Today was no different. Seeking solace, you found yourself wandering into the grand library’s vast collection, pouring over ancient texts in search of a solution to a recent border skirmish. The tranquil ambience did little to soothe your frustration.

Pulling a scroll from a high shelf and settling into a secluded corner, the tranquillity was short-lived. His presence, commanding as ever, entered the room and ushered to his desk. As he made careful steps, he paused upon seeing you, a frown creasing his brow.

“Are you following me now?” you snapped, more out of exhaustion than anger at the possible argument of the rise.

“This is my domain,” he replied icily. “if anyone is an intruder here, it is you.”

You turned your attention back to the scroll, determined to ignore him, but the words blurred before your eyes. you could feel his gaze lingering on you, a mixture of disdain and something else—curiosity, perhaps?

“Must you handle those so carelessly?” Erestor’s voice was a cold reprimand, slicing through the quiet.

You glared at him; your patience had worn thin. “If you didn’t insist on micromanaging every little detail, perhaps we could finish this task sometime before the next Age.”

Erestor’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, instead, he focused on his own work, though his mind kept drifting back to your grip on the scrolls, your defiant stance and the fire in your eyes. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, his presence like a dark shoulder over your shoulder. “That document is irrelevant.”

You stiffened, refusing to turn and face him. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion, Counsellor.”

He rose from his desk and moved to stand beside you, too close for your liking. His scent, a mix of parchment, peppermint oil and something uniquely him, filled your senses. “And yet, here I am, offering it. This is a matter of great importance, one that requires more than a cursory glance at outdated and delicate texts.”

Your grip on the scroll tightened. “Unlike you, I believe in understanding history before making decisions that affect lives.”

Erestor scoffed. “Understanding history is one thing, being paralysed by it is another. If you would stop dwelling on the past—”

“And start making reckless decisions like you?” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. His dark eyes flashed with anger, but beneath it, you thought you saw something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

“You presume much, diplomat,” he spat, his voice dangerously low.

“And you presume too little,” you shot back. “Perhaps if you spent less time criticising others and more time considering their perspectives, we might actually make progress.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, taut and heavy. Then, to your surprise, Erestor sighed and ran a hand through his long, silky, dark hair. “Perhaps there is merit to your words,” he admitted reluctantly.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift. “Excuse me?”

He glanced at you, a hint of a remorseful smile playing at his lips. “I am saying that you might be right. We have been at odds since your arrival, but perhaps we both seek the same goal.”

Your heart skipped a beat. This was the first time he had shown anything other than disdain. “Are you suggesting a truce?”

“Of sorts,” he muttered. “If we are to resolve this conflict, we must work together, not against each other.”

You studied his face, searching for any signs of deceit, but found none. Reluctantly, you nodded. “Agreed. For the sake of our people.”

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, the nature of your interactions began to change. The barbed comments and icy glares gave way to the civil discourse and even, on rare occasions, laughter. You discovered that beneath the Chief Counsellor’s aloof exterior lay a sharp mind and dry wit that could rival your own.

One evening, as you worked late in the library, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found Erestor watching you, his expression inscrutable. “Can’t sleep?” you asked, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

He shook his head. “I find myself restless. You?”

“These texts are proving more elusive than I anticipated,” you admitted, gesturing to the piles of scrolls and books.

Erestor stepped closer, his eyes scanning the documents. “May I?”

You nodded, and he took a seat beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence, the only sounds were the rustle of parchment and the occasional murmur of agreement. As the hours passed, you found yourself stealing glances at him, noticing the way the candlelight played on his features, softening the hard lines of his face. You realised, with a start, that your feelings for him had shifted. The animosity had given way to something deeper, something you were not ready to name.

“Thank you.” Your voice broke a long silence with a soft whisper.

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “For what?”

“For this,” you gestured to the workspace you shared. “For helping me. For seeing me as more than just your adversary.”

Erestor smiled a genuine smile that made your heart ache. “And thank you for challenging me. It has been…refreshing. Not many are brave nor bold to step to my level.”

