Lindir's Adventurers 25 & 26
Chapter 25
Arnedir sat back in his chair, his eyes still tracking the doorway out of which Lindir had just escaped his brother. “I’m going to head back. We can catch up about the Númenórean trade next time. They intend a visit with the new moon.”
“I’ll see you when I bring the scythes back.”
“Oh, I have to come back this way in a few days in any case.” Arnedir smiled encouragingly. "No point both of us making the journey."
“Uh, did you want to come here again?” Tallath was trying to guess Arnedir’s preferences without being obvious.
“I look forward to it,” returned Arnedir, brightly.
Tallath was in a good mood when Iornan dropped in after being out with Haldir’s patrol, his on-approval trial clearly going well enough to be kept on. He was always in a chatty mood after a shift; tonight was no exception.
“Brother? What’s toward?” Iornan’s face was questioning, as if he was surprised at something.
“Nothing. Arnedir’s just left. He wanted my advice about something.” Iornan had never seemed too enthusiastic about Tallath’s choice of work. “The men who came want to come back; he wouldn’t give them what they wanted straight away.”
Iornan gazed at him. “Those men - you seem happy about them coming here…”
“And why not? They brought new kinds of cloth, a metal I never saw before - all to barter with.” Tallath never understood his brothers. What was Iornan hinting at now?
Iornan was tapping one finger gently against the table and avoiding looking at him. When he spoke it was quietly, earnestly. “He has a reputation as a keen trader; you don’t think he is a little too keen?”
“I know how good he is with horses. And that he’s always beforehand with the world.”
“You know I am pleased you have found work with him you like,” Iornan offered, a little lukewarm.
“Arnedir seems interested in Lindir, Iornan.” Tallath ignored Iornan’s pursed lips, his optimism unimpaired. He might even have a private word with Lindir - when Iornan was not by. It might not hurt if Lindir seemed amenable. Yes, it could all work out rather well.
Arnedir was much nearer in age than the elves Lindir talked about. He was restrained of temper for the most part. If he was attracted, all well and good. If he proved fond, so much the better. Above all, he would never be found relaxing - ha! relaxing! - with four other elves in a close-knit barely-clad tumble where at least two were flushed and one was visibly nuzzling the neck of another.
Tallath had come across such a scene in recent nights and Erestor in the midst of them. Tallath scowled to recollect it.
“Tallath,” Iornan broke in on his thoughts.
“Well?”
“Arnedir is not exactly popular among his kinsmen. Sometimes we pass that way, when I’m out with Haldir and the others, but they barely exchange greetings. It’s not that they say much - Haldir doesn’t like gossip - but I’ve heard however good he may be with horses he cares more for a bargain. That he keeps his charm for when he wants something, you know?” Iornan was looking at him seriously as if such hearsay warranted the weight of a warning.
“Some people are always more popular than others,” Tallath shrugged. “Just because he doesn’t rattle away over a drink with them when he’s here - maybe he offended them keeping himself to himself.” Tallath knew first-hand how people could take against someone.
“You working for him is one thing; you thinking Lindir should be encouraged to get involved with him is quite another.” Iornan’s voice had risen a little. He lowered it again pushing each word out carefully as if Tallath wasn’t already listening to him fussing. “The wood elves never speak of him at all - they won’t work for him either. They don’t even look at him. Their faces go all closed and expressionless. I spend a lot of time with them and their instincts about people seem uncanny.”
“Iornan, if you are thinking I am going to shun him because a couple of archers have a grudge or some yokels got on the wrong side of him, you need to think again. I work with him. Shouldn’t my judgement count for something?” Irritably he hunched a shoulder. Seeing Lindir settled near his brothers would have been exactly what his parents wanted.
He downed the rest of his wine. “Come on. You can eat below. Let’s join Lindir.”
Partly to avoid more of Iornan’s objections - he seemed full of them lately - Tallath let Lindir listen as long as he liked. While the strings squealed and the squawking, strangled moans of song droned on, he composed himself to think of what he might do with more than a pittance to barter if trade with the men went well.
For once, he even felt more proprietorial than impatient with Lindir while he waited for him to be ready to go. Maybe Arnedir considered musical aptitude an asset. However, when fresh company descended, he regretted his generosity and was hard put to convert scowl to smile.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Erestor arrived in close company with some of the locals, all talking non-stop. He pulled them to a halt by Fellerien who was drinking with a similar mix of wood-elves and Sindar along with a handful of his guards.
The mossy space was wide enough for grass to be thriving between the mellyrn, a comfortable venue for singing (well underway) and drinking (generously provided for) and lounging around (lots of people were doing just that, talking quietly under the music.)
“How’s our minstrel?”
“I’m not sure, Erestor. I was going to make sure to speak to you, me and Esterrel here. Something - looks wrong.”
Erestor frowned. “What say you, my dears? Does the thought of a minstrel’s company chafe?”
