"My lord, tis dark, tis cold, and though I do not mind sleeping outside for another night with insects attracted to my eyes, I think that we will be in danger of getting soaked if we do so tonight!" Lindir indicated the starless sky above them, black with the impeding clouds.

They had been riding along the Great East Road for many days now, heading east to Rivendell from Lindon, where Glorfindel had been staying awhile after having returned from Valinor. Lindir was an incidental part of the journey, a young elf of the third age who was returning to Lord Elrond's realm to abode with his siblings after travelling with his Nandorin parents to see them settle down upon the coast.

Now, looking at Lindir riding hooded and cloaked beside him, Glorfindel realized that his youthful companion, inadept as he found the elf at anything really but pleasant conversation and music, was finally beginning to get the hang of weather reading. He could himself sense that there was going to be a downpour and the cold front that had moved in only a few minutes ago was troubling, especially considering the fact that their surroundings looked rather inhospitable. He sighed inwardly and pulled Asfaloth to the side of the road to reach again into his pack for the map. Were not they supposed to be near a human settlement? He traced a finger along the marked road and paused at one of the dots labelled 'Bree.' "That seems near to here," he murmured to himself. He ignored Lindir, who had pulled up next to him and was trying to peer over so that he could see what was going on, and turned the map over to read one of the small jottings that he had written down. They were all concerned mostly with the historical sites with which he wished to familiarize himself with along the way, considering that he was to be serving Elrond. It was naturally expected of him to know the area like the back of his hand.

Next to Glorfindel, Lindir found himself waiting yet again in silence. It had originally irritated him that Lord Glorfindel mostly ignored him when riding., but he had gradually become used to it, already knowing that he was a burden to the other. However, he had wished to travel back to Rivendell as quickly as possible to see his sisters and friends. The sea had depressed him and now that his parents were both settled down upon the coast, he felt that he was a burden upon them as well, disturbing their peace.

So he had requested a friend of a friend to ask Cirdan if he could please go back to Rivendell, and, after a rather nerve-racking incident in which he actually met the ancient shipwright face to face, his plea was accepted. However, he could not have made it back across Arnor on his own, considering how inexperienced he was at living in the wild.

"So you got stuck with me," he thought, gazing at the other. Lord Glorfindel was a famous warrior and certainly a capable traveller. However, the elf lord, though not seemingly displeased with having a useless companion with him, had not been exactly overjoyed at the company. Still, thinking of the few kindly lectures that the other had given him in terms of riding his mare, caring for the horses, and the naming of landforms, meant that although he was still a burden, at least Glorfindel did not ignore him entirely. Besides, they had only really one thing in common - a mutual interest in music. Lindir was also painfully aware of the fact that despite the reversal in class roles, the elf lord had done all of the hunting and cooking along the way.

"Bree," Glorfindel said softly. Lindir lifted an eyebrow curiously. Were they heading towards the mortal settlement then? It had been settled by the men of Dunland in the Second Age of the Sun and was to be found at the corner of the road they were on and another road called the Greenway. The Greenway was the road which headed north to Fornost, the capital of Arnor.

Glorfindel thought about the town of Bree consideringly. Although he had little actual experience with mortals, knowing few apart from Tuor, he finally supposed that the town would be a welcomed place to stop and rest. Then, his eyes catching a slight movement beside him, he lifted his head from the map to smile at his young companion. "Well," he began seriously. "If we continue riding for another half an hour at a canter, then we should hopefully reach Bree before the weather does. Would you like to rest there for the night?" He smiled as the other nodded. "Come then." He dug his boots into Asfaloth's sides, and, eagerly, the gleaming stallion began moving again. Behind him, Lindir followed.

They got caught in the downpour just as they reached the West-gate of Bree. It was shut but looking around inquisitively, Glorfindel noticed that just beyond the gate there was a billet. He turned to Lindir. "Wait here," he instructed. The other nodded, pulling his hood further up and brushing back stray strands of blond hair that were pushed forward with the material as it moved.

Glorfindel carefully dismounted so that he did not jump into any mud, and then began moving towards the lodge to knock upon the door.

He waited a few moments, hearing movement from within before footsteps came towards the door and it was pulled open. A young man stared out at him before looking through the rain towards the horses at the gate and Lindir. A large lantern was in his hand, as was a large ring of keys. "What do you want, and where do you come from?" he asked curtly. Glorfindel smiled. "We are travellers wishing to spend the night in Bree," he said smoothly, "and we come from Lindon." He inwardly laughed when the man's expression suddenly changed and the mortal peered up at him, trying to see his face more clearly beneath the hood of Glorfindel's cloak. "And you're an elf?" the man said in awe. Glorfindel laughed and nodded. "Both of us are elves and we are trying to escape this rain," he said. The man nodded and Glorfindel stepped back so that the mortal could come out of the house. As the gate began to be unlocked, he headed back to Asfaloth and mounted the stallion, watching the mortal as the gates were pulled open for them. "Is there some place which you could recommend for us to lodge at?" he called as he passed, Lindir following close behind. The man nodded. "Try the Prancing Pony!" he replied.

Lindir watched as Glorfindel thanked the man before following the elf lord into the town. He could sense the man eyeing them still in the rain as they rode forwards and was glad to hear the gate clang-to behind them. Though he had been told by some of his friends that mortals tended to gaze upon them in wonder, he had never actually realized how noticeably open the stares were, and he felt a little uncomfortable with the attention.

They rode on up a gentle slope, passing by a few detached houses before spying the inn and drawing up outside. Around them, the houses rose up tall and imposingly in the night. They were made of stone and strange in their design with their many windows. However, seeing the pleasant light coming from the inn and hearing laughter and cheerful voices clamouring loudly from within, both elves smiled and dismounted to lead their horses under the wide arch leading to the courtyard between the two wings of the building. Unloading their packs, they left their horses; Glorfindel telling Asfaloth that they would be stabled soon, and went up the steps of the inn to push open the door and step into the babel of noises and clouds of smoke.

