“What do you mean, he’s missing?”
“I’m just telling you what she told me,” Gil said, gesturing with his phone before putting it down on the bedside table. “No one’s been able to find Glorfindel, including the Angels. He went to Madrid and then seems to have vanished.”
Erestor put down the script he’d been making notes on and stared. “That’s ridiculous. Has anyone thought of trying to phone him? Or email?”
“The phone gives that ‘not available at this time’ message, which could mean anything from it being switched off to he dropped it down the toilet, and she says she got Elrond to mail him and there was no reply.”
Erestor glared at him. “Why did she ask El? Has El even got his current address? Why didn’t she ask me?”
Gil-galad sank down onto the side of the bed with a sigh and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Ery, I was up at six, worked half the day on something that’s now pointless to me, flew back, lost five hours of my life… if you want to yell at someone, phone Aunty and take it out on her. I don’t know – maybe she didn’t think you’d have his current email address, maybe she feels awkward about my partner being that close to an ex…”
“Galadriel wouldn’t recognise feeling awkward if it bit her,” Erestor said tartly, flicking through his phone. “And everyone knows Glory and I stay in touch. It’s a lifetime’s habit almost. Not strange at all. We feel odd if we don’t. Why? Do you think it’s strange?” The phone rang seven times and diverted to voicemail.
“No, of course not,” Gil-galad said, maybe a bit too quickly. “You’re like family. You’ve explained that to me before. Many times. No reply?”
“No.” He messaged Glory on WhatsApp, just in case, then moved to email where he selected the third of the addresses he had under ‘Glorf’ and typed: Where the fuck are you? Important! ‘Important’ was a key word between them; no matter how busy, pissed off or distracted, it demanded an immediate response. He tapped ‘send’ and put the phone on top of his notebook. “El wouldn’t have that address. And he likes space sometimes, he might not feel like replying.”
“But he’ll answer yours, yes. Do I have to shower? I feel wrecked.”
“Not if you don’t want to, but you’ll feel better if you do. You shouldn’t drink on the plane, it always hits twice as hard. He’ll answer that, if he doesn’t it means he’s out of internet range.” Erestor blinked. “Oh god, he might be. And cellphone too… Why don’t the Angels know where he is? That’s impossible.”
“Usually it’s nice when they mess up,” Gil said, getting up with another sigh and heading for the bathroom. “This time it’s just one more irritation to add to the list. Keep my side warm – I won’t be long.”
—–o
Facing them sat Galadriel, straight backed, her eyes focusing on a point somewhere between Gil and Elrond, a yellow crystal on a chain hanging from her fingers. As always she looked expensive, elegant and well-bred in her apricot blouse and white cotton pants, her blonde hair in a roll at the back of her head. Erestor was never sure why just the sight of her still intimidated him, but there it was: he just knew she had taken one look at him – tight black jeans and t-shirt, hair up in a bun – and Judged.
“Are you getting anything, Tanis?” Gildor asked at last. She was his cousin and he had never, so far as Erestor knew, been intimidated by her – or by anyone else for that matter. “I’m never sure about this. Will you still pick something up if he’s, you know, not with us any longer?”
Erestor lined up words to flay him with for the suggestion, but Gil was ahead of him, just smoother. “If he was in the Halls they wouldn’t be asking us to find him, would they? They’d know where he was.”
“If you could be quiet, I might get somewhere,” Galadriel said, flicking Gildor an icy look. “You never had patience, it’s the main reason you can’t do this yourself.”
“I can dowse for water and metals?” Gildor said lazily. “In my experience that’s more useful than trying to find lost elves.”
“Shut up, Gildor,” Erestor and Elrond both said.
For a minute Galadriel looked as though she might pack up her map and send them on their way, but then she subsided and held the crystal above the map, her hand almost unnaturally steady, and moved it slowly back and forth, starting at the Arctic Circle and working downwards. Erestor could have told her that was the last place they’d be likely to find Glorfindel: way too cold.
“South Africa.”
“What?”
“Where?”