The air between you seemed to change, charged with an unspoken tension. You wondered if he felt it too, if he sensed the shift in your relationship. As if reading your mind came naturally, Erestor reached out his hand to cover yours. The touch was light and tentative, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Perhaps we are more alike than we thought,” he said quietly.

“Your breath caught in your throat. “Indeed, perhaps we are…”

In the days that followed, the tentative truce between you blossomed into something more profound. You found yourself gravitating towards each other, seeking the other’s company even outside of your shared duties. The camaraderie that had once been a reluctant necessity now felt like a vital part of your lives.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling meeting with Lord Elrond, you and Erestor found yourselves alone in the gardens. The night was cool, the stars were twinkling above, casting a serene glow over Imladris.

“Walk with me?” Erestor suggested, his voice softer than usual.

Nodding, together you strolled through the winding paths, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air and the sound of tinkling laughter in the distance could be heard. Nonetheless, the silence between you was comfortable—each lost in your thoughts. Finally, Erestor was the first to stop walking and turned to face you. “There is something I need to say,” he began in a serious tone.

“What is it?” you asked with a slight skip in your heartbeat.

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. “I have been a foll. I let my pride and prejudice blind me to what was right in front of me. You.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“Let me finish,” he begged. “I see now how wrong I was, how my arrogance and fear drove a wedge between us. But in these past weeks, I have come to respect you, to admire you. And more than that, I have come to care for you deeply.”

Your breath hitched, emotions swirling within you. “Erestor…”

He stepped closer to bridge the gap, his hand reaching out to cradle your cheek. “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I am asking for it anyway. I am asking for a chance to prove that I can be more than your adversary.”

“You started off as the worst thing I could have ever encountered during my time here,” you began, watching keenly at his sheepish grin, “making my days unbearable, until they weren’t.”

Erestor laughed softly, dipping his head to hide the look of humour. “I know this, and I deeply apologise for the trouble I have caused.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you placed your hand over his. “You already have,” you breathed. “And I…I care for you too. More than I ever thought possible.”

A look of relief washed over his face, and he took the opportunity to lean in cautiously, his forehead resting against yours. “Then perhaps, we can start anew. As allies, as friends…and maybe something more.”

Smiling through your tears, you nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, Erestor. I would like that very much.”

Utilising the opportunity granted, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with the promise of new beginnings.

Masterlist

No matter how hard he attempted to dismiss it, he couldn’t banish this overpowering emotion. It was as though you were an unstoppable and immovable force who had infiltrated his being, someone who seemed acutely aware of the impact you had on those around you. Your enigmatic figure casually meandered through the area, seemingly oblivious to his own statue-like presence.

A sly smile graced your lips, stretching into unrestrained laughter. It was evident that you found amusement in his starstruck demeanour, the sparkle in your eyes betraying your true intentions. This façade was deliberate, he was convinced; you couldn’t possibly be so naive as to overlook the repercussions of your actions.

You strolled about with an effortless elegance, your hair adorned with flowers like a personal halo, and a natural radiance that outshone the sun itself. The summer sun could not maintain its glow when you existed. It was impossible to outshine your very existence. And so, he silently cursed the heavens for placing such an angelic being on this accursed earth, forced to mingle with a motley crew of ruffians. The question that consumed his thoughts was why you had chosen to be here, among those who failed to recognize and adore them as you truly deserved.

Your garments flowed gracefully with each step, mirroring the fluidity of your body’s movements as you hopped from one vendor stall to another. Laughter erupted as you pointed out items and engagingly interacted with the vendors. For all the years he had dwelled in this city, he had been under an enchantment, unable to perceive such unfathomable beauty, magnificence, and perfection. Or perhaps it was his own eyes that had been shrouded by a veil, obscuring his view of this incredible allure.

Such magnificence should be treasured and adored, and put into poetry to be read thousands of times over and over again with cravings to capture the essence of how ethereal you are.

He yearned to reach out and grasp the aura that surrounded you, the presence that enveloped your being and bestowed upon them such mirth. He wished to immerse himself in it, letting it warm his soul and dispel the lingering coldness that had haunted him for years. You were his reason to smile, his reason to exist, his reason to truly live after years of mere existence. He was willing to allow your sunshine to penetrate his life and bring about the change he so desperately needed—for you, for himself.

