Title:   The Strong Heart (11/14)
Author: Aglarien
Rating:  NC-17
Type: FPS 
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel; Caladir/Gurvelon
Disclaimer: Alas, not mine.  Except for the cats. 
Warning:  AU.  Character death.  (No one we like.)
Summary:  Erestor and Glorfindel are determined to find out what, or who, is 
hurting their friend.

Note:  Thalahir’s thoughts will be indicated with a **at the beginning and end**.


*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 11

Everything was arranged.  Erestor and Glorfindel were in their rooms, both deep 
in thought.  They had finished dressing for dinner, and were in the sitting room, 
absent-mindedly playing with the kittens, while Tinnu and Glirien watched.  
Erestor sat on the floor waving a feather and watching little furry paws grab for it.  
Glorfindel sat holding Brogdithen on his lap, stroking the purring mass of long 
black fur. 

“Glorfindel, what if he goes anywhere else in the house before we can stop him?” 
Erestor asked quietly.

“Worry not, my heart, there will be guards secreted all over the house watching.  
They will not allow him to harm anyone.  ”

“All over the house?  How many will there be?”

“Oh, four, ten, twenty, forty; what is in a number after all?”  Glorfindel grinned.

“The whole patrol?”  Erestor asked, amazed.

Glorfindel nodded.  “None would return early.  They will all sneak in after 
everyone is in the dining hall.  It makes sense, my love.  If Thalahir does sense 
something, the greater number will convince him that he is simply sensing all of 
us.”

“We had better go, it is getting late.”  Erestor gave Tinnu and Glirien one last 
stroke, then replaced the kittens in their basket, including the one on Glorfindel’s 
lap.  “Take care of your little family, Tinnu,” he told the cat.    

Taking Glorfindel’s hand, Erestor reached his other into a pocket for the key to 
lock the door.  

“No, sweetheart, leave it open,” Glorfindel said.  “Our guards are perfectly 
capable of picking locks, but we may as well make it easier for them.”

Erestor raised his eyebrows.  “One will be in here?”

“Did you think I would risk any harm coming to you or Elrond?” Glorfindel said 
softly.  “There will be someone in here and your office, as well as Elrond’s rooms 
and office, and watching the quarters of the scribes and librarians.”

Erestor wrapped his arms around Glorfindel’s neck, and pulled his head down for 
a passionate kiss.  “Thank you, my love.” He whispered.  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
The elves gathered in the dining hall patiently waited for their guests of honor to 
arrive.  Elrond had decided earlier that this would also include Saercaeron, and a 
small chaise lounge had been brought into the hall for his use, placed near 
Elrond’s table.  Elrond sat in his usual place at the head of his table, flanked by 
Erestor and Glorfindel on one side.  Opposite them were two empty chairs for 
Gurvelon and Caladir.  Various elves, including Lindir, Melpomaen and captains 
in the Imladris guards occupied the rest of the table.

“Glorfindel, what is Suithoron doing with Rinion?  Oh my, they are kissing.  
When did that happen?” Elrond whispered, looking at the large warrior with a 
small librarian in his arms.

Glorfindel and Erestor grinned.  “It did not, Elrond,” Erestor whispered.  “Some 
of our friends decided to add some fuel to the fire.”  Elrond chuckled.

Taurfaeron and his guards, including Thalahir, occupied the table placed 
immediately in front of Elrond’s.  Only Thalahir was unaware of what every other 
elf in the room knew; that the whole event had been planned to expose him.

All around the room, warriors were seated next to smaller scribes and librarians.  
Only Thalahir was unaware that what appeared to be a loving relationship 
between a librarian or scribe and a warrior, with a few exceptions, was all for his 
‘benefit’.  

Saercaeron arrived, carried by his father.  Amarion set the little elfling on the 
chaise, settling him comfortably resting against the back with his broken little leg 
spread out before him.  Amarion and his wife seated themselves at a small table 
set next to the elfling for them and a few of their friends.