Galadriel tapped the map impatiently. “South Africa. I knew I should have started at the bottom. Now I need to find a local map…” She gestured towards a low table on the other side of the room and Gil obediently got up and went to look through the maps stacked on it. “There’s a map of Africa, is that all right?” he asked.
She looked annoyed but nodded. “It’ll have to do. It used to be so easy to get a good variety of maps before.”
“That was back before Google Earth,” Elrond said reasonably.
Galadriel was unimpressed. “Instant gratification, all this electronic nonsense. And absolutely no use to us. I cannot dowse over a computer screen.”
“A tablet would be easier,” Gildor said under his breath.
Gil kicked him in passing, shook out the map and put it down after removing the world map. He went back to sit next to Erestor, taking his hand and linking their fingers. He was good at sending non-verbal messages to his great-aunt, often in the form of reminders that yes, she might see it as an unsuitable liaison, but that was his business, no one else’s.
Galadriel focused on the yellow crystal again, moving her hand quickly towards the bottom of the map, then slowing down. As far as Erestor could see, she was somewhere in the region of Zambia. He had been to Southern Africa before, though not recently, and knew the geography.
The room was silent. Faint traffic sounds came from beyond the walled garden on the narrow, tree-lined street, birds were singing somewhere close by. Gildor was checking his phone; Erestor had no idea why he had come along if he was that bored.
Finally, Galadriel looked up, little lines of displeasure between her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “I can’t pinpoint him, objects and ordinary people are a lot easier to find than elves – our fëar sometimes resist it. The best I can do is tell you he’s somewhere in the Western Cape, just outside of Cape Town.” She concentrated a moment longer, then passed the pendant over to Gil who stared at it, perplexed. “You – or Erestor – will have to try and guess where he’s likely to be. All you have to do is get reasonably close; when that happens, the stone will start to glow.”
Gil hastily dropped it into Erestor’s upturned hand. The stone lay smooth and impersonal in his palm, the silver chain pooled around it. Topaz, he thought. There was an energy in it that made him feel uneasy, itchy. “It’ll just glow when we get to the right town?” he asked. “We don’t have to do anything else, just get close enough? How close is close enough?”
Galadriel shrugged and got to her feet after Elrond jumped up to offer her his hand. “I have no idea,” she said. “Fairly close. The entrance to a small town should be sufficient. If anything else comes to me, I’ll let Ereinion know.”
No one else ever called him Ereinion.
The flight from Dusseldorf – there was no direct flight from Italy – was bumpy and unpleasant, but Gil had been criss-crossing the Atlantic regularly for the past six months and slept anyhow. Elrond did Sudoku puzzles and drank water. Erestor alternated between reading, watching movies, and worrying. The sense of being out of touch with Glory was unsettling: they were always able to find one another. Even though he was now with Gil, that knowledge still carried a bone deep sense of security. He rather wished Gildor had come along. For all the snide comments, he understood dowsing and would have been more use doing – whatever – with the crystal than they would. He was a good travelling companion too, but had been on his way to Eastern Europe to round up strays who were likely to ignore the call to sail unless he followed up and insisted. He took his network of relationships more seriously than most people gave him credit.
Cape Town airport when they finally arrived was like any airport anywhere. Erestor had read it had been awarded Best in Africa several times, which made him wonder about the rest of the continent. Elrond, for one of those incomprehensible reasons, attracted the interest of Customs and had his bags searched and his passport scrutinised. At some point in the chain none of them had strictly legal paperwork, but to the best of Erestor’s knowledge Elrond’s passport was quite genuine. Even so, he found he was holding his breath.
Once they were through with all that and exited into the main concourse, Erestor dragged them into the first cellular phone network outlet and got them locally connected, despite Elrond pointing out there would be wifi at the hotel. There was more fuss as they tried to find the hotel shuttle, but finally Gil spotted a young man holding up a hotel sign, his full attention on a young lady in shorts, wearing a top Kim Kardashian would have approved. “Cape Grace?” he asked Erestor pointing.
