Title: In Lieu of Love  
Author: Ilye  
Email: ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk  
Summary: First in the "Kindred Spirits" trilogy and prequel to "Don't 
Fade Away", but you need not have read "Don't Fade Away" to read this; 
it should make perfect sense without. (Notice I said "should"!) This is the 
story, outlined there, of how Glorfindel saved Elrond from his grief when 
Celebrìan sailed to Valinor. Elrond/Glorfindel slash.  
Rating: NC-17  
Disclaimers: Uh, disclaimer, before I forget! Don't own this, never will, 
no profit and all the rest of this. Sod it, who reads these anyway? All you 
want is the story...go on, I'm not stopping you... 
Author’s Note: This is set approximately five hundred years before the 
Quest of the Ring. There are a few minor alterations in relation to book 
canon, the biggest probably being that here Arwen is only about four when 
her mother leaves. At the moment this is just PG-13 (*gasps from the 
audience* Ilye wrote something that kids can read?! Arda is ending!) But 
fear not!! It will get slashier and angstier and NC-17 rated before you 
know it! 

Oh, and before I forget, thanks to my beta, Caz. You're a star, Hobnob!

***************  
In Lieu of Love  
***************


***************  
Chapter 1  
*************** 

It's Worst at First... 

In hindsight, Glorfindel could see that the precise moment the flames of 
Elrond's spirit began to flicker was when the ship vanished completely 
over the horizon. But then, such matters are not always that simple to see, 
especially when you are not looking for them. 

Celebrìan was gone - she had been gone for hours, now - but still Elrond 
sat on the shore, glassy eyes fixated on the open ocean. They were the 
only two left on the beach, for the autumnal chill had penetrated everyone 
else's thick clothes and driven them back to their homes. Glorfindel laid a 
hand gently on his lord's shoulder, causing him to slowly turn his head and 
lift his eyes to the blond Eldar standing over him. 

"It is getting dark, my friend, we should return to the house," he offered, 
extending a hand to the half-Elf. Elrond accepted with a heavy sigh and 
allowed himself to be pulled up, pursing his lips into a smile-come-
grimace at the sight of the deep concern written across his old friend's 
features. 

"Aye, Glorfindel, I am sorry. You needn't have stayed..." 

Glorfindel's heart panged when he saw unshed tears glistening in his 
friend's eyes, his face pained despite all his attempts to disguise it, and 
drew the half-Elf into a comforting embrace. 

"I know, Elrond, I know. But I wanted to," came the soft reply. "Besides, 
the last thing that you need is to be alone right now." 

A nod against his shoulder, where the half-Elf had rested his dark head, 
and another deep sigh that tickled the skin of Glorfindel's neck. "Thank 
you." Glorfindel stroked his hair soothingly. No words were needed. 

Eventually Elrond composed himself again and pulled away from his 
friend. Twilight was almost upon them, and it was a long way back to the 
house. After a silent look into his sapphire eyes, Glorfindel smiled and laid 
his arm across Elrond's shoulder, ushering him gently back to where the 
horses were waiting for their return to Imladris. 

It was fully dark when they reached the house, and everyone was in their 
beds, although some kind soul had left the oil lamps and candles burning 
in anticipation of the Elven-lord's return. They walked side-by-side into 
the entrance hall after dealing quickly with the horses, as silent as they had 
been for the entire ride home. Glorfindel cocked his head in question as 
they reached the foot of the stairs, pausing for a moment. 

"Is there anything that I can do for you, my lord? Anything that you 
need?" 

Elrond hesitated, and when he answered his voice was soft, tentative, 
almost a whisper. "I...I do not wish to be alone tonight..." 

Glorfindel smiled encouragingly, but again no words were necessary. He 
shepherded the forlorn half-Elf up the stairs and towards the chambers 
where his wife no longer slept, guiding him through the familiar passages 
as though he were lost. Perhaps he was lost; he seemed lost. The Eldar 
opened the door to Elrond's chambers and steered him towards the bed, 
looking around as he did so. A few of Celebrìan's belongings that she had 
not taken with her were scattered around the room; a hairbrush here, some 
half-finished embroidery there. The room still smelled of her, that fragrant 
rose water that she wears. // Used to wear... // Her presence lingered in 
that room, but it was not that of the broken little girl that had left in the 
ship today. It was that of the beautiful, elegant Lady; adored mother, 
beloved wife, cherished daughter; always smiling, always laughing, 
always eager to please. 

Glorfindel re-focused his attention with a wistful smile to himself, 
although it fast faded when he caught sight of Elrond. The half-Elf was 
gazing at the bedclothes with deadened chocolate eyes, tracing the 
intricately embroidered pattern on it with his forefinger. Celebrìan had 
made it. Glorfindel sighed softly, unheard by the dark figure next to him; 
the loss of his wife, first mentally and now bodily, had hit Elrond hard, 
even though he had kept it well hidden. He could not have afforded to 
show it, for her sake. He needed to be strong for her - he had been strong 
for her. 

And yet it had all failed, in the end. She was gone, now, sailing towards 
the Undying Lands and leaving those who held her dear behind. Elrond 
did not have to be strong, now. 
She was gone. 

"You do not have to hide it anymore, you know," said Glorfindel softly. 
His voice caught Elrond's attention, though the half-Elf took neither his 
eyes nor his fingers from the coverlet. A small nod, a vague incline of the 
head; then the dark eyes went wide and wild and his face contorted, his 
fingers grasping the coverlet in his fist and dragging it towards him. He 
pulled it towards him and ripped it off the bed with a sudden, savage 
motion, flinging it to the floor on the other side of the room with a loud, 
choked sob. He then reached for the hairbrush that lay on the nightstand, 
and the half-finished embroidery that sat on a chair, hurling them in the 
same direction as the coverlet. 

A few more objects followed, finishing with a vase that smashed and 
fragmented against the wall and rained down on the pile of abused 
mementos in shards of splintered white clay. Elrond sank to the floor, 
harsh, gasping sobs catching in his throat and wracking his body, tears 
streaming down his face. He leaned his back against the bed behind him, 
drawing his knees up to his chest and encircling them with his trembling 
arms before he buried his face within the darkness created there. 
Glorfindel's heart panged again and he immediately stepped up to his 
friend, dropping to the ground beside him and taking him into his arms. 

Elrond gratefully accepted the solace by leaning towards the Eldar and 
shifting position so that his face was now hidden in Glorfindel's shoulder. 
Glorfindel felt his skin grow damp as the innumerable tears soaked 
through the fabrics of his tunic and shirt, but still he held the half-Elf tight 
and rocked him gently all the while. Words of comfort seemed useless, 
hence the reason none were offered, and in fact the silence seemed 
soothing enough. 

Eventually the tears and sobs subsided, though the shaking of Elrond's 
body did not, and Glorfindel held him for a few more moments before he 
got to his feet. 

"Come on, let us get you to bed," he insisted gently, hauling the half-Elf 
up after him by the armpits and urging him round to the side of the bed. 
Elrond complied without a word, allowing himself to be manipulated as 
Glorfindel pleased. The Eldar sat him down on the edge of the bed and 
removed the other's tunic for him, followed by his boots, and then pushed 
him gently down until he was lying in the bed. Glorfindel removed his 
own tunic and boots and moved to the other side of the bed, climbing in 
beside his friend and drawing the remaining covers up around them both. 

Elrond was already half-asleep, utterly exhausted and emotionally drained 
as he was from this day that seemed as if it would never end. He shifted 
over instinctively to the warmth of his friend's body, who pulled him into 
his arms. Elrond pillowed his dark head on Glorfindel's chest with a quiet 
sniff, and it was not long before his eyes became vacant and he drifted into 
an uneasy dreamscape. 

Glorfindel absentmindedly stroked the dark hair fanned out over his chest 
as the half-Elf succumbed to slumber, drawing on the comfort of having 
the Eldar so near. His mind flitted from Elrond, to Celebrìan, to Elladan 
and Elrohir and to Arwen; // how are the twins coping with this?// he 
wondered. Most likely they were comforting each other, both curled up in 
Elrohir's bed and enfolded in the other's arms as they often did when 
something went amiss. Arwen would not be so directly affected, since she 
was still only very young, but there was still the tribulation of growing up 
without her mother. 

And Elrond? Glorfindel suspected that he would learn to deal with it, just 
as he competently dealt with everything else that the Valar had thrown his 
way during his eventful life. As hard for him as this was, for Glorfindel 
knew how dear Celebrìan was to him, he also knew that other such things 
had befallen him and thus shaped his life. This would change his friend, 
but Elrond would not have to go through this alone. 


A/N: In this story the twins are the equivalent of about 21 years old. 
What's that, about 250 years? That'll do. They're younger than in the book, 
but we'll ignore that. Oh, and Elladan is the elder. 

***************  
Chapter 2  
*************** 

...Or is it? 

Glorfindel was awoken by a stray beam of sunlight that was focused on 
his face; he had neglected to draw the curtains last night. Elrond was still 
sleeping soundly against him, in the same position as when he had fallen 
asleep, and Glorfindel was loath to move him despite the fact that his left 
arm and shoulder were numb. The half-Elf seemed relaxed and peaceful in 
his slumber and he had obviously needed the rest; he was so exhausted 
after the perpetual draining force of keeping his emotions in check for 
almost a year that Glorfindel was beginning to fear for his health. Elrond's 
outburst last night had done him more good than he could imagine, and the 
Eldar did not mind a little discomfort if it meant that his friend could at 
last get the repose he deserved. 

Absentmindedly, Glorfindel combed through the long, mahogany hair 
with the slender fingers of his mobile hand, passing his fingertips over the 
half-Elf's scalp with a gentle, rhythmic, stroking motion as he looked 
down affectionately at his friend. Elrond's lips twitched upwards into a 
half-smile as he slept and he shifted slightly, muttering something 
inaudible below his breath. The Eldar's heart lightened at this and he 
smiled too, pleased by the happiest expression he had seen on the Lord of 
Imladris' face in a long 
time. 
Elrond shifted again, but this time the words that he muttered were louder 
and accompanied by a quiet whimper. When Glorfindel looked into his 
face he could see that the serenity had been replaced by anxiety and 
unease, his brown eyes troubled even in their vacant, sleeping state. Then 
suddenly Elrond began to struggle and cry out in his arms. 

"Nay, love, please..." The half-Elf's voice held imploring undertones, with 
a slightly keening ring to it as he writhed against Glorfindel. "No, please, 
do not go...you cannot leave me - don't go..." 

The Eldar's brow creased and he squeezed Elrond tighter to him as the 
struggling became more violent, whispering softly in an attempt to still 
him. "Shhh, 'tis alright, meldir, calm down, it is only a dream..." 

The gentle words seemed to work, for Elrond slowly ceased his struggling 
and Glorfindel laid him quietly back down on the bed. He emitted a soft 
sigh and closed his eyes, signalling that he was awake, and the blond 
propped himself up on one elbow so that he could look into the other's 
face. 

"Ai, Glorfindel..." Elrond spoke as he felt the mattress move beneath the 
weight of the Eldar. Glorfindel interrupted him, knowing full well what he 
was about to say. 

"'Tis alright, it was just a dream," he soothed, reaching out to cup Elrond's 
face in his hand. "Do not worry about it; you are bound to experience one 
or two." 

Elrond sighed again, leaning into the touch but still not opening his eyes. 
"But it was so vivid - I could see everything so perfectly. And she - she 
was perfect. Like before, like she used to be. Like I remember her." He 
paused for a moment, frowning to himself, and then opened his eyes to 
look up at Glorfindel. "Oh, my friend, I am sorry, I should not be 
subjecting you to this. It is selfish of me, I--" 

He was silenced by a hand being clamped over his mouth. "I will not hear 
another word of this," insisted Glorfindel, "You have the right to act like 
this. You are my dearest friend, and any problem of yours is a problem of 
mine." 

Elrond blinked, and the Eldar removed his hand as their eyes locked; 
gratitude shone in the dark orbs, mirrored by concern in the blue. Finally 
Elrond sat up and threw back the covers, swinging his legs over the edge 
of the bed as he went to stand, but before he could get to his feet 
Glorfindel was sitting next to him on the edge of the bed and had lain one 
arm across the half-Elf's shoulder, taking one hand within his own. 

Elrond smiled weakly as he pressed his temple briefly against the Eldar's 
and squeezed his hand. He then stood up and began to move towards the 
wardrobe, though their fingers remained in contact for as long as possible. 

"I...I think I might bathe..." he announced vaguely, suddenly sounding 
even more weary and worn than he had for the past twelve months. He 
wandered over to the cupboard and opened it, extracting some clean 
clothes, before trudging over to the door. Glorfindel watched in dismay as 
he saw that his friend's worries seemed to have returned as strongly as 
ever; he walked as if he held the weight of Arda on his shoulders. The 
door closed with a soft click, leaving the blond sitting on the edge of the 
bed, his heart filled with concern for the sad figure. A sense of melancholy 
descended upon him, brought on by the disheartening situation, before he 
waved it away with a sweep of his hand. 

// Ai, this will not do, // he thought as he got to his feet and reached for his 
tunic and boots, hastily discarded the previous night. // Sort yourself out, 
you are needed.. //
New determination setting his heart he left the Lord of Imladris' chambers 
and strode towards his own, whereupon he quickly washed from a basin in 
the corner, changed into fresh clothes and fixed his hair. Satisfied with his 
appearance when he glanced into the mirror, he departed in search of the 
twins. 

Both brothers were in Elrohir's room as he had suspected; as he stuck his 
head round the edge of the door he was greeted by two pairs of bright, 
dark eyes. They were already awake. Tangled up in the middle of the 
double bed was a flurry of dark hair and body parts so identical that it was 
hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Their eyes twinkled 
faintly at the sight of their father's seneschal. 

"Come in, Glorfindel." It was impossible to tell from which figure the 
voice came from, but the Eldar did as he was bid and stepped inside. 

"How fare you this morning, gwenyn?" he queried gently, causing both 
dark Elves to smile at the childhood endearment. Elrohir lifted his head 
from where it lay on his brother's chest, but Elladan pulled it back down 
and cradled it against his shoulder, pressing his lips lovingly to the raven 
crown. 

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," muttered the elder twin as he 
hugged his brother tight and kissed his hair again. His eyes were bright 
and gleaming, though the tears remained unshed. "At least I have my 
brother, nîn tithen-tôr." 

