New Challenge: Potluck Bingo
Sit down to a delicious selection of prompts served on bingo boards, created by the SWG community.
Elrond and Glorfindel have a misunderstanding.
Second Age, December 20th, 1698. 12:31 P.M.
Elrond was supervising the handing out of rations to the refugees, making sure none were getting short-handed, when he was approached by a man.
"My Lord?" asked them man, his voice rasping, his eyes revealing the pain hidden by his unmarred features. "I am sorry to approach you like this, so directly, but I a am a father of four, my Lord, and the rations do not feed us all properly...please do not think I am ungrateful, that is not the case! Only that my children are hungry, and I wondered if you could possibly help..."
Elrond knew he should, in fairness, turn the man away, but he did not have the heart for it. Turning around, he procured a pack of rations for the man and sent him on his was, smiling wanly at his profuse thanks.
"Elrond," said a voice, seemingly out of nowhere, form his side. "You cannot do that. You of all people know how thin the supplies are."
"Do not worry, Glorfindel," said Elrond tensely. "I gave him my own rations for the day. It would have been eaten regardless."
Glorfindel threw up his hands in annoyance. "You test my patience, Elrond! Do you think I haven't noticed that you hardly eat anymore? You will starve at this rate."
"I cannot believe you complain about my not eating, when we have so little food," said Elrond. "These refugees never asked to be trapped in this valley. If they must suffer for my mistakes, I will do my best to at least make sure they are fed."
"You seem to believe every military maneuver you make is a mistake! One of these days you are going to have to realize you are a perfectly capable commander and you make the same choices anyone would."
"So you say."
"As I've been saying for months! As for your starving yourself, it will do no one any good! If there were a battle tomorrow, you would be too weak to survive it, even if you weren't the biggest target in it. Listen to reason, Elrond."
"Why did you come here, Glorfindel?" asked Elrond, wishing Glorfindel would lower his voice. People were beginning to stare.
"I came to tell you that we have dug out the path almost to the entrance. Only a few feet, and we'll have an entrance that can fit, as you once said, an entire battalion through it."
"Good," said Elrond. "It is nice to have pleasant news for a change."
Glorfindel huffed in frustration. "You must get that stubbornness from the human side, huh? No Elf would be as thickheaded to refuse to eat."
Elrond's chest contracted in pain and hurt. He stared at Glorfindel in disbelief. "What did you just say?"
Glorfindel grinned at him, thinking their argument was over. "That only a barbarian human could be so thick."
"Ah," said Elrond, resisting the urge to clamp a hand over his chest. "That's what I thought."
He turned away form Glorfindel.
Second Age, December 25th, 1697. 8:38 P.M.
"Why have you been avoiding me?"
"Now is not the time."
"Then when's the time, Elrond? When will you look me in the eye and tell me what I did to deserve your anger?"
Elrond looked up from the firewood he was chopping to see Glorfindel's face twisted in anguish and felt a stab of pity. He had not meant to be so cruel to Glorfindel, except, whenever he had thought about approaching his friend, his mind returned unbidden to their last conversation, and something stopped him.
"I am sorry," said Elrond. "I did not mean to cause you pain."
"You didn't tell me why you're avoiding me."
"A thousand years, Glorfindel," said Elrond quietly. "Over a thousand years, and still my early days haunt me. I do not speak of the Fëanorians, but of Lindon, and my first days there."
Glorfindel stilled, and Elrond knew what he was thinking of. Ereinion had told Elrond that he'd revealed Elrond's past to him, although he hadn't said why, only that it had been necessary.
"I was mocked for my heritage. I was ridiculed for my unruly hair and my face and the human blood that flows through my veins. Through Ereinion and my fellows scholars, I was able to put that behind me, or so I thought. When we argued, about my own ineptitude and my eating habits, I was fine, I could hold my own. But you called me thickheaded and claimed it came from my human ancestors. You called them barbarians. I am not ashamed of them, Glorfindel. They were as noble and brave as Eldar are. Still, I..."
Elrond cast his eyes back to his firewood, embarrassed. "I am too sensitive. It is the dead of winter, we are surrounded by an orcish contingent, and we are rapidly running out of food. We do not have time for this."
"The orcs are not going anywhere, Elrond. Neither are we," said Glorfindel softly, approaching Elrond to lay a hand on is shoulder. "I am sorry. I should have known better than to so meanly antagonize you. I meant it in jest, I swear. I have not known many humans, living in Gondolin so long. I was wrong."
"I forgive you," said Elrond. "Just know that it hurt, coming from a friend. Can you forgive me for acting so irrationally?"
"It does not seem irrational in hindsight," replied Glorfindel. "But I will forgive you only if you promise me that you will eat more. We cannot have our fearless leader starving."
"Fearless leader, hm?" said Elrond, beginning to smile.
"That is what you look like to them," said Glorfindel. "Whether good or bad, brooding, stoic leaders look fearless."
"I am not stoic!" laughed Elrond. "I am merely quiet."
"Quiet looks like stoic to an outsider," said Glorfindel. "That is why you need to eat. It is hard to look stoic when one's stomach is growling."
"I promise I will eat more," said Elrond, sighing. "You really know how to turn a conversation around, don't you?"
"It's my speciality," said Glorfindel cheerily. "Would you like some help with that firewood?"
"Yes, please," said Elrond. "I doubt I will ever truly be suited to physical labor."
"Whine, whine, whine, is that all you do?"
"I could use some wine right now."
When Glorfindel's responding laugh came, Elrond felt that, while everything was by far not right with the world, he could, for a moment, pretend it was.