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 wasn't," he replied, the barest hint of 
sardonic amusement in his tone. "I looked into the Mirror on my second  

night, and your grandmother sent me back at once. She obviously felt that 
I would be of better use here." 

Twin expressions of horror crossed the identical faces, and Glorfindel 
instantly gave himself a mental slap. 

"Wh...what did you see?" 

"I saw...a premonition." He paused. "I should find your father." Elladan's 
gaze flicked across his body to lock with Elrohir's, before both pairs of 
liquid brown eyes were turned up to Glorfindel. Then, slowly, Elladan 
spoke. 

"He will be outside. Somewhere...he wanders all over the place, no matter 
what the weather." 

Elrohir nodded in agreement, took a deep breath, and separated himself 
from Glorfindel. "Try to get him to come inside," he said quietly as he 
visibly gathered himself. "And to eat something, or drink some hot tea - he 
will be cold." 

Glorfindel smiled again, this time even sadder. The hope in the young 
Peredhel's voice was heartbreaking. "I will try," he promised sincerely. 
Elrohir took another deep breath and returned the smile. 

"He always listens to you." 

Biting his tongue to refrain from contradicting the twin, Glorfindel 
extended one hand to clasp the broad shoulder. Elrohir met his eyes with 
overwhelming expectation, and that same emotion shining from Elladan's 
orbs was almost as intense. Mumbling a few thick words of reassurance, 
the Elda squeezed each twin's shoulder again and then parted from their 
company, unable to stand the weight they had unwittingly placed on him 
in the hope that he could help their father. 

Still unable to forget the image of Elrond in the Mirror, Glorfindel headed 
straight for the gardens. He walked quietly through them, keeping his 
sharp eyes alert for any sign of the Peredhel; the trained gardens and 
manicured lawns closer to the house showed no sign of his elusive lord, 
however, and so he moved further back towards the wilder parts. This was 
where he held higher hopes of finding Elrond, for the unkempt grasses 
grew long, decorated with wildflowers as he had seen in the Mirror, and 
the old, gnarly-trunked trees seemed somehow appropriate for the half-
Elf's grieving countenance. He searched for half an hour in the back part 
of the gardens, softly calling his lord's name, and yet still Glorfindel could 
not find Elrond. Finally, with a sigh, he abandoned the uncultivated 
ground and its copses and moved on to other likely territory. 

By the time the Elda had worked his way to the arches supporting the 
house over the gorge, the skies were growing dusky behind their layer of 
cloud; he had arrived on an overcast afternoon, and winter's early dark was 
now encroaching on the daylight hours. Looking around him, a sigh of 
relief left his lips when he finally espied a dark figure sitting beneath a 
tree, on a stretch of grass to one side of the arches overlooking the Bruinen 
and its falls. 

The tree was deciduous and shedding its leaves, for all around Elrond was 
a crisp, golden carpet. The dead leaves crunched under Glorfindel's feet as 
he carefully approached, but the half-Elf did not notice his presence even 
as his seneschal knelt at his side. Motionless he remained, eyes wide and 
glassy and fixed on the rushing waters hundreds of feet below. He was 
sitting slightly on one side with his legs curled beneath him, one hand 
clenched tightly in his lap with the other palm flat across his chest. 

The leaves crackled as Glorfindel shifted, bit his lower lip, and, brow 
knitted, gingerly stretched out a hand. Fingertips were brushed lightly 
across Elrond's cheekbone - to his surprise, the eyelids fluttered shut, and 
he may have imagined it but he thought that Elrond leaned into the touch. 
That sign of recognition, though, however small, was not enough to 
reassure Glorfindel, for Elrond looked exactly as he had in the Mirror. The 
cheekbone where his fingers rested protruded skeletally from a hollow 
cheek, the ashen skin almost transparent and icy to the touch. His lips 
were thin, pale, chapped, the drawn face framed by dull, loose, lank raven 
locks that were tangled and decorated with more fallen leaves. Glorfindel 
reached out to gently remove the detritus from his lord's hair; he was 
finally rewarded by movement, then, as Elrond first licked his dry lips 
before slowly opening his eyes and turning his head towards the blond. 

Glorfindel was now struck the hardest by Elrond's eyes. Rings surrounded 
the dark orbs, bruise-like and sunken, and the gaze that met his was 
haunted, empty, emotionless. Dead. 

A long, shuddering breath left Glorfindel's lips before he could prevent it. 
"Oh Elrond, meldir," he gasped, cupping one frosty cheek in his palm. The 
ghostly eyes closed slowly, opened again: the indolent phantom of a blink. 
But nothing was said. Glorfindel anxiously moistened his own lips. 

"Elrond...do you know who I am?" 

"Of course I know who you are, Glorfindel." The voice that answered his 
was cracked and broken, the larynx that had usually produced such deep, 
dulcet tones now grating with disuse like a death rattle. Disguising a wince 
at the sound, the seneschal extended his other hand to clasp Elrond's where 
it rested on his breast, whilst still stroking the gaunt face. Elrond allowed 
his hand to be taken and held, although he averted his eyes to the ground 
when Glorfindel spoke again after a long, uneasy hush. 

"Won't you talk to me, Elrond? Won't you let me help you?" 

"No." The response, for all its quietness of tone, was surprisingly forceful 
and suddenly Elrond jerked his head back from the blond's touch, his hand 
out of the other's fingers. "You can't help me." 

Glorfindel's face contorted painfully as his hands fluttered, limp and 
redundant, to his sides. "Why not?" Elrond's eyes rolled up from the 
ground to look at him, long, hard and expressionless.

"Because you can't." The resignation and lack of hope in the soft, sad 
voice was crushing. The blond shook his head firmly. 

"I can." 

The dark orbs remained fixed on his face. "Can you?" Glorfindel gained 
the impression that it was not a loaded question as he reached once more 
for his lord's hand. 

"I can try - look at you, mellon-nîn, how can I leave you like this? This 
grief has eaten you away to the very core; there is next to nothing left of 
you." 

"The grief will have its way, Glorfindel. You will fail trying. What is left 
of anything then?" 

"The same as what is left if I don't try!" Determination quelled his 
desperation; there was no way that Glorfindel intended to submit this time. 
"A silent, empty kingdom governed by one hapless advisor; a pair of twins 
already half-mad with despair... And nothing more than a faded shell and 
memory of their lord, once the very essence of the valley." 

But Elrond shook his head again, dislodging another leaf. "The essence of 
their lord is gone into the West," he sighed sadly, watching the leaf as it 
floated slowly to the ground. "Nothing can be done." 

"Of course something can be done, Elrond," averred Glorfindel gently as 
he used two fingers to lift the other's chin. "The grief will only have its 
way if you let it; surely there are ways around it? What happened to the 
determination that you are so famed for? Have a little faith; we will get 
you through this." 

The Peredhel offered Glorfindel a forlorn half-smile as though to humour 
him. There was no sincerity in the gesture. "The way through this 
demands something that I am not prepared to sacrifice," he murmured. 

Then, as Glorfindel watched, the dark orbs flickered closed once more, the 
thin lips pursed and a deep, powerful shudder rocked through the slender 
form, enough to rattle the half-Elf's very bones. Severely worried, the Elda 
shifted on the ground and wrapped a strong arm around the wasted 
shoulders for support - but the motion had already passed. Elrond released 
a long, tired gasp as his shoulders slumped forwards and he passed a hand 
over his face. 

Looking down on his friend with wide, anxious eyes, Glorfindel gently 
pulled him to lean against his own body. Elrond wilted against him, his 
breathing short and shallow as he tried to gain his composure. They sat 
there for several moments in silence, until at length Glorfindel broke it. 

"Why don't you at least come inside?" 

Elrond chuckled softly against his shoulder; it was a bitter sound, full of 
self-reproach. "Because I can't get up." 

Glorfindel squeezed his eyes shut against the tears of frustration that 
prickled them, then released his hold on the half-Elf and rose to his knees. 

"Yes, you can," he insisted, proceeding to aid Elrond up with gentle hands, 
his gestures unobtrusive. When his friend had at last staggered unsteadily 
to his feet, Glorfindel wound one arm around the thin waist to prop the 
half-Elf up. It was a sorry pair that hobbled slowly back to the house that 
dusk.

 
***************
Chapter Fifteen
***************

In the Dark

If Elrond sensed the twins following them silently up to his rooms, he did 
not show it. To Glorfindel, though, their presence was palpable - likewise 
the hope and relief radiating from them - although he also refused to 
acknowledge them at that moment. Getting Elrond to his rooms safely was 
foremost in his mind.

It was slow going. Elrond could, quite literally, do little more than shuffle 
along, presumably severely weakened by whatever had shaken him a short 
while ago. Glorfindel knew, however, that he would not stand for being 
carried, so did not even bother to ask. Instead he offered silent support by 
allowing the half-Elf to lean on him as they struggled along the corridors, 
one arm firmly around the emaciated waist. The stairs were the most 
difficult part, for at one point Elrond stumbled and would have fallen flat 
on his face, had Glorfindel not had that arm around his middle. The Elda 
heard one of the twins cry out from behind and their footsteps as they 
rushed forwards to help, but he shot them a quailing glower to prevent 
them coming any closer as Elrond staggered back to his feet. The half-Elf 
was clearly mortified by what had just happened, for he hung his head 
with his eyes closed and tried to push Glorfindel away from him. 
Glorfindel, however, would not be swayed, and murmured softly to his 
friend for a few moments until Elrond submitted and they were able to 
continue.

Elrond seemed immensely relieved when they finally reached his 
chambers - not that Glorfindel could blame him. Opening the door with 
his free hand, he ushered the half-Elf inside...and then cringed when he 
saw the mess that greeted them. The bed was unmade, the linen dirty and 
strewn across the room; worn clothes covered chairs, tables and the 
dresser, and the objects that should have been on those surfaces littered the 
floor instead. There was a layer of dust in some places that had obviously 
remained untouched since Celebrìan's departure, when Elrond had most 
likely ordered the maids to avoid his chambers, and the room was dark and 
cold.

Transferring the clothes from the armchair before the fireplace to the table, 
Glorfindel eased Elrond into it and motioned for the twins to begin tidying 
up the chambers. They did so at once, evidently thankful that they could at 
last do something, whilst Glorfindel set about lighting a fire in the grate. 
The flames and the warmth they produced instantly brightened up the 
room, the atmosphere of which was further improved by lighting candles 
and oil lamps and closing the drapes against the draughty winter's night 
outside. Elrond, though, did not seem to notice, simply sitting before the 
fire with his hands folded in his lap and his eyes round and empty as he 
gazed into the flames.

Keeping one eye on the Peredhel all the time, Glorfindel moved to the 
near-empty wardrobe where he managed to find a clean nightgown. The 
twins had, by this point, changed the bed linen and tidied away the 
majority of the clothes; the Elda offered them a grateful smile as he 
crossed the room again and knelt beside Elrond.

"Would you put this on, meldir?" he asked gently, extending the 
nightgown and taking in the sight of the half-Elf's soiled, crumpled robes. 
He was unsure why Elrond had bothered to dress so formally. "You might 
be more comfortable."

The dark head turned slowly towards him, and Elrond gave a small nod as 
he accepted the gown from his seneschal. Glorfindel half-opened his 
mouth on instinct, as though to offer help, but clamped it shut at the scowl 
Elrond shot him.

"I can do it," he hissed through clenched teeth. Glorfindel blinked, bobbed 
his head, and backed away to let him do so. He busied himself by finishing 
tidying the room with the twins whilst Elrond changed - it took a little 
while, so that by the time the half-Elf had finished the floor was clear, the 
surfaces dusted off and the dirty clothes and sheets piled outside the door.

Elrond looked up at Glorfindel this time when the Elda moved to stand 
beside his chair again. The blond head was tilted to one side, the corners 
of his lips turned hopefully upwards.

"Can I persuade you to get into bed?" he asked, stretching out a hand. 
Elrond sighed, his gaze level and unwavering. Glorfindel had grown used 
to that expression many years ago, but now he barely repressed a shudder, 
severely unnerved by the nothingness in Elrond's eyes.

"I do not need to be fussed over, Glorfindel," came the quiet, reproachful 
reply. But Glorfindel did not draw back his hand and regarded the half-Elf 
expectantly from beneath raised eyebrows. Each refusing to relent, the two 
stared at each other for the longest minute that the blond had ever 
experienced - then, at last, Elrond emitted another sigh and reached out to 
take Glorfindel's hand. The blond's sapphire regard instantly softened to 
one of warmth and benevolence as he folded an arm around the half-Elf's 
shoulders, aiding him towards the bed. 

Elrond sat down on the edge of the mattress, drawing back the bedclothes 
himself and batting away Glorfindel's hand in irritation when the blond 
tried to help. He then used shaking hands to arrange the pillows against the 
headboard so that he was able to sit propped up against them, and finally 
drew the covers up to his waist. The dark orbs fluttered closed for a 
moment as the half-Elf passed a palm wearily over his eyes, drawing in a 
deep breath and releasing it on a small yawn. His head lolled very slightly 
to one side when his eyes opened again, to see Elladan and Elrohir 
standing anxiously beside him.

"Gwenyn..." he breathed softly, his hand falling limply to the bed. 
Glorfindel instantly stepped back so the twins could take his place.

"We are here, Ada," replied Elrohir just as quietly as he knelt by the bed. 
There was the barest light of hope in his eyes, mirrored in Elladan's as the 
elder twin perched himself on the edge of the mattress. Elrond regarded 
them both evenly and said nothing, but allowed Elrohir to take his hand 
nonetheless. It was unclear as to whether he was actually capable of 
feeling any emotion any longer.

Elrohir raised his father's hand and pressed the back of it against his 
cheek, seemingly unfazed by its iciness. Another small shiver rippled 
through Elrond, causing Elladan's face to contort in concern.

"Can we get you anything, Ada?" he asked. "Tea? Water? Something to 
eat?"

The half-Elf smiled weakly, wanly. It was a false gesture - but at least the 
effort was being made. "Perhaps you could fetch me some tea?" Elladan 
nodded, made to rise, but Elrond brushed his fingers against Elrohir's 
cheek in a delicate, frosty caress. "Both of you," he continued, "for I 
should like to talk to Glorfindel." Elrohir's face fell, but he released his 
father's hand and got to his feet, just as Elrond shuddered again and 
gasped. 

"Another blanket might be nice, too," observed the blond, pointedly 
ignoring the vicious glare from his lord. His request was acknowledged 
with another silent nod as both twins vanished from the room.

"Thank you for that," remarked Elrond dryly, his body seeming to 
involuntarily sag into the pillows behind him.

"What?" Glorfindel's voice was disingenuous as he pulled a chair up to the 
bed.

"Your comment about the blanket..." He paused for a moment, in which 
his face twisted painfully and his breathing grew even sharper and 
shallower. "You're going to worry them."

One golden eyebrow arched incredulously. "Yes, because they are clearly 
not worried now." The sarcastic words evidently stung, for Elrond closed 
his eyes and turned his head away to avoid the piercing blue stare. "And 
with good reason, I think. Don't you?" A scrawny, wavering hand 
dismissed the notion; Glorfindel sighed. "You have already said as much 
yourself, meldir, and I have seen it in Galadriel's Mirror. This grief will 
consume you completely before long."

Elrond released a short bark of breathless, rueful laughter. "Galadriel - I 
might have guessed." The Elda ignored that.

"What you said before," he began instead, taking on a pensive air. "About 
the sacrifice you're not willing to make..." Elrond shrugged 
noncommittally. "So you do admit that there is a way through this?" 
Elrond shrugged again.

"Perhaps."

Glorfindel allowed himself to grow the tiniest bit excited, and it sounded 
in his voice as he replied. "Truly?" 

"Perhaps..." A short, thoughtful pause. "I cannot say. I know almost 
nothing about it, Glorfindel." Elrond sounded tired; indeed, his eyes were 
closed as he spoke, his head again falling a little to one side. The Elda 
looked at him sympathetically, then rose from his chair. 

"Why don't you lie down?" he suggested, reaching out to the half-Elf. 
Elrond showed no sign of either agreement or protest, just passively 
allowing the blond to support his shoulders and remove the pillows before 
easing him down onto the mattress. A small sigh of relief left the thin lips 
before it could be prevented.

Glorfindel pulled the covers up to Elrond's neck and tucked them firmly 
around the emaciated form. Then, instead of returning to his chair, he 
settled onto the floor and laid his golden head on the edge of the bed, level 
with Elrond's chest. One arm was draped comfortingly across the wasted 
abdomen beneath the bedclothes, carefully so as not to interfere with 
Elrond's now somewhat laboured breathing. At this, the dark eyes opened 
and a genuine hint of a smile touched the ashen features as the Peredhel 
loosened one hand from beneath the covers and interlinked his fingers 
with Glorfindel's. The blond hissed at the chilliness that touched his skin, 
but made no verbal comment.

"So, tell me what you know about this," tried Glorfindel, resuming their 
previous topic of conversation.

"Almost nothing," repeated Elrond quietly, still sounding uninterested. "It 
involves binding the fading fëa to Arda somehow; it is dangerous for those 
involved. Often there is an adverse reaction to the outcome. The bound 
becomes very dependent - that can be hard to accept."

Outwardly, the half-Elf's language was clinical and detached, as though he 
were describing a surgical procedure, but Glorfindel could sense, 
somehow, the very real feeling that Elrond was fighting down his 
emotions. That almost refrained him from asking his next question, for 
what if Elrond knew more than he was letting on? Becoming dependent in 
that way was something that his friend would abhor...and the fact that, 
selfless as he was, he was probably unwilling to make the risk on his own 
behalf, if the procedure was dangerous and involved some sort of 
sacrifice.

Glorfindel shook himself mentally and cursed himself for his folly. Why 
keep that information hidden, if he knew that it might save his life? The 
consequences of his death would be cataclysmic, both on a personal scale 
when considering his children, and in a larger sense, bearing in mind the 
importance of Imladris in relation to defences against the evil growing 
once more in Middle Earth. Surely Elrond would have more sense than 
that!

"Perhaps there may be some information in the library?" he suggested, 
gently stroking the cold skin of Elrond's hand with his fingertips. Elrond's 
lips twitched in another allusion to a smile.

"Perhaps." He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes closed for a moment or 
two before opening them to gaze at Glorfindel again. The blond smiled 
back sadly from his skewed point of view, where his head rested on the 
bed.

"I'll go and have a look," he said, unlacing his fingers from Elrond's and 
rising to his knees. "Will you be all right here?" The half-Elf nodded as 
the blond stretched out his hand again to cup a gaunt cheek. The dark orbs 
remained on the Elda, and Elrond covered his friend's hand with his own. 
"I will send the twins back on my way," continued Glorfindel, and cocked 
his head slightly. "That is, if you think you can stand their presence."

Another sigh left Elrond's lips. "Yes..." he breathed. Guilt radiated from 
him in waves. "And if they can still stand mine."

"Of course they can," avowed Glorfindel. "They still love you - couldn't 
you tell that a moment ago?"

"I don't know what I can tell anymore." The Peredhel's voice was barely 
above a whisper this time; Glorfindel knew that time was running out if he 
was going to find information on this binding. Or perhaps that was what 
Elrond wanted...

"They are good boys," he breathed back, for it seemed somehow 
appropriate to match his tone to that of Elrond's. "They don't deserve the 
rejection." Again, Elrond's brow twisted, but Glorfindel smoothed it out 
with his thumb as he disentangled his hand from the half-Elf's weak grip, 
and laid a kiss upon it. "I will be back soon."

Elrond nodded once, allowing his eyes to slip closed again as he lay 
cocooned in the bed. The only way he would have known that Glorfindel 
had left was hearing the door click softly closed.



***************
Chapter Sixteen
***************

Whether 'Tis Nobler In the Mind to Suffer...

Glorfindel encountered the twins a short way down the corridor, one 
armed with a large mug of hot tea and the other with a spare blanket. He 
smiled upon realising that it was Elrohir's own, taken from his bed; 
blankets were not frequently found in Imladris, for the Elves were immune 
to the cold, and the spare store was in the healing wing on the far side of 
the house. It had clearly been quicker for Elrohir to swipe his own.

The twins regarded him with identical expressions of trepidation as he 
approached, which he did his best to dispel with comforting words. His 
assurances that their father was "no worse" did seem to calm them 
slightly, for their tense posture loosened somewhat. Glorfindel smiled 
again, managing to convince them that they would not instantly be 
dismissed again and that he would only be a short while, so that he was 
finally able to get on with his task.

Twenty minutes later, though, he was still no closer to finding the desired 
information. He dearly loved reading and had a perfectly good 
understanding of the reference classification system in the library; this, 
however, was no ordinary data, and all the likely volumes on the 
immaculately ordered shelves had proved utterly useless. Perhaps it was 
there somewhere, or perhaps it was not - either way, Glorfindel replaced 
the most recent waste of time in its place with a sigh, and left to search for 
Erestor. At least he could admit when he needed help.

Elrond's study had been the last place where Glorfindel had seen Erestor, 
so naturally it was the first place that he looked. Somehow he knew in the 
instant he placed his hand on the handle that the advisor would not be in 
there - it was well past dinner time, and although Erestor was known for 
working hard, he did not work //that// hard. Nevertheless, he turned the 
handle and opened the door, hoping that he might be lucky.

Unsurprisingly, the study was dark and empty. Glorfindel stood for a 
moment in the doorway, looking into the darkness; there was something 
strangely familiar about the scene. He had been in this room countless 
times since he had resided in Imladris, to the extent that he knew it 
practically inside out.... but yet he still could not place the feeling. 

Then it struck him: the image in the Mirror. Everything was exactly as it 
had been when he had had that glimpse into Elrond's diary, down to the 
position of the papers on the desk. Surely the diary was the answer? 
Glorfindel sprang forward, reaching in just three long strides the tall chest 
of drawers in the far corner where he knew the half-Elf kept various 
papers, supplies and records. Starting at the bottom, he threw each open in 
turn and rummaged through the various sheaves of paper and boxes of ink 
that he encountered, but by the time he reached the top drawer he had still 
seen no sign of the diary. Various other shelves, drawers and chests 
around the room proved equally useless, finally leading him to take a seat 
at the desk. The drawers down either side of it were also thoroughly 
scrutinised in the same manner, and Glorfindel even checked for a false 
bottom to the underside of the thing. Nothing. 

Releasing a short, loud growl of frustration and raking his fingers through 
his long, golden hair, the Elda stood up abruptly, and in doing so knocked 
the chair over backwards. He would have ignored it, except that it made an 
unusual, hollow clunk; he cast it a swift backward glance, then sucked in 
his breath and spun round on his heel. The cushioned seat had fallen away 
on impact with the floor, to reveal a small void in the base of the chair - 
and, protruding from it, a fat, leather-bound book, no longer or wider than 
his hand.

Glorfindel stooped down and picked up the diary, licking his dry lips in 
anticipation. It looked well used and battered, the leather dented here, 
scratched there, the corners broken and bent. The weight of it was pleasant 
and reassuring in his hands, for the fine paper inside was of good quality, 
thick and heavy. His heart was in his mouth as he righted the chair and sat 
upon it before the desk, lit a candle, and then opened the first page.

The leaves of the book were slightly yellowed from many years of use and 
storage, covered in the even, elegant Tengwar script of his lord's hand. For 
an instant Glorfindel felt a stab of shame for intruding in Elrond's privacy 
like this, since the half-Elf would obviously not have hidden it thusly if it 
was intended to be read. However, he swallowed down the emotions and 
steeled himself, reminding himself that this was for Elrond's own good. 
Taking a deep breath, he looked down at the first page.

// Tuilë 37, III 108

      I am betrothed. The proposition from Lord Celeborn reached me 
but a week ago, on the basis that the political match would strengthen the 
ties between Lothlórien and Imladris. I am undecided as to whether they 
know of my true feelings for the Lady Celebrìan or not, for although I 
have spoken to none about this, not even my faithful Glorfindel, I am well 
aware of Galadriel's talent when dealing with the unspoken.
      This is a welcome development indeed. I have loved the lady now 
for many a year, since the early days of Imladris' foundation when the first 
Council was held and Vilya was passed into my care. But then was not the 
time to address such matters of the heart; Sauron was contained by the 
Númenórean settlements, but it was only a matter of time. In the years 
between then and now, many an evil has befallen us: the downfall of 
Númenor, the siege of Barad-dûr, Isildur's betrayal. The death of my King.
      I always believed Ereinion to be invincible. Foolish? Perhaps, but 
Elves are not meant to die. I suppose one might think that I should have a 
greater appreciation of mortality than most, for who was it that baulked in 
the face of death when the moment of choice arrived? Elros chose the 
unknown, the finite, whence I had not the courage to venture - but then 
again, to choose death willingly is a thing I cannot yet comprehend. That 
my mother would cast herself into the Sea, that she would choose a jewel 
over her own children; that my twin would stray from the paths of the 
Eldar: there is a bravery to these actions that I fear I do not possess. But 
such morbid thoughts, at what should be a time of joy!
      Celebrìan has already begun her journey here, and we are to be 
wed in a year dating from the day of her arrival. I have been in her 
company but a handful of times since that first Council, yet never could I 
forget her. Her very name, "Silver Queen", is most apt, for there is 
definitely something queenly about her bearing. She has long, silvery curls 
and sparkling, bright blue eyes that hold a wisdom rarely seen. They 
almost seem to glow in her fair face, her skin pale and flawless, and I feel 
her gentle disposition and her ready, musical laugh will never fail to bring 
happiness to my heart. It has been too long since I have had someone at 
my side, and in my bed even longer. My liaisons with Gil-galad were born 
of a mutual attraction, but politics and common sense prevailed. It would 
never have worked. We were dear to each other, this I know, but I have 
never tried to fool myself that it was anything more than illicit, irrational 
comfort. The distance between Lindon and Imladris made it even more 
impossible - duty called, and it is a siren song that cannot be denied. This, 
for the first time, is a love I can celebrate, and I eagerly await her arrival. 
//


Smiling sadly to himself, Glorfindel turned the page. He remembered well 
Elrond's delight when he had received and accepted that marriage 
proposition, the sudden lightening of his heart when Celebrìan had first 
arrived in the valley. The following pages also held accounts which 
Glorfindel remembered just as clearly: the Lady's arrival a few weeks 
later, their marriage, and the births of their children. There were Elrond's 
reactions to other events, too, such as the arrival of Thranduil's letters as 
the shadow fell over the Greenwood, Celebrìan's heartache over the loss of 
Amroth and Nimrodel. Glorfindel did notice, though, that in over two and 
a half thousand years, there were relatively few entries, all of which were 
connected in some way to his family. Of course there were other, more 
official records that held accounts of the events affecting Arda as a whole; 
this, as far as he could see, was Elrond's own reflection on his personal 
life. Glorfindel again felt like an intruder, but nonetheless turned the next 
page. 


// Quellë 25, III 2509

	May the Valar exact justice from those fell slaves of Sauron, lest I 
do it myself and cause more chaos in the process! How they could harm 
such an innocent, beautiful creature as my wife? How can it be done? 
Seeing her for the first time upon her return made my blood run cold - on 
the front of Elrohir's horse, she was, her dress in tatters and soaked with 
blood, clumps of her lovely hair torn out, and her face so ashen and 
lifeless. Damnit, I should not be thinking of this! I should not - but I can 
see nothing else when I close my eyes. Perhaps writing it down can erase 
it...
	The arrow wound to her shoulder was poisoned, though by the 
grace of the Lady the fever finally broke last night. It is the other injuries 
that now make me anxious - nay, not the countless other minor cuts, 
scrapes and bruises, though the sight of even the smallest is enough to 
make me want to slaughter those...those things several times over. I know 
cold hatred is unbecoming of me, but at present I feel it justified.
      It is the mental wound that now gives cause for concern - oh, what 
they have done to her! They violated her, they touched her in a way that 
no being should ever be touched, save in the name of love. Just to think of 
the agony, the incomprehension, the fear that she must have been feeling - 
I can but imagine, for she has not yet awoken. I hope that perhaps she will 
soon, now that the fever has broken and the poison is abating. It is foolish, 
I know, but in a way I wish she would not. There is no pain in sleep.
       I have sat at her side for six days. I have not slept for six days; I 
could not afford to. The boys are beside themselves with fright - they saw 
what happened to the other members of the party. I have been of little use 
to them, I confess now; instead it was Glorfindel who comforted them. It 
was he who set Elladan's wrist, who ensured that Elrohir's ribs were only 
bruised and not broken; it was he who held them close as their father 
should have. He has made arrangements so that everything will continue 
to run whilst I am at her bedside. He coaxes me to eat, though the mere 
thought of food turns my stomach, and he urges me to sleep though he 
knows that I will not. He is everywhere, doing everything, and yet he is 
also here. He has held my hand - it sounds silly, but it means so much - 
and he has said nothing, just been there. His loyalty cannot be valued - I 
would not have said that anything could make this easier, but I think that 
he has helped. He understands.
      I love her so much. I have prayed to Elbereth, and I will do so 
again - please, do not take her away from me. I would not survive it. //


Glorfindel bit his lip upon reading those last few words - so even then 
Elrond had known? The half-Elf's hidden suffering during those first few 
weeks had been all the more heartbreaking for its visibility, for he had 
made little desperate attempt to disguise it. Later, of course, when 
Celebrìan had awoken, Elrond had carefully hidden his fears away, as 
Glorfindel was sure he would read in a moment. With trembling fingers, 
he turned the page again, revealing more Tengwar script. The hand that 
had written these next entries, and the last, had also clearly been shaking, 
for the writing was wobblier than was usual for the half-Elf.


// Quellë 31, III 2509

      Well, she has awoken. I don't know what I expected, but I know 
what I hoped. I still do hope - in such hopeless situations, one has to. 
Detachment often occurs after a shock of that magnitude, so that, at least, 
I did expect. The pain, though, when she looks at me and shows absolutely 
no sign of recognition, when she flinches away from my touch and shrieks 
fit to wake the entire house...I fear it will rapidly become more than I can 
bear.
      I think that I might even stand the lack of recognition, if it were a 
constant thing - she has spoken my name, touched my face, gripped my 
hand. Never before have such small, innocent touches meant so much. But 
it is a momentary thing, because I reach to return them and she shies 
away like I am an Orc, come to finish the job. And that is what hurts - it 
hurts so very, very much. For anything to be done - her wounds redressed, 
the bedclothes changed - she has to be sedated. Dewidh refuses to let me 
stay for that - my own chief healer refused me! - and Glorfindel makes 
certain that I leave, makes me eat, makes me clean up and change my 
clothes. It actually caused me to smile, that he said I wouldn't want to be 
looking such a state for her when she woke up again.
      I think it goes without saying that I cannot sleep in the same bed as 
her. It would be the most wonderful thing, to be able to hold her close and 
tell her that everything's all right - but I can't, because everything's not all 
right. Everything's wrong. I insisted that she stay in our own rooms, for 
maybe the comfort and the familiarity will do her good. I carried her here 
from the healing wing myself, in the first days whilst she was still delirious 
with the fever of the poison. When she awoke, and the twins eventually 
realised that I had been sleeping on the floor rather than leaving her for 
the night, they fetched a divan to go on the other side of the room. Such a 
simple thing that it never even crossed my mind.  //
      
      
      
// Yávië 53, III 2510

      So, this is really it. She's leaving. I suppose it is the best way... 
Nay, I know it is the only way. It has been a year, and still she is not the 
same. I doubt that she ever will be the same, but at least in Aman she may 
find peace and comfort, and what healing she could not find here. How 
terribly, terribly ironic that I could not heal her - or in psyche, at least. 
Bodily she is just as perfect as she has ever been, but those days of torture 
in the Orcs' den have fragmented her mind. My beautiful, broken 
Celebrìan. She never laughs anymore, never genuinely smiles. She never 
even cries anymore.
      She told me yesterday that she wants to leave. I don't know which 
is harder: those few words, or this past year in its entirety. At the very 
first, there was numbness, disbelief over what had happened; then came 
anger, agony. She awoke, but she was not there, not really. I would 
imagine that her mind shattered when they violated her, and some parts 
were lost forever. The remaining shards are razor-sharp - no matter which 
one appears, they all scratch us equally deeply. I have done my best to 
piece them together again, but it is an impossible task, for no incomplete 
jigsaw can ever be like the illustration.
      It was in one of her more rational frames of mind that she told me, 
which is why I know her to be serious. Had it been the juvenile, or the 
irate and irrational, or the cold and callous, I would have thought 
otherwise - oh, never has the term "frame of mind" been more 
appropriate. I think that she does understand her affliction, but she does 
not always have the sense to express herself. Last night was the first time I 
have shed tears since it happened. It happened in front of her, when she 
told me - I just could not help myself. All these months I have been so 
strong for her sake, and kept hidden the most desolate of my emotions 
when all I really wanted to do was surrender and weep for her. To appear 
frightened or lonely or worried or hopeless, when all I could really be was 
her supportive, stoic husband. Last night, though, I cried. And the best 
thing about it was that she held me through it, because at that moment she 
could see it and she could understand.
      That, at least, gave me hope for her in Aman - just that tiniest 
glimmer of what she once was, and what she could be again. No matter, 
that it faded soon after and left her frosty and indifferent once more, 
because just that tiniest spark might help her find some semblance of 
normality again. Maybe, if I keep telling myself that, it won't hurt quite so 
much. //
      
      
Despite having read the last two entries without a pause, Glorfindel now 
stopped. He knew what the next one would hold, and a strong sense of 
dread made him consider for a moment whether he should continue. The 
most recent passage especially had touched him deeply, the Peredhel's 
sorrow made all the more poignant by the occasional blur on the page to 
show that he had been crying when he wrote it. But then again, he had 
come this far now. He might as well finish.
      