Glorfindel suppressed a wince at the smoke, and turned to see that Lindir was looking rather sour. He laughed softly. "Smoke, the bane of men," he murmured, catching Lindir's attention and the other smiled, looking a little nervous in the rowdy atmosphere which was rather different from the merriment that they were used to at feasts and large gatherings of their own people. Glorfindel also felt a little nervous, unused as he was to seeing mortals in their comfort zone. However, the place also felt pleasant and welcoming, and he pushed back his discomfort at the rather subduing reminder in his head that he was supposed to be the experienced one of the two of them. Then, looking around, he noticed a short fat man who looked to be the landlord. He had a red face and was wearing an apron, bustling around the tables of the inn where many men were all laughing and talking loudly, and handing out mugs of drinks which were balanced upon a large tray. Could he be the manager? Glorfindel waved at the man, catching the other's attention and the fellow came over, placing his tray upon the counter before looking up at them, unable to see beneath the hoods. "Good evening, sirs!" he said. "What may you be wanting?" "Two beds for me and my companion please," began Glorfindel indicating Lindir, "and we have two horses waiting outside beneath the archway that will also need stabling. Can that be arranged?" "Of course! My name is Mr. Butterbur, Hops is what most call me! Where are you from then?" He wiped his hands upon his apron, his face curious. Glorfindel smiled and pushed back his hood slightly to reveal a little of his face in the warm glow of the inn. Hops' eyes went wide at seeing the proud carven face and the sparkling eyes, he knew that they were not human. His mouth opened a little in surprise. "Well, - this is an honour!" he said finally. He looked flustered. "Well then, might I ask your names, sir?" "Glorfindel and Lindir," said Glorfindel. He knew that as of yet he was an unknown in these lands and his title was safely anonymous. "Glorfindel and Lindir, Glorfindel and Lindir," repeated Hops to himself before continuing. "I'll see what I can do for you sirs. We rarely get your folk in here." Then he turned and shouted across the din of the building to a man at the other side. "Hi! Jim! Need you over here!" A young man looked up from chatting to someone over a table and grinned before heading over. He gazed at the travellers interestedly. "These gentlemen have two horses that need to be stabled," said the landlord. Jim nodded. "I'll try to find room," he answered. He grinned at them all and moved off. "Now," said Mr Butterbur, tapping his forehead. "What was I going to say? My head is going round, it's that busy at this time. Let me think! Ah! I reckon that we have a spare room for you two on the third floor. Looks out westwards. You'll be wanting supper too, I'd expect. As soon as may be. This way now!" Allowing themselves be led, they followed Hops a short way down a passage and into a small parlour. "A nice little parlour!" said the landlord. "I hope it will suit. Excuse me now. I'm that busy! No time for talking. I must be trotting. It's hard work for two legs, but I don't get any thinner! I'll look in again later. If you want anything, ring the hand-bell, and either me or John will come. If he don't come, ring and shout!" Off he went at last, and as the door swung to, Glorfindel looked at Lindir and inwardly laughed at the other's bewildered expression. He felt the same way, swept up in the landlord's briskness. He had never known men to be so friendly and simple, not that he had known many at all, and certainly never upon the secondborns' own territory. "Well, what can we expect if we visit an inn?" he thought amusedly, thinking of the landlord's chatter. "Mr. Butterbur seems to be capable of an endless stream of talk, however busy he might be." He looked around and found that they were in a small and cosy room. There was a bright fire burning on the hearth, and in front of it were some low and comfortable chairs. There was a round table, already spread with a white cloth, and on it was a hand-bell. Glorfindel watched as Lindir went over to the heath and looked around interestedly. Then they both turned as the door opened again and a man who closely resembled Jim the stableman, came in with candles and a tray full of plates. He began laying the table skillfully, smiling at them. "My name's John. Will you be wanting anything to drink, sirs?" he asked. "And shall I show you the bedrooms, while your supper is got ready?"

Having washed and cast aside their cloaks to dry, they sat down at the table. Lindir watched as Glorfindel began drinking the contents of one of the mugs of beer which had been laid out on the table. "You like beer?" he asked finally, unable to keep down his curiosity. How very dwarvish! He felt himself flush when Glorfindel paused from drinking and lifted an eyebrow at him over the mug. "I do not normally drink it, but yes, I find it pleasant. I presume you do not?" Glorfindel indicated the other mug, still full upon the table, and Lindir felt himself flush further. "I have never tried it," he admitted. "It won't harm you to try then." Lindir sighed and hesitated before reaching out to the mug and pulling it closer to him to lift it and sip cautiously. As he tasted the liquid, he reeled at the taste, suppressing the urge to spit the liquid out and swallow it instead, putting the vessel down with a heavy clunk. He saw Glorfindel watching him and shook his head. "It... No, it tastes terrible," he said. Glorfindel smiled understandingly. "It did for me the first time I tasted it," he said with a laugh.

Just then, John, the man who had laid out the table, came in with Mr. Butterbur. In a twinkling the table was laid and Glorfindel smiled at the spread. He had not exactly been expecting anything other than shelter and a rest away from the road, but this was very pleasant. There was hot soup, cold meats, a blackberry tart, new loaves, slabs of butter, and half a ripe cheese: good plain and simple food, which was delicious, and Glorfindel and Lindir both found themselves eating and talking merrily as the meal progressed. Looking at Lindir, Glorfindel smiled at the other. The young elf really seemed to have his heart set upon becoming a minstrel and he was impressed by how skilled the Nandorin had shown himself to be on the few occasions that the other had taken out his harp on their journey so far and begun playing. His eyes flicked briefly towards the other's pack, the harp the largest item within the cloth pack and clearly visible. Then they moved to rest upon the long fingers that were occupied with cutting a slice from the tart. Like the rest of the elf, they were rather slim. Indeed, Lindir was rather slight and Glorfindel had learnt over the journey that the elf really was as fragile, and weak, as he appeared. "A poor warrior," he thought to himself. "I wonder how he managed to become so talented? He looks to be barely past his majority and is certainly not yet full-grown."

"What was your incentive to become a minstrel?" asked Glorfindel curiously. Lindir looked up to see the lord's eyes gazing at him curiously. He smiled, inwardly confused at the question. "I was encouraged by my parents to take up music and it grew on me," he replied. "How old are you exactly?" "Seventy-three." Lindir frowned. Why was the other asking him this?

Glorfindel smiled kindly at the elf's confusion. "I was only asking out of my own curiousity, Lindir," he said. "Does not that mean that you are still studying?" "Yes, but I will be continuing to remain learning with the other minstrels at Imladris indefinitely," replied the other. Glorfindel nodded. That was only to be expected considering how music was an everchanging art that required an individual's own independent and generally lengthy study to develop their skills in both technique and in their own unique style.

