Erestor's Journal, entry #4832.
Today was off to a rousing start, mere moments after I dared step foot out of my room. I'll attempt to compile:
One page of Drakes and Worms of the Greatermost East ruined - this is all thanks to Glorfindel deciding he was going to put his lips all over everyone's faces this morning. The tip of the quill went skidding down over the page I was transcribing, meaning that I shall have to start over from the beginning or rebind the entire book, to cover up the mistake. I can't abide cutting a page out. And to think, I just got that drake scale adhered on page eighty-two. How extremely frustrating, especially with so little time left to complete it.
One spilled cup of tea - cleaned up after being lobbed (along with whatever else was within reach) at Glorfindel's head.What a waste of perfectly good miruvor. How can anyone expect me to properly gather my thoughts together for the duration of today, without my morning cup of tea?
One blackberry tart - three-fourths of which was gone before mid-day, with a note about how spectacular it was, signed GLORFINDEL in oversized letters at the bottom. I had one bite before someone informed me that Glorfindel the Mighty was attempting to paint his own mural depicting his battle with the balrog, using Elrond's face in place of the balrog's face. While I was unable to reason with him as far as not painting at all was concerned, I did convince him that it wasn't in his best interest to depict Elrond in such an unflattering manner at this point in time. Reluctantly - though he's marring a wall with the attempt - I had to admit that the painting might keep him out of everyone's hair. Thus, I let him be.
Crates - oversaw that they were all in order, thanks to the woodworkers. Now we'll have plenty with which to ship some of the wines from the cellar, for the wedding. We might as well share the wealth, we can't take it all with us. This might also serve to ship some of the other breakables Lady Arwen might wish to take with her.
Books - I've spared one crate for myself, in which I'll bring several books to Minas Tirith, so that they might be included in the library there. It would be a waste of accumulated knowledge, if they were left behind here, seeing as how I can only take a scant few of my favorite tomes when we sail.
Covered cart - arranged and a cart-driver found, with payment settled. I am absolutely not riding on a horse, and I am not going to have my foot stomped on for a second time by some deadly and temperamental hooved beast. While I can ride in the cart and read in comfort, this only makes further sense as some of Lady Arwen's things might be perishable if they are rained upon.
A dozen cookies - nine of which were missing before supper and a trail of crumbs led me to Glorfindel's door, which prompted me into my own form of action. I promptly went to one of the healers and inquired about any herbs which might...relieve...forms of compacted digestive processes, most abruptly and thoroughly. I chopped up the leaves, while wearing heavy leather gloves. Then I incorporated it into the cookie mix, baked them, and left the basket outside of Glorfindel's door. Naturally, this was accompanied with my own note:
Whereas his attention span for painting failed miserably, I'm positively certain that the cookies will keep him 'occupied' for a while longer. Or at least it'll keep a chamberpot occupied with his rear overnight, and keep him out of my hair so I can finish some tasks in peace.
If I didn't believe its far too late at this juncture, I'd ask if I could live in a little house nearby. It did seem like such an inconvenience before, since someone would have to be sent to fetch me if Lord Elrond needed anything...and most likely it would be Glorfindel who volunteered...and that's a entire train of thought that I'd rather not let play out in any way, shape, or form. Not even as conjecture. He believes that windows are just as good as doors, for entering places, and he only rarely bothers to knock before entering.
At any rate, I'd rather finish things quickly. The less Lord Elrond has to deal with these days, the better. Losing Lady Arwen is upsetting to him though he valiantly attempts to hide it for the time being, as its easy enough for all of us to see that Undomiel is unable to contain her happiness at finally being able to wed Estel.
That Lord Elrond did not make him leap through hoops lit on fire, while chased by a pack of rabid wargs, is a miracle within itself.
One page of Drakes and Worms of the Greatermost East ruined - this is all thanks to Glorfindel deciding he was going to put his lips all over everyone's faces this morning. The tip of the quill went skidding down over the page I was transcribing, meaning that I shall have to start over from the beginning or rebind the entire book, to cover up the mistake. I can't abide cutting a page out. And to think, I just got that drake scale adhered on page eighty-two. How extremely frustrating, especially with so little time left to complete it.
One spilled cup of tea - cleaned up after being lobbed (along with whatever else was within reach) at Glorfindel's head.
One blackberry tart - three-fourths of which was gone before mid-day, with a note about how spectacular it was, signed GLORFINDEL in oversized letters at the bottom. I had one bite before someone informed me that Glorfindel the Mighty was attempting to paint his own mural depicting his battle with the balrog, using Elrond's face in place of the balrog's face. While I was unable to reason with him as far as not painting at all was concerned, I did convince him that it wasn't in his best interest to depict Elrond in such an unflattering manner at this point in time. Reluctantly - though he's marring a wall with the attempt - I had to admit that the painting might keep him out of everyone's hair. Thus, I let him be.
Crates - oversaw that they were all in order, thanks to the woodworkers. Now we'll have plenty with which to ship some of the wines from the cellar, for the wedding. We might as well share the wealth, we can't take it all with us. This might also serve to ship some of the other breakables Lady Arwen might wish to take with her.
Books - I've spared one crate for myself, in which I'll bring several books to Minas Tirith, so that they might be included in the library there. It would be a waste of accumulated knowledge, if they were left behind here, seeing as how I can only take a scant few of my favorite tomes when we sail.
Covered cart - arranged and a cart-driver found, with payment settled. I am absolutely not riding on a horse, and I am not going to have my foot stomped on for a second time by some deadly and temperamental hooved beast. While I can ride in the cart and read in comfort, this only makes further sense as some of Lady Arwen's things might be perishable if they are rained upon.
A dozen cookies - nine of which were missing before supper and a trail of crumbs led me to Glorfindel's door, which prompted me into my own form of action. I promptly went to one of the healers and inquired about any herbs which might...relieve...forms of compacted digestive processes, most abruptly and thoroughly. I chopped up the leaves, while wearing heavy leather gloves. Then I incorporated it into the cookie mix, baked them, and left the basket outside of Glorfindel's door. Naturally, this was accompanied with my own note:
Oh Glorious One, please feel free to test the latest batch of mint cookies, and do let me know what you thought of them. I'm attempting to adjust the recipe from that in the book. I also thought this would be an appropriate means of apologizing for the tea incident this morn. Many thanks and warmest regards, Erestor.
Whereas his attention span for painting failed miserably, I'm positively certain that the cookies will keep him 'occupied' for a while longer. Or at least it'll keep a chamberpot occupied with his rear overnight, and keep him out of my hair so I can finish some tasks in peace.
If I didn't believe its far too late at this juncture, I'd ask if I could live in a little house nearby. It did seem like such an inconvenience before, since someone would have to be sent to fetch me if Lord Elrond needed anything...and most likely it would be Glorfindel who volunteered...and that's a entire train of thought that I'd rather not let play out in any way, shape, or form. Not even as conjecture. He believes that windows are just as good as doors, for entering places, and he only rarely bothers to knock before entering.
At any rate, I'd rather finish things quickly. The less Lord Elrond has to deal with these days, the better. Losing Lady Arwen is upsetting to him though he valiantly attempts to hide it for the time being, as its easy enough for all of us to see that Undomiel is unable to contain her happiness at finally being able to wed Estel.
That Lord Elrond did not make him leap through hoops lit on fire, while chased by a pack of rabid wargs, is a miracle within itself.
Comments