      
// Quellë 51, III 2510
      
      I sent Glorfindel away. It had to be done - he was getting far too 
close to the truth, and I know exactly what he would have done if he found 
out.
      I know what is happening to me, and I am not surprised in the 
slightest.... scared, yes, but not surprised. I am grieving for Celebrìan; the 
Elven sickness has taken me. I am fading. It has been but fifty days, yet 
already I can feel it, stronger and deeper than anything I have ever felt 
before. It has been increasingly so since the early days of her absence: an 
acute sense of loss, of emptiness, and a severe, searing pain beneath my 
breastbone. I have no appetite; I am listless yet I cannot sleep; everything 
is such an effort. I am perpetually cold. It is horrible - is this how Elros 
felt in his last days? Or my mother, when despair finally caused her to 
cast herself into the Sea? Perhaps I will yet understand how one could 
choose death willingly; perhaps it isn't so bad when you have something 
worth dying for. In that case, maybe bravery doesn't come into it.
      I have read accounts of this grief before, though I had never 
personally encountered it. From what I can gather it is a somewhat 
infrequent occurrence, and understandably so, but I feel that, as a lore 
master and a healer, it is something that I should have in my repertoire. 
There is a mention of it in a book in the library, but I forget the name of it 
now. I forget a lot of things, now. Though there is no true cure, the 
afflicted can be tied to life, either by the love of one for whom they grieve, 
or through the strength of another. The latter, I imagine, would be 
horrendous. The other cuts your hand and shares their blood, thus joining 
both fëa. The two become bound together. The strength of the "saviour", 
and I use the term loosely, holds the afflicted in life. Proximity and 
dependence are everything. Sharing in love in the sharing of bodies, so 
this account tells me, serves to reinforce the bond. 
      Glorfindel, I know, would do this. He would love me and he would 
bind me to him, so fiercely loyal and utterly selfless is he. I could not let 
him sacrifice his life like that, and nor could I stand to be reliant on him in 
such a way; it would sicken me to my very core. I now confess that as 
Mandos calls, I am no longer tempted to resist. //
      
      
Glorfindel's hands were trembling as he read this last entry, and he nearly 
dropped the book on the floor in fright when the door burst open. He 
glanced up sharply, stomach clenching in apprehension when he saw 
Elladan in the doorway, desperately wringing his hands.

"Glorfindel, please, come quickly!" he begged, his eyes wide and 
panicked. "Ada, it's Ada - one minute he was talking to us, and the next... 
His eyes are closed!" Elladan's voice was a few tones higher than it 
usually was. His words were frantic and run-together, and in his frenzy he 
did not seem able to place them in a truly coherent sequence. Glorfindel 
cursed aloud and sprang to his feet once more, seized the book from the 
desk and raced towards the door. Neither he nor Elladan noticed that a 
folded sheet of paper, bearing Glorfindel's name and Elrond's seal, fell 
from between the pages of the diary and floated gently to the floor in their 
wake.

To be continued...

Notes on the Text:

1) Eldarin seasons

The Eldar in Middle-earth (amongst which I count Elrond), observed a 
solar year called a loa. This was broken up into periods that could be seen 
as long months or short seasons; according to the Calendar of Imladris, 
there were six of them: 

      tuilë - spring
      lairë - summer
      yávië - autumn
      quellë - fading
      hrívë - winter
      coirë - stirring
      
Lairë and hrívë both consisted of 72 days, whilst the others each consisted 
of 54. The dates in Elrond's diary, therefore, coincide with the fact that 
this story started in autumn (or yávië), when Celebrìan left, and that it is 
now early winter (hrívë) given that it took Glorfindel more or less sixty 
days for his return journey to 'Lórien. The last entry was written about ten 
days before Glorfindel read it, and I have also assumed that a year, give or 
take the odd day, elapsed between Celebrìan's attack and her departure for 
Valinor.

There are more detailed accounts of Eldarin seasons, years and so forth in 
appendix D of "Return of the King".

2) Amroth and Nimrodel

Hum, one of the dodgier points in Tolkien's writing. There are three ways 
(according to "Unfinished Tales") that you can take this:

- Amroth was son of Celeborn and Galadriel, and therefore brother to 
Celebrìan
- He was son of Amdir, King of 'Lórien before Celeborn and Galadriel 
took over lordship
- He was brother to Celeborn, therefore making him Celebrìan's uncle

Now, various other sources lead me to believe the former of the three, so 
for the sake of the story we can assume that Amroth was Celebrìan's 
brother. He became King of 'Lórien (Cerin Amroth was his dwelling place 
there) before Celeborn and Galadriel took up lordship, and fell in love 
with a maiden called Nimrodel. He asked her to marry him, but she only 
agreed on the condition that he could bring her to a safe country (this is 
the middle of the Second Age when things are getting pretty nasty with 
Sauron and the rings). He promised her that he would bring her to Aman, 
via the havens that were later to become Dol-Amroth.

During their journey to the havens, their company was somehow separated 
and Amroth arrived before Nimrodel. There was only one ship remaining, 
which he boarded, but before Nimrodel arrived a storm rose and blew the 
ship out of the harbour. Amroth jumped from the ship into the ocean, 
trying to swim back to Nimrodel, but, sadly, he drowned. Nimrodel herself 
was lost in the hills and woods of Belfalas.

3) Elros and Elwing

Rather minor points, which I hope don't need explaining too much. Elros 
was Elrond's twin brother, who, when the Valar presented then with a 
choice upon their 100th' birthday, chose to become mortal instead of 
following the paths of the Eldar like Elrond. Elwing was their mother, who 
cast herself into the Sea with a Silmaril bound to her breast in the third 
Kinslayings, abandoning Elrond and Elros (they were four). The twins 
were taken captive by Maglor, whilst Elwing was borne out of the waves 
in the likeness of a bird. She flew over Earendil's ship and collapsed onto 
the deck, and although she lived she was thereafter only permitted to take 
avian form.


***************
Chapter Seventeen
***************

To Die - To Sleep

Glorfindel threw open the door and marched inside, 
Elladan hot on his heels. Elrohir was kneeling on the bed at 
Elrond's side, clutching one of his father's hands to his 
chest and stroking the ashen brow. Elrond, Glorfindel 
could see as he approached and stood over the bed, 
appeared to be totally comatose. His eyes were closed, 
his face deathly pale, and his body eerily still beneath the 
thick heap of bedclothes, save the barely discernible rise 
and fall of his breathing. 

Elrohir lifted huge, damp eyes to the Elda. "He was talking 
to us," he said quietly. The barest tremor to his voice and 
the wetness of his cheeks belied his fear. "And then his 
teeth started to chatter... he was gasping for breath, and 
his body - he was shaking so violently... it was horrible! 
And now this..."

Glorfindel cast the diary onto the nightstand, pressing his 
lips firmly together as he climbed onto the bed next to 
Elrohir. Elladan remained standing, wringing his hands 
anxiously.

"He is dying."

Glorfindel looked up sharply from where he was kneeling 
over Elrond as Elrohir made a small noise of distress.

"That was rather crass," muttered the blond, with a 
disapproving glance towards the elder twin.

"He //is// dying," responded Elladan. His face looked 
blank and emotionless, his voice equally as impassive. 
Glorfindel cast him another glance, saw how the dark eyes 
were wide and fixed on the lifeless form of his father, 
attributed it to the shock of the situation. Elrohir sniffed 
loudly beside him.

"It's grief for Nana, isn't it?"

With a sigh, Glorfindel straightened from his examination 
of Elrond's vital signs and nodded slowly. Elrohir 
whimpered again and Elladan suddenly looked as though 
he might collapse. The Elda patted the side of the bed, 
encouraging him to sit down before his knees gave out. 
The last thing he needed was //two// unconscious Peredhil.

"I think there may be something I can do," he muttered 
softly, considering his options. Met by two pairs of raised, 
expectant eyebrows, he continued, "I can bind him to me."

"Do you know how?" Elrohir sounded somewhat 
incredulous.

"Yes." Glorfindel nodded firmly to help disguise his 
untruth. "It is the only way... Do you wish it?" 

Neither twin said anything, but instead focused eyes on 
each other. An unheard conversation seemed to pass 
between them, during which time the blond looked back 
down at Elrond. The icy skin of his face had blanched 
another degree and his breathing was shallower, slower: it 
would not be long now. Glorfindel looked back up at the 
twins, to find both pairs of dark eyes were turned to him. 
They nodded.

"Good. I want you to leave us," declared Glorfindel 
resolutely. Twin cries of outrage left identical pairs of lips, 
but the Elda silenced them with nothing more than a glance 
and a lift of his hand. "Now! If you want this done then 
go!"

Elrohir moved to get off the bed, but Elladan sat staring at 
Glorfindel in disbelief. The blond sighed and stretched out 
a hand to clasp a slightly shaky shoulder. "Elladan, listen to 
me. There is not much time; I need to do this //now//. Wait 
outside - allow us half an hour." The elder twin blinked 
back at him owlishly. "Please?"

Elladan wavered for a moment, but Elrohir placed a hand 
on his shoulder and at last he nodded mutely, allowing 
himself to be guided towards the door. Both brothers 
slipped outside, and Glorfindel missed the final, plaintive 
glances sent his way as he bent over Elrond once more.

"You're going to make me come after you, aren't you?" he 
muttered darkly to the still form below him, trying to calm 
himself whilst he reached for the knife sheathed at his hip. 
"You are stubborn, Peredhel, and you always have 
been..."

Glorfindel's eyes fixed on the silvery blade of his short 
dagger, and he gnawed anxiously on his lower lip for a 
moment. Then, with a last look at the diary on the 
nightstand - not as though it could save him now - he 
reached for Elrond's left hand, lying atop the covers where 
Elrohir had been clutching at it previously. Still chewing on 
his lip, he brought the knife up to the half-Elf's hand, 
placed the tip against the skin, and pressed down.

Crimson droplets of blood sprang up under the razored 
edge, beading before they collected into a continuous line 
as the Elda scored a channel in Elrond's palm. The knife 
was dragged the entire width of the hand before Glorfindel 
stopped and carefully laid the limp appendage on the 
bedclothes again; Elrond had made no sound, had not 
moved or flinched, as the sharp metal sliced through his 
dying flesh. Now, raising his own right hand, Glorfindel 
swallowed convulsively before setting the knife to his own 
flesh. He winced as he scored a similar groove in his own 
palm, but gritted his teeth and continued nonetheless - he 
had definitely encountered worse pain in lives both present 
and past.

Slowly, Glorfindel now cast aside the knife and reached 
for Elrond's cut hand. Then, licking his suddenly dry lips - 
//would it work?// - he slipped one leg over the half-Elf's 
hips so he was kneeling over him, and pressed the two 
gashes together. Elrond's blood was chilling on contact 
with his skin, making Glorfindel hiss as he sealed the two 
wounds together by interlinking their fingers. He rose up 
on his knees, ensuring that his heart was over their hands 
and that Elrond's arm was extended upwards so the blood 
flow was aided by gravity.

It had only been a few moments when Glorfindel began to 
feel a coldness inside him, concentrated in his right hand 
and gradually spreading along his arm. It was a bitter, 
aching cold, slow and seeping and sinister that sent shivers 
skittering down his spine – and with it, there came a tug. It 
was barely noticeable at first, but escalated slyly until 
Glorfindel could think of nothing else. It was as though it 
was dragging on some indefinite part of him, a powerful, 
unrelenting current that swept him forwards, seemed to be 
sucking his very life essence from his body through his 
hand…

Accompanying the tow was a gushing sound, too – like 
waterfalls, only they seemed to occupy the entire space 
inside his head. It filled his ears, invaded his mind, a 
rhythmic rushing, beating, banging, in time to his panicked 
heart, resounding through his flesh, from which the warmth 
was being swiftly leached. It was all he could do to resist, 
to resist the seeping cold, the tidal crashing of the blood, 
and that deadly, invincible drag on the vital, intangible part 
of his being.

Pulling back against it took every last ounce of his 
considerable will, and he bowed his head with the effort. 
"Ai, Mandos, á fainuls!" he gasped out through gritted 
teeth, shivering as he felt the cold and the tow increase yet 
again. "Haryuvans! Haryuvans!" 

But nothing happened. Yet undefeated, he ground his teeth 
almost to powder, closed his eyes in defiance. And still the 
tug of Mandos came, invading his body like a disease; it 
was all he could do to keep himself back from its icy 
grasp, never mind reaching for that other thud of a 
heartbeat that he somehow knew must be Elrond. But he 
had to pull Elrond back; he had to! The half-Elf was but a 
disembodied step from Mandos' threshold now, unable to 
resist the Vala's call any longer, and Glorfindel could feel 
their fëar fusing even as he was being dragged towards 
death by the dying. Where he was slipping to he knew not 
- and yet he did; fragments of memories long since 
dismissed reflected it. He could have had his eyes open, 
but it would not have made an iota of difference as he 
finally became enveloped: by the overwhelming darkness 
that was at the same time blinding light, that which was 
void and yet everything, the indescribable insubstantiality 
that he knew was the Halls of Waiting.

In the end it was the tow that won, and spirit was sucked 
by dying spirit from body. Glorfindel was totally gone by 
the time his limp form flopped forwards onto Elrond, eyes 
closed and hands separated, oozing scarlet blood onto the 
bed sheets.

To be continued…

Elvish Translations:
Ai, Mandos, á fainuls! Haryuvans! Haryuvans! - Ah, 
Mandos, let him go! I will have him! I will have him! 
(Quenya)


***************
Chapter Eighteen
***************

Take Arms Against a Sea of Troubles

Elrohir was sitting in the corridor just outside Elrond's rooms, eyeing 
Elladan as the elder twin paced up and down before him.

"Elladan, stop it." Elladan did not stop it. "Please! You are making me 
anxious!" 

The elder twin ground to a halt and spun on his heel. "What else am I 
supposed to do, then?" he shot back, more nastily than was necessary. 
Elrohir blinked, looking slightly hurt. Elladan hid his head in his hands. 
"Sorry." The word was muffled, and he lifted his head again. "I just... 
Argh! It has been fifteen minutes already!" He began pacing again, 
interrupting his brother, who opened his mouth to protest that Glorfindel 
had requested half an hour. "Nothing has happened, Elrohir - you cannot 
tell me you are not worried as well?" 

"Yes, I am, Elladan, and your pacing..." Biting back a groan, Elrohir 
watched in frustration as his twin stopped in front of their father's door and 
pressed himself flat against it with his ear to the wood, straining for any 
sound from within. 

"I cannot hear anything!"

The younger twin allowed his head to fall back to the wall against which 
he was propped. "Why don't you just look through the keyhole?" he 
mocked in exasperation, passing a hand over his face. Elladan snapped to 
attention.

"Excellent idea! Why didn't I think of that?" He dropped to his knees and 
closed one eye, squinting through the small hole just below the door 
handle. For a short moment there was silence, in which Elrohir lifted his 
head as his curious anxiety bested him.

"Well? What can you see?" Elladan shook his head, so Elrohir crawled 
over to his side. "Move over, let me have... oh, Elbereth, no!" He shot to 
his feet, turned the door handle and rushed inside the bedroom. Elladan 
caught his breath and followed suit.

Inside the room it was deadly quiet and deathly still. Both twins scrambled 
over to the bed where the two lifeless figures lay, stopping just short with 
equal expressions of horror on their faces. Glorfindel was lying on top and 
slightly to one side of their father, his right hand stretched up to rest next 
to Elrond's left. There was a deep wound in each of their palms, right 
across the width; it looked as though they were made to be joined together, 
but instead there was a liberal amount of blood staining the surrounding 
sheets as the scarlet liquid leaked slowly from each cut. Elrond's face was 
even more ashen than when the twins had left, and Glorfindel's now 
matched it. Both their lips were starting to take on a blue tinge - a partial 
product, no doubt, of the very little oxygen being taken in by their almost 
non-existent breaths.

Elladan staggered into Elrohir, nearly swooning. The younger twin caught 
his brother with an arm around his waist, but could not take his gaze from 
the gruesome sight before them. 

"W-what do we d-do?" he stammered, saucer-eyed. Elladan shook his 
head mutely; his lips were moving, but nothing came out. Elrohir reached 
across awkwardly with his free hand to cradle his brother's cheek, and in 
doing so cast him a sideways glance. Suddenly, his eyes alighted on the 
forgotten book on the nightstand and he stiffened.

Elladan whimpered softly as Elrohir disentangled himself and watched as 
his brother stepped up to the nightstand.

"Ada's diary," murmured Elrohir, picking up the book and studying the 
front cover. "Why would Glorfindel...?"

"Open it," urged Elladan quietly, who had taken to chewing the tip of his 
thumb as he fidgeted in his desperation. His fevered gaze kept flipping 
between his brother and the two comatose Elf-lords, his body visibly 
trembling. 

Elrohir shot him a hesitant look. "I cannot read his diary!"

"You absolutely can!" cried back Elladan, catching Elrohir off-guard with 
the sudden increase in volume, so that he nearly dropped the book. 
"Glorfindel obviously did, so there has to be something important in it - or 
do you //want// them to die?"

"Of course not!" retorted the younger twin vehemently, voice despair-
laced and all aquiver. "But, but --" He dropped his eyes to the floor, as 
suddenly as his voice dropped to a whisper. "How...how do you know 
they're not...already dead?"

"Because they are still breathing!" Elladan's throat had constricted as an 
effect of barely-restrained tears, so that his words came out thick and 
hoarse. Elrohir could see that he was holding on to those last two threads 
of hope: the diary and the minute volumes of air that occasionally inflated 
the lungs of their father and his seneschal. "Do you have that little hope, 
brother, that you would give them up for dead so easily?"

Elrohir emitted a small, wretched noise, a combination of a stifled sob and 
mild shock as Elladan snatched the book from his hands and opened it. He 
watched uneasily as the elder twin turned the pages with shaking hands, 
briefly scanning each as he went, until finally he stopped somewhere 
towards the back. Dark, arched eyebrows drew together in concentration 
as Elladan lowered his head slightly, now seeming to be reading in depth 
the words written there. Growing ever the more agitated, Elrohir found 
that he was shifting his weight from foot to foot, until Elladan suddenly 
thrust the book back at him, marking a passage with his finger.

"Read that," he commanded, ignoring his twin's stunned regard as he 
practically vaulted onto the bed.

"Elladan, I..." Elrohir's voice trailed off when he saw that his brother had 
taken hold of both Elrond and Glorfindel's wounded hands and was 
examining them. Elladan frowned, before reaching for the knife lying on 
the other side of the bed and setting it to his father's hand.

"The blood is clotting," he offered in way of explanation to Elrohir's 
wordless whine of protest, and set about re-opening first the cut on 
Elrond's palm and then the one on Glorfindel's. "Here, cut me a strip of 
cloth - anything will do."

Elrohir picked up the knife that was tossed across the bed to him and 
looked around, finally settling for slicing a strip from the bed sheet. He 
extended it to Elladan, who by this point had pressed the Elf-lords' hands 
together and was holding them firmly in his own, regardless of the trickle 
of blood, origin unknown, that slid down his wrist. Elladan used the cloth 
to bind both cut hands together, before laying them down on the mattress 
and looking back up to Elrohir. 

Elrohir took a steadying breath, and looked down at the diary in an attempt 
to make sense of what Elladan had just done. He absorbed the words 
quickly, his expression becoming increasingly horrified, until he finished 
reading the passage and looked up to Elladan in alarm. "We need to find 
that other book!"

"We don't have time!" cried back Elladan. "Don't you think that's what..." 
He stopped speaking as a deep shudder ran through Glorfindel, and 
jumped backwards on the bed as though burned from where his thigh was 
in contact with the Elda's body. He looked up to Elrohir, where their gazes 
met in dismay; then the blond shuddered again, and both dark regards 
were turned to him once more. Elladan could have sworn that he saw 
Glorfindel's fingers curl around Elrond's hand slightly but was left no 
more time to think on it, for both Elven-lords then emitted a long exhale, 
and stopped breathing.

"*Ada!!*" Elrohir choked and spluttered over the word. "Elbereth, please, 
don't let Mandos take him too!" 

Elladan had frozen, agape, on the bed. All he could focus on was the 
ghastly stillness of the two figures, the white skin stained with crimson 
blood, the emaciated form of his father a stark, horrible contrast to 
Glorfindel's strong, lithe body. He had seen the dead and wounded before, 
of course, varying in races from Orcs to Men to Elves to horses. But this... 
this was different... this was his *Ada* who had just stopped breathing... 
what was he to do?

Suddenly he became aware of Elrohir shaking him, and also of the fact 
that he had, at some point, delved under the covers for his father's free 
hand. Still clutching it to his cheek, he looked slowly up to his brother to 
find that, although Elrohir's eyes were wet, his expression was stern and 
resolute.

"We need to breathe for them."

Elladan blinked twice and shook his head to clear it, then nodded firmly in 
agreement. With Elrohir's help, he rolled Glorfindel's limp body to one 
side of Elrond's so that the Elda was on his back. The twins arranged the 
Elven-lords' arms as best they could, given that their hands were tied 
together, and took up their positions: Elrohir straddling Elrond, and 
Elladan kneeling to one side of Glorfindel. Elrohir spared his brother a 
final glance as he tilted his father's head back and pinched his nose; then, 
lowering his head, he began to blow air into Elrond's lungs. 

Elrohir sensed Elladan watching him for a second before following suit. 
He suspected that his brother was having the same thoughts as him: that it 
felt very, very strange to have to breathe for the other Elves like this. Both 
twins had learned long ago from their father how to breathe for someone 
should the situation demand it, so this was not a new experience for them 
by any means; however, such contact with his father was far more intimate 
than he felt at ease with.

//How can you be so tactless?!// he chided himself, forcing down all 
feelings of discomfort over the situation as he blew another lungful of air 
down Elrond's throat. This was his father and he loved him - surely this 
last attempt was the least he could do to save his life!

Glancing over to Elladan as he took a breath for himself, Elrohir noticed 
that his brother did indeed seem to be having similar thoughts himself. 
Glorfindel had always been as a second father to them and they were 
almost as close to him as they were to Elrond - in some ways they were 
even closer, feeling that there were matters they could discuss with him 
that were nigh on impossible to talk to their own father about. He caught 
Elladan's eye as the elder twin looked up, felt the underlying panic he was 
fighting just like Elrohir's own; as they bowed their heads again for 
another breath, Elrohir then knew that simply breathing for them wouldn't 
be enough. The next time he took a breath for himself, he voiced his 
concerns to Elladan.

"I know," replied the elder twin, looking at his brother meaningfully 
before blowing another breath into Glorfindel. "We have to pull them 
back."

To Elladan's credit, Elrohir noticed that his voice was only minutely 
tremulous, and that he seemed to have detached himself from the situation 
as Elrohir himself had done a few moments previously. It was the only 
way that they would make it through this without a complete emotional 
breakdown. "Their free hands..."

"How?"

"Together. We are already..." Elrohir paused to give and take another 
breath. "...part of Ada - and of each other... and if Glorfindel is bound to 
him now..."

"So we use our fëar to reach them…" Elladan looked up once more and, 
seeing the approval in Elrohir's eyes, nodded determinedly. "All right. 
Pass me the knife."

There was no room for doubts any longer. Elrohir fumbled for the knife at 
his side and handed it to his brother, watching as Elladan blew one last, 
long breath into Glorfindel's lungs before setting the blade to the Elda's 
previously uncut palm. He swiftly sliced through the width of the flesh 
before turning the sharp blade onto his own hands, biting his lip as he 
scored a cut into the thick flesh at the base of first his right and then his 
left, then at last handed the knife to Elrohir. The younger twin did the 
same to his father and himself whilst Elladan continued to breathe for 
Glorfindel. The blood from the wounds on Elladan's hands left scarlet 
smears over the Elda's face, for the young Peredhel had to pinch his nose 
shut and tilt his head back to ensure that the air entered his lungs. It was a 
macabre sight indeed, to see the pale, beautifully carved face decorated 
with such violent splashes of the morbid colour, but Elladan quelled his 
rising bile for the good of his composure  - and therefore the Elven-lords' 
lives.

A soft murmur from Elrohir announced that he was ready, so once again 
Elladan paused his life-giving breaths and turned towards his brother. 
Their eyes met as each slowly raised one hand and extended it towards the 
other's, Elladan his left and Elrohir his right. Their gazes were held as their 
palms made contact and their fingers wove together, allowing their blood 
to intermingle slowly. Then, satisfied that the procedure was working, 
Elladan reached for Glorfindel's free hand as Elrohir took hold of Elrond's.

The warmth of each other's blood only served to highlight the chilling cold 
of both Elrond and Glorfindel's; as the blood of four sources mixed, the 
twins could each feel a conflict between life's heat and death's icy fingers 
culminating in their cores. The cold crept up one arm, leaching the life 
into the still figures beneath them, whilst at the same time the warmth 
from the twins pooled together, each gripping onto the other. Flowing 
down Elrohir's right arm, both from and into him, his spirit sought that of 
Elladan's and flared, rejoicing at finding its other half. The one fëa, 
divided at birth, swiftly cleaved together; sparks flew at the meeting, 
which momentarily banished the dark and substantial death shadows to the 
furthest reaches of their arms. Elrohir's arm tingled from palm to shoulder, 
the entire right side of his body filling suddenly with the unimaginable fire 
of creation.

Elrohir glanced over to Elladan, noted that his twin's eyes were closed in 
concentration, that Elladan's fingers were pressing fiercely into the back of 
Elrohir's hand. Then, suddenly, the elder twin released a soft gasp and dug 
his fingernails into Elrohir's skin. Elrohir pressed his lips together against 
this additional pain as bloody crescents welled up under Elladan's nails - 
but then he gasped, too, for without warning something swept along his 
left arm. There was a jerk in the centre of his being, as though the cold in 
one half of his body was tugging at the warmth in the other half: the 
warmth where his fëa had merged with Elladan's. It felt like he was being 
torn in two, and Elladan seemed to be having a similar problem; however, 
the grasp that each twin's soul had on the other would not be broken so 
easily. Mandos called, but their life light turned a deaf ear as both fëar 
exerted the force that the one, alone and unprepared, could not.

It could only have been seconds, though it seemed like an Elven lifetime, 
in which the pulling conflict wrenched at the twins' rejoined fëar. Elladan 
vaguely heard Elrohir groan under the strain, felt him dig his nails into 
Elladan's flesh as Elladan had done to him a few moments ago. The elder 
twin gripped back, white knuckled, in support; felt his own body tense, 
powerless to intervene in the struggle of death, suckling forcefully at their 
life. He concentrated on his breathing, inhaling the air to fuel the life-
flame of his spirit - //deep breaths, in and out... in and out...//

And yet still Mandos' efforts did not cease. His hold on Elrond was vice-
like, icy and tenacious; now that he had him almost in his halls, he was not 
about to let go so easily. Elrond was coming to him: he had chosen for 
events to take place this way, in the actions that he had taken, the words he 
had said. Mandos knew of his musings, knew of his thoughts, knew what 
Elrond wanted - //this// was what he wanted, and he was coming. So still 
he called to the Peredhel, still he showed him the way - no matter, that 
Glorfindel was caught up with him and coming too. It was not his place to 
undo that. 

Even so, it seemed that the closer Elrond came to his doors, the less likely 
it was that he would actually reach the threshold. The opposing force that 
the twins were applying to Mandos' own was making his duty increasingly 
difficult, for the combined pull of two united spirits was like suck-back 
through the empty bodies of the Elven-lords he was reaching for. So 
powerful, in fact, was the effect of their own countering drag that the Vala 
began to lose his hold on the bound and entangled fëar; their fate was 
finally decided just a few moments later. He heard a call, a plea from the 
twins to let their father go, a prayer to Elbereth to give them strength to 
help him, so that where before Glorfindel had failed due to sheer lack of 
might, fortune and expectation, Mandos slipped, and released them.

To Elladan and Elrohir it all happened in an instant: the cold drained from 
their arms and the warmth in their cores spread to replace it. A soft, 
unintelligible noise escaped Elladan, who released his hold on both Elrohir 
and Glorfindel's hands and rolled, exhausted, to one side of the blond. 
Elrohir's arms flopped limply to his side as he also released his hold, 
shoulders slumping forwards in fatigue after the struggle of spirits that had 
just take place inside him. Both his and Elladan's breathing was short and 
shallow, coming in pants, so that it took a moment or two for each to catch 
their breath before they lifted their heads again. Their first glances were 
for Elrond and Glorfindel, and both brothers nearly collapsed in relief to 
see that the Elven-lords were breathing on their own again.

Tears flooded Elrohir's eyes before he could prevent them, blurring his 
vision as he picked up the knife once more to slice through the strip of 
cloth that held their father's hand to his seneschal's. With Elladan's help, 
he ensured that all wounds were bandaged, that each still form was 
covered with a thick blanket, and that any excess blood was cleaned away 
from the pale but slowly warming skin. Then, not knowing what else to 
do, the brothers curled into each other's arms, and wept.

To be continued...



***************
Chapter Nineteen
***************

Betwixt and Between

Although Elrohir had fallen into uneasy slumber in his arms, Elladan was 
unable to do the same. Both twins had wept for a long time the previous 
evening, after the detachment they had assumed during the binding 
procedure had fallen away and left them vulnerable to their shock and 
distress. They had bound each other's wounded hands in silence, although 
their Elven healing abilities meant that the cuts were already closing over. 
They would be gone by the morning, but for some inexplicable reason 
Elladan found that he felt safe and secure with the tight length of white 
cloth traversing each palm.

It was now nearing dawn; Elladan could sense it outside, could hear the 
birds that sang even now, as the depths of winter loomed. Of course, Vilya 
lessened the extremes of the seasons in Imladris, but the twin could not 
help but wonder if her bearer's depleted resources would affect her power. 
With a chaste kiss to his twin's forehead, Elladan gently disentangled 
himself from the vice-like grip and rose from the large armchair that they 
had situated at their father's bedside. The pair had managed to fit into that 
chair togetther since they were Elflings; the fact that they were now full-
grown made it a tight squeeze, but did not affect the small measure of 
comfort they gained from it. Elrohir stirred slightly as his brother 
extricated himself but did not wake, and Elladan languidly stretched his 
sore, stiff muscles, blinking sleepily as he watched his brother, before 
turning his attentions to the bed.

Whether its occupants were unconscious, half-dead or merely in a healing 
sleep, neither twin had been able to tell the night before. Elladan seated 
himself on the edge of the mattress next to Elrond and leaned over him, 
checking his pulse, his breathing rate, the warmth of his skin. All three 
were present - an encouraging sign, for even though they were also weak, 
it was an improvement on their total absence a few hours previously. 
Elladan brushed the backs of his fingers against his father's still pallid 
cheek in an affectionate gesture, smoothed some lank, dark strands of hair 
out of the face lax in sleep and gaunt in sickness. He dropped a gentle kiss 
to the cold skin of the Elf-lord's brow, then moved round to Glorfindel's 
side of the bed.

The blond appeared slightly better off than Elrond - but only slightly. It 
could be seen in his pulse, minutely stronger; in his breathing, that much 
deeper; in his face, a touch less pale, less haunted by the shadows of death, 
less cool to the gentle hand that Elladan laid across his brow. The twin 
stood over him for a moment, deep in thought, before noticing a missed 
smear of blood on the elegant face and frowned. Silent steps carried him to 
the nightstand on the far side of the bed where a bowl of water and soft 
cloth had been set; Elladan wet one corner of the cloth and wrung it out, 
before returning to Glorfindel's side. There, he knelt by the bed and used 
the damp corner to gently clean away the final traces of his blood from the 
white skin: a streak to one side of the small, slender nose, a spot and 
fingerprint below the proud chin.

Opening his fingers, Elladan allowed the cloth to fall softly to the floor 
and instead busied them by resting them on the high forehead, stroking 
lightly over near-bloodless skin. It was a deeply disturbing sight, to see 
this noble warrior thus incapacitated, the fabled Balrog slayer so quiet, so 
still.

"I wonder what made him do it." Elladan glanced up, his thoughts 
disturbed by his brother's soft voice floating across the bed. Elrohir was 
regarding him sleepily from his position curled up in the chair.

Elladan shrugged and shook his head, and bestowed one last, grateful 
caress onto the lovely face before getting to his feet. He shuffled quietly 
over to Elrohir, knelt before him and took his brother's hands in his own. 
"Why don't you go back to sleep? It's not dawn yet; you look tired."