Elrohir smiled faintly to himself and relaxed further against Elladan. "How 
about father?" he asked, selfless as ever. Glorfindel sighed. 

"You are lucky, you have each other. There is a piece of her in both of 
you. And though your father has you, and Arwen, this is hard for him. He 
has none to help him through this like you do, though Valar knows I will 
do my best." 

Elladan nodded and Elrohir smiled again, wistfully; the Eldar cocked his 
head as he briefly absorbed the scene, before he turned to leave. 

"I shall see you later," he said. "Let me know if you need anything." 

Appreciation shining in the identical chocolate orbs was the last thing he 
saw before he closed the door, moving on to his next task in hand. 

Elvish Translations: 
Meldir - friend 
Gwenyn - twins 
Nîn tithen-tôr - my little brother 


***************  
Chapter 3  
*************** 

It's Raining, It's Pouring 

Elrond settled back against the side of the bathtub and closed his eyes with 
a heavy sigh. The warm, scented water washing over him soothed his 
weary being slightly and heated his skin, paler than usual from stress, 
strain and fatigue. The darkness behind his eyelids was inviting, the 
fragrances intoxicating, and he allowed them to envelop him so that all 
that existed was a warm, still blackness. All that he wanted to do was to 
float for a while, to forget about his problems; the smell of lavender and 
athelas that he had added to the water aided him, and soon his mind began 
to wander and his body unwound, until all he could feel was drifting, 
drifting... 

Suddenly the blackness was suffocating, choking him so he could not 
breathe. Elrond's eyes flew wide in panic and he opened his mouth in an 
attempt to draw air into his lungs, but only to find it filled with liquid. He 
had slipped under the water. 

Legs and arms thrashed around, sending water and foam flying in all 
directions. Finally though, the half-Elf found himself standing in the 
middle of the bathtub, water up to his waist and panting heavily. Bringing 
one trembling hand up to his face and passing it over his eyes before he 
bridged his temples with forefinger and thumb, he sighed again. 

It took all of Elrond's remaining strength to coerce his shocked, shaking 
body from the tub, whereupon he took a seat on a bench at the side of the 
room. A shudder rippled through his body - despite the steam filling the 
room he still felt cold - and reached for a towel to wrap around him. 

He took his time over dressing. His movements were slow and indolent, 
and he did not bother to braid his hair; it seemed insignificant, somehow. 
Besides, he was not certain that he would have been able to had he 
wanted, since the slight trembling of his hands refused to abate. 

Finally clothed he moved to the door, feeling no better from the bath than 
if he had jumped into a swamp. Looking back into the bathroom as he 
stepped out of the door, he did not see Glorfindel who happened to be 
passing right outside and walked straight into the taller blond. The half-Elf 
jumped as a strong pair of hands caught his shoulders, awakening him 
from his reverie, and started backwards. 

Glorfindel frowned upon seeing the wide, wary eyes of the Lord of 
Imladris and his shocked, pale face, though both softened when Elrond 
realised that it was only his friend whom he had walked into. Sharp 
sapphire eyes picked up the faint trembling of the raven-haired figure, and 
the Eldar cocked his head with concern written across his features. 

"Is everything alright, my lord?" he asked gently. 

Elrond nodded jerkily. "Yes...sorry..." came the stilted reply as the half-Elf 
looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with the blond. 

"Are you sure? You look a little harassed - has something happened?" 
Glorfindel stepped closer to his friend and laid a hand lightly on his 
shoulder, but Elrond shrugged it off sharply, as though the touch burned. 

"Yes...no...everything is fine!" he snapped, ignoring the slightly pained 
expression on Glorfindel's face; the Eldar only intended to help. "Why can 
you not just leave me be? Can you not see that I want to be alone?" 

Almost before he had finished speaking he turned on his heel and half-ran 
down the corridor, though he tried hard to keep his pace steady and 
relaxed. Glorfindel stared after him in bemusement, his head cocked to 
one side as he did when troubled or thinking. His heart ached for the half-
Elf, for he could easily relate to the torment that he was going through. 
But then again, he had never seen his friend so jumpy or touchy. With a 
heavy sigh he continued down the corridor to the nursery where Arwen 
would be with her nanny. All that Elrond needed probably was some time 
to himself. 

As soon as Elrond rounded the corner, and he knew that Glorfindel would 
not see him, he broke into a run. He slipped along the least used 
passageways until he came to the stairwell where he was headed. With a 
surreptitious glance around him to make sure that none other saw where he 
went, he climbed up the long flight of spiral steps and through the 
trapdoor, into the room at the top. 

The circular space was a little-used watchtower, which overlooked the 
whole of Imladris with windows on all sides. Although sparsely furnished, 
the room was comfortable, with furs on the floor to make the long hours of 
lookout more bearable. The windowsills were wide enough to sit on 
comfortably, for the same reason. Elrond gathered up one of the furs on 
the floor and spread it on the stone ledge. As he was about to climb onto it, 
however, he shuddered again, noticing how cold it was in the tower. 
Collecting a blanket that also lay nearby, he then settled himself onto the 
windowsill and covered himself with the blanket, wrapping his arms 
around his knees and gazing out of the window. 

The stunning view of the valley brought a wistful smile to his face, as he 
recalled the times spent hunting with Celebrìan through the forest, the 
never-ending summer afternoons by the waterfall, and the long, unhurried 
rides that she loved to take during the winter months. Winter had been her 
favourite time of year; she had loved those brilliant, icy-cold days, when 
everything seemed frozen still in the bright and frosty winter sun. She had 
loved the rain, how it rinsed the air and made everything clean and new 
again. She had loved the wind, no matter how bitter or chill; and she had 
loved the thunder and lightning. The supercharged bolts of electricity 
seemed, in turn, to supercharge her. She would practically quiver with the 
energy in the surrounding air, and more often than not Elrond would have 
been dragged outside to dance in the downpour, illuminated by great 
flashes above them and all sound drowned out by the terrible rumbles 
around them. 

Their household would think them mad when they returned, drenched and 
spattered with mud and laughing, almost vibrating, with the exhilaration of 
the storm. Elrond cared not, for it was one of the few moments when he 
felt he could relinquish his duties for a while and behave like a child 
again, foregoing all the formalities of being an well-respected Elf-lord to 
spend a few precious hours with his beloved. He sighed; the last time he 
had danced in the rain with her had been well over a year ago. 

Elrond focused his eyes, for they had gone vacant during his daydream, 
and he discovered that it was raining. // How ironic... // he thought wryly, 
inclining his head so he could better hear the pattering of the rain on the 
window. The falling water immediately conjured up memories of 
Celebrìan again, this time more poignant, and he allowed a single tear to 
trickle down his pale cheek as a silvery mark of his sorrow. She had 
always said that rain washed the air of the oldness, of the staleness, and 
ridded it of impurities. It brought new life and change, a chance to begin 
again and forget things past. 

And perhaps that was what this shower signified. A chance to forget, and 
yet to remember; a chance to start anew. Elrond could not help but feel 
that this was what it meant. But he did not want to forget. Not yet. The 
silvery trail down his cheek was joined by another, then another, until 
teardrops rained as freely down his face as they did down the window 
outside. He laid his dark head against the cold stone behind him and stared 
out into the rain, sobbing hard. Inside as well as outside, it rained and it 
poured. 
 
To be continued... 




***************  
Chapter 4  
*************** 

Sibling Camaraderie
 
Elrohir was wandering aimlessly along the deserted corridor, his mind not 
truly focused on his destination. Walking was something that he did often 
when troubled, in comparison with Elladan who preferred either to vent 
his anger by means of sparring, or to jest and pretend that nothing was 
wrong. Although Elrohir did not mind walking in the rain, he had decided 
to remain inside when the first ominous claps of thunder sounded, and left 
his twin seeking release from his emotions by practicing his swordplay 
with a guardsman in the Great Hall. 

There was something consoling about the silence of the passageways. 
Elrohir had always been the more introverted of the twins, and valued his 
privacy, whilst Elladan sought the company of others more readily. It was 
almost as though everyone who would normally be seen in these corridors 
had understood and vacated the area, and Elrohir stopped for a moment to 
gratefully savour the silence. 

Suddenly a strange sound caught his attention, and he cocked his head to 
hear it better. It came again and he turned towards it, locating the origin as 
the entrance to the disused watchtower to his right. Curious, he slowly 
made his way up the stairs, confused as to the nature of the sounds. They 
came at irregular intervals, and sounded suspiciously like choked sobs, 
although with the reverberation in the cold stone stairwell they were hard 
to distinguish. Finally rounding the last turn of the spiral staircase, Elrohir 
poked his head through the trap door and looked towards the source of the 
sounds; what he saw made his heart ache painfully in his chest, and he bit 
his tongue to stifle a cry. 

"Ada..." he began, uncertain of what to say or do next. Elrond did not look 
up from his seat, instead choosing to continue staring out of the window. 

"Elroh-hir, p-please," he stammered, his body shaking from the force of 
his contained sobs. "L-leave me b-be." 

Elrohir ignored the plea, and instead climbed through the trap door and 
quietly crossed the room to his father. Climbing onto the window ledge 
next to the elder half-Elf, Elrohir gently lifted the other's chin with two 
fingers and forced their dark eyes to meet. Elrond angrily swiped away the 
hand and turned his gaze to the window once more, his cheeks burning 
with shame at having his son see him like this. 

Elrohir tried again. "Ada, please," he begged, framing his father's face 
with his hands. "Talk to me; I want to help you." 

Elrond turned his eyes away and pulled away from the grip once again. "I 
just want to be alone, Elrohir," he ground out, feeling his hands clench 
into fists beneath the blanket. He was thankful for the fact that his voice 
did not catch as it had done previously, but it still wavered painfully, little 
more than a raspy whisper. "Leave me be." 

Elrohir regarded his father, his voice also trembling a little. "I do not want 
to leave you alone," he countered softly, his chocolate eyes watering 
slightly. "It hurts me more to see you hurting, and surely it must pain you 
to be alone." 

Elrond's head snapped round at these words; his dark eyes flashed 
dangerously, and Elrohir instinctively leaned back a little as he prepared 
for the onslaught. "More that you would know, yes!" he hissed. "It is 
agony, and I welcome it, because it makes me feel again. I was numb, 
Elrohir, totally numb; this is the first that I have felt for longer than you 
would care to imagine. There was no way that I could let my feelings 
show - the situation did not permit it; I was needed to be strong. Now, for 
the first time since...it" he could not bring himself to use the words 
"happened, I can feel again. And you are trying to stop that." 

Elrohir's gentle eyes were wide and scared, and a lone, innocent tear had 
traced its silvery way down his fair skin. He bit at his lower lip, not quite 
wanting to believe what his father had just said. 

"If it is any consolation, Elrohir, you make me numb again." Elrond was 
obviously not done speaking, although his voice had dropped back down 
to a whisper that was almost as harsh as the words. "There should be some 
comfort in that. Now will you please just go and let me feel again - you 
can deadened my pain later, when I am ready." 

The younger Elf sniffed quietly and got to his feet, rushing out of the room 
and down the spiral staircase. Elrond did not watch him go, but turned 
back to gaze out of the window. Once he reached the foot of the stairs 
Elrohir broke into a run, dashing through the passageways towards the 
comfort of his room where he hoped his brother would be. He rounded a 
corner at high speed, his mind still not totally on the task, just as when he 
had first come this way, and all that he saw was a flash of gold before he 
was caught firmly around the waist and spun into a halt. 

"Steady on, gwenneth! You will knock someone over if you carry on like 
that!" Glorfindel's tone was light, if slightly forced, and Elrohir nodded 
sullenly. 

"Aye, sorry," he muttered quietly, making no attempt to disguise the tears 
streaming down his face and the quavering of his voice, because he knew 
that the Eldar would notice. Sure enough he felt his chin being grasped 
between thumb and forefinger, and his face was lifted to meet the fair face 
of the older Elf. 

"Hey, now, what has happened to get you into such a state?" Glorfindel's 
voice softened instantly as he brushed away the fresh tears with his thumb, 
and Elrohir sniffed before he replied. "Ada...he said things..." 

Glorfindel cocked his head to the side. "What sort of things?" 

Elrohir shook his head and shrugged. "That...that he wanted to be alone, 
that he was numb and he wanted to hurt, that it made him feel when he 
was alone." He paused and his eyes brimmed with tears again at the 
thought of what came next. "And...and that I made him feel numb 
again...that he wanted me gone." 

Glorfindel's brow furrowed and he pulled the distressed younger Elf close 
in a tight embrace. "I am certain that is not how he meant it, Elrohir," he 
soothed, gently stroking the trembling back. He looked over the shoulder 
of the raven-haired figure in his arms, and saw one of the empty guest 
rooms behind him. "Come, let's go in here and sit down." 

Elrohir nodded against the Eldar's shoulder and allowed himself to be 
ushered into the empty room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and 
waited for Glorfindel to close the door and join him there. 

"I think, gwenneth," began the blond thoughtfully as he laid one long arm 
across the darker Elf's shoulders, "that when your father said he was 
numb, he meant that he needs to find a way to release his emotions." 
Elrohir nodded slowly, prompting Glorfindel to continue. "I don't know if 
you realise how difficult it was for him, whilst your mother was ill. He felt 
that he needed to be strong for her sake, and so was unable to give release 
to his emotions. It pained him more than you might know, to see her like 
that, and yet he felt that he could not - and did not - show it. Keeping 
everything locked inside has taken its toll." 

Elrohir nodded again. "I suppose that makes sense," he muttered, hanging 
his head sadly. "But when he said that he did not want me there, that I 
made him numb again..." 

"I agree that that was uncalled for." Glorfindel pursed his lips and pulled 
the younger Elf closer "I will talk to him later. I am not making excuses 
for him, but he is hurting badly at the moment - as you well know. Taking 
it out on you was not the way to go about it, but it is his way of dealing 
with this. You remind him of your mother, and that stops him from 
grieving for her - from feeling his sorrow - because he still has a part of 
her here. We all need to grieve; it is part of the healing process." 

Silent understanding radiated from Elrohir, and Glorfindel stroked his hair 
for several minutes. "Your father loves you just as much as he ever did, if 
not more, and I am certain that he did not truly intend to hurt you with his 
words," he added finally. Elrohir sniffed quietly and looked up at the 
blond with his dark, watery eyes. Glorfindel brushed away a lone tear that 
was still trickling down his face and smiled at him kindly. 