With the noon sun still high in the sky and the streets relatively deserted, he saw an opportunity. No one seemed to care about his identity at that moment as he strode purposefully through the vendor stalls, making his way towards the person who had ignited this newfound hope within him.

With your focus locked onto a small, exquisitely beautiful hairpin, he sucked in a deep breath and adjusted his hair. Now was the moment, just like in the romance stories he read where the man would approach the woman and swoon her with something unforgettable. This was his moment to repeat all his years of fantasising.

Calling out to you, he watched as you turned to meet his gaze; his eyes capturing a mix of anxiety, courage, and hope. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Everything fell into perfect alignment, he spoke softly, capturing your attention that was the start of forever. “May I be acquainted with such a magnificent beauty?”

Masterlist

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Noon, the hour you always came to see him. The hour you would bless his eyes with your radiant glow. The hour he most appreciated. You were a delight to be around—he would confess to himself at night as he sat under Isil and chatted away—but he still wanted to maintain his strict librarian composure around you. Anything to prevent the snoopy cretins from calling a ‘sappy old man’. Much to his unfortunate delight, you would easily chip that façade away with a simple smile.

Craning his neck in search of your head, he found it frozen by the bookshelves in the novel section. Dismissing himself and leaving the scholars to handle the rest of the antiques and scrolls, he glided across the soundproof carpet and meandered a few bookshelves away from where you stood with your head lost in the clouds. He couldn’t tell or acknowledge the fact that his lips were stretched across his cheeks, however, he knew his cheeks were burning. The brilliance in his eyes the more he gazed heartily at your nonchalant figure, back turned to him and body crouched over the book, an opportunity to make himself known.

Perhaps it was the way the wind blew throughout the stifled room and rattled a few loose parchments across the floor, disturbing your concentration and causing him to catch sight of your face. You craned your neck to glance at the commotion, the thousand fluttering of your lashes, the parting of your lips to moisten them and the slight inhale you would take every now and then. Those were images he had captured millions of times from each moment you both meet and no matter if it were the first of the tenth time he saw the simplest gesture, he would swoon. Swoon and curse at himself for appearing like a lovesick puppy.

What would anyone say if they saw him like that? Mostly how they never imagined the grumpy librarian capable of being soft for anything besides his books.

That part wasn’t false. Even Erestor never imagined a fragile butterfly like yourself finding comfort among the thorns. But thorns were always attached to beautiful things; roses or a beast cursed and doomed to stay in a horrid form and await for someone to truly love him. A fantasy where his desires to be loved by you could come true—your most treasured story and one he knew you returned to read time and time again. Even the light that reflected off the brown leather cover told him it was his story.

Exhaling and straightening his blue robes, his elbow almost knocked a stack of books over and announced his presence before he could. Fumbling to catch the potential culprit, he took another glance over at your refocused disposition and advanced. Taking the least expected route, knowing that you were expecting him, he came from your left and glided closer. His eyes observed your fixed appearance on a particular page, the beast reveals his true identity but demands a deal in return, a chance. The veins in your neck were raised as he could tell you were eager for the deal to be struck; your enthusiasm rippled throughout the spacious room, and it mattered. Your love for his creations, as silly as they might have been to a professional novelist, were eternal treasures.

Feeling the room growing still with anticipation lingering, he crawled closer and shuffled to stand behind your left shoulder. Your peripheral vision was blocked but the chapter appeared more thrilling than a shrouded figure looming pensively in the background. Though preferring the lack of interruptions, this time, your lack of awareness bothered him and gave rise to a frown marring his face. Silently huffing, he peered over your shoulder and then darted to your face before making his presence known. “Back for your seventh reading, I see.”

Jolting out of your skin at the break of tension and tranquillity, you squeaked and stumbled a couple steps away from him. Hand over your mouth while the other cupped the book into your chest to soothe your erratic heartbeat, you annoyingly glared at the wannabe funny library. He had an odd sense of humour at times, and you couldn’t understand if it was sarcasm or just him.