Elrohir shrugged. "Can't sleep. You look tired too."

Elladan almost cracked a smile. "Same problem," he said as he settled 
down on the floor, back against the chair and dark head resting on 
Elrohir's knee. Elrohir's fingers instantly moved to his hair, where they 
started to rhythmically card through the tangled raven locks. Elladan felt 
himself relax a little, and as his head dropped slightly to one side, so his 
eyes fell across the bed again. He sighed, shrugged and shook his head.

"I don't think he really knew what he was doing."

"Nor do I," replied Elrohir. There was a pause. "It must have taken some 
courage."

Elladan shifted uneasily on the floor. "Do you think he would have done it 
if he knew how dangerous it was?"

"Of course." Elrohir's answer was instant, definite. "Valar, Elladan, he is 
so loyal - he would do //anything// for Ada, and his bravery - he killed a 
Balrog! I think he would have done anything in his power to save Ada."

Beneath his hands, Elladan trembled. "But what... what if we had been too 
late?" His voice was thick and low. "What... what if..."

"We weren't too late," stated Elrohir firmly, weaving comforting fingers 
through his twin's hair. "Don't even think about it."

"I can't help it," whispered back Elladan, voice tremulous. "Even now I 
still wonder..."

"Shh..." cut in Elrohir, as his fingers tightened slightly over Elladan's 
scalp. "They will wake up. They've got to." Elladan drew in a deep breath 
and released it on a long, shuddering exhale. He extended one hand up to 
clasp one of his brother's, and although their words had already been 
muted, seemingly suitable to the funereal hush, true silence now 
descended over the room. 

***

Breakfast time had long since passed and it was approaching the midday 
meal, but the twins could not have been less interested. Neither Elrond nor 
Glorfindel showed any sign of awakening; their condition was still the 
same as it had been before dawn.

Sleep had eluded both twins, exhausted as they were. Elrohir had 
remained in the chair for most of the morning, listless and quiet and 
forlorn, whilst Elladan kept himself busy by moving around the room, 
tidying things up, fiddling, fussing. The younger twin merely watched idly 
whilst he did so, checked the Elven-lords' vital signs every half an hour or 
so, adjusted the bedclothes around the still forms, added another log to the 
fire to ensure the room stayed warm. Any words that passed between them 
were soft and minimal; it still seemed appropriate, and comfort was drawn 
instead from shared glances, touches of hands to shoulders, and simple, 
silent presence.

It was about one o'clock when Elladan straightened from Glorfindel's side, 
his brow twisted into a slight, pensive frown. Elrohir cocked his head in 
concern.

"He is still wearing his travelling clothes," murmured Elladan, feeling a 
wash of guilt over the fact that he had not noticed earlier. "It cannot be 
comfortable."

"We should find him a sleeping robe or something," agreed Elrohir, 
shifting to sit on the edge of the chair. He stretched slowly and then got to 
his feet to tread softly, barefoot, across the flags to join his brother. 
Almost unconsciously, his hand found its way into Elladan's as they stood 
together. "Ada's won't fit him, though."

"I'll get one from his rooms," offered Elladan. "I could do with the walk." 
Elrohir nodded wordlessly in acknowledgement. "Will you stay here?" 

Elrohir nodded again. "Just in case. And could you fetch some water, too? 
I think we should give them something to drink..."

Elladan gave a small smile at his brother's thoughtfulness and squeezed his 
hand. "I won't be long," he whispered, before moving to the door and 
slipping quietly outside.

The corridors around Elrond's rooms were quiet and deserted, although 
that was usual for this part of the house since it was only natural that the 
lord should have his privacy. The twin had to walk for quite a way before 
he ran into a member of staff - then again, since fewer staff were 
employed at the moment, that was hardly surprising, either. The maid 
merely bobbed her head as they passed each other, though Elladan could 
sense the sidelong looks that she gave him - taking in, no doubt, his rather 
bedraggled appearance. He supposed that he should probably have made 
at least a slight effort to tidy himself up, but then glanced down at himself 
and cringed. In the chaos of the previous night, he seemed to have 
completely forgotten what a bloodbath it had been; his tunic was streaked 
and spotted with blood, as well as various smears on the bottoms of his 
sleeves. Looking around to check that no one was nearby, he quickly 
stripped off his tunic and folded his shirtsleeves up to above his elbows. 
Surprised at how much more presentable that made him look, he then 
stuffed the tunic into the back of a linen cupboard as he passed it and 
continued on his way.

His first stop was the kitchens, where he filled a large jug with water and 
collected two tall glasses. There was some food left out on the side, too, 
where the cooks had presumably left it after lunch in case either he or 
Elrohir decided they were hungry. One look at the plate, however, did 
nothing more than turn Elladan's stomach and he abandoned the plate on 
the side in the assumption that his brother would have similar sentiments.

Elladan had just left the kitchens again and was heading for the stairs, 
when Erestor suddenly rounded the corner. The advisor's steps faltered 
and Elladan cast him a hesitant glance, praying that Erestor would not ask 
any awkward questions, for he did not feel as though he could deal with 
them right now. Instead, he offered a weak smile. Erestor stopped walking 
altogether.

"Elladan... are you all right?"

The twin nodded vehemently. "Yes, fine," he insisted, trying not to protest 
//too// much. Erestor raised an eyebrow and Elladan knew that the sharp 
grey regard was fixed on his bandaged hands. Thankfully, though, the 
advisor said nothing about it.

"Have you seen Glorfindel?" he asked instead. Elladan swallowed 
convulsively, hesitated, wondered what to reply - but was then saved the 
trouble when Erestor continued. "I have a letter for him." He extended the 
creamy envelope, the paper thick, fine and heavy and with the Elda's name 
inscribed on the front. Elladan quickly stretched out his free hand and took 
it from him.

"I will see that he gets it," he said. Erestor cocked his head, but said 
nothing more. Elladan glanced up at him again, smiled in what he hoped 
was a reassuring manner and then excused himself as politely as he could. 
He could feel Erestor's eyes on his back as he forced himself to walk 
calmly away, and knew that the advisor was worried about him.

It was rather awkward, walking along with the glasses clutched in one 
hand, the jug in the other and the letter tucked under his arm, but Elladan 
managed to make it to Glorfindel's rooms without mishap. He opened the 
door with his elbow and entered, setting all three items down on top of the 
chest of drawers whilst he searched the wardrobe for a nightgown. He felt 
rather like an intruder, rifling through the Elda's clothes like this, but 
shrugged off the feeling as best he could whilst still looking for the 
nightgown. 

Eventually he found one that was suitable: simple and warm, with buttons 
down the front and round the cuffs that would make it easier to put on. 
Elladan tucked it under his arm as he moved back to the chest of drawers, 
picking up the glasses and jug again, but leaving the letter - //of what use 
would it be to him now?//, he thought despondently. Then, thus laden, he 
set off back to his father's chambers.

Elrohir looked up when he entered - the younger twin had moved from his 
now customary position in the chair beside the bed, so that he was instead 
sitting on the edge of the mattress, at Elrond's side. He had taken the 
length of his father's forearm into his lap and interlinked their fingers 
together, gazing down wistfully into the pale, blank face. Elladan offered 
him a small smile as he kicked the door shut behind him; Elrohir returned 
it, and released his father's hand to rescue his brother from the glassware. 
He set the jug and glasses down on the nightstand without a word, then 
both twins moved round to Glorfindel's side of the bed, preparing to 
detach themselves emotionally once more.

Elrohir tentatively drew back the covers, whilst Elladan set the robe aside 
for a moment and seated himself at the top of the bed. He slipped an arm 
under the Elda's shoulders as Elrohir began to unfasten the ties on his 
travelling tunic, lifting his torso up to make removal easier. The shirt soon 
followed, leaving Glorfindel bare-chested; despite himself, Elladan found 
that he was blushing slightly as he helped slide the robe over the muscled 
torso. He had seen the blond shirtless innumerable times, but this felt 
somehow wrong, like he was taking something, looking at something, 
without permission. By this point, however, the robe had been slipped 
down to Glorfindel's waist, and Elladan gently laid him back down on the 
mattress in order to help Elrohir with the breeches.

Lifting first one leg and then the other, the twins managed to remove the 
breeches fairly easily. Glorfindel had no boots on, having obviously 
removed them himself at some point previously, and both brothers decided 
without need for verbal conference that they would leave his breechcloth 
on. Once satisfied that Glorfindel was well covered by the blankets again, 
they turned their attentions to the water.

Elrohir filled each glass half-full and handed one across the bed to 
Elladan. Then, sitting by the side of his respective Elf-lord, each twin 
propped the lords' unresponsive body against their own so that the heavy 
heads were resting on a shoulder.

 Transferring the water from the glass to the dry mouths was tricky work; 
in trying to ensure that neither of their charges choked, a good deal of the 
liquid ended up trickling out from between slack lips. However, law of 
averages meant that just enough was swallowed, if only by reflex, and the 
twins were just about to finish their task when Glorfindel stirred slightly.

Both dark pairs of eyes flew to the golden-haired Elf in disbelief, 
widening when he stirred again, then groaned almost inaudibly. Elrohir 
laughed softly as his relief overcame him, and set Elrond gently back 
down on the bed as he took Elladan's glass from him. The elder twin 
stroked stray blond strands of hair back from Glorfindel's face in 
encouragement, still holding the Elda in his arms. He smiled down as the 
sapphire eyes fluttered slowly open, dazed, confused, disorientated; it took 
a few moments before he seemed to recognise anything, but when he did 
his lips twitched upwards for a moment in a spectre of a smile.

"Good afternoon," said Elladan, his smile showing in his voice, warm, 
kind and happy. Glorfindel's lips twitched again, though his eyes had 
slipped closed, head resting heavily on Elladan's shoulder.

"El...rond?" he rasped. The word was drawn out and barely heard, but both 
twins knew instantly what was asking.

"He is still sleeping," replied Elladan, noncommittal and quiet; Elrond's 
condition was still uncertain to their minds, and he did not want to give 
any of them false hope. Glorfindel seemed as though he was trying to say 
something else, but in fact all that escaped him was a long, audible exhale.

"Would you like some water?" asked Elrohir from the other side of the 
bed, extending a refilled glass. The barest lift of the blond's chin passed 
for a nod. Elladan accepted the glass from his brother and held it up to 
Glorfindel's lips. They parted eagerly, and this time there was an active 
response when the twin tilted the glass. Hardly any liquid escaped 
Glorfindel's parched mouth this time as he drank thirstily, slurping it up. 

"More?" offered Elladan after the glass had been drained. Glorfindel 
moved his head once, first to one side and then to the other, his eyes still 
closed.

"No... Thank...you," came the whispered reply. Elladan felt the already 
heavy weight of Glorfindel's body become even heavier against him as the 
Elda then drifted back into deep sleep again, and lowered him back down 
to the mattress. He and Elrohir were both unable to keep the silly smile 
from their faces as they tucked the Elven-lords in again, so that this time 
when they settled down to watch over their slumber, the twins' hearts were 
both much lighter. The following night passed much easier than the one 
before.

To be continued...




Author: Ilye
Email: ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk
Website: http://www.geocities.com/talesfromthevale
Title: Kindred Spirits part I: In Lieu of Love
Pairing: Elrond/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Wow, how original was that...

***************
Chapter Twenty 
***************

For In That Sleep of Death What Dreams May Come

Although the twins had agreed to take turns in watching over Elrond and 
Glorfindel to allow them both a few hours of sleep, they had thus far been 
unable to take any rest. Elrohir would drift off occasionally in the chair, as 
he had done the night before, but Elladan was restless, instead standing 
listlessly on the balcony and gazing at the stars. He was exhausted both 
physically and mentally: from his spiritual struggle a day previously and 
no sleep ever since; Ithil's gentle light and the glints of the stars provided, 
at least, a balm for his wearied being.

He had folded his forearms atop the balcony railing and rested his chin on 
them, providing a melancholy figure that looked out over the vale. It was 
cold out here, so cold that a sudden gust of chill winter air made him 
shiver, for he was wearing nothing more than a shirt and leggings. The air 
in his father's room was starting to become heavy, oppressive, the 
unshakeable feeling that death still lingered beginning to get to him, but 
these few moments outside had helped to alleviate that just the tiniest 
amount. The night air, crisp on his lips and chillingly sharp inside his 
lungs, was refreshing; he welcomed it, inhaling deeply of it, then exhaling 
on a long, slow sigh that crystallised before him and dissolved into the 
black of the night. Then he stood up, stretched his arms out before him and 
arched his back, and stepped inside.

Elrohir was dozing again when he re-entered. The fire had burned low so 
that it was now nothing more than glowing embers in the hearth; whilst 
the gust of fresh air that entered with him stirred them slightly, the fuel 
was low and the fire did not relight. Elladan made certain to close the 
balcony door firmly behind him, knowing that his father and Glorfindel 
were particularly susceptible to the cold at present, and then added another 
log to the embers. They crackled as flames began to slowly lick up the 
sides of the wood, whilst Elladan turned towards the divan.

The long, low settee was the one that had been brought in by himself and 
Elrohir during their mother's convalescence, when the brothers had 
realised that Elrond was sleeping on the floor. It had more recently been 
moved to beneath the window, although Elrond had at first wanted it 
placed near Celebrìan's side. Elladan did not know why Elrohir had 
preferred to fall asleep in that chair, instead of on the divan where he 
could be more comfortable, but since the younger twin was seemingly 
slumbering Elladan stretched out on it and laid his head on his arms, 
intending to rest even if he could not sleep.

He did not notice the insubstantial figure that broke away from the 
tessellations made of moon and shadow behind him. Lórien was little 
more than a disturbance in the still air as he glided over to Elladan, 
noiseless and undetectable - even to an Elf - as only the Valar can be. The 
Peredhel showed no signs that he sensed the Dreamkeeper's gentle hands 
drift over his face, lightly stroking over his skin, encouraging his eyelids 
to close as the Vala had done to his brother not long before. Lórien smiled 
as the exhausted twin slipped easily into a deep, dreamless slumber, and 
laid a tender kiss on the troubled brow before merging seamlessly into the 
night once more.

***

The flat grey light brought by a winter's dull dawn arrived and developed 
into a cold and dreary morning before either twin awoke. Elrohir was the 
first up, having checked on both Elven-lords and relit the fire before 
Elladan also opened his eyes. Elrohir had been a little disconcerted at 
seeing his brother sleep like a mortal, but since he himself had for some 
reason slept with his eyes closed that night, and Elladan seemed fine in 
every other sense, the younger twin disregarded it.

Elladan lay still for a moment, simply watching his brother, before he 
finally stretched luxuriously and sat up. Elrohir turned to him from the 
grate, wearing a small smile.

"You looked like you were sleeping well."

Elladan grinned drowsily and ran his hands down his face. "Very," he 
confirmed, the sleep still audible in his voice. "'M surprised, but 'm not 
complainin'." He paused to yawn. "You?"

"Not too badly," replied Elrohir as he got to his feet. "Neck's rather stiff 
from the chair, though."

His brother offered him a rueful smile as he too got to his feet, crossing 
the room to stand by Elrohir's side at the foot of the bed. "How are they?"

"The same." Elrohir shrugged. "Perhaps a little warmer, perhaps a little 
stronger, but it's hard to tell. I don't know how much of it is there and how 
much I'm willing myself to see." Elladan nodded understandingly and 
gently took hold of his hand. Elrohir squeezed it supportively and turned 
to him. "You look rather worn," he said, the corners of his lips twitching 
to soften the effect of the truthful comment. He reached up with his free 
hand - still bandaged - to clasp Elladan's shoulder. "Why don't you go and 
bathe, change your clothes? I will stay here with them." Elladan looked 
slightly apprehensive, but Elrohir gripped his hand tighter and shifted his 
other hand to cup his brother's cheek. "Go, and I will do the same when 
you come back... I don't think they will wake up whilst either of us are 
gone."

The elder twin's forced smile was grimace-like, but nevertheless he 
disentangled himself from Elrohir's grip to do as was suggested.

"You can use mine, if you like," offered Elrohir, just as Elladan was about 
to close the door. Elladan nodded, knowing exactly what he meant: the 
younger twin had a private en-suite bathroom attached to his chambers, 
preferring privacy where Elladan used bathing as a means to socialise. At 
the moment, however, the offer of that privacy was welcomed by Elladan 
as he used the opportunity to bathe and redress himself in a set of his 
twin's spare clothes as quickly as possible, then hurried back to allow 
Elrohir to do likewise.

It took little over half an hour for both twins to wash and dress in clean 
clothes, each reluctant to leave the Elven-lords as they were. It was about 
eleven o'clock by this point, though still neither of them felt like eating. 
Both had returned with hair wet and loose from their bath and were now 
sitting on a hide before the fireplace, Elrohir cross-legged in front of 
Elladan. The elder twin was combing his brother's hair out in the heat of 
the fire to help it dry and braiding it back from his face, as Elrohir had 
done to him shortly before. 

They were facing the bed, which meant that when Glorfindel stirred 
beneath the covers they were alerted to it immediately. Elrohir's head 
snapped up, yanking the half-finished braid from Elladan's hands; the 
elder twin did not mind, however, instead getting quickly to his feet as 
Elrohir did and moving towards the bed. They held their breath as the Elda 
shifted again: moved his legs a little; rolled slightly to one side then onto 
his back again. He then took in a deep lungful of air, released it slowly, 
and opened his eyes.

The twins released their held breaths in concert as the blue orbs gradually 
focused on the ceiling. Glorfindel blinked several times, looking 
somewhat dazed when Elrohir appeared in his line of sight, smiling down 
kindly. Elladan appeared a few moments later, having produced two chairs 
from somewhere, and by which time the Elda managed to give them both 
a weak smile.

"Welcome back," said Elladan cheerily as he took a seat by the side of the 
bed. Glorfindel, who had followed the twin's movements by turning his 
head on the pillow, gave a quiet, croaky laugh and tried to elbow himself 
up into a sitting position.

"No, lie down," Elrohir told him firmly, using one hand to press him back 
down to the mattress. Glorfindel released a sigh of feigned indignation, 
then turned his head to his right so he could see Elrond.

"How is he?" His voice was slightly hoarse, but nothing compared to the 
grating rasp it had been the last time he woke up. The twins watched 
silently as he slowly, shakily, raised one bandaged hand from beneath the 
bedclothes to brush his fingers over Elrond's pale cheek.

"He has still not woken up yet," replied Elladan quietly. "Aiya, Glorfindel, 
do you always think of everyone but yourself? You really scared us... You 
died."

Beneath the bedclothes, the muscled yet weakened body stiffened; the 
twins knew even without looking that Glorfindel had closed his eyes. "I 
know," he whispered. The fear that had suddenly crept into his voice was 
palpable.

Elladan bit his tongue, whilst Elrohir reached across to lay a comforting 
hand on the minutely trembling shoulder. Glorfindel remained facing 
away from them for a second or two, then shifted so that they could see his 
face again. He still had his eyes closed, and it seemed that a shadow had 
passed over the fair face; for a moment, Glorfindel appeared to be fighting 
some sort of internal battle, for his jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed 
as though he were straining against something. Eventually, though, the 
shadow lifted again, at which the blond released a long, shuddering sigh 
and opened his eyes again.

"Do you think I could have some water, please?" he asked after a short, 
uncomfortable pause. Elladan nodded and sprang out of his chair, guilty at 
having put his foot in his mouth already. Glorfindel made another attempt 
to elbow himself upright - this time, instead of pressing him back down, 
Elrohir helped him up, supporting his shoulders and rearranging the 
pillows behind the blond's back. Elladan reappeared, extending the glass 
of water.

Glorfindel sank deeply into the pillows behind him and reached out to 
accept the water, but frowned when he noticed that his other hand was 
bandaged, too. "What happened?" he asked, taking the glass between 
fingertips and thumbs. Neither twin had checked the wounds on either his 
or Elrond's palms once the bandages had been fastened, but the way that 
the Elda was gingerly handling the glass told them clearly that they were 
still quite sore.

The Peredhil hesitated to allow Glorfindel time to drink his fill - or that 
was what they told themselves, anyway. However, when at last the Elda 
looked up to them with expectant - if slightly uneasy - eyes, they could 
stall no longer. Elrohir licked his dry lips.

"We pulled you back," he said simply. No elaborations were necessary; 
those few words sufficed, and he was sure that Glorfindel would 
appreciate the lack of details following his reaction to Elladan's words a 
few moments ago. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow in mild shock, his face 
looking somewhat edgy. As if on cue, Elladan and Elrohir stretched out 
both hands for his perusal. They had each removed the bandages when 
they bathed, and since the wounds were healing so well neither had sought 
to redress them. A thin, pink line was still visible on each palm however, 
enough to tell of their actions from two nights ago.

"In the name of the Valar, gwenyn," breathed Glorfindel as his weary head 
dropped back to find support in the pillows. "You... you could have..." But 
the words did not come, so he closed his blue eyes, haunted by memories 
now twice returned. Then he shook his head once, curtly, to close that line 
of conversation. It was something for another, less troubled day, when all 
was well and souls contented once more.

Elrohir took a seat now next to Elladan, trying another, more practical 
topic. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," replied Glorfindel truthfully. "Bone weary, cold, rather sick to the 
stomach... but alive, nonetheless."

Elladan gave a sorry smile. "Anything we can do to help?"

The Elda met his dark gaze with one that, for all its weariness, was 
surprisingly limpid. "No... Thank you," he said softly. His next blink was 
slow, as though weights were attached to his eyelids; another degree of 
fatigue filled his eyes when he next turned them to the twins. "Please 
excuse me if I fall asleep again... I do not mean to be rude..."

Elrohir shook his head, amused. "We will not think you so at all!" he 
assured the blond, "You need to rest - but surely there is something we can 
do? Fetch you a drink, a book... Read to you, perhaps?"

"If you are willing..." came the reply, delight at the thought barely 
disguised in the soft voice. Glorfindel's eyes slipped closed again, though 
this time a small smile played across his face. "That would be lovely."

Elladan nodded, unseen, and got to his feet. "I'll go and find something, 
then," he offered. He turned towards the door but then hesitated, before 
turning back and leaning over the bed, where he pulled the Elda into a 
tight embrace. Mild shock crossed the tired features - Glorfindel even 
seemed a little embarrassed, quite a remarkable occurrence where he was 
concerned. Even so, he laughed breathlessly against Elladan's shoulder 
and returned the embrace.

"I'm glad to have you back." Elladan beamed at him as he released him, 
then finally left the bewildered Elda and his amused brother to find the 
book.

***

When the elder twin returned, the room was silent once more. Elrohir was 
still sitting at the side of the bed with his bare feet resting on the edge of 
the mattress, whilst he slouched comfortably against the back of his chair. 
He had finished braiding his hair in the few moments that Elladan had 
been gone, and looked up as his brother re-entered the room.

"He's asleep again," Elrohir whispered to him, motioning for Elladan to be 
quiet as he sat down.

"No, he's not," came a soft rumble from the bed. The twins glanced up; 
Glorfindel had still had his eyes closed as he lay propped against the 
pillows, but now half-opened them to gaze sleepily sideways at the young 
Peredhil. He smiled gently. "I was only dozing."

Elladan relaxed slightly at hearing that he had not woken Glorfindel when 
he entered and held up the book in his hands. "Ainulindalë," he told the 
blond. Glorfindel nodded his approval, so Elladan opened the cover and 
began to read, glad that he had chosen wisely. He had been careful over 
what he picked, realising that any of the numerous tragic love or battle 
tales dealing with death would have an adverse affect on this Elf newly 
returned from Mandos' Halls for the second time.

" 'There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made 
first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and 
the were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them...' "

As Elladan's warm, easy tones started to fill the chambers, Elrohir could 
see Glorfindel visibly relax. He smiled to himself, realising that the Elda 
had most likely just wanted to hear a soothing voice, calm words, and 
know that he was not alone as he drifted in and out of a light sleep for a 
while. Tales related to them as Elflings had told that the Halls of Mandos 
were silent, cool and dusky-dark, as best they could be described; whilst 
all was peaceful there, there was also a sometimes overwhelming sense of 
isolation, of disembodiment, that one can only truly appreciate full-force 
when they assume the flesh.

Now that the situation was looking up, Elrohir also allowed himself to 
relax as Elladan's words washed gently over him. He was still tense, still 
worried in the back of his mind, but everything seemed suddenly much 
less fraught now that Glorfindel was awake. It gave him hope that it would 
not be much longer before Elrond awoke, too.

As he leaned further back in his chair, Elrohir's stomach gave a loud 
growl, surprising him so much that he nearly fell over backwards. Without 
stopping his reading, Elladan looked over and raised an eyebrow 
pointedly. The younger twin rubbed his stomach sheepishly and made 
eating motions as he got to his feet, then looked meaningfully to Elladan. 
His brother nodded as he spoke, cast Glorfindel a sideways glance. To his 
surprise, the Elda was grinning faintly, even though his eyes were shut.

"Tea would be nice," he said. Elladan snorted, although he still did not 
stop reading, whilst Elrohir chuckled softly. He paused to check on Elrond 
again - then, satisfied that his father was doing no worse, he left for the 
kitchens.

To be continued...

Notes: 

1) Lórien, as you may have gathered, was the Vala responsible for sleep 
and dreams on many occasions. His name means "God of Dreams" and he 
was brother to Mandos and Nienna, if you're interested. I thought it might 
be appropriate to have him appear, since the other Valar already seem to 
have given the twins their blessing.

2) "Ainulindalë" is actually the part at the beginning of "The Silmarillion"; 
it is, basically, the creation story, how Eru created the world of the living 
as we know it in Tolkien's writings. Quite honestly, it was the only happy 
story I could find that was appropriate for the twins to read to Glorfindel, 
because quite obviously death would not be a good topic right now. Don't 
get me wrong, there are lovely stories in the fandom - Luthien and Beren 
and so on - but they're all just so //sad// in the end!



Author: Ilye
Email: ilye_elf@yahoo.co.uk
Website: http://www.geocities.com/talesfromthevale
Title: Kindred Spirits part I: In Lieu of Love
Pairing: Elrond/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. Wow, how original was that...

***************
Chapter Twenty-One
***************

About Turn

Elladan was still reading when Elrohir returned to the room, laden with a 
tray of food, fresh water and a pot of tea. The elder twin glanced up and 
stopped reading, whilst Glorfindel lazily opened his eyes to watch them 
both. 

"You come bearing gifts, I see," he quipped. Elrohir grinned at him as he 
crossed the room, setting the tray on the table that Elladan pulled over to 
the side of the bed. The elder twin marked his page and laid the book at 
the foot of the bed, then turned to see what his brother had brought to eat. 
Elrohir was pouring a cup of herbal tea for Glorfindel; before handing it to 
the Elda, though, he wrapped a cloth around it to shield his still sensitive 
hands from the heat. Glorfindel seemed touched by the thought as he 
cautiously accepted the mug between the pads of his fingers again and 
blew on the steaming liquid before taking a sip.

His eyes fluttered closed in delight and he sighed softly as he swallowed 
the first mouthful of tea, then opened again to find the twins giving him an 
identical look of slight bewilderment at his excessive reaction.

"It will help to settle the sickness, and my stomach is cold," he explained, 
taking another sip. Realisation dawned on the twins' faces and, whilst 
Glorfindel sipped his tea - becoming noticeably more alert and seemingly 
more comfortable with every mouthful, they helped themselves to the food 
on the tray. The silence was easy, filled with only the soft sounds of forks 
against plates and quiet sips; however, although no words were 
exchanged, the two brothers could feel Glorfindel's unreadable blue gaze 
upon them. The Elda was unselfconscious about it too, refusing to look 
away whenever they met his eye - it did not make them uncomfortable, but 
perhaps a little uneasy.

"Would you have something to eat?" asked Elrohir eventually, when 
Glorfindel had emptied his mug and rested it on his knee. He had brought 
an extra plate.

"No, thank you." Glorfindel gave a tight, wry smile and passed the mug to 
Elrohir when the twin extended his hand. "I'm afraid it probably won't stay 
down."

Elladan shot the Elda an admiring glance. "You are coping with this 
remarkably well," he said.

Glorfindel glanced at him sidelong. "Am I?" came the reply as he closed 
his eyes again. Elladan said nothing and averted his eyes.

Needing to break the increasing tension on the room, Elrohir leant quietly 
but deliberately forwards and picked up the book from the foot of the bed, 
to begin reading where his brother had left off. Although things were 
slightly easier now that Glorfindel had awoken, there was still a certain 
amount of anxiety over Elrond. It would do none of them any good to get 
worked up over nothing - particularly Glorfindel in his fragile condition. 
Elrohir knew that Elladan had not intended to say what he did; he was an 
outspoken character, it was just his way. The fact that Glorfindel was also 
slightly emotional did not help, either, since seemingly idle comments had 
more impact than could be guessed. It was clear that the Elda was trying to 
suppress his emotions, whether for the twins' sake or otherwise.

Returning from Mandos' Halls was bound to affect Glorfindel, Elrohir 
reasoned as the words rolled fluently off his tongue, especially since this 
was the //second// time. Outwardly, he did seem to be coping with the 
situation, but to the twin's familiar eye there were also subtle signs to 
show the converse. Glorfindel was distinctly quieter than usual, lacking in 
his free and ready wit. His languid movements, brought about by the 
nausea; his haunted eyes, his unwillingness to let the twins see his face 
when touched by some dark thought or unthinking remark: they showed 
that the shadows of death burrowed deep beneath the usually impenetrable 
surface. Elrohir had also silently marked the masterfully disguised 
trembling of the once-abandoned body, the minute quivers that unsteadied 
Glorfindel's hands: cold, white, bandaged, bloody. The way the soft, 
almost meaningless words of the creation story comforted him, reassuring, 
no doubt, after such empty silence. Aye, the memories ran deep as the icy, 
lingering touch of death, although the Elda was clearly making a most 
admirable attempt to seem unperturbed, to stay strong for him and 
Elladan, and Elrond. For himself.

Such was the gentle command Elrohir's dulcet words exerted over the 
occupants of the room, calming them to a daydreaming, half-minded 
oblivion, that they barely registered when Elrond's breathing patterns 
changed. It was Elladan who realised first, glancing up with the air of 
someone who is not quite sure if he has discovered something: something 
he had not allowed himself to hope for, to dream of, to believe in, because 
of the heartbreak it would cause if it never happened. It could easily be 
nothing but a betrayal of the senses.

He rose to his feet and padded round to the other side of the bed in 
disbelief. Elrohir stopped reading when he saw his brother kneel at 
Elrond's side, on the flags; Glorfindel, obviously sensing what was 
happening, opened his eyes. Elladan was smiling strangely, dazed, down 
at his father, one hand hidden beneath the covers where he seemed to be 
holding the half-Elf's hand. His other was raised to the pale face with his 
palm resting against Elrond's cheek, and his thumb was brushing away 
droplets of moisture from the corners of the closed lids. Judging from the 
tears and the soft, jerky breathing, Elrond was crying.

"Ada?" he breathed, stroking his fingers encouragingly over his father's 
face. "Ada, can you hear me?" Other than another, deeper, juddery intake 
of breath, there was no response. "Ada, please... It's me, Elladan. We've 
been so worried about you... Please, open your eyes?" 

The tension of the following moments was unbearable. Elrohir, who had 
rounded the bed to squat just behind Elladan, placed his hands on his 
brother's shoulders for two-way support, whilst Glorfindel watched 
silently. They paused; waited. 

And then Elrond's eyelashes fluttered, dark smudges against ghastly pale 
skin. Slowly, painfully slowly, the dark eyes opened, hooded and confused 
and glistening with tears. The pupils were dilated and it took another few 
moments for Elrond to be able to focus on anything much. As they did, 
though, his thin, white face became more and more distressed, until at last 
the half-Elf seemed to truly register his sons by his side, and a loud, 
painful sob escaped his dry lips.

An expression of total, crushing defeat overcame Elrond's features; then, 
allowing his eyes to slide closed once more, he rolled onto his left side, 
facing away from the twins. Identical expressions of anguish crumpled his 
sons' faces, consternation shining from their eyes. Glorfindel shifted 
amidst his nest of pillows so that he was lying flat, level with the weeping 
half-Elf; tears were running in torrents from beneath the closed, bruised 
eyelids and down the gaunt face to soak the pillows, whilst the sobs ripped 
through his emaciated frame as though they would shake it to pieces. An 
iron grasp closed around Glorfindel's chest upon seeing this image before 
him - the intensity of the pain radiating from Elrond was unreal. It hurt - 
physically //hurt// - the Elda to see his dear friend like this, so small and 
wretched and utterly hopeless: a once stoic lord, wise lore master and 
hardened warrior, legendary throughout the lands, reduced to...this. 
Reduced to weeping, childlike, huddled around himself, whilst deep, 
powerful, agonising sobs wracked him to the very core: it was not right; it 
was a sick, twisted travesty of something that was very, very wrong, that 
should never, ever be. 

