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Sons of Forgotten Kings  by Cairistiona

Forty-Eleven:  A double drabble in honor of March 1, T.A. 2931...


“Four!  You’re getting positively ancient,” Glorfindel said as he settled Estel on his lap.  “Show me how many four is.”

Estel frowned as he carefully uncurled each finger.  “One-two-free-four... five!” Estel said, thrusting his thumb in the air.

“Such a very bright boy!  Are you sure you’re only four?”

A grin and a nod.

Glorfindel looked down his nose. “I don’t believe it.  I think you’re at least forty-eleven.”

The grin widened.

“In fact, I think we need to find Cook and see that she gives you forty-eleven honey cakes.”

“Will she really?”

“Of course.”

“Are you forty-eleven, Gwofindo?”

“Glor-find-el.”  He rolled a few L’s off his tongue.  “Glor-fin-del.  And yes, at least that much.  Maybe even forty-twelve.”

“Did Cook give you cakes, Gwofindo?”

Ah, well.  The L’s would come, eventually.  “So many that I gave myself a tummy ache.”  He poked Estel’s belly and smiled at the giggles.  “Now let’s go get yours so you can have a tummy ache just like I did!”

He stood, laughing as he swung the squealing little boy onto his shoulders.  Today might be Estel’s birthday, but Glorfindel could not shake the happy thought that Estel was the Valar’s gift to them all.

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