Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairing for this part; Erestor/Glorfindel 
Rating: NC-17 
Summary: Erestor sacrifices a part of himself in order to be with 
Glorfindel.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.  
Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine!
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 1
 
 
“Glorfindel of Gondolin is very fair of face; don’t you think so, my son?” 
Vairë watched her child closely, as Erestor blushed beneath her curious 
expression. “He is also a true hero among his kin.”
 
“Mother!” Erestor averted his eyes. Had he been so obvious in his 
admiration of the golden-haired warrior? 
 
“Do you really think I do not know what lies in my child’s heart, Erestor? 
I have watched you walking corridor after corridor in search of his face.” 
Vairë approached her son and lifted the bowed head. His dark eyes met 
hers and she smiled at him. “You lost your heart to him. That is most 
peculiar, my son.”
 
“I never wanted you to find out,” admitted Erestor, his eyes were 
magically drawn to the tapestry at the opposite wall. It depicted Glorfindel 
and Ecthelion of the Fountain, studying the flute in the company of their 
teacher, Lindir. Although all three Elves were fair, Ecthelion and Lindir 
didn’t compare to Glorfindel. His mother had perfectly captured the azure 
sea that sparkled in Glorfindel’s eyes and the golden hair almost seemed 
alive, and he wanted to reach out to touch it. 
 
“You should speak with your father.” Vairë was worried; she should have 
seen that Erestor had fallen in love with one of the Firstborn earlier. It 
might be too late now to stop this infatuation from becoming more – from 
becoming love. 
 
“My father...” Erestor finally sought out his mother’s eyes. “How will he 
react?”
 
Vairë smiled at her son. “Your father knows all that is going to happen, 
except for what lies in the will of Ilúvatar. He already knows your heart.”
 
“I am afraid to face him.”
 
“Why? Your father loves you and wants to see you happy, like I do.” She 
moved closer and rested the palm of her hand against her son’s cheek. “I 
do not know what will come of this love, Erestor. You belong to the Valar 
and Glorfindel is one of the Firstborn. I do not know if such a love stands 
a chance, but your father will hear you and answer your questions. Come 
with me, we should seek him out.”
 
“Will you stand by my side when I face him?” He loved his father dearly, 
but knew he had crossed a line when he had fallen in love with one of the 
Firstborn. 
 
“I will,” confirmed Vairë. She took in her son’s expression and found that 
determination lay hidden beneath the insecurity. Erestor had truly fallen in 
love with the fair Elda. Vairë couldn’t help but wonder what her husband 
would decide in this matter.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Vairë, my most beloved wife. And Erestor, my son.” Námo felt proud, 
seeing his only child. Erestor had formed his body image after theirs; long, 
raven hair cascaded down the shoulders and warm, brown eyes shone from 
the depths. Their images were mere representations of their true beings 
and unnecessary when it came to them communicating privately, but the 
fëar1 of the dead that resided within his Halls were more comfortable 
seeing him and his family in this form. So, they complied. “I have been 
expecting you.”
 
Erestor straightened his shoulders and his inner light shone brighter, 
realizing his father would address this matter now. “You know why I am 
here.”
 
“Aye, I know why you have sought me out.” Námo studied his son, 
sensing the conflicting emotions running rampant beneath the apparently 
calm surface. Erestor was torn between giving in to his love for 
Glorfindel, disappointing his mother, and defying his father. Erestor was a 
good son and would never willingly cause them any grief, but his 
attraction toward Glorfindel had grown year after year. His son had 
watched the Lord of the Golden Flower and had somehow, at some time, 
fallen for Glorfindel. And during all those years, Námo had watched 
Erestor in turn. “Erestor, he belongs to the Firstborn. You are one of the 
Valar, so much more than Glorfindel can ever aspire to be.”
 
“Glorfindel is brave! Valiant and fair!” Erestor immediately came to the 
Elf’s defense. “He has proven his worth countless times and is considered 
a hero among the Firstborn!” 
 
Námo grew proud, seeing Erestor accept his challenge and the eternal 
game started anew – the game of love and hardships. “I know what your 
future will bring,” he said, circling Erestor. “And his love will cause you 
pain.”
 
“His love?” Erestor took a step closer to his father and grabbed his wrist. 
“He loves me?”
 
“He does not even know you exist.” Námo shook his head. “Erestor, what 
you desire is impossible.”
 
“It is not!” Erestor stared into his father’s eyes. “You just told me that he 
will come to love me!”
 
“In time, aye, but there will be sacrifices, Erestor. Sacrifices *you* will 
have to make.” Námo allowed for Erestor’s hold on his wrist to continue. 
“Your mother spoke truthfully, Erestor. We love you and we want you to 
be happy. But Glorfindel will not only bring you happiness; there will be 
pain and grief as well.”
 
“Is that not the way of the Firstborn? Does that not give them their 
strength of character? Ever since I came into existence their fëar have 
surrounded me and they told me of the heroic deeds of their kind. They 
earned my admiration, father. We cannot know what their lives are like! 
We never tasted their passion, their love or their fear.”
 
“You defend them well, my son. The Firstborn have a true champion in 
you. Aye, it is true; many heroes reside here in death, but Erestor… Do 
you realize that death will come for Glorfindel as well? The Firstborn live 
long and some forever, but not all Elves are that fortunate. What will you 
do when Glorfindel dies and has to walk these Halls? When he is nothing 
more than a mere shadow of his former self? Could you bear his fate?”
 
Erestor flinched beneath his father’s harsh words. “I know that you are 
saying this because you love me and do not want to see me hurt, but 
father… Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? And if you will 
allow it, my own mistakes?” He let go of his father’s wrist and met 
Námo’s gaze. “You love your wife – my mother… Will you truly deny me 
my love, then?”
 
“Love…” Námo whispered the word and shook his head. “Erestor, you 
have never loved before – how do you know this is love? You have never 
met Glorfindel! You never spoke to him! How can you presume to know 
him?”
 
“Because I do,” replied Erestor, breathlessly. “I have watched him since 
his birth and I have seen him suffer hardship and revel in the friendships 
he has formed. I fell in love with Glorfindel throughout the years, never 
intending for it to happen – but it did.”
 
“What do you really want from me, my son?” The moment of truth had 
arrived and Námo probed his son’s emotions, needing to see for himself 
that this love was true.  
 
“I want Glorfindel. I want a chance to win his love. You have mother; do 
not deny me Glorfindel, father.” Erestor gave his father a pleading look. 
 
Vairë had listened closely and now addressed her husband. “We should 
give Erestor this chance, husband-mine. Having known love will make 
him a better Vala – a more compassionate one. Do not forget how young 
our son is, compared to us. Námo, he deserves this chance at love.”
 
Námo smiled at his wife. “I knew you would plead his case.” And he had 
also known that he would give in. He couldn’t stop the future from 
forming and leading Erestor to Gondolin. “Erestor, hear my decision.”
 
Erestor’s hand found its way into his mother’s and he squeezed tight. 
Vairë rubbed the back of her son’s hand, hoping the caress would comfort 
him. 
 
“I will grant you this chance at love,” said Námo, distinctly noting his 
son’s relief at hearing those words. “But, there will be two conditions.”
 
“What are they?” Erestor felt nervous, wondering what rules his father 
would set.
 
“You will enter Gondolin as one of the Firstborn. Your body will be that 
of an Elf. You will still possess your knowledge, memories and powers, 
but you are forbidden to use them. Should you use your powers, for 
whatever reason, your being will find its way back here and you will dwell 
in these Halls once more.”
 
Erestor stared at his father in shock. “An Elf? Enter Gondolin as an Elf?”
 
Námo pointed at himself and said, “These are mere representations of the 
life as the fëar knew it and we use these so we do not frighten them. We 
learned to manipulate these mirror images, but these fanar2 are not real. 
They are illusions. However, *you*, my son, will inhabit an adult Elven 
body. You will experience its flaws.”
 
“And its pleasures,” added Vairë, reassuringly squeezing her son’s hand. 
Erestor practically radiated unease and discomfort and his emotions were 
easily picked up by his parents. “Accept what your father is offering you, 
my son. Trust me in this matter.” Her mind touched her husband’s, 
radiating contentment. She approved of his decision in this matter. /Share 
our son’s future with me, my husband./
 
Námo complied, showing her the long and often difficult path that lay 
ahead of their son. /Do you really want him to suffer such hardships?/
 
She considered everything he had shown her. Erestor was dear to her – he 
was her only child – and seeing him hurt would make her ache in turn. /Is 
this necessary?/
 
/If we allow him to meet with Glorfindel and to win the Firstborn’s love, 
this will be his fate./ Námo then offered words of comfort, feeling her 
grow distressed. /But this experience will make our son grow – it will 
strengthen him. I have faith in Erestor. Do you?/
 
Vairë’s mind curled around her husband’s, realizing he knew the eventual 
outcome of Erestor’s quest for love.  /If you have faith in him, so will I./
 
Erestor’s mind joined them, trying to pick up pieces of their conversation, 
but his father locked him out. Apparently Námo didn’t want him to take 
part in this conversation. That fact made him nervous. Why was his father 
locking him out?
 
/Erestor, do you accept my terms? Will you enter Gondolin as one of the 
Firstborn and return to my Halls the moment you use your powers?/
 
His father’s presence was overwhelming and made Erestor hesitate. Námo 
knew his future, knew what would happen to him if he chose to try 
winning Glorfindel’s love. Reaching out, the tendrils of his mind curled 
around his father’s, searching for any indication that Námo didn’t want 
him to do this or was trying to keep him back. But all he sensed was his 
father’s acceptance. Námo *would* aid him in his quest. /I accept your 
conditions, father./
 
/Good./ Námo caressed his son’s mind a last time and then used his 
powers to transport Erestor to Gondolin. The next moment, his son’s 
presence was gone from the Halls and an adult Elf lay naked and 
shivering, but safe, in Gondolin’s arms.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel ran down the road, heading for Gondolin’s beautiful gardens. 
Ithil was about to rise and the evening was cool, yet filled with sweet 
promises and Glorfindel wanted to draw in the lovely fragrances of the 
roses and feel grass beneath his feet – not stone and brick. Behind him, 
Ecthelion laughed, loudly, accepting the challenge and taking up pursuit as 
the Lord of the House of the Fountain always did.
 
They were best friends, comrades in arms and soul mates. Practically 
inseparable, the inhabitants of Gondolin knew that when one Elf was near, 
the other warrior couldn’t be far. They were seldom seen apart – even in 
battle they covered each other’s back.
 
“Mercy, Glorfindel! I am tired!” Ecthelion slowed down and eventually 
came to a stop. Running had caused him to pant softly, and his eyes 
sparkled feverishly, taking in Glorfindel’s energetic form. 
 
Glorfindel chuckled, raised an arm, and gestured for Ecthelion to follow 
him into the gardens.
 
Ecthelion drew in a deep breath and followed suit, wishing Glorfindel 
would finally come to a stop. At times, his friend’s stamina amazed him 
and he had once joked that Glorfindel could even outrun a Balrog. The 
moment those words had left his lips, chills had run down his spine, like 
he had touched upon a forbidden vision of the future – one, he hoped, 
which would never come true.  
 
Ecthelion came to an abrupt halt when he collided with Glorfindel, who 
for some reason stood frozen beneath a weeping willow. The large tree 
offered shade to several rose bushes, and for one moment Ecthelion 
thought Glorfindel was lost in reverie, admiring the delicate flowers, but 
then he realized that his friend’s stare was directed lower – at the ground.
 
Glorfindel stood in awe at such beauty. His right hand reached behind 
him, searching for Ecthelion and pulling him close. “Look at what the 
Valar have graced Gondolin with.” Had he ever seen such beauty before? 
Glorfindel even momentarily closed his eyes, afraid such exquisiteness 
would blind him. 
 
Ecthelion’s eyes filled with wonder, finally discovering the hidden 
treasure that had been revealed to his friend. An Elf lay asleep beneath the 
weeping willow – magnificent in his naked glory. A long, elegant arm 
rested atop an alabaster thigh and soft-pink lips showed beneath elusive 
strands of ebony hair. The open eyes, blank with sleep, were black stars, 
glistering and beckoning them closer. 
 
“I thank the Valar for being allowed to lay eyes upon such perfection,” 
whispered Glorfindel, finally finding his voice again. He lowered himself 
onto his heels and stared at the stranger from a respectful distance. “I 
wonder who he is.” He was certain he had never met the other Elf before – 
surely he would have remembered meeting an Elf of such beauty! He 
extended his right hand, letting it hover about the other Elf’s midnight-
black mane. Curled up on his side, the stranger looked vulnerable and in 
need of their assistance. 
 
“You are right, meldir3. He is perfection personified, but I cannot help but 
wonder who he is and why he is here.” Ecthelion moved closer and now 
stood behind Glorfindel. “And why, in the name of the Valar, is he 
naked?” 

Glorfindel blushed, hearing Ecthelion’s words. The stranger’s alabaster 
skin felt like silk beneath his exploring fingertips and he quickly pulled 
them back, not wanting to tarnish flawlessness with his touch. He wanted 
for those eyes to fill with awareness and to look upon him, but the stranger 
remained lost in reverie. “What do we do?”
 
“We take him before Turgon. Our King will decide his fate.” Ecthelion 
felt the same wonder Glorfindel was experiencing – there was something 
ethereal about this Elf, which he had never encountered in their kin before. 
“He is asleep, Glorfindel, and thus in need of our protection.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded, absentmindedly. He unclasped his crimson cloak and 
gently placed it atop of the sleeping Elf. “We cannot take him before our 
King naked.”
 
“Glorfindel, we need to take this Elf to Turgon now. We cannot allow for 
a stranger to dwell within these walls. We need to know who he is and 
what his business is.” Like Glorfindel, Ecthelion was overcome with a 
strong sense of protectiveness, looking upon the sleeping Elf. Innocence, 
warmth and goodness rested in the strong features, and he almost bowed 
to pay the stranger his respect, but then he caught himself and got to his 
feet instead. “Come, I will accompany you.”
 
Glorfindel involuntarily held his breath, slowly pushing his arms beneath 
the stranger’s form. Had someone else trespassed into Gondolin and was 
found in this way, he would wake the Elf, but he didn’t want this Elf to 
wake just yet. As long as the raven-haired Elf remained asleep, he could 
look upon him and feel this inner peace. Carefully, Glorfindel lifted the 
sleeping Elf from the grass and cradled him against his chest. “He remains 
asleep.”
 
“We do not know what brought him here,” said Ecthelion, musing aloud. 
Even he had fallen under the stranger’s spell and he brushed a strand of 
silken hair away from the sleeping Elf’s face. Such beauty demanded that 
it be protected, cherished and loved. Turgon would doubtlessly feel the 
same way when laying eyes upon this Elf. Ecthelion tucked Glorfindel’s 
cloak around the stranger’s form, making certain their charge was 
sufficiently covered.
 
Glorfindel carried the strange Elf with the utmost care, ready to defend 
him from whoever dared to attack him. Ecthelion saw the raw dedication 
in his friend’s eyes and wondered about its presence. He felt protective of 
the sleeping Elf as well, but not in the same way Glorfindel did and he 
wondered… What had *really* happened when Glorfindel had laid eyes 
upon this raven-haired beauty for that very first time?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Turgon dismissed his advisors and gestured for his two Captains to follow 
him into his private chambers. “Place him upon the bed.” The King 
examined the sleeping Elf’s features in search of evil. He would never 
allow a threat inside Gondolin and had to determine who the stranger was 
and why he was here. “You found him like that?” Turgon pointed at the 
crimson cloak. Looking at it now, it did seem familiar to him.
 
“Nay, sire. I wrapped him up in my cloak after coming upon him naked,” 
explained Glorfindel in a soft tone. He remained standing next to the bed, 
within close vicinity of his charge. 
 
“Naked?” Turgon raised an eyebrow. “In Elbereth’s name, how did he 
pass the Seven Gates? Surely, the guards must have noticed him?” 
Especially a naked Elf! Seeing the admiration in Glorfindel’s eyes, Turgon 
felt his heart soften with sympathy. “He is fair, I will agree to that.”
 
“Fair beyond comparison,” whispered Glorfindel. He raised his gaze and 
met Turgon’s. “Sire, what is your ruling in this matter?” He hoped that 
Turgon would entrust the sleeping Elf to him!
 
“We will wait for him to wake and then I will question him. Glorfindel, 
Ecthelion, you will guard him. Call me the moment he wakes.” Turgon 
drew in a deep breath. “I find it hard to believe that someone as fair as this 
Elf can have an evil heart, but my duty to Gondolin comes before my 
admiration for beauty. I must be certain that he presents no threat,” he 
paused, thoughtfully, and then continued, “And I must know how he 
entered my city unnoticed.” Worried, Turgon sought out Ecthelion’s gaze. 
“The two of you are responsible for our guest.”
 
“We understand, sire.” Ecthelion inclined his head in respect. “We will 
guard him and alert you the moment he awakens.”
 
“And find him some clothes,” mumbled Turgon. “We cannot have him 
walk these halls naked.” The Elf *was* extraordinarily fair and he didn’t 
need any of his subjects falling in love with a stranger – not yet. Not 
whilst he didn’t know if this Elf was a potential threat. 
 
“It almost seems a sin to cover such perfection with fabric, even if the 
clothes are made from the finest silk.” Glorfindel quickly covered his 
mouth; he had only meant to think those words and not say them!
 
Turgon actually felt amused by his Captain’s honest statement and 
laughed. “I must concur. It is a shame… but clothes are a necessity, 
especially when one looks as beautiful as he does.” A soft expression 
spread in his eyes, seeing the warmth in Glorfindel’s azure ones, looking 
upon their sleeping guest. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ecthelion’s gaze shifted from Glorfindel to their sleeping charge and then 
back again. Something in his friend’s eyes worried him and he decided to 
address it. “His presence enthralls you.” Was it envy he felt? Jealousy 
even? But no, that was ridiculous! Glorfindel and he were the best of 
friends and unconditionally trusted each other, but this Elf had changed 
their relationship. But in what way was their friendship changing? 
 
“It is more than just his beauty,” whispered Glorfindel, studying the 
sleeping Elf. “Don’t you feel it?”
 
“Feel what?” Ecthelion moved closer, came to a halt behind Glorfindel, 
and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What do you feel, 
Glorfindel?”
 
Glorfindel shook his head, wondering how to explain. “ I feel like I am 
looking at one of the Valar. Such beauty is unrivaled.” 
 
“Do you sense evil upon him? Turgon seemed worried when he visited 
earlier.” Ecthelion searched the stranger’s features and admitted he sensed 
no evil – no danger.
 
“I do not, meldir. I sense innocence instead.” Glorfindel smiled and freed 
himself of the magnetic pull their sleeping guest had on him.
 
A servant had brought clothes for their charge; a crimson shirt and black 
leggings. “We should dress him, then,” said Ecthelion, bending down to 
pick up the clothes. But Glorfindel surprised him by shaking his fair head. 
“Something tells me we should wait until he is awake.”
 
Ecthelion trusted Glorfindel’s instincts and let the matter rest, but… “Like 
our High-King, I wonder how he got past the Seven Gates and our guards, 
naked at that. Why didn’t the guards stop him and report his presence? 
The thought that our defenses show a weakness worries me.”
 
“We will find out,” whispered Glorfindel, sucking in his breath, as he 
detected movement beneath his fingertips, which rested on the sleeping 
Elf’s arm. He removed them, rose from the bed, and took a step away 
from it, so their guest wouldn’t feel crowded or cornered upon awakening. 
“We will find out *now*.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Awareness came suddenly and Erestor gasped for breath. He sat up with a 
start and vertigo almost overwhelmed him, but then he steadied himself, 
drawing in deep breaths of air. His fingertips clawed at the silken sheet 
beneath him, brutally crushing the soft texture. /I belong to the Firstborn 
now. I possess a body – a living, breathing body./ And breathing involved 
inhaling and exhaling air, as he soon discovered. The air, which entered 
his nostrils was sweet and heavy with the fragrance of flowers. Exhaling, 
Erestor wondered about this most wondrous mechanism that kept him 
alive. 
 
His eyes encountered a soft, silver shimmer and blinked. It was early in 
the evening, as Ithil had already begun his daily journey. The beauty of the 
star-lit sky enchanted him and he forgot his surroundings. 
 
“Meldir?” Addressing their guest, who didn’t seem to register their 
presence, Glorfindel exchanged a curious look with Ecthelion. It was like 
watching a new-born child focus his eyes for the very first time. 
“Meldir?” Glorfindel tried to capture their charge’s attention again, but 
the raven-haired Elf seemed mesmerized.
 
Hearing a melodic voice drew Erestor from his trance-like state. He took 
in his immediate surroundings, quickly realizing that the splendor of this 
room meant he was inside the King’s private chambers, but why? That 
question, however, lost its importance when he looked at his hands for the 
first time. The long fingers, delicately formed hands, and arms demanded 
his attention and he moved them, experimentally. 
 
Ecthelion opted for action and moved closer so that their guest was forced 
to look at him. “You are in the King’s Tower – in Gondolin.”
 
This time, the voice truly registered with Erestor and he looked up at the 
dark-haired Elf, whom he easily identified as Ecthelion, Lord of the House 
of the Fountain. He had seen the strong features many times before in his 
mother’s tapestries. /Breathe!/ he thought, reminding himself as he began 
to grow dizzy due to lack of air. A strand of raven hair tumbled in front of 
his face and startled Erestor, who stared at the lock in surprise. Raising his 
right hand, he touched the lock, and grew mesmerized by its silken 
softness. He ran a hand down his mane, finding that the dark hair reached 
below his buttocks. 
 
Curiously, Erestor pushed the sheet away that covered him and let his 
fingertips walk down his body, touching experimentally. When he had still 
resided in the Halls with his parents, he had taken on the form of the 
Firstborn to reassure the dead fëar, but now he realized how different it 
was to actually possess a real one! Looking closely, he could even see the 
veins beneath the skin. 
 
Ecthelion coughed to cover up his amusement and quickly pulled the sheet 
back in place again. He had seen the effect their charge had on Glorfindel, 
and he had thought himself rather immune to the raven beauty’s charms, 
until now. Glorfindel was right – there was something enchanting about 
this Elf. A rare innocence clung to him.  
 
Erestor frowned, surprised at the feeling it caused on his brow, and he 
raised a hand to touch his forehead. Growing used to being in the body of 
one of the Firstborn would take time. 
 
Glorfindel seated himself on the side of the bed, acting slowly to give the 
stranger time to grow used to his presence. “Who are you?” His fingers 
itched to touch the fair face, but he restrained himself, seeing the 
puzzlement in the dark eyes. Something wasn’t right. Something worried 
his charge.
 
Erestor looked to his right, and the sight that greeted him took his breath 
away. “Glorfindel, it really is you!” His voice trembled, and sounded 
strange to his ears. In the Halls of Waiting, he conversed by sharing his 
mind with his parents and projecting thoughts into their minds. Even the 
dead fëar communicated that way, but never realized so, as Námo 
provided them with the illusion of speech. Actually speaking aloud was 
new to him. 
 
“He knows you, meldir.” Amused, Ecthelion wiggled an eyebrow. 
 
Erestor looked at the dark-haired Captain and a smile formed on his face, 
seeing the amused expression in the alert eyes. “And you are Ecthelion of 
the Fountain.”
 
“He knows you too,” said Glorfindel, chuckling. “But it is *your* name 
we wish to hear, meldir.”  The large, deer-like eyes fastened on him and 
made his heart miss a beat. The expression in them called out to him, but 
Glorfindel controlled his need for contact, reminding himself that Turgon 
was right – first, they needed to know their guest’s identity.
 
“My parents called me Erestor.” Erestor found he couldn’t avert his eyes 
and lovingly took in Glorfindel’s features. The flaxen-haired Elf 
captivated him! 
 
Ecthelion raised an eyebrow. “I never heard that name before.” He moved 
toward the doorway and said, “I will inform the High-King that you can 
answer his questions now.” He closed the door behind him and left 
Glorfindel alone with their mysterious guest.
 
“Erestor…” Glorfindel repeated the name, enjoying the way it rolled from 
his tongue. “You are very fair, Erestor,” he said, granting his charge a 
blinding smile.
 
“My appearance pleases you, then?” Erestor smiled, looking hopefully at 
the blond Elf for whom he had left home and family. The look Glorfindel 
gave him, told him that Glorfindel was intrigued by him – maybe even 
was attracted to him – and his heart felt much lighter now. When he had 
made his decision to pursue Glorfindel, he’d had no way of knowing if the 
blond Elda would also be interested in him.  
 
The door opened and Erestor tore his gaze away from Glorfindel to look at 
Ecthelion and the High-King, Turgon. The King’s eyes had narrowed and 
were filled with curiosity. The way Turgon carried himself suggested he 
was a proud Elf, someone who had the utmost confidence in his abilities to 
lead his people. /That pride will be his downfall./ Erestor didn’t possess 
his parents’ all-encompassing knowledge, but visions of the future 
occasionally revealed bits and pieces to him. 
 
Turgon approached the bed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 
Sternly, he studied his guest’s dark eyes. “You were found inside my city. 
How did you enter unnoticed?”
 
Erestor frowned. He had never expected to be questioned and hadn’t 
prepared an explanation to give to the King. “I do not know, sire.” 
 
Glorfindel read Turgon’s body language and realized the High-King felt ill 
at ease, suspicious even. “His name is Erestor, sire, he just told me.” 
 
Turgon seated himself in a chair close to the bed and continued to observe 
his guest. “Erestor? You are no subject of Gondolin, then?” 
 
“I do not know that either, sire. My mind is a blank.” He hoped Turgon 
would accept his explanation for he didn’t know how to explain his 
presence in the Hidden City. In search of support, his hand moved closer 
to Glorfindel and he curled his fingers around the warrior’s. The warm 
contact sent spirals of bliss through his body. Glorfindel was his anchor in 
this wild sea.
 
The gesture wasn’t lost on Ecthelion and Turgon. The two dark-haired 
Elves exchanged glances, and in the end, the Captain nodded once. “I 
sense no evil in him either, sire.”
 
Turgon nodded once, confirming that he had reached the same conclusion. 
There was no evil in Erestor’s heart. “Erestor, do you know why you are 
naked?” Maybe his questions would coax Erestor into remembering. 
 
“I do not know why, sire.” Erestor bit his bottom lip and his eyes widened, 
tasting the coppery tang of his blood for the first time. The bitter taste 
distracted him, but then he shook himself, forcing himself to concentrate 
on finding a way to convince Turgon to let him stay! “I remember waking 
up in this room, sire, and seeing Ithil in the sky. Glorfindel sat at my side 
and Ecthelion was watching me. That is all I remember.”
 
“You profess you lost your memory,” said Ecthelion, thoughtfully. “And 
yet, you knew our names.”
 
Erestor paled. “I did, didn’t I?” How to explain this one? Looking Turgon 
in the eye, he tried again, “Sire, please allow me to stay in the Hidden 
City. I won’t cause you harm or trouble and I will serve you in whatever 
capacity I am able. I am your humble servant.”
 
Turgon drew in a deep breath. “Like Ecthelion, I sense no evil on you, 
Erestor. But, I am a watchful King, who feels protective of his people. I 
cannot allow you to run loose in my city, not until I know who you are and 
why you came here. Therefore, I appoint Glorfindel and Ecthelion as your 
guardians. You will stay with them and you *will* obey them.” 
 
Ecthelion had expected Turgon to reach that decision and nodded once, 
showing he agreed. “We will keep a close eye on him, sire.” Having them 
guard and guide Erestor was the best solution. 
 
“I can stay?” Erestor’s eyes filled with hope and he released tears of 
happiness. “I can really, really stay? I can wander Gondolin’s street at 
your side, Glorfindel?” His hold on Glorfindel’s hand tightened and his 
gaze shifted from the High-King to the golden-haired Elf at his side. “I can 
stay with you, Glorfindel?”
 
The rapture that shone in Erestor’s large eyes captivated him and 
Glorfindel rubbed the back of the other Elf’s hand. Turgon’s ruling had 
pleased him. “Aye, you can stay in Gondolin – with Ecthelion and I. We 
will show you the beauty of the Hidden City, Erestor. We will be your 
keepers until you have recovered.” Recovered from what, though? 
Erestor’s mysterious arrival remained unsolved and they still didn’t know 
what had brought the raven-haired Elf here. /We need to learn how you 
passed the Seven Gates and remained unnoticed by the guards. If you can 
do it, so can one of Morgoth's servants. It is imperative that we learn the 
truth./ 
 
Turgon’s brow knitted, hearing a dedication in Glorfindel’s voice, which 
he hadn’t expected to hear – not directed at a mere stranger!
 
“Glorfindel feels drawn to him, sire,” whispered Ecthelion into his King’s 
ear after leaning in closer. “It happened the moment he first laid eyes on 
Erestor.”
 
“Should this worry me?” Glorfindel was an excellent judge of character 
and Turgon counted on the fact that the blond Captain had good reasons 
for trusting a mere stranger. But he, the King, wasn’t willing to trust so 
quickly and easily. 
 
“I do not think so,” replied Ecthelion, gaze fastened upon Glorfindel, who 
was held spellbound by Erestor. “I will keep a close eye on Glorfindel 
though, just in case.”
 
Turgon nodded once. “Keep me informed, Ecthelion. I need to learn more 
of Erestor so I can dismiss my worries.” He rose from his chair and 
advanced on the raven-haired Elf until he stood in front of Erestor. The 
High-King raised his right hand and fingered a strand of the raven hair. 
Erestor raised his head to return his searching gaze, and Turgon found the 
eyes open and inviting. Maybe Erestor had told them the truth and he 
didn’t know who he was, but Turgon remained suspicious. /There is more 
to you than meets the eye, Erestor. You are hiding something from me and 
I will find out what it is./
 
Erestor caught an echo of that thought and forced himself to return the 
King’s gaze, carefully hiding his true identity from Turgon’s probing 
thoughts. 
 
In the end, Turgon released the ebony lock and walked toward the 
doorway. “I expected a daily report, Glorfindel.”
 
“You will have it, sire,” said Glorfindel. Turgon then closed the door and 
Glorfindel was free to lose himself in the brown eyes once more. 
 
/He is falling in love,/ realized Ecthelion. /I just wish I knew whether to be 
worried or amused./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“The first thing we need to do is to get you dressed.” Glorfindel felt in his 
element, aiding Erestor. He picked up the shirt and handed it to Erestor, 
but the other Elf’s movement was erratic and uncertain. Erestor fumbled 
with the shirt, letting it slip from his fingers and then reaching for it again. 
The strange behavior worried Glorfindel. 
 
Ecthelion, handing Glorfindel the leggings, leaned in closer and whispered 
into his friend’s ear. “He resembles a new-born, meldir. He acts like 
everything is new to him.”
 
Glorfindel nodded in agreement. “You are right.” 
 
Erestor gave them a pensive look, having heard every word they said. But 
it was true; he had never dressed himself before and the fabric continued 
to elude his fingertips. 
 
“Let me help you,” said Glorfindel, eventually. “Raise your arms.” 
 
Erestor did as he was told and quivered, feeling Glorfindel’s fingertips 
slide down his arms, chest and back as the golden-haired Elf pulled the 
shirt in place. “Thank you,” he mouthed the words softly, fascinated by 
the way the fabric moved against his skin. 
 
“The leggings are next.” Glorfindel cleared his throat, trying hard not to 
look at Erestor’s lower body. The raven-haired Elf was well-endowed, 
sported long legs and the firmest buttocks he had ever seen. Lust stirred 
deep inside him, but he ruthlessly crushed it. Such thoughts were highly 
inappropriate whilst assisting Erestor with getting dressed.
 
Ecthelion noted the delight in Erestor’s eyes upon having Glorfindel so 
close and touching him. Apparently, Erestor in turn felt attracted to 
Glorfindel, for which Ecthelion was grateful. If Glorfindel’s heart was 
broken, the fair Elf would turn to him for comfort and he wasn’t certain he 
could bear seeing Glorfindel broken and in tears. “We will take Erestor to 
your house, Glorfindel.” It was obvious that his friend wouldn’t let Erestor 
out of his sight and this seemed the best arrangement for now. Ecthelion 
quickly steadied Erestor, when the other Elf pushed himself onto his feet 
and promptly swayed. 
 
Erestor yelped, startled, and reached for Ecthelion, who happened to be 
closest to him. The world had changed once more, now that he had pushed 
himself to his full height. He felt unsteady, but Ecthelion supported him 
and he slowly grew used to standing upright. He carefully placed his right 
foot in front of his left and took his first step. 
 
Watching them, Glorfindel realized how right Ecthelion had been. Erestor 
was like a new-born, a baby, learning to walk for the first time. What had 
happened to affect Erestor in such a way that he had lost his memories and 
his motor skills?
 
“We need transportation, Glorfindel. Erestor cannot walk the distance to 
your home in his current condition.” 
 
“I will arrange for our horses. Erestor, once we have reached my home 
you can rest.” Glorfindel wanted to know Erestor safe in bed, resting and 
regaining his strength.
 
“Rest?” Erestor’s eyes widened. “I do not want to rest! I want to explore 
the Hidden City with you at my side!” Trustingly, he stared into 
Glorfindel’s sapphire eyes. “I do not want to waste a single minute of my 
time here!”
 
Erestor’s enthusiasm fueled Glorfindel’s and he opened the door so 
Ecthelion could guide Erestor down the corridor and toward the courtyard. 
 
Erestor’s eyes widened, taking in the King’s Palace and slender Tower. 
The white tower glittered beneath Ithil’s moonbeams and gave the 
impression it was made of liquid silver. 
 
“It is a good thing it is night,” whispered Ecthelion, clearly amused by 
Erestor’s awestruck expression. “During the day, the city is busy and 
crowded.” This way, Erestor could gradually take in Gondolin’s wonders. 
 
Glorfindel’s stallion and Ecthelion’s mare stood already waiting in the 
courtyard. Two heads went up and greeted their masters. Glorfindel 
rubbed behind the ears and the stallion snorted in approval. “Up with you, 
then,” said Glorfindel, pointing first at Erestor and then at his horse. 
 
“Up?” Erestor coughed, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “I never 
mounted a horse before!”
 
“You have not?” Ecthelion frowned. “You do not remember your past life, 
but you do remember you never rode on horseback before?” 
 
“I just know… Please do not ask me to explain.” Erestor felt lost, staring 
at Ithil and the star-lit sky. Although Elven sight seemed limited to the 
Vala in many ways, it also allowed him to see things in a different light. 
 
Glorfindel slipped onto the stallion’s back and extended his right hand. 
“Ecthelion,  assist Erestor, will you?” 
 
Erestor grabbed hold of Glorfindel’s hand and allowed the blond Captain 
to pull him behind him, whilst Ecthelion assisted him into climbing onto 
the horse’s back. It took Erestor two attempts, but then he was safely 
seated behind Glorfindel. The steed felt strong and solid beneath him and 
feeling the stallion take his first steps away from the courtyard caused a 
strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. For one moment it felt like he 
was losing his hold and he clung to Glorfindel for support. 
 
“Wrap your arms around me,” instructed Glorfindel, sensing Erestor’s 
insecurity. Reaching his house would only take minutes, but he wanted to 
know that Erestor  was secure behind him. The stallion was growing 
nervous, feeling a second, inexperienced rider on his back and anxiously 
moved forward. 
 
Erestor folded his arms around Glorfindel’s waist and pressed close. 
Having his secret love this close was pure bliss! He had a tight hold on the 
blond Captain and rested his chin on Glorfindel’s shoulder. Golden locks 
teased against his face and mixed with his raven ones, bringing a bright 
smile to his face.
 
Ecthelion watched them closely, whilst mounting his mare. He then 
steered her closer and the two Lords rode side by side, leaving the 
courtyard. /They are opposites – day and night, Anor and Ithil – and 
opposites attract./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
         
Erestor’s interest in the Hidden City grew and he softly whispered his 
request into Glorfindel’s ear. “Please tell me about Gondolin.” He wanted 
to learn more of the city, but even more important was that he wanted to 
hear Glorfindel’s voice. 
 
Glorfindel smiled and indulged his charge. “It was the Vala Ulmö, who 
guided Turgon, son of Fingolfin, here.”
 
“Ulmö...” Erestor had met his “uncle” on several occasions and shared 
Ulmö’s love for the sea. At times, his parents had let him accompany 
Ulmö and they had traveled beneath the sea’s surface, savoring the beauty 
surrounding them.
 
Glorfindel continued his tale, relishing the feel of Erestor pressed against 
him. “The Hidden City lies east of the river Sirion. A ring of mountains, 
tall and sheer, the Echoriath, protects our city. The eagles have their abode 
in the heights of Christhorn and watch over Gondolin.”
 
“Have you ever seen the Eagles?” Erestor closed his eyes, remembering 
the tapestries his mother had woven regarding the founding of Gondolin.
 
“I have. They are magnificent creatures.” Glorfindel looked at Erestor 
from over his shoulder and almost forgot to breathe, finding Erestor’s pink 
lips close to his. Lost in admiration, he felt unable to continue.
 
Ecthelion, who had listened in on their conversation, continued instead. 
“The only entrance to the green valley is a deep way under the mountains 
and then to get into the city you must pass through the Seven Gates. You, 
Erestor, must have entered Gondolin that way.” His frown deepened. 
“There simply *is* no other entrance.”
 
“I do not remember how I came to be here.” Erestor closed his eyes and 
deeply inhaled Glorfindel’s scent. His fingers buried themselves in the 
fabric of Glorfindel’s emerald-colored tunic and he sighed, wishing they 
could always stay this way – this close.
 
The stallion led the way, the sound of his hoofs resounding on the wide 
street, which was paved with stone and kerbed marble. Erestor’s eyes 
opened and took in the fair houses and courts amid gardens of bright 
flowers. Towers of white marble, slender and elegant, reached for the 
heavens. The squares they passed by were lit with fountains and 
nightingales sang amid the branches of their aged trees.
 
Looking over his shoulder, Erestor’s breathing paused, looking at the 
King’s Palace and Tower from a distance. He was now fully able to take 
in the magnificent structures and admired the sleek and slender Tower, 
which majestically reached for the evening sky. “I have never seen a place 
more beautiful.” The Halls of Waiting were dark, and although lit by 
thousands candles, carried no warmth. 
 
“Aye, it is glorious.” Glorfindel forced himself to avert his eyes from 
Erestor’s face and was finally able to think clearly again. They came to a 
halt and Glorfindel drew in a deep breath. “Welcome to my home, 
Erestor.”
 
Ecthelion dismounted first and caught Erestor when the Elf clumsily 
lowered himself onto the ground. That clumsiness puzzled Ecthelion; why 
was Erestor’s coordination so off?  
 
Glorfindel came to a halt beside Erestor and reached for the dark-haired 
Elf’s hand, which his guest eagerly placed in his. “Would you like me to 
take you to your rooms or to the kitchens? Are you hungry by any 
chance?”
 
“Hungry?” /What exactly was ‘hungry’?/ His stomach growled promptly, 
answering for him. 
 
“The kitchen it is,” decided Glorfindel, leading Erestor into his home.
 
Ecthelion followed suit, unwilling to let the two Elves out of his sight. It 
was best if he stayed close.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“What is this?” Erestor looked at Glorfindel for an explanation. 
 
“That is cheese.” Glorfindel chuckled, and cut himself a slice. Watching 
Erestor eat was quite the experience. The dark-haired Elf had already 
devoured fresh bread, meats, ripe fruit, and now tackled the cheese. “Do 
not eat too much. There is also dessert.”
 
“Dessert? What is that?” Erestor bit into the cheese, munching happily. 
When his father had demanded he join the Firstborn in order to be with 
Glorfindel, he had expected many hardships, but so far he had experienced 
one pleasant surprise after another. Although he was several millennia old, 
he had never felt more alive before! Alive, breathing, eating, drinking 
fresh water and something Glorfindel called wine – a drink, which was 
definitely making him dizzy. 
 
“Easy with the wine, Glorfindel. Something tells me he is not used to 
drinking it.” It was the dilated pupils, decided Ecthelion, which gave 
Erestor away. 
 
“This wine is most delicious,” exclaimed Erestor, already tipsy. “I feel 
strange, though, but then again, I have felt strange for a while now.” His 
head lolled from the right to the left, trying to focus on Glorfindel. “Why 
are there two of you?”
 
“Oh, you are right,” said Glorfindel, quite upset that he had made such a 
grave mistake in judgment and he quickly filled Erestor’s glass with water 
instead of wine. “Drink this, Erestor.”
 
Erestor indulged his secret love and emptied the glass. “Is it always like 
this?”
 
“Is what?” asked Ecthelion, shaking his head when Glorfindel reached for 
the apple pie. “Don’t, meldir. I doubt his stomach will hold more food.”
 
“Being alive!” Erestor drew in a deep breath and sighed in contentment. “I 
want to be like this forever.”
 
The two Captains exchanged a puzzled look. “It is probably the wine 
talking,” said Ecthelion, eventually. “We should put him to bed so he can 
sleep off the effects. And Glorfindel, remember this in the future! No wine 
for Erestor.”
 
Erestor gave Ecthelion a rueful look. “Why not? I like wine.”
 
“I know you do, but you are not used to it.” Ecthelion rose from his chair 
and gave Glorfindel a stern look. “We are putting him to bed *now*.”
 
Erestor pouted. “I do not want to go back to bed! I want to walk in the 
gardens, look at Ithil and the stars.” He gave Glorfindel a pleading look. 
“Can we go outside instead? Please?” 
 
Seeing his friend was about to give in, Ecthelion replied in Glorfindel’s 
place. “Nay, at night we rest and you will do the same.”
 
Glorfindel nodded, reluctantly. “Ecthelion, you are right, of course. He 
should rest.” He rose from his chair and came to a standstill beside 
Erestor, who struggled to his feet. Glorfindel quickly reached for him and 
folded an arm around him. “Let me walk you to your rooms.”
 
“Stay with me tonight, Glorfindel?” 
 
Erestor’s directness surprised even Glorfindel, who determinedly shook 
his head. “I cannot do that. Turgon entrusted you to me – to us – and we 
are your guardians for now.”
 
Ecthelion watched the scene unfold in amusement and decided it was time 
for him to take charge. If it were up to Erestor, Glorfindel and he would 
spend the night in the same bed and that just wasn’t acceptable – 
especially since Erestor was clearly intoxicated. “Where do you want to 
put him? The guest rooms in the right wing?”
 
Glorfindel nodded, clinging to Ecthelion’s voice, as it helped ground him. 
What was it about Erestor that made him lose control? Together, they 
steered a swaying and inebriated Erestor to his guest rooms. On their way 
there, Erestor grew silent and one look told the two Captains that he had 
dozed off. That was probably the best thing that could have happened to 
them. The two Elves lowered their charge onto the bed and then stepped 
back. Ecthelion opened one of the windows to let in the midnight breeze 
and then joined Glorfindel, who was staring admiringly at Erestor. 
 
“He is a mystery, Ecthelion,” said Glorfindel eventually. “A mystery I 
desperately want to unravel. The way he acts you would think that this is 
the first time he walked on Arda.”
 
“Maybe it feels that way to him, too. Because of the memory loss.” 
suggested Ecthelion, who wrapped an arm around Glorfindel’s waist. 
Pulling his friend toward the doorway, he said, “Glorfindel, we need to 
talk.”
 
Glorfindel nodded. “I feel the same way. I have no idea what has come 
over me.” 
 
Ecthelion pulled his friend along. “Come with me, meldir. You can always 
confide and trust in me.”
 
“You are a true friend, Ecthelion,” replied Glorfindel, sighing heavily. 
“And the Valar know I need one to make sense of my raging feelings.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel seated himself in a comfortable chair and accepted the goblet 
filled with sweet wine, which Ecthelion handed him. Oil lamps and 
candles illuminated his study, giving the room a warm feel. Ithil’s silver 
beams entered through the open window and mingled with the golden 
light from the candles. Glorfindel sipped his wine, drew in a deep breath, 
closed his eyes, and rested the back of his head against the comfort of the 
chair. “Ecthelion, what am I doing?”
 
Ecthelion ran a fingertip along the rim of his goblet and studied his friend. 
“Why don’t you tell me, meldir?” 
 
Glorfindel nodded once. “I only know that I lost my heart to him when I 
discovered him in the gardens.” His azure eyes opened and met 
Ecthelion’s. “Have you ever been in love, meldir? Utterly and madly in 
love?” He already knew the answer to that question, but waited for 
Ecthelion to shake his head. “And neither have I, until today. My every 
thought is filled with him. Every waking moment is spend thinking of him 
and I know that when I go to sleep, I will dream of him. Erestor is…” 
Lacking the words to express his feelings, Glorfindel hoped Ecthelion 
understood. “We always dreamt of a love like this, and for a while I 
thought I would never find it. But that has changed now. I hardly know 
him and yet, it feels like he is already a part of me.”
 
“Glorfindel, you only met Erestor hours ago. How can you be this 
convinced that it is love? He is fair, meldir, maybe his beauty has aroused 
your lust? Is it really love, Glorfindel?” Ecthelion sipped his wine, and 
gave Glorfindel a probing look. “A declaration of love should not be 
spoken lightly. It is the most intense emotion we will ever experience and 
one to be cherished for the rest of our lives.” He disliked doing this to 
Glorfindel, but considered it his duty as a friend to caution him. “You 
know *nothing* of Erestor, Glorfindel. For all you know, Erestor might 
not be what he seems. Morgoth is cunning and his power is growing. 
Erestor might be an agent, sent to spy for him.”
 
Glorfindel’s eyes erupted with blue fire. “How dare you imply such a 
thing?”
 
“Glorfindel, listen carefully. I am not saying that Erestor is in league with 
Morgoth. I am merely trying to point out how little you know about him.”
 
“There is no evil in Erestor, and you know it!” Glorfindel placed his 
goblet on the table with a loud thud. Glorfindel was more intent on 
defending Erestor, than actually hearing what Ecthelion was trying to tell 
him.
 
Ecthelion smiled, ruefully. “But you *do* realize how little you know of 
Erestor?”
 
“I see the point you are trying to make, and aye, it is a valid one.” 
Glorfindel hated the way Ecthelion had made him admit that. 
 
“Glorfindel, I sense an innocence in Erestor, and I am sure you felt too. 
What I am trying to say is that you should take your time to get to know 
him. Do not rush this. You have all the time you need. Pace yourself until 
you know Erestor – know him for who he really is.” 
 
“Why must you always be right, Ecthelion?” But in spite of his mixed 
feelings, Glorfindel managed a warm smile. “You do not really approve of 
Erestor, do you?”
 
Ecthelion chuckled. “I do not know Erestor, so how can I disapprove or 
approve of him? We have all the time we need, Glorfindel, and something 
tells me Erestor is in no hurry to leave, as he is attracted to you in turn. 
Why not use the next few months to build a friendship? And if it is love on 
your mind as well as his, it will show and manifest.”
 
“Your advice is wise and sound.” Glorfindel felt better now. “So, you do 
not think me mad for falling in love with him?”
 
“Glorfindel, Erestor is fair and from what I have witnessed, kind. If you 
wish to pursue him, you have my blessing, if that is what you are asking.”
 
“Thank you.” Glorfindel smiled, warmly, at his friend. “Will you spend 
the day with us tomorrow?”
 
“Us being Erestor and you, I assume?” Ecthelion filled their goblets again 
and found that a light blush had settled on his friend’s features. The wine 
loosened his tongue and he found himself talking rapidly. “Aye, it is true 
that we did not find love yet. Neither you nor I have had a lover and that is 
because we will only settle for true love. If you feel you have found that 
with Erestor, fight for it.”
 
“But what about you, meldir?”
 
“I believe that I will find true love as well – one day in the future.” 
Ecthelion raised his goblet. “Let us drink on Erestor’s health, then.”
 
Glorfindel nodded and toasted. “And let us drink on love – true love.” He 
was convinced he would find true love in Erestor’s arms and hoped 
Ecthelion would one day find the other half of his soul as well.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  
/He is asleep, Námo. Our son is dreaming./ Vairë’s ghost-like touch 
caressed Erestor’s raven hair. 
 
Námo joined his wife in looking at their son. /He cannot hear or see us. I 
saw to that./
 
/He looks happy./ Even in his sleep a smile remained on Erestor’s smile. 
Vairë’s mind reached out and curled around her husband’s. /I believe we 
made the right decision in allowing him to become one of the Firstborn./
 
/He will be happy for a while, but once Gondolin falls he will lose his 
love./ 
 
/And Glorfindel’s fëa will come to dwell in the Halls./ Saddened, she 
reached out and touched her son’s thoughts. Erestor was dreaming of 
Glorfindel, of holding him close and kissing him. /I never realized love 
could be this strong./
 
/It is the most powerful emotion in Eru’s creation./   
 
/And now it is guiding Erestor’s life./
 
/Trust me, my love. It will guide him well./  
 
Her husband’s words brought her comfort now that she had to part from 
her son again. Her being lovingly enfolded Erestor for long moments, but 
then she let go and followed her husband. The souls of the dead demanded 
their constant attention and their first duty was to them. /I will visit with 
you shortly, my son. In the meantime, I hope Glorfindel will make you 
happy./
 
The next moment, their presence was gone from Erestor’s rooms.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor stretched, purred,  and extended his right hand to catch Arien’s 
first rays. The soft warmth wrapped itself around his digits, making him 
smile in wonder. Life as a Firstborn was nothing like he had thought it 
would be! It was a journey filled with discoveries and new experiences.
 
A tightness in his groin made him frown and he elbowed himself into an 
upright position to find out what was amiss this time. His leggings were 
impossibly tight and Erestor removed the offending clothes, finally 
enjoying the sensation of air meeting naked flesh. 
 
But, a little – well, not so little – problem remained. His member had 
grown engorged and was becoming painful. Following his instincts, he 
wrapped his fingers around the inflamed flesh and stroked. His eyes 
widened with pleasure and soon, he was crooning softly. He lay down 
once more and arched his back, thrusting into his hand. His eyes closed, 
his breathing paused, and his groin tightened further as ancient needs took 
over and eventually pushed him toward orgasm. Fire exploded behind his 
closed eyelids and a warm, creamy substance erupted from the head, 
dripping onto his fingers and abdomen. Feeling lazy, Erestor smiled. Oh, 
this had been his most intense experience so far! During his life as a Vala, 
he had never experienced anything like it! /And I want to experience it 
again, but this time *with* Glorfindel!/
 
“Erestor? Are you awake yet?” 
 
/Glorfindel./ Feeling sticky, Erestor used a corner of the sheet to clean 
himself up, before calling out for Glorfindel to enter.
 
Glorfindel opened the door and remained standing in the doorway. A 
blush crept onto his features, finding Erestor naked on the bed. The 
slightly bitter scent that floated in the bedroom told Glorfindel that the 
raven-haired Elf had pleasured himself and had found release just seconds 
prior to his arrival. The now flaccid member lay nestled against the 
alabaster skin and Glorfindel felt grateful that he had brought himself to 
orgasm before seeking out Erestor, for this current vision would have 
caused him to grow aroused. His erection would have been clearly visible, 
too, as he was wearing tight-fitting leggings. Now, he was spared this 
particular embarrassment. “How do you fare this morn?” He *did* wonder 
why Erestor didn’t cover himself up, flaunting his naked body instead. Did 
this Elf know no shame?
 
“Better, I think.” Erestor sat upright once more and swung his feet over 
the side of the bed, placing them firmly on the floor. “You did not stay 
with me last night,” he said in a disappointed and even slightly resentful 
tone. 
 
“It would not have been appropriate.” Glorfindel took a step into the room 
and draped a gray shirt and black leggings over a chair. He placed knee-
high black boots on the floor and then sought out Erestor’s gaze, trying 
hard not to stare at the naked Elf. Oh, he craved running his hands down 
Erestor’s flanks, cupping the firm buttocks and making love to him. But 
Ecthelion’s words returned to him and he restrained himself, knowing he 
had to get to know Erestor first. “Breakfast will be served in fifteen 
minutes. Do you think you can wash up and get dressed or do you require 
more time?”
 
“Wash up?” Erestor pushed himself to his feet, feeling proud now that he 
didn’t sway. He was growing more accustomed to this body and found it 
easier to move about. 
 
“Aye, you can wash up in the bathroom.” Glorfindel crossed the room and 
opened the door to the bathroom. “You can fill up the pool and take a 
bath, but that will require more time than you have. Maybe a shower will 
do instead?” 
 
“Wash up…” Erestor was still contemplating that particular concept.
 
“Aye, clean up.” Glorfindel frowned, wondering why he was explaining 
this to Erestor. 
 
“I have never washed up before.” Erestor walked into the bathroom and 
considered his options. “I think I will manage.” 
 
Although Erestor’s words puzzled the blond warrior, he decided not to 
question his guest. Glorfindel pulled several large towels from the closet 
and placed them beside the shower. Erestor’s uninhibited manner stirred 
lustful feelings deep inside him and he found he was growing hard after 
all. “I will return in fifteen minutes.” He practically fled Erestor’s rooms 
and closed the door behind him with a bang. He leaned against the wall 
and rested his back against it. “By the Valar…” No Elf had ever caused 
such a strong desire in him!
 
Ecthelion strolled down the corridor and grinned, coming upon his 
aroused friend. One look, directed at Glorfindel’s groin area, told him why 
the azure eyes had filled with desire. “I reckon you visited with Erestor?”
 
“He was naked again,” Glorfindel gasped.
 
Ecthelion’s chuckle echoed through the corridor. “And he left you hard. 
Oh, meldir,  you really want him, don’t you?” He had never seen 
Glorfindel in this way before. 
 
“Aye, I do, but I will honor your advice and go slow, though it might be 
the death of me!” All he could think of was making love to Erestor! 
 
Ecthelion smiled in understanding and searched Glorfindel’s eyes. “Go to 
the main hall and break your fast.”
 
“But what about Erestor?”
 
“I will escort him. Now go.” He winked at Glorfindel, saying, “Maybe you 
should take a cold shower first?”
 
“You are enjoying my misery too much!” But Glorfindel couldn’t grow 
angry with Ecthelion, knowing his friend was only teasing him. Leaning in 
closer, he touched his forehead to his friend’s and whispered, “I promise 
you that you *will* find the other half of your soul, meldir.” 
 
Deeply touched, Ecthelion stroked the long, flaxen hair. “I am happy for 
you, Glorfindel. Now go and take care of *that*.”
 
Glorfindel snorted, but felt thankful nonetheless. Hurrying down the 
corridor, he headed for his rooms – for a cold shower.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor appeared in the corridor fifteen minutes later, and Ecthelion noted 
the surprise in the dark eyes upon finding him and not Glorfindel waiting 
for him. He had already had his heart to heart with Glorfindel, now he 
wanted a moment with Erestor. “Walk with me,” he instructed. “I will take 
you to the hall where we will have breakfast.” Erestor’s gaze swept 
through the corridor, taking in the carvings, paintings – many by 
Glorfindel’s hand himself – and noted the way Erestor’s hands continued 
to try and grasp Arien’s beams. “This seems new to you,” commented 
Ecthelion, hoping Erestor might let down his guard and speak the truth, for 
the Captain was convinced that Erestor had been carefully dosing the little 
truth he had shared so far.
 
“This *is* new to me!” Erestor gave Ecthelion a brilliant smile. 
“Ecthelion, I wanted to thank you for speaking on my behalf before the 
King. I really bear you no ill will. I just want to live here with Glorfindel.”
 
“Glorfindel is very important to you, is he not?” Ecthelion slowed their 
pace, needing time to steer their conversation in the direction he desired. 
He realized that Erestor wouldn’t share anything with them on how he had 
arrived in the Hidden City, but maybe Erestor was willing to discuss 
Glorfindel. 
 
Erestor blushed and nodded his head once. He carefully made eye contact 
with Ecthelion and said, “I love him.”
 
“How can you be so sure of that? You only met yesterday!” Ecthelion was 
beginning to understand that Erestor’s feelings for Glorfindel were just as 
deep as they were on the blond Elf’s part. 
 
“I know it in my heart,” whispered Erestor, looking Ecthelion in the eye. 
“I am prepared to make whatever sacrifice necessary in order to be with 
him.” He had already sacrificed a large part of himself so he could dwell 
in Gondolin. 
 
“Your love for him is sincere?” Ecthelion stopped Erestor by placing a 
hand on his shoulder and turning him around so they were face to face. 
“You really love him?”
 
“I do.” Erestor placed his hand on Ecthelion’s, which already rested on his 
shoulder, and guided it down so he could cradle it between his two hands. 
“My love is sincere and my motives genuine. I love Glorfindel and I want 
to be with him for the rest of his life.”
 
Ecthelion frowned at hearing ‘the rest of *his* life’, which somehow 
struck him as odd. But the warmth in the brown eyes convinced him that 
Erestor was speaking the truth and, in the end, he relented. “Glorfindel 
returns those feelings.”
 
Erestor’s heart thundered madly at hearing his suspicions confirmed. “I 
understand that you have no reason to trust me, Ecthelion, but I will 
promise you this; I vow to never willingly hurt Glorfindel or to betray his 
love. I will be faithful and devoted to him until the end.”
 
Ecthelion’s eyes continued to study the dark ones and found them truthful. 
“You had better treat him respectful and love him well, or else you will 
answer to me.”
 
“I know that Glorfindel is your best friend, Ecthelion, and that the two of 
you are practically inseparable. Trust me, I have no intention of taking him 
away from you. You are an Elf of great honor and I respect you. I hope, 
that in time, we will become friends.”
 
Had that been his greatest fear, wondered Ecthelion. That Erestor would 
take his best friend away from him? 
 
Unbidden, a vision of the distant future came to Erestor, maybe aided by 
their close, physical contact. “I see a dark-haired Elf at your side, 
Ecthelion, with large, gray eyes in which the stars shine brightly. Still 
young, certainly compared to your age, but he is wise and courageous. 
You will have to wait long and endure much, but he will find you 
eventually. And he will love you.”
 
Ecthelion broke away from Erestor’s hypnotic gaze and freed his hand 
from the other Elf’s hold. “How can you say such a thing? Why would 
you play with my feelings?” The fact that he hadn’t found a love worthy 
of him yet caused him deep sorrow, one that constantly accompanied him, 
though he managed to hide it well.
 
“I apologize if my words have hurt you.” Erestor took a step closer to 
Ecthelion and made a point of establishing physical contact again by 
resting a hand on the Lord’s shoulder. “I did not say that to hurt your 
feelings.” He didn’t want to reveal this yet, but he had to if he wanted 
Ecthelion to stop looking at him in such a hurt way. “I might not 
remember my past, but I do know parts of the future, and when we 
touched, this vision came to me. Don’t despair, Ecthelion. You *will* find 
love eventually.”
 
Erestor felt afraid to believe Erestor, just in case the raven-haired Elf was 
playing him, but deep down in his heart he wanted to believe every word 
his charge had said. “Do you also know his name, then?”
 
“Do you really want to know?” Erestor smiled at Ecthelion, and squeezed 
the Captain’s shoulder.
 
“If you know his name, please share it with me.” It would be his lifeline in 
the years to come – years, which would be filled with watching Erestor 
and Glorfindel deepening their love – as these two Elves would 
doubtlessly bind themselves no matter what obstacles were placed in their 
path. 
 
“His name is Elrohir,” revealed Erestor in a tender tone. “And he will love 
you, Ecthelion.”
 
“Elrohir...” Ecthelion repeated the name, letting it roll from his tongue. 
“Elf-Knight?”
 
“Aye, a knight worthy of your love.” Erestor indulged himself and gave in 
to his curiosity, letting a strand of Ecthelion’s hair twirl around a fingertip. 
“We should join Glorfindel now. I do not want to keep him waiting.”
 
/Elrohir, my love’s name is Elrohir./ For one brief moment Ecthelion was 
afraid that Erestor had cunningly played him, but when he looked into the 
large eyes, he saw no lies. Erestor had been honest with him. He smiled, 
and guided Erestor toward the main hall where breakfast was being 
served. /Elrohir, his name is Elrohir…/ He repeated it time and time again. 
/Elrohir, his name is Elrohir./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel felt refreshed – and considerably less aroused – after he had 
taken that cold shower. He had joined the members of his household in the 
main hall and had just begun eating breakfast, when he noticed the soft 
murmur, which started near the doorway and progressed deeper into the 
hall. Looking up from his plate, he quickly located its source. Ecthelion 
and Erestor walked toward him, and Glorfindel’s heart missed a beat, 
seeing the carefree and open expression in Erestor’s brown eyes. 
 
Erestor ignored the looks of open admiration being cast in his way and 
focused on Glorfindel instead. The blush that spread across the fair Elf’s 
face was becoming and added to his beauty. “My Lord Glorfindel,” said 
Erestor, addressing Glorfindel in a teasing tone. 
 
“Please, there is no need to address me in such a formal way.” Glorfindel 
rose from his chair and gestured for Ecthelion to take his regular seat to 
his right, whilst he directed Erestor to his left.
 
Ecthelion watched his best friend’s struggle to remain composed with 
amusement. Glorfindel’s interest in Erestor was rather obvious, and 
judging by the soft murmur around him, the members of the Glorfindel’s 
household had reached the same conclusion. 
 
The two dark-haired Elves seated themselves and Ecthelion busied himself 
with his tea, giving Glorfindel a moment to focus solely on Erestor.
 
“You look rested. I trust you slept well?” Glorfindel watched, rather 
entranced, how Erestor nibbled on a peace of bread. The soft-pink lips 
demanded to be kissed, not used for the simple intake of food.
 
“Aye, I did.” Erestor tried the chamomile tea and smiled, approving of its 
taste. 
 
“Ecthelion will have to leave us shortly, as his duties call him back to our 
King’s side, but I am at your disposal for the rest of the day, if you wish 
for it.” Glorfindel couldn’t tear his gaze away from Erestor’s mouth, 
which now opened to allow a sugar covered strawberry inside.
 
A taste explosion followed and Erestor smiled, happily. Next, he selected 
a cherry and ate it, displeased when he bit down on something hard. He 
disposed of the stone and sought out Glorfindel’s eyes. Hope lingered 
there – hope and the beginning of love. “I would prefer for you to stay at 
my side, Glorfindel.”
 
Ecthelion leaned back, sipping his tea. Turgon would demand a report on 
Erestor and he should carefully consider what to tell their King. If Erestor 
could really foretell the future, Erestor would become more valuable in 
Turgon’s eyes and the King’s meddling might grow. He wasn’t sure he 
wanted to further the King’s interest in Erestor, though. Not yet, anyways. 
He wanted Glorfindel and Erestor to have a chance to get to know each 
other. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Will you join us for dinner later?” asked Glorfindel, as he walked 
Ecthelion to his horse.
 
“That depends,” replied Ecthelion. “I do not know how busy Turgon will 
keep me.” He mounted his mare and steered her toward the road. “And I 
doubt you will miss my presence today.”
 
Glorfindel blushed a delicate red. “It is rather obvious, isn’t it?”
 
“If you are not careful the whole of Gondolin will know you are in love 
before nightfall.” Ecthelion grinned, naughtily. “I will help the rumor 
along by telling Idril.”
 
Glorfindel groaned. The King’s daughter would waste no time spreading 
it. “Do not tell her yet.”
 
“I might tell her at any rate – just to annoy you,” said Ecthelion, teasingly, 
but then his demeanor changed. “But I should concentrate on Turgon 
instead.”
 
“You are worried about the influence Maeglin has gained on him, and so 
am I.”
 
“There is more. Tuor carried Ulmö’s warning to our High-King and yet 
Turgon refuses to act upon it.” Ecthelion was worried. “It was foretold that 
Ulmö would warn us and yet Turgon chooses to ignore it.”
 
“It is Maeglin’s influence on him that is making him act in this way.” 
Glorfindel raised a hand and rested it on Ecthelion’s knee. “Talk to Tuor. 
Try to gain more information. Maybe that way we can convince Turgon to 
evacuate the Hidden City and move to safer grounds.”
 
“Turgon will never abandon Gondolin,” said Ecthelion, lost in though. “I 
am afraid we are fighting a losing battle.”
 
“In that case we should consider designing a plan to take the ones willing 
to leave the city into safety.”
 
“Idril might be willing to leave, especially since she is expecting her first 
child.” Ecthelion sighed, feeling troubled. “I pray we still have a few years 
left in this city before we must leave or die defending it.”
 
Glorfindel agreed and nodded once. “I want to stay here for a few more 
years… And maybe not all is lost yet, if only we can stop Maeglin from 
influencing our King.” He squeezed Ecthelion’s knee and then removed 
his hand. “If you cannot join us for dinner, send word of today’s meetings. 
And keep a close eye on Maeglin!”
 
“I will!” Ecthelion raised his hand in goodbye and pressed his heels into 
his mare’s flanks, heading for the King’s Palace.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Your home is a lovely place to dwell,” said Erestor after Glorfindel had 
shown him most of the halls, rooms and gardens. Fountains, golden and 
delicately decorated, produced a calming melody and Erestor pulled 
Glorfindel toward a more secluded part of the garden. 
 
Glorfindel felt extremely pleased; during the tour of his home Erestor’s 
hand had constantly rested in his and he had rubbed the long fingers, 
enjoying their contact. Now that Erestor pulled him with him, Glorfindel 
followed, his eyes sparking when he realized what direction they were 
headed in.
 
Erestor came to an abrupt halt and inclined his head. “Do I hear music?” 
Someone was playing the lyre and one moment later a hauntingly 
beautiful voice floated toward him. Entranced by the hypnotic quality of 
that voice, Erestor moved closer, honing in on the singer. 
 
In the end, he entered a rose garden, and in its center, sheltered by a large 
oak tree, sat the singer. Long, nimble fingers caressed the strings and soon 
the melody had him mesmerized. White hair, glowing soft silver, framed a 
handsome face and light-blue eyes added to the minstrel’s eternal beauty. 
Erestor remained at a respectful distance, listening closely. His eyes closed 
and he swayed gently, letting the music move him. 
 
Glorfindel released Erestor’s hand to wrap his arm around the other Elf’s 
waist. Erestor reacted by moving closer and the raven head came to rest 
upon a strong shoulder. 
 
The hands eventually stilled and stopped plucking the strings. The 
enchantment ended abruptly and Erestor blinked, his eyes revealing awe. 
“The song of Ilúvatar is strong in you.” Curiously, he advanced on the 
musician. 
 
“Thank you.” He placed the lyre aside and slowly rose from the ground to 
greet Glorfindel and their guest. 
 
Glorfindel cleared his throat and introduced the musician. “Erestor, this is 
Lindir. He is a friend, my former teacher and above all a minstrel. He 
taught Ecthelion to play the flute and I often join them by playing the harp 
or raising my voice in song.”
 
Erestor smiled at Lindir; the minstrel’s skills had left him captivated. 
“Your voice surely reached the Valar, making them smile in contentment.” 
Many minstrels roamed his father’s Halls, but they seldom sang and when 
they did, it was with great sadness. But Lindir’s voice was different and 
sparkled with joy and a zest for life. “I am honored to meet you, Lindir.” 
Introducing himself, he added, “My name is Erestor.”
 
“I heard of your arrival,” replied Lindir, inclining his head in respect. 
“And the servants spoke true when they told me of your beauty. It must 
please the Valar to look upon you.”
 
“Thank you for your kind words.” Erestor looked Lindir in the eye and 
asked, “Will you sing another song? I would like to sit at your feet and 
listen to you.”
 
“If that is your wish.” Amused and flattered by Erestor’s open adoration, 
Lindir seated himself once more and gestured for Glorfindel and Erestor to 
do the same. “Is there a particular song you would like to hear?”
 
“Nay, you pick the song – the melody.” Erestor pulled Glorfindel down 
with him and leaned against the blond Elf once they were comfortably 
seated close to each other. A lock of gold twirled around a strand of his 
raven hair and Erestor smiled, hoping this was symbolic for the rest of 
their relationship. They hadn’t spoken of love yet, but both realized they 
were already courting each other. 
 
Lindir noted the way their fingers intertwined and saw his feelings 
confirmed, finding Glorfindel guiding Erestor closer to him and stroking 
the raven hair. The servants had told him of Erestor’s beauty, but he had 
been hesitant to believe such perfection really existed. But Erestor had 
proven him wrong. Such beauty should be immortalized in song and 
Lindir picked up his lyre, playing and singing once more.
 
Erestor was lost in admiration of Lindir’s voice. “You are blessed in many 
ways, Lindir,” he whispered, forgetting that Glorfindel heard him. 
 
“Aye, he is indeed,” whispered Glorfindel. Whilst his right arm remained 
poised around Erestor’s waist, he brought up the other and rested his hand 
against the nape of Erestor’s neck. /How can it be that I feel so at peace? 
Why does it feel like I have known you my entire life? I never believed in 
love at first sight – but this love is so rich and complete that it warms me 
from the inside./
 
Erestor caught an echo of Glorfindel’s thoughts despite his determination 
not to use his powers in that way – it just happened and he knew his father 
would understand that he hadn’t violated the ground rules. Glorfindel’s 
thoughts had simply entered his mind. /Oh, I feel the same way about you, 
melethen4./ Enjoying the tranquility of the moment, he closed his eyes. He 
deeply breathed in Glorfindel’s scent and listened – utterly captivated -- to 
Lindir’s song, which wove a web of sounds, images and emotions around 
them. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir gave Erestor an amused smile. “Did he really fall asleep during my 
song?”
 
“I am afraid so, meldir. He has had a very exciting day so far and 
yesterday must have exhausted him as well.” Glorfindel held Erestor 
close, caressing long strands of ebony hair. “He feels right in my arms.”
 
Lindir nodded once. “I noticed how comfortable you are around him. You 
have come to trust somebody so quickly only once before and that was 
when you met Ecthelion.” He had been a part of Glorfindel’s household 
for many centuries now and had taught the golden-haired Elf the finer arts 
– however, he felt only music was a true form of art. During the years they 
had spent together, a friendship had formed, though it didn’t compare to 
the friendship Glorfindel had built with Ecthelion. But Lindir didn’t mind. 
He lived for his music – for song, words, notes and melody. They were his 
world – his lovers.
 
“I am quite at a loss to explain this. He feels like the other half of my 
soul.” Glorfindel pressed a chaste kiss onto the black hair. “At first, I 
thought it was his beauty, which captivated me, but I now believe it is 
more. My soul reached out to his, and Erestor answered. It almost feels 
like I can sense his thoughts at times – maybe even his emotions. It 
delights me, but it is also very confusing. I never thought I would lose my 
heart in that way.”
 
“We do not get to choose the way love enters our lives,” said Lindir, 
musing. “You should rejoice instead and embrace his love for you.”
 
“Do you think he loves me in turn?” Glorfindel’s eyes glittered with 
emotion. 
 
“I can see it in his eyes, aye.” It would only be a matter of time before 
they became lovers. “But his eyes also hide many things.”
 
“I know that, but I cannot force him to open up to me. Turgon and 
Ecthelion want to know how Erestor entered our city, but Erestor says he 
does not remember.”
 
“Do you believe him?” Lindir saw a hint of indecision in his friend’s azure 
eyes. 
 
“I am not certain,” admitted Glorfindel in a heavy voice. “But even if his 
memory is still intact I will respect his decision not to confide in me.” 
 
“Because you love him.”
 
“Aye, because I love him.” Glorfindel felt lost, looking at the fair face, 
resting against his shoulder. “Am I wrong to love him, Lindir? I know 
nothing about him.”
 
“Not nothing,” said Lindir, correcting him. “You know he loves you.”
 
Glorfindel smiled, contently. “Aye, I do.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Did I fall asleep again?” Erestor yawned and stretched, giving Glorfindel 
and Lindir an apologetic smile. “That was never my intention.” Being 
alive was more tiring than he had thought and he hoped he would grow 
more accustomed to the demands this body placed upon him. 
 
“Do not worry about it,” said Glorfindel, good-heartedly. “But it is a good 
thing you have awoken for I need to leave you for a while.” 
 
Erestor grabbed hold of Glorfindel and folded his arms around the blond 
Elf’s shoulders in a possessive way. “Nay, you do not.”
 
“Oh, but I must! I do not want to leave you, but I am the Lord of my 
House and I have to attend to certain matters. I cannot neglect my duties to 
my people.” Glorfindel caressed Erestor’s face and his fingertips trailed 
lower, tracing the outline of Erestor’s pink bottom lip. “My guards train 
during the afternoon and I have to be there to supervise them. I also need 
to debrief them, find out if someone was injured, and hand out the new 
duty rosters. I am sorry, but I cannot neglect those duties in order to be 
with you.”
 
“I understand,” whispered Erestor. “I understand about honor and duty.”
 
Glorfindel felt relieved, now that Erestor was pushing himself to his feet 
and pulling him along. “Would you like to join us, Lindir? You can keep 
Erestor company during the training.”
 
Lindir gathered his lyre and rose from the grass. “I would like that. I find I 
enjoy your company, Erestor.” 
  
Lindir’s words made Erestor smile. “And I enjoy yours. Maybe you can 
teach me how to play the lyre?” He could practice whilst Glorfindel 
trained with the guards. 
 
“You won’t be able to learn to play the lyre in a few hours, Erestor, but we 
can make a start.” Lindir smoothed his green robes, made from silk and 
velvet, and brushed elusive strands of white hair back behind his ears. 
 
Glorfindel took possession of Erestor’s hand once more, eager to be in 
contact with the Elf he was so madly in love in. Together, the three of 
them headed for the training grounds.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“One is more beautiful than the other.”
 
“Ilúvatar’s song must have been particularly bright when creating these 
two.”
 
Lindir frowned, overhearing the guards closest to him. Erestor was 
plucking at the strings of his lyre, and Lindir was still amazed that the 
raven-haired Elf had so quickly picked up the skill to play the instrument. 
He had been so focused on Erestor’s play that he hadn’t heard the guards 
at first, but then their conversation had grown louder and bolder.
 
“I would love running my fingers down the white tresses. Oh, just look at 
those eyes! They resemble the blue-gray sky just before the clouds release 
rain!”
 
Lindir averted his eyes, realizing the guard had noticed his glance. Being 
the object of such interest made him uncomfortable. 
 
“He likes you, Lindir,” whispered Erestor, finishing a short melody Lindir 
had taught him. “Do you fancy him?” The guard was fair and sweat 
glittered on the broad, well-toned chest. “Or are you already bound?”
 
“I am bound to my music, Erestor. She is my true love.” Lindir felt the 
guard’s eyes upon him and this time he ignored him. 
 
“How do you think would he move beneath me? Would his blue eyes burn 
brighter? Or grow white, like his hair?” The guard sighed, dreaming of 
Lindir and barely managed ducking a blow when his partner attacked. He 
had been so focused on Lindir that he had let his guard down!
 
“Don’t you desire a living, breathing lover, then?” Erestor placed the lyre 
aside and searched Lindir’s eyes. They revealed desire and obsession. But 
those emotions weren’t directed at a living being, but at his music instead. 
“A melody cannot wrap its arms around you when you are alone at night. 
Music is a very inattentive lover.” 
 
“It has always been enough for me.”
 
Erestor’s gaze darkened and then grew sad. “There might come a time 
when music is not enough any more, Lindir.” 
 
At that point, Lindir decided to change their subject, as he had no desire to 
discuss this further. “His training partner finds you very fair as well, 
Erestor.”
 
“I love Glorfindel. Only Glorfindel, and no one else.” Erestor’s gaze 
shifted from the minstrel to Glorfindel, who was supervising the last part 
of the training. Like his men, Glorfindel had removed his shirt and tiny 
droplets of sweat hugged the well-toned chest. “He has a gorgeous body.”
 
Lindir laughed. “You, meldir, are experiencing a rush of lust!”
 
“Lust? Maybe,” said Erestor, giving Lindir a wink. “You are probably 
right, though. All I can think about is kissing him and running my hands 
down that chest.” The scene triggered certain responses in his body, 
making him grow hard. “Have you ever lain with a male, Lindir?”
 
Lindir couldn’t help but wonder about Erestor’s directness. “Nay, I have 
not.” Hadn’t he just told Erestor that no Elf compared to the beauty he saw 
and heard when composing his music?
 
“Never?” Erestor gave Lindir a look full of disbelief. “You never engaged 
in the act of making love? How old are you?” He had only possessed the 
body of an Elf for two days and desired nothing more than to become one 
with Glorfindel – to feel the warrior’s hands move over his body and 
claim him!
 
“Old enough.” Lindir shook his head at Erestor. “You must be very young 
to feel your body’s desire in such a strong way.”
 
/Oh, I would not call myself young, Lindir./ But Erestor couldn’t say that 
aloud. 
 
The training had finally come to an end and Glorfindel dismissed his men, 
joining Erestor and Lindir. Sitting down, he lifted his hair away from his 
neck and back, hoping the breeze would cool his overheated body. “Were 
you successful in mastering the lyre, Erestor?”
 
“He is a quick study,” replied Lindir, rising from the grass. “Please excuse 
me now.” He picked up his lyre, smiled at them, and left. He desired to be 
alone and to compose. 
 
Erestor crept closer and Glorfindel’s groin tightened, seeing the predatory 
look in the large eyes. “Erestor, we need to discuss what is happening.”
 
“Pray tell, Glorfindel. What *is* happening?” He ran his fingertips down 
the muscular chest, shivering with delight as they brushed one of the hard 
nipples. “I want you.”
 
“Erestor, *that* is exactly what we need to discuss.” Glorfindel caught 
Erestor’s hand in his and drew in a deep breath. The dark, dilated pupils 
spoke of lust and desire and he felt the same way, but they couldn’t do this 
– not now, not like this. “What is happening between us?” Erestor’s face 
was only inches away from his and Glorfindel restrained himself from 
reaching out and claiming those pink lips in a bruising kiss. 
 
“I thought you knew,” whispered Erestor, his breath caressing Glorfindel’s 
lips. “I love you.”
 
Hearing those three little words aloud for the first time caused Glorfindel’s 
heart to miss a beat. “And I love you. But how can this be? We met only 
yesterday!”
 
“What if there is no answer to your question? What if there is no 
explanation? What if it just happened? We are in love, aren’t we?” Erestor 
knelt in front of Glorfindel and raised his other arm, gently caressing the 
Elda’s face. “For I have no answers, melethron5. All I can tell you is that I 
am in love with you and desire to be with you for the rest of my life. If 
you want me, have me.” 
 
Glorfindel realized he should have expected such a declaration of love, but 
for some reason he had fooled himself into thinking that they could go 
slow. “Is that the way it will be then? We will be lovers?”
 
Erestor nodded his head once and bridged the distance between their lips, 
finally tasting Glorfindel for the very first time. The ruby lips tasted of 
strawberries and cherries, of wind and sun and he wanted to taste more of 
him, so much more. 

“Erestor, slow down. You must slow down.” Glorfindel placed his hands 
on either side of Erestor’s head and looked deeply into the brown eyes. “I 
want you too, Erestor, but I do not want to rush things.”
 
“Rush things?” Erestor arched a delicately formed eyebrow. “How can 
making love be rushing things? I desire to be with you in that way and you 
feel the same. Why not act upon it?”
 
“Because the moment we consummate our love we will be considered 
bound. Is that what you want? You could never take another lover again. 
You would be mine until the day we die.”
 
“Aye, I want that. I want to be yours forever.” Erestor slipped his hands 
behind Glorfindel’s neck and kept him in place. “Do you really want to 
fight this? Me? Do you think you can? And why would you?” 
 
“I do not think I can. You are in my blood.” Glorfindel ceased all 
resistance and gave in, wondering if he had gone mad by agreeing to bind 
himself to Erestor. The dark-haired Elf was a mystery and he knew 
nothing of Erestor, except that the other Elf loved him. Was that enough? 
Erestor’s tongue gently pushed past his lips and teeth, and the way it 
moved against his made him realize that it had to be enough. He no longer 
had the will to resist.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Erestor? Erestor! Listen to me!” Glorfindel forcefully pulled Erestor’s 
head away from his and stared into dilated pupils. “We should find a 
secluded spot, if we are going to follow through.”
 
“I have no desire to move,” replied Erestor, straddling Glorfindel’s waist. 
The Elda’s arousal pressed against him, straining against the fabric of the 
leggings. Erestor ran his hands down the chest and tugged at the 
waistband. “The guards have retired and no one is near.”
 
“But…?” But what if someone saw them? Glorfindel had always thought 
his first time would be in a soft bed, not on the training grounds! 
 
“Does it matter? Melethron, I doubt we would make it to your bedroom.” 
Erestor managed to undo the lacing of Glorfindel’s leggings and slowly 
revealed his lover to himself. Glorfindel’s erection bobbed free and 
already glistered with tiny beads of pre-ejaculate. Wrapping his fingers 
around the weeping shaft, Erestor stroked firmly. 
 
Glorfindel moaned from deep within his throat and arched his back. 
“Erestor, you need to know… Oh…” Pink lips had closer over a nipple 
and were now licking and suckling the hard nub. “Oh, Erestor…” 
 
Erestor loved the way Glorfindel squirmed beneath him. It was exactly as 
he had hoped it would be. He had imagined their first time would be like 
this, all those millennia when he had walked the Halls of Waiting, wanting 
to be close enough to Glorfindel to touch him. Letting his instincts guide 
him, his tongue trailed from one nipple to the other, bestowing kisses and 
licks onto it whilst Glorfindel’s erection hardened further in his grip. 
 
Glorfindel’s eyes turned a blazing blue, meeting Erestor’s dark ones. He 
raised an arm and rested his hand against the nape of Erestor’s neck. His 
dark-haired lover was still fully dressed and Glorfindel wanted that 
changed. “Remove your shirt.” He had already seen Erestor naked, had 
touched and carried him, but it was different now. They were about to 
make love and bind their souls!
 
Erestor quickly did away with the restricting garment and bowed forward, 
placing his naked upper body atop of Glorfindel’s chest, rubbing their skin 
together softly. 
 
The sensation was exquisite and Glorfindel’s strong hands moved down 
his lover’s spine. They slipped inside Erestor’s leggings and possessively 
squeezed the firm buttocks. “I want to see you naked.”
 
Eager to please, Erestor briefly struggled with the leggings, then flung 
them aside. He moved back into his straddling position and looked 
dotingly at Glorfindel. 
 
Glorfindel’s fingers explored his lover’s body, first caressing the chest and 
then trailing down to Erestor’s groin. Everything about his lover was 
perfectly proportioned and the velvet-like testes fitted nicely in the palm 
of his hand. “Before we go any further, there is something you should 
know.” Erestor leaned in closer and the long, ebony hair dragged 
delicately over his skin, making Glorfindel moan pitifully. He had never 
stood a chance fighting this to begin with!
 
“And what is that, melethron?” Erestor’s hands were busy kneading the 
firm flesh beneath his fingertips and he bowed to worship the sculpted 
body again. He planted firm kisses down the breastbone, ignoring the hard 
nipples for now. 
 
“I have never lain with a male before – or with a female.” Glorfindel 
buried his fingertips in Erestor’s hair and pulled his lover’s face closer to 
his so Erestor was forced to look at him. “I have never done this before.”
 
“Why?” Erestor’s hands cradled his lover’s face, caressing the skin there 
before sliding up the back to brush the tips of Glorfindel’s pointed ears. 
When he had instigated their love making he had been worried that he 
wouldn’t know what to do – how to please Glorfindel – but this body 
knew exactly what to do! 
 
“I always knew there was someone special waiting for me and I did not 
want to give myself to someone who was not my true love. You are my 
true love, are you not, Erestor?”
 
The emotion that shone from Glorfindel’s eyes told Erestor that the 
warrior trusted and loved him unconditionally and he nodded his head. 
“Aye, I am the one for you, just as you are the only one for me.” 
 
Glorfindel used his hold on Erestor’s head to pull him close enough to 
kiss. Lips and teeth parted and he hungrily accepted the invitation to taste 
his lover’s sweet mouth. Erestor rhythmically moved his lower body, 
bringing their erections into direct contact. The friction was maddening 
and Glorfindel stopped the kiss, afraid he would reach completion before 
they had performed the ultimate act. “What I am trying to say, Erestor, is 
that I have no experience in this matter.”
 
“Neither have I, but I do not think that will be an obstacle.” He had seen 
much during his long life and Erestor knew the mechanics of love making 
– probably knew as much as Glorfindel did. He was confident that 
together they would find a way to make their first time special. “Tell me, 
Glorfindel, what do you want?” Large, azure eyes looked at him 
questioningly. “Do you want to feel me inside or…?”
 
“Nay, I want to be inside of you,” whispered Glorfindel, trustingly looking 
into Erestor’s sparkling eyes. “I want to move inside of you.”
 
“You will have it.” Erestor would give anything to please Glorfindel. 
 
Glorfindel tried to muffle the yelp that left his lips, as Erestor’s pink lips 
closed over the head of his arousal, but he failed. 
 
Erestor needed a moment to get used to the slightly bitter taste that now 
slipped into his mouth, but he followed through, licking and suckling the 
head. He tried taking in more of his lover’s length, but gagged and pulled 
away. 
 
“Do not worry about it,” said Glorfindel, realizing Erestor was pushing 
himself in order to please him. “It takes practice to bring someone to 
orgasm in that way and I have no experience doing this either.”
 
“I will grow more adapt at it,” said Erestor in a determined voice.
 
Glorfindel chuckled. “I am certain you will.” But the fact remained that 
they were hard and in need of release. “Can you reach that plant over 
there?”
 
Erestor reached for it, and by doing so rubbed his lower body against 
Glorfindel’s erection, which promptly bobbed up and nestled inside his 
lover’s cleft. 
 
Erestor handed the plant to Glorfindel, curious as to his lover’s plans for 
it.
 
Glorfindel tore off the leaves and squeezed tight until the plant released its 
juices. “This will aid my way in.” Glorfindel’s eyes remained fixated on 
Erestor’s, as he took himself into hand and coated his shaft. “Do you 
really want to do this?” Oh, he hoped Erestor hadn’t changed his mind, for 
he was desperate to find release! 

“I want to feel you inside of me.” Erestor moved until the opening to his 
body was situated above his lover’s erect member. 
 
Seeing Erestor deftly bite his bottom lip, made Glorfindel’s erection 
twitch. “Go slow, melethen. I have heard that the first time can cause 
discomfort.” Glorfindel’s hands trembled, as he placed them on his lover’s 
hips. 
 
Erestor nodded once and then began to lower himself onto his lover’s hard 
flesh. He yelped, in beginning distress, as the head forced a way past the 
guardian muscle. But he continued, moving into a kneeling position whilst 
taken in more of Glorfindel’s impressive length. Aye, it hurt. It burned, 
but he was determined to do this and he continued to impale himself on his 
lover’s hard flesh. Tears leaked from his eyes – the pain suddenly 
doubling, as Glorfindel sheathed himself to the hilt.
 
“Erestor!” Glorfindel cried out in ecstasy. A hot, velvet-like glove settled 
around his member, already squeezing and gripping him. He closed his 
eyes and concentrated on not reaching orgasm yet, as he didn’t want to 
leave Erestor behind.
 
Erestor tried hard not to move. What had seemed pure bliss before starting 
this undertaking had changed into discomfort and pain. Glorfindel felt 
incredibly big inside him, filling him to the limit and he had no desire to 
add to the discomfort by moving.
 
Wondering why Erestor remained motionless, Glorfindel opened his eyes. 
“Oh, melethen!” The tears that dripped down Erestor’s face spoke of pain, 
not of pleasure! “It will become better, I promise!” At least, he hoped so! 
He had listened to many tales of his soldiers when they had sat near the 
campfire at night. His men had shared their sexual experiences freely, 
occasionally bringing a blush to his face. Once or twice, he had even come 
upon two guards, making love in the shadows of a tree, thinking it would 
hide them from view. He had never seen any of them cry due to pain. 
 
Erestor wiped the tears from his face and cautiously lowered his upper 
body atop of Glorfindel’s, wrapping his arms around the warrior. “I do not 
care about the pain. We are one now – bound to each other for eternity.”
 
“Aye, you are mine as I am yours.” Glorfindel brought up his arms behind 
Erestor’s back and hugged him close. His first time was nothing like he 
had imagined it would be. Maybe that was due to their position? 
Glorfindel frowned, trying to recall what his soldiers had told him. What 
position had those Elves made love in when he had come upon them? A 
position very different from theirs, he realized. 
 
Seeking to lessen Erestor’s discomfort, Glorfindel claimed the pink lips in 
an arduous kiss.  One hand drew soothing circles on Erestor’s back, whilst 
the other started a quest of its own. He quickly located his lover’s 
member, finding it had softened due to the penetration, and stroked the 
organ back to hardness. All the time, he kept perfectly still, which was an 
almost impossible task with this tightness gripping him. 
 
Erestor moaned; the dual sensation of having a sweet tongue duel with his, 
and Glorfindel’s fingers doing incredible things to his erection, soon had 
him eager for more and he began to rotate his hips. 
 
That little movement had Glorfindel groaning instantly. “Oh…” He broke 
their kiss to look at Erestor’s face and found a weak smile had surfaced 
there. The tears had dried and Erestor now moved more confidently, 
experimentally raising himself. Glorfindel quickly slipped his hands 
beneath his lover’s buttocks, aiding him.
 
Erestor threw back his head and his eyes widened, when the tip of 
Glorfindel’s member touched something inside his passage. Sparks sizzled 
in his body and a needy moan left his lips. “I need more,” he panted, 
looking questioningly into his lover’s eyes. He just didn’t know what to do 
at this point.
 
“You brought us this far, now let me do the rest.” Glorfindel waited for 
Erestor to nod his permission and then tightened his hold on his lover. He 
rolled Erestor onto his back and settled atop of his lover. “Wrap your legs 
around me.”
 
In this position, Glorfindel’s length massaged *that* spot more forcefully 
and Erestor obeyed at once, wrapping his long legs around his lover’s 
waist. The wicked grin that appeared on the warrior’s face made him 
swallow, hard, and then, Glorfindel delivered his first – well-aimed -- 
thrust. Erestor arched his back, eager for the sensation to linger and he 
yelped, sharply, when the second thrust penetrated him even deeper. “Oh, 
yes!”
 
Erestor’s enthusiasm fueled Glorfindel’s, who set a slow and shallow 
rhythm. He fought the urge to speed up. He wanted to make love to 
Erestor sweetly and slow, knowing his lover would be sore for at least a 
few days, and he didn’t want to add to that discomfort by taking him hard 
and fast. 
 
Erestor rose to meet each of his lover’s thrusts and soon they were moving 
together with confidence. Lips and tongues found their counterparts and 
locked in a passionate kiss. Erestor surrendered to his lover in every 
possible way, allowing Glorfindel to dictate their lovemaking. He reached 
orgasm much too quickly and screamed his lover’s name, finding release.
 
Glorfindel panted hard, feeling Erestor’s warm cream drip from his 
abdomen and then… then the contractions started. Erestor’s inner muscle 
gripped him – hard – and Glorfindel stilled all movement, surrendering to 
the divine sensation, which pushed him over the edge. 
 
Erestor’s eyes widened in surprise, feeling Glorfindel’s warm essence fill 
him from the inside. “Melethron…” For the first time in his long life he 
felt complete, and he hugged Glorfindel close to him, pressing his lips 
against a shoulder and suckling the skin there.
 
Glorfindel delivered a few more shallow thrusts and then collapsed atop of 
his lover. Their first time had left him exhausted, but at the same time also 
utterly satiated. “I do not want to pull out yet,” he said, in between heavy 
panting. 
 
“Then stay inside.” Erestor pressed close to Glorfindel and continued to 
hold him tight. The blond warrior trembled in his arms, and tried to thrust 
once more, but his member was already softening and the motion caused 
him to slip outside unwanted. 
 
Glorfindel moaned at the loss and crushed Erestor close to him.
 
Erestor allowed the devastating hold, and rubbed his cheek against 
Glorfindel’s broad chest. “We are mated now.” 
 
Glorfindel drew in a deep breath, realized his crushing hold on Erestor, 
and loosened it slightly. When had he closed his eyes? It must have 
happened the moment he had found release! He opened his eyes to look 
upon his love, but his breath caught in surprise. “Erestor?”
 
Erestor lifted his head and looked into Glorfindel’s eyes. “What is amiss?”
 
“Nothing, I think, but…” Glorfindel lifted an arm and reached out. 
“Where did these come from?” Roses had formed a circle around them, 
creating their own little island. Red roses, pink, white, yellow and even a 
black rose stood in full bloom, releasing their unique fragrance. 
 
Erestor blinked once, and then realized he must have lost his control over 
his powers during their love making. Or… Or was this his parents’ work? 
Entranced, he looked at the black rose and then picked the delicate flower. 
“I do not know how this happened.” But now that he thought about it, it 
was just like his father to let one black rose come to bloom amidst the 
others. Did this mean his parents approved and wished him happiness? 
 
“I have never seen anything like this before.” Awed, Glorfindel looked at 
the Elf in his arms, sensing this was somehow related to Erestor. And then, 
realization of a different kind struck. “I feel you.”
 
“I hope you do,” whispered Erestor, relishing the feel of Glorfindel’s 
muscular body atop of his. 
 
“Nay, I feel you in my mind!” Glorfindel’s big eyes revealed his surprise. 
 
Erestor concentrated and realized it was true. “I feel you too.”
 
“It must be the bond, creating a connection.” It wasn’t unheard of, though 
not all lovers shared such a connection. Realizing Erestor might be 
growing uncomfortable, carrying his bulk, Glorfindel rolled off of his 
lover and settled on his side beside Erestor. Erestor reacted by moving 
onto his side as well and possessively draping an arm atop his hip. 
Glorfindel mimicked that gesture, and pulled Erestor close. Staring into 
the depthless, dark eyes, he wondered about his lover. They were bound 
now, and would be together for the rest of their lives. Smelling the roses’ 
sweet fragrance, Glorfindel couldn’t help but wonder what Erestor was 
keeping from him. Because, as he looked into those fathomless eyes, he 
found the secrets were still there.
 
Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairing for this part; Erestor/Glorfindel 
Rating: NC-17 
Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel spent seven years of bliss together, but 
then, their world collapses.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.  
Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine!
 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 2
 
 
“Watch your right side, Erestor! You are wide open! An enemy would use 
that to his advantage and take you out!” Ecthelion’s sword brushed 
Erestor’s flank in warning. 
 
Erestor tried to block Ecthelion’s attack, but the sword made contact with 
his tunic, leaving behind a tiny cut. 
 
Ecthelion took a step back, lowered his sword, and gave Erestor a stern 
look. “If this had been a real battle, you would be dead now.” 
 
Angry with himself for being caught off-guard, Erestor flung his sword 
onto the grass. He marched away from Ecthelion, trying to get his temper 
back under control. 
 
