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zhieYou know why the updates just have numbers, right? Because there's no title. This might be the first year I've had no title starting off. Actually, I think it is...
Excerpt!
When Gilraen awoke late in the evening, she was bundled warmly in a fresh gown with clean sheets and quilts surrounding her. Even the pillows, stained with sweat, had been removed and replaced. A tray of dried fruit and cured beef was awaiting her, and Elrond sat in the corner in a rocking chair that was brought up from the Hall of Fire.
“I am sure you are not of a mind to eat at the moment,” said Elrond, “but you will need to in order to regain your health and for Aragorn’s sake.” He had been smoking from a long wooden pipe and took another long pull before setting it aside in its tray. “I shall call for some tea or warm milk.”
“Is that Old Toby?” questioned Gilraen as Elrond reached for the small silver bell that would summon the butler.
He looked down at the pipe. “It is. I can be rid of it for the evening if it bothers you.”
“That was Arathorn’s choice for his pipe.” Gilraen smiled sadly. “When the wind blew towards our cabin, I would know of his return before his arrival from the scent on the breeze. I never took Elves to be smokers.”
“I am but half of my counterparts,” Elrond reminded her. “I enjoy a good smoke as well as any Man. There are a few here in the valley who partake in the art, despite their pure heritage. Glorfindel, for instance, has joined me on the porch on more than one occasion, though he always smokes from someone else’s pipe. In fact, I doubt he has one of his own. My sons are known to smoke now and again – Elrohir more so than Elladan.” He raised the bell. “Tea or milk?”
“Tea with sugar, please.” Gilraen waited as Elrond summoned the servant and placed the request. “I find I quite like Glorfindel.”
“Most people do. There is very little not to like about him.” Elrond smiled ruefully. “He balances out the rest of the staff nicely.”
“He serves as your seneschal?”
“Yes, that is formally his title. He is horse master and Captain of the guard as well,” added Elrond.
“I am familiar with the duties of a horse master and a soldier. Exactly what does a seneschal do?” asked Gilraen.
“He is responsible for all festivals and events,” said Elrond. “We host many gatherings, meetings, and ceremonies here in Imladris. Someone must stay on top of everything. He also minds the budgets, so it makes practical sense for him to have that charge. In addition, he is the one who decides upon punishments for unlawful or unacceptable behavior.”
Gilraen moved the pillows so that she could sit up a little more in bed. “So he is your judge?”
“No, not at all. He simply decides upon the punishments if someone is found guilty. It is Lindir who judges guilt from innocence, when such cases arise,” said Elrond.
“The minstrel? How odd, for him to hold such a position,” Gilraen remarked.
The butler arrived at the door with a tray, which Elrond accepted and took to the bedside. “Lindir is a minstrel by choice, and a lawyer by trade. He studied many years here in Imladris, and when he came of age I hired a series of professionals to come to Rivendell to enhance his studies. He was my ward, you see, his parents were killed in an ambush.”
“So he is more your son, than an employee,” reasoned Gilraen.
“Indeed. Thus, I trust him to make such important decisions.”
Excerpt!
When Gilraen awoke late in the evening, she was bundled warmly in a fresh gown with clean sheets and quilts surrounding her. Even the pillows, stained with sweat, had been removed and replaced. A tray of dried fruit and cured beef was awaiting her, and Elrond sat in the corner in a rocking chair that was brought up from the Hall of Fire.
“I am sure you are not of a mind to eat at the moment,” said Elrond, “but you will need to in order to regain your health and for Aragorn’s sake.” He had been smoking from a long wooden pipe and took another long pull before setting it aside in its tray. “I shall call for some tea or warm milk.”
“Is that Old Toby?” questioned Gilraen as Elrond reached for the small silver bell that would summon the butler.
He looked down at the pipe. “It is. I can be rid of it for the evening if it bothers you.”
“That was Arathorn’s choice for his pipe.” Gilraen smiled sadly. “When the wind blew towards our cabin, I would know of his return before his arrival from the scent on the breeze. I never took Elves to be smokers.”
“I am but half of my counterparts,” Elrond reminded her. “I enjoy a good smoke as well as any Man. There are a few here in the valley who partake in the art, despite their pure heritage. Glorfindel, for instance, has joined me on the porch on more than one occasion, though he always smokes from someone else’s pipe. In fact, I doubt he has one of his own. My sons are known to smoke now and again – Elrohir more so than Elladan.” He raised the bell. “Tea or milk?”
“Tea with sugar, please.” Gilraen waited as Elrond summoned the servant and placed the request. “I find I quite like Glorfindel.”
“Most people do. There is very little not to like about him.” Elrond smiled ruefully. “He balances out the rest of the staff nicely.”
“He serves as your seneschal?”
“Yes, that is formally his title. He is horse master and Captain of the guard as well,” added Elrond.
“I am familiar with the duties of a horse master and a soldier. Exactly what does a seneschal do?” asked Gilraen.
“He is responsible for all festivals and events,” said Elrond. “We host many gatherings, meetings, and ceremonies here in Imladris. Someone must stay on top of everything. He also minds the budgets, so it makes practical sense for him to have that charge. In addition, he is the one who decides upon punishments for unlawful or unacceptable behavior.”
Gilraen moved the pillows so that she could sit up a little more in bed. “So he is your judge?”
“No, not at all. He simply decides upon the punishments if someone is found guilty. It is Lindir who judges guilt from innocence, when such cases arise,” said Elrond.
“The minstrel? How odd, for him to hold such a position,” Gilraen remarked.
The butler arrived at the door with a tray, which Elrond accepted and took to the bedside. “Lindir is a minstrel by choice, and a lawyer by trade. He studied many years here in Imladris, and when he came of age I hired a series of professionals to come to Rivendell to enhance his studies. He was my ward, you see, his parents were killed in an ambush.”
“So he is more your son, than an employee,” reasoned Gilraen.
“Indeed. Thus, I trust him to make such important decisions.”
