Lindir's Adventurers 24
“Arnedir!”
“How are you, Tallath?”
“I’ve brought the hoes,” Tallath hefted the poison-ivy hoes he had sharpened. He had gone to extra trouble in hopes of impressing his occasional employer, binding fresh grips, reaffixing loose handles and even polishing the wood.
Arnedir nodded non-commitally. “I’ve got three scythes you could take back with you.”
Tallath nodded as they walked past the herd to the lean-to where tools were kept. “That’s a pretty mare.”
“Belongs to a visitor, rode in with a very dubious lot from Imladris. But her rider, he’s quite something. A musician and - ” he broke off. “Did you say you sent for your brother? He had the look of you.”
“Lindir? Yes. I had no idea he had such a fine animal. She could make an excellent addition to your lines.” Their eyes met.
Arnedir made polite noises and they spent a profitable morning on the skeleton of a new shelter for mares near their term, discussing horseflesh the while.
“I want to bring in some of those dish-faced west-mountain ponies, on grounds of hardiness and looks.”
“Will the lowlands favour their hooves, do you think?”
“I’m not worried about that so much as whether they will cross-breed tall enough to please the Númenórean market. It’s going to be growing apace if I judge aright.”
As much merchant as herdsman, the horse-breeder seemed not to care who among the Lórien elves looked askance on selling horses to outsiders, most especially unknowns. The Númenóreans used saddles and halters when they rode, even bridles, anathema to elves. Arnedir, being sensible, thought this none of his business and went on counting his profits.
Tallath noted his references to advantageous trades and did whatever Arnedir asked of him.
Arnedir pegged the last cross-strut in place and in good accord they stood back to admire their work.
“Is he staying long, your brother?” The words sounded casual but Arnedir, used to weighing the merits of a horse, had the same look in his eye now.
“I trust so.”
They took a look at the mare again. “She resembles that northerly Hithaeglir stock.” They talked about the attributes of different mountain ponies, and from there the conversation turned to Imladris and how the siblings had been separated.
“Well, now Lindir is staying with you, I suppose you’ll have less time? I had been wondering - I have plans to expand. If you are interested, you might help me out - perhaps I could come over sometime, tell you a bit more?”
Despite Arnedir’s bland delivery of this enquiry, he was watching Tallath closely.
“Of course.” Tallath felt flattered. He had not thought Arnedir was that pleased with his occasional work for him, odd jobs and heavy labour. “How about two nights from now? Come and eat with us.”
Arnedir thanked him with the charming smile he usually kept for customers and a glance of speculative assessment.
***
Dribs and drabs of his experience with Orophin had come back to Lindir, and as they did between blushes he smiled. Indeed, he nearly laughed out loud, remembering the ridiculous triumph of Orophin exhibiting his prize. He only suppressed it in time to avoid explanations to his brother, already sadly humourless over what he dubbed ‘the drinking incident’.
As for trying to find Erestor on his own again, Lindir had given up temporarily, a little daunted by the reaction of Orophin’s cronies and more so by a vaguer memory of the prince himself at Erestor’s side looking down on him and soft deliberate accents describing the wine made from the mellyrn.
“Tallath, I was wondering if you mind me going out?” After his last excursion, Tallath felt he now had an excuse to discourage him from wandering around.
Lindir wondered how they could be brothers at times: he wanted music and people (preferably Erestor, though he had always enjoyed company) and he was enthused about anything and everything that Lórien could offer. Most especially, Lindir wanted to see if he could find the aforesaid elf and discuss with him what lay so close to his - heart was not quite the right body-part: so close to his desires.
He felt a smile vie with the crease between his eyes, torn as he was between flights and delights of imagination and frustration.
“Not now, Lindir, Arnedir is joining us. I told you he was coming, the elf I work with.” He looked Lindir up and down and found nothing to fault except his hair falling loose.
“Maybe afterwards, then?”
“Mm,” was all the promise Tallath vouchsafed.
The good-looking horse breeder from the forest edge was not as formal as Tallath but Lindir’s first favourable impression palled rapidly. He was all politeness but there was something uncomfortable about the way Arnedir looked at him. He stared a little too long, and his smile felt insincere, his eyes too measuring. He smiled too much as well.
Lindir suffered through the meal. However stifled and bored he felt it was rarely worth incurring his brother’s pedantic complaints. Why Tallath wanted Lindir to stay while they talked business he could not imagine, apart from keeping an eye on him. Tallath was getting on his nerves more than usual.
At least Tallath let Lindir go after the meal. With a cursory farewell, Lindir shot down the steps like an arrow, past caring if Tallath frowned at his manners. He was too delighted to get away from that unctuous yet cold attention.
He had never quite felt like that around another elf and he could not quite identify his discomfort. He resolved to be absent when next those two got together and forgot such uncongenial company in flying down the path toward prospects better by far.