“Better than yours any day, you old scoundrel!”
“And far better looking, too,” said another drily.
Erestor smiled at him, knowing full well just how good he looked, scantily clad, open cream vest coat over short close-clinging teal-blue shirt, and the lightest of cream silk leggings down to his calves cut loose but settling around his skin with every move he made or with the least of breezes.
He stretched to his full height, and posed. “What, not even passable? And here was I hoping for water after a drought…”
Gales of laughter met this, earthy jokes and a question, “No luck yet then, with your Gondolin lord?”
“Alas, he finds me too light-weight, I do believe. Can you reckon that?” Erestor’s grieved tones brought more laughter and thus it was a bawdy, noisy group that descended on Tallath’s table.
“Lindir, we have missed you!”
“Introduce us to your friends, Erestor,” scolded one of the group, Dirthan.
Solemnly Erestor bowed low, and Tallath nodded a little curtly at the round of names. He did not want this carousing band of over-light company consorting with his brother.
“Lindir? Feel like some music-making? We’ve come to trespass on your talents if you are willing? Your brothers will be most welcome, of course.” One or two of his companions pulled a face but hidden out of the dullard’s line of sight in minimal courtesy. They knew Tallath and clearly were not overfond of him.
Lindir lit up like the stars at midnight. “Oh, yes! Tallath?”
“Come on, Lindir, where are your instruments?” Fellerien had joined them and encouraged him after a glance at Erestor. They made a formidable band.
Erestor watched the brother’s unease. He did not want Lindir to play? Or to feel easy with his friends?
Lindir leapt up hopefully and Tallath bit his lip to stop himself ordering him to sit down again. Let him have his instruments, then. Somehow this dark, lascivious fribble knew too many of these elves to make a scene in front of them.
Lindir did not quite look like an urgent child asking for permission, but he did not sound relaxed either, or confident with his elder. “Tallath?”
“I’ll stay here,” he managed. “Don’t go on too long, though, others will want their turn to be admired.”
“Perhaps we should not…” Venastir, who loved his family, wondered if they were intruding, and was surprised to find Erestor uncharacteristically vehement.
“Nonsense! After we brought him all this way? He shall repay us with a little music, and we shall be a very well-behaved audience the while.”
Someone sniggered. Erestor overlooked it, mock-lordly, and bowed with great ceremony to Lindir when he flew back, eyes full of enthusiasm and arms full of harp, lyre and a handful of parchments.
Arnedir sat back in his chair, his eyes still tracking the doorway out of which Lindir had just escaped his brother. “I’m going to head back. We can catch up about the Númenórean trade next time. They intend a visit with the new moon.”
“I’ll see you when I bring the scythes back.”
“Oh, I have to come back this way in a few days in any case.” Arnedir smiled encouragingly. "No point both of us making the journey."
“Uh, did you want to come here again?” Tallath was trying to guess Arnedir’s preferences without being obvious.
“I look forward to it,” returned Arnedir, brightly.
Tallath was in a good mood when Iornan dropped in after being out with Haldir’s patrol, his on-approval trial clearly going well enough to be kept on. He was always in a chatty mood after a shift; tonight was no exception.
“Brother? What’s toward?” Iornan’s face was questioning, as if he was surprised at something.
“Nothing. Arnedir’s just left. He wanted my advice about something.” Iornan had never seemed too enthusiastic about Tallath’s choice of work. “The men who came want to come back; he wouldn’t give them what they wanted straight away.”
Iornan gazed at him. “Those men - you seem happy about them coming here…”
“And why not? They brought new kinds of cloth, a metal I never saw before - all to barter with.” Tallath never understood his brothers. What was Iornan hinting at now?
Iornan was tapping one finger gently against the table and avoiding looking at him. When he spoke it was quietly, earnestly. “He has a reputation as a keen trader; you don’t think he is a little too keen?”
“I know how good he is with horses. And that he’s always beforehand with the world.”
“You know I am pleased you have found work with him you like,” Iornan offered, a little lukewarm.
“Arnedir seems interested in Lindir, Iornan.” Tallath ignored Iornan’s pursed lips, his optimism unimpaired. He might even have a private word with Lindir - when Iornan was not by. It might not hurt if Lindir seemed amenable. Yes, it could all work out rather well.
Arnedir was much nearer in age than the elves Lindir talked about. He was restrained of temper for the most part. If he was attracted, all well and good. If he proved fond, so much the better. Above all, he would never be found relaxing - ha! relaxing! - with four other elves in a close-knit barely-clad tumble where at least two were flushed and one was visibly nuzzling the neck of another.
Tallath had come across such a scene in recent nights and Erestor in the midst of them. Tallath scowled to recollect it.
“Tallath,” Iornan broke in on his thoughts.
“Well?”
