I neither created nor own Middle Earth, The Hidden Valley, Melkor Morgoth, Steward Erestor, Lord Elrond, Lord Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer, King Celeborn, Queen Galadriel, King Thranduil, or Estel. I did create Queen Lathwinn and Mellolaes the Nurse.

This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :)

"Do my sword and armor shine now, Sour-face?"

The oilcloth stilled. The Noldo straightened upon his stool, closed his eyes, and heaved a sigh. His reply was bland with a hint of long-suffering. "They do elfling, as do the blades and armor of all your brothers."

The brows of the younger ellon flew up, but his grin remained. "Elfling? I wasn't born last century."

The older ellon looked over his shoulder. He raised a single eyebrow at the other. "Your behavior proves it not." The servant set the oilcloth aside and stood. Then he turned and held the blade out hilt-first.

The young soldier laughed as he took it. Another Noldo entered the room. He bent his head as he went through the door, for he was taller than most elves. He shook his head with a soft grin similar to the young warrior's. "Are you again bothering otorno nin, onoro nin?"

The young soldier turned while lowering his sword and opening his mouth, but the servant spoke first. "Your blades and armor now shine as bright as they can, Captain."

The third ellon strode up. He took his sword from the rack and raised the weapon above his head. A candle's flame illuminated the flat. He looked up into the eyes his own reflection. His stare softened as his grin widened.

Yet another ellon stuck his head into the room. This soldier's face resembled those of the other two as well. "Why do you three linger so long? Are our blades and armor ready for patrolling on the longest night of the year or not?"

. . .

The servant led a string of horses forth. Six armed and armored ellon stood waiting for them. Every face among them resembled the other five. The tallest wore the insignia of captain. He met the gaze of the servant who stopped before him.

The warrior nodded. "My thanks, mellon nin."

The servant looked over the captain's shoulder with a frown. "'I' would be grateful if you had one of your soldiers change."

The eldest brother glanced back. While he and the other four wore grey the youngest brother had donned a crimson tunic. Their captain sighed. "He is going to have to learn sometime, but we are not really attempting to hide tonight. All this flashing armor you prepared for us would not let us to remain unseen anyway. We go forth to scare away orcs and whatever else Morgoth may have sent to slay, spy upon, or capture us. We do not wish to attempt capturing them. To tell the truth, I would prefer not having to slay any tonight either. They could too easily return the favor."

"'I' prefer you leave the elfling behind. Morgoth's forces may have as little belief in his abilities as I. In such a case, he would scare them little."

The taller elf frowned. "He is skilled with sword and knife. He is even better than the the twins with both, though they are better with bows." The Captain's expression gentled. "Be comforted by the preparations we have 'both' made to ensure my patrol's safety, mellon nin. I shall return to this city before dawn. Twill not be a long wait for you."

"And what if you do not return?"

The armored elf laid his hand upon the other's shoulder and squeezed. "We have made ourselves as ready as possible, crimson tunics aside. Twould take quite a feat for a small, hereby unnoticed force of Morgoth to take us now. When we return, the wearer of the crimson tunic will tease you mercilessly for your worry." He gripped his friend's shoulder. Then he winked. "Perhaps you should prepare for that."

The corner of the servant's mouth quirked up. The officer grinned, mounted, and road by his brothers. His steed's four-footed companions trailed behind them. The other soldiers mounted these as they passed. The warriors matched their brother's riding posture. He led them out through the city gate. The servant watched them leave from a few steps inside it. His mouth had set into a thin line.

. . .

The six brothers rode through one canyon and then another all throughout the night. Their mounts trusted them to guide them over smooth paths. Elf-eyes could find these in the light of stars alone.

Bare rocks did not provide much welcome for wild things. Other than the beats of hooves and breaths of horses all seemed still. Little changed upon their passing. The elder brothers found this comforting. The youngest found it chaffing.

When they came to a flatter, open place, the soldier in crimson urged his horse into a run. He passed all the others. Then he pulled ahead several lengths. His eldest brother opened his mouth. Then the captain's jaw fell open.

From the few rock formations ahead of the lone rider fell shadows. At the sight of them, his youngest brother turned his horse back. As he raced toward them again, arrows flew through his route from both sides. His mount reared. The rider grasped the horse's mane.

