Author: Az

Email: az.ombie[at]gmail.com

Homepage: http://www.forgottenjuliet.net

AN: I had this rapid Ecthelion muse, and I didn’t quite know what to do with it, so I took a part 
of a roleplay I have with Lady of Legolas. Since that was as good a place to start as any, and the 
plot just kinda went from there, now don’t think that this fic is just a replica of this roleplay in 
question, because it is not, I just stole bits and pieces. For greater good of this plot I let 
Ecthelion have a brother, Ithildin. I don’t know why I always mess about with omc’s since I 
really tend to hate them in other people’s stories, that is if there is no real apparent reason for 
them. I always meant that if you dig into Tolkien’s works, there is an obscure elf that can serve 
your purpose of an extra elf; there is really no need to make one up. Buuuut as this plot 
progresses you might understand why I did as I did. Some might argue that I watch WAY too 
much daytime TV to come up with a lame plot like this, and indeed I have, since I am stuck at 
this goddamn shelter with no internet to entertain myself with. What better way to spend my 
time than to watch lame daytime TV? (I actually sent BlueGold a thought here) This is Slash 
dammit!! And it is the sleazy daytime TV drama version of greater more serious artists!  - So lets 
bring it on, and I am pretty sure you all know the golden rules of daytime TV, if you don’t, 
hurry up and go watch some, you might just still make it! Salvation is at the tips of your fingers, 
and at the invisible rays of your remote. - This is the part where I should explain a little about 
taking EXTREME liberties with characters, and timelines, actually I tossed the mofo at the 
wind. There is absolutely NO canon traits what so ever, its not completely au, its just an 
severely messed up timeline. But if I had to bother with little things like that, id never be able 
to write anything this stupid. Nah just kidding.. I actually like this story a lot. And its a hoot to 
write. So Blue & EJ darling sweeties! Buckle up! This one is for you!  - 

Fandom: Silm/lotr

Betaed by; Lisbet

Rating: overall N17, Adult.. humping.. you get it..

Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine, sad but true.

Summary: kinda got about that in the AN I think.

Warnings: oh my.. Where to begin.. I think we covered the all around lameness theme, didn’t 
we? Uhm then what is left? I really, really fucked with all the characters!  But there is no saucy 
stuff like bondage or anything, sorry girls and germs..

Pairings: Ecthelion/Glorfindel Ecthelion/Erestor Ecthelion/Tuor


 Star of the sea part 1 / Playing the liar.

My lover’s gone 
I know that kiss will be my last
No more his song
The tune upon his lips has passed
I sing alone

Dido – My lover’s gone


Chapter 1/Intro – He left at dawn.

Watching the night from his balcony, Ecthelion wrapped his robe closer around his body. On 
nights with frost in the air, like tonight, the stars stood out like little lanterns, bathing all 
below them in a ghostly light. The young lord let his eyes roam the garden, but tonight, as on 
the previous night, the garden was silent, not a breath of wind moved, and the leaves didn’t 
even make a rustle. Ecthelion shivered from the cold and with a sinking heart he tried to cling 
to the hope of his lover suddenly running over the grass below the balcony. He strained his ears 
to hear if the small wrought iron door in the east corner of the garden squeaked on its hinges, 
but it didn’t. The young lord watched his breath as it came out in little puffy clouds, when a 
wind suddenly picked up and chilled him to the bone. There was a knock on his door but he 
ignored it. He didn’t want to speak with anyone at this hour. “Where are you?” he whispered to 
himself. He didn’t understand it; it had been 10 days since Tuor had last been here. Ecthelion 
had frantically tried to sort through his memories of their last meeting to see if he could place 
his finger on anything that had seemed off, but he couldn't. It had all been as it usually was. 
The young man had come here in the shadows, climbed the tree that was growing against the 
wall of the house, and had met him here on the balcony. They had embraced, kissed and talked 
in hushed voices, before they had withdrawn to his rooms, and then made love on his bed. After 
they had caught their breath, Tuor got up, kissed him farewell and left the same way he came 
in. Nothing strange, no unusual words between them. Ecthelion shook his head. He simply 
didn’t understand. He had played with the thought that they had been found out, but if that 
had been the case, King Turgon’s soldiers would already have been here and taken him into 
custody. Nothing had happened, absolutely nothing. Could Tuor be ill? Men fell ill, and it was 
the beginning of the winter after all. Yes, that must be it; Tuor had fallen ill and was confined 
to his bed. 

The knocks on the door continued, until someone just turned the handle. “Ecthelion!” a deep 
voice said, “Why didn’t you answer my knocking?” 

Ecthelion didn’t need to turn around to know who this was. “I am here Ithildin, I am sorry. I 
was lost in thought, and I didn’t hear you” 

“By the Valar, Brother, you are about to turn into an icicle. Please come inside.” Ithildin held 
out his hand and Ecthelion took it with a smile, letting his twin lead him inside. “Why on earth 
did you stay out there so long?” Ithildin said with a worried frown, rubbing heat into 
Ecthelion’s hands with his own. 

“I was watching the stars,” he said with a disarming smile. “I guess I lost track of time.” 

“You worry me,” Ithildin said, wrapping his brother in a warm blanket. “You should have 
noticed that you were trembling from the cold, and have gone inside.” 

“Forgive me, Ithildin, it shan’t happen again,” Ecthelion smiled at his brother. “I promise.” 

“You have been acting most strange lately,” Ithildin said, walking over to a sparse liquor 
cabinet and pouring them a glass each of some thick red wine. Handing his twin one, he sat 
down in a char, facing Ecthelion. “Will you tell me what is wrong?”

Ecthelion looked at his brother, sitting there in a midnight blue robe with his hair braided in a 
single plait. They had the exact same hair colour, the exact same lips and nose. It was like 
looking into a mirror, were it not for the fact that Ithildin had lost his right eye in battle, and 
now wore an eye patch to hide the missing eye. Ecthelion had seen it without the patch and 
knew there was nothing but an empty hole where the eye should have been. But with the eye 
patch on, Ithildin looked like a sophisticated villain of some sorts, the perfect match of beauty 
and death. Taking a sip of the strong liquor, he winced and nodded. Oh how he wished he 
could tell Ithildin the truth. He wanted nothing more than to unburden his heart, knowing his 
twin he would never judge him, but it was too dangerous to tell him. To do what he did was 
high treason. This would earn him life in exile if he were lucky, or death if Turgon was in the 
wrong mood. True, no hatchet man would behead him on a public square, but he could end up 
with no choice but to serve his king on a suicide mission outside the walls. “I…” he said as he 
blushed a little, taking another sip of the wine, “I miss some company.”

“Oh,” Ithildin breathed and nodded in agreement. “I see.” 

“No you don’t,” Ecthelion said in a childish tone. “Since Lord Glorfindel made his intentions 
clear, no one else has dared approach me, and... frankly, Glorfindel is appalling!” 

“Appalling?” Ithildin laughed. “What is wrong with him? Is he physically challenged under his 
trousers or something?” 

“Honestly, Ithildin!” Ecthelion gasped. “I wouldn't know! I never bothered to look!” The young 
lord emptied his wine glass. “Lord Glorfindel has the most annoying ego, surely you have 
noticed this.” 

“He seems pretty full of himself, agreed,” Ithildin said with an amused shake of his head. 

“See?” Ecthelion whined.

Ithildin stood as he emptied his glass “I am sure someone will come along who is not afraid of 
challenging the lord of egos a little.” He leaned in and kissed his brother’s forehead tenderly. 
“Sleep tight, brother. I will see you in the morning.”

“You too,” Ecthelion said to his back as Ithildin left his rooms, leaving Ecthelion to his own 
company once more. The young elf stood up and went to close the drapes in front of his balcony 
door. He stopped and looked out the windows, watching little snowflakes beginning to softly, 
silently land on everything outside. “I miss you,” he whispered before he closed the thick purple 
drapes with one move.

Once in bed he flopped down on the mattress with a sigh. His bed didn’t smell of Tuor 
anymore, and it frightened the young elf. What if the man’s musky sent would never linger in 
his bed again? This didn’t even feel like his bed anymore. Closing his eyes, Ecthelion could see 
the large cherry tree on Tumladen. He smiled to himself, remembering that spring day when he 
and Tuor had gone out horseback riding, racing from the city to the cherry tree. He 
remembered how Tuor had grabbed his chin with this fingers, and made him look into those 
blue eyes. “You are most beautiful, my lord Ecthelion,” he had whispered, and Ecthelion had 
looked away demurely, but he had not moved. He had been nailed to the spot, feeling his 
heartbeat speed up. But nothing happened, not until Ecthelion looked up at Tuor once more. 
He remembered the man had looked so flustered. Maybe it had been the first time he had 
encountered a lovesick elf. This memory had Ecthelion smile to himself. He had almost scared 
the poor man, but instead of feeling overwhelmed by such a visible display of lust, the man had 
tried to control the situation and had whispered with a trembling voice, “Can I kiss you?” 
Ecthelion had wordlessly wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and had devoured his soul in 
a single kiss. 

Ecthelion turned in his bed, feeling strangely melancholy by this memory. It seemed like an old 
faded painting, what had seemed like only yesterday for days, now seemed like a worn and 
cherished artefact of days gone by. He had tried to understand, tried to make excuses and tried 
to wait. But now the young elf felt tears well in his eyes. What if Tuor had found himself 
another love interest? What if he would never come back, what then? Did he expect Ecthelion 
to be just as fickle with his heart? Maybe Tuor thought that because he had given his body so 
freely by the cherry tree that he was like that with any elf or man that struck his fancy! Deeply 
troubled, Ecthelion finally fell asleep and did not wake until the first rays of daylight peeked 
through the thick drapes. 

Slowly waking, he opened his eyes, only to look straight into Ithildin’s excited grin. “Good 
morning, brother,” he chirped merrily. “Guess what!?” 

“What?” Ecthelion groaned, sitting up slowly, not at all sharing his brother’s morning 
enthusiasm.

“You didn’t guess,” Ithildin stated.

“All right,” Ecthelion sighed. “The Valar were bored mindless, and relocated Gondolin out on 
the march of Maedhros. And so we finally get to see the Fëanorians.”  

“Oaf!” Ithildin laughed. “No, we got an invitation from the King! Isn’t that great?” 

“Woopity woo,” Ecthelion moaned as he got out of bed. 

“Uhm, I get the distinct notion that you are not the least bit interested. I thought you’d be 
overly excited, oh well... “ Ithildin said and rose from the bed. “I just figured it would be your 
chance to, you know... meet someone.” 

“Why am I already regretting I told you that yesterday?” Ecthelion said as he stalked over 
towards the bathroom. “I don’t need you playing matchmaker.” 

“Why not? Apparently you are not doing a very good job yourself!” Ithildin crossed his arms 
over his chest in childish defence. “Tell me you will go, and I shall send word to the King right 
away to expect us both.” 

“All right, but don’t embarrass me, don’t try and sell me off to some random handsome elf,” 
Ecthelion said, covering the final distance to the bathroom. 

“Honestly, I wouldn't know what to look for, brother. I do not share my body with elves of the 
same sex as myself, so well.. I don’t know what makes someone lover material,” Ithildin stated.

“Good,” Ecthelion yelled from the bathroom. “That means you won’t be stealing my 
sweethearts.” 

Ithildin rolled his eyes. “I will inform the king to expect us both, then.”

“You do that, brother,” Ecthelion yelled. Waiting until he heard the door to the hall slam shut, 
he lowered his body into the hot water. This was his chance to see what was wrong with Tuor. 
Hopefully his fears were completely a figment of his imagination.
___________________________________________________
AN: I like a bad ass Glorfindel, so shoot me *laughs*, he won’t continue to be this haughty 
throughout the entire story tho’.  And tell me if I am the only one that really wants to kick 
Tuor that fucking spineless jerk in the nads! Oh man, I need a life when I can get that annoyed 
with characters I think up. – urgh.
___________________________________________________

In illusion comfort lie
The safest way is straight and narrow
No confusion no surprise.

Sisters of Mercy  - Alice


Chapter 2 – Crush the pedals on the floor.

Ecthelion was already regretting that he agreed to come to the feast. Ithildin looked awfully 
smug, elbowing him when they had gotten a drink. “What about that blond elf in the blue robe 
over by the window?” he whispered. 

Ecthelion looked, and groaned, “I know him, and you can forget it!” Ithildin looked over the 
crowd and Ecthelion grabbed the collar of his robe. “Don’t even get started, Ithildin!”   

“I am just trying to help,” Ithildin whispered back

“Then don’t,” Ecthelion said with a hiss hidden behind a smile. 

“As you wish,” Ithildin sighed as he disappeared into the crowd of elves. Ecthelion spotted Tuor 
right away, he was talking to one of Turgon’s advisors, when someone tapped him on the 
shoulder. Spinning around, he looked right into the face of the dark elf. “Master Maeglin,” 
Ecthelion said with a polite smile. 

“Lord Ecthelion,” the dark elf said with a toneless voice. “I was asked to bring you this.” He 
handed him a drink. 

“Thank you ever so much, Master Maeglin,” the young lord said, feeling really uncomfortable 
under Maeglin’s gaze. “I need some fresh air,” he said quickly, excusing himself as he fled from 
the eerie elf. He could almost feel the relief physically as he inhaled the cold frost air. He slowly 
sipped the drink Maeglin had brought, which by the way had surprised him more than 
anything.  He was already trying to make up an excuse to leave so suddenly, but all his excuses 
ended up lame, and he just didn’t know how to escape this party quickly. 

“Ecthelion?” a voice said behind him. 

The young lord smiled, he didn’t need to look to know whom this voice belonged to. “Tuor,” he 
whispered as he turned and looked directly at the man. “So good of you to find time in your 
apparently busy schedule for me.” 

Tuor just stood there and shuffled his feet. “I thought you might want a drink, my lord,” he 
said, holding out a glass to the elf.

The young elf lord took the glass, and placed the old drink on the balcony rail. He wanted to 
grab this man and shake him till his neck rattled, he wanted to scream and yell, why are you 
avoiding me? Why are you acting this humble? What is wrong?!, but he just took a sip of his 
drink and smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly, looking over at the man who seemed to cling to 
the railing. Ecthelion turned his head and observed him. There was definably something 
wrong. “Are you not well, my lord?” he said taking a step towards Tuor.

“No, I am not well,” the man said as he looked up. Seeing the young elf’s worried green eyes 
looking back at him he could have screamed, and within a second he had covered the distance 
between them and locked their lips in a crushing kiss. 

Ecthelion pushed Tuor away with a hysterical move. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know,” Tuor whispered back. 