"You haven't had breakfast yet, have you?" he stated. Elrohir shook his 
head. "Are you hungry?" 

Elrohir shrugged. "I am not sure...I suppose so," he answered vaguely, 
gazing at the floor. 

Glorfindel got to his feet and offered him a hand. "Come on, let's get you 
something to eat," he suggested, pulling the submissive Elf to his feet. 
"You will feel much better with some food inside you - I'll bet you didn't 
have any dinner last night, either." 

"No...we went to bed," muttered Elrohir, his words still vague, letting 
himself to be shepherded along the corridors towards the kitchens. He 
walked slowly, and Glorfindel allowed him to take his time, until they 
finally reached their destination. Opening the door, the Eldar was relieved 
to see that Elladan was sitting at the large table in the kitchen, with Arwen 
in his arms. He settled Elrohir at the table with a wordless but meaningful 
glance at the elder twin, and set about preparing some breakfast for the 
younger. 

Elladan squeezed his brother's arm compassionately, and handed him their 
little sister. Elrohir took her gladly and sat her on his knee, smiling down 
at her with a wistful expression. She gurgled cheerfully and bounced a 
little, oblivious to their troubles, educing a more genuine smile from 
Elrohir and a soft chuckle from Elladan. Glorfindel looked on, pleased to 
see the younger twin's spirits lifting slightly, and set a plate of food down 
on the table. He bent his golden head to murmur a few words in Elladan's 
ear, unnoticed by Elrohir who was still occupied by his sister; the elder 
raven-haired Elf nodded in comprehension. 

"I shall go and take this to your father," Glorfindel then stated softly, 
picking up another plate of food that he had prepared. Elrohir nodded 
distractedly, and the Eldar ruffled his dark hair affectionately in a 
customary teasing gesture as he left the room. He needed to have words 
with a certain Lord of Imladris. 

To be continued...
 
Elvish Translations: 
Ada - daddy 
Gwenneth - younger twin (a childhood endearment for Elrohir) 

***************  
Chapter 5  
*************** 

Wound Up 

Silence hung heavily in the corridor down which Elrohir had been running 
as Glorfindel made his way along it; neither was there a sound as he 
tentatively ascended the spiral staircase into the watchtower. He peeked 
through the trapdoor, into the circular room, and then climbed up, still 
holding the plate of food that he had taken from the kitchen. 

The Eldar walked quietly over to the huddled form under the blanket on 
the far window ledge. Elrond did not look up, though Glorfindel's 
presence was obvious, albeit unobtrusive. Glorfindel set the plate on the 
floor and perched next to his lord on the ledge, reaching out to brush away 
some of the tangled, twilight-hued hair that hung over his face. He smiled 
when Elrond still did not move; the dark, still-watery eyes were glassy 
with sleep as they stared blankly out of the window, and the pale, tear-
stained face serene. 

Gently, the blond stroked his friend's cheek with his thumb, smoothing 
away the silvery trails left by the evidence of his misery. The creamy skin 
was cool to the touch, and the Eldar frowned a little. Elrond was covered 
by a blanket; surely he should not be cold? But then again, he reasoned, it 
is chilly up here, and there is a draught blowing through this window 
frame. Glorfindel dismissed his doubts, and instead gazed into his friend's 
face, trying to gauge the dreams from the expression. 

Elrond's face was wistful and peaceful, his sleep obviously untroubled 
unlike the night before, and almost without meaning to Glorfindel sighed 
at that recollection. The puff of air across his cheek caused the raven-
haired half-Elf to stir beneath the blanket, and unconsciously he turned his 
head into Glorfindel's hand before his eyes focused on the handsome 
blond sitting next to him. He sighed quietly and closed his eyes, turning 
his head away from the touch as he brought a hand from beneath the 
covers to brush at the air. 

"Nay, Glorfindel, let me sleep," he muttered, leaning his head against the 
stone wall behind him. Glorfindel cocked his head, sorry that he had 
woken his friend, but glad in the same instant. 

"Up here, my lord?" he enquired tactfully, and took Elrond's hand in his 
own. It too was cold, and he frowned inwardly. "'Tis cold up here - would 
you not prefer to sleep in your own chambers, or to read in the library, 
perhaps?" 

The half-Elf sighed, and shrugged noncommittally. "No. I suppose I 
should really be doing some work, shouldn't I? That is why you are up 
here, after all..." 

"Of course not!" insisted the Eldar. "I have checked already, and there is 
very little paperwork for today - nothing that I cannot handle myself." 

"Then why are you up here?" Elrond's voice was tired and a little hoarse, 
Glorfindel noticed now, and almost totally void of emotion. 

"I brought you some food," he explained, reaching down to pick up the 
plate and offered it to Elrond. "And I spoke to Elrohir..." 

The half-Elf ignored the offer of breakfast, and turned sad, brown eyes to 
his seneschal. His expression was haggard, his face pale and stained with 
tears, and he looked most unlike an Elf-lord held in high esteem with his 
tangled, unbraided hair hanging in all directions. "I hurt him," he said 
quietly, before he looked away again. It was more of a statement that a 
question, and Glorfindel pursed his lips. 

"Aye, he was very upset." The blond paused for a moment to consider 
something. "Did you intend to hurt him?" 

"Yes." The word was whispered. "It was the only way I could think of to 
get him to leave." 

"He thinks that you want him gone; I think that he is doubting your love 
for him at the moment." 

"I did want him gone," replied Elrond, still gazing out of the window. "He 
reminds me of her so much...so very, very much that it stops me from 
feeling for her. He helps me forget her." A sob threatened to choke his 
words, but he swallowed it back down and snatched his hand out of 
Glorfindel's. "I do not want to forget her," he continued, shaking his head 
slowly and balling his hand into a fist. "I don't want to forget...I did not 
want her to go..." 

Glorfindel regarded the half-Elf with his cool, even sapphire gaze, one 
delicate golden eyebrow raised in slight incredulity, and his tone was 
clipped when he finally responded. "You have three living pieces of her in 
this very house; I would hardly call that forgetting." 

"You do not see it, though," came the reply, half sniffed and half croaked 
so that it was almost unintelligible. "I see her in them, every single time 
that I look at them. And then I see them, so that I no longer see her...so 
that I no longer see her as she was. She is not there any more...she is 
gone...in my mind. That is forgetting." He fell silent for a moment, staring 
at his hands. "I do not want to forget," he finished finally, his voice 
cracking on the last few words. "I do not want to see them." 

Glorfindel stood up abruptly, catching Elrond's eye, as he prepared to 
leave. "Your beloved children are a walking, breathing testament to her," 
he hissed, shooting a scathing glance at his lord. "They need you now 
more than they ever have before. And you need them, loath as you may be 
to admit it for some strange reason. Turning them away will help no one." 

With one last meaningful glance at the ashamed half-Elf, who had hung 
his head and was gazing into his lap, Glorfindel turned and made his way 
over to the trapdoor. Just as he had climbed through and was about to 
descend the stairs, he sent a fleeting look back over to Elrond. 

"If you wanted to hurt Elrohir, as you say you did, then I congratulate you 
on achieving your goal," he finished, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 
With that he vanished down the stairs in the tower, leaving Elrond with his 
face hidden in his hands. 

Glorfindel stalked down the passageway towards his own chambers, 
replaying Elrond's words over in his mind. He could not believe what the 
half-Elf had just said to him; understandably he was deeply hurt and upset 
by Celebrìan's departure, but the Eldar could just not comprehend his 
perverse point of view. 

Reaching his own rooms, Glorfindel slipped inside and irritably kicked the 
door closed before he collapsed weightily into a large armchair in the 
corner. He sighed heavily and slumped down in it, leaning his golden head 
back against the headrest, closing his sapphire eyes and passing one hand 
over his face in frustration. He sat there for a few moments, just relaxing 
and forgetting his troubles for a short while, until the haunting image of 
his lord's face returned to his mind, dancing in circles with that of the 
distraught younger twin and the quietly self-restrained sadness of the 
elder. 

Shaking his head, Glorfindel sat up on the edge of the chair and shrugged 
his shoulders; they were stiff and tight from recent tensions, and he was 
beginning to feel the effects. Get yourself together, he reprimanded 
himself, standing up with a heavy exhalation, this family is falling apart 
right now, and all you can think of is your stiff shoulders. Help them... 

So, with a resigned shake of his head, the blond figure walked back over 
to the door and left his quarters, unable to believe, after a glance at the 
clock, that it was only just gone midday. 

To be continued...


***************  
Chapter 6  
*************** 

Don't Speak... 

The entire day had passed and Glorfindel had seen no further sign of Elrond. He had 
seen Elrohir a few hours after he had left him in the kitchen, still accompanied by his 
brother. Elladan seemed to be having a beneficial effect on the younger twin, for 
although Elrohir still had a definite air of melancholy about him he seemed much happier 
than he had been earlier that morning. Elladan always seemed to know exactly what to 
do in order to educe a smile or a soft laugh from his brother. Always seemed to know 
how to lift his spirits. 

Glorfindel was now reflecting upon the totally different characters of the twins as he sat 
upon his bed that evening with his long legs crossed neatly underneath him, an 
unopened book lying forgotten in his lap. Although the two brothers were identical to 
behold, with their mother's features and their father's colouring, the personality genes 
had not been so equally divided. Elladan took after Celebrìan; he had always been the 
more outgoing of the pair, ever choosing to spend time with whoever he could find as 
opposed to spending it alone. He expressed his emotions more freely than his twin, 
often speaking before he thought, and never took things to heart in the same way as 
Elrohir. 

The younger twin had taken after Elrond. He was quieter and more reserved, the more 
sensitive of the pair; Elrohir was highly tuned to other people's emotions and feelings, 
and acted with great respect towards them. This meant that he himself was more 
sensitive to other's comments and opinions, often losing faith in himself, and due to this 
he disliked public events. He avoided them whenever possible, favouring time spent 
alone. 

But then again, mused the blond, the two brothers' personalities seemed like two halves 
of one whole; Elladan was the lively, extroverted, outspoken side, and Elrohir the quiet, 
taciturn side who always acted with others in mind. And they way that they 
interacted...Elrohir could calm his brother with little more than a touch, whilst Elladan 
had 
the ability to cheer the younger twin when he was feeling dejected with the greatest of 
ease. The closeness that they shared had helped them through any difficulties earlier in 
their lives. Glorfindel only hoped that it would see them safely through this. 

Lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating the blackness of the sky for a split 
second, and Glorfindel jumped as he was torn from his musings. Thunder followed 
shortly, mirrored by a heavy sigh from the blond Eldar who then laid the unread book on 
the nightstand and got to his feet. He padded, barefoot, over to the window and pulled 
the heavy drapes tightly shut against the unabated storm, also sealing out the draught 
that seeped through the window frame. 

Lighting another candle and placing it in a holder on the nightstand, Glorfindel then 
retreated back to the comfort of his bed. He settled back onto it again, crossing his legs 
as before, and picked up the book for a second time. It seemed, however, that he was 
destined not to read it, for no sooner had he opened the first page than a soft knock 
came at his door. He ran his hand down his face, closing his eyes momentarily, before 
he answered. 

"Yes? Come in." 

The handle turned slowly and the door swung open. Glorfindel did not know whether to 
smile at or cry for the figure that was revealed; Elrond stood tentatively in the doorway, 
as though he were half expecting to be turned away. His raven locks hung, lank and 
tangled, around his face, and he was holding a guttering candle that flickered under his 
chin and threw the pallor of his face into stark contrast with his hair. A trick of the light it 
may have been, but hollows were faintly discernible below his cheekbones and around 
his eyes, and the dark orbs themselves appeared dull and shallow despite the yellow 
flame. 

"Elrond." Glorfindel's voice was soft, surprised. "Come in - don't just stand in the 
doorway." // Ironic,// he thought, //that I should be telling my lord what to do. //

The half-Elf did as he was bid and stepped inside, closing the door behind him with an 
almost inaudible click. Silence reigned for several moments whilst sapphire eyes locked 
with chocolate, neither moving, neither speaking. It was Elrond who broke it. 

"I...I'm sorry," he croaked, his voice harsh and far from its usual gentle, melodic tones. 
He hung his head; a pause. "It hurts..." 

Glorfindel felt a pang in his stomach and smiled wistfully at the sorry figure before him. 
He opened his arms in an invitation, which Elrond accepted and moved gratefully 
towards the bed. Glorfindel took the candle from him and set it aside, then pulled the 
half-Elf into his arms as he climbed onto the bed. He squeezed Elrond tightly, feeling his 
friend melt towards him. 

"I know it hurts, meldir," he murmured into the slightly blunted ear as he gently rocked 
the troubled half-Elf. "But do you think I am the one to whom you should really be 
apologising?" 

Elrond shook his head where he had laid it against Glorfindel's shoulder, before he 
leaned back in the embrace. "No," he sighed, suddenly looking every one of his six 
thousand years. His eyes were almost black from the angle that he was holding his 
head, expressionless, and lacking their usual light. "But I just don't know what to say." A 
wry smile-come grimace crossed his face, and he laughed hollowly. "The lord of 
Imladris, used to negotiating with every race and kingdom in Arda, and yet I cannot find 
the words to talk to my own sons." 

Glorfindel squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "That is always the way!" he agreed with 
a sly smirk. "Family are often even trickier to deal with than Orcs - you cannot slice their 
head off, for starters!" 

Elrond laughed again, more sincerely this time, but the smile soon faded into what was 
fast becoming his customary disconsolate expression, and he let his eyes fall to the 
bedclothes. The golden-haired Eldar cocked his head. "Will you speak to them, then?" 

The half-Elf shrugged, still looking at the embroidered fabric upon which they were 
sitting. "Aye, when I can find the words." 

Glorfindel lifted his chin with two fingers so that they were looking each other in the eye. 
"I think that the words will come before you know it, once you are with them," he 
offered. 
"And do not underestimate them; they will understand more than you think they might." 

The barest hint of a smile flicked over Elrond's face, which warmed Glorfindel's heart. 
"Although I think that you might worry them even more if you appeared to them in this 
state," continued the blond, picking up a strand of long, dark hair and showing it to the 
owner before looping it behind an ear. "Let me see what I can do..." 