The elves welcomed him with cheers and applause – all except one.  “Erestor, do 
you see?” Glorfindel asked.

“Aye, love, he does not seem too pleased to see our little elfling, even if he is 
applauding.”

**Damn little brat.  All these elves think you are just so cute.  We will see how 
cute they think you are when I am done with you.**

Gurvelon and Caladir arrived next, and received the same reception as the elfling.  

“What say you to that, Elrond?” Erestor whispered, barely nodding in Thalahir’s 
direction.

“If I had any doubt before, my friend, I no longer do,” Elrond answered.  Thalahir 
applauded with the others, but his face was darkened into a grimace.

**That puny mouse has no right to be with such a warrior!  Caladir will be mine!  
I will show him what a lover worthy of a warrior is like.  Just you wait, mouse, I 
have a little surprise for you later.**

Gurvelon and Caladir seated themselves in their places, and Elrond rose.  “My 
friends, we rejoice tonight with Caladir and Saercaeron’s parents that our dear 
Gurvelon and Saercaeron have both escaped serious harm.  Gurvelon is returned 
to health, and Saercaeron soon will be.  It pleases me that so many of you were 
able to join us, and I hope you will all stay after dinner to join us in music and 
dancing.”  The elves cheered, and Elrond signaled for dinner to begin.

Caladir gave his sweet little mate a loving kiss, then lifted a choice tidbit to 
Gurvelon’s mouth.  His little love opened his mouth and wrapped his tongue 
around Caladir’s fingers, making a fine show.  “Careful, sweetheart, you will 
make me forget what we are supposed to be doing here,” Caladir whispered into 
Gurvelon’s ear.  Gurvelon giggled, and moved his head to give his large husband 
a passionate kiss.  Warriors all over the room hooted at the pair.  “That was being 
careful?” Caladir whispered at the soft lips.  Gurvelon giggled again, and lifted a 
strawberry to Caladir’s lips.  Caladir pulled the berry into his mouth with his 
tongue and bit into it.  Gurvelon licked the red juice from his lips.  “You just wait 
until I get you back to our rooms, you little tease.” Caladir gave his spouse a kiss 
on the neck.

All over the room, couples indulged in loving behavior.  Glorfindel and Erestor 
were no exception.  “Come here, my petite councilor,” Glorfindel said, giving 
Erestor a passionate kiss.  

Suithoron and Rinion were feeding each other, and exchanged a kiss between 
every bite.  Melpomaen and Torladen sat with their arms wrapped around each 
other, occasionally feeding each other and shyly kissing.

“Oh my,” Lindir whispered to Melpomaen.  “All this makes me wish I was next 
to a big, strong warrior.  I do believe I may be jealous.”  

“This is disgusting,” Thalahir said to Taurfaeron.  

“What is?”

“All these Imladris warriors and their mousy little lovers.  What is wrong with 
this place?”

“I find it all rather lovely and refreshing that they are all so comfortable and show 
their love in the presence of others.  Much more relaxed than at home.  After all, 
for a warrior to have a scribe or librarian for a lover is such a good match, I think.  
Gives us someone removed from the evil we must deal with to come home to.”  
The other guards at the table nodded in agreement. Was that what had happened 
to Thalahir?  Had he come into contact with too much evil and been corrupted by 
it?  Taurfaeron wondered how possible it was.

Taurfaeron continued answering Thalahir. “Aye, it is refreshing.  Just look at that 
little minstrel, Lindir, sitting at Elrond’s table.  Is he not the loveliest elf you have 
ever seen?  How I would love to come home to him after a month on the 
borders!”   Lindir was so lovely, and so sweet an elf, Taurfaeron admitted to 
himself that what he had said to Thalahir was not really a lie.  He would not mind 
staying in Imladris if he could be with Lindir.