“Arnedir is not exactly popular among his kinsmen. Sometimes we pass that way, when I’m out with Haldir and the others, but they barely exchange greetings. It’s not that they say much - Haldir doesn’t like gossip - but I’ve heard however good he may be with horses he cares more for a bargain. That he keeps his charm for when he wants something, you know?” Iornan was looking at him seriously as if such hearsay warranted the weight of a warning.
“Some people are always more popular than others,” Tallath shrugged. “Just because he doesn’t rattle away over a drink with them when he’s here - maybe he offended them keeping himself to himself.” Tallath knew first-hand how people could take against someone.
“You working for him is one thing; you thinking Lindir should be encouraged to get involved with him is quite another.” Iornan’s voice had risen a little. He lowered it again pushing each word out carefully as if Tallath wasn’t already listening to him fussing. “The wood elves never speak of him at all - they won’t work for him either. They don’t even look at him. Their faces go all closed and expressionless. I spend a lot of time with them and their instincts about people seem uncanny.”
“Iornan, if you are thinking I am going to shun him because a couple of archers have a grudge or some yokels got on the wrong side of him, you need to think again. I work with him. Shouldn’t my judgement count for something?” Irritably he hunched a shoulder. Seeing Lindir settled near his brothers would have been exactly what his parents wanted.
He downed the rest of his wine. “Come on. You can eat below. Let’s join Lindir.”
Partly to avoid more of Iornan’s objections - he seemed full of them lately - Tallath let Lindir listen as long as he liked. While the strings squealed and the squawking, strangled moans of song droned on, he composed himself to think of what he might do with more than a pittance to barter if trade with the men went well.
For once, he even felt more proprietorial than impatient with Lindir while he waited for him to be ready to go. Maybe Arnedir considered musical aptitude an asset. However, when fresh company descended, he regretted his generosity and was hard put to convert scowl to smile.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Erestor arrived in close company with some of the locals, all talking non-stop. He pulled them to a halt by Fellerien who was drinking with a similar mix of wood-elves and Sindar along with a handful of his guards.
The mossy space was wide enough for grass to be thriving between the mellyrn, a comfortable venue for singing (well underway) and drinking (generously provided for) and lounging around (lots of people were doing just that, talking quietly under the music.)
“How’s our minstrel?”
“I’m not sure, Erestor. I was going to make sure to speak to you, me and Esterrel here. Something - looks wrong.”
Erestor frowned. “What say you, my dears? Does the thought of a minstrel’s company chafe?”
“Better than yours any day, you old scoundrel!”
“And far better looking, too,” said another drily.
Erestor smiled at him, knowing full well just how good he looked, scantily clad, open cream vest coat over short close-clinging teal-blue shirt, and the lightest of cream silk leggings down to his calves cut loose but settling around his skin with every move he made or with the least of breezes.
He stretched to his full height, and posed. “What, not even passable? And here was I hoping for water after a drought…”
Gales of laughter met this, earthy jokes and a question, “No luck yet then, with your Gondolin lord?”
“Alas, he finds me too light-weight, I do believe. Can you reckon that?” Erestor’s grieved tones brought more laughter and thus it was a bawdy, noisy group that descended on Tallath’s table.
“Lindir, we have missed you!”
“Introduce us to your friends, Erestor,” scolded one of the group, Dirthan.
Solemnly Erestor bowed low, and Tallath nodded a little curtly at the round of names. He did not want this carousing band of over-light company consorting with his brother.
“Lindir? Feel like some music-making? We’ve come to trespass on your talents if you are willing? Your brothers will be most welcome, of course.” One or two of his companions pulled a face but hidden out of the dullard’s line of sight in minimal courtesy. They knew Tallath and clearly were not overfond of him.
Lindir lit up like the stars at midnight. “Oh, yes! Tallath?”
“Come on, Lindir, where are your instruments?” Fellerien had joined them and encouraged him after a glance at Erestor. They made a formidable band.
Erestor watched the brother’s unease. He did not want Lindir to play? Or to feel easy with his friends?
Lindir leapt up hopefully and Tallath bit his lip to stop himself ordering him to sit down again. Let him have his instruments, then. Somehow this dark, lascivious fribble knew too many of these elves to make a scene in front of them.
Lindir did not quite look like an urgent child asking for permission, but he did not sound relaxed either, or confident with his elder. “Tallath?”
“I’ll stay here,” he managed. “Don’t go on too long, though, others will want their turn to be admired.”
“Perhaps we should not…” Venastir, who loved his family, wondered if they were intruding, and was surprised to find Erestor uncharacteristically vehement.
“Nonsense! After we brought him all this way? He shall repay us with a little music, and we shall be a very well-behaved audience the while.”
Someone sniggered. Erestor overlooked it, mock-lordly, and bowed with great ceremony to Lindir when he flew back, eyes full of enthusiasm and arms full of harp, lyre and a handful of parchments.