Ecthelion caressed the man’s cheek with a slender hand. “Maybe you should rest, before you do 
anymore dangerous and foolish acts.” 

“I am sorry,” Tuor mumbled and suddenly fled back into the party, leaving Ecthelion on the 
balcony.

The elf lord picked up his glass again and took a sip. At least he solved a part of the puzzle, and 
Tuor was indeed acting most strange. What could have brought on this? The man seemed 
detached, frightened and certainly most confused. He looked out on the gardens when he felt 
someone settle next to him, and from the smell of lavender, he could tell it had to be Glorfindel. 

“My, my, my Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said in a hushed voice, dripping with acid. “I never thought 
you went for the rugged mortals.” 

Ecthelion took a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t,” he whispered, praying to the Valar that his 
voice didn’t tremble too much. But as he raised the glass to take another sip, because his mouth 
had suddenly gone dry, he noticed his hand shook, and chiding himself, he knew that 
Glorfindel also saw this.

“Oh well, pretty one, this is not the place for this discussion, I shall visit you in some days.” 
Glorfindel picked up Ecthelion’s ice cold trembling hand and kissed it gently. “Until then, 
enjoy the party, lord Ecthelion.”

Once Glorfindel had left, Ecthelion let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. “By 
the Valar... No!... Oh no,” he whispered. Resting his forehead in his palm, he stood like that 
forever trying to gather up the nerve to go back into the party.
_______________________________

Days went by and Ecthelion saw nothing of Glorfindel. The young elf lord knew that the lord 
of the golden flower would love this; he would absolutely glow if he knew of his sleepless 
nights, and his tears when no one was watching. This night he was standing in the kitchen 
making himself a cup of tea, waiting for Ithildin to get home. His twin was attending a games 
match, and probably getting very drunk in the process; how he envied Ithildin’s easy going 
social life. 

Leaving the kitchen, Ecthelion was carrying his cup and munching on a piece of bread, when 
his eye caught something that would have caused him to drop his cup, had he not held on to it 
for dear life. “Glorfindel,” he croaked, looking wide-eyed at the slender shadow by the patio 
doors. 

“Good evening, dear Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly without turning around. “I never 
thought you for a comfort eater, but then again it seems like I don’t know you as well as I 
thought.”

Ecthelion swallowed hard and with great effort set down his cup on the dining table. “What do 
you want from me, Glorfindel?” 

Glorfindel broke out into mirthless laughter. “Let us see...” he turned around and smiled in a 
predatory way at the frightened elf on the other side of the large oak dining table. “I could give 
my rather unusual information to the king, and then both you and your vile little lover toy 
would no longer be here, you know that.” Ecthelion nodded slowly, and Glorfindel clapped his 
hands enthusiastically. “Good! But you see, my dilemma is, that I really don’t care what happens 
to that horrid little mortal man, but you, my dear beautiful Ecthelion, I wouldn't like to be the 
one to take you outside the mountains to an uncertain fait, or maybe not that uncertain. It 
would involve death for sure.” Glorfindel took two steps towards Ecthelion and the young elf 
stepped three steps backward. “I am not a cruel elf, Ecthelion. Nothing would give me more joy 
than to see you remain here in Gondolin.” 

“Ho...How?” Ecthelion stuttered, hating the way his voice sounded.

“Give me what I want, my precious,” Glorfindel smirked, pushing a golden lock of slightly 
curled hair out of his face.

Ecthelion paled. “I cannot give you anything. Ithildin holds all the means.” 

“I don’t want anything that Ithildin possesses, and do you really think me that greedy? Or 
stupid? You cannot buy my silence with money.” The golden elf walked closer, and Ecthelion 
kept stumbling backward, until Glorfindel picked up pace, and Ecthelion tripped on his robe, 
landing on his behind, but before he had a chance to get up, Glorfindel was hovering above 
him. “What I want, is you,” the blond elf said in a husky tone. 

“Wh...what?” the raven haired elf gasped, seeing Glorfindel smirk. A bright flame of rage flared 
inside him, and he fisted his hands, slamming them down into the wooden floor. Looking up at 
the gloating elf, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Are you insane? Never in my life would I 
agree to such an arrangement!”  

“Really?” Glorfindel said, trying to maintain his superior smile. 

“You are mad, Glorfindel,” Ecthelion shook his head in disbelief. While trying to hold his robe 
closed with one hand, he pointed at his tormentor with the other. “Get out of my house!” 

“If you wish, my dear Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly. “I give you a week, then I will take my 
information to the king. I am sure he is most interested in knowing that his beloved lord of the 
fountain is kissing his daughter’s fiancé.” And with that remark Glorfindel left Ecthelion on the 
floor in the dark living room. 

“Fiancé?” he whispered to himself. No, it had to be a clever lie, and Tuor would never do 
something like that! Or?... Could this be the reason why the young man had not come to his 
balcony for a month in a row? Confused, humiliated and angry, Ecthelion rose from the floor 
and ran on bare feet to his rooms and locked the door.
_________________________________________________

Three days had gone by, and by now Ecthelion was a nervous wreck. He battled with himself 
what to do with this situation, he had tried to tell himself that Glorfindel would never go to the 
king, but deep inside him he knew that the blond elf would. He had bruised his ego once, and 
an elf like the lord of the golden flower would not stand for that for long. He had stopped 
waiting out on the cold balcony at night, lost hope in his beloved to cross the garden ever 
again. But nevertheless, he kept the drapes open, just in case. 

He had not heard anyone approaching when three knocks rapped on the glass of the balcony 
doors. Ecthelion almost fell off the sofa where he had been lying slumbering. Sitting straight 
up, he stared at the window, blinking in disbelief waiting for the image to disappear as were it a 
leftover of his dream. But as the man knocked softly on the glass again, the elf was sure that it 
was indeed Tuor who had come to see him. He stood up and slowly opened the balcony door; 
normally they would embrace and kiss, but not tonight. Ecthelion stepped back, watching as 
his beloved stepped into the room. “I didn’t think you would come back,” he said oddly flat.

“You stopped waiting for me,” Tuor whispered, sitting down on the sofa, wringing his hands 
nervously.

“No, I never stopped waiting my love,” Ecthelion said softly, sitting down in a chair next to the 
sofa. 

The silence was crushing, and when Ecthelion finally felt like he was about to go insane, Tuor 
whispered, “This is my last visit.”

So Glorfindel told me the truth, Ecthelion thought, paling. “I had gathered that much,” he 
mumbled, feeling those treacherous tears well up in his eyes again. He bit his lip to hold them 
back. How could Tuor just stop loving him? Just like that! He didn’t understand, maybe the 
man had never loved him as much as Ecthelion had loved him. 

“I asked for Lady Idril’s hand in marriage,” the young man whispered, still looking at his own 
hands in his lap. 

One thing was Glorfindel telling him there bad tidings, but to hear it from Tuor’s mouth was 
quite different, and in the end Ecthelion gave up struggling with his tears, and let them flow 
down his cheeks. “I am happy for you,” he croaked. 

“Liar,” Tuor said softly with a sad little smile on his lips.

“Why did you bother to come all this way in the middle of the night to tell me this? You could 
have told me at the party at the castle,” Ecthelion said with a surprisingly even voice. 

“Because I have been unjust to you,” Tuor said, and for the first time he looked up at the elf, 
and leaned over to wipe the tears from the soft cheeks, but Ecthelion batted his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed on the brink of hysteria, wiping his tears himself with his sleeve. 

“Forgive me,” Tuor whispered. Seeing Ecthelion’s tears was surprising to Tuor; he had not 
suspected he would mean that much to the beautiful elf. “I should leave,” he mumbled and 
moved to stand, when Ecthelion laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Will you tell me why?” the dark haired elf said, blinking tears from his eyelashes, frowning in 
annoyance over his own fragility. Tuor shook his head, and moved away from the elf’s hand. 
“You won’t even tell me why you are marrying the kings daughter?” 

The man took a deep breath. “I know what you are thinking, but I ‘do’ love you Ecthelion, I 
always have and I always will.” 

“Don’t tell me such sweet lies, Tuor, it does not become you,” Ecthelion sneered. 

“Idril is really a warm, loving and beautiful elf,” Tuor whispered, “and I don’t remember when 
I started to feel something for her.” He walked around the sofa and leaned against the balcony 
door frame. “I love you both; it is driving me insane that I have to choose.” Ecthelion didn’t say 
anything, he just turned in his seat and watched the tormented man at the glass doors. “Sons, 
Ecthelion.. Lady Idril can grant me that, you cannot.” 

“Sons,” Ecthelion whispered and raked a hand through his hair.

“Yes, sons. I am mortal. And my time here is short compared to yours; my only way of staying 
immortal is to have offspring,” Tuor said in a flat voice.

The elf took a deep breath and stood up, walking slowly to where Tuor was standing and 
wrapped his arms around the man. “Someday I will forgive you, but it is not today.”

“Thank you,” Tuor whispered. 

“Now go back to your wife-to-be and take good care of her,” the elf whispered, planting a soft 
kiss in the man’s neck. 

Tuor opened his mouth to speak, but no words seemed to fit the situation, and so he left. 
Ecthelion stood on the balcony and watched the man run across the gardens and heard the 
hinges of the wrought iron door screech. He wished he would cry, curse, destroy and scream. 
But he was nailed to the spot, completely unable to move as he felt his entire world crash down 
around him.
____________________________________________
AN: I realised that I was being terribly hard on poor Glorfindel, so I figured id hurry up and at 
least make him a good shag *smiles* 
___________________________________________________

If not now, Then when?
If not today
Then why make your promises.
A love declared for days to come
...Is as good as none

T. Chapman – if not now

Chapter 3 – You must take it where it’s found.

It had taken him an entire day to work up the nerve to visit Glorfindel, and there was nothing 
Ecthelion wanted more than to run to Ithildin for help and support, which he would most 
likely gladly give. But he refused to put his brother in danger, and this was indeed explosive 
knowledge, especially since Idril and Tuor was now betrothed. The young elf had spend hours 
trying to decide if he should dress for the occasion or not. Finally he decided against it. And 
had walked out the door and had rode his horse, without the use of anything but a rein, to the 
house of the golden flower. He dismounted in front of the giant building. This house was twice 
the size of his own, and far more decorated. Glorfindel was an elf for details apparently. 

Even before he knocked the giant brass doorknocker, Ecthelion was met by one of Glorfindel’s 
servants, a very pretty strawberry blond elf who introduced himself, but Ecthelion didn’t even 
listen. He was guided towards the cramped library and asked to wait. The young elf sat down 
on a chair, looking around the room. He had never imagined Glorfindel to be fond of books, 
feeling a little embarrassed that he had judged the blond so just because he was an esteemed 
warrior. Not all swordsmen had to be brain dead. He heard the doorknob turn, and the 
momentary courage he had fled, and what met Glorfindel as he entered his library was a 
disarranged young frightened elf. “Ecthelion?” he said yawning, “what brings you here at this 
hour?”

“You do, my lord,” Ecthelion mumbled, wetting his lips nervously. “I...I... Don’t know how 
to...” the raven-haired elf’s voice dropped to a mere whisper. 

Glorfindel smiled and looked down at the ferociously blushing elf. He looked so much younger 
than Glorfindel knew he was. He knew what Ecthelion was about to say; he could see it, even 
smell it. He could have given the young elf a helping hand in expressing his reason for this late 
call, but he didn’t. Actually Glorfindel took joy in this childish revenge for his humiliating 
dismissal the other day. 

Ecthelion drew a deep breath and looked up at Glorfindel, frantically telling himself he did this 
for Tuor’s happiness, not because he was lonely, or maybe because being heartbroken and sad, 
he found the golden elf’s offer the tiniest bit tempting. “Do...Do... you still want me?” he finally 
said flinching a little as he heard his own voice barely above a whisper. 

“I do” Glorfindel said smiling. “Stay by my side, and I shall never speak another word about 
your previous indiscretions.” Ecthelion nodded, taking Glorfindel's hand as it was offered to 
him, standing to his feet looking directly into the clear blue eyes of the golden lord. He was an 
imposing elf. It seemed like strength rolled off him in waves. It made Ecthelion feel very little 
and lost, and afraid he would get crushed under the other elf’s radiance. He could feel 
Glorfindel running his hands up his arms until they rested on his shoulders, the right hand 
gently gliding up to cup his chin, lifting his head so he looked directly at the golden elf’s 
impossibly blue eyes again. Ecthelion swallowed hard and tried a little timid smile. “So you 
finally agree to this arrangement?” 

“Yes,” Ecthelion whispered with a hoarse voice, closing his eyes. He felt trapped and diseased, 
he just couldn't see any other way out of his trouble, and surely Glorfindel couldn't be that bad 
of a catch. After all, he was admired by many. But as the golden elf’s ego was so bloated, he of 
course had to catch the one elf who avoided him, and now he had done just that. The young 
lord of the house of the fountain was trapped in his own sticky web.

Glorfindel leaned down and kissed the younger elf, and if Ecthelion was pretending, he was an 
astounding actor. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered against the other elf’s soft lips.

Short of breath from the kiss, Ecthelion blushed and smiled in agreement. And seeing 
Glorfindel light up from his answer, he couldn't help but think that this whole ordeal could 
have had a far worse outcome. And as Glorfindel untied the scarf that held his robe together, 
the burgundy red fabric fell to the floor and the blond elf stood stark naked in front of him 
there in the library. 

The young elf blushed even more, and Glorfindel chuckled. “I always sleep in the nude,” but as 
Ecthelion didn’t answer, Glorfindel furrowed his brow. “Is something wrong?” 

“No,” Ecthelion whispered, slowly pulling his own tunic over his head. So this was how it was 
supposed to be? In the library? He nervously eyed the large desk and wondered just how many 
young elves had been bent over that particular piece of furniture to receive some of the golden 
lord’s loving. He had never touched anyone other than Tuor, and the prospect of Glorfindel's 
broad muscular body frightened him a little. “Wh...What if someone comes in here?” he finally 
whispered.

The golden haired elf just smiled and was about to say something about that why on earth 
should anyone visit the library in the middle of the night, but he could tell that Ecthelion was 
really troubled by the prospect, and so he turned to lock the heavy door. As he turned around 
again he saw the young dark haired elf standing in the middle of the room, covering himself 
with his hands, smiling nervously. He really was breathtaking in the pale moonlight that fell 
through the windows, and Glorfindel thought to himself that this was the most beautiful elf he 
had ever seen in his life. Instead of finding Ecthelion’s nervousness annoying, he found it 
endearing. “I dreamed about this for so long.” He quickly covered the space between them, and 
placed his hands on Ecthelion’s shoulders. “You are even more beautiful in person, than in my 
dreams,” he whispered.