The Captain bellowed. Two pairs of soldiers veered off toward the rises from which the arrows flew. The Captain raced to his youngest soldier.

The moving darkness flooded from the shadows to meet them. The light of the stars touched them. Dozens and dozens of orc leers were seen.

. . .

The one who had readied the patrol's armor, swords, and steeds watched for them. He stood not behind the gate, but upon the city wall. They were late, not an hour late yet, but time edged that way.

Figures appeared on the horizon. Horses neared two abreast. They walked slow. One limped. All their riders were hunched over. This made their height difficult to discern.

The servant raced down the stairway. Then he sped toward the gate. He remained standing before it until a shout came from outside. The ellon shivered at its sound.

The keepers of the gate slid aside its bar. The portal swung open. Two ellons on horses entered. Neither wore the insignia of captain. Two more came after them also not wearing it.

Black splotches sullied their armor, tunics, and steeds. Their heads were bowed so their chins rested upon their chests. When the last two horses entered one had no rider. The other steed bore an ellon wearing a torn, crimson tunic spotted with darker red.

He held a familiar sword in his lap. He himself was too small to wield it. The blade was long and heavy, made for an unusually tall, strong elf who was not there.

The servant collapsed to his hands and knees. His hair fell over his face to lie in the dust. The year's last and longest night was over, but his was just beginning.

. . .

A knock sounded from the office door. Erestor looked up from his paperwork. "Enter."

An elleth with dark hair and blue eyes did so. She gave a curtsy and gentle smile to the steward of her lord. "The tables have been set in place, covered with clothes, and hold their displays of dishes, Steward. Would you like to inspect them before the guests are invited down?"

Erestor rose from his desk and nodded. "Yes. Yes I would."

. . .

Imladris' Steward marched between tables staring at first one and then the other. The white palm-sized cakes Galadriel loved and which her maids devoured as well were stacked like towers. They numbered four dozen exactly.

Berries filled mithril bowls. Wine bottles sat so their labels could be easily read. Identical sugar-frosting sculptures sat facing the same direction. Imladris' head-servant nodded. "Well done."

Every servant lined up to watch his inspection smiled. A raised voice came from above and to their left. "Erestor!"

The ellon turned. He raised his gaze to the head of a flight of the stairs. Elrond grinned down from their top. "Is all ready for our guests?"

Erestor bowed deeply at the waist. He kept his gaze upon the flagstones and tone grave while addressing his lord. "My lord Elrond of Imladris, all indeed lies ready for your many and exalted guests."

The face of Earendil's son glowed."Excellent! Then let this year's Yule celebration begin!" He turned toward a pair of open doors behind him and clapped once.

Elves spilled out of the house chattering and chuckling. Folk from Lothlorien surrounded their King and Queen. Those from the Grey Havens glanced around with appreciation, but unsettled longing still cried out from their eyes. Lathwinn and Thranduil stepped out with a few of their more sedate citizens trailing them.

Soon, all three groups had swept down the stairs leading into the courtyard and milled about with the native elves of the Hidden Valley. Then a question began passing from one pair of elvish lips to another. "Where is the Lord of the Golden Flower this year?"

Pairs of younger lips asked, "Where is our great hero the Balrog Slayer? Is he off on another adventure instead of celebrating the new year with us?"

Some of the boldest approached their host. "Where is Glorfindel this year, Lord Elrond? He has always welcomed the new year with us in the past, ever since we began to jointly celebrate the occasion together in your Hidden Valley."

Elrond took his time dipping his chin in a nod while continuing to meet his guest's gazes with hard eyes. His tone came forth deep and low. "He is seeing to a most important matter tonight. I fear this task will not allow him to join us."

The eyes of his questioners widened. Many gave a curtsey or deep bow before replying. "Oh! I hope he succeeds mightily in it then, Lord Elrond. He must of course. He is the Balrog Slayer." Then they flew off like anxious starlings. Elrond listened from afar as they shared what they had learned with others. His expression remained grave.

Erestor watched all these happenings from the shadow of a column. He noted how many of each item each ellon and elleth ate, how much each of them drank from each bottle of wine, even who talked to whom and of what. He caught the questions and guesses about the Captain of Imladris and his absence. Their guesses caused him unease. They came dangerously close to the truth.