Without a second thought, Glorfindel folded Elrond into his arms in the 
hope of offering him strength through their new bond, whilst at the same 
time the twins leaned over to run caring, soothing hands over their father's 
wasted shoulders, scrawny arms, heaving back. But none of them were 
prepared for the reaction. The instant he found himself in Glorfindel's 
comforting arms, Elrond emitted a long, low howl and tried to push the 
Elda away. Glorfindel's face contorted in dismay, but did not let go - at 
least, until Elrond started to struggle with considerable force, given his 
condition. 

"G-g-get of-f m-me," he forced out amidst the pitiful sobs, breath hitching 
on each word. "L-let g-g-go... H-ha...h-hate y-y-you..."

Heartbroken, Glorfindel tried to whisper that it was alright, tried to calm 
him down, but to no avail; in the end, he was forced to release Elrond and 
watch as the twins tried to calm him down instead. They, however, had no 
more luck, for Elrond lashed out with astonishing ferocity at them.

"G-GO AW-WAY!!" he practically screamed, as loud as his hoarse, 
grating voice would permit him. "G-go 'w-way... go 'w-w-way..." The 
twins jerked away, faces lined with distress, for there was nothing else that 
anyone could do, then, except to stand back and watch as Elrond curled 
himself up on his side and wept hopelessly into the pillow. A single tear 
escaped Elrohir's own eyes as Elladan, shocked and silent, shrank into his 
side. The younger twin wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, whilst 
they stood and watched their father, wretched and pathetic, sob himself 
back into an exhausted slumber. It did not take long, since he had used 
what precious little energy he had during his outburst, and once the twins 
were certain that he had finally gone back to sleep, they rearranged the 
now dishevelled bedclothes and retreated to the foot of the bed.

Glorfindel was sitting up again with his hands in his lap and his eyes 
downcast. He looked so sad, so guilty, that Elrohir felt compelled to walk 
over to him, dragging Elladan along too. The younger twin settled himself 
on the edge of the mattress next to the Elda and reached out, taking his 
bandaged hands gently into his own. He squeezed the fingers lightly, 
mindful of the wounds still on the palms, so that Glorfindel eventually had 
no choice but to glance up.

"Are you alright?" asked Elrohir softly, crippling his own emotions for the 
time being in order to support Glorfindel. The Elda was clearly even more 
upset than he and Elladan were; Glorfindel shrugged in way of a reply, 
then averted his eyes to the bedclothes again. 

Elladan, though still too shocked to say anything much, reached over and 
laid a hand on the shaking shoulder. Glorfindel loosened one hand from 
Elrohir's grip and laid it gratefully atop that of the elder twin.

"It must all be rather overwhelming for him," offered Elrohir, as 
diplomatically as possible. Truth be told, the words were as much for his 
own comfort as for Glorfindel's. "Maybe he will be calmer next time he 
awakens."

Glorfindel nodded again and gave a soft sniff as he took his hand from 
atop Elladan's to wipe briskly at his eyes. Then he sighed heavily. 
"Please... can I go back to sleep?"

The plaintive note in the small, dejected voice struck something deep 
within both twins. "Of course," said Elrohir as he stood up from the bed. 
Elladan copied him. "Here, lie down." Between themselves, they 
rearranged the pillows and bedclothes and helped the Elda to lie down flat. 
Glorfindel gave them an artificial half-smile from beneath the blankets, 
accepting Elrohir's offer to continue reading with a tiny nod before 
shutting his eyes and turning his face away.

This time, instead of taking up position in the chairs, the two brothers sat 
on the divan beneath the window. Elrohir curled into Elladan's arms as he 
started to read softly again, though now it was a great effort to keep his 
voice steady. He continued to read until he was certain that Glorfindel had 
also fallen asleep again, and then finally turned in the circle of Elladan's 
embrace. They held tight to each other as the younger twin buried his face 
in the neck of the older, both shedding silent tears as they prepared 
themselves for yet more of the heartache that would stretch well past the 
dull afternoon and into the quiet night.

To be continued...




***************
Chapter Twenty-Two
***************

Past the Breaking Point

Elrohir lay still for a long time when he next awoke. He did not want to get up; 
unfortunately, though, it was already light outside and in the end, however much he 
wanted to, he could not lie still for any longer.

Easing him away from Elladan, slumbering at his side, Elrohir perched on the edge of the 
divan for a moment before pushing himself to his feet. First of all he made his way over 
to the fireplace and rebuilt the fire, since the flames had died completely during the night. 
This morning's colour was similar to the last - grey and lifeless - so the blaze in the hearth 
brightened up the room considerably, if not the atmosphere it contained.

Elrohir's steps were heavy as he shuffled over to the bed, although since he was barefoot 
he made little noise. Glorfindel was still deeply asleep, appearing small and strangely 
childlike as he huddled beneath the large mound of blankets. His pale face and golden 
hair barely showed from beneath them, for he had pulled the covers up around him like a 
hood at some point during the night. Elrohir had to squat by his side to peer in through 
the quilted tunnel, but was just able to make out the open, glassy blue eyes and serene 
face. He smiled a little. It was the first time he had seen the Elda sleep with his eyes open 
in the way of the Elves since the binding.

Standing up, Elrohir then made his way round to the other side of the bed - and stopped 
dead. Elrond, who was facing towards the door with his back to Glorfindel, also had his 
eyes open. For a moment Elrohir thought that he was merely asleep, but was soon proved 
wrong when his father blinked slowly a few seconds later. With a considerable amount of 
caution, the younger twin moved quietly around to the head of the bed.

"You're awake early," he commented lightly as he seated himself in the armchair, still 
situated at Elrond's side. He received no response; his father simply continued to gaze 
blankly ahead into the middle distance.

"Good to see that you've calmed down a bit since yesterday, anyway," Elrohir tried. He 
was not about to skirt around the matter - if Elrond wanted to throw another tantrum, he 
could. "How do you feel?" 

The question was met by a flicker of the dark orbs towards him and an almost 
imperceptible lift of scrawny shoulders. But no tantrum. Elrond merely gave a soft sigh 
and blinked slowly, before resuming his onwards stare.

"That good?" Elrohir remarked dryly, attempting to make casual conversation. "But still, 
you must be thirsty - let me get you some water."

Again there was no response, but that did not stop the younger twin. With quiet purpose, 
he poured a glass of water from the refilled jug that still sat on the nightstand, set it aside, 
and turned back to Elrond. He expected some sort of protest from his father, be it an 
outcry, struggling or tears, as he urged him to sit in a more upright position. But Elrond 
simply remained silent and impassive, neither helping nor resisting as Elrohir slipped a 
hand between his shoulder blades to sit him up. The glass was then extended to him and 
the Elf-lord accepted it into his bony, bandaged hands, following the motion as Elrohir 
encouraged it up to his lips. His sips were small and mechanical, but he continued to 
drink even after Elrohir removed his hand, confident that Elrond would not drop the 
glass.

Elrohir sat back, watching as his father slowly drank the entire glass. He was unsure what 
to make of this sudden change in disposition, for he had never seen Elrond quite so 
unresponsive as this. All his motions were automatic, emotionless, from his slow, tired 
blinks to the way he stiffly stretched out his arm to place the now empty glass on the 
nightstand. Elrohir reached across to steady it from his hand to the table, but Elrond 
obviously misjudged the timing and assumed that his son was taking the glass from him, 
for it teetered precariously on the edge of the nightstand for a moment, before falling to 
the floor.

The twin winced at the sound of the glass shattering, the sharp shards of sound slicing 
through the silence of the room. Elrond merely looked down at the mess on the floor, his 
eyes wide, before turning his gaze to the bedclothes.

"Don't worry about it," Elrohir told him with a hint of a sigh, casting his eyes around the 
room. Glorfindel had only stirred slightly but showed no signs of waking; Elladan, 
however, had sat up on the divan, and was looking intently towards his brother and 
father. Elrohir smiled.

"Eddan's up, Ada," he said, hoping that the childhood name would educe some sort of 
reaction from his father. There was a brief glint of recognition in the otherwise empty 
dark eyes, a forced upwards twitch of thin lips, but otherwise nothing. 

Elladan, brow crinkled in concern, got to his feet to join Elrohir at their father's bedside. 
He waited at the foot of the bed for a moment whilst Elrohir picked up the pieces of 
glass, then moved to sit with him in the oversized armchair.

"Morning, Ada," he said with a funny little smile, clearly not certain what to make of the 
situation. All he received for his efforts was an obligatory artificial half-smile.

Elrohir tried again. "Are you comfortable like that?" he asked gently, "Or would you 
prefer to lie down again?" He had been expecting a nod or shake of the head as an 
answer, but to his utter surprise words came in their place. 

"I'm fine." Elrond did not look at them as he spoke. "Thank you."

Elrohir felt Elladan relax against him, and the younger twin took excitedly hold of his 
brother's hand. 

"You must be feeling a bit better, then," he continued.

"A bit," Elrond said slowly, and shrugged.

Elrohir cocked his head. "Is there anything else we can get you? More to drink? Another 
blanket?"

"No," replied Elrond quietly with a small shake of his head. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Elrohir was not convinced. "Glorfindel felt much better after he..." As 
soon as the words left his mouth he regretted saying them; at the very mention of the 
Elda's name, Elrond stiffened, and whatever sparkle of emotion had recently crept into 
his face was now extinguished. The twins watched as he turned his head to his left, 
blinked contemptuously at the inert form beneath the bedclothes, then looked away again.

"No." The one, quiet word resounded throughout the room like a death knell. Elrond 
fixed his eyes on his hands, folded in his lap, and said nothing more.

Elrohir exchanged a dismayed glance with Elladan. "Very well," he said at length, 
knowing that his voice sounded thick and stiff but unable to do much about it. "What do 
you want to do, then?" Elrond merely lifted his shoulders, not caring. "Well, do you want 
me to fetch you a book to read?" Another shrug. "A game of chess?" Yet another 
infuriating shrug. Elrohir bit his tongue. "We could read to you, like we did to Glorfindel 
yesterday?"

Elrond closed his eyes again, before glancing sidelong at his sons and giving a tired sigh. 
"If you want," he replied coolly, shrugging yet //again//, then reverting back to gazing at 
his hands. Elrohir was just about to give up in exasperation and made to rise from the 
chair, but Elladan caught his arm to pull him back down again. Elrohir looked at his 
brother, wondering why, and followed the meaningful nod back to the bed.

It was as though Elrond had seen the bandages on his hands for the first time; he was 
staring at them with horrified eyes, palms upturned in the manner of someone who cannot 
believe he has killed another with his bare hands. He swallowed convulsively as he 
turned them over to study the backs of them, inspecting the white wrappings from every 
angle and occasionally glancing back to Glorfindel on his left. Then he turned to his sons 
and extended both hands.

"Take them off," he ordered quietly, in a tone that demanded obedience. The twins 
exchanged a glance, before Elrohir took his father's right hand and Elladan moved to the 
edge of the bed to take the left. Elrond watched with wide-eyed trepidation as the 
bandages were gently unwrapped, until finally the long lengths of cloth were removed to 
reveal the gauze padding and antiseptic herbs covering the wounds. Each twin carefully 
peeled away the covering, noting that Elrond did not even wince, then reluctantly 
released their respective hand.

Slowly, Elrond raised his hands again, palms upturned, and stared at them. The wounds 
were still not healed due to the weakened state of his body, the scarlet streaks through the 
near-transparent skin a macabre memory of events so recently passed. The half-Elf's gaze 
was emotionless once again as he gradually opened his fingers fully, stretching the fragile 
scabs that had formed over the wounds to the point where they cracked and began to ooze 
a small amount of blood.  He then closed them into a fist, pressed his fingertips hard into 
his palm and clenched his hands to bloodlessness, as firmly as his strength would allow. 

Elladan shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, noting the hard set to his father's 
jaw, the tight pursing of pale lips. Reaching out, he took one of his father's hands in each 
of his own. Elrond looked up in a strange, innocent form of confusion as Elladan gently 
opened his fingers again, stroked the long, cold digits with his own. He felt his father's 
eyes on him, continuing to stare, but paid it no heed for a moment; Elladan placed a 
tender kiss on the slightly bloody fingertips of each hand before lifting his eyes to 
Elrond's.

The orbs that met his were dark and haunted now, as though Elrond was unable to push 
the emotion from them any longer. The Peredhel lord had suddenly taken on an air of 
incredible sadness and longing, which touched Elladan to his very core. Slowly, so that 
Elrond would have the chance to protest lightly rather than struggling and screaming like 
the previous night, the elder twin shifted forwards on the bed to that he was sitting level 
with his father. Then, releasing the wounded hands, he gently slid his own behind 
Elrond's shoulders, pulling the emaciated body forwards to press it against his own as 
though he could instead envelop the wounded heart.

To his surprise, Elrond did not protest as the warm, comforting arms encircled him; 
instead he rather slumped towards his son. Elladan closed his eyes against the tears, this 
time of relief, that prickled his eyelids and buried his face briefly in his father's neck. 
Then he pulled back a little and beamed at his father.

"I love you, Ada," he whispered into a pointed ear, shooting a sidelong glance at his twin 
as he did so. Elrohir was sitting in the chair with his arms wrapped around himself, 
watching the scene in amazement. "And Ellir does, too." Their father made a small, 
indiscernible noise at that comment and closed his eyes. Elladan placed a soft kiss on the 
sunken cheek and, in his arms, Elrond trembled.

Elrohir could stand watching no more. Creeping out of the chair, he too moved to sit on 
the edge of the bed, although positioned behind Elrond rather than in front. His father did 
not see him move, for his eyes were closed as his head rested heavily in the crook of 
Elladan's neck, but they opened when he felt the mattress shift behind him. Elladan 
smiled past his father to Elrohir, reaching out to clasp one shoulder. 

With a shy, hesitant smile, Elrohir rubbed Elrond's back, before at last leaning forwards 
to place a kiss of his own on the upturned cheek. "He's right. I love you too," he echoed. 
Elrond's lips twitched, and for another moment he accepted the attention from his sons. 
Then, however, he suddenly seemed to draw into himself again, and emitted a soft sigh. It 
took a great deal of effort, but he pulled back from Elladan and out of the embrace, his 
head snapping round when he encountered Elrohir behind him. Despite the weakness of 
his actions, there was a definite decisiveness about them, and reading the signs correctly 
the younger twin respectfully moved out of the way to allow his father to sink back into 
the supporting pillows.

Both twins stepped back from the bed to allow Elrond a little space, hiding their dismay 
when he folded his hands in his lap and his eyes resumed their emotionless glaze. They 
were unprepared to see the dark head whip suddenly to the left, however, and to see the 
lean body tense almost painfully; the shadowed eyes widened in warning, as Elrond 
realised that Glorfindel had been awake and watching them for quite some time.


***************
Chapter Twenty-Three
***************

Resistance

Glorfindel felt rather than saw the dangerous glint in Elrond's eyes and knew instantly 
that he would have to tread very, very carefully. He had been awoken by the jostling of 
the mattress as the twins had shifted upon it, but the other three had been so caught up in 
their own actions that they had failed to notice he had done so.

Eyeing Elrond calmly, Glorfindel pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned to 
face him, cross-legged beneath the bedcovers. The half-Elf was quite clearly an 
emotional mess - even without yesterday's tirade, that was clear to see. He held an aura of 
intense dejection and yearning, the complete lack of hope in him quite unsettling. Despite 
that dangerous glint, which now had faded, his eyes were dull and empty, just like they 
had been when Glorfindel had found him amongst the dead leaves only a few days 
before. 

"Morning, meldir," the Elda said evenly and quietly after a few moments of stunned 
silence. He was careful not to use the word "good", for he was fairly confident that the 
morning would be anything but.

From Elrond there was no response: not the blink of an eyelid, not a twitch of his lips. 
The focus of his eyes did not even change as he gazed into thin air before him. Glorfindel 
cast the twins a worried glance, wondering at the same time if Mandos had in fact kept 
Elrond's spirit and merely restored his body. Elladan returned the look, whilst Elrohir 
made encouraging motions for Glorfindel to continue. The Elda nodded and tried again.

"How are you doing?" The only response he received was a contemptuous sidelong 
glance. "Sorry, that must be the third time you've been asked that today. You're probably 
sick of hearing it." 

Elrond's lips twisted momentarily into a sardonic smirk. "Incredibly," came the cutting 
mutter, before he wiped his face of emotion again. Glorfindel bit the inside of his cheek, 
thinking that he had preferred the half-Elf's cries and struggles to this.

As a small experiment, the Elda shifted on the bed to meet Elrond's line of sight. The 
Peredhel only looked away, so Glorfindel extended a hand to cover Elrond's, folded in his 
lap. Elrond permitted the contact, but shot the blond another baleful glare from the corner 
of his eye. Glorfindel withdrew his hand for the moment, suppressing a sad smirk at this 
minor triumph as he glanced up at the twins.

"Why don't you two go and have a bath, change your clothes?" he suggested quietly with 
a meaningful flicker of his eyes towards Elrond. He needed some time alone with the 
half-Elf. 

Elrohir caught the hint immediately. "Very well," he replied, somewhat reluctant to leave 
his father, but understanding why Glorfindel was asking for this time alone. This was, 
after all, between the pair of them. He took Elladan's hand and encouraged him towards 
the door, but halted when the Elda spoke again.

"It might also be an idea to talk to Erestor." The twins turned to face him whilst he 
paused. "Does...does he know?"

Elladan shook his head. "He didn't when I last saw him."

"I would advise making up an excuse, then," counselled the blond sagely. "No doubt he 
will be wondering what has happened; we have been locked up in here for days."

"You don't want us to tell him what's really happened?" Elladan sounded rather hesitant, 
but Glorfindel shook his head with another sly peek at the still impassive Elrond.

