Vana's Day by Tehta

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Say It With Flowers

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“Lord Glorfindel!” The florist beamed. “What a surprise it is, seeing you here on Vana’s day! Unless--” Her smile faded. “Was there something wrong with some of your flowers?”

“No, no! They are all quite, er, lovely.”

And so they were, but… One did not want to think ill of one’s secret admirers, even if they did seem to share a common flaw. Two flaws, actually, if one included the obvious shortcoming of not being Ecthelion, but it would be very unfair to blame well-meaning strangers for something so far beyond their control. Still, what was firmly within their control was their choice of flower, and, well… Roses were traditional, of course, and yellow flowers were right there on his emblem, so yes, he could see how yellow roses must sound like a very clever choice, but, really -- why did they all have to be clever in exactly the same way, every year? Surely nobody could blame him for being a little sick of yellow roses by now, especially since he had never even liked them in the first place, preferring spring flowers.

Which brought him to the reason for his visit: that one lonely, delicate bouquet of white narcissus. The thought that one of his admirers had taste had filled him with an unnatural curiosity. But how to go about satisfying it? Should he make up a sad tale of star-crossed romance? Or, perhaps, offer some sort of discrete bribe? He took out the coin pouch he had hastily grabbed, and jiggled it in his hand.

“So!” The florist was wreathed in smiles, again. “Do you wish to make a purchase of your own, my lord? Finally, after all these years? It is a bit late in the day, of course, but a small surcharge will ensure a prompt delivery!”

Glorfindel felt tempted to try it, just to witness Ecthelion’s reaction--he had not seen him agitated in a while, and found he rather missed it--at least, until he noticed the inquisitive gleam in the florist’s eyes. It seemed likely that gossip about any eventual last-minute purchase of his would travel even faster than the purchase itself.

Well, if she enjoyed betraying confidences, all the better.

“Actually,” he said, “what I really wanted was information. One of the gifts I received seems… different, and I was curious--”

“About the identity of the secret admirer whose blooms have touched your heart?”

“Yes, and I--”

“The full name will cost you five Turgons. Or, if you enjoy a puzzle, you could pay two for a subtle hint, or three for a broad one. Now then...” The florist pulled out a large ledger. “A bunch of yellow roses, was it? Can you recall anything about it? The color of the ribbon, perhaps?”

“No, not the roses, thank you.” Glorfindel handed over five coins. “I am interested in the white narcissus.”

“White narcissus? For you, my Lord? I am afraid--” She flipped through the ledger frowning. “Oh, no, there it is: my son sold it this morning. To Lord Ecthelion.

“Oh, I know just how you feel!” she continued after a moment. “It is a bit of a surprise, certainly. Perhaps some sort of… warrior’s jest? A playful insult? If I recall correctly, they were rather… small, fragile flowers.”

Glorfindel felt pretty sure he managed to depart without saying anything odd or offensive, but in his shock he could not recall the details.

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“Certainly, come in,” said Ecthelion. “Although I do have to leave in a moment: as I told you yesterday, I am performing at the palace, as part of--”

“You bought me flowers!”

Ecthelion blinked. “Yes. But how did you--”

“For Vana’s Day!”

“Right. I acted as a traditional secret admirer. Which is why I am wondering how--”

“What *I* am wondering about,” said Glorfindel very quickly, since Ecthelion’s opinion regarding bribes was well-known, “Is… Well, you have always been against such public displays of… well, of anything, really. So now I am a little… confused… and--”

“But it was not a public gesture, at all.” Ecthelion looked at the clock in his hall thoughtfully, then seemed to reach a decision. “I suppose I had better tell you the whole story. You see, it all started at last week’s rehearsal of the Vana’s Day orchestra. You know, the one with the problematic violin section, which I really need to--”

“Yes, I know--go on.”

“Very well. Anyway, during the usual post-rehearsal chat, several people complained that the romantic excitement and mystery of the Day had been ruined for them by the Florist’s Guild--who really sound most thoroughly corrupt. Apparently, they are no longer content with revealing the occasional secret identity after some heartfelt begging and a discrete bribe: they have some sort of… standardized pricelist for various degrees of betrayal.”

Here, he paused for a moment to gaze at Glorfindel, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Um,” said Glorfindel. “How… shocking?”

“Indeed. Anyway, I did not feel that this was right, so I decided to do something about it. And I had this rather clever idea.” He paused again, this time with a smile.

“Well, what was--” But before he could even finish the question Ecthelion clearly wanted him to ask, Glorfindel thought of the answer--and realized he had been a complete idiot. “I expect you offered to buy everyone’s flowers for them, all under your own name?”

“Exactly! It is the perfect way to ensure that those dishonest florists had no useful information to sell.”

Glorfindel watched him stand there looking smug, yet still undeniably beautiful. There was no cause to feel hurt, he told himself. He had known, for many years now, that this was what Ecthelion was like: thoroughly unromantic, a bit oblivious, and given to odd moral crusades. When he had woken that morning, it was with no special expectation of flowers; surely he would soon regain the same serene, unexpectant state.

Those flowers, though… They had still been rather unusual, whoever had sent them.

“I have just one more question,” he said. “When buying for me, why choose the white bouquet? Why not… yellow roses?”

”Yellow roses?” Ecthelion’s smile faded. “Come to think of it, the florist did insist that they were well-known to be your favourite, but I thought I knew better. Ah, I really am not very good at this kind of thing, am I?”

“But surely the buyer had specifically requested roses? They always seem to.”

“The buyer? What buyer?”

“Whoever it was that asked you to buy secret Vana’s Day flowers for me.”

“Whoever…” Ecthelion stared, frowning. Then his face relaxed, and a rather confusing sequence of emotions flashed across it. At last, he took a deep breath, and said, “You know, this day could prove very educational for you.”

“Educational?”

“In terms of moral lessons. You bribed a florist, which was wrong; and yet, apparently, you still have no idea who bought you those flowers.” He winced slightly. “Who failed to buy you your favourite flowers, I should say. Anyway, I really must go.”

“By all means, go,” said Glorfindel, even though the situation felt unresolved, somehow.