Ecthelion was at a loss of what to do, but he figured he had to do something. And after all it 
was not like he had never done this before, and it was really not as hard as he had thought. 
Glorfindel was a most becoming elf, and so he lifted his hand and ran it slowly through the 
golden locks of Glorfindel. And as Glorfindel leaned into the touch and purred, he boldly 
wrapped his other arm around the blond’s waist, pulling him close. Every doubt he might had 
had about this fled as he felt what was almost like a sweet electric shock as their bodies met. 
Glorfindel lowered his head and nipped his way up Ecthelion’s neck, all the way to his ear 
where he gently sucked the top. “Let me claim you, my beautiful Ecthelion,” he breathed.  

All Ecthelion could do was to close his eyes and purr, all nervousness gone. Even as Glorfindel 
turned him around, he instinctively leaned over the desk. What he had found so foreboding 
before was now just a part of the lust his entire body buzzed with. Before coming here, he had 
tried to imagine this. He had told himself that no one but Tuor could touch him like this, and 
whatever Glorfindel might find it in his perverted mind to do, would be a necessary evil. But as 
he felt the blond’s tongue against his guardian muscle, he let out a whimper, slowly losing his 
grip on the situation as Glorfindel turned out to be a most considerate and skilled lover, 
preparing him well for the upcoming intrusion. The young elf moaned softly as he felt a hand 
snake between his legs only to caress his rock hard arousal.  

The dark haired elf whimpered pitifully as the soft caresses and the teasing of the blond’s 
fingers suddenly stopped. Breathing heavily, he waited in the moonlit room, but when he 
suddenly didn’t feel Glorfindel's hands on his skin any more, he turned his head to look over his 
shoulder. He couldn't help but to smile as he saw the golden elf stand right behind him, looking 
down on him with a sweet smile. Glorfindel leaned down over Ecthelion’s back, and whispered, 
“Leave your head like this, I want to see you as I claim you.” Glorfindel tenderly brushed away 
tendrils of sweaty hair from Ecthelion’s face, and kissed the corner of his mouth, before he 
slowly started to inch inside. 

Ecthelion bit his lip as he felt the intrusion; it was such a bittersweet feeling. Pain and pleasure 
mixed in one delirious wave. None of them proved to be a vocal lover, and all that was heard 
was the sound of flesh on flesh, little purrs, soft moans and lust filled mews. Gasping for breath, 
Ecthelion found his release, too lost in liquid skies to notice that Glorfindel followed soon after. 
___________________________________________________

Sneaking in like a thief in the night, Ecthelion arrived at his own house just as dawn broke. He 
had counted on being able to make the trip to his own rooms unnoticed, but an amused voice 
called from the dining room. He knew he was caught and so he might as well just go sit down 
with Ithildin and get the scolding over with. 

Ithildin looked up at Ecthelion as he came into the room, “Oh my, you look like you were 
dragged through a mender,” the elder twin laughed softly. And Ecthelion just blushed; he 
hated the fact that he blushed this easily, like some girl. But it had just always been that way, 
and Ithildin read him far too easily. “So who was the lucky one, brother”? 

“I...” Ecthelion said, trying to wipe the grin off his face, he had to keep reminding himself that 
he didn’t like Glorfindel at all; in fact he hated the damn elf. “I was with Glorfindel,” he said, 
looking down at the table.

“Glorfindel?” Ithildin gasped. “But... why? I thought you found him... uh, what was the word? 
Appalling?”

“Every dog has his day,” Ecthelion said, knowing he would have to come up with a far better 
excuse before Ithildin would relax and stop worrying.

Ithildin eyed his twin with his good eye, and frowned. “You ‘do’ actually look happy,” he 
mumbled. He didn’t believe his twin one bit. He knew how to read Ecthelion’s body language 
far too well, and fidgeting with his sleeve as he did now, was a sign that he was hiding 
something. “Listen, I will not stop you, Glorfindel is a pretty elf, and he is absolutely a 
politically sound choice. But are you really in love? I don’t believe that your feelings would 
warm up to someone you spend a decade loathing, on one night, Ecthelion, so what are you not 
telling me?” 

“I misjudged him,” Ecthelion said with a small smile. “Am I not allowed to be wrong?”

“Of course you are, I am just puzzled by your choice of lover.” Ithildin reached out for his 
coffee. “I should say that perhaps you should have started out with trying to befriend each other 
first. Doesn’t friendship create a base for love to come?”

“Not necessarily,” Ecthelion whispered, pouring some coffee into a cup that was clearly left for 
him.

“How absolutely vulgar of you,” Ithildin said mortified. 

“Nevertheless,” Ecthelion said flatly, “it is what happened.” 

“Okay, I believe you,” Ithildin said. He really didn’t believe his twin one bit, but who was he to 
argue? He didn’t know what had passed, and he didn’t know what words might had been 
exchanged, and why on earth Ecthelion had actually gone to the house of the golden flower in 
the first place was still a mystery.
________________________________________________________

In the first month of spring, the king threw a big fantastic wedding for his daughter and Tuor. 
He had not at all been happy with her choice of husband, but since she was already with child, 
Turgon felt it urgent to press the wedding. And a grand wedding it was. All the important 
people from the city of Gondolin were invited, and the castle had been decorated with the first 
spring flowers. 

Ithildin and Ecthelion came to present their wedding gift together, and Ecthelion battled with 
himself to keep appropriate eye contact and act normal as he handed it over to the bride and 
groom. He could see Idril’s tummy was a little swollen, and came to the conclusion that the 
rumours was true, she really was with child. He knew he should be happy or them, but he 
found it very hard. Feeling relieved as Ithildin guided them away and into the crowd, the 
young lord wrapped an arm around his twin’s waist. “It is a very pretty day, and the ceremony 
was beautiful. They are very lucky,” he whispered.

“Indeed,” Ithildin answered, resting his head against his twin’s shoulder. No doubt about it, 
Ecthelion was acting most strange, but Ithildin just couldn't solve the mystery yet. He needed 
more information, and so he decided to keep a close eye on his brother.

Later, Ithildin sat at a table with a glass of what could resemble brandy in front of him. He had 
watching Ecthelion all evening. He had been smiling, laughing and dancing. He had almost 
stolen the limelight from the bride and groom, and what seemed to puzzle Ithildin even more 
was the fact that he had noticed that Ecthelion had held Glorfindel’s hand while talking to 
some other elves. Maybe Ecthelion had really spoken the truth! He certainly acted as if he were 
very much in love, so much that he seemed to sizzle with hormones. It was most odd... Ithildin 
downed his drink and rose from the chair. Maybe he shouldn’t try and understand it at all, and 
just be happy for his brother.

___________________________________________________________

AN: urgh, can we please kick Tuor in the nads again? I hope someone is still reading, because I 
am certainly having fun writing this. Oh and don’t worry, as I said on the AN for the first 
chapter, this fic has a very fluffy end. But I also must warn those Glorfindel/Ecthelion fans, that 
this is NOT the main pairing, so don’t even ask me to have them come together. I have separate 
plans for those two. They get each their other loverly elf, I promise! *smiles* 
_____________________________________________________


Why should I forgive you?
After all that I’ve seen
Quietly whisper
When my heart wants to scream.

Portishead – seven months

Chapter 4 – no time to reconsider. 

The day arrived where Tuor finally had his heir. Ecthelion woke to the sound of music in the 
streets, and he didn’t even want to know, so he buried himself under the covers again. When he 
finally emerged and went to get breakfast, he had spend hours in his room until hunger finally 
got the better of him. The entire household was buzzing, and he hadn’t even made it to the 
dining room before he knew that Tuor and Idril had a son. Smiling to himself, he could only 
imagine how happy Tuor would have to be. It must be the biggest day in his life, to finally hold 
his son and heir. When he arrived at the dining table, Ithildin was still seated there, long 
finished with his food. “Exciting, huh?” he said smiling.

“Oh yes,” Ecthelion said with a smile and sat down. “We should go there with a present soon.”

“Agreed, I had thought of later today,” Ithildin said softly. “What do you want to give him? I 
thought of giving him the large seashell, the one you can hear the ocean in. Odds are that the 
child will never experience the sea.”

“That is a good idea,” Ecthelion mumbled, not even really listening to what his brother said. 

Ecthelion ate his breakfast in silence, until Ithildin suddenly said, “So, are you and Glorfindel 
serious?”

“Serious? What do you mean?” Ecthelion answered, taking a sip of his coffee, trying to look 
indifferent.

“Don’t be daft, brother, you know perfectly well what I mean,” the one-eyed twin said.

“I suppose so,” Ecthelion mumbled. “Why do you ask?”

“Because maybe you would want to arrive at Turgon’s court with him, and not me,” Ithildin 
said with a smile, trying to look like he didn’t care what his twin answered, when in fact he 
hoped he wouldn't have to go there with a present alone.

“No, no... I am going with you,” Ecthelion said, and chuckled softly at seeing his brother’s 
relief. 

Ithildin nodded and rose from the chair. “I’m glad,” he said. “Then I will see you later, and we 
will go to the castle.” 

Ecthelion nodded and took another piece of bread as his twin left the dining room. 
____________________________

Later, when they had delivered their gift, Ecthelion was standing out on the patio overlooking 
the king’s magnificent garden. A small gathering of elves was talking in the room inside with 
hushed voices, all praising the babe. And Ecthelion had to agree that it was indeed a beautiful 
child, and even if he had tried his hardest to resist, he had fallen in love with the little one the 
second he had seen him. What could he do? It was his beloved Tuor’s son. 

“Why are you standing out here alone?” a tired voice said behind him. 

Ecthelion spun around and smiled as he saw Tuor standing behind him. “You look exhausted,” 
he said softly, and he did. The man looked like he had not slept for days, looking happy and 
tired at the same time. 

“I am, it has been a long night, and now there are people everywhere,” the man said with a 
yawn. “I needed the solitude of the garden.” 

“Oh, then I shall be on my way,” Ecthelion said. “You have a very beautiful son,” he took a deep 
breath remembering that he had lost the right to all endearments, and so he settled for“Tuor.”

“Don’t go,” the man said. “Take a walk with me instead.” 

“If you wish,” Ecthelion said with a smile, slowly beginning to walk away from the castle with 
Tuor by his side. 

They were silent for a long time, until they came to a huge oak tree, and Tuor rested against the 
broad trunk. “I miss you,” he finally said. “I know I was the one who wronged you, but I had 
wished we at least could have remained friends.” 

“I miss you, too,” the young elf lord whispered, “but you must understand that I cannot linger 
at your side. It hurts too much.” 

Tuor nodded. “It is a most selfish wish, I know.” 

“This is the best solution for all, my friend,” Ecthelion said, reaching out and caressing the 
man’s cheek. “You should spend your time being a good husband and father.” 

“I am, and I will... But why does that have to rule you out of the equation?” Tuor smiled 
nervously waiting for the elf’s reply.

Ecthelion’s heart beat madly, he wanted him, he still wanted him! “Because...” he mumbled, 
“That is too dangerous.”

Tour seemed to think about that for a moment. “Some day,” he whispered as he stepped closer 
to Ecthelion, “some day soon I will come visit in the night, then we can decide what to do. Now 
is not the moment, you are absolutely right about that.” 

Ecthelion held his breath as he felt Tuor press his lips against his in a swift kiss before the man 
quickly walked back to the castle. Now the poor elf was even more confused than before. 
_________________________________________

This whole ordeal had happened to have been partially seen and overheard by the king’s 
gardener, who in turn was friendly with the cook of the house of the golden flower. And within 
as little as a day, the news had reached the golden lord himself. Who then jumped directly on 
his horse and galloped to the house of the fountain, walking directly into the house searching 
for Ecthelion. He found him in the office that the twins shared; deeply concentrating on some 
scrolls, trying to figure out how many foals they could afford to breed this summer.  As the 
door slammed, he saw Glorfindel stalking in with long angry strides. “Glorfindel,” he said 
softly, smiling at the golden elf, “what a pleasant surprise.” 

“So,” Glorfindel said, “will you tell me what this ordeal with you and Tuor in the king’s garden 
was all about?” 

“What?” Ecthelion said, completely surprised. He would have laughed had it not been for 
Glorfindel’s serious expression. “We talked. I don’t recall that there were any rules about 
conversation.” Glorfindel just leaned in over the desk, resting on his knuckles, patiently waiting 
for Ecthelion to say something; the young elf stared up at the golden lord. Had he been crying? 
He certainly looked very upset, and the strong mask that was Glorfindel had crumbled away, 
and instead Ecthelion was faced with something far more deadly and sore. “We made a deal, 
Glorfindel, and I kept my part. I promise you.”

“Did you?” Glorfindel hissed.

“I did, I promised to stay by your side, and I have.” Ecthelion could hear the tone of voice 
giving himself away, sounding just as nervous as he suddenly felt. Had someone seen Tuor kiss 
him? Had they heard what he had said? Apparently they had, otherwise Glorfindel would not 
be standing here.

“For how long have you been seeing him on the side?” Glorfindel spat. “Or maybe you never 
stopped meeting him at all.” 

Ecthelion paled. “I haven’t been seeing anyone but you,” he croaked. “The deal was...”

“The deal is off, dear,” Glorfindel said, pushing himself from the table and standing up, crossing 
his arms over his chest. “You only have yourself to blame for this.”

Ecthelion stood up and quickly moved around the table to where Glorfindel was standing. “I 
beg you to reconsider your words, I have done nothing to jeopardize our arrangement,” he said, 
holding out his hands to the blond.

Glorfindel broke out in a mirthless laughter. “Do you think me that stupid?” He glared at 
Ecthelion, who seemed to shrink under the angry steel blue eyes. “Did I treat you wrong, 
Ecthelion? Did I not treat you with love?”

“Oh Glorfindel,” Ecthelion whispered, “you treated me with utmost respect and care, like a true 
lover should.” 

“Ah, I see... and this is how you repay me? I tried to help you, Ecthelion, and yet you disappoint 
me,” the golden elf sneered, ignoring Ecthelion’s outstretched hands.

“No, no,” Ecthelion mumbled, feeling a cold shiver down his neck. This was a bad dream! This 
was not happening! He had been so careful! “Don’t say so!” Glorfindel just blinked and stared 
hatefully at the other elf. Ecthelion felt like the temperature in the room dropped, and the 
tension was so thick he was sure he could reach out and touch it. “Don’t dismiss me so,” he 
pleaded .

“My heart is cold to your pleas and sweet lies,” Glorfindel finally whispered. “Never again will I 
believe a word from your lips.” 

