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Glasron looked up at his Lord, still giddy with disbelief. He had been accepted! He had! He would learn how to be a knight from a literal legend, the Balrog Slayer himself!
The Valley was so pretty he didn’t know where to look as his Lord led him somewhere. There was so much to see! So much to do!
He straightened his posture, trying not to grin too evidently. They had visited the tailors already, and he would soon have his own set of House livery to wear, and everybody was so nice here, especially his Lord. He wanted to run from excitement, but knew he had to be well-mannered.
But Lord Glorfindel was so cool. He was so tall it was hard to look at him, and when they passed under the shade of some buildings he glowed . And he would be learning from him! He would!
He would be the best page in the world. His brother had been so smug when he got accepted by one of the warriors at home, but he could stick it now! Glasron’s Lord was infinitely cooler.
They came to a halt before a huge door carved with many pictures, and Glasron felt his eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly. Lord Glorfindel put a gentle hand on his head, patting his hair reassuringly. - This is the Hall of Fire, pityo .- the Lord said, pushing open one wing of the enormous doors just a crack, so they could peek inside. There was a half-dark room, with fireplaces on the walls and a firepit in the middle, looking like it could host a ball or something. - The fires never go out here, and usually there is someone inside practicing their songcraft. Can you hear? I think it’s Lindir playing the harp right now.-
Glasron nodded. There was a soft plucking melody drifting through the air that felt like a flower blooming.
Lord Glorfindel smiled at him. - If you will need some quiet time for yourself this is a good place to take refuge in, second only to the library. We also host feasts in here.-
He blinked up at him. -Understood, sir.-
The blue eyes of his Lord shadowed for a split-second at this, but he ruffled his hair and beckoned him to start walking again. -Now, would you like to first see your new quarters or to go eat something?-
-Um. I don’t know, sir?- he replied, a bit confused. -Where you go I go.-
-Ah, let me rephrase. Are you hungry, pityo? -
Glasron shook his head, furrowing his brows.
He didn’t really understand what his Lord was calling him, but it sounded like a nick-name. It was pretty, he supposed. Maybe it was an elven word for page.
Lord Glorfindel nodded, smiling gently. - The quarters it is, then. Would you like a room of your own, or rather sleep in mine?- he asked idly, and he could only gape at him in surprise.
-Sir?- he squeaked out, and the Lord halted, turning to fully face him, expression very soft, like his mother had every time they brought her a flower.
-You can have a room of your own, if you wish for it, Glasron. But if you are scared of the dark, or would rather stay with someone else in the room this is also an option.- he elaborated, kneeling on one knee to come face-to-face with him.
Glasron felt his cheeks warm up with embarrassment. He was a page, wasn’t he supposed to sleep in the feet of the Lord’s bed? Who was he to get a whole chamber for himself?
He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, ever, but maybe, just maybe, the thought of sleeping alone scared him. The night was dark, and it was scary, and he was big and grown-up, but…But there wasn’t his mother to run to when he had a nightmare. So.
-Um…I’d rather sleep in your chambers, sir.- he admitted, and Lord Glorfindel only nodded, still smiling gently.
-All right, then! I promise I don’t snore, but I might glow a bit at night. I will try not to if it shall bother you.- he stood up, placing a warm hand on his head.
His Lord was very touchy, Glasron noticed. But not in a bad way, he was just always keeping him close, with little pats and pokes and touches, like a cat herding kittens. He didn’t know if he liked it yet, but it was nice.
-You glow, sir?- he asked, curious. He had noticed that earlier, but it was very strange still.
-Yes, I do, pityo. I..hmmm…How much history do you know?-
-Not much, sir.-
-Ai, well. I was born under the light of the Two Trees, and the shine of them got mixed with my soul, so to say.- Lord Glorfindel explained, making a funny face. - Oh, this is always a pain to explain to mortals. The Two Trees were the source of light before the Sun and the Moon.-
Glasron felt his jaw drop. -You are older than the sun?! - he squeaked out, forgetting himself for a moment.
Lord Glorfindel nodded. -Yes, that I am. I have lost track of the years by now, but I’m around…ah, well, three Ages old, more or less. And how old are you, Glasron? Forgive me, but I’m not great at gauging Mannish ages.-
He blinked, stunned. -Um. I’m seven, sir. Year turnings. Seven years old. -
Lord Glorfindel missed a step, making an odd noise. - Seven?!- he said, voice very high.
-Yes, sir….How old did you think I was, sir? I know I’m not very tall for a seven year old, but I really have had my birthday already.- Glasron bounced on his toes a few times, not knowing if he should be offended. He was a big boy already, but if Lord Glorfindel was older than the sun of all things he probably didn’t think so.
-I…-his Lord chuckled, a very strained sound. - I knew you were younger, but I would have taken you for thirty-five at least. -
-I’m not that old, sir! That’s practically one foot in the grave!- he pouted. His Lord was fun, but very weird.
-I know, pityo. - he replied, looking into the distance. -Ai…May I hug you?-
Glasron tilted his head, weirded out. A hug sounded nice, but he didn’t know why his Lord would offer. - All right, sir.- he agreed, and squeaked when Lord Glorfindel just bent down and picked him up like a toddler, hugging him close to his chest and pressing his cheek to his hair. Lord Glorfindel’s long braid smelled of something sweet, and he was very warm.
-Sir?- he muttered into his shoulder, finding himself surprisingly comfortable.
-Ai, hínya.- Lord Glorfindel only squeezed him harder, whispering with distress a long string of elvish.
Glasron hummed, returning the hug. It was nice, even if unexpected.