Just then, the landlord popped into the room again to check on them. "I don't know whether you would care to join the company, when you have supped," he said, standing at the door. "Perhaps you would rather go to your beds. Still the company would be very pleased to welcome you, if you had a mind. We don't get Outsiders – especially folk like you, I should say, begging your pardon – often; and we like to hear a bit of news, or any story or song you may have in mind. But as you please! Ring the bell, if you lack anything!" He disappeared again.

Both elves were feeling so refreshed and encouraged after their supper that they decided to join the company. After all, they needed little sleep considering that they were elves, and though they were somewhat tired, they were also curious about the men laughing riotously together. However, on an impulse, Glorfindel retrieved his dried cloak from where it had been lying and put it on. Lindir followed suit. Both elves left their hoods off however, their hair gleaming golden and white gold in the fireglow. After all, they were introduced to the landlord now and it did not do to be unsociable. "If it is too wreathed in smoke then perhaps we will have to retire early," said Glorfindel as they exited the parlour. "And then perhaps we will be spending the rest of the night having a bath to rid ourselves of the stench," he added with a smile. Beside him, Lindir laughed softly and Glorfindel's smile widened, hearing how the elf was finally relaxing in his presence.

The company was in the big common-room of the inn and the gathering was large and mixed, as they discovered, when their eyes managed to get used to the smoke that was hanging like an acrid fog over the people there. Butterbur was talking to some men of Bree in the corner. On the benches were various folk; mostly men of different races, a large collection of dwarves, and other vague figures difficult to make out away in the shadows and corners.

As soon as they entered, a hush went over the room and Glorfindel smiled faintly at the attention. Many of the men were staring at them curiously, and, feeling a little discomforted with the attention, Glorfindel lifted an eyebrow at the landlord, who looked more flustered than usual and came over to introduce them to the Bree-folk. "I apologize," he said in a whisper as he began moving them along to be introduced to another group of Breelanders. "We don't often see you folk in these parts." Glorfindel laughed and nodded, though inwardly he was rather sure that the landlord had probably been informing everyone about them, considering how he seemed to be so talkative. It reminded him of Galadriel a month ago when she had drunk too much after celebrating his return and, resorted to her elfling days, needing to be promptly apologized for by Celeborn after a particularly impertinent question of hers that regarded Glorfindel's lovelife.

As both elves sensed that they were becoming mere objects to gawp at, Glorfindel, sensing Lindir's discomfort, led the younger elf off to a bench that was mostly unoccupied apart from two dwarves who glanced at them before turning back to their conversation. Listening in, Glorfindel lifted an eyebrow at Lindir as they realized that the dwarves were discussing the structurally worthy points of a particular cave one's family was building, and the weak points. Lindir smiled.

"So," began Glorfindel softy, ignoring the men who were still watching them and wrapping his cloak about him comfortably before settling back against the wall to cross his legs. "You grew up in Imladris and your parents are from Lindon. Why did they settle in Imladris?"

They spent a peaceful half an hour merely talking quietly before Glorfindel noticed that still they were getting curious glances and he felt intrigued by the men watching them. Lifting an eyebrow at those staring, most averted their eyes, talking in hushed voices which Glorfindel could easily hear from across the room if he tried. However, they were only talking about some of the myths which they had heard before concerning elves and he inwardly sighed and turned his eyes away to regard the characters in the room.

The dwarves were, well... dwarves, exactly as Glorfindel had always supposed the creatures would be. Pedantically, they were discussing petty events to the west of Bree which Glorfindel soon grew disinterested in. However, he was curious about the long beards and the gruff, formal ways in which they conducted themselves. They were really quite squat little... His attention suddenly turned to three men who got up and began heading towards them. They looked rather large and one a little drunk, but Glorfindel smiled politely as they came up. Lindir seemed lost in thought.

"Mind if we sit down?" Glorfindel shook his head. "No, of course not," he replied smoothly. The men sat down upon a bench across from them and one of them with black hair nodded, a mug in his hand. "So you both are from Lindon then?" "Indeed we are." "Welcome to Bree then!" Glorfindel smiled. "Thank you," he said. "From what I have seen of it in this rain, it is a lovely town." He watched as the man then regarded Lindir. "You are pretty quiet," he said with a grin, "your friend is stealing the limelight." Lindir, who had been oblivious to the conversation up till this address, smiled politely and the man, sensing that he would get no reply, turned back to Glorfindel.

Beside Glorfindel, Lindir watched as the lord cheerfully conversed with the men. He suspected that Lord Glorfindel was just being sociable, as he realized that the golden haired elf was skillfully avoiding any pointed questions about the Grey Havens, his personal life, or information about Imladris. He gazed at the elf in admiration, recognizing how priveleged he really was to be the other's companion. Indeed, thinking back to the recent supper, and their conversation minutes ago, he had to admit that the elf was one of the most interesting conversationalists that he had ever come across. "And also one of the most handsome," he added to himself idly as he observed the elf, the glowing face fair and alert as he talked. Then, turning back to the men, he noted that one of the three was quiet and regarded him curiously. Then inwardly he frowned, noticing that the man, and indeed other men in the room with which the three had been associating with earlier, were watching the conversation taking place next to him. Why did they not come over and join in? He felt uncomfortable when a few eyes rested upon himself and suddenly found himself rising, feeling suddenly nervous when Lord Glorfindel paused and lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "I am sorry for arresting the conversation," he apologized, "but I intend to retire to our room." Glorfindel nodded and smiled. "Is that my cue as well, my friend?" he asked playfully, also rising. Lindir laughed. "Only if you wish to tuck me into bed." Then the quiet man reached out a hand, entreating Lord Glorfindel to remain. "Nay, stay," he said. Lindir's smile faded. He watched as the golden haired elf hesitated before finally acquiescing and sitting back down. "Very well," Glorfindel said merrily, accepting a mug of beer from Butterbur as the man bustled up with a tray. He held the mug aloft. "I will accept this as a bargaining chip then." Lindir laughed softly, silently still amazed that the other could drink the stuff, and left the room.