Thalahir shifted uncomfortably in his chair and scowled, waiting for dinner to 
finally be over and for the elves to move into the Hall of Fire.  Then he could 
finally make his move.

**This damn place.  I hate it.  I hate them all.  Corrupting all these warriors, 
turning them into weaklings.  When Caladir is mine, I will return to Lothlorien 
and take him with me.  I will show these puny little elves what a real warrior can 
do!**



*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 12

Lindir noticed Taurfaeron looking at him, and smiled shyly at the warrior.  
Lindir’s heart beat a little faster when Taurfaeron’s face lit up and he smiled back.  
He never thought he would be at all interested in a warrior, but Taurfaeron was 
such a kind, gentle elf, even if he was a captain of the guards.

Dinner was finally coming to an end.  The elves began to move into the Hall of 
Fire, led by Elrond.   A few of the elves elected to forego the entertainment, and 
headed to their rooms or homes, calling a cheery “good night” to the others.  
Erestor, Glorfindel and Taurfaeron lagged behind and watched Thalahir quietly 
slip into the library.  Lindir quietly joined them, and the four elves silently waited 
in the hall outside the library, afraid to even breathe.  They knew that some of the 
elves who had elected to return to their homes or the barracks had soundlessly 
positioned themselves outside the library windows. 

Thalahir quickly moved through the darkened library.  Moonlight streaming in 
through the windows provided just enough light for an elf to see clearly.  Loud 
music and laughter drifted through the house from the Hall of Fire as he came to 
Gurvelon’s desk.  He took a pair of gloves from his tunic and slipped them on his 
hands.  Reaching into his tunic again, he removed a small vial and carefully 
uncorked it.  He calmly sprinkled the smallest drops here and there on the desk; a 
few on the desktop, one or two onto pieces of parchment lying on the desk, and a 
couple on the arms of Gurvelon’s chair.  He quietly opened a drawer and 
sprinkled drops liberally onto the quills inside.  

**No one will save you this time, little scribe.  Caladir is mine!**

Thalahir replaced the cork on the vial and removed his gloves.  Carefully 
wrapping the vial in the gloves, he replaced them in this tunic.  

**I think I’ll just go the Hall of Fire now to have one last look at the puny little 
mouse!**

He headed to the door, and the next thing he knew he was face down on the floor, 
the breath crushed out of him by what felt like a thousand books on his back.  The 
door burst open and he saw several pair of booted feet approach.

“Well done.  Get him up,” Glorfindel ordered.

Thalahir’s arms were firmly held as he was hauled to his feet.  Seething in anger, 
his tried to jerk himself out of the hold, and spat at Glorfindel.  “Just what are you 
doing?  Is this the way you treat guests here?”

Glorfindel ignored Thalahir and spoke to his guards.  “Tell me what you saw him 
do!”

Talvion, the leader of the patrol guarding the house, spoke.  “He placed gloves on 
his hands, then sprinkled something from a vial on Gurvelon’s desk, inside a 
drawer, and on the chair.  The vial is wrapped in his gloves, inside his tunic, my 
Lord.  We all saw quite clearly.”

Glorfindel raised a hand to Thalahir’s tunic to retrieve the gloves.  Talvion 
touched his arm, stopping him. “Please, my Lord, allow me.”  The patrol leader 
took a glove from his pocket, slipped it on his hand, and removed the gloves from 
Thalahir’s tunic.  He placed them on the desk and the small vial rolled out.  

“Thank you, Talvion.  Take the gloves and the vial to Nestoron in the healing 
house to check, please,” Glorfindel said. Taking a candle from another desk, he lit 
it and moved to the far side of Gurvelon’s desk to confirm Talvion’s words for 
himself.  Erestor followed.  He knew it was silly, but he could not help himself 
from making sure that Glorfindel did not touch anything.

“Thalahir!”  Taurfaeron’s voice was angry and commanding.  “What have you to 
say?”