He got to his feet and climbed elegantly off the bed, crossing the room to a chest of 
drawers on the other side. He opened the top drawer and took out a small stand and 
bowl, which he placed on the dresser and lit a large candle beneath. He then poured 
some water from a jug into the bowl and returned to the bed, stopping to pick up a 
hairbrush on the way back. Positioning himself behind the half-Elf this time, Glorfindel 
began to gently comb out the mats and tangles from the long, dark mane. 

Elrond's body began to relax as his friend softly brushed his hair; it lifted his heart to 
realise that Glorfindel cared so much. The Eldar himself smiled to see a little of the 
tension ebb away from the slender body in front of him, if only temporarily, and 
continued his ministrations long after all the knots had been eased out. Finally, with a 
glance back at the warming water, he took a leather thong from his pocket and scooped 
the now shimmering raven tresses back from the pale face. Tying them into a simple 
ponytail, he then got to his feet and fetched the bowl of warm water and a towel. 

Extending the latter to Elrond, and placing the former on the nightstand, the half-Elf 
splashed his face with the water. He sighed happily at the pleasant sensation, rinsing 
away the remains of his tears, and then wiped his face before placing his hands into the 
bowl. His cool fingers tingled in the heated liquid, and a faint smile formed on his face as 
he let them rest there for several moments. When he finally extracted his hands and 
dried them off, he turned back to Glorfindel and smiled slightly. 

"Thank you, Glorfindel." The smile was truly genuine this time, and the Eldar, who had 
sat back down on the bed, grinned in return. 

"Think nothing of it, meldir," he replied simply, and inclined his head, as was an 
idiosyncrasy of his, to look into his friend's face again. However, at that moment there 
came another quiet knock at the door, and he looked up again. 

"Who is it?" he called back. 

"'Tis me," came the answer. 

"And me," came another. Glorfindel snickered at the twins' answers, and got to his feet 
after throwing a brief questioning glance at Elrond. The half-Elf nodded, and the Eldar 
made his way over to the door. He cracked it open and peered through the gap at the 
twins who stood on the other side. 

"Glorfindel, we cannot find father," began Elladan immediately. The Eldar silenced him 
with a wave of his hand. 

"Aye, that would be because he is in here," he answered, opening the door wider. Relief 
flooded the identical faces, both at the words and at the sight of their father sitting on his 
seneschal's bed. Glorfindel peered behind him at Elrond, and saw that the chocolate 
eyes had lightened somewhat and filled with emotion once more. They were wide, and 
his features kind, as he silently asked of his sons what he thought he could not put into 
words. Both twins understood instantly, and Glorfindel stepped aside to allow them into 
the room. They rushed over to the bed and positioned themselves on either side of their 
father, enveloping him in their arms. Glorfindel silently slipped outside and closed the 
door, vanishing down the corridor and allowing the family some time alone. 

*** 

Silence hung in the chambers once again, though this time pleasant and not at all 
strained, and Elrond leaned heavily against Elrohir. Finally it was the half-Elf who broke 
the hush yet again, this time with a whisper to his sons. 

"I'm sorry." 

Elrohir stroked his hair and rested his chin atop his head. "Shhh," he soothed, but no 
more words followed. Elladan saw the flash of pain that lit the younger twin's eyes for a 
moment, and understood why he had offered nothing else. Elrond blinked and squeezed 
Elrohir a little tighter, whilst at the same time extending his hand to Elladan's. The elder 
twin took it within both of his and held it. 

After a while Elrond's breath began to grow shallower and even out, and eventually his 
eyes took on the vacancy of sleep as he slumped heavily against Elrohir. Elladan 
wrapped an arm around his father' shoulders and took some of the weight from his 
brother, and Elrond sighed softly as he slept supported by his sons. 

After several more minutes had passed, the door opened again and Glorfindel poked his 
head round the corner. Both twins looked up. 

"You can all sleep in here tonight, if you wish," offered the blond, slipping back inside 
and moving to the bed. 

"But what about you?" asked Elladan in concern. Glorfindel shrugged as he pulled some 
spare blankets from under the bed. 

"I shall be fine in the chair; I have slept in worse places before! Now, go to sleep!" 

Elladan opened his mouth to protest again, but was silenced by a single look from the 
Elven-lord. He yawned gratefully and Elrohir blinked sleepily in agreement. They both 
slipped their shoes off onto the floor before gently manoeuvring their father between 
them so that he was lying with his head on the pillows. The twins lay down on either side 
of him, Elrohir fast falling asleep with his head on his father's shoulder and one arm over 
his stomach and Elladan with his arm slung across both of them. The elder twin smiled 
at the blond as he spread a blanket over the three dark-haired Elves, before snuggling 
closer to his father and quickly joining his father and brother in the Elven dreamscape. 

Glorfindel moved over to the large armchair in the corner, blowing out all the candles 
except for one in a stand above his head. He gracefully folded himself into it with his 
knees pulled up to his chest and spread another blanket over himself, then looked back 
over to the already sleeping family. He also noticed the book on the nightstand, but did 
not bother to get up to fetch it. He knew that it would not get read. 

To be continued... 



***************  
Chapter Seven  
*************** 

Stiff Necks
 
Elrond gradually became aware of his senses again as he 
awoke. He drifted slowly in the state between slumber and 
stirring for a few moments, aware of being blissfully 
comfortable; whatever he was lying on was pleasantly soft, 
and he was enveloped in a soothing warmth. A soft, rhythmic 
hiss could also be heard, and as he tried to move position 
slightly he found himself pinned at the waist and left shoulder. 
His eyes focused, and a wistful smile played faintly across his 
lips as he realised that the twins were asleep on either side of 
him. 

They were breathing in unison, which made him snicker 
inwardly, for some strange reason; that accounted for the 
hissing sound, then. Elrohir had pillowed his head on his 
father's shoulder, and Elladan was asleep on his right, his arm 
slung protectively around both their waists and pulling their 
three slender bodies close for comfort. Elrond looked fondly 
from one identical face to the other, relaxed in sleep. //How 
could I have hurt them? So innocent; so childlike, still. 
So like... her.// 

A strange twinge behind his breastbone made him wince, and 
he suddenly had the impulse to get away from the situation. 
Using his free right hand, he gently peeled Elladan's arm from 
around his and Elrohir's waists, and laid it gently on the bed. 
He then lifted Elrohir's head from his shoulder, careful not to 
wake the sleeping younger twin, and slipped his shoulder 
from under it. He rested his son's head gently on the pillow, 
and now eased himself onto his hands and knees and off the 
bed, mindful lest the movement of the bed awaken the 
slumbering brothers. 

Once standing on the floor, Elrond shook out his left arm to 
regain some sensation in it and looked around him; these 
were not his chambers. He thought back to the previous 
evening, and recalled how he had come back to Glorfindel's 
chambers - because he did not know where else to go. But 
then where was the Eldar? 

A more careful scan of the room soon answered that 
question, for a splash of gold and azure from the chair in the 
corner caught his eye. Glorfindel was curled up on the 
armchair on the far side of the room, with his knees pulled up 
to his chest and a blanket draped over his slim body. His 
head lolled against the back of the chair, blue eyes vacant 
with sleep, and his handsome face youthful and peaceful as 
he dreamt. Elrond padded over to the slumbering Elf and 
stood over him for a moment, gazing down at his friend. 

//Poor Glorfindel; so selfless,// he thought, stretching out 
one hand to lightly finger a high, angular cheekbone. //You 
will doubtless have a crick in your neck when you wake.// 
He stood for a few moments longer, and then tucked a stray 
lock of flaxen hair behind a pointed ear and withdrew his 
hand. 

"Thank you," he whispered with a haunting, lingering glance 
at his seneschal. "You do not deserve this." He then turned 
and slunk out of the room, silent so as not to disturb those 
still sleeping. 

*** 

Glorfindel awoke to a pain in his neck, and a groan escaped 
his lips before he could prevent it. He irritably flicked the 
blanket away from him and unfolded his legs so that they 
were dangling over the arm of the chair. Long arms were 
stretched out and stiff shoulders shrugged and rolled, until the 
Eldar felt sufficiently alert to get out of the chair. 

He perched on the edge of it for a few moments, yawning 
widely and rubbing his eyes, then surveyed the room. 
Sapphire eyes were immediately drawn to the bed, where 
two identical forms still slept amidst raven silk, willowy limbs 
flung far and wide. Their father, however, was missing. 

With a sigh, Glorfindel got to his feet and stalked over to the 
bed, rubbing his stiff neck as he went. He stood over the 
slumbering pair, regarding them with his head cocked for a 
short while, and then glanced at the clock. He groaned, 
although inwardly this time; it was only a quarter to seven. He 
crossed the few steps to the wardrobe, where he donned a 
soft pair of shoes and a gown over his crumpled, slept-in 
shirt and leggings. He then exited the room on silent feet. 

The corridor was still dark, for it was winter and the sun had 
not yet risen, and no candles were lit. Glorfindel paused at a 
cupboard in a wall niche to remove and light a candle, and 
then continued in his search for the missing Lord of Imladris. 

He went first to Elrond's own chambers, on the same floor 
but the other side of the house to his own. He paused at the 
door and knocked, but there was no answer. Cautiously, he 
tried the handle, and opened the door when it turned; the 
room was empty. It appeared that nobody had been inside 
recently, either, for everything was undisturbed, neat and 
tidy. Puzzled, Glorfindel closed the door and continued his 
search. The tower, the library, even Arwen's nursery were 
investigated, but still produced no hint of the elusive half-Elf. 

Finally Glorfindel's stomach requested, with a loud growl, 
that he pay it some attention, and so he made his way to the 
kitchen. On his way, however, he passed by a room with the 
door closed and a light showing from the crack at the 
bottom; Elrond's study. 

A slow smile spread across the blond's beautiful face, and he 
tapped softly on the door. A distracted voice from inside 
bade him enter, and he opened the door. 

The sight behind it halted him in the doorway. Elrond was sat 
at his desk, nose buried in paperwork and quill in hand. He 
was dressed in his customary formal robes, which he usually 
wore when seeing to the business of his kingdom, and his hair 
was once again fashioned in the tiny, intricate braids that 
symbolised his position. Glorfindel blinked in surprise, and 
the half-Elf looked up to see who was at his door. 

He beamed brightly when he saw his seneschal, putting down 
his quill and leaning back in his chair. "Glorfindel, my friend, 
how is your neck?" 

The Eldar smiled sleepily and leaned against the doorframe, 
resting his head on the wood and wrapping his robe tighter 
around him. "A little stiff, my lord, but nothing I cannot 
handle. A hot bath should do the trick nicely." 

He was not sure if it was his imagination, or if the trace of a 
shadow crossed Elrond's face at that, but if it did then the 
half-Elf soon shook it off and rose to his feet with a wry 
smile. "I daresay it will. I apologise; you should not have had 
to spend the night in a chair." He crossed the room to where 
Glorfindel was still standing in the doorway, until he was 
positioned in front of the taller, slightly more slender Elven-
lord. He then raised one hand to the back of the blond's 
neck, and gently manipulated the muscles under the skin until 
something clicked. Glorfindel emitted a soft gasp of surprise, 
and Elrond raised an eyebrow in question. "Better?" 

The Eldar gingerly moved his head in every direction, his face 
relaxing when he realised that it was no longer sore. "Aye, 
much better, meldir, thank you." 

For a few seconds there was silence. Glorfindel inclined his 
head and regarded Elrond, who looked back at him in 
curiosity. Despite the strange - probably feigned - cheeriness, 
the half-Elf's face appeared pale, thin and tired to the blond, 
and though his eyes were brighter from the smile across his 
features they were still as devoid of emotion as they had been 
the previous night. Little had changed since then, save the 
smile and perhaps the fact that the shadows around his eyes 
and under his cheekbones were slightly more pronounced. 
Glorfindel sighed inaudibly and laid his head back on the 
doorframe, though he did not take his sapphire eyes from his 
friend. 

"Are you alright, Elrond?" he asked at last. He deliberately 
kept his face blank and unreadable, so that he could better 
judge the half-Elf's reactions. 

A strange combination of emotion crossed the pale face at 
the question, something like a combination of joviality,  

sobriety, indifference, and... fear? The Eldar bit his tongue. 
Pretence; that was it. He had seen it before. 

It took a few seconds for Elrond to answer, but his voice 
was admirably steady when he did. "I will be fine," he replied 
with care. "I will cope. Besides, the work needs seeing to. It 
helps." 

Glorfindel almost laughed despite himself at the choice of 
words, for only Elrond could have replied so accurately, so 
wisely, and still deliberately not answered the question. 
Instead he fixed his raven-haired friend with his most 
sceptical sapphire regard, immediately returned by chocolate 
eyes, fierce and brave yet still emotionless. Pointed looks 
were exchanged on both their behalves, until finally the blond 
closed his eyes with a sigh. 

"Ambiguity in difficult situations has always been one of your 
strongest traits," he conceded, standing up straight and 
running a hand through his long golden hair, as of yet 
unbrushed. "I was going to get some breakfast. Would you 
like me to bring you some? You barely ate yesterday." 

Elrond nodded after a moment's thought. "Yes, please, if you 
wouldn't mind," he answered. "Only some fruit though." 

Returning the nod, Glorfindel turned and vanished into the 
corridor. Elrond waited for a brief time, and then walked 
back to his chair. Running his hands down his face, he drew 
a deep, shuddering breath and allowed his shoulders to 
slump as he waited for Glorfindel to return with his food. He 
shook his head and closed his eyes; he did not see the point. 
They both knew that he would not eat it. 

To be continued... 


***************  
Chapter Eight  
*************** 

Rings True 

Glorfindel moved around the kitchen, preparing breakfast for himself and 
his lord since none of the staff were yet awake, his thoughts wandering far 
from the task as his hands automatically went through the motions. He 
was worried about Elrond; the half-Elf's erratic behaviour was well out of 
character, even when it was considered that he had just lost his beloved 
wife. 

Elrond had lost those who were dear to him before, and many a time had 
Glorfindel been there to see it happen. He had been there after the battle of 
the Last Alliance, when Elrond had finally broken down in tears after Gil-
galad, his esteemed leader, his revered King, and at times his cherished 
lover, had been cremated by Sauron before his very eyes. For days after 
the Elven King's death and their return to Imladris, Elrond had wandered 
the halls with a haunted look governing his features, clutching his chest 
where Vilya hung on a necklace, and his eyes wide and vacant as though 
he were in some distant dreamscape. Perhaps he was, who knew - 
Glorfindel certainly did not – perhaps that ring held some connection with 
the King who had given it to his herald before he perished. 