“Erestor, calm yourself.” Ecthelion sheathed his sword, picked up 
Erestor’s discarded weapon, and fell into step beside the frustrated Elf. 
“You have only been training for two weeks and you already made 
incredible progress. Do not be so hard on yourself. You cannot expect to 
learn such weapon’s skill in a fortnight, when it took me decades to hone 
my techniques. You are pushing yourself too hard.”
 
Ecthelion’s thoughts traveled back in time, recalling joining Erestor and 
Glorfindel for dinner after meeting with Turgon for most of the day. He 
had quickly realized what had happened between the two Elves, seeing 
them hold hands at the dinner table. The devoted look they gave each 
other told him all he needed to know. Later, he told Glorfindel that he felt 
his friend had moved too fast, and Glorfindel even agreed, but the blond 
Elf had seemed unable to stay away from Erestor for long. Only a few 
minutes later, Glorfindel sought out Erestor again and their fingers twined 
once more. Ecthelion realized, at that point, that he was fighting a losing 
battle and offered Erestor his friendship. Erestor then surprised him by 
asking him to train him. Ecthelion had wondered why Erestor hadn’t asked 
Glorfindel instead, and Erestor explained that it would be too much of a 
distraction. His lover training him just wouldn’t do. So Ecthelion 
accepted, seeing that Erestor was offering him a chance to build a 
relationship. 
 
The only drawback was that Erestor easily grew frustrated when he 
disappointed his instructor. “Erestor,” said Ecthelion, trying to further 
calm Erestor down. “You fought well, but once you attacked, you forgot 
your defenses.”
 
Erestor abruptly stopped walking and sat down on the grass. He rested his 
back against a tree trunk and glared at the earth. Rationally, he knew he 
was too hard on himself, but he wanted to make Glorfindel proud! His 
golden-haired lover was a formidable warrior and he wanted to show 
Glorfindel that he could wield a sword as well as his mate did!
 
Ecthelion settled down beside Erestor and placed the sword in front of 
Erestor on the grass. “You need to be realistic about your training, 
Erestor.” 
 
“I want to make him proud!”
 
“You already did,” whispered Ecthelion, resting a hand on Erestor’s sword 
arm. “And even more importantly, you are making him happy!” Erestor’s 
lips became a narrow line, causing Ecthelion to smile. “Why is it so 
important that you can wield a sword?”
 
“I overheard your conversation the other night. Glorfindel and you are 
worried because Turgon continues to ignore the warning Tuor brought 
him.”
 
Ecthelion released a deep sigh. “Turgon should heed Tuor’s warning, but 
he feels his warriors can defend the Hidden City.”
 
“Even against Morgoth? His Balrogs? The fire drakes? Turgon is mad.” 
Erestor shook his head. “Morgoth’s strength is growing and once he 
attacks he will make certain there are no survivors.”
 
Ecthelion rubbed Erestor’s skin through the fabric of the sleeve. “Tuor 
also said we had time. Morgoth won’t attack tomorrow. You still have 
time to learn to wield a sword.”
 
“Turgon is a fool and lets his pride cloud his vision!”
 
Ecthelion nodded once. “I agree, but not many would ever dare speak 
those words aloud.” 
 
“I speak my mind.” Erestor shrugged his shoulders once. Even though he 
had taken the shape of a Firstborn in order to be with Glorfindel, his soul 
remained that of one of the Valar. 
 
“Erestor?” Ecthelion waited for his newest friend to raise his head and 
then looked into the fathomless, dark eyes. “For someone with memory 
loss you know a lot about Morgoth.” Beneath his hand, Erestor flinched. 
“I do not mean to pry, but I know you are hiding things from me – us.”
 
Erestor felt conflicted. “I cannot tell you, Ecthelion.” His father would see 
that as a breach of their rules and call him back to the Halls of Waiting. 
“All I can say is that I mean you well.”
 
Ecthelion had heard that answer before and knew he wouldn’t get more 
information out of Erestor, so he changed the subject. “Do you wish to 
continue practice?”
 
“I do.” Erestor’s fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. He raised it, 
and the metal caught the rays of the sun, glittering fiercely. Glorfindel had 
given it to him after his lover had heard that Ecthelion had agreed to train 
him. The sword was a family heirloom and Erestor regretted flinging it 
away earlier. It deserved to be treated with respect. 
 
Ecthelion got to his feet and extended his arm, offering to pull Erestor to 
his feet. The other dark-haired Elf accepted and Ecthelion studied Erestor, 
whose eyes were still directed at the earth. /He is a proud soul, but not 
flawed in the way Turgon is. Erestor pushes himself hard – maybe too 
hard – and then grows disappointed./ But the truth was that Erestor was 
the best student he had ever had. Erestor moved light and quick on his feet 
and was eager to earn his teacher’s praise. But, Erestor lacked experience 
and that would only come with the passing of time. 
 
“Again, then!” Ecthelion waited for Erestor to assume the basic position 
and then charged again. This time, Erestor was on his guard and blocked 
him. “Well done. Again!” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Ah, there you are, melethen1! I missed you during the day!” Glorfindel 
placed the quill onto the desk and gestured for Erestor to approach. “I tried 
postponing doing my correspondence, but it caught up with me in the 
end.” Doing the paperwork that came with his station was tedious. It had 
also prevented him from watching Erestor and Ecthelion train. “How did 
the session go?”
 
Erestor sat down on the desk, crushing several letters beneath him. He 
pretended not to see Glorfindel’s look of dismay when his lover realized 
he would have to write those anew. “I pay too little attention to my 
defenses,” he said, running his fingertips through Glorfindel’s hair. “I like 
it best when you wear it loose.”
 
“Thank you, melethron2.” Glorfindel caught Erestor’s hand in his and 
pressed a kiss onto the palm. “I talked to Ecthelion yesterday and he is 
quite pleased with your growing weapon’s skill.”
 
“I need to train more and harder if I am ever to equal his skill.”
 
Glorfindel smiled, lazily. “Ecthelion has a head start, Erestor. He has been 
training for many years.” His lips trailed upwards, bestowing light kisses 
on the inside of Erestor’s wrist. 
 
It still amazed Glorfindel how easily and quickly he had grown 
accustomed to Erestor’s presence – and even more importantly – his love. 
Their connection had deepened their love further and Glorfindel felt like 
he had known and loved Erestor for millennia, instead of just two weeks. 
“I did some studying this morn.”
 
One of Erestor’s elegantly carved eyebrows inched higher. “Studying?” 
Glorfindel had been spending time in his impressive library and the blond 
Elf had been quite mysterious as to why. 
 
“Aye, I found some scrolls, which provided me with more details on 
lovemaking.” Glorfindel grinned, seeing a wicked glint appear in Erestor’s 
eyes. “I do not wish to leave you sore the next time we make love.” 
Erestor had been in discomfort for several days, and although the dark-
haired Elf had tried to hide that from him, Glorfindel had seen it. “You 
definitely went too fast that first time.”
 
Erestor leaned in closer, allowing his lips to brush Glorfindel’s. “It was 
worth it, as we are bound now.”
 
“But I refuse to take you again in such a manner. The next time we make 
love I will prepare you properly.”
 
“Prepare me?” The eyebrow moved even higher.
 
“You will find out tonight,” promised Glorfindel. He had enjoyed the 
teasing sensation of Erestor’s lips brushing his, but he was hungry for 
more and kissed his lover. Erestor deepened the kiss, which Glorfindel 
allowed, and they only broke apart when they were both short of breath. 
 
“Tonight?” Erestor panted, already growing excited at the mere thought of 
being intimate with Glorfindel again. “It has been two weeks since…” 
Glorfindel had refused to take him whilst he felt sore and Erestor didn’t 
feel confident enough yet to reverse their roles and take Glorfindel. 
 
“Aye, we will make love tonight. But first, we must entertain our guests.”
 
Erestor nodded once. Idril, Tuor and their son would visit with them 
tonight and Glorfindel had ordered a feast to honor Eärendil’s birth. The 
members of Glorfindel’s household would make merry tonight. 
 
“You will like them,” said Glorfindel, lacing his fingers with Erestor’s. 
 
Erestor moved even closer and ended up on Glorfindel’s lap, straddling his 
lover’s muscular thighs. “Glorfindel, how serious is our situation? How 
quickly do you think Morgoth will attack?”
 
Surprised, Glorfindel sucked in his breath. “How did you learn of this 
threat?”
 
“I heard Ecthelion and you talk one night when you thought that I was 
asleep. He had just returned from visiting with Turgon and he sounded 
worried, as Turgon refused to make plans for an evacuation.”
 
Glorfindel chided himself for not confiding in Erestor. /It was only a 
matter of time before he found out./ His lover was highly intelligent and 
cunning and might even be a help in this matter. “Aye, Turgon’s behavior 
worries me. It was foretold that Ulmö would send a messenger, but our 
High-King is convinced Gondolin will withstand Morgoth’s attack and 
emerge victorious.”
 
“Then your High-King is a fool.”
 
Glorfindel tensed. “He is your High-King as well.” But Erestor shook his 
head, surprising him further.
 
“No Elven King rules me,” said Erestor, decisively. “Glorfindel, may I 
offer you my advice?”
 
Impressed by his lover’s directness, Glorfindel nodded. 
 
“Make plans for an evacuation. Create a way out of this valley, for once 
Morgoth attacks he will cut off your escape route. You need to have an 
alternative way to leave Gondolin. Think of all the innocent ones who will 
fall if Turgon’s pride remains.”
 
“Your advice is sound, Erestor.” Glorfindel caressed his lover’s face. He 
was tempted to question Erestor on his advice, thinking it was *very* 
sound for someone who professed to be amnesic. Erestor’s tone had been 
intimate, as if knowing what evil Morgoth was capable of first hand. 
“Ecthelion and I will take it to heart.”
 
“Do not waste time, Glorfindel. Morgoth is already assembling his army.” 
Erestor realized he had given away too much when Glorfindel’s eyes 
widened. 
 
“How do you know?”
 
He couldn’t tell Glorfindel that as one of the Valar, such knowledge was 
his, so he used the same way out as when he had told Ecthelion about 
Elrohir. “It came to me in my dreams.”
 
Glorfindel remained suspicious, but it was hard to be cross with the one he 
loved so much. Focusing on their mental connection, he sensed only 
sincerity; Erestor meant well. Glorfindel nodded once and let the matter 
rest. “We need to bathe and change our clothing. Tuor and his family will 
arrive before sunset.”
 
“Tuor is a mortal, is he not?” Erestor didn’t want to make any mistakes 
tonight, knowing how much Glorfindel liked the royal couple. “And Idril 
is Turgon’s daughter.”
 
Glorfindel buried his fingers in Erestor’s ebony hair. “And Eärendil, their 
son, is half-Elven. Idril told me that he is quite a handful already. That 
does not bear well for that family line. Thankfully it will be a while before 
Eärendil will start his own family of stubborn Peredhil3.” 
 
Erestor frowned at hearing that; something tugged at the edges of his 
mind, but the vision wouldn’t come to him. All he saw was an image of 
Ecthelion. Maybe this had something to do with Elrohir? The Elf meant to 
be Ecthelion’s lover? /Elrohir Peredhel4? A half-Elf?/ 
 
“Erestor? Does something trouble you?” 
 
“Nay.” Erestor reluctantly pulled away from Glorfindel and got to his feet. 
Hopefully the vision would come to him tonight when Eärendil was close 
enough to evoke it. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You look lovely,” whispered Erestor into Glorfindel’s right ear. The fair 
Elda was dressed in greens and yellows and a golden circlet crowned 
Glorfindel’s head. Glorfindel’s hair had been braided in an intricate way 
and a green emerald rested on his brow, attached to the circlet by spun, 
golden strands. 
 
“You look stunning yourself.” Glorfindel had been surprised to see Erestor 
dressed in midnight blue robes with purple lining, but the dark colors 
suited his lover. Erestor wore his hair loose and unadorned and Glorfindel 
used the opportunity to finger-comb his lover’s mane. The large, deer-like 
eyes more resembled black than the usual brown.
 
On the nightstand stood a vase containing the roses which had come to 
bloom when they had made love. They should have withered by now, but 
they were still in full bloom. 
 
Glorfindel playfully tugged at a strand of his lover’s hair and then released 
the lock to seek out Erestor’s hand. He curled his fingers around Erestor’s 
hand and pulled his lover along. The feast would take place in the main 
hall, and in certain parts of the gardens, as the weather was dry and still 
warm. “Come with me, melethen. They are already waiting for us.” He 
had kept back during their shared bath, though his fingers had itched to 
touch his lover’s silken skin. /Tonight,/ Glorfindel told himself. /I will 
make him mine tonight./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Idril cradled her son close to her chest, as she strode into the main hall to 
take part in tonight’s celebrations. Tuor, her husband, was at her side, 
taking in the splendor of the House of the Golden Flower, which he had 
never visited before. Glorfindel and he had met on several occasions and a 
deep respect had formed – a friendship even, for which he felt most 
grateful. Glorfindel wasn’t like some of the Elves at Turgon’s court, who 
looked down on him because he was a mortal. No, Glorfindel, and also 
Ecthelion, had accepted him and treated him as an equal. 
 
“I welcome you to my home!” The Elves made way for Glorfindel, as 
their Lord advanced on the royal couple. Glorfindel embraced Tuor, 
briefly squeezing the Man’s shoulder. “You are most welcome! All three 
of you!” Next, he greeted Idril and congratulated her on the birth of her 
son. Curiously, he looked at the newborn, and found that dark hair already 
graced the tiny head. “Follow me!”
 
Erestor had watched the couple with interest and his first impression told 
him that he could grow to like them. He followed suit when Glorfindel 
guided the royal couple to the head table, where they seated themselves.
 
Now that Idril sat comfortably, Glorfindel reached for Erestor, eager to 
introduce his beloved to the couple. “Idril, Tuor, this is Erestor, my 
bonded mate.”
 
Erestor bowed for Idril, not because she was an Elven Princess, but 
because he was in awe of the life she had created. “My Lady, I am 
honored to meet you.”
 
Idril smiled and shifted the sleeping baby in her arms. “Glorfindel already 
told me about you, Erestor. I am glad to finally make your acquaintance. 
The light that shines in Glorfindel’s eyes has become radiant since you 
entered his life.”
 
Erestor gracefully accepted the compliment. His gaze then shifted to 
Eärendil, and once more a vision tugged at the edges of his mind. 
However, it still refused to surface fully. “I see the Valar have blessed you 
with new life.”
 
“Aye, Eärendil is a most precious gift.” Idril stroked her son’s face, 
smiling when he remained asleep. “He is a good baby and hardly cries.”
 
Tuor kept a close eye on Erestor, as the dark-haired Elf *was* a stranger 
to him and he felt very protective of his wife and newborn. The 
unwelcome attention which Maeglin often paid to Idril had made him 
wary.  
 
Erestor seated himself next to Idril, ignoring the suspicious look Tuor was 
giving him. He understood the Man’s protectiveness. “Would you permit 
me to hold him?”
 
Surprised at hearing Erestor’s request, Idril sought out Glorfindel’s eyes. 
She had known the golden-haired warrior her entire life and trusted him, 
but this involved her child – her son!
 
Glorfindel had been surprised as well, not thinking Erestor would want to 
hold the newborn, but he nodded encouragingly. 
 
Idril managed a smile and then lowered Eärendil into Erestor’s arms. Next 
to her, Tuor shifted closer. Like her, he felt protective of their son and she 
couldn’t blame him.  
 
To Tuor’s surprise his son’s eyes opened and the newborn seemed to focus 
on Erestor, who was cooing softly and rocking the baby. A moment later, 
Eärendil began to chuckle softly, his tiny hands reaching for Erestor’s 
raven hair. Tuor relaxed, now that his son seemed to have taken a liking to 
Erestor, which surprised him. Eärendil wasn’t a child who allowed just 
anybody to hold him. 
 
Erestor gave Glorfindel a pleased look. “He feels warm.” But he wasn’t 
referring to the tiny body in his arms. Eärendil’s fëa5 felt warm, eager and 
ambitious. /You are destined for great things./ Then, the vision 
approached, finally showing him what he had sensed for days now. 
 
Ecthelion and Elrohir were holding hands, and gazed lovingly in each 
other’s eyes. The love they shared was palpable and made Erestor smile. 
Aye, he had been right. Elrohir was Ecthelion’s future lover and somehow 
the Elf was related to Eärendil. /Half-Elf,/ he thought, correcting himself.
 
As if on cue, Ecthelion entered the main hall to take part in the festivities. 
At his side was Lindir. 
 
Erestor blinked once and the vision vanished. 
 
“May I have my son back, Erestor?” asked Idril. Tuor was growing more 
nervous with every passing second and Idril opted for action before her 
husband would intervene. 
 
“Thank you for letting me hold him.” Erestor carefully placed the newborn 
back into Idril’s arms. His attention shifted from the baby to Lindir and 
Ecthelion. Lindir looked remarkable, dressed in his dark-green robes, lined 
with threads of silver. He seated himself close to his harp, which he now 
lowered against his shoulder. Ecthelion uncovered a slim, mithril flute and 
seated himself at Lindir’s feet.
 
The music started and Erestor cradled Glorfindel’s hand in his, stroking 
the skin in time with the cadence of the song. Flute and harp intertwined, 
creating a hauntingly beautiful melody that floated through the hall. Elven 
lips remained sealed and none spoke during their performance. Eyes, filled 
with awe, locked on the two musicians. 
 
The music came to an end and silence filled the halls. One Elf after 
another rose from their chairs to compliment Lindir and Ecthelion on the 
outstanding performance and the two musicians gracefully accepted their 
kind words. Once the commotion had died down, Ecthelion joined the 
royal couple, sitting down beside Glorfindel, whilst Lindir started another 
song, quieter and less intense than the last one. 
 
Whilst Glorfindel and Ecthelion talked, Erestor’s gaze met Tuor’s once 
more. There was strength in the Man -- strength, valor and a great sense of 
honor. /I like Tuor,/ realized Erestor. /And I like his family./ That evening 
Erestor allowed Tuor, Idril and Eärendil into his heart, hoping the royal 
couple and he would become good friends.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Later that night, Glorfindel took hold of Erestor’s hand and pulled him 
toward their rooms. Idril and Tuor had long since left and most of the 
Elves who had gathered in the main hall were retiring. Only Lindir and 
Ecthelion remained to entertain the remaining Elves with their music. 
 
“I told you what would happen tonight, melethen,” whispered Glorfindel 
into Erestor’s ear after pulling his beloved into their chambers. He closed 
the door behind them and then locked it to ensure that no one would 
disturb them. “Are you ready to be thoroughly loved?”
 
“More than ready.” Erestor pulled Glorfindel close and claimed the soft, 
red lips. Glorfindel’s hands already tugged at the clasps holding his outer 
robes in place and they were quickly undone, allowing for the fabric to 
pool around his feet. Clad only in a light under tunic, Erestor playfully 
nipped at Glorfindel’s bottom lip. “Will you take me again? Make me feel 
you?”
 
Glorfindel nodded, taking in the breathtaking sight Erestor presented. 
“Raise your arms.” Erestor complied and Glorfindel removed the under 
tunic, revealing his lover’s naked body to him. “You are magnificent.” 
Erestor was even developing muscle tone now that he was working out 
with Ecthelion. “I want to eat you… taste you.”
 
Growing weak in the knees, Erestor allowed Glorfindel to guide him to 
their four-poster bed. He lay down, quivering with arousal, and feeling the 
silken material beneath his back only added to his eagerness. He loved the 
fact that Glorfindel preferred silken sheets over cotton. “What did you 
learn, studying those secretive scrolls in your library?” His eyes filled with 
lust, as they watched Glorfindel shrug out of his own robes. 
 
Naked, the warrior went down on his knees on the floor and then pulled 
his lover’s lower body close with a sharp tug. Erestor’s breath caught 
when Glorfindel guided his legs atop of his shoulder.
 
“Lean back, melethron, and then I will show you.” Glorfindel felt nervous 
now that he was about to orally pleasure his beloved for the first time. He 
had read how to bring Erestor to orgasm and he had practiced relaxing his 
throat muscles, but actually doing it was different. 
 
Erestor complied and lay down on his back. He recalled trying to do this 
for his lover when they had been together that first time, but he had 
gagged and had abandoned the effort to bring Glorfindel to orgasm in that 
way.
 
Glorfindel ran his hands down Erestor’s flanks and kissed his way up the 
thigh. Erestor’s scent was already strong and his lover’s member had 
hardened. Droplets of transparent pre-ejaculate clung to the inflamed head 
and Glorfindel drew in a last deep breath before licking the tip and tasting 
his lover for the first time.
 
Erestor forced himself to remain motionless, though his first instinct was 
to thrust upward. Warm fingers stroked his sac and a wet tongue twirled 
over the head. “Oh, melethen!” 
 
Glorfindel placed his hands on Erestor’s hips, making sure his lover 
wouldn’t thrust unexpectedly. Erestor tasted bitter, of salt and the sea, but 
he knew he would grow accustomed to the taste. Parting his lips and teeth, 
he slowly sank down onto his lover’s length whilst cupping Erestor’s 
testes in one hand. 
 
Erestor’s eyes widened in pleasure now that a wet heat surrounded his 
hard flesh. Oh, Glorfindel was definitely more talented at this than he was! 
And then, this wonderful manipulation started. One hand massaged his 
sac, fingers stroked his erection, a tongue licked at his shaft and then his 
lover began to suck him in earnest. Silken hair lay draped over his groin 
and Erestor caressed the strands, eventually resting a hand on Glorfindel’s 
head. He massaged the scalp, trying hard not to thrust into his lover’s 
willing mouth. “I am close… too close,” he whispered, sensing the first 
signs of impending release.
 
Good, that was exactly what Glorfindel wanted! He increased the pace of 
his strokes and sucked on his lover’s erection, eating him whole. 
 
“Argh!” Erestor thrust deeply and spilled himself in his lover’s talented 
mouth. 
 
The warm cream splashed against the back of Glorfindel’s throat and he 
fought to stay relaxed and not to gag. He swallowed, convulsively, and 
then released Erestor’s twitching member. 
 
Panting hard, Erestor pushed himself into an upright position and took in 
his lover’s debauched look. “You missed a droplet.” His fingers trembled, 
removing his semen from Glorfindel’s lips. 
 
Glorfindel smiled at his lover and lowered the long legs until Erestor’s feet 
made contact with the floor again. “Did I please you?”
 
Impressed, Erestor nodded once. “You did. You should give me those 
scrolls you studied. Then I might be able to return the pleasure.” 
Glorfindel was still hard, and Erestor reached for his lover, pulling the 
blond Elf onto the bed with him. “You still have to find release. Will you 
come inside of me?” He felt utterly relaxed and sated and looked 
expectedly at his lover, who was kneeling at his side. 
 
“Aye, I will, but this time we will do it properly.” Glorfindel reached for 
the nightstand, opened the drawer and retrieved a mithril vial. 
 
“What is that?” Sitting cross-legged, Erestor watched Glorfindel remove 
the stopper. 
 
“That first time I used the healing juices of a plant to ease my way in, but 
we should have used oil instead.” Glorfindel looked deeply into Erestor’s 
trusting eyes. “I promise you that there won’t be much pain this time.” 
 
“But still some.”
 
“I am afraid that cannot be helped, melethen. You are tight.” Glorfindel 
considered his lover and then reached a decision. “Would you move onto 
your hands and knees for me? I do think that position will be the least 
stressful on you.”
 
“Hands and knees? But then I cannot see your face.”
 
“Do you trust me?”
 
“I trust you, Glorfindel.” Erestor moved onto his hands and knees, 
growing nervous in spite of the trust he had in Glorfindel. 
 
Glorfindel coated one finger with the oil and then inched closer to Erestor, 
kneeling behind his lover. “I love you,” he whispered, placing butterfly 
kisses on his lover’s buttocks. 
 
Erestor relaxed under the kisses, but then tensed again, feeling something 
wet and slippery settle against the opening to his body. “Melethron? What 
are you doing?” 
 
“I should prepare you thoroughly. You see, you were in so much pain 
before because I did not stretch you.” Glorfindel continued to kiss, lick, 
and playfully bite Erestor’s backside and when his lover relaxed again, he 
inserted the tip of his finger. 
 
Startled, Erestor’s eyes widened. Somehow the slow pace Glorfindel was 
setting unnerved him. /I do not know what to expect,/ he realized. That 
first time everything had happened within a heartbeat. 
 
Glorfindel sensed Erestor’s need and began to explain. “One finger first. I 
am slowly opening you up. Just relax.” Bending forward, his lips left 
kisses on the small of Erestor’s back. He reached beneath his lover’s body 
and massaged Erestor’s lax member. 
 
Erestor closed his eyes and focused on Glorfindel’s voice and the finger 
that now probed deeper. It wasn’t unpleasant at all, and his lover’s finger 
fit nicely. Growing enthusiastic, Erestor pushed back. “Oh…!” His breath 
caught when the tip of Glorfindel’s finger rubbed a sensitive spot inside 
his passage. “Do that again!” Rubbing that spot had transformed pain into 
pleasure when they had made love that first time.
 
Obliging his lover, Glorfindel aimed for the same spot. Erestor’s member 
was growing hard within his grip and he tugged, hard. Erestor yelped, and 
then looked over his shoulder at him with wide eyes. Glorfindel grinned 
and removed his finger from his lover’s body. “Two.”
 
Erestor wondered what Glorfindel meant, but then the invading feeling 
returned, stronger and bigger this time. /Two fingers./ That was what 
Glorfindel had meant. The two digits felt big inside him, and caused him a 
bit of discomfort, but the pain remained absent. Soon, he was pushing 
back again, moaning sharply, as Glorfindel’s fingers brushed that spot 
again. 
 
“Three.” Glorfindel added more oil and inserted three fingers into his 
lover’s loosening passage. Scissoring them inside the channel, he opened 
Erestor’s body further up to him. Erestor moved frantically against him, 
pushing back and practically taking himself. His lover’s shaft was wet 
with desire and Glorfindel felt the time had come to claim Erestor. 
 
Erestor wailed, now that Glorfindel removed his fingers from his body. 
The hand, which had brought him such pleasure, released his throbbing 
erection. 
 
“Are you ready for me, melethron?” Glorfindel moved closer to Erestor’s 
backside, took himself into hand after generously coating his length with 
the oil, and positioned himself.
 
“Aye, I am…” Erestor threw back his head, looked over his shoulder and 
savored the sight that greeted him. Glorfindel was glorious in his lust. And 
Glorfindel wanted him! Only him. “Now!”
 
Glorfindel forced himself to enter his lover slowly. He inched inside, 
pausing regularly to give Erestor a chance to grow accustomed to the 
growing bulk inside him. 
 
Erestor yelped and remained motionless. This time, the penetration didn’t 
hurt that much, and encouraged, he pushed back, causing Glorfindel to 
slide inside to the hilt. 
 
“Oh, yes…” Glorfindel grabbed hold of Erestor’s waist and rotated his 
hips, trying to inch in even deeper. Mesmerized, he looked down at the 
place where his member vanished into Erestor’s body. It was the most 
erotic scene he had ever seen. 
 
A purr, coming from deep within Erestor’s throat, reminded him that he 
was supposed to move – and move he did. With his first stroke, he 
massaged his lover’s sweet spot and then pulled out, only to creep inside 
again -- painfully slow. This was so different from their first time, when 
he had taken Erestor without much preparation. Erestor pushed back, 
meeting each thrust and Glorfindel managed to set a pleasing pace – 
shallow and slow instead of hard and deep. 
 
“Yes… yes…yes!” Erestor fought the urge to stroke himself to 
completion, as he didn’t want to reach orgasm before his lover did, and 
moved obediently to Glorfindel’s sensual thrusts. 
 
Glorfindel’s hand slowly moved into Erestor’s dark mane. First, the 
fingers caressed the locks, but then they clawed at the silken hair. Riding 
Erestor like a stallion on a willing mare, his thrusts unwillingly deepened. 
 
As Glorfindel was tugging at his hair, Erestor found himself pulled close 
to his lover’s chest. His fingers lost contact with the mattress and 
Glorfindel pulled him into a vertical position. 
 
Glorfindel released the silken mass of hair, realizing the hold had become 
painful for Erestor and wrapped one arm around his lover’s waist, 
supporting him whilst the thorough pounding continued. The back of 
Erestor’s head came to rest against his shoulder and he used this 
opportunity to taste his lover again, claiming Erestor’s lips in a bruising 
kiss. 
 
“Close…” whimpered Erestor into Glorfindel’s mouth. Promptly, his 
lover’s fingers wrapped themselves around his hard flesh and stroked, 
almost frantically. The dual sensation of being taken and moving inside 
Glorfindel’s fist caused Erestor to climax. 
 
Glorfindel bit into Erestor’s shoulder, marking the dark-haired Elf as his 
own. The moment Erestor’s muscle began to contract around him, he 
allowed himself to let go. They reached completion together and quivered 
against each other.
 
Even though the ecstasy moving through him nearly overwhelmed him, 
Glorfindel continued to support his trembling lover, who sat impaled on 
his still hard member. Bruised flesh slipped from his lips and he soothed 
the damaged skin by kissing it. 
 
Exhausted, Erestor rested heavily against his lover. It was Glorfindel’s 
arm, wrapped around his waist, which kept him upright and his head lolled 
from one side to the other. 
 
Sated, Glorfindel slowly pulled out and lovingly lowered his lover back 
onto the bed. 
 
Resting on his stomach, Erestor managed to turn his head to look at 
Glorfindel. “That was…” He lacked the right words to describe this divine 
sensation running through him. 
 
Glorfindel smiled, warmly, and stretched beside his lover. “All I want is to 
please you.”
 
“You did,” whispered Erestor, slowly moving onto his side until he was 
face to face with his beloved. “I need to read those scrolls.”
 
“I will instruct my librarian to take them to my office for you to study.” 
Glorfindel draped an arm across Erestor’s waist, rubbing the skin there. 
“The next time I want you to claim me.” 
 
Erestor wiggled an eyebrow. “Are you certain?”
 
“Aye, I want to feel the same ecstasy you just did.” Glorfindel pressed a 
tender kiss onto his lover’s brow. Their lovemaking had left him tired and 
Glorfindel’s azure eyes slowly grew blank.
 
Erestor affectionately folded an arm around Glorfindel and breathed in his 
lover’s musky scent. /It was worth it. Sacrificing my former life was worth 
it./ Snuggling closer to Glorfindel, he followed his beloved into sleep.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Glorfindel?” Keeping in mind that last night had been long and tiring on 
all of the partying Elves, Ecthelion softly called out his friend’s name 
before knocking on the door to Glorfindel’s rooms. He didn’t get a reply 
and tried to open the door, which to his utter amazement was locked. 
Glorfindel never locked his door! Alarmed, Ecthelion removed a hair pin 
from his braids and picked the lock. Something must be wrong for 
Glorfindel to lock his door!
 
Pushing the door open, he was about to storm into the rooms to assist his 
friend, but then he remained standing frozen in the doorway. /Stupid! I 
should have realized why he had locked the door!/ Glorfindel wasn’t alone 
in his bed. In his arms rested Erestor, naked and ravished-looking. 
Ecthelion spotted the bite mark and realized he should have turned away 
instead of picking the lock. But now that he was looking at them, he 
indulged himself and admired their beauty. /Sun and moon… light and 
dark./ The air in the room was heavy and smelled of musky release. /They 
just made love./ Ecthelion quickly closed the door behind him. /I want 
that. I want a lover./ Erestor had given him a name – Elrohir – but he knew 
no one with that name.
 
Just how long would the Valar make him wait?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor carefully lowered himself into the chair. Glorfindel and he had 
agreed to have breakfast with Ecthelion and Lindir, but now he regretted 
that decision. Although his beloved hadn’t left him as sore as that first 
time, there was still some mild discomfort and he squirmed, trying to 
adopt a more comfortable sitting position. Thankfully, Lindir and 
Ecthelion refrained from commenting on his condition and continued their 
conversation. 
 
Standing near the corner, Glorfindel’s eyes darkened, seeing his lover’s 
hesitant movement. So far, they had made love twice and he had left his 
beloved hurting on both accounts. Trying to make up for causing him 
discomfort, he brought Erestor his breakfast tea and a plate filled with 
food.
 
“Thank you,” said Erestor, giving his lover a radiant smile.
 
Glorfindel seated himself and sipped his tea, occasionally nibbling on a 
piece of bread. Last night had left him in awe – more precisely, Erestor’s 
response to his lovemaking had left him awed. His dark-haired lover had 
let go, surrendering completely. Oh, how much he loved Erestor for that!
 
“What are your plans for today?” inquired Ecthelion, pushing his plate 
away, having finished his breakfast. 
 
Glorfindel sighed now that duty called once more. “I want to inspect the 
Seven Gates, make a new duty roster and train with my men.” His loving 
gaze came to rest on Erestor. “But during the evening and night I am 
yours.”
 
Pleased, Erestor gathered Glorfindel’s hand in his and kissed its back. “I 
will train hard today and make you proud!”
 
But Glorfindel shook his head. “I would rather have you studying in the 
library.”
 
His lover’s words surprised Erestor at first, but then he understood. 
Glorfindel was worried he wouldn’t be on his best during the training after 
their nightly activities. “I will humor you,” he said in wicked tone. “And 
study certain scrolls you recommended to me.”
 
Glorfindel successfully fought his blush and rose from his chair. 
“Ecthelion? Will you join me on my inspection round?”
 
Ecthelion got to his feet and joined his friend. “Aye, we should make 
certain that all of the Gates are properly guarded.” His gaze shifted to 
Erestor. “Especially since we still do not know how you entered the 
valley.”
 
Ecthelion’s words made Erestor feel guilty, but he simply couldn’t tell him 
that his father had used his powers to transport him to Gondolin. 
 
Taking Erestor’s silence as a denial, Ecthelion gestured for Glorfindel to 
follow him out of the hall. They had a long day ahead of them. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
After studying in the library for an hour – and learning new ways to 
pleasure Glorfindel – Erestor left, eager for some company. In the end, he 
discovered Lindir, seated in his favorite part of the garden. The minstrel 
was practicing the flute today and Erestor sat down, watching the white-
haired Elf. Magic clung to this one and Erestor felt drawn to him. The 
music led its own life inside Lindir, allowing for the minstrel’s inner light 
to burn brightly. 
 
The song ended and Lindir grew aware of Erestor’s presence. Smiling, he 
inclined his head. “I thought you would spend the day studying?”
 
“I grew lonely.” 
 
“You miss Glorfindel.”
 
“I do.” Erestor shifted on the hard earth until he sat more comfortably. 
“How old are you, Lindir?”
 
Lindir smiled, mysteriously. “Old enough to have seen Valinor.”
 
“I already thought so.” Erestor moved closer to the minstrel and picked up 
the lyre, playing a melancholy melody. “Did you ever regret leaving the 
Undying Lands?”
 
“At first I did,” replied Lindir, honestly. “The journey from Aman was 
long and cost many lives. Many of my kin died – were murdered in the 
Kinslayings.”
 
“But you survived.”
 
Lindir nodded, thoughtfully. “Seeing my friends and family die around me 
made me wish my life had been ended as well, but now I feel grateful I 
was spared. I try to put my pain and heartbreak in my songs and to keep 
my loved ones alive in that way.”
 
“Is that why you never sought out a lover?” Erestor stopped playing and 
studied Lindir. A deep pain lay hidden within the frosty eyes. “You did 
have a lover once, didn’t you?”
 
“Nay, I did not. I was in love, but nothing came of it.” Lindir delicately 
moistened his lips. “I do not wish to discuss this.” 
 
“Who was he?”
 
“My teacher.” Lindir straightened his shoulders and met Erestor’s gaze. 
“He taught me to play the lyre, the harp, the flute and many more 
instruments. He formed and guided me, making me into the minstrel I am 
today.”
 
“What happened?” Erestor placed the lyre aside and rested his hand on 
Lindir’s trembling hand. The fingers twitched beneath his, revealing 
Lindir’s nervousness. 
 
“The sons of Fëanor ended his life.” Lindir had long mourned the loss. 
 
“I am sorry for your loss.” Lindir’s beloved dwelt in his father’s halls 
then. “And you never tried again?”
 
“I have not yet found a heart similar to my own, Erestor.” After uttering 
those words, he considered the topic closed. “Would you like another 
lesson in playing the lyre? Or would you like to try the flute?” From the 
corner of his eyes, he saw a she-Elf approaching, wearing luxurious robes 
in gray and silver. Long, mithril hair hung loose and danced against the 
small of her back. She was more than beautiful, and Lindir was certain he 
had never seen her before, as he would have immortalized her 
exquisiteness in his songs. 
 
Erestor was about to answer Lindir’s question when he suddenly sensed 
his mother’s presence. Surprised, he looked over his shoulder and found 
her standing behind him. Her eyes glittered with love and she lowered 
herself onto the grass beside him. 
 
“My Lady, I do not think we ever met before.” Lindir wanted to rise from 
the earth to bow in respect, but the mysterious she-Elf smiled and gestured 
for him to remain seated. 
 
“Do not trouble yourself, master-minstrel.” 
 
Her voice resembled the sound of silver bells, being jostled into action by 
a light breeze and utterly captivated Lindir. “Thank you, my Lady.” 
 
Erestor’s eyes sparkled with happiness at having his mother this close. /I 
missed you./
 
Vairë’s gaze shifted from Lindir to her son. /And I missed you, Erestor. 
That is why I am here./
 
/And father allows it?/
 
/Your father did not get a say in this matter./ She straightened the folds of 
her dress and then smiled at Lindir. “Would you indulge me and sing, 
master-minstrel? I have heard your voice from a distance, and now I want 
to sit here and listen to your magical voice once more.”
 
Lindir nodded and picked up his lyre. “I will sing for you, my Lady.” 
Studying this lovely vision closely, he found that she had curled her 
fingers around Erestor’s and was now leaning against him for comfort. 
That struck him as odd, but he dismissed the thought, concentrating on his 
music instead.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Námo watched his wife and son from a distance. He wanted to join them, 
but couldn’t. Erestor was now experiencing bliss and happiness, and they 
would continue for seven years, but then Gondolin would fall and he 
would have to perform his duty as the Doomsman of the Valar. That also 
included harvesting his son’s companions’ souls.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor was more excited than he wanted either Ecthelion or Glorfindel to 
know. For weeks now, he had been waiting for an opportunity to explore 
the Hidden City and today, they would accompany him. Already dressed 
in green leggings and an emerald-colored shirt, he slipped on the knee-
high boots. Looking in the mirror, he felt pleased with his appearance. 
 
“Allow me, melethen.” Glorfindel stepped behind Erestor and ran a comb 
through the long mane. Once he had done away with any tangles, he began 
to braid it into simple, thick plaits, which he fastened on the back of 
Erestor’s head, using one of his own hair clips in the form of a golden 
flower. “You should stay close to me today. The market square can be 
rather crowded and I do not want to lose sight of you.” 
 
Glorfindel turned Erestor around and looked at his beloved. Erestor had 
been in his home for a month now, and had already secured himself a 
place in his heart. “Gondolin is a safe city, but…”
 
“You worry about Maeglin.”
 
Glorfindel nodded once. Even though Maeglin hadn’t met Erestor yet, the 
Elf had taken a disliking to both of them after learning that Idril often 
visited the House of the Golden Flower in search of their company. 
“These are strange times and Maeglin is hard to read.” He wouldn’t put it 
past the younger Elf to slay one of their kind. 
 
“Are you ready to go?” Ecthelion, dressed in warm blues and earth tones, 
leaned against the doorframe. 
 
Erestor gave his friend and teacher a stunning smile. They still trained on a 
daily bases and his weapon’s skill continued to improve. But even more 
important was that Ecthelion and he were beginning to build a solid 
friendship. “As ready as I ever will be!”
 
Glorfindel slipped his hand into Erestor’s and together they walked toward 
the doorway. “Any news from our King?” he asked, addressing Ecthelion. 
 
Ecthelion’s gaze darkened. “He still dismisses Tuor’s warning and instead, 
he has ordered more intense training rounds for our guards. He is 
convinced the city will withstand an attack.”
 
Glorfindel sighed. “Then we must accept that Turgon won’t listen to 
reason, and plan an escape route.”
 
“You should make certain Tuor and his family knows of this escape 
route.” Erestor’s powers told him that it was important they survived. 
“Maybe we could delve a tunnel, starting from Idril’s home?”
 
“I will tell them of your idea the next time we meet.” Glorfindel rubbed 
Erestor’s fingers and looked at this love. “Remember, stay close.”
 
“I will. Stop worrying.” Erestor placed a light kiss on Glorfindel’s cheek 
and listened to Ecthelion chuckle. He was very blessed to have such 
companions in life.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Gondolin buzzed with busy merchants, possible customers, she-Elves, 
guards and children. The overall experience was rather overwhelming and 
the sounds grew even louder when they stepped into the crowded market 
square. Erestor’s hold on Glorfindel’s hand tightened and he followed his 
beloved, who guided him toward a stand filled with precious fabrics. 
 
“You need more formal robes,” decided Glorfindel, pointing out several 
fabrics to him. 
 
Erestor indulged his beloved and selected a fabric, burgundy with strands 
of brown and gold woven into the material. So far, he had worn 
Glorfindel’s clothes, but he understood that couldn’t continue. It would be 
more appropriate if he had his own sets of clothes.
 
Ecthelion brought over more fabrics, and Erestor chose a rich green, lined 
with blue and silver. The merchant, smelling a good deal, brought out the 
accessories and soon Glorfindel had also purchased underwear, socks and 
a pair of house shoes for Erestor. 
 
Erestor watched Glorfindel, who was happily spending his money on him. 
The three of them eventually moved on and Erestor pointed out some 
delicious looking apples, which Ecthelion acquired for them. Moving on, 
they left the market square and sought out the peace and quiet of the 
gardens. They settled down beneath an ash tree, listening to the soft 
splashing of water coming from the fountain. 
 
They talked about politics, music and Gondolin, completely at ease with 
each other’s company. But then a shadow appeared, growing longer. 
Erestor looked up, as the shadow prevented Arien’s rays from reaching 
him, and grew alert. The Elf who stood watching him was dark-haired and 
dark-eyed, tall and handsome, but there was something in the black eyes 
that worried Erestor. This Elf’s inner light wasn’t bright and warm – it was 
only a tiny flame, threatening to suffocate with darkness. There was much 
good in this Elf, but life hadn’t treated him kindly and had made him into 
a darker version of what should have been. 
 
“Maeglin.” Glorfindel reached for his dagger, but realized too late he had 
left his home unarmed, not expecting to encounter danger in the city. He 
should have known better, though. 
 
Erestor successfully hid his feelings and didn’t show any of Glorfindel’s 
unease, which was obvious for all to see, and studied Maeglin instead. The 
Elf was nothing like he had imagined he would be like. From what he had 
gathered, Maeglin was evil, but when he reached out to probe the Elf’s 
mind, he sensed no evil – only pride and arrogance, and there was 
something else too… something he couldn’t label yet. He could see why 
Turgon would call upon Maeglin to council him; the two Elves shared the 
same arrogant pride. /And Gondolin will pay the price for that./
 
Fascinated, Maeglin took in Erestor’s appearance. Erestor’s raven beauty 
called out to him, but he pushed the thought away, focusing on his 
attraction toward Idril instead. “I do not think we have met before. My 
name is Maeglin.”
 
Erestor pushed himself into an upright position – as he had been lying 
down – and rose from the grass. Standing opposite each other, they studied 
one another extensively. “My name is Erestor.” His mind pushed further, 
but was careful not to draw attention to the mental probing. /Who are you 
and what made you the way you are now?/ He wanted answers to those 
questions. A vision came to him then, showing him Maeglin cowering 
before Morgoth and betraying those living in Gondolin. A bargain was 
struck and promises were made. He blinked, and the vision cleared. He 
found Glorfindel at his side, supporting him. 
 
Maeglin frowned, as Erestor’s behavior puzzled him. He hadn’t thought to 
come upon Glorfindel’s mysterious lover, but when he had seen the three 
of them settle down, his curiosity had awoken. He had to admit that 
Erestor possessed a rare kind of beauty, but the Elf didn’t compare to Idril. 
 
Erestor stood his ground, now knowing that Maeglin’s heart would be 
corrupted in the near future. Gondolin only had a few years of peace left. 
 
“I should be on my way now. My uncle awaits my arrival.” Maeglin 
inclined his head and left the three Elves, heading for the King’s Tower to 
meet with Turgon. He looked at Erestor from over his shoulder, walking 
away from them, and wondered about the pity-filled look the raven-haired 
Elf was giving him. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Back in the confines of their rooms, Glorfindel drew Erestor close. “You 
have been remarkably quiet since we ran into Maeglin.” His fingers 
moved through his lover’s hair and he steered Erestor toward the bed. 
 
Erestor sat down and leaned against Glorfindel, sitting beside him. Telling 
Glorfindel of his visions would bring him relief, but he also knew his 
father wouldn’t allow it and see it as a breach of his rules. He had to keep 
quiet and let things take their course. He wasn’t allowed to meddle and 
change what was to come. “I am worried,” he said, eventually. “For Idril 
and her son.”
 
“We can visit with them in the morning, if you would like that.” 
Glorfindel lowered them onto the bed and tucked his lover’s head beneath 
his chin. “You have taken a liking to them.”
 
“We must protect them and ensure their safety.” Aye, they would visit 
with Tuor tomorrow and he would suggest delving that tunnel. They might 
just have enough time yet to finish it.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Idril rocked her son in her arms, sharing Erestor’s concern. “I have had 
dreams,” she whispered, cradling Eärendil close. “And they speak of a 
great danger, at which root is Maeglin.” 
 
“I feel the same way,” said Tuor, who sat beside his wife with his arm 
protectively wrapped around her waist. “It is only a matter of time before 
he will act and I am worried…” He was only mortal. What if he died and 
Idril was left alone to deal with Maeglin? He wouldn’t live as long as one 
of the Firstborn and he didn’t possess their healing ability. 
 
Eärendil chose that moment to wake up. His baby-blue eyes focused on 
his mother first, but the child then sensed Erestor’s presence. To him, the 
Vala felt warm and inviting and he started to crawl around on Idril’s lap, 
trying to locate Erestor. 
 
“He wants you,” said Idril with a smile. She gathered her son close and 
then placed him in Erestor’s arms. Beside her, Tuor remained relaxed. Her 
husband had begun to trust Erestor and no longer grew tense when his son 
rested in the Elf’s arms. 
 
Erestor sat Eärendil on his lap and smiled at the baby. /Of course, you had 
dreams, Idril./ As the King’s daughter was already blessed with foresight, 
he had minutely manipulated her visions, knowing she would confide in 
Tuor and ask him to take care of delving the tunnel. 
 
“Mae govannen, pen-neth.” Eärendil’s big blue eyes grew alight with 
mirth and the baby cooed at him. The child’s arms opened and tried to fold 
around him, failing miserably. Seeing the disappointment in the baby’s 
eyes, Erestor acted and hugged him close. /No matter what will happen in 
the future, I promise you will be safe./ He didn’t know when it had 
happened, but he had lost his heart to the little one.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel threw more wood onto the fire and padded back to their bed. 
Erestor was already beneath the covers, and his lover’s eyes stared blankly 
at the ceiling. He discarded his evening robe and slipped into bed as well. 
“That tunnel will ensure their escape.”
 
Erestor nodded, turned onto his left, and looked at his beloved. Their time 
here was limited – their happiness already counted out in years. /I will 
make you happy in whatever way I can./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Months passed by and Erestor and Glorfindel’s love settled into something 
comforting – something soothing. Their passion remained unbridled and 
many times mews of pleasure could be heard from their rooms. 
 
Ecthelion and Erestor’s friendship continued to deepen and the three of 
them became inseparable. The only times that Erestor didn’t accompany 
the two Captains was when they were summoned to counsel the High-
King. He preferred to sit with Idril and Eärendil instead, chatting and 
enjoying their company. 
 
One night, Glorfindel entered their rooms carrying a beautifully carved 
wooden box. He knelt at Erestor’s feet and gave his beloved a most 
pleased smile. 
 
Amused, Erestor returned the smile and ran his long fingers down 
Glorfindel’s hair. “Why are you looking so smug, melethen?” 
 
“Do you know what happened a year ago on this very day?” Glorfindel 
leaned into the touch when Erestor’s fingertips caressed his face. He 
closed his eyes in bliss and his heart took on a different, slightly slower 
rhythm so it could beat in time with his beloved.
 
Erestor arched an eyebrow. “Enlighten me; what happened?”
 
“I found you beneath that weeping willow and carried you home.” 
Glorfindel’s eyes opened and radiated love. “We have been mated for one 
year.”
 
“Ah.” Erestor leaned in closer and tasted Glorfindel’s lips, bestowing a 
heart-felt kiss onto them. He hadn’t considered Glorfindel might want to 
remember and celebrate that moment. 
 
“I had this made for you as an expression of my love.” Glorfindel placed 
the wooden box on Erestor’s lap. 
 
Erestor opened it and a beatific smile appeared on his lips. “Hannon le6, 
melethron.” The hair clip had been skillfully wrought and depicted a 
golden flower, which was the signet of his beloved’s house, and in the 
heart of the flower sat a dark stone, raven-black in its reflection. 
 
“May I slip it into your hair?” Glorfindel offered Erestor his palm, eager to 
set the hair clip in the ebony mane. 
 
Erestor placed the clip onto Glorfindel’s upturned hand and then turned in 
his chair.
 
Glorfindel rose from the floor and slid the hair clip into a thick braid. 
“Thank you for wearing my gift, Erestor.” 
 
Erestor rose from his chair and placed the palms of his hands against his 
lover’s. “I am sorry, melethen, I did not get you a gift.” He would make up 
for the oversight next year.
 
“You do not have to, Erestor. You *are* my gift.”
 
Eager lips sealed their love and later that night, growls of lust and 
fulfillment echoed from their rooms. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The second year that they celebrated their love Erestor proudly presented 
Glorfindel with his present after making love all night long. 
 
Glorfindel’s fingertips caressed the locket Erestor’s present to him. It was 
made of solid gold and set with the same dark stone he had gifted to 
Erestor the previous year. 
 
“Open it, melethen.” Erestor’s fingertips trailed down the elegant curve of 
Glorfindel’s back and stopped possessively on his lover’s buttocks. He 
still remembered the first time he had taken his golden-haired love, 
making Glorfindel squirm and beg for release. 
 
They kept those scrolls in the drawers of the nightstand and occasionally 
they studied new pieces of parchment, eager to bring into practice what 
they had just learned. Tonight had been one of those adventurous nights 
and Erestor had tied Glorfindel’s wrists to the posts of their four-poster 
bed, using the softest silk ribbons he could find. 
 
One of those golden-colored ribbons was still attached to Glorfindel’s 
wrist, dancing in the air when he moved, as the warrior opened the locket. 
“Oh, Erestor…” Inside the locket was a lock of Erestor’s raven hair. “I 
will always treasure this! Please, put it on me?” He handed Erestor the 
locket and lifted his hair.
 
Erestor complied; loving the way it looked against Glorfindel’s skin. He 
couldn’t help but wonder what next year would bring.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Next year featured an energetic Elfling sneaking into their bed. They had 
put Eärendil to sleep in a crib next to their bed, and had settled down for 
the night, planning on renewing their vows of love when a dark head had 
popped up from beneath the sheets. Erestor’s warm laughter boomed 
through the bedroom, making little Eärendil chuckle along happily. 
Glorfindel shook his head, wondering why they had agreed to baby sitting 
the Elfling. 
 
/You agreed because Idril and Tuor needed some privacy./ Dealings with 
Maeglin had left Idril tense and Tuor had been on the receiving end of her 
distrust and wrath. In the end, Erestor had suggested the royal couple 
spend some quality time together to renew their bonds of love. /And that 
left us with baby sitting Eärendil./ 
 
The three year old boy was a handful and kept them busy. Still somewhat 
unsteady on his tiny feet, a sign of the human blood in his veins, he would 
run into tables, chairs, doorposts and would call out for Erestor or 
Glorfindel to kiss away the pain. Erestor had always been the boy’s 
favorite and Glorfindel enjoyed watching his lover console the little 
Elfling. But, tonight, he could have done without Eärendil’s presence in 
their bed. He had made plans for tonight – plans which involved him 
ravaging his lover’s body – but those had been put on hold. 
 
Eärendil gave Erestor a warm smile and buried his tiny fingers in the 
raven hair. “Hold me,” he whispered, feeling lonely now that his mother 
wasn’t close. Erestor was the next best thing and he clung to the dark-
haired Elf. He adored Erestor; the adult always made him feel warm and 
cherished. 
 
“I never thought we would ever have an Elfling in our bed,” whispered 
Glorfindel, popping himself up on an elbow. “Considering the fact that 
you are a male, I did not think we would have children, but it appears the 
Valar have blessed us.” He gave his lover a wicked wink.
 
Eärendil’s gaze shifted from Erestor to Glorfindel. “I am not your Elfling! 
I am Nana’s!”
 
“Of course you are,” soothed Erestor, giving Glorfindel an amused look. 
“Would you have liked to have children, melethen?”   
 
“I love children, Erestor. They are our brightest blessings.” Glorfindel 
tickled Eärendil, who had no choice but to burst out giggling. 
 
“Maybe then this can be our gift for this year?” Erestor made way for 
Eärendil and the still giggling Elfling snuggled close in between them. 
“We won’t have any children of our own, melethron, but we have 
Eärendil.”  
 
The Elfling gave Erestor a surprisingly understanding look. “You want to 
be my Adar too?”
 
Erestor smiled at the boy. “Only when you are staying with Glorfindel and 
me.”
 
Glorfindel’s eyes filled with comprehension. “You will spoil him rotten.”
 
“But he is our best gift yet, is he not?” Erestor wrapped one arm around 
Eärendil and draped the other across Glorfindel’s waist.
 
“Aye, he is,” agreed Glorfindel. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Another year, filled with bliss and happiness, passed by. That day, they 
met beneath the weeping willow to remember their first encounter. They 
had undressed and lain down, holding each other close, and then 
Glorfindel began to sing softly. He sang of his love for Erestor, of the 
wonder and respect he felt for his beloved. And Erestor, resting in the 
warrior’s strong arms, listened. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Their fifth anniversary was spent with Idril, Tuor, Eärendil, Ecthelion and 
Lindir. Seated comfortably near the fire place, Glorfindel smiled. This was 
his family – his loved ones – and Erestor was his heart. “I had this made 
for you.” 
 
Erestor accepted the mithril box and pressed a kiss on Glorfindel’s lips. 
 
The Elfling sat on the floor, playing with the toys his parents had brought 
to keep him occupied, but upon seen them kiss, he giggled and called out, 
“Kissy, kissy!”
 
Glorfindel burst out laughing, as the Elfling had ruined a perfectly 
romantic moment, yet again. “Eärendil, behave for a change!” 
 
Idril laughed and slipped her hand into her husband’s. Although her 
visions and dreams had grown much darker of late, only warmth and light 
surrounded her right now. She wished it would never end and knew that 
she would always cherish her time spent in the glow of their love.
 
Erestor removed the lid, looked at the gift, and then lifted loving eyes to 
Glorfindel. “It is beautiful.” He lifted a brooch, made of mithril and rubies, 
from the black velvet, which it rested upon, and studied it. The brooch had 
been wrought in the form of a lyre, and surrounding it, were the long 
branches of a weeping willow. Touched, Erestor pinned the brooch onto 
the burgundy robes he was wearing. “I also have a gift for you. I would 
sing for you myself, but Lindir’s voice is much more compelling.” 
Nodding at Lindir, Erestor pressed against Glorfindel and sighed in bliss.
 
Lindir picked up his lyre and began to play. His ethereal voice joined the 
music, singing of Erestor’s love for Glorfindel.
 
Eärendil lost his interest in the toys and walked over to Glorfindel and 
Erestor’s instead. Not wanting to interrupt Lindir’s song, he tugged at 
Glorfindel’s azure tunic and was promptly lifted onto the warrior’s lap. 
Stretching, he rested his head against Glorfindel’s chest, whilst burying his 
chilly feet in the folds of Erestor’s robes.  
 
Erestor and Glorfindel exchanged a look, now that Eärendil rested against 
them. Aye, life was good. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Erestor? I have something for you.” Glorfindel gave Erestor a wicked 
look and then dropped a scroll into his lover’s lap. 
 
Erestor arched an eyebrow and picked it up. “Don’t I know that ribbon?” 
 
“Aye, you used it to tie me to our bed once, don't you remember?” 
Glorfindel licked his lips, making it very clear that he was in for a night 
full of adventure. 
 
Erestor removed the ribbon, but his eyes remained on Glorfindel, just 
knowing his lover was up to something. “Did you have anything special in 
mind for our bonding anniversary?”
 
“Aye, something you cannot find in the scrolls that we used to keep in our 
nightstand.”
 
Erestor’s eyebrow inched higher. They had tried all positions described in 
those scrolls and he wondered if Glorfindel had discovered something new 
– a position they hadn’t tried yet. “Feeling adventurous tonight, 
melethen?” 
 
“I want you tonight…” whispered Glorfindel, sitting down on the bed 
beside his lover.
 
Erestor’s eyebrow had crept impossibly high. “When did you shed your 
clothes?” Glorfindel had worn his robes a moment ago! Unfolding the 
scroll, his eyes widened. “Glorfindel, *that* is…”
 
“Interesting? Adventurous?” Glorfindel undid one button after another of 
his lover’s robes. “Definitely!”
 
“Glorfindel, nay!” Erestor shook his head. “I do not have the stamina for 
it! Neither am I that lithe.”
 
“Oh, but you do and you are, melethron.” Glorfindel slipped the robes 
from Erestor’s shoulders, revealing his lover’s naked torso to himself. 
 
“Glorfindel, you cannot be serious! You want to do that? Now?” Realizing 
Glorfindel was already undressing him, Erestor released a dramatic sigh. 
He honestly didn’t believe his back would like this position much, but he 
would indulge Glorfindel. 
 
After all, it *was* their bonding anniversary!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
A/N:  (Just in case anyone wants to know what Glorfindel came up with, 
hehehe! http://www.condoms6.com/positions6/hoover_position.html)
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Erestor?” Vairë found her son seated beneath the weeping willow. 
Erestor was plucking the strings of his lyre and at peace. /I want him to be 
happy./ But the bliss wouldn’t last much longer. 
 
His eyes widened, finding her standing in front of him. She had taken on 
the same appearance as when she had joined him to listen to Lindir’s 
music. He placed his lyre aside and jumped to his feet. “Why are you 
here?” His heart thundered – deep down he knew why she was here. He 
just didn’t want to accept the truth. 
 
“Maeglin has returned, has he not?” She gestured for him to walk with her 
and they headed for the rose gardens.
 
“Aye, he did.” Maeglin had left unexpectedly and without giving any 
reason for his departure, but had returned a few weeks ago. The whole of 
Gondolin speculated where he had been. 
 
“You know where he was.” Vairë plucked a rose and inhaled its sweet 
scent. 
 
Erestor nodded once. “The time has come, then?”
 
“Morgoth is strong and is positioning his forces. He will attack shortly. 
You should ensure the safety of those you care about.”
 
Erestor reached for her hand and was pleasantly surprised when she felt 
warm and solid under his touch. “How quickly must we move?”
 
“You should join Idril and her family tonight, Erestor.” 
 
Tonight – tonight was their seventh bonding anniversary and Erestor had 
hoped to celebrate it by making love to Glorfindel. But his plans were 
being thwarted. “Does my father know that you are here – warning me?”
 
“Of course he does, Erestor. He knows everything.” Vairë smiled and 
caressed her son’s face. “You should treasure these last moments of peace 
for they won’t last.”
 
“I considered warning Turgon and –“ 
 
Vairë silenced him. “Erestor, you cannot meddle in such a way. You must 
not interfere with Eru’s song – only chaos would ensue. What is to come 
will come. You must accept that.”
 
“But many lives will be lost.” Erestor drew in a deep breath. “I have come 
to care about these Elves. I call many my friends, some my family and one 
my lover. How can I stand back and watch them die?”
 
Vairë’s eyes were alight with understanding. “As one of the Valar you 
know we cannot meddle in such a way. We are only permitted to 
observe.”
 
“But…”
 
“If I could, I would bear this pain for you, Erestor. But you knew this 
could happen when you accepted your father’s terms. You knew seven 
years of happiness and love. It must be enough.”
 
Erestor’s heart missed a beat. “Will I lose Glorfindel?”
 
Vairë shook her head. “I cannot tell you.”
 
“You won’t tell me!”
 
“I already gave you too much insight, Erestor. I already confided to you 
too much of what is to come.” Her warm hands captured her son’s and 
brought them to her chest. “You are a pawn to Morgoth. In his eyes, your 
fate – your love – does not matter. He will attack, even with you present.”
 
Erestor’s world was rapidly falling apart. “I will lose them all.” 
Realization was sudden and brutal. Glaring at his mother, he asked, “Why 
do you demand such high price?”
 
“In your heart you know that you cannot place any blame on me, or on 
your father for that matter. We live in Eru’s song and follow its melody. 
Our hands are bound – like yours.”
 
/Nay, that is where you are wrong. I will keep Glorfindel close – and 
alive./ He would make certain that his father wouldn’t obtain Glorfindel’s 
fëa! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Melethen?” Erestor wrapped his arms around his lover and rested his chin 
on Glorfindel’s shoulder. 
 
Glorfindel had just returned from a particularly brutal training session and 
was letting the pool fill. Looking over his shoulder, he started, seeing the 
expression in his mate’s eyes. “Erestor?” His lover’s hands slipped his 
shirt down his shoulders and undid the lacing to his leggings. “What is 
amiss?”
 
“Let me make love to you.” Erestor looked deeply into Glorfindel’s 
sapphire eyes. Their time together was limited now that he knew of the 
impending attack. “Let me love you – thoroughly.”
 
Erestor’s ardor, although unexpected, fueled Glorfindel’s and he nodded 
most eagerly. “Have me any way you want, then.”
 
“Oh, I will.” Melancholy filled his being as Erestor realized that this 
would be the last time they made love in their own rooms – their home. 
 
“Something troubles you.” Glorfindel read the dark eyes effortlessly. “Did 
you have a vision? Idril’s have become frequent and she dreams daily of 
danger and pain.” His eyes narrowed, realizing what this could mean. 
“Mor—“ Erestor placed a finger across his lips, stopping him from 
speaking. 
 
“Do not speak his name when we are about to make love, melethron. Let 
me attend to you.”                  
 
“We should warn Turgon!”
 
“Do you think it will make a difference? His own daughter has warned 
him time and time again and yet he dismisses her visions!” Erestor had 
removed Glorfindel’s clothing and then slipped out of his own robes. 
Holding Glorfindel’s hand in his, he guided his lover into the pool. He 
pulled the golden-haired Elf beside him when he sat down and washed the 
long, tangled mane. “Turgon’s name will not be remembered kindly,” he 
whispered in a thoughtful voice. “His pride will be his downfall.”
 
“But what about—“
 
“We will go to Tuor tonight. The tunnel has been finished and we will 
escort them to ensure their safety.” 
 
“Erestor, there are others who are dedicated to Idril and wish to help.” 
 
“Then send them a message and tell them to join us tonight.”
 
“Tonight?” Glorfindel couldn’t believe this was really happening. How 
could one Elf’s pride condemn so many to death?
 
“Aye, we will leave Gondolin tonight.” Erestor rinsed Glorfindel’s hair 
and imprinted his lover’s features onto his mind. “I will always love you. 
Without you, I am incomplete.”
 
“You won’t lose me, meleth.” Glorfindel leaned in closer to kiss Erestor. 
“We won’t be separated.”
 
Erestor nodded and a serious expression appeared on his fair features. 
“Neither in life, nor in death.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
That evening, when they rode through the Hidden City, they stared 
blankly at the Elves, celebrating the ‘The Great Feast of the Gates of 
Summer’. Glorfindel and Erestor exchanged dark glances, knowing most 
of these Elves wouldn’t live to see another day. They wanted to call out to 
them and warn them, but even if they did, Turgon wouldn’t let them leave. 
Maybe it was best for these poor souls to spend their last evening alive 
making merry. 
 
“Did you manage to convince Ecthelion to come with us?” asked Erestor. 
Ecthelion was the only Lord they had confided in concerning the 
upcoming attack and their friend’s initial reaction had been one of one 
disbelief and shock. 
 
Glorfindel shook his head. “He said he would stay and defend the city 
until his dying breath. I know him well… he could not possibly desert his 
House and run.”
 
“Then he will die in the upcoming attack.” And Ecthelion would dwell 
inside his father’s halls for many ages – a gruesome prospect. “But we 
have to respect that.”
 
Glorfindel’s fingers clawed at his horse’s mane. “I do not want to lose 
him!  I do not want him to die!”
 
“We all make our choices, melethen. We cannot make a decision for 
someone else and Ecthelion made his.”
 
Smiling faces looked up expectedly at seeing the golden Lord pass, but 
Glorfindel’s expression remained stern and serious. He quickly steered his 
horse away from the gleeful crowd. “We need to concentrate on escorting 
Idril and her family safely out of the city.”
 
Erestor looked out over the doomed city and found her beautiful. The 
winter had passed and the snow had melted. The valley had burst out into 
flowers and spoke of new promises – promises, which would never come 
alive. 
 
Ithil was high in the sky when the light over the hills in the North grew red 
with a new glow. Riders suddenly appeared amidst of the silent crowd. 
They called out loudly for the assembled Elves to make way, as they 
brought bad tidings for the King and they were trying to reach the King’s 
Tower. 
 
Panic started, upsetting the crowd, which now fell apart. Children and 
women tried to find shelter and the males returned to their homes to 
retrieve their armor and weapons. 
 
“The guards on the peaks speak of shapes like serpents and more of 
Morgoth’s foul creatures! Let us pass! We need to inform the King!” One 
of the riders wheeled his horse around and pushed his heels into the 
animal’s flanks now that the way had been cleared.
 
“And so it begins,” whispered Erestor. His hand sought out Glorfindel’s, 
and briefly, their fingers twined. They shared a last kiss and their eyes 
spoke of eternal love. Whatever happened that night, their love wouldn’t 
die with them.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel left to join the rest of his House, whilst Erestor made his way to 
Idril’s home. From over his shoulder, Erestor watched – bleary eyed – as 
the streets filled with many of Gondolin’s greatest warriors, carrying the 
banners of their House. Erestor discovered Tuor and the House of the 
White Wing and their eyes met. Erestor read concern in them – concern 
for the inhabitants of Gondolin, but mostly concern for his wife and son.  
He nodded once to Tuor; in his eyes the promise to protect the man's 
family.
 
The House of the Mole, whose Lord was the traitor, Maeglin, also 
appeared in the streets, ready to fight off the enemy. Galdor, Lord of the 
House of the Tree, steered his men closer to Glorfindel’s warriors, hoping 
to fight side by side. In the distance, Erestor spotted Ecthelion, wearing 
the spiked helmet that had proven very useful in the past. Many of these 
Elves would occupy his father’s Halls in mere hours and that thought 
caused him great sorrow.
 
“You know you cannot stop this. This is supposed to happen.”
 
Erestor’s eyes widened, hearing his father’s voice from so close. Námo 
stood beside him, dressed in black robes – an expression of sorrow at the 
loss the Firstborn would shortly suffer. His father’s hair had been braided 
back from his face and the eyes shone with tears. /Knowing they will die 
causes him pain as well!/ realized Erestor in that instant and he tried to 
change his father’s mind one last time. “Father, it is not too late yet! We 
can still stop this madness.” He slipped off the back of his horse and went 
to stand next to his father, who was invisible to all eyes except his. “We 
can still stop this from happening!”
 
“Nay, my son. We are not allowed to meddle.” Námo rested a hand on 
Erestor’s shoulder. “Remember, the moment you use your powers, you 
will be send back to the Halls, so make your decisions wisely, Erestor.”
 
The next moment, his father’s form grew dim and then Námo had gone, 
leaving him alone. /I will keep him safe,/ vowed Erestor. /I will keep 
Glorfindel safe!/
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Oh no!” Glorfindel’s heart missed several beats, finding dragons of fire 
and serpents of bronze coming toward the city. The monsters shot arrows 
and Gothmog took charge, taking down the Northern Gate, which 
crumpled beneath the onslaught. 
 
Catapults and engines of war tried to take down the host of Morgoth, but 
the warriors were outnumbered. The Gate fell and a great army of Orcs 
invaded the city. The Gondolindhrim fought hard and brave, but the 
number of Orcs was too large and the Elves were forced to retreat. 
 
Erestor drew his sword and joined the Firstborn in fighting off their 
enemies, but his eyes kept scanning the streets, making certain he always 
knew the location of his loved ones.
 
In the distance, he saw Tuor struggling to reach his house to be reunited 
with Idril, no matter for how short a time. “Tuor, be careful,” whispered 
Erestor, spying Maeglin nearby. Hopefully, Tuor had also realized the 
danger. With odd detachment, Erestor watched the horrid scene unfold. 
 
“I want you to see your son burn!” Maeglin, consumed by his forbidden 
love for Idril, tried to shove Eärendil toward the battlements, so he could 
push the child into the flames. But mother and son didn’t go willingly and 
fought him every inch of the way. Eärendil set his teeth into Maeglin’s 
hand, making the traitor cry out in annoyance. But it only furthered the 
Elf-Lord’s rage and he made to throw Eärendil over the wall and into the 
fires below. 
 
Oh, if only he were closer! Erestor tried to clear his path, but more Orcs 
appeared in the streets, keeping him from reaching Idril and her son. 
 
Determined to defend and protect his family, the Man caught Eärendil 
before the toss was completed. Now that his son was safe, Tuor placed 
him in Idril’s arms and then attacked Maeglin. The traitor cried out when 
Tuor broke his hand. A stunned expression appeared on Maeglin’s face, 
finding the enraged Man this close, and before he could devise an attack of 
his own, Tuor had grabbed hold of him and flung him off the wall and into 
the fire below.
 
The fire consumed Maeglin, fast and brutal, much like his forbidden love 
for Idril had consumed him. 
 
Námo gathered the fëa close to him and took Maeglin’s soul to the Halls. 
A moment later, he re-appeared in Gondolin to collect the next soul. 
 
Idril and Eärendil were safe now and Tuor told them to head for the tunnel 
that would hopefully take them into safety. 
 
Erestor breathed a sigh of relief and continued to fight his way closer to 
Idril and her son. The city was lost, but still Turgon refused to see that. 
Erestor couldn’t save the lives of these Elves, but he could look after the 
innocent ones trying to flee.
 
Balrogs appeared, but the valiant warriors stood their ground, taken down 
many of the foul creatures. Morgoth's forces now possessed the North 
Gate and great parts of the walls on either side. 
 
Erestor had finally reached Idril and looked out of the window, finding 
Ecthelion and his men were pressing forward once more, seeking out the 
enemy. Tuor, who had left his wife in safe keeping, now returned to the 
fight, supporting Ecthelion in his attack. 
 
The Balrogs prepared their next attack and then assailed Ecthelion and 
Tuor. The two warriors took down several Balrogs; Tuor’s axe brought 
down six of the foul creatures whilst Ecthelion took out four. 
 
Erestor’s heart momentarily stopped beating, seeing that Ecthelion had 
gone down in battle and that Tuor was trying to get him into safety, 
carrying the Elf-Lord. But then the heroic Man stumbled, taking down 
Ecthelion with him. Galdor appeared at their side, fighting off the enemy 
and saving their lives. 
 
“Thank you,” whispered Erestor, grateful that Galdor had been in the right 
place at the right time. 
 
In the Square of the Well the Elven warriors gathered, and under Tuor’s 
command they moved to the Square of the King, which was easier to 
defend. “Glorfindel!” Erestor’s fingers curled tightly around the hilt of his 
sword, seeing his beloved lead his men into battle. Together, Ecthelion, 
Glorfindel and Tuor cleared the Square of the King’s Palace and Egalmoth 
joined them with the small group of warriors who had survived that brutal 
attack. 
 
“Be careful, Glorfindel. Please be careful!” Erestor should be going after 
Idril, who was gathering the weeping women and frightened children 
seeking to leave the broken city, but his eyes remained trained on his 
friends. Could they withstand another attack? 
 
Seven fire-dragons, accompanied by Orcs and Balrogs attacked from the 
North, East and West, targeting the remaining Elves left in the Square of 
the King. The Elven warriors fought bravely and took down many of their 
enemies, but Erestor continued to worry about Ecthelion. His injured 
friend lay by the fountain because of his wound and was utterly 
defenseless.
 
Tuor was separated from the rest and now faced Gothmog. The Man, 
already worn down, was no match for the mighty Balrog and was losing 
the fight. Erestor’s eyes filled with tears, seeing Ecthelion push himself 
upright and charge the monster. Limited to the use of only one hand, the 
injured Ecthelion failed to end the creature’s life, and enraged, Gothmog 
raised his whip to take down his enemies. 
 
“No!” Erestor wanted to use his powers and to smite down that Balrog to 
save his friends’ lives, but he knew that if he did so, he wouldn’t be able to 
look after Idril! And Glorfindel was also still alive! He couldn’t meddle. 
“Father, why?” Why had his father forbidden him to use his powers? 
Tears streamed from his eyes, as he was forced to watch Ecthelion charge 
forward once more. Ecthelion drove his spiked helmet into the Balrog’s 
chest. Gothmog roared, and took Ecthelion down with him, as they both 
fell into the King’s Fountain. 
 
“No!” Tears dripped from his face and Erestor had never felt such pain -- 
such grief – before, knowing Ecthelion’s heavy armor would cause his 
friend’s death. “No!”
 
Glorfindel had witnessed Ecthelion’s death as well, and a great pain 
overcame him. Realizing they were fighting a lost battle, he told the 
remaining warriors to flee the city. Women and children were running 
down the streets, heading for Idril’s home. And then Glorfindel 
remembered the tunnel and his promise to see Idril and Eärendil into 
safety. Tuor, also shocked by Ecthelion’s death, stood paralyzed. 
Glorfindel grabbed hold of him and dragged him along. “The city is lost! 
We must see to your family.”
 
Behind him, Turgon appeared. The King had finally decided to take part in 
the lost fight and when Glorfindel looked into Turgon’s eyes, he read 
defeat there. The High-King knew he couldn’t win.
 
Glorfindel turned his back on Turgon and dragged Tuor with him. Erestor 
was there to greet them, and his dark-haired lover flung himself into his 
arms for a quick hug. They shared a rushed kiss and whispered words of 
grief over Ecthelion’s death. 
 
Erestor and Glorfindel supported Tuor, who was stumbling down the 
stairs. Idril, carrying Eärendil, awaited them at the foot of the stairs and 
there, the family was reunited. 
 
Glorfindel stared at the small group of females, children and injured 
warriors who had made it into the tunnels. His eyes shed tears, mourning 
the loss of so many. 
 
“We must leave!” Erestor took charge now that Tuor and Glorfindel 
seemed too weary to do so and led the survivors through the tunnel – 
hopefully toward safety.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Idril supported her husband and steadied him whenever his steps faltered. 
Glorfindel, who had fallen back to ensure all refugees had entered the 
tunnel, soon managed to catch up to his beloved, who was at the head of 
the group. Glorfindel gathered Erestor’s hand in his and their eyes met – 
azure and chocolate brown – both pairs filled with a deep sense of sorrow 
and grief. “We lost Ecthelion,” whispered Glorfindel, feeling strangely 
calm and numb. 
 
Erestor rubbed his beloved’s hand in an effort to soothe him. “Ecthelion’s 
fëa is in the Halls of Waiting where the dark forces can no longer hurt 
him.” /Please father,/ he prayed. /Comfort Ecthelion, for he is a dear 
friend./ 
 
“He died a warrior’s death,” whispered Glorfindel, whose shock was 
finally beginning to surface now that they were safe. “So many warriors 
died… Why did Ecthelion have to fall as well?”
 
“He sacrificed his life to save Tuor’s.” Erestor cradled Glorfindel’s hand 
close to his chest and pressed a kiss on the blood-covered limb. “Always 
remember why he died and the next time you look at Tuor, Idril and 
Eärendil you will take comfort in seeing them alive. Ecthelion’s sacrifice 
was not in vain.”  
 
Glorfindel’s eyes released bitter tears, mourning his best friend’s death. 
 
Erestor respected his lover’s silence, but did pull him close so he could 
wrap an arm around Glorfindel’s frame. /Please, father… Grant Ecthelion 
peace./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Come with me, my child.” Námo gathered Ecthelion’s fëa close to him. 
Horrible memories of his death consumed Ecthelion and his soul cried out 
in need. “Hush now and trust me.” Námo folded an arm around the 
trembling warrior and the soul took on shape beneath his touch. 
Ecthelion’s body was created as an illusion and Námo soothed the trouble 
soul.    
 
Shocked eyes met his and Námo smiled, reassuringly. “You are safe now.”
 
“But…” Ecthelion startled at hearing his voice. “But I died!” He stared at 
the dark-haired Elf holding him and wondered about him. “Who are you?”
 
”I am Námo, my child. I am here to take you to the safety of my Halls 
until the moment of your rebirth comes.” 
 
The tremors shaking Ecthelion’s body worsened. “You are Námo?” Oh, he 
knew he was dead, but he hadn’t thought Námo would come to collect his 
soul personally! Slowly, he grew aware of the soothing light and warmth 
around him. “That is odd.” The last thing he remembered was a scorching 
heat and then unbearable cold, when he had hit the water.
 
“You will be reunited with your loved ones and family in my Halls, my 
child.” Námo carefully carried Ecthelion’s broken soul with him and 
continued to radiate warmth during their journey to the Halls of Waiting.
 
“I did not think death would be like this.” It almost felt like he was still 
alive!
 
“I will take good care of you – and all the other fëar,” vowed Námo. When 
he had been called upon to become the Doomsman of the Valar, he had 
been chosen for a reason – his compassionate nature. 
 
“What of my friends?” Ecthelion relaxed in Námo’s arms and began to 
feel sleepy. 
 
Námo had woven a spell to ensure that Ecthelion relaxed, and when he 
delivered the warrior’s soul to the Halls, the other fallen Lords of 
Gondolin took him from the Vala. “See to his needs,” commanded Námo. 
A moment later, he was gone from the Halls again.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Tuor, take the lead!” Tuor had regained most of his strength and Erestor 
deemed the time had come to hand over command. One by one, the 
survivors emerged from the tunnel, and once Tuor had gathered the 
refugees, the Man took charge. 
 
Looking over his shoulder, Tuor frowned, finding Erestor and Glorfindel 
were falling behind. Then, he realized they were doing it on purpose. They 
wanted to fight off any attackers, should Morgoth have realized their 
escape. 
 
Beside him, Idril pressed closer and his son’s arms wrapped around his 
neck. He took Eärendil from Idril’s arms and carried his son. His wife’s 
hand slipped into his and Tuor had never felt more grateful before. His 
wife had survived and so had his son! “You fought bravely,” whispered 
Tuor, seeing Eärendil’s serious eyes – too serious for a seven-year old 
Elfling. 
 
“He wanted to hurt us,” mumbled Eärendil, clinging to his father. 
 
“Your mother and I are proud of you.” Tuor hugged his son, recalling just 
how close he had come to losing him to the fire.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Glorfindel?” Erestor came to a halt and his beloved stopped walking to 
look him in the eyes. “I want you to know that I love you and that I will 
always love you. If I lose you to death, I will follow.”
 
“Do not say such a thing!” chided Glorfindel, slipping his arms behind 
Erestor’s back so he could bring him in for a hug. “If I die I want you to 
live for the two of us!”
 
Erestor rested his head against his lover’s shoulder and held him tight. A 
sense of foreboding moved through him, making him look up at the 
glowing sky. In the distance, Gondolin burned and dark clouds drifted 
away from the city and toward them. His eyes narrowed, finally 
recognizing the form hidden in that cloud. “A Balrog!”
 
Glorfindel acted at once and called out to Tuor. “Run! Run and leave the 
enemy to me!”
 
Tuor, having sighted the threat as well, sped up his pace and the refugees 
ran after him, away from the Balrog. 
 
“Erestor, go with them!” Glorfindel pushed his lover away from him.
 
“Nay, I will stay!” 
 
Then Eärendil called out. “Erestor!” The child, although still young, 
realized the danger Erestor was placing himself in and his big eyes locked 
with Erestor’s. “Come with us!”
 
“Go!” Glorfindel shoved Erestor away from him. “Go! I will deal with this 
one and then join you again!” He then turned away from his beloved and 
ran toward the Balrog, who was preparing his first attack.
 
Paralyzed, Erestor watched the tragedy unfold. Glorfindel fought 
valiantly, but his prior battles had exhausted him and it wasn’t long before 
the Balrog realized the same thing. Carrying out a more coordinated 
attack, the Balrog got close enough to Glorfindel to deal several mean 
blows. 
 
The only thing Glorfindel could think of was making certain the monster 
couldn’t hunt down Idril, Tuor, Eärendil, and most importantly, Erestor. In 
a death-defying leap, he jumped onto the Balrog and hewed off one of the 
creature’s arms. Enraged, the Balrog reached for Glorfindel and his claws 
tangled in the golden hair. Mortally wounded, the Balrog stumbled and 
fell backward, dragging Glorfindel with him into the abyss of Christhorn.
 
“NO!” Waking from his entranced state, Erestor broke out into a run. 
“No!” The Balrog’s burning form left a trail of smoke, which disappeared 
in the deep crevice. Erestor fell to his knees, sobbing hard. “No!” No, 
Glorfindel hadn’t died! He couldn’t have lost his beloved! That wasn’t 
possible! Glorfindel would never leave him!
 
Tuor and the refugees were too far away to see what had happened, but 
when Erestor’s cry came, they realized the truth. “We lost Glorfindel,” 
whispered Tuor, shaken.
 
Idril’s eyes finally released the tears she had been fighting since the 
beginning of the attack. “If we lost Glorfindel, than we will lose Erestor as 
well.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor’s eyes dried, as he had no more tears to shed. He had just lost the 
love of his life – his very reason to be alive – and his being filled with hate 
and a need for vengeance. Erestor, the Elf could do little, but Erestor, the 
Vala, wasn’t that helpless. 
 
Filled with bitterness and hatred, he pushed himself onto his feet again and 
a dark light shone from his brown eyes. “Bring him to me.” The Vala 
reached out to the King of the Eagles and commanded Thorondor to 
retrieve Glorfindel’s body.
 
The mighty eagle dove into the abyss and using his claws and beak, he 
loosened the dead Balrog’s hold on Glorfindel’s hair. Rising majestically 
from the abyss, he placed Glorfindel’s corpse in front of Erestor. After 
sending the Vala thoughts of sympathy, he left to let Erestor mourn in 
private.
 
Erestor already felt his father call out to him, as he had broken the rules by 
using his powers to retrieve his beloved’s body. But he fought the call and 
sat down on the grass, cradling Glorfindel’s corpse against his chest. His 
fingers moved through his lover’s singed hair and he pressed his lips 
against the charred flesh. Kissing Glorfindel’s brow, he closed his eyes. 
/We will be reunited shortly, melethron.  I already feel my father’s call. 
We will meet again in his Halls./ Rocking Glorfindel’s body in his arms, 
he prepared to follow his father’s call, but then, he sensed pain – pain and 
a mute plea for help. 
 
“Lindir… Oh, Lindir! I forgot about you!” Erestor realized his mistake too 
late. He had tried to take care of everyone, but somehow he had forgotten 
to ensure Lindir’s safety as well. “Glorfindel – melethen -- forgive me for 
leaving you, but Lindir needs me.” Erestor gently placed Glorfindel’s 
corpse back on the grass. He kissed his lover’s cold and unresponsive lips 
one last time and then his shape slowly vanished until only Glorfindel’s 
corpse remained.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Later, once Tuor felt it was safe to return, he and Egalmoth returned to the 
site of the attack. Tuor’s heart bled, finding only Glorfindel’s corpse. 
There was no trace of Erestor. “Do you think he…?” Unable to speak the 
dooming words, Tuor pointed at the abyss.
 
Egalmoth shook his head. “Erestor would never take his life.”
 
“Not even after finding his beloved dead?” Tuor closed Glorfindel’s azure 
eyes, which looked broken in death and used his cloak to cover the 
warrior’s body. “He died defending us. May Námo remember that when 
this noble soul arrives in his Halls.”
 
“We cannot leave Glorfindel like this,” said Egalmoth. “If we do, the 
animals will feed on him.”
 
Tuor nodded, and the two warriors worked in silence, raising a stone-cairn 
over Glorfindel’s corpse in the heights of Christhorn. Their hearts were 
heavy and burdened with concern for Erestor, who had vanished without a 
trace. As they turned to join the rest of the refugees, yellow flowers 
sprouted from the earth, forever marking Glorfindel’s last resting place.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
It took three Orcs to beat him into submission. In the end, Lindir ceased 
his resistance, realizing they were stronger and in control. The foul 
creatures had found him in the gardens. As he had been playing the flute, 
he had used the instrument to fight them off, but he wasn’t a warrior and 
the Orcs had quickly ‘disarmed’ him. 
They wrestled him down and forced him to watch as they beat, raped and 
eventually killed his friends – fellow minstrels, who had joined him in the 
gardens to compose songs and poetry.
 
His heart went cold, and for one moment, he hoped it would stop beating, 
but then the familiar rhythm started again, condemning him to the same 
fate his friends had suffered. He watched the Orcs rape and murder his 
fellow minstrels with detachment, as a part of him wasn’t been able to 
believe that this was really happening. 
 
Lindir suddenly felt the first greedy hands upon him, ripping the green silk 
tunic to shreds. Sharp fingernails dragged down his chest, dipping beneath 
the skin and drawing blood. Next, his leggings were torn from his body 
and one of the vile creatures pushed a knee between his legs, forcing them 
apart. 
 
Lindir, who had felt numb and detached due to the state of shock he was 
in, was suddenly jolted back into reality when one of the Orcs placed his 
repulsive body atop of him. The Orc was erect and the hard flesh was 
already seeking a way inside. Lindir’s spirit broke, and the minstrel cried 
out in pain and shame. 
 
“I won’t allow it!” 
 
Lindir registered a voice, but didn’t recognize it. He had gone into a state 
of shock – his mind trying to lock out what was happening in an attempt to 
keep himself sane.
 
Erestor used his powers to dispose of the Orcs, whose bodies turned to 
small heaps of ash at his feet. Maintaining his Elven form, Erestor knelt at 
his friend’s side. This time, he shed no tears, as vengeance and hatred had 
taken over. He undid his cloak and covered Lindir’s trembling naked form 
with it. “I have got you now.”
 
A new group of Orcs, who hadn’t seen Erestor take out their comrades, 
charged. Erestor threw a single glare at them, setting fire to their bodies. 
 
Now that the threat was gone, pity, love and compassion pushed away the 
hatred and Erestor rocked Lindir in this arms. In the minstrel’s blurry, blue 
eyes he saw how much damage had been done – but thankfully not enough 
damage to send Lindir to his father’s Halls. “I will take you away from 
this fighting – from this death.” Looking about, he saw the large number 
of fallen Elves, and his heart wept, seeing what the Orcs had done to them 
before ending their lives. “Their fate won’t be yours.” 
 
His father’s call to return to the Halls had grown much stronger and 
Erestor knew he couldn’t resist much longer -- but first he *had* to ensure 
Lindir’s survival.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
On the Isle of Balar, Círdan was startled when a bright, silver light 
appeared close to him. He had thought himself safe and hadn’t brought 
any arms with him when he had sat down to watch the sunset. He jumped 
to his feet and was ready to defend himself in whatever way possible. 
 
“Take good care of this one, Shipwright. I place his life – and his recovery 
- in your hands.” 
 
Círdan stared in wonder at the body taking shape at his feet. The white-
haired Elf’s face was black and blue, and from beneath the cloak many 
injuries showed. “Who are you?” Círdan whispered, addressing the silver 
light, which was already dimming. 
 
“Círdan, it matters little who I am. What matters is that Lindir needs 
someone to take care of him. He is a kind and gentle soul and in need of 
your help. Do not deny me – do not deny him.” After uttering those words, 
Erestor found he couldn’t fight his father’s call any longer and traveled to 
the Halls of Waiting, where Glorfindel and he would be united again.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir didn’t understand what was happening to him. One moment ago an 
Orc had tried raping him and the next, he found himself lying on soft and 
warm sand. Waves gently crashed against the shore, luring him into a 
relaxed state. 
 
Had he really heard Erestor’s voice or had he only imagined it? Curling up 
beneath the warm cloak, he brought his knees close to his chest, wrapped 
his arms around his waist, and hid his face behind his white mane. 
 
“I will look after you.”
 
The voice that addressed him was tender and curious, and definitely not 
Erestor’s. Lindir, still feeling intimated, peeked at the Elf kneeling at his 
side. He had never seen a bearded Elf before and raised a shaky hand to 
explore the odd facial hair. But then the horrid memories returned to him, 
showing him Orcs raping and killing his friends. Overcome by pain and 
fear, Lindir fainted.
 
Círdan gathered the frightened and hurt Elf in his arms and carefully lifted 
him. He would take Lindir to his house, call for the healers, and look after 
him personally. He didn’t know why this Elf had been entrusted to him, 
but he vowed that this injured Elf would recover.
 
End of part 2


Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairing for this part; Erestor/Glorfindel 
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Erestor hopes for a happy reunion with Glorfindel in his 
father’s Halls. But Glorfindel is no longer the same Elf he was in life. 
Námo is forced into action to set things straight. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.  
Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine!
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 3
 
 
Ereinion looked up from the book he was reading and surprise spread 
across his features. Círdan had left him about an hour ago to watch the 
sunset and when his teacher had left the Shipwright had definitely been 
alone. But Círdan wasn’t alone any longer. In his arms Círdan carried a 
fair-haired Elf, apparently injured and unconscious. 
 
“What has happened? Who is he?” Ereinion placed the book aside and 
slowly pushed himself to his feet, cursing his own stupidity that had 
caused him to come away with an injury received during sparring practice 
that morning. For some reason he had been distracted and had tripped, 
landing gracelessly in a heap at Círdan’s feet. He had sprained his right 
ankle, and although the injury would be healed shortly, Círdan had 
ordered him to rest and to keep his weight off his foot. 
 
“His name is Lindir and I found him on the shore.” Círdan decided against 
telling his ward just yet about the light that had instructed him to look after 
Lindir. He headed for his bedroom and placed Lindir onto the mattress. 
Behind him, he heard Ereinion limping – his ankle obviously still 
troubling his protégé. “I need to fetch a healer and I want you to sit with 
him in the mean time.” He would have preferred to stay close to Lindir 
himself, but fetching the healer would take Ereinion too long and cause 
him additional discomfort. 
 
Ereinion pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. “Is there anything I 
can do until the healer arrives?” 
 
“Lindir was conscious earlier and showed distinct signs of panic and 
shock. Should he wake, try to keep him calm and in bed.” Círdan hurried 
back toward the doorway. “I should be back shortly.”
 
“I will look after him,” promised Ereinion. 
 
Círdan hurried down the corridor and headed for the healer’s house, 
leaving Ereinion to care for Lindir. He hoped that the young prince could 
deal with a panicking Lindir. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Lindir…” Ereinion repeated the name, admiring its musical timbre. His 
fingers swept aside the dirty hair, realizing it would be snow-white after 
being washed, but right now it was covered with blood and dirt. He 
winced in sympathy, finding major bruising on the normally delicate 
features, which were now swollen due to the beating he had suffered. “Are 
you from Gondolin?” Ereinion whispered the words, unwilling to wake his 
charge. He had heard rumors that Gondolin was under attack and that most 
of the inhabitants hadn’t survived Morgoth’s charge. “Nay, you cannot 
hail from Gondolin. You could not possibly have covered that distance in 
such short a time.”
 
Lindir stirred beneath his touch and Ereinion prayed the injured Elf 
wouldn’t wake up yet. He wasn’t a healer and didn’t know how to handle 
a traumatized Elf! 
 
Thankfully, Lindir remained unconscious and Ereinion released a sigh of 
relief. His fingers moved lower now, hovering above the bruising left on 
Lindir’s throat, but never touching the sensitive flesh. He carefully moved 
the cloak aside, as he wanted to check for additional injuries. His brow 
furrowed, finding deep gashes on Lindir’s chest. 
 
In the end, he sadly realized that almost every inch of the white-haired 
Elf’s body was covered in bruises and he suspected that Lindir’s attackers 
had also broken one or two ribs. Lindir’s right wrist was also oddly 
shaped, suggesting a fracture. Inside him, his feelings raged. Only a foul 
creature could treat one of the Firstborn like that and he vowed to protect 
Lindir – like he had vowed to protect all Elves. A deep sense of 
responsibility had been ingrained in him since birth and he wanted to live 
up to their expectations – most especially Círdan’s. 
 
Ereinion frowned, realizing he had taken to stroking the dirty hair in what 
was hopefully a soothing manner. His musings were stopped, as Círdan 
stormed into the room, dragging a perplexed-looking healer behind him. 
 
“Examine him, but do so carefully.” Círdan pushed the healer into the 
room and went to stand behind Ereinion. “We should give them some 
privacy.”
 
Had it been up to him, Ereinion would have preferred to stay, but he 
couldn’t ignore Círdan’s order to leave the room with him. Ereinion rose 
to his feet and was grateful that Círdan walked slowly so he could keep up 
with his guardian. He followed the Shipwright into the living area. 
 
“Sit down, pen-neth. I do not want you putting your weight on that foot.” 
Círdan assisted his ward in sitting down and then walked over to the 
window to look at the Sea. 
 
“What do you know of Lindir?” Ereinion raised his leg onto a footstool 
and sighed, now that his foot was resting comfortably.
 
“Not much. I was wandering the beach when I came upon him.” 
 
“Was he awake?”
 
“Not at first, but then the eyes opened and he looked at me. He raised a 
hand, as if to touch me, but then convulsions shook him and he fainted.” 
 
Ereinion gave his teacher a warm smile. “You will gain a reputation for 
taking in youths!”
 
Círdan chuckled, softly. Ereinion had been ten when Fingon had sent the 
boy to live with him. Círdan had felt honored and vowed to raise young 
prince the best way he could. The former Elfling had become a valiant 
warrior. An adult now, Ereinion had become most pleasant company and 
Círdan feared the day Ereinion would leave the Isle of Balar to become 
their next High-King. “You youngsters need someone to look after you!” 
He tried for a joking tone, but failed. 
 
“We will have to ask him where he is from when he wakes up,” said 
Ereinion, eager to feed his curiosity. “And we should learn what has 
happened to him – who attacked him!”
 