“Dammit Eres, why are you like this?!” you shouted.

Shrugging nonchalantly and turning to look at the other novels on the shelves, anything to avoid a grin from spreading across his face. Teasing him was the last line of action which was a necessary defence he refused to face. You were in his library, you had to suffer his consequences.

Glancing at you still clutching your chest and book, he squeezed his lips together and gave a curt roll of his eyes. “I came to ensure you weren’t disorganising my books, you never leave them as they originally were,” he grumbled while adjusting a few books to stand upright to prove his point.

Scoffing while you walked over to stand before him, you took a moment to observe his hygienic and organising abilities as he readjusted the books. Swiping his fingers to collect dust bunnies and then blowing them away before reshuffling everything in alphabetical order, reminded you of someone you came to be aware of. The frown on his face, the pursed lips, small grumbles and mutters or the little huffs of annoyance were all the characteristics of the grumpy librarian you came to know, who unfortunately bore similarities to another.

“Yes, I came here for my seventh reading to discover the anonymous author of my favourite love story,” you beamed and waved your book around his face to catch his attention, “I’m looking for clues to who the author can be…written patterns and such…”

“And have you found anything so far?” Behind his innocent question, a smirk was hidden as he enjoyed seeing you play investigator to catch the mysterious author.

Perhaps he would turn this into another story and watch as you fumble over recognising the familiarities if you do since he placed himself in the open for you to identify. You were quite the overthinker and it was enjoyable to play with that and watch you become a frantic chicken; it gave him the chance to initiate more time with you without directly throwing it out there. More time for him to devise the proper way to break his silence on matters of the heart.

“I did,” you boasted, “a few striking resemblances to someone I know. But I’m more curious to know why you would allow an anonymous story sit in your library?”

“And who might this person be you assume?” he inquired, taking his head away from his second beloved to stare at you with a grin dancing on his lips.

“Hey, don’t answer my question with a question!” You jabbed the edge of the book into his stomach and watched as he winched. “Oh come on! I didn’t poke you that hard you overdramatic old man!”

Flabbergasted that you would resort to using the term that twins cast upon him after an old incident, he gasped and frowned. “Firstly, I’m not an old man, that’s a term used for mortals. And secondly, how should you know that doesn’t hurt? You’re not the one on the receiving end!”

Rolling your eyes with an exasperated sigh, you walked away and returned to the shelf to resubmit the anonymous novel. “You know, I thought that you’d be honest and willing when it came to things like this instead of acting like it’s taboo,” you languidly whispered once you slide the book in the nook. Your back was still turned to him and your eyes staring off into the distance. “Do you not trust me Erestor? Do you not trust me enough to tell me that it’s you writing all these anonymous stories?”

Silence befell you both. All breathing was withheld from intruding the moment, but it was you who moved first to face him once again as the air shifted from suffocating to anticipating. Yet, he still said nothing as he looked at your discovery. His face held no thrill or mirth despite it lingering in his heart. It was not the reaction he was hoping to gain from you, quite the opposite in fact. He had read it endlessly from other love stories. You were supposed to continue chasing until you came to him for the truth and then the story would begin; his unwritten chapter. The mysteriousness is what kept the reader going, even when they found out. Why the despair and gloom?

“Are…are you disgruntled by my lack of assistance?” he murmured too soft to be the tone of the librarian you knew.

Swaying your head from side to side gently, you hummed, “In a sense, I am, but not to any extremities. I just don’t see why you would keep it a secret from me. Do you believe that I would embarrass you by revealing it to the entirety of Imladris or you simply did not wish for me to know?”

An apologetic smile graced his face, and he was forced to dip his head to meet the floor, but not swiftly enough to hide it. Your eyes caught it but decided not to push on since he wasn’t someone fond of being confronted for every little unusual action. Some things were better left unspoken and only observed in peace.

Chanting in his head to compose himself and walk away instead of spilling his heart, his heart took hold of the reigns and halted his intrusive thoughts. There would be none of that today!