But this was different. Glorfindel had never seen his friend openly pretend 
to him - lie to him - before. Elrond had always either been brutally honest 
or refused to answer; he had never told an outright lie. There was no way 
that the Lord of Imladris could revert to normal just two days after the 
departure of his beloved wife; Glorfindel did not expect him to. But he 
could not believe that Elrond had thought he could deceive his closest 
friend like that. Something was definitely wrong; Elrond was hiding 
something. 

A sudden, sharp pain in his thumb drew Glorfindel back to the present 
moment. He winced as he looked down and saw blood welling up from the 
slit in his thumb, the product of a careless stroke with the knife he was 
using to slice some fruit. Barely able to contain his growl of frustration, he 
forcefully placed the knife on the table and raised his thumb to his mouth, 
sucking on it to stop the bleeding. The half-sliced fruit was then flung into 
the waiting bowl, and the Eldar picked up both that one and his own with 
his spare hand and left the kitchen. Elrond's dish was only half- full, but he 
did not see the point in expending more effort filling it when he knew that 
the half-Elf would most likely not eat it anyway. 

The door to his lord's study was ajar, as he had left it, so he kicked it open 
with his foot and entered without knocking. Sharp sapphire eyes caught 
the tense, anguished expression on the half-Elf's face, before Elrond 
noticed Glorfindel's presence, but the face of the darker Elven-lord 
immediately flooded with that false cheeriness again, when his seneschal 
came fully into view and extended both bowls to him. 

Elrond took them from him and motioned for the blond to sit down, 
inclining his head curiously. "A few thousand years too old for sucking 
our thumb, aren't we, Glorfindel?" he jested weakly. His seneschal mock-
scowled at him and took his thumb from his mouth. 

"I cut myself," he offered simply, stretching across the table to take his 
bowl. His stomach growled again, signifying his hunger, and he grinned 
sheepishly. Elrond responded similarly, though the smile failed to reach 
his eyes. 

Pretending not to notice that the half-Elf had taken no interest in the food 
before him, Glorfindel turned his attentions to his own breakfast and ate it 
slowly, thoughtfully. Silence fell over the pair for several long moments, 
until a heavy sigh roused the blond once again from his reverie, causing 
him to look up. 

Elrond had let his facade slip during the moment of hush; his eyes had 
become wide and vacant, staring straight ahead of him as he focused on 
nothingness in the middle distance, and his face was worried and sad. 
Glorfindel heaved a sigh of his own, and leaned across to touch his lord on 
the shoulder. The half-Elf jumped slightly and blinked in surprise, before 
he turned his head to his seneschal. The golden-haired Elven-lord said 
nothing, merely pushing the untouched bowl of fruit across the desk 
towards the one for whom it was intended, a firm, meaningful look on his 
face. Elrond looked back at him and shook his head. 

"I'm not hungry anymore." 

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "I do not believe you were ever hungry to 
begin with," he remarked coolly, fixing the half-Elf with his now-piercing 
blue regard. Elrond squirmed in his chair, suddenly appearing exceedingly 
child-like, as he averted his eyes to the floor. 

"I...yes...I... " he began, chocolate orbs flicking up to the Eldar and then 
back to the floor again; to Glorfindel he looked for all of Arda like one 
who had been caught in the middle of some wicked ploy, and was now 
expecting to be punished. The blond heaved another heavy sigh, and 
passed his hands wearily over his face. 

"Don't you dare lie to me," he muttered, disappointment evident in his 
tone. "You are extraordinarily bad at it, aside from the fact that it hurts me 
to think that you cannot trust me enough to even just refuse to tell." Elrond 
closed his eyes in defeat and turned his head away, pursing his lips tightly 
together; Glorfindel caught the flare of pain that momentarily twisted the 
wan features. He noted with concern how one hand was raised so fingers 
could bridge the temples of the brow that creased in anguish, and how the 
other was lifted almost unconsciously to lie over the breastbone, covering 
the ring which he knew still lay there. He exhaled deeply, shaking his 
head, and his expression softened as he stood and moved around to the 
other side of the desk. 

"Elrond, meldir, what is wrong?" he implored, kneeling before the half-Elf 
and pulling the pale face to look at him by means of two fingers below the 
chin. Elrond slowly opened his eyes, catching Glorfindel's for a second, 
and then closed them again as he turned away once more, shaking his 
head. 

"Nothing, nothing is the matter," he insisted softly, his voice low and 
strained. He paused, and sighed. "Of course, you know I yet lament the 
loss of my wife - 'tis but two days, after all - though--" 

"I have seen you grieve for the loss of a beloved before, lest you forget," 
reminded the Eldar, stretching up one hand from his position on the floor 
to cover Elrond's that still lay over his breast. His voice dropped to a 
whisper. "But never before have you lied to me." 

Elrond pulled his hand away from his chest now, wrenching contact away 
from the ring and Glorfindel's hand at the same time. "No comparison," he 
hissed through his teeth, though he still refused to face the blond. "No 
comparison. Ereinion was my King; my leader. She was my love. My 
love, my light, and my life. No comparison." His left hand, the one that 
had lain over his breast, now moved to the forefinger of the other hand, 
and he absentmindedly began to twist the gold wedding band that he still 
wore there. 

Glorfindel said nothing, but remained in his kneeling position, until his 
lord broke the silence instead. "Leave me, Glorfindel. You do not need 
this; it does not concern you." 
A pained look contorted the fair and beautiful face. "My lord?" he 
questioned softly, clearly hurt by the words. Elrond spoke again, though 
even now still refusing to face his seneschal. 

"Nothing untoward is afoot, Glorfindel - please, just leave me. I have no 
desire for you to see this." 

Confused, the Eldar opened his mouth to respond, but this time the half-
Elf turned to face him, his face suddenly brimming with fury and his eyes 
flashing menacingly. "GO!" he cried, the wrath in his voice alone enough 
to cause Glorfindel to scramble to his feet and stumble backwards out of 
the study, sapphire eyes wide in bewilderment at the instantaneous change 
that had swept over the usually placid and composed Lord of Imladris. 
Elrond watched him go, his chocolate eyes strangely black in his ire, and 
then collapsed back into his chair, shaking violently. 

*** 

Glorfindel closed the door firmly behind him this time, then turned and 
leaned against the wall in the corridor. He closed his eyes momentarily, 
trying to process all that had just happened; he did not get far, however, 
for he was disturbed by the sound of footsteps coming towards him. 
Opening his eyes and lifting his golden head, a feeble smile played across 
his lips when he saw that it was Erestor who was approaching. The chief 
advisor grinned at the blond sleepily upon first sight, although it soon 
faded when he saw the obviously harassed state of Imladris' seneschal. 

"Glorfindel? What has happened?" he asked in concern, stepping up 
beside the golden-haired Elf who was leaning heavily against the wall. 
Glorfindel frowned and shook his head, sorrowfully, his still unbrushed 
flaxen locks falling over his face. 

"I know not how much more of this I can take, Erestor," he muttered. 

The dark-haired Elf looped the hair behind an ear, and then grasped him 
by the shoulders and pulled him into a quick, tight embrace. The blond 
frowned in surprise; Erestor was usually most restrained, and refrained 
from any physical contact whenever he could help it. He squeezed the 
dark-haired Elf back hard, upon which Erestor let go. 

"Come," he muttered gruffly, seemingly a little embarrassed at his 
uncharacteristic display of affection, though his grey eyes were soft and 
kind. "You want to talk about it?" 
Glorfindel shrugged noncommittally, then nodded. It was enough for 
Erestor, who placed an arm across the broad, strong shoulders of the taller 
blond Elf and ushered him down the corridor. 

To be continued...


***************
Chapter Nine
***************

Help?

Erestor sat down gracefully on one side of the table in the library, raising 
an eyebrow in mild surprise when Glorfindel collapsed into a chair 
opposite him. The blond was displaying markedly less elegance than was 
usual for him. He sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak first, 
although several moments passed between them without words before 
Glorfindel finally passed his hands over his face and took a deep breath.

"Ai, I am tired."

Erestor raised the other eyebrow, his next, inevitable question coming with 
tact and customary diplomacy. "Having difficulties?"

Glorfindel shook his head, the motion dismissive. "Spent last night in the 
chair, but I've slept in worse places." Erestor cocked his head in question, 
and he continued. "I gave Lord Elrond and the boys the bed. They needed 
it more than I."

Erestor's voice was laced with contained amusement. "Are there not 
enough beds to sleep all of Imladris now, then?"
 

Glorfindel narrowed his eyes playfully. "Aye, in the same way that there 
are no longer enough garments to clothe all of Imladris, either; I suddenly 
feel rather underdressed sitting here, with you fully clothed." Erestor 
snorted and smirked, ere the mood grew sombre between them again.

"This has hit Elrond hard," sighed Glorfindel after a pregnant pause. "He 
lied to me earlier - as though I would not see through his pretence. It has 
been a mere two days since she left, and already I am running out of 
options...and patience. I have never seen him like this before."

The black-haired advisor regarded him evenly with cool, grey orbs. "You 
have imagined yourself in his position, I suppose?"

Glorfindel's bright blue gaze was equally as cool and even, if a little 
challenging. "Several times, yes, although that does not mean it is any 
easier to comprehend. Fate has been spiteful to him, Erestor, and more 
often than not I am there to pick up the pieces - not that I mind in the 
slightest, but there is only so much one can take."

"Whom, in particular, were you referring to there?" inquired the other Elf, 
propping his chin in his palms, never removing his eyes from the pale, 
gold-framed face before him. 

"Him...myself...both," shrugged the blond Elda. "It was never like this 
after the Last Alliance... after Gil-galad... after Isildur betrayed him. You 
remember, don't you? He was empty; he was lost. But he was neither 
angry, not cruel, nor deceitful. This seems to...seems to have twisted him 
inside, somehow; corrupted his emotions. And much as I want to help 
him, he makes it so difficult - he will not accept that she is gone, like he 
did before. He has tried to deceive me, and he was hurtful to the twins; he 
won't be near them if he can help it. Elrohir was deeply wounded by his 
words, yesterday." 

Glorfindel hesitated for a second, his last words leaving his lips on a 
weighty exhalation. "This family is falling apart, Erestor, and I feel like I 
am a part of it, in all senses of the term. I can only be so strong..."

Erestor absorbed the heartfelt outpour intently, always maintaining his 
calm and gentle demeanour. That was why Glorfindel loved being able to 
talk to him like this; he listened with such ease, and always seemed able to 
manage a meaningful, intelligent reply.

"Perhaps it is the Man in him, showing through at last?"

Glorfindel closed his eyes briefly. "By the Valar, I hope not," he muttered 
below his breath. "The last thing he needs is to be further weakened by the 
traits of that race, and I suspect that it would eat at him inside, should he 
learn that he was behaving in such a way. You know of the contempt that 
he held - nay, holds - for Isildur, and much as I hate to admit it, I fear that 
it yet taints his impressions of Men."

The chief advisor nodded in agreement, and waited a short while before he 
asked his next question. "So, what do you think you will do?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that, my friend," replied Glorfindel, 
smirking when Erestor raised his head sharply and adding, "Nay, I was 
jesting! I don't wish to further drag you into this, if it can be avoided." The 
grey orbs softened again, and he continued. 

"I have only two choices, it would seem," he sighed, his voice now 
infinitely more sober and sombre than before. "Do nothing, or do 
something. And there is no way that my heart will permit me to do 
nothing, no matter how harsh his behaviour at present; he is far too dear to 
me for than. So it looks like I will have to do something, although right 
now all that I can think of is offering comfort and support, as before. "

His mind flew back then, to the first night after Celebrìan's departure, and 
how Elrond had practically collapsed weeping. A frown crept across 
Glorfindel's fair features, marring them, for even now the very thought 
caused him heartache. "How I hope that I am strong enough for this... that 
we all are."

A sad smile crossed Erestor's face at these words. "You are the strongest 
person I know, Glorfindel," he remarked quietly - there was no trace of 
flattery in his voice, but merely the truth. "To have been through what you 
have and still have emerged the same thoughtful, caring..." he paused for a 
second, adding with a smirk, "and wicked Elf is beyond me, but I do not 
think for a moment that you are sufficiently weak to fail Lord Elrond and 
his family."

To Erestor's amusement, the tips of Glorfindel's ears pinkened at this, and 
the black-haired Elf's smile grew wider. He sat back in his chair a little 
and folded his arms across his chest, eyeing the somewhat bedraggled 
blond in a more critical manner now. "And frankly, Glorfindel, strong as 
you may be, I think it is about time you put some clothes on while I get on 
with some work in here - that is, if you can find anything to wear any 
longer in this city."

The blond raised an eyebrow, smirking, but moved to stand none the less. 
"Do I look that disrespectful?" he sighed melodramatically, scooping a 
handful of his golden locks from his face.

"Dreadful," retorted the advisor, wrinkling his nose in feigned disgust. 
Glorfindel poked out his tongue, and then offered Erestor a grin, dipping 
his head in thanks with gratitude shining in his sapphire eyes. Erestor 
wordlessly accepted the thanks, silent understanding passing between 
them, and at last the blond Elven-lord turned and walked to the doors of 
the library. 

Just as he was about to pass through them, though, Erestor spoke up again 
from his place that he still held at the table, halting the blond in his tracks.

"And never underestimate the power of comfort and support, Glorfindel; 
again, I would imagine that you could appreciate that more than most. I 
am sure you are glad that Elrond was there to support you upon your 
return from Mandos' Halls."

Glorfindel squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment, a wry smile-come-
grimace haunting his face, though the advisor was unable to see it. 
"Undoubtedly," he replied, voice soft and somewhat pained. "But then, 
who heals the healer?"

To be continued...



***************
Chapter Ten
***************

Things That Go Bump In the Night

Glorfindel was sleeping soundly that night, for he had made 
such a conscious effort to keep himself busy that he had 
inadvertently worn himself out. Elrond, predictably, had not 
emerged from his study for lunch, and Glorfindel had just 
been debating whether to take him some food anyway 
when Elladan had appeared and volunteered to do the task 
instead.