“I do not think it is wise to question him yet.” The healer stepped into the 
living room and walked over to Círdan. 
 
“What did you learn?” Círdan turned and looked the healer in the eye. 
Ereinion shifted on the chair, growing curious, but also nervous.
 
“Personally, I think Orcs attacked him,” started the healer, only to be 
interrupted by Ereinion. 
 
“Orcs? There aren’t any Orcs on the Isle of Balar!” Círdan’s guards made 
sure of that!
 
“I examined the lashes on my patient’s chest. Whoever cut the skin there 
had sharp and dirty fingernails.” The healer met Ereinion’s eyes and said, 
“No Elf would leave such injuries on one of their own kind. It must have 
been Orcs.”
 
“What about his other injuries?” Círdan forced himself to remain calm. 
Like Ereinion, he was filled with anger and he wanted to exact revenge on 
those vile creatures. 
 
“He was severely beaten. They broke two of his ribs and his right wrist is 
also broken. He will be bed-ridden for the next few days. And then there is 
his mental state. I cannot comment much on that as I have not seen him 
awake yet. But it is safe to assume he will be in some sort of shock upon 
wakening.”
 
“What do you suggest we do?” Ereinion didn’t want to make any mistakes 
when it was his turn to sit with the injured Elf. 
 
“Do not push him into revealing what happened. Not yet. You can try that 
later. Right now, he needs reassurance and to feel safe.” The healer 
opened the bag he was carrying and placed several vials onto the table. 
“Use this soothing balm to further the healing process. I already rubbed it 
onto his chest. The bruising will go away in the next few days, but the 
broken bones will take longer to mend. I set those and bandaged his chest 
and wrist.” The healer looked at Círdan and added, “I will return here 
tomorrow to check on him.”
 
“What do we do when he wakes up?” Círdan picked up one of the vials to 
study its contents.
 
“You will have to radiate calm and a sense of safety. It is hard to predict 
how he will react to your presence.” The healer walked toward the 
doorway. “Should you find you do not know how to deal with him, send 
for me.”
 
“I will.” Círdan let the healer out and then returned to Ereinion. “I want to 
sit with him for a while.”
 
“I will relieve you once you grow tired.”
 
Ereinion’s words made Círdan feel proud. He had done a good job in 
raising Fingon’s son.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Círdan leaned back against the comfort of the chair and studied his newest 
charge. /It must have been one of the Valar who brought you here,/ he 
decided. What other being possessed such powers? 
 
“Did he wake up yet?” Ereinion leaned against the doorframe, observing 
their patient. Lindir’s features were more pronounced now that the healer 
had washed away the blood and grime, and he could tell a rare beauty was 
hidden beneath the bruising. 
 
“Not yet.” Círdan frowned. “And didn’t I tell you to rest? This way, your 
foot will never heal!”
 
Ereinion smiled, smugly, and then carefully seated himself on the side of 
the bed. Looking at Lindir, the grin quickly fled his features. “Have there 
been Orc sightings?”
 
“Not to my knowledge.” Círdan’s concern increased. The rumors which 
had started yesterday that Gondolin was under attack persisted, and Círdan 
was afraid they contained some truth. If Gondolin *was* under attack, 
many Elves would lose their life and there was no guarantee Turgon 
would survive. And if Turgon died, his title would go to Ereinion, who 
would become the next High-King. /If Gondolin has fallen I will be 
informed./ Until then, he would concentrate on Lindir.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
It was Ereinion’s turn to sit with Lindir when the white-haired Elf stirred 
again. Ereinion placed the book he was reading aside, and concentrated on 
his charge. “Lindir?” He felt excited and nervous, seeing the large eyes 
open and stare blankly at the ceiling. “You are safe here.” He had never 
dealt with a traumatized Elf before and trusted on his instincts to guide 
him through this experience. He shifted a little closer and gently gathered 
Lindir’s good hand in his. “You are safe with me.”
 
Ereinion’s voice – the voice of a stranger – finally registered with Lindir, 
who promptly released a keening wail. The blank stare broke and the blue 
eyes filled with the memories of the horrors he had witnessed. Unable to 
identify the voice or his surroundings, Lindir panicked. He tried to launch 
himself from the bed and onto his feet, but he doubled over in pain 
instead. There was not an inch on his body where he didn’t hurt and he 
gasped for breath, as his ribs reminded him of his injuries. Keeping still, 
Lindir waited for the waves of pain to dim. 
 
“You are safe here, meldir1,” said Ereinion, in what he hoped was a 
soothing manner. Lindir’s hand still rested in his – the injured Elf hadn’t 
pulled it away and that encouraged Ereinion to gently squeeze the 
trembling fingers. “You are on the Isle of Balar and you are staying in 
Círdan’s house. You are safe here. No one will hurt you. I won’t allow it.”
 
Lindir’s eyes, which had been beaten half-closed, tried to focus on the 
form at his side. His eyes, still recovering from the blows aimed at them, 
only saw a dark-haired form and his mind identified him as Erestor. “Help 
me…”
 
Relieved that Lindir wanted him to help, Ereinion left the chair and sat 
down on the side of the bed. “I am a friend, Lindir. I mean you well.” He 
didn’t know what was going on in the injured Elf’s mind, but he was 
grateful that Lindir wasn’t rejecting him or fighting him off when he 
loosely folded an arm around the abused form. 
 
Lindir bit down the pain radiating from his ribs and leaned heavily against 
Ereinion. “You are here… I was afraid you had deserted me.” He closed 
his eyes, which were aching, and sobbed softly in the loose embrace. “You 
were just in time… Only a moment later and… and… he would have… 
that creature would have…” raped him, but he couldn’t say those words 
yet. “They made me watch… made me watch them rape and murder my 
friends… How can anyone be so cruel? I still see their shocked eyes and… 
and…” The sobbing intensified and he buried his face in the other Elf’s 
clothes.
 
Ereinion sensed Círdan’s arrival and looked at his teacher from over his 
shoulder. 
 
Círdan nodded; encouraging Ereinion to continue the conversation. It was 
important that they learn what had happened for only then could they help 
Lindir best.
 
Ereinion’s head reeled with the new information Lindir had just supplied. 
/You saw your friends being raped and murdered? That did not happen on 
the Isle of Balar. Círdan and I would have been notified by now if such a 
gruesome attack had taken place here./ “Lindir, where did this happen?”
 
“In the rose gardens… Why are you asking? You found me there, 
Erestor.” Lindir melted against the strong body holding him. “Never let 
me go again.” His greatest fear was being left alone.
 
Círdan’s frown deepened. “There are no rose gardens on this island,” he 
said softly. 
 
Ereinion nodded, thoughtfully. “He called me Erestor.”
 
Círdan didn’t know an Elf with that name. “Try to find out more.”
 
Lindir relaxed against him, and even though his ribs must be causing him 
pain, the injured Elf seemed to be begging for him to tighten his hold, so 
Ereinion did. Lindir’s cries became subdued, but the body resting against 
him still shook with sobs. “Can you tell me what happened, meldir?” 
 
Lindir rested his head against the strong shoulder and clung to the Elf, 
who he thought was Erestor. “You surely witnessed the attack? You were 
at Glorfindel’s side, like always, weren’t you?”
“Glorfindel!” Círdan *did* know that name! 
 
And so did Ereinion. “Please continue.”
 
“We were in the gardens. We had gathered there to compose a song in 
honor of Idril’s upcoming begetting day and…” His voice faltered, as he 
was being overrun by memories of those Orcs taking them by surprise.
 
Círdan had heard enough to draw his conclusions and so had Ereinion. 
Gently rubbing Lindir’s shaking back, the younger Elf said, “This took 
place in Gondolin, didn’t it?”
 
“Of course it did!” Lindir’s eyes opened slowly, trying to focus on Erestor, 
who was asking him such strange questions. “You have lived here for 
seven years and now you ask me such a question?”
 
“You think I am Erestor,” realized Ereinion and Lindir’s accepting manner 
now made sense. 
 
“But… you must be Erestor! You saved me from those Orcs!” Lindir’s 
eyes narrowed, trying to discern the other Elf’s features. “Erestor? You are 
Erestor, aren’t you?” Waves of fear coursed through him. 
 
Ereinion sought out Círdan’s eyes. What was he supposed to say?
 
“Tell him the truth.” Círdan filed all this information away, so he could 
make sense of everything that had happened later, once Lindir was asleep 
again.
 
“I am sorry, meldir. But I am not Erestor. My name is Ereinion.”
 
“Not Erestor?” The other name didn’t even register with Lindir, whose 
panic started all over again. “Not Erestor?”
 
“I do not know this Erestor of whom you speak, but I do know you are 
safe. I won’t let anything happen to you,” said Ereinion, soothingly. 
 
Círdan judged the time had come to make his presence known and he 
joined the other two Elves. “You are not alone, Lindir. Ereinion and I will 
see that you recover.”
 
“Who are you?” Even though he now knew that it wasn’t Erestor holding 
him, he pressed back against the warm body in search of protection and 
shelter.
 
“My name is Círdan and you are on the Isle of Balar – in my home. And I 
promise you that you are safe here.”
 
“Círdan…” Lindir had heard that name before and Círdan had always 
been referred to as an Elf of honor. He decided to trust these two Elves. 
After all, Erestor had brought him here and he knew his friend would 
leave him in capable hands. “The Isle of Balar? How did I get here? I was 
in Gondolin… the gardens…” Speaking the words caused the memories to 
return and he clung to Ereinion, crying softly, once more reliving his 
friends’ torture and death. “They did not deserve that…” 
 
Ereinion tucked Lindir’s head beneath his chin and carefully rocked the 
distressed Elf. 
 
Círdan, who had spotted the tea the healer had left behind, poured a cup 
and handed it to Ereinion. 
 
Ereinion nodded in understanding. “Drink this. It will help you fight the 
memories.” That was a white lie though – the tea would make him fall 
asleep. 
 
Lindir obediently sipped the tea. 
 
Ereinion and Círdan exchanged a meaningful look and watched as Lindir’s 
eyes closed again. “This time it is a healing sleep,” said Círdan, who 
assisted his ward in lowering Lindir back onto the mattress. “Someone 
needs to sit with him at all time. I will relief you in two hours.”
 
Ereinion nodded and tucked the soft, silken sheet around Lindir’s still 
trembling form. “We know who he is and where he is from. We also 
learned what has happened to him. But we still do not know how he 
managed to travel such a distance in so short a time.”
 
Círdan recalled the light – and the voice addressing him. Lindir had said 
that someone called Erestor had brought him here. If that was correct, this 
Erestor possessed powers like those of the Valar. “Sit with him and make 
sure he rests comfortably.”
 
“What will you do in the mean time?” 
 
“I will send a messenger to Gondolin to find out if Lindir told us the truth. 
If Gondolin has truly fallen then you are the new High-King.”
 
Ereinion briefly closed his eyes. That was one burden he had hoped he 
wouldn’t have to carry.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir awoke hours later, feeling warm and safe, though his body still 
ached and his memories were chaotic. He recalled Erestor saving him and 
taking him away from all that death and pain… but what had happened 
next?
 
“How do you fare, meldir?” Círdan, whose turn it was to sit with their 
charge, poured fresh spring water into a goblet. 
 
Lindir’s eyes opened marginally and allowed him a vague impression of 
the Elf sitting next to him. “Who are you?”
 
“I am Círdan,” said the Shipwright, realizing he might have to repeat his 
name many more times. “And I am here to help.” 
 
Lindir cringed, feeling an arm slip beneath his neck and he yelped sharply. 
 
“I am sorry that I startled you,” said Círdan in an apologetic tone. “I 
should have told you what I was doing. Your eyesight is still poorly, isn’t 
it?” 
 
“Aye…” Lindir swallowed, which was extremely painful as his throat felt 
like sand paper. 
 
“I am going to raise your head so you can drink some water,” explained 
Círdan, once more slipping a hand beneath Lindir’s neck. Lifting Lindir’s 
head slightly, he placed the goblet against the chapped lips. “Drink, 
meldir. You must be thirsty.” 
 
Lindir drank, eagerly swallowing the precious water. Once he had emptied 
the goblet, Círdan eased him back onto the pillow and Lindir closed his 
eyes to fight the dizziness, which made his head spin. Questions, 
memories and pain raced in circles through his mind and Lindir felt at a 
loss. 
 
Círdan sensed Lindir’s turmoil and said, “Erestor brought you to me, 
placing your recovery in my hands. I will do the best I can to see you 
healed.”
 
“Erestor… where is he?” Lindir’s eyes partly opened, trying to focus on 
Círdan.
 
“He left.” Círdan saw the hurt expression on Lindir’s face and 
immediately soothed him. “Erestor knew you were safe with me.”
 
“You are… Círdan?” Lindir felt confused and wasn’t sure he remembered 
correctly.
 
“Aye, I am. And you are in my home. Ereinion and I will take care of 
you.”
 
Had Lindir been in his right mind, he would have recognized that name, 
but his mind was otherwise occupied. Tears leaked unwanted from his 
eyes, seeing the Orcs hurt his friends over and over again. “Why? Why did 
they do that?” 
 
Círdan, sitting on the side of the bed, scooted closer. “Lindir?”
 
“They had never harmed anyone in their lives! They loved and lived for 
their music and poetry! Why? Why?” Lindir tried to curl up into a fetal 
position, but his broken ribs hampered him and he gave up. He cried, 
letting his tears fall without shame. 
 
Círdan’s mind worked quickly. “Are you speaking of your friends who 
were killed in the attack?”
 
“They were minstrels, not warriors!” Emotions overwhelmed him and 
Lindir sat upright with a start, not truly registering the pain radiating from 
his chest. “They raped them! One by one! And they made me watch! 
Telling me I was next! I saw them… saw them all die!”
 
Círdan moistened his lips, feeling nervous. In the end, he followed his 
instincts and loosely wrapped his arms around Lindir, who allowed it. 
“Tell me.” He truly believed that it would hurt less if Lindir talked about 
what he had witnessed. 
 
“They raped them… Tore their clothes off their backs and… violated 
them! Why did they bother killing them? They would have died 
*anyway*!” Anger, fear, grief and confusion mingled inside Lindir, 
making him scream out his pain. 
 
That scream alerted Ereinion, who stumbled into the room moments later. 
“What is amiss?”
 
“His memories overwhelmed him.” Círdan hoped that was a good thing. 
In his opinion, the worst thing Lindir could do was to keep it all inside. 
Ereinion’s arrival sparked a reaction in Lindir, who raised his good arm in 
the Noldo’s direction. “He wants you. Come over here.”
 
Ereinion sat down on the other side of the bed and suddenly found his 
arms full of sobbing Elf. “You are safe now – safe from evil. Círdan and I 
will protect you.”
 
Although Lindir knew it wasn’t Erestor offering him comfort, he clung to 
the dark-haired Elf who reminded him of his friend. “Hold me… Please 
hold me.” Erestor’s words returned to haunt him. One day you might find 
that music is a very cold and inattentive lover, Lindir. It cannot hold you 
when you need it most. Oh, Erestor had been so right! 
 
Círdan left the bed and stood close to the window, watching Ereinion 
comfort Lindir. The messenger he had sent to inquire about Gondolin’s 
current state and Turgon’s health wouldn’t arrive for a few more weeks 
and he remained worried. If Lindir’s words were true, the dark forces had 
achieved a major victory!
 
Ereinion rocked Lindir and kept murmuring soft reassurances. “You are 
safe here. Nothing bad will happen to you. We will protect you.” Lindir’s 
half-open eyes tried to lock with his, but failed. 
 
The rocking motion and the soft crooning soothed Lindir, who eventually 
glided into a trance-like sleep. 
 
“I will stay with him,” said Ereinion, realizing his presence had a calming 
influence on the frightened Elf.
 
“I will prepare dinner,” said Círdan. “I will make some soup.” Lindir 
wasn’t capable yet of eating solid food.
 
“Círdan, do you think he will recover?” Ereinion made himself 
comfortable on the bed, pulling Lindir close and supporting the injured 
Elf.
 
“It is still too early to say,” whispered Círdan. “He witnessed his friends 
being violated and murdered…” he paused, thoughtfully. “We do not 
know if they tried to force themselves upon him as well.”
 
“Do you think…?” Ereinion didn’t dare finish that question.
 
“They might have attempted to rape him. We do not know, Ereinion.”
 
“But the healer did not mention injuries of a more intimate kind,” said 
Ereinion, phrasing it as delicately as he could.
 
Círdan nodded. “I believe this Erestor appeared before the Orcs could 
follow through, but Lindir was forced to watch it happen to his friends. 
That will leave scars on his soul.”
 
“He *must* recover,” said Ereinion in a determined tone. Although he had 
only known Lindir for a day, he felt fiercely protective of the injured Elf, 
and by looking into Círdan’s eyes, he could tell that the Shipwright felt the 
same way.
 
                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Ecthelion!” Glorfindel spotted his friend and ran toward him.
 
Ecthelion’s eyes widened, finding Glorfindel in the Halls as well. He had 
hoped his friend had survived the attack. How had Glorfindel died, then?
 
The two, now dead, warriors, caught each other, hugging close. All around 
them were familiar faces. These were the warriors they had defended 
Gondolin with. These were their comrades in arms!
 
“We are in the Halls of Waiting,” whispered Ecthelion, unwilling to raise 
his voice in Mandos’ Halls. “We died.” The memories of his death had 
dimmed, making it possible for him to carry on without being burdened by 
the horrid circumstances of his demise. 
 
Glorfindel nodded once. “I died defending Tuor and the refugees. A 
Balrog had followed us and took me down with him.” Glorfindel closed 
his eyes, remembering the shocked expression on Erestor’s face when the 
Balrog had dragged him into the abyss with him. “My last thought was for 
Erestor… Erestor! Is he here as well?” Frantically, he searched the faces 
of his fallen comrades, identifying one warrior after another, but it 
appeared Erestor wasn’t among them. “He is still alive then!” 
 
Ecthelion guided his friend to a corner where they sat down on a bench, 
watching the assembled souls trying to come to terms with their deaths. 
 
“I am grateful Erestor survived,” said Glorfindel eventually. “I told him to 
live his life for the two of us, should I die.”
 
Ecthelion took a moment to think his answer over before actually speaking 
the words. “He promised me a love of my own, you know.”
 
Glorfindel, not expecting such a statement from his friend, raised an 
eyebrow. “He did what?”
 
“When it became clear that the two of you were in love, I felt jealous for a 
short while. Erestor talked to me, telling me he’d had a vision of the 
future, showing him I would find a love of my own and that his name 
would be Elrohir. He lied.” Ecthelion felt cheated. “It would have been 
kinder to tell me the truth – that I would always remain alone – without 
having known love.”
 
“Erestor would never lie to you,” said Glorfindel, coming to his beloved’s 
defense. “I do not know why that vision did not come to pass… Maybe 
that future was ruined the moment Morgoth attacked?”
 
“Speaking of the evil one… Where is Maeglin?” Ecthelion searched the 
assembled crowd, but the traitor wasn’t among them.
 
“I made special arrangements for Maeglin. Do not concern yourself with 
him.”
 
A deep voice, coming from behind them, made the two friends jump to 
their feet. Spinning about, their eyes widened, seeing the dark-clad form. 
 
“I am Námo,” said the Vala, confirming their suspicions. “I am here to 
welcome you to my Halls.”
 
“Welcome us?” Glorfindel’s first reaction was to lash out at the 
Doomsman of the Valar, but then realized that Námo was only carrying 
out his duties. “I did not think I would enter your Halls that quickly.”
 
“Neither did I,” said Ecthelion, standing beside his friend. “What will 
happen to us now?” Looking over his shoulder, he found that the fëar2 
were leaving this hall. They departed via a door to the right, leaving them 
alone with Námo. 
 
Námo waited for the doors to close behind the fallen souls and then 
addressed the two Elf-Lords once more. “You will stay here until the 
moment of your rebirth arrives.” 
 
Glorfindel shuddered, violently. “What will our life –” He stopped 
himself, realizing what he had been about to say.
 
“These Halls were built to resemble the things you knew in life. I am not 
here to punish or reward souls.” Námo studied Glorfindel, and realized 
what had attracted his son to this radiant soul in the first place. Glorfindel 
truly was one of the finest specimens the Firstborn had ever produced. “I 
have arranged for you to share quarters. You might find comfort in each 
other’s company.”
 
“Aren’t we allowed to mingle with the others, then?” Ecthelion wondered 
why they were receiving Námo’s special attention. 
 
“Of course you can mingle.” Námo managed a weak smile, which lit up 
his serious features. “I cannot promise you that you will find joy in my 
Halls, but you won’t feel tormented either. See it as a continuation of your 
life on Arda until the moment of your rebirth.”
 
“How can I see it in that way?” Glorfindel’s shoulder slumped forward. 
“My Lord, you seem kind – kinder than I had thought you would be – but 
my heart is broken and will remain broken without the presence of the one 
I love.”
 
Námo was tempted to explain Erestor’s true nature to him, but didn’t. That 
was something his son should do himself. “Follow me, I will show you to 
your quarters.”
 
Numbly, the two Elf-Lords followed the Vala. They departed the halls via 
a door on their left and followed Námo into the next corridor. Tapestries 
adorned the walls and Glorfindel came to an abrupt halt, finding one that 
depicted Erestor’s arrival in Gondolin. His love rested in the shade of the 
weeping willow and had never looked more beautiful before. 
 
“You can come here and watch those scenes as often as you like,” said 
Námo, leaning in closer and whispering into Glorfindel’s ear.  
 
Ecthelion wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, seeing Glorfindel 
could no longer hold back his tears and was now weeping. 
 
“Looking at these will bring me no joy,” said Glorfindel, averting his gaze 
and staring at the floor. He fell into step beside Ecthelion when Námo 
resumed walking. 
 
“Námo! A moment please, husband-mine.” 
 
Glorfindel and Ecthelion looked up in surprise. At the end of the corridor 
stood Vairë. Her long, mithril hair danced against the small of her back, 
and her silver gown resembled liquid metal. Her piercing gray eyes 
fastened on Glorfindel, who looked away, unable to maintain eye-contact 
for long with such a magnificent vision. 
 
Vairë walked toward them, and once she stood in front of Glorfindel, she 
placed a finger beneath his chin and raised the Elf’s head so Glorfindel 
had no other option than to look at her. She studied him for minutes and 
then exchanged a quick look with her husband. Next, her gaze shifted 
from Glorfindel to Ecthelion. “I commend you for your courage, my 
Lords. You fought well.”
 
“Hannon le3,” said Ecthelion, when Glorfindel remained quiet. “We 
merely performed our duties as the Lords of our Houses.”
 
“Oh no, you did more. Especially you, Glorfindel.” Her gray eyes swam in 
a sea of silver and her smile melted the ice that had begun to form around 
Glorfindel’s heart at being separated from Erestor. “You really love 
Erestor, do you not?”
 
Surprised to hear his beloved’s name roll of her lips, Glorfindel nodded. “I 
love him… I always did. Even in death I continue to love him.”
 
“Your love will be put to the test,” said Vairë, cryptically, ignoring her 
husband’s warning look. “There are certain things you need to know, 
Glorfindel. Come with me and I will tell you.” Seeing Ecthelion’s 
disappointed expression, she added, “Please join us, Lord of the Fountain, 
for this concerns you too.”
 
Glorfindel and Ecthelion felt both ill at ease, but entered the room after 
Vairë opened the door. 
 
“Wife, do you not think this is too soon?” Námo wondered what had 
prompted his wife to do this now. He would have preferred for their fëar 
to settle in and grow calmer. They had just died!
 
“We must do this *now*.” Vairë looked her husband in the eye. “I do not 
want them to learn Erestor’s identity from the other souls. That would do 
damage beyond repair.”  
 
Námo nodded. “I trust you to handle this, then.” 
 
Vairë knew that much depended on Glorfindel’s initial reaction to learning 
Erestor’s true identity and she hoped his love was strong enough to see 
him through.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Erestor?” Glorfindel stared in shock at his lover, who stood timidly in the 
back of the room. Erestor’s expression showed torment and his beloved 
was nervously wringing his hands. “But I thought… I thought you had 
survived!” Glorfindel freed himself of Ecthelion’s arm and ran toward his 
lover. But, just before reaching him, he halted, sensing the power Erestor 
radiated. This was no ordinary Elf! He had only felt such power when 
Námo and Vairë had directed their attention toward him. 
 
Ecthelion approached more cautiously, realizing something wasn’t quite 
right. Erestor should be rejoicing and embracing Glorfindel, yet, the dark-
haired Elf remained motionless.
 
Vairë closed the door behind her and crossed the room to stand at her 
son’s side. 
 
Erestor felt terrified. He didn’t know how Glorfindel would react upon 
learning the truth. What was he to say? How to start? “Melethen4, I…” 
 
Glorfindel took a step back and bumped into Ecthelion, who steadied him. 
Erestor’s voice sounded different! Sounded deeper and more powerful! “I 
do not understand. Why are you here? I ensured your safety by taking out 
that Balrog! Do not tell me you died shortly afterwards!”
 
“Tell him the truth, Erestor.” Vairë sensed her son’s inner struggle and 
hoped he would find the strength to follow through, as she was convinced 
that Glorfindel deserved to know the truth. 
 
“Truth?” Ecthelion eyed Erestor closely, noticing subtle changes. Erestor 
carried himself differently, and there was strength in him – strength he had 
never sensed in his friend before. Erestor radiated power and beauty and 
Ecthelion’s eyes widened, stumbling upon the truth. “You do not belong 
to the Firstborn, do you?”
 
Erestor’s eyes were trained on Glorfindel and he saw his beloved cringe at 
hearing Ecthelion’s words. “I tried being like you, melethron5, because I 
love you.”  He took a step toward Glorfindel, feeling relieved when his 
beloved didn’t move away from him. “I could not tell you the truth 
because my father forbade me to confide in anyone.”
 
“Your father?” Glorfindel shivered and pressed back against Ecthelion. 
His friend acted and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, letting him 
know he didn’t have to face Erestor alone. “Who is your father?”
 
“Námo.”  Erestor averted his eyes and stared at the floor. “I have watched 
you for many centuries, seeing your heroic deeds depicted in my mother’s 
weaving, and some time ago, I fell in love with you. I beseeched my father 
to give me a chance to win your love and he granted me that opportunity. 
He sent me to Gondolin under the condition that I was not to use my 
powers.”
 
Glorfindel swayed and it was only due to Ecthelion’s support that he 
remained on his feet. “What?” What was Erestor saying? 
 
“I tried hard to fit in, but it was difficult. Life as a Vala differs greatly 
from that of the Firstborn, but I managed, and you accepted me as your 
lover.” Erestor peeked at Glorfindel and was shocked at his beloved’s 
expression. Yet, he continued. “I sacrificed that part of me to be with you. 
The seven years I spent at your side were the best in my existence.” 
 
Ecthelion sensed Glorfindel’s rising anger and hoped his friend would 
remain calm instead of voicing his fury. 
 
“You belong to the Valar? You are not one of the Firstborn?” Glorfindel 
glared at Erestor.
 
“That is correct,” replied Erestor, his unease growing now that 
Glorfindel’s tone was clipped and his glare venomous. “I wanted to be 
with you because I loved you. I love you still, Glorfindel. I hope that now 
we are both in my father’s halls we can start anew and…”
 
“What?” Glorfindel shook his head. “You lied to me! You manipulated me 
into thinking you were someone you were not! You never were real, 
Erestor! You lied to me from the first day we met!”
 
“It was not like that,” said Vairë, coming to her son’s defense. “My 
husband had forbidden Erestor to confide in you. Erestor had no choice in 
the matter.”
 
But that mattered little to Glorfindel, who jerked his shoulder away from 
beneath Ecthelion’s hand. “You lied to me!” He pointed at Erestor and his 
anger came to a boil, seeing the normally chocolate brown eyes turn liquid 
mithril, betraying his true heritage. “You possess the powers of a Vala and 
you allowed Gondolin to be destroyed! You could have stopped that 
attack! You could have saved many lives, but you did not! You let them 
walk to their doom! What order did your father give you? To harvest as 
many souls as you could, including Ecthelion’s and mine? I thought you 
loved me!” Glorfindel spat the words in a poisonous tone. “I loved you!”
 
“I love you still!” Erestor advanced on Glorfindel, but came to a stop 
when the blond Elf threw another brutal glare at him. “I am here because I 
violated my father’s rules and ordered the King of the Eagles to retrieve 
your body from the abyss!”
 
“If you really loved me, you would have broken those rules when Morgoth 
attacked! You are the reason so many died, Erestor! You could have 
stopped the slaughter but you did not!”
 
“I could not meddle! My father would have taken me back to these Halls 
right away and I loved you too much—“
 
“You were utterly selfish, Erestor! And I cannot love someone like that! 
You condemned the inhabitants of Gondolin to death when you could 
have saved them!”
 
“Glorfindel, it was Turgon and not I, who—“
 
“Excuses!” spat Glorfindel. 
 
Námo took on shape in the corner of the room and gave his wife a sharp 
glance. /I told you it was too soon. Even though I dimmed their memories, 
their death and the Fall of Gondolin is very prominent in their minds./
 
Vairë sighed. /Maybe I made a mistake, but how do I make amends?/
 
/I do not know if you can./ Námo sent a wave of fatherly love to Erestor, 
whose face was contorted in pain. 
 
“You lied, Erestor! You lied to me starting the very first day we met!” 
Glorfindel laughed, embittered! “And I told Ecthelion you would never lie 
to him!”
 
“I never did!” defended Erestor himself.
 
“You told me I would find a love of my own,” said Ecthelion in a hurt 
tone. Like Glorfindel, he felt upset by Erestor’s deception. 
 
“I told the truth!” Erestor felt cornered. 
 
“Tell me, how am I to find love in death?” Ecthelion gave Erestor a sad 
smile. “I believed you. I believed every word you said.”
 
“I want to leave!” Glorfindel averted his eyes, making it very clear that he 
no longer wanted to look upon Erestor. “I cannot bear your presence any 
more.”
 
”But Glorfindel! Melethen—” Erestor sensed he was losing Glorfindel, but 
wasn’t ready yet to give up this fight. He had to make Glorfindel 
understand that even he wasn’t allowed to meddle in such affairs. Eru’s 
song had contained the Fall of Gondolin and he could not change that!
“Don’t call me that!” Glorfindel’s voice dripped with hatred. “I want to 
leave *now*.”
 
“Follow me,” said Námo, judging it best to give Glorfindel some peace 
and quiet so he could think everything over. 
 
Glorfindel glared at Erestor one more time and then followed Námo out of 
the room.  Ecthelion lingered one more moment and said, “We trusted 
you, Erestor. We accepted you into our lives and made you a part of us.”
 
“I…” Glorfindel’s rejection had devastated Erestor and he no longer knew 
how to explain himself to them. 
 
“You lied to us.” Ecthelion then turned his back on Erestor and followed 
Glorfindel into the corridor, unable to carry on this insane conversation 
with Erestor. 
 
“Mother?” Erestor pleadingly looked at Vairë. “I never wanted for that to 
happen!”
 
“I know that, my son.” Moved by her son’s misery, she wrapped her arms 
around his shaking frame and curled her feelings of love around his being, 
hoping to soothe him. She hadn’t expected things to go so bad so quickly.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir pushed himself into an upright position, gnashing his teeth in order 
to keep himself from yelping and waking the Elf asleep in the chair. He 
focused his eyes, wondering if it was the Elf he felt so comfortable with or 
Círdan. Although both Elves had treated him kindly, he had taken a liking 
to the younger one with the dark hair. His eyesight had improved, 
allowing him to take in his injuries. Oh, those Orcs had beaten him badly, 
but he also realized he would recover. His Elven healing ability would see 
to that. 
 
He fought the urge to close his eyes, knowing the horrid memories of the 
Orcs’ attack would reappear on his retina, tormenting him all over again. 
So he kept his gaze trained on the sleeping Elf, as far as that was possible. 
 
Lindir didn’t know how many days had passed. He remembered 
screaming himself awake, being fed more herbal tea and lulled back into 
sleep again. He shifted on the bed and a moan fled his lips, as he made the 
mistake of supporting himself by leaning heavily on his broken wrist.
 
That moan woke Ereinion, whose eyes immediately fastened on his 
patient. “Lindir?” Had another, horrid nightmare awoken the injured Elf? 
But no, Lindir seemed rather calm. Not a nightmare then? “How do you 
fare?”
 
“Better, I think.” Lindir tried focusing his eyes again. “Is it… you?” 
 
Ereinion frowned and exchanged his chair for the side of Lindir’s bed. 
 
“Are you Círdan or the other one?” Lindir wished he could remember the 
name, but these last few days were hazy.
 
At last, he understood. “It is I, Ereinion.”
 
Lindir startled at hearing that name – a name, which was very familiar to 
him. “Ereinion, son of Fingon?” That couldn’t be, could it?
 
“Aye.” Concerned, Ereinion reached for Lindir’s hair, brushing a stray 
strand back behind the pointed ear. 
 
“Sire, I…” Lindir was stunned; he should have realized the other Elf’s 
identity before!
 
“Do not call me that,” said Ereinion, reaching for the soup Círdan had left 
for Lindir to eat. 
 
“But you are... Turgon, he did not survive the onslaught… You are our 
new High-King!” Lindir tried to show his respect by bowing, but his ribs 
wouldn’t allow it. 
 
“He is dead? You are certain?” Círdan’s messenger hadn’t arrived yet. 
 
“Aye, it was the last thing I heard before the Orcs attacked. A murmur of 
grief went through the city the moment the King's Tower fell with him in 
it.” It was then when he had known that the city was lost and his death 
certain.
 
Ereinion closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. All his life he had 
hoped that Turgon would live long and that the burden of ruling wouldn’t 
fall to him. Hearing Lindir groan in pain, he quickly opened his eyes and 
stopped the injured Elf from bowing. “Do not do that. You are injured.”
 
“But, you are King.”
 
“In this room I am Ereinion and I am here to look after you. Do not treat 
me as your King when I am your caregiver instead. I do not want to be 
High-King. I never wanted it, but I will accept my position and carry out 
my duties, but not here. Not when it is just you and me. Grant me that, 
Lindir. It won’t be long before I will be surrounded with bowing Elves, 
eager to pay me their respect. Please, when I am alone with you do not 
look upon me as the King, just as a friend.” His voice had taken on a 
pleading tone, but he didn’t care. He needed Lindir to understand how he 
felt about this!
 
And Lindir – even in his currently confused state – did. “I will do as you 
ask, meldir.” 
 
Ereinion felt relieved now that Lindir no longer addressed him as ‘sire’. 
“Círdan left some soup for you to eat. Are you hungry? You should try to 
eat something.”
 
“How long have I been here? I do not remember…” Lindir watched as 
Ereinion placed the bowl, filled with soup, on his lap. He tried taking hold 
of the spoon, but using his left hand was awkward and he resigned in 
frustration. 
 
“You have been here for five days now.” Ereinion’s curled Lindir’s 
fingers around the spoon and then guided the trembling hand close to the 
other Elf’s lips so Lindir could eat his soup. “You have been asleep for 
most of that time.”
 
Lindir swallowed the cold soup, which was still rather tasty. “I should 
thank you – and Círdan – for taking me in and looking after me.”
“It is the least we could do to help.” Ereinion assisted Lindir in eating the 
soup and once his charge had finished, he poured a cup of the herbal tea.
 
“That will put me back asleep, won’t it?” Lindir didn’t want to go to sleep 
yet.
 
Ereinion understood and placed the cup aside for a few more minutes. 
“Are you still in pain?” He had wanted to ask Lindir how he had arrived 
on the Isle of Balar but not if he was still in any pain, so he had changed 
his question at the last moment. The healer had told them to let Lindir 
open up in his own time, and Ereinion now remembered those words. 
“The last time the healer visited he said you were recovering.”
 
“My eyesight is improving – I think,” said Lindir, unconvinced. “But I 
still cannot discern your features. Your face is a blur.” 
 
“And your ribs? Do they still hinder you?” Ereinion reached for the cup 
and placed the rim at Lindir’s lips.
 
Lindir sipped, reluctantly, and then pulled away. “They still cause me 
discomfort and my broken wrist hampers me as well. But I will survive.”
 
“Most of the bruising is already fading.”
 
“But the bruises on my soul will never fade.” Lindir instantly regretted his 
words, feeling Ereinion tense against him. 
 
“I will do my best to help you deal with the memories.” Ereinion made 
Lindir sip the rest of the tea and then lowered his charge back onto the 
mattress. “Go back to sleep now. It will aid your recovery.” Only now did 
he realize that Lindir’s good hand had a tight hold on his wrist. 
 
“Stay with me – stay close.” Lindir feared the return of the nightmares and 
hoped Ereinion’s closeness would keep them away. “Hold me?”
Ereinion couldn’t deny such a plea and lowered himself onto the bed. He 
raised one arm, allowing Lindir to snuggle up to him if the injured Elf 
desired so. 
 
Lindir gratefully accepted and pressed close, momentarily ignoring the 
fact that it was the High-King of the Noldor holding and comforting him. 
He could worry about that later – when he was better again. Though, he 
doubted he would ever make a *full* recovery. He might heal in body, but 
his mind would remain forever scarred.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel quickly lost track of time as there was no way of telling if it 
was day or night in the Halls of Waiting. Candles illuminated the great 
Halls and a dim light made it into the rooms, but there was no sun. Neither 
Anor nor Ithil warmed the Halls of Waiting. 
 
“Glorfindel, you cannot remain like this.” Ecthelion sat down next to 
Glorfindel on the bed. When Námo had said that their existence here 
would resemble their life on Arda he had only partly spoken the truth. 
Aye, their surroundings reminded them of their former life, but the 
atmosphere didn’t. The Halls felt suffocating to most souls and so they 
huddled close in the main Hall, trying to find comfort in each other’s 
presence. “Talk to me.”
 
“What is there to say?” Glorfindel shrugged his shoulders. He still felt 
betrayed. “Erestor could have stopped the mass murder, but he did not 
because he did not want to be separated from me. I never thought he could 
be that selfish.”
 
“Aren’t you doing him injustice?” Turgon entered and walked toward his 
former Captain. 
 
Glorfindel glanced at his former King, but didn’t bother to rise to his feet 
or to bow. 
 
Turgon went down on his heels and caught Glorfindel’s hands in his. Once 
the warrior had made eye-contact, Turgon said, “I do not know how long I 
have been here. It feels like an eternity to me. Time passes differently 
here.”
 
Glorfindel’s gaze hardened. “What are you trying to say?”
 
“I have realized my mistake. My pride misguided me and caused me to 
listen to Maeglin’s advice when I should have listened to you and 
Ecthelion instead.” Turgon drew in a deep breath. Making this admission 
was still hard on him. “I was convinced we could defeat Morgoth and 
made my people stay when I should have told them to flee the city. The 
Fall of Gondolin was not Erestor’s fault. It was mine and you know it.”
 
“He is a Vala, Turgon! He could have stopped it from happening!” 
Glorfindel freed his hands from Turgon’s hold, jumped to his feet, and 
began pacing his room. 
 
“Nay, he could not.” Námo entered the room and came to a halt in front of 
Glorfindel, thus forcing him to stop pacing. 
 
“Of course would you say that! He is your son! You would defend him!” 
Glorfindel didn’t know where this anger came from but it consumed him. 
In his rage, he even dared to defy Námo himself. 
 
“You do not understand, my child.” Námo placed his hand on Glorfindel’s 
shoulder to keep the soul in place. “The Valar are not allowed to meddle 
in what takes place in Eru’s song. We might know what will happen, but 
that does not mean we are allowed to make any changes in Eru’s creation. 
Our hands are bound. All we can do is observe. And Erestor already did 
more than he was permitted to. He fed Idril the visions that led to delving 
the tunnel that guided the refugees out of the fallen city. If it had not been 
for my son, none would have survived.”
 
“So, Erestor *did* meddle, when he was not supposed to? Is that what you 
are trying to tell me?”
 
“And he was punished, aye. He broke the rules and his being was called 
back to my Halls. You must understand, Glorfindel. I love my son and 
missed having him here. He is a shining light inside my darkness, but I let 
him go because he loved you. You have no idea of the sacrifices he made 
in order to be with you.”
 
“I do not want to discuss him any more. He lied to me. He manipulated 
me. Erestor pretended to be someone he never was. I do not love him any 
more!”
 
Even Ecthelion appeared shocked at hearing Glorfindel’s words. “You do 
not truly mean that.”
 
“I do!” Glorfindel marched out of the room and slammed the door shut – 
hard.
 
Námo shook his head at such folly. “He has no idea what he is throwing 
away.” Erestor was hurting as much as Glorfindel was, but for different 
reasons. The blond warrior was just too stubborn to admit the truth to 
himself and made Erestor suffer for his inability to confront himself. 
 
Ecthelion rose from the bed and studied Námo’s facial expression. The 
Doomsman of the Valar was nothing like he had thought him to be like. “I 
never knew you had a son.”
 
“Vairë and I decided to keep it private. The Firstborn do not need to know 
everything.” Námo read sympathy in Ecthelion’s eyes and smiled. “I do 
not find pleasure in harvesting souls, Lord of the Fountain. But it is my 
given task and I perform my duties to the best of my abilities. I take the 
best care I can of the fëar entrusted to me, but my means of making them 
comfortable are limited.”
 
Turgon rose from the floor and stood beside Ecthelion. “I have learned 
much during my stay here. I finally learned to identify my arrogance and 
pride and I feel like I am dealing with it. I just wish I had reached that 
conclusion in life instead of death.”
 
Námo nodded once. “In time you will receive another chance – in Aman.” 
But his gaze shifted from Turgon to Ecthelion and filled with interest. 
Now there was an extraordinary soul. “My son did not lie to you, Lord of 
the Fountain. Elrohir will find you, but it is not his time yet.” 
 
Ecthelion grew hopeful, hearing Námo’s words. “Are you certain of that, 
my Lord?”
 
Námo nodded once more and smiled kindly at Ecthelion. “I know much, 
Ecthelion. And I know that Elrohir will come for you.”
 
Ecthelion drank in those words – they would keep him sane during the 
long years ahead of him, which would be filled with waiting and longing.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor walked the Halls, trying to comfort the souls who just didn’t want 
to accept their death. It was a depressing task, but still the one he was best 
suited for. He had always possessed great empathy, allowing him to 
soothe them in the best way. It had also helped him when he had been with 
Glorfindel.
 
His beloved’s name caused great pain and sorrow in his heart and his steps 
faltered. At the edges of his mind he felt his parents’ loving presence, but 
what he really needed was Glorfindel’s love and acceptance. However, the 
blond avoided him. He had once approached Ecthelion, asking his former 
friend to mediate and Ecthelion had accepted, but still, Glorfindel had 
refused to talk to him. Condemned to loneliness, Erestor entered the next 
Hall in search of souls, which needed his guidance. He encountered 
Ecthelion instead. 
 
“I have been waiting for you,” said Ecthelion, who had come to know the 
route Erestor took when walking the Halls. “Would you sit with me whilst 
we talk?” 
 
Ecthelion’s request surprised Erestor, but he complied nonetheless and 
seated himself beside the dark-haired Elf. “What do you wish to discuss?” 
 
“Glorfindel.” Ecthelion’s eyes narrowed, seeing Erestor flinch. “His 
hatred is poisoning him.”
 
“I never thought he would call me a liar. I never meant to manipulate him, 
but I could not tell him the truth.”
 
Ecthelion nodded once. “Aye, your father explained that to me. But 
Glorfindel refuses to accept that. Maybe you should approach him and talk 
to him.”
 
“I tried,” said Erestor in a melancholy tone. “But he turns his back on me 
and then walks away. He refuses to talk to me.” 
 
“Maybe you need to try harder?”
 
A weak smile surfaced on Erestor’s face. “I must admit that I am surprised 
to hear you say this. I thought you felt I was a liar as well?”
 
“Unlike Glorfindel, I listen when someone tries to explain something to 
me. And I listened when your father spoke.” 
 
“My father? What did he say?” 
 
“I want to apologize for doubting you. Your father confirmed that you 
spoke the truth when you said I would find a love and that his name would 
be Elrohir. Your father gave me the same name and told me to be patient.”
 
“My father knows the future. He knows more than I do. If he tells you to 
be patient and that your love will come to you, I would trust in his words.”
 
‘Then put your trust in me, Erestor. Talk to Glorfindel. At least one more 
time. Try to get through to him, for I do believe he still loves you. 
Glorfindel loved you more than life itself and I refuse to believe that his 
feelings could have just disappeared.”
 
“Maybe they changed into hatred?”
 
“Nay, Erestor. I do not think so. But I do believe that Glorfindel has been 
hurt. Go to him and try to make amends. Make him listen to you.”
 
Erestor raised his hand and caressed Ecthelion’s face. “Thank you for your 
advice, meldir. I will take it and act upon it.”
 
“Good.” Ecthelion gathered one of Erestor’s hands in his and rubbed the 
warm skin. “I marvel about the ways of these Halls. You feel alive to me.”
 
Erestor lowered his eyes. “That is because I am alive.”
 
“And I am dead.” Ecthelion began to understand why so many souls were 
drawn to Erestor, asking him to sit with and comfort them. “Your father 
said that you are the light in his darkness and until now I did not 
understand.” 
 
Erestor lifted his head and timidly studied Ecthelion’s eyes. “Like my 
parents I try to bring light and warmth to the souls that dwell here.”
 
“And now Glorfindel dwells here as well. Don’t you think he needs your 
light, warmth and love the most?”
 
“Aye, he probably does,” said Erestor, nodding once. “I will talk to him.” 
Ecthelion had given him new hope when he had thought that all hope had 
been lost.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Círdan watched Ereinion and Lindir, as the two Elves walked toward the 
shore. A month had passed. A month in which Ereinion and Lindir had 
grown surprisingly close, and now that Lindir’s ribs had healed, the healer 
had judged the time right to allow the white-haired Elf to venture outside 
for the first time. 
 
Círdan felt some measure of concern, seeing the dedication to Lindir in 
Ereinion’s eyes and he wondered what that spelt for the future. Ereinion 
was now officially the new High-King of the Noldor and would shortly 
assume his responsibilities. For now, Círdan acted in his stead, but the Elf-
Lords wouldn’t accept that for much longer. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Slowly,” cautioned Ereinion, who kept his hand against the small of 
Lindir’s back. “This is the first time you've left your bed in over a month!” 
He was thrilled to see Lindir smiling at him. During this last month Lindir 
had made remarkable progress. Lindir had not only allowed him in, but 
Círdan as well. Ereinion knew that Lindir’s acceptance of them had been 
the Elf’s salvation. Had Lindir rejected them, and wallowed in self-pity, he 
wouldn’t have recovered. But Ereinion didn’t delude himself. He also 
knew that emotionally Lindir was far from healed, but he was also 
determined to take it one step at a time. 
 
Lindir smiled warmly at Ereinion. “There is no reason for you to be this 
troubled! The healer declared me fit enough to walk unaided and yet, you 
continue to support me.”
 
Ereinion laughed. “Lindir, I grew up an only child and the only Elf I ever 
felt close to was Círdan. But Círdan is my teacher and much older than I 
am. You, on the other hand, could be the brother I never had.”
 
Lindir had never felt more relieved to hear such words. During the last 
month he had grown worried that Ereinion’s feelings were of a different 
nature. He wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. Hearing that 
Ereinion looked upon him as a brother reassured him. “I am much older 
than you are.”
“Then you can be my older brother!” Ereinion guided Lindir onto the 
beach and watched carefully whilst the white-haired Elf sat down on the 
warm sand. He sat down beside Lindir, keeping the other Elf’s hand 
cradled within his. “I need to talk to you about something.”
 
Reading worry in Ereinion’s eyes, Lindir wondered why. Fear sneaked 
into his heart and cold sweat formed on his skin. “Have there been Orc 
sightings?”
 
“Nay.” Ereinion shook his head. “I did not mean to scare you. Círdan 
received more messages and learned that Tuor, Idril and the rest of the 
refugees are heading for the Mouths of the Sirion. They will join us 
shortly.”
 
“I will see little Eärendil again!” 
 
Ereinion felt relieved, seeing the warm smile on Lindir’s face. He had 
been worried that the news would upset him. “They will arrive within the 
next few months.”
 
“Lindir, Ereinion, am I interrupting?” 
 
Ereinion looked up at Círdan. “You can never disturb us. Will you join 
us?”
 
Círdan seated himself and studied the two Elves. “Did you tell Lindir of 
our impending visitors?”
 
“He did,” said Lindir, replying in Ereinion’s stead. “And I am looking 
forward to being reunited with them. We were friends when we lived in 
Gondolin.” Lindir frowned, wondering about the look in Círdan’s eyes. 
Something troubled the Shipwright, but what was it?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Círdan waited another month before approaching Lindir. He found the 
white-haired Elf on the beach, practicing on a lyre, which Ereinion had 
given him. 
 
“Círdan.” Lindir smiled, always happy to see his savior. 
 
Círdan sat down and watched Lindir’s fingers get reacquainted with the 
strings. “Does your wrist still bother you?” He noticed the stiffness in that 
joint. 
 
“It does. I need to practice more.”
 
“Lindir, I would like to speak with you.”
 
Lindir tensed. “What about?”
 
“Two things…” Círdan drew in a deep breath, tackling the less troubling 
matter first. “How do you fare? You seemed to have recovered, but 
sometimes I catch a glint of terror in your eyes.”
 
The old Lindir, who had lived in Gondolin, would have pushed Círdan 
away. But the new Lindir knew how important it was to share his burden. 
Ereinion had taught him that, by giving him his unconditional support. “I 
have healed in body.”
 
“But not yet in soul.”
 
“The memories are still very fresh and torment me at night.”
 
“Is that why Ereinion shares your bed?” Círdan hadn’t wanted to breech 
the second subject so briskly, but one question had led to the other. 
 
Lindir paled visibly and then nodded his head. “Aye, that is why.” 
Gathering his courage he studied Círdan’s eyes. “There is only brotherly 
love between us. I am not capable of more and I doubt I ever will be again. 
He holds me and comforts me when the nightmares strike.”
 
“It is none of my business why Ereinion shares your bed, but… I raised 
him, Lindir. To me, he is the son I never had and I worry for him, knowing 
you are still dragging ghosts with you.”
 
“I would never take him as a lover or allow him to bind with me if that is 
what you are worried about. Past experiences have damaged me and 
Ereinion deserves better than what I now am. We are friends.” Lindir 
laughed, mirthlessly. “He looks upon me as a brother.”
 
“And do you look upon him in the same way?” Círdan thought he read the 
answer to that question in Lindir’s eyes and what he saw there saddened 
him. “You do not. You love him.”
 
Lindir never considered lying. “Aye, I fell in love with him whilst he 
cared for me, but I will never approach him in that way. After all, he is the 
High-King.”
 
Círdan felt deeply ashamed. “Lindir, when I saw the two of you together, I 
knew you had feelings for him. My first instinct was to tell you not to 
confide in him. I wanted to tell you that he deserved a chance to marry 
into a renowned house and sire children.” Looking into Lindir’s eyes, he 
didn’t avert his gaze, seeing the pain in the sky-blue orbs. “But I have 
changed my mind. Ereinion would be blessed to have you as his lover.”
 
“Do not worry, Círdan. As I said before, I do not plan on telling him.” 
 
“Why?”
 
“Those Orcs broke something inside of me when they made me watch 
those rapes and… and then…” His voice faltered. It had happened too 
recently to discuss this in a rational manner. 
 
“And then they laid their hands upon you as well.” Círdan reached out and 
placed the palm of his hand against Lindir’s face, gently rubbing the 
cheek. “And now you feel unworthy of Ereinion’s attention.”
 
“Erestor rescued me before they could have their way with me, but I still 
feel their hands upon my body – the way their fingernails cut open my 
skin and tore off my leggings.” Lindir leaned into the touch – trusting and 
open. 
 
Círdan moistened his lips. “Lindir, I want you to listen to me. Their touch 
did not decrease your worth – not in my eyes and certainly not in 
Ereinion’s. I do not know if he will ever love you in that way. I do believe 
he looks upon you as a brother, but if he ever takes that step, I hope you 
will accept him. For you *are* worthy of him.” 
 
The dam broke and Lindir flung himself into Círdan’s arms. “Thank 
you… Thank you for those kind words.”
 
Círdan smiled, rested his chin on Lindir’s head, and held him tight. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion was worried. Now that he was approaching Lindir and Círdan, he 
could tell that his friend had cried. Lindir’s eyes were red-rimmed and his 
face was still wet with tears. He didn’t like that – didn’t like that one bit. 
 
Círdan looked up and smiled at seeing Ereinion’s protective expression. 
He freed himself of Lindir’s hold and rose from the sand. “Stay with him. 
He needs you.”
 
“What did you do to make him cry?” Anger echoed in Ereinion’s voice.
 
“He told me the Orcs tried to rape him. That was a very big step for him. 
And now he needs you to be there for him.” Círdan tucked a strand of 
Ereinion’s hair behind his ear and then returned to the house, leaving 
Ereinion to comfort Lindir.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Lindir?” Ereinion gathered Lindir close to him and wiped the tears away 
with his thumb. “You do realize I always suspected they tried forcing 
themselves on you?”
 
Lindir nodded once and his eyes slowly dried. “It was not that hard to see, 
was it?”
 
Ereinion smiled in a reassuring way. “I am so relieved you finally faced 
that truth and shared it with us. I truly believe it will aid your recovery.” 
 
Lindir looked deeply into Ereinion’s eyes, knowing he truly loved him. 
But he could never make Ereinion happy. Could never call the High-King 
of the Noldor his, simply because Ereinion didn’t love him back. “You are 
a good friend.”
 
Ereinion’s smile brightened at hearing that. “I will be your friend as long 
as I shall live.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor felt nervous, entering Glorfindel’s rooms. He had decided to 
follow Ecthelion’s advice and to try reaching his beloved, one last time. 
“Glorfindel? Melethen?” Why was his beloved resting on the bed? The 
dead didn’t need to sleep, but Námo granted them the illusion of sleep, 
allowing them to escape into the lands of dreams, his brother Irmo's 
territory. 
 
Glorfindel instantly recognized Erestor’s voice, but wasn’t prompted into 
action yet. He lay on the bed with his back toward Erestor and stared at the 
wall, listening to Erestor’s footfalls, which told him his former lover 
approached the bed. “Go away.”
 
”Nay, I want to talk to you.” Erestor hoped he had enough courage to face 
Glorfindel. Would he find a way to make his lover understand why he had 
made those choices in the past? “Will you at least look at me?”
 
Glorfindel rolled onto his back and pushed himself to his feet, giving 
Erestor what his lover wanted.
 
Erestor cringed, seeing the cold, dead, hurt expression in Glorfindel’s 
eyes. “Melethron, I—“ 
 
“Do not call me that. I am not your lover any longer.” 
 
“Why? Why, Glorfindel? How have I wronged you? Make me 
understand!” Erestor grabbed hold of Glorfindel and shook his lover. 
“Why shun me?”
 
“You lied to me, Erestor,” said Glorfindel in a numb tone, which revealed 
none of his inner turmoil. “You encouraged me to fall in love with you, 
whilst I thought you were an Elf.”
 
“Would it have made a difference if you had known I belonged to the 
Valar?” Erestor released Glorfindel, but didn’t step away yet. 
 
“I do not know that, Erestor. I have not wondered about that yet.” 
Glorfindel felt cold inside – dead. “I fell in love with an illusion.”
 
“You fell in love with me! What you saw was me! I did not change my 
ways to please you!”
 
“I saw an Elf and I fell in love with him. But in truth I fell for a Vala 
*pretending* being an Elf.” 
 
“Why won’t you understand that I love you? Still!”
 
Glorfindel shook his head. “It does not work that way, Erestor. I do not 
know who you are. I feel like I never knew you. How could you accept my 
gifts and words of love, knowing I loved an illusion?”
 
“You are determined to misunderstand me,” realized Erestor. “Did I hurt 
you so badly? Is there no chance left for us?”
 
“I loved Erestor – my sweet Erestor – an Elf. Not someone who belongs to 
the Valar and pretended being my lover. You used me.”
 
“Nay,” said Erestor in a broken tone. “I loved you.” Realizing that 
Glorfindel was unwilling to forgive him, he walked toward the doorway. 
“For what it is worth, know that I wish you well. I hope that your heart 
will heal and that when the moment of your rebirth comes you will find it 
in your heart to love again. I will not bother you any more. This is the last 
time you will see me, except perhaps at a distance in my father's Halls.” 
Against all odds he hoped Glorfindel would call him back and wrap his 
arms around him – hold him.
 
“Good, that will lessen my suffering,” said Glorfindel in a clipped tone 
before turning around and lowering himself onto the bed again. 
 
Erestor’s eyes leaked bitter tears when he stepped into the corridor, where 
he found Ecthelion and Turgon waiting for him. “He refuses to listen – to 
truly listen to me.”
 
“I am so sorry,” whispered Ecthelion, who now wrapped an arm around 
his friend and pulled him close. “I understand why you acted the way you 
did in the past. You loved him. But what I do not understand is why 
Glorfindel is acting in this way now. I *know* he still loves you.”
 
Erestor buried his face against Ecthelion’s shoulder and hugged him tight. 
“At least I won your friendship back, didn’t I?”
 
“Aye, you did,” whispered Ecthelion into Erestor’s ear. “Do not despair 
yet. I will continue to talk to him.”
 
But Erestor’s hope had deserted him. Ecthelion might be convinced 
Glorfindel loved him still, but he wasn’t. Glorfindel didn’t love him – his 
former lover hated him!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Years passed by and many things changed on Arda. Tuor and his family 
were reunited with Lindir and little Eärendil stopped being little. The 
Elfling grew into a fine half-Elf and fell in love. Elwing returned those 
feelings and before anyone realized what had happened, those two had 
bound themselves in their love. 
 
Whilst Elwing and Eärendil chose to live at the Havens of Sirion, Círdan, 
Lindir and Ereinion remained on the Isle of Balar. The High-King came 
into power and named Círdan his Chief Advisor, though the Shipwright 
seldom left the shadows to step into the spotlight. Lindir was always close 
– always at Ereinion’s side to support him. 
 
Sadness, pain and regrets ruled Arda when the third Kinslaying took place. 
Most of the survivors of Doriath and Gondolin were slaughtered by the 
remaining sons of Fëanor. Lindir cried bitter tears when the news of 
Elwing's fate reached him. Ereinion consoled him, but Lindir felt like 
something had broken inside him again. The worst news that reached them 
was that of the disappearance of the small sons of Elwing and Eärendil. 
Lindir was afraid that the children had been killed in the attack, like their 
twin uncles during the second Kinslaying years earlier, but later on, word 
reached him they had survived and were now in Maedhros and Maglor’s 
safe-keeping. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but at least the twins 
were alive.
 
Círdan visited them often, discussing Morgoth’s attempt to gather his 
army again and a shadow spread over the lands, worrying Ereinion, and 
thus also worrying Lindir. 
 
When the swan ships from Valinor sailed into the harbor, Círdan, Lindir 
and Ereinion were relieved to learn that Eärendil had succeeded in 
reaching Aman, with the help of Elwing and the Silmaril. Ereinion was 
intent upon joining their army, but was dissuaded by both Círdan and 
Lindir, stating that he was the last of his line and must survive. Bitterly, he 
agreed to stay on the Isle until the war was over.  By that time, it was 
apparent that the Sea was rising and that Balar would soon be underwater, 
so Círdan gathered everyone and loaded them onto ships, along with their 
possessions and they sailed into the East, seeking a new safe harbor to call 
their home. They settled in a sheltered bay, surrounded on either side by a 
new opening in the Ered Luin in what once was Ossiriand and called it the 
Gray Havens or Mithlond.  Here, the Falas Elves under the lordship of 
Círdan returned to their lives as shipbuilders for those who wished to 
return to Aman. Ereinion built his palace across the bay, in Lindon, and 
ruled all of the Elves who had survived the War of Wrath, the Noldor and 
the descendants of the Teleri alike. With the fall of Morgoth, life was 
peaceful, for a time.
 
Then, one day, Lindir’s life changed once more. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“My name is Elrond Peredhel6 and I am here to serve my King!” Elrond’s 
voice was alive with enthusiasm and dedication. The half-Elf went down 
on one knee, now that he was presenting himself to Ereinion for the very 
first time. He even felt reluctant to look at the High-King. In spite of his 
bold words, he felt shy and nervous.
 
Ereinion exchanged an amused look with Lindir and then approached the 
young half-Elf. “Rise, I do not require anyone to kneel before me.” He 
placed his hand on Elrond’s shoulder and waited for the young half-Elf to 
rise from the floor. “Look at me. I do not bite – hard,” he added, teasingly.
 
Taken aback by the teasing, Elrond lifted his eyes and met the High-
King’s. “Sire…” Feeling breathless, he took in the High-King’s 
appearance. Ereinion didn’t look like a King, he mused. Instead of 
luxurious, formal robes, Ereinion wore brown leggings and a gray shirt. 
Dirty riding boots completed the outfit. The only thing that told Ereinion 
apart from the other Elves was the mithril circlet that adorned his head. 
“Sire, I do not know what to say.”
 
“Then be silent,” said Ereinion in an amused tone. “So, you aspire to be 
my Herald?”
 
“I firmly believe that is my destiny, aye.” Elrond felt mesmerized, looking 
into Ereinion’s eyes, which radiated wisdom and compassion. He instantly 
felt drawn to the older Elf. 
 
“Lindir, join us, please.” Ereinion watched Lindir closely when the white-
haired Elf joined them. Lindir had become the other half of his soul, and 
aside from being his minstrel, had also become his trusted advisor. They 
hadn’t been apart since those days on the Isle of Balar and still shared a 
room, though nothing intimate had ever taken place between them. 
Somehow, Ereinion had never stopped holding him in his sleep. 
 
“Elrond, this is Lindir, my most trusted council.” Elrond hoped the two 
Elves would like each other, for they would spend long hours together.
 
“I am pleased to meet you,” said Lindir, inclining his head in respect.
 
“Your name is legend, Lindir. Never before has a more talented minstrel 
walked upon Arda’s earth, save my foster father, Maglor.”
 
“Thank you for your kind words.” Lindir’s first impression of Elrond was 
a positive one, but the minstrel didn’t trust easily – not since that fateful 
day in Gondolin. “I asked the servants to prepare rooms for you. After 
you've refreshed yourself, we would like for you to join us for dinner.” 
 
“I am honored and accept,” said Elrond, grateful that the introduction had 
gone well. He followed the servant to his rooms, eager to join the High-
King and Lindir for dinner later.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You are tense tonight,” whispered Ereinion in concern. “Is that because 
of Elrond’s arrival?” He folded an arm around Lindir’s shoulder whilst 
they made their way to their rooms to freshen up. 
 
“Nay, it is not Elrond’s presence. I think I already like him. He is very 
refreshing in his enthusiasm, reminding me so much of his father. He will 
serve you well.” They had reached their rooms and after Ereinion had 
closed the door behind them, Lindir headed for the bed. Sitting down, he 
began to undo his braids.
 
“Then what is it?” Ereinion sat down beside Lindir and swatted the 
minstrel’s hands playfully away to undo the remaining braids. He loved 
feeling the strands of Lindir’s hair glide through his fingers. “Why are you 
tense?” 
 
“Do you remember what night it is tomorrow?” 
 
“The Tarnin Austa, the Great Feast of the Gates of Summer…” Ereinion 
grew silent, suddenly realizing why this would be upsetting to Lindir. 
“The night Gondolin fell.” Although his people celebrated the feast year 
after year, neither he, nor Lindir had ever taken part in it. “The memories 
are still there.”
 
“Aye, they are, but your presence keeps them at bay.” Lindir turned 
toward Ereinion, causing the last braid to slip from the High-King’s 
fingers. “Did I ever thank you for being there for me? Even after so many 
years?” His love for Ereinion had only deepened and he cherished these 
private moments in which Ereinion was his. 
 
“I do not need to hear the words. Your eyes are the mirror to your soul and 
I read so much in them. Maybe even too much.” Ereinion had long 
suspected that Lindir loved him, but so far, he had lacked the courage to 
address the matter. But now that Sauron was stirring and building his 
army, their time had become limited. If there would be another war, many 
would die, and as he would be fighting in the front line, there was a 
chance he would be one of the casualties. 
 
Lindir averted his eyes, afraid of what Ereinion would read in them now. 
“You should bathe and get dressed, meldir.” 
 
Ereinion let Lindir go and rose from the bed, wondering if he should act 
upon his feelings or not. For his feelings had changed over the years as 
well. /I do not know when I fell in love with you, Lindir, but I did./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Námo sat beside his son, maintaining his Elven appearance as they were 
surrounded by the dead souls, who found comfort in seeing him in that 
way. He tried comforting the restless ones, the fëar still mourning the life 
they lost, but he had never thought he would one day be called upon to 
comfort his son. 
 
“Erestor?” Námo placed his hand – which was surprisingly warm and soft 
-- on his son’s and waited for Erestor to lift his eyes and make contact. “I 
sense your pain.” 
 
Time didn’t pass the same way in his Halls as it did on Arda. To the 
inhabitants of Arda millennia had passed by, but for the souls in the Halls 
only minutes had ticked away. Glorfindel, Ecthelion and the other fallen 
souls had no idea just how many years had past by. Only the Valar did. 
“’Tis Glorfindel,” he said with conviction. He had seen Glorfindel and 
Erestor dance around each other for many centuries. 
 
Erestor’s dark and burdened eyes met his father’s. He could no longer 
shed any tears, even though he wanted to, for there were no more tears 
left. “He shuns me and it hurts.”
 
“The Firstborn differ from us, Erestor. Glorfindel refuses to understand 
that your hands were bound during your time in Gondolin.” Námo clasped 
his son’s right hand and ran his thumb along the palm. “I talked to Manwë 
and we have reached a decision.” 
 
“Concerning Glorfindel?” Erestor’s voice sounded hollow – as if all 
emotion had fled the Vala.
 
“Aye. Glorfindel will shortly be reborn. He will fight in the upcoming 
battle against Sauron, and serve Elrond.”
 
“Will he die in that battle?” Erestor’s big eyes questioningly met his 
father’s. “For if he does, I beg of you to reconsider. He does not deserve 
death twice.”
 
“He will survive the battle, which will take place at the foot of Mount 
Orodruin, but Ereinion won’t.” Erestor’s soft yelp surprised him. 
 
“Lindir’s heart will break.” Erestor felt deeply for his friend. 
 
“Lindir and Ereinion’s love is not meant to last.” Námo leaned in closer, 
offering Erestor comfort by saying, “Be at ease, for there is another love in 
Lindir’s future. He has not been born yet, but he will heal all the hurt 
Ereinion’s death will cause. He will compliment Lindir and truly be the 
other half of his soul.”
 
“Your words *do* comfort me, thank you.” Erestor managed a weak 
smile. “But what of Glorfindel? What will happen to him after that 
battle?”
 
“He will serve Elrond Peredhel as his Captain. He will be happy in 
Imladris.” 
 
Erestor rubbed his father’s fingers in return and asked, “In what state of 
mind will you return him to Arda?”
 
“I will erase some of his memories.”
 
“Which ones?” Erestor felt apprehensive.
 
“He won’t remember you, Erestor. He won’t remember the love you once 
shared, or the hatred that poisons his heart now. He will be at peace. 
Glorfindel will again be the Elf he was in Gondolin. Carefree and radiant. 
Do you approve of that?” Námo cocked his head. “If you love him, you 
will grant him this. Instead of the bitterness and the hatred, which 
surround him now, he will radiate love again.”
 
Erestor closed his eyes. “I want him to be happy,” he said, eventually. 
“And I know that he is not happy here. He is withering away. Most souls 
come to us for comfort when they fail to cope with their new state, but he 
shuts us out.” His eyes opened and fastened on his father’s face. 
“Allowing him to be reborn without certain memories is the kindest thing 
we can do for him.”
 
Námo caressed his son’s face, marveling at Erestor’s selflessness. “You 
will still be able to watch him through your mother’s tapestries. And you 
will see a happy Glorfindel, instead of a depressed one.”
 
“I just wish…” Erestor stopped himself from speaking such foolish words. 
 
“I know – you hoped he would forgive you. But he did not. Let him go, 
Erestor. By setting him free, you will set yourself free.” 
 
Erestor bowed his head in defeat. “I always thought that letting him go 
would be hard, but it is not. I want him to be happy.”
 
Námo wrapped an arm around his son’s frame and pulled Erestor close. 
The Doomsman of the Valar had only revealed part of his conversation 
with Manwë, the rest of it, he kept to himself. Erestor’s selflessness 
wouldn’t go unnoticed and would be rewarded.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“What?” Glorfindel’s large eyes revealed surprise. Námo had just told him 
that he would be send back to Arda to battle Sauron’s forces, but he still 
thought he had misheard. “Why me? Why not Ecthelion?” His friend 
stood at the back of the room. Námo had asked Ecthelion to accompany 
them because the Lord of the Fountain’s presence usually had a soothing 
effect on the blond Elf.
 
Glorfindel’s question made Ecthelion uncomfortable and he wondered 
why Glorfindel was so determined to question the Valar’s motives. His 
friend should accept Manwë’s decision without protesting so much! 
Especially now that they had decided to allow him to be rehoused! 
Glorfindel was so lucky to already be allowed a second chance at life!
 
It was Ecthelion’s greatest desire to walk upon Arda once more – to inhale 
the sweet fragrance of dew-covered roses, to feel a ray of warm sunlight 
on his skin and to hear the laughter of children. And now, all this and 
more was granted to Glorfindel! 
 
Námo’s gaze shifted from Glorfindel to Ecthelion. He had received most 
of the Lord of the Fountain’s thoughts and wanted to tell him that he also 
deserved to be reborn – but not just yet. The time wasn’t right. 
 
Looking at Glorfindel once more, Námo said, “We have our reasons for 
sending you back and making you serve Eärendil’s son.” 
 
Glorfindel and Ecthelion had watched the present unfold by looking at 
Vairë’s tapestries and knew of Elrond, who had become Ereinion’s 
Herald. Serving Elrond would be an honor, but Glorfindel didn’t want to 
be reborn alone. “Allow Ecthelion to accompany me.”
 
Námo shook his head. “Nay.”  His answer obviously annoyed Glorfindel 
and the warrior fought to control his temper. “You will return to Arda and 
serve Elrond. That is our decision.”
 
“But Ecthelion…!” Glorfindel felt sorry for Ecthelion, who had to stay 
behind whilst he would return to Arda. “That is not fair!”
 
“Neither life nor death is fair, Glorfindel. I thought you had learned that 
lesson by now!” Námo studied the Elf, who had caused his son so much 
pain. “Do you wish to say your goodbyes to Erestor before you leave?”
 
“You should, you know,” said Ecthelion, coming to a halt behind 
Glorfindel. 
 
“I know that you do not think he deserves my wrath, but he does!” 
Glorfindel’s gaze hardened. “I will face Morgoth’s forces once more, 
under Sauron's command this time, because Erestor did not have the 
courage to face the Evil One at Gondolin!”
 
Námo and Ecthelion exchanged a glance. Both worried about Glorfindel – 
and Erestor. 
 
Glorfindel turned, hugged Ecthelion close, and whispered his goodbyes. 
“You will always be my best friend.”
 
Ecthelion hugged Glorfindel back. “I love you, Glorfindel. Do not do 
anything stupid – I won’t be there to fix it.”
 
Glorfindel chuckled with much bitterness. “I will try to behave!”
 
Námo raised his right hand and pointed at the doorway. “The moment you 
leave this room your new life on Arda will begin.”
 
Glorfindel determinedly headed for the doorway and stepped into the 
corridor. Then, the Halls faded and he was thrust back into life once more.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“My Lord?” Ecthelion approached Námo, surprised to find a smile light 
up the normally serious face. “Does Glorfindel’s rebirth please you?”
 
Námo raised an arm and folded it around Ecthelion, who gave him a 
dumbfounded look, as the Vala wasn’t in the habit of allowing souls that 
close to him. “Can you keep a secret?”
 
Puzzled, Ecthelion nodded. “Of course, my Lord.” Who was he supposed 
to tell anyway?
 
“After the Battle of the Last Alliance has been fought, I will send Erestor 
to Imladris. My son does not know that yet, so I’d advise you against 
telling him.”
 
“My Lord? I do not understand why you would do that. Glorfindel is 
determined to hate Erestor.” 
 
“Ah, that is why I have erased Glorfindel’s memory of Erestor. When they 
meet, Glorfindel and Erestor will have a second chance at falling in love. ”
 
Ecthelion was delighted to find Námo had engineered this cunning plan. “I 
did not know you were a romantic, my Lord.”
 
“I am very much a romantic,” said Námo, smiling in a conspiring way. 
/And I will help you find your love too./
 
 
The end of part 3
 
Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairing for this part; Lindir/Ereinion
Rating: NC-17 Summary: Destiny takes its course and Ereinion dies 
during the Battle of the Last Alliance. Glorfindel returns to Arda and 
meets with Elrond for the first time. Lindir, Elrond and Glorfindel make 
their home in Imladris.
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! This story has 
the timeline from Hell, so consider yourself warned!
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help!
All remaining mistakes are mine!
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 4
 
 
Elrond felt nervous, now that he had been invited to have dinner with the 
High-king. Ereinion was nothing like he had thought the High-King would 
be like – he liked Ereinion even better than he had hoped he would. 
Ereinion seemed firmly rooted in the present and down to earth. Two 
qualities he definitely approved of. 
 
“Lost in thought, Elrond?” Ereinion had come upon his new Herald in the 
main Hall, where Elrond stood looking out of the window. 
 
Elrond straightened his shoulders, annoyed that Ereinion had caught him 
off-guard. He turned around and bowed to show his respect.
 
“Ah, stop bowing to me, Elrond.” Ereinion placed a hand on Elrond’s 
shoulder and smiled. “I might have to insist on decorum when we are not 
alone, but in private I prefer to be just Ereinion and not the King.”
 
That was a most odd thing for the High-King of the Noldor to say, decided 
Elrond. Behind Ereinion stood Lindir, dressed in warm robes of dark-
green velvet, lined with earth-tones. Although he had only met Ereinion 
and Lindir once before, Elrond realized that these two were seldom apart. 
What was it that bound the High-King and the minstrel? How long had 
they been friends? And would they allow him to become their friend as 
well? Or would they shut him out?
 
“Join us,” said Lindir, as he walked toward the dining table. He seated 
himself to Ereinion’s right and gestured Elrond to take his seat at the 
High-King’s left side. “I trust your rooms are satisfactory?”
 
Elrond nodded once. “They will serve me well. Thank you.” It struck him 
as odd that Lindir would inquire about his accommodations – why not 
Ereinion? His official host?
 
Ereinion sat down and dismissed the servants. He poured the wine himself 
and handed first Lindir and then Elrond a goblet filled with the sweet 
liquid. “May you help us defeat the Evil One,” he said, sipping his wine. 
 
Elrond nodded in agreement. “We will defeat him, sire.”
 
“My name is Ereinion, not sire.” Ereinion rested the back of his head 
against the comfort of the chair and then looked at Lindir. It was time they 
stopped hiding their feelings from each other. Maybe they should start 
being honest with each other tonight. “No titles are necessary here.”
 
Lindir smiled, warmly. Ereinion had never wanted to be King. But now 
that Ereinion *was* the High-King of the Noldor, he performed his duties 
admirably. Only *he* knew how much toll leadership took on Ereinion. 
Only in the confines of their rooms could Ereinion show doubt and 
vulnerability and confide in him. 
 
Lindir had become the High-King’s best friend – the only person, Elf or 
man that Ereinion could ever completely confide in. A solid connection 
had formed between them, which they thought of as friendship – but in 
truth, they had built a very loving relationship.
 
“Please, eat!” Ereinion, not bothering with utensils, used his fingers to tear 
the leg off the crab and then began eating the delicious meat. 
 
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Is that hygienic?”
 
Ereinion burst out laughing and wiggled an eyebrow. “Does it matter?” He 
gave Lindir a wink. “I think you are right, meldir1. Elrond is amusing… 
and likeable.” To his delight, Elrond grew flustered. 
 
“You should behave yourself, pen-neth2,” said Lindir, addressing Ereinion 
in that fashion on purpose. “After all, you are supposed to be his King.”
 
“Pen-neth? Are you that old?” Elrond picked up his fork and used it to 
transfer the potatoes and fish onto his plate, giving Ereinion an apologetic 
look. 
 
“I am old enough to call him that. Maybe even too old.” Lindir selected a 
few pieces of fruit and placed them on his plate, but did not eat them yet. 
His gaze drifted longingly to the large, ebony harp that stood next to the 
blazing fire-place.
 
“Will you play for us?” Ereinion saw the expression in Lindir’s eyes and 
smiled, encouragingly. 
 
Lindir nodded, rose from his chair, and walked over to the fire-place, 
where he seated himself behind the harp. He rested the instrument against 
his shoulder and placed his fingertips on the strings. Lindir drew in a deep 
breath, closed his eyes, and let the first notes float through the hall. It was 
a sad melody, and when Lindir raised his voice in song, there was nothing 
Elrond could do but listen – entranced. Never before had he heard such 
enthralling beauty in a song!
 
Ereinion’s eyes slowly filled with tears, listening to the song, which 
described the terror the inhabitants of Gondolin had felt in those last hours 
before the city finally fell. Those memories were still hard for Lindir, as 
the Great Feast was upon them again, and it didn’t surprise him that those 
emotions came out in the form of such a poignant melody. The nightmares 
had been strong these last few nights but they would gradually fade until 
they would surface again next year.
 
Next year… Would he live to see another year? Sauron’s army was vast 
and powerful and he had to march shortly. Círdan would be at his side 
once more, guarding his back. And now he had Elrond to fight at his side 
as well. From all Elven realms warriors would arrive to support him in this 
battle. Even the race of Man had offered assistance. But was it enough? 
Enough to stop Sauron?
 
His main worry was leaving Lindir to deal with his death. If he fell in 
battle, Lindir would be cast adrift. Lindir had survived the Fall of 
Gondolin because the minstrel had found companionship and comfort in 
his arms, but who would comfort Lindir when he was dead? And would 
Lindir allow anyone to support him through the ordeal? /I have to survive. 
I cannot die./ 
 
Tears flowed freely from Elrond’s face by the time Lindir had finished his 
song. He lacked the words to describe the feelings that song had unleashed 
in him. He had heard many stories about the Fall of Gondolin, but never 
out of the mouth of someone who had actually been there to witness 
Morgoth’s attack.
 
Lindir opened his eyes and his first glance was for Ereinion, reading 
understanding in the dark eyes – which could shift from gray to brown and 
back again within seconds. Then, his gaze shifted to Elrond, and he was 
amazed to find that the half-Elf was openly shedding tears. Had the song 
moved him so much?
 
Ereinion rose from his chair and walked over to Elrond. Using the tips of 
his fingers, he wiped away the half-Elf’s tears. “Maybe something less 
dramatic next, Lindir?”
 
Elrond was shocked out of his stupor, feeling the High-King brush away 
his tears. “Sire, I—“
 
Ereinion stopped him. “You could not have given Lindir a more heartfelt 
compliment.” 
 
Elrond blinked – suddenly understanding what Ereinion was saying. 
“Your song moved me, Master Lindir.”
 
“My name is Lindir… I am master to no one.” Lindir forced away his dark 
thoughts concerning the Orcs who had attacked him. This was not the 
right time to remember the pain and terror they had caused. He managed a 
smile and let his fingers fly along the strings again, this time singing a 
song, which spoke of love and dedication. Only he knew it spoke of his 
love for Ereinion. 
 
At least, that was what Lindir thought. Elrond, who had only known them 
for a day, already realized the true nature of their relationship. There was 
love there. Deep and affectionate – supporting and nourishing. Maybe that 
was the reason why Ereinion had become such a good – such a kind and 
wise – King? He had heard of such a love – two males being in love with 
each other – but it was the first time that he actually encountered two 
Elves in love in that way. Looking at them, he smiled and realized this sort 
of love was special – really special. 
 
Ereinion, moved by Lindir’s words of love, placed a hand on the 
minstrel’s shoulder. He wanted to envelop the other Elf in his arms, but 
then the song would come to an end, and he didn’t want that. He wanted to 
hear Lindir express his love – for him. /You do not think I know, but I do. 
I finally figured it out. It took me long enough as it is./ And he was 
determined not to waste more time than necessary. He would confront 
Lindir tonight.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Thank you,” said Elrond from the bottom of his heart, although he wasn’t 
exactly sure what he was thanking them for. Maybe it was because they 
had allowed him in, had made him feel welcome and had let him bask in 
their love for each other. He had felt nervous coming here to serve the 
High-King, but Ereinion had easily befriended him, taking away his 
anxiety.
 
“Tomorrow, I will send a servant to take you to my study. Until then, take 
a bath and rest.” 
 
Elrond bowed and smiled in relief at the High-King. “I am eager to start 
my work here and help in whatever way I can.” He turned and headed for 
his rooms, for his long journey had made him weary. Elrond *was* 
looking forward to spending the night in a decent bed for a change.
 
Ereinion turned toward Lindir and this time he *did* wrap an arm around 
the white-haired Elf’s waist. As he had done this several times before, it 
didn’t draw a surprised reaction from Lindir, who leaned into the embrace. 
Ereinion inhaled the sweet fragrance of lilies that emanated from Lindir’s 
hair. He would always associate that scent with his white-haired minstrel.
 
“I like Elrond,” whispered Lindir, feeling warm and cherished, pressed 
close against Ereinion.
 
“I like him too.” Ereinion guided them out of the main hall and back to 
their rooms. “Are you tired, meldir?” Suddenly, he realized that he wanted 
to address Lindir in a different way – he wanted to call him his love, 
which Lindir was. Why had it taken him so long to realize that? The denial 
and pretense would stop tonight.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“May I?” Ereinion, clad in an evening robe, came to a halt behind Lindir 
and reached for the brush. Lindir had just taken a bath and washed his 
hair, and Ereinion wanted to bury his fingers in the white mane. 
 
“Of course.” Ereinion had brushed and braided his hair before and Lindir 
liked feeling Ereinion’s fingers moving through the long tresses. He 
relaxed, as Ereinion began to brush his hair and he smiled at the younger 
Elf, whose reflection he could watch in the mirror. There was something 
odd about the dark-haired Elf today, but Lindir failed to label the change. 
“You seem different today.”
 
Ereinion nodded, fixated on the long hair, which began to glow silver 
beneath the strokes of the brush. “In all the years that I have known you, 
you have never taken a lover. Why is that, Lindir?”
 
That question took Lindir by surprise, but didn’t startle him. Throughout 
the centuries he had come to unconditionally trust Ereinion and answering 
such a question – no matter how intimate – didn’t make him feel 
uncomfortable. “Partly because of the attack I suffered at the hands of 
those Orcs. Although the memories have dimmed, I still remember the 
way my friends screamed when they were raped.”
 
“And?” Ereinion loosely braided Lindir’s hair into one plait. In the past, 
he had encouraged Lindir to share his feelings, pain and fears, which had 
lingered after that attack and he had never shied away from addressing the 
matter. That was also why he knew that Lindir had dealt with that attack. 
Emotionally, Lindir had recovered. 
 
“And I have never had the opportunity to take a lover.” Now that Ereinion 
had finished braiding his hair, Lindir rose from the chair and headed for 
their bed. 
 
Ereinion blinked, suddenly realizing something important for the very first 
time. “You never had a lover?”
 
Lindir sat down on the bed, raised his feet, and slipped beneath the covers. 
He patted the space beside him and waited for Ereinion to join him. 
 
Ereinion complied and stretched beside Lindir, who immediately moved 
into his arms. Lying facing each other, their gazes met. “Lindir, did I reach 
the right conclusion? Did you never have a lover?”
 
Lindir managed a smile. “I once told Erestor that music was the only lover 
I would ever desire, but I was wrong back then. Music cannot hold me 
during the night and keep my nightmares away. It cannot inquire how my 
day was or comfort me when I am sad.” He knew he was giving much 
away, but he trusted Ereinion – and he loved him, even through Ereinion 
would never love him back. He would take whatever morsels of love and 
attention the dark-haired Elf gave him.
 
“Your words sadden me,” admitted Ereinion. “You are so much older than 
I am, and to have never known love in that way seems… unfair.” 
 
Lindir raised his right hand and caressed Ereinion’s face. “I could ask you 
the same thing, meldir. You are the High-King of the Noldor. Your people 
are waiting for you to take a wife and to sire children. And yet, you are not 
courting any females. Why is that?” Lindir wished he could lean in closer 
and taste Ereinion’s lips, but that was only wishful thinking and would 
never come to pass. 
 
Ereinion had expected that question and was prepared for it. “I am not 
interested in females, Lindir. I am interested in a particular male Elf.” He 
wondered how long it would take Lindir to figure out the truth. The way 
Lindir’s expression darkened told him that his future lover had no idea 
whom he desired – yet.
 
“Then why are you here? Still holding me? Shouldn’t you be courting the 
one you love?” Lindir hadn’t been prepared to find out Ereinion loved 
someone else. For some reason he had simply assumed that it would 
always be like this – them living together and sharing a bed. Now he 
realized he would have to say goodbye to his love shortly. 
 
“I am *trying* to court my beloved. You *do* want me to hold you, don’t 
you, meleth3?” Ereinion involuntarily sucked in his breath, seeing Lindir’s 
sky-blue eyes widen. “This cannot really come as a surprise, Lindir. We 
have been gradually moving in this direction for years.”
 
“You… Me? You want… to…court… me? Me?” Lindir gasped for 
breath, as he had never expected to hear this. “But I do not understand!”
 
Ereinion touched his forehead to Lindir’s and looked deeply into the 
stunned eyes. “You have loved me for centuries, haven’t you?”
 
Lindir was helpless, looking into those large eyes and the truth slipped out. 
“Aye, I fell in love with you during those first weeks. You took such good 
care of me and you were always there for me. You held me through the 
night and you sang to me when the nightmares became overwhelming. 
You supported me – unconditionally – and by doing so, you won my 
heart.”
 
Ereinion buried his fingers in Lindir’s long tresses and studied the soft-
blue eyes. “I do not know when I fell in love with you, too, meleth.  I only 
know that I did. It happened slowly and unnoticed, but it wasn’t until a 
few weeks ago that I realized just how much I love you.” Ereinion’s 
fingertips traced Lindir’s bottom lip in a loving motion. “I have felt 
conflicted over this for some time. I was not certain I should tell you how I 
felt. I was fairly sure I knew you returned my feelings, but that dark deed, 
done by those Orcs, always hovers over our heads. I was not certain you 
were ready to take this step.”
 
“What changed your mind?” Lindir’s head still reeled from Ereinion’s 
admission, but he gladly accepted it. Just when he had thought he should 
resign himself to this unrequited love, Ereinion seemed to love him back 
after all. 
 
“Sauron is building his evil forces and we will have to march to war. 
There will be a battle and many will perish. I will be fighting in the 
frontline and I might be one of them.” Lindir tensed in his arms and 
Ereinion tightened his embrace in response. “We cannot close our eyes to 
that possibility, meleth. It was that realization that made me confront my 
feelings for you. Do I really want to waste the little time we might have 
left?” 
Lindir nodded in understanding. “Do you really think you might die?”
 
“It is a very real possibility, one which we should discuss.”
 
“Oh, why did I never learn how to wield a sword? I would have watched 
your back.”
A sad smile appeared on Ereinion’s face. “You would sacrifice yourself 
for me and I do not want that to happen.”
 
“Aye, I would lay down my life for you,” whispered Lindir, entranced. “I 
have loved you for so long. I never thought you would return my 
feelings.” Part of him couldn’t believe this was actually happening; he was 
afraid this might end up being just a dream. He held his breath, finding 
Ereinion was moving closer still. 
 
Ereinion rested one hand against the small of the white-haired Elf’s back 
and he drew in a deep breath before touching his lips to Lindir’s. His 
fingers undid the loose plait, and then tangled themselves in the white 
tresses. He draped a leg across Lindir’s thigh, trying to get closer still to 
his new lover. 
 
Lindir closed his eyes and his toes literally curled from the bliss he was 
experiencing. He wanted the moment to last forever! The kiss was 
everything he had hoped it to be – and more. He didn’t want for it to stop, 
but in the end, they had to pull apart in order to breathe. “I never thought 
you would ever kiss me,” he said, breathlessly. “I liked it.” 
 
Ereinion found the blush that spread across Lindir’s face absolutely 
endearing. He hadn’t thought Lindir was still able to look so vulnerable – 
so incredibly innocent. And he was drawn toward it like a moth to a flame.
 
“Ereinion? I am not complaining in the least, but this *is* unexpected.” 
Lindir loved being able to express his feelings for his beloved, but at the 
same time he felt confused and even worse – incredibly shy and insecure. 
 
Ereinion understood Lindir’s worries for he had anticipated them. 
Witnessing the foul deeds at the hands of those Orcs had made Lindir 
hesitant of making love. He had to take this step by step and by doing so, 
he would hopefully take away Lindir’s fear. “How about kissing and me 
holding you? How does that sounds?”
 
“Very inviting and very welcome.” Suddenly, he was very much aware of 
the fact that he hadn’t donned a night robe before going to bed, as 
Ereinion’s breath seemingly caressed his bare skin. It started a chain 
reaction in his groin, causing him to grow hard.
 
Lindir’s arousal pressed against him and its presence encouraged Ereinion, 
who instigated another kiss. Lindir wanted him, he was certain of that. 
Those Orcs hadn’t scarred him for life, for which he felt immensely 
grateful. “I love you, seron vell 4.” Until this very moment, Ereinion 
hadn’t realized just how much he had wanted to speak those words. He 
saw the same love he felt for Lindir reflected in the blue eyes – and, if 
possibly, even more love stared back at him from the depths of Lindir’s 
soul. 
 
“I never thought I would ever hear you say those words,” admitted Lindir 
in an emotional voice. “I thank the Valar for granting me your love.”
 
Ereinion’s thumb brushed against Lindir’s bottom lip. The Noldo cocked 
his head and whispered against Lindir’s lips, “I would like to go back to 
kissing you now. Are you agreeable to that?”
 
“Most agreeable.” Lindir parted his lips and teeth, inviting Ereinion to 
taste more of him. 
 
Ereinion accepted the invitation and claimed Lindir’s lips, gradually 
deepening the kiss. /We wasted so many years, meleth. I only hope the 
Valar will give us time to deepen our love. I do not want us to die 
untouched – unbound. I want to make you mine./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next days were filled with council meetings, reading reports on 
Sauron’s movements, on mustering an army and training rounds. Ereinion 
and Elrond explored their beginning friendship and fell into an easy 
routine around each other. On most evenings Elrond would join Lindir and 
Ereinion for dinner, but sometimes, the two elder Elves desired to dine 
alone and Elrond would go back to the High-King’s office to look through 
the latest reports.
 
Elrond had noticed the deepening love between the minstrel and the King, 
and although he had felt odd about seeing them in love at first, the feeling 
had quickly faded and had been replaced by happiness. Lindir and 
Ereinion were both blossoming under the other Elf’s attention and Elrond 
felt happy for them. 
 
“Elrond?” Ereinion arched an eyebrow. He had just addressed the half-Elf, 
but Elrond hadn’t answered him yet. “Elrond? Do you think we need to 
send out more patrols?”
 
Elrond shook himself from his musings and looked at the High-King. 
Ereinion’s dark eyes shone with love and the warrior’s braids the elder Elf 
usually wore had become lover’s braids instead. It was obvious that 
Ereinion had no intention of hiding his feelings for Lindir. “Aye, I agree; 
more patrols are needed.”
 
Ereinion rose from behind his desk and walked over to the window to take 
in the evening sky. Lindir was already awaiting him in their chambers and 
tonight, they would take the next step in exploring their romantic 
relationship. So far, they had limited themselves to kissing and snuggling. 
He was content to hold Lindir at night because he knew how much the 
elder Elf had suffered in the past and refused to pressure Lindir. His main 
battle tonight would be with Lindir’s memories. 
 
“I am worried, Elrond. The reports concerning Sauron’s army tell of an 
increasing number of Orcs.”
 
“Your army is ready to deal with them,” said Elrond in an attempt to 
reassure his King. “They are well-trained and well-equipped. The blades 
of their swords will cleave the enemy in two and bring death to Sauron’s 
army. We are strong, sire.” Elrond smiled, seeing Ereinion arch his 
eyebrow in disapproval. “I meant Ereinion, of course,” he said, correcting 
his mistake. The King didn’t like being addressed in a formal manner 
when it was just the two of them. “But we should begin formulating a plan 
of attack.”
 
“You expect the battle to start shortly?” Ereinion knew he had little time 
left. He had already given the order to be ready to march with little notice. 
 
“A few weeks at the maximum,” replied Elrond. “We might have to march 
even sooner than that.” An expression of regret appeared on Ereinion’s 
face and Elrond felt sympathy, understanding what was going on in the 
elder Elf’s head. “I advise against allowing Lindir to accompany us. He is 
not trained as a warrior and would make an easy target.”
 
“I know that.” Ereinion turned, looked Elrond in the eye, and said, “But he 
insists on accompanying me.”
 
“Then you should order him to stay behind.”
 
Ereinion actually chuckled. “You do not know Lindir very well if you 
think he will obey such an order.”
 
“But you are his King!” 
 
Ereinion decided to put his trust in Elrond and admitted the truth. “I am 
also his lover, Elrond. And as my lover, he is determined to be at my side 
when the battle comes.”
 
Elrond blushed, delicately. “Sire, I…”
 
Ereinion brushed his words off. “It is hardly a secret that Lindir and I are 
lovers, Elrond. You must have reached that conclusion shortly after your 
arrival.”
 
“I did,” admitted Elrond. “And I am rejoicing because my King is happy.”
 
“Happy,” mumbled Ereinion. How much time to be *happy* had he left? 
Resolutely, he walked toward the doorway. “Lindir and I won’t be joining 
you for dinner tonight,” he said, whilst opening the door. 
 
“I understand,” replied Elrond. Ereinion cast him a probing look and 
Elrond nodded once. He *really* understood – the lovers needed to spend 
some quality time together, as they didn’t have much time left to begin 
with. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion found Lindir in the bathroom, rubbing scented oil onto his skin. 
The minstrel had just taken a bath and the entire room was filled with the 
fragrance of lilies. “I missed having you close today. There were too many 
meetings, too many reports to read…” Ereinion walked toward Lindir, 
who gave him a radiant smile. 
 
