meretricula | LotR drabblish

more from the summer.

Not-So-Nervous Habits

Glorfindel watched Erestor out of the corner of his eye as the councilor skimmed over some documents at the breakfast table. As soon as Elrond noticed, he would confiscate the papers for the duration of the meal, but for the moment, the lord of the valley was distracted by a food-fight between his twin offspring, and Erestor was safe. He wasn't really interested in the contents of his reading, though; Glorfindel could tell, because he was fidgeting with the tiny silver hoop threaded through his left ear. It wasn't a nervous habit, because when Erestor was nervous he held perfectly still, and glared, but it was a habit nonetheless. Whenever Erestor had a hand free (and it was usually his left hand, because Erestor was right-handed, although it was always funny to watch when his hands' roles were reversed) he would twist his earring, unless he was absorbed enough in what he was doing to let his left hand sit idle. He'd had the piercing for centuries (Celebrian had supplied the ornament, and Elrond had punched the needle through his ear on one particularly slow day, back when they were still settling into the valley, and there were few enough people to be fussed over that they could all take a few hours to just be together), but before that he'd tugged on the earlobe, just as habitually. It was kind of cute, really.

Glorfindel was drawn out of his introspection by a gentle tap on his right forefinger, which was, he suddenly realized, completely wrapped up in a very long lock of golden hair. "Don't think so hard," Erestor said fondly, efficiently unwinding the errant strands from Glorfindel's hand and plaiting them back into some semblance of order. "You've been playing with your hair for the past five minutes. You'll give yourself a headache, not to mention a nasty snarl."

Glancing down the table, Glorfindel had no choice but to smile. Elrond was pinching the bridge of his nose as contemplated the mess the twins had made of their breakfast. Elladan's nose was twitching as he realized that punishment was in store; Elrohir, still unconcerned, was staring at the end of his own. Arwen was intently wriggling her toes, one at a time, in her mother's arms, while Celebrian ran over her day's schedule in her head, saying about every fifth word out loud. Melpomaen was sketching sums in the air, still working on the budget he had to turn in that afternoon; Lindir was tapping some complicated rhythm on the tabletop, adding an occasional stomp for a particularly accented downbeat. And Erestor, when Glorfindel looked back at the elf sitting at his side, was playing with his earring again.

Glorfindel shrugged, and picked up his fork in his left hand, because the lock of hair Erestor had just braided for him was twisted around his right.