The outcome had not been pretty.

Burdened with an upset, sniffling Elfling on one hand, and 
his distressed and irate father on the other, had almost 
reduced Glorfindel himself to a fit of frustrated screams. 
After leaving Elladan in the hands of his sympathetic brother 
whilst he tried to console Elrond, the seneschal could easily 
have kissed Erestor when he entered their lord's study with 
a hastily thrown together pile of papers, designed to occupy 
the emotional half-Elf and draw his mind from his troubles a 
little, and then extricated the blond from the sticky 
circumstances for something a little stronger than a mug of 
herbal tea. 

The only comfort Glorfindel had been able to find in that 
situation was that at least Elrond's pretence had not lasted 
for long.

So, he was sleeping soundly. So soundly, in fact, that the 
quiet creak of his bedroom door sliding open did not 
awaken him, nor the soft padding of bare feet on flagstones 
as a shadowy figure slipped towards the bed, though both 
served to lighten the intensity of his hard-earned slumber. 
He only started to become fully conscious when a weight 
settled itself across his hips, and cool, tapered fingertips 
commenced caressing his face.

"Why so distant tonight, my love?" purred a deep voice as 
those fingertips whispered over his face, encouraging stray 
strands of golden locks away from his features and fastening 
them neatly behind his pointed ears. Glorfindel froze on the 
spot where he lay, breath stilling in his throat. //Elrond?// 
The blond blinked, trying to make out the expression on the 
half-Elf's face, though the raven tresses that curtained his 
features made it difficult to distinguish much at all.

"My lord?" he breathed, voice unsure. Elrond's head 
snapped sharply to an incline, suddenly revealing the right 
side of his face in the dramatically highlighting moonlight that 
streamed in between the drapes and threw everything into 
the stark, nocturnal, light-dark contrast. The cheekbone, 
lips and brow gleamed white in Ithil's ivory beam, a far and 
eerie cry from the pitch-black shade below pinched mouth 
and hollow eye; all which escaped the deep depression was 
an almost demonic glint, severely glassy and unlike anything 
the Elda had ever seen in the mild chocolate pools.

"You have never before named me as "your lord" in our 
bed," murmured the half-Elf back. "When did just "Elrond" 
cease to become sufficient?" His words seemed somewhat 
pained, tone anguished as had become customary these 
days; Glorfindel was totally confounded.

"Elrond, I am sorry, I--"

A chuckle left the ivoried lips, and the whispered stroking 
began once more. "I have always loved you for that," he cut 
in. "So eager to please...so easy to love. I have always 
loved you. Did you know that?"

Glorfindel swallowed hard; surely Elrond could not be 
talking to him! What was he supposed to say to that?!

"I..." he began, knowing that the attempt would be fruitless, 
sending wary and hesitant thanks to the Valar when Elrond 
laid a gentle finger over his lips.

"Nay, do not speak," he insisted, tilting his head to the other 
side so that the greater portion was now semi-illuminated by 
the way in which the moon's silver fell. A strangely triangular 
shadow veiled from nose to jaw, now, whilst the top half of 
the half-Elf's face was whitened. Gone were the unnatural 
shadows beneath the eyes - though those that had settled 
there naturally yet remained - and this time wide, blank and 
glass-like orbs were revealed. Glorfindel's heart slowed a 
beat and his breathing settled again; Elrond was 
sleepwalking.

Uncertain of what to do, knowing that it was unwise to 
wake a sleepwalker lest the sudden ascension to 
consciousness scare them witless, Glorfindel lay still beneath 
the half-Elf and waited for him to make the next move.

There was a pregnant pause whilst Elrond seemed to regard 
the blond closely, before his hands, stilled just a moment 
before, recommenced their motions.

"But you are still so distant tonight, my love." The repeated 
words hinted at the existence of an unpleasant dream, 
especially when combined with the sorrowful tone in which 
they were related. "Come now, tell me - what is the 
matter?"

Glorfindel swallowed hard again. "Nothing, Elrond, but..."

Elrond smiled, and laughed softly, to himself. "Then why do 
you shy away from me?" he asked, lovingly smoothing 
Glorfindel's brow where it had creased at the strangeness of 
the situation. "Come, my love, I need you tonight..."

Elrond shifted his hips slightly, and to Glorfindel's dismay he 
could now feel the half-Elf's erection pressing into his thigh. 
He froze on the spot, and then lifted his hands to the other's 
shoulders, gripping them firmly but gently.

"No, Elrond," he breathed, "Not tonight...wake up..."

Elrond laughed again. "I am awake," he whispered back, 
now leaning down so that his breath brushed against the 
blond's lips, and slowly, deliberately, rotating his hips. A 
soft gasp left his lips involuntarily, before he smiled and 
looked intently down at the golden-haired Elda, who was 
beginning to panic a little by this stage. "Can't you feel it? I 
am very, very awake, my love, and I need you tonight..."

Before Glorfindel had a chance to think, the half-Elf had 
lowered his head and covered his seneschal's lips with his 
own. Rooted to the mattress for the merest of moments, 
Glorfindel's hands then shot to Elrond's hips and rolled him 
onto the bed, before he grabbed both wrists, pinning them 
above his head, and straddled the raven-haired lord. Elrond 
let out a cry of delight, laughing wildly.

"Ha! I love it when you take control, melme! Go ahead, 
have your way with me!"

It took every single ounce of his ever-waning self-control to 
keep in the frustrated howl that Glorfindel so wished to 
utter, and he forced a deep, calming breath before he 
attempted again to wake Elrond.

"My lord, you must wake up," he began, somewhat 
hesitantly, transferring both of Elrond's restrained wrists into 
one hand and placing his free palm against his cheek, 
stroking lightly. "You are having a dream; I am not your 
wife."

The smile half-remained on Elrond's face, although when he 
next spoke his voice had dramatically changed in timbre. 
"Of course you are," he replied, sounding somewhat 
bemused, cocking his head to regard the blond Elf atop 
him. "You have her lovely, long, golden hair, and such 
beautiful, wise blue eyes..."

Glorfindel shook his head slowly, sadly, pleased as he was 
to see that Elrond was awakening at last. "Nay, my lord," 
he answered back. Immediately, Elrond cut in with a sharp, 
"Well, who //are// you then?" making the blond start slightly 
at the harsh tone.

"'Tis I, Glorfindel," he said softly. Suddenly a change came 
over Elrond's face as he seemed to wake up at these 
words; his eyes deepened, pooling with grief and 
unhappiness once more, and his expression morphed into 
one of shock and mortification.

"Glorfindel?" he breathed. The blond shook his head, and 
Elrond gazed up at him, now distraught. 

"Where has she gone?" His voice was heart-rending and 
pitiful. "Has she left me? Does she no longer love me? I 
cannot find her, I..."

Glorfindel sighed, and was about to answer when the half-
Elf truly did awaken. Chocolate eyes went wide and he 
sucked in a breath, releasing it on a whisper of the words, 
"Moon and stars, what have I done?" 

Without warning, Elrond executed a swift twist and turn of 
his hips and shoulders, which threw Glorfindel onto the floor 
with a loud thud, due to the fact that he had allowed his grip 
to loosen as the half-Elf had seemed to quieten. He then 
scrabbled backwards on the bed, eyes horrified, and 
panting as a feral animal caged. Glorfindel did not need to 
look up over the bed from his position, prostrate and 
winded, on the floor, to know that Elrond had exited the 
room as fast as his feet would allow him; the hurried 
footsteps and the slam of the door told him all that he 
needed to know. He uttered a wheezing groan and a 
choked sob, covering his eyes limply with his arm, and 
hoping that the loud footfalls which carried Elrond along the 
corridor with as much grace as an Oliphaunt did not 
awaken anyone else. 

It took several minutes of lying on the floor before he 
regained his breath again, by which point he wasn't certain 
whether it would be more productive to climb back into 
bed, or to merely hide beneath it until the End of Days. He 
finally decided on neither, choosing instead to stretch his 
now tender back and hunt for some much-needed miruvor 
to settle his nerves again.

To be continued...




***************
Chapter Eleven
***************

Summons

A soft knocking at his door roused Glorfindel from his well-earned reverie 
- it had taken him hours to finally fall aasleep after Elrond had left. He 
scowled and groaned, rubbing his eyes as he threw aside the covers and 
got to his feet, before traipsing over to the door to savage whichever 
annoying little wretch had disturbed his sleep.

The servant girl on the other side of the door blinked in surprise when the 
usually pristine Elda flung open the door. Still dressed in his sleeping robe 
- which, admittedly, set off his lithe forrm and fair skin very nicely indeed - 
golden hair spilling in every direction and dark smudges below his eyes, 
he looked a far cry from how she was used to seeing him.

"What?" he growled, cocking his head in a menacing way. "'Tis far too 
early for this."

The girl swallowed nervously, and cleared her throat. He was right; it was 
too early - five minutes to seven, to be precise. "I am sorry to disturb you, 
Lord Glorfindel," she whispered, clearly intimidated by his fiercely out of 
character behaviour, "but Lord Elrond requests your presence in his 
study."

She jumped as, with an exasperated sigh, he stepped away from the door 
and slammed it closed, the wood stopping mere inches from her nose. 
Wide-eyed and swift-pulsed, she made her way towards the servant's 
quarters, hoping that her duties could be changed that day.

***

It was a quarter past seven when Glorfindel tapped on the door to Elrond's 
study. His appearance was now a great deal better; dressed in formal robes 
and with his hair neatly braided away from his face, the only give-away 
that anything had happened the previous night was the haggard 
expression, badly disguised, upon his face. He was dreading this 
confrontation.

A voice from inside bade him enter, and he did so to find his lord sitting at 
his desk with a letter in hand. Elrond, also dressed in his formal robes, 
looked up when the blond entered the room - although Glorfindel noticed 
that the half-Elf studiously avoided making eye contact.

"Glorfindel, please, have a seat," said Elrond, motioning to the empty 
chair before the desk. Glorfindel did as he was told, sitting upon the edge 
of his seat with one elbow propped on the armrest, eyeing Elrond with 
suspicion. "Now, meldir, there is something important which I would talk 
with you about. I received this letter this morn, and... What is the matter?"

The expression on Elrond's face led Glorfindel to believe that it was the 
incredulous look upon his own that had halted him in his tracks. He lifted 
his chin.

"Are you going to pretend that nothing happened last night?" he asked 
coolly, making it clear to Elrond that he was not in the mood for taking 
any nonsense. The half-Elf glanced up at him warily, meeting the piercing 
blue eyes for the first time. Their gazes locked for several instants as they 
waited, until at last Elrond heaved a sigh.

"What would you have me say, Glorfindel?" he murmured, dropping his 
eyes to the floor. The blond leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over 
his chest. "That I had a dream about my wife, and ended up making a pass 
at my seneschal? Hardly fitting, is it?"

The tone of Elrond's voice was laden with palpable pain, and Glorfindel 
regarded him sadly. "So you //are// going to pretend that nothing 
happened," he said, and found himself fixed with even brown eyes.

"Yes."

Glorfindel blinked slowly; he had not been expecting //that//. "Well, I'm 
not," he replied calmly. He kept his eyes upon Elrond's, but was surprised 
when they suddenly filled with imploring, begging him not to pursue the 
matter. The half-Elf said nothing, but it was apparent that he wished to 
leave the subject; Glorfindel, however, could not bring himself to let it lie. 
Before he knew what was happening, he was pouring out his heart to his 
lord - and painfully aware of the irony in the situation, that this should be 
the other way around.

"I know not what continues to trouble you, Elrond, but this cannot 
continue. You are aggrieved, understandably, and yet I fear that something 
else lies beneath. This is not the lord and friend that I know; he would 
never hurt his beloved children with intent, nor turn away from them when 
they needed him the most. You are like a spectre, a shell of your old self - 
for how much longer will you haunt these halls as the shadow of what you 
once were? I can't watch this happen to you; you have to let someone help 
you. I just wish you would talk to me - to anyone, to Elrohir, to Elladan, 
even to Erestor! I know you are hiding something, Elrond. We all want to 
help you. You just make it so hard."

Elrond sat through the outburst with his head turned to one side, facing 
away from Glorfindel as though the words stung like the lashes of rain and 
the accompanying gale. He appeared neither to listen to nor ignore what 
his seneschal was saying; in fact, it was hard to tell if he was even 
listening at all. At last, when the verbal volley had subsided, he raised one 
hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Are you quite finished?"

Glorfindel was silent, shocked. Surely his words had affected Elrond in 
//some// way? He had felt confident that his speech would educe some sort 
of emotional reaction from his friend, but as it was the half-Elf did not 
even seem to have heard them properly.

"Good. Now, if we could move on to other matters, please?"


The blond shook his head to clear it, and then dismissed the response a 
flick of his fingers. "Very well, have it your way." The surrender could 
hardly have been called gracious, but right now he really did not care. 
"Now, where were we? Ah, yes, it was seven o'clock in the morning, and 
you had summoned me - after another dreadful night's sleep, I might add - 
so that we could discuss some letter that could obviously not wait until 
later. Go ahead."

He could almost see an image of himself perched upon the edge of 
Elrond's desk, watching his behaviour and listening to his retort with 
poorly hidden disgust upon his face. Whatever had happened to comfort 
and support?!

Elrond, however, refused to rise to the bait, merely looking down at the 
paper in his hands with sad, humiliated eyes. "Yes, you are right," he 
remarked; there was a total lack of emotion in his voice, void of even the 
barest trace of pain, which actually succeeded in setting Glorfindel on 
edge a little. "'Tis from ‘Lórien; Galadriel and Celeborn wish for Arwen to 
visit."

The Elda's eyebrows shot up. "A safe journey, then," he muttered tightly, 
ideas of what had happened to Celebrìan still all too clear in his mind. 
"Send a large armed escort - we can spare it - and do not take the Redhorn 
Pass; she should be fine."

However, it appeared that Elrond was not willing to submit as easily. "I 
wish for you to accompany her, my friend," he said gently. The 
penetrating blue eyes, flooded with disbelief, regarded him intently; 
Elrond could almost feel the iciness of the gaze upon his skin.

"You are the best warrior we have here in Imladris, Glorfindel," he 
continued quickly, not allowing the blond any time to counter his request. 
"I trust you completely, and I know that she will be safe in your hands."