Lindir had expected Ereinion to join him, but not this early. Not that he 
minded, but he had hoped to get a little more time to deal with his 
nervousness. For tonight, they would take the next step in their 
relationship. “The water is still warm… Do you want to take a bath too?”
 
“Will you wash my hair?” Ereinion was already in the process of 
removing his robes. He slipped out of his boots and stepped into the pool, 
sitting down on the stool carved into the stone. 
 
Lindir knelt close to Ereinion’s head and gathered the long, dark mane in 
his hands. “Tell me about today. Are their any new developments?” 
 
Ereinion sighed, enjoying the feel of Lindir’s nimble fingers massaging 
his scalp. Whilst updating his lover in an absent-minded tone, he focused 
on the sensations raging through his body at Lindir’s touch. He had grown 
hard and would have pulled Lindir into the water with him, but he told 
himself to be patient instead. 
 
A few minutes later, he rose and left the pool, sporting an erection. 
 
Ereinion’s aroused state furthered Lindir’s nervousness. He bent down to 
collect a towel and then dried his lover’s skin. “I am nervous,” he 
admitted, breathlessly.
 
“But you are also aroused.” Ereinion’s hands caressed his lover’s chest, 
very much aware of the hard flesh that now pressed against his thigh. “We 
have discussed this before… Do you still want to continue?”
 
Lindir moistened his dry lips and then nodded once. “Aye.” Ereinion 
pulled him close and Lindir brought his arms up behind his lover’s back. 
Their erections touched and rubbed together, sending waves of pleasure 
through their bodies. 
 
Ereinion smiled, pressed a kiss on Lindir’s throat, and guided his lover 
into the bedroom. “Sit down.” 
 
Lindir complied and sat down on the bed. Ereinion stood before him in his 
naked glory and his lover’s erection twitched eagerly. In the back of his 
mind the memories of that faithful attack tried to surface, but he fought 
them back. 
 
Ereinion slowly went down on his knees in front of Lindir and then 
nudged his lover’s knees apart. He moved closer and was now safely 
settled between his lover’s thighs. “Lie back.” He had thought this over 
very carefully, intent as he was on making Lindir’s first romantic 
experience most pleasurable. 
 
Trusting Ereinion to take good care of him, Lindir did. He lay down on his 
back and yelped softly, feeling Ereinion’s hands pull him even closer to 
the High-King.
 
Ereinion felt honored that Lindir trusted him and bent down to perform 
this task for his beloved. One hand stayed in place beneath his lover’s 
buttocks and he shifted Lindir until he had the best access to his lover’s 
throbbing arousal. He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the 
base of Lindir’s erection and stroked the hard flesh for the very first time, 
eliciting a moan from Lindir’s parted lips. 
 
Lindir managed to lift his head a little to find out Ereinion’s intentions, 
and his eyes widened, seeing his lover’s tongue swirl across the head of 
his erection. “Oh…” He fell back onto the mattress and his fingers buried 
themselves in the fabric of the silk sheet. 
 
Ereinion grinned, smugly, tasting his lover for the first time. Lindir bucked 
in response and more of his lover’s length slipped inside his mouth. New 
at this, Ereinion gulped, but managed to continue the oral caress without 
gagging. He wrapped his tongue around the tip of Lindir’s member and 
sucked ever so slightly. 
 
Lindir had closed his eyes in bliss and writhed on the bed. Not even in his 
wildest dreams had he thought it would feel like this! 
 
“Let go,” whispered Ereinion, briefly letting the wet flesh slip from his 
mouth. “Let go, Lindir. You trust me and I will take care of your needs.” 
For one moment, Lindir’s eyes opened, their gazes met, and he read his 
lover’s permission to do as he pleased in the dilated pupils. 
 
Lindir arched his back upon the return of that liquid heat, which now 
engulfed his arousal. Ereinion surprised him by swallowing him whole 
and increasing the pace of his strokes. His thoughts raced around finding 
release and when he felt a probing finger at the entrance to his body, he 
didn’t shy back from the intimate touch. “Please… allow me to come…”
 
“Not yet, meleth.” Ereinion had planned this seduction carefully and 
would not stray from his path. After lavishing the tip of Lindir’s shaft, he 
softly blew against it. Lindir bucked, hard, and Ereinion took that as the 
sign that his lover was close. He took in Lindir’s length again and when 
that first thrust came, he went with it. At the same time, he inserted more 
of his oiled digit. Soon, he had found the right rhythm and with every 
thrust Lindir performed, he penetrated his lover deeper until he finally 
brushed the spot he had been searching for.
 
Lindir’s eyes opened in rapture, his groin tightened, and he spent himself 
in Ereinion’s mouth. He pressed down on Ereinion’s finger and the 
sensation intensified tenfold. 
 
Ereinion groaned, swallowed his lover’s seed and quivered over his entire 
body. Feeling and seeing Lindir find release had made him come in turn. 
Riding out the waves of pleasure, he was forced to keep his digit inside 
Lindir’s convulsing passage, as there was no way he could pull out now 
that these contractions were keeping his finger firmly in place.
 
Eventually, Lindir came down from the orgasmic high and grew aware of 
the fact that Ereinion’s finger was still locked inside his body. Lifting his 
head, their gazes met. Ereinion and he had discussed all possibilities of 
making love, and his beloved *had* told him that he desired to take him. 
Until now, Lindir had been reluctant to consider that, remembering the 
pain his friends had been in when those Orcs had entered them. “It is 
nothing like I thought it would be.”
 
Ereinion smiled. “I am glad I pleased you.” He was about to remove his 
digit when he saw Lindir frown and then shake his head. “What is it, 
meleth?”
 
Lindir licked his lips. He knew how males made love, but until now he 
had been afraid to be the one on the receiving end. “Can we explore this 
further?”
 
“Now?” Ereinion frowned. “Do you not wish to rest?”
 
“I am not tired.” Lindir wiggled slightly and gasped, as Ereinion’s 
fingertip brushed the gland in his passage yet again. “Add more oil and 
then return with two fingers?” He felt glad they had discussed this in detail 
– he knew what to expect, and what to do in order for them to make love. 
 
“Are you certain?” Ereinion felt hesitant to comply. “I found release as 
well and there is no need for us to continue this now.” But he read the 
truth in Lindir’s eyes – his lover knew how very limited their time was. 
 
“Please… Do not make me beg.”
 
A lump of emotions had formed in Ereinion’s throat and he swallowed in 
an effort to rid himself of them. Lindir’s taste remained in his mouth and 
made him realize he *did* want more. 
 
Lindir groaned when Ereinion removed his finger. He watched with 
interest as his lover added more oil to the two digits. “Do it.” 
 
Ereinion, growing uncomfortable with the position he was in, crawled 
onto the bed. “Lindir, meleth, I need to know… Do you want us to bind 
or… only to explore a bit further?”
 
“I want us to bind,” said Lindir, finally realizing the truth. “I have wanted 
you for so long.”
 
Ereinion’s heart pounded madly in his chest. “Then trust me to make this 
good for you.”
 
Lindir nodded and smiled. The memories weren’t surfacing, weren’t 
causing him to fear making love to Ereinion. They had discussed positions 
and Ereinion had told him which one would be best the first time they 
made love. So, Lindir shifted onto his side and pulled his knees close to 
his chest. “Make me yours…” 
 
Ereinion spooned behind Lindir. He was eager to please his beloved and to 
bind himself to the white-haired Elf. Soon, war would be upon them, and 
he wanted to have known Lindir in this way – wanted to be bound to his 
lover. “Are you certain you want to do it in this way? You could go on 
top, meleth.” 
“I am too nervous to do that…” He wanted Ereinion to take care of him 
and to trust himself to his beloved. “Make me feel your love.” 
 
Spooning closer, Ereinion hoped he wouldn’t disappoint his lover. 
Fortunately, Lindir was relaxed after having reached orgasm, and 
Ereinion’s fingers easily glided inside. Remembering he had to stretch his 
lover, he made scissoring movements inside the loosening passage. “I love 
you so much, Lindir. I can no longer live without you. I need you at my 
side.” 
 
Lindir raised his head and looked at his lover from over his shoulder. 
Ereinion’s pupils had dilated with lust and the dark-haired Elf panted – the 
warm exhales of breath caressing the tip of his ear. “I love you too, 
Ereinion. I fell in love with you so long ago. You saved me back then. 
You kept me sane. You kept my heart open and warm.” 
 
Ereinion added more oil and returned with three fingers. Hearing Lindir 
groan at the intrusion, he placed butterfly kisses on his lover’s neck and 
throat. He continued to whisper words of love and undying dedication. 
“Lindir, are you happy?”
 
“I am,” replied Lindir, wondering about that question. Pressing back, 
Ereinion’s fingertips returned to massaging that spot inside him and his 
member grew aroused again. “Now,” he panted, hard. 
 
Ereinion felt the time was right as well. “Soon... We will be one soon, 
melethron5.”
 
Lindir groaned. Ereinion slowly pushed inside, and he was grateful for the 
slow pace, which allowed him to grow used to the bulk little by little. 
More kisses and endearments reached his ear and Lindir began to feel 
feverish on Ereinion’s love. 
 
Buried to the hilt inside Lindir’s body, Ereinion limited himself to drawing 
in only shallow breaths. “Are you in any discomfort?”
 
“Nay…” Lindir experimentally wiggled, gasping when he realized just 
how well-endowed his lover felt now that he was sheathed inside his body. 
He was about to take himself into hand and bring himself to orgasm when 
Ereinion wrapped his fingers around his flesh instead. 
 
“Let me do this.” Ereinion had dreamt of this moment and he wanted them 
to find release together.
 
Lindir complied and closed his eyes. His lover’s first thrust was shallow, 
but unexpected, and made him groan. Ereinion stroked his flesh in time 
with his thrusts and soon Lindir’s head was reeling. Abandoned to 
Ereinion’s thrusts, he surrendered to the ecstasy, which slowly pushed him 
toward orgasm.
 
Having found release only moments ago made Ereinion last longer. He 
suckled the skin of Lindir’s shoulder and began to set a more forceful 
rhythm. Lindir moaned, keenly, and the sound caused Ereinion’s blood to 
grow hotter. Afraid he might injure Lindir by setting this frantic pace, he 
grabbed hold of his lover and rolled onto his back.
 
Lindir’s eyes opened with a start, feeling Ereinion move unexpectedly and 
he found himself upright, straddling his lover’s waist with Ereinion on his 
back beneath him. Facing away from his lover, and unable to make eye 
contact, made Lindir feel confused. But then Ereinion’s voice came to 
him. 
 
“Ride, Lindir… Ride!” Ereinion placed his hands on Lindir’s hips and 
practically lifted the white-haired Elf off of his shaft. 
 
Finally realizing Ereinion’s intention, Lindir impaled himself – slowly, but 
determinedly. 
 
Ereinion panted hard at this point and thrust forcefully. Seeing Lindir 
move of his own accord fueled his lust and he buried his hands in the 
white mane, which caressed his skin every time Lindir’s buttocks met his 
lap. Skin moved against skin, sweat formed on their bodies and it was hard 
to tell who possessed whom.
 
Suddenly Lindir’s inner muscle contracted around him, making Ereinion 
scream out his lover’s name. 
 
Lindir’s eyes widened, finding release at the same time as his lover. Warm 
cream filled him from the inside and made him sway. 
 
Ereinion quickly steadied his lover and thrust upward one last time. 
 
Unable to remain upright any longer, Lindir collapsed. Falling backward, 
his back came to rest atop Ereinion’s chest and his lover quickly wrapped 
his arms around him. 
 
Ereinion held Lindir close, relishing the fact that he was still hard and thus 
able to stay inside his beloved a little longer. 
 
Lindir’s head spun and his body hummed with release. When Ereinion’s 
member finally softened and slipped from his body, he felt the loss 
sharply. 
 
Ereinion assisted Lindir in turning around, and now that they were face to 
face, they smiled at each other. 
 
Lindir wrapped arms and legs around his King and rested his chin on 
Ereinion’s chest so he could look at him. They were sticky all over, but 
that mattered little right now. “You made love to me.”
 
“And you made love to me.” Ereinion brushed a stray strand of white hair 
back behind Lindir’s pointed ear. “Will you allow me to make love to you 
again in the morning?”
 
Lindir chuckled – he actually felt liberated now that he had faced his fears 
and had allowed Ereinion to claim him. “Who says I will allow you to take 
me in the morning? Maybe I will want to take you instead? What do you 
say, sire?”
 
Ereinion’s eyes sparkled at hearing such a challenge. “You want to 
possess a King, master-minstrel?”
 
“Does my King want to be possessed?”
 
Oh, he would have grown hard again if he’d had the energy left, but he 
couldn’t. Lindir had worn him out. “Aye, your King wants to be 
possessed. Ravage me in the morning?”
 
“I will,” said Lindir, happily snuggling up to his beloved. “I will have my 
wicked way with you.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
One of the royal guards entered the King’s study, saluted, and addressed 
the half-Elf he found there. “My Lord Elrond?”
 
Elrond looked up from the report he was reading and gave the guard a 
curious look. He could tell by looking at the soldier’s expression that 
something unsettling had happened. Was it related to Sauron? “What has 
happened?” 
 
“Three visitors have unexpectedly arrived and request an audience with 
you, my Lord.”
 
/With me? Not with Ereinion?/ Elrond placed the report onto the desk and 
rose from his chair. “Who are these visitors?”
 
“Their names are Mithrandir, Círdan the Shipwright, and the third one… 
He introduced himself as Glorfindel of Gondolin.”
 
Elrond’s eyes narrowed. “The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower 
died when Gondolin fell. It cannot be him.”
 
“I did not believe this information at first either, but Mithrandir and 
Círdan confirmed his identity, my Lord.” 
 
Elrond was curious to meet all three of them. He had heard many tales 
concerning the legendary Shipwright and was curious to meet an Elf who 
had also known his parents. He had never met Mithrandir before and 
wondered what it would be like to stand before one of the Istari. And then 
there was Glorfindel of Gondolin. Could it really be true? Had Námo 
allowed the warrior to be reborn? Oh, they desperately needed 
experienced warriors to lead their army! 
 
The door opened and three figures entered. Elrond’s eyes eagerly took in 
their forms. Elrond easily identified Círdan by his beard and inclined his 
head in respect. The Shipwright reached him first and bowed from the 
waist. “There is no need to bow, Master Círdan. I am not the High-King.” 
 
Behind Círdan, Mithrandir chuckled, causing the gray mass of facial hair 
to move along. “But you are his Herald, are you not, Elrond Half-Elven?” 
Mithrandir was truly delighted to make Elrond’s acquaintance, knowing 
how important the half-Elf would prove to be for Middle-Earth’s survival. 
Probing Elrond’s mind, he felt the makings of a naturally gifted healer and 
cunning strategist. Aye, this was someone he would be able to count on in 
the future. Elrond would be there for him to lean on in his ongoing battle 
against the darkness. 
 
“I am.” Elrond’s gaze shifted from Mithrandir and came to rest on the 
radiant Elf standing next to the Istar. Never before had he seen such 
beauty in one of the Firstborn. Never before had he seen an Elf’s inner 
light shine so golden – so passionately. If he’d had any doubts about this 
Elf truly being Glorfindel of Gondolin they fled now. This was a seasoned 
warrior, who carried himself like a true Lord. “Welcome to Lindon, my 
Lords.”
 
Mithrandir’s laugher boomed through the study. “Elrond, you must learn 
to be less formal when amongst friends. Now, would you kindly send one 
of the servants to inform Ereinion of our arrival?” Mithrandir sat down on 
one of the comfortable chairs and eyed the half-Elf closely. Elrond had no 
idea how much he would help shape the future Elven realms – how 
important Imladris’ founding would be. /We have so much work to do – 
and such little time to do it in./
 
Elrond nodded and quickly instructed one of the servants to inform the 
High-King. His curiosity got the better of him and he advanced on Círdan. 
“It is an honor to meet you, Master Círdan.” 
 
Círdan gave Elrond a look filled with understanding. “I have much looked 
forward to meeting you as well, son of Eärendil.” He raised his right hand 
and touched Elrond’s face. “I knew your parents well, pen-neth. I held 
your father in my arms when he was just an Elfling and I see some family 
resemblance when I look at your face. You have your father’s features.”
 
That comment touched something deep inside Elrond – something he had 
kept locked away for centuries -- and it caused him to shed tears. 
 
Seeing the emotional upheaval reflected in the gray eyes, Círdan reacted 
by stroking the long, sable hair. He smiled, ruefully. “Your father was a 
noble soul and would have been proud of you.” He reached out because 
Elrond seemed to emotionally need him and he wrapped the half-Elf in a 
loose embrace. “You are much like him, Elrond.”
 
Mithrandir watched them with watering eyes. He sensed how important it 
was to Elrond to find someone who could tell him about his parents. The 
half-Elf had lost his parents too early in life.
 
Glorfindel, who stood near the doorway, felt confused. He had arrived 
back in Arda only a fortnight ago and was still growing used to his new 
life. He knew he was here to serve Elrond and he observed the Peredhel6 
carefully. Círdan was right – there was much of Eärendil in the half-Elf. 
He didn’t want to disturb the emotional moment, though so kept his 
distance. He felt strangely out of place.
 
Suddenly, the door at the back of the study opened and two Elves entered. 
Glorfindel didn’t know the dark-haired one, but deduced it had to be 
Ereinion – their High-King. But he *did* know the white-haired Elf 
walking beside him. “Lindir?”
 
Lindir came to a sudden stop, hardly believing what he was seeing was 
real. “Glorfindel? It cannot be you! You died!” Shaken to the core of his 
being, Lindir reached for Ereinion and his lover promptly steadied him. 
“Glorfindel?” 
 
Glorfindel ran toward Lindir, opened his arms, and caught his friend in 
them. Spinning Lindir around, he laughed, giggled, and eventually cried 
softly. “I thought I would never see you again!”
 
Lindir, realizing he had to be the strong one right now, pulled Glorfindel 
close. At the same time he sought out Ereinion’s eyes. “I will take 
Glorfindel to our rooms.” They needed privacy. There was so much to 
discuss! 
 
Ereinion nodded once. He was confused as well, finding Elrond and 
Círdan hugging, Mithrandir chuckling, and Glorfindel sweeping his lover 
off his feet. “That might be for the best. I will join you later.” First, he 
needed to make sense of what was happening here!
 
“Come with me, meldir.” Lindir gave Círdan a thankful look now, as the 
Shipwright had brought Glorfindel here, and he then steered his old friend 
out of the study. “You must tell me what happened. Why did Námo let 
you go?” 
 
Glorfindel felt dazed and allowed Lindir to guide him to the High-King’s 
private chambers. The white-haired Elf sat him down on the bed and then 
seated himself beside him. “Lindir… I…” Overwhelmed, he was at a loss 
for words and caressed Lindir’s face instead. 
 
Lindir smiled, brilliantly. “I understand. We will take this slow. Let’s start 
with the beginning. Let’s start with Gondolin. What happened after you 
left the City?”
 
“Oh, Lindir, I am so sorry we forgot about you. We should have come for 
you and taken you into safety!” Glorfindel shivered, finally beginning to 
realize that Lindir was alive and whole. The Elf beside him was warm and 
*real*. Lindir wasn’t an illusion! “You survived.  I thank the Valar that 
they kept you safe.  I would never have forgiven myself had you died.” 
 
Lindir decided to keep quiet about the Orcs’ attack. Something told him 
that Glorfindel’s burden was already heavy enough without him adding to 
it. “Let me look at you, will you?” Lindir placed his hands on either side 
of Glorfindel’s face. “It really is you, my dear friend.”
 
“Námo let me go so I could serve Elrond and fight Sauron in the 
upcoming battle.” Glorfindel drank in the sight Lindir presented. 
 
“Now tell me, Glorfindel. What happened?” Lindir wondered about the 
nervous twitch that had appeared in the corner of Glorfindel’s mouth. 
 
“Idril, Tuor and their son managed to flee and so did most of the refugees. 
I died, taking out a Balrog and entered the Halls of Waiting.” Glorfindel 
smiled, now that Lindir’s hands had found his, wrapping his fingers 
around them. 
 
Lindir’s voice trembled, phrasing his next question. “Erestor must have 
been devastated, witnessing your death.”
 
“Erestor?” Glorfindel frowned. “Who is Erestor?” Who was Lindir talking 
about?
 
Lindir’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?” Glorfindel couldn’t have 
forgotten about Erestor! “He is your bonded mate!”
 
“I do not know anyone named Erestor.” Deep lines appeared on his brow. 
“I am certain I never heard of him.”
 
Alarmed, Lindir stared into Glorfindel’s eyes. There was no recognition 
there – only questions. “How can this be? Erestor is your beloved. You 
bonded shortly after you found him beneath that weeping willow! You 
must remember the one you love!”
 
But Glorfindel shook his head. “Lindir, did you suffer a head injury 
recently?”
 
“I…” Speechless, Lindir stared at Glorfindel in distress. “You cannot have 
forgotten about Erestor! He came for me and took me into safety. I 
survived because of him!”
 
“I am sorry, Lindir, but I do not know who you are talking about. I know 
of no Elf called Erestor.”
 
“I cannot believe this.” At a loss, Lindir wondered what to do. “Glorfindel, 
there must be something wrong with your memory!”
 
“Rest assured; there is nothing wrong with my memory. I remember you. I 
remember Ecthelion. I remember the Fall of Gondolin. I remember 
composing songs with you and Ecthelion. There is no one called Erestor in 
my past. You must be mistaken.” 
 
Lindir’s hands trembled when they reached for Glorfindel’s face. 
“Glorfindel, you are bound in love. You love Erestor.”
 
“Let it go,” said Glorfindel, growing annoyed with his friend’s insistence 
that this Erestor existed. “You are mistaken.” 
 
Realizing he wasn’t getting through to Glorfindel, Lindir did the only 
thing he could do. He let the matter rest – for now.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Does anyone care to tell me what is happening?” Ereinion gave 
Mithrandir a stern look. “Why don’t you try?”
 
Mithrandir’s amused and twinkling eyes met the High-King’s. “We are 
your reinforcements. You do know you must march shortly?”
 
Ereinion released a deep sigh. This morning had turned out all wrong. 
Only a few hours ago he had fallen asleep, holding Lindir in his arms and 
looking forward to making love in the morning. Then, a servant had 
banged on the door, announcing he had visitors. /I wanted to come full 
circle this morning. I wanted Lindir to be making love to me right at this 
moment./ 
 
“Ereinion?” Círdan released Elrond from the embrace, and after smiling at 
the half-Elf, headed for his foster-son. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” He 
opened his arms and wrapped them around Ereinion when the younger Elf 
leaned in to the embrace. 
 
“I am always glad to see you. You know that.” Ereinion returned the 
embrace, happy to have Círdan at his side once more.
 
“Is it our timing, then?” Círdan cocked his head. Was that a passion mark 
on Ereinion’s throat? “Did we disturb something?” Oh, he hoped so! 
 
Ereinion coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Maybe.”
 
Círdan cast a curious look at Elrond and then sought out Ereinion’s eyes 
again. “Is this something you need to tell me in private?”
 
“Elrond knows.” Ereinion glanced nervously at Mithrandir, for he didn’t 
know how the Istar would react to this news. “Lindir and I admitted our 
love for each other. We bonded last night.”
 
“Congratulations are in order then!” Círdan hugged Ereinion even tighter. 
“I always hoped this would happen. Lindir has loved you for so long.”
 
“You knew?” Ereinion’s eyes widened in surprise.
 
“I have known about his feelings since the beginning, aye. I hoped you 
would one day return his feelings, but you seemed to look upon him as a 
brother and not as a lover.” Círdan pressed a fatherly kiss onto Ereinion’s 
brow. “You have my blessing, my son.”
 
Elrond wondered if he should depart now that such intimate details were 
discussed, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. The Shipwright could tell 
him many stories about his parents!
 
Mithrandir, sensing Elrond felt lost, rose from his chair and advanced on 
the half-Elf. Once he was close enough to touch, he rested a hand on 
Elrond’s shoulder. “Your King will need you at his side in the upcoming 
years, Elrond.”
 
“I will be there to support him in whatever way I can.” Elrond’s voice was 
steadfast, and his eyes sought out Mithrandir’s, which showed how ancient 
the Istar truly was. A sense of peace came over him, looking into those old 
eyes, and he found himself smiling at the Wizard. “I thought you would be 
intimidating.”
 
“And I am not?” Mithrandir chuckled. “Do not let my appearance fool 
you.”
 
“Nay, that is not it. It is something else – something deeper, more 
elemental.”
 
“We are kindred souls, Elrond Half-Elven. You will realize that in time.” 
Mithrandir then turned and looked Ereinion in the eye. “We must march 
tomorrow.”
 
“That quickly?” Ereinion hadn’t expected that, but his troops were ready.
 
“We will fight at your side, my son,” said Círdan. “You won’t face Sauron 
alone.”
 
For that, Ereinion felt grateful. But at the same time he wished he had 
realized his feelings for Lindir sooner. They had wasted so much precious 
time!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir avoided addressing Erestor for now and listened to Glorfindel, who 
told him about his escape from Gondolin, his death, and the time spent in 
the Halls of Waiting. Everything made sense to him, except for one thing 
– Glorfindel erasing Erestor from his life. 
 
The question was why. 
 
Was Erestor still alive? Or had he died? But no, that wouldn’t make any 
sense, for then Glorfindel would have come across Erestor in the Halls of 
Waiting. /What made you erase Erestor from your life? What happened 
after you died? And, how did Erestor transport me to the Isle of Balar?/ 
Even after so long, he still wondered about that. 
 
Had Erestor possessed powers they hadn’t known about? Erestor had 
always been secretive and had never fully opened up to them. /Maybe I 
should ask Mithrandir. He might know if Erestor was a Wizard./ What 
other explanation could there be?
 
“I am so glad to be reunited with you, Lindir. You are a good friend and 
we share a past together.” Glorfindel smiled, but couldn’t help wonder 
why Lindir seemed this distressed. He was alive again and had returned to 
Arda! And yet, Lindir remained upset. “We can keep Ecthelion’s memory 
alive – honor and remember him.”
 
“I loved Ecthelion like he was my brother,” admitted Lindir, after so many 
centuries. “And I want to keep his memory alive as well. But there are 
others who died and we should remember those as well.” Lindir raised a 
hand and stroked Glorfindel’s golden hair. In doing so, the locket around 
Glorfindel’s neck caught his attention. He had seen it before. /Erestor 
gifted it to him and it carries a lock of his dark hair inside./ Maybe he 
could use it to spark Glorfindel’s memory. 
 
“What is this, meldir?”
 
“I asked myself the same thing,” said Glorfindel, removing the locket and 
opening it. “It must be a strand of Ecthelion’s hair. I know of no other Elf 
who possesses such dark hair. I will always cherish this last reminder, 
which my best friend left me.”
 
Lindir shook his head. “Ecthelion’s hair was not raven, Glorfindel. Aye, it 
was dark, but not *that* black.”
 
Glorfindel frowned. “If it does not belong to Ecthelion, who *does* it 
belong to?”
 
Lindir placed his hand atop of Glorfindel’s. “This is the proof that Erestor 
existed.”
 
“Erestor again… Lindir, I do not know any Erestor!” 
 
“I do not know what happened to your memory, Glorfindel, to cause you 
to forget the one you loved. But trust me. This strand of hair belonged to 
Erestor.” 
 
“I do trust you,” whispered Glorfindel in a thoughtful voice. “But if what 
you say is true, then why don’t I remember him?”
 
“I do not know the answer to that question, Glorfindel.” Lindir waited for 
the azure eyes to meet his and he smiled, encouragingly. “Do not lose 
courage. Something tells me Erestor is still alive – and he might be 
waiting for you. Just remember his name, Glorfindel. And remember you 
love him.”
 
Glorfindel gave Lindir a look filled with doubt. “I will try.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You will be comfortable here.” Lindir had arranged for guest quarters for 
his old friend and now studied Glorfindel, whose movements were 
awkward and uncertain. “You will like Ereinion, meldir. I promise you.”
 
“Lindir, I wanted to ask you something – about Ereinion and you. You 
share rooms, don’t you?”
 
Lindir smiled, knowing Glorfindel would eventually breech this subject. 
“Aye, we do.”
 
“May I inquire to why that is?” Glorfindel tried for diplomacy, not 
wanting to offend Lindir in any way. Lindir had never courted another Elf 
during their time in Gondolin and he wasn’t completely certain that he had 
reached the correct conclusion. 
 
Lindir sighed, realizing he would have to confide in Glorfindel. He walked 
away from Glorfindel, who stood near the bed and came to a halt in front 
of the window. Looking outside, his mind traveled back in time – back to 
that fateful day of the attack. “I was in the gardens when the Orcs invaded 
the city and was left with no escape. My fellow minstrels were there with 
me – we had been composing, you see.”
 
Glorfindel frowned; that wasn’t what he had expected Lindir to say. 
Seeing the sudden tension in the shoulders, he sensed an unpleasant 
revelation would follow and he walked toward Lindir. He came to a 
standstill behind the white-haired Elf and placed his hand on his friend’s 
shoulder in an effort to show his support. He remained silent, waiting for 
what was to come.
 
“The Orcs easily captured us, and one by one, they first violated and then 
murdered my friends.” Lindir’s voice hitched. “They made me watch.”
 
Glorfindel’s eyes had widened in shock. “What?” In those dark hours, he 
hadn’t given Lindir’s safety much thought, assuming the minstrel was 
safe. 
 
“They were about to rape me when Erestor appeared and saved me.”
 
Erestor… There was that name again. Glorfindel still didn’t remember an 
Elf called Erestor, but as Lindir insisted such an Elf insisted, he couldn’t 
really protest. Not when this Elf had apparently saved Lindir’s life. 
 
“He brought me to the Isle of Balar, where Círdan lived… and Ereinion. 
They aided me during my recovery. It is safe to say that Ereinion was the 
reason I did not give up on myself.” Lindir forced a weak smile onto his 
face and turned around. Looking into Glorfindel’s distressed eyes, he said, 
“Ereinion was my best friend for many years before we became lovers. 
This has been a very recent development.”
 
“A High-King,” said Glorfindel in a light tone, as he realized that Lindir 
didn’t want to dwell on that horrid incident in the past. “You have 
excellent taste, meldir.” 
 
Lindir smiled in return. “He is truly a remarkable person, Glorfindel. You 
will like him once you get to know him. He is nothing like Turgon. 
Ereinion cares about his people and…” His voice trailed off and misery 
radiated from his eyes. “And now he will leave to fight Sauron. He might 
die, Glorfindel.”
 
As a warrior, Glorfindel knew the risks of the battlefield well. “I will 
cover his back, Lindir. I will try to keep him alive – for you.”
 
“Thank you, Glorfindel. Thank you for being such a good friend.” Lindir 
pulled the blond Elf into a hug and held on tight. “I cannot lose him, you 
know. I would not survive losing the only love I have ever known.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lost in thought, Lindir undid the braids he had put in that morning. 
Ereinion’s meeting with Mithrandir had lasted longer than expected and he 
had used the opportunity to take a long, hot bath. Making love last night 
had been a revelation and had made him think. When they had awoken in 
each other’s arms, Ereinion had whispered his desire to be taken in turn 
and Lindir was trying to decide on the best way to come full circle with 
his lover – his High-King.
 
Ereinion’s life was a pressured one. Many looked to Ereinion for 
leadership and guidance and it was only in the confines of their rooms that 
the High-King could stop being the leader so many needed. He could 
become Ereinion and let go. 
 
Maybe there lay the key to the way he should make love to his beloved. 
Wouldn’t Ereinion welcome the opportunity to *let go*? To trust himself 
to him instead of having to be the strong one? Wouldn’t Ereinion welcome 
the chance to step away from his duty and responsibilities?
 
/I would have to be the one in control. I would have to be the one directing 
our actions./ Could he do that? Had he sufficiently healed to be that person 
for Ereinion?
 
Still naked – as he hadn’t bothered to dress again after his bath – Lindir 
studied himself in the mirror. He tried seeing himself the way Ereinion 
saw him. His eyes were clear and free of haunting memories. Last night 
had put his worries and fears to rest and he had realized there would never 
be any pain between them, just love and pleasure. 
 
“Meleth?” Ereinion, looking tired, entered their rooms and stood 
indecisive near the doorway. Lindir looked lovely like that – naked and 
with loose hair – but he still worried about unintentionally spooking his 
lover. 
 
Lindir decided to take control of his life – and his love – in that instant. 
“Ereinion, melethron, come here.” He extended his arms, walked toward 
his lover, and pulled Ereinion into a tight embrace. Ereinion relaxed 
against him and the normally so strong shoulders sagged forward. Those 
things told him how weary Ereinion truly was. “Come to bed with me, 
melethen7. I desire to take your worries away for a while.”
 
Ereinion’s throat swelled with emotion. How long had he hoped to hear 
those words? He didn’t remember. He went willingly when Lindir guided 
him to their bed. Agile fingers quickly removed his leggings and shirt, and 
once he was naked, those surprisingly strong hands pushed him onto his 
back. The mattress dipped beneath his weight and Ereinion looked upon 
his lover in rapture, finding Lindir suddenly straddling his waist. “I love 
you so much and tomorrow, I must march for—”
 
Lindir placed a finger over his lips, thusly stopping him from speaking. 
“Do not mention tomorrow tonight, seron vell. For tonight, only we exist. 
Nothing else exists tonight. Do you understand?”
 
Ereinion nodded and the movement caused Lindir’s fingers to caress his 
lips. “I understand,” he breathed against his lover’s fingers. “Will you 
make me forget then?” Forget that so much responsibility rested upon his 
shoulders, which weren’t as strong as many thought. After all, he was only 
an Elf.
 
Lindir nodded, understanding what was going on in his lover’s mind. “I 
will.” His long, white hair tumbled forward and the ends teasingly 
caressed Ereinion’s chest. “Trust yourself to me tonight, Ereinion. I will 
take care of you. Let go of your worries, fears and doubts. I am here for 
you.”
 
“Take me,” whispered Ereinion, finally admitting his need. “I have waited 
so long to hear you say those words.”
 
“I will, meleth. I will take you.” But not yet. First, Lindir wanted to 
explore every inch of Ereinion’s body. He wanted to lock his beloved’s 
scent in his mind, so he would never forget how Ereinion smelled. He 
would never forget how his lover tasted when he claimed those soft lips. 
His hands roamed his beloved’s body, exploring intimately and already 
eliciting needy moans from Ereinion’s lips. 
 
Squirming in need beneath Lindir’s caresses and kisses, Ereinion wanted 
nothing more than to welcome Lindir to his body. But his lover continued 
to tease him, and blatantly ignored the growing need between his legs. 
“Please, meleth…”
 
“Open your eyes,” demanded Lindir, who wanted to see the lust and need 
in them. The dark eyes opened – they had turned black and tiny stars 
seemed to sparkle in their depths. He read Ereinion’s need there – the true 
need Ereinion maybe didn’t dare to voice. “Roll onto your stomach, 
meleth.” A groan, coming from the back of Ereinion’s throat, told Lindir 
that he had said the right thing. He briefly moved off of his beloved to 
obtain a vial filled with rose-scented oil, and watched, entranced how 
Ereinion willingly rolled onto his stomach. The High-King pushed deeper 
into the mattress, trying to cause more friction to stimulate his own 
engorged member. “Don’t do that,” said Lindir in a firm tone and Ereinion 
complied instantly. “I want to be the one to bring you to orgasm.” 
 
Ereinion moaned, almost pitifully, into the pillow, feeling Lindir’s weight 
settling atop of him. His white-haired lover straddled his lower back and 
oiled fingers settled on his back and neck to massage the worst tension 
knots, which had been building for days. He relaxed beneath the freeing 
massage and just when he was beginning to think Lindir had reconsidered 
and didn’t want to go any further than this, his lover shifted his weight. 
Strong hands – stronger than he remembered – gathered his wrists and 
brought them together above his head. “What are you doing?” His words 
came out muffled, as he was face down, pressed into the pillow.
 
Lindir loosely tied a ribbon, which he normally used to tie back his hair, 
around his lover’s wrists. “Let me attend to your needs, meleth. Your 
*every* need. You can let go now. You do not have to take care of me. 
Let go of your responsibilities and simply enjoy this.”
 
Ereinion groaned. He hadn’t thought Lindir knew him *that* well, but 
apparently his lover did. He wanted to let go for the tiniest of moments. 
Ereinion had never wanted to be king in the first place, but he had never 
shunned away from his duties. But being the High-King of the Noldor was 
taxing and burdened him. The promise of being able to let go tonight 
sounded sweet and he eagerly accepted it. 
 
Lindir had tied Ereinion’s wrists loosely; making certain his beloved could 
free his hands, should the dark-haired Elf desire so. “Accept what I am 
giving you, melethen.” 
 
“I will – most eagerly.” Ereinion’s body already hummed with excitement 
and his erection throbbed heavily, almost making him break away from his 
bonds to stroke himself to completion. 
 
Surprised at his own actions, Lindir realized he liked doing this for 
Ereinion. Taking on the responsibility for their love making tonight gave 
his lover a chance to truly let go. He separated the firm buttocks and let an 
oiled finger tease his lover’s opening. Ereinion rubbed his lower body 
against the mattress and this time, he allowed it. 
 
Ereinion briefly wondered why Lindir wasn’t telling him to stop, but then 
his desire to find release took over and he rubbed himself harder against 
the mattress. His orgasm was building, starting deep in his groin and he 
yelped, helplessly, when Lindir expertly knew when to slide that first 
finger inside. That penetration caused him to reach orgasm. 
 
Lindir smiled, sweetly. He reached for the vial of oil again, coated his 
erection with the liquid and then positioned himself for penetration. 
Resting his body atop of Ereinion’s, he slid inside inch by inch. 
 
Ereinion’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Lindir to choose *that* 
moment to sheathe himself, but as he was still perfectly relaxed from 
climaxing only a moment earlier, he was loose and open, enabling his 
lover to bury himself to the hilt. 
 
Lindir placed his hands on either side of Ereinion’s head to gain leverage 
so he could add the necessary force to his thrusts, which would start once 
Ereinion had caught his breath. “Did you hope it would be like this?” 
 
Lindir’s whispered words made Ereinion’s blood boil. “I never knew… 
but I hoped…” Lindir’s weight was pressing him down and the fact that 
his wrists were still tied, gave him the impression of being completely 
helpless. Although a part of him knew he could reverse their position 
within seconds, he chose to remain like this and trust himself to his lover. 
For a few rare moments he didn’t have to be the High-King – he could be 
Ereinion. 
 
Lindir swept the dark mane aside and licked the skin at the nape of his 
lover’s neck. Ereinion squirmed beneath him, and encouraged, he bit 
softly. “You are mine now, meleth.”
 
“Yours…” Ereinion had finally caught his breath again, but he didn’t get 
much time to regroup as Lindir’s first thrust pushed him even deeper into 
the mattress. He went with the motion, enjoying being possessed in such a 
way. “Harder…”
 
Lindir had half expected that request and obliged his lover, but he always 
kept himself in check, making certain he wasn’t hurting Ereinion 
accidentally. 
 
Ereinion wailed beneath the continuing thrusts and surrendered to the hard 
rhythm Lindir was setting at his request. He’d had erotic dreams about 
Lindir possessing him, but he hadn’t though the minstrel would be capable 
of making love to him in such a way. He had always thought that the Orc 
attack would make Lindir unwilling to do this for him. But he had been 
wrong! So wrong! 
 
Growing hard once more, Ereinion bucked, trying to encourage Lindir 
further. Sharp teeth shallowly dipped beneath the skin and a particular 
ferocious thrust sent him over the edge. 
 
Lindir tried to uphold the fast pace, but then Ereinion’s inner muscle 
contracted around him and his movements stilled. He collapsed atop of his 
lover, burying himself deeply inside Ereinion’s body and surrendered to 
the divine experience. His orgasm was ripped from him and he trembled 
fiercely, spending himself inside his lover’s body. “Oh, melethron!” 
 
Ereinion’s eyes had closed in bliss, and once his body had begun 
recovering, he freed his hands of the restraining ribbon. Turning his head 
to the side, he managed to look over this shoulder at Lindir. “I do not 
know how you knew I needed that, but…” 
 
Lindir didn’t let him finish. “That *was* what you needed, wasn’t it?”
 
“I had hoped… wished, but…”
 
“Don’t speak,” said Lindir, whose hands now stroked his lover’s flanks. 
“Let us enjoy this moment.”
 
“And never forget,” whispered Ereinion, his voice and eyes alight with 
love for Lindir. “Let us always cherish this moment in time.” For it would 
pass and cruel reality would replace the sweet memories. War was upon 
them and moments of making love would become rare – maybe even 
impossible. But he would always remember these last two nights. No one 
could take those memories away from him and he would hold onto them 
when he faced their enemy.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Even though war had been upon them for seven years, Elrond was capable 
of admiring real beauty. Imladris *was* beautiful to his eyes. When he 
had first seen the valley, he had fallen in love with it. And now that they 
were leaving the refuge to face Sauron one last time, he hoped in his heart 
that he would be allowed to return here one day.
 
Events had occurred in a maddening pace. Imladris had become their 
refuge and here, Elendil, Isildur, Círdan, Glorfindel, Lindir and Ereinion 
had gathered to formulate their final plan of attack. 
 
Their army had surrounded Sauron’s fortress and the Evil One now had no 
other choice than to face the Alliance of Elves and Men. Elrond prayed 
that the war would come to an end shortly. Too many Elves and Men had 
already fallen in this battle. 
 
King Oropher, leading his own host of badly equipped Elves, had ridden 
away, and the headstrong Elf was set on doing this his way. Elrond 
worried for him and his soldiers, knowing they stood only a small chance 
of surviving this battle. If Oropher had accepted Ereinion’s command their 
chance of survival would have increased, but the king hadn’t – thusly 
endangering his warriors.
 
Elrond’s eyes sought and found Lindir, who rode beside Ereinion. During 
these last seven years, the minstrel had become an accomplished warrior. 
When the minstrel had first approached him with the request to train him, 
Elrond had been inclined to reject Lindir. But seeing Lindir thrust himself 
into the battle when Ereinion’s back hadn’t been covered had made him 
accept. Glorfindel and he had trained Lindir, bringing out the warrior in 
the minstrel. 
 
His eyes scanned the group further and came to rest upon the humans. 
Elendil and Isildur were determined to bring down Sauron, but he worried 
about the Men’s true intentions. Isildur especially worried him. There was 
something in the Man’s eyes that made him wary. But his influence on the 
Men in the army was limited and he knew fate would take its course.
 
“We are all worried,” said Círdan, who had steered his mare closer to 
Elrond’s stallion. During these last few years, Elrond and he had become 
close friends. As Ereinion spent every possible moment with Lindir, and 
Oropher kept to himself, Elrond had sought out Círdan’s company. Their 
friendship had deepened and they found comfort in each other’s presence. 
“I worry about the Men.”
 
“So do I.” Círdan gave Elrond a look filled with understanding. “But I 
worry the most for Ereinion.”
 
“And Lindir,” added Elrond. 
 
“Aye, and Lindir. Years of fighting Sauron has left Ereinion exhausted 
and Lindir is trying too hard to be Ereinion’s protector. This war has taken 
a huge toll on both of them.”
 
“I will protect them until my dying breath,” vowed Elrond. 
 
“We all feel that way,” said Círdan. “Elrond, tomorrow we will reach 
Barad-Dûr, where we will face Sauron himself. Much depends on the 
outcome of that battle. It will seal our fate.”
 
“I will be at Ereinion’s side to cover his back,” said Elrond in a 
determined voice.
 
“And so will I.” Glorfindel had overheard their conversation and his horse 
fell into step with Elrond’s. He was deeply troubled as well. At first, he 
had mostly been worried about Lindir. But Lindir had surprised him by 
cleaving the attacking Orcs in two. Maybe Lindir had finally found a way 
to channel the pain and terror, which he had carried with him for so long. 
No, Lindir was no longer his prime concern. That was Ereinion now. Their 
High-King had pushed himself ruthlessly and exhaustion had caught up 
with him –exhaustion, which could prove fatal in this last encounter.
 
“We will stay close to Ereinion and cover his back when he faces Sauron,” 
decided Elrond, feeling worried as well. Arda’s fate would be decided 
tomorrow when they made their final stance and he could only pray to the 
Valar that they would live to see another day. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“My heart bleeds for Lindir,” said Erestor, standing at his father’s side and 
overlooking the building masses near Barad-Dûr. Sauron was still hiding 
in his fortress, but he would emerge tomorrow to lead what was left of his 
army. 
 
“Ereinion’s death is part of Eru’s song. You know we cannot meddle, but 
we can comfort the hurting ones.” Námo felt burdened, knowing how 
many of these Elves – still alive now – would shortly enter his Halls. 
 
“Maybe Glorfindel can be there for Lindir and pull him through.” Erestor 
had already located his former lover and his soul grew heavy with love 
and longing. Glorfindel radiated strength and the hero would encourage 
many Elves to fight valiantly. /I still love him./
 
/My son, you know that he does not remember you. Even if you were to 
appear before him, he would not know you./ Námo curled his fatherly love 
around his son’s being. /You must concentrate on tomorrow, Erestor. I 
will need your help when the first souls begin to arrive. You know what I 
want you to do./
 
Erestor nodded once. /I will look after Ereinion’s soul and comfort him./ 
When his father had asked him this favor, he had instantly accepted, 
knowing how lost Ereinion would feel – how cold – without his lover 
close. It was the only thing he could do for Ereinion – comfort him – and 
indirectly for Lindir.
 
But his heart, soul and love would be with Glorfindel in the impending 
battle.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“We will face him tomorrow, meleth. Please, do not put yourself in any 
danger.” Ereinion held Lindir close, thankful for the privacy their tent 
gave them. They had made love, fully realizing this might be their last 
time together, and had now curled around each other in the effort to soothe 
and comfort. “I want you safe.”
 
“Do not ask me to stay behind! I will fight at your side! Haven’t I proved 
my worth yet?”
 
“Oh, meleth!” Ereinion tightened his hold on his lover further, almost 
crushing Lindir against him. “You have proven your worth time and time 
again! But I do not want you to die tomorrow! I worked so hard to ensure 
peace and safety for our people – for you – that it would grieve me to learn 
you were among the fallen. You have to keep my dream alive, Lindir.”
 
Lindir’s light-blue eyes shed tears, although he had been determined not to 
cry. “But… what if you die and I live?”
 
Ereinion placed a kiss on Lindir’s hair and tucked his lover’s head beneath 
his chin. “In that case I want you to go to Imladris and to carry on our 
dream of a peaceful world. If Elrond and Glorfindel survive, they will go 
with you.”
 
Lindir frowned, finding Vilya missing from his beloved’s hand. He vividly 
remembered the day Círdan had given the Ring of Power to Ereinion. 
 
Seeing Lindir’s questioning look, Ereinion explained. “I gave it to Elrond. 
I cannot be wearing it when I face Sauron. Imagine that he would win and 
take possession of Vilya as well. His power would continue to grow. I 
cannot take that chance.”
 
Lindir nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t have taken possession of the 
ring had Ereinion offered it to him. He didn’t want anything to do with the 
magical item. A chilling realization set in. “You expect to die tomorrow.”
 
Ereinion sighed, deeply troubled. “I have had these dreams for a long 
time.”
 
“Nightmares!” Lindir freed himself of Ereinion’s hold so he could raise 
his head and look his lover in the eye. 
 
“Aye, nightmares. I have dreamt of my death.”
 
This wasn’t new to Lindir. “But you have to keep the faith! You have to 
believe you will survive!”
 
Ereinion gave his lover a rueful look. “I will fight, meleth. I will do 
anything I can to return to you.” But Ereinion knew it wouldn’t be enough. 
“Hold me? Hold me until the morning comes?”
 
Lindir acted by burying Ereinion in a tight hug. He held his lover close 
until daybreak, afraid this was the last time he would be holding him.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel joined Elendil, Isildur, Círdan and Elrond, who had gathered 
close to the High-King’s tent. He was saddened, having learned of 
Oropher’s tragic death. The King had moved too early and the majority of 
his soldiers had died with him. 
 
In a moment, Ereinion would join them and give the signal to attack. All 
warriors were fully armed and Glorfindel’s heart missed a beat, seeing 
Lindir emerge from the tent first. The minstrel wore light armor, like they 
all did, and grim determination showed on his face. Lindir had aged in a 
way Glorfindel had seldom seen amongst the Firstborn. The pain and 
suffering Lindir had witnessed lay in the eyes – eyes, which appeared as 
ancient as Mithrandir’s. It wasn’t fair, decided Glorfindel, that someone 
like Lindir, who lived for song and poetry, had seen such horrid scenes.
 
“Lindir?” Glorfindel went to stand beside his old friend and placed an 
armored hand on Lindir’s shoulder. Their blue eyes met and they 
understood each other’s fears without having to speak them aloud. “I will 
stay close to him.”
 
Lindir nodded. “So will I.” He would rather die himself than see Ereinion 
dead.
 
The High-King was the last to join them. His helm, mail and shield were 
overlaid with silver and set with a device of white stars. As it shone like a 
star from afar, it served as a beacon for his army -- the warriors always 
knew where their High-King’s position was, which was in the front line, 
most of the time. In Ereinion’s hand was Aeglos, the spear with which he 
intended to end Sauron’s life. Seeing the King ready for battle and intent 
on destroying the enemy filled Elves and Men alike with courage and 
strength. 
 
Realizing only too well what kind of effect he had on his warriors, 
Ereinion straightened his shoulders, lifted his spear, and raised his voice in 
an ancient battle song. Glorfindel was the first to recognize it, and soon a 
golden voice joined that of Ereinion. 
 
Energized by hearing their High-King’s voice and that of Glorfindel 
joining in, the Elven army raised their voices as one, announcing their 
presence and intentions to Sauron. After seven years of waging war 
against Sauron they hoped their moment of victory had finally arrived.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
He had seen this moment before – he had seen his own death in his dreams 
countless times – and Ereinion knew his final moment had arrived when 
he faced Sauron. The One Ring sat majestically on Sauron’s finger; its 
very presence mocking him. 
 
Ereinion raised Aeglos and charged. Behind him, he heard Lindir cry out 
in shock and a dash of golden hair appeared to his right, but Glorfindel 
was too late. Ereinion died instantly, slew by Sauron’s might. 
 
The body that fell to the earth was lifeless and his fëa8 had already 
departed. Looking about in shock, he realized he no longer possessed a 
body. /Am I dead?/ How could that have happened so quickly?
 
/You are in a state of shock, meldir./ Erestor had stayed close to the High-
King, awaiting this very moment. When he had seen Glorfindel rush 
forward to defend Ereinion, he had been worried that the golden warrior 
might meet his death after all, but Glorfindel had fallen back to take care 
of Lindir, who had collapsed after witnessing Ereinion’s death. 
 
Erestor’s heart went out to Lindir, knowing exactly how his friend felt, for 
he had felt the same way when that Balrog had taken Glorfindel down into 
the abyss with him. But there was nothing he could do for Lindir – 
however, he could help Ereinion. /Come with me, meldir./ Carefully, he 
rebuilt Ereinion’s body image and then he extended his hand to wrap his 
fingers around Ereinion’s. 
 
Ereinion shed tears, seeing Glorfindel carry Lindir away from the battle 
field, whilst the fight continued. /I am no longer a part of this./ He had 
done his best to lead his men to victory, but he had failed.
 
/You did not fail, Ereinion. The Alliance of Elves and Men will be 
victorious. You did well, but now the time has come to follow me to the 
Halls of Waiting./ 
 
Ereinion wondered about this gentle warmth that was wrapping itself 
around him and he studied the dark-clad Elf in front of him. He then 
realized a part of the truth. /You are no Elf./
 
/I one of the Valar, Ereinion. I am here to comfort you and to escort you to 
my father’s Halls./
 
The screams and scenes of fighting dimmed around Ereinion as he took 
hold of Erestor’s hand. Accepting the Vala’s presence, he left his life on 
Arda behind him. /Who are you?/
 
/I am called Erestor and I serve my father in the Halls of Waiting./ Erestor 
sensed recognition in Ereinion’s mind. /Lindir has told you about me./
 
/He did, but he never mentioned you were Námo’s son./ Ereinion’s sharp 
mind had quickly supplied him with the missing answers. /You saved him 
by using your powers./
 
/I did. Lindir was a good friend./ Erestor had taken Ereinion’s soul to his 
father’s Halls and smiled ruefully at the dead High-King. /I will always 
look over Lindir and you will be able to see him by watching my mother’s 
weavings./
 
/He will survive?/
 
/Aye, he will survive. Lindir will be quite lost for a long time, but Elrond 
and Glorfindel will support him like you did. Lindir will recover. Let that 
knowledge comfort you./ 
 
More new souls appeared in the Halls and Námo hurried to see them to 
their family members, who would look after them. 
 
/Glorfindel…/ Ereinion realized something else as well. /Lindir mentioned 
you were Glorfindel’s bonded mate. How can that be when you are one of 
the Valar?/
 
Erestor looked at Ereinion with pain in his eyes. /We will be here for a 
long time and I will share my story with you, but not now. Many more 
Elven souls will arrive before the battle is over and Sauron defeated./ 
 
Ereinion suddenly found himself amidst several souls, which radiated 
welcome and curiosity. He was about to lose himself in their presence, but 
then remembered Lindir. 
 
/Take heart, meldir,/ said Erestor. /I will look after him. You have a friend 
in me./ His father’s request for help came and Erestor knew it was time to 
leave Ereinion. /Your father and your family have waited a long time to 
finally welcome you. Be with them, and find comfort in their presence./
 
Finally Ereinion realized why these souls looked and felt so familiar. One 
soul stepped toward him and the eyes welcomed him home without the 
need for words. /Fingon… Adar…/ 
 
Fingon embraced his son, and sensing Ereinion’s emotional turmoil, held 
him close.


Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings; Ereinion/Lindir and Elrond/Celebrían.
Overall rating: NC-17 
Summary: Lindir, Elrond and Glorfindel settle down in Imladris, where 
Lindir slowly recovers after losing Ereinion. Elrond falls in love with 
Celebrían and Námo’s meddling continues. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s.  
Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so consider yourself warned!
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 5
 
 
Life had ceased to have meaning for Lindir. It didn’t matter if his eyes 
were open or closed, for the only scene he saw was Sauron slaying 
Ereinion. The moment his beloved had died, Lindir’s heart had stopped 
beating as well, but moments later it had started again, damning him to a 
life without his lover. 
 
Although the Alliance of Elves and Men proved victorious there was little 
joy in the camps of the Firstborn or Secondborn; they had lost their 
beloved leaders. They also mourned the loss, but no one felt it as keenly as 
Lindir did. In his entranced state he barely noticed their victory. Glorfindel 
told him of it during one of his visits, but Lindir didn’t listen. All he could 
think of was losing the love of his life. Ereinion had been everything to 
him. The sun and the moon, the sky, the green of the earth – his star. And 
now he felt lost on this sea of emotions. There was no guiding star – he 
was alone. 
 
Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan took turns sitting with their unresponsive 
friend. They met and discussed the minstrel’s fate. Although Círdan 
offered to take care of Lindir, it was decided that the minstrel would travel 
to Imladris with Elrond and Glorfindel instead. Apparently, before his 
death, Ereinion had taken Elrond aside and had asked him to take Lindir to 
the valley. 
 
Círdan entered the tent – which used to be Ereinion’s but now only housed 
Lindir – and seated himself on the side of the bed. Lindir worried him. He 
recalled the first time he had seen Lindir, after the Orcs had attacked him, 
and although Lindir had seemed lost back then as well, this empty stare 
worried him more. It was as if Lindir’s inner light had almost gone out. 
Only a tiny flame remained and kept him from fading. 
 
“Lindir, you must find the strength and courage to go on. Ereinion would 
have wanted that.” Círdan didn’t expect an answer and continued now that 
Lindir remained quiet. “You are a survivor, meldir1. You lived through 
many horrific events and you will find a way to deal with the loss. I will 
always be there for you, should you need me.” He curled his long, 
calloused fingers around Lindir’s slender ones. “Elrond is a naturally 
gifted healer and he will contribute to your recovery. That is probably why 
Ereinion wanted you to go to Imladris with him, instead of with me.”
 
Círdan stroked the fingers, which lay motionless in the safety of his large 
warrior’s hand. “I will come with you to Imladris and I will stay for a 
while, but in the end, I must depart for the Gray Havens.” Looking into the 
glazed-over blue eyes, he leaned in closer and pushed his arms beneath 
Lindir’s back. Gently, he pulled his friend close and hugged him. “You are 
like a son to me and now that I've lost Ereinion, I…” His voice failed him. 
His heart mourned losing Ereinion as well, but he couldn’t give in to his 
pain – not when Lindir needed him to be the strong one. “I already miss 
him, Lindir. But more importantly, I miss you!”
 
Lindir gave no sign that he had heard – let alone, understood – Círdan’s 
words.
 
All the Shipwright could do was to hold Lindir tight and hope the minstrel 
would eventually return to them.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“May I sit with him?” Glorfindel entered the tent and his watering eyes 
released their tears, finding Círdan rocking Lindir. 
 
Círdan lowered Lindir onto the camp bed, trying to make things as 
comfortable as possible for Lindir. “He has not spoken since Ereinion 
died.” Círdan rose from the bed and made way for Glorfindel, who seated 
himself cross-legged on the floor. “He is in shock.”
 
“Such a state can last a long time.” Glorfindel gathered Lindir’s hand in 
his, not surprised to notice that the limb felt cold. Lindir was closer to 
death than life right now. “We can only hope and pray that he will pull 
through.” 
 
“Elrond wishes to leave for Imladris tomorrow. I hope Lindir is strong 
enough to make that journey.”
 
“Elrond knows what he is doing,” said Glorfindel. The half-Elf had long 
ago gained his trust in these matters. “He does what is best for Lindir and 
staying here, so close to the battlefield where the stench of death and 
blood still oozes in pools is not the best place for Lindir to be. The sooner 
we leave the better.” 
 
Círdan walked around the bed, until he stood near the doorway. He could 
now look Glorfindel in the eye and his gaze drifted from the golden-haired 
warrior to Lindir’s ghost-like form. “He was not this ill when I took care 
of him after he had fled Gondolin.”
 
Glorfindel looked up and gave Círdan a probing glance. He had heard that 
Círdan had nursed Lindir back to health, but the two Elves hadn’t 
discussed the past yet. “Thank you for looking after him. He did not 
deserve what happened to him in Gondolin.”
 
“We should be thanking Erestor instead. It was he, who brought Lindir to 
safety.” Círdan heard Glorfindel’s sharp intake of breath and wondered 
about the expression in the sapphire-like eyes.
 
“You met Erestor?” Glorfindel was eager to learn more of this mysterious 
Elf to whom he apparently was bound. 
 
“Not directly. I heard his voice, but I never saw him – just a bright light. I 
did not know who he was until Lindir told me his name.”
 
/Odd, very odd,/ thought Glorfindel. Nothing about Erestor made sense! 
 
Círdan saw the confusion in Glorfindel’s eyes and said, “Lindir once told 
me that he believes Erestor is still alive. If the two are really bound and 
destined to be with each other, he will find you.”
 
Glorfindel remained quiet and searched Lindir’s face instead, slowly 
understanding that his friend had the answers, which he needed so badly.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Standing in the corner of the tent and invisible to Elven eyes, Erestor 
flinched. He had never considered the fact that together, Círdan and Lindir 
had enough information to deduce who he was. What would happen once 
Lindir woke and Glorfindel got a chance to ask his questions? Why hadn’t 
his father taken away Lindir and Círdan’s memories when he had erased 
Glorfindel’s? Now his former lover might find out the truth.
 
Having Glorfindel this close made his soul ache. The Elf was so close and 
yet impossibly far away. He walked toward Glorfindel, who was softly 
talking to Lindir, telling their friend that he would recover in Imladris. He 
wanted to touch Glorfindel – to run his hands down the silken hair. 
Closing his eyes, he remembered how good it had felt when Glorfindel 
had sunk into him, connecting their bodies and making them one. Oh, how 
he missed that! How he missed making love with Glorfindel!
 
“Do not torment yourself in such a way, my son.” Vairë appeared at 
Erestor’s side and placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. “You knew the 
consequences when you left the Halls.”
 
“I never knew I would hurt this badly.” Erestor’s eyes locked with his 
mother’s. “I want them to be happy. Lindir and Glorfindel. They deserve 
that.”
 
“Even without your presence in their lives?”
 
“If that is the price I need to pay I will pay it.” Erestor’s hand passed 
through Glorfindel, when he tried to stroke the long, golden mane. “I love 
him still. I will always love him.”
 
“Come home with me, Erestor, and let Glorfindel comfort Lindir.” Vairë 
brushed raven strands away from her son’s face. “Lindir will recover and 
the three of them will be happy in Imladris.” But in her son’s eyes, she 
read the desire to be part of that. Erestor still longed to be reunited with 
Glorfindel and Lindir – even though he knew that Glorfindel would 
probably reject him and shun him. 
 
“I cannot live without him,” said Erestor eventually, aching to feel 
Glorfindel in his arms again. 
 
“You must.” Vairë folded an arm around her son’s shoulder and used her 
powers to take them back to the Halls of Waiting. Seeing the pain in her 
son’s eyes was more than she could take and she was determined to speak 
to her husband about this matter. If necessary, she would take this to 
Manwë himself.   
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion had settled down in the Halls. Although he missed Lindir 
constantly, he understood that he had to find a way to deal with the loss. 
His family had welcomed him and had kept him company. He found some 
measure of comfort in their presence, but he still longed for Lindir. In the 
end, he had gone to the room he had been assigned and had sat down. 
 
Lost in thought, he was staring into the fire, reminiscing on his death. At 
first, he didn’t hear the soft footfalls in the corridor, but then, they 
registered. “Who goes there?”
 
“No one. Pay me no attention.”
 
The soft voice, filled with immense sorrow, tore at his soul. In spite of his 
pain and misery, Ereinion tore his gaze away from the fire and tried to 
pierce the darkness in the corridor. “You do not have to leave on my 
accord.”
 
“I must… It is my destiny to walk these corridors alone for all eternity.” 
 
Ereinion’s eyes narrowed, trying to discern the other Elf’s features, but 
failed. The darkness in the corridor grew deeper and then, the stranger was 
gone. 
 
Puzzled, Ereinion frowned. But then his longing for Lindir returned and 
made his eyes water. “I miss you so much!” 
 
“Sire?” 
 
Disturbed a second time, Ereinion’s imaginary body drew in a deep 
breath. “Who is it?”
 
“My name is Ecthelion. May I enter?” 
 
“Ecthelion?” For a moment, his misery left him alone and curiosity 
appeared. “Are you the Lord of the Fountain?” He marveled at the beauty 
of the dark-haired Elf who now stepped inside. Wearing blue leggings and 
an azure shirt, the dark-haired Elf made an almost magical impression on 
him. “I am honored that you would seek me out.”
 
“I remember how it was for me when I arrived here after Gondolin fell. I 
felt lost… And I did not leave behind a lover.” Ecthelion stepped into the 
room and sat down on the bed. “It is amazing, the way Námo has 
succeeded in mimicking our former lives. Although we are all dead, he 
still consoles us by allowing us to remain the way we were.”
 
“You have been here for a long time.” Ereinion shifted on his chair. “I 
have heard many tales and songs, which describe your valor that day.” 
 
A rueful smile appeared on Ecthelion’s face. “My action saved Tuor’s life 
and his survival was important to me.” 
 
“It *was* important.” Ereinion considered mentioning Elrond, but he 
wasn’t certain if Ecthelion knew much about the half-Elf. “I do not know 
what to make of these Halls,” he admitted eventually. “I never thought that 
being dead would be like this.”
 
“Each soul reacts in that way, sire…”
 
“Call me Ereinion – please.”
 
Ecthelion nodded. Although he marveled about the differences between 
Turgon and Ereinion he still knew how to obey a direct order, even if that 
meant addressing the High-King in such an informal way. “There is a 
certain measure of contentment to be found here.”
 
“I do not think I ever will feel content again, Ecthelion. I miss my 
beloved.”  
 
/At least you had a beloved! That is more than I ever had!/ But Ecthelion 
didn’t speak the spiteful words, knowing better than to give into this 
negative feeling. “I pray you will seek out our company instead of 
isolating yourself in your rooms. Most of the Elf-Lords and former Kings 
gather in one of the main Halls and we would be honored to welcome you 
there.” Bringing Ereinion this invitation had been his main reason for 
visiting, but there was something else.
 
“I will go with you, Ecthelion. I do not desire to be alone any more.” 
Isolating himself from the other Elves would make this existence only 
more painful now that Lindir was out of his reach forever. He rose from 
his chair and joined Ecthelion when the Elf-Lord headed for the doorway. 
“Is there something else you wanted to say?” He saw curiosity and 
indecision in Ecthelion’s eyes.
 
“How does Glorfindel fare?” asked Ecthelion in a trembling voice.
 
“Ah, of course. I should have known.” Ereinion managed a weak smile. 
“Glorfindel was a good friend, an excellent warrior and became one of my 
main advisors over the years. I was honored to fight at his side.”
 
Ecthelion managed an equally weak smile. “I was relieved to notice that 
he survived. Visiting the Halls once should be enough – even for 
Glorfindel.”
 
“I left instructions for Elrond. He will take Glorfindel and… and Lindir,” 
his voice trembled, speaking his lover’s name, “He will take them to 
Imladris. They will know peace there and Glorfindel will doubtlessly 
become Imladris’ champion and her Captain.” Ereinion raised a hand and 
squeezed Ecthelion’s shoulder, still amazed at how real the Elf-Lord felt 
beneath his touch. It was like he was touching one of the living!
 
Ecthelion felt proud, hearing Glorfindel had done well, but that didn’t take 
away the fact that he still missed his best friend.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“He is fit enough to travel,” decreed Elrond, still worried for Lindir’s well-
being. But leaving for Imladris now was the sensible thing to do. The 
initial shock he had suffered after Ereinion’s death had dimmed, and once 
Elrond had realized that most Elves looked to him for guidance, he had 
gathered his strength to be the leader they needed him to be – for now.
 
“I will ride with him,” announced Glorfindel, who felt protective of 
Lindir. Also, he felt it was his *right* to be closest to Lindir because of 
the past they shared. 
 
Círdan understood Glorfindel’s need to have Lindir close and nodded his 
approval. “We will travel at a slow speed. It does not matter if we arrive in 
Imladris early or a week late.”
 
Elrond concurred. “I have sent a messenger ahead. When we arrive in 
Imladris, they will be ready for us. Everyone who is coming with us will 
find a home there, if they so desire.”
 
That night, Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan gathered in Lindir’s tent to 
confer softly and to keep their hurting friend company.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion wished he had never come upon this tapestry for it showed him 
how much Lindir was suffering because of his death. “I never wanted for 
any of this to happen.”
 
Erestor, having kept a close eye on Ereinion, walked up to the dead High-
King. “Elrond is taking him to Imladris. Lindir will slowly recover there. 
He needs time. He only lost you days ago.”
 
“How did you deal with losing Glorfindel?” Ereinion realized something 
was wrong with his question to moment he put it to Erestor. 
 
“I lost my mind,” admitted Erestor. “I went insane with rage.”
 
“But, you are Námo’s son. Glorfindel and you were reunited inside these 
Halls.”
 
Erestor briefly closed his eyes. “I promised to share my history with you.”
 
“Aye, you did,” said Ereinion, nodding once. “Now seems like a good 
time.”
 
“I will tell you, then.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion’s head spun with everything Erestor had told him. “Glorfindel 
never forgave you? And your father erased his memory?” That explained 
why Glorfindel had insisted Erestor didn’t exist and that Lindir must be 
mistaken. 
 
“I want him to be happy.” Erestor slid his hands into the sleeves of his 
dark robes. They had reached Vairë’s latest tapestry, showing them the 
party on their way to Imladris. Lindir was seated in front of Glorfindel and 
the golden-haired Elf’s stallion trotted carefully to not disturb the hurting 
Elf. 
 
“How much longer will Lindir’s shock last?” Ereinion raised a hand and 
touched the tapestry. The next moment, he pulled back, embittered that his 
fingertips only encountered fabric and not Lindir himself. 
 
“A few more weeks at least… Maybe even several months. It is hard to 
say when he will feel strong enough to face the loss. But until that moment 
he is in the best hands. Elrond, Glorfindel and Círdan will take care of 
him.”
 
“I told him to carry on and to make my dream reality. I always dreamt of a 
peaceful existence, tucked away in a valley as lovely as Imladris, where I 
would not have to be the King. Where I could just be me.”
 
“Lindir knows that you want him to live on,” said Erestor, thoughtfully. 
“Give him time.”
 
“Do I have a choice?” asked Ereinion in a bitter voice. 
 
“Nay, you do not.” Erestor averted his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if he 
had done the right thing in rescuing Lindir that fateful day – hadn’t he just 
prolonged his friend’s suffering?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“We are home.” A gigantic burden seemed to fall away from his shoulders 
now that they had arrived in Imladris. Elrond felt drained; waging war for 
seven years had exhausted him, and taking care of Lindir had tired him 
further. But now they had finally arrived and all the weary warriors could 
rest.
 
“This is truly the Last Homely House,” whispered Círdan, who smiled, 
intercepting Elrond’s pleased look. “You have an Elven realm here, which 
will always be unrivaled in beauty and peace.”
 
“I look forward to that,” replied Elrond, dismounting. He walked over to 
Glorfindel’s stallion and accepted Lindir into his arms. Cradling Lindir 
against his chest, Elrond waited for Círdan and Glorfindel to dismount, 
and then the Elves entered their new home. “I have made arrangements for 
Lindir,” explained Elrond. “He has rooms adjourning to mine so I can 
keep an eye on him at all times.” 
 
Glorfindel felt wearier with every step he took. These last few weeks on 
the road had caused much of his zest for life to dim. Seeing Lindir’s 
misery had made him feel depressed in turn. He longed to lie down and 
find oblivion in sleep. A hand suddenly squeezed his shoulder and he 
looked into Círdan’s encouraging eyes. 
 
“Things will change for the better and Lindir will improve,” said the 
Shipwright. 
 
A young Elf appeared to their right and bowed respectfully. He was 
dressed in simple brown robes and long, auburn hair framed a handsome 
and intelligent face. The dark eyes sparkled with life energy. “Welcome 
home, my Lord Elrond.”
 
Elrond smiled at the Elf and said, “Melpomaen, please show Círdan and 
Glorfindel to their rooms. I will take care of this one personally.”
 
“As you wish, my Lord.” Melpomaen’s gaze shifted from Elrond and 
Lindir to the two legendary Elves on his left. “Master Círdan, Lord 
Glorfindel, please follow me.”
 
Círdan smiled in a fatherly manner. “Lead on, dearest Melpomaen.” 
Círdan pulled Glorfindel along, realizing the golden-haired Elf would 
prefer to stay with Lindir, but Elrond needed time alone with Lindir to 
work his healing powers. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
His rooms were luxurious and an immense change from the tents he had 
lived in these last seven years. Glorfindel appreciated his new, lavish 
rooms, but he felt edgy, like the war wasn’t over yet. 
 
After Círdan and Melpomaen had left, he had taken a long, hot bath. He 
had brushed and braided his hair and then dressed in clean leggings and 
shirt. He had been in the progress of girding on his sword when he 
realized that it was no longer necessary that he was armed. The enemy had 
been defeated and peace had settled on the valley. 
 
Growing nervous and feeling cornered in his rooms Glorfindel left them to 
explore the Last Homely House, as Círdan had christened it. He easily 
located the barracks where his soldiers had settled down and mingled with 
them, talking with them. It didn’t take him long to realize he *did* have a 
place here. They had named him their new Captain – their commander – 
and were ready to see to the protection of Imladris. Glorfindel was eager 
to comply.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Círdan on the other hand, enjoyed his luxurious surroundings. After 
washing off the dirt and grime of the road and changing into clean clothes, 
he followed his nose, which led him to the kitchen. 
 
After eating his fill and thanking the cook, Círdan also set out to explore. 
He had been here before, but back then they had been focused on the 
upcoming war. Now, he took his time exploring Imladris’ hidden beauties. 
 
In the end, he left the rose garden and headed back to the house, hoping to 
find Elrond there.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“This will do.” Elrond gave his chief healer a thankful nod. “Leave me 
alone with him now.” 
 
The healer left and Elrond seated himself on the side of the bed Lindir was 
resting on. They had attended to Lindir’s needs, bathed, and dressed the 
catatonic Elf in a light robe. Lindir now rested on a comfortable bed, but 
the skin remained ashen and the eyes empty. “I cannot allow you to 
continue like this, meldir. Ereinion would want you to live, not fade.”
 
He drew in a deep breath and focused on Lindir. Elrond pulled Lindir into 
his arms and rested his chin on the white hair. Gathering his healing 
energy, he forced it out of his mind and into Lindir’s.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The scream that echoed through Imladris froze the blood in Círdan’s 
veins. The Shipwright ran in the direction it was coming from, flung the 
door open, and stared at Lindir, who was pummeling Elrond. The half-Elf 
had crumbled on the bed and Lindir’s fists descended onto the collapsed 
form time and time again. Once he had shaken off his stupor, Círdan 
rushed forward. “Lindir! Stop!”
 
Glorfindel, who had also been alerted by the scream, marched into the 
room. His heart missed a beat, finding Lindir burying his fists in Elrond’s 
back. Whilst Círdan pulled Lindir away from Elrond, Glorfindel folded his 
arms around the half-Elf and gently lowered him onto the floor. 
 
Círdan didn’t get the chance to ask what had happened as Lindir tried to 
hit him as well. Gathering Lindir’s wrists in one hand, he forced the white-
haired Elf to stop his actions. “Lindir!” 
 
Lindir’s white hair surrounded his head like a halo, the blue eyes had 
turned frost-bitten and the narrow lips had lost most of the blood that 
usually gave them their ruby color. “He is dead!” screamed Lindir, almost 
losing his voice in the process. “Ereinion is dead! I watched him die!”
 
Círdan managed to lock gazes with Lindir. “I know that, Lindir. And I am 
here to help you deal with his death. Stop trying to hit me, meldir. You are 
amongst friends.” 
 
Círdan’s calm tone registered with Lindir and the minstrel sagged against 
the Shipwright. He didn’t know what had happened just now. One 
moment he had been asleep, dreaming of Ereinion and holding him close 
in his arms, and the next, the loss had become unbearable. He had never 
wanted to wake up again in the first place!
 
Now that Lindir had calmed down, Círdan’s attention shifted to 
Glorfindel, who was supporting Elrond. The half-Elf was breathing 
heavily and the eyes rolled back in their sockets. “He used his healing 
energy to wake Lindir,” realized Círdan, chastising himself for not 
realizing earlier what Elrond planned to do. /He should have asked me to 
assist him and not do this on his own!/ 
 
“How does Elrond fare?” How exhausted was the half-Elf?
 
“He just lost consciousness!” Glorfindel exchanged a look with Círdan 
and knew what he had to do. “Can you look after Lindir? Elrond needs…” 
What did the half-Elf need?
 
“Take Elrond to his room and put him to bed. Sit with him until he regains 
awareness. I will take care of Lindir.” Seeing Glorfindel’s worried 
expression, he added, “Trust me. I have taken care of Lindir before. I 
know what to do.”
 
Glorfindel put his trust in Círdan and lifted the half-Elf in his arms. He 
was surprised to find out just how little Elrond weighed. Had Elrond lost 
so much weight during these last few weeks? 
 
He carried Elrond into the adjourning room and placed the Peredhel2 on 
the bed. Pulling up the blankets, he tucked them around the unconscious 
half-Elf. Glorfindel sat down and gathered one of Elrond’s hands between 
his. He hadn’t known Elrond possessed such healing powers! “You 
exhausted yourself by helping him wake up.” He hadn’t thought Elrond 
could do such a thing and the half-Elf had just risen even higher in his 
admiration. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Lindir, I share your pain, but…” 
 
“You cannot possibly know the pain I am in!” Lindir hissed the words and 
broke away from Círdan’s supportive grip. He collapsed on the bed and 
curled up in a fetal position. “You have no idea how much pain I feel!”
 
Círdan drew in a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. He 
stretched beside Lindir, and once he had caught the frosty glance, he 
nodded once. “Aye, you are right. I did not love Ereinion the way you did. 
He was not my bonded mate. But Ereinion was precious to me as well, 
Lindir. He was the son I never had. I raised him – I taught him everything 
he knew. You have lost your beloved, but I have lost my son. Do not 
belittle my loss.”
 
The glare in Lindir’s eyes broke. “Oh, I never wanted… I did not think… 
Círdan, I…” 
 
Círdan got exactly the reaction he had aimed for. Lindir wrapped his arms 
around him in turn and hugged him close. “I share your pain, Lindir. Do 
not shut me out. Let me in. Together, we can carry on. We can support 
each other. You are not alone, Lindir. You never will be.” 
 
Círdan’s words caused the emotional dam inside Lindir to break and all 
the pain and grief came pouring out – together with a river of tears, shed 
by two pair of eyes. Both Elves mourned losing a loved one.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion returned to his room after spending time in the main Hall with 
the other Elf-Lords and former Kings. Even though their company 
distracted him, it didn’t offer him any comfort. At times, he preferred to 
seek out the privacy of his room, where he would lay down on his bed, 
close his eyes, and dream of times gone by. He wasn’t certain if the ability 
to dream was a curse or a blessing, as he always dreamt of Lindir. 
 
Sometimes, when he was alone and everything around him quiet, he 
would hear those hesitant footfalls in the corridor again. Once or twice, he 
had checked to see if someone was there, but the corridor had been 
shrouded in darkness, making it impossible for him to see clearly. 
 
Those mysterious footfalls now sounded again, and this time, Ereinion 
was prepared. He grabbed the candle holder and walked toward the 
doorway. Not entering the corridor yet, he called out, “Who goes there?”
 
“No one, do not pay me any attention. I do not exist.” 
 
Like before, the sad, almost lost tone in that voice gripped his heart, and 
although he no longer possessed a beating heart, it still felt like it just 
missed a beat. When the footfalls sounded the clearest, Ereinion flung the 
door open and entered the corridor, illuminating his surroundings with the 
candle. A breeze, coming out of nowhere, extinguished the flame, but not 
before he had seen a pair of tormented dark eyes. Darkness clothed the Elf 
stumbling down the corridor and in the next moment, the stranger was 
gone. 
 
“He is right, Ereinion. You should not pay him any attention.” 
 
Ereinion spun around, surprised to find Námo standing behind him. “Who 
is that Elf?”
 
“He no longer has a name, Ereinion. He is unworthy of your attention. The 
next time you hear him, ignore him. Do not call out to him.”
 
“I do not understand.” Ereinion studied Námo closely.  
 
“No understanding is needed on your part, only obedience.” Námo began 
walking down the corridor, leaving Ereinion alone. The first stage of his 
plan had been completed. The High-King’s curiosity had been piqued.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Elrond’s eyes, which had closed when he had fainted, slowly opened 
again. Lindir’s reaction had taken him by surprise, and in his weakened 
state, he had been unable to deflect those first, violent blows. 
 
“How do you fare, Elrond?” Glorfindel supported the half-Elf, finding that 
Elrond was trying to push himself into a sitting position. 
 
“My head is spinning.” And his back ached – there where Lindir’s fists 
had connected with flesh. 
 
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Glorfindel looked at Elrond in a new 
light. Apart from being a cunning warrior and strategist, the half-Elf was 
also a true healer. 
 
“Aye, you can.” Elrond lifted a shaky arm and pointed at a crystal flask on 
the nightstand. “Hand me that.”
 
Glorfindel reached for the flask, opened it and poured the liquid into a 
glass, which he then handed the half-Elf. “What is it?”
 
“Miruvor. My healers make it for me.” With shaky hands, Elrond curled 
his fingers around the glass. He sipped the miruvor, and the potent drink 
warmed him from the inside, strengthening him. “How fares Lindir?”
 
“Círdan is with him.” It had quieted down in the adjourning room, which 
Glorfindel interpreted as a good sign. Color began to return to Elrond’s 
face and the tremors lessened. “Does using your healing powers always 
exhaust you?”
 
“Aye, it does. That is why I seldom used them in the past. I could not 
afford to be weakened in times of war.” Elrond leaned heavily against 
Glorfindel, gathering his strength. “I should return to Lindir’s side now.”
 
“You should not,” said Glorfindel in a soft voice. “Círdan has everything 
under control and you should rest.” 
 
“I had to wake him. You understand that, don’t you, meldir?” 
 
“I do. I believe you did the right thing in forcing Lindir to return to us.” 
Glorfindel continued to support Elrond who felt warm against him. Oh, 
sweet Valar, it had been so long since he had held someone in his arms – 
feeling someone’s body heat! 
 
“Círdan knows Lindir well, Elrond. He knows how to deal with Lindir’s 
pain. He has done so before.”
 
“He has?” Sleepily, Elrond’s eyes began to close. 
 
“Aye, but we should not talk about something so troubling when you need 
to rest.”  Glorfindel shifted further onto the bed and rested his back against 
the head board. “I assume it is normal for you to go to sleep after using 
your healing energy?”
 
“It is… but normally… I do not… faint…” 
 
“Bringing Lindir back to us must have been more tiring than you thought.” 
Glorfindel held Elrond close and the half-Elf’s breathing slowed down, 
indicating his charge had fallen into a restful sleep. Moving away would 
wake Elrond and he didn’t want that, so Glorfindel stayed in place, 
holding him.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir felt numb and empty once he had shed all those tears, which he had 
kept inside these last few weeks. He felt weak and had no desire to move 
at all. Círdan’s arms were still wrapped around him and his friend’s 
presence soothed him. /I am so sorry that I forgot that you are hurting too. 
I did not want to belittle your pain. I know how much you loved him./ 
Speaking the words however, as an apology, took too much of his strength 
and he remained quiet instead.
 
Círdan continued to hug Lindir close. “I am so relieved that you woke and 
returned to us.” 
 
“I did not want… to wake. I… was… dreaming of… of him.”
 
“But you cannot run away from reality, Lindir. Ereinion would not have 
wanted you to do that. He wanted you to live and fulfill his dreams. A 
dream, which has come alive in this valley.” 
 
Lindir lifted tired eyes and met Círdan’s probing glance. “I do not want… 
to continue… without him. Life is… meaningless… without him… at my 
side.”
 
“It is not meaningless. As long as you live, Ereinion will remain alive in 
your heart, thoughts and soul. Honor him. Keep his memory alive and live 
the life he wanted you to live.”
 
“But how… do I find… the strength… to carry on?” Lindir slowly freed 
himself of Círdan’s embrace and sat upright. He pulled his knees close to 
his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I know that… he wanted 
me to honor him… by living my life to the fullest… but it seems so 
empty… without him.”
 
Círdan wondered if Lindir’s calm should worry him. Sitting upright as 
well, he probed Lindir’s eyes. “You are much stronger than you think. 
Ereinion knew that. The strength you need is already inside you. You only 
need to let it in.” Círdan moved a little closer and stared deeply into 
Lindir’s eyes. “The real question is; do you want to move on? Can you 
accept that you are a survivor?” 
 
“Looks like… I will find out.”
 
Círdan finally let a genuine smile come through. With those words, Lindir 
had admitted the willingness to try – the white-haired Elf’s need to drown 
in self-pity had lessened. “You are strong and a survivor. Ereinion 
believed in you for a reason, did he not?”
 
“How can I be anything less? I will honor him by living up to his 
expectations, but I won’t find any happiness in this lonely life.”
 
Círdan allowed the bitter comment, knowing he had won the first fight in 
the long war for Lindir’s recovery.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“We are agreed, then,” said Manwë, after conversing with Námo and 
Vairë.  
 
“Aye.” Námo exchanged a pleased glance with his wife. “Eru’s will shall 
be done.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir recovered little by little. Gradually, he grew stronger and Elrond 
allowed him to leave his bed after one week had passed. Someone was 
always close to the minstrel, but most of the time it was Círdan, who was 
regularly found hovering close to the recuperating Elf. 
 
Glorfindel had taken it upon himself to organize Imladris’ defenses and 
accepted the position of Captain of the Guard when Elrond officially 
offered it to him. Having a place to call home again felt good and did 
wonders for the warrior, whose inner lights glowed more radiant with 
every passing day. 
 
However, Glorfindel remained worried about Elrond. The half-Elf worked 
long hours and hard. Elrond worked with the healers in the morning, 
trained alongside the guards in the afternoon and saw to the paperwork 
that filled his desk in the evening. The weight, which Elrond had lost in 
the last weeks of that war, was never regained and the half-Elf remained 
too skinny for Glorfindel’s taste, but he kept his opinion to himself, not 
wanting to offend. 
 
Círdan however, didn’t kept silent and one evening, whilst eating dinner, 
he addressed the matter. “Elrond, you need to rest. Ever since we lost 
Ereinion you have been running yourself ragged. Even you need to rest.”
 
“I appreciate your concern,” said Elrond, pushing away his plate as he was 
no longer hungry. “But there is so much work to be done.”
 
“Then enlist help,” suggested Glorfindel, who decided to support Círdan 
in this matter. “You are doing the work of several Elves.”
 
Lindir, who had remained quiet, continued to play with his food and 
studied Elrond for the first time in weeks. Ever since the half-Elf had 
woken him from his trance he had avoided dealing with Elrond, as a part 
of him blamed the half-Elf for making him face life without Ereinion. But, 
as he looked closely, he had to admit both Elves were right. Elrond looked 
worn down. “I can help… If you want my assistance, that is.”
 
Three pairs of eyes widened at hearing his offer. Lindir knew he had 
surprised them by offering his services, but for him it was an essential step 
in his recovery. He had promised Círdan to find work, which he would 
enjoy doing and keep him busy. Helping Elrond seemed the right thing to 
do. Círdan had suggested practicing playing his lyre and composing songs, 
but it was too early to take that step. He knew that once he reached for the 
harp and expressed his feelings, a new emotional storm would come over 
him and he wasn’t ready yet to deal with that. He had to take this step by 
step.
 
“You?” Realizing how that must have sounded, Elrond quickly 
apologized. “I did not mean to offend you, Lindir, but I thought…”
 
“That I preferred not to be around you?” Lindir drew in a deep breath and 
felt grateful that the four of them were having dinner in the privacy of 
Elrond’s rooms. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable addressing this in the 
Hall of Fire where they would be surrounded by Elrond’s household. “It is 
true that I resented you for waking me from my trance, but Círdan and I 
talked and I realized that I was doing you an injustice. You did what you 
thought was right for me.”
 
“That is true,” said Elrond, quickly. “I did not think it would be good for 
you to remain in such a state much longer. I was only trying to help.”
 
Lindir smiled at Elrond – his first real smile since losing Ereinion. “I trust 
you will accept my offer, then?”
 
“I will, but…”
 
“But what?” Lindir’s eyes narrowed.
 
“I hope that the day will come when you will take your rightful place as 
the head minstrel in my house.” Elrond gave Lindir a shy look.
 
Lindir nodded once. “Maybe, when the time comes.” Considering the 
matter dealt with, Lindir reluctantly ate some of the fish and potatoes. He 
wasn’t hungry, but Círdan’s expression told him to eat or else he would 
face another lecture.
 
Glorfindel had watched Lindir during the conversation and he took heart, 
realizing his friend was growing stronger. Losing Ereinion would affect 
the minstrel forever, but at least, Lindir was willing to rebuild his life.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion was growing weary of this cat and mouse game. Each evening – 
well, he assumed it was evening – he heard soft footfalls in the corridor 
and when he went to check, the stranger was already gone. 
 
Standing next to his bed, he tried to decide what to do. He could lie down, 
close his eyes and dream of his lost love – of his lovely Lindir. Or, he 
could stay awake and try to catch this mysterious stranger. 
 
“Does something trouble you?” Turgon entered and advanced on his 
successor. “I know that the Halls aren’t the most pleasant place to dwell, 
but one grows used to it.” Like so many Elves he had accepted his destiny 
and had found some measure of peace in doing so. But Ereinion hadn’t 
reached that stage yet. 
 
Ereinion turned and looked at the former King of Gondolin. “Do you hear 
someone walk the corridors at night? Soft footfalls, almost dragging 
through the corridor?”
 
Turgon raised an eyebrow. “Never. Are you certain you actually hear this 
at night? Maybe it only happens in your dreams?”
 
“I am quite certain he is real,” said Ereinion in a thoughtful voice. “I have 
seen his eyes once. They are dark and haunted.”
 
Turgon shook his head. “I know of no one like that, meldir.” 
 
“Forget I ever mentioned it, then.” Ereinion forced a smile onto his face. 
“Let us join the others and remember times gone by.” He would stay for a 
little while and return in time to catch the mysterious Elf.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Adar? Explain to me why Ereinion can hear and see him?” Erestor was 
intrigued by this development. “Part of his punishment is to walk these 
Halls alone and unseen. You changed that. Why?” His father would never 
cease to amaze him!
 
Námo gave his son a wicked smile. “I am only carrying out Eru’s will.” 
 
“But what is the purpose of all this? Why change the terms of his 
punishment?” 
 
“Things change, Erestor. And sometimes, we need to change with them.” 
Námo gave Erestor a profound look. “You will learn that lesson in time.”
 
Erestor frowned; he didn’t like the way that sounded.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
/I will find out who you are and why no one else hears or sees you./ 
Ereinion had asked several Elves about the mysterious stranger that passed 
by his door every night, but no one had ever noticed him. /It is like you are 
invisible to everyone, except me. Now, why is that?/
 
Ereinion left his door open and pushed a chair closer to the doorway. He 
lit several candles and then sat down, waiting for the other Elf to appear 
again.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You should lie down, Elrond. You look tired.” Lindir had been working 
with Elrond for one week now and found himself performing many duties 
he had also performed when he had assisted Ereinion. Most of the 
paperwork was his responsibility now, but Elrond still tried to help 
whenever he could. “It is late and Ithil has already risen. You should rest, 
Elrond.”
 
Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. “These are letters I have to answer 
personally and they cannot wait.” One was from Thranduil, who insisted 
they discussed the circumstances of his father’s death and the letter was 
full of insults and accusations. Reading it had caused him to develop a 
severe headache. The second one was from the Lady Galadriel and Lord 
Celeborn, requesting permission to visit Imladris to tighten relationships 
between their realms. This was a very important letter and Elrond wanted 
to make the best possible impression by answering it. The Golden Wood 
would be a powerful ally. “I will rest later.”
 
Elrond briefly swayed on his feet, but Lindir caught it. /Someone has to 
protect him from himself. Ereinion was like that too – always working too 
hard./ Thinking of his beloved caused him pain, but instead of causing him 
to grow depressed, he found strength in remembering the happy moments 
they had shared. 
 
“Melpomaen?” Lindir had quickly enlisted the younger Elf as his 
assistant, easing Elrond’s workload even further by delegating certain 
matters to Melpomaen. “Would you fetch Círdan for me?”
 
Melpomaen nodded and left to do Lindir’s bidding. 
 
“Why are you sending for Círdan?” Elrond quickly sat down and rested 
his head against the comfort of his chair. He knew he was overdoing it, but 
every beginning was a fragile time, and Imladris was still fragile until 
every aspect had been taken care of.  
 
Lindir chose not to answer that question and when he looked at Elrond, he 
found that the half-Elf’s eyes were closing. For one moment he panicked, 
but then reminded himself that Elrond slept with his eyes closed whenever 
exhaustion was upon him. 
 
Círdan entered a few minutes later and gave Lindir a questioning glance. 
He would leave Imladris tomorrow and knew Lindir wasn’t pleased about 
that, but he couldn’t stay much longer. He was needed at the Havens. 
“You sent for me?”
 
“Elrond refuses to rest. Would you escort him to his rooms?” Lindir gave 
Círdan a conspiring smile. “He won’t fight you.” Oh, he would miss 
Círdan! The Shipwright had always been important to him, and having 
him at his side after Ereinion had died had been a true blessing. He only 
hoped he could cope once Círdan was gone.
 
“I will take him to his rooms,” said Círdan, smiling brightly. He walked 
toward Elrond and slowly pulled the protesting half-Elf to his feet. “Now, 
do not fight me, pen-neth3.”
 
Elrond considered doing just that, but then realized resistance was 
probably futile. “I will get you for this, Lindir,” he whispered in a sleepy 
voice. 
 
Lindir grinned. Seeing that grin made Círdan’s heart feel lighter. /He is 
dealing with the loss and moving on. I can leave, knowing he will 
continue to improve./ 
 
Lindir waited for Círdan and Elrond to leave and then told Melpomaen to 
close the door. “Let us start with writing a reply to the Lord and Lady of 
the Golden Wood. We have a lot of work to do.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You should take better care of yourself,” said Círdan, assisting Elrond in 
lying down on his bed. “You are all we have left.” The moment the words 
left his lips, he realized just why Elrond had been pushing himself so hard. 
 
“Exactly,” whispered Elrond in a sleepy voice. He turned onto his side and 
curled up into a fetal position. “I cannot let… them… down.” His 
breathing evened out, the eyes closed and sleep claimed him. 
 
“I should have realized so before.” Círdan remained standing near the bed. 
They had placed all responsibility on Elrond – unwillingly and 
unknowingly – and Elrond had accepted his new, unofficial leadership. “I 
wish I could stay and rectify things…” But his presence at the Havens was 
required. But, maybe there was another way. All he needed to do was 
write Celeborn a letter.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel was beginning to feel at home in Imladris. In the morning, he 
looked over the duty rosters, in the afternoon, he trained with his guards 
and in the evening he had dinner with his friends. In some ways his life 
here resembled his life in Gondolin. 
 
Except for the fact that it felt like something profound – something very 
important was missing from his life. 
 
“Did I actually manage to catch you thinking?” Lindir smiled, teasingly, 
and then sat cross-legged on the grass next to Glorfindel. 
 
Glorfindel laughed. “I *do* think occasionally!” 
 
“I know you do.” Lindir rested his hand on Glorfindel’s and stroked the 
skin beneath his fingertips. “Care to share your thoughts with me?”
 
“Something is missing from my life.”
 
“Not something – someone,” corrected Lindir. Ever since that day in 
Lindon, he had refrained from discussing Erestor, suspecting mentioning 
him would only upset Glorfindel. And he hadn’t wanted to do that so 
shortly after Glorfindel’s rebirth. But the situation was different now; the 
threat Sauron had posed was momentarily gone and they lived in peace. 
The time had come to focus on personal matters. 
 
“You would probably say I am missing Erestor.”
 
