Poetic Justice

Elrond watched the loose hair and dust float in the gentle breeze as he brushed the debris of the warm day from his horse’s coat.  He did not get away from the tedium of paperwork enough, he thought.  Too many beautiful days were wasted seated with his back to the sun, while others got on with the practicalities of life.  He drew the brush slowly over the gleaming coat.  But what else could he do?  Except, he sighed, seize such moments as these when they offered.

‘Regretting not bringing a groom with you?’ Glorfindel asked teasingly.

Elrond looked pained.  ‘Have I become such a dull person?’ he enquired.  ‘So full of pretension that I cannot be expected to do anything for myself?’

‘Yes,’ his friend said instantly.  ‘I have been spending too much time in the company of the very young – and it is clear to me that you have become staid.  Why do you think I dragged you out to ride with us?’  He grinned.  ‘Although I lie a lot, too.’

‘Where are the very young?’ their adar asked.  ‘Have you risked sending them off unaccompanied?’

‘They are fully skilled and formidable warriors,’ Glorfindel pointed out.  ‘They keep reminding me that I saw to their training, so it must be so.’

‘I cannot remember ever being quite so young and cocksure,’ Elrond observed.

Glorfindel laughed.  ‘I am not sure that everyone who survived the First Age would agree with that.  I have heard some stories of the sons of Eärendil . . .’ His eyes gleamed as he glanced at his friend.  ‘I had thought of passing them on to your sons,’ he added innocently.

‘I have always regretted not being acquainted with those who knew you in your youth,’ Elrond winced.  ‘Mutual blackmail would, I feel, be only fair.’

An airy wave of Glorfindel’s hand dismissed his protest.  ‘I was perfect as an elfling,’ he protested.  ‘It stood me in good stead for developing even greater perfection as an adult.  I am,’ he said with fake modesty, flicking imaginary dust from his tunic with gleaming fingernails, ‘much admired for it.’

‘And here was I,’ Elrond murmured dryly, ‘thinking that it was quite different attributes that attracted admiration.’  He patted his horse on the shoulder and suggested that he should find the fresh grass by the water.  ‘I have been waiting for a private opportunity to ask you in rather more detail about the last mission on which you took my sons?’

Glorfindel smiled.  ‘Why might that be?  It was a fairly sedate expedition, as I recall.  I believe no swords were drawn in anger throughout.’

‘Dwarves, Glorfindel?’

‘Ahh.’

Elrond waited, but his friend offered no further comment.  ‘Perhaps, more specifically, Glorfindel, I should ask about what my sons and the dwarves spent their time discussing.’

The tall golden-haired elf looked slightly uncomfortable, but strove to maintain his air of puzzlement.  ‘I doubt they were talking over anything of importance,’ he said.  ‘They spent their time with the youngest among the dwarves, while the leaders looked on at least as suspiciously as we did.’  He smiled charmingly.  ‘Gondolin was, of course, free of the presence of Mahal’s people.’

‘That is as maybe,’ Elrond frowned, ‘but you cannot tell me that you are as ignorant of the dwarves’ tongue as you would pretend.’  He inspected his friend.  ‘You are as wily as a fox.’

‘Wilier,’ Glorfindel contradicted him.  ‘By far.’

‘And you cannot tell me that you were unaware of the game the dwarves were playing.’

Glorfindel grinned.  ‘But I was also aware of the game being played by your sons, my friend,’ he said.  ‘Tit for tat.  They deserved everything the dwarves threw at them.  And as their elders, we just decided to let them get on with it.’

A slow smile began to spread across Elrond’s face.  ‘Have you heard the expressions the twins are using?’ he asked.  ‘Do you understand them fully?’

‘I believe so.’  Glorfindel looked at him blandly.

‘I have clearly failed in my attempts to educate them properly,’ Elrond mused.  ‘Khuzdul was among the languages they were supposed to learn.’

‘It was hard enough to get them to study Quenya,’ Glorfindel remarked.  ‘They were convinced that fluent Westron was more than enough for the modern elf.’  He paused.  ‘Do you think Celebrían will let them in on the true meaning of what they are saying?’

Elrond shook his head.  ‘I doubt it.  Elladan and Elrohir will not use language of that sort in front of their naneth.’  At Glorfindel’s expression, he amended his words. ‘Language of the kind they think they are using.  What they are actually saying,’ he added ruefully, ‘they would not repeat in front of anyone.’

Sharp elven hearing drew their attention to the approach of two horses – and an exchange of amiable insults that made both Elrond and Glorfindel grin.

‘I wonder how long it will take them to find out,’ Glorfindel mused.

Elrond raised his eyebrows.  ‘A very long time, I suspect,’ he said. ‘A very long time indeed.’