The same disbelief still shadowed Glorfindel's gaze. "Do you not think 
that my time would be better spent here, my lord?" he replied, voice quiet, 
almost hurt. "An escort of about fifteen guards would be more than 
sufficient, and I feel that Imladris needs me more." //Particularly its lord 
and his sons,// he added mentally, though did not give voice to his 
thoughts.

Elrond shook his head. "Nay, gwador, please, I would ask you to 
accompany the party."

//But I do not need to - want to - accompany the party. I am needed here. 
You need me.// "My lord..."

"Glorfindel, I will order you if I have to," said Elrond, his words as calm 
as they had ever been. "Although I was hoping that you would go because 
I asked it of you as a friend." 

Glorfindel gaped. "So 'tis only now that you wish to accept my services as 
a friend," he muttered tightly. "Elrond, I know not where I stand any 
longer. One moment you depend on me for support, and the next you just 
push me away. I want to help, I really do, but--"

"I have had enough of this tripe, Glorfindel," sighed Elrond loudly, cutting 
the blond off in his tracks. "So help me, and help yourself; head Arwen's 
escort to ‘Lórien."

One delicate golden brow arched skywards. "Is that an order?"

"If it need be, then yes," came the curt reply. Glorfindel did not know why 
he was surprised.

"Elrond, you know that I would go if you wished it of me enough." His 
lyrical voice, although still soft, now held none of the previous poison. "I 
just...I...I wish to stay, meldir, because I am worried about you. You are 
not yourself. I want to help you."

Elrond's eyes narrowed, although he managed to keep his voice calm and 
level. "So help me," he repeated. "Escort my daughter to ‘Lórien. You 
understand that I cannot refuse this of Galadriel and Celeborn, but I would 
never be able to forgive myself should something happen to her on the 
way."

It was now Glorfindel's turn to narrow his eyes, as he noticed that Elrond 
specifically did not mention anything about the sorrow he would feel if ill 
fate fell upon his only daughter. //I see that you still feel no different 
towards your children, then. Elbereth help you if you reject the boys in my 
absence.// 

"Aye, my lord, I understand. I shall do your bidding." His language was 
unnaturally formal, to inform Elrond that he was most definitely not happy 
with the present state of affairs. The submission was hardly graceful, but 
then again an order was an order. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow." Elrond's dark brown eyes sparkled with something, although 
Glorfindel could not ascertain what it was. The emotions swirling deep 
within those chocolaty orbs, barely disguised beneath the vacant sheen of 
indifference, were impossible to interpret, and, truth be told, Glorfindel 
could not be bothered to do so. He merely raised an eyebrow tiredly.

"So soon? I had better start packing, then. Please excuse me."

And with that he rose to his feet, turned on his heel and strode from 
Elrond's study in a rustle of formal azure finery. The half-Elf watched him 
go, only now allowing remorse to creep into his gaze, before he closed his 
eyes and buried his face in his hands.

//May the Lady give me strength...// Almost without realising it, as a force 
of habit, one hand now slid down a little to his chest, resting over the 
concealed sapphire ring that hung beneath the russet-hued robes. //Aiya, I 
hope you can forgive me, my friend. It is for the best...//

To be continued...

Elvish Translations:

Gwador - Brother (those not of blood, but sworn together)



***************
Chapter Twelve
***************

Far and Away

The month-long journey to 'Lórien proved mercifully uneventful, and 
Glorfindel was well aware of the irony in the situation. Of course, the 
raids organised by him himself throughout the year since Celebrìan had 
been attacked would have greatly reduced the Orc population - but even 
with that in mind, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He had been annoyed that Elrond had not even bothered to bid their party 
farewell, although he had to admit that he was unsurprised. One eye had 
been trained for a dark figure whilst the Elda climbed onto his grey mare, 
but the half-Elf was not even lurking on a balcony or behind a window to 
see them off. It was, decided Glorfindel as he sighted the first mallorn tree, 
most discourteous of him, but he found that he no longer had the energy to 
dwell on the subject. He never had been one to hold a grudge, after all - 
even the Balrog had escaped that fate.

And yet //still// he could not prevent his mind from drifting back to 
Elrond. The half-Elf had practically resided in Glorfindel's head for the 
past month, whether he had wished it or not. Now seemed to be no 
different. It was almost as though Elrond was farspeaking to him and 
invading his mind as Galadriel could. //But then,// he reasoned, //Elrond 
had quite obviously sent him away for a reason, and in those 
circumstances farspeaking would be the last thing he would do.//

The Elda closed his eyes for a brief moment and let his shoulders slump, 
trusting that his horse would be able to find its way. Elrond's behaviour 
had him absolutely mystified; Glorfindel had never seen him put up such a 
performance before! The usually calm and stoic Elven-lord had become 
temperamental and emotional in a matter of days, and his refusal to have 
either his children or Glorfindel anywhere near him had stumped the 
blond. Of course, Celebrìan's departure had saddened him, and he was, 
doubtless, sorely feeling her absence - but then again, so were the twins, 
and Glorfindel could not think of a way in which Elrond's loneliness 
would be solved by driving everyone further away from him. Something 
else was wrong, and though the Elda did not know what it was, he was 
certain that Elrond did. Opening his eyes again, he sighed, and vowed to 
unravel the tangled mystery when he got back to Imladris. Providing, of 
course, he was not too late.

It was not long before the running of the Nimrodel could be heard from 
amidst the trees, growing from a soft trickle in the distance to a vehement 
rushing as they drew up to a ford at its banks. Here Glorfindel paused, but 
only briefly; another of the party urged him on, along with the information 
that the guardians would be awaiting their arrival on the far side of the 
river. He merely regarded the Elf at his side blandly and complied with a 
resigned shrug of his shoulders.

The escort rode for a few miles further, until, as predicted, the Galadhrim 
guardians emerged from amongst the mellyrn. Glorfindel was glad that 
they had been pre-informed of the party's arrival, for it meant that, now 
they were in the safety of the Golden Wood, he could lose himself in his 
thoughts once more. He was well aware that he had been of little company 
throughout the trip, and whilst the guardians were amicable enough, he 
found that he lacked the motivation to laugh and joke with them as the 
armed Imladrian guards did.

Dusk had been and gone by the time the party finally reached the gates 
into the city; the entire journey had been slower than usual due to the 
small carriage carrying Arwen and her nurses. The young she-Elf had been 
unusually quiet throughout the journey, though Glorfindel had been able 
to sense her excitement when they first entered the Golden Woods. He 
expected that she, too, was missing her mother, and that that, combined 
with the lack of attention from her father, was dampening her spirits. 
Perhaps it was a good idea for her to spend some time in 'Lórien after all. 

At last, travel-soiled and musing-fatigued, Glorfindel permitted himself a 
small smile as he was led to the royal talan in the knowledge that privacy 
and rest were not now far off. Or so he thought. The party was given a 
brief and informal welcome, during which Arwen was cradled in the arms 
of her grandparents, and then shown to their quarters - with the exception 
of Glorfindel, who was motioned to by Galadriel as the others exited the 
talan. 

Glorfindel suppressed a sigh, since he knew what this talk would 
eventually end up addressing, and followed the couple into their private 
quarters beyond the public greeting room. Taking a seat opposite his old 
friends, the Elda accepted a flute of sweet honey wine with immense 
gratitude. Celeborn allowed him to take a long, thankful drink of the liquid 
before he spoke.

"We will not keep you long, brûnmellon, for we know you are weary." 
Glorfindel dipped his head politely. "We should like you to know how 
grateful we are, though, for accompanying Arwen. It means a great deal to 
us, and also to Elrond, I am sure."

Glorfindel bit on his tongue for a moment before he spoke. "It was 
nothing, I can assure you," he demurred with a tired smile. "And we have 
re-discovered all too recently the dangers that imperil the paths between 
Imladris and 'Lórien. My lord Elrond did well to insist that I come."

Galadriel closed her eyes briefly at the mention of the recently discovered 
dangers, and Celeborn covered her hand with his as he responded to 
Imladris' seneschal with an arched eyebrow.

"He needed to insist?"

Glorfindel could hold the intense jade regard for only a few seconds, 
before he dropped his eyes. "I must confess, I felt that I would be better 
spared in Imladris. The atmosphere there has been somewhat...fraught 
recently, for Elrond has been terribly saddened by my lady Celebrìan's 
departure."

Celeborn inclined his head. "He fares ill?" Glorfindel took another sip of 
his wine and pursed his lips ere he replied.

"He has become distant and emotional, but I suppose it is to be expected." 
He dared not even bring the other events to mind, for Galadriel could 
choose to farspeak him at any moment and he was unsure as to whether 
this information should be divulged just yet. "They were very close, and I 
believe he considers her failure to heal a failure on his own part."

Galadriel now glanced up at him, her piercing blue orbs cold upon his 
flesh. But she did not make her presence felt inside his mind, and merely 
said, "Elrond is a selfless creature. You know that he would rather 
shoulder troubles alone than burden another with them; his suffering goes 
deeper than one might think." Thankful as he was for not having another 
person filling his head, Glorfindel bit his tongue again to refrain from 
contradicting her, and took another sip of his wine, merely for something 
to do.

"He is strong, meleth-nîn," Celeborn assured her, squeezing her hand a 
little. "He will come through this. But come, Glorfindel, what of the boys? 
How are they coping?"

The Elda felt himself relax by an almost indiscernible amount now that the 
conversation was heading elsewhere. "Surprisingly well, given the 
tensions of the past few weeks. They find their strength and comfort in 
each other."

Celeborn nodded, seeming appeased, and, to Glorfindel's surprise, 
released a quiet sigh. "It gladdens my heart to hear that," he informed the 
Elda with a smile. Glorfindel returned the smile, but then, to his chagrin, 
found that he was unable to stifle the following yawn. The tips of his ears 
flushed red in embarrassment as he clenched his jaw, and covered his 
mouth with his hand in an attempt to hide it. Galadriel looked up, smirking 
faintly in amusement.

"Our guest is tired, husband mine - I think we should not keep him any 
longer, and allow him to take his rest." Glorfindel made to apologise, but 
she waved it away. "Nay, you have had a long journey, and it would seem 
that the days before you left were also rather taxing. Go, and rest in both 
body and mind. We have nothing to say that cannot wait."

Receiving the distinct feeling that he was being dismissed, Glorfindel rose 
to his feet, but noticed Celeborn turning to his wife just as he was about to 
leave. The Elda took the opportunity to swiftly down the remainder of his 
wine, and by the time the lord of the wood turned back to him he was 
smiling graciously. Also rising, the couple followed their old friend 
through to the entrance of the talan, where instructions were given to 
Glorfindel's lodgings and the Elda gladly made his way to his bed. 
Galadriel watched him go with her arm looped through her husband's.

"Matters are worse than he might reveal," she said at last, still keeping her 
eyes on the golden trees before her. Celeborn tilted his head and eyed her 
with intent.

"Did you speak to him?" Galadriel shook her head, and lifted her cool blue 
eyes to him.

"Nay, for I did not need to. His countenance spoke for itself, and I saw no 
reason to trouble him further than necessary tonight. He needs his rest, and 
there will be plenty of time for mind reading come the morrow!"

Celeborn snorted softly in amusement, and dropped a chaste kiss to her 
forehead. "Ever the diplomat, meleth-nîn," he smiled, turning to her and 
laying his hands on her waist. She smiled sadly back, and stepped into his 
embrace, and in that moment the hints of mirth drained from the situation.

"Yes, but Glorfindel would not be worried without cause, would he?" 
Celeborn pursed his lips and gently stroked her golden hair, but said 
nothing. Much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

Elvish Translations:

Brûnmellon - old friend (friend of old)
Meleth-nîn - my love




****************
Chapter Thirteen
***************

Fated

Glorfindel slept better that night than he had done in many a week, and 
awoke feeling much refreshed in both body and mind. He had been 
granted the luxury of being the sole occupant of the talan, and there was a 
peaceful atmosphere inside it. Outside it was also quiet, although he knew 
that the Galadhrim would have long been about their business by this point 
of the morning. He himself would usually have risen many hours before, 
but today he had no business to attend to - and he had needed the sleep.

He heaved a contented sigh and sank back into the wonderfully soft 
mattress for a while, closing his eyes against the beam of light that fell 
across his face. He dozed blissfully, revelling in the sensation of having 
nothing to do, until he eventually became both bored and hungry, and so 
heaved himself out of bed.

Freshly washed and dressed, he found Galadriel and Celeborn in the royal 
talan half an hour later. The smile that he offered them in way of a 
morning greeting was considerably brighter and more genuine than the 
one the night before. The couple returned the smile, and, excusing 
themselves from their advisors, rose to accompany him for breakfast.

"You look well-rested this morning, gwador," remarked Celeborn as they 
seated themselves on a private balcony, bathed in the morning sun. 
Glorfindel nodded, and happily sipped his tea.

"I feel it," he replied. "I haven't slept so well in weeks; the journey seemed 
interminable!"

Celeborn chuckled softly and Galadriel gave a wistful smile. "I know the 
feeling," she muttered cryptically, but did not elaborate. Her husband 
glanced at her sidelong, and Glorfindel popped a slice of apple into his 
mouth.

"Can I assume that Arwen settled in well last night?" asked the Imladrian 
lord, swiftly changing the subject.

"Oh, yes, perfectly." Celeborn took another sip of his own tea.

"She was so tired that she fell asleep straight away," added Galadriel, and 
passed a plate of pastries Glorfindel's way. "She was wide-awake this 
morning, though; the staff have fallen in love with her!"

Glorfindel laughed musically as he selected a pastry. "She will break 
hearts," he observed idly, and took a bite. Galadriel's sapphire eyes 
twinkled. She suppressed a smirk, which soon morphed into an indulgent 
roll of the eyes when Celeborn remarked that she took after her 
grandmother in that respect. The Elda laughed again, silently noticing the 
way in which the couple joined hands on the tabletop. 

"Do you have any plans for today, then?" asked Celeborn after a moment 
in which to allow Glorfindel to eat. The addressed shrugged as he 
swallowed.

"Nothing in particular," he replied, and casually sucked a flake of pastry 
off his thumb and forefinger. "Walk amongst the mellyrn and catch up 
with a few old acquaintances, I expect - although, to be honest, it is nice to 
have nothing to do!"