"No." The answer was definite. "And take your time - you may also want to visit the 
library." Again, there was a definite hint in his voice. His next comment was directed at 
Elrond. "We've got a lot to talk about, haven't we, meldir?" 

~~~

Glorfindel waited for a few moments after the twins had left before reverting his 
attentions to Elrond. The half-Elf was still sitting frozen with his hands neatly positioned 
in his lap, eyes focused forwards, face like a china mask: smooth, cold, hard, white. 
Glorfindel cleared his throat.

"We are going to have to talk about this at some point, Elrond," he sighed. He reached 
out to Elrond's face, but Elrond floated just out of reach. A blond eyebrow was raised. 
"You can't shut me out forever - I know you're in there. Don't be so bloody-minded."

This comment did not even provoke a blink from the dark-haired lord. "Very well," said 
Glorfindel determinedly, already growing frustrated from Elrond's obstinacy. "If you 
won't talk to me, you'll just have to listen..." He paused to lick his dry lips. "I wish you 
//would// talk to me, though. It hurts to see you like this, Elrond - you are so dear to me, it 
actually, physically //hurts//. Surely you must know that... that it's why I did what I did? 
Because I care for you... because I couldn't let you go, not to something like this, not 
now. 

"Please, don't be like this because of what I did... it's not your time. It will not be long 
before you are needed again. The evils of Arda are stirring - the people of Arda will one 
day need you, Elrond. Your children still need you now, like they always have done. 
They love you more than anything else. They've already lost their mother, mellon. It 
would destroy them to lose you too, so soon...you, who of all people must know what it's 
like to be deserted by your family."

He knew that it was a dirty move, but Glorfindel felt that, just this once, he was entitled 
to it. Slowly, he reached out again, knowing that Elrond was, after all, unable to escape if 
Glorfindel truly wanted to reach him. The Peredhel did try to turn away yet again, but this 
time the Elda cupped the angular chin in his wrapped right hand and gently but insistently 
turned Elrond's face towards him.

The eyes that met his own were, to his shock, unguarded - but then again, after a 
comment like that how could they not be? For just a second they stared at each other, in 
which time Glorfindel was aware of nothing but the agonising sorrow and loneliness 
flooding from the sad, watery brown eyes. He could feel Elrond trembling; feel him 
drowning in this pitiful tide of emotions. 

"You're not alone, Elrond," he whispered, peering into those brown eyes in the hope of 
showing his sincerity. "You're not alone. It's not your time."

For a moment he actually allowed himself to hope that he had reached the half-Elf - but 
then, to his dismay, Elrond blinked away the tears that must have been stinging his eyes 
and narrowed them at Glorfindel, before turning his face away again.

Glorfindel's hand fell limply down to the bed. He allowed it to rest there for a second or 
so whilst he too turned his face away, drawing in a deep breath and composing himself; 
he would not let himself fall apart like this, no matter how great the temptation. He 
needed to be strong to pull Elrond through this, and to help the twins do the same. Losing 
his self-control would mean that Elrond had his way, that he had tried to shut Glorfindel 
out and succeeded - and he would continue to do so if he thought he could get away with 
it. It was exactly what Glorfindel //knew// Elrond wanted. 

The Elda waited for a few more moments to gather himself before breaking the pregnant 
silence that had formed. "So that's it? You're just going to shut me out and be done with 
it? Hope that if you ignore me enough then I'll go away? Unfortunately, I don't think it's 
that simple. I'm not going to go away, because we're tied together now, and I'm not going 
to let the grief win. Look at what it's done to you - where's the proud, determined lord 
that I used to know? He's not here, that's for sure. He would never let something like this 
defeat him, he would never yield so willingly. You're strong, Elrond, you're stronger than 
this - I told you we would get you through this. You are coming through it already - your 
sacrifice has been made. What is the point in fighting me now?"

Even after this, all Glorfindel received was an ingenuous expression and an unknowing 
lift of the shoulders. The golden-haired warrior heaved a deep sigh at this and rubbed his 
eyes with his hands.

"Ai, Elrond! All that I've given you, all that I've tried, and you //still// won't let me help 
you! I //know// how hard this must be for you, but trust me when I say that it's hard for 
me, too. It's possibly the hardest thing I've ever had to do... I can barely stand it, sitting 
here, seeing you like this, and yet //I'm// still trying - for your sake. You know that I 
would give everything for you, meldir - this is all I have. Since I returned to Arda, since I 
helped you found this city, this has been my everything. It's all your children have too, 
and I know that Elladan and Elrohir are still trying. I saw the way you responded to them 
just now - you can't be ready to give up on them just yet. We're all trying for you. Can't 
you try for you, too?"

At last something inside Glorfindel wilted, when Elrond again offered nothing more than 
a wordless murmur and a shrug: deflection. The Elda surveyed his friend for a while 
longer, but when he reluctantly managed to admit that this morning would prove fruitless, 
he uttered another forlorn sigh and gave up for the time being.

"I can't stand it," he whispered almost inaudibly, then, slightly louder, "I need to stretch 
my legs."

Truthfully, he did need to stretch his legs, for he had not risen since the binding took 
place three nights ago. However, Glorfindel did not feel that either he or Elrond were 
benefiting from such close presence in the bed after what had just passed between them; 
Elrond obviously did not want him there at the moment, and Glorfindel himself was 
already feeling drained from the one-sided conversation. He doubted that it was a 
conscious action, but the half-Elf seemed to draw on his depleted reserves of strength - 
through their bond, Glorfindel presumed. If he was going to fight Elrond over this, he 
needed to gather both his strength and composure to do so - this would be made nearly 
impossible, though, if Elrond continued to both involuntarily sap the blond's vital energy 
and frustrate him almost to tears, as he was doing at present.

So, with just a touch of hesitation, Glorfindel pushed aside the bedclothes and slowly got 
to his feet. It took a moment for him to regain his footing enough to stand unsupported by 
the wall, but once he felt strong enough he hobbled over to the window seat and sank 
down into it, stretching his legs out before him. Elrond was left alone in the bed, but 
again did not even seem to register that fact - anyway, Glorfindel had been careful to 
ensure that he remained in the Peredhel's eye line, unseeing or not. He knew that 
removing himself from the situation completely would only contradict all that he had just 
said, as well as signifying that Elrond had succeeded in pushing him away. 

Glorfindel spared Elrond another last, sorrowful glance before finally turning away. Too 
stiff to curl himself up just yet, the Elda settled for clutching a cushion to his stomach for 
comfort as he gazed out of the window, surveying the barren winterscape outside. The 
scene may have been dull and dreary, the watery sun shrouded in a dense layer of cloud, 
but it proved cheerier than the tight atmosphere inside the room. Biting the inside of his 
lip against his emotions, he twisted his hands in the softness of his cushion, wilting 
against the wall behind him.

It was how the twins found him when they returned a good while later.

***************
Chapter Twenty-Four
***************

...And yet I am, and live - like vapours tossed

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;
Even the dearest, that I love the best,
Are strange - nay, rather stranger than the rest.

"I Am" by John Clare


The twins had been gone for over three-quarters of an hour, their time consumed by 
visiting first Erestor in Elrond's office, then the library and finally the kitchens. A feeble 
but passable excuse had been made to Erestor, who had accepted it with a terse nod and 
no questions - he had seen the state that Elrond was in, after all, which made the twins' 
half-truth that Glorfindel was "helping Ada through it" more acceptable. 

It had taken a good while to find the book that Elrond had hinted at in his diary, for - 
typically - it had been hidden at the back of the library in a heap of volumes that needed 
re-sorting. Nevertheless, the twins had sorted doggedly and methodically through the 
shelves and stacks on the tables until they had found the book that they desired, and 
Elrohir had leafed idly through it whilst Elladan prepared a tray of food from the 
kitchens.

Now, since the elder twin was laden with the tray whilst the younger was only carrying 
the book, Elrohir opened the door for Elladan and followed him inside. The gravity of the 
atmosphere hit them with all the force of a charging Oliphaunt, and they exchanged a 
worried glance upon seeing Glorfindel gazing as aimlessly out of the window as Elrond 
was at the bedclothes.

Elrohir closed the door softly behind him whilst Elladan made his way across the room 
and set the tray on Elrond's desk. There was no response to either of their movements - it 
was to be expected from their father at present, but Glorfindel was never this distant. 
Elrohir dreaded to think what had happened between the pair of them in the twins' 
absence.

With silent apprehension, he joined Elladan in front of Elrond's desk. The elder twin was 
just finishing pouring hot soup from a large jug into one of the mugs he had brought with 
him, turning to hand it to his brother when he felt the familiar presence behind him. 
Elrohir took it from him with a sad, wordless smile and made his way back over to 
Elrond's bedside.

Elladan, meanwhile, filled another mug with soup and walked quietly over to Glorfindel. 
He touched the blond on the shoulder, smiling kindly and handing him the mug when 
blue eyes were turned up to him. 

"See if you can drink this," Elladan requested softly, knowing that the empty stomach 
would require sustenance to strengthen the weakened body and spirit. Glorfindel accepted 
it with a murmur of thanks and curled his fingers around the warm china; it was cold over 
by the window for a draught leaked through the seal, and in his condition the Elda's skin 
had paled a few shades as the warmth was leached from his body. Frowning, Elladan 
brushed the back of his hand over Glorfindel's cheek. He ignored the surprised look that 
the Elda gave him as the twin felt the iciness of the other's skin, and instead strode across 
the room to gather a blanket from the bed. Nothing was said as the twin wrapped it 
around Glorfindel's shoulders and tucked it about his slender body, but a meaningful look 
from the dark eyes was met by a grateful one from the blue. Glorfindel even managed a 
half-smile at the twin as he took a sip of his soup, and both settled back into the window 
seat in comfortable silence.

Elrohir, however, was having somewhat less luck with Elrond. The half-Elf had barely 
acknowledged his son's presence - one nod or shake of the head to each question was the 
only response Elrohir received. Elrohir gave a heavy sigh as he squeezed his eyes closed 
against stinging tears of exasperation and steeled himself before he opened them again.

"Come on, Ada, please," he coaxed plaintively, reaching out to lay one hand atop both his 
father's where they rested, folded in his lap. "You need to eat - it's only soup."

Other than an indolent blink Elrond made no other motion. Elrohir bit on the inside of his 
lip and gently pried his father's hands apart, positioning the mug that was in his other 
hand in the space created. Elrond was pliant and merely allowed his fingers to form 
instinctively to the shape of the warmth between his palms, holding the mug whilst 
Elrohir strode quickly across to the desk and returned with a spoon.

Seating himself on the edge of the bed this time, Elrohir encouraged Elrond to lift his 
hands to about chest height and used one of his own to help support the mug. With the 
other hand, he dipped the spoon into the soup and brought it up to his father's lips, 
brushing off any drips on the edge of the mug beforehand. Upon feeling the metal of the 
spoon against his lips, Elrond opened his mouth in compliance, allowing Elrohir to trickle 
the warm soup between his teeth. The younger twin forced a smile and murmured 
encouragingly, whilst Elladan and Glorfindel watched quietly from their place in the 
window.

It was a numbing picture, seeing Elrond so silent and passive - normally he would have 
preferred to starve than to degrade himself in such a way as being spoon-fed. Now, 
though, there was nothing but docile acceptance; the dark eyes were dead in their skeletal 
sockets, the gaunt visage completely blank. Even the mechanical open, close and swallow 
of the half-Elf's mouth seemed lifeless, nothing more than a reflex - nonetheless, though, 
Elrond ate the soup, right down to the last drop that Elrohir spooned between his lips.

Elrohir smiled as encouragingly as he could now that the mug was empty and gently took 
it from his father's bony hands to set it on the nightstand.

"There, that wasn't so hard," he said. The tone was intended to be light, but the quaver in 
his voice ruined his efforts. "I bet you feel better for it, too."

Elrond licked his lower lip in reply, but said nothing; instead he clenched his jaw and 
inhaled deeply as his eyes closed, before releasing the breath slowly after the suppressed 
yawn had passed.

"You're tired," stated Elrohir. Elrond nodded once, which prompted his son to slip an arm 
behind his shoulders.

"Sleep, then." Elrond nodded again as Elrohir lowered him to the mattress, rearranging 
the bedclothes and pillows. He blinked when Elrohir kissed him softly on the cheek and 
smoothed his matted hair, then rolled over onto his side so his back was to his son. 
Elrohir emitted a soft sigh and got to his feet.

Elladan was still watching him as his brother joined him at the window, but Glorfindel 
had reverted to gazing into his soup.

"It will get cold," remarked Elladan, pulling Elrohir down next to him. The younger twin 
settled into his side, grateful for the contact when his brother also slipped an arm around 
his waist. 

Glorfindel frowned and nodded pensively, more to his cup than to the twins. Then, in a 
sudden, decisive action, he brought it up to his lips and tilted his head back, downing the 
remnants of the soup in a few mouthfuls. The brothers shared a glance as the Elda then 
eased himself to his feet, leaving the blanket in a puddle on the bench behind him.

"Would you mind if I went to my own rooms for a bit?" he asked as his sapphire eyes 
settled upon the two young Peredhil. "I...I might feel better if I clean up...change into 
some fresh clothes." He failed to add that some time alone, away from the oppressive 
atmosphere of Elrond's chambers, would also help.

"Will you be alright?" Elladan could not help but ask. Glorfindel paused from shuffling 
across the room to the dresser, where his dirty and bloodied travelling clothes had been 
placed, and bit his tongue.

"I will be fine," he replied after taking a deep breath, unable to keep the irritation from his 
voice. Elladan looked away sheepishly with a small nod, gripping hard when he felt 
Elrohir's hand sympathetically take his own. The twins averted their eyes as Glorfindel 
changed from his sleeping robe back into his leggings and shirt, but foregoing the tunic. 
Common sense told them that the Elda would not want to traverse the halls of Imladris in 
broad daylight in his nightgown.

Finally dressed, Glorfindel bundled the sleeping robe and tunic under his arm for washing 
and, for the sake of appearances, offered the twins an upward twitch of his lips. He knew 
that he still appeared pale and weak and that he was yet a little unsteady on his feet. Past 
experience, however, told that this was the last remaining effect of the disembodiment of 
the spirit, and that the best way to alleviate it was by moving around, as soon as the body 
was strong enough. 

Carefully disguising the shakiness of his steps, therefore, he made his way over to the 
door, though stopping briefly by the bed to run his hand down Elrond's arm. The 
slumbering half-Elf did not react to his touch, and Glorfindel permitted himself another, 
more genuine, smile as he turned at length and left the room. Elladan watched him go and 
then sighed, got to his feet, and walked over to the desk. He poured himself a mug of 
soup from what was still left in the jug, which he then carried over to the balcony doors. 
Elrohir rose and did the same as his brother looked over his shoulder expectantly, 
following him onto the balcony where they would take their lunch.

***

Glorfindel encountered no one on the way to his rooms. They were all most likely eating 
lunch, which meant that he had no difficult explanations-come-excuses to field, regarding 
his sudden return from 'Lórien and his current state of ill health. It was something for 
which he was immensely grateful.

The room was clean and tidy when he entered it, though he could tell that the twins had 
obviously been through his drawers to find him a nightgown. There was clean linen on 
the bed and a maid had left fresh towels on one chair; the atmosphere inside it was light 
and comforting despite it being rather dark and cold, a far cry from the heavy, draining 
stifling of Elrond's chambers. Glorfindel closed the door behind him and locked it, 
casting the dirty sleeping robe onto the chest of drawers just inside the door as he did so.

To his surprise, something was dislodged by the motion and fluttered to the floor: a letter. 
Puzzled, he picked it up and tucked it under his arm, busying himself by lighting candles 
in the sconces around the walls to brighten the room before at last sitting down on his 
bed. There, he studied the letter; it was addressed to him in Elrond's neat Tengwar script, 
also bearing the half-Elf's seal on the back. The paper was thick, heavy and creamy-
coloured, the kind used for diplomatic correspondence, although the corners were dog-
eared and the edges slightly crumpled, as though it had been tucked inside a book for 
which it was slightly too large.

Frowning, the Elda settled himself more comfortably in the middle of his bed and flipped 
the covers over his legs to keep him warm. He then turned the letter over, broke the seal 
and unfolded the paper to read it.

	// Hrívë 3, III 2510

	My dear, faithful Glorfindel,

      Please, forgive me, but I cannot go on like this any longer. It can 
only be assumed that you are reading this now because I am finally 
falling to Mandos' Halls - or perhaps I have already fallen. You have 
probably read the entries in my diary, too; do not be ashamed by that, for 
I know that you will do so with what you consider my best intentions in 
mind. I would not have left this letter in here otherwise.
      The least I can offer you is an explanation, though I fear the 
reasoning behind it may be rather more convoluted. When my beloved 
Celebrìan departed, she took with her all the joy that I held for this world, 
and now the lights of Arda are fading along with me. I know I have shown 
it badly, but I do love my children. They aren't, however, enough to hold 
me here; my spirit is slipping, and there is nothing to help me.
      I will admit I am scared, and it hurts. I have never been one to shy 
away from pain before, and you know this. I would not say that I am 
doing so now, either - it is just that I can see no other way out of this. 
Binding myself to another is not an option, for even if he should emerge 
from the binding process with his life intact, my dependency would ruin it 
nonetheless. I would be made to cling to his life force, like a leech; doing 
nothing other than sapping his energy through a malicious spiritual link, 
created solely by my own weakness: love. He would be required to love 
me in order to sustain me... but love grips like a bad habit, and one which 
I want nothing more to do with. I look at myself in the mirror and find that 
I have to turn away. Nothing could love this.
      You will not have stayed long in 'Lórien before returning here, 
and doubtless you will have looked into Galadriel's Mirror, too. What you 
saw I can well imagine, apparent to you at the time or not - you know of 
what I speak. Perhaps the grief will have already claimed me by the time 
you reach Imladris, or perhaps Mandos will be somewhat less pitying that 
day. Should I still be alive, know that it will be by the barest margin; 
already I can feel myself fading away. My body aches with this gradual 
separation of spirit from the flesh; I feel tired. I feel worn and thin. I feel 
old. I know that you would sacrifice yourself for this, but meldir, I ask you 
- nay, I beg you - not to. Please... I could not bear being bound to you, not 
only because of my own dependence, but also because I would have to 
spend the rest of my miserable, eternal existence seeing how I destroyed 
your life for my own sake. My conscience, I fear, would plague me for a 
lifetime.
      You remind me of her: you are beautiful like her, golden like the 
dawn and kind like the summer; lively and radiant, like the bubbling 
waters of the Bruinen. It would be a sad day if the dawn were grey and 
summer turned to winter, with the river all dried up to bedrock. Please 
understand; I do this because I love you. 
      Take care of my children.

      Elrond //
      
      
Totally stunned, Glorfindel stared at the letter dumbly for a few moments. He was unable 
to believe the half-Elf's reasoning behind his desire for death, although the powerful 
emotions contained in the words burrowed deeply inside him. The self-hatred, the 
desperation, the certainty. In light of the detachment Elrond was currently displaying, it 
was all completely overwhelming for Glorfindel. His hands, shaking, released the paper 
unconsciously, just at the same instant as the first tear fell - both hit the bedclothes at the 
same moment as he choked out a sob and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Alone and with the door locked, the Elda allowed himself to vent his emotions properly 
for the first time. Hot, salty tears streamed from beneath closed eyelids as he doubled 
over with his arms around his middle, skating down his face and dripping from his chin, 
running between his lips, dampening his collar. The sense of liberty that comes with 
crying alone did nothing to lessen the bone-shaking sobs that shook his slender form, 
released on extended, staccato exhales that wrenched painfully at his lungs. Alone, he 
wept for long minutes, for everything that was wrong and the hurt it was causing, his 
arms around himself his only comfort. He stayed in that position until, exhausted by the 
sobs, he finally subsided sideways onto the bed, curling around himself and burying 
beneath the disarrayed bedclothes. Deep and lonely slumber came mercifully fast.

***************
Chapter Twenty-Five
**************

Reaction

Glorfindel eventually awoke about an hour before dinnertime, to a room filled with dark 
winter shadows now that the candles had all burned out. His eyelids felt stiff and tired, 
the skin of his face dry from the salt crust of tears, and his limbs seemed set with the 
heavy, aching chill of exhaustion that all but bound him to the bed.

Exhaling deeply, he rubbed his eyes before emerging from the mound of bedclothes 
beneath which he had burrowed. It was cold in the room, even colder than it had been 
beneath the covers; a hiss involuntarily escaped him, for it was something that he was 
still not used to feeling.

The first thing Glorfindel did as he rose to his feet was to fish out a dressing gown from 
the wardrobe and slip it on. He then lit a few more candles, not bothering with the fire 
since he would be returning to Elrond's rooms soon. He also pulled the drapes closed, for 
it was a miserable night outside and a draught was seeping through the window seal. 
Then he returned to sit on the edge of the bed.

Lifting his hands to catch the angle of the dim light, the Elda slowly clenched and 
unclenched them a few times, testing the feel of the wounds beneath the bandages. There 
was very little pain - only, in fact, slight discomfort - and so he started to unfasten the 
lengths of cloth. First one long strip was discarded and then the other, along with the 
presses of herbs and gauze, to finally reveal little more than a scratch in each palm. It 
appeared that his healing powers were only slightly affected by his physical weakness; he 
certainly knew how deep the wound in his right hand had been, having made it himself, 
and could only assume that the twins had made the one in his left a similar depth. 
Glorfindel sat there for a few moments, lightly running a fingertip back and forth over the 
path of the knife, deep in thought, before finally rising again.

He took his time to wash, savouring the sensation of the warm water on his cold skin, still 
dirty from travelling. It made him feel a good deal better as he then changed - albeit 
rather quickly given the chill of the air - into clean clothes, and finally, after braiding his 
hair and ensuring that he looked presentable, gathered a fresh nightgown, pocketed 
Elrond's letter and rather reluctantly left his rooms.

***

The twins were still on the balcony when Glorfindel returned to Elrond's chambers. 
Elrond himself was lying down in the bed as he had been when Glorfindel had left, 
except this time he was facing the door. His dark eyes were glassy and it was hard to tell 
if he was awake or in reverie; that question was soon answered, though, when Glorfindel 
moved into Elrond's line of sight. The half-Elf blinked upon seeing his seneschal, averted 
his eyes, and rolled over so that his back was to the blond. Glorfindel scowled, unseen, at 
Elrond's petulance.

"Not this again. I found your letter," he said coolly as he walked around to the other side 
of the bed. Elrond, surprisingly, looked up at the blond, eyeing him with suspicion as 
Glorfindel placed his clean clothes on the nightstand and cast the letter carelessly onto the 
bed. The Peredhel lifted his chin, then struggled up into a sitting position. Glorfindel did 
not help him.

"At last," came the equally cool remark, once Elrond had propped himself up again. "I 
was beginning to wonder."

One golden eyebrow arched high. "Do you honestly think I would have done as you 
asked, even had I found it in time?"

Elrond regarded him levelly: that old stare of his that would make most quiver in their 
boots. "You would have disrespected my wishes?"

"As orders from a lord to his seneschal, no. That was why I went to 'Lórien. But as an 
appeal from Elrond to Glorfindel, yes, I would. Forgive me, Elrond, but I fear your mind 
was not working in the most sensible of circles when you wrote that."

A bitter laugh escaped Elrond's lips. "You understand me so well," he sneered.

Glorfindel drew himself up to his full height and braced himself for a war of words; these 
issues needed to be dealt with, and if this was what it took to educe a discursive reaction 
from Elrond then so be it. "Perhaps not, but I fear I understand you better than you 
understand yourself at the moment."

"Of course, which is why you acted 'in my best interests'," snapped back Elrond. The 
expression on his face was venomous. "You could not possibly comprehend that I 
//wanted// to die."

"No, I cannot. I cannot comprehend why you would wish to give up so easily, why you 
would wish to abandon three beautiful children... I have never known you to be so 
selfish, Elrond! You could not even live for Celebrìan through them - you couldn't even 
live for the chance of seeing her again in Aman?"

"I hardly had a choice, Glorfindel - excuse me for loving my wife!"

"There were other ways and you knew it!" cried Glorfindel in exasperation, beginning to 
pace back and forth at the bottom of the bed. He was starting to lose his temper. "You 
knew exactly how you could be bound to someone else, didn't you? You lied to me."

At this, Elrond fell suddenly silent and turned his face away. Glorfindel practically 
growled. "You //did// lie to me."

"It was for your own good," Elrond shot back. "I almost dragged you with me - look how 
easily--"

"It would not have been so dangerous, had you not left it so late!" cut in the Elda, eyes 
flashing cobalt in his ire. Elrond glowered at his seneschal from the corner of his eye with 
dark, arched eyebrows drawn together, and emitted a muffled noise of discontent as he 
then threw back the bedclothes and staggered to his feet. Glorfindel, who by this point 
was standing only a short distance away at the foot of the bed, watched in mild surprise 
as Elrond now drew himself regally upright to face the blond.

"Deign to put yourself into my situation," he hissed through clenched teeth, "And let us 
recap: the Elven sickness, the grief for my wife, is killing me. The only practical way to 
keep me in this world is by tying my spirit to another's - leaving me, I might add, pathetic 
and dependent as a result, much like this which stands before you. The other half of 
this...this //partnership//," the word was spat, like an insult, "Would have his life wrecked 
in the process; and besides, did it not occur to you that arriving in Aman bound to another 
would hurt her more than she hurt me?"

Glorfindel was so frustrated that he was quite unsure what to do with himself, though he 
tried to hide it as best he could. He turned away for a moment, hands now clenching into 
fists by his sides, before then spinning round on his heel with his jaw set and new resolve 
lighting his eyes.

"How can you be so blind, Elrond? Surely Celebrìan would be more distressed to know 
that you died on her account! If I had been so reluctant to have my life "wrecked", as you 
put it, then I wouldn't have tried to save you so willingly, would I? Far better to "wreck" 
my life, as one returned to serve you, than those of your three children and quite possibly 
countless others besides!"

"Death was the best way, Glorfindel! Damnit, I don't want this! Why can't you 
understand that?"

"I have died before, Elrond, lest you forget that fact! Don't you dare talk to me about not 
understanding! Not telling any of us was pure stupidity!"

"No," retorted Elrond, "What //you// did was stupid!"

"You are delirious!"

"You are insane!"

"And you are both behaving like a pair of children!"

Stunned, both Elven-lords whirled round to see Elladan standing just inside the open 
balcony doors and Elrohir behind him. The elder twin had his arms folded across his 
abdomen, his expression one of severe disapproval, whilst his brother looked somewhat 
edgy and apprehensive.

"I never thought I'd see the day that two of the most distinguished lords in Arda resorted 
to name-calling," continued Elladan, eyebrows raised in incredulous disdain. "This is 
ridiculous! What is the point in bickering over what is past?" 

Glorfindel had the grace to look a little abashed, but Elrond simply shot his sons a 
contemptuous glare. Even so, Elladan squarely met his father's eye, whilst behind him 
Elrohir frowned.

"Enough, Ada! What's done is done - Glorfindel only did what he thought was right and 
you can't deny it. There's no use in blaming him for that; it's not his fault he didn't find 
that letter in time. Can't you even //try// to accept this bond?" Elrond looked down to the 
ground and closed his eyes, whilst Elrohir's gaze and tone softened into beseeching. 
"Please? I just want my Ada back..."

Elrond sucked his breath sharply over his teeth and his eyebrows drew together. In an 
instant Glorfindel saw a whole array of emotions pass over his face as Elrohir's remarks 
finally struck home: embarrassment at the realisation of how stupid he had been; self-
loathing for the same reason; guilt and remorse, for the pain he saw he had caused all 
these people who cared about him. The change was swift, as if Elrohir's words had 
suddenly triggered the rebirth of feeling within the half-Elf and Elrond could finally see 
that he had been wrong; an inner war of emotions seemed to wage inside him for a 
moment, however, as though he was still unwilling to admit that fact. Then, his pale 
features crumpled miserably as he suddenly staggered sideways, before his knees buckled 
beneath him. Glorfindel caught him in an instant, only having been standing a few long 
strides away. 

Gently, he lowered the stricken half-Elf onto the floor, not yet strong enough to carry him 
to the bed. Elrond was still conscious, despite having his eyes closed; he had collapsed 
simply because his legs were too weak to support him. 

As Glorfindel settled next to his friend on the floor he found that Elrond was leaning 
towards the warmth of his body. Still hesitant, because he knew not how the half-Elf 
would react, Glorfindel slowly snaked an arm around the trembling shoulders. To his 
amazement, Elrond did not push him away; rather, he actually allowed himself to be 
lightly pulled against Glorfindel's body so he could be held in a sitting position, as his 
head dropped to rest on the Elda's shoulder. A soft sigh escaped him - possibly of relief, 
possibly of defeat - and Glorfindel smiled - he could actually feel the ebb of energy 
between their beings, and knew that Elrond must at last be absorbing the strength that he 
so badly needed from the one to whom he was bound.

Smiling softly, the blond brushed his lips against the tangled dark hair and murmured 
soothingly and almost inaudibly to the form in his arms. Elrond made a small noise but 
said nothing in return.

Elladan and Elrohir had moved a few steps closer when their father had crumpled to the 
floor, but stopped by the foot of the bed when they realised that he was going to accept 
Glorfindel's attentions. They were holding hands, fingers interlinked, and with identical 
expressions of concern on their faces; however, when Glorfindel looked up to them over 
Elrond's head, still smiling, the worry slowly melted into happy relief and their tense 
forms relaxed somewhat.

"I think your body is trying to tell you something, Elrond," Glorfindel said gently as he 
looked down upon the half-Elf. "Will you come back to bed?"

Elrond nodded against his shoulder with a quiet exhale. Looking up to the twins, 
Glorfindel gave a meaningful jerk of his head; they understood at once and moved 
towards the pair sitting on the flags. Elrohir knelt down beside them as Glorfindel 
released his hold on Elrond, the twin making as though to lift his father into his arms. 
Elrond's eyes opened in protest, but a quelling glower from all three around him made 
him hold his tongue.

"Just let us take care of you," Elrohir insisted as he hoisted his father off the ground and 
carried him the few steps to the bed. Elrond blinked in resignation, though Elrohir 
stepped away and allowed him to arrange the pillows and bedclothes himself.

Glorfindel, helped up to his feet by Elladan, soon joined the half-Elf in the bed. Dark 
eyes flicked over to the blond, who settled down into a lying position close to Elrond 
before slipping an arm across the wasted abdomen beneath the covers. Another soft smile 
was offered by the Elda in an attempt to contain his jubilant relief, as Elrond somewhat 
hesitantly, almost reluctantly, took hold of the extended hand and interlaced their fingers. 
Again, Glorfindel could feel the flow of strength between their spirits from the close 
proximity, and, as the twins retreated to the balcony again, he watched Elrond slip into a 
light healing sleep.

***************
Chapter Twenty-Six
***************

Lend a Hand

Elrond only slept for little over an hour, waking again when Elladan re-entered the room 
with dinner. Glorfindel, having already slept that afternoon, had remained awake, mostly 
lost in thought, although Elrohir had later come in from the balcony to make 
conversation. The twins felt their father and his saviour needed some time alone, 
Glorfindel suspected; he was inclined to agree, since ultimately it was he and Elrond who 
needed to work this out.

The half-Elf stirred under Glorfindel's arm when the twins began to move around the 
room again, and the Elda removed it to allow him some space. The dark eyes returned 
slowly to awareness, during which time Glorfindel looked away for he certainly did not 
want Elrond to feel that he was being constantly watched. However, when he felt a 
hesitant touch on his hand beneath the covers, he looked round with a warm expression 
and helped Elrond to sit up at the unspoken request. The twins said nothing.

Seeing Glorfindel flick an eyebrow questioningly, Elrond caught and held his eye. "I feel 
better," he said quietly, then accepted a chunk of bread on a small plate from Elrohir and 
set it between himself and Glorfindel. The bread was followed by a large mug of thick, 
hot soup, which the half-Elf took without a word and dutifully set about drinking. He 
failed to see the pleased glances exchanged between Glorfindel and the twins before the 
Elda then followed suit. The twins took a seat at the foot of the bed, and the silence that 
followed as all four began to eat was easier than it had been in a long time.

The twins finished first and Elladan helped himself to first one and then another mug and 
hunk of bread. Elrohir looked at him amusedly.

"You are always hungry!"

Elladan looked up in surprise at the random comment, then scowled playfully. "That's 
just in comparison to you - I can't help it if you eat like a bird!"

"It's probably because you always used to steal the food from his plate as a child, 
gweniaur," came a quiet, dry remark from the head end of the bed. Both twins looked up, 
Elrohir smirking, Elladan still glowering, but Glorfindel had a large and rather inelegant 
mouthful of bread and it seemed unlikely that he could have forced any words around it. 
Elrond, however, was just draining the last few drops of soup from his cup; he said 
nothing when he looked up, although there was a definite twinkle in his eye. Elrohir 
snorted softly whilst Elladan narrowed his eyes in jest at his father. Elrond blinked 
disingenuously and wordlessly handed them the empty mug and plate.  

"How are your hands, Ada?" asked Elrohir next; he had noticed the way that Elrond had 
been handling the crockery somewhat gingerly, as though his palms were still quite 
tender. That was unsurprising, of course, since his body had more important things to 
heal first, but the removal of the bandages the day before probably had not helped.

Almost as though he had forgotten about the wounds, Elrond slowly turned his hands 
palm up and examined them. "Still there," he said vaguely, tilting first his hands and then 
his head to view them from a different angle.
 
"Are they healing at all?" continued the younger twin, now getting to his feet. He 
wandered round to his father's side of the bed and sat on the edge of it, whereupon he 
reached for the half-Elf's hands to examine them.

"Slowly," said the elder Peredhel, a flicker of a wince crossing his face as his son ran a 
finger lightly over one cut. "I think they might scar..."

"And do they hurt?" Elrohir fixed his father with the unwavering gaze he seemed to have 
inherited. Elrond made an indistinct motion with his free hand and pulled an unreadable 
face. 

"That's a 'yes'," offered Elladan from the foot of the bed. Elrond shrugged, but Elrohir 
nodded in concurrence.

"I think so too," he said, raising an eyebrow at his father so that eventually Elrond gave a 
reluctant nod. "Would you let me bind them again, Ada? You'll be able to handle things 
better because of the padding and it will help reduce the scarring if I use herbs."

"There's no need..." Elrond muttered sulkily, with what he obviously considered a subtle 
sideways examination of Glorfindel's unbound hands. The twins and the Elda shared 
glances, praying that Elrond was not going to be stubborn about this.

"I'm not wearing bandages because mine are just about healed," said Glorfindel. "Think 
about it, Elrond, you know it makes sense." Catching the hand of Elrond's that was 
closest to him, he rubbed the back of it soothingly with his thumb. Elrond looked at him 
questioningly, so Glorfindel showed him that there was indeed nothing more than a 
scratch in each palm. Elrond gave a heavy sigh and relented.

"Very well," he said at length. Elrohir smiled at him, pleased, and got up to gather the 
necessary items. "There is comfrey and arnica in the pots on the shelves," added Elrond 
after a moment's thought. 

Elrohir suppressed a smirk, even though his back was turned. "The healer knows best," 
he said seriously as he made his way back over to the bed.

"Although I have it on very good authority that they make the worst patients!" remarked 
Elladan slyly from the bottom of the bed, without looking up from the book he was 
leafing through. Elrohir snickered as he took one of his father's hands into his own. 
Elrond raised his eyebrows in mock contempt, but wisely held his tongue.

Glorfindel watched as Elrohir bound his father's hands again, feeling somewhat awkward. 
Elrond looked rather uncomfortable at the situation, although he was now making an 
admirable attempt to hide it. Glorfindel knew the significance that the bandages held for 
him. Having witnessed Elrond's initial reaction to the wounds on his palms, Glorfindel 
had known that they would cause trouble - until Elrond healed, he would be reminded of 
the binding and the trauma associated whenever he managed to forget for a while. The 
Elda dreaded to think of the possibility of scarring.

He desperately wanted to support Elrond as best he could, but it took a few moments of 
hesitation before he decided that the best way to do so was by means of a hand on a 
shoulder. Elrond, who was doing his best not to watch the movements of Elrohir's hands 
as he carefully wound the bandage but failing miserably, offered Glorfindel a grateful 
sideways flicker of his eyes at this. Elrohir practically glowed, for he suddenly felt much 
more comfortable with what he was doing now that his father had relaxed, and continued 
with his task.

Glorfindel and the twins all held their breath when Elrohir finished, for Elrond then 
proceeded to examine his hands again. The blond's fingers tightened instinctively on 
Elrond's shoulder, fearing whatever outburst was to follow; after such a sudden 
improvement, he dreaded the emotional damage that it might cause to both the twins and 
himself. To his sheer relief, however, despite the tightening of his jaw Elrond did not 
cause a fuss - instead he merely nodded in approval at his son's bandaging skills and laid 
his hands back down in his lap.

"What now then, Ada?" asked Elrohir with a smile. Since the chair by the side of the bed 
had been moved elsewhere, he scooted backwards so that he could sit with his back 
against the bottom post and lifted his legs up to cross them on top of the bedclothes.

Elrond scowled at him. "Get your dirty shoes off my bed," he huffed, and aimed a kick at 
Elrohir's legs from under the covers. Elrohir grunted in annoyance whilst his brother and 
Glorfindel snorted. 

"Well? It's up to you."

The half-Elf shrugged, although the longing glance he sent towards the door of his 
bathroom spoke volumes. Glorfindel shifted under the covers.

"You want to bathe." Elrond nodded, suddenly looking sheepish again. "You need not be 
ashamed of asking, meldir."

Elrond grimaced and tensed beneath the covers. "I will need help." His voice was barely 
even a whisper, his dark eyes were everywhere at once, showing clearly his 
embarrassment over the situation. Glorfindel waited for a moment. "Would... would 
you...?"

Blue eyes flickered in appreciation. "Of course I will help you," Glorfindel told him 
gently, finding and taking Elrond's hand. Elrond pressed his lips together and turned his 
face away, nodding. "Do you want to do it now?"

Elrond nodded again, so Glorfindel got out of bed and moved around to help him. Elrohir 
removed himself respectfully from the bed, whilst Elladan remained at an adequate 
distance in his chair at the foot of it. 

By the time Glorfindel reached the other side of the bed, Elrond had already struggled to 
his feet by himself. His first steps were hesitant and noticeably shaky as he moved 
towards the bathroom, presumably a little worried about collapsing again; however, he 
gained confidence when Glorfindel reached his side and wound a supporting arm around 
his shoulders. Despite his Elven crutch, however, he still had to pause a few times and 
lean on the blond Elda to catch his breath.

"My bedroom has never seemed so large," he hissed, clearly infuriated as he pinched the 
bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "I feel like a doddering old Man."

"It will pass, meldir, it will pass," Glorfindel reassured him; again he could feel the ebb 
of his strength from his being to Elrond's and hoped that it meant he was lending support 
in more ways than one. Elrond screwed his eyes shut before taking another step.

By this point they were not far from the bathroom threshold, so it only took a few more 
steps before Elrond was able to place a hand on the doorframe. Here, he halted again and 
turned to face his sons, still situated by the bed.

"You do not have to stay here tonight if you would rather not, gwenyn." It was made to 
sound like an offer, although there was the hint of a hint in his voice. Elladan opened his 
mouth to protest, but snapped it shut with an audible click when Elrohir elbowed him in 
the ribs.

"We will see you in the morning, then," said the younger twin, eyeing his father and 
seneschal fondly. Elrond's smile, whilst a little false, showed his gratitude and he dipped 
his head and continued into the bathroom. 

Effectively dismissed, the twins made to leave, although not before changing the 
disordered, blood-spotted linen on the bed first. Then, with a gentle smile, Elrohir laid an 
arm around his brother's shoulders. "Come on," he said quietly as they walked towards 
the door. "You can stay in my room tonight."

~~~

Glorfindel left Elrond to stand by himself whilst he set the bath running, though by the 
time he had turned back round the half-Elf was already undressing. Wearing only a 
nightgown, it took just a few moments for Elrond to unfasten the buttons down the front 
and around the cuffs and push it off his shoulders to puddle at his feet. Suddenly very 
unsure of himself, Glorfindel shuffled his feet and coughed nervously.

Elrond looked up. "Oh come now, Glorfindel, you have seen me naked countless times 
before," he said stiffly, lifting his chin proudly as he started to hobble towards the sunken 
tub. The Elda snapped to attention by stepping up next to his lord and hovering at his 
side, until Elrond required more assistance actually getting into the tub. He helped the 
half-Elf down with firm but gentle hands - one on an elbow, one on a hip - and once 
satisfied that Elrond was settled in the waist-deep water began rolling up his shirtsleeves.

Elrond, it seemed, had only just truly realised how little he could use his hands, for he 
was looking distinctly upset as he sat in the water that barely came up to his waist, his 
arms folded across his chest to keep the bandages dry. Had the picture not been so 
disturbing, Glorfindel would have laughed at how much his lord seemed like a petulant 
child; instead he reached for a washcloth and a bar of scented soap, which he wetted, 
lathered and began to rub over Elrond's skin.

For what reason Glorfindel could not tell, but Elrond closed his eyes as the Elda carefully 
cleaned his skin. It could have been self-reproach, it could have been pleasure, but to his 
relief the half-Elf did all that he could to aid Glorfindel, moving position and shifting his 
limbs without needing to be asked. Eventually, once the Elda had washed the entirety of 
Elrond's wasted body - including his genitals, which, truthfully, made both Elves tense - 
he turned his attentions to the pale face.

Sensing what Glorfindel was going to do next, Elrond closed his eyes and turned his face 
towards the blond. Glorfindel wrung out the cloth and gently wiped away the grime that 
had been there for Elbereth only knew how long - he strongly suspected that Elrond had 
neither bathed nor changed his clothes for a good while before the blond's return, but did 
not give voice to his thoughts. He merely finished his task by washing Elrond's hair, 
using a small jug to wash away the soap, and then helping... or rather practically lifting 
his friend from the tub.

The warmth of the water combined with the pleasant sensation of being clean again 
seemed to have made Elrond rather drowsy; being full of soup and bread and the general 
effort of being awake and responsive had probably exacerbated the effect. Glorfindel 
offered him a lopsided grin as he balanced the swaying half-Elf and wrapped him in a 
robe.

"Sleepy?"

Elrond surveyed him semi-scathingly from beneath heavy eyelids, although he did also 
mutter the affirmative.

"Come on, then," continued Glorfindel, using a steadying hand in the small of Elrond's 
back to usher him back to the bedroom. Very few words had been exchanged between 
them throughout, but for some reason that did not bother Glorfindel as much as he had 
thought it would. Elrond had reacted to him as much as could be expected, the verbal 
aspect aside - in fact their interactions had seemed almost clairvoyant, an intuitive dance 
of responses that had never existed before. The only explanation was that their bond was 
taking effect - and that meant that Elrond was finally accepting it.

***************
Chapter Twenty-Seven
***************

Back and Forth

Elrond was almost asleep by the time Glorfindel had helped him change into a clean 
sleeping robe and sat him before the fire to brush his hair. Despite only being half-awake, 
however, the half-Elf was remarkably amenable, probably brought about from feeling as 
good as he had in a long time. Sensing this, Glorfindel took the opportunity to make light 
conversation and help close the rift between them.

"Feeling better now?" he began, tipping a small amount of scented oil into his palms and 
spreading it thinly over the damp raven tresses before him.

"Mmm, much," murmured Elrond, whose eyes were closed against the pleasant heat of 
the fire. He paused to release a contented sigh. "That feels good."

"What feels good?" asked Glorfindel as he replaced the stopper of the oil and reached for 
a wooden comb, which he anointed with the excess oil on his hands.

"The heat."

Glorfindel nodded in agreement, unseen. "That cold when we..." he began... hesitated... 
tailed off.

"Was cold before I got there," Elrond corrected him, then turned his head in the direction 
of the comb and fingers that had begun to card through his hair. "Mmm, 's good too."

"I'll bet -- Elbereth, Elrond, when was the last time you brushed your hair?" asked 
Glorfindel, slightly incredulous. The long locks were completely knotted and tangled, 
practically one big mat; considering the amount of time that Elrond had spent outside, 
Glorfindel would not have been surprised if he had found the odd animal in there.

Elrond shrugged. "I don't know..." he said, voice suddenly small.

"Come on," responded Glorfindel with a smirk, "Not to worry." He was determined not to 
let his friend's spirits sink too low. "I'm sure the bird was grateful."

Elrond slowly turned his head to one side so he could see the Elda over his shoulder, one 
eyebrow arched indignantly. "What are you implying?"

Glorfindel wiped his face blank, thinking that, despite the half-Elf's good humour, 
perhaps it was a little too soon for such bantering. "Nothing, nothing, my lord," came the 
sombre reply. 

"Good." Elrond nodded curtly and turned back to face the fire. "Just make sure you keep 
an eye out for her eggs, won't you?"

Glorfindel snickered; evidently it wasn't too soon! Elrond turned his head again, this time 
wearing a dry smile. The Elda paused for a moment to observe his friend, golden head 
cocked and a thoughtful expression in his eyes. The hints of laughter upon Elrond's 
features came as a relief to him after the half-Elf's previous behaviour, but even so the 
sudden turn-around in his attitude was quite astounding. Just twelve hours previously 
Elrond had flat-out refused to talk to him, with minimal response and bodily contact. It 
was staggering to think that such a change had been more or less wrought by a single 
comment: that Elrohir just wanted his Ada back. It was that to which Elrond had finally 
submitted - although at least his shouting match with Glorfindel earlier had shown some 
form of reaction to the Elda. 

It was now clear that Elrond was definitely making an effort, and not just for his sons, 
either. Simply allowing Glorfindel to help him bathe and brush his hair now seemed like 
a major milestone, given that physical contact and concern from the Elda had been what 
Elrond had mainly shied away from. Glorfindel did not know why, exactly; if Elrond now 
gained his strength from the blond, it seemed that it would be most sensible to allow such 
physical proximity. But then again, Elrond had seemed determined that death was the 
best way, so perhaps that was not really so surprising. Glorfindel suspected that perhaps it 
had something to do with the fact that Elrond felt disloyal to Celebrìan by accepting the 
touch of another, and although pleased by this change in disposition he was also a little 
mystified.

A slight frown crossed Elrond's face now, presumably because of the distant expression 
on Glorfindel's own. Glorfindel made a mental note to have a serious discussion with the 
half-Elf at a later date, shook himself from his musings and gave another smile. Then he 
motioned with the comb for Elrond to turn back so he could continue. 

"Were I a wizard, I should pull an egg out of your ear and then see if you were smiling!" 
he chided lightly, recommencing combing. 

"Were you a wizard, you should smell of pipeweed and have hair as unkempt as mine 
with a beard to match," retorted Elrond glibly.

"Oh, very witty you are too, my lord!" Glorfindel remarked, sarcasm-laced and with a 
raised eyebrow. Elrond winced as the Elda unintentionally caught a snag rather too hard. 
"Sorry. I shall be certain to tell Mithrandir next time he visits."

"And then crack a rib laughing when he really does pull an egg from my ear, you mean?"

"Nay, rather forces it in one and out the other with his staff!"

"No, no, Mithrandir is far too..." Elrond broke off to yawn deeply. "Mm. Far too dignified 
to dirty his staff in such a manner."

"Just as well, I suppose," said Glorfindel as he ran his fingers through the now tangle free 
sections of hair he had been working on. "We cannot having him scrambling your brains 
like that; you are far too valuable."

"Or the egg, for that matter." The half-Elf was practically purring as slim fingers ran over 
his scalp. "I would much prefer to eat it for breakfast."

Glorfindel ruffled his hair affectionately. "Well," he said regally, taking on the air of one 
of the kitchen staff. "Should I manage to actually pull an egg from your ear, I shall see 
what I can do about scrambling it for you in the morning."

Allowing his head to fall over the low back of the chair, Elrond eyed Glorfindel upside-
down in what could almost be called an affectionate manner. "Mind the wax," he offered 
sagely. The blond grinned at him and chucked him lightly under the chin, before giving 
his head a gentle push upright again so he could finish his task.