/Ah, my words really made you think!/ That development pleased Lindir, 
who still had hopes that Glorfindel might remember his bonded mate one 
day. “Why do you think that?” Glorfindel’s fingers touched the locket and 
Lindir realized that the golden-haired warrior had never taken it off. 
Glorfindel had even worn it on the battlefields. 
 
“You said that this Elf, called Erestor, was my bonded mate. But no matter 
how hard I try, I cannot remember him. It is like he never existed.”
 
“Then whose lock sits inside your locket?”
 
Glorfindel sighed. “I do not know the answer to that question. But you 
were right; it is not Ecthelion’s. His hair was not raven.” And he couldn’t 
remember an Elf with raven hair. 
 
“I believe Erestor is still alive and trying to find his way back to you. I do 
not know what happened to him after Gondolin fell, but…” Lindir scooted 
closer and continued once Glorfindel had made eye-contact. “But you 
always told him to carry on, even if you died in battle. You told Erestor 
the same thing Ereinion told me. I could not die, even though I wanted to. 
Neither could Erestor.”
 
Glorfindel cringed, seeing the way Lindir’s eyes were growing watered. “I 
am sorry he had to die. Maybe if I had been faster, more alert…”
 
Lindir shook his head. “Nay, it was his destiny to die that day. Ereinion 
had had dreams – visions – that announced his death.” Tears leaked from 
his foggy eyes and he resolutely wiped them away. “I will honor him by 
living my life, but not a single day passes by when I do not miss him.”
 
Glorfindel wrapped Lindir in a warm embrace. “You have a life here now. 
You have friends here.” And who knew? Maybe – in time – Lindir would 
find a new love. He hoped so, for his friend’s sake. Lindir was too kind 
and lovable a person to remain alone for the rest of his life.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The footfalls weren’t soft tonight. They were heavy and pronounced, and 
seemed to drag down the corridor. That was the moment Ereinion had 
been waiting for. Stretching his long legs, they easily covered the space 
before his doorway and blocked the stranger’s path. 
 
Ereinion’s eyes narrowed, seeing a cloud of darkness approach. Looking 
closely, he realized he could see the shape of an Elf. An Elf who was 
forced to a stop when coming up against the barrier his legs presented. 
 
“Let me pass.” 
 
The voice was deep and hollow and the words were spoken in an 
aggravated and sorrow-burdened tone. Ereinion forced the urge to move 
and remained motionless. 
 
“Let me pass.”
 
More pain – more misery -- colored the ghost-like voice and hearing it 
filled Ereinion with immense sorrow. “I desire to talk to you. Please come 
inside and sit by my fire.” He had built that fire with a purpose; not only 
would it warm the room, but it would also illuminate it and give him a 
chance to discern the stranger’s features. 
 
“Let me pass.”
 
“Not before you answer my questions.” Ereinion left the chair in a 
heartbeat and stood in front of the dark-clad Elf, cutting the stranger off 
from the rest of the corridor. The other Elf was cornered – and the stranger 
knew it.
 
“You are not supposed to talk to me.” None of the fëar3 was supposed to 
hear or see him! Part of his punishment was solitude, to be locked out and 
forgotten. How was it then possible that this one soul had noticed him? 
And why was the soul inviting him into his room? 
 
It was almost impossible to discern any features in the darkness that 
surrounded this one. The only thing Ereinion clearly noticed were the dark 
eyes, filled with regrets. “I am not one to follow orders.”
 
“Even when they come from Námo himself?” He was confused. Why was 
this happening? Nothing like this had ever happened before and he had 
been walking these Halls for millennia now. He knew he deserved this 
punishment and had accepted it, knowing he was damned for all eternity. 
The things he had done – the crimes he had committed – had blackened 
his fëa4 and the Valar’s ruling had been milder than he had thought. That 
had been at first, when he hadn’t fully realized that being invisible to them 
was the worst possible sentence. “You should listen to the Vala and let me 
pass.”
 
Ereinion had always enjoyed a challenge. “Come inside and sit by my fire. 
Answer my questions and should your replies be satisfactory, I will let you 
go.”
 
“You cannot be serious! You will bring down the wrath of Námo upon 
yourself by doing so! Do you not understand that I am to be ignored?”
 
“Now tell me, why is that?” Ereinion leaned against the wall in a casual 
manner. It was obvious that the other Elf wanted to flee, but his path was 
blocked. 
 
“I must walk these Halls alone! Such is my punishment. Now let me pass. 
I hope for your sake that Námo has not noticed that you stopped me and 
talked to me.” When he had still been alive, he had stopped being 
concerned for others early in life, but his solitude had changed him and he 
didn’t want to get this soul to get into trouble for showing curiosity and 
maybe even compassion. 
 
“Námo already knows and warned me. Not that I pay such warnings much 
attention.” 
 
Ereinion’s words caused him distress. “You should not defy him. He is 
more powerful than you know.”
 
Ereinion had achieved one goal already; he had engaged this stranger in 
conversation and it didn’t matter if they were bickering. It kept the other 
Elf in place. “I repeat my offer, knowing full well that Námo might not 
approve. Come inside and warm yourself by my fire.” /I doubt Námo 
disapproves,/ he thought to himself. /If he did, he would have appeared by 
now. Námo knows we are talking and has not interfered yet./ Námo might 
be cunning, but so was he. 
 
“I should not.” But the invitation was tempting. It had been millennia 
since he had last talked to someone, had sat at someone’s fireplace and 
had enjoyed some sort of company. “Nay, I cannot.” Ereinion’s next 
action took him completely by surprise. The former High-King extended a 
hand and reached into the darkness surrounding him, taking hold of his 
arm. His eyes widened; this was most unexpected and unheard of! The 
Valar had taken away his form, damning him to live without a body 
image! So how could it be that this Elf was touching him?
 
“You are insulting me and my hospitality by declining my offer. Surely, 
you would not begrudge a dead High-King your company?” Ereinion was 
surprised when those words made the stranger tremble violently. The cold 
flesh beneath his fingertips grew goose bumps. 
 
“Who are you?” Until now, he hadn’t bothered to ask that question, but…
 
“My name is Ereinion Gil-Galad. I was the last High-King of the Noldor.”
 
“Turgon’s successor and Fingon’s son.” Had he not been dead already, he 
would have died again out of fright and shame. “Let me go.” He tried to 
shake off Ereinion’s arm, but failed. The other Elf’s hold was too strong.
 
“Nay, you will come inside with me, warm yourself at my fire and we will 
talk.” He was used to others following his orders, not protesting them!
 
“Listen to me, sire. I am saying this for your own good! Let go of me and 
let me pass. Whenever you hear me walk the corridor, turn away from me 
and do not hear me!” His actions had condemned one High-King to death, 
and he didn’t want Ereinion to suffer because he was talking to him. 
“Námo will punish you if you do not heed my words!”
 
“I doubt that.” Ereinion made up his mind and pulled the stranger inside – 
into the light of the room and then flung the door shut, effectively trapping 
the stranger.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Elrond smiled at Lindir, who sat on the windowsill of his study, softly 
plucking at the strings of his lyre. Lindir had turned many of his duties 
over to Melpomaen, who had become Elrond’s personal assistant. Lindir, 
in turn, had dedicated himself to his music again and once more was 
becoming the master-minstrel he had been in the past. 
 
Aye, life was good, thought Elrond, pleased. His household was well-
organized these days. Melpomaen saw to most of the paperwork, 
Glorfindel organized the patrols and Imladris’ defenses, and Lindir had 
found his love for music again. 
 
“My Lord, are there any last-minute arrangements I need to take care of 
concerning the arrival of the royal couple?” Melpomaen smiled, happy 
that he had been able to contribute in his own way to make Imladris their 
home. He respected the half-Elf and had grown protective of his Lord over 
the years. That feeling had lessened somewhat, when Elrond had finally 
begun to take care of his needs. The half-Elf had put on some weight, took 
personal time off and enjoyed life as it was supposed to be enjoyed.
 
“Not to my knowledge. Thank you, meldir. That should be all for today.”
 
“The Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood will arrive in the morning,” said 
Glorfindel, entering Elrond’s study. “The border guards already sighted 
them.”
 
“We are prepared for their arrival.” Elrond stretched his long legs and 
closed his eyes, enjoying this perfect moment in time. He was amongst 
friends, Lindir was playing a lovely melody and the sun warmed him. 
What more could he want? 
 
/A wife and children,/ supplied his subconscious. 
 
Elrond drew in a deep breath. Aye, it was true that he was ready to take a 
wife and sire children, but he wasn’t talented in the way of courting. 
Whenever he was in the company of a she-Elf, he would start stuttering 
and blushing. He had labeled himself a hopeless case and had given up on 
finding someone willing to accept the stuttering fool he turned into at such 
moments.
 
Glorfindel sat down on the corner of the oak desk and exchanged a wicked 
look with Lindir. The minstrel caught it and raised an eyebrow, prompting 
Glorfindel to share whatever information he was keeping back. “Lord 
Celeborn is in the company of two she-Elves, not just one.”
 
Elrond’s eyes opened abruptly. “What?” He only expected the Lady 
Galadriel to accompany Celeborn! During their prior visits, they had never 
brought another she-Elf along! Neither had the couple informed him of 
this development!
 
“One of the border guards, who has family in the Golden Wood, identified 
the second she-Elf as the Lady Celebrían.” Glorfindel chuckled, seeing the 
startled expression in Elrond’s eyes. He had long grown used to the 
scheming of royal houses and had realized why the couple would bring 
along their daughter for this particular visit. The Lady Celebrían seemed 
the perfect choice. “A marriage would strengthen the alliance between 
Imladris and Lothlórien.”
 
“A marriage?” Elrond jumped to his feet. “Marriage?”
 
“Calm yourself, Elrond!” Lindir placed aside his lyre, rose, and advanced 
on the half-Elf. “Didn’t you express the wish to start a family?”
 
“I only divulged that information to the two of you! Which one told on 
me?”
 
“The Lady Galadriel is gifted with foresight, meldir,” said Glorfindel. 
“She does not need us to supply her with such information.” Amused, he 
watched Elrond pace. He had seen Elrond’s clumsy attempts before when 
speaking to she-Elves and hoped things would be different with Celebrían. 
 
“I understand, Elrond. I really do. You have only known war… You were 
raised amongst males and were seldom around she-Elves. You feel 
insecure. But that feeling will pass. Give her a chance. Who knows, maybe 
the Lady Celebrían will find you charming.”
 
Elrond gave Glorfindel a pleading look. “I *am* ready to settle down, 
marry, and sire children. I want that more than anything, but…”
 
“Do not worry that much.” Lindir squeezed Elrond’s shoulder. “Stop 
trying to control the situation. Meet with her and find out if you like her.”
 
“Your advice is wise,” said Elrond, growing a little more hopeful. He 
really wanted that – a wife and children. He was ready to be a husband and 
a father.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor hurried to consult with his father. “Adar, Ereinion, he…”
 
Námo raised a hand to stop Erestor. “I know what is happening. I know 
everything that lies in the will of Eru. Do you think I would allow for this 
to happen if it was not Eru’s will?”
 
“You are given him a chance to redeem himself? But I thought his 
punishment was to last forever!” Erestor had mixed feelings about this 
development. For a long time he had hated the traitor, but that had 
changed during these last few years. That hatred had changed into pity. 
 
“We all make mistakes, Erestor. You made yours, didn’t you?” Námo 
advanced on his son and placed his hands on Erestor’s shoulders. “You 
suffer from the consequences of your decisions – do you think that will 
last forever?”
 
Erestor frowned. “What are you trying to tell me?” 
“Nothing last forever. Punishment serves a purpose. Once that purpose has 
been served it is time for change. Change is upon him now, and Ereinion.”
 
“Tell me more.”
 
Námo nodded, realizing it was time to confide in Erestor. “Manwë and I 
are carrying out Eru’s will. Always remember that.”
 
“What is his will then?” 
 
“Eru is willing to give the traitor a chance to redeem himself. Should he 
find true love in these Halls, he will be released from his punishment.”
 
“But Ereinion does not even know who he is befriending!”
 
“Do you think so? I always thought of Ereinion as intelligent and cunning. 
If he has not realized his guest’s identity by now, he will shortly.” Námo 
shrugged his shoulders. “Will learning his identity make a difference to 
Ereinion? I do not think so.”
 
Erestor stared at his father in surprise. “You want him to find 
redemption?”
 
“Do you know what made Maeglin the way he was? Do you know what 
happened to him? Do you?”
 
“Nay, I do not.” Erestor lowered his eyes.
 
“But I do. And so does Eru. Erestor, each fëa is precious, even Maeglin’s. 
Even more so if it can be reclaimed for good.”
 
“Why Ereinion? He loves Lindir!” 
 
“Exactly! That is why! Ereinion has a loving and forgiving heart. You 
might think that it was my doing – that Ereinion heard and then saw 
Maeglin. But you are wrong. It was his compassionate nature that noticed 
the suffering soul.”
 
Erestor truly didn’t know what to think of this development. “Maeglin 
caused the death of so many, Adar. How can Eru offer him a chance to 
redeem himself?”
 
Námo’s eyes hardened. “You lied to Glorfindel and he rejected you. Tell 
me, do you deserve a chance to redeem yourself?”
 
That question impacted hard and Erestor flinched. “I lost his love.”
 
“You did not answer my question.” Námo hated pushing his son like this, 
but it was necessary. 
 
“I do not.”
 
“Be honest!” Námo shook his head and rephrased his question. “Do you 
think Eru deems you worthy of a second chance?”
 
Erestor, who had bowed his head, now looked his father in the eye. His 
own eyes were shedding tears, as his love for Glorfindel tore him apart. “I 
do not know…” But then… “Tell me, do you know if he deems me 
worthy?” The smile Námo gave him made his skin crawl. “Does he?”
 
“You will find out in time. Now, go and see to the souls’ needs. Do not 
meddle with Maeglin and Ereinion.” Seeing his son’s shocked expression, 
he turned around and left the room, leaving Erestor brooding.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Lord Celeborn, I bid you welcome to Imladris.” Elrond, dressed in formal 
robes, welcomed the ruler of the Golden Wood, but his eyes already 
drifted off to Celebrían. She was a lovely vision of white, silver and 
mithril and his heart beat harder, finding her smiling back at him. 
 
Celeborn slid of his stallion’s back and then helped his wife dismount as 
well. Galadriel smiled at Elrond and her eyes devoured the half-Elf’s 
form. 
 
Elrond felt uncomfortable beneath her probing, but didn’t let it show. It 
felt like she was judging him – seeing if he was worthy of her daughter’s 
hand in marriage. But surely, the Lady of the Golden Wood wouldn’t 
move that fast?
 
“This is our daughter, Celebrían,” said Galadriel.
 
Glorfindel helped Celebrían dismount and gave her a warm smile. 
 
Celebrían returned that smile, but then her eyes returned to rest on the 
half-Elf. She walked toward Elrond and inclined her head in respect. “I 
have heard many tales of your bravery, my Lord Elrond, and I am honored 
to finally make your acquaintance.”
 
“The honor is mine,” said Elrond, quickly. His pulse raced and he worried 
he might grow flustered now that their eyes met again, but he managed to 
control his fierce emotions and bowed respectfully. “I hope you will find 
your stay in Imladris enjoyable.”
 
Celebrían sought out her mother’s eyes and nodded once. Galadriel had 
been right – Elrond was attractive, desirable *and* the perfect match. She 
would allow the half-Elf to court her.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Maeglin felt terrified, now that Ereinion had closed the door behind him. It 
had been millennia since he had last talked to someone – really talked – 
and the prospect of Ereinion finding out his real identity scared him. 
 
“Sit down near the fire.” Ereinion pulled his chair closer to the fire and 
seated himself. He raised an arm and gestured for his guest to do the same. 
 
“Let me go.” Maeglin glanced at the door, his nervousness growing. He 
had tried opening doors when he had first begun walking the Halls, but his 
hand had passed through the doorknob, and he had been unable to open or 
close anything. He was trapped in here until Ereinion would set him free 
again. 
 
“Not before we have talked. Sit down.” Ereinion’s thoughts raced. He had 
reached a conclusion he couldn’t believe, but it was the only plausible 
explanation. This Elf had to be Maeglin, the traitor who had condemned 
Gondolin to her terrible fate. “Please, sit.”
 
Maeglin complied, realizing he didn’t have a choice. For the first time in 
millennia he sat down, resting his weary fëa. He had walked without 
interruptions for millennia and to sit down near the fire was something he 
had thought he would never do again. “You will get into trouble with 
Námo because of this.”
 
“So be it, then.” Ereinion wasn’t impressed. He used the fire’s light to 
study Maeglin. The face, which must have been handsome in life, was 
now scarred. Burns had left their marks on the once fair skin. The eyes 
were dark and haunted and spoke of many emotions. He thought he saw 
pain there, regrets and longing. The long, dark mane hadn’t escaped the 
attention of the fire and the scalp showed several bald spots. 
 
Feeling Ereinion’s eyes upon him, Maeglin pulled the hood closer to his 
face, trying to hide in its shadows. “Why won’t you let me go?” 
Ereinion decided to be honest. “I am drawn close to your pain and 
suffering. I would like to lessen your burden.”
 
“You should not even be thinking of doing such a thing! I deserve my 
punishment and I accepted that I will suffer for my mistakes for the rest of 
my existence! You are not allowed to meddle!” 
Maeglin’s feverish tone surprised Ereinion. “Then make me understand! 
Tell me your history.”
 
“You do not know what you are asking for! There are horrid things in my 
past, things, which should never be spoken of! I did my best to bury them, 
but…” They had haunted him his entire life, driving him into darkness. He 
withdrew further into his hood and closed his eyes. “You cannot make me 
voice them.”
 
“Oh, but I can and I will,” said Ereinion, steadfast. He didn’t know if this 
was what Námo wanted him to do, but why else would the Vala instigate 
and allow this? “I will only let you leave *after* you have told me your 
life’s history. And I want to hear everything. Every little detail. No matter 
how ashamed you might feel to tell me.”
 
/He knows!/ Maeglin panicked. Did Ereinion really know his identity? Or 
did the former High-King only suspect who he was? “I cannot do that. Do 
not ask that of me.”
 
“I insist you tell me.” Ereinion didn’t know why this was important, but 
his instincts told him it was the right path to take. In the corner behind 
Maeglin a shadow moved and his eyes narrowed, realizing it was Námo 
standing there. Had Maeglin been right and would he be punished for 
showing compassion?
 
But Námo only nodded once and then the Vala’s thoughts came to him. 
/You made the right decision. Maeglin needs to be confronted with his 
past. You have permission to proceed./
 
Any lingering doubts he might have had about the stranger’s identity had 
been taken away by Námo’s words. This *was* Maeglin, and as far as he 
could tell, Námo wanted him to do this! 
 
Maeglin, unaware of Námo’s presence, tried to make himself as small as 
possible in his chair. “Do not make me do this. You have no idea what vile 
things lie in my past.”
 
“Then we will uncover them and deal with them.” Ereinion wondered if 
Maeglin was referring to his betrayal or something else. “You *will* tell 
me.”
 
Maeglin shook his head. “You will hate me after learning who and what I 
am.”
 
“Let me be the judge of that.” He already knew his guest’s identity, and 
although he felt on guard, he found that he didn’t hate Maeglin. How 
could he hate the pitiful specter the once proud Elf-Lord had become?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Imladris is an enchanting place. You chose the location well.” Celebrían 
walked next to Elrond, who was showing her around the rose gardens. Her 
first impression of him had encouraged her to seek the half-Elf out again, 
and her parents had been delighted to find she enjoyed his company.
 
“Thank you,” said Elrond, blushing to the roots of his hair. 
 
“You are charming as well.” She wanted him to feel comfortable around 
her and found his blush endearing. 
 
“You must excuse my clumsy manners,” began Elrond, shyly seeking out 
her eyes. “I do not have much experience courting a she-Elf.” He hoped he 
hadn’t made things even worse by admitting the truth to her. Celebrían 
had been here for two weeks and they had begun to spend more time with 
each other. It had surprised him that it was *she* who sought out his 
company. Despite his obvious nervousness, she seemed to like him. 
 
She coughed, clearing her throat. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment?” 
She pointed at an elegantly carved, wooden bench, walked toward it, and 
seated herself. Elrond, she noticed, sat down at a respectful distance so 
their bodies didn’t touch – such a pity. “My parents asked me to come to 
Imladris for a reason. I believe you are aware of that reason.”
 
“I think I am.” Elrond’s blush deepened. “Your father told me that he 
hopes we will marry eventually.”
 
She nodded once. “And what are your thoughts regarding a possible 
marriage?” 
 
Elrond squirmed. Had she really asked him that? “I am not averse to 
marrying you.”
 
Celebrían’s hope blossomed. “And why is that? Merely because our 
marriage would strengthen the bond between our realms, or is there 
more?” She hoped there was more!
 
Nervously, Elrond moistened his lips and wrung his hands, which moved 
restlessly in his lap. “I… I think there is more… on my part that is.” He 
still thought Celeborn was pushing too hard, too fast, by constantly 
inquiring if he had already set a wedding date. But the ruler of the Golden 
Wood was relentless and Elrond was beginning to feel cornered.
 
She sighed, relieved. “Elrond, will you look at me?” She gathered his 
slightly cold and sweaty hands in hers and rubbed them. 
 
Surprised at her action, Elrond looked up and met her glance. She was 
lovely… truly exquisite and he had lost his heart to her the first time he 
had laid eyes upon her. In addition to her beauty, she was also kind, 
friendly, intelligent and good-natured. All these things called out to him. 
He wouldn’t have agreed to court her, had her character not appealed to 
him. But she was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. “Why 
did you do that?”
 
She smiled and brought one of his hands close to his lips. Tremors shook 
the limb when she pressed her lips against the calloused skin. “We have 
known each other for two weeks – which is short – but I cannot deny 
being attracted to you.”
 
Her words encouraged him and he inched a little closer. “I feel the same 
way about you, but aren’t we moving too fast? A long courtship is 
traditional for our people.”
 
She searched his gray eyes. “When I look into your eyes I see hope there, 
amongst many other things. Hope, that you have found love, am I right?” 
“Aye, I am ready to wed and start a family, but only with someone I love 
at my side.” Entranced, he moved closer to her still, until their lips were 
only an inch apart. “But…” 
 
“My mother has the gift of foresight, you know that,” said Celebrían. “She 
told me that you and I are destined to be together. And although I love my 
mother dearly, I refused to agree to this marriage blindly. I wanted to see 
you, talk to you and get to know you first, and I think I am beginning to 
fall in love with you, Elrond.”
 
Elrond’s heart missed a beat. “You are? For I feel the same way. I want to 
be close to you. I am attracted to you, but…”
 
“Is this a sensible thing to do?” She smiled, finishing his question for him. 
“Elrond, sometimes we must listen to our heart and feelings instead of our 
head and reason.”
 
“I…” Lost for words, Elrond raised his right hand and touched her silken 
hair. “I am afraid to touch you.”
 
“Why? I desire to be touched by you.” She leaned into the touch when he 
caressed her hair. “My mother said it was love at first sight for her, when 
she met my father. I was skeptical, hearing that, as I had never 
experienced such fierce emotions myself, but that has changed since I met 
you.”
 
Elrond was afraid to believe she returned his feelings, but also realized he 
had to act now, if he wanted them to move forward. “May I formally court 
you? Do you accept me as your potential husband?” 
 
Her smile was radiant and her eyes sparkled with beginning love. “Aye, I 
accept you, Elrond Half-Elven.” Leaning in closer, she took the initiative 
and touched her lips to his in a first, sweet kiss.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Maeglin squirmed on his chair. Ereinion’s determination showed in the 
dark eyes and the setting of the strong jaw. The former High-King 
wouldn’t allow him to leave until he had told him everything. Could he do 
that? Disclose the secrets he had kept his entire life? Did he also have to 
keep those secrets in death? 
 
“Take your time to make up your mind,” said Ereinion. “I am not 
leaving.”
 
Maeglin flinched, realizing there was no way out for him. “I will tell you, 
then.” And he would begin at the beginning.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I am so happy for you!” Glorfindel promptly buried Elrond in a 
spontaneous hug. “I have seen the way she looked at you and there is love 
in her eyes!” The fact that Celebrían had accepted Elrond as her suitor 
didn’t surprise him in the least!
 
Lindir, seated on his favorite spot in Elrond’s study – the windowsill – 
smiled warmly. “She will make a good wife and a loving mother to your 
children. You chose well.”
 
Elrond’s face had turned crimson. Why couldn’t he simply stop blushing? 
“She agreed to let me court her. We are not married yet.”
 
“But you will be,” said Galadriel, entering the study. All males rose in 
welcome and she smiled at all three of them, but her gaze rested the 
longest on Elrond. “You have my blessing and my husband’s to court our 
daughter and to wed her. I know Celebrían will be happy here, with you 
and her children.” 
 
“Children?” Elrond broke free from Glorfindel’s hug and stood in front of 
the Lady of the Golden Wood. “There *will* be children? Oh! I always 
wanted to have children!”
 
“You will be the best father they could hope for and a loving and 
dedicated husband to my daughter. Do not doubt yourself so much, Elrond 
Half-Elven.” She smiled at him. “Do not wait too long to propose to her, 
Elrond.” After uttering those words, she left the room chuckling. 
 
Elrond felt ecstatic. “We will have children! I will be a father!” Unable to 
remain still, he began to pace his study. 
 
Glorfindel and Lindir exchanged a smile. Galadriel was right – Elrond 
would make a good husband and father.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Elrond announcing his marriage to Celebrían one month later surprised no 
one. Lindir, Glorfindel and Galadriel had already started preparations for 
the upcoming wedding and most members of Elrond’s household rejoiced 
for their Lord at hearing the good news. 
 
The wedding itself took place in the rose garden, beneath the star-lit sky. It 
was Celeborn who performed the wedding ceremony and bound his 
daughter’s soul to Elrond’s. That night, the air was alive with magic and 
happiness, and all Elves joined in the celebrations. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Hidden from Elven eyes, a dark-clad Vala studied Glorfindel, who was 
whirling Lindir around in dance. His eyes had filled with tears of regrets 
and he wished it was he, who was dancing with Glorfindel. But he 
shouldn’t be so jealous. Lindir and Glorfindel were friends – nothing 
more. 
 
Erestor forced his glance away from the dancing Elves and settled on 
Elrond kissing Celebrían. He saw three children in their future – twin boys 
and a daughter. And aye, they would be happy, but nothing lasts forever 
and even their happiness would come to an end. 
 
He walked amongst them, unseen and his soul cried out in need. /I want to 
be a part of this… I want to be a part of Glorfindel again./ 
 
Námo caught his son’s thoughts, but remained hidden from Erestor’s eyes. 
 
/The time has come to send him back to Arda./
 
Manwë’s voice came as no surprise and Námo nodded. /I will miss him 
though. His presence in the Halls warms me and brings comfort to the 
fëar./
 
/Eru’s will must be done./ 
 
/Aye, I understand./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Suddenly his world darkened and Erestor released a startled yelp. It felt as 
if his life force was fleeing him and he collapsed onto the earth. His eyes 
closed, his breathing evened out and his body – which had been nothing 
but an illusion – took on solid form. Unconsciousness tugged at his mind 
and Erestor fought it, but in the end, a black wave of sleep overwhelmed 
him. 
 
Námo bent down and pressed a fatherly kiss on Erestor’s brow. His work 
here was done, for now. As his form vanished from Imladris, Glorfindel 
approached that part of the gardens where Erestor was resting. Soundly 
asleep beneath a weeping willow.
 
 
End of part 5


Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairing for this part; Elrond/Celebrían. 
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: Elrond and Celebrían are married, 
Maeglin tells his life’s tale and Erestor gets a second chance at love. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Main focus in this part is on Maeglin’s tale, which I 
never intended to be a part of the story, but characters have a way of doing 
what they want. Mornén is Patricia’s invention! Thanks for the name, 
sweetie! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 6
 
Elrond kissed Celebrían and his heart jumped in joy for he was married 
now and Celebrían his wife! It seemed like everything he had worked for, 
had fought for, had finally been achieved. Now that Celebrían had married 
him, nothing stood in his way of founding his little family and raising his 
children – children, which his wife wanted as much as he did. “You have 
made me the happiest Elf alive,” whispered Elrond into her ear. 
 
She sat beside him, watching everyone around them making merry. Even 
her parents had joined in and were dancing, whilst giving each other 
loving looks. She knew she had made the right decision to marry Elrond 
because her love for him had doubled since she had taken him as her 
husband. Imladris was her new home now and she knew Elrond would do 
everything within his power to make her happy. “I love you, Elrond Half-
Elven.”
 
Elrond’s eyes shone with happiness, hearing those words. Still feeling 
somewhat shy, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her even 
closer. Tonight, they would share a bed for the first time, but he didn’t 
expect them to bind yet. They had time and would explore their love, bit 
by bit. He wanted them to be lovers before they became parents. 
Everything should happen in its own time. 
 
The only thing that saddened him was the fact that Lindir was about to 
leave for the Gray Havens. Not forever, but for a long period of time, as 
the minstrel had expressed the need to have Círdan close. Lindir was 
rebuilding his old persona and needed a father-figure and friend to help 
him finish that process. They would say their temporary goodbyes to him 
later.
 
Elrond chuckled, seeing Celeborn whirl Galadriel over the dance floor. 
After the wedding ceremony had been completed, they had moved to the 
Hall of Fire and most Elves were enjoying the feast. Even Mithrandir had 
appeared shortly after the ceremony and had congratulated them, hugging 
the couple close. The Maia now sat near the fire, talking to young 
Melpomaen. “Everyone seems happy.”
 
Celebrían nodded. “But I do not see Glorfindel anymore. Why did he 
leave?”
 
“Maybe he needed some privacy. He has tried hard to fit in and to make 
Imladris his new home, but I do believe the past – and more specifically 
his death – haunts him. I will talk to him in the morning.” He had better 
things to do tonight besides talking to Glorfindel. Elrond pressed a chaste 
kiss onto his wife’s lips. “Are you happy too?”
 
“Aye, I am.” She gave him a blinding smile. “And, I will be even happier 
when I hold our firstborn in my arms.”
 
Elrond blushed. “I will give you as many children as you desire.”
 
“I want more than just one child. Our son or daughter should not be an 
only child.”
 
Elrond’s fingertips caressed his wife’s skin, which was warm and inviting. 
“I want several children too.” 
 
“We will have them,” promised Celebrían, snuggling closer to him. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Mithrandir smiled, seeing the newlyweds hold each other close. Elrond 
had been instrumental in defeating Sauron and he would need the half-Elf 
in the centuries to come. He wanted his friend to be happy. His gaze 
shifted from Elrond to Lindir, who now appeared in the doorway. Lindir 
was an extraordinary soul and he hoped the minstrel would find peace in 
the Gray Havens.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Elrond… My Lady…” Lindir bowed, although he knew that the couple 
would never insist he showed his respect in that way. Still, he felt it was 
appropriate now that the members of Elrond’s household surrounded them 
and he was about to say goodbye. “I am ready to depart and I am here to 
take my leave.”
 
Elrond reluctantly let go of his wife and walked toward Lindir. He placed 
his hands on Lindir’s shoulders and looked into the sky-blue eyes. “It 
pains me to see you leave. I wish you would change your mind and stay.”
 
“I cannot do that. My heart tells me to visit with Círdan and to find peace 
in his presence. I need to complete the journey I have started.” Lindir 
smiled, kindly. “Rest assured that I will return, meldir1. And when I do, it 
will be all of me who will offer you my services. I need this time to truly 
deal with Ereinion’s death and to find the parts of me again, which I lost.”
 
“I *do* understand,” said Elrond, eventually. “But I hate the thought that I 
will not have you at my side.”
 
“I will return to Imladris – to you, Elrond. Have faith in me.”
 
Elrond drew in a deep breath. “May your journey be swift and safe.” He 
had instructed twenty of his best warriors to escort Lindir to the Havens – 
he wasn’t taking any chances and their presence would ensure Lindir’s 
safety.
 
“I will take good care of myself.” Lindir accepted and returned the hug 
Elrond bestowed on him and then looked at the Lady of Imladris, bowing 
respectfully. “I will take my leave now.”
 
“Be safe,” whispered Celebrían, who had come to care about the white-
haired Elf in the last few weeks. “And do return to us.”
 
“Thank you for your concern, my Lady. And I *will* return to you for 
Imladris is my home.” Lindir graced the couple with one last smile and 
then marched out of the Hall of Fire. His heart ached to be reunited with 
Círdan now that Ereinion was gone. He needed Círdan – he needed his 
former savior to help him make peace with the fact that he had lost 
Ereinion.  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel felt lost and lonely, walking the gardens alone in the dark of the 
night. Ithil was hidden behind a host of clouds, limiting the silver rays that 
managed to reach Arda. Although the wedding ceremony had been a most 
joyful event, it had also made him aware of the fact that he felt alone. 
Elrond had Celebrían, Lindir was about to leave for the Gray Havens to 
stay with Círdan and even Melpomaen seemed to enjoy Mithrandir’s 
company for the evening. So where did that leave him? 
 
All alone.
 
He turned right and started for the river Bruinen. He couldn’t help but 
compare Gondolin to Imladris, and to his surprise he found he liked 
Imladris best. There was a peace and quiet here that Gondolin had lacked. 
Imladris was a remedy for his troubled soul, which could grow more 
accepting of life whilst staying here; he had accepted that he would spend 
the rest of his life here. And although he didn’t mind that, he did mind 
spending it alone.
 
A large weeping willow appeared to his right and seemed to magically 
attract him. The long branches and the whispering leaves called out to 
him, and he headed for the ancient tree, abandoning his former destination 
– the Bruinen. For one moment he felt something of a déjà vu, like he had 
been here before, standing beneath the weeping willow, but that was just 
in his imagination. He had never visited this part of the gardens before!
 
A noise – soft breathing – attracted his attention and Glorfindel’s brow 
grew furrowed. He wasn’t alone here. Had one of the feasting Elves also 
found his way here and stretched beneath the weeping willow to rest? His 
hand reached for his sword – just in case he would come upon an enemy – 
and he then sneaked closer, eager to find out the other being’s identity.
 
The lovely vision that greeted him took away his breath. His heartbeat 
sped up and his fingers almost dropped the sword, which he quickly 
sheathed again – soundlessly, so he wouldn’t disturb the Elf’s sleep. 
 
Glorfindel reminded himself to draw in breath and once his surprise had 
dimmed, he went down on his heels to study the stranger. Ithil broke free 
from the constricting clouds and allowed him an even better look, as he 
sent his silver rays down to rest on the strange Elf. 
 
Sucking in his breath in wonder, Glorfindel stared – almost entranced – at 
the other Elf. Long, raven hair reached past his hips and blanketed the 
body. The stranger wore formal robes, made from soft, black velvet and 
was lined with azure. The eyes had closed in sleep – which was rather 
unusual for their kind, but not unheard of. It usually happened when an Elf 
was extremely exhausted and would enter a healing sleep. Glorfindel 
raised his hand, wanting to touch the stranger’s face, but his fingers 
remained poised in the air, unwilling to disturb the other Elf’s sleep. 
 
/I have never seen him in Imladris before./ Glorfindel prided himself on 
the fact that he knew every inhabitant of the valley. This Elf was a 
stranger. /Who are you and why did you come here?/ Hailed the stranger 
from Mirkwood? The Havens? Or had he accompanied the royal couple 
from the Golden Wood? But no, this Elf wasn’t dressed like one of the 
Galadhrim. /And what do I do with you?/ 
 
Although he doubted that the stranger meant harm to Imladris, it was his 
task to secure the valley. This Elf might be a safety risk. He didn’t want 
the Elf to wake up, but he had little choice; he needed to question him 
now.
 
“Wake up,” he said, shaking the raven-haired Elf gently. There was no 
response and Glorfindel spoke in a louder voice. “Wake up now.” But the 
other Elf remained deeply asleep. Realizing that the healing sleep was 
keeping the stranger from waking up, Glorfindel opted for action. He 
moved closer, pushed his arms beneath the back and knees, and lifted the 
other Elf in his arms.
 
The result of his actions was that the dark mass of hair shifted, revealing 
more of the stranger’s features. /He is beautiful,/ realized Glorfindel, 
feeling rather entranced. But then he remembered his duties and steeled 
his heart so the attraction wouldn’t grow. At least not until he knew the 
other Elf’s reason for being here.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel took the stranger to the Healing House, where one of Elrond’s 
healers checked on him. The healer found no injuries and declared the 
strange Elf fit and healthy. Glorfindel sent a servant to apprise Elrond on 
the strange arrival and whilst he waited for the half-Elf to arrive, he seated 
himself close to the bed, watching the dark-haired Elf sleep.
 
The strange feeling of déjà vu remained; he felt like he knew this Elf, but 
when he searched his memory, he found nothing that indicated he had met 
this person before.
 
“Elrond is otherwise engaged,” said Mithrandir, upon entering the room. 
“And I took it upon myself to act in his place.” Looking at Glorfindel, the 
Maia caught the grin that briefly lit the blond Elf’s features. He didn’t 
have to tell Glorfindel what other activities demanded Elrond’s attention. 
“So, whom did you find?” The servant had only mentioned Glorfindel 
bringing a stranger to the Healing House.
 
“I found him in the gardens and I tried to wake him, but he is locked in 
some sort of healing sleep, which seems odd as he sports no injuries. I am 
not certain how to proceed.” Glorfindel rose from his chair and watched 
Mithrandir approach the bed.
 
Mithrandir frowned, feeling the aura of power that surrounded the 
sleeping Elf. Alerted, he addressed Glorfindel. “Leave us alone. I wish to 
talk to him in private.”
 
Glorfindel reluctantly left – he would have preferred to stay and hear their 
exchange. He took up pacing in the corridor instead.
 
Mithrandir placed his right hand on the stranger’s brow and his frown 
deepened, sensing the liquid power running through the Elf’s mind. /Elf? 
This is no Elf!/ Chocolate-dark eyes opened and locked with his, 
momentarily stunning Mithrandir. His touch had awoken their guest!
 
Erestor stared into the Maia’s eyes. “Olórin, I have heard the tales that 
surround you. I never thought I would meet you in person, though.” Still 
feeling somewhat weak now that he inhabited a body again, he remained 
stretched out and watched Mithrandir carefully. 
 
“Who are you?” Mithrandir removed his hand and remained on guard. He 
had to be sure that this one didn’t present a threat! “I sense much power in 
you.”
 
Erestor wondered what to do. In the end, he opted for the truth, realizing 
Mithrandir had sensed too much of his power to be mislead. /And I do not 
want my first words here to be lies./ Erestor slowly pushed himself into an 
upright position, but then had to admit defeat – he was still too weak to 
move about much – and lowered himself onto his back again. “I am one of 
the Valar.”
 
Mithrandir’s eyes widened; he had lived long and seen many things, but 
never had he witnessed one of the Valar walk Middle-Earth in a visible 
form. “Who are you?”
 
“My name is Erestor, son of Vairë and Námo.” 
 
“I have heard rumors of your existence,” confirmed Mithrandir, who now 
sat down. Shock was written all over his face and he needed more 
information to satisfy his curiosity. “But you have the body of an Elf.”
 
“That is my father’s doing.”
 
“Námo? Why would he give his son the body of one of the Firstborn?”
 
“That is a long story.” Erestor closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. 
“I missed being alive – being able to breathe.”
 
“You walked Arda before? As one of the Firstborn?” Erestor’s words had 
stunned Mithrandir. “How can that be?”
 
Erestor’s eyes opened and fastened with Mithrandir’s. “Do you sense evil 
on me, Olórin?” 
 
“Nay, I do not, but…” 
 
“My father sent me here.” Erestor chose his next words carefully. “To help 
the Firstborn… to aid them in their upcoming war against Sauron. The 
One Ring will be found and it will determine Arda’s fate.” It was a white 
lie. He knew that this particular future would come to pass and that 
Mithrandir would try hard to stop Sauron from being reunited with the 
One Ring and he used that knowledge to his advantage. He didn’t want to 
mention Glorfindel in this conversation. His love for Glorfindel was a 
private matter and didn’t belong here.
 
“You know the future?” He too knew this would come to pass, but had 
never expected the Valar to aid them. That went against the very nature of 
the Valar!
 
“I am not all-knowing like my father, but I do know the future.” Erestor 
tried again and this time he managed to sit upright. Ignoring the vertigo, 
he said, “You cannot tell anyone who I really am.”
 
“You wish for secrecy? Why?” He wasn’t sure he liked this development.
 
“You must accept my word for it that it is for the best. My identity must 
remain a secret.”
 
“Your words do not make sense,” said Mithrandir, catching Erestor 
flinching when he spoke those words. “But I do not sense evil intentions 
on your part, and I will do as you ask of me, but should you do anything to 
harm my friends, you will answer for your actions to me.”
 
“I won’t harm them,” promised Erestor. He had done better this time. 
When he had woken up in Gondolin, he had been unprepared for Turgon’s 
questions. This time, he had tried to do better. “I need an ally, Olórin. Will 
you help me?”
 
“I wish I knew your real reasons for coming here.” Mithrandir considered 
everything he had learned. “I will help you – for now.”
 
“Thank you,” said Erestor and the words came from the depths of his 
heart. “I must ask another favor from you.”
 
Mithrandir grew alert again. “What sort of favor?”
 
“I am a stranger here… I might know these Elves from watching my 
mother weaving their lives into her tapestries, but my knowledge of them 
is rather limited.”
 
Mithrandir shook his head, now that the truth settled in. This was Erestor, 
the son of the weaver and the Doomsman of the Valar. What had 
possessed Námo to give Erestor a Firstborn’s body?
 
“I need you to vouch for me… I need you to introduce me to Elrond.” He 
would be here for quite some time – or at least he hoped so – and things 
would be much easier if Elrond trusted him. 
 
Mithrandir still didn’t feel completely convinced. “I will do so if you tell 
me the *real* reason for your coming here.”
 
Erestor weighed his options and in the end, he said, “I am here to make 
amends. I made mistakes in the past, when I lived in Gondolin, and I want 
to make things right again.”
 
“And this concerns… who?” Mithrandir was stunned to learn Erestor had 
lived in Gondolin. When had the Valar begun to meddle in the affairs of 
the Firstborn?
 
“Glorfindel.”
 
Mithrandir’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “You are here because of 
Glorfindel?”
 
“I wronged him in the past, Olórin. I am here to make amends, and if I can 
help them fight Sauron, I will do so. I mean well; I will harm no one.” 
Erestor drew in a deep breath and looked Mithrandir in the eye. “If my 
words do not convince you, I will allow you to look into my mind so you 
can see for yourself.”
 
But Mithrandir raised a hand and shook his head again. “That won’t be 
necessary.” He sensed Erestor’s sincerity – and he sensed something else 
as well; heartbreak. “I will aid you.”
 
“Thank you,” whispered Erestor, relieved now that he had secured 
Mithrandir’s assistance. 
 
Mithrandir hoped that this decision wouldn’t come back to haunt him.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Maeglin had fallen quiet and Ereinion leaned in closer, carefully resting 
his hand on the other Elf’s wrist. He almost pulled back, surprised at the 
burning sensation that radiated from beneath the fabric of Maeglin’s robes. 
 
“It is because of the fire,” said Maeglin in an entranced voice. “I died in 
that fire. It closed around me and my flesh burned – grew charred and 
blistered. Even right now, it feels like I am still burning in the fire. I can 
never escape those flames.”
 
Ereinion remembered the tale – Tuor had come to his son and wife’s 
defense and the Man had thrown Maeglin into the fire. He shivered; the 
thought of eternally suffering from that fire made him uncomfortable. 
Feeling Maeglin shift ever so slightly, he reminded himself why he had 
reached out in the first place. “You agreed to tell me your life’s history,” 
he said in a gentle voice, hoping that Maeglin would find it in his heart to 
confide in him.
 
“It is beyond me why you wish to hear it.” Maeglin pulled away, unable to 
bear Ereinion’s kind touch any longer. His movement caused Ereinion’s 
hand to slip from his arm, breaking the contact. Maeglin seemed to shrink 
against the large chair and his haunted eyes were fixated on the fire that 
burned in Ereinion’s fire place. Ereinion couldn’t help but wonder how 
badly Maeglin had suffered when he had been burned alive. Did he really 
want to know? “Tell me. I believe that is important for you to do so.” 
Ereinion couldn’t tell Maeglin that Námo had engineered their meeting; 
Maeglin wouldn’t believe that and right now, the other Elf didn’t need to 
know he was being manipulated. It would only make Maeglin suspicious 
and even more reluctant to comply. “How did it start?”
 
“It started the day my mother decided to leave Gondolin. She felt trapped, 
like a bird in a golden cage, and wanted out. Three warriors accompanied 
her, but the four of them were separated as time passed by.” Maeglin 
closed his eyes and his lungs expanded, remembering how to draw in a 
deep breath as he had done whilst alive and they now mimicked that 
motion. “She roamed Eastern Beleriand for many years and for some time 
she found peace. But she was a restless soul and prone to wandering. One 
day she left the safety of her cousin's dwelling and she grew lost in the 
darkness. That was when *he* first noticed her.”
 
/Eöl lured Aredhel close./ But Ereinion didn’t speak those words, letting 
Maeglin tell his tale in his own pace. He leaned back into the chair and 
watched the troubled eyes reflect their owner’s emotions. The scars 
contracted on the brittle skin and Ereinion wondered if they caused 
Maeglin pain. Could a fëa2 feel such physical pain? Maybe this soul did – 
courtesy of the Valar as an eternal punishment.
 
“He did not approach her directly. The Dark Elf probably knew she would 
recoil from him and reject him. So he lured her closer, and when she was 
tired and lost, she saw the light that burned in his home and she 
approached. She found the doors open and servants appeared to do her 
bidding. She was relieved to have found a safe haven and did not question 
her luck at first. But then *he* appeared.”
 
Ereinion saw the misery in Maeglin’s dark eyes and wondered what 
Aredhel had told her son *exactly*. /I will find out,/ he realized; Maeglin 
would tell him.
 
“Maybe she was briefly attracted to him – to his dark beauty and to the 
will power he radiated. Maybe he bewitched her – but that changed once 
she realized that he desired to take her as his wife. She fled, but darkness 
surrounded her, trapping her, and she was forced to return to the Dark 
Elf.” Maeglin shivered. His mother had told him her tale after they had 
safely returned to Gondolin. But there were days when he wished she had 
never confided in him. He hadn’t wanted to know the depths of her pain 
and sorrow -- for it had worsened his.
 
“The Dark Elf’s lust overwhelmed him and he took her by force – against 
her will.” Maeglin’s fingers clawed at the arm rest and he kept his eyes 
closed, unable to meet Ereinion’s gaze now that he was making this horrid 
admission. “He violated her many times… She told me so. She would 
have faded, if she hadn’t found herself pregnant.” His dark eyes fastened 
on Ereinion. “Do you understand? I am a product of rape, of the Dark 
Elf’s lust and my mother’s pain.”
 
Even though he knew he was dealing with Maeglin – the traitor who had 
caused so many deaths and so much pain – Ereinion found himself eager 
to reach out and comfort this soul, but he didn’t – not yet. Maeglin had to 
tell his tale first.
 
“My mother called me Lómion, Child of the Twilight, but *he* never 
approved of that name. I always liked that name best, for I loved my 
mother best and she had given it to me. But the name was discarded and 
never to be used again. For the first twelve years of my life he did not 
think me worthy of a name. Secretly though, my mother continued to call 
me Lómion.”
 
Ereinion heard the bitterness in Maeglin’s voice and wondered what the 
other Elf had been like as a child. In how many ways had Eöl corrupted 
his son? 
 
“My childhood was not happy. My mother and I lived in constant fear of 
him. She tried to flee again, but she never got very far. She always took 
me along, but in the end, *he* would come for us and take us home, to 
Nan Elmoth.” Maeglin laughed, bitterly. “Home? It was our prison, not 
our home!”
 
Maeglin wondered what possessed him to tell Ereinion these intimidate 
details, but he reminded himself that he didn’t have a choice. Ereinion 
would not let him leave until he had told him the truth. “I was still young, 
maybe fifteen years, when I saw him rape my mother for the first time. 
Until then, he had taken precautions, so I would not see him take her 
against her will, but something had changed. It almost seemed like he 
wanted me to bear witness to her terror.”
 
Ereinion drew in a deep breath, realizing this tale was viler than he had 
originally thought. He leaned in closer and this time he succeeded in 
securing Maeglin’s scarred hand, which he gently gathered in his. His 
fingertips stroked the burned skin in what was hopefully a soothing 
manner. “I am sorry you had to see that.”
 
“If only it had stopped there.” 
 
Maeglin’s words caused shivers to run down Ereinion’s spine.
 
“He made me watch every time he violated my mother. Then, one day, he 
came to my room and…” Maeglin hid his face in shame, pulling the hood 
closer. 
 
“I… I had no idea that…” Ereinion suddenly wondered if he had the right 
to pressure Maeglin into revealing his sad tale. But he had started now and 
he had to follow through. “Did he…?”
 
Maeglin nodded once and his features turned grim. “He gave me a choice 
– or at least he presented it to me in that way. He told me that I could 
lessen my mother’s suffering and ease her pain by taking her place. I was 
only twenty-five years old and felt rather helpless. What child does not 
want to ease his mother’s suffering? I was nothing but an insecure Elfling. 
What would you do?” 
 
Maeglin’s anxious eyes met his and Ereinion’s mouth went dry. “He did 
not have the right…”
 
“My mother and I called him master, not husband or father! What choice 
did I have? I had the chance to ease my mother’s pain! I had the power to 
keep him away from her! He would not touch her against her will again! 
At least, that was what he said! That was what he let me think!” Maeglin’s 
eyes filled with tears, which he had refused to shed for millennia. “I 
wanted my mother safe! I did not want her to be in pain and cry during the 
night! I wanted to keep the monster out of her bed!”
 
“And so he crept into yours,” said Ereinion, shaken.
 
“Aye, he did.” Maeglin, realizing Ereinion was holding and stroking his 
hand, quickly pulled the hand away and hid it in the folds of his robes. His 
expression froze in terror, remembering that night when his father had 
robbed him of his innocence. “I had been forced to watch him take my 
mother against her will in the past and I knew that if I fought him, I would 
end up even more hurt. So I did not fight him and let him do as he pleased. 
I bit my bottom lip until it bled when he buried himself inside me. No 
scream left my lips for I did not want to alert my mother.”
 
Ereinion stared at Maeglin with sympathy and pity in his eyes. “I never 
knew…”
 
But Maeglin didn’t hear him. “I will never forget how much it hurt. He 
had rolled me onto my stomach, pressed me face down in the pillows, and 
then entered me. I had never known such pain before, but I thought of my 
mother and told myself that by doing this, I would keep the Dark Elf away 
from her.”
 
Ereinion’s eyes grew moist, realizing the Elfling had died that night and 
Maeglin had been born. Lómion hadn’t survived the rape.
 
“He told me I had done well and that I was now truly his son. He even said 
he was proud that I had accepted my fate.” Maeglin’s voice filled with 
latent rage. “The next night, he snuck into my bed again. Under the cover 
of night, he tore into me, making me bleed. After he had finished, he said 
he had marked me and that my blood was the proof that I was his now. I 
did not even react to his degrading comments, for I was hurting too much. 
My lower body burned and blood dripped down my thighs.”
 
Ereinion cried out in distress, uncertain he could take much more of this 
horrible tale.
 
“I told you that you did not want to hear this, but you insisted.” For one 
moment, malice sounded in his voice, but it died and old pain appeared in 
its place. “I thought that I had bought my mother’s freedom with my 
surrender, but… I was so very wrong. I would not find out how wrong for 
years.” 
 
Maeglin’s fingernails cut deeply into the wood, remembering… “He took 
me with him on his trips to the Dwarves. He would take me deep beneath 
the earth, into their caves where the sun’s beams did not reach. He would 
leave me there for days, coming to me at nights to use my body as he 
pleased. During the days, I learned all I could from the Dwarves in the 
hope that it would serve me well in the future. Maybe it would help me 
escape my father’s reign of terror one day. During the nights, I forced 
myself to submit to his lust.” 
 
Ereinion sat paralyzed, finally realizing he had opened a can of worms by 
making Maeglin confront his past. 
 
“We always returned *home* – to mother, and I was always happy to see 
her. She seemed to grow stronger over the years and I thought it was 
because *he* left her alone now. But I was wrong. One night, he first took 
his dirty pleasure from my body and then he dragged me along to their 
bedroom, where he made me watch him rape her. My sacrifice had been in 
vain and I began to plot our escape.”
 
Although Ereinion knew how the tale would end, he said, “Tell me what 
happened next.” Maeglin’s eyes were pools of black and he wondered if 
the other soul had heard him. 
 
“Our chance eventually came and my mother decided to head for 
Gondolin. We walked day and night and never rested, so great was our 
fear that *he* would find us.” 
 
Maeglin’s eyes briefly became alive and sparkled with joy. “I will never 
forget the first time I lay eyes upon the Hidden City. It was the most 
beautiful sight I ever saw.” Maeglin pulled his robes close, feeling 
strangely exposed beneath Ereinion’s probing glance. “The guards 
recognized mother and let us pass. In the end, my uncle gave us sanctuary 
and we were allowed to stay.”
 
/Turgon took him under his wing… Maeglin became his confidant,/ 
thought Ereinion, but he didn’t interrupt Maeglin and allowed him to 
continue. 
 
“I did not know how to act amongst these Elves. They were full of light, 
radiant and friendly. I had only known anger and aggression and that was 
when I made my first mistake. Out of fear I distanced myself from them. I 
grew arrogant and spiteful. Maybe some of my father showed up in me 
then and…” Maeglin’s voice broke. “I cannot continue.”
 
Ereinion reached for a crystal flask, filled with wine, and poured Maeglin 
a glass. Finding that Námo still supplied them with food and drink in death 
had stunned him at first, but he had quickly realized that having something 
that reminded him of being alive soothed him. “Drink this.”
 
“I cannot. It is part of my punishment. The ‘pleasures’ of the souls are not 
for me.” Maeglin sagged backwards, not caring that he looked like a 
pitiful heap of emotions. 
 
Ereinion rose from his chair, covered the small distance between them, 
and sat down on the armrest. “Drink this.”
 
“I told you I cannot!” screamed Maeglin – annoyed that Ereinion refused 
to listen to him. 
 
“Try.” Ereinion had the feeling things were changing for Maeglin and that 
this was merely the beginning of it. “Sip.”
 
Glaring at Ereinion, Maeglin’s shaky fingers curled around the glass and 
he drank of the sweet liquid, not expecting to actually taste the wine. But 
he did, and his eyes almost bulged from their sockets. “What?”  His hand 
was really *holding* the glass and not passing through it. 
Ereinion pulled his chair closer to Maeglin’s and sat down, leaning 
forward. “You experienced something no Elf – let alone an Elfling – 
should experience. You did what you thought was best.”
 
Maeglin shook his head; feeling quite dazed, he first stared at the wine and 
then slowly sipped. He couldn’t believe he actually tasted the wine! “I 
should have fought him the first time he sneaked into my bed. I should 
have fought him and killed him instead of offering myself to him. I 
corrupted my soul by giving in so easily.”
 
“You were a child. You did not know better and you were desperate to 
protect your mother. You are not to blame.”
 
“Oh, but I am!” Maeglin’s bitter laugh echoed through the room once 
more. “You see, I should have killed him when I had the chance, for he 
followed us to Gondolin and demanded we leave with him. The High-
King did not want us to go and gave the Dark Elf a choice. He could either 
stay in Gondolin or die. Eöl wanted to make that decision for me. He tried 
to kill me, Ereinion. He wanted to kill his son.”
 
Ereinion knew how that fateful day had ended, but kept quiet.
 
“My mother shielded me with her own body and caught the spear destined 
to end my life. At first, we did not think she was mortally wounded, but 
the tip carried poison and she died that very night.” Maeglin shivered. 
“Her soul dwells here. I have watched her from afar.”
 
“You never tried to approach her?”
 
“She cannot sense my presence. No one can – except for you.” Maeglin 
frowned. “I wonder why that is.” The empty glass almost slipped from his 
fingers, but Ereinion caught it. “I should finish my tale.” The sooner he 
finished it, the better, and then he could finally leave.
 
“Take your time.” Ereinion had never known the real reason for the 
darkness that had always clung to Maeglin, but now he understood. As an 
Elfling, Maeglin had been submitted to unthinkable abuse and it had 
hindered his normal development, making him into someone different than 
who he was supposed to be.
 
“My mother died and they threw my father over the Northern Wall to his 
death. All of a sudden, I was an orphan, set free in a world I knew nothing 
about. Turgon took me under his wing and assigned me rooms close to his. 
That first night, I lay awake, almost expecting him to come to my room 
and claim what my father had claimed. But he didn’t and slowly I became 
less paranoid – less intimidated. And then I saw her… Idril…”
 
“Idril…” Maeglin’s desire to have Idril as his wife had caused Gondolin’s 
Fall for Morgoth had promised her to him. 
 
Maeglin, feeling ashamed of his past actions, lowered his eyes. Ereinion’s 
eyes were warm, even forgiving, and he couldn’t deal with that. “I do not 
believe I truly loved her, for I think I am incapable of love. I coveted her. I 
wanted her.”
 
“Why did you covet her?”
 
“She was pure, Ereinion. She was like a Silmaril, pure and radiant, like my 
mother must have been before the Dark Elf laid his dirty hands on her.” 
Maeglin shivered, realizing only too well that he had followed in his 
father’s footsteps. “She was so pure that I thought that by taking her as my 
wife she would wash away my stains. She would make me whole again. 
She would take away the darkness my father had tainted me with. But she 
sensed my evil and turned away from me. She chose Tuor as her husband 
and I believed that I would never find redemption if I let her slip through 
my fingers.”
 
Ereinion blinked, perplexed to hear Maeglin’s reasoning. 
 
“I wanted to be as pure as she was. I wanted my innocence back and she 
still possessed that innocence. It was part of her soul and I hungered for it 
– for her warmth, her acceptance… Her forgiveness.”
 
Ereinion placed his hand on Maeglin’s knee and squeezed gently. “You 
should have sought that forgiveness within yourself.”
 
“Aye, you are right, but I did not understand that at the time. Tarnished, 
ashamed and angry, I believed I could only reach redemption through her. 
My needs devoured me and when Morgoth offered Idril to me…” 
Growing aware of Ereinion’s hand, which rested on his knee, he shyly 
sought out the brown eyes. “I fought Morgoth at first. I sensed his evil, an 
evil that reminded me of my father. I did not want to give in, but… but he 
tortured me. Morgoth knew what my father had done to me and threatened 
to do the same thing to me again. His minions touched me… And just 
before they intended to rape me, he offered me Idril – he offered me my 
redemption. I was not thinking rationally at that moment. His minions had 
forced me onto my hands and knees and I could feel them behind me. I 
knew what would happen next… and then he offered me a way out. I was 
a coward and took it.” Maeglin bowed his head and lowered his eyes. 
“Damning my soul further.”
 
Ereinion was lost for words and could only listen – enthralled.
 
“When I returned to Gondolin I had changed. I had nothing to lose and 
everything to gain. I had become obsessed by Idril – by my need to make 
her mine. Then, Morgoth attacked and I made my move – I went to Idril’s 
house. I found them there, Idril and her son. Eärendil, he…”
 
Ereinion rested his other hand on Maeglin’s back and fought back the urge 
to pull away when a burning sensation radiated from beneath the fabric. 
 
“He reminded me of how my life could have been if my father had not laid 
his hands upon me and had left my mother alone. Idril adored her son and 
Tuor loved him dearly. I had wanted that too, but my father had been 
abusive and my mother… She was a victim also. Rage came over me and I 
wanted to smite him down, but… fate decided differently. Tuor cast me 
into the fire and I burned… My soul burned.”
 
Moved by Maeglin’s story, Ereinion rubbed the charred back. 
 
“I was taken before the Valar and they decided on a punishment for me. I 
was to walk these Halls for eternity – unseen and unnoticed.” Maeglin felt 
exhausted now that he had unburdened his tainted soul for the first time in 
his life. “For the first hundred years I fought their decision, but… solitude 
has made me seen the wrong of my ways. I now understand that I deserve 
my punishment – which was surprisingly mild. I would have punished 
myself much harsher had I been called upon to judge myself. I would have 
condemned myself to burn in fire for all eternity… What I did… The 
deaths I caused… I can never make amends…” 
 
Exhausted, Maeglin sagged forward, but was caught by Ereinion, who 
quickly wrapped a steadying arm around Maeglin, who had obviously 
fainted. When he had sat Maeglin down he had never expected to hear 
such a ghastly tale. Sharing his tale had worn Maeglin down and the soul 
had retreated – mimicking a state of unconsciousness.
 
“Now you know the ugly truth.” Námo left the shadows of the corner and 
looked Ereinion in the eye. Had he found the soul he had been hoping to 
find for millennia? Was Ereinion the one destined to set Maeglin’s 
tormented fëa free?
 
“Why me? Why did you allow me to notice him?” Ereinion stared 
questioningly at the Vala. He was certain that Námo had a hidden agenda, 
but what was it that the Vala wanted from him? 
 
“I had nothing to do with it.” Now that was a half lie – a white lie. “It was 
your compassionate nature that noticed him.” Námo considered his next 
step. “Things have changed for Lómion. Things have also changed for 
you.”
 
“What do you want me to do? What do you want from me?” Ereinion 
frowned, wondering why Námo had called Maeglin Lómion. He just knew 
there was a deeper meaning to that!
 
“Telling you about his ordeal has left him weak. He has walked these 
Halls for millennia without a rest. His fëa is weary.” His expression was 
oddly compassionate, as he looked upon Maeglin’s crumbled form.
 
“But, we – fëar3 – do not need to rest!”
 
“But even souls need to dream,” pointed out Námo, softly. 
 
The compassionate expression, which had appeared in Námo’s eyes 
earlier, worried Ereinion for some reason. What *exactly* were the Vala’s 
plans for Maeglin? 
 
“Ereinion…I am allowing him to rest for the first time in millennia. 
Maybe you should watch over him? Nightmares will be upon him. He has 
never dealt with his past and you opened old wounds.”
 
“I never knew… I never suspected!” Ereinion rose from his chair, and 
now that his support was gone, Maeglin began to fall forward. Ereinion 
quickly caught the other Elf and carried Maeglin over to his bed, where he 
gently laid him down. “Námo, I need to know why you chose me…” 
Ereinion had turned around to study Námo’s expression, but then found 
the Vala was gone. He was alone with Maeglin – or should he call him 
Lómion?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next morning, Elrond and Glorfindel entered the Healing House. 
Elrond felt relaxed and happy, after spending the night in his wife’s arms. 
Glorfindel however, had grown anxious and nervous since finding the 
stranger beneath the weeping willow. 
 
“I am certain that there is a logical explanation for this Elf’s presence in 
the gardens,” said Elrond, trying to calm down his friend. “He was 
exhausted and asleep, and thus hardly posed a threat to Imladris.”
 
Glorfindel didn’t know why he felt this ill at ease. He just did. “Elrond, we 
need to be careful. We have built a safe haven in this valley and we must 
keep it secure.”
 
Elrond halted, which forced Glorfindel to come to a stop as well. He 
raised a hand and placed it on his friend’s shoulder. “Vilya keeps this 
valley protected. Trust me when I say that no evil will enter unnoticed. If 
this Elf presented a danger, the Ring of Power would have let me know.”
 
Glorfindel eyed Vilya, which sat proudly on Elrond’s ring finger. “You 
are probably right,” he admitted with a sigh. “But I cannot help feeling 
protective – Gondolin…”
 
“The Hidden City is no more, Glorfindel. It is in your past. Leave it where 
it belongs.”
 
“You speak wisely. I will try to heed your words.”
 
“Good! And now let us visit with your mysterious Elf.” Elrond pushed the 
door open and stepped inside.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Mithrandir looked up and smiled at Elrond. “Ah, I was wondering when 
you would join me!” 
 
The naughty twinkling in the old eyes told Elrond that Mithrandir knew 
exactly why he hadn’t joined them earlier and he grinned. “I can hardly 
desert my wife on our first night as a married couple! Now, where is that 
Elf Glorfindel found?” The bed was unoccupied.
 
“I told him to wash up.” Mithrandir raised a hand and gestured for Elrond 
and Glorfindel to walk up to him. Once the two Elves were close enough, 
he said, “He hails from Mirkwood and carried a message for me. He is a 
spy.” 
 
“He can be trusted, then?” Glorfindel frowned, deeply.
 
“Aye, he can be trusted. He is one of my confidants.” Mithrandir hoped he 
was doing the right thing by introducing Erestor as someone trustworthy. 
“He was searching for me, but fatigue caught up with him after his long 
journey and sleep overwhelmed him. He has handed me the message in 
the meantime.”
 
“And does he have a name?” Glorfindel’s breath caught when the stranger 
finally emerged from the bathroom. Clad only in black leggings, the sight 
the stranger presented was breath-taking; the long raven hair danced – 
unbound – against the small of the Elf’s back. Alabaster skin enhanced the 
stranger’s beauty and the dark eyes seemed pools of midnight-sky. There 
was something very familiar about that Elf, but at the same time, 
Glorfindel felt on guard, as if he didn’t trust him. 
 
“My name is Mornén,” said Erestor, unwilling to reveal his real name to 
Glorfindel, as he didn’t know what kind of impact hearing it would have 
on his former lover. He forced himself to remain at a distance, although he 
wanted to run to Glorfindel, fling himself into the strong arms and shower 
the beloved face with kisses. He couldn’t do that anymore – he had lost 
the right to do so. 
 
Again, he asked himself why his father had sent him back to Arda. He had 
never expected for that to happen and it shocked him that Námo had 
actually proceeded without consulting with him first. /I will ask him the 
next time we meet./ Unfortunately, his father wasn’t present now and he 
had to deal with this unexpected situation himself. “I hail from Mirkwood 
– from King Thranduil’s court.”
 
Elrond sighed. He had always wanted to befriend Thranduil. The young 
King must have been lonely after Oropher had died. 
 
“My Lord?” Erestor wondered about Elrond’s peculiar reaction. “Did I say 
something wrong?” 
 
“I was reminded that I wanted certain matters to develop differently in the 
past.” Elrond forced a weak smile onto his face. “Will you do me the 
honor of being my guest for some days? You will want to rest before 
returning to Mirkwood.”
 
Erestor had no intention of leaving for Mirkwood. He wanted to stay close 
to Glorfindel – his heart and his love. To have Glorfindel this close was 
pure torment, as he couldn’t touch him or whisper confessions of his love. 
But the fact that Glorfindel tolerated his presence encouraged him. As 
Námo had erased Glorfindel’s memories of him, he hoped that the anger 
was also gone. But when he studied the lovely blue eyes closely, he still 
saw hints of suspicion there. 
 
Mithrandir, whose senses were trained on Erestor, realized something of 
the tragic fate that had befallen the Vala. “Elrond,” he said, giving his 
friend a conspiring look. “Mornén has Thranduil’s trust… maybe you 
should befriend him and encourage him to stay for a longer period of 
time? He could act as your liaison to Thranduil.” Although Thranduil 
knew nothing of Erestor’s existence, the Woodland King did trust the 
Maia and Mithrandir would act as the liaison at first and then gradually 
introduce Erestor to Thranduil as a trustworthy ally.
 
“That is an excellent idea,” mumbled Elrond, seeing the chance he had 
been waiting for. Maybe Thranduil and he could work on building some 
sort of relationship, which would benefit both their realms.
 
Erestor gave Mithrandir a thankful look. The Maia’s quick thinking had 
assured him of a place in Elrond’s household.
 
Glorfindel cocked his head, uncertain whether to applaud this 
development – because it meant Mornén would stay – or to feel suspicious 
instead. His feelings were at war with each other.
 
It was Erestor who eventually broke the ice. First, he thanked Elrond. “My 
Lord Elrond, I won’t disappoint you. I will work hard on improving the 
relationship between Mirkwood and Imladris.” After seeing Elrond nod 
his approval, he finally addressed the one he had never stopped loving. 
Glorfindel was as lovely as he had been on that first day when they had 
met in Gondolin and he fell all over again for the warrior. “My name is 
Mornén,” he said, privately cringing, as he realized he was lying to 
Glorfindel once more. But he couldn’t introduce himself as Erestor, and 
risk Glorfindel’s memories waking up. He had to win Glorfindel’s trust 
first! “May I know yours?”
 
“I am Glorfindel,” he said, introducing himself. 
 
“I am honored to meet you. Your name has become legend amongst our 
people.” Erestor extended his right hand, hoping Glorfindel would accept 
it. 
 
Glorfindel stared at the offered hand for a long moment, realizing that for 
some reason he had reached a crossroad in his life. His eyes locked with 
brown ones and he shivered; they seemed so familiar! 
 
“Glorfindel!” Elrond, feeling awkward now that Glorfindel didn’t shake 
Erestor’s hand, nudged his friend and Captain. 
 
In the end, Glorfindel curled his fingers around Erestor’s and his eyes 
widened, knowing upon contact that his life was about to drastically 
change. But would it be for the better?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“These will be your rooms, for now,” said Elrond, who had walked 
Erestor to his temporary quarters. “In time, I will assign permanent ones to 
you -- after the wedding guests have left.” At the moment, the Last 
Homely House was crowded with Elves. 
 
“Thank you, my Lord. You are very kind to show me to them personally.” 
Erestor liked Elrond… There was much of Eärendil in the Lord of 
Imladris. 
 
“It is no trouble,” assured Elrond. “But I must leave now. My wife is 
waiting for me to join her for a walk in the gardens.” He beamed with 
pride and happiness, speaking those words.
 
“Then you should not make her wait.” Erestor opened the door to his 
rooms and bowed respectfully. “I am at your disposal.”
 
“Excellent. I will send Melpomaen to escort you to my study when it is 
time for work.” Elrond felt pleased, as he turned and exited the corridor. 
He finally had a chance to work on improving relations with Thranduil.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“No! Leave me be!” 
 
The screamed words, uttered in utmost distress caused Ereinion to jump to 
his feet. He had been dozing, seated in a chair next to the bed, and 
although Maeglin’s sleep had been restless, he hadn’t expected the violent 
outburst that followed. Maeglin’s haunted eyes still carried traces of heavy 
sleep and the other Elf screamed his pain at his imaginary tormentor. 
 
There was no doubt in Ereinion’s mind that Eöl was very real for Maeglin 
as long as Maeglin was in this state of half-sleep, and he acted quickly by 
sitting down on the side of the bed, trying to calm his charge down. “It 
was a nightmare – nothing but a nightmare.”
 
“Do not touch me!” Maeglin spat the words, raised his arms and tried to 
push his assailant away. 
 
Maeglin’s facial expression showed fear, anger and panic, which made 
Ereinion cringe. He had considered taking Maeglin into his arms in an 
attempt to calm him, but discarded that idea now, remembering the way 
Lindir had reacted the first time he had tried to hug the minstrel. He 
remained at a distance instead, and tried to soothe Maeglin by speaking 
softly to him. “You are safe now. He is not here. You need to wake up and 
realize you are safe.” Ereinion wavered; what name was he supposed to 
use? For some reason Maeglin seemed inappropriate, though he couldn’t 
explain why. “Lómion? Please wake up?”
 
The panic in Maeglin’s dark eyes faded and wonder appeared instead. 
Returning to full awareness, he blinked, and then recognized Ereinion 
seated at his side. His head reeled after everything he had been through 
and he had a hard time understanding and accepting what had happened. 
“What did you call me?” Why would Ereinion call him that?
 
“Lómion,” repeated Ereinion. “Did you not tell me that you preferred that 
name?” Ereinion carefully reached out and managed to cradle the other 
Elf’s hand in his. His fingertips moved over the damaged skin, which still 
carried imprints of the blisters and burns the fire had left. 
 
“I did prefer that name, but…” Maeglin lowered his eyes. He didn’t 
deserve Ereinion’s understanding and compassion -- he had done too 
many evil deeds in the past. “You should not be here – with me.”
 
Ereinion’s gaze was soft and kind when he raised Maeglin’s chin to make 
eye contact with the other Elf. “I really think you should not be alone right 
now.”
 
“I probably disturbed you by screaming out, but…” Maeglin closed his 
eyes, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. The compassion he saw 
in Ereinion’s eyes was killing him – he didn’t deserve it! “But it has been 
so long since I dreamt – since I had a nightmare. I had forgotten what it 
was like.” Suffering from nightmares was something he could definitely 
do without!
 
“I do not mind. You have every right to scream out your pain, for what 
your father did to you was wrong.” Ereinion softly brushed the scarred 
skin beneath his fingers. The hood had fallen back, revealing the full 
extent of what the fire had done. Hair was missing and black skin showed 
instead.
 
“Do not look at me like that. I beg of you – do not. I am hideous to look 
at.” Maeglin kept his eyes closed and tried to turn his head away from 
Ereinion, but the fingers remained in place beneath his chin, preventing 
him from looking away. “I was fair in life. Many Elves told me so and 
admired my beauty, but on the inside, I was hideous, just as hideous as I 
am now on the outside. I deserve this.”
 
/You deserved this in the past, but you have changed./ Ereinion caressed 
the brittle facial skin. “Open your eyes for me?” He had forced Maeglin to 
confront his past and now he had to follow through. 
 
Maeglin opened his eyes, and seeing the expression in Ereinion’s eyes 
caused tremors to shake his body. There was understanding there – 
something he had never expected to find.
 
“Tell me, how much of Lómion survived? Is there still anything left of 
him?” Ereinion felt how Maeglin’s tremors worsened; but, he had 
expected that particular reaction and didn’t let it deter him from his chosen 
path. “Do I still see something of him in your eyes?”
 
Maeglin swallowed, his throat aching as it was painfully dry. “He died. He 
died when the Dark Elf forced himself upon him.” This was one subject he 
didn’t want to elaborate on. 
 
“Is that so? Is that the truth? If it is, then why do you tremble beneath my 
touch? Why is there this need in your eyes?”
 
“I do not wish to discuss this!” He had to protect himself – the little that 
was left of him. Lómion couldn’t have survived!
 
Ereinion knew he had to back off and allow Maeglin to gather his strength. 
“It appears things have changed for you. Námo must have approved of 
these changes; otherwise they would never have taken place.”
 
“I do not understand why he would allow this.” Maeglin finally found the 
courage to move away from Ereinion and the former High-King’s hand 
dropped onto the mattress. Maeglin looked at it with wonder – he had felt 
that touch!
 
“By the Grace of the Valar things are changing. Maybe they have 
improved?” Ereinion considered his next step. /I have to keep him here 
and I have to make certain he feels comfortable in my presence./ Ereinion 
didn’t plan on letting Maeglin out of his sight. 
 
Maeglin stared at Ereinion’s hand, remembering how wonderful that touch 
had felt. Had he ever been touched in anything else besides lust? Aye, his 
mother had touched him, but always with sorrow in her eyes and he 
understood why. She had never wanted to bear the Dark Elf a child and he 
even admired her for being able to love him like she had. He was nothing 
but the product of marital rape.
 
“Lómion?”
 
“Do not call me that…” Shivers ran down his spine. “Lómion died. He is 
no longer alive… he cannot be…”
 
“Is that what you are scared of? That you found a part of yourself you had 
thought lost?” Ereinion understood why that would scare Maeglin – had 
he been in the other Elf’s shoes, he would have felt terrified too. 
 
Maeglin’s eyes became defiant, staring into Ereinion’s. “He is dead – 
ripped to pieces. Only Maeglin – the traitor – remained.”
 
“I do not believe you,” said Ereinion in a calm tone. “I believe that more 
of Lómion has survived than you know – than you want to acknowledge.” 
Ereinion wasn’t prepared to stop Maeglin when the other Elf leapt from 
the bed and ran toward the door. He watched how Maeglin’s fingers 
curled around the doorknob, and he told himself to go after Maeglin, for 
else he might never see the other Elf again, but then the fingers passed 
through the metal. No matter how hard Maeglin tried, he couldn’t turn the 
doorknob! Releasing a relieved sigh, he rose from the bed and advanced 
on Maeglin. “You do not have to confront this now. You should rest 
instead.”
 
“Rest?” Maeglin spun around. “How in Elbereth’s name am I ever going 
to find anything that resembles rest? I thought it was a curse that the Valar 
took away my ability to dream, but now I understand it was a blessing! I 
do not want to suffer those nightmares again! They haunted me for most 
of my life!”
 
“Maybe we can find a way to deal with them until they go away?” 
Ereinion raised his arm, offering Maeglin his hand and his support, 
provided the other Elf wanted it. 
 
“We?” He must have misheard! “And what makes you think that they will 
*ever* go away?” He shook over his entire body and stared at the offered 
hand like it was a snake in disguise.
 
“I had a friend once who was forced to watch whilst Orcs raped and 
murdered his friends. They then tried to force themselves on him. It took 
him many years, but he learned to deal with the memories and in the end, 
he overcame them.”
 
“How do you know he did? Maybe he was just pretending.”
 
“He became my lover and showed me that he had overcome his memories. 
Aye, I know it hurts right now because your memories have just 
resurfaced in full force, but they will dim, and in the end, they will lose 
their ability to frighten you.”
 
Maeglin shook his head. “Your friend was never raped himself. He did not 
know…”
 
“Lómion, you are strong!  You can face this and come out of it even 
stronger. Take my hand. Accept what I am offering.”
 
“You do not understand.” Maeglin’s anger had faded and despair 
appeared. “Even if I learnt to deal with it, what purpose would that serve? 
Why should I fight? I have nothing left to fight for! I am damned to walk 
these corridors forever.”
 
“You are not alone *now*, are you?” Ereinion gave Maeglin a weak 
smile. “As long as you are here you are not alone. Stay. Stay, and face the 
memories which scare you the most.”
 
“I cannot. I failed in the past and I will fail again.” But Ereinion’s hand 
remained extended and he found himself raising his hand in turn, reaching 
for it. /Do not do it! Keep him at a distance! Lómion is dead! He cannot be 
brought back!/
 
“I have faith in you,” said Ereinion, deeply touched, seeing Maeglin reach 
for him. He quickly gathered the trembling hand in his and pulled Maeglin 
closer. “I have faith in Lómion.”
 
“You should not. Lómion is no more.” It was as if his feet moved of their 
own accord and he went to Ereinion, standing close to him. By the Grace 
of the Valar, it was almost like he could feel the other soul’s body heat. 
But that was impossible! They weren’t alive! Ereinion couldn’t emanate 
any body warmth!
 
“That is where you are wrong. Lómion has been asleep for a long time – 
running from the nightmares, but he has awoken and I do not want him to 
go back to sleep again.” 
 
“You are wrong.”
 
“Nay, I am not and I will prove it to you.” In the dark eyes, Ereinion saw 
exhaustion and the desire to dream – to dream of pleasant things. “Come 
with me, meldir.” 
 
Maeglin shivered; no one called him friend. “You are making a grave 
mistake.”
 
“I am not.” Ereinion took control of the situation and pulled Maeglin 
toward the bed. To his relief, the other Elf didn’t put up any resistance and 
joined him willingly. “Sit down, Lómion.”
 
Maeglin complied – glad that he could sit down for his knees almost gave 
way beneath him. Every time that Ereinion addressed him by his given 
name, he felt warmer – welcome. He had never felt welcome before.
 
Ereinion sat down, rested his back against the headboard of the bed and 
pulled Maeglin into his arms. “Maybe my presence will bring you 
peaceful dreams. Will you try?”
 
Did he have a choice? Did he want to have a choice? Maeglin gave in – 
weary from fighting Ereinion – from fighting himself. Resting against 
Ereinion, he grew calm and accepting. He didn’t know why, but 
apparently, the Valar had decided to change the terms of his existence. He 
didn’t dare to hope that it would be for the better!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ecthelion had grown worried, finding that Ereinion hadn’t joined them in 
the main hall for quite some time. He had thought that the former king had 
accepted his death and new existence and had stopped isolating himself, 
but maybe he had been wrong. After debating the matter privately, he 
eventually decided to seek Ereinion out and invite him to join them.
 
Softly, he knocked on the door to Ereinion’s rooms, but when no answer 
was forthcoming, he pushed it ajar. A frown appeared on his brow, finding 
not one, but two Elves occupying the bed. As Ereinion’s eyes were blank, 
Ecthelion approached soundlessly, not wanting to wake the former king 
and the other fëa. This other Elf puzzled him, as he could only see the dark 
robes he was wearing. The face was hidden deep within the confines of a 
hood, only a few strands of dark hair peeked out. What Elf – soul – had 
founds its way into Ereinion’s bed?
 
What was he supposed to do? Stay, or leave? Now that he knew that 
Ereinion wasn’t alone he felt reassured. Apparently, Ereinion had found 
new company, which had taken away his need to join them in the main 
hall. Wasn’t that for the best? He stole back to the doorway, opened, and 
then closed the door behind him. He would check on Ereinion later. For 
now, he would join Turgon and the others in the main hall.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Maeglin felt relieved, hearing Ecthelion close the door. Although he was 
invisible to all souls except Ereinion, he had felt suffocated knowing 
Ecthelion was so close. The amount of guilt he felt was oppressive and he 
wasn’t certain he could have born Ecthelion’s presence for a longer time. 
Every time he saw one of the Elves he had wronged, he was overcome by 
guilt and self-hate. 
 
Morgoth had so easily convinced him to turn against his own kind! He had 
accepted what Morgoth had offered after coveting Idril for so long. He 
should have fought harder – should have endured the rape. He should have 
let Morgoth end his life. Finding death at the Evil One’s hand would have 
been an honorable solution, for then he wouldn’t have betrayed Gondolin. 
 
His past deeds would always haunt him and the memories kept him from 
finding any kind of redemption. The Valar had punished him for his 
crimes, but he wished they had punished him harsher. The fact that he had 
found comfort in Ereinion’s arms seemed like blasphemy. He wasn’t 
entitled to such comfort! 
 
“You should be resting,” said Ereinion, who had awoken due to Maeglin’s 
troubled thoughts, which had found him in his dreams. “Not brooding. I 
know that your thoughts are disturbed, but have your dreams improved? 
Did the nightmares leave you alone?” Contrary to the last time when 
Maeglin had rested against him and had screamed himself awake, the 
other soul had rested peacefully this time – at least that was what Ereinion 
thought.
 
“My sleep was undisturbed by nightmares,” admitted Maeglin. His next 
confession slipped out unwanted. “I wonder how long this peaceful feeling 
will last and why the Valar are allowing this.”
 
“I do not know the answers to your questions for certain, but I do think the 
time has come for you to move on.”
 
“Move on? Where to?” Maeglin was more frightened than he wanted 
Ereinion to know. He didn’t know what to expect now that his existence 
had been upended. “Is it back to walking the corridors for me? Unseen? 
Or… Does something worse lie ahead of me?”
 
“I doubt you will ever go back to walking the corridors unnoticed by 
others.” Maeglin shivered and Ereinion promptly tightened his hold on 
him. 
 
Maeglin didn’t know how to react to being held so close. Why was the 
former king so determined to keep him close and comfort him? “A worse 
fate must await me then.” A terrible thought came to him. “You can see 
me. What if the others can see me too?” His eyes widened, showing panic. 
“They would never accept my presence! They hate me and… They would 
shun me at best!”
 
Ereinion considered Maeglin’s fears. “This is about you – not them. I 
might be wrong, but I have the feeling that the Valar understand that you 
have grown – that you have learned and admitted your faults. Maybe this 
is their way of offering you redemption.”
 
“What redemption would I find when they look at me with hatred in their 
eyes? Hatred, which I fully deserve!”
 
/Maybe this is where *they* need to do *their* growing?/ Ereinion gave 
Maeglin a thoughtful look. “You have admitted and accepted your 
mistakes. You are ready to grow and deal with your guilt – your self-
hatred. Maybe the Valar want them to learn something as well?”
 
Maeglin shrugged his shoulders once. “There is no excuse for the crimes I 
committed!”
 
Ereinion nodded once. “I am not speaking about excuses, but what you 
told me about Eöl made me understand why you did the things you did. 
You *do* realize that your father had no right to do those things to you? 
He abused you in the worst way possible and damaged your soul by raping 
you.”
 
“Do not speak those words aloud.” Ereinion’s words caused a terrible 
scene to appear on his retina and he froze, terrified.
 
Ereinion immediately noticed Maeglin tensing against him. “What is it? 
What haunts you?” 
 
“One time, he… he told me to come to his rooms… There was a large 
mirror there… It reflected the moonlight that night.” Maeglin shook his 
head, wondering just *why* he was telling Ereinion his worst memory. 
“He took me, standing in front of it and ordered me to watch. I saw him… 
I saw everything in that mirror. I saw the lust in his eyes – the evil grin 
when he buried himself in my body. And I saw my face – my eyes. They 
appeared dead to me at first, but they broke when the pain traveled up my 
insides.”
 
Ereinion shivered. Just when he had thought that he had heard Maeglin’s 
worst memory, the other soul would share something even more painful 
with him. “You need to deal with the pain, instead of pushing it away. 
You were hurt – badly – by your own father.”
 
“I never looked upon him as my father,” whispered Maeglin, still trying 
hard to shake off those unsettling memories. Ereinion’s fingertips 
unexpectedly caressed his scarred face and Maeglin involuntarily met the 
dark eyes. “How can you reach out and accept me? All these millennia I 
have felt tainted. And now I feel unworthy of your touch.”
 
Ereinion buried him in a loose hug. He had intended to tighten his hold 
further, but then realized it might feel too constrictive to Maeglin. “I 
understand that you feel tainted. I even understand that you feel unworthy. 
But the fact is that you were abused does not lessen your worth.” Maeglin 
began to tremble against him. Although he had hoped for that particular 
reaction to surface, he hadn’t expected it yet. Knowing hearing the right 
words was very important for Maeglin, he added, “You said that Lómion 
did not survive – I say differently. I think he has been protecting himself, 
hiding away for a very long time. It is safe to come out, you know. You 
are safe in my arms. Lómion, it is safe to come out.”
 
Maeglin’s eyes shed bitter tears at hearing those words. “He cannot come 
out. He is dead.”
 
“Nay, Lómion is very much alive. The fact that you are here – in my arms 
– confirms that. You are not the evil Elf many of our kin think you are. 
You are hurt – damaged – even, but there is hope, even for you. But you 
have to accept me and the guidance I am offering.”
 
“I am scared…” 
 
“I know you are, but how else can you deal with this? It was Lómion who 
had to endure the abuse and who could not take it. That was when Maeglin 
appeared. He was a stronger persona and he managed to flee with his 
mother. But Maeglin stayed, whilst you no longer needed him. Put 
Maeglin to rest. He has served his purpose. Please, find the courage to 
become Lómion again.”
 
Some of Ereinion’s words made no sense to Maeglin, but others did. 
“How do I put him to rest? He has served me well. He ensured my 
survival.” Had he finally lost his mind?
 
“Do you still remember how it felt to be Lómion – maybe even before the 
abuse started? Do you remember how it felt to be loved by your mother? 
To be a child?”
 
“Vaguely… I was always on my guard.” Feeling lost and confused, he 
lifted his head and his big eyes met Ereinion’s. “I do not think Lómion 
ever *really* existed. He always had to be careful not to attract the Dark 
Elf’s attention.”
 
“You never had the chance to be a child and to grow – to become the one 
you were supposed to be. You have a second chance now. Will you allow 
Lómion to surface? Can you put Maeglin to rest? You no longer need 
him.”
 
“I…” Maeglin’s dark, haunted eyes probed Ereinion’s and then he opted 
for the truth. “I cannot do that on my own. Lómion is scared… He 
remembers the pain inflicted on him.”
 
Ereinion grew sad, realizing just how badly Eöl had damaged his son. 
“You *are” Lómion. You might not want to hear that, but you are. Hidden 
deep within Maeglin is Lómion and he has already begun to come out.”
 
Maeglin remained unconvinced. “I cannot do this alone.”
 
“You do not have to do it alone, meldir. Don’t you understand what I am 
offering? I am willing to walk that path with you.” 
 
“But…” But the other souls would never allow it!
 
“Lómion, it is only you and I in here. I won’t leave you and I do not want 
you to leave either. Stay with me and accept my support. Embrace this 
opportunity to become the person you were supposed to be and stop being 
the one your father made you into. What do you say? Do you have the 
necessary courage? Are you willing to put your trust in me? I helped one 
Elf recover in the past and I believe the things I experienced with him will 
help me guide you better.” 
 
“Why? Why are you offering me this? Why do this for me?” Oh, the 
answers to those questions were important to Lómion. It would determine 
if he was willing to face his past or not!
 
“Why? Because I care. Because I do not want you to be in pain. Because 
everyone deserves a second chance and the Valar brought you to me. I 
believe that I can help you. That I can support and guide you. I want you 
to be you – not this… shell Eöl created.”
 
“You care about me, then?” That concept baffled him. 
 
“Aye, I care – I care more than you are probably willing to believe. I feel 
sorry for Maeglin, for the choices he made, and he has been punished 
enough. Aside from the fallen Elves in Gondolin there is another victim 
and that is you, Lómion. I believe that your time has come to *be* -- to 
exist. Maybe even to experience the things you had to do without in your 
short life.”
 
Ereinion’s words broke Maeglin’s resistance and he sobbed – heartbroken 
-- in the former king’s arms. “I am scared…”
 
“I know that you are scared, Lómion. But I will keep the monster away. 
He won’t knock on your door ever again. He won’t force you ever again. I 
promise to protect you and stand by you until you are strong again and can 
do without my support.” Would the other soul accept his offer? Trembling 
himself, Ereinion placed his finger beneath the other Elf’s chin and slowly 
raised the head so he could look into the big eyes. The expression on the 
face was different and so were the eyes – those were the eyes of a child; a 
very startled and scared child.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Why did you do this?” Erestor spun around, sensing his father’s presence 
in the corner of the bedroom. “Why didn’t you at least warn me?”
 
Námo gave his son a smile. “Would you have accepted my decision, had I 
told you?”
 
“Nay! How could you do this? How could you let Glorfindel find me? Do 
you know how much it hurts to have him close and yet being unable to 
kiss him?” Erestor glared at his father.
 
“That is exactly why I did what I did,” said Námo, advancing on his son. 
“You deserve a second chance at happiness.”
 
“But… Glorfindel does not remember me! He does not remember loving 
me! And when I look into his eyes, I see suspicion there! He remembers 
he cannot trust me!”
 
Námo shook his head.  “Glorfindel is in charge of Imladris’ defenses. Of 
course he does not trust you -- yet. You might be a threat and he will 
closely watch you until you have convinced him otherwise.”
 
“What are you trying to tell me?” His father’s scheming baffled Erestor. 
 
“You were right when you realized that you have to win his trust and love 
all over again. This time, you can do it in times of peace. Imladris will be 
a safe place for the next several centuries. Elrond’s children will be born 
and you will help raise them. You will work closely together with 
Glorfindel and you will receive the second chance you never allowed 
yourself to hope for. Erestor, it is up to *you* to make this work. In 
Gondolin, Glorfindel was still rather naive and enchanted by your beauty. 
But, he has matured. Although he still thinks you beautiful, he won’t open 
his heart to you as easily as he did that first time. *You* will have to court 
*him* and make him see that your love is true. But do it slowly – gain his 
trust first.”
 
“I still cannot believe you really did this!” Erestor turned and studied 
himself in the large mirror, standing in a corner of the room. He looked 
like he had during his life in Gondolin, though the eyes were different; 
they were older and spoke of loss and regrets. 
 
Námo approached his son and wrapped an arm around Erestor’s waist. “I 
love you, my son. I want you to be happy. You lost your heart to 
Glorfindel a long time ago. If he hadn’t handled your admission so badly, 
that you belong to the Valar, you could have been happy in my Halls. But 
he did not forgive you and he forced my hand. I allowed him to be reborn 
-- without his memories where you were concerned. I did that so you 
would have a second chance.” 
 
“What if I fail again? I already lied to him when I gave him a false name.”
 
“You did well to hide your real identity for now. Glorfindel would have 
recognized it.”
 
Erestor’s eyes widened slightly. “But, I thought…?”
 
“Lindir told him about you. Glorfindel still carries the locket you gave 
him.”
 
“Did you return it to him?” Erestor probed his father’s dark eyes. “He lost 
it when that Balrog dragged him into the abyss with him.”
 
“I recreated it… Lindir saw it and told him about you. But, as Glorfindel 
has no memory of you, he did not believe Lindir. When the time comes, 
the locket will lead him to you. Keep your identity a secret until then.”
 
“You have been plotting for centuries!” 
 
“Aye, and I will continue to plot.” Námo gave his son a last hug and then 
released him. “The same rules as before apply, Erestor. You are not to use 
your powers or reveal your real identity to these Elves.”
 
“Mithrandir already knows the truth – I told him.” Erestor grew worried 
now.
 
“That could not be prevented. You needed someone to introduce you. 
Why do you think I returned you to Arda *now*?”
 
Erestor shook his head. “Why do I feel I do not know half of the things on 
your mind?”
 
“Because you do not.” Námo smiled, and his form began to fade. “This is 
your second chance at love. Do not ruin it. Glorfindel can be yours – in 
time.”
 
His father’s form was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts once 
more. “You could have prepared me for this.” Now he felt lost. How was 
he going to win Glorfindel’s trust and love all over again?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel joined the guards for morning practice, but found he lacked the 
necessary concentration to spar. His thoughts constantly drifted off to 
Mornén. What was it about the raven-haired Elf that had captured his 
attention?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You look lovely,” said Elrond, gallantly kissing his wife’s hand. They 
had walked the gardens, stopping regularly to exchange kisses and 
endearments. He had never been happier in his life and he held Celebrían 
close, enjoying her company. 
 
“Thank you,” whispered Celebrían, very much in love with her half-Elf. 
“You look extremely handsome yourself.” Last night, they had kissed and 
touched, but hadn’t bound themselves yet. They would know when the 
time was right to bind and to create their first baby. “You seem distracted 
though.” She had been distracted herself for most of the day; after saying 
goodbye to her parents and their entourage, who were now on their way 
back to the Golden Wood.
 
“I apologize for that,” said Elrond, sincerely. “But I hope I have found a 
way of befriending Thranduil.” 
Her parents had told her about the Battle of the Last Alliance and she 
knew of Oropher’s tragic fate and the rift it had caused between Thranduil 
and Elrond. “I hope you will succeed, Elrond. Mirkwood stands alone and 
a terrible danger lurks on its doorstep.”
 