“What will you have me do? I shall prove my innocence to you, should you wish it. I never 
betrayed my word to you!” As a last resort, Ecthelion dropped to his knees in front of the other 
elf, feeling desperation rise as the cold blue eyes of Glorfindel were made of ice, and not even a 
little comforting smile showing on his lips, which were now a this bloodless line. “I beg you to 
reconsider.”

Glorfindel looked down at the elf at his feet. Something inside him screamed that he should just 
forget this incident, and truth be told he might have, if not all of his household had already 
known, and soon every elf in Gondolin, and he would come out as a spineless idiot. “No,” he 
whispered, “it is over.” 

Clutching the fabric of Glorfindel’s trousers, Ecthelion rested his forehead against the blond’s 
thigh; “No, no, no,” he mumbled. “You must believe me.”

“Why degrade yourself like this for me? After all, the love you showed me was fake, and this 
charade is over, Ecthelion. You might be the most beautiful of all, but your soul is as black as 
night. Those soft lips I have kissed, spill nothing but poison. You are despicable,” Glorfindel 
hissed, trying to move his leg, but Ecthelion dug his nails deeper into the fabric.

Looking up at the golden lord, Ecthelion’s vision was blurred by tears. “I did not lie when I said 
I cared for you,” he whispered. “Oh, Glorfindel!” 

“Are you that consumed in your own darkness that you cannot see when the battle is lost?” 
Glorfindel spat, and this time forcefully pulled his leg from Ecthelion’s grip. “Goodbye, 
Ecthelion.” 

“No!” Ecthelion cried and reached out for Glorfindel’s leg again, but the blond quickly moved 
away. Resting one hand on the floor, Ecthelion’s face was hidden behind a veil of dark hair. 
“What will you do now?” he whispered, barely audible. 

“You already know that. This is not the hour for pretending, my beautiful Ecthelion,” 
Glorfindel said in a strangely soft voice. His hand hovered mid-air. He was tempted to lay it on 
the cascade of dark hair that tumbled from the other elf’s head and onto the wooden floor. He 
could see Ecthelion’s frame shake, but the emotion only rippled on the surface. Ecthelion had 
betrayed his trust. He had thought that the dark-haired elf had actually begun to love him 
back, but now he knew that this was not the fact. He had been played for a fool. And now it 
was time for his revenge. 

Ecthelion pushed himself up to a sitting position, his hair still clinging to his face which was 
wet from tears. “Let me leave, then, let me disappear from Gondolin, but I beg you, do not 
speak with the king. You will destroy not only my life, but Idril’s, Ithildin’s and the baby’s 
too.” 

“Cheap words, my dear,” Glorfindel said with an ice cold voice. “Nothing will happen to anyone 
but you and your little lover.” He took a deep breath.

A loud sob was the only answer that came from Ecthelion. He turned his head upwards and 
looked at Glorfindel again. “Please give me a chance to prove myself to you. Let me stay with 
you tonight my lord, and I shall show you that I am true to my word.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brows. “Nothing but a harlot,” he whispered, mostly to himself, before 
he turned and began to walk out of the office.

“No! Please!” Ecthelion screamed, and quickly scrambled to his feet, but Glorfindel was faster, 
and as he reached the door it was slammed in his face. Flinging it open, he ran out into the 
corridor, but Glorfindel was nowhere to be seen. He started to run down the long corridor. 
“Wait! My lord, please wait, please listen to me!” he screamed on the verge of panic, but no 
answer came, not until he heard the heavy wooden door to the street open and slam closed 
again, and before he had made it down the stairs he heard horse hooves gallop away. “By the 
Valar, no!” he whispered in a high-pitched voice. Sitting down on the stairs, he cried his heart 
out, frantically trying to think of a solution to this situation.
________________________________
AN (5): ah, my favourite annoying trade, timeline jumps *laughs*, this is by the way the last 
chapter of this part (playing the liar) next time the real fun begins, this first part is really a kind 
of prequel to what is about to happen now. *Smiles* if I go a bit overboard here, it’s because I 
have a HIM cd run on repeat as I write this, so sue me.
_________________________________

A moth into a butterfly
And a lie into the sweetest truth
I’m so afraid of life
I try to call your name
But I’m silenced by the fear of
Dying in your heart once again.

HIM – play dead.

Chapter 5  - One step away from the end.

(Years later)

The first days, weeks, even months after the discussion in his office with Glorfindel, Ecthelion 
was a nervous wreck. He had expected soldiers to show up at every hour of the day, but nothing 
happened. Maybe Glorfindel had found a forgiving or even believing spot in his heart. But for 
fear of jeopardizing this fragile truce, Ecthelion stopped talking to anyone at the royal court. He 
had not been at his chamber when Tuor, as promised, had showed up in the midst of night. It 
was better to just become invisible, and with time Ecthelion hoped that everything, including 
him, should be forgotten. Ithildin had worried at first. He had begged and pleaded with his 
twin to come with him to gatherings, but Ecthelion had refused. He had isolated himself 
completely, becoming a ghost in his own house. There had been letters from the royal court, 
but he had burned them in the fireplace without reading them, and he had not even seen the 
shadow of Glorfindel since that dreadful day. Lulling himself into this half existence, Ecthelion 
had to admit that he was lonely, so very lost within his own darkness, as the golden lord had 
once accused him of being. Living in eternal fear that this was the day where Glorfindel finally 
executed his threat. 

Ithildin had watched his twin withdraw from the world around him. Even if he had been a 
silent bystander to this for a long time, he was beginning to fear that his twin would choose the 
same fate as their mother, and leave this grand new land, to travel into the west, leaving them 
here to live their lives, but for a long time Ecthelion had barely been breathing. He looked like 
a pale dead version of the twin he used to know. And here he was, standing in front of 
Ecthelion’s door with a bottle of spirits. It had been so long since he had even spoken to his 
twin, and he missed him terribly. Opening the door, he found Ecthelion reading a book in front 
of the fire. 

“I thought you could use a drink,” he said with a crooked smile, stepping inside the room, 
closing the door behind him.

“That was sweet of you, Ithildin,” Ecthelion said, not even looking up from his book. “But I am 
afraid I am not really in the mood for company this eve.”

“You are never in the mood for company anymore, brother,” Ithildin said as he snatched the 
book from Ecthelion’s hands, tossing it across the room. “This night you will drink with me, 
and you will tell me why you avoid every living soul.” He pushed a glass into Ecthelion’s hand, 
and then he sat down on the sofa, uncorking the bottle, watching his baffled twin. When 
Ithildin poured the liquid into his own glass, Ecthelion held his out to have it filled too; he had 
to admit that he was dying to unburden his heart, to share these dark secrets with his twin. But 
he never found the moment to do so. 

The had a couple of drinks in silence, until Ecthelion downed his glass and held it out to get it 
refilled. “I have a confession to make,” he whispered, watching Ithildin nod. He started to tell 
his unfortunate tale from the beginning, and once he ended it, dawn was approaching, and 
Ithildin was sitting staring at him, deadly pale. 

“You should have told me before,” Ithildin croaked.

Ecthelion nodded. “I know I deceived you, brother, but I just thought that if I ...” he sighed and 
reached a hand out to take Ithildin’s cold and clammy one. He smiled bitterly. “There is really 
no excuse for keeping you in the dark,” he mumbled, looking away from his twin, and up at a 
painting he had over his mantel.

“No,” Ithildin whispered, “You are my brother, my twin. I could never hate you, I love you, 
Ecthelion. Whatever you have done, we shall face together,” he said, softly squeezing 
Ecthelion’s hand.

“I refuse to have you suffer for my poor judgement,” Ecthelion said, turning his head back to 
look at his twin.

“Brother, let us sleep on it, and in the morning I am sure we can find a solution. Maybe the king 
will be lenient after all, since this situation lies years behind us,” Ithildin said, standing up and 
dragging Ecthelion to his feet. “I will stay here with you, if you want me to. You are not alone 
anymore, brother. We will find a way to solve this, and even should the worst happen, you will 
be in exile with me.” 

Ecthelion wanted to dismiss Ithildin, but he couldn't. He had been alone for this long, and 
somehow knowing Ithildin was at his side, he felt strangely secure. Ithildin had always looked 
after him, comforted him as their mother left, taken upon himself to run the household just 
months after they came of age. And so he nodded and sealed Ithildin’s fate as well as his own. 
“Thank you,” he whispered.

They had only slept for two hours when the door when Ithildin woke to a loud commotion 
downstairs. He sat up, and untangled himself from his sleeping twin. The door to Ecthelion’s 
bedroom was flung open and a young servant, looking all flustered and distressed, almost fell 
into the room. “My lords, my lords,” he gasped, short of breath, “There are soldiers at the door, 
demanding that you both rally at the castle within the hour.”

Ecthelion woke with a shock, and almost rolled off the bed. Ithildin climbed out of bed and 
stalked over to the young servant elf. “Did they say why?” he growled, scaring the young elf, 
but he was unable to hide his own fear for the reason of this early call from king Turgon.

“War, my lord,” the young elf cried. “War!”

“By Eru!” Ecthelion gasped and got off the bed. This could only mean one thing; the hidden city 
was no longer hidden. For some odd reason Ecthelion’s first thought was of little Eärendil. He 
had prayed that the child would live out his life here, cocooned in love and peace, but it seemed 
like fate had other plans with their lives. He looked over at Ithildin, who had sat down on a 
chair, trying to understand this message. He didn’t know if he was relieved or scared. War! 
War would mean death and pain, but for a second he had thought that the soldiers had come to 
take them to see the king for a different matter. One thing he did know was that life as they 
knew it was over, and the future was as uncertain as it could possibly get.
______________________________________

They had dressed in silence and now stood in the giant hall where they had so many times been 
attending gatherings of a happier kind. Now Ecthelion could smell the fear, the elves in the hall 
were nervous and frightened, waiting for the king to speak. Everyone talked with strangely 
hushed voices, as if it were blasphemy to speak normally. Finally the king appeared. He did not 
at all look like the beacon in the dark they needed, he looked just as frightened as the rest of 
them, worn and pale. “Good lords and soldiers of Gondolin,” the king called, silencing the 
crowd. Ithildin reached for Ecthelion’s hand, clutching it desperately as they waited for the 
king to speak his mind.

“Forgive me for waking you all so brutally this fine spring morning, but the enemy is close. 
They have taken up camp on Tumladen, it is true! They have found the entrance and are 
planning to destroy us all. Someone has sold us to Morgoth. I do not know who, or why. And 
this is not really important at this time.” A frightened whisper went through the crowd, as they 
were faced with the reality of a battle so close at hand. “Go home, kiss your wives, children, and 
loved ones, send your prayers to the Valar, arm yourselves, and come back here. The battle will 
begin at nightfall” As Turgon’s voice faded, the hall was silent. And elves started to slowly leave 
for their homes.

“Go home, brother,” Ecthelion said. “I shall join you very shortly.” When Ithildin looked 
puzzled, Ecthelion nodded towards Glorfindel, who stood at the far end of the hall, speaking 
with another blond elf. “I need to speak with him, just in case...” he closed his eyes and 
frowned, “you know.” 

“I do,” Ithildin said, and kissed his brother’s cheek. “Hurry home,” he whispered as he too left 
the king’s halls to head home.

Ecthelion took a deep breath and walked over to Glorfindel, and tapping the golden lord’s 
shoulder, he cleared his throat. “My lord? Do you have a moment?” he said with a smile. 
Glorfindel turned around smiling, but seeing Ecthelion, his smile faded. The other blond elf 
silently left, leaving the two elves facing each other. 

“War,” Ecthelion said softly, “who would have thought.” 

“Get to the point,” Glorfindel said coldly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“We might perish,” Ecthelion whispered, “and… I miss you, lord Glorfindel.” He blushed 
slightly at his own words, knowing the full extends of his rather indecent proposal. Looking 
directly into the deep blue eyes of the blond lord, Ecthelion whispered, “Will you love me one 
last time? I don’t wish to die lonely.”

Glorfindel frowned. “Have you no decency?” and as Ecthelion lowered his head, Glorfindel 
slapped the dark haired youth hard across the cheek. “Consider that my answer, you deceased 
whore from the deepest pits of Angbard!” 

Tears welled up in Ecthelion’s eyes, both from the humiliation and the pain from the backside 
of Glorfindel's hand. His lips trembled. He wanted to tell the blond that he had a really bad 
feeling about this upcoming battle. He was sure he would not survive, something inside him 
just knew this would be his last moment, and he regretted not being able to return the love that 
Glorfindel has showered him with once. Now all he wanted was to suck up that strength once 
more, just one last time before the end of all things. But he just stood still, knowing just how 
many elves that had heard the sound of Glorfindel's hand meeting his cheek echo in the hall. 

“Go and die in whatever way suits you best, and stop pestering me,” the golden lord hissed. 
“You are not even worthy of wearing the kings uniform,” he said, before he quickly left the 
scene, leaving Ecthelion standing in the corner of the hall alone. 

Ecthelion shortly after ran all the way across the city of Gondolin, only to find their front door 
open. He ran inside and flung himself around Ithildin’s neck. “I love you, brother,” he cried 
pitifully.

“I love you, too,” Ithildin whispered, feeling tears come to his eyes as well. “Whatever happens, 
I know he is wrong, you are a valiant and brave elf, and most of all you are my beloved twin.”

Ecthelion’s heart contracted painfully hearing those words. Ithildin had such faith in him, and 
it almost broke his heart. “When all this is over, you and I brother, we shall take our horses and 
ride to the shore, ride into oblivion and be free of all titles and restrictions, and only be Ithildin 
and Ecthelion, exploring things new and amazing.”

“I pray for that,” Ithildin whispered back, clutching his brother. Then something rumbled 
outside, followed by a deafening roar and then screams. “It has started,” Ithildin whispered.

“Yes,” Ecthelion breathed and kissed his brother’s cheek before he let go of their embrace to 
find his uniform and weapons, preparing for battle, to defend Gondolin from ruin.

Star of the sea part 2 / The darker days of me and him.

________________________________________
AN (6): wee the next part. This part is called ‘the darker day of me and him’ and takes place in 
Lothlorien, and finally I get to have fun with Haldir again, I missed the marchwarden, it’s been 
so long since I wrote about him. – this is actually two chapters I put together since I felt they 
were both too short. So this leaves us with 18 chapters in all, and not 19.
________________________________________

Don’t worry about a thing
‘Cause every little thing’s gonna be alright.

Bob Marley  – three little birds.

Chapter 6  - Don’t worry about a thing.