Going to their room, Lindir entered and went over to the large bed to sit down lightly, bouncing up and down to test the softness. His eyes fell upon his harp and reaching for it, he settled himself cross-legged upon the middle of the bed and began to tune it. Then he began playing simple technical tunes to warm his fingers up before turning to repertoire and working some of the sections upon a particularly complicated lay that he had been taught by an elf in Lindon, repeating them over and over until he was satisfied.

So involved was he in his music that it seemed only minutes when in fact it was hours before he was distracted from his harping by a soft knocking upon the door. Looking up, he frowned. "Enter." He had not locked the door, considering that Lord Glorfindel was still to return.

The knocking stopped and Lindir waited.

And waited.

Finally, with a frown, Lindir put down his harp and got off the bed to head over to the door to pull it open and stopped dead.

Lord Glorfindel was slumped on his knees in front of the threshold, his head drooped and his breath coming raggedly from his mouth. It was not that which so confused Lindir though but the disheveled appearance of the golden haired elf, the mud upon the damp green clothes, and the askew hair. "By Elbereth," he muttered, kneeling down and helping the other up. Was Glorfindel drunk? The lord seemed to sag in his arms and Lindir struggled with the taller and heavier elf's weight as he supported the other and assisted him into the room and to the bed where Glorfindel weakly managed to collapse onto the covers. Lindir was relieved that his harp was on the other side and out of the way of harm.

Closing the door, Lindir locked it and turned to the elf to frown as he saw that Glorfindel was shivering. "My lord?" he asked, approaching worriedly to sit on the bed next to the other. He peered in the other's face and his concern grew as he saw the eyes flickering, focusing and unfocusing. "My lord?" he repeated, and he felt relief spread through him as the eyes focused and Glorfindel acknowledged him with a weak smile before trying to push himself up. Lindir put out a hand to stop him and Glorfindel shook his head. "Am going to throw up," he murmured. Lindir lifted an eyebrow, and, reached out both hands to help the other up. Then he supported the lord into the bathroom and over to the toilet. Glorfindel slumped down in front of the device, and lifting up the lid he began to retch. Feeling nauseated, Lindir knelt beside him, and held back the other's hair, watching the lord's state in a kind of sickened fascination. He frowned when nothing seemed to be coming up, despite the violent spasmings of the body. Had Glorfindel already been vomiting earlier? How awful!

Glorfindel's spasming body began to calm and Lindir watched as the elf coughed before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and nodding. "Finished," he rasped. Lindir opened his mouth to point out that the other hadn't even started, but closed it abruptly, realizing that it wouldn't be a helpful comment. Instead, he put his arms around Glorfindel to help him as he struggled to his feet. Together, they went slowly back to the bed and Glorfindel lay down upon the covers quietly, his breathing harsh and laboured. Yet again, Lindir noted the mud on the other's clothing, and, stepping forward, he smiled and sat down next to his friend, who began to shiver again. Lindir put a comforting hand on the other's brow, which was clammy, pushing back stray strands of hair which had fallen in front of Glorfindel's eyes and revealing a smile. "Thank you," he whispered. "I should be fine now. Go to bed." "Do you want me to help you off with your clothes?" asked Lindir. "You will be more comfortable then." Glorfindel's sad smile widened and he nodded. "Shoes, belt, sword, cloak, and then I will be fine," he muttered. Lindir nodded and moved his hands to unclasp the cloak, pulling it from beneath the other, who smiled sheepishly at him for the younger's struggles. Then Lindir undid the other's belt before tugging off the leather boots.

Placing the belt and sword on the bedside table, hanging up the cloak, and taking the wet boots into the bathroom to clean, Lindir took off his own boots and gave them a wipe down too, wondering why Glorfindel had gone outside into the rain again. "Perhaps to see that the horses were okay," he supposed.

He headed out of the bathroom and took off his own cloak, hanging it up besides the lord's green one before undoing his own belt, and taking off his tunic. Then, in his soft shirt and leggings, he crossed over to the spare side of the bed and picked up his harp to put it back in its case. Then he looked at the other. "Do you want me to help you under the covers?" he asked. Glorfindel shook his head. "No." So Lindir, after putting out the lamps in the room, pulled back the covers to his own side of the bed and slid in to roll onto his side and stare at the other. Glorfindel had his head turned away. Lindir, thinking back to the bathroom, felt a mixture of sympathy and curiousity rise up in him. It was horrible to see the other, whom he knew to be a hero and a noble lord, to be reduced to vomiting over a toilet bowl. "And yet," he thought, "is this a side of Lord Glorfindel that is kept secret?"

He rolled onto his back, and, after musing a little longer over the other and wondering how strong Glorfindel's hangover would be the next morning, he drifted off to sleep.

It was a little after dawn when he awoke and sat up to find Glorfindel asleep. He leaned over surreptitiously to check, smiling as he saw that the other was indeed sleeping peacefully, before backing off and getting out of the bed. Would the other want breakfast? He somehow doubted it. He knew what it was like to have drunk too much, and had once even slept into the early afternoon after a particularly bad binge! "Though I never threw up," he murmured to himself as he crossed over to his tunic and put it on before fastening his belt around his waist. Then he crossed over to Glorfindel's side and squatted down in front of the other, tilting his head to frown at the lord. Should he wake him? He reached out to push back yet again another section of hair that had fallen in front of the other's face and as he pushed it back he stared in shock. There were bruises upon the other's face... ugly and he could see the imprints of fingers upon him. "Oh by Elbereth," he muttered, moving his own hands to fit the probable placement of the person's hands and fists. They were most definitely human, wider and smaller in length than his own, and he could see the evidence of hand prints upon the pale neck, partially hidden by the neck of the shirt. He felt bewildered. Why had Glorfindel had been in a fight? His mind whirled back to the night before and he relived the stares at them both, Glorfindel sitting back down at the quiet man's request. Why had someone tried to kill him? Why strangulation? Why the fingerprints around the other's chin, forcing the other to look up? Had someone come up to Glorfindel and punched him in the face? The elf was sporting a black eye! He was a lord, for Valars' sake! He had had a sword with him! Lindir looked over to the weapon on the bedside table and glared at it as if it would give him the answers he wanted. How would Elrond react to know that Lord Glorfindel had gotten into a drunken brall at Bree? How would Lord Elrond react to know that someone had tried to bash the golden haired elf up as well? He shook his head in a mixture of disgust and worry before heading to the bathroom and slipping into his boots. Then, pouring out a glass of water for himself before refilling it, he went back out to Glorfindel and quietly placed the glass next to the other before leaving the room and heading downstairs to find himself some breakfast. Vaguelly he wondered if Glorfindel would even turn up to breakfast if he woke up. He supposed that Glorfindel would be far too embarrassed.