Of late, orcs had become restless at the roots of certain mountains. Could this be calling the Balrog Slayer away? Still, twas nothing like elder days. Orc raids hurt "men" most now not elves.

Erestor shut his eyes. He shivered. Those of his people who remained on these shores were safe. A certain mortal was safe. All was well enough for now. Erestor opened his eyes and went back to studying his lord's guests. Dozens of couples danced in the space left for that purpose. Others sat on the edges of fountains and chattered like the churning waters.

Tilpithen's swans of white frosting were as lovely as they were sweet. An ellon from the Grey Havens ate one of her creations with a besotted grin aimed at her. Erestor hoped he would not pull her over the sea with him. Where could Imladris find another such sculptor of spun frosting?

All seemed to be enjoying the feast. Bakers, farmers, and vinters stood near the provisions they had brought or baked receiving compliments upon them. The corner of Erestor's own mouth quirked up. He knew well how much each of his fellow Imladris citizens deserved their praise.

Erestor could predict who would wish to make what, who would actually provide what, how much they would provide of what, and at what time. His lord made the Hidden Valley's weather predictable. Droughts and wet years need not be figured into calculations for supplies within the valley. Bruised feelings of fellow servants and Imladris farmers might. Trade with allies had to be taken into account also. Dry and wet years did affect their supplies as did the wording of letters sent to them.

Dwarves preferred to celebrate elsewhere. Still, they were important to take into consideration when it came to festive success. They provided beer, grain, and mushrooms brought from Bree or even as far away as the Shire.

So much to consider. So much to do. Each year victory or defeat was declared after the festivities were through. To think he had once thought he'd sailed east in vain.

"Why do you hide here every year, Erestor?"

The Steward turned. The Lady of the Golden wood smiled upon him. He looked back out to the other guests. "I find it easier to assess from here. Were I closer to any of them, I would see less of all of them and they more of me. Then they might wish to converse with me then. I would be unable to overhear other important conversations while they did."

Galadriel gave a chuckle. Sparkles danced in her deep-blue eyes. "Most 'important conversations' this year seem to be about Glorfindel's absence."

Erestor nodded. His gaze still lingered upon the whole courtyard rather than what some said was the fairest face in Middle Earth. Galadriel, however, seemed fascinated by the hard profile beside her. She spoke in soft, whispered Quenyan. "Why is Glorfindel missing from tonight's celebration instead of you?"

Erestor replied in the same language, but in a growl. "Because he is harder to hide than I. He cannot do as I am doing now."

"He could gain a general sense of things. He is observant. He would enjoy himself here more than thee."

"Neither of us serve in Imladris to enjoy ourselves, though we do. We are here to be of service to our lord."

"And you would be doing him a great service if you had taken the position Glorfindel now holds."

"I do a vital one here he could not do so well."

"Erestor ... between the three of us, Glorfindel, Elrond, and I could come to know the minds of most of these here, how happy they are, who is dissatisfied, who is leaving. As for the servants, surely you who watch over them realize they no longer need watching. They perform their tasks to perfection with loyalty and love alone. So why not enjoy yourself this joyful day of the year?"

Erestor switched to Sindarin, again responding without looking at her. "My Lady ... I think you are being missed."

She glanced down to the courtyard. Her maids and others with them glanced up, down, and around. In three seconds, they had spied her. Those not her maids waved. Her maids themselves began to move toward her with slight frowns. She sighed and briefly gripped her fellow Noldo's arm. "Think upon the words I have spoken to thee, Erestor." Then she departed. He watched her go.

. . .

Dawn came. The guests faded away from the festivities like the stars from the sky. When the last one not the King of Lothlorien, his queen, or her maids had gone, Erestor oversaw the courtyard's cleanup. As he went back to his Lord's house, the entourage from Lothlorien followed.

Being elves, the half-dozen trailing him made little sound. Despite this, he was keenly aware of their presence. Warm breaths brushed his back rather than a cool draft. When he had neared his goal, Erestor heard the queen shooing away her maids. Celeborn, though, refused to leave his queen's side.