Breathing was painful. This was the first recollection Ecthelion had of being alive once more. 
Once he became a little more aware of his surroundings, he blinked confusedly but could not 
focus. He heard someone speak softly but with an undercurrent of worry. He couldn't make out 
the words. A gigantic headache nestled behind his eyes, a vague image of a stern raven-haired 
elf came to him, of course! Namo, the doomsman of the Valar. He remembered now. Namo had 
personally come to see him, and while Ecthelion had been dumbstruck, Namo had been as calm 
as ever. As the Vala had begun to walk, Ecthelion had stumbled to keep up, listening to the soft 
voice explaining to him that the time of the elves was soon to end in Middle-earth. Ecthelion 
was saddened by this; he really couldn't tell why, it just seemed so tragic. But then the mighty 
Vala had stopped and taken Ecthelion’s hand in his. Ecthelion had somewhat expected the 
touch to be as cold as, yea death! But Namo’s hand had been warm and soft; he had waited for 
Ecthelion to look him in the eyes before he continued. He had said that Ecthelion still had a 
large part to play. Ecthelion had had a million questions, but Namo had seemed to know what 
he wanted to ask, and he had reassured him that he would be thrust upon the earth as he was 
now. All scars and burns he had incurred as he had fought the Balrog would perish, and he 
would look as he had done in life. Nor would he be bereft of his memories, for they played a 
very important part. And at last Namo had said that he might not recognize Middle-earth, but 
even if things had changed, some were still the same. Ecthelion must have looked utterly 
confused and frightened, for Namo smiled warmly and whispered, “The song of Eru will guide 
your steps; don’t worry so much, brave Ecthelion.”

And now the next thing he knew, he opened his eyes and looked right into a pair of large hazel 
eyes; they apparently belonged to whoever had comforted him. They looked alert and worried. 
He was about to say something when the elf who had been staring at him turned his head, 
yelling over his shoulder, “Rumil, bring me the blanket,” and the next thing Ecthelion knew, 
he was being wrapped in a warm blanket, and now a second set of worried brown eyes looked 
at him. “Are you well?” the new elf said carefully. 

Ecthelion nodded slowly and smiled. These elves looked like Teleri, but that was impossible. 
What was left of that race remained in Valinor. Suddenly something struck him. Namo had not 
told him how much time had passed in Middle-earth while he had been in the halls waiting. 
Not that he actually remembered the Teleri elves much; he mostly just remembered clinging to 
his twin and their mother, being scared out of his mind. “Wh...Where am I?” he finally 
croaked. 

Haldir smiled in relief. The strange elf didn’t seem mortally wounded ,and now that he had 
spoken he seemed sane enough. This of course just made him a bigger mystery. “You are in the 
golden wood of Lothlorien,” he said carefully.

Lothlorien, what on earth was that? He must have looked confused, because the elf with the 
warm voice just smiled. “May I ask, who are you?”

“I am...” Ecthelion croaked, what would be wise? “I...I... don’t remember,” he finally whispered. 
It was a blatant lie, he knew exactly who he was, but he had this second chance of life, and he 
would not want those warm brown eyes to look at him in loathing as they would realise they 
looked upon the harlot of Gondolin.

“Very well,” the first elf said. “I am Haldir, marchwarden of Lorien,” the silver haired elf 
smiled, “and that is my little brother, Rumil.” He nodded toward the other silver haired elf. Of 
course, they were brothers, Ecthelion thought to himself, inwardly chiding himself that he had 
not seen that. “And our middle brother, Orophin, is still out trying to hunt down some food for 
us. He will be back shortly.” Ecthelion nodded, wrapping the blanket more tightly around his 
body. Blushing to his roots, he realised they had come upon him naked. Haldir seemed to sense 
his distress and crooked his head. “We are but a day’s travel from Caras Galadhon. There you 
will go before my lord and lady, and if you are indeed what you claim to be, she will know, and 
you shall be welcomed.”

Ecthelion’s eyes widened. “She will know?” he whispered with a tiny voice.

Haldir nodded. “She can read your mind,” he said with a dangerous undertone. But then Haldir 
just stood up and turned to Rumil. “Gather some firewood, brother. It will be dark soon.” 
Rumil nodded and disappeared into the thickening, and then Haldir turned to Ecthelion once 
more. “I do not believe you one second,” he said softly. Ecthelion knitted his eyebrows, not sure 
what to make of this remark, and the silver haired elf continued. “I think you remember your 
name, but as I see no malice in your eyes, I choose to believe you have a good reason to keep 
your identity a secret.” Haldir scraped the loose dirt and leaves away in a circle, preparing for 
the firewood. “My first duty is to my lord and lady, so until my lady has given her verdict on 
you, I shall watch you closely, stranger.” 

Ecthelion wet his lips and nodded. “I understand,” he croaked, and he did. He would have 
reacted just the same had he been in Haldir’s place. 

The rest of the night was spent in peace. They ate the rabbits that Orophin returned with. 
Ecthelion found himself lost in the friendly bickering between the brothers. He missed Ithildin 
sorely. Why had it been he, and not his twin returned to Arda? He wished he could share a 
story of his twin, but as he claimed to have lost all memory, he couldn't very well tell them he 
too had a brother. He learned that Rumil was a decent singer, entertaining them all with some 
rather crude campfire songs. Haldir and Orophin seemed to be amused and Ecthelion found 
himself laughing along with the song of the farmer who mistakes his friend for his wife after a 
long binge in town. He had missed this. He had never been a warrior at heart, but life had been 
different back then, and he had been a soldier out of necessity, not of choice.

Ecthelion had not slept at all. He had lain awake and watched the stars, awe-struck just to gaze 
upon the starlit night. These were strange days indeed. And the next day they had travelled to 
the heart of the golden wood. Wrapped in the blanket, he had been riding on Rumil’s horse, 
with Rumil holding the reins, walking beside the horse. Rumil had several times tried to 
engage him in conversation, but Ecthelion had not known what to answer. He was terrified of 
being presented before the lord and lady of these woods. Who were they? 
_________

Suddenly he was there, standing alone in a huge talan at the top of the biggest tree he had ever 
seen. He still had difficulty taking in this city. It looked so much like the vague memory he had 
from before they had set out on the walk across the ice. When suddenly two white shining elves 
came floating towards him, his eyes widened and his mouth went dry. The lord and lady of 
these woods…what should he do? Cast himself unto his knees and beg forgiveness for this 
betrayal? He felt a gentle probing in his mind, and giving in, he allowed the other to enter his 
mind. It felt like liquid velvet, and he found himself crying without knowing why.

“Ecthelion of the fountain” a soft voice said. Ecthelion was not even sure if it was said out loud, 
or in his mind.

He fell to his knees, kneeling in front of the two white elves that he still couldn't see for the 
blinding aura that surrounded them. “Yes,” he whimpered, “I am he.”

“I remember you,” the soft voice said, and this time Ecthelion was sure it had been said out 
loud. And one of the white lights stepped down and reached out a hand for him to rise. 

Ecthelion looked up, blinking tears out of his eyes. And the blinding light disappeared slowly. 
Until he saw the she elf in front of him. “Lady Galadriel,” he gasped quickly, casting his gaze 
back to the floor. 

Galadriel laughed a little bubbling laughter. “You need not bow in front of me, lord of the 
fountain.” 

Slowly Ecthelion looked up and met Galadriel’s eyes once more, seeing the other elf joining 
them. This elf he only knew of by name. He had never laid eyes on the fair elf Celeborn. 
“Celeborn of Doriath,” he breathed, mesmerised by the elf’s ethereal beauty. 

“Rise, Ecthelion, as my dear wife said. You need not bow to us,” Celeborn said softly.

Ecthelion slowly rose to his feet, not knowing what to make of this, keeping a tight hold on the 
blanket that made it up for his clothing. “I...I am at a loss for words,” he finally whispered.

Galadriel chuckled again. “You grew into a fine elf, little Ecthelion. I am thrilled you were 
allowed to join us once more.” Ecthelion smiled a timid little smile. He remembered the lady 
Galadriel fighting with the fury of several male elves, and she had been a sight to behold. 
Young and powerful, neither he nor Ithildin had ever forgotten her even if they had been but 
toddlers at the time they had met her. “First we need to find you some decent clothing,” she 
said, smiling as Ecthelion blushed crimson. “Then we shall talk.”
_________________________

Later, Ecthelion found himself smelling of roses, and dressed in fine woven clothing. He had 
marvelled at the fine embroideries that graced the soft fabric. His first notion had been to braid 
his hair as he normally did, but realised as he stood in front of the mirror that he had lost that 
right a long time ago. And he just braided it as a loose plait. Taking a deep breath, he walked 
out of the temporary rooms assigned to him, to meet the lord and lady again. A part of him was 
happy to be here. This was a beautiful place, but another part of him wished he understood the 
Valar’s reason for returning him here; it made no sense at all. But he accepted his fate, and his 
steps gradually became more confident as he walked to the royal talan.

_____________________

Ecthelion emptied his stomach on the floor next to his bed. His nightmare had been vivid. He 
had felt the sickening feeling of his skin blistering and cracking, he had smelled the burned 
flesh, and the strange fear and relief mingled as he had made impact with the water, only to 
find his lungs filled with water. His last thought had been of Eärendil. He wished by the Valar 
that the child would escape alive. Wiping the vomit from his chin with a trembling hand, he 
heard a sob rise from deep within. He had not heard anyone enter as he suddenly felt soft hands 
hold back his hair, as another wave of nausea hit him. 

He hardly registered being pulled into a comforting embrace. “Hush,” Galadriel whispered, 
stroking Ecthelion’s long dark hair. “It is only normal you would feel like this, being trapped as 
a shadow in Mandos for this long, and now forced to once more become flesh and blood.” 
Ecthelion heard her soothing voice but only a soft sob would come from his mouth, and 
Galadriel rested her head on top of his, holding him tightly. “You are once more forced to feel, 
and remember.” 

“Once I loved life,” Ecthelion whispered brokenly. “I really did. But when I lost it, I did not 
care anymore.” 

“Of course you cared,” Galadriel whispered. “Your heroic, unselfish deeds are sung in many a 
song.” 

Ecthelion smiled bitterly. “I was no hero, you saw my mind, you know what I was.” His voice 
became a whisper, and he broke free of the lady’s embrace, sitting on the bed, wringing his 
hands in his lap. “I was a coward.”

“You were not,” Galadriel answered, putting a hand on his shoulder to re-establish some bodily 
contact. “I saw your mind, remember?” when Ecthelion did not answer. “I know what you fear, 
penneth,” she whispered, and before Ecthelion could answer, Galadriel turned his head so he 
looked her directly in her eyes. “He is here.”

“Glorfindel?” Ecthelion screeched in alarm. “Why? What?... How?”

Galadriel nodded. “The Valar allowed his rebirth, as we desperately need someone to keep 
Rivendell safe from harm in the upcoming war.” 

“Oh,” Ecthelion breathed with a pitiful voice. 

“And you too have some part to play, although the reasons are hidden even to me. But I am sure 
the Valar did not give you back life lightly. Only a few have received that honour,” she said 
with a motherly smile.

“I cannot face him,” Ecthelion said, shivering from pent-up fear. “You cannot ask that of me, 
please milady, I beg you.” 

“Be at ease, Ecthelion,” Galadriel said, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I would never ask you 
to do so, if you are not ready.” Then she looked serious and took Ecthelion’s hand. “But you 
cannot hide forever.” 

“Yes I can,” Ecthelion said desperately.

Galadriel chuckled and shook her head slowly. “Old stories are forgotten, Ecthelion. None are 
left to remember Gondolin but you and Glorfindel. All that is left are songs, carried through 
the millennia.” 

“Songs?” Ecthelion said, looking confused. “Who ever would sing of me?” 

“Many a bard has raised their voice in praise for the undying love between the lord of the 
golden flower and his confidant.” As Ecthelion still looked lost, Galadriel said, “the lord of the 
house of the fountain.” 

“Ithildin?” Ecthelion said, still puzzled.

“No,” Galadriel laughed. “You!”

“Me? But I was never the lord of... oh by Eru!” Ecthelion’s shoulders slumped. “And I never had 
any love for Glorfindel. Over the years I learned to care for him, but... “ He blushed crimson 
again. “Our arrangement was purely... Uhm, physical.”  

Galadriel had the decency to sport a little ladylike blush, but then she nodded. “I see, well I am 
old Ecthelion, and I have seen much. I know songs to be stories, and stories are nothing but 
alternate truth on paper.” 

Ecthelion blinked in disbelief. She had not dismissed him? Made the guards follow him to the 
borders of the woods? Or worse, cast him in front of his nemesis and told him to keep what was 
his? “I don’t understand,” he finally whispered.

“Don’t fret, penneth. I have a plan. One that will save your honour as well as give you a little 
peace,” she said with a smug grin.

Ecthelion found the grin very unsettling, but who was he to disagree with the queen of the 
Noldor?

_____________________________________

AN: Ah, its time for the fun to begin! This part of the story is sadly completely smutless, but hey 
I tried everything I could to sneak some smut into this part (the darker day of me and him) but 
it just wouldn't work darnit! Why do muses always work the complete opposite of what you 
want?
____________________________________________

 


Come as you are
As you were
As I want you to be
As a friend, as a friend
As a known enemy
Take your time
Hurry up
The choice is yours
Don’t be late..

Nirvana  – Come as you are.

Chapter 7  - The choice is yours, don’t be late.

Standing in front of the mirror, Ecthelion looked at his reflection. He did not even recognize 
himself, and maybe this ludicrous plan of Galadriel’s would actually work. He absentmindedly 
started to braid his hair. How he wished that Namo had been more specific in his speech. If only 
he had known why he had been cast back to life. He felt utterly lost! As Galadriel had said, the 
songs had praised him as a hero of the sword and of the heart. Ecthelion sighed. Maybe he 
should just be glad that they did not describe in detail what a traitor he had been. It must have 
been a minstrel at Turgon’s palace writing this song, trying to do some damage control, or what 
did he know? The author of these songs was long forgotten.

Looking at the beautiful robes he had been given, sporting the Lorien colours, he smiled. Rumil 
had been here earlier to inform him that Lord Glorfindel had been informed of his rebirth, and 
was very thrilled to see him at the feast tonight, a feast in his honour. Ecthelion sighed. He 
hoped he would be able to pull off this charade. He desperately wished he had known what the 
Valar wanted from him, but he had no clue, and why had they left him here in Lothlorien? 
Maybe it could be because the only elf able to help him was Lady Galadriel, but he didn’t quite 
believe that! There was a reason for him being left here, and it was important, he was just too 
dim to see it. The Valar never did anything without a reason; they acted out the song of Eru, 
and so they did what they had to. And now he too was a part of that, except he had no idea 
what he had to do. 