***

It was about three o'clock in the morning when Elrond awoke, though for several 
moments he could not fathom why. Glorfindel was beside him in the bed, and it took a 
while for Elrond to realise that the blond was stirring restlessly beneath the covers. 
Rolling onto one side, the half-Elf watched with a furrowed brow as Glorfindel shifted 
again and again, the occasional soft sound escaping his lips. He watched as the 
movements became more agitated, more violent, until a foot would intermittently brush 
past his leg, or a hand his arm; he watched as the muscled chest began to rise and fall 
increasingly fast. It was only when a long, strangled moan escaped Glorfindel's lips, 
however, that Elrond elbowed himself upright, recognising the signs and realising that the 
blond needed to be woken.

Reaching out his left hand, the half-Elf laid it gently on Glorfindel's shoulder, knowing 
that the touch would be enough. Almost instantly the blond's eyes widened from their 
vacant state of reverie and his mouth snapped shut as he suddenly stilled on the bed; for a 
moment, everything seemed frozen. Elrond tightened his hand on the motionless 
shoulder.

"Shh, it was a nightmare," he said softly, well familiar with how the blond would be 
feeling. "One of the old ones - it's all right. Remember to relax and it will pass."

Another infinite moment dragged out before Glorfindel gasped and drew a deep, 
shuddering breath - he had even stopped breathing in the terrible moments after he had 
awoken. Panting hard, sapphire eyes still wide and frightened, he slowly raised one 
shaking hand to cover Elrond's on his shoulder, whilst the other knotted tightly in the bed 
sheets. Elrond winced as long fingers clutched ferociously at his wounded palm, but 
pretended to ignore it.

He knew that Glorfindel had had another recollection of Mandos' Halls - more of a 
memory than a nightmare, given that nightmares are fabrications of the imagination and 
nothing more. They had been frequent occurrences in the years after the Elda's first return 
from the Halls; Elrond had spent many a night in Lindon away from Gil-galad's side and 
at Glorfindel's instead, watching over the sleep of the young Elf plagued with the 
recollections of both a life and death of the past. Though the blond had never actively 
talked of his dreams, Elrond had come to understand their nature over the years: of 
darkness, cold and isolation, of everything and emptiness and of brightness and 
blackness, and above all of indescribability. That comprised the very terror of the 
memories - the sheer impossibility of comparison between the fëa, when alone and 
connected with hröa, had such a disembodying effect as to make one feel absolutely 
nothing: to feel dead. The bodilessness, lack of sensation and disconnection from oneself 
lasted for up to several minutes after the dreamer awoke; loneliness and nothingness 
reigned, and Elrond knew that the most important thing was for Glorfindel to have 
someone beside him. 

Although the blond's breathing slowly calmed as sensation returned, the painful grip on 
Elrond's hand did not lessen. The blue eyes, which had been closed as Glorfindel visibly 
willed himself to relax, now slid open and fell upon Elrond, who was leaning over him 
slightly.

"You're here." The shaky words left bloodless lips on a bare breath. "You're here... I 
thought..." 

Elrond forced a tight smile, knowing exactly what Glorfindel had thought. "Yes, I'm 
here."

Glorfindel released a tormented sigh and sank back bonelessly into the bed. Elrond 
squeezed his hand tighter, despite the fact that the vice-like grip was sure to have made 
the wound bleed again. He knew that he should offer some other form of physical contact 
to comfort the blond, well aware that the last sensations of the memory would still linger. 
And yet he could not bring himself to do anything more than shift a little closer to the 
trembling body. Proximity was the best he could do.

For some reason physical closeness was something from which Elrond still recoiled, 
although he had no way of explaining the reason behind it. There was just something 
about the thought of being touched by someone, helped, soothed and strengthened by 
someone, that felt //wrong//. The touch was something that he wished he did not need, 
that he did not want and had tried his utmost to escape from - perhaps that was the reason 
why it made him flinch. He was, however, doing his best to overcome it now, for the 
sakes of those who cared about him; allowing Glorfindel to help him bathe and brush his 
hair had taken a good deal of self-persuasion, and it had felt good in the end. 

Embraces, though, were still a step too far, no matter who initiated them. The knowledge 
that he could still not bear to take Glorfindel into his arms, after all his friend had done 
for him, only served to add to the immense feelings of guilt that were already crushing in 
intensity. He bit on the inside of his cheek in self-reproach. From the way that 
Glorfindel's arms and legs had been thrashing around and the desperate expression that 
had marred the beautiful features before he had awoken, Elrond knew all too well what 
the Elda had been dreaming of: he had been searching for Elrond in the Halls of Waiting. 
The half-Elf suppressed a shudder at his own memory - whilst he hoped that his brief stay 
would allow him to escape such nightmares, he understood that it was something all too 
easily resurrected in Glorfindel's case. The fact that he had been the cause of the blond's 
relived horror sickened him with self-disgust. After all the distress that Glorfindel had 
endured on his behalf, Elrond was //still// causing him to suffer!

Of course, Elrond well recognised the irony in the situation, too - despite the fact that he 
had caused the nightmare, he was the one from whom Glorfindel was taking his comfort. 
The familiarity of his presence was clearly having a calming effect on the Elda, whose 
grip on his hand had now lessened somewhat. Glorfindel took another deep breath, then 
finally seemed to force himself out of the hazy wake of the nightmare.

"Sorry for waking you," he said quietly. His voice was still unsteady although he was 
making an admirable attempt to disguise it. "I thought I'd got over these."

"Don't worry about it. It wasn't your fault," Elrond assured him with another strained 
smile, more grimace-like than anything else. His stomach twisted again, seeing how, for 
his sake, Glorfindel was crippling his own overwhelming emotions. "Will you be able to 
get back to sleep?"

Glorfindel exhaled slowly, shakily, before he nodded. Elrond gripped his hand tighter 
again as he settled back down beneath the covers. 

"Just remember I'm here," he said as evenly and soothingly as he could manage. He 
sensed rather than saw Glorfindel's uneven smile in the darkness and for that, if nothing 
else, forced himself to shift even closer to his friend as he fell asleep. He was unaware of 
Glorfindel doing the same, so that by the time morning arrived their bodies were actually 
touching.

Brief Notes:

You probably know that the beings of the Eldar consisted of two parts, fëa and hröa, or 
spirit and body. They were not connected, as such, but without the fëa the hröa could not 
live, and without the hröa the fëa could sense or feel nothing. Mandos' Halls, of course, 
were where houseless fëa dwelt when separated from the hröa until either reincarnation 
or the End of Days.

***************
Chapter Twenty-Eight
***************

Stick With It

Although the two Elven-lords had slept in closer contact than either would have 
consciously initiated, they did not have the chance to register that fact when they awoke. 
Elladan's noisy entry with the tray the next morning jolted them both into awareness. 
Glorfindel groaned and hid his head beneath his pillow, whilst Elrond lifted his head and 
squinted balefully at his son. 

Elladan stopped just inside the doorway, face scrunched up at the realisation of what he 
had done. Elrond rolled his eyes at him, then sank back down onto the bed with a 
theatrical sigh.

"Oh, you didn't wake them, did you?" Elrohir said, stepping up behind Elladan.

"Yes, he did," grunted Elrond gruffly.

Unseen by his father, Elrohir smirked mischievously at Elladan as he nudged his brother 
further inside and closed the door. "I told you to be quiet!"

"I was quiet!" Elladan protested.

"Well in that case they can't have been sleeping that deeply, and it's time they woke up 
anyway," said Elrohir, drawing the drapes and letting a sudden stream of daylight into the 
darkened room. Elrond groaned and covered his eyes with his arm, rolling onto his side 
and away from the window.

Elrohir grinned at Elladan, who was still standing flabbergasted by the door. He took the 
tray from the elder twin and crossed to the desk, where he began to dish up breakfast in a 
business-like manner. Neither Elrond nor Glorfindel moved from their positions, safe 
from the harsh intrusion of daylight behind their respective shields.

Seeing that he was unlikely to get much movement from either Elf, Elrohir picked up one 
plate and walked around the bed. He crouched down so that he was level with his father 
and wafted the plate under his nose, careful to snatch it away so it did not end up on the 
sheets when Elrond whipped his arm away from his eyes and sat up with a huff.

"I know you're hungry," teased Elrohir. Elrond rolled his eyes as he turned towards 
Glorfindel and grabbed the pillow away from his face. Glorfindel whined and screwed his 
eyes shut against the morning sunlight, then doubled up with a melodramatic splutter 
when Elrond smacked him lightly across the stomach with the pillow.

"Stop overreacting," the half-Elf told him severely as he took the plate from his son. "If I 
have to get up then so do you."

Glorfindel glowered at him as he sat up, before taking the plate offered by Elladan. Then 
he looked down at it and snickered quietly; the next look that he gave Elrond was one of 
pure amusement.

"Fetch me my pipeweed, then," he said to Elrond. The Peredhel shot him a knowing 
sideways look and took a bite of his scrambled eggs.

~~~

Glorfindel finished eating first, and Elrond took the few minutes as finished his own 
breakfast to silently study his friend. He may not have been best pleased at the rude 
awakening, but the half-Elf had quickly realised that it was actually the best way for 
Glorfindel to overcome the effects of the nightmare. By giving him something else to 
focus on, the blond would have effectively forgotten any lingering traces of the 
disembodiment and nothingness, and so felt more at ease when he came to recall what 
had happened. This certainly seemed to be the case - truthfully, the half-Elf could detect 
almost no remaining effects from the memories of the previous night. Whilst this pleased 
him enormously, however, he well knew that, for both his sake and the twins', Glorfindel 
could be hiding his feelings.

Evidently sensing Elrond's eyes upon him, Glorfindel looked up. Elrond cocked an 
inquisitive eyebrow at him and inclined his head, to which the blond replied with a 
genuine nod and a gentle smile. Elrond gave a half-smile of his own at the assurance, 
reaching out with his left hand to clasp Glorfindel's where it lay in his lap. 

"So what's happening today, then?" Elrohir's voice from the bottom of the bed made both 
Elven-lords look up almost guiltily, to see the twins wearing small, identical smirks. 
Elrond raised an eyebrow, daring them to comment, as he leaned forwards to hand them 
his plate.

"I would like to get out of bed," he announced, "Properly. I can't bear to sit here all day 
again."

The twins nodded in acceptance of this; it was Glorfindel who protested.

"Are you sure you're ready, meldir?"

Elrond sighed heavily. "Would I have said so if I didn't think I was ready?" he replied, 
hearing the tetchiness in his own voice. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow but said nothing, 
and Elrond looked away. "That was different," he muttered quietly, frowning.

"Maybe," said the blond quietly, willing to let the subject go. It was not worth fighting 
over. "So you want to get out of bed and...?"

Elrond shrugged. "There aren't very many places I can go - someone is bound to see me."

"What's wrong with that?" piped up Elladan from the bottom of the bed. "There aren't 
that many people around."

"If one person saw me then it would not be long before everyone knows what a state I'm 
in." Elrond sounded utterly miserable at his predicament. "Then what would they think? 
That their lord is weak and helpless and incapable of governing them any longer..."

The twins shared a glance of knowing discomfort. "Ada," began Elrohir tactfully. 
"Erestor at least saw how ill you were. I think he would be more pleased-- "

"Erestor doesn't know, does he?" cut in Elrond. He sounded alarmed.

"Unless he has worked it out for himself - which I doubt - then no," Elladan soothed. "We 
saw him yesterday morning and told him that Glorfindel was helping you through it."

"You didn't need to tell him that!" Elrond cried out, throwing his hands up in distress. "I 
don't want him to know! Erestor is not stupid; surely he will figure it out!"
 
"Ada, calm down," said Elladan gently, rising and moving to Elrond's side. He sat on the 
edge of the bed and placed both hands on the half-Elf's upper arms, ensuring that he had 
his father's attention. "We made it as clear as we could that you were simply missing 
Nana, and that the reason you looked so ill was because you hadn't eaten or slept properly 
for weeks. Erestor knows that if anyone was going to get through to you then it was 
Glorfindel - trust me, he accepted what we told him without any questions." The look in 
Elrond's eyes softened as Elladan said this. Elladan smiled at him as he continued. "It's 
not in his nature to dwell on matters like that - aye, he was concerned, but you know he 
wouldn't query what we had told him."

"He did need to be told something, Elrond," added Glorfindel softly from the half-Elf's 
side. "It was me who suggested it. From what I saw he has been running Imladris single-
handedly for several weeks - what was he supposed to think when I arrived back 
unannounced and then the four of us promptly vanished for three days?"

"That we were having a private celebration without inviting him?" offered Elladan, 
completely straight faced. Elrond gave a weak smile and shook his head at his son's 
clownishness, before leaning his brow against Elladan's shoulder. 

Delighted by the sudden display of affection, Elladan beamed widely and stroked the fall 
of dark hair, catching Glorfindel's knowing nod of approval but missing the almost 
envious spark that flashed across Elrohir's face.

"So seriously, Ada, what did you have in mind?" asked Elladan after a moment.

Elrond lifted his head with a patient sigh. "Let's start with the bedroom and the balcony 
and see how it goes. I'm not so sure that I have the energy for much else after arguing 
with you lot." Elladan grinned, and Elrond raised an eyebrow at him dryly as he threw off 
the covers and Glorfindel got up to offer his assistance.

~~~

"Seriously," said Elrond once the bathroom door was firmly closed. "Are you all right?"

Glorfindel stilled from wetting the washcloth in the basin. "I'm fine," he replied, 
regarding the half-Elf intently. There was a pause. "Are you?"

Elrond frowned. "Yes..." came the hesitant answer.

"I don't want you thinking it was your fault." Glorfindel resumed his motions, wringing 
out the cloth and starting to gently wipe Elrond's face clean. Under the pretence of 
keeping the half-Elf's head still, he also cupped one cheek with his free palm; Elrond 
fixed him with an indecipherable expression in his dark eyes, but neither pulled away or 
said anything. "It wasn't your fault," continued the blond, "If nightmares are all I have to 
deal with after this then --"

"Don't you mean 'we'?" interrupted Elrond. He continued quietly at Glorfindel's confused 
expression: "Well, it's just not something you should have to deal with alone..."

The blond smiled at him warmly. "Well then, if nightmares are all //we// have to deal 
with then I should imagine that we've escaped quite lightly - not that I know much about 
the whole procedure."

"I would call escaping with your life escaping lightly," Elrond said sombrely. "Especially 
since you had no idea of what you were doing."

Pausing his ministrations, Glorfindel allowed both of his hands to fall to their sides. "You 
know more about this than what you just read in a book." 

"I am a healer, Glorfindel," answered Elrond, somewhat defensively, and for a moment 
the Elda thought that he was going to avoid the question. "Did you not imagine that I had 
seen at least //one// other case in my entire career?"

"I... my mind must have been focused on more important things," Glorfindel said softly. 
Elrond sighed.

"I know. Sorry. I don't suppose I..." He paused, frowned, then tailed off. "Can we change 
the subject?"