It was only when he had reached downstairs and looked around the deserted rooms that he realized that he was probably one of the only people up. He frowned. He was hungry! Heading towards where he thought the kitchens might be, he smiled, realizing that someone was up by the faint smell of cooking bacon and eggs. He pushed open the door to the room and found himself faced with either John or Jim, frying the said food at a stove. The young man, whoever he was, looked up and smiled. "Good morning," he greeted. "You're looking bushy tailed for someone up at this hour! Are you hungry? Come in!" he waved at a table near him. "I would love for some company if you could spare it!" Lindir laughed and slipped inside the warm room. "Is it Jim or John?" he asked apologetically. The man laughed. "Jim the stableman," he replied, moving the pan to push off the food into a plate set ready. Then he began moving about the room, opening cupboards and larders as he got some more eggs, bacon, and tomatoes. "You are the pair with that white stallion aren't you," he continued. "That horse is magnificent! I mean, I have seen plenty of great horses in my time, considering the people travelling back and forth from Gondor to Fornost up north, but he was so easy to handle, knew exactly what I was about to do!" Lindir smiled at the man's enthusiasm, wishing that he could share a 'horsey' talk with the man, but alas, he knew little of the beasts. "So where does he come from?" Lindir blinked, realizing the man was staring at him. Was Jim talking about the horse or Glorfindel? Then again, did it matter? "From Lindon," he answered, watching as the man nodded and continued chattering away, turning back to the stove. Ah! So he had indeed been talking about Asfaloth. "So you two both had a pleasant evening then?" continued the man, emptying the pan again before heading over to the table, "Sit down!" "I had a very good evening," Lindir replied, sliding into the seat indicated and thanking the man as Jim poured him some tea. "The service is wonderful here." "And how is your friend?" continued Jim, filling his own cup with tea. "I saw him in the stables later on. John, my twin," he explained helpfully before continuing. "Anyway, John comes in to my room and wakes me up to tell me that there is another person from further east arrived and he tells me that your friend went off with a few men whom he seemed friendly with – a few Southerners and a man from Amon Sul. Begging your pardon, but we really don't see many of your folk, and my brother John, well, he's got an eye for you folk. "Anyway, I go to get this man's horse and do a bit of arguing with the man in the rain. He wants me to groom it? At that hour?! I finally get off to the stables and look in to see your friend standing by his horse, talking to it in your language and looking a little down. I asked him if he was alright and he was very polite. He just looked upset when he left." Jim shrugged. "That's why I was asking." Lindir frowned. "He was upset I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "But he keeps to himself, we are only companions for this journey, not that close." Jim nodded interestedly. "So how is he?" he asked, repeating his question. "Asleep."

After the meal, Lindir decided to help the other man cook for the other guests in the inn, laughing when Jim told him that it wasn't his place. "I may be the guest here," he said merrily, mixing up some eggs, "but I am also enjoying myself much more helping you than watching you work!"

Jim, unable to find a suitable reply, and admitting that probably Lindir was right, let the elf help him until Mr Butterbur came in and had a fit at seeing Lindir. "Bless me, you shouldn't be doing that!" he said, bustling over, his hand on his forehead. "Guests helping with the breakfast! Unheard of!" Lindir let him take over and grinned at Jim before thanking the man for the breakfast and company before heading off out of the kitchen. He liked cooking, though it had been a terrible struggle to grasp the art of it, his older sister, an accomplished cook, having suffered agonies over trying to teach him the basics when he was younger.

As it was still raining, Lindir decided to not go for a walk, but instead head back upstairs, his mind returning to Lord Glorfindel. Had the other elf risen yet? He passed other guests who were heading down as he moved in the opposite direction, and greeted them cheerfully, occasionally given an answering grin.

Then, reaching their room, he opened the door and sighed, seeing that Glorfindel hadn't moved. He crossed over to the other, and stilled, suddenly realizing that the other was awake. "Good morning," he said. The other smiled faintly. "Morning, Lindir," came the soft voice, a little raspy. "Thank you for the water." Lindir looked to the glass and saw that it was empty. He picked it up and headed off to the bathroom to refill it. As he watched the water filling the glass, he wondered if he should ask Glorfindel the reasons behind the fight, but refrained as he re-entered the bedroom. It would only make the other more uncomfortable. Still, his thoughts went back to Jim's words. What had Glorfindel been doing in the stables and talking to Asfaloth for? After a fight? Was it guilt for what he had done? Lindir set the full glass down next to Glorfindel, wondering what the other man or men looked like. He would hate to have got into a fight with the elf lord!

"I have bruises on my face don't I," said Glorfindel softly. Lindir nodded and watched as the golden haired elf looked thoughtful. "Would it be too much to ask if we stayed here for another night?" he asked finally after a pause. "No, I think that is fine." Lindir supposed that the other had his own reasons and it was still raining after all. He thought of Jim. "Do you want any breakfast?" "No thank you." "Anything?" Glorfindel laughed softly, and, shaking his head, he pushed himself up. He winced a little before rising unsteadily to his feet. "I am going to take a bath," he said. Lindir smiled. "Have a good one then," he wished, watching as the other moved off towards the bathroom before disappearing inside. The door shut with a clunk.

Lindir looked around the room then. What could he do? His eyes fell upon his harp again and he sighed, wondering if it was a bad omen that Glorfindel's 'accident' happened whilst he had been playing. He looked away, and, his eyes falling upon the bed, he got onto it and lay across it, staring at the ceiling.

Time passed, and finally he heard the bathroom door open and Glorfindel came out. Lindir watched him as the other looked around a little helplessly before heading back to the bed and lying back down. "Move your legs," came Glorfindel's voice. Lindir smiled and obligingly did so. "Are you sure that you do not want breakfast?" "Not after throwing up, thank you, Lindir," came the amused reply. Lindir rolled onto his side and smiled sadly at the other. He suddenly wondered if the elf lord would be comatose all day. It was certainly turning out like that. "Um... would you mind if I practiced?" he asked. There was a pause before Glorfindel laughed quietly. "Of course not, my friend."

Lindir spent most of the day harping away quietly next to the window, his attention occasionally turning to the dozing lord, whose face was turned away from him. They both missed lunch and it was late afternoon when Lindir rose again and went into the bathroom to adjust his braids. One particular strand of stray hair had somehow escaped him the last time he had styled his hair and was bothering him as it continually fell into his line of sight every time he dipped his head slightly.

It was in the bathroom where his eyes moved to the recently used bath and he frowned, seeing that there was water still in it. He crossed over to look inside and saw a towel soaking in the water. Why would Glorfindel soak a towel? The only reason the elf lord could possibly have is if the towel were stained... He noticed that the water was very faintly off white and he frowned, thinking back to his sisters working in the laundries of Imladris. On an impulse, he bent down and dipped a finger into the water to sniff cautiously. Then, seeing that the towel was clean, he lifted it out of the water and squeezed it into a ball, watching as the water ran out, splashing loudly back to the bath. Bending down now, he drained the bath before heading over to the sink and rinsing the towel once more. Then he wrung it free of excess water and hung it up to dry, wishing that his sister were here. She knew everything about soaking clothes, everything about how to look after someone in bed, how to tend bruises.

He moved back into the bedroom, and noticed that Glorfindel was watching him. Lindir smiled. Was the other hungry now? He intended to go downstairs to find something to nibble on and asked the other if he wanted anything. "Yes please," answered the lord. Lindir smiled. "Well that is something good to hear," he said before waving at the other and disappearing off back downstairs to find Mr Butterbur and wheedle some food out of the landlord.

When he returned, a tray in his arms that was laden with slices of bread, honey, slabs of butter, half a cheese, a pile of jam biscuits, and some tea, he put the entire load apart from the tea onto the bed. "I think the landlord believes that we are too thin," Lindir quipped as he set the tea on a table. "He wanted to give me half a seedcake as well!" He began pouring out two cups of the hot liquid for them both. Glorfindel had shifted himself into a sitting position and now was eating one of the biscuits. Lindir passed him the cup of tea. "Thank you." Glorfindel was looking better. He had obviously been drifting in and out of a healing sleep, as the bruises were fading. Lindir thought that the lord was healing a bit slowly, but smiled anyway. The elf had obviously been upset about the events of the previous night. He settled on the bed next to the other and placed his tea upon the bedside top on his own side before reaching for a piece of bread.

Glorfindel went back to bed after the meal and Lindir packed off the tray downstairs. When he came back, he found that the elf lord was in the bathroom and he sighed before calling to the other that he was going to go downstairs. He had become quite friendly with the two twins John and Jim, and wished to spend more time with them, perhaps stealing one of their recipes to a fish casserole which they had let him taste in the kitchen.

However, at his words, there was a plea for him to wait before Glorfindel came out of the bathroom, looking grave. "I would prefer if you did not go down there," he said. "I met some less than savoury characters last night." Lindir frowned. Was the other ordering him to stay here? He had not been the one talking to those men! "I am only going to talk to Jim and John, my lord," he replied. "Don't go down there." Lindir couldn't fight down a scowl at the command. After all, Lord Glorfindel wasn't even officially in charge of him – yet. "I am not going to talk to any of the men that you were talking to last night, if that is what you mean," he retorted. He most certainly would not be getting into any fights either! "I will be back before eleven."

Lord Glorfindel hesitated and finally, after debating within himself, shook his head firmly. "You should come back here before nine," he said, "I want you to stay safe."

That did it! Lindir glared daggers at the elf lord. "I wasn't the one who got into a fight," he said icily. "I also didn't get drunk! I will not be drinking. I will be talking to my friends! I am –not- a child!" He spun around and stalked over to the door to pull it open and... "Lindir." The voice was pained and its tone caught the younger's attention. His anger simmering, Lindir scowled and turned to see Glorfindel watching him worriedly from the bathroom threshold. "What?" he bit back. "Can I come?" Lindir blinked, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. "If- if you want," he said, taken completely aback by the unexpected request. "I am sure Jim and John will be delighted to have you." Glorfindel nodded, his face unreadable. Lindir turned again and headed out of the room and downstairs to the common-room, Glorfindel following quietly behind.

The common-room was only just filling as they entered and Lindir waved to John, who smiled back from talking with a few Breelanders on a bench. "Hello," he said looking at them both before his eyes turned to Glorfindel. "You look a little roughed up," he commented. Lindir turned to look at the other elf and felt relieved when the lord did not seem upset by the observation but instead brushed the comment off. "I had company last night," he said calmly. John nodded and no more was said on the matter.

It was after supper and they were yet again in the common room and talking with the twins when Glorfindel pressed Lindir to return to their room and the younger agreed that they would leave soon. He was visibly growing a little tired of fending off the twins' attempts to get him to drink beer. Glorfindel had not drunk any alcohol either, which did not entirely surprise Lindir considering the previous night.

They were talking pleasantly to Jim when Lindir sensed Glorfindel stiffening a little. He frowned and glanced at the other before looking around the room and seeing some of the men that had been there the previous night. Well, they had been there for some time seemingly. Listening into the conversation, he heard nothing interesting and Glorfindel had relaxed anyway.

This changed when they were wishing the other men good night, and heading towards the door. Suddenly someone called out. "Glorfindel, stay! Would you like a drink?" The voice was loud, almost mocking, and Lindir watched as the elf lord tensed and a look of pure hatred came into his face as he seemed to be about to turn around. However, Lindir felt relieved when instead Glorfindel reigned in his rage and managed somehow to calmly compose himself and politely decline the offer before departing the room and beginning to hasten his steps as he made the way back to their room. Lindir followed him worriedly, sensing that the other's anger was bubbling close to exploding.

He was right. Glorfindel had barely entered the room when he marched straight into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Then Lindir heard the sound of something impacting against something hard. He went over to the door and listened cautiously as there was another three of these sounds before a silence and the sound of muffled sobs came through the door, muttered and indisciperable Quenya also faintly audible.

Lindir folded his arms around his chest. What was he supposed to do? He sighed and hesitated before opening the door and peering inside. The other elf was kneeling on the floor, one arm around his waist whilst the other hand was over his mouth as he cried, his body shaking. "By the Valar, what is wrong with you?" Lindir thought, watching the other silently. "And what can I do?"

"Go... away, Lindir. You should not have to see this." The plea made up Lindir's mind and he stepped into the room to kneel down next to the calming elf lord. "Can I ask something, my lord?" he asked quietly. "What?" "What happened last night?" Glorfindel was silent and instead of answering, he rose and headed over to the sink to begin shakily washing his face. Lindir noticed that the lord's knuckles looked torn and he realized that Glorfindel had been punching the wall. He sighed. Why was Glorfindel so worked up? He was about to repeat his question when the other elf suddenly turned around and walked past him, pulling off his belt and kicking off his shoes before getting into the bed and rolling to one side.

At a loss of anything else to do, Lindir also got ready for bed and he slipped in next to the other, also rolling onto his side so that he could look at the golden haired elf curiously. Glorfindel was turned away from him, and, sensing that the other had begun crying again, Lindir debated with himself for a moment. Should he touch the other? He decided to cross that barrier and shifted himself closer to place a hand lightly upon Glorfindel's shoulder before rubbing it up and down the upper arm soothingly.

"Roll on your stomach," he said. He was somewhat surprised when Glorfindel obeyed without complaint and Lindir moved closer and leaned over the other to begin rubbing his shoulders and back, massaging the knots out. A sigh from beneath him made him smile.

"You shouldn't be doing this," murmured the voice from beneath him. Lindir laughed. "It is working is it not?" Lindir laughed again as he heard a 'humph' from the elf lord and he continued a little longer before removing his hands and shifting back to his own side of the bed.

He drifted off to sleep.

The next day, Glorfindel had yet another bath. He seemed to be becoming increasingly more withdrawn and quiet. John and Jim commented on it, as did Mr. Butterbur when the landlord was farewelling them at the door of the inn. "Your friend caught a chill then?" asked the landlord quietly when Glorfindel went off with Jim to get the horses. "Looks right pale he does. But I suppose you have to keep travelling. Illness always comes at the wrong times." Lindir just smiled.

Mounting his horse in the courtyard, he watched Glorfindel leap up onto Asfaloth. The bruises had disappeared from the other's face and the lord looked completely composed – only quiet. As they left the town to continue along the Great East Road, he tried to coax the other into talking to him. His attempts were unsuccessful.

That night, he watched Glorfindel's sleeping body with concern. Would the lord be as distant and listless when they returned to Imladris? Even worse, was he fading? What a disaster that would be! The elf lord had already died once. Lindir felt helplessness well up in him and he turned away.

On the following night, whilst Glorfindel was keeping watch, Lindir woke up and knew that the other was crying. He couldn't get to sleep like this! Glancing at Glorfindel and thinking back to how his own sisters and parents had comforted him, he rose and moved to kneel next to the other elf and give him a hug. The sobs increased and Lindir found himself trying to soothe the other, shushing him.

Then Glorfindel reached up and began to remove himself from the embrace. "Go back to sleep, Lindir," he said. Smiling sadly, Lindir removed his arms when Glorfindel pushed him off. Then he sat back and regarded the other quietly. "They raped you," he said.

Glorfindel turned his head to look at him for a moment before he dropped his eyes to the ground. "Aye." His voice was soft. "When did you guess?" "The first time after your bath. You soaked the towel in the bath." Lindir sighed, remembering the faint scent of blood. "Glorfindel, what happened?" There was a pause before Glorfindel laughed softly. "No 'lord'?" he sounded amused. "So disrespecful!" A little hurt, Lindir nodded and let the topic drop.

They passed the guards of Amon Sul, declining an offer to stay the night. Lindir looked after Glorfindel as much as he could that night in a small glade some distance away from the tower. The golden haired elf had turned pale and was shivering. Lindir had wondered at this, and, after asking the elf if he was fading, had been relieved when the golden haired elf had told him quite seriously that he was not. This had dispeled Lindir's chief fears and the minstrel had done his best to just keep the lord's spirits up as much as he could.

On the following night, when again it was raining, they rested within a cave a short way from the road. It was evening and Lindir watched as Glorfindel began making a small fire. "Can I help you?" he asked. "I feel like I should be doing something." "Nay, Lindir. If you have eaten, go to sleep. I will wake you for the second watch." Glorfindel's face looked tired in the warm glow and Lindir admired the golden hair as it gleamed in the light, trailing down the other's back. Then he smiled sadly. It must have been due to the lord's beauty and charm that they had defiled him thus. Even when Glorfindel had been reduced to dry heaves over the toilet and was no longer fair and charming, there was a kind of poignant fragility about him which Lindir had been seeing more and more of recently. It was tragic beauty.

He found it difficult to get to sleep. He kept his eyes towards the figure next to the fire and beyond Glorfindel he could see the rain dripping down from the top of the cave entrance against the blackness of the night, droplets glinting in the fire glow as they fell. The horses were asleep on the other side. He sighed. The steady patter of rain was an uncomfortable reminder of that night in Bree. His eyes fell to rest upon the elf lord, who was twirling a long twig in his hand as he sat quietly by the fire. He watched the twig move, whirling a few times between the slender fingers before stopping and whirling the other way. Then Glorfindel's hand stilled and with a flick of his wrist, the twig was suddenly twisting in the fire, falling down until it rolled out at one side onto the cave floor.

Sighing, Lindir sat up and moved to sit next to the other, looking at Glorfindel. The lord did not turn his eyes to acknowledge him, but a small smile graced his lips as he moved to pick up another twig. Lindir watched as the piece began twirling and after a few moments, he lifted his eyes to gaze at the lord. Glorfindel's face was filled with concentration and Lindir looked away to the first twig, which was by his own feet. He picked it up and stared at it thoughtfully before moving it between two fingers and thumb and tightening his hold. It snapped with a loud crack. At the noise, Glorfindel stilled again and his eyes shifted from the twig in his hands and to the two fragments in Lindir's fingers. Lindir stared at them too. "Do you think you will mend?" he asked quietly after a pause. "You said that you would not fade, but will you heal?" Glorfindel was silent for a moment. Then he tossed the other twig in his hand into the fire and looked at Lindir with a smile. "I may," he replied softly. "I have no idea." "I regret leaving you that night, if it is any consolation of how sorry I am." "It was a culmination of events," replied Glorfindel. "I think that we all played some part in it." Lindir turned away and looked back at the fire. He wondered still at the events of that night, how Glorfindel had been overcome. How could men be so cruel?

The next few days, Lindir continued watching over the other elf. It was strange, but he felt no longer like Glorfindel's junior. Glorfindel no longer ignored him, though they still spoke little with each other. The lord had also given him more responsibilities over the horses and allowed him to take longer watches. Even once, Glorfindel had requested him for use of the harp and had quietly spent most of one night singing softly. Listening to the Quenyan words, Lindir had known that golden haired elf was reflecting over his duties and trying to reassure himself of his purpose upon Middle Earth. He wondered why Glorfindel had chosen to return. The lord had given so much to his people already, had been given a chance for a new life away from war and sorrow, and yet had given it all away to serve Lord Elrond! "Maybe there is another reason," he thought, gazing at the beautiful elf. "A messenger perhaps to Lord Elrond?" He felt sorrowful, thinking of exactly what the lord had suffered so soon after his return. It was so unfair! What was worse was that Glorfindel looked physically well and Lindir knew only too well that emotionally, the elf had been shattered inside.

Then the song ended and an engulfing silence swelled up after the last note had disappeared off into the cold night air. Lindir watched as Glorfindel put the harp down and rose to disappear off into the shadows between the trees. This had happened before and Lindir knew that the other wished to be by himself. After having followed the other once, he knew that Glorfindel used the privacy to strip in order to check his injuries.

It was two days later when Glorfindel began weeping again. This time, when Lindir moved close and tried to hold the lord, Glorfindel did not push him away. Instead, to Lindir's surprise and pleasure, the other elf leaned into the embrace and slipped his arms around Lindir to hold himself steady as he cried into the younger elf's shoulder. Lindir squeezed the other comfortingly and as he began rubbing one of his hands up and down the other's back, he appreciated how warm the other felt against him. The fact that Glorfindel was actually welcoming his attempt at solace made him feel glad that the other was beginning to reach out.

Later, Lindir sat down to take first watch. Every now and again, he looked down at the sleeping figure next to him. Glorfindel looked more peaceful than normal, and remembering the hug, Lindir found himself missing the closeness already. Before the contact, he had not touched anyone in that way since farewelling his parents and that had been more than a fortnight ago. It was hard for him to believe that he had started out feeling scared and nervous around the other whereas now it almost seemed as if Glorfindel were his equal. He smiled sadly. It was a tragic kind of companionship and he felt a little shamed that he was actually appreciating the 'new' Glorfindel, considering the events that had happened to initiate the elf's change in character. He leaned forward to quietly place another few pieces of wood upon the campfire. They would reach Rivendell either the following night or the morning afterwards.

The next morning, Lindir and Glorfindel set out upon their last part of the trip. They were a day late as a result of the extra time spent in Bree and Lindir had realized over the past few days that the lord had no intention of them making up the lost time by pressing their pace. Instead, if anything, they had slowed. Lindir wondered if perhaps Glorfindel had done that on purpose to gain time to draw himself together. Certainly the other elf had looked better since the morning, perhaps a result of last night's emotional release.

Then Lindir noticed that Glorfindel was watching him with an unreadable look. Seeing his glance, the other smiled and turned to indicate down the road. "We could travel late and reach Imladris tonight after midnight," he said. "But I was wondering if we could rest tonight and approach the realm tomorrow morning." "If that is what you wish, my lord. I do not mind." Glorfindel nodded and they continued riding in silence.

They rested just off the side of the road and ate together. Looking sidelong at the other, Lindir wondered exactly why Glorfindel did not wish to get to Imladris that night. The realm was only a couple hours away after all. Just then, Glorfindel spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "Thank you, Lindir." Lindir looked at the other and nodded, smiling. "It was the least I could do," he replied, suddenly sensing that this would be their last opportunity to speak together. "Do you wish me to keep the incident a secret?" He had intended to do so anyway, but wanted to be sure. "Thank you. I would appreciate that." Lindir inclined his head and there was a long silence. Then Glorfindel sighed and lifted a hand to run it across his face. "I feel that I owe you an explanation," he began quietly, "but, I am sorry - I do not want to talk about it." Lindir looked at him seriously. "You do not need to. I did not expect you to talk about it," he said. "Nay, I will need to relive the incident someday. It will make it easier to come to terms with." Glorfindel smiled bitterly. "I did not expect it of men." Lindir did not answer. There was nothing to say. He watched the other, and, when Glorfindel seemed to fall back into himself, staring over towards the road through the partings in the surrounding trees, he inwardly sighed. Was that it then? He felt sad, knowing that he would miss the other's company when they returned to the realm and he went back to his role as a student. Lord Glorfindel would disappear off with the Lord's family, the councillors, and the warriors. He rose. "I am going to sleep," he said. "Wait." Lindir paused and looked at Glorfindel inquiringly. The golden haired elf had turned and was watching him with an unreadable expression. "My lord?" Glorfindel pushed himself up and stepped closer to embrace him. He felt a kiss placed tenderly upon his forehead and smiled, enjoying the touch and waiting for the other to let go.

Glorfindel did not let go.

Lindir wondered when he was not released from the enfolding arms and he frowned at the eyes regarding him thoughtfully. The closeness was comforting, but it felt strange now. The hold was too enveloping, and, when Glorfindel smiled slightly, his eyes widened in realization.

When the other then bent his head slightly, Lindir closed his eyes and accepted the lips that were brushed against his own.

The next morning, they rode the short distance left in a friendly silence. Reaching the edge of the realm, they were welcomed by the watchers, who led them onwards through the forest and eventually across the Bruinen River to be greeted by Lord Elrond and his family.

A few hours later, Lindir had been reunited joyously with his siblings and friends, who were excited about his news from Lindon and inquisitive about his journey east with Lord Glorfindel. In the meantime, the realm prepared to celebrate Lord Glorfindel's arrival with a glorious festival to be held that very night. Lindir, an invited guest by Glorfindel, was pleased to note that at the feast, the golden haired elf appeared completely returned to his normal self as he chattered merrily with Lord Elrond as if they were old friends already. To Lindir, it seemed that Lord Elrond had noticed nothing amiss with his new deputy and he felt a little confused.

Indeed, Lindir was beginning to wonder if the days since Bree had been a dream.

Suddenly Glorfindel lifted his eyes as if sensing the gaze upon him, and Lindir felt relief swell through him as the lord smiled at him from the dais.

Nay, the events had truly happened.