The captured elf continued to try and free himself from the iron grip around his 
arms, but said nothing.  He stilled, then suddenly moved his head back forcefully 
into the face of the elf holding him from behind.  The elf groaned, and loosened 
his hold slightly.  It was enough for Thalahir to jerk himself free.    He kicked at 
Taurfaeron, hitting him in the groin, shoved the smaller Lindir aside, and ran past 
him through the door.  Taurfaeron moaned in agony and dropped to his knees.  
Lindir ran to his side.  The whole attack took only a few seconds.  

Glorfindel, Erestor and the guards ran after the fleeing elf, and stopped when they 
came to the hall.  Thalahir was firmly held by an angry, exploding Caladir.  “This 
one is mine,” he growled.  Caladir raised his arm, and his fist connected with 
Thalahir’s face with such force that the slightly smaller elf was thrown across the 
hall into a wall.  “That’s for trying to kill my sweet Gurvelon, you spawn of evil!”

Thalahir shook his head, splattering blood from his broken nose and torn lip 
across the walls and floor.  He quickly got to his feet and raced outside the door.

Amarion had left the Hall of Fire to carry his sleepy little elfling to bed.  He was 
just entering the courtyard with the elfling when Thalahir burst out of the door.  

**A sleepy little brat just begging to be my hostage.  What could be better?**

Thalahir raced towards Amarion, kicked him forcefully aside, and grabbed the 
elfling, holding him around the waist, dangling Saercaeron in front of him.  “Stop!  
All of you!  Or this elfling dies!” he yelled.  He removed a knife from his boot 
and held it at the elfling’s throat.

Elrond and the elves in the Hall of Fire heard the yelling and came out of the 
house.  Then elves from the library ran through the doors into the courtyard.  
Taurfaeron, supported by Lindir, followed.  “No one moves!” Thalahir yelled 
again. “Or your precious little elfling dies!”  The elves froze.

Thalahir,” Elrond spoke loudly, “release the elfling and you may leave.  You have 
my word no one will stop you.”

“Oh, dear, kindly Lord Elrond!”  Thalahir’s voice was dripping in sweet sarcasm.  
“Do you expect me to believe that?  The elfling comes with me!  Now get me a 
horse!”

“Nay!” Amarion screamed, holding on to his wife.  “Do not take our son!”

“Oohhh, your precious little son,” Thalahir said sarcastically.  “This little brat 
ruined my plans when he kept that little mousy scribe from drinking my poison!  
He deserves what he gets.  Too bad he didn’t die like he was supposed to when I 
threw him over that cliff!”  Saercaeron was sobbing.  “Shut up you stupid little 
bratling, or I will cut your throat! ”  Saercaeron only sobbed louder.  “Caladir!  
You could have had me instead of that puny little rat who calls himself your 
husband!  What does he know about warriors like us?”

“Thalahir,” Taurfaeron said, “let the elfling go.  Do not add kinslaying to your 
crimes.”

“Ha! These are no kin of mine!  The elfling goes with me.  You are as bad as the 
rest of these stupid elves, Taurfaeron, mooning over that disgusting little 
minstrel!”

One of the Lothlorien guards spoke.  “Thalahir, we have been friends for many 
years.  I do not know when it happened, but evil has attacked and entered you.  
Let the elfling go.  Let us take you home.  The Lady will help you.”

“Never!”  Thalahir screamed.  “I will never go….”

An arrow whistled, cutting through the air at tremendous speed.  It found its 
target, dead center, embedding itself between Thalahir’s eyes.

The knife fell from Thalahir’s hand, and the little elfling slowly slid out of 
Thalahir’s arm as the Galadhel slumped to the ground.

Amarion and Diwen rushed to their sobbing son as Elrond gently picked him up 
in his arms.  

And up on the roof, Turidon shook, bow hanging in his hand, fully realizing he 
had just killed another elf for the first time in his long life.

Tbc…..