“Let us not talk about Thranduil when I should be praising your beauty 
and savoring your love for me.” Elrond pulled her close once more and 
touched his lips to hers. He had never felt this complete before in his life 
and he thanked the Valar for granting him such love.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
A knock on his door attracted Erestor’s attention and he rose from his 
chair to open the door. 
Melpomaen blinked, coming face to face with an Elf of such beauty. “You 
must be Mornén.”
 
Erestor nodded once. “And you are…?”
 
“My name is Melpomaen and Lord Elrond asked me to take you to his 
study.” 
 
Erestor straightened out his shirt and then stepped into the corridor. “I am 
ready to serve Lord Elrond in whatever capacity he sees fit.” 
 
Melpomaen guided him through the corridors until they had reached 
Elrond’s study. He opened the door and gestured for their guest to enter.
 
Erestor’s heart beat faster, finding Glorfindel present in the study as well. 
A fine hint of sweat clung to the warrior, telling him that Glorfindel had 
trained with the guards not so long ago. The scent woke his desire and he 
caught himself just in time, as he had wanted to bury Glorfindel in a hug 
and kiss him breathless. 
 
Glorfindel looked up from the duty roster Elrond and he had been working 
on and stared promptly into depthless, dark eyes. This Elf fascinated him, 
though he was at a loss to explain why. 
 
“Ah, Mornén!” Elrond rose from his chair and greeted the newest addition 
to his household. 
 
“My Lord.” Erestor bowed in respect.
 
“I thought you could work with Melpomaen,” explained the half-Elf. 
“Melpomaen is in charge of all correspondence concerning Thranduil and 
Mirkwood. Maybe together, the two of you can find a way to soften your 
King’s opinion where I am concerned?”
 
Erestor nodded once. “I will do my best.” He gave Glorfindel another long 
look, and then reminded himself to mask his desire and longing, as he 
didn’t want to chase the warrior away. His father had told him to go 
slowly and he should heed the advice. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor felt ill at ease, now that the eyes of the members of Elrond’s 
household were fixed upon him. Elrond had given him a seat at the head 
table, next to Melpomaen. Glorfindel was seated opposite of him, and 
Erestor peeked at the blond warrior whenever Glorfindel wasn’t looking. 
 
The male Elves weren’t aware of the attention Erestor paid Glorfindel, but 
Celebrían had quickly registered Erestor’s looks. Elrond had introduced 
her to the Mirkwood Elf before dinner and she had instantly liked him. 
Now, she watched with interest as Erestor continued to study Glorfindel. 
“Elrond?” She leaned in closer and Elrond gave her a warm smile. “What 
do you know of Mornén?”
 
“Not much… but Mithrandir vouched for him.”
 
“Speaking of Mithrandir, where is he?” She hadn’t seen him today.
 
“I think he left in the afternoon. He didn’t tell me where he went and when 
he would be back.” Elrond felt a bit troubled now that his friend had left. 
“That is *if* he will be back any time soon.”
 
“Mithrandir’s actions are hard to predict,” said Glorfindel, playing with 
his food. For some reason, he had lost his appetite. /Nay, be honest with 
yourself. The reason you are not hungry sits opposite you./ Erestor’s 
beauty kept him from eating, as it had him mesmerized.
 
“He will be back eventually,” said Elrond, hoping he was right. But at 
least everything was at peace in his valley, for now. Celebrían and he were 
married and would shortly start their family. He also had found a way to 
get in touch with Thranduil again. Elrond didn’t know for certain what the 
future held for him and his loved ones, but he hoped a time of peace and 
love was waiting for them.
 
End of part 6


Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairing for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel and 
Lómion/Ereinion.  
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: The twins are born, Glorfindel 
remembers he loves Erestor and Ereinion finds himself attracted to a very 
troubled soul. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion was 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 7
 
 
“You have been in Imladris for four weeks now and you have yet to 
approach Glorfindel and to inform him of your feelings. Why is that?” 
 
Startled, Erestor looked up from the letter he was writing to Thranduil at 
Elrond’s request. He had thought he was alone in the study, but apparently 
his father had decided to join him. Námo stood in front of the window and 
his face carried a puzzled expression. “I should have known to expect 
you.” Erestor placed the quill onto the desk and waited for his father to 
address him again. 
 
“Seriously, Erestor. I sent you back so you would have a second chance at 
love and nothing has happened! That frustrates me and I warn you not to 
force my hand again!” Námo walked toward Erestor and placed his hands, 
palms down, on the oak desk. “Why are you keeping your distance?”
 
Erestor cocked his head. “Why do you think? I am afraid I will fail again. 
I failed him the first time.” Not approaching Glorfindel was killing him, 
but he thought it was for the best. “He rejected and shunned me after 
learning the truth about me and that hurt. I cannot live through that again.”
 
“What makes you so certain he will reject you again?” Námo searched his 
son’s eyes, which were troubled.
 
“I…” Erestor closed his eyes so he didn’t have to return his father’s gaze. 
“I already lied to him. I did not supply my real name and lied instead. I 
made the same mistake I made in Gondolin and Glorfindel will eventually 
find out. I know he will.”
 
“Have you seen that particular future then?” 
 
“I do not need to have a vision to know it will happen.” Feeling Námo’s 
hand settle atop of his made Erestor open his eyes. 
 
“Do you still see suspicion in his eyes when he looks at you?”
 
Erestor shook his head. “Nay, I do not think that he still believes me a 
threat to Imladris.”
 
“Have you talked to Glorfindel yet? Anything aside from formal 
conversation?” 
“Nay… though…” Erestor bit his bottom lip, unwilling to make his next 
admission. 
 
“Though?” 
 
“Though he addressed me a few times during dinner.” He hadn’t known 
how to react at the time and had grown quiet, causing their beginning 
conversation to die.
 
Námo squeezed his son’s hand. “Don’t you understand, Erestor? You have 
received a second chance. How this turns out depends on your actions. 
Glorfindel does not remember your ‘deception’ in Gondolin. When he 
looks upon you he sees a desirable Elf. Someone he is attracted to.”
 
“You are wrong,” said Erestor, determinedly. “He is not attracted to me.”
 
“He is! And you are attracted to him in turn.” Námo leaned in closer until 
his face was only inches away from his son’s. “What do you have to lose, 
Erestor? What is the worst thing that can happen to you? Haven’t you 
already lived through losing him? You were strong enough to deal with 
the loss. Now you have a chance to love again and you are throwing it 
away because you are scared of what can happen? What happened to the 
Erestor who swept Glorfindel off of his feet and bonded with him? You 
wanted him! You were prepared to sacrifice anything in order to have 
him! Is my son truly gone? Who replaced him? I do not believe that my 
son is no longer there!”
 
A lump of emotions had formed in Erestor’s throat and he swallowed 
convulsively in an attempt to rid himself of it. “That Erestor began to fade 
when he looked upon Glorfindel’s corpse and he ceased to exist the 
moment Glorfindel rejected and shunned him. How could you do this to 
me? Damn me to this existence?”
 
“Son, your father means well.” Vairë materialized beside Námo and raised 
her hand to caress Erestor’s face. “Believe me when I say that you will 
regret throwing away this chance at love. You need to take this risk. Isn’t 
Glorfindel worth taking all the risks in the world? Wouldn’t you do 
anything to have his love again?”
 
“Risk it all? Risk all I am?” Erestor studied his mother’s eyes. He knew 
his father tended to plot and even manipulate him when Námo thought it 
was in his best interests, but his mother would never maneuver him into a 
situation he could not handle. “Do you really think I should risk it all?”
 
Vairë smiled at her son. “I do, and I also think you should not waste any 
time. Finish your letter and then seek him out in the barracks. He is about 
to finish supervising training the guards and he will be relaxed; it is the 
perfect moment to approach him.”
 
“Ask him to spar with you,” suggested Námo, who released his son’s hand 
and gathered his wife’s in his instead. “Do not fear that much, my son. 
Have some faith in yourself – and in me.”
 
Erestor produced a weak smile. “I love you, Adar… Naneth.”
 
“We know you do,” came their voices; they sounded like one whilst their 
forms faded. “We love you.”
 
Once more alone in Elrond’s study, Erestor picked up the quill again, 
finished the letter and handed it to a messenger, who would take it to King 
Thranduil. Erestor then left Elrond’s study, detoured to his rooms, where 
he changed into a shirt and comfortable leggings, and then headed for the 
training grounds. He didn’t know if his parents were right, but he had 
realized that he would gain nothing by ignoring Glorfindel. On the 
contrary, he had everything to win and nothing to lose. His parents were 
right – he had to put his trust in them and risk it all.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I apologize for being distracted,” said Glorfindel, giving his sparring 
partner a contrite look. 
 
The guard smiled, reassuringly, nodded, and then left. 
 
Glorfindel sat down on the grass – cross-legged and greatly troubled. Ever 
since he had found Mornén beneath that weeping willow, the dark-haired 
Elf filled his every thought. His fingers touched the locket, which he still 
wore and it snapped open, revealing the raven strand inside. He took it out 
and fingered it. /As raven as Mornén’s…/ Glorfindel didn’t know where 
that thought had come from, but the similarity intrigued him. 
 
During these last four weeks he had watched Mornén closely. He had 
observed the raven-haired Elf whenever Mornén thought he was alone. 
Glorfindel had learned that Mornén was a solitary Elf, who possessed a 
great sense of duty. However, his dark demeanor would change whenever 
someone involved him in conversation. Celebrían especially had a positive 
effect on Mornén, who even smiled in her presence. The silent sorrow that 
clung to the raven-haired Elf intrigued him. He wanted the other Elf to be 
happy, to smile and look at him with love in his dark eyes.
 
Sighing heavily, he focused on the strand of hair. To this very day he 
couldn’t remember the Elf he was supposedly bound to. This Erestor had 
never tried to approach him and he wondered if a bond still existed 
between them. Was he free to take a new lover? How could he be bound to 
someone he didn’t remember?
 
“Lord Glorfindel? I wanted to talk to you, but I can come back later, if I 
am disturbing you.” Erestor felt worried, seeing Glorfindel tenderly caress 
the strand of hair he had given him so long ago. His father had assured 
him that Glorfindel had no  memories of him, but if that was the case, why 
was the warrior staring at that strand of hair in such an entranced way?
 
“Nay, stay!” Glorfindel couldn’t believe that the Elf of his desire had 
sought him out and now stood in front of him. “Please, sit down. I was 
just… thinking.” Had Lindir been here, the minstrel would have teased 
him with that comment, but his friend was still at the Havens, doing his 
own healing.
 
Erestor sat down on the grass, but kept some distance between them. His 
mouth had gone dry, seeing the lost expression in the azure eyes. “I do not 
want to pry, but you seem worried.”
 
Glorfindel found himself confiding in the raven-haired Elf. “My story is a 
strange one,” he started, giving his companion a rueful smile. “It is said 
that I am bound to an Elf called Erestor, but I do not remember him. 
Lindir however, said that this is a lock of his hair… So, that would prove 
his existence.”
 
Erestor fought back his tears. “You do not remember him?” 
 
“I was reborn with my memories intact. I do not know why the Valar 
decided such, but my memories of him have been erased.” 
 
“Do you remember your… death?” Erestor bit his bottom lip. What had 
made him ask that question? 
 
Glorfindel flinched. “I do, but it does not trouble me the way it should. I 
suffer no nightmares, nor does my death haunt me. I think the Valar 
dimmed the echo of the pain I suffered before allowing me to be reborn.”
 
Erestor wished he could reach out and bury Glorfindel in a hug, but such a 
move would only cause the warrior to grow suspicious of his motives – at 
least, he believed so.
 
“I am happy here,” said Glorfindel, wanting to do away with the bitterness 
that had unexpectedly surfaced in his mind. “I have found a new home and 
a family to protect.” But still, something was missing and Lindir’s words 
came back to haunt him; “Not something – someone. You miss Erestor.”
 
“If you are happy here, then why do you look so troubled?”
 
“I miss having a love in my life and I am wondering… Am I still bound to 
someone I do not remember? Someone who never sought me out, although 
the news of my rebirth traveled even to the most remote places on Arda?”
 
Erestor’s heart felt heavy – felt burdened by Glorfindel’s question. “What 
do you want, my Lord? Do you wish to be no longer bound to this 
Erestor? Do you wish to be set free?”
 
Glorfindel drew in a deep breath and then looked into the dark eyes. “If I 
remembered him and he were here I would welcome him, I think… But as 
I do not remember him, and he is not here, I wonder…”
 
“Maybe he has long ago set you free?” Erestor’s voice trembled, speaking 
those words.
 
“Only the Valar can release me from this bond if we are truly bound.” 
Glorfindel placed the lock of hair back into the locket and closed it. “I do 
not remember him, Mornén, but my heart yearns for love – for a mate.” 
And his heart told him that Mornén was a potential companion – life mate. 
“I would like to love again. My life seems so empty without someone to 
love.”
 
Erestor began to understand. “If this Erestor were here and proclaimed his 
love for you, you would accept him?”
 
“I think so… Though, I do not know if I would still love him. He is a 
stranger to me… whilst you… you are not.” Oh, he hadn’t intended to say 
that!
 
Erestor’s eyes widened. Had Glorfindel really implied what he thought the 
warrior had implied? 
 
“I should not have said that. I presume too much…” Glorfindel began to 
rise from the grass, but a hand came to rest upon his wrist and stopped him 
from getting to his feet. 
 
Erestor couldn’t believe the conclusion he had reached. “My Lord, are you 
trying to tell me that you find me attractive?”
 
Glorfindel blushed. “I know I do not have the right to say that. You only 
arrived in Imladris four weeks ago and you probably think that I hardly 
know you… but I have been watching you and I find I like you.”
 
Erestor smiled. “I have been watching you too, but I thought that a fabled 
Elf-Lord like you couldn’t possibly find me desirable.” He couldn’t 
believe this was really happening! /Thank you,/ he thought, thanking his 
parents for telling him to seek out Glorfindel. /Thank you for making me 
do this./ In a corner of his mind, he heard their pleased chuckling. 
 
Glorfindel’s hope blossomed. “Mornén, I…” Lost for words, he simply 
looked at the raven-haired beauty. “I am bound to this Erestor and not at 
liberty to court you.”
 
Erestor made his decision right there and then. “My Lord, trust me when I 
say that your bond to Erestor is no obstacle where our love is concerned.”
 
“How can you say that?” Mornén’s warm smile made him stop 
questioning the other Elf’s words, and when the raven-haired leaned in 
closer to wrap his arms around him, he allowed it. He rested his head 
against a strong shoulder and sighed. “I do not want to be alone any more. 
I have been alone for so long.”
 
“The same thing is true for me,” whispered Erestor. “I had a lover a long 
time ago – a soul mate – but I lost him. And you, my Lord, remind me of 
him. I would love you like I loved him.”
 
Something deep inside Glorfindel’s soul stirred, nervously, at hearing 
those words. “What happened to your lover, then?”
 
“He died, my Lord. He died and I lost my mind, grieving for him. I never 
stopped loving him though.”
 
Glorfindel pulled away, so he could look into the brown eyes. Eyes, which 
still looked very familiar to him. “Do I know you? Have I known you in 
the past? You seem so familiar… Your eyes…”
 
Erestor knew he had reached a crossroad in his existence and prayed he 
was making the right decisions. “Aye, you know me, my Lord.”
 
Shivers shook Glorfindel’s frame as memories tried to surface, but he 
pushed them away. “How did your lover die?” he asked in a shaky voice.
 
“A Balrog took him down. Its claws grew entangled with his golden hair 
and they fell into the abyss together.” Erestor’s heart missed several beats, 
seeing realization settle in Glorfindel’s shocked eyes. “He died defending 
the ones dear to him – Tuor, Idril and Eärendil.”
 
Glorfindel broke free and stared at the raven-haired Elf in shock. 
 
Realizing he needed to get everything out in the open now, Erestor said, 
“The King of the Eagles brought your corpse back to me and I mourned 
your passing.”
 
Glorfindel cocked his head, unable to believe what he heard. “I do not 
understand…”
 
Erestor took the greatest risk of all then. “I used to have a different name 
when we lived in Gondolin. But like you, I feel like I died that day when 
the Balrog took your life. I haven’t been the same since then.”
 
Memories broke through the curtain of oblivion and Glorfindel panted 
hard beneath their onslaught. “You and I… in Gondolin…” He witnessed 
their first meeting all over again. He remembered finding Erestor beneath 
that weeping willow… remembered the way Erestor had bound their 
souls… remembered the love they had shared and then Gondolin’s Fall. 
“We fled through the tunnel Tuor had constructed, but a Balrog found us.”
 
Erestor, feeling uncertain how to act, kept his distance now that Glorfindel 
had broken away from him. “He did.”
 
“I told you to run, to join the others, but…”
 
“I stayed and I witnessed your death. I was in shock when it happened.” 
 
Glorfindel’s breath came fast and was irregular now that he was 
remembering parts of his life he had never known existed. “Your name… 
It is not Mornén…”
 
“My name is Erestor and I gifted that locket to you on our binding 
anniversary. It is a lock of my hair that you carry with you.” Erestor kept 
still as Glorfindel reached out and moved his fingers through his hair. The 
warrior then opened the locket, took out the strand of hair and compared it 
to his raven mane.
 
Glorfindel was speechless, finally remembering Erestor and the love they 
had shared. “It is the same hair,” he said in trembling voice. “But, what 
happened after my death? Lindir said you rescued him from those Orcs 
and took him to the Isle of Balar.” He needed a moment to compose 
himself and to truly understand what was happening. He hoped that 
Erestor understood and would give him the time he needed to accept this 
development.
 
Erestor felt conflicted. So far, Glorfindel didn’t seem to have remembered 
the fact that he belonged to the Valar. And as long as Glorfindel didn’t 
remember he was one of the Valar, he would let him believe he was an 
Elf. Knowing his father’s scheming, it was thinkable that Námo would 
keep these memories from Glorfindel still. “I returned to Gondolin and 
reached Lindir just in time to prevent worse. We fled the city and we made 
our way to the Isle of Balar.”
 
“Lindir said he saw a flash of light and then he was on the Isle of Balar…”
 
“Lindir was unconscious for the most part of our journey. His mind wasn’t 
ready yet to face what he had witnessed.” Erestor sucked in his breath, 
wondering if Glorfindel would accept that explanation.
 
“That sounds plausible,” said Glorfindel, deeply probing Erestor’s eyes. 
How could he have forgotten about his love? The one Elf who had ever 
made him feel complete? And why hadn’t he recognized Erestor when he 
had found him beneath a weeping willow – for a second time!
 
“I left Lindir with Círdan, knowing he would recover there. I took on the 
name Mornén and I have walked Arda ever since in hope you would be 
rehoused someday. Mithrandir found me and asked me to join him in his 
fight against evil. I accepted and became his spy. Then, the day came that 
I had to deliver this message to him… And then, I found you, and you did 
not recognize me. I did not reveal myself to you because I thought you no 
longer wanted to be with me.” He had to add that last part in order to make 
his story more believable. He hadn’t lied that much to Glorfindel. The 
only part he had left out was that he didn’t belong to the Firstborn. 
 
“I apologize for not recognizing you…  I do not understand why I did not 
know you.” His azure eyes pleaded for understanding.
 
Erestor raised a hand and caressed the soft, facial skin. “Maybe Námo 
manipulated your memories, Glorfindel.”
 
“Maybe,” repeated Glorfindel, unconvinced. “But does it matter? I have 
got you back!” Finally, the truth settled in and he flung his arms around 
Erestor’s form, pulling him close. “I love you so much! I missed you! 
Lindir was right all along! I missed *you*!” He buried his face in 
Erestor’s raven hair and recognized the familiar scent of lilies that clung to 
his beloved. “I thank the Valar for allowing me to remember you!”
 
/And I thank the Valar for not allowing you to remember everything!/ 
Erestor returned the hug, holding Glorfindel close.
 
/Son, I carefully blocked the memories concerning your admission in the 
Halls and his reaction to hearing the truth. Stay away from those… Do not 
try to rekindle those memories. Once he remembers I do not know what 
will happen./ 
 
/Thank you, Adar,/ replied Erestor. /I will not throw away this second 
chance you are offering me./
 
“Oh, Erestor… I will never let you go again!” Glorfindel sought and found 
Erestor’s lips and finally kissed his beloved again, after so many millennia 
of having been apart.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
She rested in her husband’s arms, feeling happy and sated. “I will never 
regret marrying you,” whispered Celebrían into her husband’s ear. Elrond 
relaxed in her embrace, spent, sated as well, and grinning blissfully. Last 
night, they had decided the time had come for them to truly bind their 
souls and bodies, and they had made love for the very first time. 
 
“Melethril 1, you have changed my life!” Elrond had never felt happier 
before. He raised his head and rested his chin on her chest, admiring her 
silver beauty. “Do you think we created life last night?”
 
“If not, we will try again.” Her eyes twinkled, mischievously. “And I 
would not mind trying again. As a matter of fact, we should try again right 
now to make certain that I have conceived.”
 
Her words traveled straight to his groin and he grew hard again. “I am 
always at your service.”
 
“And obviously very eager to please,” whispered Celebrían, giggling 
softly. “Come to me then. Let our bodies become one again.”
 
“As you wish, pen-vaelui 2,” whispered Elrond, licking her skin. Oh, he 
would make certain she would conceive! He would make love to her every 
day of the rest of their lives.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Lindir? Won’t you come inside? The sky is growing dark and night will 
be upon us shortly.” Círdan came to a halt beside Lindir and wrapped an 
arm loosely around the minstrel’s form. “Maybe you will even sing for me 
tonight?” Lindir had arrived four weeks ago and the minstrel had been 
oddly quiet. He had expected Lindir to talk about Ereinion and the love he 
had lost, but Lindir remained quiet instead.
 
Lindir smiled and rested his head briefly on Círdan’s shoulder. “I want to 
witness the moon rise, can we?”
 
“Of course, but let us sit down then.” Círdan pulled Lindir down, until 
they sat on the white sand. “I always love looking out over the Havens 
when Ithil is upon them.”
 
“I love looking at the stars,” admitted Lindir and his voice hitched, 
revealing he was struggling with memories. 
 
“You lost your guiding star that day,” said Círdan, carefully steering their 
conversation into the desired direction. “You must miss him still because I 
do too.”
 
“Oh, I do miss him… I miss him every day of my life.” Lindir moved 
closer to Círdan and rested his head on the Shipwright’s shoulder. Círdan 
in turn wrapped his arms around him and Lindir sighed, ruefully. “I lost 
him… He dwells in the Halls of Waiting now and is out of my reach.”
 
“He wanted you to live and to carry on his dream, which you did. Imladris 
has become Ereinion’s safe haven and you contributed to it. That must 
make Ereinion proud.”
 
“What do you think death is like? I always wondered about that. What is it 
like… to dwell in the Halls of Waiting? Do the souls still have feelings? 
Does Ereinion know what has happened since his death?” He cocked his 
head until he could look into Círdan’s eyes. “What do you think?” 
Círdan tightened his hold on Lindir and joined the minstrel in staring at 
the stars. “I do not really know what it is like, Lindir… But I do hope 
Ereinion has found peace in the Halls.”
 
Lindir rubbed his cheek against Círdan’s shoulder. “You are like a father 
to me. I do not know what I would have done without you. You pulled me 
through so many times.”
 
“And you are like another son to me, Lindir,” replied Círdan, who placed a 
chaste kiss on the white hair. “I just wish Sauron had not taken Ereinion 
away from us.”
 
“So do I.” Lindir closed his eyes. He finally realized he had the strength to 
do as Ereinion had asked him to. He possessed the strength to carry on and 
to keep Ereinion’s dream alive. His heart hadn’t become a stone; it still 
beat with life and passion. The minstrel drew in a deep breath and then 
raised his voice in soft song. He sang of his love for Ereinion, his 
gratefulness toward Círdan and his hope that his beloved had finally found 
the peace in death the High-King had never found in life.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion’s eyes leaked tears, hearing Lindir’s goodbye. The minstrel 
might not realize it, but he *was* saying goodbye to him in this song. 
Lindir was finally letting him go. /Lindir, you are doing the right thing. It 
is time for you to move on. I am dead and you are not. We cannot be 
together… I am glad you finally found the courage to take this step./ 
Lindir’s voice gradually faded from his mind and Ereinion grew more and 
more aware of the soul resting in his arms… Lómion.
 
Lómion had fallen asleep against him – sharing his life’s history had left 
him exhausted and he had succumbed to sleep. /What do I do now?/ 
 
Námo approached the bed and sat down on its side. “You already know 
the answer to that question.”
 
Ereinion wasn’t surprised to find the Vala close. He lifted curious eyes 
and searched Námo’s face. “Can you tell me what I am dealing with?”
 
“You already know,” said Námo in a patient voice. “The child, Lómion, 
was unable to deal with the abuse and created a stronger persona to suffer 
through the rapes. Your assumptions were correct, Ereinion.” 
 
“But, if this is not Maeglin, then…”
 
“Maeglin is, and always will be a part of him, but he is dormant now. Do 
not be surprised if he surfaces occasionally, but even if he does, he will be 
weak, as he has lost much of his hatred.” Námo caressed the burned skin 
and gave Lómion a sad smile. “You care about him, High-King of the 
Noldor, and that is good.”
 
Ereinion readily admitted the truth. “I do. How can one not care about him 
once you know his life’s history?” 
 
“You should be prepared for more changes.” Námo pushed back the dark 
hood and took in the damage done by the fire. 
 
“What changes?” Ereinion grew alert.
 
“The other souls can see him now as well.”
 
“Why? Why would you do that to him? Hasn’t he suffered enough?” 
Ereinion protectively held Lómion close. “You know how they will react 
when they see him! They won’t see Lómion, but Maeglin! The last thing 
he needs is to be subjected to their hatred!”
 
“It might be hatred at first,” admitted Námo. “But do you really have such 
little fate in them? Don’t you think that someone like Ecthelion will 
realize the truth once he gets to know Lómion?”
 
“You are scheming, my Lord, and you are using Lómion, but why, I do 
not know!” He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt Lómion!
 
“I carry out Eru’s will,” said Námo in a firm voice. “You only see pieces 
of the puzzle, whilst I already know the outcome of this undertaking.” 
 
“Why are you doing this?” Lómion stirred against him, and Ereinion 
worried that his charge might wake up whilst Námo was still close. 
 
“I am doing this because Eru decided to give Maeglin a chance to redeem 
himself and thanks to you, he is on the way to a better existence. Much 
depends on you, do you understand that, Ereinion?” 
 
“I wish I knew what you are really after.”
 
“Only Eru and I know the answer to that question and you are not privy to 
it.” The Doomsman of the Valar rose from the bed and gave Ereinion a 
last, thoughtful look. “Maeglin’s soul was sentenced to eternal suffering, 
but Lómion’s soul never was.”
 
Ereinion blinked, just knowing that Námo was implying more than he was 
actually saying, but what was it? “What do I do? Please, counsel me in this 
matter.”
 
Námo considered his next words carefully. “I cannot tell you what lies in 
Eru’s will, but I can tell you that Lómion’s salvation lies in your hands. 
When you helped Lindir recover, you dedicated yourself to him 
unconditionally. And in the end, he opened his heart to you and accepted 
the love you had for him. He became whole – the way he was supposed to 
be.” 
 
Ereinion frowned. “What are you trying to say? Lindir became my lover, 
but Lómion…” His eyes widened dramatically. “What?”
 
“There is only one emotion that is strong enough to deal with the fear, 
pain and hatred that chains Lómion’s heart to Maeglin’s. Only love can 
undo those chains.” Námo realized he had already said too much and grew 
quiet. Eru would grant Lómion’s soul eternal peace, should the tormented 
soul find true love here. He had waited many millennia for the right Elf to 
come along and Námo believed Ereinion was that Elf. /I only hope he 
won’t desert you, Lómion. You deserve this chance to redeem yourself. 
You never did anything wrong./
 
Lómion however, remained peacefully asleep, feeling at home in 
Ereinion’s protective arms.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“What do we do now?” Glorfindel didn’t want to release Erestor from his 
hold now that he had found his beloved again. 
 
“I think we should inform Elrond of this development.” Erestor lovingly 
caressed Glorfindel’s golden hair. “I missed touching you so much. I still 
have trouble believing I am touching you again.”
 
“I feel the same way,” admitted Glorfindel, who slowly pushed himself to 
his feet, pulling Erestor along with him. Standing face to face, he brushed 
back raven strands behind pointed ears. “I always wondered who that lock 
belonged to. At first, I thought it was Ecthelion’s, but his hair was not that 
dark. Yours is. As dark as the night.”
 
“Glorfindel, I… I do not want to lose you ever again. I do not think my 
soul could take it.” Erestor curled his fingers around Glorfindel’s. 
 
“I will always be at your side, meleth3. From this moment on, we will be 
inseparable.” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Elrond didn’t expect that knock on his door and raised an eyebrow, 
wondering who dared disturbing him whilst he was working. 
“Melpomaen, would you see to that?”
 
Melpomaen bowed and opened the door. “My Lord Glorfindel?” 
 
“I need to speak with Elrond – now.”
 
Elrond sighed and placed the report he was reading on his desk; he knew 
that tone. “Let Glorfindel enter and leave us alone, Melpomaen.” He 
didn’t know what troubled Glorfindel, but that tone made it very clear that 
the warrior wanted to discuss something and that he wanted to discuss it 
*now*.
 
Melpomaen gave Glorfindel a puzzled look, seeing the warrior was 
holding hands with Mornén, but he did as Elrond requested and closed the 
door behind him on his way out. 
 
Glorfindel and Erestor shuffled into the room, finding courage in the fact 
that their fingers were still intertwined. “I love you,” whispered 
Glorfindel.
 
“I love you too,” mumbled Erestor, following Glorfindel closer to 
Elrond’s desk. 
 
The half-Elf immediately noticed the laced fingers and stopped himself 
from raising an eyebrow questioningly. He had the feeling Glorfindel was 
about to explain this to him. 
 
“Elrond, may I introduce my bonded mate to you? This is not Mornén, but 
Erestor. He has been using a false name for a long time and when I did not 
recognize him, he decided to continue to use it so I would not feel 
compromised.”
 
Now Elrond’s eyebrow *did* inch higher. “Say that again?”
 
“Let me explain this, my Lord,” said Erestor. “After losing Glorfindel, I 
stopped being Erestor and called myself Mornén. In order to survive I 
needed to leave my former life behind. Mithrandir found me and I agreed 
to spy for him. When Glorfindel found me and did not recognize me, I 
despaired and did not try to approach him.”
 
Elrond frowned. “Glorfindel, explain this to me – properly, so I can 
understand.”
 
“We talked, Elrond. He sought me out on the training grounds and whilst 
we talked, my memories returned to me. I do not know why I forgot about 
Erestor in the first place. Lindir also wondered about that.” Glorfindel 
uncovered the locket and opened it. “This was a gift from Erestor. He gave 
it to me on one of our binding anniversaries. This is his hair.” 
 
Elrond thought it was rather convenient for Glorfindel’s memories to 
surface again now that Erestor was close, but he kept quiet, seeing the 
bliss in their eyes. Something about this story just didn’t sound right! He 
rose from behind his desk and advanced on Mornén… nay, Erestor. He 
studied the raven-haired Elf more carefully than ever  before and said, 
“You are the one who rescued Lindir and took him to Círdan?”
 
“Aye.” Erestor felt on guard, realizing Elrond was a hard Elf to deceive. “I 
took Lindir into safety.”
 
“Lindir and Círdan told me they witnessed a light… not you,” said Elrond, 
skeptically.
 
“Lindir was probably feverish and told Círdan he had been rescued in a 
mysterious way. The truth is that we traveled for weeks.” Erestor knew 
this was the weak spot – if determined, Elrond could expose him. 
 
Elrond considered this. If Erestor’s story was true and they had traveled 
for weeks, Lindir’s wounds should have healed once they had arrived on 
the Isle of Balar. But Lindir’s wounds had been fresh, bleeding even. In 
the end, he decided against exposing Erestor, for he had wanted to see 
Glorfindel happy for so long and the blond warrior was ecstatic now. 
Elrond didn’t want to ruin that. He wanted Glorfindel to be happy. He 
would let this matter rest for now – but he planned on discussing this with 
Erestor in a private setting later. He had to know the truth!
 
“I bid you welcome to Imladris, Erestor of Gondolin,” said Elrond in a 
formal voice. “I must say that this is rather unexpected, but my heart 
rejoices for you, Glorfindel, now that you have your beloved back. I must 
admit that I doubted Lindir’s words occasionally, whenever he insisted 
Erestor was real, but I am looking at him now.” Then, he realized 
something else. “In what capacity did you serve Glorfindel in Gondolin?”
 
“I advised Glorfindel occasionally,” said Erestor in a thoughtful voice. He 
hadn’t exactly served anyone when he had lived in Gondolin, but Elrond 
didn’t need to know that.
 
“Your experience as an adviser and your personal knowledge of Thranduil 
might come in handy. Would you become one of my advisors, Erestor?” 
That way, he could make good use of Erestor’s talents *and* keep a close 
eye on him at the same time. 
 
“I am honored and I gladly accept your offer, my Lord.” Erestor realized 
this was a temporary truce at best. Elrond wouldn’t rest until he knew the 
truth about him.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“These are my rooms… Will you live with me here?” Glorfindel closed 
the door behind Erestor and instantly arranged his beloved in his arms, so 
he could hold him tight. 
 
“Aye, I will.” Erestor pulled Glorfindel with him toward the bed, where 
they lay down, face to face and hugging each other close. “Do you 
remember the nights shared in your house in Gondolin?”
 
“And little Eärendil sneaking into our bed? Aye, I do!” Glorfindel first 
laughed warmly and then smiled at his beloved. “I also remember your 
reluctance to try that position I so carefully researched.” His tone became 
tender and full of longing. “I never took another lover, Erestor. I only ever 
made love to you.”
 
“There was no other for me either. I only want you, meleth.” Erestor used 
his hold on Glorfindel to roll the warrior atop of him. Staring into the 
sapphire eyes, he whispered his true desire. “Take me? Claim me and 
confirm our bond? Please?”
 
Glorfindel nodded; his hands were already busy undoing the lacing of 
their leggings. “Raise your hips, meleth.” Oh, he knew the body beneath 
his fingertips – his fingertips still remembered how to make Erestor 
squirm and beg for more. Within seconds, he had done away with the 
restricting leggings and he was about to unbutton their shirts when he felt 
Erestor’s oiled fingers stroke his hard flesh. An eyebrow inched higher. 
“Where did you find that oil?”
 
“On the nightstand… You still use rose-scented oil to untangle your hair.” 
Erestor pushed a pillow beneath his hips and his heart raced, feeling 
Glorfindel settle comfortably between his thighs. “Please, I need to feel 
you. I have missed you… I need you close.”
 
The same need overwhelmed Glorfindel. The urge to become one made 
him enter Erestor unprepared and his lover groaned, deep in his throat. He 
was sorry for the discomfort he was causing, but he couldn’t stop now and 
buried himself to the hilt.
 
Erestor’s eyes remained locked with Glorfindel’s, experiencing the most 
possessive and intense penetration he ever had. His every sense was 
trained on Glorfindel, and feeling his lover’s hard flesh inside of him after 
so long caused tears of happiness to leak from his eyes. “I love you so 
much!”
 
Glorfindel claimed his lover’s lips, and his tongue slipped past parted lips 
and teeth. He pulled out completely, and then thrust inside forcefully, 
making the bed shake beneath them. Erestor nipped at his tongue, making 
him growl.
 
“More… make me feel you!” Erestor raised his hips and met Glorfindel’s 
next thrust with wild abandon. The pace they set was almost brutal, but it 
was passion and longing that fueled their actions. Glorfindel wanted to 
possess him, to never let go, and Erestor wanted nothing more than to 
belong to his golden-haired warrior. 
 
Grunting, Glorfindel confirmed their bond by climaxing inside his lover. 
He collapsed on top of Erestor and pulled his beloved close to him once 
more. He thrust a few more times, shallowly, as if to stake his claim once 
more, but he then stilled inside his lover’s body – his member softening. 
“You haven’t climaxed yet,” he realized belatedly. 
 
Erestor drew in a deep breath, feeling Glorfindel’s sated member slip from 
his passage. “Allow me to take you in turn and to complete the circle once 
more?”
 
Glorfindel grinned, lazily, and rolled off of Erestor and onto his stomach. 
“Make love to me, meleth.” Their lovemaking felt trusted and warmed his 
soul, taking away his loneliness. Aye, it had been Erestor who had been 
missing from his life!
 
Erestor reached for the oil again and coated his member with the slippery 
liquid. “Are you ready to receive me, melethron4?”  
 
“Take me like you used to in Gondolin. Make love to me – slowly.” 
Glorfindel was completely relaxed when Erestor entered him -- slowly, as 
had been his request. 
 
Erestor stretched atop of Glorfindel and placed his body on that of his 
lover’s. Licking the nape of his lover’s neck, he delivered a slow, deep 
stroke and felt Glorfindel tremble beneath him. He pushed his arms 
beneath Glorfindel’s chest and hugged him close. Moving his hips ever so 
lightly, he located his lover’s prostate and thrust in such a way that he 
constantly massaged that sensitive gland inside his beloved’s passage. “I 
will always love you,” he whispered into Glorfindel’s ear. “You are the 
only one for me.” Because of the slow pacing he was setting, he lasted 
longer than he had thought. When he finally spilt himself inside his lover’s 
body, he felt complete again. “You are mine, Glorfindel.”
 
“Aye, I am yours…” Glorfindel smiled, blissfully, having reached orgasm 
a second time due to his lover’s attentive lovemaking. “And you are 
mine.”
 
“Forever.”
 
“Aye, forever.” 
 
Erestor slowly pulled out, rolled Glorfindel gently onto his side and 
spooned behind him. /I do not know how long our happiness will last, 
meleth, but I will do anything I can to keep our love alive and intact./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
During the next few weeks, love and happiness blossomed in Imladris and 
it wasn’t long before love was rewarded.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Elrond?” Celebrían ran toward her husband, who promptly caught her in 
his arms and whirled her around.
 
“What is it, Melethril?” Elrond held her close and his eyes widened, 
seeing the spark in her silver-blue ones. “Did we…?”
 
“We created new life! I conceived! We are going to be parents!” 
Enthusiastically, she kissed him. “We are going to have a little one! A 
baby! Put me down, Elrond!” He was still whirling her around!
 
He quickly put her down. “I cannot believe that you conceived that 
quickly!” 
 
She gave him a radiant smile. “Our child must know how much we will 
love him and is eager to come into the world.”
 
“Him?” Elrond raised an eyebrow. “Do you think…?”
 
“My instincts are telling me that we will have a son, Elrond.” She wrapped 
her arms around him and pressed close. “I am so happy that you are also a 
healer, meleth.” 
 
“Aye, you are in the best hands with me.” Elrond kissed his wife on the 
lips. “I will take good care of you, Naneth5.” 
 
She giggled at being addressed in that way, but she did like the way it 
sounded. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel sat close to Erestor during dinner that night. Beneath the table, 
his fingers were entwined with his lover’s and every so often he rubbed 
the warm skin to convince himself that his beloved was real and at his 
side. So much in love was Glorfindel that at first he didn’t notice Elrond’s 
excitement and Celebrían’s aura of timidity. 
 
However, Erestor had seen through the excitement and realized why 
Elrond was unable to sit quietly on his chair for long. Looking at the Lady 
of Imladris, he didn’t only see her inner light shine brightly, but two others 
as well. Celebrían was pregnant with twins, as he had foreseen. Had 
Elrond realized that as well yet? Elrond and Elros had been twins and 
history was about to repeat itself. 
 
Melpomaen watched Glorfindel and Erestor closely. The two Elves had 
confided in him, as they would be working together in the future and he 
had been stunned to find out Mornén’s real identity. He had seen the 
happiness in Glorfindel’s eyes and had accepted the truth – though he 
couldn’t help feeling a bit on guard. Like Elrond, he felt the return of 
Erestor *and* of Glorfindel’s memories were engineered. But why?
 
Unable to keep quiet any longer, Elrond pushed himself to his feet. He 
cleared his throat, extended his left arm and waited for his wife to rise 
from her chair and place her hand in his. All Elves automatically grew 
quiet, seeing the couple rise. They looked expectedly at them.
 
“Friends,” started Elrond, who blushed a delicate red. “I have a joyful 
announcement to make tonight. My Lady has conceived. She will give 
birth to the heir of Imladris within the next year.” His voice – already soft 
and loving – became adoring. “It won’t be long before tiny feet will be 
heard running through this house.”
 
The members of Elrond’s s household cheered and several Elves 
approached the couple to wish them the best. All the Elves looked forward 
to finally having an Elfling in the Last Homely House.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
/I cannot stay. The longer I stay, the harder saying goodbye will become./ 
Lómion had freed himself of Ereinion’s protective embrace, left the bed 
and now tiptoed over to the doorway. /I cannot stay here. If what Ereinion 
suggested is true, and the other souls can see me now, I have to leave and 
find a refuge where they will never find me. If the souls find me here – in 
his rooms and his arms – they will shun him as well as me and I do not 
want for that to happen. Ereinion deserves better./ 
 
But would his fingers be able to turn the door knob? Or would they pass 
through the material? If they did, he would be forced to remain here and 
all choice would be taken away from him. 
 
Carefully, he placed his fingers on the door knob and his eyes widened, 
feeling metal beneath his fingertips. Slowly, he turned the door knob and 
the door opened. Panic came over him – only a moment ago he had been 
certain that this was the right thing to do, but now he wondered. He 
wondered how he could cope without Ereinion’s affection and support. It 
was only because of the former King that he had been able to face his past. 
Now he would be alone again with his memories! /I cannot stay! They will 
judge him harshly for taking me in and I cannot allow for that to happen!/
 
Lómion closed the door behind and shivered, realizing there was a chance 
they would see and recognize him and the souls wouldn’t judge him 
kindly. He pulled the hood lower over his face so they couldn’t see his 
features, should he be visible to them. Looking about, he wondered what 
direction to head in. In the end, he decided to head for the wing where 
Námo’s quarters were situated. He would find a hiding place there. The 
souls never dared going near the Doomsman of the Valar. Aye, he would 
be safe there.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Later that evening, Elrond, his wife, Erestor and Glorfindel retired to the 
Lord’s private chambers. Glorfindel was ecstatic after hearing the good 
news and almost smothered Celebrían with his protectiveness.
 
“I will not break!” said Celebrían, wondering if she should be bemused or 
worried now that the blond warrior was treating her like she was made of 
delicate glass. 
 
“I know that, my Lady, but… I cannot help myself!” Glorfindel watched – 
almost anxiously – as she seated herself. He barely withstood the urge to 
inquire if she was comfortable. He would gladly fetch whatever she 
needed!
 
Amused, Erestor watched his lover fuss over the pregnant she-Elf, all the 
while very much aware of the fact that another Elf was anxious to take 
care of Celebrían. In the end, he walked over to Glorfindel, folded an arm 
around his lover’s waist and forcefully pulled him toward the doorway. 
 
“What are you doing?” Glorfindel’s blue eyes sought out his lover’s.
 
“Don’t you understand, meleth? It is Elrond’s task to fuss over his wife – 
not yours.” 
 
Realization settled in and Glorfindel nodded his head. “You are right, of 
course.” Now that he was no longer fussing over Celebrían, Elrond had 
moved in to pamper his wife, who happily allowed it. 
 
“I will let you fuss over me instead,” offered Erestor in a seductive voice.
 
That tone set off several reactions in Glorfindel’s mind and body. One of 
them was growing erect and craving feeling Erestor move beneath him. 
“Will you allow me to possess you tonight?”
 
The whispered words made Erestor shiver with delight. He had missed 
hearing them in the past. Only now did he realize how empty his life in his 
father’s Halls had been without Glorfindel close. “I will even try that 
ridiculous position for you.”
 
“Ah, the one I suggested whilst we lived in Gondolin?” Glorfindel had 
forgotten about pampering Celebrían and followed Erestor to their rooms. 
“You *are* more flexible than you think!”
 
Erestor grinned wickedly. “Or maybe we should reverse positions and find 
out just how flexible *you* are, meleth?” 
 
Glorfindel swallowed, hard. “Oh, I would love to find out. Come with 
me,” he said, now practically running down the corridor and dragging 
Erestor along with him. “I want to tear those clothes off of your body and 
finally  make love to you!”
 
Erestor couldn’t agree more.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ecthelion was lost in thought and not paying much attention to where he 
was going. After waiting for so many millennia, he wondered if he would 
ever find the love Erestor and Námo had predicted was waiting for him in 
the future. 
 
He had watched Vairë weave her latest tapestry and had learned of 
Glorfindel finding his lover again. He was happy that his friends had 
confirmed their love once more, but that still left him alone. Just how 
many more millennia would the Valar demand he wait? And what if this 
Elrohir was never to be born at all? What if inventing this Elrohir was 
nothing but a way to lessen the pain that he would never find a love of his 
own?
 
Unexpectedly, he collided with a solid form, and he caught himself just in 
time to prevent a fall. As his eyes had been trained on the floor, he looked 
up – quite stunned that the collision had had such an impact on him. Most 
fëar6 didn’t feel that solid!
 
In surprise, he blinked. He had seen this one before. The soul was dressed 
in black robes and a hood had been pulled forward to protect his features. 
This was the fëa7 he had found resting in Ereinion’s arms. “I apologize for 
not looking where I was going,” he said. “I was lost in thought.”
 
Lómion didn’t know how to react to that apology – it meant that Ecthelion 
still didn’t know who he was dealing with. He nodded once and tried to 
get past the other soul, but Ecthelion was blocking his path. What was the 
former Lord of the Fountain doing this close to Námo’s personal 
chambers? Lómion hadn’t been looking where he was going either, 
convinced that he was alone in this wing. 
 
Ecthelion’s eyes narrowed, curiously, now that the other soul didn’t speak. 
“I know you.”
 
Lómion froze. Had he been deluding himself when he thought that his 
identity was still a secret? He successfully fought the urge to raise his eyes 
and to at look Ecthelion.
 
“You were in Ereinion’s rooms… He had taken you into his arms and was 
holding you whilst you dreamt. I must confess to being curious to find out 
your name. Who are you that the former High-King accepts you so easily? 
He has kept everyone of us at a distance.”
 
Lómion took a step away from Ecthelion when the dark-haired Elf raised 
an arm in order to push back his hood. “Nay, I beg of you!” He couldn’t 
be discovered so soon! Ecthelion would spread the news of his existence 
throughout the Halls!
 
Hearing that voice – no matter how distorted it sounded – sent shivers of 
recognition through Ecthelion’s soul. “You?” Ecthelion hissed the word in 
hatred and his hand managed to grab hold of the hood, which he 
relentlessly pushed back, not caring when he heard the other Elf’s outcry 
of shame and misery. 
 
Lómion tried to move away, but Ecthelion moved faster and removed the 
hood, exposing Maeglin’s face to him. Knowing what horrible sight now 
greeted the former Captain of the Fountain, Lómion flinched and pressed 
himself against the wall. “Do not look at me.”
 
Ecthelion’s eyes widened in shock. He had expected to find Maeglin’s 
face – intact and with eyes glowing from hatred – but he had never 
expected to find such a miserable creature hiding beneath the safety of the 
hood. Maeglin’s face was burned and blistered. The once, shiny dark hair 
was matted and burned scalp showed beneath the strands. The eyes, 
lowered to the ground, spoke of immense suffering. Nay, this was not 
what he had expected. “What happened to you?”
 
“Tuor threw me into the fire. Surely you remember that.” Lómion kept his 
eyes trained on the floor, not wanting to aggravate Ecthelion. 
 
“I know that, but… I thought that the Valar would not allow you inside 
these Halls. I always thought…” What was it he had thought? Had he ever 
really thought about Maeglin’s fate?
 
“I have been here – always,” admitted Lómion in a choked voice. “They 
sentenced me to walk these Halls forever – unseen and unnoticed. I have 
watched all of you these last few millennia.”
 
“And we never saw you?” Ecthelion frowned. “How is it possible then 
that I see you now?”
 
“That is Námo’s doing.” Lómion finally tore his gaze away from the floor 
and looked behind Ecthelion, trying to gauge the distance between them 
and the doorway. If only he could get past Ecthelion! Then he would have 
a chance to get away!
 
Ecthelion had mixed feelings in this matter. “They should have devised a 
punishment more severe! Do you have any idea how many Elves you 
sentenced to death by collaborating with Morgoth? I was forced to watch 
my friends die one by one!”
 
Lómion flinched beneath Ecthelion’s words and someplace deep inside his 
fëa Maeglin stirred. He ruthlessly suppressed the other part of his soul – he 
couldn’t allow Maeglin to surface ever again!
 
“Gondolin fell because of you! Traitor!” Anger and frustration had been 
pent up for millennia and Ecthelion struck the other soul – hard.
 
Lómion staggered under the impact of the blow. The flat of Ecthelion’s 
hand connected with his cheek and he reeled on his feet. He remained 
quiet though, fully understanding that he deserved that blow – and many 
more – for what he had done. The skin – there, where Ecthelion’s blow 
had struck – burned and he tried to ignore the pain, but slowly, blistered 
skin let loose from his face and floated down onto the floor. 
 
Regaining control over his raging emotions, Ecthelion felt ashamed of 
having let go in such an unworthy way. No matter what Maeglin had done 
in the past, he should have restrained himself and he should not have 
lashed out! Ecthelion took a step away from Maeglin and stared at his 
hand, which was covered with little pieces of charred skin.  
 
Lómion didn’t know how to react either and remained motionless. They 
had reached an impasse, and neither soul knew how to solve this situation. 
Eventually, Lómion said, “Please, let me pass. I will remain hidden and 
my hideous sight will never offend your eyes again.”
 
Ecthelion frowned at hearing those words. /The other souls need to know 
that you are here. I need to warn them./ By the Grace of the Valar, how 
would Turgon react when learning that Maeglin was among them?
 
“Lómion! Stay where you are!” Ereinion ran toward the lost soul, hoping 
Lómion wouldn’t panic and run away from him again. He had panicked 
himself, finding his arms empty when he had woken up. Instantly, he had 
left his rooms in search of the other soul. 
 
Lómion fought his own private war, seeing Ereinion running toward him. 
He wanted nothing more than to throw himself into the protective arms, 
but at the same time he knew he didn’t deserve Ereinion’s affection and 
protection. 
 
In wonder, Ecthelion watched how Ereinion wrapped his arms around 
Maeglin, quickly pulling the hood back in place again. The former High-
King’s action baffled him. “What are you doing? Don’t you know who he 
is?” Ereinion had called Maeglin Lómion. What did that mean?
 
“I know who I am holding in my arms, Ecthelion,” said Ereinion in a firm 
voice. “But do you really know who he is? Or are you simply assuming 
you know?” He pulled Lómion close and tried to soothe the troubled soul, 
who now shivered against him. 
 
“I know who Maeglin is, Ereinion. He is a traitor and yet you embrace him 
and hold him close?” Ecthelion felt nothing but hatred for Ereinion at that 
moment. “Do you have any idea how many of my loved ones died because 
of his evil?”
 
“No evil,” replied Ereinion, steadfast. He sought out Ecthelion’s gaze and 
faced the angry glare. “Do you wish to know the truth?”
 
“Nay! You cannot tell him!” Lómion raised his head and shocked eyes 
found Ereinion’s. “You cannot tell him when I told you!”
 
In a remarkably soft tone said Ereinion, “Don’t you understand, Lómion? 
Your redemption lies in making them understand. You must share your 
past with him.”
 
“I cannot do that.” Lómion’s large dark eyes filled with tears. “I cannot go 
through all that pain again.”
 
“Then let me tell him. Will you let me?” Ereinion gave Lómion an 
encouraging look. 
 
Ecthelion’s gaze traveled from one soul to the other. “What are you 
talking about, Ereinion?”
 
“Will you let me tell him?” asked Ereinion once more, ignoring Ecthelion 
for now.
 
Realizing that he didn’t have a real choice, Lómion nodded in the end. 
“But please do not force me to listen.”
 
“I won’t.” Ereinion tightened his hold on his charge and felt relieved when 
Lómion allowed the hold. Then, his eyes sought out Ecthelion’s puzzled 
ones. “Do you want to know the truth, Lord of the Fountain? Do you want 
to hear the whole story?”
 
Ecthelion was tempted to say no. What good would hearing Maeglin’s life 
story do him? Maeglin was evil – a traitor! So why was he suddenly 
nodding his head? Maybe, there was a small part of him that wondered 
why Ereinion was acting in that way. What did the former High-King 
know that he didn’t?
 
“Follow us back to my rooms, then,” instructed Ereinion, leading Lómion 
out of the corridor. He looked over his shoulder to find out if Ecthelion 
was following them, and when he did, he saw Námo standing behind the 
Lord of the Fountain. The Vala’s dark eyes shone with compassion and 
hope. /I hope I won’t disappoint you./
 
/You won’t./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel lay facing Erestor. Before going to sleep after a fulfilling night 
of love-making, he had draped an arm over his lover’s hip and now 
caressed the soft skin beneath his fingertips. It was still beyond him how 
he could have forgotten about Erestor, and he thanked Lindir for telling 
him that he was already bonded. Although he hadn’t met an Elf yet who 
had captured his heart, he might have tried harder finding one, had he 
believed himself unbound.
 
But thankfully his memories had returned to him, showing just how deep 
their love ran. When those memories had first surfaced, he had been 
stunned to find just how much they loved each other. He vividly 
remembered the first time they had made love and the way Erestor had 
taken himself – his lover been so extremely eager to bind to him that he 
had been left hurt in the process. 
 
/Thank you,/ he sent to the Valar. /Thank you for allowing him to find me. 
Thank you for allowing me to remember our love./ He didn’t expect an 
answer and didn’t get one, but that mattered little.
 
/Our binding anniversary will shortly be upon us and I want to do 
something special to confirm our love. I want to make it up to you that I 
forgot about you./
 
Glorfindel’s troubled thoughts woke Erestor, whose dark eyes met his 
lover’s lucid blue ones. “Why are you brooding?”
 
“I love you so much,” said Glorfindel, running his hand up and down 
Erestor’s spine. “Oh, how I wish this moment in time would never end. I 
want to be like this forever.”
 
Erestor gave Glorfindel a look filled with understanding. “But nothing 
ever lasts forever, Glorfindel. It won’t be long until we have to return to 
our work.”
 
“But you will always return to my arms, won’t you? Promise me that you 
will. No matter what happens in the future, promise me this.”
 
Erestor gave Glorfindel a rueful smile. “I do not know if I can keep such a 
promise, but I will do my best to try. Regardless of what will happen in 
the future, please know that I will never stop loving you.”
 
That was good enough for Glorfindel, who hugged his love close and 
showered a shoulder with kisses. “You belong with me.”
 
“Aye, I do.”
 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I do not want to hear this,” said Lómion in a determined voice. “Please 
wait with telling him until I am asleep.” Aided by Ereinion, Lómion lay 
down on the bed. He pulled his knees close to his chest, bowed his head 
and even pulled the blanket over his body, effectively hiding his form 
from Ereinion and Ecthelion.  
 
Ecthelion’s lips turned into a snarl, seeing with how much care and 
affection Ereinion tended to the traitor’s demands. Ereinion even tucked 
the blanket around Maeglin’s form and stroked the hair through the fabric 
of the hood before leaving the traitor to his dreams.
 
Lómion forced himself to fall asleep and he fled into a landscape of 
dreams, still amazed that Lórien allowed him to find comfort here. 
 
“Are you always this considerate of a traitor’s needs?” said Ecthelion, 
starting their conversation. 
 
Ereinion sat down on a chair opposite Ecthelion and realized this wouldn’t 
be easy. He had learned of Lómion’s suffering first-hand and Ecthelion 
wouldn’t see the other Elf’s suffering the way he had, but he had to try to 
make Ecthelion see the truth. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ecthelion remained quiet for long moments after Ereinion had stopped 
talking. It was true, when he had accepted Ereinion’s invitation to learn 
more about Maeglin, he hadn’t expected to learn any of this. His gaze 
shifted from the former High-King to Maeglin – Lómion, as Ereinion 
called him. This time, he thought about his words before actually speaking 
them. “I feel for the Elfling who was subjected to such torment, but…”
 
Ereinion forced himself to be patient and to let Ecthelion finish instead of 
rushing to Lómion’s defense. 
 
“But he made the decision to betray Gondolin and her inhabitants. No one 
forced him to do so.”
 
“I am not saying he does not carry the guilt for that deed,” said Ereinion 
eventually. “But please keep in mind that you are dealing with a different 
personality here. Aye, Lómion remembers what Maeglin did and he did 
not fight him as he should have, but Lómion is not Maeglin. They are 
different people.”
 
Ecthelion shook his head. “You are allowing him to delude you. Lómion 
and Maeglin are one and the same person.”
 
“You saw his eyes, Ecthelion. Can you honestly tell me that they are 
Maeglin’s?”
 
Ecthelion considered this. “The eyes are the same – dark and haunted – 
but I must admit there is something new to them – something different.”
 
“What you saw was a child – a frightened child. Aye, Maeglin lives on in 
Lómion, but the evil Elf you have known is no more. My compassion – 
my need to understand – took away his reason to exist. Don’t you see, 
Ecthelion? Maeglin became so strong because no one cared about Lómion. 
I am not saying that Turgon made a mistake in making Maeglin his 
confidant, for you must admit Maeglin did fight bravely in those first days, 
but he should have delved deeper. He should have tried to uncover why 
Maeglin was the way he was.” 
 
Ecthelion couldn’t deny there was truth to Ereinion’s words, but… “Do 
you really expect me to forgive him and accept him? To befriend him as 
you did? I saw the horrid deeds he committed… You never did. You never 
were exposed to that side of him.”
 
“And that is probably the very reason why I saw the scared child hidden 
beneath the angry adult, aye.” Ereinion’s gaze came to rest upon Lómion’s 
trembling form. “That is why I can soothe him when the nightmares are 
upon him.” He left his chair, walked over to the bed and sat down. Resting 
a hand on Lómion’s hot brow, he whispered words of comfort. “The 
monster is not here, meldir8. You are safe with me, pen-neth9.” 
 
Although Ecthelion was determined to continue to hate Maeglin, he rose 
from his chair and came to a standstill at the foot end of the bed. He 
watched closely as Ereinion calmed Maeglin and apparently chased away 
the nightmares. “What are they about?”
 
“What do you think?” Ereinion gave Ecthelion a probing look. “Eöl still 
haunts him.”
 
“He walks the Halls of Waiting…” said Ecthelion in a thoughtful tone. 
“How would he react when he finds out his son is here?”
 
“Even if he does find out Lómion has found a refuge here I will keep him 
from approaching him.”  
 
Ecthelion looked up in surprise, finding Námo had answered his question 
and not Ereinion as he had thought at first. “My Lord,” he said, feeling 
rather stunned to find the Vala this close unexpectedly. The Doomsman of 
the Vala stood behind him and studied Lómion, who was still dreaming. 
 
“My brother does all he can to keep the nightmares away from Lómion, 
but the undealt-with memories are strong.” Námo wished he could do 
more for Lómion but even his means were limited. It was Ereinion who 
would bring Lómion redemption – or not. The former High-King had 
already made a start, confiding in Ecthelion. “So, tell me, Lord of the 
Fountain, what do you think of Lómion now?”
 
Ecthelion turned so he was face to face with the Vala. “Would you answer 
me one question, my Lord, before I answer yours?”
 
Námo nodded. “I call him Lómion, because that is who he is. Ereinion 
spoke the truth earlier when he told you about Maeglin. Aye, Maeglin is 
and always will be a part of Lómion, but a part he no longer needs. 
Lómion still feels and reacts like an Elfling, but he also knows that this 
part of him did unspeakable things in the past. And he takes the blame for 
it. Lómion carries a great burden – much too great for a mere Elfling.” 
 
Ereinion shifted further onto the bed until his back rested against the 
headboard. He had done this part, now it was up to Námo and Ecthelion. 
Lómion didn’t wake when he pulled the dreaming soul close and stroked 
the blistered skin through the fabric of the black robes. He also continued 
to listen to the conversation Námo and Ecthelion were now carrying on. 
 
“Ereinion has started a process that cannot be reversed. Lómion has found 
the courage to face himself and he has found a true champion in Ereinion 
Gil-Galad, but he needs more. He needs more friends, more souls who are 
willing to support him and stand by him in the time to come.” Námo 
sensed the conflict deep within Ecthelion’s soul and waited – patiently – 
for the warrior to reach his decision.
 
“You do not know what you are asking of me! I cannot befriend and 
support someone who is responsible for the death of so many!” Ecthelion 
shook his head. “You say it is Lómion who Ereinion is holding, but I say it 
is Maeglin! He even carries the burns the fire left on him!”
 
Námo realized more convincing measures were in order and he 
approached the sleeping soul. His eyes sought out Ereinion’s when he 
reached to push the back the hood. “Put your trust in me,” he asked of the 
former High-King. 
 
“I did that the first time you talked to me and you haven’t disappointed me 
yet. Do what you must,” said Ereinion, steeling himself for whatever 
action Námo deemed necessary.  
 
“Ecthelion, come here and stand beside me.” Námo blocked Ecthelion’s 
view of Lómion’s form and waited for the warrior to do as he had bid.
 
Reluctantly, Ecthelion took up position at Námo’s side. Although he felt 
sorry for what Maeglin had gone through as an Elfling, he didn’t feel it 
warranted giving him a second chance. 
 
“Look at Lómion and tell me what you see,” ordered Námo, finally 
moving away so Ecthelion could see. 
 
Ecthelion was about to tell the Vala that he saw the traitor, with his 
charred flesh, but he never managed to speak those words, for it wasn’t 
Maeglin’s burned form he was looking upon. “What did you do?”
 
“This is Lómion. This is the soul you are so willing to condemn to eternal 
torment. Have a good look at him, Ecthelion.” Námo took another step 
away from the bed and watched Ecthelion’s reactions closely.
 
Ecthelion stared in disbelief at the Elf in Ereinion’s arms. Although he 
could still discern Maeglin’s features, he was looking at a much younger 
face – that of an Elfling. 
 
“He was twenty-five years old when Eöl first raped him,” said Námo, 
relentlessly. “Tell me, how would you have reacted had you been in his 
place? But no, you were spared such a childhood and only knew love and 
dedication. Things were different for this one. He is still so very young, 
but if you look closely you can see the lines of pain etched onto his brow.”
 
Entranced – Ecthelion moved closer. His right hand hovered above the 
unmarred face. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was 
openness, pain, suffering and lost hope in the sleeping eyes and aye, Námo 
was right; deep lines of misery were etched upon his forehead. “This is 
nothing but a child.” Not the adult who had betrayed Gondolin.
 
“Now you see him as he truly is. This is Lómion before Maeglin appeared 
to shelter the hurting infant from his father’s lust.” Námo exchanged a 
glance with Ecthelion. “Can you truly condemn this child?”
 
Ereinion, who had listened closely, had grown curious and peeked at the 
Elfling’s face. He hadn’t seen Lómion or Maeglin in life and didn’t know 
what to expect. But when he looked upon that young face, his heart 
contracted painfully. Using his imagination, he could see how Lómion 
would have looked as an adult, if Eöl had left his son and wife alone. “He 
would truly have been a child of the twilight.”
 
“Nay,” said Námo. “His light would have shone as bright as Glorfindel’s 
had it not been for Eöl’s appalling deeds.” 
 
Ecthelion bowed his head in defeat. “I do not know if I can accept this. I 
have long thought of him as the traitor – the one responsible for the deaths 
of so many.”
 
Námo raised an arm and rested it on Ecthelion’s shoulder. “Know this, my 
child. Morgoth would have attacked without Maeglin aiding him. Morgoth 
would have murdered everyone in sight and eventually, he would have 
demanded Maeglin’s life as well. Ereinion told you what made Maeglin 
give in to Morgoth. He was trying to protect Lómion from suffering 
further abuse.” 
 
“I cannot make such a decision now,” said Ecthelion, feeling nervous and 
trapped. “You are asking me to change what I thought of as the truth for 
millennia.”
 
“You do not have to reach a decision now,” replied Námo, removing his 
hand from Ecthelion’s shoulder. “You will join the other souls again and 
you will keep quiet about Lómion for now. I want you to reach your own 
decision. If you told the other souls they would certainly influence your 
decision.” 
 
Transfixed, Ecthelion watched as Lómion’s face changed back into the 
charred mess Maeglin’s face had become. “I need to leave now.” He had 
to leave this room for he felt like he was about to suffocate!
 
“Go then and think!” At Námo’s command the door opened and Ecthelion 
practically fled the room, running into the corridor. 
 
That left Ereinion and Námo alone – as Lómion was still dreaming. 
 
“Thank you,” said Ereinion. “I failed to convince him.”
 
“Nay, you did not. Ecthelion only needed to see for himself that Lómion is 
not evil.”
 
“What will happen next?” asked Ereinion, looking at the sleeping soul in 
his arms. Although the injuries had returned to mar the face, he still 
thought he saw Lómion’s youthful features hidden beneath the burns. 
 
“Ecthelion will reach a decision – a decision, which will remain hidden 
from himself until the moment of truth for him arrives.” Námo smiled at 
the sleeping soul. “You have no idea how long I have waited for someone 
to be his champion.”
 
“Why did you not do it yourself? You seem to care about him.”
 
Námo’s eyes twinkled. “Remember what I told you, Ereinion Gil-Galad. 
Lindir became your lover, did he not? I am already married and although 
Vairë would understand, it is not my destiny to release this one from his 
chains.”
 
“We will become lovers?” Ereinion wondered why that prospect didn’t 
shock him. Maybe it was because he saw the beauty of Lómion’s soul 
beneath Maeglin’s burns.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You are two months along now,” said Elrond in a thoughtful voice. “And 
I feel…”
 
“What do you feel?” Celebrían couldn’t help growing worried at hearing 
her husband’s concerned tone. “Is anything amiss? Is anything wrong with 
our baby?”
 
Elrond felt conflicted. “It is still too early to feel anything,” he said, as his 
fingers tenderly probed his wife’s abdominal area. “But I sense 
something.”
 
“You sense something?” Celebrían was growing frustrated. “Why don’t 
you simply tell me what you are sensing, *husband*?”  She stressed that 
last word, letting him know not to stall. She wanted answers and she 
wanted them now!
 
Elrond drew in a deep breath. “As a healer I can direct my energy toward 
this new life growing inside you and I sense…”
 
“Do not make me hurt you, Elrond Peredhel10! You are responsible for 
putting me in this position and I demand you share what you know!” She 
gave him a menacing look.
 
“I sense two lights, not one.” Elrond cringed and averted his eyes, 
uncertain how his wife would react to this fact. “You are carrying twins, 
Melethril.” He didn’t know why this came as a shock to him – he should 
have realized this could happen.
 
“Twins?” Celebrían’s eyes widened and she curled her fingers around her 
husband’s hand, which still rested on her abdomen. “I am carrying twins? 
How can that be?” Twins were extremely rare among the Firstborn!
 
“I was part of a twinning once,” said Elrond, and an old pain attacked him 
from within. “My twin’s name was Elros and I loved him dearly.” 
 
Celebrían blinked, suddenly recalling her father had once mentioned Elros 
to her. “Of course. Twins… I never considered that could happen to us.”
 
Elrond lifted his eyes and searched his wife’s silver-blue ones. “I honestly 
did not think it would happen either. I always assumed it would never 
happen again. My mother had twin brothers and apparently it did not skip 
this third generation and we are having twins, Melethril.” Elrond sat down 
and rubbed his wife’s fingers. “How do you feel about this? Carrying 
twins will be more demanding on you and you will have to rest more 
often. Overall, your pregnancy will be more taxing.”
 
“But also more rewarding,” said Celebrían, smiling warmly. “The Valar 
have blessed us with *two* children, Elrond. Not just one.”
 
Elrond released a breath of relief. “I was afraid you would be displeased to 
learn this. After all, this is your first pregnancy and carrying twins…” He 
was unexpectedly silenced when his wife leaned in closer and placed her 
fingertips across his lips. 
 
“I already love our sons,” she said, still smiling. “Elrond, I need to ask you 
this. Do you know their sex? Will we have daughters or…?”
 
“If my senses are not deluding me, I think we will have two sons.” He was 
ecstatic that he would have twin sons, but kept a tight rein on his emotions 
until he was absolutely certain that she shared his feelings. 
 
“Sons… Two heirs for Imladris… two sons for us.” Celebrían let the news 
sink in and then gave her husband a happy smile. “Will you do something 
for me, ind nîn 11?” 
 
“I would do anything for you,” said Elrond in a voice that spoke of 
dedication and love. 
 
“Would you name them?”
 
Elrond nodded once. “If that is your wish I will name them.”
 
Celebrían leaned closer against him and cherished feeling his arms 
wrapping themselves protectively around her middle. “And furthermore, 
you *will* pamper me.”
 
“I will read every wish from your eyes, Melethril.” Elrond brought one of 
her hands close to his lips and pressed a passionate kiss onto the back. 
“You will want for nothing.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next few months passed by quickly and the Lady of Imladris 
blossomed now that her husband lavished her with love and attention. She 
was required to rest many times each day, but there was always someone 
close to keep her company. The few times that Elrond was busy and 
couldn’t sit with her, Glorfindel, Erestor, or Melpomaen would stay close 
to her. All Elves were looking forward to the birth, but also realized the 
danger involved now that their Lady was carrying twins.
 
One evening, whilst Celebrían was already close to her term, Elrond 
invited their friends into their rooms for dinner. Celebrían, heavy and 
exhausted due to her pregnancy, rested in a comfortable chair and watched 
Elrond fuss over her with bemused eyes. She craved strawberries and 
although it was winter, Elrond had managed to grow the delicate fruit in a 
sheltered environment. The great lengths he went to in order to please her 
never ceased to amaze her and she loved him even more for it. 
 
“I do not feel well tonight,” she said, rubbing her hand across her swollen 
abdomen. Elrond had told her that the birth could occur at any moment 
now, and although she trusted the healer in him completely, the prospect 
did worry her. She-Elves had died in child-birth before and she *was* 
carrying twins!
 
“Do you wish for me to send word to our friends that dinner has been 
canceled?” Elrond knelt at her feet and rested his head on her knees. 
 
Celebrían’s fingers moved through his long hair, putting in lover’s knots. 
“Nay, I like their company. And Glorfindel always has amusing tales to 
tell.”
 
“Which normally involve Erestor and awkward situations?” Elrond smiled 
and rubbed his cheek against the fabric of her dress.
 
“Do you think Lindir will arrive in time for the birth?” The white-haired 
Elf had sent word that he was on his way back to Imladris and she hoped 
he would arrive in time. 
 
“I hope so,” said Elrond, lifting his head to look into her eyes. “But Lindir 
is the least of my worries. Only your well-being counts right now.”
 
“I am so happy I married you, ind nîn.” She captured a lock of his sable 
hair and brought it close to her lips, pressing a kiss onto the strand. “Have 
you decided on their names yet?” 
 
“Aye, I did.” Elrond rested his ear against her belly and stroked the skin 
through her silver-colored dress. “Elladan for our firstborn and Elrohir for 
his brother – if those names please you.”
 
“They do,” said Celebrían, approving of the names. “They sound right.” 
 
Soft music, coming from beneath their window drew their attention and 
Elrond pushed himself to his feet. Standing beneath their balcony was 
Lindir, singing softly and playing his lyre. The minstrel had chosen a 
romantic love song and his eyes swam with happiness when their gazes 
met. “’Tis Lindir,” said Elrond, who returned to his wife. “He has returned 
to us.”
 
She pulled him down until he sat on the armrest of her chair and rested her 
head against his strong body. “Then let us listen to his song.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Later that night, the Elves gathered close. Lindir was ecstatic to find 
Erestor had returned to them and hugged the dark-haired advisor within an 
inch of his life. It was only due to Glorfindel’s dark gaze that the minstrel 
pulled away. “Erestor, I thought I would never see you again! What 
happened after you took me to the Isle of Balar?”
 
“I will share my history with you,” promised Erestor. “But not now. This 
is Celebrían’s night.”
 
Remembering that Erestor possessed the gift of foresight, Lindir’s eyes 
grew big. “Do you mean that…?”
 
“The twins will be born tonight,” confirmed Erestor, who went willingly 
when Glorfindel pulled him into his arms. “Do not worry,” he whispered 
into his lover’s ear. “I am yours – only yours.”
 
Glorfindel felt ashamed for being jealous of Lindir, but he couldn’t help 
himself. The mere thought of losing Erestor again filled him with terror.
 
“Elrond? Ind nîn?” She dug her fingernails into the wood of the chair. “I 
think… I…” The first contraction left her panting and she read realization 
in her husband’s eyes. “My time has come.”
 
Elrond reacted by carefully lifting her from the chair. “I will take you to 
the Healing House and deliver our babies. You are in the best hands with 
me, Melethril.” 
 
“I know that,” whispered Celebrían, feeling safe in her husband’s strong 
arms. In a few hours, she would hopefully hold her sons in her arms.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Stop pacing! You are driving me insane!” Erestor glared at Glorfindel, 
who couldn’t sit still. Beside him sat Lindir and the blue eyes stared at him 
in fright. “Calm yourself,” said Erestor. “All will be well with our Lady 
and the twins.” 
 
That moment, Melpomaen rushed into the room. “I have sent word to the 
Golden Wood, but it will take the royal couple weeks to get here.”
 
“You did what you could,” said Erestor in a calm voice. “Now sit and wait 
with us. It won’t be long before the first scream of a newborn will greet 
this world.” 
Glorfindel, Lindir and Melpomaen clung to Erestor’s words, and prayed 
for their Lady’s well-being.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Minutes later, that first cry firmly echoed through the Healing House, 
making the waiting Elves smile. 
 
“Elladan has a powerful set of lungs,” said Erestor, jokingly, in an attempt 
to reassure his friends. Glorfindel reacted by kissing him on the lips. “I 
love you too.”
 
Then, another scream drifted toward them. “And that must be Elrohir,” 
said Glorfindel, feeling happy and relieved now that the babies had been 
delivered. 
 
Calm descended onto them and smiles and happiness spread all through 
the Last Homely House.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“My Lord Elrond invites you to visit with his family,” said the healer, who 
was smiling radiantly now that the delivery had gone well. “Please follow 
me.”
 
Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir and Melpomaen hurried after the healer, eager 
to congratulate the couple and to look upon the twins for the first time.
 
“Be quiet,” said Elrond, who had curled around his family. He gestured 
for them to approach the bed, and hoped they realized that his wife needed 
to rest. She had gone into a healing sleep after holding her babies for that 
very first time. He was exhausted himself, but refused to go to sleep now 
that he had a family to watch over. His wife and little ones needed him.
 
Erestor and Glorfindel reached the bed first and smiled, seeing the happy 
family, curled up close to each other. Elrond was on the outside, Celebrían 
at the heart, holding her twins close in sleep. The twins however, were 
awake and baby blue eyes looked curiously into the world. 
 
Elrond smiled at his friends. “You can hold them if you want, but just do 
not wake Celebrían.” Carefully, he lifted Elladan, wondering which one of 
his friends was courageous enough to hold the tiny bundle. To his surprise, 
it was Lindir who offered the baby the safety of his arms. 
 
Lindir held the precious bundle close and rocked him. “He is beautiful, 
Elrond. Is it just my imagination or does he bear the most resemblance to 
you?”
 
“Celebrían thought so too,” replied Elrond, lifting Elrohir. 
 
“May I hold him?” Erestor moved forward and cradled the tiny body close 
to him. 
 
Glorfindel felt torn – which baby should he offer his protection first? 
 
“I vow to protect you, little Elrohir,” said Erestor, playing with the baby’s 
tiny fingers. “If necessary I will lay down my life for you.” No one in the 
room, save for Erestor himself, know how powerful this vow was – 
coming from one of the Valar himself. 
 
Now that Erestor had extended his protection to Elrohir, Glorfindel moved 
to Lindir, who was still rocking Elladan. “And I will always be there for 
you, pen-neth. Elladan, I will protect you as long as I shall live.”
 
From the corner of the room Námo watched the gathering of happy Elves. 
He had made sure that he was invisible to his son’s eyes as he didn’t want 
to distract Erestor from the happiness his son felt now that he was holding 
precious new life in his arms. 
 
/And so it continues… Elrohir has finally been born and Ecthelion will 
realize his true love exists. Lindir has healed and is holding his destiny in 
his arms. I wish their happiness would last forever – but it never does./

Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion.
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: Elfling Elladan loves Lindir best. Erestor 
and Mithrandir talk. Ecthelion makes an important decision. Lómion faces 
his past and is rewarded for doing so. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 8
 
 
Lindir cradled Elladan against his chest. The baby was six months old and 
had become increasingly more energetic. At first, Elladan had been 
content to be held, but that had quickly changed. Elladan was now 
constantly crawling into dark corners, pulling at rugs and table cloths and 
whenever an adult was near, the baby found great delight in pulling the 
hair. “And now your eye color is changing as well.” It had begun a few 
days ago. The baby-blue had faded and instead light-gray had appeared, 
clearly marking him Elrond’s son. 
 
Sitting next to Lindir was Erestor, who was tickling Elrohir’s side. The 
baby reacted with pleased shrieks and once the tickling stopped, Elrohir 
cooed for more. 
 
“Later, pen neth1,” said Erestor, who loved spending time with the twins. 
Although he loved both of them dearly, Elrohir was his favorite, as the 
younger twin wasn’t as naughty as Elladan, who frequently got himself 
into trouble with his sitter. “I never thought I would be ever holding an 
Elfling in my arms again,” admitted Erestor, feeling at ease in Lindir’s 
presence. 
 
“You are thinking of Eärendil.” Lindir remembered the way Erestor had 
doted upon Idril’s son. 
 
“Aye, Eärendil was a sweet child, whilst that one,” and Erestor pointed at 
Elladan, “will get us into all kinds of trouble.”
 
“I wonder if it is always this way with twins. I was thinking about Elrond 
and Elros the other day and I wondered if one of them was the naughty 
one, whilst the other was as sweet as Elrohir.” Lindir chuckled, feeling a 
wet, pink tongue lap at his finger. “I am not your Nana2, pen-neth.” 
 
“We will ask Elrond,” decided Erestor. “But we can inquire later. First, we 
need to return these little ones to their mother. They are hungry.” Erestor 
rose from the couch and held Elrohir protectively. Big blue-gray eyes 
looked at him in wonder and he smiled at the Elfling. And he asked 
himself; what did a child’s eyes see? Did they see the illusion Námo had 
created or did they see beyond that and were they aware of his real power? 
He hoped not, but the way the twins occasionally stared at him made him 
wonder. It was like their eyes saw something no one else saw.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Mithrandir beamed with happiness, seeing Lindir and Erestor enter, 
carrying the twins in their arms. He hadn’t seen the babies yet and was 
eager to hold the new life in his own arms. 
 
Erestor tensed, finding Mithrandir present in the couple’s private rooms. 
His eyes quickly sought out the Maia’s, and after probing them 
extensively, he reached the conclusion that he wasn’t in any danger. The 
Maia wasn’t here to expose him. 
 
“Hand Elrohir to me,” said Celebrían, who knew with a mother’s instinct 
that her babies were hungry. “I can only feed one at a time. Mithrandir, 
maybe you would like to hold Elladan for a while?”
 
Lindir didn’t want to let go of the little one, but complied eventually and 
placed the Elfling in Mithrandir’s large arms. 
 
Mithrandir giggled, pulled all kind of strange faces and laughed warmly 
when Elladan stuck out his tongue at him. “Oh, this one is feisty!”
 
Erestor had placed Elrohir in Celebrían’s arms and then went to join 
Mithrandir. “Be careful, he likes to pull at your hair.”
 
This time it was the beard though, and Mithrandir happily allowed it. “I 
see a lot of your husband in him, my Lady.”
 
Celebrían, who was now feeding Elrohir, nodded once. “Maybe too much? 
They inherited some of his most wicked traits, I am afraid.”
 
“Oh, Melethril 2, you love my wicked streak! At least, you told me so!” 
Elrond entered and headed for the bed where Celebrían was feeding their 
son. He leaned in closer and pressed a passionate kiss on her lips. His 
large hand came to rest on his son’s head and he tenderly stroked the dark 
hair. It was true though; it seemed their sons had inherited his 
characteristics and none of his wife. The twins already sported hair as dark 
as his and the eyes were becoming more like his with every passing day. 
There was little of Celebrían in their features.
 
She gave her husband a warm smile. “Aye, I love all of you, Elrond, but 
now we have two little ones who are beginning to crawl and are set on 
creating havoc.”
 
Elrohir’s eyes fastened on his mother’s and whilst he continued to suckle 
he gave her an almost apologetic look, which made Elrond smile. “Maybe 
not the two of them, Melethril. Elrohir strikes me as the sensible one of the 
pair.” His sons’ fëar4 felt different to him. Whilst Elladan’s was bursting 
with energy and curiosity, Elrohir’s was calm and loving. The boys might 
look the same, but character-wise they were as different as they possibly 
could be.
 
Now that Elrohir had been fed, the gray eyes darkened with sleep and 
Elrond accepted the baby into his arms. Sitting down next to his wife, he 
smiled adoringly at his son. 
 
Mithrandir rose from his chair and handed Elladan to Celebrían so she 
could feed the elder twin. Next, his gaze traveled to Erestor again. “A 
word, please?”
 
Growing tense once more, Erestor nodded. “Of course.”
 
“I should excuse myself as well,” said Lindir, who had promised to teach 
Melpomaen to play the lyre. But his gaze was drawn to Elladan once 
more. There was something about the baby that demanded he stayed close 
to protect and love him. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of these 
strange thoughts and then took his leave to seek out the young advisor.
 
Elrond and Celebrían didn’t even register they were alone with their 
offspring now, as Mithrandir and Erestor had left their rooms as well – 
they were too lost in each other and their bliss.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Your secret is still safe with me,” said Mithrandir, sensing Erestor’s 
unease. “I am not here to tell Elrond who you truly are.”
 
Erestor allowed himself to feel a bit more at ease after being reassured and 
nodded once. “Thank you for your faith in me. But why are you here, 
then?”
 
“Except to congratulate Elrond and Celebrían and hold the twins in my 
arms?”
 
“I apologize,” said Erestor, softly. “I did not mean to imply that you did 
not care about them.” 
 
“You and I are alike in many ways, Erestor,” replied Mithrandir after a 
moment’s thought. “We rejoice with them when they are happy, but we 
can never escape the fact that we are different. They belong to the 
Firstborn – and they are magnificent and immortal in their own right – but 
you and I, Erestor, are even *more* than that.”
 
Erestor nodded his head. “I understand what you are trying to say, but as 
long as I walk Arda, I am limited in my ways. I *am* one of the 
Firstborn.”
 
“But your soul is that of one of the Valar.” Mithrandir stopped walking, as 
they had reached Elrond’s library. He sat down and stretched his long legs. 
“You were right, of course. There is another reason for my visit here.”
 
Erestor cocked his head. “I do hope this has nothing to do with my father.”
 
“Námo?” Mithrandir frowned. “Do you expect for it to involve your 
father?” 
 
“My father delights in manipulating me whenever he thinks it is for my 
benefit.”
 
“And you expect him to meddle again?” Mithrandir was curious to learn 
more about the relationship between father and son.
 
“I have not spoken to him for quite some time…” Time, that concept still 
baffled him, even after so many millennia. 
 
“This has nothing to do with your father – but everything with Thranduil.”
 
Erestor frowned. “Thranduil?” He hadn’t expected that.
 
“Your efforts at placating him have worked. I spoke to Thranduil some 
weeks ago and his demeanor toward Imladris and Elrond has softened. 
Your letters had much to do with it. You showed him a side of Imladris 
Thranduil never expected to exist and now he is prepared to take the next 
step to improve relations between the two realms.”
 
Intrigued, Erestor listened closely. It was true, he had replied to every 
letter Thranduil had sent in a calm and compassionate manner and over the 
past months they had reached some measure of understanding. “What 
step?”
 
“As this is still a delicate matter to his people, Thranduil wants to advance 
carefully.” Mithrandir studied Erestor. When he had learned that 
Glorfindel and Erestor were in love and already bound, he had realized 
part of the reason why the Valar had returned, but still, some questions 
remained. Questions, which Erestor would never answer out of his own 
accord. Mithrandir knew that and had accepted it – for now.
 
“Carry on.” Erestor was growing curious.
 
“Thranduil is sending an emissary to find out if Elrond’s motives to 
befriend Mirkwood are true.”
 
“An emissary?”
 
“How much do you know of Thranduil?” asked Mithrandir, shifting on the 
chair to gain a more comfortable position. 
 
“From his letters I can tell that he is still bitter and resentful toward Elrond 
– and all the Noldo – but he is also compassionate, otherwise he would not 
be willing to improve relations.”
 
“I was referring to his private circumstances,” clarified Mithrandir. 
 
“Nothing.”
 
Mithrandir nodded once and then gestured for Erestor to sit down opposite 
him, which the raven-haired Elf did. “You are right; Thranduil is bitter and 
resentful. Those feelings also stopped him from committing to the one he 
loved. He never bound himself and therefore his son is illegitimate. 
Legolas can never truly inherit his father’s throne, but is Thranduil’s only 
heir and thus his successor. Even more importantly, Thranduil loves his 
son. In time, Legolas might be able to convince his father’s advisors of his 
qualities and they might look upon him more favorably. For now, he is a 
Prince without a throne.”
 
Erestor listened, captivated. He had never heard of Legolas before.
 
“Thranduil keeps Legolas’ existence a secret. Deep down in his heart, he 
knows he should have wed Legolas’ mother, but losing his father at the 
Battle of the Last Alliance made him unwilling to truly commit himself to 
another and Legolas is paying the price for his father’s fears.”
 
“This is all quite fascinating, but why are you telling me this?”
 
“Because Legolas is on his way to Imladris. His father has chosen him to 
test Elrond’s true motives before befriending Imladris.”
 
Erestor’s frown deepened. “This will create awkward situations.”
 
Mithrandir shook his head. “Do not worry if Legolas should receive a 
formal welcome or not or how he should be addressed. Thranduil does not 
want Elrond to know who Legolas is.”
 
Erestor nodded. “That was one aspect I was worrying about.”
 
“Legolas will arrive unnoticed. You will assign him rooms and allow him 
to explore. No one ever needs to know who he is or why he is here.” 
Mithrandir was confident this would work. “Once Legolas is convinced 
that Elrond’s motives are pure, he will report to his father, who will then 
hopefully visit Imladris himself, giving Elrond an opportunity to move 
their relationship forward.”
 
“I will do as you ask of me,” replied Erestor. “And I do hope this will 
improve relations between Imladris and Mirkwood. Both realms will need 
all the support they can get when the Ring surfaces again.” Erestor’s eyes 
widened; why had he said that? The Ring had disappeared!
 
Mithrandir sat up. “You have seen this?”
 
“I did not know it would surface until I said so. Over the years, my ability 
to see the future has weakened. I believe it is because I have not used my 
powers for so long.” He truly felt like one of the Firstborn!
 
“If the One Ring really will surface again, Sauron will awaken and gather 
his strength. We must prepare for that day!” Mithrandir’s being vibrated 
with energy. “I will not allow him to win this battle!”
 
“You do not stand alone,” replied Erestor. He would do whatever he could 
to defeat evil!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ecthelion found no peace of mind, wandering the Halls of Waiting. 
Several souls had offering him their companionship, but he had declined, 
feeling the need to be alone with his thoughts. The things he had learned 
from Ereinion and Námo had upended his world and he didn’t know how 
to deal with them. Maeglin was responsible for the death of many of his 
loved ones and it had been easy to hate the Elf for that. But now that he 
had seen Lómion, it wasn’t that easy to hate any more.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I have every right to leave my room!” Eöl glared at Námo. 
 
“You no longer have that right. That privilege has been taken away from 
you.” Námo returned the Dark Elf’s glare. “You have roamed my Halls 
too long already, making the other souls feel uncomfortable.”
 
“That is not the true reason.” Eöl’s eyes narrowed. 
 
“That is none of your business.” Námo walked toward the doorway. “You 
only need to know that you are forbidden to leave your rooms ever again. 
Should you break this rule you *will* be punished.” His feelings almost 
overwhelmed him, as he realized how badly he wanted to punish Eöl for 
what he had done to Aredhel and Lómion. 
 
Eöl watched Námo leave – he had no intention to obey the Vala.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lómion woke in Ereinion’s’ arms, feeling warm and protected. He blinked 
and then his eyes focused. Ereinion had fallen asleep spooned behind him, 
and the feel of a strong body behind him should have sparked ugly 
memories, but it didn’t. Strong? Warm? Solid? Lómion blinked again; he 
was a soul and so was Ereinion, so how was it possible for the former 
King to feel this real, pressed against him? Was he still dreaming? Aye, 
that had to be it. This was a dream – nothing but a dream!
 
“I am confident that Ecthelion will understand. Now that he has heard the 
tale of your life he needs time to accept what he has learned. He will look 
at you with different eyes, but you cannot expect instant change. Give him 
time.” 
 
Not a dream, then. Ereinion’s words hit him like cold rain and they caused 
his memories to return. “You told him? You told him everything?” Shame 
crept over his charred skin and made him close his eyes in an attempt to 
shut out the truth. Now Ecthelion knew how he had allowed the dark Elf 
to use him! Ecthelion now had an additional reason to loathe and shun 
him!
 
Ereinion grew sad; sensing the direction Lómion’s thoughts had drifted off 
in. Maybe it was time to change the subject. “I am so relieved I found you 
in time. Why did you leave the safety of my rooms now that they can see 
you?”
 
Lómion admitted the truth before he realized what he was saying. “I do 
not want to infect you with my shame, disgrace and dishonor. They hate 
me and they will hate you too for sheltering me. You saw the way 
Ecthelion reacted when you took me into your arms. I refuse to be the 
reason they hate you.”
 
“Oh, Lómion!” Ereinion tightened his hold on the other soul and rested his 
chin on Lómion’s shoulder. “You should not worry about something like 
that! I can take care of myself! I can stand up against them if necessary!” 
He felt deeply touched that Lómion worried about him in that way! “You 
should focus on healing, meldir5.”
 
“But…” In spite of the tight hold, Lómion managed to turn in the 
embrace. They now lay facing each other and their dark eyes met. 
 
“Lómion…” It was *then* that Ereinion realized Námo had spoken the 
truth. He *did* feel the first stirrings of a love as deep as he had felt for 
Lindir. There was something about Lómion that called out to him – that 
made him want to hold him forever and to kiss away the pain which had 
been inflicted on the other soul. /I love him…/ But it wasn’t the same 
passionate love he had shared with Lindir. This was different – this was 
soul-deep.
 
Lómion felt something too, but the emotion was unknown to him and he 
didn’t know how to label it. The only thing that came close to what he was 
feeling now was the way he had felt about his mother. He had done his 
best to love her, but the dark Elf had smothered that love. “I am afraid,” he 
whispered, off-guard.
 
Ereinion gave Lómion a reassuring smile. “I know you are, but there is no 
reason to be scared. Your life is changing for the better.”
 
“What am I feeling?” asked Lómion, feeling encouraged now that 
Ereinion seemed willing to address this. “Do you feel it too?”
 
Ereinion sighed; he hadn’t thought Lómion would call him on this so 
quickly. Was the other soul ready for a revelation? Looking into the dark, 
haunted eyes, Ereinion knew he wasn’t. “We are becoming friends, 
Lómion. We care deeply for each other’s well-being.”
 
Lómion didn’t know why, but the answer disappointed him. For one short 
moment he had hoped it could be more, but he would settle for having a 
friend – as he had never had one before.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“May I enter?” Vairë stood in doorway, waiting for the White Lady of the 
Noldor to bid her to enter. Her husband had asked her to talk to Aredhel 
and she had agreed, realizing this was the right way to approach the 
mourning soul. 
 
Aredhel was surprised to see the Vala and quickly rose from her chair. She 
had been staring into the fire and had reflected on her life, which had been 
a chain of misfortune, wrong choices and regrets. “Of course, my Lady.” 
She bowed respectfully and her white and silver dress moved elegantly 
with her as she walked toward the Vala. “Though I must admit I am 
surprised to see you here.”
 
“We need to talk.” Vairë studied the soul and saw the pain – the wish to 
undo her horrid past. Aye, Aredhel still wanted to make amends. “I am 
here to discuss Lómion.”  
 
Aredhel tripped and reached for the wall to steady herself. “That is a name 
I have not heard for millennia.” She had often thought about her son – 
whom she had loved, whom she had died for. If only she could have kept 
him safe!
 
“Seat yourself, Aredhel.” Vairë moved forward and assisted Aredhel. 
 
Aredhel stared at the Weaver in surprise. “Why would you wish to discuss 
my unfortunate son?” Námo had visited with her after the Fall of Gondolin 
and had told her about the Valar’s ruling – she knew that her son was 
doomed to roam these Halls and she had even gone looking for him, but 
she had never found him. That was part of his punishment – and of hers.
 
Vairë seated herself opposite Aredhel and chose her words very carefully. 
“Manwë and Eru have discussed your son’s fate and they reached a 
decision. There have been some changes.”
 
“Changes?” Aredhel scooted closer and balanced precariously on the edge 
of her chair. “What kind of changes?”
 
Vairë gave Aredhel a look full of understanding. “We are both mothers, 
Aredhel. We suffer when our child is in pain.”
 
Aredhel’s eyes darkened with sympathy. She had heard of Erestor’s return 
to Arda and knew Vairë missed having her son close – she knew this 
because she missed having Lómion close. 
 
“But I am not here to discuss Erestor,” said Vairë, firmly. “I am here to 
talk about Lómion. The terms of his stay here have changed. He is no 
longer invisible to the eye.”
 
Aredhel’s soul filled with hope. “I can see him now? If I go looking for 
him, will I find him? Will I be able to hold and comfort him? Oh, my 
Lady, I understand why the Valar punished him, for his deeds were dark, 
but I am his mother. I love him – still.”
 
Vairë nodded once. “I know you still love him. You died for him.”
 
Aredhel was overcome with emotion and memories. “It was my last and 
only way to make amends – at least, that was what I believed at the time. I 
threw myself in the spear’s path and saved his life. But, there were times 
when I wondered if I did the right thing. Maybe I should have let him die. 
That would have been kinder – but I am his mother. I had to stop the Dark 
Elf from taking his son’s life.”
 
Vairë placed her hand atop of Aredhel’s, comforting the lost soul. “Eru’s 
will shall be done and the fact that you died and he lived was according to 
Eru’s will.”
 