Both Galadriel and Celeborn looked as though they agreed 
wholeheartedly. The remainder of the breakfast passed with casual chatter 
between friends; they parted a short while later, the royal couple to attend 
their affairs, and Glorfindel to do as he wished.

***

The day passed pleasantly enough. Glorfindel had been walking through 
the trees and savouring the beauty of the ancient Golden Wood when he 
had been ambushed by a few of his favourite Guardians. Celeborn, it 
would seem, had allowed Haldir and his brothers to change their shifts so 
that they could greet Glorfindel and accompany him for a while. It made 
sense, for the Elda was indeed familiar with the three energetic Galadhrim; 
they had had their fair share of encounters in the past.

Their lively behaviour and animated chatter was contagious, Glorfindel 
soon discovered; he found himself laughing and bantering with the 
brothers before he had spent but five minutes in their company. It was a 
laughter that his soul had sorely needed, for by the time the evening meal 
was upon them he was relaxed and cheerful, as he had not been in a long 
time.

And it had continued that way; added to the joviality over dinner was 
Celeborn's good humour and, despite her somewhat quiet disposition that 
night, Galadriel's dry wit. Glorfindel had noticed that the Elf-lady seemed 
to become lost in her thoughts periodically over dinner, but the laughter of 
their four other companions left him little time to dwell on the subject. 
Now, their company parting at last, Glorfindel began to make his way 
back to his talan. Even though the hour was late - well past midnight - he 
did not feel in the slightest bit tired. The light-hearted chatter, which he 
had sustained all night, had put him into immeasurably good spirits, 
although he suspected that the free-flowing wine had also helped. 
Whatever the cause, he did not feel inclined to sleep just yet, and so settled 
for wandering through the woods for a while.

He swiftly became absorbed by the beauty of his surroundings, for the 
cover of dark lent an ethereal atmosphere to the wood glades and dells. 
Ithil's soft light fell between the leaves, causing the golden bark of the 
mellyrn to shimmer faintly and illuminating the elanor amidst the dark 
grass. So entrancing were the effects of the night, in fact, that Glorfindel 
only realised where he was when he espied a figure clothed in white 
beckoning him down a flight of steps.

Standing patiently to one side of the enclosed garden in which the Elda 
found himself, Galadriel was even more beautiful in the moonlight than 
beneath Arien's rays. He swallowed convulsively beneath the piercing 
blue gaze of this gleaming apparition, for he knew that he was to look in 
the Mirror tonight.

Steeling himself, he lifted his chin and squarely met her eyes. Galadriel 
accepted his unspoken permission and, equally as wordlessly, stepped up 
to the stream to fill the silver ewer. Glorfindel waited whilst she poured 
the water into the silver basin upon its pedestal and then breathed upon it. 
He had never before looked into the Mirror, but had heard many stories 
told of others' experiences, and understood that she had to work her charm 
over the water. Finally, when the liquid had grown perfectly still, she 
looked up to him once more.

"Would you do this?" she asked him quietly. Glorfindel swallowed again, 
for he could sense the unnerving lack of emotion in her voice. Then he 
nodded once.

"I would," he answered, aware of the embarrassing lack of conviction in 
his own voice as he stepped up to the pedestal. Galadriel stepped away, 
and then Glorfindel knew no more of her presence as, gripping the sides of 
the basin, he leaned over the water. It took only a moment for the reflected 
stars to vanish whilst the water darkened, and then cleared again.

The first thing to appear was an image of one of the bedrooms in Imladris 
- Elrond's, he soon realised. But Elrond wwas not there; instead he could see 
the twins curled up together in the large four-poster bed. It was very dark 
in the room, and at first it seemed as though the two dark figures were 
asleep - but then a cloud moved in the sky, seen through the window, and 
allowed a single moonbeam to fall across their faces. Suddenly it became 
clear that the twins were awake, for their dark, watery eyes were 
illuminated by the shift in the light. Tears streamed down their faces and 
their chests were heaving with the force of their sobs, as each curled into 
the other, distraught. But before Glorfindel could give worried thought to 
the image, the world outside the window grew suddenly light and the 
focus switched.

Now, Glorfindel could see Elrond sitting outside. He was in the wilder 
section of the gardens, kneeling in the long grass which rose nearly to 
mid-waist. Liberally scattered through the grasses were white flowers, 
nodding gently in the soft breeze that rustled their green backdrop; Elrond, 
however, was holding not a daisy, but a dandelion.

His dark head was bowed over the yellow bloom, his eyes closed as 
though inwardly focused and contemplating. Glorfindel's heart twisted 
painfully as he caught sight of the half-Elf's face; his friend looked 
terrible. The pale features were pinched, haggard and worn, and Elrond 
looked as though he had neither eaten nor slept well for a good few weeks. 
His lips, Glorfindel could now see, were moving repeatedly and, although 
the Elda could hear nothing through the Mirror, he could see the thin lips 
forming the words, "Meleth-nîn, malthen-lawse meleth-nîn..."

But again Glorfindel was given little time to absorb the scene, for the 
waters shifted once more. This time he could see Elrond's study, and as 
before the half-Elf was the centre of the focus. His back now to Glorfindel 
where he was seated at his desk writing, though from his position the Elda 
was unable to discern what. For a number of seconds Glorfindel waited, 
the only movement in the image being the swirling of the tip of the quill, 
visible over Elrond's hunched shoulders. Finally, though, the half-Elf 
stopped writing and laid the quill across his script. He then bowed his head 
again, to bury his face in his hands, and in doing so allowed Glorfindel a 
glimpse of what he had been writing. The medium was a journal, small, 
thick and leather-bound; only the top corner of one page was revealed, but 
the words made Glorfindel catch his breath as the waters faded to 
darkness.

//...my choice. Fading will be bearable; a willing sacrifice to the one you 
would make. As this grief overwhelms me, I ask your forgiveness. Please 
understand that I have spared you your life, when I know you would have 
so unselfishly salvaged mine. I hold you so dear, meldir, that I could not 
stand...//

Glorfindel's sapphire eyes widened in horror, but it appeared that although 
the Mirror had gone dark, his viewing was not yet over. Now, amidst the 
black, murky and swirling waters, his own reflection of head and 
shoulders slowly appeared. Although frightened, his expression was also 
resigned, with a grim set of determination to his jaw that the Elda knew 
instantly; in the image, he knew his dreadful fate, and accepted it.

Suddenly a flash of fire flared across his face in the image, startling him 
into a white-knuckled grip on the sides of the basin. Then the flames 
fizzled away, leaving him with the same expression of reconciled fright, 
before, finally, he saw the last.

As though someone were dripping blood into the water, first one, then 
two, three, four spots of scarlet appeared. They gradually suffused amidst 
the waters of the image, tingeing it the pink of diluted blood. Then, the 
Mirror darkened again and cleared, leaving Glorfindel ashen and quivering 
at the pedestal.

Dread-filled, he raised his eyes to meet Galadriel's where the Elf-lady had 
moved to stand opposite him.

"In the name of the Valar, Lady, what was the meaning of that?"

Galadriel's voice was quiet and sad as she spoke. "I know not the meaning, 
Glorfindel, but it bodes ill that you have seen like to myself. The Mirror 
shows things that were, and things that are, and things that yet may be, and 
whilst even the wisest cannot always tell what it is he sees, I sense that 
you, perhaps, understand more than I."

Glorfindel lowered his head for a moment to think; he suspected that he 
did, too. He could not give voice to his darkest thoughts, however, and so 
a different question was upon his lips when he lifted his head.

"So all that I have seen may not yet happen?" 

Galadriel inclined her head pensively. "It is not up to you to change the 
course of the future, mellon," she murmured as she fixed him with sad 
sapphire. "But by acting upon your instincts you can guide events as they 
were intended. Follow your heart."

Glorfindel bowed deeply. "Then I have your leave to return to Imladris, 
my lady?" Galadriel nodded once, and stepped around the pedestal.

"Go," she commanded, placing her hands on his shoulders and gazing into 
his eyes. "Let no harm come to the House of Elrond, for the very stars 
would weep."

Glorfindel smiled sadly, and took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you," he 
whispered as he took a step away. She smiled at him, and then he was 
gone from the garden, racing through the woods to his talan. There, he 
threw into a bag the bare necessities and donned his cloak, barely pausing 
for provisions from the kitchens before dashing for the stables. His horse 
was saddled in a matter of minutes and, hardly ten minutes after his 
meeting with the future, Glorfindel was galloping back to Imladris.

To be continued...

Elvish Translations:

Meleth-nîn, mallawse meleth-nîn - My love, my golden-haired love
 You've just used "a while" – say "for a time" or something similar instead.
 Don't need the comma here.
 Same again.
 Take out this comma.
 Take out this comma.
 I would suggest using "realised" here, otherwise it is too many words and detracts from 
what else is going 
on in the water.
 Wasn't it night? Replace this word with "world" to prevent confusing day and night.
 Don't need the comma.
 I'd put the comma after "and" and then another after "Mirror"
 Again, take out the comma here, put it after "and" and then after "before"
 Don't need the comma.



***************
Chapter Fourteen
***************

Hope Lies In All the Wrong Places

Having made the return journey alone and at speed, Glorfindel finally 
arrived back in Imladris in a little under three weeks. He was instantly on 
his guard as he clattered into the courtyard; what should have been a 
lively, busy area now echoed solely with the sound of his horse's hooves 
on the cobbles. The fact that the stable hands were few and far between 
did not bode well either, Glorfindel thought, as he dismounted and stabled 
his own horse. 

The manor also seemed eerily empty as Glorfindel stalked through it, 
although the odd member of staff did pass him by, practically dazzling 
him with a smile as each one did so. Consternation-filled, he continued his 
way along the corridors of the ground floor, his destination Elrond's study. 
A tap on the door educed a command from within, which allowed hope to 
flood into his heart - but, as though the dam had burst, the hope drained 
back out in an instant when he opened the door to find Erestor sitting 
behind his lord's desk. The advisor looked up, genuine surprise and 
possible relief crossing his sharp features when he saw the Elda standing 
in the doorway. 

"Glorfindel! What brings you back so soon? We were not expecting you 
back for at least another six weeks." 

Glorfindel smiled weakly. "Galadriel sent me back; she thought that I 
would be of more use here." 

"I would be inclined to agree," nodded Erestor, setting down his quill and 
leaning back in Elrond's chair. "Things have been somewhat...strained 
here recently." 

One golden eyebrow arched upwards, and Glorfindel cringed inwardly. 
"How so?" He dreaded the answer. 

"Elrond still laments for Celebrìan," the advisor sighed. "He is distant and 
silent; I have barely seen him, especially in the past few days. Nothing 
gets done anymore, unless I see to it personally." He gestured to the 
mound of paperwork on the desk that was not his own. 

Glorfindel passed a hand over his face tiredly. "And the twins?" 

Erestor pursed his lips together for a moment before he replied. "They find 
their solace in each other," he said at length, his wise grey eyes fixed 
purposefully on his golden-haired friend. 

"Elrond has been unkind to them?" He had to bite his tongue to refrain 
from saying "again". But Erestor merely regarded him for a moment 
before picking up his quill and resuming his correspondence. It was now 
Glorfindel's turn to sigh, which he did so rather loudly. "So...where is 
everybody?" 

"The majority of the staff are at home, since we have no need for them at 
present," answered Erestor, without looking up from his letter. "It has been 
quiet around here in the past weeks." 

"What about Elrond? The twins?" 

"Elladan and Elrohir are most likely in their chambers or the library. Or 
perhaps the stables, though I would imagine not if you did not see them 
upon your arrival. And Elrond..." The advisor paused, looked up, and 
shrugged, resigned. "Your guess is as good as mine." 

Glorfindel allowed his eyes to flutter shut for a brief moment. When he 
opened them again, he saw that Erestor's piercing, stone-coloured gaze 
was still upon him. He locked eyes with the advisor for a second, and 
when Erestor finally raised his eyebrows to further emphasise the severity 
of Elrond's behaviour, Glorfindel swallowed hard and nodded before he 
turned and left the office. Erestor watched him go, then picked up his quill 
again with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. 

Distracted as he strode down the corridor, Glorfindel failed to register that 
he had passed the library until he heard his name cried from inside it. He 
had been heading for the gardens, unable to shake off the haunting, silent 
image of Elrond kneeling amidst the grass and the daisies; it appeared that 
he would be waylaid, however, when four arms were flung around him, 
nearly knocking him off-balance. A nervous, breathless laugh escaped him 
as he was enveloped by twin, and he wrapped one long arm around each 
of them. 

"Missed me, gwenyn?" he asked playfully, trying to disguise his unease at 
the situation. The twin in his left arm mumbled something 
incomprehensible as he pressed close to the Elda's strong body - Elrohir, 
he noticed, for the twin in his right arm pulled away and revealed himself 
as Elladan. 

"By the Valar, have we ever," he replied. 

Glorfindel looked at him kindly. "Tell me." 

"It's Ada," supplied Elrohir from the other side, peering up dolefully from 
Glorfindel's shoulder where his head was pillowed. Elladan nodded 
forlornly. 

"It's scary, Glorfindel...he doesn't eat, he barely sleeps..." Elladan paused 
and pressed his lips together nervously. "Half of the time he seems as 
though he's in another world." 

Trying his best to keep his voice even and his gaze calm, the Elda fixed 
his eyes upon the elder twin. "Has he said anything to you?" // Good, that 
sounded nice and steady. Don't let them know that you're as scared as they 
are. // 

Elrohir shook his head slowly, whilst Elladan looked away. On instinct, 
Glorfindel squeezed them both closer, as Elrohir said, "He has barely said 
two words to us in the past month." 

"And what he has said has hardly been pleasant," mumbled Elladan. 
Despite the fact that the twin sounded like a petulant Elfling, Glorfindel 
could hear the pain hidden beneath the sulky tone. He sighed softly. 

"I should never have gone to 'Lórien, orders or not." 

Elladan looked up sharply. "Yes - why // are // you back so soon? Is 
Arwen all right?" 

"Oh yes, she is absolutely fine," insisted the Elda, nodding vehemently to 
emphasise his words. "I left her there with her nurses and the rest of the 
escort." 

"You can hardly have been there a day," declared Elrohir quietly, though 
he seemed slightly appeased by Glorfindel's assurances. 

The blond smiled wistfully. "I