Closing his eyes, he desperately prayed to the Lord of Mandos to come to him, just to give him a 
clue, so he could live up to the expectations they had, and not let them down. But nothing 
happened. In the end, Ecthelion opened his eyes again and looked at his own reflection. “How 
can I prevent myself from failing, when I know not what is expected of me?” he asked with a 
tiny voice.

Gathering his courage he leaned over to his bedside table and picked up a little black object. 
Closing his eyes again, he carefully slipped the object into place, opening his eyes again; it was 
not he, but Ithildin looking back from the mirror. “By Eru!” he gasped. The eye patch was 
annoying and he fought the urge to rip it off, but he hoped that he would eventually get used to 
it. He was no longer Ecthelion... he had become Ithildin. 

Now Galadriel and Celeborn’s words made sense. They had told Glorfindel that the lord of the 
fountain had been allowed to come back to life, and Ecthelion knew they would not betray 
him, and so he knew that Glorfindel would assume he was Ithildin. He sent a prayer of thanks 
to Galadriel. This plan just had to work! It just had to! 

He looked down at his hands that trembled. He had to remind himself that Ithildin and he had 
done this all the time as elflings, pretending to be the other, and they had never been caught, so 
why should he fail now? “Thank you for lending me your face, brother,” he whispered to 
himself, hoping his brother would hear him at the halls, and then he turned and left the room, 
hurrying to the feast before all courage left him.
___________________________

The feast was not as terrible he had feared. He was met by Rumil and Orophin who smiled to 
him, welcoming him warmly. He accepted their embraces but a little nagging voice would not 
let him rest. Would they have embraced him, had they known what he really was? Another 
happy voice behind him, and he turned around, seeing Haldir. For a second he was speechless. 
The silver haired elf might share his genes with his brothers, but he was magnificent! His hair 
was like liquid silver against his dark blue tunic; for a moment Ecthelion was sure that the 
brothers’ mother had to have been a star. And as Haldir bowed slightly, saying “my lord,” 
Ecthelion felt his breath get caught in his throat. 

“Haldir, you..” he croaked… “please rise,” and as Haldir straightened up and smiled, Ecthelion 
found himself blushing. “Those robes are most becoming,” he finally said softly, fingering his 
sleeve.

“Thank you, my lord,” Haldir said before he chuckled, and this set off his brothers’ into a 
giggling fit. “I think I preferred you with only my blanket,” Haldir said with a smug grin. 
Ecthelion blushed to his roots and this made the three brothers laugh even harder. Celeborn 
had pulled them aside and told them that Ithildin had been bereft of his right eye in his 
previous life, and even if the Valar had brought him back here without that handicap, Lord 
Ithildin felt more like himself with the patch, and so they should not question it. They had all 
agreed to stay silent about this, in respect for the mythical Ecthelion of the fountain’s twin. 

Haldir laid his hand on Ecthelion’s shoulder. “There is someone dying to meet you,” he 
whispered and nodded to his left. As Ecthelion turned, he saw Glorfindel. His knees went weak, 
and his mouth went dry. The golden lord was still as beautiful as he had been in Gondolin. Age 
had definitely been kind to the golden elf, Ecthelion thought to himself, and before he knew of 
it, he was guided by the Lorien brothers to stand in front of his worst nightmare. 
“Glor..Glorfindel?” he said, bracing himself.

“Ithildin!” Glorfindel exclaimed with a big genuine smile, and warmly embraced Ecthelion. 
The young lord of the fountain closed his eyes. Glorfindel even still smelled of lavender, and for 
one terrible moment it felt like they were back in Gondolin, but Glorfindel’s voice shook him 
out of his strange daydreaming. “I was so happy hearing the news about your rebirth!” He held 
Ecthelion out from his body and looked him up and down, and for a second Ecthelion almost 
panicked, thinking his disguise too poor. But suddenly Glorfindel buried him in another tight 
embrace. “Thank the Valar that you are here, as we are in sore need of seasoned soldiers.” 

Ecthelion smiled and said, “I must admit I was indeed very surprised to learn of your rebirth,” 
and that was absolutely no lie. Ecthelion smiled again at the golden lord. “I never thought I 
would see you again, my friend.” 

Glorfindel smiled wholeheartedly. “Oh Ithildin,” he said softly, “come share a drink with me, 
and we will talk. I have much to tell you.” Glorfindel hooked his arm with Ecthelion and took 
him to a nearby table. Once seated with each their drink, Glorfindel smiled again. “I have a 
confession to make, my friend,” he whispered.

Ecthelion paled, and almost choked on his drink. “You do?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said, reaching over the table to lay his hand on top of Ecthelion’s. “Ithildin, I 
must admit that I was both scared and relieved upon hearing of your rebirth.”  

“Scared?” Ecthelion repeated like an idiot.

“Aye,” Glorfindel whispered. “I was not sure of what to say, or how to act upon seeing you 
again.”

“But… but,” Ecthelion stuttered, “you and I never had any personal dealings with each other. I 
don’t see why you should be nervous to see me.”  

“I know,” Glorfindel said and took a sip of his drink. “It is just that you…” the blond elf sighed 
and a shadow crossed over his fair features. “You remind me so much of Ecthelion, and so…”

Ecthelion laughed nervously. “But my dear Glorfindel, of course I remind you of him; he was 
my twin.” Seeing that Glorfindel nodded in agreement, Ecthelion decided to take a dive off the 
deep end, and raised a delicate eyebrow. “Our resemblance were only skin deep.”

“Aye,” Glorfindel said as if he were in thought, and then looked up at Ecthelion. “Ithildin, you 
have always been an elf of integrity.” 

For an insane moment Ecthelion felt like slapping the blond elf in front of him, but he just 
forced a smile and raised his glass for a toast. Slick, Ecthelion, slick! He thought to himself. 

After several glasses of wine, Glorfindel’s tongue had loosened and they exchanged stories. 
Ecthelion sent Galadriel a friendly thought, as she had been the one to inform him of Ithildin’s 
ending. His dear twin had been crushed under a collapsing building. Glorfindel was telling 
about life in Rivendell, and when he talked about his visits in Lorien his eyes lit up. He 
whispered that he had lost his heart here long ago. For some reason Ecthelion couldn't help but 
to feel a sting of jealousy, which was of course madness! Why would he feel jealous of 
whomever this terrible elf had chosen to chase after? What he should feel was compassion for 
the poor soul who had caught the golden lords eye! But Glorfindel was elusive on this matter; 
he refused to give a name of his beloved. Ecthelion’s heart sank; this was history repeating 
itself! 

Ecthelion leaned in over the table and smiled sweetly. “One question, and I shall never speak of 
it again” 

Glorfindel looked up and raised a brow, but he still smiled “All right,” he said.

“You refuse to tell me whom captured your heart, so... I will have to guess, and so I need to 
know two things.” Glorfindel nodded, not realising he was actually answering a question more 
than he initially had agreed to, and this let Ecthelion to believe that either the elf was really 
drunk, or he actually wanted him to find out. “Is he or she here?” 

Glorfindel nodded.

“Ah,” Ecthelion said with a smile. “And what did you fall in love with?” 

“His eyes, his smile,” Glorfindel said with a dreamy look. Ecthelion smiled, it was a ‘he’, no 
surprise there really. And this information would do him well; he would just have to look for 
the elf with the most perfect eyes, and most charming smile. 
_______________________________

On his way back to his talan that night, his head reeled. Not just from the amount of alcohol he 
had consumed, but from trying to sort out his own feelings. Glorfindel had been nice to him, 
charming even! Had the golden lord really changed that much? Or was it solely because he 
thought he was Ithildin? He had noticed that Glorfindel all night carefully had guided the 
conversation away from anything even remotely related to his private life before his rebirth. 
Ecthelion sighed. He didn’t understand his own thoughts anymore, but he remembered that 
Namo had said that his memories would be important to his task. “You could have just told 
me!” he groaned, reaching his bed and collapsing on top of the covers. 

Glorfindel had told him that he should travel to Rivendell and see the Last Homely House for 
himself. Maybe he should, but just the thought of being that close to Glorfindel made his skin 
crawl. But what if he was supposed to go there? He would have to ask Lady Galadriel what she 
made of all this, because Ecthelion could not get any more confused than he already was.
_________________________________________
AN: I for one has been looking forward to this chapter - take a wild guess why *smirks* - AND 
this is the last chapter of this part (the darker day of me and him) and this means it is the last 
chapter in Lorien. We will run into Haldir again tho’. This part got shorter than intended but 
my story line was written faster than I had thought, and therefore I had to add chapters to each 
other and so to make it look like I at least made an effort. 
________________________________________

He said
Baby what’s your name? 
Are you new in this town?
Since you walked in things don’t look the same
How about sticking around?

Vaya con Dios  – Just a friend of mine.

Chapter 8  - He’s just a friend a friend of mine.

The next morning Ecthelion felt oddly fresh. He knew he should have had a worse hangover 
with all that wine he had had last night, but he found himself looking forward to breakfast, and 
since his stomach growled, it apparently agreed. Getting out of bed, he saw his own reflection. 
The eye patch! Where was the eye patch? Oh Eru! What if he had lost it while talking to 
Glorfindel and never noticed? He spun around and frantically searched the bed, and after some 
moments of panic, he found it. He had lost it in sleep! Trying to control his breathing, he sat 
down on the bed. He had to be more careful with this; it would be nothing less than a disaster if 
he lost it. In the end he calmed himself enough that he could face the other elves he knew 
would be at the giant breakfast table. If nothing else, Lorien elves seemed to be very social. 

Seating himself, he found himself surrounded by elves he had never seen in his life, but they all 
smiled in a friendly manner. And to his amusement, some even looked his way with longing in 
their eyes. Ithildin, it was Ithildin they wanted, he grounded himself, and smiled at the elves 
seated next to him, and therefore Ithildin they would get. It had been so long since he had 
made light dinner conversation with anyone, and he really tried his hardest, hoping he was 
amusing and pleasant company. And as breakfast was over, and nobody seemed to be bored 
with his presence, he figured that he must have done something right. Standing up, he suddenly 
noticed someone coming towards him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see it was 
Glorfindel. Oh by the Valar, won’t this elf ever stop torturing me, he thought to himself, but he 
turned and smiled. 

His gaze travelled beyond Glorfindel and rested on the absolutely most magnificent being he 
had ever laid his eyes on. This elf looked like something out of a fairy-tale for elflings. He 
looked almost childlike with his large slanted brown eyes, and his long neatly braided plait. 
Little wayward strands of hair stuck out, making the contrast from the black hair even heavier 
against the elf’s ivory skin. It looked so soft, almost unreal. Indeed, this had to be one of the 
Valar. Nothing this exquisite could exist, it was created! “Ithildin?” Glorfindel chuckled, seeing 
Ecthelion’s lost expression.

He tore his gaze from the black-haired elf behind Glorfindel, and once more focused on the 
golden lord. “Oh Glorfindel, forgive me,” he said with a disarming smile.

“I see you noticed my friend,” Glorfindel smirked and stepped aside so Ecthelion stood in front 
of the beautiful raven-haired elf.

“I am Erestor of Lindon,” he said, and extended his hand in greeting.

Ecthelion took the hand, and marvelled that the skin of Erestor's hand was just as smooth as he 
had imagined. He couldn't remember when he had ever enjoyed a handshake that much! “I am 
Ithildin,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too strange. “Ithildin of the house of the 
fountain. I knew Lord Glorfindel, back in Gondolin,” he gestured to Glorfindel.

Erestor smiled, and Ecthelion swore he saw little dimples. “What a charmingly beautiful old 
friend you have,” Erestor said to Glorfindel with a grin.

Ecthelion chuckled and smiled. “You should have met my twin, Master Erestor.” It was far-
fetched, but something just made him say it, although he regretted it in the second it left his 
lips.

Glorfindel’s smile faded a little but then he nodded. “Aye, indeed Ecthelion was beauty in 
perfection, but that only went skin-deep.” He gave Ithildin a little apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, 
I should not have said that.” 

“That is in the past,” Ecthelion said calmly, “And whatever he was, he was absolutely not as 
beautiful as you, Master Erestor.”  Oh no! Why had he said that? But seeing a slight blush grace 
Erestor's cheeks, he knew he had not been out of line.

“I can hardly live up to the mythical beauty of Ecthelion of the fountain,” Erestor said “but I 
thank you for your kind compliment.” 

Glorfindel gathered Erestor’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles gently. “But you do, my 
friend, you do.” Glorfindel was about to say something more, but was interrupted as a blond elf 
clad in light blue garments suddenly cleared his throat behind him, and leaned in to whisper 
something to the golden elf. Both Erestor and Ecthelion just stood and stared, until the blond 
elf hurried off, and Glorfindel turned to them and smiled apologetically. “The marchwarden has 
asked for my presence at a strategist meeting. Please excuse me.” And then he too hurried off, 
leaving Ecthelion and Erestor standing alone.

Ecthelion wished he could say something clever, but all wit avoided him as he looked at 
Erestor. He might look childlike because of his soft features, but as Ecthelion looked him 
directly in his eyes, he saw ancient knowledge there. And this just made Ecthelion even more 
nervous. He was nobody compared to this marvellous creature.  

“Lord Ithildin? Why are you wringing your hands?” Erestor asked softly, but as Ecthelion 
stopped doing that instantly, but didn’t answer, Erestor suddenly understood. “Oh no! Forgive 
me! I should have known that you are busy.” 

Ecthelion was about to say that he was not busy at all, but then again he had to escape this elf 
before he lost his mind. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a brilliant smile. “It would please 
me greatly if you would walk with me to the royal talan.” 

Erestor nodded, and as they started to walk towards the royal talan, Erestor told something 
about himself, being Lord Elrond’s chief advisor, and how much he enjoyed it when he was able 
to join these short trips to Lorien or Mirkwood. Ecthelion just listened. Just the sound of the 
other elf’s voice sent shivers down his spine. 
_____________________________

(Three months later)

He had tried to befriend Erestor, as much as he wanted to run and hide from the other elf, just 
as much as he felt like he would die if he were not close to him. And once the Rivendell party 
left, Ecthelion was both happy and sad to see them go. He was thrilled that Glorfindel was out 
of his sight, but he was oddly relieved that Erestor also left. He knew that the beautiful advisor 
from Rivendell had turned into quite the obsession for him, but he couldn't help himself. 
Erestor was the reason he bothered brushing his hair in the morning, and the reason for going 
to large gatherings, because he knew he would be there! And they had had fun, once Ecthelion 
had gotten past his nervousness; Erestor had even called him ‘my friend’. This made Ecthelion’s 
little heart beat like mad. 

