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zhieUnder the cut folks, you know the drill...
As Erestor made his nightly rounds through the house, he was quite alarmed to find the Hall of Fire empty, with the exception of one solitary elf. ‘Probably scared everyone else away,’ thought Erestor, and his guess was correct.
Quietly, the seneschal crept into the room to see what it was that the ancient warrior was doing near the fire. There was a stack of colored papers in his lap, and one sheet was being folded by skillful hands while the Elda sang a very peculiar song to himself about the wonderful ability of fire to burn. The lyrics, Erestor decided, were not very good, and the Elda must have made them up himself.
Now Glorfindel had in his hands a little paper eagle, which he carefully straightened the wings of – just before tipping it towards the flames. A spark caught the edge of the paper and the fire burst through it, owing to the hollow body and the oxygen trapped inside. Glorfindel kept hold of it, never flinching, until the fire threatened to reach out and lick the golden braid hanging dangerously close to the embers. Then he crunched it into his fist and it died out quickly, a bit of smoke rising from between his knuckles.
“Why do you like fire so much?”
Glorfindel shrugged, not even turning around. “Why do you like books so much?”
Erestor sat down opposite Glorfindel and used a poker to shove the logs further back into the fireplace. “They contain knowledge, and I enjoy learning things. They contain stories which entertain me.”
“Damn. I was hoping you would flounder on that one. I have been trying to find a way to get a hold of a few volumes from the library.”
“All you need to do is have Melpomaen check them out to you and... oh, but you do need to return them,” said the counselor when Glorfindel’s eyes lit up.
Glorfindel took an unfolded sheet of paper and held it out to the flames. They raced up the edges and devoured the middle, leaving ashes to fall onto the floor. Again, Glorfindel swallowed up the last bit into his fist, smiling a little as he burned his thumb.
“You know, that is wasteful.”
Turning to Erestor, Glorfindel continued to smile. It made the counselor suddenly very wary, to be alone here with him, but he tried not to show it. “Do you know how much paper costs?”
“What would you suggest I burn instead?”
“Nothing. There is no reason to burn anything.”
Glorfindel kept the smile on his face, unnerving Erestor further. “You like books.”
“Yes...”
“So you read them.”
“Yes.”
“What if someone told you to stop reading them?”
Erestor shook his head. “I am not about to have you use some sort of reverse psychology on me. What I do is productive; what you are doing is destructive.” With that, Erestor yanked the pile of paper from Glorfindel’s lap.
As Erestor made his nightly rounds through the house, he was quite alarmed to find the Hall of Fire empty, with the exception of one solitary elf. ‘Probably scared everyone else away,’ thought Erestor, and his guess was correct.
Quietly, the seneschal crept into the room to see what it was that the ancient warrior was doing near the fire. There was a stack of colored papers in his lap, and one sheet was being folded by skillful hands while the Elda sang a very peculiar song to himself about the wonderful ability of fire to burn. The lyrics, Erestor decided, were not very good, and the Elda must have made them up himself.
Now Glorfindel had in his hands a little paper eagle, which he carefully straightened the wings of – just before tipping it towards the flames. A spark caught the edge of the paper and the fire burst through it, owing to the hollow body and the oxygen trapped inside. Glorfindel kept hold of it, never flinching, until the fire threatened to reach out and lick the golden braid hanging dangerously close to the embers. Then he crunched it into his fist and it died out quickly, a bit of smoke rising from between his knuckles.
“Why do you like fire so much?”
Glorfindel shrugged, not even turning around. “Why do you like books so much?”
Erestor sat down opposite Glorfindel and used a poker to shove the logs further back into the fireplace. “They contain knowledge, and I enjoy learning things. They contain stories which entertain me.”
“Damn. I was hoping you would flounder on that one. I have been trying to find a way to get a hold of a few volumes from the library.”
“All you need to do is have Melpomaen check them out to you and... oh, but you do need to return them,” said the counselor when Glorfindel’s eyes lit up.
Glorfindel took an unfolded sheet of paper and held it out to the flames. They raced up the edges and devoured the middle, leaving ashes to fall onto the floor. Again, Glorfindel swallowed up the last bit into his fist, smiling a little as he burned his thumb.
“You know, that is wasteful.”
Turning to Erestor, Glorfindel continued to smile. It made the counselor suddenly very wary, to be alone here with him, but he tried not to show it. “Do you know how much paper costs?”
“What would you suggest I burn instead?”
“Nothing. There is no reason to burn anything.”
Glorfindel kept the smile on his face, unnerving Erestor further. “You like books.”
“Yes...”
“So you read them.”
“Yes.”
“What if someone told you to stop reading them?”
Erestor shook his head. “I am not about to have you use some sort of reverse psychology on me. What I do is productive; what you are doing is destructive.” With that, Erestor yanked the pile of paper from Glorfindel’s lap.
