tallath about the mud-fight into which their celebration of unearthing the last of the stores degenerated.
Erestor had made quite a sight. Lindir would not be telling Tallath that either.
Tallath wrinkled his nose. “It always seemed a bad place to build, to me. All that water so noisy night and day, even without bringing the mountain down on you. There’s no such problems here and a body does not get drafted to labour as Elrond thought so fitting.”
Lindir couldn’t help shrugging. “Imladris is - exciting - and you know how friendly they are. I like it there. Anyway, it’s quite safe now. And you have to admit, the water off the mountains tastes wonderful.”
“I’m sure the water here tastes just as good. No rocks falling on you, either.” Tallath started to eat and after a deflated pause, Lindir followed suit.
For a brief moment, unable to refute the fact that occasionally rocks were dislodged from the cliff heights (though never in the vicinity of the house), Lindir imagined one of them landing on Tallath…
Ashamed of the thought, he thanked Tallath for the vine-wrapped fish, pleasantly smoked in ash. Tallath grunted. They finished their meal in silence.