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„Lindir, my beloved,“ exclaimed a melodious voice. A grey-clad figure with windblown blond hair jumped down from the windowsill.
Lindir startled. He had been absorbed in a musical idea that had been stuck in his head since the morning and that he was trying to get on paper.
„Father,“ he said while standing up and shuffling his notes to safety. „How unexpected to see you.“
Gildor Inglorion shook his head with a faux disappointed smile. „You don’t sound happy to see me. Aren’t you excited? I bring news from far away.“ He sauntered towards Lindir and they embraced.
„Of course I’m happy to see you, father,“ Lindir sighed. „But you do have this gift of arriving at the most inopportune of times.“
Gildor laughed. „That’s part of the adventure. You never know where the wind will guide you next.“ He moved his hand in an grand gesture. „I’ll never understand how you can be content sitting in Imladris all year round, talking, playing songs, and minding books. Even our forefathers loved to explore new lands.“ His eyes went distant for a moment.
„Maybe the proclivity for adventure passed over a generation,“ Lindir said, as he put away his harp and his stack of papers for good. „Now follow me, we have good food and a warm hearth for weary adventurers.“
„Excellent,“ said Gildor. Seemingly out of nowhere, he produced a slightly rumpled lily of the valley flower and stepped closer to Lindir. Carefully he put it into the braid that went around Lindir’s head. For a moment his hand touched the strands of hair that held more silver than gold.
Then he turned with a flourish and strode towards the great hall.
Lindir slowly touched the flower, securing it, and followed Gildor to the hall, unable to suppress a small smile.