“It’s not that, it’s…” he lifted his head and looked at the opposite end of the aisle, “…that page you were reading about the beast striking the deal for his identity…”

Ah! “…You wanted to strike a deal between us for the revealing of the author?”

“Yes, but I also wanted your persistence. The thrill of watching you attempt to discover it was me before giving up and turning for help.”

I wanted the deal so I can confess without coming forward because I can never say ‘I like you’ openly.

Those were his true words.

Finding the willingness to laugh at his reason and the innocence he displayed, you stepped closer. This was a side of the librarian that you found impossible to exist after his displays of solitude and reluctance towards romance novels. He would grumble or roll his eyes and call them immature or ridiculous while actively praising adventurous and mysterious stories. The distance some people would go to keep the truth hidden was remarkable, and in his case, phenomenal.

“And had I come to you, what would have been the deal made to learn of the author?” you curiously inquired, crossing your arms.

Widening his eyes and darting them downwards, his hands shot out to fidget and adjust his robes as though he had an itch. Straightening out his collar, tightening the belt around his waist, dusting imaginary dust off his clothes, he was doing everything to avoid your question. While the thought process went smoothly in his head, the reality was a lot more complex and left him tongue-tied.

“The same thing the beast asked in the story, isn't it? For a chance?” At first, there was a longing stillness washing over the tranquil ambience of the studious room before a curt hum buzzed and shifted the frequency. You were now on another wavelength, that you’ve desired for years. Brought there by the stoic old man who still refused to make eye contact now that all was revealed to your eyes. “You never struck me as someone who enjoys romance Eres, but then again, you were personified as the beast in the story. He was very sweet, so, there must be some romantic aspect about you.”

You did this all because you wanted to be closer to me. What other secrets do you keep Eres?

His head whipped over to turn on his famous Erestor annoyed glare as your taunting words slipped out. “Sometimes I do regret telling you things.”

“Aw, come one now Eres! After all the running around we both did, you’re going to let one little comment ruin an opportunity.” His eyes became saucers at the final word. He half expected you to continue laughing in his face or shrug and walk away, returning things to normalcy between you both and forget this ever happened, however, your response felt like a mirage.

“So, you would agree to the proposal?” he asked and stood at attention to face you head-on. No shakiness or fear in his stance and voice. Standing before you were your brave librarian.

Nodding and giving him a tender smile, you agreed, “Hm, it would be wrong of me to reject when I can get to see more of this romantic side. You have made me intrigued. Tell me, have you written any other novels about yourself in love?”

Closing the unwanted gap between you both, he mirrored your amused expression while standing no more than a foot taller. He took a leap of faith, or he would blame the wind curling around his body as his left hand lifted to push a lock of your hair behind your ear. “If you agree to have a walk with me tonight, I’ll tell you about one I’m currently working on which involves you.”

“Then I believe we have ourselves a date and a deal then.”

Masterlist

𑁍 Have some fruits, finger foods and snacks along with a favourite book or two of his and simply enjoy the peace and quiet among each other. Not to worry, he knows that it’s a date you prepared, hence, he will make the effort to engage in hearty communication.

𑁍 It will start off with small talks about his day and how his work for Lord Elrond had progressed or any new projects he had upcoming. Perhaps his annoyance with people he’s encountered during the week or month gone by.

𑁍 Having a date with Erestor is also a moment when he’s at his most relaxed state to rant and express all the overwhelming emotions he might have kept bubbled up. Consider yourself as his therapist, but not one who solves his problems, the one that lends their ear and shoulder.

𑁍 At the same time, he doesn’t want the entire date to be filled with him complaining about people, especially after all the time and effort you placed into arranging a day for you and him to get away from the hectic life.

𑁍 Erestor would prefer if all your dates were scheduled in the evening period, coming closer to nightfall so he can observe the stars alongside you—yes, he can be romantic. Either of you will be pressed against each other, whether lying on the blanket or against a tree, observing the constellations.

𑁍 He’ll engage in a small lecture, giving you a short insight into the creation of the stars and their meanings if you hadn’t known. Should you know the history of the stars, then it’s mostly him admiring them.