Once they were gone, and Erestor was no longer around, Ecthelion felt an empty void and he 
knew he had to fill it with something else, so Celeborn had let him join Haldir and his brothers 
for the next patrol. Ecthelion had been thrilled, at last! Maybe this was something he could do 
without making a fool of himself! It had been going splendidly, actually, and this night he had 
been the one chosen to have the first guard. Both Orophin and Haldir slept as Rumil returned 
with more firewood. “Thank you,” Ecthelion said and smiled at the elf. 

“You are very welcome,” Rumil said and smiled back, quickly seating himself next to Ecthelion 
in front of the fire. “Ithildin?” he asked.

“Yes, my friend,” Ecthelion said, and turned his head to look at Rumil. These three brothers 
made it hard for him to lie like this. They were so kind to him, as were everyone else in Lorien, 
but Rumil and his brothers were extraordinary. He wished he could tell them the truth. He 
tried to tell himself that he stayed silent because of Haldir’s friendship with Glorfindel, but that 
was not exactly the truth. The truth was maybe that he ‘liked’ being Ithildin. 

“I have been wondering…” Rumil said and gnawed on a nail, “the halls, do you remember 
them?”

Ecthelion blinked rapidly as he tried to fully comprehend the question. “I remember them quite 
clearly,” he said. “It is not a place you want to be, dear Rumil.” When Rumil’s face darkened, 
Ecthelion continued, “they are empty, true, you meet the ones you knew once, and get to see 
ancient souls. But it feels like a stage, Rumil, nothing there is true, the sun, the food, the 
water... All is fake, put there by Lord Namo to make it easier for the dead to deal with being 
dead.”  

“Oh,” Rumil said, and then he arched a brow. “Did you really see all the ancient kings and so?” 

“I did,” Ecthelion said with a vague smile.

“Did you meet the... the... kinslayers?” he said with a hopeful look

“No, Rumil. They are not with the rest of the souls, there are special arrangements for Fëanor 
and his sons, and no one knows what they might be,” Ecthelion said .“Maybe they are there, 
maybe none of us ever noticed them, I don’t know.” Upon seeing Rumil’s disappointed face, 
Ecthelion chuckled softly. “I would have loved to see them too.” After thinking a little, he said, 
“Celebrimbor is there, I met him.” Smiling a little apologetically, he continued, “he is not 
exactly a Fëanorian, but close.” 

Rumil nodded. “As long as I remember, I always dreamt of meeting the Fëanorians. I don’t 
know why, they were supposed to be evil and all, but…” 

Ecthelion smiled. “I know what you mean, and I am afraid I cannot shed more light upon it. I 
only met them briefly as a small child, and the only one I remember at all is Fëanor himself.” 

“You were born in Valinor?” Rumil said as his jaw hit the floor.

Ecthelion laughed. “Yes, I was, but I remember Valinor even less.” Laying a hand on Rumil’s 
shoulder, he said ,“you should ask Glorfindel. He might have some answers for you. He is older 
than me.” 

Rumil nodded and after a short while he turned to Ecthelion again. “Ithildin? What was it like 
being reborn?”

“Confusing,” Ecthelion, said truthfully. “I am afraid that the great lord Namo did not appoint 
me with some quest upon coming back here, although he did hint that I should figure that one 
out myself,” the dark-haired elf sighed. 

“Maybe you could...” Rumil’s voice faded and he chewed on his lower lip. “Yes!” he then said 
softly after some thought on the matter. “You could ask the lady Galadriel if you could see into 
the mirror! That might shed some light on why you are here.” 

Ecthelion smiled thankfully to the silver-haired youngster. “That is a brilliant idea, my friend.”
__________________

When they returned from patrol, Ecthelion had went to Galadriel and Celeborn, asking if he 
could see into the mirror. Galadriel warned him about using an oracle instead of finding out 
the truth for himself, but in the end she agreed. Ecthelion was shaking like a leaf as he silently 
followed the lady to the grove where the mirror was located. Suddenly he was doubting 
everything. Maybe she had been right warning him about the use of an oracle, but then she 
came to a standstill and gestured toward the beautiful crafted basin of silver that was the 
mirror. Leaning in over the edge, he stared at his own reflection in the water. Terrified of what 
the mirror would choose to show him, he held his breath as the water’s surface started to ripple. 
Staring as if hypnotized, he saw himself sleeping in the thickening of the wood where Rumil, 
Orophin and Haldir had stumbled across him. He saw Glorfindel standing in front of him on a 
bridge with a mighty waterfall below. But behind Glorfindel stood Erestor, whose face 
suddenly changed, from Erestor to Ecthelion’s own, until it became an emotionless white mask, 
and then it was suddenly on fire. The dark-haired elf with the mask screamed in agony before 
he collapsed on the bridge, without Glorfindel moving a muscle. Looking up at Galadriel, 
Ecthelion cried tears of heartache for the burning elf. “What on earth would that mean?” he 
whispered. 

“I cannot tell, even if I knew,” Galadriel said with a little mystical smile, “but I do think it 
would be wise for you to travel to Rivendell.” 

“Rivendell?” Ecthelion said with a gasp. “Why would I want to go there?” 

“What the mirror showed you, was in Rivendell,” Galadriel said calmly. “I think you should 
search for your purpose there.”

“I think you are right, milady,” Ecthelion said and nodded. “Thank you for letting me see into 
your mirror. It was a great privilege.”

Galadriel smiled again. “Lord Elrond resides there, and he too has lost his twin. He will know of 
your heartache. Let him heal you, Ecthelion, for he is a gifted healer.” Ecthelion just nodded 
again. “Elrond Half-elven is married to my daughter, and she has just borne twin sons. You will 
do great in Rivendell, my friend.” 

“Half-elven?” Ecthelion whispered, searching Galadriel’s eyes for the answer.

She just chuckled and inclined her head. “Elrond is the son of your precious Eärendil.” 

“Tuor’s grandson!” Ecthelion said more to himself than to the lady. “Then he was right, his 
name lives on immortalized by his heirs.” 

Galadriel smiled and slowly began to leave the grove, letting Ecthelion stay to sort out his 
thoughts.


Star of the sea part 3 / Heartland.

_________________________________________________________
AN: this is the first chapter in the part of this story called ‘Heartland’ although both this part 
and the next and last parts take place in Rivendell. And oh yes! I should warn and warn again! 
This is the part where the fun really begins, and also where we get around to the Mpreg thing! 
___________________________________________________________

I’m not sure of what I should do
When everything I’m thinking of is you
All of my excuses turn to lies
Maybe God will cover up his eyes

I know it’s not the right thing
And I know it’s not the good thing
But kinda I want to

Nine Inch Nails – Kinda I want to

Chapter 9 – We can pretend it’s all right.

The journey to Rivendell was absolutely uneventful, and mind numbingly boring since 
Ecthelion had insisted on going on his own. Upon arriving he had seen the same bridge he had 
seen in his vision. Galadriel was correct! His vision had taken place here! It could not be a 
coincidence. Elrond had known he was coming already before he arrived. At first he was taken 
aback of how much of Tuor was left in Elrond. His eyes! They were the exact same colour as 
Tuor’s and Eärendil’s. It was really both amazing and frightening, that Tuor had been that right 
when he had said that his only chance at immortality was heirs. At the time Ecthelion had been 
unhappy in love and had not been able to understand. He just wanted his beloved to stay by his 
side and kiss his fears away, but now he understood! Tuor had not lived forever; somehow 
Ecthelion was a little sad that he didn’t know how his beloved had met his end. He had been 
told that Elrond had a big library, and he would have to go in search there for a book that 
could give him the answer. It felt kind of strange to read about people he had known in a 
history book.  

Elrond! What a delight! He was absolutely fantastic, thought Ecthelion. He welcomed him to 
the household with open arms, just as Galadriel had said he would. Both Erestor and Glorfindel 
had been absent. Elrond had made some excuses for them, and had introduced his wife instead. 
Celebrian had been a stunning female. Being the daughter of the fairest of all she elves he had 
ever seen, how could she not be beautiful? The first thing Ecthelion noticed was that she had 
inherited her mother’s smile. Oh, he could most definitely understand why Elrond had fallen in 
love with her. 

The trip to Erestor's office had been less delightful, although it had been easy to find. Ecthelion 
took a deep breath. The size of Erestor’s desk alone was intimidating, but he gathered his 
courage and stepped into the room, trying his hardest not to flinch as the heavy door closed 
behind him. Erestor put his pen aside and looked up at him. What had been smiling brown eyes 
the last time they met, were now the coldest hue of chocolate he had ever seen. “Lord Ithildin,” 
Erestor said, smiling methodically. 

“Master Erestor,” Ecthelion said, trying to keep all disappointment out of his voice. Why should 
the mirror show him this elf of all elves? He would need a blowtorch to melt the ice that 
surrounded this beautiful elf. “Lord Elrond sent me here. He said that you would be able to find 
me suitable accommodations for my stay.” 

“Ah,” Erestor said and knitted his eyebrows in thought. “May I ask, for how long will you be 
staying here at the last homely house, Lord Ithildin?” 

“I don’t know, Master Erestor, but the lady sent me here to aid Lord Elrond,” Ecthelion said 
flatly as he fiddled his sleeve. He could almost hear Ithildin saying, ‘you lie, you always fiddle 
your sleeve when you lie.’ “It looks like I will be here for a while.” 

“I see,” Erestor said, and opened a drawer in the desk and lifted out a heavy red book. He 
browsed back and forth through the pages for a while, until he finally looked as if he found 
what he had been searching for. “Here, it is perfect!” he looked up at Ecthelion and this time a 
genuine smile graced his face. “It has a window to the east.” As Ecthelion just nodded, Erestor 
continued, “they are rather small, but you will have your own bathroom. I take it you would 
appreciate that. Is that acceptable?” 

“Indeed,” Ecthelion said. He couldn't help but wonder if it was far way from Glorfindel’s rooms, 
but he did not dare ask Erestor.

Erestor closed the book looking very satisfied with himself. “Your room is the Chanterelle  
room. Go to the second floor of the south wing, take a left from the staircase and then it’s three 
doors down.” 

Ecthelion must have looked confused, because Erestor couldn't help but smile again as he 
closed the drawer. “There is a painting of a huge Chanterelle mushroom on the door. You 
cannot miss it.”

Ecthelion just smiled back, using all his teachings in diplomacy not to look as nervous as this 
icy elf made him feel. “I will find it, thank you master Erestor.” 

“You’re very welcome; it is my job,” Erestor said with a professional smirk. “Do you bring any 
clothing, or shall I have some sent to your room?”

“I have no belongings with me,” Ecthelion said.

“I see,” Erestor said once more and made a note in a little green book. Placing the quill in the 
holder again, he looked up at Ecthelion. “Can I help you with anything else, Lord Ithildin?” 

“No, Master Erestor, you have done plenty. Thank you,” Ecthelion said in a small voice. “Have a 
good day. I trust I will see you around.” 

“And a nice day to you too, Lord Ithildin,” Erestor said and turned back to the scroll. Ecthelion 
figured he was dismissed, and left the chief advisor’s office. 
____________________

Eventually Ecthelion found the Chanterelle room, quickly learning that Erestor was in the Oak 
room, also in the south wing. Glorfindel was luckily not even located in fungus or plants, but 
lived way over in the north wing, in the Blue Jay room. Elrond and his family had different 
kinds of butterflies. Ecthelion didn’t know what they were, just that they had an entire floor in 
the east wing of the main house. True, the Chanterelle room was small, but it was really perfect 
for him, he didn’t need a large room to be content, with fountains in the bathroom or whatever 
decadent madness other elves would surround themselves with. It had what he needed, nothing 
more, nothing less. A servant had brought him three sets of tunics and pants, and three robes, 
all in brown and red colours. 

He had stayed for a month in Rivendell now, and even if Erestor shied away from him like a 
diseased animal, and Glorfindel didn’t seem all too thrilled about having him around, they 
were both actually pretty civil about it. Lord Elrond seemed to enjoy having him around, and 
so did Lady Celebrian. She had turned out to be quite the cunning chess player, something 
Ecthelion had never thought she would have known. Where he was from, strategic games like 
that were unladylike. And the little babies, they were priceless, still wee ones they would just 
lie on their backs and drool, but Ecthelion found them absolutely adoring, stunned to see those 
deep grey eyes of Tuor on them as well. 

This night he was not able to sleep, and had decided to go for a ride on his horse. It did him 
little to pace the room, and he was not in the mood to eat. But as he neared the stables he heard 
raised voices. Pulling the hood up on his cloak he hid in the shadows. It had not been his intent 
to listen, but when he saw that Erestor was there, having a heated discussion with Glorfindel, 
his curiosity was piqued. 

Glorfindel stood with a firm grip on Erestor’s upper arms and Erestor stood perfectly still, just 
glaring at the golden elf. “I am warning you, Erestor,” Glorfindel said, looking deeply troubled.

“Don’t bother, Glorfindel,” Erestor said coldly.

“I know you, Erestor, and I am telling you to stay clear,” Glorfindel insisted.

“How dare you? You know nothing of me!” Erestor said slowly raising his voice until he cried. 
“Nothing!” 

“What will it take for you to listen to me? That I threaten you with going to Lord Elrond?” 
Glorfindel hissed, but let go of the raven-haired elf.

“Get out of my sight,” Erestor said calmly. 

“Erestor, listen to me,” Glorfindel said, imploring the other elf.

“Did you not hear me? Get out of my sight!” Erestor growled.

“Fine! But I won’t offer you this again,” Glorfindel said as he spun around, leaving the stable 
with swift steps.

Erestor slumped down in a large pile of hay, breathing heavily before he suddenly started to cry 
softly, slamming his fists down into the soft hay. Taking a dive into the deep end, Ecthelion 
walked over and sat down in the hay pile next to Erestor. He pulled his hood down and smiled 
companionably. “I couldn't sleep and went to get my horse for a midnight ride. I couldn't avoid 
hearing you and Lord Glorfindel argue. Forgive me, I did not intend on eavesdrop, but... are 
you all right, Master Erestor?” 

Erestor laughed through his tears. “Don’t bother with titles when I have a hysterical fit in a pile 
of hay at some ungodly hour of the night!” Wiping his tears away with his sleeve, he turned his 
head and looked at Ecthelion. “I am fine, Ithildin, thank you for being concerned. It was just a 
difference of opinions.” 

“He has not changed since I knew him,” Ecthelion said softly. “He is not worth your tears, fair 
Erestor.” 

