56. The Harp
"No. Leave that."
Erestor turned, the lap harp still in his hands. It was a beautiful instrument, crafted by Maglor well over an Age before and gifted to a young Elrond when he had been accepted into Gil-Galad's household. He could clearly remember many evenings in the Hall of Fire, when Elrond had accompanied his wife on the harp as she had sung, or times when the entire family had joined together with flute and harp and tambor and lute and voice. Surely he didn't mean to leave this treasure here!! "My lord?"
"Leave it." Elrond reiterated and then shook his head. "It calls forth too many memories I would rather leave behind," he stated quietly and then turned away.
Erestor knew that Elrond was sensitive to any mention of Maglor or his childhood with the sons of Fëanor. He had scrupulously removed all reminders of those years from his home, but had kept the harp through the Ages despite everything. For him to change his mind now…
No. Erestor wouldn't allow the weariness and grief that was now overwhelming his lord to give rise to later regrets.
The blankets would hide and protect the harp. But it was coming.
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