𑁍 A few poems might get created on the spot and some comparisons between you and the creations would get blurted out. You can choose at this moment to thank him with a kiss or a flower crown you were busy making earlier, or both. Either way, Erestor would blush and respond with gratitude.

𑁍 Sometimes, your evenings would be spent with him reading a tale or creating new stories off the top of his head. He might not be eagerly into singing as the others, but you can both engage in a soft tune. Most likely, he would recite a poem and you would set the ambience with your instruments.

𑁍 Should you be lucky, a small dance coming closer to the end could possibly occur so long as Erestor is in the mood to get off his feet and twirl about the grass. He might huff or grumble a bit, but of course, he will bend to your wishes.

𑁍 This day was planned for you both to relax and bask in the pleasures of tranquillity, one little dance would not hurt or ruin his day. In fact, it would add an extra spark of brightness to end his date. Something he would write into a poem or book.

𑁍 Throughout the day, you would hear his tone of voice lightening as the weight of stress vanishes. Not entirely chirpy, but with a smile on the corners of his mouth and some light in his eyes.

𑁍 You can expect a kiss as the date comes to an end, his silent way of expressing his gratitude.

Masterlist

Your stance beside him fell into a silent stare the longer Arien moved across the sky. Arms folded behind your back, sleeves overlapped due to the elves' fascination with appearing as though they floated on air, hair neatly swept into a single braid, back straight, eyes shining with mirth and lip eagerly being chewed on, you stood on your toes and leaned in closer. Craning your neck, your robes hung off your figure and left you with a drowning appearance in greys, blues and browns. The colours wonderfully complimented your eyes and skin tone which were enhanced the moment a gust of wind ripped the curtains apart and Arien’s rays fell on you. Breaking into a smile, from your point of view, Lord Erestor seemed to be engrossed in sorting the manuscripts to notice your approach.

You had the most interesting habit of engaging in any activity the elven Lord was set on accomplishing. Even if it meant standing on the side and conversing for the area was out of your expertise— being a scholar who specialised in medicine. Your time spent with Lord Erestor over the year and a half you were welcomed into Imladris were the greatest moments experienced. There was never a dull moment with him no matter how grumpy he appeared. His grumpiness was a beacon to you.

“My Lord, are you ignoring me? Lord Elrond requested you to assist me with gathering information from manuscripts in the archives on mugwort and eucalyptus...” you sang as you inched yourself closer to the ladder and looked up at him. His face was set, and his eyes fixated on the shelves before him, not once did they dip in your direction.

A slight frown marred your face.

“Are you still planning on writing your book?” his voice piqued up from the empty silence the library had fallen into it.

You jolted at the shock of his deepened voice. It was rare he used that tone when communicating with you. “So he listens and speaks? I thought for a moment you were deaf?” you chortled.

Shaking his head slightly and closing his eyes, Erestor sighed at your so-called humorous antics. To think that within the year and a half flew by, he would have been accustomed to all of them by now, it appeared as though you had a few stashed up your sleeves. Reopening his eyes, his hand reached for another script and placed it beside the others. Though his eyes were stern, his lips were loose and friendly. The corners were lifted. “I’ve told you time and time again, when working, speak work matters,” he reminded you with a lack of seriousness in his voice.

“But wouldn’t that make your work boring… Ah, right, right, Of course. How could I forget?” you snickered. Your head nods at the recollection of why he was boring as the others claimed him to be. Not receiving any feedback, you turned away from him, and cast your attention on other objects scattered across the room; the single table that held a vase with a single flower, the empty bookshelves, the stacks of hardcover books and the rolled-up rug in the eastern wing. The twins had spilt wine on the rug one evening when they came to annoy you and Erestor. You remembered watching the poor librarian catch a stroke as he scolded them. Breaking into a smile and then a small chuckle at the memory, it caught his attention.

Caught between placing the last script on the shelf and observing your shaking figure, he fumbled around before inquiring. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone mad? Laughing at yourself now or perhaps you’ve seen a comical ghost as your human stories have it,” he probed. Brows arched and body half turned in your direction, awaiting your fascinating response. His eyes were no longer strict and were now relaxed, gazing with curiosity.