Erestor sighed, moving his shoulders around to try and ease the ache in the small of his back. “That would be us, yes. It’s a good start to a quest, isn’t it?”
As if to underline the good start, when they left the building it was to discover that far from being ‘sunny South Africa’ as all the adverts claimed, the wind was out full force in Cape Town, and it was raining.
—–o
The ride to the hotel was uneventful and took a little over half an hour. This was more than the website claimed, but in Erestor’s experience that was normal and had probably been timed when there was minimal traffic, possibly at midnight. They shared the shuttle with an American couple, who hammered the driver with questions, and two intense German ladies. Elrond got out his phone and began checking his email, Gil appeared to meditate. After a bit Erestor allowed himself to check his mail too, but there was still nothing from Glorfindel. He tried to focus on being annoyed rather than worried.
They clambered out at the hotel entrance and followed their luggage into the lobby. Erestor, sorting out booking details and passports became aware that Gil was staring at him. “What?”
“This looks expensive,” Gil said pleasantly. “How much is it costing me? I distinctly said book somewhere central, maybe three stars with breakfast. Four at a push.”
Erestor contrived to look puzzled. “Well, you usually want to stay somewhere central, secure, clean and with a restaurant? You know, the basics? And it had wonderful reviews on Trip Advisor. And all sorts of people have stayed here – the Clintons, Matt Damon, Oprah…”
“Which immediately suggested ‘reasonably priced’ to you, yes.”
“For heaven’s sake, Gil. It’s only money. Our situation gives a whole new meaning to the old line about not being able to take it with you.” Trying to deal with jetlag and getting Gil to hand over his passport was making Erestor impatient.
“Victoria and Albert Waterfront,” Elrond intoned smoothly, like an infomercial presenter. “Cape Town’s shopping and restaurant mecca. He showed restraint, Gil. I compared prices, and the One and Only would have set you back double.”
They both turned round to stare at him.
Elrond shrugged. “What? I Googled it in the shuttle and then followed the ‘nearby hotels’ links.”
“I did cut costs too,” Erestor said. “I got us a two bedroomed suite instead of two separate rooms. They had a special rate for stays of over four days, so I booked it for eight.”
Elrond was horrified. “I’m not sharing with you two, are you quite mad? What do you think this is – a buddy road trip movie?”
“Get over yourself,” Gil growled, still taking in the lobby. “Ery, get the rooms – suite – organised. I need a shower and a drink. Not in that order.”
“We need a car.”
Gil sat on the balcony overlooking the marina with a large brandy while Erestor curled up on the couch in the living room going through the brochures the hotel had thoughtfully provided – day excursions, things to do and see. He glanced up at Elrond who had come through fresh from the shower, towelling his hair dry. “We need a car, yes, but we just got here.”
“That’s all right.” Elrond found the mini bar and began exploring it. “We can decide where to look today and then tomorrow morning make an early start.”
Erestor was not and never had been a morning person. He pulled a face. “Yes, I suppose. Though I haven’t a clue where we start. It’s a bigger area than I realised. I’ve got too used to Europe – everything just down the road.”
“The whole point of you being here is that you should be able to guess, I thought?” Elrond turned his attention to the coffee maker instead. “Coffee? Or are you keeping Gil company?”
Erestor shook his head. “It’s a little early for me, really. I don’t know why I’m meant to psychically know where Glory went. He wasn’t predictable when I was living with him and I doubt he’s improved since we split up.”
“Think of things that interest him, the kinds of places he’d try out when you went to a new country. This is all stuff you’d know better than anyone. Are those brochures? There must be something in one of them. How about a tourism website? Perhaps you could…”
Erestor slapped down the pamphlet on touring the winelands and glared. “Perhaps you’d like to go online yourself and see what you can find. Good choices would be natural beauty and animals. Which applies to everything I’ve looked at so far besides the ad for windsurfing lessons. Which he wouldn’t need.”
“I’ll go down to the lobby and find out about car hire,” Elrond said, retreating. “I suppose one of you will have to do the paperwork though. You’ve been in England; you’re used to driving on the left side of the road. I’d probably kill us all.”