“How are you, Tallath?”
“I’ve brought the hoes,” Tallath hefted the poison-ivy hoes he had sharpened. He had gone to extra trouble in hopes of impressing his occasional employer, binding fresh grips, reaffixing loose handles and even polishing the wood.
Arnedir nodded non-commitally. “I’ve got three scythes you could take back with you.”
Tallath nodded as they walked past the herd to the lean-to where tools were kept. “That’s a pretty mare.”
“Belongs to a visitor, rode in with a very dubious lot from Imladris. But her rider, he’s quite something. A musician and - ” he broke off. “Did you say you sent for your brother? He had the look of you.”
“Lindir? Yes. I had no idea he had such a fine animal. She could make an excellent addition to your lines.” Their eyes met.
Arnedir made polite noises and they spent a profitable morning on the skeleton of a new shelter for mares near their term, discussing horseflesh the while.
“I want to bring in some of those dish-faced west-mountain ponies, on grounds of hardiness and looks.”
“Will the lowlands favour their hooves, do you think?”
“I’m not worried about that so much as whether they will cross-breed tall enough to please the Númenórean market. It’s going to be growing apace if I judge aright.”
As much merchant as herdsman, the horse-breeder seemed not to care who among the Lórien elves looked askance on selling horses to outsiders, most especially unknowns. The Númenóreans used saddles and halters when they rode, even bridles, anathema to elves. Arnedir, being sensible, thought this none of his business and went on counting his profits.
Tallath noted his references to advantageous trades and did whatever Arnedir asked of him.
Arnedir pegged the last cross-strut in place and in good accord they stood back to admire their work.
“Is he staying long, your brother?” The words sounded casual but Arnedir, used to weighing the merits of a horse, had the same look in his eye now.
“I trust so.”
They took a look at the mare again. “She resembles that northerly Hithaeglir stock.” They talked about the attributes of different mountain ponies, and from there the conversation turned to Imladris and how the siblings had been separated.
“Well, now Lindir is staying with you, I suppose you’ll have less time? I had been wondering - I have plans to expand. If you are interested, you might help me out - perhaps I could come over sometime, tell you a bit more?”
Despite Arnedir’s bland delivery of this enquiry, he was watching Tallath closely.
“Of course.” Tallath felt flattered. He had not thought Arnedir was that pleased with his occasional work for him, odd jobs and heavy labour. “How about two nights from now? Come and eat with us.”
Arnedir thanked him with the charming smile he usually kept for customers and a glance of speculative assessment.
***
Dribs and drabs of his experience with Orophin had come back to Lindir, and as they did between blushes he smiled. Indeed, he nearly laughed out loud, remembering the ridiculous triumph of Orophin exhibiting his prize. He only suppressed it in time to avoid explanations to his brother, already sadly humourless over what he dubbed ‘the drinking incident’.
As for trying to find Erestor on his own again, Lindir had given up temporarily, a little daunted by the reaction of Orophin’s cronies and more so by a vaguer memory of the prince himself at Erestor’s side looking down on him and soft deliberate accents describing the wine made from the mellyrn.
“Tallath, I was wondering if you mind me going out?” After his last excursion, Tallath felt he now had an excuse to discourage him from wandering around.
Lindir wondered how they could be brothers at times: he wanted music and people (preferably Erestor, though he had always enjoyed company) and he was enthused about anything and everything that Lórien could offer. Most especially, Lindir wanted to see if he could find the aforesaid elf and discuss with him what lay so close to his - heart was not quite the right body-part: so close to his desires.
He felt a smile vie with the crease between his eyes, torn as he was between flights and delights of imagination and frustration.
“Not now, Lindir, Arnedir is joining us. I told you he was coming, the elf I work with.” He looked Lindir up and down and found nothing to fault except his hair falling loose.
“Maybe afterwards, then?”
“Mm,” was all the promise Tallath vouchsafed.
The good-looking horse breeder from the forest edge was not as formal as Tallath but Lindir’s first favourable impression palled rapidly. He was all politeness but there was something uncomfortable about the way Arnedir looked at him. He stared a little too long, and his smile felt insincere, his eyes too measuring. He smiled too much as well.
Lindir suffered through the meal. However stifled and bored he felt it was rarely worth incurring his brother’s pedantic complaints. Why Tallath wanted Lindir to stay while they talked business he could not imagine, apart from keeping an eye on him. Tallath was getting on his nerves more than usual.
At least Tallath let Lindir go after the meal. With a cursory farewell, Lindir shot down the steps like an arrow, past caring if Tallath frowned at his manners. He was too delighted to get away from that unctuous yet cold attention.
He had never quite felt like that around another elf and he could not quite identify his discomfort. He resolved to be absent when next those two got together and forgot such uncongenial company in flying down the path toward prospects better by far.