"If you like," Glorfindel answered, picking up his cloth and resuming where he had left 
off. "Your choice." 

~~~

The bedroom was again tidy and the bed made when the two Elven-lords left the 
bathroom, and the twins were standing on the balcony together. Glorfindel left Elrond 
standing near the bed and strode over to the balcony door, which he promptly locked 
despite the twins' protests.

"Just until your father is dressed!" he called, then drawing the drapes on their scowling 
faces and turning back to an amused Elrond.

"That was a little harsh," the half-Elf mock-chided, sitting down on the bed.

"But fair," Glorfindel shot back with feigned severity as he halted in front of the 
wardrobe. "Unless you want them to watch you getting dressed... Leggings or robes?"

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Leggings. And in that case I daresay it's nothing they can't 
handle."

"My sentiments exactly!" said Glorfindel smugly, and then threw a pair of folded 
leggings in Elrond's direction. The half-Elf picked them up from the bed, followed by the 
shirt which then flew after them. He eyed them suspiciously whilst Glorfindel dug for 
something else in a drawer, before arching an unimpressed eyebrow and tossing them 
back at the Elda.

"Some dress sense you have!" he scoffed. Glorfindel turned his head with great 
indignation, peeling the leggings from his shoulder as he did so.

"What is wrong with my dress sense?" he asked haughtily. "Orange and pink look fine 
together!"

Elrond rolled his eyes. "Those leggings used to be brown," he corrected, "Before they 
were washed carelessly and the dye ran into that white shirt. Something of their original 
colours would do nicely, though."

Shaking his head with a smile, the Elda rummaged until he found what was being asked 
for and carried them over to the bed. Though it took longer than it usually would, Elrond 
managed to dress himself without too much trouble, only needing help when it came to 
fastening the buttons of the shirt. Then, thanking Glorfindel with a quick - although 
embarrassed - smile, his eyes alighted on something leaning against the nightstand.

"The boys must have left this," he muttered, more to himself than to Glorfindel as he 
reached over to pick up the walking stick. The Elda watched him intently.

"Will you use it?"

Elrond considered for a moment. "Yes," he said at length, "If it takes some of the 
pressure off you."

"You don't need to worry about that, Elrond, I have told you before..." Glorfindel started, 
though he clamped his mouth closed when the Peredhel regarded him cynically.

"And it will improve my own independence," he said evenly. Glorfindel nodded; that was 
unarguable. "Now go on with you and get washed and changed."

Glorfindel did as he was told; Elrond also got to his feet and, as Glorfindel made his way 
over to the door, hobbled towards the balcony to let his sons in. He could not help but 
laugh at their hangdog expressions as he drew back the drapes and opened the door. 
Neither commented on his use of the stick as they flounced past him and into the warmth 
of the room, and nor was it a topic of conversation as Elladan flung himself haphazardly 
onto the bed, or as Elrond asked Elrohir to change the bandages on the reopened wound 
of his left hand. 

He did not know why, but that made him feel remarkably pleased.

***************
Chapter Twenty-Nine
***************

Thank You and Goodnight

Three days passed in much the same way. Elrond alternated between wandering around 
the room and standing on the balcony for a short time, after which he invariably had to sit 
before the fire in order to regain his strength and reheat his body. The twins, who came 
and went, ensured that he was kept well-supplied with reading matter lest he become 
bored and irritable again, whilst Glorfindel had visited the armoury one morning and was 
now sitting at the desk, examining the stock books.

The two Elven-lords did not speak much when alone together, though it was not out of 
spite or argument; Glorfindel was simply absorbed in his stock-keeping and Elrond in his 
book. Whenever Elrond required aid, though, the blond would always discreetly 
materialise at his side, be it bathing in the morning or ensuring the half-Elf was well 
wrapped up as he stood on the balcony. Glorfindel was careful not to help Elrond when it 
was not strictly necessary, however, and in return he gained a quiet, almost thankful 
acceptance of the aid that he did offer. It seemed that the respect born naturally between 
the lord and seneschal had now transcended to the next level of their changed relationship 
through their blood bond.

When the twins were around, however, it was a different matter. Enlivened by their 
father's gradual return to health and good spirits, the boys were jovial and animated 
almost to the extent of being silly. Elrond had to scold Elladan more than once for 
bouncing on the bed, and their overdramatic bantering and play fighting in the middle of 
the room eventually exhausted Elrond and irritated Glorfindel.

"Please, gwenyn, a little peace would be nice," he sighed. The twins had brought them 
lunch, which had by now been eaten, and were bickering about something insignificant as 
they lay sprawled across the bed. Glorfindel sighed again at the somewhat offended 
expressions on their faces, feeling instantly guilty. They had a right to be cheerful, didn't 
they?

"You will wake your father," he said at length, weakly, and nodded over to the fireplace 
to illustrate his point. Both dark heads also turned, to see that the half-Elf was dozing in 
the wingback chair before the fire. His head lolled against one of the supporting side 
panels, his face lit by the flames in the grate. Glorfindel recalled the time when his friend 
had arrived at his bedroom door holding a candle beneath his chin - shortly after Elrond 
had upset Elrohir in the tower on the day after their return to Imladris - and found he 
could now compare the difference in the half-Elf. The hollows in his cheeks were starting 
to fill out, from the good food he was coaxed into eating by his sons. His skin was less 
pale and most definitely warmer to the touch. Even his hair and his eyes were regaining 
their shine, where before they had been dull and lifeless.

Glorfindel smiled slightly to himself, for so far the half-Elf's moods and tempers had 
improved, too. He found that immensely reassuring, for he had started to wonder if the 
half-Elf was experiencing post-traumatic shock. The initial shock from the situation was 
to be expected - Glorfindel would admit that he had probably suffered from it himself - 
but he had seen post-traumatic shock enough times on the battlefield to recognise its 
possible development. Elrond's total emotional detachment from the situation, as well as 
the lingering pallor and iciness of his skin and sluggish, thready pulse, had been ominous 
signs of the condition. Seeing as he already had one foot in Mandos' Halls and a mind for 
the other to join it, Glorfindel knew that any ensuing depression would have summoned 
all his reserves to keep Elrond alive. Thankfully, though, this time it seemed as though 
the efforts of both himself and the twins, as well as a fair bit of luck, had prevented that. 
Love and reassurance, as he recalled, could often mean the difference between life and 
death.

Almost as if to prove his point, Elrond stirred at that moment and his glassy eyes 
regained awareness. The twins looked somewhat sheepish as Glorfindel gave them a 
knowing glance.

"Stiff neck?" asked the Elda, as Elrond lifted his head from the wing of the chair and 
rolled it from one shoulder to the other. The half-Elf stopped to look at him, shook his 
head and waved away the question.

"No, just stretching." His answer silently accepted, Elrond picked up the book from the 
small table next to him and opened it. He could only have read a few lines, however, 
when he snapped it shut again with a loud thump. Glorfindel looked up from the desk 
again, startled.

"What's wrong?"

Elrond sighed. "I'm bored." He let his head fall back against the chair as he lifted the 
book to replace it on the table, but somehow managed to drop it on the floor. He grunted 
in frustration, but before he was able to bend over and pick it up Elrohir had risen and 
done so for him. The younger Elf settled himself onto the arm of the chair, and Elrond 
looked hopefully up at him. "I couldn't persuade you to fetch some work from my 
office...?"

"No, Ada," said Elrohir with a frown. Elrond looked truly disappointed, which prompted 
the twin to reach out and take his hand.

"You are supposed to be resting," supplied Elladan, who had also joined them before the 
fire. Ever puppy-like, he plonked himself onto the floor at his father's feet and rested his 
head on Elrond's knee so he could gaze pleadingly upwards.

"I need to do something else, though," protested the half-Elf, his free hand straying 
absently to Elladan's hair. "I shall be climbing the walls before long!"

"I am sure Erestor has everything under control, meldir," Glorfindel said, laying down his 
quill and rising. He moved round the desk and perched on the edge nearest Elrond; they 
were only a few feet apart. "He would probably grumble and groan at you for upsetting 
his system!"

Elrond gave a feeble smile but did not laugh. Inclining his head, Glorfindel rose again 
and now moved so he was kneeling by the side of the chair. Elrond slowly turned his 
head so he was looking down at his seneschal as the blond laid one hand on the knee not 
occupied by Elladan's head.

"I realise how difficult this must be for you, Elrond," he said gently. The half-Elf stared 
at him accusatorily, but he continued, "Really, I do. But if you exhaust yourself by 
working when you are not ready to you will only be in this position for longer than is 
necessary. You know it makes sense," he added as Elrond looked away, and squeezed his 
friend's knee.

For a moment Elrond allowed his head to fall forwards and his shoulders to slump as he 
pressed his eyes closed, then took a deep breath and looked up. "I know it does," he 
muttered tightly. "I just feel so restless."

"Well, why don't you go and have a word with Erestor?" suggested Elladan from the 
floor. Three heads were lifted so they could look down at him. "Just to show your face - 
let him know that you will be taking a few more days off."

"What do you expect me to say to him?" asked Elrond, sounding a little cynical. Elladan 
shrugged.

"Just that you need to get your head around everything that has happened, and would he 
mind keeping everything in order for just another few days? Oh, come on," he continued 
swiftly as Elrond opened his mouth to object, "You know he won't question you, and 
besides, it's a perfectly believable excuse."

Elrond hesitated for a moment. "I suppose..." he said after a few seconds' thought. Elrohir 
smiled.

"He would be glad to see you, I think," he said. "He's been rather worried about you."

"How nice," muttered Elrond with a just hint of sarcasm, as he took a deep breath and 
started to push himself to his feet. "Someone else concerned with my well-being."

Bemused by that comment, Elladan was forced to scuttle backwards to avoid being 
trodden on as his headrest was suddenly removed. He too rose to his feet, whilst 
Glorfindel shot Elrohir a look of alarm. The younger twin gave a grim nod in return.

Elrond, meanwhile, had taken hold of his stick and moved to his wardrobe, where he was 
in the process of garbing himself in a formal outer robe. "Appearances are everything," 
he informed his sons brusquely when he glanced up to see them watching him. They both 
nodded dumbly, though silently noted how their father subtly checked that his bandaged 
hands could be hidden within the billowing sleeves of the robe.

Elrond then moved towards the door, though not without checking his reflection in the 
mirror first. He only looked into it briefly before he turned away, with what Glorfindel 
could have sworn was a curl of his lip. "I'll go alone; I won't be long," he then said curtly, 
before opening the door and stepping into the corridor. Elladan threw Glorfindel a wild 
look, but the Elda shook his head.

"Leave him," he said. "He's got his stick and he's strong enough physically, but if he 
thinks you're always watching him his temper might not hold. He's just frustrated with his 
situation."

"As long as he doesn't bring back any work from his office," muttered Elrohir. Glorfindel 
snorted and moved back to the desk to finish his stock-keeping whilst the twins let 
themselves out onto the balcony again.

***

It was a while before Elrond returned to his chambers. The twins had left shortly before 
to take care of their own business, and Glorfindel was in the bathroom when he heard the 
bedroom door slam shut. He emerged, wiping his hands dry on his leggings, to see Elrond 
standing by the dresser with his back to him, pouring himself a glass of miruvor.

"How did it go?" he asked gently. Elrond spun round as if startled, then scowled horribly 
and took a large mouthful of his drink.

"Fine," he muttered, hobbling the few steps to the window seat. Glorfindel marked the 
way that he leaned heavily on his stick, though before a distance that short would not 
have required he used it, and concluded that the half-Elf must have exhausted himself. 
Indeed, Elrond looked rather haggard as he sat staring out of the window and taking sips 
of his liquor; Glorfindel had feared that this might be the case, and only hoped that his 
friend was not too irritable as a result.

"He didn't ask any awkward questions, then." Elrond shook his head, shivered, and pulled 
his outer robe more firmly around him before taking another mouthful of miruvor. 
Glorfindel's brow creased in concern. "Come and sit over here if you're cold."

He knew instantly that he had touched a nerve, though why he knew not, for the corners 
of Elrond's mouth turned down before he tilted his head back, drained his glass of its 
contents and stood up again. "I am fine where I am, thank you," he answered evenly as he 
shuffled back to the dresser and poured himself his second drink in almost as many 
minutes. 

"I was just concerned - hey, easy with that!" replied the Elda, raising an eyebrow as 
Elrond took another large swig. The half-Elf's jaw tightened: yes, he was definitely 
irritable!

"I have more than enough concern for one lifetime, thank you, Glorfindel," came the cool 
response. "I would just like to forget about everything for a while, if that is //quite// 
alright with you?"

"It's only because we care about you," Glorfindel said softly, rather hurt, and wondered 
what, exactly, had transpired between the half-Elf and his advisor. Elrond took another 
defiant mouthful of liquor. "Drinking yourself into oblivion is not the way..."

"Damnit, Glorfindel, must you monitor //everything// I do?" cried Elrond, interrupting his 
seneschal. "Surely you have better things to do with your time? "

"Don't start this again, Elrond," Glorfindel sighed. "I don't want to argue with you."

"Well stop minding me as if I were a child!" spat the Peredhel contemptuously, now 
having drained his second glass of miruvor. "I cannot even have a //drink// without you 
breathing down my neck!"

"If you are going to drink yourself into stupor, what do you expect?" replied the blond 
evenly, drawing himself up to his full and impressive height. "At the very least I'll have 
to put you to bed when you're finished."

Elrond's features twisted in scorn, the expression shot over his shoulder whilst he now 
refilled his glass for the third time. "That won't be necessary," he drawled. His voice had 
suddenly dropped in volume, though it was now positively dripping with venom. "You 
won't be sleeping in here tonight." Glorfindel looked confused, but Elrond continued 
before he could speak. "I never gave you permission to sleep in my chambers - //in *my* 
bed// - anyway. You can find your own bed from now on."

"Elrond, have you--" began the blond, but Elrond whirled round on his heel, his face as 
dark as the clouds over Orodruin. 

"Get out!" he cried, flinging one hand towards the door. "Get out of my chambers!"

Glorfindel only had to hesitate for a moment before he realised that the other was totally 
serious. "Very well, my lord," he muttered tightly, giving a stiff little bow and snatching 
up his cloak from a chair. "In that case I bid you a good night." 

Elrond managed to spare him a curt nod and watched his seneschal march towards the 
door. It was only when the door had closed and the footsteps receded into silence that he 
pressed his fist to his mouth. He then took one look at the glass in his other hand and 
hurled it at the wall. It shattered, dark liquid splattering over the pale plaster, but Elrond 
paid it no heed as he sank heavily to his knees, tears streaming down his face, unchecked.





***************
Chapter Thirty
***************

Come To Me...

It was around midnight, and although Glorfindel had been in bed for hours 
he just could not fall asleep. Elladan had brought him some dinner earlier 
on, as well as the news that Elrond had locked the door and refused to 
speak to them; Elrohir had been trying his best act of diplomacy from the 
corridor.

Elladan had, naturally, been both worried and upset by this sudden change 
in his father, but although Glorfindel knew that the twin was expecting him 
to provide answers, he was unable to shed much light on the subject. 
Eventually Elladan had realised that the Elda wanted to be alone and had 
left him with just the dinner tray for company, which was still sitting cold 
and untouched on the desk.

Glorfindel heaved a tired sigh and rolled onto his other side, hoping that 
perhaps //this// position might help him to fall asleep. Try as he might, 
however, he could just not seem to empty his mind enough to do so. He 
could think of nothing but what might have caused Elrond to act as he did, 
and was still dwelling on the subject when he heard a soft noise in the 
corridor outside: shuffle-shuffle-click, shuffle-shuffle-click.

Not daring to hope that it was what he thought it was, Glorfindel 
nonetheless rolled back over so that he was facing the door, and waited. 
The sound grew progressively louder until it was right outside his 
bedroom. Then it stopped, and to his astonishment the door handle turned.

The hinges creaked slightly as the door was pushed open and a dark figure 
shuffled and clicked inside the room, closing it behind him. Glorfindel did 
not move, but simply watched and waited as the figure then hobbled 
towards the bed before finally coming to a halt about a foot away from it.

Again, nothing was said; Glorfindel simply tilted his head slightly to meet 
Elrond's eye as the half-Elf stood over him. His shadowed face was 
tumultuous, expression unreadable simply due to the huge quantity of 
emotion playing across it, but in his eyes was nothing but pure, 
unadulterated pleading and misery. The two gazed at each other in the dark 
and the silence for several interminable moments, before at last Glorfindel 
blinked and lifted the covers up with his arm: an invitation.

He would not have been surprised if Elrond had declined, but the half-Elf 
did not even hesitate. He set his stick aside so that it was leaning against 
the nightstand and lowered himself stiffly to sit on the bed, then slowly 
manoeuvred himself so that he was lying next to Glorfindel under the 
covers. The small double bed was rather narrow in comparison to the half-
Elf's large four-poster, which meant that their bodies were almost 
touching.

"I'm sorry," whispered Elrond at length as they lay facing, faces only 
inches apart on the pillow. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Glorfindel was silent, unsure of what to make of the situation - it certainly 
seemed as though Elrond //had// intended to hurt him at the time.

"You don't believe me." Elrond's soft, dejected words broke the silence 
again. "I don't see any reason why you should... but I am. I'm sorry." He 
paused again, and again there was silence. "I should probably go..."

He rolled away and began to get up, but Glorfindel reached out a hand to 
prevent him. "No," he said quietly, "Stay."

The half-Elf's head turned and his dark eyes met Glorfindel's, before he 
slowly settled back down. Glorfindel maintained the eye contact but did 
not speak; this was Elrond's problem to sort out, not his. It was another few 
moments before the half-Elf glanced away and spoke again.

"I shouldn't have said what I did," he began hesitantly, focusing squarely 
on the pillowcase. "I hurt you... I was wrong, I --" He looked up at 
Glorfindel's gentle touch to his chin and swallowed convulsively at the 
realisation that the Elda wanted eye contact as he spoke. "I owe my life to 
you, Glorfindel, and yet I just keep hurting you - you don't deserve this."

"Nor do you," said Glorfindel gently, slipping his hand back to smooth 
Elrond's hair from his pale face. But the half-Elf screwed his eyes closed 
and shook his head.

"I brought this upon myself," he breathed. His voice was shaking violently. 
"Of course I deserve this. But I can't bear knowing..." he took a deep, 
shuddering breath, "Knowing that I dragged you down with me... I tried..." 
Tailing off, Elrond brought one hand up and pressed it against his mouth, 
as a strange, hiccoughing sound escaped his throat.

Glorfindel's heart sank painfully down to his navel at this and at last, 
ignoring his mind's protests, he acted on his instincts and pulled his friend 
into his arms. Half expecting to be turned away, he was shocked when 
Elrond not only accepted the embrace but also cuddled right up against 
him. He wrapped his arms tightly about the shaking form and pressed his 
cheek to the raven crown as Elrond buried his face in Glorfindel's shoulder 
and heaved a long, rough sigh.

"Oh, Elrond, meldir," he whispered into a cold, pointed ear. "You didn't 
drag me down into anything; stop talking as if you had any influence over 
my decisions. I know you did your best," he continued as Elrond opened 
his mouth, "But I was never going to give up on you that easily, and it was 
foolish to even consider it."

"But this is why I didn't want you to do it," Elrond hissed against his 
shoulder. "I have seen it go wrong before, I knew what I would do to you."

"Don't be so silly," Glorfindel chided lightly, now starting to gently rock 
his distraught friend. He could feel again the ebb of strength between their 
beings, which was gradually starting to calm Elrond down. "You haven't 
done anything to me - I am sure I can cope with your occasional temper 
tantrums!"

"But you shouldn't have to." 

Glorfindel sighed. "Stop feeling guilty. You said that you brought this 
upon yourself - well I brought this upon myself, if that is the way you are 
choosing to look at it. I disobeyed your orders and ignored your hints; even 
the best-laid plans go astray. What else could you have done?" Again, 
Elrond opened his mouth, but Glorfindel interrupted: "That was rhetorical. 
I told Mandos that I would have you, and I stick by that."

"Even now you know what it entails?" asked Elrond softly, now lifting his 
head and meeting Glorfindel's eye once more. Glorfindel nodded sincerely.

"Even now I know what it entails," he said. "Listen: how many times have 
you seen this go wrong?"

Elrond looked rather distressed. "Enough," came the quiet reply.

"And how many times have you seen it go right?" Elrond shrugged. 
"More? Or less?"

"About the same... maybe a few more."

"Well, then," Glorfindel smiled and pulled him close again, "This one is 
going to go right. We've come this far, and I am not going to see all my 
hard work go to waste, do you understand?"

Against his chest, Elrond released a half-laugh, half-sob and sniffed 
loudly, pulling away from the Elda so they were again face-to-face. Their 
eyes met once more, Elven eyesight unaffected by the dark, and in that 
moment something unknown passed between them for it was then that 
Elrond leaned slowly forwards and brushed his lips against Glorfindel's.

Glorfindel's breath caught in his throat; for a moment, he forgot to breathe. 
By the time he remembered, though, Elrond had already pulled away, 
regarding him anxiously.

"Sorry, I --" he began, looking away, but Glorfindel placed a finger over 
his lips to silence him and smiled. When he removed it, Elrond also 
offered a hesitant and uneven half-smile, before stretching out his neck and 
meeting the other's mouth again. Glorfindel closed his eyes against the 
petal-soft press and pull of the Peredhel's pliable lips on his; closed them 
against the barrage of thoughts and emotions that battled in his brain, 
because, somehow, he knew that this was right.

The tenderness of the kiss made his stomach somersault, so that he actually 
felt giddy when Elrond broke away for the second time. It was almost 
unreal that this was happening; it was just so unexpected, unpredicted. 
Though little more than a play of lips over lips the Elda found that he was 
short of breath, his heart banging against the confines of his ribs - and 
Elrond, it seemed, was in a similar position.

"I... I don't know what to say," said the blond at last. Elrond raised one 
hand - now unbandaged, Glorfindel noticed - to run his fingers gently over 
the other's slightly parted lips.

"Promise you will never leave me," he said suddenly. Glorfindel blinked in 
surprise.

"I will never leave you, Elrond, as long as you never send me away again." 
Elrond's bony fingers clutched at his back as he said this, but Glorfindel 
only held him tighter: the closest he could manage to a reassurance that the 
half-Elf would never feel alone again.

"I am weak now, Glorfindel, I need you," whispered Elrond brokenly. 
"You are my strength... I would not survive..."

"You will not have to," Glorfindel shushed him. "You are going to survive. 
You are going to live."

"The bond, though... It's still incomplete," Elrond replied, glancing away 
nervously. His voice suddenly became more distant, his eyes slightly 
glazed, as though he were simply calling to mind a medicinal recipe or 
surgical procedure. "I still need to be in close proximity to you, preferably 
with physical contact. The strength given from your fëa to mine can 
therefore feed itself, and..." Then he tailed off, closed his eyes and emitted 
a soft exhale of frustration. His discomfort was clear. "I need you to t-
touch me, Glorfindel."

The soft words floated through the night, barely audible. Glorfindel looked 
down at him, shocked.

"Touch you? Are you sure?"

"Yes, the bond... I will just continue to drain you until --"

"Shh, never mind the bond," cut in Glorfindel gently. "Do you want this?"

Elrond looked into his eyes, and nodded once. His eyes did not leave 
Glorfindel's, showing his sincerity, as the blond stared at him for several 
seconds. Then Glorfindel tilted his head slightly, seeming to accept that 
Elrond was telling the truth.

Elrond held his breath as Glorfindel loosened one arm from around the 
half-Elf and brought his hand up to Elrond's chest. Leaning in close, 
Glorfindel brought their lips together again and began a slow, deeply 
tongued kiss as he hesitantly started to run his hand down Elrond's robe-
covered side. Elrond shifted a little to allow him better access, opening to 
the kiss and at the same time laying one hand comfortably atop the Elda's 
hip.

Emboldened by this, Glorfindel lifted his hand back up to the half-Elf's 
chest, where he undid the top three buttons. Resting his fingers lightly 
upon the small area of flesh revealed, he then drew away from Elrond's 
mouth and began to gently suckle on his jaw instead. Lips trailed delicately 
in an upward curve, dark hair nosed out of the way to reveal a pointed ear, 
at just the same time as Glorfindel slipped his hand fully inside Elrond's 
robe. The half-Elf's breath hitched in his throat when Glorfindel's fingers 
found the disc of a nipple and skated over it, and gradually the blond began 
to explore the body of the one to whom he was bound.

Almost purring under the attention, Elrond arched his back and tilted his 
head to the side. Glorfindel was plucking at and rolling Elrond's nipple 
with his fingers whilst also sucking softly on the sensitive skin below the 
half-Elf's ear, steadily stirring sensations that Elrond had not felt in well 
over a year. He had almost forgotten the pleasant warmth that would 
spread through his being under the right ministrations, or the delicious 
shiver that would raise bumps on his flesh when a particularly sensitive 
spot was touched and teased. Even the lingering cold in his fingers and 
toes was starting to tingle away - Elrond knew that Glorfindel's spirit was 
starting to feed and heat his, now, expelling the remnants of death. He had 
thought that it would be awkward and horribly uncomfortable for them 
both, for never had he dreamt of the blond in such a manner, and he was 
certain the reverse was true, too. However, although slightly hesitant to 
start with, Glorfindel's actions carried a certain confidence that put him at 
ease, a certain fluidity that just made it feel //right//.


Seeing the way that Elrond was softening and accepting his touches 
willingly, Glorfindel grew bolder still, lifting his head and withdrawing his 
hand. He then slipped it between their bodies, found the hem of the 
nightgown the half-Elf was wearing and slid it up a long, thin leg. Elrond 
licked his lips as he felt tapered fingertips flutter over the inside of his 
thigh, then parted them on a silent exhale when they took a gentle hold on 
his lax member and started to caress his length.

Glorfindel continued to gaze at Elrond as he felt the half-Elf slowly swell 
and harden under his touch. There was something very surreal about this - 
never before had he envisioned that he would take such a step with his 
lord, with his best friend, and yet there was a certain sense of realism that 
made it impossible for him to remove his eyes from Elrond's, suspending 
the disbelief. Though he had touched a male in this way before, it had been 
in his past life and he had certainly had more dalliances with his own right 
hand than liaisons with others. Despite the altered angle, however, the 
rhythm came naturally as he tunnelled his fingers and palm around the 
heated flesh and stroked up and down - from the way that Elrond was 
practically purring, he certainly seemed to be doing it right. 

The Peredhel's eyes darkened another shade, the pupils dilating, when 
Glorfindel flicked his thumb over the swollen head, spreading the few 
drops of moisture that had escaped from the slit onto the surrounding skin. 
Still keeping his eyes on Elrond's, Glorfindel maintained his regular 
strokes, occasionally varying the intensity of his grip. Elrond's breath was 
now coming in short pants, the occasional gasp also escaping whenever 
Glorfindel did something particularly pleasurable. Finally, though, 
Glorfindel felt the telltale tensing of muscles as the half-Elf's orgasm 
overtook him. Wide-eyed, Elrond gazed at the blond and opened his 
mouth, though nothing more than a gasp escaped him, as he spilled himself 
into Glorfindel's hand and then allowed his eyes to slide closed.

Glorfindel smiled down at Elrond as the half-Elf lay prostrate on the bed 
and used a corner of the sheet to clean them both off. Relaxed and serene, 
Elrond was motionless save the slowing rise and fall of his chest. He 
appeared content and - dare Glorfindel say it - almost happy. There was a 
new strength from his aura that could only have come from being intimate 
through their bond - although Glorfindel understood little about the 
workings of it, he now realised that this flow of energy was the energy of 
their spirits, now as one divided. 

However, as the Elda pulled his willing partner into his arms again, he 
could not help but feel inexplicably weary. It undoubtedly had something 
to do with what Elrond had said about the bond not yet being complete, but 
as Glorfindel looked down to where the half-Elf's sleepy head was 
pillowed on his chest, he decided that it could wait until morning.

***************
Chapter Thirty-One
***************

Stepping Stones

Glorfindel suspected that it was late when he awoke, although Elrond was 
still asleep. The half-Elf was curled into Glorfindel's side with his dark 
head resting on the other's chest, in much the same position in which he 
had settled the previous night. Even if Glorfindel had wanted to go 
anywhere he could not have, for his arm was caught beneath the supine 
form, his body pinned down at the torso. However, the Elda was perfectly 
content to lie still for the time being, fingers idly combing through the dark 
locks, lost in contemplation.

He supposed that what had happened the previous night had been 
unexpected - well, indeed he had hoped, perhaps even suspected that 
Elrond's temper would abate and that eventually guilt would ensue. It was 
the swiftness and the manner of it that had caught him unawares. Elrond 
certainly appeared all the better for their intimacy judging from his aura 
alone, for there was a fresh strength and life to him and a healthier colour 
to his skin. Glorfindel's heart swelled at seeing this sudden, noticeable 
improvement in his dear friend, though in fact he himself felt quite the 
opposite.

The Elda knew little of the actual binding, but by now was well aware that 
it was the strength of his own spirit that was fuelling Elrond's. The half-
Elf's comment from the previous night now intrigued him - Elrond had 
said that the bond was incomplete and he would just continue to drain 
Glorfindel. And that was exactly how Glorfindel felt: drained. After so 
many hours of solid reverie last night, deep and uninterrupted, he should 
not be feeling as lethargic and weak of spirit as he was currently. It was not 
a dire circumstance for he did not feel truly exhausted or unable to get out 
of bed. There was, however, a heaviness to his limbs and a weariness to his 
soul that had most definitely not been present before.

The only possible explanation Glorfindel could think of was that Elrond's 
new energy had somehow been transferred from his own spirit to the half-
Elf through their bond. He suspected that Elrond had known this would 
happen - there had been hints in his words last night, and he had certainly 
not told Glorfindel all that he knew about their situation. Whether Elrond 
had come to him of his own free will or of necessity Glorfindel knew not; 
but if, as he had suspected, love was what it took, then he was more than 
willing to give all he had.

Glorfindel tightened his hold on the half-Elf as an instinctive reaction to 
his thoughts, which caused Elrond to stir against him. Glorfindel shook 
himself mentally and immediately loosened his grip again, but by this 
point it was clear that Elrond was awakening. Still stroking the dark hair, 
Glorfindel watched as Elrond shifted again, shortly followed by the return 
of awareness to his brown eyes. A myriad of emotions passed discreetly 
across the half-Elf's mobile features in but a fleeting second: Glorfindel 
detected first the serenity and comfort of a gentle awakening, followed by 
mild confusion, then several others he could not discern before they all 
finally morphed into realisation. 

Tilting his head up a little, Elrond gazed muzzily at Glorfindel and blinked. 
The blond gave him a warm smile and stilled his fingers as he softly kissed 
Elrond's temple, just at his hairline. A small sigh escaped the half-Elf, who 
then closed his eyes and let his head sink into Glorfindel's chest with the 
barest hint of a smile touching his lips. For a while, there was peaceful 
silence.

"What time is it?" asked Elrond at length, his words slightly muffled.

"Does it matter?" replied the Elda. "It isn't as though we're obliged to get 
up."

Elrond smiled but didn't open his eyes. "True. We could lie here all day."

"It's not like you to be lazy!" remarked Glorfindel with a raised eyebrow. 

"No... Well, I should find doing nothing incredibly dull," came the almost 
cheerful confession, "But it's nice to know that the option is there."

"There is a certain attraction to it, I must say..." began Glorfindel, but then 
added gently: "I think we do need to talk, though." 

Elrond sighed again. "I know we do," he admitted as he nuzzled into the 
blond's shoulder. A noise of slight exasperation left his throat. "Where do I 
start?"

"Tell me what happened last night," Glorfindel suggested. "With Erestor. 
What can he possibly have said?"

"To work me into such a state, you mean?" snorted Elrond in self-derision. 
"Absolutely nothing of consequence." Glorfindel frowned, but Elrond 
tilted his head up to meet his eye and he said nothing. "He said that he was 
happy to see me looking better... that he had been very worried about me 
before you came back. He told me that everything was under control - that 
he was happy to continue like this until I felt ready to return to my duties."

"So why was that a problem?" asked Glorfindel tactfully as he resumed the 
comforting strokes of Elrond's dark hair.

"Because it made me feel helpless and useless." Even now, humiliation 
touched the dark eyes and Elrond looked away. "I didn't have to explain or 
tell him anything, because he already knew from what the twins had told 
him. I just felt that I was unable to do anything - whilst all anyone will let 
me do at the moment is read and wander about my chambers, he is dealing 
with the affairs of Imladris single-handedly. I just felt surplus to 
requirements; that I was incapable of governing my own kingdom..." He 
trailed off, frowned and bit his lip. His next words were probably intended 
as convincing, but the attempt went somewhat astray, revealing instead the 
underlying self-doubt. "I'm not. I can still do it..."

"I know you can," said Glorfindel quietly, using his free hand to 
simultaneously coax Elrond's face towards him and soothingly stroke a 
hollowed cheek. "You're not useless at all, meldir, and I don't know how 
you could even consider otherwise. Don't forget that Erestor is running the 
city in times of peace and on a skeleton staff. What would he do should a 
delegation from Lothlórien choose to visit, or - Manwë forbid - war break 
out? He would be well out of his depth and you know it, which is why we 
need //you// back. You worked to build this realm, Elrond; you gave her 
everything you had, at a time when her people needed you the most - the 
refugees from Eregion; those fleeing Sauron. You are a part of her, as 
much as she is you. Nobody is trying to take that away from you."

There was silence after he finished speaking, during which Elrond 
regarded Glorfindel as though in deep contemplation. Then, at length, 
Elrond sighed, breaking eye contact with a single nod of his head.

"It will only be until you are well again." Glorfindel again sought to 
reassure his distressed friend, although now he found that he himself was 
also uncertain. "I confess that I know little about this, and only you know 
how long it will take, but it seems that you will eventually regain your 
original levels of strength..."

Elrond's brow furrowed again in misery. "Only given that you are with 
me," he said quietly, closing his eyes as he used the thumb and index 
finger of one hand to tightly pinch the bridge of his nose. "You are living 
for both of us now, Glorfindel - I am not certain that you see this yet. Our 
fëar are tied together; this bond is a permanent thing. Mandos alone can 
break it."

"I am more than prepared to live with that," Glorfindel told him firmly. He 
took the hand of Elrond's that was against the half-Elf's face and grasped it 
in his own, pulled it towards him and turned it palm upwards. It 
encouraged Elrond to open his eyes, so that he saw as well as felt it when 
the Elda gently kissed the undressed flesh. Shocked at the tingling, itching 
sensation that he suddenly felt there, Elrond simply kept his eyes fixed on 
Glorfindel. He could think of nothing to say.

"All that matters is that you are well again," finished the blond, once he 
had blessed the healing wound with his lips. Elrond continued to stare at 
him, though he now slid his hand away from Glorfindel's mouth and laid it 
against his cheek instead. "No matter what or how long that takes."

"You do... you do know that the bond isn't complete yet..." Elrond 
whispered hesitantly.

"You said that last night," Glorfindel confirmed, trying to act as though he 
had not been dwelling on that piece of information since. "What will that 
achieve, then?"

"It will help me help you," began the half-Elf. He paused for a moment, to 
consider, before continuing in a murmur, "It will stop me draining you... I 
will be more able to sustain myself... less dependent on you."

Despite the advantages offered by the completion of the bond - for 
Glorfindel as well as Elrond - the half-Elf still sounded very unsure. 
Knowing that, somewhere, there was a catch, and having a good idea of 
what it was, Glorfindel delicately asked, "So what needs to be done, then?"

Elrond closed his eyes. His next word emerged through tight lips, barely 
audible. "You need to love me."

"I do love you, meldir, and I..." started Glorfindel, but the half-Elf emitted 
a strangled noise of combined distress and exasperation to cut him off. 
Pulling away from Glorfindel's body, he then struggled up into a sitting 
position, where he remained with his head bowed, again pinching the 
bridge of his nose.

"No, I mean you need to //make// love to me," he ground out. Glorfindel 
raised himself up on one elbow so that he could lay his free hand on 
Elrond's forearm.

"If you would let me finish," he said gently, allowing a slight smile to 
touch his words and lessen their severity, "I do love you, and I will love 
you if that is what it takes." Fixing the half-Elf with his bright blue regard, 
he began to lightly run his hand up and down Elrond's forearm until Elrond 
finally opened his eyes.

"You... you would d-do that?" came the shocked response. "Willingly?"

"Aye, of course I would. Willingly." Glorfindel now pushed himself up so 
that he too was sitting upright, next to Elrond. "I suspected it would take as 
much..." he began, though tailed off when he saw that his friend still 
seemed rather desolate. There was a pause whilst he studied the half-Elf, 
who now refused to meet his eye - and then it hit him. "But you are not 
ready yet."

The wavering dark eyes were lifted to Glorfindel's face at this sudden 
realisation, followed by a tiny, timid nod. "I can't do it," he breathed. "Not 
yet. Last night..."

"Last night was a step, Elrond," soothed the blond. He shifted closer to the 
Peredhel again and wrapped an arm around the unsteady shoulders, noting 
how the dark-haired lord leaned his head into the offered crook of a neck. 
"It was a big step for you, I understand, but it doesn't automatically mean 
that you are ready to complete the bond. I realise what a difficult transition 
this is, and I'm going to support you through it. We will take as many steps 
as you need until you //are// ready; 'tis you who will dictate the pace." 

"What about you, though?" Elrond still sounded worried. "I can't just 
continue to drain you..."

"A little fatigue, meldir, nothing more," Glorfindel assured him with a 
smile to help disguise the half-truth. "Trust me - we will do nothing that 
you are not ready for."

This finally seemed to reach Elrond, for he now relaxed fully against 
Glorfindel, reaching for the blond's free hand with one of his own. 
Glorfindel in turn interlaced their fingers together, allowing their joined 
hands to rest on Elrond's thigh whilst he fingered a lock of raven hair with 
his other. And there was silence again.

"What made you come to me last night?" asked Glorfindel eventually. His 
tone was one of pure, innocent curiosity, but the instant that Elrond's body 
filled with tension again he regretted asking what he had considered a 
harmless question. "Sorry, you don't..."

"No, it's all right," cut in Elrond. "Honestly, I don't know... certainly I was 
sorry that I hurt you, and I... just... needed you, I suppose. It was almost 
instinctive."

"I'm glad you did," Glorfindel told him with a warm smile. The thin body 
against his relaxed once more, the tension now ebbing away completely as 
Elrond tilted his head up to look at Glorfindel and smiled back.

"I can't believe this is happening," he sighed, half content, half awed, 
breath hot and damp against Glorfindel's neck.

"It's happening, Elrond," Glorfindel whispered back. He disentangled his 
hand from Elrond's and brought it up to the half-Elf's face, where he began 
to lightly stroke the backs of his fingers across a protruding cheekbone.

Elrond sighed again. "I don't deserve you," came the earnest response, but 
before Glorfindel could protest the Peredhel had lifted his head from the 
other's shoulder and brought their lips into contact.

Glorfindel softened into this kiss far more than he had the previous night. 
More confident now, he made an effort to return it, though not so much as 
to claim dominance and discourage Elrond. Gently, sweetly, he moved his 
lips against Elrond's own; the odd suckle of a lip here, the swipe of a 
tongue there. Elrond responded in kind to this; he practically melted 
against Glorfindel's body and surrendered himself to the kiss. 

Realising that the half-Elf was silently asking to simply be kissed - to 
simply be loved - Glorfindel did just that. The tenderness and compassion 
in the Elda's actions spoke volumes; now, when the time for words was 
past, was the time to finally convince Elrond to accept this.

In the back of his mind, Glorfindel recalled that he had not kissed anyone 
for decades - such carnal matters no longer interested him. This, however, 
was not merely a matter of the flesh but a matter of the soul, made all the 
more obvious by the way he could feel both his and Elrond's spirits singing 
inside them; could feel his soul's energy fuelling Elrond's once more. He 
did love Elrond and he always had, although never had he once imagined 
that they would eventually join in body. His feelings ran deeper than such 
base desires, transcended from the physical to the spiritual. He loved 
Elrond in the manner of two inseparable friends - or, more than that, 
companions.  He loved the selfless attitude and the kind nature; the 
devotion, the determination, and the soul that was gentle yet fierce and 
brave. He loved Elrond as he was and would do anything to serve him, to 
help him, to protect him. 

Glorfindel knew that Celebrìan's love for Elrond differed from that which 
he held for the half-Elf. He also knew, however, that whatever love 
Celebrìan could no longer provide, he would give in lieu of it. 

//And if it becomes necessary to express that love physically...// he thought 
as the kiss eventually broke and, breathless, they gazed at each other, 
//Well, it won't be so hard.//

***************
Chapter Thirty-Two
***************

Happier Times

Elrond had rather grudgingly admitted that he would have the strength to 
visit either the twins' bedrooms or the kitchens, but not both. It was 
Glorfindel who had gone to collect some breakfast-come-lunch, therefore, 
whilst Elrond went in search of his sons. Because it was closer he tried 
Elladan's room first, knowing that the twins would no doubt be together 
after he had upset them last night. Again.

With a deep breath, Elrond swallowed down the feelings of guilt that 
thickened his throat - he truly regretted ignoring his sons until they had left 
him alone - and knocked on the door. The sounds inside announced that 
both boys were indeed inside; there was a small amount of shuffling and 
whispering before one of them bade him enter.

Two pairs of dark eyes identical to his own alighted upon him as he 
opened the door. Not knowing in which direction to look - at Elladan upon 
the bed or Elrohir at the window - Elrond instead shuffled inside the room 
and pushed the door to behind him.

The twins reacted instantly to his presence: Elrohir spun round as though 
to take a step forwards before checking himself, whilst Elladan had sat up 
straighter and seemed ready to leap from the bed. Hope lit their eyes, but 
hesitance stayed their actions. Leaning on his stick, Elrond regarded them 
almost sorrowfully for a moment, before at last tilting his head slightly to 
one side.

"Gwenyn..." he began falteringly; in that instant he felt absolutely tiny as 
he stood before them. "I'm so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