“I know, but I can’t help it,” Erestor said with a sad smile. “He can just be so frustrating.” 
Ecthelion nodded and Erestor reached up and took Ecthelion’s hand, squeezing it tightly before 
he let it go. “Will you promise me not to tell anyone about this?” he whispered.

“I promise,” Ecthelion said. 

After some moments in silence, where Ecthelion had to control himself not to wrap his arms 
around the distressed Erestor, the fair elf suddenly spoke. “Ithildin? Did your brother really 
love Glorfindel as much as the legend say?”

Ecthelion smiled sadly. “No,” he admitted in a small voice. “Ecthelion loved another, a mortal 
man. But I guess he had a small space in his heart for Glorfindel, in some strange way.” 

“Strange how time distorts everything, isn’t it?” Erestor whispered.

“Aye,” Ecthelion said, before they both stopped talking and just rested in the pile of hay in 
silence, until they finally got up and went their own ways.
______________________________________

For the next three weeks Glorfindel would be on patrol, and Ecthelion figured that he should 
really seek out Erestor, thinking that he might want company. With Glorfindel around he was 
too courteous to engage in conversation with Erestor too much, but now with the blond gone, 
he could seek the fair elf out, and no harm would come from it. He had quickly learned where 
Erestor’s chambers were. They were located on the top floor of the south wing, down at the 
very end of the corridor. For some reason this struck Ecthelion as sad, that Erestor would hide 
himself away like that. 

Coming to a standstill in front of the Oak room, he studied the strange crippled oak painted on 
the door. He couldn't understand why someone would portray an oak like this. It looked sick 
and twisted somehow, evil perhaps. Most strange! He was about to knock on the door when he 
noticed it was ajar. Peering inside he saw Erestor sitting cross-legged in the doorway of his 
balcony, looking out at the stars, slowly plucking the lyre, making the most hauntingly 
beautiful melody. Pushing the door open a little more, he still studied Erestor in the moonlight. 
His naked torso was filled with scars, and they almost looked as if they were planted there on 
purpose in a pattern. Realising that Erestor must have seen many hard battles, he knitted his 
eyebrows. Erestor didn’t strike him as a warrior, and hearing the absolutely beautiful music 
that flowed from under his fingertips, the softly whispered song… no, Erestor was not a warrior 
at heart, just like Ecthelion himself had never been. 

Erestor sensed a presence in his room and turned around. Seeing Ecthelion in the door, Erestor 
blushed slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough, Master Erestor,” Ecthelion said with a little grin. “You play beautifully, and 
your voice is absolutely exquisite.” 

“Thank you,” Erestor mumbled as he rose, tossing the lyre on his bed. “Care for a drink? Since 
you made it all the way up here.”

“Yes, thank you,” Ecthelion said. 

He sat down and smiled as Erestor sat down opposite him in a soft chair. “Ithildin, I owe you an 
apology for the other night. I did not intend to make such a fool out of myself, and especially 
not in front of someone else. I should not have lost my temper like that in the stables.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Ecthelion said as he sipped his drink, observing Erestor. He 
looked so much different like this, scarred and with his hair loose. He looked somehow more 
feral, and dangerous. “The way I see it, you were quite entitled to lose your temper with 
Glorfindel.”

“Ithildin,” Erestor said with a smile, “if you cannot sleep either this night, might I interest you 
with a board game? It seems so much easier to pass time, when you are not alone.” 

“Certainly,” Ecthelion said, watching as Erestor found an old worn chess set.

They passed the night playing chess in silence, and even if Ecthelion had wanted to speak with 
Erestor, this silence was comforting somehow. And he promised himself that he would be back 
tomorrow night, and the one after that, until Glorfindel returned and he would have to give up 
his budding friendship with the beautiful advisor.
_____________________________________________
AN: OK, decided to put two short chapters together as one again. So now were suddenly down 
to 17 chapters in all.  
_____________________________________________


Your eyes they often lie
And leave me feeling misunderstood
Our tragedy plays out like a symphony
A breath and a whisper are your clues

I don’t need sympathy
Or your apologies
Why don’t you understand?
The face you see
Well it belongs to me
And I’m doing the best I can
Just to make you smile.

The Crüxshadows – Heart on my sleeve

Chapter 10 – Our tragedy plays out like a symphony.

Whistling to himself, Ecthelion made his way to Erestor's rooms again. He had enjoyed the late 
night chess game, even if he had been so tired the next day that a rookie soldier had dealt him 
what would have been a lethal blow had the sword not been wooden. Then it had all been 
worth it, and now he looked forward to spending some time with Erestor again. It seemed that 
the night was their time. During the day they were each in their own world, and hardly spoke, 
but during the night they were friends. 

Ecthelion knocked at the door with the twisted oak sign, but no answer came. Maybe Erestor 
was not in. Ecthelion waited for several moments before he knocked again, and just as he 
decided that Erestor was indeed not in, a weak ‘enter’ was heard. Ecthelion stepped into the 
dimly lit room, finding Erestor sitting in his chair with a bottle of strong wine. The beautiful 
elf looked up, and something that resembled a smile crossed his face. “Ithildin,” he said. 

“Erestor,” Ecthelion said as he sat down across from the advisor, studying him. He could see 
that the large brown eyes were sad and red from crying. His gaze travelled to the almost empty 
bottle in Erestor's hand. He was drunk! “Maybe... uhm... maybe I should come back another 
evening,” he said with a smile.

Erestor just smiled sadly. “Maybe you should.” Taking the last liquid from the bottle in a gulp, 
he stood to get a new one. “I fear I am not much of a companion tonight,” he mumbled, and 
when Ecthelion stood to leave, Erestor turned with the bottle in his hand. “Have a drink with 
me?” he whispered.

Ecthelion nodded. He could hear the loneliness in the other elf’s voice. Whatever brought this 
on, he didn’t know, but he was sure that Erestor didn’t want to be alone, even if he pretended 
he did. Pretence... wasn’t that one of Ecthelion’s greatest skills? And for a second he felt like an 
intruder, a liar, as if he were not even worthy of this stunning black haired elf’s company.

Erestor poured some wine in a glass and handed it to Ecthelion, while he took a gulp from the 
bottle as he sat down. “No matter what you think about the argument in the stables the other 
night,” he said, looking away from Ecthelion and out on the starlit sky, “Glorfindel does not 
love me. Please don’t think that I trespassed on your twin’s territory.” 

“Ecthelion did not love Glorfindel, I told you that.” Ecthelion said knitting his eyebrows. What 
was all this about? Why would Erestor say something like this?

Erestor nodded. “You did, you said he loved a mortal.” Taking a sip of the bottle without 
looking at Ecthelion, he said “Whom?”

“Does it matter?” Ecthelion said. He was not much for admitting, not because he was not proud 
of the love they had shared, but because he was afraid to say something that would make Tuor 
stand out in a bad light. 

“No, not really,” Erestor sighed. “Everyone is entitled to their secrets, I suppose.” Still not 
looking at Ecthelion, Erestor ran a hand through his hair. “You are right in your assumptions, 
though, he does visit my bed at night.” 

“Erestor, please don’t think I would think less of you for being Glorfindel's lover,” Ecthelion 
said, taking a sip of his own drink, glad that Erestor looked away from him, because then he 
wouldn't notice how much his hands trembled. 

“Lover,” Erestor said in a bitter tone. “I am not his lover, I am his self-proclaimed twisted 
charity case.” 

“But Erestor, why do you stay? You are a very fair elf. I am sure that should you wish it, many 
an elf would be ready to replace him in your bed,” Ecthelion said softly, knowing he was out of 
line, but he knew of fear and sadness mingled in one big tangled web, messing you up until you 
could not escape your fate even should you want to. 

“I don’t need lovers,” Erestor laughed hollowly. “Love has always been my downfall. My heart 
is jinxed.” 

Now Ecthelion reached over the armrest of the chair and gathered Erestor’s soft hands in his 
own. “Don’t say so,” he whispered, awe-struck as Erestor for the first time turned his head and 
looked at him. For some reason the sorrow in his features made him even more beautiful, as if 
he were something out of a poem. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Erestor placed his other hand on top of Ecthelion’s. “You are a 
good friend, Ithildin,” he whispered.

Smiling, Ecthelion squeezed Erestor's hand. “I try,” he said, trying to lighten the other elf’s 
mood. All he knew was that this lost soul, the advisor of Elrond, was the reason for his return to 
Middle-earth, even if he could not understand why. Maybe he was to soothe him until he 
healed? Or maybe Erestor also heard the calling of the sea? Were they to travel to the Grey 
Havens? 

Oblivious to Ecthelion’s inner struggle, Erestor turned his face away again. “Did you ever love 
somebody so much your soul ached, Ithildin?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Ecthelion whispered back.

“I am old, Ithildin. My heart aches to see Tirion once more. You saw Valinor yourself, how can 
you resist its beauty?” Erestor whispered. “I have lived without love for so long I cannot even 
remember how it felt.” Ecthelion stayed silent and just listened, gathering that Erestor was 
drunk and needed to get something off his chest. “Once I was young, full of love, hope and 
song,” Erestor smiled sadly. “It all died with him.”

When Erestor didn’t say more, Ecthelion whispered, “Why did he die?”

Erestor laughed bitterly once more. “Madness drove him to it; he couldn't live with what he 
had done for a cause lost from the beginning. He had doomed himself, and my love was not 
enough for him to stay.” Erestor let go of Ecthelion’s hand and reached out for the bottle, 
taking a giant gulp. “He didn’t even kiss me, he just looked at me with big questioning eyes, as I 
saw the pain and terror eating him from within, before...” Erestor took a deep breath, “before 
he cast himself into the fiery chasm.” Tears welled up in Erestor's eyes as he spoke. “He finally 
understood, right at that moment he knew that he had been born only to die, his whole 
existence had led to this moment.”

“Maedhros,” Ecthelion gasped softly. “The first born of Fëanor.” That was a surprise if nothing 
else. He must have stared at Erestor as if he had suddenly grown an extra arm or something. He 
had learned of the cursed gem’s end in Elrond’s library. At this moment he was a little sad that 
he had not been elder when they had left Tirion. Then he might have remembered Maedhros 
and would have been able to offer some consolation. 

“Maedhros,” Erestor whispered. “You should have met him. You would have liked him, 
Ithildin.” 

“As a child,” Ecthelion said, “I often dreamt of joining the Fëanorians in battle, fighting evil 
and...” blushing slightly, “yes, I would have liked to have met Maedhros.” 

Erestor chuckled, amused. “Fighting evil, huh?” He turned his head and looked directly at 
Ecthelion.

Wide-eyed as a child, Ecthelion whispered, “Did you fight at his side?” That would explain all 
the battle wounds that Erestor had on his torso.

Erestor smiled and reached for the bottle once more. “I did, Ithildin, I did.” Taking a large gulp 
again, he handed the bottle to Ecthelion who had long ago emptied his glass, and he too took a 
swag from the bottle. “Maedhros loved like he fought.” A dirty little grin settled on Erestor’s 
lips. “With all of his being, and without compromise.” 

“Sounds like he was a magnificent elf,” Ecthelion whispered, clutching the bottle. “You are 
perhaps right, one shouldn’t believe all one reads in history books.” 

Erestor just nodded in agreement. “I remember when I suddenly realised my fascination had 
become love.” Standing up, Erestor moved to the balcony door and leaned on the glass, looking 
out at the night garden. “I told him I loved him, and he hushed me, he hushed me, Ithildin,” 
shaking his head slowly, “but I knew he loved me too.” Ecthelion sat still as a statue, just 
watching Erestor, who slowly begun to cry all over again. His shoulders shook from his 
repressed sobs. “He had been badly wounded. I sat by his sick bed day and night, and as he 
woke he looked up at me with those beautiful emerald eyes, and asked me what I was doing 
there.” Erestor sighed. “He was so afraid of being loved, but I was not afraid to love him.”

“I really wish I could have met him,” Ecthelion whispered. 

“You did not meet him in the dark halls?” Erestor suddenly asked.

“No, the kinslayers are hidden,” Ecthelion said, realising what he had said and clasped a hand 
in front of his mouth. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

“That was what he was,” Erestor said as he turned around and looked at Ecthelion. “But he was 
so much more, why do the Valar need to punish him more than they already have?” 

“I do not know,” Ecthelion whispered. “The Valar are very vague in their reasoning, at best.” 
Looking up at Erestor, he noticed the other elf looked fatigued. “You should lie down.” Erestor 
grabbed the bottle and went to his bed and flopped down on the mattress. He patted the space 
next to him, inviting Ecthelion to come and sit. “Erestor, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” Erestor yawned.

“Why tonight? What happened on this day that saddens you so?” Ecthelion said as he sat down 
on the mattress, fighting the urge to caress the long raven hair that looked soft as silk, spilling 
down over the other elf’s shoulder and onto the bedspread. 

“No reason,” Erestor lied. Ecthelion could read the blatant lie in the brown eyes, but he was 
apparently not ready to tell him yet. 

“Do you want me to stay until you are asleep?” Ecthelion said, looking at the emotionally 
drained elf. 

Erestor nodded and closed his eyes and as Ecthelion started to sing softly, a smile spread on his 
face. “You are a good friend, Ithildin,” he mumbled, half asleep.

When the song finished, Erestor was sound asleep, snoring lightly. Ecthelion reached out and 
ran his hand over the silken hair. It felt just as divine as he thought it would. “You are a 
mystery, Erestor,” he whispered, reluctantly standing up to leave the room. At that moment he 
would have given everything to be able to spoon up behind the fragile looking sleeping elf, but 
that would be taking liberties with their friendship. So he just turned and left the room, closing 
the door gently behind him.
--------------------------

Ecthelion stood on his balcony and watched the first snow fall silently onto the plants in 
Elrond’s garden. It was the first day of snow this year and somehow this time of year always 
made him melancholy. he remember standing like this, waiting, night after night, and if he 
closed his eyes he could fool himself thousands of years back. A smile crept to his lips, thinking 
of Tuor’s large eyes full of wonder and lust as he had made his way to the balcony. Once, that 
had been enough for them, and standing there inhaling the frost in the air, the dark haired elf 
couldn't remember a time in his life where he had felt more content. 

Erestor! The advisor had invaded his dreams, both those he had at night and in the daytime. 
The raven black silk tresses had haunted him ever since he had been so bold as to touch them. 
A shiver went down his spine thinking if it. Touching his hair was just not enough! He knew he 
was deluding himself, but he still entertained that fantasy.  Everything suddenly seemed so big 
and frightening, ever since his rebirth he had lived a lie. This was reason enough to bury his 
tedious urges. He could never even hope to court Erestor as long as he pretended to be someone 
he was not. He felt a little sorry for all