“Oh my god, at last. You mean you’re not perfect after all?”
“Shut up, Erestor, and keep looking,” Elrond said tartly. “You said it yourself, we only have this suite booked for eight days. If we’re still here after that, Gil’s going to downgrade us to three stars so fast your head will spin.”
The hotel had a large, soulless space it called the library, with chairs, tables, and even a few books. Its main attraction was free wifi. Gil had found a bar he liked, so Erestor was going through tourism sites and making notes while Elrond played Angry Birds on his phone.
“Shark cage diving. A lion park. A butterfly reserve – good grief. A couple of game lodges. Beaches. Mountains. Do you think the crystal would flicker if I showed it pictures on the internet?”
“Phone my mother-in-law and ask her. Or Gildor. He seems to know something about it.”
“He knows a bit about everything,” Erestor agreed. “Some bits are smaller than others. But he’ll just tell me to ask her. It wouldn’t work, would it?”
Elrond shook his head. “Not likely, no. Did you say shark cage diving?”
Erestor glared at him. “We are not here for a holiday so no, and I’m not giving Gil the details either. And Glory would never do that, he’d be too worried about the sharks being exploited and their territory invaded. “
Elrond looked up from the game. “Sharks don’t have emotions. Try watching Shark Month on Animal Planet. They…”
“We’re talking about the man who wouldn’t let me swim with the dolphins because it wasn’t ethical.”
“Dolphins seem to like people; I doubt they’d mind.”
“That’s what I said but he wasn’t having any.”
Elrond lost the level and swore at the phone.
“Hush. This is a library. There’s hiking trails in the Outen… I can’t pronounce the name of this range. Okay, the Otter Trail. I can get my tongue round that.”
“You have a very talented tongue, I hear.”
Erestor rolled his eyes and turned his laptop round so Elrond could see. “You’ll never know, will you? Look. What do you think? Would he go hiking here?”
Elrond looked at pictures of mountains and trees and shady though difficult looking trails and shrugged. “Well, I might. Looks bracing. Would he come all this way to go hiking thought?”
Erestor, who was sitting on the floor in front of a low table, folded his arms on the edge and rested his chin on them with a sigh. “No. He would come here for whatever reason attracted him – some post on Facebook or appeal or because he’d accidentally fallen over an advert for something. And then he’d find other things that were also cool. You know what he’s like – attention span of a chicken, flits from one thing to the next. I swear he’s bipolar.”
“Elves aren’t bipolar,” Elrond said with authority. “Just easily distracted by the shiny.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. When we take on mental illness we don’t do anything tame like bipolar disorder. We go straight for batshit insane.”
Erestor thought about this. “You have something there – Fëanor, Maedhros, your great-grandfather…”
“Which one?”
“Both, probably. And then there’s…”
“Hermanus,” Gil said, dropping into the chair opposite him.
They looked at him, then at one another. Erestor shook his head briefly. “What?”
“It’s about two hours up the coast from here,” Gil said cheerfully. “Got talking to the guy next to me at the bar and he and the wife were there a week ago.”
“What am I missing here?” asked Elrond. He had been Gil-galad’s Herald, or chief organiser for things military, many Ages back and had long memories of half explained facts and expectations.
Erestor was more to the point. “Why?”
“Well,” Gil said with the smile that had talked him out of more trouble than most people had seen hot dinners, “thing is, Carlos was saying we should go down this weekend for the whale festival. Apparently they come back to the bay there to have their babies and then make new babies and there’s a big festival and people go whale watching – no, I don’t know why, Ery. Don’t ask. But isn’t that the sort of thing he’d like? Fun, activity, music, animals in their natural state?”
“No idea what we needed you for, honey,” Elrond said to Erestor who was still staring at Gil, half outraged, half impressed. “All under control.”
“Oh shut up, Elrond,” Erestor said, opening Google again. “Her – what? How do you spell that? One ‘a’ or two? Oh don’t bother. I’ll just try ‘whale festival’.”
~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~