“But still – if my son had died, he could not have betrayed Gondolin! I am 
to blame for their deaths, not my son! Not my Lómion!” Tears appeared in 
her eyes and she quickly wiped them away. “I should have been punished! 
Not my son!”
 
Vairë squeezed Aredhel’s hand. Her husband was right; not only Lómion 
needed closure; his mother needed it as well. “Would you like to see him? 
Talk to him and hold him?”
 
“Can I?” Big, wounded eyes looked up, leaking more tears.
 
“Aye, you can.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion woke with a start, feeling Lómion slipping away from him. 
Determined not to let the other soul get away a second time, he quickly sat 
up. “Where are you going?” 
 
Lómion’s black robes hid the troubled soul inside from view, as he sat 
down in front of the fireplace, his burned flesh hidden beneath the hood. “I 
do not feel on fire any longer.” The sensation had gone away some time 
ago, but only now had he grown aware of it. “The flames no longer burn 
me.”
 
Ereinion fought back tears at hearing those words. “Does that lessen your 
suffering?” He left the bed as well and sat down beside Lómion, on the 
floor. 
 
Lómion shrugged his shoulders once. “The pain has gone away, but not 
my suffering. I will always carry my guilt with me -- these black robes 
themselves speak of the horrible crime I committed.”
 
“That is in the past. It is time to let go.” Ereinion loosely wrapped an arm 
around his charge.
 
“My past will always haunt me. My past is my present and also my 
future.” Lómion was growing desperate. “It does not matter what I do – I 
will always be Maeglin, the traitor.” He rested his weary head against 
Ereinion’s shoulder, soaking up the other soul’s affection for him. “But, in 
one aspect you were right. Things *have* changed; I have a friend now. I 
never had one before.” Lómion lifted his head and made eye-contact. “I do 
not know how to be a friend in turn. Please be patient with me.”
 
For one moment something passed between them. It was a look of love, 
promises, surrender and true understanding. Ereinion even began to lean in 
closer so he could touch his lips to Lómion’s, but then the door opened 
and a vision in white dashed into the room, pulling Lómion away from 
him. Ereinion was about to rise from the floor and to come to Lómion’s 
defense when a female’s voice cut through the room.
 
“Lómion!” Aredhel flung herself at her son, enfolded him in a motherly 
hug and held him close. “I finally found you!” 
 
Lómion was shocked to find his mother this close. He had tried 
approaching her when he had first walked these Halls, but he had failed. 
As a result, he had accepted the fact that he would never be able to speak 
to her – that she would never hold him in her arms again – that he would 
never be able to ask her forgiveness. And now she was here. Aredhel was 
holding him close, even rocking him like she had done when he had been 
little. “Nana?” 
 
Ereinion blinked in surprise, hearing that little word. A presence moved 
closer and he almost expected it to be Námo, but when he looked up, he 
found it was Vairë standing at his side and not the Doomsman of the 
Valar.
 
Seeing Ereinion’s questioning gaze, Vairë explained in a soft voice, so as 
not to disturb the reunion between mother and son. “The time has come 
for them to find redemption and forgiveness, don’t you agree?”
 
“This is Aredhel? His mother?” 
 
“Aye, this is Lómion’s mother. Aredhel gave up hope to ever be reunited 
with her son, but your love made it possible. Your unselfish love, sire,” 
replied Vairë and a smile graced her ethereal features. “Like my husband, 
I also hoped that they would find salvation one day.”
 
Aredhel couldn’t stop the tears from leaving her eyes at seeing the damage 
the fire had done to her son’s once smooth features. “It is you, Lómion.” 
During his childhood she had sensed the change he had gone through, and 
she had seen Maeglin take over little by little. His father’s heritage had 
begun to show in her son and the Dark Elf had tried to mold Maeglin after 
him. But that was in the past. This was Lómion. She sensed his love for 
her – the love of a child for his mother. “I have you back.” 
 
Lómion wasn’t as strong as his mother and he shed tears. Tears, which 
were bitter because of their suffering and the shame that he felt now that 
she was looking at him and happy because he was finally allowed close to 
her. “Nana, I am so sorry… So very sorry for being weak… for all the 
mistakes I made… I was not as strong as you were… You should not have 
died for me… I am not worth such a sacrifice!”
 
Aredhel was the strong one then – strong enough for the both of them – 
and just held him close at first. When she spoke, it was in a loving voice. 
“I am your mother, Lómion. I gave birth to you. I gave you your name. I 
love you.” Her son’s sobbing intensified and Aredhel rested her chin on 
his shoulder, trying to offer as much support as she could. “It was not your 
fault, and you know it.”
 
“Nay! I should have killed him when I had the chance! Instead, I let him 
do as he pleased!” He sobbed against the silver and white of her dress, 
hiding his face in her dark hair.
 
“That would have made you a kinslayer, ion6. You were a child when you 
were confronted with his true nature and you tried to survive.”
 
“Did we survive, Nana? Did we?” Lómion pressed as close as possible, 
preventing her from making eye-contact. He felt too ashamed to meet her 
gaze!
 
“We survived, Lómion. We are here now – holding each other, are we 
not? I love you, ion.”
 
“How can you love me still? I caused your death!” He fought her, feeling 
her fingers slip beneath his chin in an effort to lift it so she could look into 
his eyes. But he couldn’t fight her for long and raised his head – however, 
he first closed his eyes before giving in to her. 
 
Ereinion swore that even the dead still possessed a heart, for he felt his 
break at that moment. “Oh, open your eyes, meldir. Can you not sense her 
love for you?” Lómion really expected his mother to reject him and that 
realization hurt!  
 
Telling herself to be strong for her son’s sake, Aredhel refused to shed the 
tears swimming in her eyes. “He is right. Open your eyes, ion.”
 
Lómion eventually did and looked at her with shame and trepidation in his 
eyes. “You cannot love me still, Nana. You know what I did – what I have 
become.”
 
“I do not judge you, Lómion. I only love you. Please understand.” She 
leaned in closer and pressed a loving kiss onto her son’s burned flesh. 
 
His eyes widened, feeling her lips touch his brow. “You do?”
 
“I do. Lómion, I never blamed you for anything. You did the best you 
could under the worst circumstances. You were doomed to fail.”
 
Tears clung to Lómion’s eyelashes. “I felt like that many times – I was 
doomed to fail. I really was, wasn’t I?”
 
Ereinion and Aredhel’s gazes met. It was the White Lady of the Noldor 
who spoke the freeing words. “Aye, you were, ion. But now, you can start 
all over again. The time has come to forgive yourself.”
 
“Do you forgive me, then?”
 
“There is nothing to forgive,” replied Aredhel, who had lost her fight 
against her tears. They now flowed freely down her cheeks. “But I also 
know that you need to hear these words. I forgive you, Lómion. And now 
the time has come for you to forgive yourself.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Ecthelion?” 
 
The Lord of the Fountain had been wandering the Halls for what seemed 
forever and came to a halt, hearing Vairë’s lovely, melodic voice. “My 
Lady?” Why had she sought him out?
 
“Would you hang this tapestry on the wall for me?” Vairë handed him the 
tapestry she had just finished.
 
“Of course, my Lady.” Ecthelion stretched and attached the tapestry to the 
wall. He smiled, seeing the lovely scene it displayed. “Elrond has become 
a father, then?”
 
“Aye, the babies are strong and it won’t be long before they will drive 
their parents mad.” She carefully monitored his reaction when she spoke 
next. “Elladan and Elrohir are lovely babies.”
 
“What?” Ecthelion’s gaze shifted from the tapestry to her and probed her 
silver eyes. 
 
“Elladan and Elrohir. Elladan is Elrond’s firstborn and Elrohir is his 
younger brother.”
 
“Elrohir…” Ecthelion couldn’t believe this was happening. “He has been 
born, then.” Just when he had been about to give up hope, the Elf, who 
Erestor and Námo had predicted would become his lover, had been born. 
“But if he is Elrond’s son, then he is a half-Elf.”
 
“Aye, he is.” Vairë smiled, kindly, seeing realization in his eyes. “Do not 
worry – his destiny lies with the Firstborn. When his time comes he will 
choose to belong to the Firstborn and not the Race of Man. It is safe to 
love him.”
 
Ecthelion lowered his eyes. “But my Lady… Elrohir is alive and I am 
dead… Our love can never be!” That last spark of hope that had warmed 
him from within flickered and then almost died. 
 
Vairë shook her head and took hold of his wrist. “Listen to me, Captain of 
the House of the Fountain. Erestor and Námo spoke the truth when they 
told you that Elrohir will be your lover. You have to be patient a little 
longer.”
 
“And wait for him to die? Is that it?” Anger colored Ecthelion’s voice. 
“Will I spend the rest of my existence here hoping that my intended will 
die? How can I do that? What kind of love would that be?”
 
“He is only a baby right now, Ecthelion, and you have waited for so long. 
Can you not wait a little longer and let destiny take its course?” She 
squeezed his hand, hoping to encourage him. “Have some faith in Elrohir 
– in Erestor and my husband. We mean well.”
 
Ecthelion nodded his head once. “I feel like I have lost my hope and my 
faith, but I will cling to the little that remains a while longer.” Her arms 
suddenly went around his middle, hugging him close and that move 
surprised him. “My Lady?” “Accept what is given, Ecthelion. Do not 
question everything that much.”
 
“I will try.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Aredhel had returned to her rooms moments ago, leaving a severely 
distressed Lómion in Ereinion’s care. 
 
“How do you fare, meldir?” They still sat in front of the fireplace and 
Ereinion probed Lómion’s dark eyes. His charge had moved away from 
him and their bodies no longer made contact. It was obvious that Lómion 
was inner conflicted and fighting a private battle. “Is there anything I can 
do?” he asked, when no answer was forthcoming.
 
“I do not understand how she can forgive me. I failed her so miserably. I 
should have kept him out of her bed, and yet…” Lómion pulled his black 
robes close and hid deeper away in the shadow of his hood. “Why couldn’t 
I keep her safe?”
 
“You were a child, Lómion. Your father used you and your mother. 
Neither of you stood a chance.” Ereinion inched closed. “Your mother is 
right; you need to forgive yourself.”
 
“How do I do that?” asked Lómion, lifting swimming eyes. “I made so 
many mistakes! I did not end the Dark Elf’s life when I had the chance… I 
betrayed Gondolin to Morgoth… I even tried to take Eärendil’s life!” 
Feeling miserable, Lómion broke eye contact.  
 
Ereinion was lost for words – what was he to reply? “Meldir, it was not 
your fault. You tried to survive the best way you could and when you 
happened upon Idril, your father had already poisoned your mind. You are 
no longer the Elf you were in life. You are a different person now. Your 
mother gave sound advice when she said that you needed to forgive 
yourself and to start all over again. You missed out on your childhood. 
You missed out on so much!”
 
“How do I do that?”
”You allow for it to happen.” Ereinion gave Lómion an encouraging 
smile. “And always remember, you do not have to do this alone. You have 
me now.”
 
“You?” And suddenly, that magical feeling was back and the air between 
them sizzled with energy. 
 
“Aye, you have me now.” Ereinion was finally close enough to rest his 
brow against Lómion’s. “Just let it happen.”
 
“I do not know if I have the strength to do that,” said Lómion, 
breathlessly. He had never desired to kiss anyone in his life, not even Idril 
– until now. He wanted to kiss Ereinion and understand what it felt like to 
kiss and be kissed. But he could never take that step. He didn’t deserve 
Ereinion. 
 
Ereinion read all that and more in the tormented dark eyes. Instinctively, 
he sought out Lómion’s lips, bestowing a gentle kiss on them. Lómion’s 
eyes widened dramatically, making Ereinion smile. “I thought you wanted 
to be kissed, so I kissed you. Am I wrong?”
 
“Nay, you are not… I wanted to be kissed, but…” He hadn’t thought 
himself capable of blushing, but he did. Lómion squirmed and wrung his 
hands. “I do not deserve you.”
 
“I beg to differ,” whispered Ereinion, wrapping Lómion in his arms once 
more. “You *do* deserve me.”
 
Now what was he supposed to say to that? Nothing. Lómion stayed quiet 
instead and enjoyed having Ereinion close.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Where is Elladan?” Elrond frowned, finding his son’s crib empty. Elrohir 
was soundly asleep in the other crib, sucking his thumb. The Elflings were 
one year old now and could crawl for large distances. Elladan was even 
trying to walk, but without much result. They had also begun to speak and 
not surprisingly their first word had been Nana, shortly followed by Ada7. 
The next word Elrohir had mastered had been ‘read’, meaning he wanted 
them to read him stories. Amazingly, Elladan’s third word had been 
Lindir. 
 
Elrond had quickly noticed that his firstborn was taken with the white-
haired Elf. Elladan would crawl after the minstrel when possible, or sneak 
up onto his lap. Lindir had been embarrassed at first, as he thought Elrond 
and Celebrían would be hurt because of the interest the child showed him, 
but the couple had only smiled and allowed Elladan to do as he pleased.
 
“Did you manage to climb out of your crib?” He had thought it would take 
his firstborn longer to escape the confines of his cradle. Elrond made 
certain Elrohir was safe and soundly asleep and then set out to find his 
elusive son.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
One moment he had been asleep, the next, he had woken because 
something strange was moving about on his bed. Lindir’s blue eyes filled 
with awareness and he searched for the source of the strange movement 
beneath the sheet. It almost seemed like a cat was crawling toward him, 
using the sheet as cover. But when a head peeked out from beneath the 
sheet, he realized it wasn’t a cat, but an Elfling. “What are you doing here, 
Elladan?” 
 
Looking smug, Elladan sat cross-legged and looked adoringly at Lindir. 
Next, his short, chubby arms lifted and he reached for his favorite Elf. 
“Lindir!”
 
Lindir sighed. “What do I do with you?” He caught the child in his arms 
and cradled him close. “You cannot do this! Your poor parents are 
probably panicking, finding your crib empty!”
 
But that didn’t impress Elladan. “Sing… for me?” he asked hopefully. 
 
Lindir gave the Elfling a warm smile. Ever since Elladan had learned to 
talk, the child would ask him to sing. “It is in the middle of the night – you 
should be asleep, and so should I.”
 
“Sleep here?” suggested Elladan, who felt comfortable, snuggled up to 
Lindir’s chest.
 
“Nay, pen neth. “I need to return you to your parents.” Lindir slowly rose 
from his bed, carrying Elladan in his arms. 
 
Elladan pouted. “Wanna stay here!”
 
“You cannot,” said Lindir in a mildly chiding tone. He opened the door 
and was about to step into the doorway when he found Elrond already 
standing there – blocking his path.
 
“Ah, I thought I would find him here!” Elrond shook his head, 
immediately recognizing Elladan’s stubborn expression when his son 
glared at him. “You cannot stay with Lindir at night. All Elflings need to 
sleep in their cradle – like your brother does right now.” He opened his 
arms and noticed the reluctance with which Elladan moved into them. It 
was obvious that Elladan wanted to stay with Lindir instead of his father. 
/I wonder why./ But that question had to wait, as he had to return Elladan 
to his crib first.
 
“I never encouraged him to seek me out,” said Lindir, who fell into step 
beside Elrond. 
 
“I know you did not. My son has a stubborn streak which will doubtlessly 
get him into trouble many times in his life,” replied Elrond. He just hoped 
that there was always someone there to get Elladan out of said trouble 
again.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Where are my grandsons?” Celeborn poked his head around the door and 
looked into the empty nursery. He had arrived yesterday, but as it had 
been in the middle of the night he had waited until this morn to seek out 
his grandchildren. 
 
Celebrían smiled at her father. “We will probably find them making a 
mess of my husband’s papers in his study. They love to go there and play 
underneath his desk.” 
 
Celeborn opened his arms and hugged his daughter close. He studied her, 
and was relieved to find that she had grown strong again after giving birth 
to the twins. Galadriel and he had visited a few weeks after the twins had 
been born and their daughter had looked feeble and weak back then. But 
Elrond was an excellent healer and had made sure that his wife had made a 
full recovery. “You look lovely.”
 
“Thank you, Ada.” She wrapped an arm around his middle and began to 
lead him toward Elrond’s study so he could visit with his grandchildren. “I 
am always glad to have you near.” She missed parts of her life in the 
Golden Wood – she missed having her parents close especially. 
 
Celeborn sensed the question his daughter wanted to ask, but didn’t voice. 
“Your mother stayed in the Golden Wood to look after our people.” They 
both knew the white lie for what it was. Galadriel had grown averse to 
traveling these last few centuries. Now that Celebrían was happily married 
and had found a home in Imladris, Galadriel preferred to stay at home. 
“She loves you still.”
 
“I know she does.” Galadriel had been a good mother, but always a tad 
distant. At first, she had thought it was because of the Ring of power she 
carried, but Celebrían had realized she had been wrong when she had met 
Elrond. It was in Galadriel’s nature to be distant. Often, she wondered 
how her father had managed to warm Galadriel’s heart enough for her to 
accept him as her husband. But that wasn’t her business and she wasn’t 
going to meddle in their marital life. 
 
“How do the boys fare?” asked Celeborn.
 
“They are two years old now and can easily walk long distances. Elrohir 
has mastered more words than Elladan, but Elladan excels at pulling 
pranks.”
 
Celeborn smiled warmly. “Enjoy their pranks whilst they last. They will 
grow up much too quickly as it is.” 
 
She returned his smile and then opened the door to Elrond’s study. “We 
have a visitor,” she announced, whilst making her way over to her 
husband.
 
Elrond looked up and grinned. “I need reinforcements. Elrohir has 
managed to get his hands on next week’s duty roster and won’t let us have 
it.”
 
Amused, Celeborn took in the scene before him. The crime scene was the 
old wooden desk. Seated on his chair, head stuck beneath the desk, Elrond 
was trying to regain possession of said document, whilst Glorfindel was 
on his hands and knees underneath the desk, chasing the twins. “Ah, boys, 
give them the roster and I will take you to the Bruinen for a swim!” It was 
his prerogative as a grandfather to only do fun activities with the twins and 
to leave the disciplining to the parents.  
 
“Iauradar8!” Elrohir had identified their grandfather’s voice first and 
dropped the roster. His short legs carried him surprisingly quickly when he 
dashed out from beneath the desk and ran toward Celeborn.
 
Elladan, who had the habit of catching on moments after Elrohir, grinned, 
and realized who had come to visit. Dodging Glorfindel’s hands, which 
reached for him, he maneuvered out of harm’s way and ran after his twin.
 
“At last!” Glorfindel sighed, deeply, and curled his fingers tightly around 
the document. “Eeew, he drooled on it!”
 
“I do not drool!” called out Elrohir, feeling safe and secure in his 
grandfather’s presence. 
 
Celeborn lifted the twins and settled them in his arms. “My, you have 
grown!”
 
“We are big Elflings now,” replied Elladan smugly. 
 
Elrond secured the roster and then rose to greet his wife and father-in-law. 
“Great, now we have an additional sitter. Celeborn can look after them 
today.” Celebrían gave him a radiant smile and he kissed her, sweetly. 
“That means we can finally go for that walk in the gardens I promised you 
days ago.” He loved his sons dearly, but they were a handful and kept 
them occupied for most of the day. 
 
Celeborn smiled and tickled Elladan. “Take all the time you need, Elrond. 
The twins and I will keep ourselves entertained, won’t we?” Two little 
heads nodded enthusiastically.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel was nervous, which was surprising, considering the fact that he 
had given Erestor binding anniversary presents before, but it felt different 
this year. They had been reunited and had renewed their love, but in the 
back of his mind he was still afraid that something unexpected would 
happen and take his beloved away a second time. 
 
Erestor and he had been extremely happy these last two years. Last year, 
he had intended to give Erestor a special present, but then the twins had 
been born and mayhem had ensued. He wanted to make up for last year 
and nervously looked at the black jewelry box sitting on the table. The 
door opened and Erestor entered, making Glorfindel straighten his 
shoulders and rise from the chair. “Meleth9…”  
 
Erestor blinked once. “Glorfindel?” When he had left their rooms this 
morn, they had looked different! Everywhere he looked were scented 
candles, warmly illuminating their rooms. Delicious looking food sat 
waiting for him on the table, the covers of the bed were already turned 
down and Glorfindel only wore a thin, silk nightshirt, which left little to 
the imagination. Oh, how he loved his beloved for doing things like this!
 
“Come into my arms, Erestor.” Glorfindel opened his arms and easily 
caught his lover in them. Erestor pressed close against him. “Last year we 
did not have the chance to celebrate our binding anniversary and…”
 
“I did not forget what day it is today,” said Erestor, looking at Glorfindel 
and pressing even closer. “But I simply did not know what present would 
be suitable this year. I do not have a gift to give you.”
 
“You already gave me the greatest gift of all when you returned to me.” 
 
Erestor fingered the locket, which held a strand of his hair. “I was so 
afraid to approach you when you did not recognize me. I do not know if 
my heart would have survived had you not remembered me eventually.”
 
Glorfindel palmed the back of Erestor’s head and gently forced his lover 
to rest his head against a shoulder. “That is in the past. We are together 
now.”
 
Erestor smiled against the silk fabric of his beloved’s shirt. Hard flesh 
pressed against his thigh and he purred, softly. 
 
“Not yet,” said Glorfindel, chuckling. “First, I want to give you this.” He 
loosened the embrace enough for him to pick up the box and to present it 
to his beloved. “Open it.”  
Erestor had received many gifts from Glorfindel for this occasion and he 
could always count on the fact that his lover would gift him something 
special. Opening the box, he sucked in his breath. 
 
Erestor’s reaction pleased Glorfindel, who took the present from the box. 
“The circlet is made from spun gold, but it also has some of my hair in it. 
The goldsmith melted the gold and then added strands of my hair.” The 
circlet resembled finely braided hair and was masterly wrought. “You 
would honor me by wearing it.”
 
Tears of bliss escaped Erestor’s eyes, who quickly nodded his head. “It is 
beautiful, and the fact that it has your hair in it makes it even more 
special.”
 
“Turn around, meleth.” After Erestor had done so, Glorfindel placed the 
thin circlet on his lover’s raven hair and braided dark locks around the 
circlet. 
 
Erestor used this moment to wipe away his tears. Glorfindel’s agile fingers 
moved through his hair, weaving black and gold together. Once his lover 
was finished, Erestor turned around again and kissed Glorfindel 
passionately. “I want you, meleth. I will want you for the rest of my life. 
You are the only one for me.”  
 
“Then take me and make me yours. I was hoping you would say that and I 
even prepared myself for you. The only thing you need to do is to claim 
me.” Glorfindel looked expectantly at his beloved. “I need to feel you 
thrusting inside of me.”
 
Erestor was already in the process of undoing the lacing of his leggings 
and freeing himself. His erection eagerly bobbed free and glistened with 
pre-ejaculate. In a fit of passion and need he swept the food items aside, 
creating space on the table. “Hop on, meleth.” 
 
Glorfindel eagerly complied. Seated on the brink of the table, he watched 
Erestor predatorily step up to him. There was lust and desire in the dark 
eyes, which made the blood in his veins burn and yearn for more. 
 
“Lie down.” Erestor eased Glorfindel onto his back, tore the nightshirt in 
two and bared his lover to his lusty eyes and eager fingers. He positioned 
himself at the entrance to his lover’s body and inched inside. Hearing 
Glorfindel groan in need, he locked his hands beneath Glorfindel’s knees, 
lifting and supporting the long legs. 
 
Glorfindel moaned – he needed Erestor to claim him now! And then that 
first delicious thrust came, touching him deep inside. 
 
Erestor bit his bottom lip in concentration, trying to hit his lover’s pleasure 
gland with each deep stroke. Seeing Glorfindel in such sweet surrender 
made him want to possess his lover and the thrusts became fast and deep. 
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, regretting the fact that he needed his 
hands to support his lover’s legs or else he would have brought Glorfindel 
to orgasm himself.
 
Glorfindel wrapped his fingers around his hard flesh and stroked in tune 
with Erestor’s possessive thrusts. It didn’t take him long to reach orgasm 
and warm cream erupted from the slit. “Erestor!”
 
With a grunt, Erestor buried himself deep inside the blond Elf and then 
stilled, allowing the contractions to bring him to orgasm. Glorfindel’s 
inner muscle massaged his length and he threw back his head and called 
out his beloved’s name, finding release as well. 
 
Dazed by their intense lovemaking, Glorfindel lifted his head and looked 
at Erestor, who still rode the last waves of passion. There was a 
connection between them – he saw it at that moment. A strong, golden 
cord that bound them. 
 
Erestor quivered over his entire body and then collapsed atop of his lover. 
His hands slipped away and Glorfindel’s legs tumbled to the floor. But he 
was still inside his lover and he grunted again, shoving deeper with one 
last stroke. His lips sought and found Glorfindel’s. Lips opened and teeth 
parted. Erestor tasted Glorfindel like he had never tasted him before and 
the sensation almost burned him. The intensity of their lovemaking would 
never cease to amaze him. They *did* belong together!
 
Glorfindel yelped the moment Erestor pulled out, leaving him empty and 
cold. “Meleth…” He felt strangely weak and drained and the table was far 
from being a comfortable resting place. He hadn’t noticed it in the 
moment of their passion, but the wood chafed his skin. 
 
Erestor sensed his lover’s discomfort and lifted the blond Elf in his arms, 
carrying him over to their bed, where he deposited him in the center. He 
quickly got into bed as well and spooned behind Glorfindel, pulling him 
close and deeply inhaling the fragrance of roses that clung to the golden 
hair. “I love you.”
 
Already half asleep, Glorfindel smiled and nodded, happily. Erestor’s 
loving would leave him sore in the morning, but he wouldn’t want it 
otherwise.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Námo didn’t reveal his presence to his son. Erestor and Glorfindel had just 
made love and he didn’t want to disturb them. He watched them sleep, 
pressed close and still carrying the signs of satiation on their faces. As a 
Vala, Námo had often wondered what making love was like, but for him 
to experience that he would have to take on the body of one of the 
Firstborn and he could never do that. His duties to the souls would always 
come first. “Be happy, Erestor… for as long as it will last.” He leaned in 
closer and pressed a fatherly kiss on his son’s dark hair. The next moment, 
he was gone.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
/Do not do this, stay!/
 
/I cannot. I need to talk to her… I need to make certain that she has truly 
forgiven me./ Lómion didn’t really want to leave Ereinion’s rooms, but 
Aredhel’s visit had left him with questions. His mother had departed too 
quickly and he longed to have her close once more. 
 
Ereinion was still asleep on the bed, and although Lómion recalled what 
had happened the last time he had left, that didn’t stop him now. He just 
had to be extremely careful not to be noticed. He would sneak down the 
corridors and stay away from the other souls. 
 
“I will be back shortly,” he promised, looking at the sleeping Elf. Ereinion 
had unleashed emotions inside him, which he thought he didn’t possess it. 
Was he really capable of love? Did he love Ereinion? Was that the strange 
feeling that tickled his being? Could a soul fall in love? And did Ereinion 
love him back? He had kissed him, hadn’t he? /Too many questions!/
 
Lómion pushed the door ajar and stepped into the empty corridor. It struck 
him how different this felt from the way he had walked the Halls when he 
had still been invisible to the other souls. He had been able to go 
everywhere, not worrying about their reaction to them. Now he had to 
move stealthily and watch his every step.
 
He had to seek out the protective darkness of corners many times, as souls 
drifted toward him and he was forced to hide. He was slowly beginning to 
understand how utterly stupid it had been to leave Ereinion’s rooms, as he 
didn’t even know the location of his mother’s chambers! And the longer 
he was forced to wander these Halls, the larger the risk of discovery 
became!
 
Ecthelion hadn’t talked to him since Ereinion had told him his sad tale and 
Lómion was determined to stay out of the Lord of the Fountain’s path. 
Ereinion might understand why he had done the things he had done, but he 
doubted anyone else would.
 
Lost in thought, Lómion made the mistake of turning left instead of right 
and suddenly found himself in the main Hall. A large gathering of souls 
sat near the fireplace and one of them looked into his direction. Caught 
off-guard, Lómion returned the gaze and then yelped in distress. 
 
Turgon, the former ruler of Gondolin, rose from his chair and pointed an 
accusing finger at him. “You!” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ecthelion stared at the latest tapestry Vairë had woven. It depicted 
Celeborn and the twins, playing in the shallow parts of the Bruinen. It was 
hard to imagine that Elrohir, a mere Elfling, was his intended mate. “How 
can this be?” he whispered, off-guard. “He is a child and I am dead.”
 
“Time will bring the two of you together.” Námo had chosen his words 
carefully. Words, which should have said, ‘Time and *death* will bring 
the two of you together.’ But he didn’t want to upset Ecthelion further. 
“Why don’t you find enjoyment and pleasure in watching him grow up?”
 
Ecthelion shrugged his shoulders once. Námo’s unexpected visits no 
longer surprised him. The Vala and his wife had a habit of doing so and he 
had stopped questioning those visits some time ago. “The only way for us 
to be together is for him to die or for me to be reborn.”
 
“You are not destined to be reborn, Ecthelion.”
 
“You told me so before.” Ecthelion’s eyes carried a troubled expression, 
looking at the tapestry. “I do not want him to die. I want him to live.”
 
“That is not your decision to make,” said Námo. “What lies in Eru’s will 
shall be done.”
 
“I often wondered,” started Ecthelion, “do you feel anything when you 
collect souls and take them here? Do you feel regret? Or contentment?”
 
“I carry out my duties, Lord of the Fountain. I do as much as I can to make 
you souls feel comfortable here.”
 
“Aye, you go to great lengths to accommodate our wishes.” Ecthelion tore 
his gaze away from the tapestry and looked into Námo’s eyes instead. 
“You, my Lord, are a riddle.”
 
Námo laughed, warmly. “I am?” 
 
“Aye, you are. You allowed Erestor to return to Arda and he is happy with 
Glorfindel once more.” Ecthelion pointed at another tapestry, showing the 
two Elves asleep in each other’s arms. “You take care of us souls and you 
are compassionate. You even allowed Maeglin a chance to redeem 
himself.”
 
“Have you given this matter some thought? Lómion needs more friends – 
your support.”
 
Ecthelion nodded once. “I have been thinking about him almost 
constantly. And although I understand his suffering as a child, I cannot 
find it in my heart to forgive him.”
 
“Forgive Lómion or Maeglin?” 
 
“It is hard for me to make that difference.”
 
“But you should.” Námo gestured for Ecthelion to walk with him, as he 
started for the doorway. “For Lómion is a scared child and about to face 
his worst nightmare.”
 
Ecthelion wanted to inquire after that cryptic remark, but then a keening 
wail echoed through the Halls and Námo was gone once more. His 
instincts kicked in, telling him to find the source of that wail and he broke 
into a run. Another scream sounded and this time he realized it originated 
from the main hall. /It must be Maeglin. Why else would Námo give me 
that cryptic warning?/   
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lómion panicked; encountering Turgon and the Elves who had died 
defending Gondolin was his worst nightmare and he tried to run. He 
tripped over his robes and then greedy hands reached for him. He fell, and 
the souls who had caught him dragged him further into the hall. They 
smite him before Turgon and spat upon him, glaring at him with hatred in 
their eyes.
 
“The traitor of Gondolin,” sneered Turgon, who stood majestically among 
his people. “I often wondered if I would receive the chance to personally 
punish you for your vile deeds.”
 
“I died because of you! And so did my wife!” screamed one soul in an 
accusing voice.
 
“My child was killed in the fire! She was only two years old! You killed 
her, murderer,” accused another.
 
Lómion was forced into a kneeling position and one of them grabbed hold 
of his hood, pulling it back. Another hand reached for the singed hair and 
pulled at it – hard – forcing him to lift his head and to look into Turgon’s 
eyes. 
 
“You were in league with Morgoth,” continued Turgon. “He promised you 
my daughter and you accepted. I nursed a viper at my bosom! You 
betrayed me! Us!”
 
Tears fought to surface, but Lómion forced them back. He refused to cry 
in their presence! “I am sorry,” he whispered, already knowing they 
wouldn’t listen to him as hatred blinded them. They had waited for so long 
to finally punish him and punish him they would!
 
“Words! You are a snake, Maeglin! A traitor!” 
 
Lómion saw Turgon raise his right hand and was prepared for the blow. 
The former king slapped him hard and his head reeled from the impact. 
 
Now that Turgon had let go of his rage the other souls followed suit. Soon, 
boots were kicking him in the back, side, stomach, and head. Fists 
descended onto him, leaving him black and blue. They cursed him, spat at 
his fallen form, and all he could do was wait for the punishment to end. /I 
deserve this,/ he thought, releasing the tears from his eyes. /Ereinion was 
wrong./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ecthelion’s eyes narrowed; Turgon and the nobles of Gondolin seemed to 
have lost their mind and were pummeling the fallen form at their feet. The 
black robes, blistered skin and hair quickly told him that he was dealing 
with Maeglin. He came to an abrupt stop, shocked to see the viciousness 
with which they beat the fallen soul. The hood had been pushed down and 
Ecthelion saw the face, contracted with pain and shame. Then, 
unexpectedly, those features made way for those of the Elfling he had seen 
in Ereinion’s rooms. 
 
It had taken Ecthelion long to make up his mind in this matter. Although 
he felt deeply for what Maeglin had gone through as a child, he had 
always clung to the need to hate the other Elf for his deeds. But when 
Námo had shown him the real Lómion, it had become harder for him to 
hate Maeglin. And now that he stood watching this horrid scene, he 
realized the choice he had to make. His hatred of Maeglin was still there, 
but he also understood that this soul wasn’t the same Elf he had known at 
Turgon’s court. It was the eyes that convinced him – eyes that locked with 
his whilst a particularly brutal blow impacted against Lómion’s temple. 
“Stop! Stop it!”
 
Lómion didn’t hear Ecthelion’s voice at first, as he had raised his arms and 
was trying to shield his head from their blows and kicks. But then, 
suddenly, the beating stopped. 
 
Turgon’s eyes shot flame, finding Ecthelion running toward him. The 
Lord of the Fountain came to a halt in front of him, blocking his path, so 
he couldn’t touch Maeglin any longer. “Have you lost your mind? Don’t 
you know who this is?”
 
“Nay!” called out Ecthelion in a strong voice. “It is *you* who lost your 
mind! What are you doing? It is one thing to raise your hand at him.” And 
he should know, as he had done so himself, and he still felt ashamed 
because of it. “But it is another thing to beat him into submission! You are 
a King, Turgon! Act like it!” The blow that struck his face stunned 
Ecthelion. “You hit me!”
 
“Ecthelion, come to your senses! This is Maeglin, the traitor! How can 
you defend him?” Still enraged, Turgon eyed Ecthelion predatorily. “We 
fantasized about punishing him! We even thought up several punishments 
for the traitor!”
 
Ecthelion had never felt more ashamed of himself, meeting Lómion’s big 
and frightened eyes. Lómion had curled himself in a tight ball and the 
scared eyes pleadingly looked toward him for help. “Aye, we did,” he 
admitted in a choked tone. “I was blinded by hatred back then.” 
 
Lómion stared helplessly at Ecthelion. Had the Lord of the Fountain really 
come to his rescue? Or would Turgon’s words change Ecthelion’s mind? 
 
“Step away from him, sire.” Ecthelion laid every ounce of his authority in 
his gaze when he looked upon Turgon next.
 
Turgon took a step away, annoyed that Ecthelion managed to make him 
give him in. “You are protecting a murderer!”
 
“Nay, I am not.” And for the first time, Ecthelion understood what 
Ereinion had tried to explain to him. “I am protecting an Elfling – an 
innocent.” He extended his right hand and hoped Lómion would trust him. 
“Come, I will take you back to Ereinion’s rooms.”
 
“Ereinion? Is he involved in this?” Turgon’s rage swelled.
 
Lómion stared at the hand Ecthelion offered him. Was it safe to take it? Or 
was it another trap? His eyes sought out Ecthelion’s and he found them 
true. His hand trembled, as he raised it, and before he could change his 
mind, Ecthelion’s fingers reached for his, curling around his hand. 
Ecthelion pulled him to his feet, slowly and gently, and Lómion allowed 
it, swaying on his feet. He hadn’t thought it possible for a soul to feel the 
aches of a body, but he did. He hurt everywhere and new bruises were 
forming. 
 
“You are making a grave mistake,” said Turgon. “And it is my duty to 
show you the error of your ways, Ecthelion. You are still my Captain, and 
you will obey me! Let go of him! Let us deal with him!”
 
Ecthelion folded an arm around the swaying Lómion and once he had a 
tight hold on the injured soul, he raised his eyes and met Turgon’s head-
on. “Nay. It is time for you to admit you made mistakes as well, sire. You 
had ample of warning. Tuor warned you, your own daughter did and later 
on even Erestor. You chose to ignore their warnings and when Morgoth 
attacked you lost everything. You are also to blame for Gondolin’s 
demise. Lómion owned up Maeglin’s part in the tragedy! You never did.”
 
Turgon’s eyes filled with potent rage. “Lómion? His name is Maeglin!”
 
“You should look at the mistakes you made and not judge Lómion, 
Turgon,” said Ecthelion in a clipped voice. “And now let us go.”  
 
Turgon shook his head. “Maeglin is mine.”
 
“Lómion belongs to himself,” said Námo in a disapproving voice, 
revealing himself to the souls. 
 
“My Lord!” Turgon wavered, finding the Vala suddenly among them. 
“Surely you agree that Maeglin should be punished for his betrayal.”
 
Lómion leaned heavily on Ecthelion, wishing Ereinion was at his side, for 
he felt lost and lonely, even in spite of Ecthelion’s unexpected support. 
 
“Ecthelion, take Lómion to Ereinion’s rooms and stay there until I join 
you,” ordered Námo. He sent a harsh glare in Turgon’s direction, which he 
could tell made the former King uncomfortable. 
 
Lómion felt entranced, seeing the crowd of souls step aside so Ecthelion 
and he could leave the hall. The fact that Ecthelion was at his side and had 
come to his defense still stunned him and he peeked at the Lord of the 
Fountain. Ecthelion’s eyes reflected the soul’s confusion, making him 
realize that Ecthelion didn’t exactly know why he had defended him -- or 
maybe the soul was still trying to accept that he had. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
“My Lord, with all due respect, but…” Turgon never received the chance 
to finish his protest. Unexpectedly, foreign memories assailed him and he 
reeled on his feet, slowly collapsing onto his knees. 
 
“You should not judge before knowing all the facts,” said Námo in a 
remarkably cold voice. All around him, the souls crumpled under the 
onslaught of the memories that now flashed in their thoughts. 
 
Turgon lifted his head and managed to look at Námo. “What… is… 
happening?” He cried, seeing, witnessing and feeling a pain he had never 
felt before.
 
“You are witnessing Lómion’s childhood,” explained Námo and for one 
moment his voice softened. “When he came to you, Turgon, you saw the 
torment in his eyes and you chose to look the other way. You never 
offered Lómion a listening ear, instead you embraced Maeglin. You carry 
part of the guilt, Turgon. Accept that and deal with it.” He gathered his 
robes close and turned on his heel, leaving the souls in utter turmoil as 
they were trying to compose themselves after witnessing the Dark Elf 
raping Lómion. 
 
Distressed, Turgon covered his face with his hands. “Can it be? Do I carry 
part of the guilt?”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Eöl had thrown caution to the wind and had left his rooms. The Dark Elf 
knew that Námo had forbidden him to leave his chambers for a reason and 
he was determined to find out what had changed in the Halls of Waiting. 
Why did the Vala find it necessary to confine him to his rooms?
 
He sneaked through the corridors, adept at moving stealthily and unseen. 
Eöl pressed against the shadowed wall, as footfalls were quickly 
approaching. Sobbing and distressed moans drifted toward him and his 
eyes narrowed, realizing whose sobs he was hearing. Maeglin! Maeglin 
was here! A diabolical grin formed on his face. He had searched for his 
son for a long time, but had never found him. They still had a score to 
settle! Maeglin should have died that day and not Aredhel!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“We are only a moment away from Ereinion’s rooms,” said Ecthelion in a 
soothing voice. “You will be safe there.”
 
Lómion wished the hood was back in place to cover his hideous face, but 
it was down, allowing Ecthelion a good look at his distorted and burned 
features. “I should never have left,” he whispered, in-between sobs. He 
was trying hard to stop crying, but seeing the hatred in their eyes had hurt 
– had hurt more than their blows and kicks. “I have been deluding 
myself,” he added, as the sobs lessened. “I can never be Lómion again. I 
am Maeglin.”
 
“Nay, you are not.” Ecthelion stopped walking, forcing Lómion to come to 
a halt as well. “I realized that you are not Maeglin today. I am sorry that it 
took me so long, but…” Ecthelion offered the other soul an apologetic 
smile. “But I understand now. You are Lómion and not Maeglin.”
 
“Why did you come to my defense?”
 
“Because you needed a champion and Ereinion was not near.” Looking 
into the child-like, open and trusting eyes, Ecthelion grew convinced that 
he had made the right decision in defending Lómion. “You are not 
Maeglin. You did not deserve their hatred, and even less that beating.” At 
several places the skin was letting loose, and bruises covered most of the 
burnt skin. 
 
“You hit me as well,” said Lómion, flinching at the memory. 
 
Ecthelion nodded. “Aye, I did and I feel ashamed that I did. I offer you my 
apologies and they are sincere, Lómion.” In a way, Turgon’s hatred had 
opened his eyes. When he had come upon that horrid scene he had been 
confronted with his own hatred and he had realized the mistake he had 
made. “I would like to get to know you and to become your friend.” He 
wasn’t prepared to see fresh tears fall from Lómion’s eyes. 
 
“Are you certain you want to befriend me? Aren’t you making a mistake 
in doing so?”
 
“Nay, I am not.” Experimentally, Ecthelion squeezed Lómion’s hand, 
careful not to squeeze too hard as the other soul was already in enough 
pain as it was. “I offer you my friendship and I am not in the habit of 
offering it lightly.”
 
“I accept,” replied Lómion, though he still felt hesitant to believe that 
Ecthelion had really changed his mind. “I accept your apology and your 
friendship… but I should offer my apologies in turn…”   
 
“Don’t. No apologies are necessary, Lómion, for you did nothing wrong.” 
 
Unable to look into Ecthelion’s kind and forgiving eyes any longer, 
Lómion lowered his. “I am not worthy of such…” His eyes widened, 
sensing the presence of another soul – one he feared above all others. 
“Nay, it cannot be him!”
 
Ecthelion, alarmed by the look of dread in Lómion’s eyes, quickly 
scanned the corridor and found the source of his charge’s panic. “Eöl.” He 
had been one of the Captains to escort the Dark Elf when he had been 
brought before Turgon and he recognized the other soul instantly. Lómion 
trembled over his entire body and Ecthelion reacted by pulling his charge 
behind him. Protectively, he stood in front of Lómion, blocking Eöl’s 
path. At first, he didn’t know what to say or what to do, but then his anger 
rose. “How dare you approach us?” This was the one who had hurt 
Aredhel and Lómion! His sense of justice demanded revenge; demanded 
Eöl be punished for what he had done to the two Elves in life. 
 
“He is mine,” said Eöl in a controlled voice. “Step aside, and hand him 
over. He belongs to me, mind, body and soul.” He grinned, knowing the 
words would increase his son’s panic. “And what a lovely body it was.”
 
“Monster!” Ecthelion couldn’t keep back any longer. He wanted to lash 
out and beat Eöl, make him pay for his dark deeds, but Lómion pressed 
close to him, and the tremors that radiated from his charge, reminded 
Ecthelion that his first duty was to Lómion. “You will never again lay 
your dirty hands on him!”
 
Lómion watched, entranced. He had never thought he would meet the 
Dark Elf again and now that Eöl stood opposite him, he felt utter terror. It 
was only due to Ecthelion’s presence that he managed to stay in place. 
“Make him go away, please.”
 
The child-like, pleading tone touched Ecthelion, who finally 
comprehended how deep Lómion’s terror and emotional scars went. “I 
will protect you. He will never touch you again.” He prepared for an ugly 
fight, but then, a form appeared in-between Eöl and him. 
 
Námo was in a foul mood. Turgon’s reaction to finding Lómion had 
enraged him and he was still trying to control that rage when he happened 
upon Eöl, threatening Ecthelion and Lómion. “I confined you to your 
rooms!”
 
Ecthelion shivered; never before had he heard such raw power and anger 
in Námo’s voice and he was reminded that Námo *was* a Vala. Although 
the Doomsman seldom displayed his power and might, he had the feeling 
he was going to witness a demonstration of said power in a second.
 
“He is my flesh and blood. He belongs to me. The last drop of his blood 
belongs to me. Not even you will keep my away from what belongs to me, 
Námo.” Eöl, brazen in his arrogance, thought he could take on Námo 
himself!
 
“You fool!” Námo glared at Eöl. “It is about time you learned a lesson!”
 
Neither Ecthelion, nor Lómion had any idea of what to expect, but when 
Námo and Eöl vanished, they were still surprised. “Where did they go?” 
asked Ecthelion, puzzled.
 
“I do not want to know,” whispered Lómion. “I knew he dwelt here, 
but…” The encounter with his father had left him shaken to the bone. 
 
“I will take you to Ereinion,” said Ecthelion, growing calm again. Like his 
charge, he hadn’t expected to ever meet with Eöl again and the encounter 
had left him upset as well.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“There you are! I was about to leave and look for you!” Ereinion launched 
himself in Lómion’s direction and buried the other soul in a hug. “Why 
did you leave?” He had been worried and angry with himself, finding 
Lómion had left again. 
 
“I wanted to talk to my mother,” replied Lómion in a soft voice. Now that 
he was back in Ereinion’s arms, he finally calmed down. “It was terrible.”
 
Ereinion sensed Lómion’s anxiety and looked toward Ecthelion for an 
explanation. What had happened for the Lord of the Fountain to set aside 
his hatred and escort Lómion to his chambers?
 
Ecthelion summarized what had happened and saw Ereinion’s eyes darken 
to black at hearing what treatment Lómion had suffered at Turgon’s hands. 
The eyes became whirling pools of midnight darkness when he told 
Ereinion about Lómion’s encounter with the Dark Elf. 
 
“Námo had better make certain Eöl never comes close to you again, or I 
will make sure myself!” Ereinion guided Lómion to the bed, where they 
sat down. Lómion still trembled and Ereinion did his best to further calm 
the other soul down.
 
“Oh, I dealt with him!” Námo strode into the room, his pace energetic and 
driven. “Eöl will never again go against my orders.”
 
“What did you do with him?” Ecthelion shivered, seeing the calculated 
look in Námo’s eyes. 
 
“You do not want to know,” was all the Vala said regarding Eöl. “Now 
that Eöl has been dealt with, we need to determine our next step.”
 
Lómion raised timid eyes. “What next step, my Lord?”
 
Námo’s eyes lost their coldness, looking upon Lómion’s bruised face. 
“Turgon and his following have much thinking to do… Ecthelion has 
made his choice… Aredhel and Lómion have been reunited… Ereinion, 
your work here is done.”
 
Ereinion’s eyes flared. “Done? Done? I have only begun!”
 
Námo managed a smile. “Calm yourself.” He walked toward the bed and 
came to a stop in front of the two souls. Locking eyes with Lómion, he 
said, “You need to begin healing, truly healing, and you cannot do that 
here.”
 
“Please, my Lord, I beg of you. Whatever you have in mind for me, I will 
obey, but please, please! Please do not separate me from Ereinion! He is 
my first true…” Lómion swallowed the next word he had wanted to say. 
He couldn’t say it!
 
“Friend? Love?” Námo’s expression softened with love and understanding 
and he ignored Ecthelion’s gasp of surprise at hearing that second word. 
“Lómion, I have no intention of separating the two of you. But you cannot 
heal here. You need something the Halls and I cannot give you. Therefore 
I will entrust you to the care of someone else.”
 
Ereinion held Lómion close, uncertain what to make of this development. 
If only Námo would stop talking in riddles! “Entrust him to whom?”
 
“To us, dearest Ereinion.”
 
Ecthelion, Ereinion and Lómion stared in surprise at the two forms that 
now manifested beside Námo. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I regret taking my leave so soon, but I cannot stay away from home too 
long,” said Celeborn, hugging his daughter and then his grandsons. He had 
already stayed too long. Six weeks had already past by and the Golden 
Wood called him home. 
 
“You will always be welcome here,” said Elrond, bestowing a hug on his 
father-in-law.
 
“I know that, my son.” Celeborn mounted his horse, raised his hand in 
goodbye and left Imladris.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Later that night, Celebrían lay snuggled close to her husband. Elladan was 
playing with tiny, colored rocks, which had been a parting gift from 
Celeborn and Elrohir was staring at the drawings inside one of his father’s 
books. They sat at the foot end of their parents’ bed, enjoying the 
comfortable silence. They had become a tight family and Celebrían sensed 
the difference between the family life she had shared with her parents and 
the one she had now. There was no emotional distance between Elrond 
and her, or between Elrond and the children. Her sons would grow up 
loved by both parents.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“My Lord Erestor? One of the servants directed me here and I hope I am 
not disturbing you. I am Legolas.” He felt nervous and insecure, standing 
in front of Erestor, Elrond’s Chief Advisor and confidant. Unable to stand 
still, he shuffled his feet and lowered his eyes. 
 
Erestor looked up from the report he was reading. “Ah, Legolas! I have 
been expecting you…” His voice briefly failed him, looking upon Legolas 
for the first time. He had never met Thranduil and didn’t know if the son 
resembled the father much, but Legolas’ features were elegant, the 
lowered large blue eyes kind and the lips curled in a nervous, but still 
warm smile. Long, fair hair descended down the back, and the hunter’s 
garb Legolas wore did little to hide the Elf’s lithe yet well-proportioned 
form. Erestor had lived long enough as one of the Firstborn to recognize 
danger and beauty and he recognized those traits in Legolas. Thranduil’s 
son was handsome, but there was much of a hunter – a warrior inside him. 
The long, nimble fingers held a bow and long hunter’s knives were 
strapped to the back. /Lethal, dangerous and beautiful!/ Erestor would 
never make the mistake of underestimating this one!
 
Legolas wondered about Erestor’s expression, but didn’t question the Elf-
Lord about his reaction. After all, Erestor was Lord Elrond’s Chief 
Advisor, and he was only Thranduil’s illegitimate son. 
 
“I bid you welcome to Imladris, Legolas.” Erestor rose gracefully from 
behind his desk and gave Legolas a warm smile. “I trust you would like to 
sleep, eat and freshen up?”
 
“Preferably in that order, aye, my Lord.” Legolas’ tension lessened. He 
had been rather nervous to meet with Erestor. He was always nervous 
when meeting strangers. Part of that nervousness hailed from the fact that 
his father had sheltered him from all curious eyes. Legolas had had little 
contact with strangers and that showed. 
 
“Melpomaen!” called out Erestor. His personal assistant and confidant 
appeared in the doorway, and Erestor gestured for him to approach.
 
Melpomaen had seen the stranger arrive earlier that day and wondered 
who the golden-haired Elf was. At first, he had thought it was one of the 
Galadhrim, but he had quickly realized that the stranger didn’t hail from 
the Golden Wood. Melpomaen smiled, nervously, realizing the blond Elf 
was even more beautiful from this close as he had been from afar when he 
had watched the mysterious Elf lead his horse into the stables. 
 
“Melpomaen, this is Legolas and he is our guest. I entrust him to you. You 
will assign him guest quarters and show him around Imladris. Answer any 
questions he might have.” Erestor watched Melpomaen with growing 
amusement. Although he was several millennia old, Melpomaen still 
possessed an enchanting innocence.
 
“Of course, my Lord.” Melpomaen bowed, respectfully, realizing 
Erestor’s orders meant spending more time with Legolas than he had 
hoped for. “Please follow me,” he said, addressing Legolas.
 
Amused, Erestor realized Legolas was waiting for permission to leave. 
“You may go. We will talk later.”
 
Legolas nodded once and then followed Melpomaen out of the room, 
wondering what these Imladris’ Elves were like. He was curious to find 
out.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lómion averted his eyes, as he felt too tainted to look upon such beauty. 
Although Námo and Vairë were extra-ordinary in their own right, he had 
never seen such divine beauty before. The pair that had manifested in the 
room mirrored perfection.
 
“Who are you?” Ereinion wished he knew Námo’s intentions. 
 
“My name is Lórien,” said the Lord of Visions and Dreams. “And this is 
my wife, Estë.” His long, golden hair danced against the small of his back, 
as he released his wife’s hand and advanced on the trembling soul. 
“Lómion? Will you dwell in my gardens with me? It is beautiful there.”
 
But Lómion didn’t dare to answer and pressed close against Ereinion in 
search of protection. 
 
Estë, clad in gray, joined her husband. She placed a finger beneath 
Lómion’s chin and by lifting it, she forced him to look at them. “All 
wounds heal in Aman, even yours. Come, and dwell in Murmuran with 
us.”
 
“It is a place of healing,” said Námo, realizing Lómion felt too intimidated 
to accept. “And that is exactly why you need to go there.”
 
“But…” Lómion felt at a loss and looked toward Ereinion for a decision. 
 
Ereinion considered everything and even probed the Valar’s eyes. 
 
“We mean well,” said Lórien. “My gardens and halls will be your home 
and shelter you. There is a cottage you can move in to and no one will 
disturb you.” His kind, sapphire eyes sought out Lómion’s, and he lowered 
himself onto his heels so he was level with the soul. “You will have 
everything you were cheated out in life. And, Ereinion will be there with 
you.” 
 
“You need to heal,” added Estë. “I see the wounds the Dark Elf inflicted 
on your soul. Do you not want to heal? To be complete? To finally 
become the one you are supposed to be?”
 
“’Tis so tempting,” whispered Lómion. “But do I deserve such kindness?”
 
“You do,” said Estë in a firm tone and she extended her right hand. “All 
you have to do is take it and a new life will begin.”
 
Lómion’s gaze shifted to Ecthelion. “And he must stay behind?” He didn’t 
want that – Ecthelion had offered him his friendship!
 
“Ecthelion’s destiny lies elsewhere,” said Námo in a kind voice. “He must 
be here when his beloved arrives.”
 
Ecthelion closed his eyes. Those words were bittersweet to him – but he 
did not want his intended to die! Elrohir should be alive and live his life to 
the fullest! Instead, someone was waiting for him to die!
 
“Take heart, child,” said Námo, who rested a hand on Ecthelion’s 
shoulder. “Death is only a new beginning and never the end.”
 
For some strange reason those words strengthened and encouraged 
Ecthelion, who even managed a small smile. “Take her hand, Lómion. Do 
not fret about me.” He had never thought that Lómion would be worried 
about leaving him behind!
 
“But… my mother! We have just been reunited and…” Lómion grew 
quiet, seeing Aredhel standing behind Námo. How long had she already 
been here?  
 
“You have to do this, Lómion. For the both of us,” said Aredhel, who 
would never stand in her son’s way of recovery. “Take her hand and 
accept what they are offering you. It is a powerful gift.” 
 
Finally growing aware of the fact that two of the Valar were sitting on 
their heels in front of him, Lómion trembled, nervously. “It is said that the 
Gardens of Lórien are beautiful.” 
 
“It is a place of healing and I will visit with you. *You* will heal,” 
promised Estë, sensing Lómion’s true potential for good. 
 
“Allow for the healing to happen,” whispered Ereinion into Lómion’s ear. 
“I will be there with you – every step of the way, meleth.” 
 
It was hearing that last word – an endearment that had never been said to 
him before – that made him reach a decision. With one hand, he had a 
tight hold on Ereinion – he wasn’t going to take the risk of having him 
vanish on him – and with the other, trembling one, he reached for Estë’s. 
“I want to heal,” he said, softly. “But I am afraid.”
 
“There is no reason to be afraid,” soothed Estë, already healing those old 
hurts that lingered in Lómion’s soul.  
 
Next, his surroundings dimmed and Lómion clung to Ereinion, who was 
his only beacon in his changing situation.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Open your eyes,” said Ereinion. 
 
Lómion hadn’t even realized he had closed them, and although he wanted 
to obey, his other senses, which were more alert now, noticed the 
differences first. The sweet fragrances of flowers in bloom surrounded 
him and birds sang their songs. Warm rays danced upon his skin and there 
were other differences as well. He felt stronger, his skin was no longer 
brittle and the hair that danced against his face was heavy and soft. 
 
“Open your eyes, meleth,” repeated Ereinion, who couldn’t take his eyes 
off of Lómion. He had also registered their new surroundings and their 
beauty, but the gardens paled in comparison to Lómion. “We are in 
Lórien’s gardens.”
 
Still somewhat reluctant, but curious at the same time, Lómion eventually 
opened his eyes. They sat on the grass, in front of a little cottage. A sea of 
flowers and trees surrounded them. The sky was blue and warmed by 
bright rays. Birds sat high up in the trees and insects roamed the air, 
buzzing around him. 
 
Seeing the disbelief in Lómion’s eyes, Ereinion gave him a little more 
time to compose himself. But he also knew that the worst shock was yet to 
come.
 
It came the moment Lómion raised his right hand to caress Ereinion’s hair. 
The skin was smooth and subtle and showed no signs of burns. A startled 
yelp left Lómion’s lips, realizing *he* had changed as well. A stream was 
nearby and he pushed himself onto his knees so he could see his reflection 
in the water. The face that stared back at him was free of burns and 
bruises. The hair that reached below his buttocks moved like liquid silk 
and his eyes were a lucid brown. “Who is that?”
 
“That is you, Lómion.” Ereinion’s heart felt heavy, seeing the skepticism 
in the warm, brown eyes. “For some reason the Valar gave us bodies – the 
bodies we possessed in life.” He had already realized that his lungs were 
drawing in air and his heart pumped blood through his veins. “I do not 
know why they did this, but we are alive again.”
 
“That is not me,” said Lómion in a shaken voice, pointing at his reflection 
in the water. “That is not me!”
 
“This is you, meleth. I have never seen you in life, but this is you. Don’t 
you recognize yourself?” He had expected Lómion to be upset, but he did 
wonder why the other Elf didn’t recognize himself. 
 
“I never looked like this in life!” 
 
“Maybe this how Lómion would have looked like, had he grown into an 
adult?”    
 
Lómion shivered, violently. “My eyes were malicious and… and… this is 
not me.”
 
“Aye,” said Ereinion. “This is not Maeglin… This is Lómion, my love.”
 
“Your love?” 
 
Lómion’s eyes revealed everything and hid nothing. “Aye, my love,” 
confirmed Ereinion. Feeling a warm and solid body in his arms, made him 
lean in closer and Ereinion caught Lómion’s trembling lips in a passionate 
kiss.
 
Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion.
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: Lómion starts to heal and embarks on a 
difficult, personal journey. Legolas visits Imladris and finds himself 
interested in Melpomaen. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 9
 
 
“These are your rooms, Legolas.” Melpomaen had guided his charge 
through the corridors until they had reached the guest wing. He opened the 
door and stepped aside, so Legolas could enter first. “I hope they are to 
your satisfaction.” The expression in Legolas’ eyes struck him as odd, and 
he wondered what puzzled his guest to such an extent. “Is anything amiss? 
Anything I can fix?” Erestor had entrusted Legolas to him and Melpomaen 
was determined to make certain the other Elf’s rooms were to his 
satisfaction. 
 
Legolas managed a shy smile. “It is nothing. It is merely strange to be 
sleeping in a house, instead of high up in the trees.”
 
“Aye, I recall some of the Galadhrim having the same doubts. They grew 
used to sleeping in the house quickly though.” Melpomaen cocked his 
head. “Where do you hail from? Is it the Golden Wood? But you are not 
dressed like a Galadhrim.”
 
Legolas wondered why Erestor hadn’t told Melpomaen where he hailed 
from, but he saw no danger in confiding in the other Elf. “I hail from 
Mirkwood.”
 
Melpomaen’s eyes widened marginally. “I never met a Mirkwood Elf 
before.” He was already trying to work out Legolas’ reason for coming to 
Imladris. Erestor and he *had* been receiving more letters from Thranduil 
and they were busy replying to them. Maybe he should be diplomatic and 
not inquire about the obvious just yet. He opted for a non-relevant 
question. “Is it true that there are giant spiders in Mirkwood?”
 
“Aye, poisonous spiders.” Legolas removed his long hunting knives and 
stretched his weary body. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, but it had 
been a long journey and he was tired. “Thank you for showing me to my 
rooms, Master Melpomaen.”
 
Melpomaen smiled. “Just Melpomaen will do. I hold no power here.” 
Legolas’ smile grew a bit more radiant and Melpomaen found himself 
returning it. “It is already late and Ithil rising. I will send up some food 
and visit with you again in the morning. I reckon you are eager to explore 
the Last Homely House?”
 
“Aye, I am.” Legolas enjoyed Melpomaen’s company, but was so tired 
that he was about to fall asleep on his feet. 
 
Thankfully, Melpomaen realized that as well. “Sleep well.”
 
“Thank you.” Legolas sighed, relieved, hearing the door close behind 
Melpomaen. He didn’t bother to undress and fell face forward onto the 
bed. After pulling the pillow close and cradling it against his chest, his 
eyes lost all awareness as he drifted into a deep sleep.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
A two-year old Elladan ran through the corridors, not caring if he would 
crash into something or someone. Elrohir was chasing him, and gaining on 
him. Elladan dashed behind the curtains, hiding himself from view. From 
his safe place, he watched Elrohir run by and dash around the corner. 
Good, he had escaped his brother!
 
A smug, pleased look appeared on the Elfling’s face as he made his way to 
the Hall of Fire, where during this time of the day the minstrels composed 
their songs. Although he loved his parents and his brother dearly, it was 
Lindir’s voice and sky-blue eyes that interested the Elfling most. There 
was so much music in that voice and the eyes that he wanted to be a part 
of it.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Ada1!” Elrohir had finally found his father and flung himself at Elrond’s 
leg, wrapping his chubby arms around the limb. “Elladan is gone!”
 
Elrond sighed, deeply, and then bent down to collect the distressed Elfling 
into his arms. “He has probably gone to the Hall of Fire to be with Lindir.”
 
“Why is he like that?” asked the Elfling, snuggling up to his father. “Why 
doesn’t he want to be with me? He does not love me!”
 
It hadn’t taken his son long to reach that conclusion! Elrond rocked 
Elrohir in his arms and softly sang a lullaby. “Elladan loves you, Elrohir. 
But brothers are like that.” He recalled Elros, always running off to 
explore, whilst he preferred to sit with their mother. “He will grow out of 
it.” Elrohir stared at him with large, amazingly wise eyes. At times, Elrond 
wondered if an ancient fëa2 inherited the small body. 
 
“Hold me?” asked Elrohir, burying his little fingers in his father’s robes.
 
“Always.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next morning, Legolas rose exceptionally late. Normally he would 
rise at first light, but the journey had truly left him exhausted and his body 
had demanded he rest. 
 
“Legolas? May I enter? Or did I arrive early?” Melpomaen had first 
attended to his duties, fighting the urge to seek out Legolas first thing in 
the morning.
 
Legolas quickly buttoned up his shirt and laced his leggings. Now that he 
was fully clothed, he walked toward the door and opened it. 
 
Melpomaen sucked in his breath. It was obvious that Legolas had only just 
left his bed, as his hair was still tousled and his eyes heavy with sleep. “I 
can come back later,” he offered.
 
Legolas gestured for Melpomaen to step into the room. “That won’t be 
necessary. Just give me a moment to freshen up.”
 
Melpomaen straightened the fabric of the leggings and shirt he had 
brought with him. Legolas’ current clothes were covered in dirt and dust 
and he offered the clean garments to the Mirkwood Elf. “Take all the time 
you need to freshen up.” The smile, which Legolas directed at him, made 
him feel weak in the knees.
 
“Thank you for being so attentive,” said Legolas, accepting the clothes. 
For one long moment their gazes remained locked, but then he forced 
himself to turn and walk into the bathroom.
 
Melpomaen stood undecided in the center of the room, watching Legolas 
as the blond Elf disappeared into the bathroom. A few moments later, the 
other Elf appeared again. Legolas had changed into the clean clothes, his 
eyes were now free of sleep and his hair combed and neatly braided. 
Warrior’s braids, noted Melpomaen. 
 
Legolas’ stomach growled and the blond’s face grew flustered. “It has 
been a while since I ate last.”
 
“Do not fret about it,” said Melpomaen. “I will take you the kitchens to eat 
breakfast before starting today’s tour.”
 
Legolas grabbed hold of his boots and slipped into them. Next, he reached 
for his hunting knives, but hearing Melpomaen cough diplomatically, he 
realized he wouldn’t be permitted to wear his weapons here. “No danger 
lurks in Imladris? We are safe here?”
 
“You can leave your knives here, Legolas. The borders are well-guarded 
and we have no giant spiders here. You will be quite safe.”
 
“I do not part lightly from them,” said Legolas, reluctantly. “But I will 
honor your customs.” He gave the long hunting knives one last longing 
look and then followed Melpomaen toward the doorway. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I feel out of place here,” admitted Lómion. They had spent most of the 
day outside. He had felt safe and secure in Ereinion’s arms and the other 
Elf’s body heat had kept him warm. But the air was growing chilly now 
that the night was upon them and it was time to go inside and explore the 
cottage. “It is so… strange, to see the sun set. To feel cold…”
 
Ereinion nodded. “I know the feeling, meleth3. It has been a while for me 
as well since I was alive, but we will grow used to it again. The Valar 
must have a reason to bestow new life upon us.”
 
“I can still not believe that you would call me that.” Lómion raised his 
eyes and looked deeply into Ereinion’s. “After all I have done…” He was 
silenced when Ereinion placed a finger across his lips. 
 
“You did nothing. There is nothing to feel guilty for. You are Lómion and 
you have been asleep for a long time during which someone else guided 
your actions. But you are awake now and we are in Lórien’s gardens. I 
doubt the Valar will allow you to be unhappy in this place.” 
 
Lómion bowed his head. “I do not deserve to be happy.”
 
“But you do! What must I do to convince you of that fact?” Looking into 
the child-like eyes, Ereinion began to understand why the Valar had 
returned their bodies to them. Lómion needed to do all the things he had 
missed out on because of his father’s dark deeds. He needed to grow up – 
emotionally and physically. What Lómion needed was time. They needed 
to do everything in small steps. Instead of offering more words, he pressed 
another kiss onto the quavering lips. “We should go inside now. It is 
growing chilly out here.”
 
Lómion still felt Ereinion’s lips pressed against his, although the kiss had 
long ended. Why did Ereinion continue to kiss him? And call him meleth? 
Could it be that Ereinion really loved him? But why? And how could that 
be? He allowed Ereinion to pull him to his feet and he followed the other 
Elf into the cottage. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“There is only one bed,” said Lómion in a heavy voice. In the Halls of 
Waiting he had slept in Ereinion’s bed, but things felt different now. 
Ereinion had kissed him and called him his love. Would Ereinion expect 
something in return for saying that? A demand, which he would voice 
once they were in bed? An ugly memory flashed through his thoughts, 
showing him how Eöl had delighted in taking him against his will.
 
“We do not have to share the bed. I can sleep on the couch,” offered 
Ereinion, who sensed Lómion’s unease. /He has not yet dealt with the 
abuse and now that we are here those old fears are surfacing again. I recall 
the way Lindir acted when he began to face his fears – his memories 
concerning those Orcs. Lómion still has a long road ahead of him./ 
 
“Nay, I think it will be all right… it is just… I was reminded… I do not 
feel…”
 
“I understand, meleth. I really do.” He opened his arms, giving Lómion 
the choice to move into them or not. “Give it time. The memories will 
lessen.”
 
“Oh, I hope they will,” said Lómion in a choked tone. “They've tormented 
me for too long already.” 
 
Realizing he needed to lessen the tension Lómion was in, Ereinion 
changed the subject. “Are you hungry? I know I am, and it has been a long 
time since I prepared a meal. Don’t tell anyone, but I love to cook.”
 
“You do?” Lómion’s eyes lit up, hearing Ereinion’s mellow and playful 
voice. He allowed Ereinion to pull him downstairs, where the former 
High-King busied himself lighting candles and oil lamps. A soft, golden 
light illuminated the cottage, making it feel like a real home – a home, 
which he had never had before. 
 
“Can I help?” Lómion had followed Ereinion into the kitchen and watched 
the other Elf open and close the cupboards. 
 
“Looks like we only have vegetables… and wine!” Ereinion victoriously 
placed the bottle onto the table. “I think I can make a nice, hot soup. Have 
you ever peeled potatoes?” 
 
Lómion gave Ereinion an apologetic look. “Nay, I never did, but I am 
willing to learn.”
 
“Just watch for now. I do not want you cutting up your fingers.” It had 
been millennia since he had felt this homely – this much at ease. That had 
been when he had lived with Círdan. Oh, that seemed like several life 
times ago. He could grow used to this feeling again!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You are a good cook,” said Lómion in a shy voice. The vegetable soup 
had been filling, spicy, and had warmed him from the inside. They had 
settled down on the comfortable couch and through the window, they 
could stare at the moon and the stars. Until today Lómion had never 
realized how much he had missed that sight! 
 
“Thank you,” replied Ereinion, pressing a kiss onto the silk hair. He had 
seen the looks Lómion had given his reflection whenever the dark-haired 
Elf had found himself in front of a mirror or window. /It is only logical 
that he needs time to accept this./ 
 
Lómion had pulled up his knees and had wrapped his arms around them. 
The mere sight of the silken hair, or smooth skin confronted him with 
what had happened in the Halls of Waiting. 
 
“Do you like it here?” inquired Ereinion. 
 
“It is peaceful and quiet… Aye, I do. It is unlike any place I ever lived. 
Gondolin always buzzed with activity and when I lived in Nan Elmoth 
with the Dark Elf… there was always darkness. He hated the sun and 
would keep us locked up inside or beneath the earth.”
 
“And you love the sun, don’t you?” He had seen the pleasure in Lómion’s 
eyes when the sun rays had caressed his skin that afternoon. 
 
“I do,” admitted Lómion, shyly. He shivered, as it was growing 
increasingly cold in the cottage. “We should look for firewood tomorrow.”
 
“Aye, tomorrow.” Ereinion carefully pulled Lómion closer to his chest and 
parted his legs so the other Elf could move closer. Once Lómion was in 
place, he wrapped arms and legs around him. “Warm? Comfortable?” Or 
would Lómion find this position too restraining? He was constantly trying 
to find out how far he could go – where Lómion’s boundaries lay and so 
far, the other Elf hadn’t told him to back off. 
 
Lómion rested his back against Ereinion’s chest and melted into the 
embrace. “Aye, warm and comfortable.” 
 
“Lómion, about the bed… What do you prefer? To share it or for me to 
sleep on this couch? Which is perfectly comfortable by the way.” Ereinion 
wanted to address this now in order to avoid awkward moments later.
 
“I do want you close,” admitted Lómion, closing his eyes and resting the 
back of his head against Ereinion’s strong shoulder. “And I do trust you, it 
is just that… He feels so close, after encountering him in the Halls. His 
image had dimmed in my mind, but now he is back and I remember the 
way he sneaked into my bed at night. It has nothing to do with you. I hope 
you know that.”
 
“I do,” said Ereinion, nuzzling Lómion’s hair, which still smelt of lilies. 
The scent never left Lómion. “And I am grateful that you put your trust in 
me. I will never betray that trust.”
 
“We will share the bed,” decided Lómion. “I need you close – I need you 
to keep the nightmares at bay.”
 
“Do you want to go to bed now?” Ereinion had recognized the sleepy 
undertone in Lómion’s voice. 
 
“I *am* tired.” Today’s events had worn him down.
 
“Why don’t you go upstairs and light the oil lamps in the bedroom? I will 
extinguish the ones here and then join you.” Ereinion released Lómion 
from the embrace and stilled, finding the dark-haired Elf leaning in to 
press a clumsy and awkward kiss on his lips. “I love you,” he whispered in 
response. Lómion’s dark eyes reflected deep love and affection and 
Ereinion knew they would be all right in the end. But first, Lómion had to 
deal with those last remaining ghosts from his past. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion had extinguished all candles and lamps and was about to climb 
the stairs when he realized that this cottage had a nice feel to it. It felt 
homely – comfortable. Smiling and feeling at ease, he climbed the stairs 
and entered the bedroom. Only a single oil lamp still burned, standing on 
the nightstand. Lómion had already climbed beneath the covers and the 
large, doe-like eyes looked at him with trust and longing. Ereinion 
removed his boots, socks and shirt, but left his leggings on, uncertain how 
Lómion would react should he remove them. 
 
“Please, I want us skin on skin. I can control the memories,” said Lómion, 
pleadingly. He wanted to prove to Ereinion that he wasn’t the fragile Elf 
the former King thought he was. He was stronger than Ereinion knew!
 
Ereinion gave him a thoughtful look, but then complied, shedding his 
leggings as well. Lómion raised the covers and he stretched beside the 
other Elf. Lómion moved into his arms and sighed against his chest. 
Ereinion closed his eyes in an effort to control his body’s response to 
having Lómion this close. “I love you, meleth.” 
 
Lómion smiled, ruefully, against Ereinion’s bare chest. “What is love? I 
feel something, but I do not know if it is love. I always thought myself 
incapable of love.”
 
Ereinion buried his face in Lómion’s silk hair. “Oh, believe me when I say 
that you *are* capable of love. Every time I look at you I see love shine 
from your eyes. I sense it now.” 
 
“You do?” Lómion raised his head and looked Ereinion in the eyes. “Do 
you see it now?” Was he really capable of love?
 
“I see it. It shines as brightly as a Silmaril.” Ereinion caressed Lómion’s 
face, still marveling about the handsome features and soft hair that had 
been returned to the other Elf. “I loved you when you carried scars of the 
fire and I love you still.” 
 
Lómion bit his bottom lip. “I do not know how much of a lover I can be. 
Eöl, he… I feel damaged.”
 
/So did Lindir…/ Ereinion pulled Lómion in his arms again and waited for 
the other Elf to make himself comfortable before addressing him again. 
“Take this one step at a time. I think you are very brave to have taken this 
step today. Not only are we sharing a bed, but we are naked as well.” 
 
Lómion snuggled closer. “That is because I trust you. You are the only 
one who ever tried to understand me.” 
Ereinion stroked Lómion’s back with soothing circles. “Try to sleep, 
meleth. I will keep the nightmares away. The monster won’t find you 
here.” 
 
“Thank you,” whispered Lómion, already half asleep. Had he really found 
true love? Only time would tell.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Legolas definitely had a healthy appetite. Transfixed, Melpomaen watched 
the blond Elf devour a surprisingly large quantity of food. 
 
Legolas smiled, apologetically. “It has been a long time since I last ate a 
proper meal.” 
 
Melpomaen inclined his head. “If I had known you were still this hungry I 
would have sent up additional food to your rooms last night.” He had seen 
to it that one of the servants had delivered an evening snack to Legolas’ 
rooms after he had left, but it had apparently done little to still Legolas’ 
hunger.
 
“I was too exhausted to eat. Do not worry about it.” Legolas finished 
breakfast and gave Melpomaen a warm smile. “What plans did you make 
for today?” He was looking forward to spending time with Melpomaen. 
 
“I will introduce you to Lord Elrond and give you a general tour of the 
Last Homely House. Maybe we can make plans together for the next few 
days, as I do not know what exactly holds your interest?” This was his 
way of asking why Legolas had come to Imladris in the first place.
 
Legolas considered Melpomaen and shrugged once. His father hadn’t 
sworn him to secrecy in this matter. “I am here to find out if Imladris is 
true in her intention to befriend Mirkwood. Therefore, talking to the 
inhabitants and Lord Elrond himself would be most helpful.”
 
“You are here on King Thranduil’s orders?” Melpomaen hadn’t 
considered the possibility that Legolas could be an emissary, but now 
Erestor’s request to humor Legolas in every possible way made sense.
 
“Aye, my father asked me to…” Legolas’ voice faded, seeing a stunned 
expression in the advisor’s eyes. “Surely, you know…”
 
Melpomaen shook his head. “I did not know that you are King Thranduil’s 
son, my Prince.”
 
“I am no Prince,” said Legolas, trying hard to keep any resentment from 
his voice. “I was born out of wedlock and am, therefore, illegitimate. I 
hold no claim where the throne of Mirkwood is concerned.”
 
Melpomaen pushed his hands into his sleeves and gave Legolas a long and 
thoughtful look. He had access to Elrond’s network of spies, who also 
operated near Mirkwood, and Elrond had never received reports that 
Thranduil had an illegitimate son. 
 
“I surprised you,” said Legolas in a calm voice. “You had no idea who I 
am.”
 
“Lord Erestor did not see it fit to inform me yet.” Knowing Erestor, the 
Chief Advisor had his reasons for not confiding in him. “I applaud your 
father’s decision to send you here. Now that you are here, you can see for 
yourself that we mean well. Imladris is always looking for new allies and 
Lord Elrond is most sincere in his intention to befriend King Thranduil.”
 
“My father expects me to return before the first snowfall. In the meantime, 
I am to gather information and then report back to him.”
 
“That leaves us with only a few weeks.”
 
“Four, maybe five.” Legolas finished his morning tea and rose from 
behind the kitchen table. “That leaves us little time to waste. We should 
start now.”
 
Melpomaen got to his feet as well. “Our first stop will be Lord Elrond’s 
study.” The advisor knew how important it was that Legolas understood 
their intentions were sincere and Elrond was the best person to convince 
Legolas of that.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Elladan?” Elrohir had braved his fears and undertaken his most 
dangerous enterprise yet. He had left his own crib and climbed into 
Elladan’s. “Wake up!” 
 
Elladan stirred from his sleep and the Elfling gazed in surprise at his twin. 
“What are you doing here?” He developed a whole new sense of respect 
for his brother, realizing Elrohir had made his way into the crib all by 
himself. Sensing some of his brother’s sadness, he opened his chubby 
arms and wrapped them around his twin. Limbs entwined, Elladan waited 
for Elrohir to start talking. 
 
“You don’t love me no more!” said Elrohir in a sad, slightly accusing 
voice. 
 
Elladan blinked. “What?” What had gotten into his twin? “You are my 
brother! Of course I love you!”
 
“You always run away when I wanna play!” Elrohir pouted, but the fact 
that Elladan held him tight encouraged him to unburden his heart. “You 
never play with me!”
 
Elladan rocked them, and then placed a loud raspberry on his twin’s 
throat. Elrohir giggled and squirmed, but the sad and lonely expression in 
the Elfling’s eyes remained. “I am sorry. I won’t run again.” 
 
“Why do you run? Don’t you like playing with me?” 
 
Elladan playfully tugged at a strand of his twin’s hair. “I love playing with 
you, but…”
 
“But what?”
 
“I love listening to Lindir… His songs are about monsters, beautiful ladies 
and knights!” His enthusiasm almost got the better of him, wanting to 
demonstrate pounding on one of these things Lindir called Balrogs. “You 
can come with me the next time I sit with Lindir… Do you want that?”
 
“I want that.” Elrohir held his twin close and he grew less tense. “Don’t 
ever leave me, Elladan. I need you.”
 
“I need you too, Elrohir.” 
 
The twins fell asleep, hugging and smiling, and that was also the way 
Elrond later found them. A smile surfaced on the Lord’s face and he shook 
his head in wonder. These two would always make up after arguing, for 
which he was grateful. If only Elros and he had done the same.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The first rays of the sun woke Lómion the next morning. Ereinion was still 
holding him, but the hold had loosened, and after pressing a kiss onto the 
sleeping Elf’s brow, Lómion rose and left the bed. Looking out of the 
window, the beauty and serenity of the gardens overwhelmed him. It was 
so different here – compared to the other places where he had lived.
 
The sun called him outside and Lómion didn’t bother to dress. He left the 
cottage naked and giggled, placing a bare foot on the grass, which tickled 
against his soles. Warm rays caressed his body and Lómion followed that 
call by walking toward the stream. Upon reaching it, he closed his eyes, 
threw back his hair, and extended his arms. The warm rays now reached 
every inch of his body and it almost felt like a cleansing – the rays burned 
away the darkest stains on his body and soul. 
 
Lómion still expected to wake up and to find himself in the Halls of 
Waiting once more. His worst nightmare was being returned to the main 
hall, where Turgon and his guards were eager to give him another beating. 
This was just too good to be true. Good things just didn’t happen to bad 
people like him!
 
After opening his eyes again, he slowly went down on his knees. Grass 
danced against the palms of his hands, when he placed them on either side 
of his body. A golden glow lay over the gardens and the water, and it lured 
him into looking at his reflection. In the calm water, he saw his face, 
which was flawless and unmarred. Transfixed, he stared at his reflection, 
slowly recognizing familiar features. But those features and the eyes were 
free of hatred and self-loathing. The dark eyes were at peace and sparkled 
with love – love, which he held for Ereinion. /I never thought I was 
capable of love!/
 
“You have much to learn, my child.”
 
Startled, Lómion looked up and into Lórien’s twinkling eyes. “My Lord, I 
didn't hear you approach.”
 
Lórien placed the basket he was carrying on the grass and smiled at 
Lómion. “Ereinion and you are probably hungry. It slipped my mind that 
you need nourishment so I brought some food with me.” The Vala 
lowered himself onto his heels and studied Lómion’s dark eyes. “You like 
it here.”
 
Lómion nodded, shyly. “I am afraid I will wake up in the Halls of Waiting 
again. I dreamt of such peaceful and beautiful surroundings, and I find it 
hard to believe that I am really here.” 
 
Lórien rested a hand on Lómion’s shoulder and when the dark-haired Elf 
didn’t flinch away from him, he took that as a good and encouraging sign. 
“It is safe to believe it, Lómion. You are here and will stay here.” 
Lómion’s hopeful eyes met his, making him smile. “Here, why don’t you 
take this inside and fix breakfast for your love?”
 
“My love,” repeated Lómion in a whispering voice. “I cannot understand 
why he loves me. What is there to love?”
 
“A lot,” replied Lórien, realizing like Ereinion had earlier that Lómion 
needed time to accept his good fortune. “And you will realize that in time 
as well. It is like Ereinion said, give it time.”
 
Lómion’s eyes widened, feeling Lórien’s fingertips move over his bare 
shoulder. How could he have forgotten that he was naked? Bashful, he 
moved away from the Vala. 
 
“There is nothing to hide – nothing to feel ashamed of, Lómion. Most 
certainly not your body, which is beautiful.” Lórien graced Lómion with 
one more smile and then rose from the earth. “My wife and I will visit 
with you in the next few days. For now, enjoy roaming the gardens.”
 
Lómion felt relieved now that the Vala had left. Realizing he had brought 
nothing to cover himself up with, he quickly carried the basket, filled with 
food, inside. After slipping into a long shirt, he set about fixing breakfast. 
Ereinion had pampered him and seen to his every need – it was about time 
he began doing the same thing for the former High-King.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“My Lord Elrond? I would like to introduce you to a guest.” Melpomaen 
stepped into Elrond’s study first, followed by a curious Legolas. A grin 
curled the corners of the advisor’s mouth, finding Elrond playing with his 
sons. As it was already chilly, the fireplace blazed with hot flame and in 
front of it, on a warm rug, sat Elrond and the twins. Glorfindel sat behind 
the half-Elf’s ancient desk and was making last minute changes to the duty 
roster. “Lord Glorfindel.”
 
Glorfindel didn’t bother to look up from his work and waved at 
Melpomaen. He was in the last stages of finishing the rosters and couldn’t 
use any distractions. 
 
Elrond *did* look up though. Surprised at finding Melpomaen had 
brought a visitor to his study, he smiled, curiously. A moment later, 
Elladan tugged at one of his braids – hard – making him cringe. “What is 
it, pen neth4?” His firstborn was a true menace, whilst Elrohir realized 
Elladan had caused their father some discomfort. The Elfling therefore 
patted Elrond’s hand and whispered something that sounded like an 
apology. 
 
Elladan had wanted to ask his father to take him to Lindir, but at seeing 
Legolas, he changed his mind. The golden-haired Elf interested him!
 
Melpomaen noticed the pleased expression in Legolas’ eyes and knew the 
homely scene had made a good impression on the illegitimate Prince. 
“Would you like me to introduce you or…?” Did Legolas want Elrond to 
know he was Thranduil’s son? The matter of introduction was a delicate 
one and he didn’t want to make any mistakes.
 
Legolas stepped forward and bowed. At first he had thought that the blond 
behind the desk was Elrond, but he had quickly realized his mistake. 
Apparently the Lord of Imladris wasn’t one for formality and decorum! 
“My Lord Elrond, I am Legolas and I hail from Mirkwood. It is an honor 
to meet you, as I have heard many tales of your heroic deeds.” His father’s 
tone had always been mixed when he had taught him about their history. 
Legolas knew Thranduil blamed the Noldor for Oropher’s death, but at the 
same time Thranduil had always spoken Elrond’s name with respect. 
 
Elrond lifted his sons and settled them comfortably in his arms. It was 
amazing, but he swore he could literally see them grow! They were only 
two years old, but already carried that somewhat sturdier frame of a Half-
Elf. “Legolas of Mirkwood, I bid you welcome to Imladris. I would offer 
you my hand, but as you can see they are otherwise occupied.” Elrond 
studied Legolas and reached the same conclusion Melpomaen had. 
Legolas possessed an exquisite beauty, and he hoped it would serve the 
other Elf well, instead of making things more complicated in life. Blinded 
by such an exterior many an Elf wouldn’t look deeper to get to know the 
person beneath it. “May I introduce my Captain and good friend? 
Glorfindel!” 
 
“Done!” Glorfindel placed the quill aside and rose from his chair. 
“Legolas, I…” He paused, briefly stunned at seeing such innocent beauty, 
but he then composed himself again. “I welcome you to Imladris.”
 
Legolas bowed once more. “Thank you for your kind words, my Lords.”
 
Elrohir, who had been looking at Legolas with large eyes, reached out 
with his right hand and managed to catch a warrior braid between his 
chubby fingers. “No knots?”
 
“These are warrior braids,” explained Legolas, patiently. “When you are 
older you might become a warrior as well and wear them.” 
 
Elrond was pleased that Legolas showed patience in dealing with his 
offspring. “Now, Elrohir, let go of his hair.” But Elrohir curled his fingers 
even tighter around the hair and Elrond cringed at his son’s stubbornness. 
He almost expected Elrohir to ask Legolas another question, but this time 
it was Elladan who spoke. 
 
“Are you a warrior? Did you fight…?” Aiya, what was it Lindir had called 
them?
 
“Balrogs?” supplied Elrohir, helping out his brother.
 
“Aye, Balrogs!”
 
Neither twin noticed Glorfindel flinch. Their innocent questions had 
brought back memories – memories of being separated from Erestor 
because of that blasted Balrog!
 
“Nay, I have not.” Legolas smiled, sweetly. Although there were hardly 
any Elflings in Mirkwood, he had a natural gift to interact with them. “But 
I have fought spiders.”
 
“Spiders?” Elladan laughed. “They are tiny!”
 
“Not the spiders in Mirkwood,” said Elrond, smiling at Legolas. “They are 
huge!”
 
The twins’ eyes widened with respect. “Giant spiders? How many legs do 
they have?”
 
“Well, eight,” said Legolas, amused. “When you are old enough I will 
allow you to go hunting with me. We will take them down together.” 
 
Elrohir cooed ecstatically, seeing Legolas give them a wink! “That is a 
promise!”
 
“It is,” said Elrond, equally amused. “But not for many years to come. 
First you need to do some growing up and learn how to wield a weapon.”
 
“Glorfindel can teach us!” called out Elladan. 
 
In mock annoyance, Glorfindel reached for his brow and released an 
overly dramatic sigh. In truth, he was already looking forward to passing 
on his skills to the twins. 
 
Elrohir finally released the braid and looked at Legolas with large eyes. 
“We like you.”
 
Elrond smiled at hearing the ‘we’. The twins were developing a habit to 
say ‘we’ instead of ‘I’, and he wasn’t certain how to interpret that. It was 
probably just a phase.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I like Lord Elrond,” said Legolas, once Melpomaen and he were on their 
way to the stables. Although the advisor had suggested going to the library 
first, Legolas had vetoed that plan. He wanted to be outside, draw in the 
fresh air and get some exercise. So, he had suggested they go riding. 
 
“He is a very kind Elf,” replied Melpomaen, who wasn’t pleased at all. 
Aye, he wanted to spend time with Legolas, whom he found fascinating, 
but it had been many years since he had last been on horseback! He was 
deadly afraid of embarrassing himself!
 
Legolas entered the stables and quickly spotted his mare. After greeting 
her, he guided her outside and slipped onto her back. 
 
Melpomaen briefly talked to the horse master and was given a docile 
mare, which would hopefully cooperate with his requests. Carefully, he 
mounted, and sat awkwardly on her back. /Please move forward,/ he sent 
and immediately received her amusement. Apparently, he was being a bit 
too friendly and formal for her taste! /Just do not throw me off, please./ 
She promised she wouldn’t, and fell into a trot beside Legolas’ mare. 
 
“Where will we head?” asked Legolas, enjoying his freedom. 
 
“The Bruinen?” suggested Melpomaen.
 
“An excellent idea!” Legolas told his mare to speed up and was quickly 
galloping toward the river.
 
Melpomaen cursed beneath his breath and cajoled his mare into following 
suit, holding onto the mane for dear life.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel eased himself down onto their bed and pulled Erestor down 
with him. The dark-haired advisor ended up atop of him and Glorfindel 
gave his beloved a proud smile. Ever since the day that he had gifted 
Erestor that golden coronet his beloved had worn it, only removing it 
when washing his hair. “Did you know we have a visitor from 
Mirkwood?”
 
Erestor nodded once. His fingers were already busy unbuttoning 
Glorfindel’s shirt. “He is here at Thranduil’s request. Apparently, all those 
letters I wrote during these last months have made Thranduil wonder if 
Imladris is sincere in her efforts to befriend him. So he sent his son to find 
out.”
 
“His son?” Glorfindel stared at Erestor in surprise and then moaned, as his 
lover’s fingertips expertly pinched one of his hardened nipples. “He is the 
Crown Prince, then?”
 
“Nay, he was born out of wedlock. He has no claim to the throne.” Erestor 
suggestively moved his lower body against Glorfindel’s groin. “Make up 
your mind, meleth. What do you want? To discuss Legolas or to ravage 
me? For I am in the mood to be taken – wild, I might add.” 
Those words drew a growl from deep within Glorfindel’s throat, who 
quickly reversed their position by flipping Erestor onto his back. 
“Legolas? Who is Legolas? I want you.”
 
Erestor smiled, smugly. He always knew how to get his way!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lómion placed the packed tray on the bed and then scooted closer. 
Ereinion hadn’t woken yet and Lómion indulged himself by studying the 
former High-King’s relaxed features. Ereinion was handsome. The long, 
dark hair reached down his back and the brown eyes revealed intelligence 
and compassion. Until this very day it amazed him that an Elf like 
Ereinion could fall in love with him. /A King! The Last King of the 
Noldor is in love with me. I do not understand!/ From what Ereinion had 
told him, he had gathered that the other Elf had only had one lover in the 
past – an Elf called Lindir. 
 
/Lindir? I knew a Lindir once – a minstrel at Ecthelion’s court, but surely 
this cannot be the same Elf?/ But names weren’t given lightly and were 
seldom used twice. /Oh, what if this Lindir is the same Lindir I recall from 
my time in Gondolin?/ What had Ereinion told him? That Lindir had 
witnessed his friends being raped and then murdered. That he had almost 
been raped himself. /Aiya, what if that was my fault as well? The Orcs… 
they would have targeted the weak ones!/ The more he thought about it, 
the more convinced he became that this Lindir was one and the same and 
that he that he was to blame for the Elf’s trauma. /What if Ereinion 
realizes the truth? That it was my betrayal that…/
 
“Lómion?” Ereinion had woken and found Lómion looking quite 
disturbed, even disgusted with himself. He absentmindedly noted the tray 
with food, and although his stomach growled, he ignored it and focused on 
his lover for now. “What is amiss?”
 
“I cannot tell you,” whispered Lómion, brokenly. He began to inch away 
from Ereinion, but the other Elf wouldn’t have it, and quickly restrained 
him by wrapping an arm around him. Bowing his head in defeat, Lómion 
said, “Please, let me go.” 
 
Reminding himself to be patient, Ereinion shook his head. “Haven’t you 
learned by now that it is best to confide in me? Hiding from me does not 
work. I will make you face whatever put that look of self-loathing in your 
eyes.”
 
Lómion closed his eyes. “You will hate me.”
 
“Why?” Ereinion sat upright and pulled Lómion closer until the other Elf 
rested against him. “What did you remember?” 
 
“You are right,” whispered Lómion in defeat. “You will realize the truth 
eventually. I had better do this now and not prolong this torture by 
pretending we are happy here.”
 
Ereinion held his tongue and waited for his beloved to unburden his heart 
once more.
 
“You mentioned having a lover once.”
 
“Aye, his name is Lindir.” Ereinion frowned, as he hadn’t expected their 
conversation would take this direction. 
 
“Is he a minstrel?”
 
“Aye, an excellent one.” Ereinion sensed the tremors that shook Lómion’s 
body and wondered what was scaring his beloved. 
 
“He witnessed his friends being raped and slaughtered and was attacked 
himself?” Lómion couldn’t believe that Ereinion hadn’t reached the 
obvious conclusion yet. “The day Morgoth attacked Gondolin? After my 
betrayal?”
 
“Ah…” Ereinion finally understood what was going on in Lómion’s mind. 
“And now you have convinced yourself that you are to blame for what he 
went through?”
 
“I am!” said Lómion, firmly. “I betrayed Gondolin! I gave Morgoth what 
he wanted! If I had endured the abuse and had died in captivity Lindir 
would not have been hurt in such a way!” He raised his head and his 
feverish eyes met Ereinion’s. “How can you still feel comfortable holding 
me?” And yet, when he looked into those brown eyes, he saw love – not 
loathing.
 
“Morgoth would have attacked at any rate – even without your 
collaboration. You must understand that he used you. Aye, things might 
not have turned so ugly if you had not given in, but Morgoth would have 
destroyed Gondolin at any rate. You saw his army! And you also know 
that Turgon threw every warning to the wind.”
 
“Did you know that I warned Turgon?” Lómion stared at Ereinion with a 
helpless expression in his eyes. “It was after Morgoth had released me and 
I had returned to Gondolin. There had been a council meeting and after 
that, he asked me to keep him company during dinner. I accepted and I 
warned him. I told him that Ecthelion and Glorfindel were right and that 
Gondolin was in danger. I even suggested evacuating the women and 
children, but he laughed at me and told me that his army was strong 
enough to take Morgoth on. What was I supposed to say to that? He was 
King!”
 