The words had barely left his mouth when Elladan launched himself from 
the bed. Elrohir remained standing, shocked and open-mouthed, at the 
window, whilst his brother caught Elrond up in his arms and crushed the 
thin body to his own. Elrond was practically lifted to his feet by the 
onslaught and dropped his stick, laughing even though the breath had been 
knocked from him. Elladan buried his face in his father's hair, eyes closed, 
clutching tightly at Elrond. Elrond simply smiled gratefully and returned 
the embrace, enjoying the moment.

"Of course we can forgive you, Ada," declared Elladan a few moments 
later. He lifted his head to look into Elrond's face. "You are our father; we 
couldn't not forgive you, could we, Elrohir?"

The last words were said with a backwards glance at the younger twin, still 
standing by the window. Elrohir, however, said nothing.

"Elrohir?"

The younger twin's dark eyes flitted from his brother to his father, and 
back again, before he took a deep breath and started twisting his hands 
together.

"How do I know you won't just push us away again?" he sighed at last, 
definitely unsure what to make of the situation. "Every time I think... I 
think that you're returning to how you were, or accepting Glorfindel, or 
that you're going to stop rejecting us, you... you... It hurts, Ada! I don't 
know that I can take much more of this!"

Elrond felt as though he had been run through and swayed slightly against 
Elladan. "I have no excuse for that, gwenneth," he said softly, simply, 
sadly. His dark, liquid eyes bored into Elrohir as they faced each other 
across the room. "I was wrong. I should never, //ever// have said or done 
what I did. I can only apologise."

There was a pause; no one seemed inclined to speak. Elrond glanced at 
both of his sons before walking up to the bed and sitting down. He hoped 
that his determined expression overshadowed his physical weakness and 
the need to be seated again. Elladan followed him and sat next to him, and 
although Elrohir remained where he was, both his expression and posture 
had softened a little.

"I will never return to the way I was," said Elrond after a moment, the hint 
of a resigned sigh in his voice. "This has changed me for good. I am not 
who I used to be anymore, gwenyn; part of me has been lost. Part has been 
changed. Part has been replaced... but part has been enlightened, and part 
has been saved. I can but promise that I will never hurt you again, that I 
will never reject you. You are the dearest things I have, both of you, and 
Arwen."

The last few words emerging slightly strangled, Elrond again stopped 
speaking and swallowed thickly. Elladan sat down next to him as he 
sniffed quietly and laid an arm around his shoulders, allowing Elrond to 
lean gratefully into the warmth and comfort of his son's body.

Elrond had averted his eyes again, so he did not see Elladan throw a 
pleading glance over his head at Elrohir. In the few seconds that followed, 
Elrohir seemed to deeply consider his choices. Then he wavered until, 
finally, he walked hesitantly up to the bed.

Alerted first by the presence above him, Elrond looked up in near disbelief 
when his younger son also settled next to him on the bed. Elrohir regarded 
him with wide, serious eyes, which Elrond squarely met, until finally the 
younger twin whispered, "I forgive you." 

Elladan released his hold on Elrond, allowing his father to melt into 
Elrohir's embrace. He could feel the relief that spread through his father's 
slender form, the utter joy that his terrible actions had been forsaken. It 
was apparent in every gesture, especially as Elrond laid his head thankfully 
against Elrohir's shoulder.

"Don't you ever do it again," Elrohir then breathed into the pointed ear by 
his cheek. His voice was tremulous with emotion. Elrond shook his head; 
clenched his eyes shut against stinging tears of shame once more. Elrohir 
shushed him and squeezed him tighter, simultaneously reaching for 
Elladan; the elder twin encompassed his father from the other side and 
wound his arms around both him and his sibling. Elrond relaxed upon 
feeling himself surrounded by the comforting, dependable warmth of his 
children, and for a long time they were silent.

"Oh, my dear boys," sighed Elrond at last. "Whatever would I have done 
without you?"

"You have Glorfindel to thank as well," stated Elladan softly, not eager to 
take all the credit.

Elrond gave a wry smile. "I have spoken to Glorfindel." Then he sobered. 
"But you should probably know, though... our relationship has changed 
somewhat..."

"We imagined that it would," Elrohir told him, shifting position so he 
could look into his father's face. "It was implied in that text we read."

Elrond frowned. "You found that?" The twins nodded. Elrond gritted his 
teeth and continued; he was certain that he had got rid of that book. "So 
you know that he will -- he and I..."

"You will have to make love," Elladan said plainly. Elrond's pale cheeks 
coloured a shade.

"I don't want you to think that he is replacing your Nana," came the quiet 
admission. Both twins immediately pressed closer to him.

"We know he is not," said Elladan firmly. "No one could." Elrohir nodded, 
continuing for his brother, "We are just grateful that he has saved your life. 
We are eternally indebted to him."

Elrond relaxed between them with a smile; he should have guessed that 
they would be so accepting. His next words came without real need for 
thought - his sons' company made such things easy. "We have not yet 
completed the bond, though. Last night we talked about this--"

Elrohir squirmed uncomfortably, cutting him off. "Please, Ada," he almost 
whimpered, "We have told you we accept this, but there are some things 
you don't need to know about your parents!"

Grinning faintly, Elrond regarded him with the deepest affection before he 
ruffled the long, raven locks and placed a paternal kiss on his son's brow. 
Then, turning, he did the same to Elladan, before finding himself 
enveloped in long, strong arms once more as all three simply delighted in 
each other's company.

***

"It's snowing."

Glorfindel looked up from his book. "Aye, so it is." Rising from his curled 
position on the bed, he padded over to where Elrond was standing at the 
window. "How unusual."

Elrond said nothing, but merely turned to open the balcony doors. 
Glorfindel did not protest as the half-Elf let himself out into the dark, 
snowy night, but moved back to the bed to slip on his shoes and collect a 
blanket before following his partner.

"It has been many a decade since there was snow in Imladris," said Elrond 
thoughtfully. He was standing beneath the overhang of the roof, which 
partly covered the private terrace. Glorfindel watched as he then stepped 
forwards under the open sky, one hand outstretched, and caught a single 
flake on his finger. Silently, the Elda thought that this winter's harsher 
climate was due to Elrond's reduced strength; Vilya would exert less 
control over the weather if her bearer was less powerful. He did not, 
however, voice his thoughts, and instead stepped up behind the half-Elf. 
He had draped the blanket first over his own shoulders, so that when he 
wrapped his arms around the half-Elf they were both encompassed in it. 
Elrond smiled and leaned back into him.

"I have a distant memory of snow one winter in Sirion," said the half-Elf 
after a moment's silence. "It was a happy time. Adar was home, and 
Naneth was overjoyed that he was back. I don't think that snow could have 
been very common down there, by the sea... they both found it so exciting. 
They took Elros and I out to play in it..." He paused, smiling to himself, 
"And we built a snow-Elf - except there wasn't enough snow and it was 
only three feet high... Adar told us it was a snow-Dwarf."

It pleased Glorfindel to hear the calm tone of Elrond's voice, to feel the 
relaxed body next to his. The memories evoked by the snow obviously 
made him feel at ease, as he recalled what was probably the happiest time 
of his life. There were those three or four years of childhood when 
everything was perfect; before he knew anything of the troubles in the 
world, or before his peaceful life was suddenly, horribly ripped away from 
him. Glorfindel found that he had nothing to say in response to the half-
Elf's words - though, in truth, none were necessary. He merely pressed his 
cheek against Elrond's as the other continued speaking.

"That night, like tonight, the clouds obscured the moon, though the lights 
from the city lit up the snow that still fell. Adar took us down to the rocky 
beach, one of us in each arm, because we could not sleep. He danced 
around in circles and showed us how to catch the snowflakes on our 
tongues..."

Whether to illustrate his point or merely to embellish the memory, Elrond 
tilted his head back against Glorfindel's shoulder and opened his mouth. 
Sticking his tongue out as far as it would go, he closed his eyes, waiting as 
the white flakes rained down upon his face.

Glorfindel laughed softly at this and smoothed Elrond's raven hair, almost 
black in the night, ridding it of the white crystals that had randomly settled 
upon it. "We used to do that as children in Gondolin," he sighed. "There 
was no shortage of snow up in those mountains."

Elrond lifted his head and opened his eyes so he could look into 
Glorfindel's face. His dark eyelashes were fetchingly spotted with crystals 
of snow, and there was a single flake right on the end of his nose.

"Happier times," he said with a sad smile. Glorfindel kissed away that 
flake of snow on his nose before returning the smile.

"Indeed they were," he agreed, a trace of wistfulness in his voice. "But 
there are happier times yet to come."

Elrond gave a small sigh, almost undetectable save for the rise of his chest. 
Glorfindel gave him neither the chance to respond nor dwell on his words. 
Instead he coaxed his partner to turn in the embrace so that they were 
facing.

"To happier times," he whispered, before lowering his head to kiss Elrond. 
The half-Elf was soft and pliant against him, willingly accepting and 
responding to the offered affection. Gently and slowly they kissed, 
blanket-wrapped and snow-rimed in the dark. Long and thoroughly they 
kissed, memory-enfolded and nostalgia-laced, feelings evoked by the soft, 
white powder that fell about them. Tongues danced and spirits blazed, 
defiant of winter's chill, and Elrond's lips, numb from the cold, soon felt 
nothing but the heat of Glorfindel's upon them.

When, finally, they drew apart, Elrond smiled again and laid his head on 
Glorfindel's shoulder. Pressing a kiss into the raven locks, Glorfindel held 
him close and turned so that they could both look out over the snowy, 
night-shrouded vale; the warmth drawn from each other kept the cold at 
bay. And so they stood for a time, remembering and hoping in silence: 
happier times.

To be continued...




***************
Chapter Thirty-Three
***************

Unity

They awoke to yet another winter's morning, the windows shot with frost. It was the third 
since the snow had first started to fall, though this morning, unlike the previous two, was 
bright and sunny rather than dark from the still-shedding snow clouds.

The sun reflecting from the white covering outside filled the room with a pure and 
brilliant light as Glorfindel opened the drapes. The sky was the hazy pale yellow typical 
of early on a clear winter's day, the snow on the ground almost blinding in the light. It 
had snowed intermittently over the past two days, though the fall had not been heavy. 
Glorfindel knew that, by the end of the day, it would have melted in the sun and there 
would be next to nothing left.

Turning away from the window, the blond made his way back to the bed where Elrond 
was still reclining beneath the covers, blinking sleepily in the bright light.

"'Tis a lovely morning," Glorfindel remarked, joining his partner in the bed again. 

"Mmph," came the unimpressed reply. Glorfindel chuckled quietly, welcoming Elrond 
into his arms as the half-Elf shifted towards him. However, no sooner had the slender 
body moulded to his than Elrond emitted a soft hiss and shrank away.

"You have cold feet!" he accused with narrowed eyes. Glorfindel somehow managed a 
sheepish smirk before pulling the protesting Peredhel back against him.

"I can hardly help that, meldir," he replied. "The flags are cold. Besides," he added with a 
grin, "It woke you up, didn't it?"

"What makes you think I wanted to be woken up?" whined Elrond, burying his face in 
Glorfindel's neck. The Elda smirked again, remembering the occasion with the scrambled 
eggs.

"Consider it payback."

Giving a sigh that tickled the skin of Glorfindel's neck, Elrond lifted his head again with 
an amused roll of his eyes. "You would remember that," he grouched half-heartedly. Still 
smirking, Glorfindel kissed his lips.

Elrond did not offer any further protest, but instead parted his lips and invited Glorfindel 
to deepen the kiss. This the blond did gladly, by taking Elrond's face between his hands, 
parting his own lips and using his tongue to begin a thorough caress of Elrond's mouth. 
Round and up and down it swept, inside lips and past teeth and over tongue. He kissed 
long, deep, sweet and slow; he kissed to steal the breath from Elrond's lungs, and only 
paused when he had done just that.

Breathing heavily, Elrond looked up at Glorfindel with darkened eyes and shifted against 
him, inadvertently bringing his forming erection into contact with the blond's thigh. This 
time it was he who kissed Glorfindel, drinking deeply from the other's mouth and 
pressing their bodies together. A sigh left Glorfindel's throat, and he released Elrond's 
face with one hand to trail his fingers down the half-Elf's side, resting a hand on a hip. He 
felt Elrond's body react against him; Elrond in turn placed one hand on Glorfindel's hip to 
pull their bodies closer, whilst at the same time laying his other palm on the blond's chest.

Heat began to grow in both their beings as long, passionate kisses and full-body embraces 
were exchanged. Hands gradually started to roam, fired by the way their bodies 
responded to one another; palms traced plains of flesh and fingers mapped contours, 
though all was still barred by the fabric of their robes. It was when they finally drew apart 
for the second time, gasping for breath, bodies thrumming and souls crying for more, that 
the need for bare skin was acknowledged.

There was now a pause; everything stilled save the heaving of their lungs and the 
pounding of their hearts. Eyes locked together: pupils dilated and irises darkened with 
lust. Elrond licked his lips, staring intently at Glorfindel as he removed one hand from the 
blond's chest and slipped it below the bedclothes to find the hem of Glorfindel's sleeping 
robe.

Glorfindel's breath hitched in his throat as he felt warm fingers brush past his thigh on 
their ascent, a soft gasp leaving his lips a moment later when Elrond's fingers reached 
their destination. "Elrond..." he began, struggling to ignore his rapidly beating heart and 
the delicious warmth spreading through his body. "What... what do--"

"I want you, Glorfindel," Elrond cut in, pressing even closer as he started a lazy rhythm 
on the blond's erection. Another gasp escaped Glorfindel's throat, but this time it was 
stifled by Elrond's mouth as he crushed their lips together. 

It was a forcible effort for Glorfindel to drag his mouth away from Elrond's, but 
somehow he managed it. "Are you sure?" he questioned shakily, well aware of the lusty 
tremor in his voice. "Are you ready?"

Elrond smiled as he kissed him again. "I'm ready," he whispered back. "Now..."

Glorfindel returned the smile and the kiss, certain from every action that the half-Elf was 
sincere. The strokes of Elrond's hand were delicious, though nowhere near fast enough to 
cause climax at any point soon. Nonetheless it was rather difficult to concentrate as he 
tried to unfasten the small buttons of Elrond's sleeping robe; he found that he fumbled 
several times and ripped a few off in the process.

Elrond did not seem to mind this in the slightest - in fact, from the glint in his eye, 
Glorfindel assumed that he found it rather amusing when a particular twist of the half-
Elf's wrist would make the Elda's hands jerk and send a few more buttons flying. He 
finally sobered, however, when Glorfindel had managed to unfasten them all, and 
stopped the motions of his hand and withdrew it.

Glorfindel could have sworn that Elrond held his breath as he finally drew the sleeping 
robe over the half-Elf's head. Elrond was still again, simply staring at Glorfindel - for 
some reason the sudden tension in the air had become all too apparent. Eager to gentle 
the unease radiating from his partner, Glorfindel swiftly disposed of his own robe so that 
they were both now naked under each other's eyes. A pink tongue darted out to wet 
Elrond's lips as his dark eyes now danced in all directions, his lean frame stiff with 
apprehension. Glorfindel inclined his head in concern, shifting closer on the mattress to 
gently cup Elrond's face in his hands.

"Shh, we don't have to do this now," he soothed. "We can wait." 

Elrond drew a deep, shuddering breath and reached for the blond. "Just kiss me," he 
rasped. Glorfindel complied, though this time the fervour of the previous kisses had 
vanished. This one was instead slow and tender for all its passion, sweet and smooth, 
though no less loving. The tension gradually dissipated from the body next to his, so that 
by the time Glorfindel had finished, Elrond hoarsely whispered:

"Don't stop..."

With one, last, not-quite-chaste touch of their lips, Glorfindel gently rolled the half-Elf 
onto his back. His lips found new territory in Elrond's neck, long and pale and with a 
racing pulse. He suckled on it, kissed and licked, trailing downwards towards the plains 
of the half-Elf's chest. Here he also worshipped, lapping at nipples and nipping at 
collarbones. When he slid to straddle Elrond's hips neither knew, but he paid oral homage 
to the trembling body spread before him, hands stroking down Elrond's sides, until the 
Peredhel was writhing with need, clasping at handfuls of golden hair and his trepidation 
forgotten.

Eventually Glorfindel moved lower still, out of the reach of Elrond's hands. Placing a wet 
raspberry in the half-Elf's navel, which made the other grunt and squirm away, he 
repositioned himself to straddle Elrond's lower legs. Elrond had no time for thought, 
coherent or otherwise, before the blond head dipped to his erection, curving proudly into 
the air. 

A strangled mewl of surprise left Elrond's lips as the hot wetness surrounded the head of 
his desire. His hips bucked upwards instinctively, unrestrained as they were, and 
somewhere in the back of his lust-befuddle brain he registered that the tip of his erection 
hit the back of Glorfindel's throat in the process. Glorfindel coughed harshly and then 
pulled away.

Elrond raised his head in time to see the blond covering his mouth, his shoulders heaving.

"Elbereth... I'm sorry," he gasped in concern, elbowing himself up. "Have you ever..." 
Glorfindel swallowed convulsively and waved him quiet.

"Yes - I'm fine," he insisted, now seeming to have his gag reflex under control. "It's just 
been a while."

Despite this insistence, though, Elrond still looked ashamed and unsure. Glorfindel kissed 
him again to prove his point, and once he had settled a calmer half-Elf back onto the 
mattress he moved back down for another try. Again, he took the head of the half-Elf's 
erection into his mouth, though this time he was careful to keep his hands on Elrond's 
hips. Elrond also seemed to be making an extreme effort to keep them still of his own 
accord, and Glorfindel's initial hesitance soon passed. He had not lied when he said it had 
been a while since he had done this, but judging from Elrond's sighs and soft moans he 
did not seem to be doing too badly. He called on the distant memories of a previous life 
and knowledge of his personal preference to give the half-Elf as much pleasure as he 
could. 

He soon remembered that hollowing his cheeks to increase suction caused Elrond to arch 
his back off the sheets, as did lightly running his teeth over the sensitised skin, and that 
flicking his tongue over the slit caused incoherent cries of bliss to tumble from kiss-
bruised lips. He noticed that hands twisted in the sheets no matter what he did, and that 
when he finally released the throbbing flesh from his mouth, Elrond actually //growled//. 
Glorfindel smiled to himself as he traced a final lick along the pulsing vein and dropped a 
delicate kiss to the very tip. Lips damp with pre-coital fluid, he then stole back up 
Elrond's body to kiss him once more.

The half-Elf was clearly close to climax. His kiss was hungry and needy, now, his skin 
damp with sweat. His breathing was hard and fast, and his voice was thick and low, his 
body straining under Glorfindel's for whatever contact he could take.

Glorfindel himself was not far behind. Abandoning the kiss and ignoring the groans of 
protest, he glanced around for some sort of lubrication. The rose-scented oil that Elrond 
used in his hair lay on the nightstand and he snatched it up, then sitting back on his heels. 

"Are you sure?" he asked. His voice was utterly serious.

Elrond rolled his head upon the pillow to regard the blond intently, took a deep breath, 
and nodded. "I'm sure," came the nervous, whispered response.

Glorfindel smiled at him reassuringly and uncorked the vial, though paused just before he 
went to oil his fingers. He took in the sight of the Peredhel lying beneath him and found 
himself considering the best way to do this; even though Elrond had improved over the 
past few days, he was still far too thin and looked rather fragile. He was nowhere near as 
able as he had been, either, his muscles being weak and his joints stiff. There was no way 
that his body would stand up to being taken on his back.

"Roll onto your side," he whispered, then adding, "It will be easier for you," at the half-
Elf's quizzical look. He shifted behind Elrond and coated his fingers with oil, setting the 
bottle safely against the headboard for later use.

Elrond tensed when Glorfindel lowered his hand to his opening; he could not help it. He 
had been so certain that he was ready for it, but this was still a very new experience for 
him and he could not help being nervous. This may not have been his first time, but his 
last time was many centuries ago and completing this bond was a permanent, life-altering 
decision. Well, it was not as though the blood bond could be broken in any way other 
than death, but the consummation of it seemed so final nonetheless...

Suddenly, though, Glorfindel's lips were on his neck, in that very spot below his ear that 
made him tingle with pleasure all over.
 
"Just relax, Elrond," came the deep, whispered words in his ear. "I would never do this if 
you didn't want it - 'tis still not too late to stop."

Elrond drew a deep, calming breath; no, he was ready for this. He was just nervous, and 
that was no reason to make Glorfindel suffer through this incomplete bond any more than 
was necessary. So he tilted his head into Glorfindel's kisses, pressed back against the 
Elda and whispered, "Go on."

He felt those beautiful lips curve up into a smile, at the same time as pressure was placed 
at the opening to his body. At first the tight ring of muscle refused to give way, but after a 
moment yielded to the oiled digit that slipped inside him.

Again, Elrond felt his body tense. He bit his tongue, for the intrusion burned. Soft, 
nonsensical words floated towards his ears and an arm snaked around his waist, holding 
him close to the strong, hot chest behind him. There was a pause, allowing him to adjust 
to this breaching of his body, and in which he forced himself to take deep breaths and 
willed his muscles to relax. Finally, his body became more accustomed to the foreign 
sensation, and at which point he wiggled his hips, pressing back for more.

The second finger entered more easily, with less discomfort, and this time after a slight 
pause Glorfindel began to move them inside Elrond. The half-Elf could feel himself 
opening to the gentle scissoring and probing, could feel himself becoming used to the 
sensation of being filled again. He could also tell that the blond was searching for 
something, and Elrond knew what that something was. 

Then, Glorfindel found it. A wave of pleasure washed through Elrond's lower body as a 
finger brushed that sweet spot inside him, causing a moan to fall from his lips. Glorfindel, 
evidently pleased with himself, did it again, stroking that centre of pleasure within the 
half-Elf until Elrond was shamelessly rocking back and forth on Glorfindel's fingers, 
gasping and moaning softly. So caught up was he in these blissful sensations that he 
failed to notice when the Elda slipped a third finger inside him, stretching him even 
further. 

Glorfindel smirked to himself upon seeing Elrond's reaction to his ministrations; they 
were making him impossibly aroused himself, for Elrond would inadvertently catch 
Glorfindel's own erection as he rocked back and forth. The blond knew that climax was 
not far off for him, either. At last, he could take it no more and withdrew his fingers, 
shushing Elrond's groans of protest by sucking wantonly on the point of an ear. He 
reached for the bottle of oil and awkwardly coated his erection, one-handed since his 
other arm was still wrapped around Elrond. The bottle fell over with a soft clink as he set 
it aside, but he ignored it and instead took himself in hand. Then he paused.

"Don't you dare ask me again," growled Elrond, anticipating what the blond was about to 
say. He knew that he might yet back out given the chance - the fact that he was so tightly 
wound meant nothing, for he could easily finish himself with one hand if necessary. This 
had to be done - he really was ready for it, no matter how nervous he might be, and it was 
only fair to Glorfindel...

Suddenly, the half-Elf felt slick, blunt heat at his prepared opening. He knew he shouldn't 
have, but he held his breath, causing his muscles to tense yet again. As before, soft words 
floated to his ears telling him to relax, followed by nibbles to his earlobe and a slender 
hand that stroked down his belly. Taking a deep breath, Elrond exhaled on an involuntary 
gasp as long fingers curled round his aching erection, causing his muscles to loosen.

It was at this point that Glorfindel took his opportunity, for, smoothly and gently, he slid 
inside Elrond's body in one long stroke. Twinned cries filled the room, though neither 
one was pained; in the instant that the pair had joined in this most intimate of ways, a 
most incredible energy had suddenly filled both their beings. Their bodies vibrated with 
it, the sound of their blood pounded in their ears, as in the coupling of the flesh the two 
fëar also united.

 The sensation only increased as Glorfindel began to move, both thrusting into Elrond 
and stroking the half-Elf's arousal. The Elda had never felt anything so incredible; he 
would never have imagined this to happen: this spiritual energy completely surrounded 
him, filled him, //became// him. It was heat and light and life all at once, the final finish 
to this reworking of his fëa. He had to close his eyes as he drove into the body before 
him, the partner of his spirit and the one to whom he was bound; the light was so bright 
he could barely see, though behind closed lids it flared just as brightly. The intensity of 
the energy increased with every thrust, with every stroke to Elrond's erection and with 
every backwards motion that the half-Elf made. It crescendoed with them, drawing ever 
closer to completion, ever closer to the final joining and the most exquisite of pleasures.

Climax was close, Elrond could feel it. He too was filled with something he had never 
experienced before in all his thousands of years, the energy of life and its formation. This 
was the final union of their spirits, the final bonding. The heat and energy that both 
Elven-lords could feel was a result of it. Their fëar had joined and split again during the 
battle for life and exchanging of blood - some things, however, had been left undone. 
Their coupling was now in the process of finalising this, of releasing the spiritual energy 
so that each might sustain himself more readily. This vigour escalated with them as they 
moved together, an ancient, rhythmical dance combined with the sweet, ecstatic music of 
their moans. It teetered with them over the edge - so desperate they were to fall, having 
come so far, and yet so desperate to remain behind in the throes of rapture forever. And 
then, as they fell at last, bodies stiffening and essence released and cries echoing around 
them, their spirits flared the brightest: shots of white light and prickles of stars and sheer, 
burning darkness all at once. Then, the unification complete with the coupling, the flames 
flickered, and began to cool.

***

Glorfindel was first to awake. The sweat was dry on his skin despite the coolness of the 
air in the room; he must have been asleep for quite some time. A shiver lifted his skin 
into goosebumps, making him realise that both he and Elrond were still lying uncovered 
in the positions they had collapsed in following their coupling.

He moved to pull the covers up around them both, though winced when he realised that 
he was still inside Elrond. The half-Elf stirred at this, so Glorfindel quickly and gently 
pulled out before drawing the covers up and burying beneath them.

It was another few moments before Elrond stirred again. Glorfindel tightened his arms 
around the slender figure when he finally awoke, then turned in the embrace to face the 
blond. A sleepy, sated smile graced his features, still alight with the bliss of their joining - 
Elrond, Glorfindel noticed, was practically glowing.

"That was amazing," murmured the half-Elf, cuddling up closer to his saviour. Glorfindel 
grinned and kissed his brow.

"I've never felt anything like it. I feel fantastic."

"Mmm... Me too," came the happy admission. Glorfindel grinned again, and then gasped, 
jerking away slightly.

"Ai! Now why are //your// feet cold?"

Elrond raised his head, wearing a small smirk. "I fell asleep with them outside the 
covers," he confessed.

Glorfindel pouted. "That is unfair!"

"All's fair in love and war, nîn bellas," quipped Elrond.

Glorfindel arched an eyebrow. "Oh, so this means war, then?" he retorted, grabbing one 
of the small cushions on the bed and lightly smacking Elrond over the head with it.

Elrond fended off the blow and snatched the cushion from the Elda. "Not necessarily..." 
he muttered mysteriously as he tossed it onto the floor, before tilting his head up for a 
loving, deeply tongued kiss. It was a long time before they finally arose, by which time 
almost all of the snow had melted.

Elvish Translations:

Nîn bellas - my strength



A/N: A quick reminder - I know that according to canon Arwen was over 2000 when Celebrian left for 
Valinor, but for various reasons she is only an Elfling in this story.

***************
Chapter Thirty-Four
***************

Full Circle

Spring sunlight brightened the city and warmed the air, whilst all around the valley 
bloomed. It was late afternoon, verging on evening; work was finished for the day, and 
the inhabitants of Imladris were left to enjoy the weather at their leisure.

In the gardens surrounding the house, two figures lounged amidst the grasses, watching 
three others playing a short distance away.

"Ada, Ada, look!" The cries of a small, delighted child filled the garden and Elrond 
laughed, seeing that his daughter and her brothers had finally managed to launch the 
Elfling's new kite.

"Be careful, Arwen," he called back. "I should hate for that thing to fly away with you!"

"I would never let that happen!" declared Elladan indignantly as he swooped down on his 
sister and scooped her into his arms. She squealed in glee as he began to spin her round, 
skirts billowing, though in her excitement she dropped the kite string. Elladan failed to 
notice, but Elrohir, who had been running with the kite to launch it, sprinted over to 
where the spool was bouncing across the grass and dived for it before it was lost.

"Elladan, it has taken me twenty minutes to get this airborne!" he grumbled as he picked 
himself up from the ground. He watched unhappily as the red kite finished its nosedive 
by crashing into the lawn. "I think it is your turn to run with it!"

"Oh, I don't mind!" exclaimed the elder twin. "Here then, catch!"

Elrond hid his face in his hands with a muffled cry of horror, as Elladan then proceeded 
to gently toss his sister into the arms of Elrohir a few feet away. The other twin caught 
her with ease as he simultaneously threw the spool of string to Elladan, and set her lightly 
on the ground as Elladan ran off to re-launch the kite.

"You didn't honestly think they would drop her, did you?" Elrond twisted to look at 
Glorfindel, who was sprawled on his stomach on the other side of the picnic blanket. The 
remains of everyone's lunch were spread across it, the wicker food basket empty save for 
the open bottle of wine which it supported. The blond was watching his partner with an 
amused glint in his sapphire eyes, exuding calm as he basked in the afternoon sun.

"I am her father. I am allowed to worry," retorted Elrond.

"You worry too much, Elrond," Glorfindel teased him lightly. The half-Elf narrowed his 
eyes in jest and for a moment they simply looked at each other. Eventually, though, 
Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow, and Elrond had to laugh and look away, shaking his head. 
Glorfindel grinned in return and lifted his head from his folded forearms so he could 
reach for the wine bottle.

"More wine?" he asked the half-Elf, holding the bottle out. Elrond nodded, got to his feet 
and moved round with his glass so that he was sitting next to the blond.

"I think she likes her gift," said Elrond after a moment, taking a sip from his refilled 
glass. His eyes were once again focused on his daughter and sons. "It was very good of 
you to make it for her."

Glorfindel shrugged, also watching the trio on the lawn. "I thought she might appreciate 
it," he deferred modestly. Another smiled crept across his lips as, much to Elrohir's 
annoyance, the kite crashed to the ground yet again. "I am not so sure there is enough 
wind to make the most of it, though."

"There is more than enough wind, thank you very much!" Elrond shot back. "She weighs 
almost nothing - anything more than this breeze and it might well fly away with her!"

Glorfindel laughed warmly and placed a hand on his partner's knee. "I had that in mind 
when I made it, meldir - the string would sooner snap than carry even her slight weight."

Elrond issued a noise of scepticism, but said nothing. Glorfindel rolled his eyes at the 
half-Elf's fussing and returned to watching the antics of the younger Peredhil.

With a soft, thoughtful sigh, Elrond shifted his position slightly and set his glass on the 
blanket. His hands strayed to the grass about him and found a daisy, which he picked. 
The lawn was liberally scattered with the white flowers, and as he began to lose himself 
in thought, he found that his fingers were plucking the daisies of their own accord.

Today was Arwen's begetting day, hence the reason that the family had gathered in the 
gardens for a picnic. It had also provided the opportunity for the girl to try out her present 
from Glorfindel: the red kite that he had made himself. Elrond had watched the blond 
measure the lengths of wood and affix them together, then covering the frame with the 
sail of red cloth that he had also hemmed himself. It had not taken much, but Elrond was 
touched by his lover's inventiveness and creativity. It had been a pleasure to sit in the 
evenings and watch the nimble fingers at work, and Arwen was currently far more taken 
with it than any of her other gifts. Elrond himself had given her a book of poems and 
illustrations, written and drawn by Celebríìan's hand. It had been a decision made by 
them both before Celebríìan had left, and they knew that although Arwen would have 
little interest in it at present, she would soon grow to appreciate it.

Arwen had been back for little under a month; six weeks before that, to allow her the 
journey time, Elrond had issued a messenger to Galadriel and Celeborn requesting that 
Arwen return in time for her begetting day. He had realised that he sorely missed her 
presence in the house, so was relieved when his request was met without protest. Theirs 
had been a very happy reunion, for the little girl had evidently also missed her Ada.

Elrond also noticed that Arwen's homecoming had marked the return to what would be 
"normalcy" from now on. As soon as he was allowed he had started work again, though 
that in itself had proved rather difficult. Elrond found, much to his chagrin, that he had 
been absent from his office for so long that he no longer knew the state of affairs; it had 
taken a further ten days' effort alongside Erestor to rectify that. Those ten days had been 
incredibly trying for Elrond, leaving him frustrated, exhausted, and lacking in self-
confidence. He would return to his rooms with frazzled nerves and a fraying temper at the 
end of each day, where Glorfindel would invariably be waiting to coax him out of his 
foul mood. To Elrond's credit, only once had his temper flared, and even then he had 
calmed with relative ease at Glorfindel's tactful words and soft touches.

That, Elrond reflected as he shifted again on the grass, was another noticeable change in 
himself: after completing the bond, his disposition had swiftly returned to somewhere 
near its usual patience and calmness. He suspected that was because he had become more 
comfortable and accepting of the entire situation, and also because everything was now 
less of a strain on his spirit. Whatever the reason, he was glad of it. He felt much happier 
now, less discontent, more satisfied with... well, everything. Glorfindel seemed to 
manage to soothe his fears, to put his mind at ease or to assuage his worries with the 
simplest of words and the slightest of touches, and was always ready with a kiss or an 
embrace when Elrond needed it most. It was partly the bond, Elrond knew, but that no 
longer seemed to matter, for he felt more content that he had in a long time. It was also 
Glorfindel's selflessness, his devotion to his lord and partner, his gentle manner and his 
never-ending flow of affection - Elrond just could not help it. What he felt for the blond 
may not have been the same as he had felt for Celebríìan, but Elrond had come to love 
Glorfindel for what he was doing.

Another cheer startled him from his musings and he looked up to see that Elladan had 
managed to launch the kite again. Arwen was grinning, holding the spool of string as 
Elrohir knelt beside her, teaching her how to steer the sail and keep it airborne. Elrond 
smiled to himself and looked back down at the grass. 

He was surprised to see that there was a veritable pile of daisies around him; he had not 
realised his hands had been so busy! He could not very well leave them there, picked and 
unused, so instead he picked up one, pierced the stem with his thumbnail, and threaded 
the stalk of another through the hole. Elrond was pleased to notice that his hands were 
once again steady - that was another thing that had frustrated him. The weakness of his 
body had left him unsteady and often shaky: his writing had been near illegible when he 
had returned to work and his movements had lacked the inherent Elven balance and grace 
for quite some time. That was gradually returning now, thanks once again to the loving 
attentions of Glorfindel that strengthened not only his flesh but his spirit as well. When 
he looked in the mirror, Elrond now saw reflected a figure slender but adequately flesh-
covered, where before he had been skeletal. His hair was glossy and thick, not lank and 
dull. His skin was healthy-coloured and lit from within by his eternal flame, rather than 
sallow and stretched thin between cheekbone and jaw. The difference was apparent - 
Elrond could both see it and feel it. It was good to see, and it felt good.

By this point there were no more daisies left, for Elrond had woven them all into a chain. 
There were, however, three buttercups that had been caught up with the daisies. Elrond 
stared at them for a moment, an idea forming in his mind, before he finally plucked the 
three yellow flowers and wound them in amongst the white. He then tied the chain off 
into a circle and laid it upon his knee.

Glorfindel was still watching Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen playing. His chin rested on his 
folded forearms, his eyes half-closed as he lazed in the warm sunlight, his legs bent at the 
knee and his feet hanging over his buttocks. Elrond shifted a little closer to the 
luminescent being with one hand outstretched, which he laid on the crown of the Elda's 
head. Glorfindel started at the unexpected touch but soon settled again, as Elrond then 
stroked his palm down the river of molten gold, over his lover's muscled shoulders and 
down the long spine, coming to rest in the curve of the small of his back. Glorfindel 
stretched and arched into the contact, a definite felinity to every motion, turning his head 
to look at Elrond.

Elrond now lifted the crown of flowers from his lap. The blond watched, curious, 
crossing his eyes to see what his partner was doing as Elrond then laid the flowers upon 
his golden head. Questioning, the sapphire eyes flicked back to the half-Elf, confusion 
crinkling the smooth brow just the tiniest amount. 

Elrond cocked his head and regarded his saviour with intent. "My golden flower," he 
murmured. His liquid brown gaze was contemplative and affectionate in the same instant, 
fixed upon Glorfindel unwaveringly.

A little embarrassed by this, Glorfindel blushed, but could nonetheless keep the brilliant 
smile from his face. He could think of nothing to say, so instead simply raised himself up 
on his elbows, stretched across and sweetly kissed his lover.

Elrond smiled into the kiss as he returned it, allowing his hand to slide a little lower over 
Glorfindel's rear as the golden-haired Elf reached up to cup Elrond's face. They kissed for 
several moments, and Elrond was just beginning to think that his causal shirt and 
leggings were becoming too hot when a noise of exasperation caused them to draw apart.

"I think that means 'not in front of the children', melme," remarked Glorfindel with a 
smirk, as Elrond looked up sheepishly to see Elladan standing over him.

"Absolutely!" Elladan replied as he flopped wearily down onto the grass nearby. Elrond 
said nothing, having the grace to look remorseful, though he gave Glorfindel's buttocks a 
definite squeeze before withdrawing his hand. The blond arched an eyebrow at him 
suggestively, though he was unsure if Elrond noticed it for at that moment the half-Elf's 
attention was distracted by Arwen's arrival.

"Ada, Ada, did you see?" she asked excitedly as she leapt into her father's arms. Elrond 
beamed at her, settling her into his lap.

"I certainly did," he answered, ignoring Elladan's snide comments to the converse, along 
with reasons why. "Gwador Glorfindel can assume that you liked his gift, then?"

"Yes!" came the elated reply. "Thank you, Glorfindel!"

"My pleasure," responded Glorfindel with a gracious smile. He then reached out, took her 
hand and kissed the back of it. "Happy begetting day, my lady."

Elrond threw his lover a look of amusement over the head of his delighted daughter, 
though it soon turned into one of slight apprehension as she then asked, "Where did you 
get those flowers, gwador?"

"Ada made them," piped up Elladan cheerfully before his father could open his mouth. 
Elrond scowled at his son, which was blithely ignored.

"I want one!" declared Arwen, turning to her father.

"Elladan will teach you how to make one, sweetheart," answered Elrond quickly, his 
smile deceptively innocent. Arwen clapped her hands happily and leapt from her father's 
lap to where her brother lay flat on his back in the sun.

"Eddan, Ada says you'll teach me to make one!"

Elladan half sat up with a soft groan and gave his sister a tired, appeasing smile. 
"Tomorrow?" he suggested weakly, shooting a disgruntled glare at his smirking father. 
Arwen narrowed her eyes in scepticism - a typically Elrondian gesture - and thought for a 
moment.

"Promise?" she asked warily at length. Elladan's face relaxed immediately.

"Promise," he answered as seriously as he could. It was evident that he was simply glad 
to be released from flower arranging duties for the moment.

"Promise what?" enquired Elrohir as he too settled onto the grass, laying the kite sail and 
the neatly rolled spool of string to one side.

"To show her how to make one of those," said Elladan, nodding towards Glorfindel. 
Elrohir raised an eyebrow.

"How to make a Glorfindel? Do you not think she's a little young for that?"

Elrond and Glorfindel both burst out laughing at this, whilst Elladan rolled his eyes and 
swiped at his brother. "No, idiot, how to make a crown of daisies!"

"I know, I'm playing with you," grinned Elrohir. Elladan huffed at him, but the younger 
twin ignored it and turned to his sister. "So you want to make a daisy-crown, pen-melui? 
Well, it's not difficult," he continued at Arwen's enthusiastic nod. "First you need to pick 
a daisy with a long stalk..."

Glorfindel glanced up at Elrond as Elrohir started to teach Arwen the finer points of 
making a daisy chain. The half-Elf had an affectionate expression on his face as he 
watched his children - Elladan had also crept over to join in - his eyes slightly misted 
with memory. Glorfindel pushed himself up from his belly into a sitting position and 
moved so he was sitting right next to Elrond.

"Aren't they good together?" said the Elda quietly as he wrapped his arm around Elrond's 
shoulders. Elrond nestled into his side, his head falling instinctively to the blond's 
shoulder.

"I can see different parts of her in each of them," he murmured thoughtfully. Glorfindel 
looked down at him, surprised by that comment.

"They are a living tribute to her," he whispered back. Elrond nodded against him.

"I would be lost without them," he said. "I love them so much... How could I possibly 
forget her when I have them?"

"You could never forget her, even if you wanted to," Glorfindel offered. "None of us 
could."

Elrond smiled again, wistfully. "I would love for her to see this," he sighed. "But it was 
for the best."

"Aye, it was for the best," agreed the blond, squeezing the Peredhel tighter to him. Elrond 
pursed his lips as though deep in thought, but was silent for a few moments.

"It doesn't hurt so much anymore," he said after a while. His voice was quiet and pensive, 
almost as though he were talking to himself. "I still miss her, but it doesn't hurt so much... 
When I look at them, or when I think of her."

"That means you are healing, Elrond," said Glorfindel with a soft smile. "You are letting 
go of your grief and you are moving on. Shh," he continued as Elrond opened his mouth 
again, "This is good. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Just be happy and enjoy what 
you have right in front of you."

Again Elrond was quiet, though this time he seemed to be watching his children as he 
mused. Eventually he looked up, a serene expression on his face, to meet Glorfindel's 
eye; there was a new glimmer in the chocolate depths that had not been there before. And 
as Elrond tilted his head up to meet Glorfindel's lips, he whispered at last, "I think I can 
manage that."

The End

Elvish Translations:

Gwador - brother, but those sworn together rather than related by blood. In this case it 
means something akin to "uncle Glorfindel".
Melme - love
Pen-melui - lovely one

Thanks are more than due to:
 
* Maybe, for the impromptu beta job halfway-through, constant  suggestions and encouragement, and 
perpetual ass-kickings to get going! <Hugs>
* Morgana, for encouragement also, and more kickings...
* Everyone else, for the lovely comments and feedback... and yet more ass-kickings! I'm surprised I can 
still sit down! :P Seriously, thanks, guys.




 Don't need this comma here.