Whipping your head around to notice him patiently waiting for an answer, you squinted your eyes and pursed your lips. Running your eyes down his body, down the ladder and across the floor to meet your feet, you tilted your head deep in thought. “…I thought when we are at work, only work-related matters?” You threw his own words at him, a smirk growing at his baffled state once he realised he had gone back on his words. Sputtering a few noises as his frustration grew, not liking the idea of being caught, he gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

“This is why I don’t like speaking with you! You make everything complicated,” he accused with annoyance laced in his voice. You on the other hand were rolling with laughter. It wasn’t often you managed to trick the Lord and force him into awkwardness.

“Oh, come on Erestor! It was just a joke! You know I’ll inform you anyway,” you consoled. At that moment, you walked over to the ladder and looked up to flash him a sympathetic look, hoping he bought what you conveyed. To your unamused self, he scoffed at your attempts and looked away with a light tint of red peaking at the tips of his ear. The sighting only prompted you to laugh with more gusto.

Hand on your stomach, you curled in to release peals of laughter throughout the library, disrupting the tranquil ambience. If Erestor was in his librarian mode, he would have scolded you for obstruction of peace by now, but he was far busy with covering his ears and adjusting his composure. Huffing and puffing as the sound of your voice diminished into squeaks and large intakes of air, he scowled, “Why must you always be like this? Is there ever a moment when you’re not making things awkward?”

Through your fit of laughter, your gaze turned to him and transformed into foreign shock. A hand over your chest and the other on your stomach while your lips parted to inhale and exhale exasperatedly, you gawked at him. “What do you mean ‘why am I always like this’? …Am I not supposed to be jovial around my friend? I mean, I apologise if I make things awkward, but it’s just how I am when I'm around people I’m fond of. You should know,” you proclaimed. A brilliant smile had made its way across your face and touched your eyes.

Erestor couldn’t help but remain still as he listened to your words. He had heard them from Lord Glorfindel before, but they sounded different when emitted from you— a little warmth and sunshine, glad tidings and mirth. With his stillness as he remained perched on the ladder, leaning against the shelf, he stared at you and wonder what he could possibly say to counteract your words. He always had some quirky remark, but instead, he remained voiceless. Tightening his grip as he motioned his body to move down the ladder, his thoughts raced with the ulterior motive behind your words. You considered him your friend, as if he didn't know, but refused to admit. What were you attempting to do?

“Are you alright Lord Erestor? I didn’t say something to offend you? I mean, I know you elves have a different concept of expressing emoti—”

“— No you did not.” He paused at the base of the ladder before shifting to stand before the desk filled with scrolls and parchments. His cheeks were hurting from the stress of resisting to form a smile— he was touched. Calling someone a friend was a high act of affection and it was odd for anyone to consider him given his cold exterior and persona— Glorfindel not included. “It’s just…you consider me a friend.”

Quizzically chuckling, you walked around to greet him at the front of the desk and corrected him. “Not ‘a friend’, ‘my friend’. And yes, I do! What, you think that after spending a year and a half around you I wouldn’t consider you my best buddy? Yeah, you’re grumpy, but I can live with it!” you assured with a brilliant smile and shrug.

Lifting his head to turn his smile into a frown at your choice of words, he grumbled, “I am not grumpy! I simply lack the will and strength to lift my facial muscles to produce a joyous appearance.”

“…Hm, that sounds right. You are complicated, but at least you’re my complicated friend.” You shook your head and frowned at his complexity. You could feel the headache coming on.

“This is exactly why I’m not friends with you in the first place. You bully me,” he announced casually with a disappointed shake of his head as he strutted towards the exit. From your angle, you couldn’t see the smirk on his face at his joy at teasing you.

Gasping at the absurdity, you did not hesitate to trail after him, robes flowing behind you dramatically while you bored a look of disbelief. “How dare you accuse me of bullying you! Especially after all that we’ve been through! Get back here!” you exclaimed as you waved your fist in the air.

All Erestor did was roll his eye and shook his head tediously while he stood at the door holding it open with an unamused look. “You're the reason I question my sanity.”

Masterlist