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No title yet. But I found out what annoys Glorfindel.
“I have the journey mapped out. Mirkwood first, of course, and then from there we shall go to Bree so that we can take a few days to venture out to Ben-Adar’s house.”
“No.” The sternly issued word came forth from Glorfindel before Erestor could show him the map he had drawn out.
“We will certainly have time,” Erestor assured his friend. “As long as we do not stay for an extended period in Mirkwood—“
“Out of the question.” Glorfindel set his abacus back onto his desk and removed his glasses. “Besides the fact that it is too dangerous a road for us to traverse with a ten-year-old boy, it is not part of our mission.”
“It is a mission for you, but a vacation for me,” argued Erestor. “Estel needs to be acquainted with the surroundings beyond Imladris.”
Glorfindel took the map from Erestor. “Fine. We go from Mirkwood to Lothlorien, then. He can meet his sister and grandparents.”
Erestor’s mouth twitched into a frown. “That does not seem like an ideal vacation to me.”
“We are not going to Bree, and that is final.”
“No one remembers what I did there all those years ago,” said Erestor. “Besides, you enjoy going to Bree.”
“It is not Bree that I am disputing. We are not going to Tom Bombadil’s house, and that is final.”
Erestor placed his hands upon the desk and leaned down to stare at Glorfindel. “And why not, exactly?”
Glorfindel sighed. “Because that man tries my patience in so very many ways.”
“Ben-Adar is a wonderful soul,” defended Erestor.
“He is, in a word, an annoyance.” Glorfindel pushed back his chair and walked away from Erestor. His hands were already raised to his temples, a headache oncoming just to think of the man. “He sings nonsense. And not nonsense like Lindir does with his tra-la-la-lally and all that, oh no, he makes up words by the bushel full and tosses them about and into everything. It’s hard to understand a single sentence he says! And his span of attention is this big,” commented Glorfindel, holding his fingers minisculely apart. “There are times I have tried to speak to him, and he interrupts me to burst into song! Praise that wife of his, for no other could stand him!”
“I still think him pleasant to be around,” said Erestor after a pause.
Glorfindel shook his head. “Perhaps he lets you get a word in edgewise. Or maybe what he says actually makes sense. But honestly, the last time I was there was to discuss spiders and wolves. There were spiders that were multiplying in the old forest and a pack of particularly nasty wolves that were working in tandem with each other. It obviously seemed like the work of Sauron to me. And what did he spew at Haldir and I when we went to see him? Some gibberish about yellow-creamed butter and plates all a-clutter, and I swear between the two of us we understood about three words – greetings, and good day!”
“Ah, that sounds like Ben-Adar,” remarked Erestor fondly.
Glorfindel simply shook his head. “I have to draw a line somewhere, and we are simply not going to his house. If you want us to walk to Angmar or Mordor or even the Dead Marshes, lead the way. Not Tom Bombadil’s house. Not if it were the last refuge in Middle-earth.”
“I have the journey mapped out. Mirkwood first, of course, and then from there we shall go to Bree so that we can take a few days to venture out to Ben-Adar’s house.”
“No.” The sternly issued word came forth from Glorfindel before Erestor could show him the map he had drawn out.
“We will certainly have time,” Erestor assured his friend. “As long as we do not stay for an extended period in Mirkwood—“
“Out of the question.” Glorfindel set his abacus back onto his desk and removed his glasses. “Besides the fact that it is too dangerous a road for us to traverse with a ten-year-old boy, it is not part of our mission.”
“It is a mission for you, but a vacation for me,” argued Erestor. “Estel needs to be acquainted with the surroundings beyond Imladris.”
Glorfindel took the map from Erestor. “Fine. We go from Mirkwood to Lothlorien, then. He can meet his sister and grandparents.”
Erestor’s mouth twitched into a frown. “That does not seem like an ideal vacation to me.”
“We are not going to Bree, and that is final.”
“No one remembers what I did there all those years ago,” said Erestor. “Besides, you enjoy going to Bree.”
“It is not Bree that I am disputing. We are not going to Tom Bombadil’s house, and that is final.”
Erestor placed his hands upon the desk and leaned down to stare at Glorfindel. “And why not, exactly?”
Glorfindel sighed. “Because that man tries my patience in so very many ways.”
“Ben-Adar is a wonderful soul,” defended Erestor.
“He is, in a word, an annoyance.” Glorfindel pushed back his chair and walked away from Erestor. His hands were already raised to his temples, a headache oncoming just to think of the man. “He sings nonsense. And not nonsense like Lindir does with his tra-la-la-lally and all that, oh no, he makes up words by the bushel full and tosses them about and into everything. It’s hard to understand a single sentence he says! And his span of attention is this big,” commented Glorfindel, holding his fingers minisculely apart. “There are times I have tried to speak to him, and he interrupts me to burst into song! Praise that wife of his, for no other could stand him!”
“I still think him pleasant to be around,” said Erestor after a pause.
Glorfindel shook his head. “Perhaps he lets you get a word in edgewise. Or maybe what he says actually makes sense. But honestly, the last time I was there was to discuss spiders and wolves. There were spiders that were multiplying in the old forest and a pack of particularly nasty wolves that were working in tandem with each other. It obviously seemed like the work of Sauron to me. And what did he spew at Haldir and I when we went to see him? Some gibberish about yellow-creamed butter and plates all a-clutter, and I swear between the two of us we understood about three words – greetings, and good day!”
“Ah, that sounds like Ben-Adar,” remarked Erestor fondly.
Glorfindel simply shook his head. “I have to draw a line somewhere, and we are simply not going to his house. If you want us to walk to Angmar or Mordor or even the Dead Marshes, lead the way. Not Tom Bombadil’s house. Not if it were the last refuge in Middle-earth.”
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- Erulisse (one L)
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