When he had came to the right room and gripped the doorknob, Erestor turned to face them. Celeborn was giving him a chagrined smile. Sparkles danced in Galadriel's eyes. "I want to see him."

Erestor turned the knob and pushed the door open. The frame moved on its hinges without a squeak. He had overseen their oiling himself.

The tiny form within the room did not stir. The large body sitting upon a stool beside the small bed though, caught the movement of the door from the corner of his eye. He turned.

Erestor raised his eyebrows. "You did not even reach for your sword, Balrog Slayer? Should I tell our lord what kind of a guard you truly are?"

Glorfindel gave a playful grin. "I am enough of a guard to know when only fellow elves approach."

Celeborn peered around Erestor at the soldier. "You were much missed at the festivities, Golden-warrior."

The form in the bed stretched, and then gave a soft sigh. All the elves stilled save Galadriel. She peered around Erestor to watch. The Steward turned his raised brows upon her. "Satisfied?"

She grinned and gave a soft, happy sigh. "He looks well indeed now. You must do a fine job with him all of you."

Celeborn now led his wife in the direction her maids had gone. Erestor stepped inside Estel's room. He closed the door behind him and went to Glorfindel's side. "I will take over until our lord has rested."

Glorfindel looked up with raised eyebrows. "Before comparing notes with him on the night's celebration?"

Erestor nodded. "There is nothing of great importance to report from this night save how you were indeed missed by all who did not know what your vital mission was."

Glorfindel grinned. Then he rose. Despite his doing so silently, Estel blinked his eyes.

The boy saw Erestor and bolted upright. "Erestor, you came! I wanted to ask you a question."

Glorfindel chuckled. "And why did you not simply ask me, mellon nin?"

Estel shrugged. "You don't answer them as good."

Glorfindel bent his head to whisper into the steward's ear. "Try not to smirk too much, mellon nin." Erestor, however, did not attempt to hide his smirk as he sat down upon the then vacated stool.

He leaned forward with a seriously furrowed brow. His face stopped less than a handbreadth from the boy's. He spoke in a low, even tone. "Now ... what is this pressing question of yours, my lord's son?"

Estel's head tilted in the direction of his window. "I heard crickets chirping outside. Then I realized, I don't know how they chirp. How do such tiny bugs chirp, Erestor?"

The Noldo straightened and gave a grave nod. "Ah, as it so happens I have wondered the same thing myself. Once, I observed a chirping cricket carefully for a few nights in a row." He leaned forward and began to fill in the child on his observations. The boy listened still and wide-eyed.

. . .

"Why am I turning brown, Erestor?" Estel placed his hand over the ellon's. The child's tan contrasted with the paleness of elven skin.

Erestor glanced at the sight. Then he looked back to the book he was going to read Estel. "Since Mellolaes arrived eight days ago, you have been spending a great deal of time outside beneath the sun. Mortal skin turns brown under such conditions."

Estel's eyes widened. "Will it kill me?"

Erestor opened his mouth to reply, but Mellolaes engulfed the child in both her arms, drew the boy close, and spoke first. "Of course not Estel! Have you burned your skin while out in the sun with me?"

Estel wiggled. Mellolaes lessened her grip. The boy spun about and blinked up at his nurse. "Burned? My skin can burn in the sunlight?"

Erestor replied first. "Yes, Estel, mortal-skin can be burnt red by the sun. However, this only occurs when the sunlight is particularly harsh and you remain exposed to it for a great length of time."

Estel's head spun back around. His eyes were as wide as silver coins. Mellolaes kissed the top of his head. "I watch both you and the sun carefully while we play beneath it, Estel. I lead you into the shade when I fear your skin might burn. Some sunlight is good for our skins. I make sure we both get the right amount. You don't have to be afraid of the sunlight with me."

Estel's bunched shoulders relaxed. A grin spread across his face. He turned back around and hugged her. "Thanks, Melly!"

Erestor glanced at this. Then he looked back to the book and began to read aloud.

If I do something right please tell me. If I do something wrong please tell me that too so I can fix it. I admit I don't know as much about the second age of Middle Earth as some others. So if you have noticed some flaw in my portrayal of it please alert me kindly. :)

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes