"You're shitting me."
Elrond glared at Elrohir's use of language. "I shit you not."
Legolas spoke. "T'was Galadriel and Elrond and the Council who declared it: Gondolin and Mirkwood must be bound. Times were not hard then, but they had fear for the future. There were whispers even then of the evils that were brewing and fear was a new undercurrent in our society. Erestor had been raised beside me, even if I was three times older. At three hundred, I still considered myself young."
"Which you were," Elrond felt obliged to add.
Legolas ignored him. "But Erestor was eighty-six. Eighty-six when Thranduil decided to betroth him to the Lord of Gondolin. My father had no daughters, no nieces; neither did Glorfindel. There was no one else. It was either Erestor or myself. And Thranduil would not part with his son. I would have married him; I considered it my duty, but my father would not hear of it. And so he damned a child into a marriage he had no say in. I was not pleased."
Elrond hid a grin. He murmured, "Indeed, you were furious."
Legolas glared.
Elrohir looked to his father and Elrond explained, "The young Prince stormed about the halls of his father in an outrage. I think he hoped to change Thranduil's decision, but the Council could not be naysayed. And Legolas himself asked to be the one to deliver the news to one he counted as a brother."
The fair Elf nodded. "I entered his rooms; I remember it as if it were yesterday. Erestor was always wiser than his years. He knew storms were brewing, but until I arrived at his door he never knew how closely he was to be involved." Legolas shook his head in regretful remembrance. "And I said to him, 'The Council has declared a bonding.' Erestor was no fool. He asked me, 'Who am I to marry?' And I told him. Glorfindel of Gondolin."
Elrond looked to his friend. It was clear that these memories plagued Legolas greatly.
"He didn't argue, nor cry. He did not ask for explanations. He did not rant as I would have. He turned away from me and went to his closet. I asked him, 'What are you doing?' He replied. 'Packing. For the move to Gondolin.' As far I as I know, he never cried. At least not that I could see."
"You have said it and I have said it – as have others – and I must say it again," Elrond told his son. "Erestor has always been wise beyond his years. And he hid his emotions well: I blame Thranduil for that." Legolas said nothing. "Thranduil never was an open sort of person, and Erestor saw more than most. He accepted this as his duty, even though he was still counted as a child by his years. He was no child, not really. He was done growing; at least, he'd never be any taller. And he has only grown wiser. I believe he was the only choice the Council or Thranduil could have made."
Elrohir looked at the two old Elves, his father – a mighty Lord – and the Prince Legolas. "But what happened next?"
"I beg your pardon?" asked Legolas in his clear voice.
"They went out of the sea and through the forest to the castle. What castle? Where was all this exactly? And then what happened?"
"The castle at the Gulf of Lhun, at the Havens," Elrond explained. "Only a part of it still stands today. As for what happened after that, I cannot say."
"Nor I," Legolas spoke. "No one saw Glorfindel or Erestor until the following day, as was traditional."
"Speaking of tradition," Elrohir broke in. "I've attended my share of handfastings. And the part with the canopy I have witnessed many times, but that second part: the walk to the sea, the ribbons coming off, the sharing of blood. I've never even heard of that. What was it?"
Legolas shook his head and his eyes were angry. Elrond spoke. "It was a political act made spiritual."
"I don't understand."
Legolas told him, "It was regarded as a public consummation of the marriage."
"Consummation? Oh. You mean so they didn't have to .. . I see."
The Prince persisted, "This whole thing began with purely political motivations, as that was all that was needed to bind Gondolin and Mirkwood in friendly association. But someone," he said with a pointed glace to the half-Elven Lord, "demanded that the marriage be 'real' and that their souls be bound. So they were. They are bound as surely as your parents are, as your grandparents."
Elrond expounded on his friend's ideals at the time, "Glorfindel saw the whole thing as a charade; he really felt as though Erestor was being forced into an atrocious situation. But most of all, Glorfindel was furious at what the marriage had become. It was arranged with very little say on his part and in the end it became this fairytale wedding with pretty flowers and pretty words. He was terrified at what that would mean to Erestor and how he would interpret it, but Erestor knew it for what it was, and what both of them thought it should have been."
Legolas picked up where Elrond left off, "A private meeting in a Council room requiring nothing more than a few signatures. But Elrond and Galadriel and Gil-galad remained adamant: the biding must be whole and complete: spiritual and physical. That's why the blood. Why the sea. They were irrevocably bound."
"And no one wanted rings," Elrond added, "least of all Glorfindel, but Galadriel was insistent upon the mithril rings. And as far as I know, neither Elf has ever willingly removed them. It shows a surprising degree of fidelity to a relationship that – as far as I know – has never been any more consummated than what we witnessed that day."
Alight with curiosity and hunger for knowledge, Elrohir was leaning forward, his eyes wide, "Yes, but what happened next?!"
Elrond shrugged. "You'll have to ask them, for no one else can say."
Elrohir banged his fist upon Erestor's door. "Erestor! Let me in this instant!"
The Counselor quickly opened the door, dark eyes flashing. "What is it? What has happened?"
"You married Glorfindel!"
Erestor stared at him. It could be, that somewhere, crickets chirped. "I know that."
"My father, and Prince Legolas too, they told me all about it."
"Did they." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, about the handfasting and the traditions and the politics."
"Yes, and?"
"And what happened next?" Elrohir needed to know, his gray eyes wide and desperate.
Erestor sighed. "Come in, Elrohir."
". . . And you walked out of the ocean, dragging the wet sand behind you and you passed through the forest to the castle at Forlond. And then what?"
Erestor had listened with fascination to the tale Elrohir had been told. "That is just right," he murmured. "That is exactly what happened."
"How long ago was it?" Elrohir whispered.
"A long time," Erestor answered him.
Elrohir pouted. "But then what?"
"You wish me to tell you?" Erestor asked dubiously.
"Yes! Is it so hard to believe? I have to know what happened."
"All right. Then, I suppose I shall have to tell you."
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