The Littlest Warrior

The rays of Anor brightly lit the morning sky, and the residents of Imladris were beginning their day, cheerfully going about their daily routines. The sweet smell of freshly washed laundry wafted through the air as it was hung from the numerous lines outside the doors of the washhouse. Warriors full of the exuberance and energy of youth made their way to the training fields, eager to test their skills against their older more experienced teachers. The kitchen was a hive of activity as cooks and bakers made ready for the noon and evening meals. The scent of fresh baked bread, rolls, and pie emanating from the ovens lingered on the breeze like an enticing perfume. Chambermaids and housekeepers dusted and cleaned, made beds and prepared the last homely house for the day as if visitors were about to arrive, and Glorfindel, Commander of Imladris’ military slowly made his way to the stables.

The golden one made a slight detour on his path this morning, stopping at the kitchens, his purpose, dual; to beg treats for his beloved Asfaloth, and to flirt with one of his favorite people, Nénilya, an elf more ancient than even he. Nénilya was the chief cook, in charge of the kitchens and everything that came in or went out from them. ‘Nilya’, as Glorfindel was wont to call her, ran her kitchens with military precision, something that the Balrog slayer could definitely appreciate. Everything was arranged to perfection; each morning her ‘troops’ were assembled no later than 6:00 a.m. and the morning meal was organized.

Of course Nilya herself was on duty long before that, stoking the stoves and inspecting pans, salvers, goblets, china and eating utensils. Everything had to be perfect for her Lord and his family, the twins were particular favorites of hers, and she could often be found shooing the two rascals out of her domain and away from her berry pies. A distant cousin of the once High King Fingolfin, Nénilya was now proud to call herself a member of Elrond’s house. She had seen and endured much in her many years on Arda, the fall of Doriath, and Gondolin, the birth of Elros and Elrond, the rise of the Last Alliance, and the deaths of both Gil-galad and Glorfindel; the latter of whom was now leaning against the archway leading into her kitchen, once again gracing her with that wicked, mischievous smile…

“And what brings you to my door this morn Lord Glorfindel…or do I have to ask? I tell you now if it is a sample of my pies you seek you might as well turn ‘round right now and be about your business, for my cupboards are closed to you,” she said in a dictatorial huff.

Glorfindel advanced on her slowly, a glint clearly showing in his eye. “My dear lady, surely you do not think me so shallow that my only interest in your kitchens is…your wares?”

“Lord Glorfindel I assure you your interests are of no concern to me,” she said haughtily, turning her back on him and moving towards the large washbasin. “As you can see I have much to do to prepare for the noon meal and your presence here can only serve as a distraction, and a nuisance to my staff, so if there is nothing more sir… I bid you be on your way.”

Glorfindel continued to press forward, and in one swift move grabbed her from behind and engulfed her in a forceful hug, lifting her off the floor and swinging her around in a circle.

“Put me down you rascal! Your false attentions will gain you no ground with me this day!” she squealed as he gently placed her back on her feet.

“False attentions?” he queried with a mystified look of innocence on his face. Taking her hand he bowed over it, “My dear lady I assure you, my attentions are, as always, true. As true as the blue of your eyes and the golden rays of Anor that shine down upon your lovely countenance,” he said, delicately kissing her fingers.

Nénilya’s stony gaze suddenly changed, her once forbidding expression was immediately replaced with a beaming smile.

“Well you best not let Master Erestor hear you say that, you mischievous old rake or we will both be strung up by our hosen.”

Glorfindel’s belly laugh was heard throughout the entire kitchen, “I dare say you are right Lady Nilya, Erestor is forgiving of many things, but I do not think a dalliance between the two of us would be one of them,” he said laughing.

Giggling like a young elleth she playfully swatted him in the chest and pushed him away from her.

“So what are you doing down here today ‘Del? You are not going to try and tell me they failed to feed you this morning…I made sure that your favorite cold chicken was sent to the table…you did not let those young bucks consume all of it before you got to it did you?”

“No my dear Nilya, those young ones will have to rise much earlier than they do to beat me to a plate of your cold fowl.” "No,” he said as he wrapped her in another affectionate hug, “I was hoping that perhaps you might have some carrots or perhaps and apple or two that I might take to Asfaloth.”

“Hummmmm, what have you done now Glorfindel?” she asked suspiciously.

Glorfindel tried unsuccessfully to give her his best affronted look. ”What makes you think I have done something wrong?” he questioned innocently.

“Because I know you golden one. To be here? Searching for treats for Asfaloth…first thing in the morning before he has even had his feed? Oh, you have done something all right, the only question is what, and how serious it is?”

“You know me too long and too well Nilya, and truth be told I have made a promise I do not know that I can keep.”

“And this has to do with Asfaloth?”

“Aye…Lord Elrond was in a bit of a pickle last eve, and in trying to extricate him from his dilemma, I believe I have rather ‘put my foot in it’, so to speak. He could not get Estel to eat, and I promised the little one that if he ate his cabbage I would let him ride Asfaloth.”

“Oh dear!”

“Yes, so you can see why I am in need of your help…I am going to have to use everything at my disposal to get him to agree to this.”

“Yes, I see. You know ‘Del, it might not be as bad as you think. I know Asfaloth can be cantankerous at times, but he would never do anything to hurt the wee one.”

“I know, I know…but it cannot hurt to be prepared. Do you think you could see your way clear to…”

“Say no more meldir, I will prepare a little satchel for you…I think you are going to need more than an apple or two for this one,” she said smiling. “As a matter of fact, I believe I have a small piece of that hardened sugar treat left that I made for Colwandë.”

The Balrog slayer stood smiling as his dear friend scurried about the kitchen making the special satchel of treats for his beloved Asfaloth. As he watched Nilya he could not help but marvel at the care and concern she always showed for the plight of others. Those from the outside world might think of her as only a mere cook, but Glorfindel knew better…it was nice he thought, to have friends in high places.