“You really were at war with yourself, weren’t you?” Ereinion decisively 
held Lómion close, not allowing him to flee from this conversation. 
 
“I… I do not know…” stuttered Lómion, surprised that Ereinion hadn’t 
shoved him away yet. “Don’t you understand? *I* am responsible for the 
trauma Lindir suffered!”
 
“Nay, that was Morgoth and those Orcs.” Ereinion drew in a deep breath. 
“Did you really think I never realized this until now? It did cross my 
mind.”
 
“And you never called me upon it?” Lómion’s eyes were impossibly large.
 
“As I told you just now, Morgoth used you… Maeglin used you and 
Turgon would not listen. Stop taking on all the guilt! It is not yours to 
carry!”
 
“How can you say that? You are wrong.” But Lómion’s voice had lost 
most of its conviction. 
 
“Meleth, I love you…”   
 
Hearing Ereinion admit his love for him, made Lómion all teary-eyed. 
“You should not.”
 
“I love you unconditionally, Lómion. Maybe one day you will understand 
what that means.” The timid expression in the brown eyes told Ereinion 
that Lómion still had a long road ahead of him, but it also told him that 
there was hope for them. Lómion loved him in turn – he was certain of 
that! His stomach growled again, giving him the perfect excuse to change 
their topic. “And you brought food!”
 
“Actually, Lórien brought it. I met him earlier at the stream.”
 
/You went outside without me? You are braver than you think!/ Ereinion 
claimed Lómion’s hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss on the 
smooth skin there. “What do you say, meleth? Shall we eat our fill first 
and then go down to the stream to freshen up?” He had inspected the 
cottage last night and had found both a bathtub and shower missing. 
“After that, we could bask in the sunlight and explore the gardens a bit. 
Would you like that?”
 
Lómion shyly nodded his head once. “You still want me, then?” He 
couldn’t believe it!
 
“Of course, I do. I love you.” Ereinion proved his words by bringing 
Lómion in for an arduous kiss, which left both of them rather breathless. 
“Convinced?”
 
Lómion gave Ereinion a shy smile. “Maybe.” The kiss had laid some of 
his worries to rest, but he still doubted that there was something 
worthwhile inside him left for Ereinion to love. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Melpomaen bit his bottom lip, determined not to let show how 
inexperienced a rider he was, and when Legolas’ mare jumped across a 
fallen tree trunk, he followed. That was a mistake – but he realized that too 
late. A startled yelp escaped his lips, as he lost his hold and slid off of the 
mare’s back. Instinctively, he tried to break his fall and to roll with it, but 
he landed awkwardly and his right ankle twisted beneath the impact. 
 
Legolas heard Melpomaen’s yelp and turned his mare around. He cursed 
his own inattentiveness, realizing his companion wasn’t an accomplished 
rider. He should have realized that before! He was off of the horse's back 
within seconds and knelt next to Melpomaen, who was trying to catch his 
breath. “Are you injured?”
 
Melpomaen began to shake his head, but then a spiral of blinding pain shot 
up his right leg. 
 
“Where does it hurt?” The expression of pain hadn’t been lost on Legolas, 
who checked for injuries. 
 
“My leg…” Legolas’ hands were moving over his chest and then went 
down his thigh. The Mirkwood Elf’s touch caused strange sensations in 
his groin and confirmed what Melpomaen had feared all along – he was 
attracted to Legolas!
 
“I owe you an apology,” said Legolas, who carefully removed 
Melpomaen’s shoe. What had he been thinking? Taking the advisor for 
such a ride? “I should have set a slower pace.”
 
“It was not your fault,” replied Melpomaen, unwilling to let Legolas take 
the blame. He gritted his teeth, whilst Legolas’ examined his foot and leg. 
“My foolish pride got in the way. I should have told you that it has been 
many years since I last rode.” 
 
Legolas nodded once. “We can argue about whose fault it was later. Right 
now, I should take you to the healers. You broke your ankle and it needs 
to be set.” A dark expression appeared in his eyes. It was *his* fault that 
the advisor would be bedridden for the next few days. 
 
“Oh, I reckon that involves getting to my feet, does it not?” Melpomaen 
wasn’t looking forward to that.
 
“Not necessarily.” Legolas pushed his hands beneath the advisor’s knees 
and back and lifted him in his arms.
 
“What are you doing?” Melpomaen sucked in his breath in surprise.
 
“You should not put any weight on your foot, Melpomaen.” Legolas 
considered their situation and placed the injured Elf on the back of his 
mare. A moment later, he slipped into place behind Melpomaen, and 
wrapped an arm around the advisor to steady him. Looking over his 
shoulder, he told the other horse to follow them home. “You should not 
have made that jump,” he said with obvious concern in his voice. 
 
“I did not want to lose face,” replied Melpomaen, whose heart was 
thundering now that he was resting against Legolas’ chest. The Mirkwood 
Elf felt warm and surprisingly soft. The arm, curled around his waist, was 
strong, and held him in place. “Do not fret about my injury too much. My 
healing ability will take care of it.”
 
“Even an Elf needs to rest after such an injury, and the least I can do is to 
keep you company during your recuperation.”
 
“But that would thwart your plans! You would be chained to my side…” 
“I would not call it chained.” Legolas smiled against Melpomaen’s dark 
hair. He didn’t have any siblings and whilst he had grown up there had 
been no children close to his own age. His childhood had been a lonely 
one – only his father had cheered him up and kept him company and the 
time they had spent together had created a tight bond between them. Now 
that he was in Imladris, he found he liked Melpomaen – his company. He 
was already convinced that Elrond had no hidden agenda and that the 
Imladris’ Elves truly wanted to befriend his father. The innocence, warmth 
and love that ruled the valley had already told him so. 
 
“You will be stuck with me,” said Melpomaen. “Maybe Lindir will be 
willing to show you around Imladris.”
 
“I will wait for you to recover and in the meantime I will keep you 
company and that is my final word in this matter.”
 
Melpomaen looked at Legolas from over his shoulder. /You speak like a 
Prince. You act and carry yourself like one. You might have been born out 
of wedlock, but you would make the best Crown Prince Thranduil could 
hope for… and I wonder… Has Thranduil realized that as well? Does he 
know of a way to make the throne of Mirkwood accessible to you? Is that 
the reason he sent you?/ But only Thranduil could answer those questions 
and the King was far away in Mirkwood. Pain traveling up his leg 
reminded him that he had other problems to content with and all through 
their journey back to the Last Homely House, he bit down the pain that 
made his foot and leg throb.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Lord Elrond? Melpomaen has been injured!” One of the healers had 
thought it best to update their Lord, as Melpomaen *was* one of Elrond’s 
confidants.
 
Elrond, who had been sitting in the gardens with Celebrían at his side, 
gave his wife an apologetic look. “I will meet you here later.”
 
She shook her head though. “Meet me in the Hall of Fire for dinner this 
eve. I am going to the nursery to be with our sons.” She rose from the 
bench when he did and gave him a passionate kiss. After putting another 
lover’s knot in his hair, she turned around and headed for the nursery.
 
“I am sorry I disturbed you and your Lady,” said the healer.
 
Elrond raised a hand and dismissed the comment. Although he was quite 
busy during the day, the night would always belong to his wife. “What 
happened to Melpomaen?”
 
“He fell from a horse.”
 
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “He was out riding?” What had possessed 
Melpomaen to do that? It was no secret that the advisor preferred the 
indoors.
 
“He wanted to show our guest the Bruinen.”
 
Elrond’s eyebrow inched higher still. /He wanted to impress Legolas? 
Why?/
 
They had reached the Healing House and Elrond entered first. In the 
distance, he heard Legolas chide Melpomaen, and once he had reached 
their room, he stopped in the doorway and watched the Mirkwood Elf fuss 
over Melpomaen.
 
“You heard what the healer said! You are supposed to rest!” Melpomaen’s 
insistence that he could walk, annoyed Legolas. “You broke your ankle! 
Even if you could walk, you should not!”
 
Seeing the miserable look on Melpomaen’s face, Elrond decided to come 
to the rescue and to intervene. “Legolas is right, meldir5. You should go to 
your rooms to rest.” 
 
Melpomaen’s face grew flustered, realizing the healer had alerted Elrond. 
“It is a minor injury, my Lord. There was no need for you to check on 
me.”
 
Elrond smiled and advanced on Melpomaen. He raised the advisor’s head 
by placing a finger beneath the chin and said, “I care about every Elf who 
lives here and you are a friend, Melpomaen. Can you fault me for being 
worried?”
 
His feelings of misery increased tenfold and Melpomaen sighed. “I 
cannot.”
 
“Then allow me to take you to your rooms and to attend to you until you 
are comfortably settled in your bed,” offered Elrond.
 
“My Lord, if you do not mind… I would do that.” Legolas hoped he 
wasn’t being disrespectful and explained, “The accident happened whilst 
he was with me and I would like to care for him until he has recovered.”
 
Elrond carefully masked his surprise. This request made him like Legolas 
even better. “Do you know where his rooms are situated?”
 
Legolas shook his head. “I do not.”
 
“Then allow me to show you. You can carry him.” Amused, Elrond 
watched Melpomaen squirm and protest when Legolas lifted him in his 
arms. 
 
“I can walk!” Melpomaen felt embarrassed now that Legolas was carrying 
him once more.
 
“You are under orders not to put any weight on your leg!” said Legolas, 
reminding the advisor of the healer’s orders.
 
“You should listen to him,” said Elrond, amusement coloring his voice. He 
guided the Mirkwood Elf through the corridors, occasionally probing the 
blond Elf’s features, which were noble and reminded him of someone… 
Who was it? It was as if he knew Legolas, but…
 
“You can let me down now!” They had reached his quarters and 
Melpomaen’s face had gained a beet-red color. 
 
“Not yet. My Lord, would you please open the door?” requested Legolas.
 
Elrond complied and pushed down the door handle. “I will leave you 
now,” he announced, realizing the two Elves didn’t need his assistance 
any longer. Directing his gaze at Melpomaen, he added, “I will instruct the 
cook to send dinner to your rooms. I assume you will have dinner with 
him, Legolas?” The Mirkwood Elf nodded and suddenly Elrond knew who 
Legolas reminded him of – Thranduil.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Glorfindel and Erestor looked up from their game of chess when Elrond 
entered their rooms. Glorfindel frowned. “He did not knock.”
 
Erestor nodded. He had grown accustomed to Elrond’s moods and 
recognized the absentminded look in the gray eyes. “Something occupies 
him.”
 
Hearing their voices made Elrond blink. “What am I doing here?” He had 
been heading for the nursery, not his friends’ rooms. “Oh,” he said, 
realizing he had entered unannounced. “I am so glad the two of you are 
playing chess and not…” Blushing, he averted his eyes. 
 
“He is cute when he blushes,” commented Erestor, teasing the half-Elf. 
 
“I am not cute!” Elrond’s eyes opened and stared at his Chief Advisor.
 
“The use of the word ‘cute’, combined with ‘Elrond’, is probably reserved 
to be only used by Celebrían,” said Glorfindel, continuing the teasing. 
“But, I agree, meleth. One could call him cute.” 
 
“Argh!” Elrond felt like pulling out his hair! 
 
Erestor rose from his chair and headed toward the half-Elf. “What is on 
your mind, meldir?” 
 
“Legolas.”
 
“Ah, Thranduil’s son?” Erestor caught the stunned look Elrond gave him 
and prepared for a lecture.
 
“You knew?” Elrond’s eyes narrowed. “You knew and you did not tell 
me?”
 
“I reckon this is really a bad moment to inform you that I knew as well?” 
Glorfindel gave Elrond a smug look. 
 
Elrond sighed, deeply, and threw his hands in the air. “The both of you 
knew and did not tell me?”
 
“Why does this upset you?” inquired Erestor, puzzled.
 
“I was studying his features and he reminded me of Thranduil… I must 
have been lost in thought and my feet carried me here. You confirmed 
what I already suspected,” said Elrond, who took to pacing the room. “But 
I never heard that Thranduil took a wife! I should have known – or is that 
a detail you chose not to tell me either, Erestor?”
 
“Calm yourself and sit down.” Erestor guided Elrond to the chair he had 
occupied until a moment ago. Elrond sat down and Erestor pulled up a 
third chair. “You *do* know that I have been corresponding with 
Thranduil these last few years?” After Elrond had nodded, he continued. 
“Do you also remember Mithrandir’s visit two years ago?”
 
“Aye, he wanted to see the twins.”
 
“He also informed me that Thranduil would send Legolas to see if 
Imladris’ intentions – your intentions to improve relations between our 
realms -- were true. I did not get the impression that Mithrandir and 
Thranduil wanted you to know. That way, Legolas could get his 
information undisturbed.”
 
“You should have told me,” replied Elrond in a chiding tone. “Legolas 
interests me. Tell me, are we dealing with Thranduil’s heir here? I did not 
even know Thranduil had sired children!”
 
“’Tis a matter of great delicacy,” explained Erestor, who found that 
Glorfindel was listening closely as well. The blond warrior only knew bits 
and pieces. “Thranduil and Legolas’ mother never wed and the King never 
bonded with her.”
 
Elrond’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me that Legolas is an illegitimate 
child? And not in line for the Mirkwood throne?”
 
Erestor nodded once. “As far as I can tell, Thranduil regrets never 
marrying Legolas’ mother. Legolas has all the qualities that would make 
him an acceptable heir to the throne, but as his parents were never 
married, it will be hard for him to claim the throne, should Thranduil die 
unexpectedly.”
 
“Where does Thranduil stand in this?” asked Elrond.
 
“Mithrandir hinted that Thranduil would like to see Legolas as his legal 
heir, but…” 
 
“But Legolas’ parents are not married,” supplied Elrond. “I wonder if 
Legolas’ mother is still alive. If she is, he could marry her.” 
 
Erestor blinked. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
 
“Now you see how useful it is to tell me everything!” Elrond smiled at 
Erestor. “If we could somehow ground Legolas to Imladris, we would gain 
a huge advantage.”
 
This time it was Glorfindel whose eyes grew big. “Elrond, you cannot be 
serious!”
 
“Think about it!” said Elrond, jumping to his feet again and energetically 
pacing the room. “If he finds a mate here and marries, Legolas would be 
bound to Imladris!”
 
“Nay,” said Erestor, decisively. “You cannot force love on him.”
 
“I am not saying we should force him! But we could introduce all of our 
she-Elves to him who desire to take a mate this year!” Elrond was already 
plotting. “Both Mirkwood and Imladris would benefit from such a 
marriage!”
 
“Nay,” said Erestor again. “Although I see the logic in your proposal I 
advise against it.”
 
“I am not forcing him to marry,” repeated Elrond. “Just showing him his 
possibilities.”
 
Erestor released a sigh. “Elrond, you are determined to do this.”
 
“To try at least, aye!”
 
“Can I make a suggestion?” said Glorfindel, drawing the attention of both 
Elves toward him.
 
“Go ahead,” replied Elrond. 
 
“Do not introduce him to any she-Elves… I have the feeling his interest 
might lie with males instead.”
 
Elrond nodded, thoughtfully. “You might be right.” The way Legolas had 
fussed over Melpomaen returned to him. “I might already know a male Elf 
he could be interested in.”
 
Alarmed at the pace Elrond was setting Erestor rose from his chair and 
came to a stop in front of Elrond. “Who do you have in mind, Elrond?” 
 
“Melpomaen.”
 
“Nay! Not Melpomaen!” Erestor resolutely shook his head. 
 
“Why not?” Elrond smiled sweetly at his Chief Advisor. “You should 
have seen Legolas fuss over Melpomaen. Your personal assistant blushed 
under all the attention he received.”
 
“Why would Legolas fuss over him?” asked Glorfindel, getting to his feet 
as well.
 
“Melpomaen had a minor riding accident.” Seeing Erestor’s brow rise, 
Elrond cringed. “He fell from a horse. I think he was trying to impress 
Legolas.”
 
“Aiya,” whispered Erestor. “There is no stopping this – you.”
 
“If there is love we will encourage it,” said Elrond, giving Erestor a 
devious look. Surely, there was no harm in encouraging young love… was 
there?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Are you joining me?” Ereinion had eaten his fill and had then dragged 
Lómion outside. He stood in the stream, nude and energetic, and waited 
for Lómion to join him. He saw apprehension and insecurity in Lómion’s 
dark eyes and raised a hand. “Come to me, meleth.” 
 
Lómion bit his bottom lip. He was still dressed in Ereinion’s long shirt, 
which he had slipped into before preparing breakfast and was reluctant to 
part from the garment. 
 
“You trust me, remember?” said Ereinion, praying that Lómion was ready 
to take this step. 
 
“Aye, I trust you.” Lómion removed his shirt and fought the urge to cover 
himself up with his hands. Seeing Ereinion’s trusting and loving 
expression, he slowly ventured into the water. Unexpectedly, Ereinion 
began to splash him with water – cold water. “What?”
 
“Come on, Lómion, let us play!” It had been ages since he had last played 
in the water. Even whilst he had lived with Círdan, the elder Elf had 
occasionally indulged him by chasing him through the water and pulling 
him under. Looking at Lómion now, he realized that the other Elf had 
never learned to play. “Splash back!”
 
Lómion finally caught on and splashed Ereinion with water. The former 
King lured him into the deeper section of the stream and suddenly the 
other Elf went under water, disappearing from view. “Ereinion?” Growing 
worried, Lómion scanned the water surface. Unexpectedly, strong hands 
grabbed his knees and pulled him under. 
 
Ereinion knew he was taking a risk, but he also knew they had to move 
forward. 
 
Lómion turned in the water and looked into Ereinion’s mischievously 
sparkling eyes. Apparently, this was part of the ‘playing’ Ereinion had 
referred too, and he forced himself to let go. It wasn’t long before they 
were splashing, ducking and chasing each other in the stream. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
From the bank, Estë and Lórien looked on, smiling happily. 
 
“Being here is doing wonders for Lómion’s fëa,” said Lórien, pleased with 
this development.
 
“His scars will heal slowly, but Ereinion is helping him heal.” Estë leaned 
in closer and melted into her husband’s embrace. “What are Eru’s plans 
for these two?”
 
“All I know is that they are to remain on the shores of Aman. Personally, I 
think that they will eventually join the other Elves. They will never return 
to the Halls of Waiting. That door has closed on them.”
 
“They are already happy here.” 
 
 Lórien nodded once. “And we will see to Lómion’s complete recovery.” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next week passed by quickly and Melpomaen thanked the Valar on 
his knees when Elrond finally declared him fit to walk again. Legolas’ 
fussing had almost driven him out of his mind. Aye, the Mirkwood Elf 
meant well, but Melpomaen had hated feeling helpless. 
 
“We can finally return to touring the house,” announced Melpomaen, who 
had received a cane from Elrond to support him during his walks. 
 
“Are you certain you've recovered sufficiently?” Legolas eyed Melpomaen 
closely. During this last week they had become good friends and he had 
even apologized for fussing over Melpomaen, but he had never had 
someone to fuss over before! 
 
“I am certain! I need to get out!” Melpomaen made way for the doorway. 
“Are you coming?”
 
“Where are we going?” 
 
“The river Bruinen! We were on our way there when… when I had this 
little accident.”
 
“We can go there another day,” said Legolas, placing his hands on 
Melpomaen’s shoulders in order to stop him from marching on. “Why 
don’t we go to the library instead?” 
Melpomaen realized he was being played. “I can master the distance to the 
Bruinen!”
 
“I know you can, but why would you?” Legolas’ expression softened 
when he said, “I am not the enemy. You do not have to convince me you 
can walk again.”
 
“I am sorry,” said Melpomaen, bowing his head. “I hate feeling this way!”
 
Legolas was wise enough to let the matter rest. “Let us go the library, 
meldir.” 
 
Melpomaen managed a smile and nodded his head once. “The library 
sounds fine.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
They had snuggled up on the windowsill. Legolas had sat down first, 
leaning his back against the glass of the window, totally absorbed by the 
book he was reading. It didn’t take Melpomaen long to join Legolas, sit 
down as well, and read along. The fact that Legolas’ arms came up to 
wrap around Melpomaen was something that happened naturally and 
neither Elf noticed the embrace as first. It just happened. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Look at them!” Elrond elbowed Glorfindel in the stomach. They had 
happened upon Legolas and Melpomaen by accident and remained hidden 
from view. “I do not think we will need to use much force on them.”
 
Glorfindel rolled his eyes. “You are correct. It looks like there is a mutual 
interest.”
 
“Good,” whispered Elrond, his eyes twinkling. He doubted they needed to 
do anything at all!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“How did this happen?” asked Melpomaen, when Legolas had turned the 
last page of the book. And why hadn’t he noticed it?
 
Legolas smiled, which Melpomaen didn’t see. “I am not complaining.” He 
loved seeing Melpomaen’s dark hair mingle with his fair strands. “Or do 
you mind?”
 
“Nay, I do not think I do…” Melpomaen felt his face redden. “But don’t 
you think it is rather… inappropriate?”
 
“Actually, I do not.” Legolas rested his chin on Melpomaen’s shoulder. 
“Do you feel the need to break this embrace?”
 
“I do not,” whispered Melpomaen, feeling strangely shy. 
 
“Then why don’t we stay this way?”
 
And there was nothing Melpomaen could say against that.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“They are in love!”
 
Erestor shot Elrond an irritated look. “It took you long enough to work 
that out.” 
 
“How long has Legolas been here?” asked Elrond, sitting down on the 
edge of Erestor’s desk. He had sought out Erestor’s study, as he needed to 
discuss this matter.
 
“Five weeks.” Erestor leaned back into the comfort of the chair and 
studied Elrond. The half-Elf had become a very good friend and had given 
him a home here, in spite of any doubts Elrond might have had about him. 
He had grown used to being an Elf and seldom missed using his powers as 
a Vala. He had truly become Erestor, Elrond’s Chief Advisor. “Legolas 
visited with me yesterday, announcing his impending departure.”
 
“He is leaving?” Elrond blinked; he hadn’t thought of that!
 
“Thranduil wants his son to return home before the first snow.” Erestor 
smiled, pleased. “He loves his son very much.”
 
“I understand his desire to have him back in Mirkwood. I want my sons to 
be safe as well. But must he depart so soon?”
 
Erestor laughed. “Have you grown fond of Legolas as well?”
 
“A bit,” admitted Elrond. Legolas had been charming and entertaining 
company during dinner. “Had my sons been older…”
 
“Don’t go there!” Erestor gave Elrond a stern look. “Don’t tell me you 
would have tried getting them together!”
 
“Elrohir would have made a very suitable mate for Legolas…”
 
“You never cease to amaze me,” whispered Erestor. “Thankfully, the 
Valar have decided differently.”
 
“Aye, he is in love with Melpomaen. Aiya, this parting will be hard on 
him.”
 
“On both of them.” Erestor stapled his fingers. “We should give them 
some privacy tomorrow. It will be a long time before they will meet 
again.”
 
Elrond eyed Erestor closely. Through the years he had grown convinced of 
Erestor’s gift of foresight, which had come in handy once or twice. “What 
do you see if you look into their future?”
 
“They will be together,” replied Erestor, convinced. “And they will be 
happy.”
 
“Do you also see if Legolas will become Thranduil’s heir?”
 
Erestor blinked again. “I am not certain -- does it matter?”
 
“Nay, it does not.” Elrond nodded once. “If their love is true no one will 
stand in their way, regardless of wondering if Legolas will succeed 
Thranduil or not.”
 
“I saw something else as well,” added Erestor in a teasing voice. 
 
“What?” Growing wary, Elrond wondered why Erestor was giving him 
such an amused look.
 
“Thranduil will visit Imladris as well in the future.”
 
Elrond rolled his eyes. “Oh, my…”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I do not want you to leave.” Melpomaen stood in front of the window and 
looked out over the valley, dressed in reds and browns, as the leaves of the 
trees had changed and were falling. Winter was on their doorstep and that 
meant Legolas had to return to Mirkwood. 
 
“I do not want to leave either, but I do not have a choice.” Legolas had 
walked up behind Melpomaen and wrapped his arms around the other Elf. 
“Have you changed your mind, then?”
 
“Nay,” whispered Melpomaen. He rested his head against Legolas’ 
shoulder, raised a hand and played with a lock of Legolas’ hair. “We 
cannot consummate our love until we have your father’s blessing.”
 
Legolas nodded and nuzzled Melpomaen’s neck. “I know it is the right 
path to take, but I wish…”
 
Melpomaen turned in the embrace and lovingly looked into Legolas’ azure 
eyes. “I love you. I do not know when it happened or why, but I love you. 
And I fear it is a hopeless love, with you residing in Mirkwood. Will we 
ever meet again?”
 
Legolas guided Melpomaen to the bed they had shared these last few 
weeks and sat his beloved down. “I will fight for our love. I won’t give in. 
My father will accept you as my mate!”
 
Melpomaen pressed a chaste kiss onto Legolas’ lips. He wanted to do so 
much more than kissing and his body literally screamed for more attention 
from his lover, but they had decided not to bind without Thranduil’s 
permission. Melpomaen didn’t want to drive a wedge between father and 
son and would only accept Legolas with the King’s permission. “These 
last few weeks were difficult, Legolas. I love you and I want to express 
that love physically, but we cannot.” They had limited themselves to 
kissing and snuggling instead. Legolas was the greatest temptation he had 
ever faced, but so far, he had withstood that temptation. 
 
Legolas carefully lowered Melpomaen onto the bed and then stretched 
beside the advisor. They had known each other for five weeks now and he 
was to leave tomorrow. Having Melpomaen close, without being able to 
touch him intimately had been hard, but he knew that living without the 
advisor at his side would be so much harder. “I do not want to live without 
you.”
 
“Neither do I… I just wish there was a way…”
 
Legolas nodded and pulled Melpomaen close. “So do I.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“There might be a way.”
 
Melpomaen thought he had misheard. “I was not listening, what did you 
say?”
 
Erestor gave Melpomaen a conspiring smile. Legolas had taken his leave 
from Elrond and Glorfindel, and only Erestor had remained to support 
Melpomaen once Legolas was gone. “I said; there might be a way.” He 
shouldn’t be saying this – he really shouldn’t – but he remembered the 
misery he had suffered when that Balrog had taken Glorfindel away from 
him. Legolas was alive and there was no reason for the two Elves to be 
apart. “Go to Mirkwood with him.” The way Melpomaen’s eyes almost 
bulged from their sockets would have been amusing, if Erestor hadn’t 
known that his friend was really hurting. 
 
“What? You cannot be serious!”
 
Erestor, standing next to Melpomaen, ignored the fact that Legolas was 
getting ready to mount his mare and focused on his friend instead. “Listen 
to me, meldir. I lost Glorfindel a long time and I did not have the choice 
you have now. I know how much it hurts to be without the one you love. 
And it will be even worse for you. I lost Glorfindel to death – you do not 
have to lose Legolas to Mirkwood. You have a choice.”
 
Melpomaen couldn’t believe Erestor was actually suggesting traveling to 
Mirkwood. “But what if Thranduil...”
Erestor cut him short. “Don’t play this game, Melpomaen. These ‘what 
if's’ won’t help you. You have to make your mind up now, as Legolas is 
about to leave.”
 
Seeing his beloved’s distress, Legolas walked toward Melpomaen. It 
wouldn’t matter if he left now or five minutes later. “I am sorry, 
melethron6.  I wish my departure would not leave you this distraught.” 
 
“That is not it,” clarified Melpomaen. “Erestor’s suggestion…”
 
“What suggestion?” Legolas glared at the Chief Advisor, annoyed with 
him for upsetting the one he loved.
 
“He told me to travel to Mirkwood with you. To leave Imladris behind and 
risk it all.” Melpomaen looked Legolas in the eye. “I cannot do that, can 
I?”
 
Legolas’ brow furrowed. “I had not thought of that.” He wasn’t certain if 
he approved of that suggestion or not. 
 
“How would your father react at finding Melpomaen in your company?” 
asked Erestor.
 
Legolas carefully considered the question before answering it and stroked 
Melpomaen’s back in a soothing manner. How *would* his father react? 
“At first, he will rage… but… I think that eventually he will be impressed 
by your actions.”
 
Melpomaen took heart, hearing those words. “You really think so?”
 
“I do. One thing you must always remember about my father when you 
meet him is that he is all bark, but he never bites.” Legolas chuckled, 
realizing he had already made his decision. “You should come with me, 
melethron.” 
 
“But I cannot leave like that! What about Elrond and…” 
 
“I will inform Elrond and the rest of the council.” Erestor took hold of 
Melpomaen’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “If you love him, fight for 
him.” His gaze shifted from his friend to Legolas. “And the same goes for 
you.”
 
“I will fight for him,” vowed Legolas. His heart felt light and happy now 
that his beloved would remain close.  
 
Within minutes Legolas and Melpomaen had mounted and Erestor raised 
his hand in goodbye. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion and Lómion rested in each other’s arms. After they had left the 
water, they had lain down to let the sun dry their hair and skin. Basking in 
the sunlight, both Elves felt at peace and happy. 
 
“I never thought I would ever feel like this.”
 
“Have you ever felt like this before?” inquired Ereinion. 
 
“I do not think so. This is the first time in my life that I feel happy.” And 
that had everything to do with Ereinion. Looking into his beloved’s eyes, 
he hoped he could do away with his past and become the lover Ereinion 
deserved.
 
Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author’s Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas 
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: Legolas and Melpomaen face Thranduil 
and have to fight for their love. Lómion continues to heal, but suffers a 
setback in his recovery. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 10
 
 
Night was settling surprisingly quickly over them, making it Legolas’ first 
priority to find a safe resting place. He spotted a cave and headed for it. 
The two Elves had traveled for most of the day, only pausing for minutes 
to stretch their legs and get their circulation going again. 
 
Legolas gave Melpomaen an approving look. He had expected the advisor 
to be out of his element on the road, but Melpomaen’s actions spoke of 
confidence. His beloved had been on the road before. It was then that he 
realized just how little he knew of Melpomaen’s past. “We will rest here 
for the night.”
 
Melpomaen nodded once, dismounted, and Legolas guided their horse into 
the back of the cave. They fed and watered the steed and then looked at 
each other, uncertain what to do next. 
 
“The cooks filled my traveling bags with bread, cheese, fruit and water. 
We will not go hungry tonight.” Legolas sat down on the ground whilst 
Melpomaen remained on his feet. “Is anything amiss?”
 
“We should build a fire in case we attract the attention of any wild 
animals. I will gather wood.” 
 
“I will join you.” Legolas placed the food aside. Working together, it 
didn’t take them long to gather an ample amount of wood and to build a 
warm fire, which illuminated the cave. Once they were seated side-by-side 
and eating their fill, Legolas said, “You have been on the road before.” It 
was an attempt to learn more about his lover’s past life. 
 
Melpomaen drank some water and then met Legolas’ eyes. “I hail from 
Lindon. When Elrond decided to set up camp in Imladris I traveled with 
him and I never left. Whilst he fought at Ereinion’s side, I stayed in 
Imladris and prepared for his return.”
 
“You are older than I thought,” admitted Legolas in a thoughtful voice. 
Seeing the distant look in Melpomaen’s eyes, he realized the past hadn’t 
been pleasant for the advisor. He wondered what had happened to put that 
absentminded look in the dark eyes. Melpomaen looked lonely although 
they were only inches apart and Legolas felt the urge to comfort his 
beloved. “Would you like to rest against me?” Melpomaen needed no 
extra encouragement and moved close. Legolas wrapped an arm around 
his beloved once the advisor had settled himself comfortably against him. 
 
“There is much about me that you do not know,” said Melpomaen, softly. 
“And I reckon there is a lot about you that I do not know about either.”
 
“Do you regret leaving Imladris?” asked Legolas, worried at hearing 
Melpomaen’s tone. “We are still close to Imladris and it would be easy for 
you to return there. But the longer we stay on the road, the harder it will 
get.”
 
“I do not regret joining you,” replied Melpomaen, raising his eyes to meet 
Legolas’. “But you are correct – I am worried.  I worry about your father’s 
reaction upon seeing me.”
 
“My father is a kind soul,” said Legolas, after a moment’s thought. “But 
his past has made him very wary. He won’t trust you at once. You will 
have to give him time.”
 
“But you are quite certain that he will accept this?”
 
Legolas nodded his head once and whispered his next words into his 
beloved’s ears. “My father wants me to be happy and he will accept you as 
his son-in-law. Have faith in our love, Melpomaen.”
 
Melpomaen rested his head against Legolas’ shoulder. “I have never acted 
this impulsively before. I am an advisor – I think before I act!”
 
Legolas smiled. “I am glad you acted impulsively, for it means I still have 
you at my side. No matter what awaits us, Melpomaen, I want you to 
know that I love you and that I will fight for our love.”
 
“So will I.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“You did what?” In disbelief, Elrond blinked his eyes. “Erestor, you did 
*what*?” 
 
“I advised Melpomaen to travel to Mirkwood.” Erestor stood in front of 
Elrond’s desk and calmly met the half-Elf’s gaze. “If he wants to have 
Legolas’ love, he will have to fight for it.” Briefly, his gaze shifted from 
Elrond to Glorfindel. “Like I did.” Then his gaze returned to rest on 
Elrond. “I know what it feels like to lose the love of your life and there 
was no reason for Melpomaen and Legolas to be separated.”
 
“I can give you a reason,” said Elrond. “Thranduil.”
 
Glorfindel, standing behind Elrond, nodded once. “Thranduil will not give 
Melpomaen a warm welcome.”
 
“Love conquers all,” was Erestor’s simple reply.
 
Elrond’s gaze softened, realizing Erestor was talking from personal 
experience. Although Erestor had become a good and trusted friend, he 
realized only too well that he knew little of his Chief Advisor. 
 
“Oh, meleth1!” Erestor’s words had touched Glorfindel and he advanced on his beloved. Taking Erestor 
into his arms, he hugged him tightly. “I will always love you.”
 
Erestor closed his eyes, released a deep breath, and rested his upper body against Glorfindel’s. “I have the 
utmost trust in Melpomaen’s skill to placate Thranduil – and their love is true. Legolas and Melpomaen belong 
together.”
 
“Have you seen this in one of your visions?” asked Elrond, curiously.
 
He hadn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell them that. He seldom had a vision these days, as he had become more like 
one of the Firstborn and less like a Valar. In the end, he said, “I *know* they belong together.” He had sensed 
the love that bound them. 
 
Elrond accepted those words, but they didn’t take away his worry. Thranduil was known for his temper and 
there was no way of knowing just how the Woodland King would react. But this was out of his hands now, and 
all Elrond could do was hope for the best.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Lindir wondered about Elrohir. At first, only Elladan had sought him out, demanding he sing and tell stories of 
times long gone. But now his brother had joined him and the two Elflings sat opposite him, pleading with him to 
hear another story or another song. And like always, Lindir gave in and sang for them.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Come to bed, meleth?” Ereinion had already undressed and retired to bed. After eating dinner, Lómion had 
offered to clean up and do the dishes. Ereinion had used the opportunity to brush the tangles from his hair, 
listening to the sounds his beloved made whilst rummaging about in the kitchen. He loved him – he knew that 
for certain and now he desired nothing more than Lómion’s presence in their bed.  
 
Lómion drew in a deep breath. All day long he had mentally prepared himself for this moment. He was 
determined to take the next step and to show Ereinion that he had dealt with the abuse – that Eöl no longer had 
a hold on him. He wanted nothing more than to be the lover Ereinion deserved. For Ereinion’s love was true 
and the former King would love and treat him well.
 
After removing his shirt and leggings, Lómion stretched beside Ereinion. Lying face to face, he sucked in his 
breath when Ereinion raised a hand to rest it on his hip. The touch was loving and kind, and yet he recalled 
another touch, which had been gripping and bruising. No, he didn’t want to remember this! He had dealt with 
it! The abuse was in the past!
 
Ereinion read the unease in the doe-like eyes and wondered what to do. Should he remove his hand and stop his 
ministrations or should he push on? Maybe all Lómion needed was some encouragement? Some reassurance, 
that he was still wanted in spite of his horrid past? It was a difficult decision to make. 
 
“I want your touch,” whispered Lómion, seeing Ereinion’s thoughtful expression. “I want to be your lover.” 
But what would it be like? Being Ereinion’s lover? Would his lover respect his wishes? Would Ereinion accept 
hearing ‘no’ from his lips? Would the other Elf stop his caresses and give him the space he needed? Or would 
he force himself on him like the Dark Elf had? /Nay, this is Ereinion and not Eöl! Ereinion is different! He loves 
me!/ But could he be absolutely certain of this?
 
“I know you do, but are you ready to take that place in my life?” Ereinion caressed Lómion’s dark hair. “I can 
wait. I am patient.”
 
Lómion shook his head. “I do not want to wait. I want this now.” He needed to know what it would be like for 
them. Would Ereinion make him happy? Respect and love him?
 
“And what is ‘this’?” asked Ereinion, making sure there was no misunderstanding between them. He needed to 
know how far Lómion wanted to take this. 
 
“I want to feel your touch. I want you to kiss me. I want us to be intimate…” But a part of his soul screamed its 
protest. Once he had started their lovemaking, he would no longer have any control over it and Ereinion could 
do whatever he pleased with him. He would be vulnerable and the mere thought of being at Ereinion’s mercy 
made the child inside him ache and curl up in terror. “I need to know what it is like – to make love.”
 
Ereinion sucked in his breath in surprise. “You are not ready yet to take that step!” What they needed to do was 
to take small steps and not move forward to the act itself. “We shall limit ourselves to kissing,” decided 
Ereinion. 
 
“I want more than mere kisses.”
 
“We will see about that.” Ereinion was determined to do nothing else besides kissing. No matter how hard 
Lómion would push him, he would *not* give in and make love to him! 
 
Lómion pressed closer and touched his lips to Ereinion’s. His arms wrapped themselves around the former 
King’s waist and he closed his eyes, savoring the sweet sensation. This was what he wanted – to *feel* that 
Ereinion loved him. The past didn’t matter to Ereinion – the abuse didn’t matter. Ereinion wasn’t like the Dark 
Elf. Ereinion would stop if he told his beloved so!
 
Ereinion sensed something was amiss, but couldn’t label the sensation. Lómion was too eager, pushing forward 
too much and too hard, but he would go along and let Lómion set the pace. He would not take the initiative in 
this matter and let Lómion do whatever the other Elf wanted. 
 
Kissing Ereinion felt good and warmed Lómion from the inside. His lover parted his lips and teeth and Lómion 
moaned, finally exploring the warm and moist cavern. Never before had he felt like this! The feelings that raged 
inside him were like a torrid sea, tearing him apart. “Do you love me?” he asked, in-between kisses. /Do you 
respect me? Can I trust you? Will you put my best interests first? Or are you merely taking advantage of me? 
Like the Dark Elf did?/
 
Ereinion, left breathless due to Lómion’s unexpected passionate kisses, failed to answer. All he could do was to 
stare in rapture at the beautiful Elf above him. 
 
Not getting an answer worried Lómion, who couldn’t identify the expression in Ereinion’s eyes. Had the former 
king changed his mind? Had Ereinion realized just what he had allowed into his bed? Nay, he didn’t want to 
lose his beloved! He would do anything necessary to make Ereinion stay! “Please?”
 
Ereinion, still lost for words, wondered about the desperate expression in the brown eyes. He wanted to 
reassure his lover and tell him that everything was fine, but he was awe-struck, seeing the love in Lómion’s 
eyes. The fact that Lómion had thought himself incapable of love still stunned him. 
 
Lómion was growing distressed. Why wasn’t Ereinion answering him? How could he fix whatever he had done 
wrong? 
 
Ereinion’s eyes widened, finding Lómion changing positions. One moment ago, his beloved had been stretched 
beside him and kissing him, the next, Lómion was on all fours and presenting himself to him. The dark head was 
bowed and Lómion rested it on his arms, creating a submissive pose. Ereinion’s heart pounded madly, as he 
pushed himself upright. Moving closer, he brushed the long hair away from Lómion’s face. “What are you 
doing, meleth?” 
 
“I will let you take me…” 
 
Hearing the pain, shame and guilt that colored Lómion’s whispers broke Ereinion’s heart all over again. Tears 
pushed against his eyelids, but he fought them back, realizing he couldn’t show any weakness now. 
 
“Just stay. Do not leave me… Love me?” Lómion felt too ashamed to make eye-contact and stared at the sheet 
beneath him. “I do not know what I did wrong, but I cannot bear you not talking to me.” A distant part of him 
wondered what in the Valar’s name he was doing! Why was he acting in such an irrational way? Did he even 
know why he was offering himself to Ereinion? 
 
The answer was ‘no’.
 
“Oh, meleth!” Ereinion bit his bottom lip, wondering about the best course of action. Was Lómion offering him 
his body because his beloved thought it was the only way to keep him close? Or was it something else? 
Something he had missed? “Would you please lie down on your side again?”
 
“You want to take me that way?” Lómion still didn’t make eye-contact. His thoughts marched in circles and 
none of them made any sense. Was offering himself to Ereinion the wrong thing to do? And if that was the case, 
why was he doing so in the first place? What had happened during that one moment when Ereinion hadn’t 
answered him? Something in his mind had short-circuited and had set off this strange reaction.
 
/Ereinion will loathe you even more now!/ came Maeglin’s voice from the back of his mind. /He is not like the 
Dark Elf! Ereinion has shown you that he is different! How could you offer yourself to him? Do you think so 
little of him?/ 
 
“Nay, meleth, there will be no taking tonight.” Ereinion gently placed his hands on Lómion’s back and 
shoulder and began to lower him onto his side onto the bed. “I want you to rest comfortably.”
 
Lómion pressed his eyes shut and curled up in a tight ball. /I made the worst mistake ever! I assumed he… What 
did I assume? Oh, Ereinion, I do not know why I did that!/ Too ashamed to face Ereinion, he kept his eyes shut 
and tremors coursed through his body. Nothing made sense anymore! 
 
Ereinion collected the sheet from the foot end of the bed and covered his beloved with it, tucking it around the 
shivering body. Once Lómion was safely tucked away, Ereinion moved closer and buried his love in a hug. “Do 
you want to talk about what happened just now?”
 
He really didn’t want to, but at the same time he realized he owed Ereinion an explanation. “I do not know why 
I did that.”
 
Ereinion decided to pressure on – it was important they got this out in the open. “I think you *do* know why 
you offered yourself to me in that way.”
 
“Maybe I do,” admitted Lómion, fighting more tears. “I wanted to placate you. One moment you were 
responding to my kisses and the next you went quiet. I became afraid that you realized what you were kissing 
and…”
 
“Stop it right there,” said Ereinion, interrupting Lómion. “Open your eyes and look at me.” 
 
It was the fact that Lómion *did* trust Ereinion that made him comply. He thought he would see loathing in 
Ereinion’s dark eyes, but he was stunned to find them swimming. 
 
“What did you mean when you referred to yourself as a ‘what’?”
 
Lómion swallowed, nervously. He really didn’t want to say the words. “I did not realize it until just now…” 
Was that the reason he had been acting in such a strange way? How many more truths about himself would he 
uncover? And did he want them uncovered? Wasn’t it best to keep them in the shadows were they belonged?
 
“Well?” Ereinion gave his beloved an encouraging smile and stroked the long, dark hair. 
 
“The Dark Elf… he… he made me feel… like… like…” Oh, he couldn’t say the words! Lómion felt too ashamed 
to admit the truth! And by actually speaking the words, he would make them come true – at least, he believed 
that it would.
 
“Like what?” Ereinion already suspected what the answer would be, but still pressed on.
 
“A whore…” Lómion sobbed openly, then. “He always made me feel like that…”
 
Ereinion felt relieved that Lómion had spoken those words. For now he could show his beloved how wrong his 
conclusion was. “You are not a whore, Lómion. And I forbid you to offer me your body in that way, ever again. 
I love you, and aye, I want to become one with you, but only when you truly want it too.” 
 
Lómion peeked at Ereinion through half-closed eyelids. Words were just words and could be twisted, could be 
lies, but it was different with actions. His eyes widened dramatically -- Ereinion *had* refused his offer. Instead 
of ravishing him, like the Dark Elf would have, Ereinion had assisted him in lying down, had covered him with 
a sheet and was now comforting him. “I should not have done that.” But, at least he was slowly beginning to 
understand why he had offered himself to Ereinion and he felt even more ashamed for doing so. /I must have 
lost my mind – there is no other explanation for my behavior./
 
Ereinion nodded. “But, you did. And some good has come out of it. At least now you know that I will never 
abuse you in that way. I love you, Lómion. And even if we never take *that* step to be intimate – I would still 
love you. For love is more than the physical act.”
 
“I…” Speechless, Lómion wondered what to say. His mind was a mirror of contradictions; he wanted to make 
love to Ereinion, but, after offering himself to the former King, he realized he wasn’t ready for that yet and that 
he actually feared performing that act. When he had offered himself to Ereinion, his feelings had gone blank. 
He would have taken whatever pain Ereinion had given him and he would have endured, because he had 
needed to know what Ereinion would do – take him or comfort him. Ereinion had comforted him…
 
“You are precious to me,” said Ereinion, who had caught a shadow of Lómion’s troubled thoughts. “And I will 
never reduce you to a body to draw my pleasure from.” He drew in a deep breath and then risked it all. “I am 
not the Dark Elf, Lómion. I will never abuse you.” 
 
The swimming, dark eyes closed, hearing those words. “I know you are not. I feel so… conflicted. I do not 
understand why I am reacting the way I am.” 
 
“Your actions do not have to be logical,” said Ereinion, in an effort to console his lover. “You are in safe 
surroundings now. No one can hurt you here and you are finally facing your fears and doubts. Aye, I know that 
you trust me. You also know that I love you, but you have only known mistrust when it comes down to 
relationships. In a way, it is normal for you to put me to the test.”
 
Lómion’s eyes widened. “Is that what I did? Put you to the test?” It did make sense. Only moments before 
offering himself to Ereinion, he had wondered if his beloved would respect his choices – if he would respect 
hearing ‘no’. And then he had offered his body to Ereinion and his lover had refused. He then realized that 
Ereinion would always respect his ‘no’, because his lover would make certain he would never have to say no. 
Ereinion would always put him first and respect his wishes. His lover would never pressure him into pleasuring 
him. 
 
“I think so. When you offered yourself to me… What did you hope for? That I would accept or reject you?”
 
Confused, Lómion searched his feelings before even considering answering Ereinion’s question, which 
deserved an honest answer. Focusing inside, he realized the truth. “I fervently hoped you would reject my 
offer.” His eyes widened. “I *was* testing you! But, Ereinion, I never realized… I would never have done so if I 
had known what I was doing! I am so sorry! How can I make amends?”
 
“There is a way,” replied Ereinion, closely monitoring Lómion’s reaction. 
 
His heart missed a beat – was it now Ereinion’s turn to test him? Or had he been wrong and would Ereinion 
now make him pay for playing with his feelings? His heart pounded like mad in his throat and the palms of his 
hand grew sweaty.
 
“You could call me love. You never did before, meleth.” Ereinion had long realized what direction his 
beloved’s thoughts had headed in. Lómion might not realize it, but the process of healing had started now that 
they were finally discussing these matters. /You will continue to test me and I vow to pass whatever test you 
devise./
 
Lómion freed a hand to wipe at his tears. He felt ashamed for thinking Ereinion would extract revenge. /I have 
to get it into my mind that Ereinion is not like him. Ereinion loves me and is an Elf of honor. He will never hurt 
me!/ 
 
“I do not deserve your understanding – your forgiveness. How you can forgive me is beyond me…” Seeing 
Ereinion’s hopeful expression, he added, “melethron2.” The brilliant smile that shone from the former King’s 
face took him aback. Admitting the truth wasn’t that hard, then. “I am slowly beginning to understand that you 
love me and that you will never hurt me. I am afraid and shame suffocates me. I thought that… I was afraid that 
you would not react well, should I tell you to stop. *He* never stopped. *He* told me to be quiet and…”
 
Ereinion stroked the long hair and looked deeply into Lómion’s eyes. He could see the frightened child hidden 
away beneath the shy adult Elf. There was fear there – fear of the unknown. But there was also love and trust. 
“Aye, I love you, Lómion – just the way you are.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion woke in the middle of the night because he detected a third presence in the bedroom. He had always 
been a light sleeper and now that he was holding Lómion, he felt even more protective. He relaxed, finding Estë 
standing beside the bed. Her gray eyes spoke of understanding and wisdom and encouraged him to smile 
weakly at her. 
 
“You were right,” she said, resting her hand on Lómion’s brow. “He is beginning to face his fears. And some of 
those fears concern you.” Her fingertips soothingly stroked the smooth skin and her lips whispered words of 
magic, ensuring Lómion would stay asleep.
 
“He never had a choice in the past,” said Ereinion in understanding.
 
Estë nodded once. “Eöl took what he wanted and paid no attention to his well-being. He never respected 
Lómion’s decisions – never allowed him to say ‘no’ to his advances. Lómion needs to know that you will. That 
he has a choice when he is with you. He has been putting you to the test, this one… and he will continue to do 
so for some time. You will have to prove your worth and your love to him.” Seeing Ereinion’s confident 
expression made her smile. “But you have nothing to fear, my child. For your love is true. Lómion merely needs 
time and the opportunity to convince himself that your feelings for him are genuine.” Estë caressed Lómion’s 
brow one more time and then took a step away from the bed. “He will continue to test you – and by doing so he 
will face himself.”
 
“I will be there for him for every step of the way.”
 
“I know you will.” Estë smiled. “He is very fortunate to have your love, Ereinion.”
 
“Nay,” said Ereinion. “I am blessed to have his.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The wolves came at night. Legolas and Melpomaen had been on the road for four weeks now and had fallen 
into a comfortable routine – too comfortable maybe, as they had dismissed building a fire to keep the wild 
beasts away. And the wolves thought them easy prey.
 
It was Legolas who noticed them first. It was a horde of six gray wolves, which moved soundlessly, and 
continued to close in on them. They didn’t howl, growl or make any unnecessary noise. They were stealthy and 
used the shelter of the night to corner the two Elves.
 
“They have taken in our scent,” said Legolas, handing his bow and arrows to Melpomaen. “Do you know how 
to defend yourself?” Melpomaen’s raised eyebrow told Legolas that he had practically insulted his lover.
 
“I might serve Elrond in the capacity of an advisor, but I do possess some weapons’ skill. You had better watch 
out for yourself!” Melpomaen wanted to feel peeved, but then realized that Legolas couldn’t know that he had 
been trained as a warrior once. It just showed how little they knew of each other. 
 
“I did not mean to offend you,” offered Legolas, quickly uncovering his hunting knives as he had caught sight 
of the leader of the wolf pack. “There is much I still need to learn about you.”
 
Melpomaen nodded once, accepting his beloved’s apology. “We can worry about that after we dealt with 
them.” Normally, he wouldn’t worry about taking out a wolf, but there were six of them! He regretted speaking 
so harshly and tried making amends. “We should watch each other backs!”
 
Legolas immediately moved closer and they stood back to back. One wolf attacked from their right, another 
from the left, and a third leapt from the overhanging rock they were standing beneath. For the next few minutes, 
panting, growls and slashing sounds were heard. A howl announced the death of one wolf, but unfortunately he 
wasn’t the pack’s leader. The beasts were hungry and determined to feed tonight and it took a lot of the Elves’ 
energy to take them out. 
 
Only two wolves were left now, and they bared their teeth, angry that the other members of their pack had been 
slaughtered. The leader risked one last attack and directed his assault at Melpomaen whilst the other surviving 
wolf kept Legolas busy. 
 
Melpomaen aimed his arrow at the wolf’s eye and waited to shoot it, when Legolas unexpectedly crashed into 
him, sending bow and arrow flying into the air. He was wide open now and without a weapon. The wolf saw his 
chance and pounced on him. 
 
Melpomaen’s scream echoed through the night, making the blood in Legolas’ veins freeze. The long knives 
ended the life of the wolf, who had dared to attack him and the Woodland Elf quickly turned around to aid 
Melpomaen. The sight that greeted him was horrid. The leader of the pack had buried his sharp teeth in 
Melpomaen’s shoulder and was literally flinging the Elf from side to side. Uttering a war cry, Legolas threw 
himself at the wolf and drove his knife into the beast’s chest, penetrating the heart and ending his life. The beast 
fell onto the ground, but the sharp fangs remained buried in Melpomaen’s shoulder.
 
Legolas sought out his beloved’s eyes and found them open and clear. But there was pain as well, and that 
realization spurted him on into action. “This will hurt,” he said, warning his beloved. 
Melpomaen gritted his teeth, but in the end, he cried out and fainted. That made things easier on Legolas, who 
quickly freed Melpomaen from the wolf’s grip. He kicked at the corpse and the wolf rolled downhill. 
“Melethron?” Worried, he moved Melpomaen onto his back so he could examine the wound. But Melpomaen 
remained unconsciousness and Legolas quickly probed the wound. Ripping long strips from his traveling cloak, 
he improvised a bandage, which had to do for now. Once he had found shelter, he would wash the wound, dress 
it with the healing herbs he always carried with him and fix a better bandage. After pushing his hands beneath 
Melpomaen’s body, he lifted his beloved in his arms and carried him toward his horse, which nervously moved 
about. A few words soothed her and he placed Melpomaen onto his mare’s back. After sliding into position 
behind the injured Elf, Legolas told the mare to get moving. 
 
Finding proper shelter took him almost an hour, but then he spotted a cave. He dismounted and carried 
Melpomaen inside. He cut away most of the shirt Melpomaen was wearing and carefully washed the wound. 
Legolas opened the pouch he carried hanging from his belt, and selected the herbs which would disinfect the 
wound. Whilst pressing the herbs close to the wound, he used a spare set of leggings – which Melpomaen 
himself had supplied him with when he had prepared for departure – and used the fabric to bandage the 
shoulder. Satisfied with his handiwork, he lowered Melpomaen onto the ground again. He covered his beloved 
with their traveling cloaks, which would keep him warm. Knowing there was nothing more he could do, he got 
to his feet to keep watch. No foul beast would surprise them again. He would make certain that his beloved slept 
undisturbed. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Erestor felt restless, and once Glorfindel had fallen asleep, he left their bed and headed for the gardens. There 
would be no sleep for him tonight. Something was amiss. 
 
“Stop worrying, Erestor. Your hands are bound at any rate.”
 
Erestor slowly turned around to face his father, who was leaning against an old oak tree. “I was hoping you 
would seek me out.” 
 
“I felt your need of me,” replied Námo, advancing on his son. He opened his arms and buried his son in a 
fatherly hug. “You worry too much.”
 
It had been a long time since his father had held him and Erestor leaned heavily against him, letting go of the 
responsibility that rested on his shoulders. He entrusted himself to his father and felt like a child again. 
 
Sensing his son’s needs, Námo tightened the hold. “What worries you?”
 
“I do not know… Everything seems fine… Elrond has his little family and they are happy. Lindir finds pleasure 
in singing for the twins and Glorfindel loves me, but…” There was something that worried him. 
 
“’Tis Melpomaen,” supplied Námo.
 
Erestor’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look up. He savored being held and wished his father would never let go. 
“It is?”
 
“Legolas and he ran into a pack of wolves and Melpomaen was injured in the fight.” Erestor tensed against 
him and Námo reacted by stroking his son’s back. “He did not receive a lethal injury. Melpomaen will grow 
strong again in Mirkwood. Thranduil will see to that.”
 
Erestor relaxed. “Aye, you are right. I worry about Melpomaen. I will never have any children of my own and 
Melpomaen woke fatherly feelings in me.” He chuckled. “He used to fuss over me when I first came to Imladris, 
but things changed.”
 
Námo moved away from Erestor, breaking the embrace. After placing a finger beneath his son’s chin, he lifted 
Erestor’s head so they made eye contact. “Your mother and I miss you. Even the souls miss you.” 
 
Guilt clawed at Erestor. “I am sorry, but… but I am happy here. I love Glorfindel.” He moistened his lips and 
then said, “Please tell mother that I love her.”
 
“She knows,” replied Námo, smiling ruefully.
 
Erestor managed a smile in turn. “How does Ecthelion fare?”
 
“Elrohir has been born, hasn’t he?” said Námo, cryptically. “Or have you forgotten your visions?”
 
“Elrohir?” Erestor sucked in his breath in sudden understanding. “Aye, Elrohir! But Elrohir is alive and 
Ecthelion… Will you allow him to be reborn?”
 
Námo caressed his son’s face. “There are parts of the future that you are not supposed to know, my son.” That 
was his way of telling Erestor that he wouldn’t answer that question. /Your vow to protect Elrohir will come 
back to haunt you and you will be forced to repeat the decision you made in Gondolin… Hopefully for the better 
this time./ 
 
Erestor saw his father’s thoughtful expression and knew he was missing something, but he also realized that 
Námo wouldn’t confide in him. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to know. “I need to return to Glorfindel now.”
 
Námo nodded once and pressed a parental kiss onto Erestor’s brow. “Go to him, my son.” 
 
“Thank you for coming to me, Ada3.” His father might delight in manipulating him at times, but Námo was 
always there for him when he needed him the most. 
 
Námo released Erestor from the embrace and watched his son return to the Last Homely House.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Now that he was already in Imladris, Námo decided to make a detour to the nursery. The Vala looked into the 
crib and smiled, finding the twins hugging each other. Although they were supposed to sleep separately, Elrohir 
had taken to climbing into Elladan’s cradle each night. 
 
“Wake up, pen neth4.” Námo’s fingertips brushed Elrohir’s brow and the dark, gray eyes opened. They 
widened and stared at him with wonder. “Nay, you do not know me, so allow me to introduce myself. I am 
Námo, and I will always be a friend to you. Our paths will cross in the future.” His gaze drifted off to Elladan. 
“This one will be your death, pen neth, but do not feel sad because of that. For your death will lead you to 
love.”
 
Elrohir stared at the stranger, barely comprehending what the other person was saying. 
 
“Sleep now, Elrohir, and dream of your love.” Námo leaned in closer and his chilly lips brushed across 
Elrohir’s brow. “Dream of Ecthelion.”
 
A moment later, the gray eyes closed and Elrohir was soundly asleep again. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Melpomaen blinked, waking up after what could only be described as a hellish night. His eyes searched his 
surroundings and he panicked, finding Legolas gone. Where had his beloved gone? He had to find him! 
Melpomaen tried pushing himself upright, but had to give up as blinding pain moved through his arm, shoulder 
and back. His memories returned to him, showing him the wolves’ attack and how he had gotten injured. But 
that still didn’t explain Legolas’ absence. 
 
“I am here, meleth,” said Legolas, kneeling at his beloved’s side. He had stood guard during the remainder of 
the night, and once he was certain that no danger was near, he had gone hunting. He had shot two rabbits, had 
found fresh water and upon his return to the cave, he had built a fire to roast the rabbits. “Do not try to move 
about too much.”
 
Melpomaen moistened his lips. “What… happened?”
 
“One wolf managed to get his fangs into you. I cleaned and bandaged your shoulder.” His main concern now 
was to fight off infection. “We will leave tomorrow. I want you to rest for now.”
 
Melpomaen nodded, absentmindedly. Aye, he remembered the way the fangs had pierced his shoulder. “Are 
we… safe… here?”
 
Legolas smiled. “Aye, we are.” Then the smile vanished. “I was so worried about you!”
 
Melpomaen raised his good arm and touched Legolas’ face. “I do not die… that easily – especially now… that I 
have… you to fight for.”
 
Those words made Legolas smile and he leaned in closer to steal a kiss from Melpomaen’s lips.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next morning Legolas helped Melpomaen sit upright. He then checked the wound and his features 
contorted, finding the first signs on infection. 
 
“How bad is it?” asked Melpomaen, who had felt Legolas tense against him. 
 
“It has grown infected,” replied Legolas. He raised his head and made eye contact with his beloved. “If we 
speed up, we can reach my father’s realm tomorrow night. He is a renowned healer and knows best how to treat 
this bite.”
 
“But that means leaving now,” said Melpomaen, who felt alarmingly weak. “I am not certain I can remain 
astride.”
 
“I will hold you tight,” promised Legolas. 
 
“Let us do it then.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
They rode nonstop for the next thirty-six hours, Legolas driving his horse to maximum speed, as Melpomaen 
grew increasingly hotter against him. The fever had taken hold of the advisor, making him sweat and mumble 
unintelligibly. This wasn’t the way Legolas had envisioned their arrival in Mirkwood!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Sire, the guards have sighted Legolas. But he is not alone.” Landiant, the King’s Captain, searched 
Thranduil’s features for any indication how their ruler was taking this news. “Legolas is not riding alone. A 
dark-haired Elf sits in front of him and appears injured. His shoulder is heavily bandaged.”
 
Thranduil, seated upon the chair that his subjects had affectionately nicknamed his throne, stapled his fingers 
and looked thoughtfully at Landiant. “A Noldorin Elf?”
 
“It would appear so, but I cannot be completely certain.” Landiant looked warmly at their King. Thranduil’s 
‘throne room’ was the smallest room the talan had to offer and the furniture nothing more than oak wood; 
although masterly carved it didn’t breathe Imladris’ or Lothlórien’s air of splendor. 
 
“And this Elf is injured? But my son is not?” Thranduil felt ill at ease at receiving this news. When Legolas had 
left for Imladris he had been alone and now he returned with a Noldo? What had happened in these last few 
months? “Bring them before me. I will be in the healing rooms.” 
 
Landiant nodded once and bowed. He left the talan and joined the guards.
 
Thranduil remained in his rooms a little longer. He rose from his chair, walked toward his desk, filled with the 
correspondence he carried on with Erestor, Elrond’s Chief Advisor, and wondered if sending his son to 
Imladris had been a mistake. Legolas was all the family he had left and he wouldn’t survive losing him to 
Imladris and those Noldorin Elves!
 
But, there was only one way to find out what had happened – by questioning his son. Thranduil left his rooms 
and joined the healers. Knowing Legolas, his son would insist that *he* look after the injured Elf personally.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Legolas felt relieved, seeing Landiant and the guards approach. He had felt eyes upon him for a few miles now 
and had hoped they would show themselves. “Landiant, I need to take Melpomaen to the healers.”
 
“Your father already awaits you. Follow me.” Landiant steered his horse closer to Legolas’ and watched the 
two Elves. “Did you bring us a gift?” 
 
Legolas gave the other Elf a rueful look. Landiant was a friend and he trusted the Captain. Whenever Thranduil 
had been called away on matters of state, Landiant had kept him company. The fair-haired and green-eyed 
Captain was someone he would even entrust Melpomaen too. Landiant wasn’t like the other Elves, who always 
gave him disdainful looks. The fact that he had been born out of wedlock put everyone in an awkward position. 
Had he been Thranduil’s legitimate son they would have addressed him as their Prince and obeyed his every 
command – but not now.
 
“Legolas?” Landiant had seen the worried expression in the sky-blue eyes. 
 
“Aye, Melpomaen is a true gift. I will explain this to you later, but first, my father and the healers need to 
examine him.” He was grateful that Melpomaen had lost consciousness some time ago for now he was spared 
the looks of contempt thrown at them. 
 
As they had reached the talan that housed the healers, Landiant dismounted first. He caught Melpomaen in his 
arms when Legolas lowered the injured Elf from the horse. “What happened?”
 
“A pack of wolves attacked and succeeded in injuring him. Please hand him back to me.” Legolas accepted 
Melpomaen into his arms again and followed Landiant up into the talan. “The wound has become infected and 
a fever has taken him.” 
 
Thranduil stood in the doorway, ready to welcome his son home, but the words wouldn’t come to him, as he laid 
eyes upon his son’s troubled expression. Legolas looked tired, and his clothes had been torn in what had 
apparently been a fight. 
 
“Ada…” Legolas swallowed, nervously, now that he stood in front of his father – his King. Thranduil was 
dressed simply, as he always did. He wore brown leggings, a green shirt, and from his shoulders hung a moss-
green cloak. He loved Thranduil, and knew his father loved him in turn, but he wasn’t sure how the King would 
react to learning Melpomaen was his intended. “Ada, Melpomaen is injured and a fever has a tight hold on 
him. He needs your help.” 
 
Thranduil bit down any questions he might have, and gestured for his son to follow him inside. “Place him on 
the bed.”
 
Landiant remained standing in the doorway, just in case an argument might arise whilst father and son needed 
someone to act as a mediator. He had performed that duty before, on many occasions. Both Elves had a temper, 
which showed Legolas was truly Thranduil’s son – in more ways than one. 
 
Legolas placed Melpomaen on the bed and then stepped back. “I cleaned and bound the wound, but it grew 
infected at any rate. I do not know what I did wrong.” He fought the urge to wring his hands, as he knew that 
such behavior would make it apparent to his father and the healers just how much he cared for Melpomaen. He 
had planned on breaking the news to his father slowly and gently – not like this.
 
Thranduil used a pair of scissors to cut away the bandage. Once the wound was bared to him, he hissed. 
“Infected indeed. What animal did this?”
 
“A wolf.” Legolas’ mouth went dry, seeing the infected, partly blackened flesh so close to the bite. “Can you 
help him?”
 
Thranduil nodded and told the healers which herbs to fetch. He had trained most of them and they obeyed 
without questioning him. A bowl of warm water was brought and Thranduil took his time, washing the wound. 
“You did everything right,” he said, trying to reassure his son, who looked guilty and restless. He crushed the 
herbs the healers had brought him and mixed those juices with the water. He rinsed the wound a second time 
and some of the filth came loose. 
 
After putting away the now dirty water, Thranduil used a small knife to open the wound. Behind him, Legolas 
groaned, softly. “Take heart, my son. Your friend is unconscious and does not feel any pain.” Puss poured from 
the wound and Thranduil waited until it stopped leaking. He then smeared a thick cream onto the wound and 
bandaged the shoulder. “I will check on him on the hour,” he announced, leaving Melpomaen in the care of the 
healers. They would dress him in clean clothes and take him to a warm, clean bed.
 
“Legolas, I want a word with you.” Thranduil had registered Legolas’ increasing nervousness and paleness 
and wondered about him. “Landiant, I want you to watch over our guest.” It was a precaution. Some of the 
older Woodland Elves, who had survived the battles at the foot of Mount Orodruin might become violent when 
learning a Noldorin Elf resided amongst them. 
 
Landiant inclined his head. “I will keep him safe.”
 
Satisfied that Melpomaen was in the best hands, Legolas walked over to his father and fell into step beside 
Thranduil as his father led him outside. They stood beneath the tree’s ancient branches and Legolas couldn’t 
help feeling jumpy and cornered. He hadn’t realized how much he dreaded telling his father that Melpomaen 
was more than just a friend.
 
“Sit with me.” Thranduil climbed up the branches of a mighty oak and settled on the highest limb. 
 
Legolas followed his father and sat down beside him. They had started doing this when he had been an Elfling. 
He had loved to climb the trees and his father had accompanied him to make sure he didn’t venture too high or 
too far away. “This reminds me of…”
 
Thranduil smiled and placed a hand on his son’s knee. “We spent many happy hours climbing these branches, 
my son.” Thranduil drew in a deep breath and let love guide him. “You seem nervous.”
 
“That is because I am!” His tone was a bit too high-pitched and he shot his father an alarmed look. “There is 
something very important I need to tell you.”
 
Thranduil’s heart missed a beat. “Does it have something to do with this injured Elf?”
 
“Aye, it has everything to do with Melpomaen. Ada, I fell in love during my stay in Imladris.” His father’s 
hand, which still rested on his knees, dug painfully into his flesh, but he endured it. “I am in love with 
Melpomaen and we are here to obtain your blessing so that we may bind ourselves.”
 
Realizing he was causing Legolas pain, Thranduil snatched his hand away. “I forbid it. No son of mine will 
bind with a Noldo!”
 
Legolas had expected that reaction, but it still hurt. “Ada, we are in love!”
 
“You have only known him for a few months! How can you say that it is love?” Thranduil glared at his son. 
“My word is final, Legolas. Your ‘friend’ will return to Imladris once he has recovered. He is not welcome 
here.”
 
“Then you will have to send me away with him, for I refuse to stay here without him!” Legolas had raised his 
voice and knew it would only enrage his father further, but at that moment, he really didn’t care. “Who are you 
to tell me who I can love and who not?”
 
“I am your father, Legolas, and you are to respect me and my decisions!” 
 
Both Elves jumped to their feet and were glaring at each other. 
 
“Why? You do not respect my choices!” Legolas wasn’t going to give in. He knew from personal experience 
that his father would calm down. He just had to ride out this storm and seek Thranduil out once the storm had 
settled. “I am returning to his side now!”
 
“I forbid you to have any contact with him!” Thranduil’s eyes shot daggers and his hair danced wildly against 
the small of his back. His lithe form breathed energy and liquidity. A stranger could have mistaken them for 
brothers – maybe even twins, so alike were they in appearance and temperament. 
 
“You cannot forbid me that!” Legolas proudly raised his head, glared at his father and then turned on his heel, 
climbed down the tree and marched back to the healing rooms. 
 
Thranduil remained behind, fuming and enraged. “I am your father! You owe me your obedience!” But Legolas 
was already gone. 
 
“You did it again, sire.” Avoralas, Thranduil’s Chief Advisor, and trusted friend, looked up from the ground. 
“Why don’t you come down here and we will discuss the matter?”
 
Thranduil growled. “I do not want to talk about it. It is a private matter!”
 
“Come now, sire. You know you will feel better once we’ve talked.” Avoralas wasn’t intimidated, in the least by 
Thranduil’s temper. He had served Thranduil’s father, Oropher, and the former King’s temper had been much 
worse than Thranduil’s. This was one storm he knew how to best. “Come down here, sire.” It did help that he 
had been Thranduil’s tutor when the King had been just an Elfling. 
 
Muttering beneath his breath, Thranduil climbed down and landed beside Avoralas. “As I said before, I do not 
want to discuss this.”
 
“Walk with me, sire, and tell me what it is that so upset you. Is it because your son has finally taken a lover? A 
male lover?” Avoralas knew exactly what had enraged Thranduil, but also knew how to play his King best.
 
“I do not care whether his lover is male or female! You should know me better than that!” Thranduil’s loud 
voice carried far, and most of the Woodland Elves made way for their King, knowing to avoid him when he was 
in such a foul mood. 
 
“Then what is the matter, sire?” Avoralas tenderly smiled at his former pupil. Thranduil was always so easy to 
read!
 
“Why did he have to fall for a Noldo?” Thranduil glared at his old friend and the smile that greeted him only 
fed his rage. “Oh, you find this amusing?”
 
The time had come to placate the King and Avoralas stopped walking. He placed his hands on Thranduil’s 
shoulders and turned him around so they were face to face. “Do not force Legolas to repeat your mistakes, pen 
neth.” He kept Thranduil in place when the King tried to walk away. “You fell in love with a Noldorin Elf over 
half a century ago and she loved you too, sire. She left her people to live here, with you. But you failed to 
commit to her and she left after delivering Legolas.” 
 
“She…” Thranduil fought to control his angry breathing. He hadn’t been prepared for Avoralas to bring this 
up now. 
 
“I must admit that you did well, sire, never putting any blame on her. You taught Legolas to love a mother who 
was not there. He thinks of her fondly, but the things that you did are unforgivable. Had you had the courage to 
commit to her and to make her your wife, Legolas would have been your legitimate heir and he would have had 
two loving parents instead of one. But nay, you chased his mother away.” 
 
“She is a Noldo! Like Melpomaen!”
 
“Ah, and now we are back to Legolas, sire.” Avoralas loved Thranduil like the son he had never had, but 
Thranduil’s stubbornness would one day be the death of him! “Haven’t you learned from your mistakes? Do 
you really want Legolas to suffer your fate? For don’t you still love her?”
 
Thranduil lowered his eyes, feeling ashamed. “I do.”
 
Avoralas shook his head. “My son, why don’t you end your suffering? And Legolas’? Why don’t you seek Elluin 
out and make amends? It is not too late to ask for her hand in marriage.”
 
“She would never accept me after the way I treated her.” Thranduil hung his head in shame. “I was so angry 
back then.”
 
“Understandably so. You had lost your father and most of your people in that battle. But I told you before and I 
tell you again now, your father made a mistake in judgment and attacked too early. You cannot blame the 
Noldor instead.” 
 
“Why are we discussing this?”
 
Avoralas noticed that Thranduil’s entire demeanor had changed. The King was nervously shuffling his feet and 
felt too shy to meet his gaze. “Because I do not want your son to suffer because of your mistakes. Why not give 
Melpomaen and Legolas time? Why not get to know your son’s chosen one? You might even like him!”
”He is a Noldo.”
 
“So what, sire?” Avoralas drew Thranduil close for a fatherly embrace. “Or is it because he hails from 
Imladris, where your love resides? Are you afraid of the news he might bring? Are you scared that she found 
someone else to love and bind herself to?”
 
“I forfeited the right to claim her as my own many decades ago.” Thranduil drew in a deep breath. “It was 
when Legolas was placed in my arms that I realized what a fool I had been, but by then, it was too late already. 
Elluin had left.”
 
“And for many years you did not know where to find her. But your spies eventually did and told you that she 
resides in Imladris. What is stopping you from claiming her as your wife? Don’t you believe that Legolas has 
the right to know that his mother is alive?”
 
Thranduil felt confused. How had they gotten to this point? Hadn’t they merely been discussing Melpomaen? “I 
need to give this matter some thought.” He pulled away from Avoralas, needing the distance between them. 
 
“Even if you cannot convince yourself to go after the mother of your son, please do not make Legolas pay for 
your shortcomings. If their love is true, allow for them to bind,” advised Avoralas.
 
“I will think about it,” repeated Thranduil, who turned and walked away from his friend and confidant. Aye, he 
had a lot of thinking to do.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Ereinion frowned; sleep was still heavy in his eyes, but he was awake enough to realize that Lómion had left 
their bed during the night. A very emotional night! Concerned, Ereinion wondered where Lómion had gone. He 
rose from the bed, dressed, and left the bedroom. On his way out, he found a note, pinned to the doorframe. 
 
I apologize for my behavior last night. Upon waking, I found that I wanted to be alone and I left for a walk in 
the gardens. Please do not come after me. Allow me to sort out my thoughts and my emotions. I still feel 
ashamed for what I did last night and I need… I do not know what I need, but hopefully I will find out. I will 
return when Ithil rises in the sky.
 
Lómion
 
This development worried Ereinion, but he also knew that nothing evil lingered in Lórien’s gardens and that 
Lómion was safe here. Crushing the note in his hand, he wondered what to do until nightfall. This would be one 
of the longest days ever.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
That evening, loud cursing drew his attention. Ereinion went outside and scanned the gardens with his sharp 
Elven eyes. It didn’t take him long to make out Lómion’s swaying form. His beloved’s walk was unsteady; his 
head bowed and in his hand was a bottle of wine Lórien had placed in their cupboards during one of his visits. 
/Oh no, you did not drink the entire bottle, did you?/ Drowning his fears in wine wouldn’t do and Ereinion 
quickly advanced on Lómion. “Meleth? I am glad you returned to me.”
 
Lómion released a bitter laugh. “Meleth, he calls me when it is nothing but a lie!” 
 
/Oh, he is definitely drunk!/ Ereinion’s heart missed a beat, seeing the lost expression in Lómion’s gaze when 
the dark eyes met his. /I should have gone after him the moment I found that note./ 
 
“I am not your beloved, Ereinion! I am… I do not know what I am! But not your lover!” Lómion collapsed onto 
his knees and flung the empty bottle far away from him. “A lover does not flinch when his beloved touches him! 
Does not offer himself in the hope he will be rejected. I…” Fat tears slid down from his lashes and he felt too 
embarrassed to face Ereinion and he closed his eyes. “I am a failure! I failed everyone! I failed you, I failed my 
mother… I failed myself! How can you love me when I do not even love myself?” 
 
Ereinion, kneeling in front of Lómion, nodded once. “Isn’t that the heart of the matter, meleth?  You still hate 
yourself for what happened in the past. But the past is gone. You served your sentence and the punishment has 
ended. Even the Valar want you to enjoy life again. To live the life you never were able to.”
 
“But how can you love me?” Lómion’s big eyes searched Ereinion’s. “Why don’t you look at me with loathing? 
You *know* what Eöl did to me. You know how he used my body for his pleasure. How can I ever derive 
pleasure from such an act? How can I love you?”
 
Ereinion knew what he had to do, but the question was; was Lómion strong enough to understand? Lómion’s 
lips parted to voice more doubts, more self-loathing, but Ereinion prevented those words from spilling by 
kissing him sweetly. Lómion tasted of wine and sadness, and the frantic movements stilled beneath the kiss. 
Ereinion placed every ounce of his love into that kiss, hoping Lómion would sense how sincere and dedicated 
his love was. 
 
Ereinion’s kiss took Lómion aback, as he never expected such a reaction, and in his surprise, he yielded. He 
loved Ereinion, even though he couldn’t love himself. Maybe, through Ereinion’s love he could learn to love 
himself? 
 
Ereinion smiled into their kiss and wrapped his arms around Lómion. If taking this step now was so important 
to his beloved, he would guide them through it. His hands found their way beneath the shirt, and he tugged at it, 
until the fabric came free. “Raise your arms.”
 
Why he obeyed, he didn’t know, but Lómion did and Ereinion removed the shirt. 
 
Ereinion continued to pepper Lómion’s skin with kisses and his lips traveled lower. He showered the smooth 
skin with licks, kisses and playful nips, until he reached a nipple, which was already hard. Closing his lips over 
it, he suckled gently and felt Lómion rock against him. 
 
Wide-eyed, Lómion stared at Ereinion. What was the other Elf doing? No, correction, why was he doing this? 
“Ereinion?”
 
Ereinion let the hard nub of flesh slip from his lips and looked playfully at Lómion. “I asked you to call me your 
beloved. Will you?”
 
Breathless, Lómion nodded, feeling Ereinion’s nimble fingers undo the lacing of his leggings. “Why are you 
doing this?”
 
Ereinion pushed down the fabric until Lómion’s erection was freed and he took the engorged flesh into hand, 
stroking it lightly and always keeping in mind how special he wanted this to be for his lover. “Because I love 
you.” He considered pushing Lómion onto his back, but then decided against it. His lover had been in 
submissive positions too many times in his life. “Stand for a moment, meleth.” 
 
Unable to deny Ereinion his request, he got to his feet and watched, quite entranced, as Ereinion encouraged 
him to step out of his boots and leggings. Naked now, he covered his private parts. 
 
Ereinion licked his lips and gently guided Lómion’s hands onto his shoulders. “You can trust me, meleth.” 
 
Lómion nodded once. Butterflies’ wings tickled his insides and his eyes went impossibly big, finding Ereinion 
leaning in closer and licking his erection. “This is the first… time… ever…” he mumbled, feeling insecure and 
embarrassed for stuttering. 
 
“Then enjoy it, ind nîn5.” Ereinion closed his lips over the shaft. The fact that Lómion was easily aroused 
encouraged him and the flesh hardened further, as he bestowed cat-like licks to it. 
 
“This cannot be happening… it cannot…” whispered Lómion, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ereinion’s 
bobbing head. Fingers wrapped themselves around his member, stroking once more and he threw back his head 
at the divine sensation spreading throughout his body. His knees almost gave out beneath him and he was 
grateful that his hands already rested on Ereinion’s shoulders, as it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. 
 
Ereinion tried to remember every little detail that had given Lindir pleasure in the past, and he alternated 
pressure and pace, bringing Lómion to orgasm by taking him deeply into his throat and humming softly. The 
seed that erupted from the slit tasted slightly bitter, but he swallowed it. Lómion’s right hand slipped from his 
shoulder and wrapped itself in strands of his hair. The fingers contracted, pulling painfully at his hair, but he 
ignored it and allowed Lómion to thrust, spilling his last droplets of cream. His beloved swayed on his feet and 
began to tumble. Ereinion acted quickly by letting the now sated flesh slip from his lips and he caught Lómion. 
Lowering him onto his knees, they knelt facing each other and he rested his brow against Lómion’s sweaty 
forehead. His lover’s brown eyes were filled with something he had never seen before. “I love you.”
 
Something inside Lómion shifted into place. Old hurt was undone and sad pain lessened by Ereinion’s unselfish 
deed. “I love you, Ereinion.”
 
The fact that Lómion pulled him even closer and wrapped his arms strongly around him, surprised Ereinion, 
and he smiled against a bare shoulder. “I love you, Lómion. I love who you are – every aspect of you.” 
 
“I understand that – for the very first time, I really understand what you are saying.” Lómion held Ereinion as 
close as possible and he knew his next words were important as they would show what he had learned. “I will 
be myself from this moment on. I will stop hiding and pretending. I trust in you and our love, meleth.”  
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
From a distance, and unnoticed by the two Elves, three of the Valar watched the couple. 
 
“You did well, sending him here,” said Lórien, addressing his brother.
 
Námo nodded. “Vairë and I waited for so long for someone to come to the Halls who would see Lómion and not 
Maeglin.” 
 
Estë smiled, kindly. “His wounds are healing. Some of the most severe damage Eöl did has been undone by 
Ereinion’s love. Lómion has come out of this stronger.”
 
“It is Ereinion’s love for Lómion that made this all possible,” said Námo, thoughtfully. 
 
“They will be happy here,” said Lórien, musing loudly. “And when Lómion has completely healed they will join 
the other Elves living here in Aman.” 
 
“That won’t happen for some time, husband-mine,” said Estë. “Lómion has begun to heal, but is far from being 
the Elf he is supposed to be.” 
 
Námo fondly looked at Lómion and Ereinion. The former King supported Lómion as they made their way inside 
of the cottage. /Lómion has suffered enough – love and happiness will be his part for the rest of his life./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Melpomaen’s eyes fluttered and then opened. Tiredly, he looked about. “Le… go…las?” Was his beloved 
close?
 
“I am here, melethron.” Legolas, seated on the side of Melpomaen’s bed, moved closer so his beloved could see 
him. “You are still feverish and you should rest, not struggle to remain awake.” The eyelids were closing once 
more.
 
“Where… am…I?” His shoulder felt like it was on fire and sleep was pulling him back under. It was a healing 
sleep and he knew he should not fight it at all, but looking at Legolas, and hearing his voice was more 
important. 
 
“We are home, Melpomaen. We reached Mirkwood and the healers are looking after you.” Landiant stood in 
the corner of the room. Legolas had tried dismissing him, but the Captain took his orders very serious and 
Thranduil had ordered him to watch over Melpomaen. Fortunately, the Captain gave them some privacy, by not 
getting involved in their conversation. 
 
“And your father… did not… throw me… out?” 
 
“He almost did,” said Legolas, teasingly. But the conversation with his father weighed heavily on his mind. He 
could only hope his father would calm down and warm up to Melpomaen. “But he could not dismiss an injured 
Elf, now could he? He attended to your injury himself.”
 
“He did?” That surprised Melpomaen. “Sleepy,” he said, losing the fight to stay awake. 
 
“Then go back to sleep.” Legolas used a damp cloth to wipe the cold sweat from Melpomaen’s brow and gave 
his beloved a look filled with love and affection. He bent forward and placed a kiss on Melpomaen’s lips. 
 
Melpomaen fell asleep with a smile on his face. 
 
Landiant chuckled, softly. “You are in love, my Prince.”
 
Legolas nodded once. Landiant was one of the few Elves who addressed him in that way. He had tried breaking 
Landiant of that habit, but the Captain was most stubborn. “Love took me by surprise, Landiant. I never 
expected to find love in Imladris.”
 
Landiant held his tongue, knowing better than to tell Legolas that Thranduil had loved a Noldorin Elf once. He 
might not agree with his King in certain matters, but he would always respect Thranduil’s decisions. “Do not 
worry about your father, Legolas. He will calm down. You know what he is like. He is easily enraged.”
 
“So am I.” Legolas’ gaze remained trained on Melpomaen. “I owe my father an apology in turn.” 
Landiant smiled. “Why don’t you seek him out now? I will remain at your beloved’s side.”
 
Legolas looked up then, and gave his old friend a questioning look. “You are not prejudiced when it comes to 
Noldorin Elves like my father and the rest of our people. Why is that? You fought at the Battle of the Last 
Alliance as they did.”
 
Landiant cocked his head. “I have learned that it is wrong to generalize, my Prince.” He walked toward the bed 
and sat down opposite Legolas. “I was wounded when we fought Sauron. I was left on the battlefield. So many 
of our people had died and I was convinced I would die as well.” 
 
Interested, Legolas waited for Landiant to continue his tale. The Captain had never told him any of this before!
 
“As a warrior, I accepted death and was ready to enter the Halls of Waiting, but my body endured, fighting 
death. I faced a very slow, very painful death, but then…”
 
“What happened?” Legolas shifted on the edge of the bed – curious and in need to learn more.
 
“A soldier found me. A Noldorin soldier -- his name was Celach. He served the High-King and he took care of 
me. I was too weak to walk and he stayed with me until I was strong enough to be carried back to the camp. He 
chased off the animals that tried to feed off of me, and the Orcs, who realized I was still alive. He shared his 
rations and water with me and he talked to me.” Landiant smiled, sadly, at reliving the memories. “At first I 
wanted him to leave – after all, he belonged to the Noldor, but little by little, I understood how wrong I was. In 
that short time, we became friends. And he carried me back to our camp. He saved me… Without him, my soul 
would dwell in the Halls of Waiting.” Landiant studied Melpomaen’s features. “Your beloved reminds me of 
him – he has the same dark hair and brown eyes, which so many Noldor possess.”
 
“I am glad that Melpomaen has a friend in you.” Legolas got to his feet, needing to talk to his father about his 
beloved. “He will need you.”
 
“You might be surprised to learn that he will have more friends that just one.” Landiant smiled, conspiringly. 
“There are some among us that view the Noldor as friends.” Hopefully, Legolas would learn that truth from 
Thranduil as well.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I cannot sleep,” whispered Lómion. Ereinion had made him drink several cups of herbal tea, which had taken 
the sting out of the wine. No longer drunk, he realized how badly he had behaved, but Ereinion had made it all 
better. His lover had not made him feel ashamed, had even made love to him. They lay facing each other, arms 
and legs wrapped around each other. 
 
“I cannot sleep either,” admitted Ereinion. “Maybe we should go for a midnight swim?”
 
Lómion considered this. “I like it here... In bed, with you holding me.”
 
“We can do that after our swim,” said Ereinion, chuckling softly. 
 
Lómion nodded his head once. “Let us go outside then.” Reluctantly, he let go of his lover and followed 
Ereinion downstairs, all the while admiring the way the muscles moved beneath his lover’s smooth skin. 
 
Ereinion felt his beloved’s eyes upon him, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he waded into the stream. He 
relaxed his body and floated in the water, face up. “Join me, meleth.” 
 
Lómion swam toward Ereinion and studied his lover. Ever since suffering that emotional breakdown he felt 
much more at ease around the former king. “Can I ask you something personal?”
 
Lómion’s question broke his concentration and Ereinion turned in the water. Swimming toward Lómion, he 
nodded once. “What do you wish to know?”  
 
“You said that you would love me even if we were never intimate…” Lómion realized he could stand in the 
water and stopped swimming. “I have a hard time accepting that.”
 
Ereinion found his footing as well and stood in front of his beloved. “I meant it.”
 
“I know you did… The thing is; I feel conflicted. I want us to be intimate, but…” How to explain to Ereinion 
that he didn’t think he could ever be on the receiving end again? 
 
Ereinion moistened his lips. “I think I know what worries you, meleth.” 
 
Taking a leap of faith, Lómion admitted his fears. “I still remember the humiliation and the pain I suffered at 
Eöl’s hands. The way he would push me down and force himself inside of me. It hurt.”
 
Ereinion understood. He raised his right hand and twirled a lock of Lómion’s hair around the tip. “I would 
never demand that from you. I would have you take me, Lómion.” 
 
“But…” Reminding himself that things had changed and that he could discuss this with Ereinion, Lómion 
added, “But then you would be in pain and I do not want that either.”
 
Ereinion caressed the tip of Lómion’s pointed ear. “I won’t be in any pain – some mild discomfort at first, but 
that would be about it. I will show you how to properly prepare me. We will take our time. It will be quite 
different from what you experienced.”
 
Lómion blushed and moaned, softly, reacting to the sensual caress Ereinion was bestowing on him. He hadn’t 
known just how sensitive the tip of his ear was!
 
“But you should not worry about that right now.” Ereinion drew Lómion in for a slow kiss.  
 
Lómion went willingly, savoring the kiss and the caresses, and for the first time in his life, he realized love 
would never hurt him. Hate had hurt him. Eöl had hurt him. Things had changed; Ereinion would teach him 
what it was like to make love and he felt confident that he would be strong enough to take that step when that 
day came.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Ada?” Legolas stepped into his father’s private chambers and looked about. He located Thranduil behind the 
desk, quill in hand. “What are you doing?”
 
“I am trying to make up my mind.” Avoralas’ words had truly made him think. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make 
amends to Legolas and his mother. But would she give him the chance to explain? 
 
“What about, Ada?” Legolas approached his father and saw that the parchment in front of Thranduil was still 
empty. His father hadn’t managed a single word yet. 
 
Thranduil sighed and placed the quill aside. The letter had to wait. “Legolas, we need to talk.” 
 
Legolas seated himself opposite his father, relieved to find Thranduil calm and controlled. “Aye, we do, but first 
I would like to apologize for my tone earlier. I am not taking back what I said, but my tone was disrespectful.”
 
“You inherited my temper,” said Thranduil, leaning back into the comfort of the chair. “I should have told you 
this when you came of age, but I was a coward… I still am.”
 
Legolas tensed; what was his father referring to? And why did it worry him? “Does this have anything to do 
with Melpomaen? And my love for him?”
 
“After a fashion,” said Thranduil cryptically. He wanted to lean forward and capture his son’s hand in his, but 
fought that urge. It was better to maintain some distance. “My story starts over five decades ago, at that fated 
battle at Mount Orodruin.”
 
Legolas frowned; he hadn’t expected to hear this. He had expected his father to lecture him about the evil of the 
Noldo!
 
“The day we arrived, your grandfather decided that we weren’t to mingle with the other Elves and most 
certainly not the Men. So we made camp far away from the main encampment. But I was curious and disobeyed 
my father, who had forbidden me to seek contact with the Noldor.” A fond smile surfaced on his face. “You and 
I are not that much different, Legolas. I defied my father as well.”
 
An equally fond smile surfaced on Legolas’ face. “Please continue.” 
 
“I snuck out of our camp and into that of the Noldor. I had dressed myself in a dark cloak and put up the hood 
so no one would recognize me. That was when I met your mother.”
 
Legolas’ heart stopped beating for precious moments. “My mother? But…” His father had told him that Elluin 
had died in child birth, that she had given her life to save his and Thranduil had been very clear that he should 
never feel guilty because of that. It had been his mother’s choice to sacrifice her life for him. He had always 
loved her, although death had taken her away from him too early in life. Then, he registered the next shocking 
bit of information. “You met her in the camp of the Noldor? But then… then…”
 
“Aye, your mother belongs to the Noldor.” Thranduil steeled himself for his son’s reaction, which wouldn’t be 
pretty once Legolas realized he had used the present tense and not the past tense. “It was love at first sight. 
Elluin and I continued to meet after that first evening and our love deepened. I loved her so much that I was 
more than ready to face Oropher’s wrath and to make her mine, but then…”
 
“What happened?” Entranced, Legolas looked toward his father for answers.
 
“My father decided to attack early and the Noldor did not cover our backs. So many died… including my father. 
I went mad with grief and an insane hatred overwhelmed me. I gathered what remained of our people and I 
guided them home.” 
 
“And… my mother? What happened to Elluin?” His father had never told him that she was a Noldo!
 
Thranduil sighed, feeling utterly ashamed of his past actions. “She was a warrior, and fought bravely. She 
survived and when the war was over, she found herself with child – you.”
 
Legolas could no longer sit quiet and jumped to his feet. Pacing the room, he gestured wildly. “And you had 
left?”
 
“She found me. She traveled to Mirkwood and told me she had conceived.” Thranduil bowed his head in shame. 
“I am not proud of the way I acted back then, Legolas. But I had just lost my father and most of our people and 
I blamed the Noldor for failing us. They had not come to our rescue. I was insane with grief and hatred.”
 
Legolas turned around, advanced on the desk and leaned forward, placing his hands palms down on the desk. 
“What did you do?” He was doing his best to keep his temper in check!
 
“I told her she could stay, which she did. My best healers took care of her and when you were born, I looked 
into your eyes and I instantly loved you.”
 
Legolas’ expression hardened. “Did my mother die in childbirth as you told me?”
 
“Nay, she survived. She rocked you in her arms and kissed your brow. She counted your fingers and toes and 
told you she would always love you.”
 
“You lied to me!”
 
“I did…”
 
“Why? And where is my mother now?” Legolas felt adrift.
 
“She did not stay. Never once did she ask me to marry her – to bind with her. She probably knew how deep my 
hatred ran at that moment. One morning, her rooms were empty and her personal belongings gone. I found a 
note, in which she entrusted you to my care. She wrote that she could not stay.” Thranduil laughed, bitterly. 
“She knew I could not love her the way I should. My hatred kept me from admitting my love to her. I could not 
commit to her! She was a Noldorin Elf.”
 
Legolas almost slapped his father, but controlled his rage. The things that Thranduil had told him angered him 
and he wanted to yell at his father. 
 
Sensing his son’s pent up frustration and anger, Thranduil’s voice softened. “I did my best – raising and loving 
you. I always made sure you loved your mother and that no one spoke badly of her, as I would not have it.”
 
“Why are you telling me this now?” Legolas’ hands had become fists.
 
“Melpomaen’s presence brought it all back and forced me to face my mistakes.”
 
“Am I a mistake then?” Legolas’ eyes showed hurt and rage.
 
“Nay, never. The mistake I was referring to was letting my hatred separate me from your mother.”
 
“Did you love her?”
 
“Aye, I did… and I think I still do.”
 
Legolas’ jaw dropped. “She is still alive then? She is alive and you never told me?”
 
“Elluin returned to her kin after giving birth to you. She now resides in Imladris.”
 
Legolas lost control and slapped his father – hard. “My mother is in Imladris and you did not tell me whilst you 
sent me there? I could have met with her! Spoken with her! Embraced her! And you kept this from me?”
 
The skin on Thranduil’s face where Legolas’ hand had struck reddened. Using every ounce of his self-
discipline, he forced himself to accept the blow and not to react to it in a volatile way. He remained calm and 
said, “I deserved that, aye.”
 
“You did not answer my question!” Legolas practically shouted the words at him. 
 
Thranduil flinched. “It never crossed my mind to tell you.”
 
Legolas shook his head in disbelief. “And you claim you love me? How do you show that love, then? By keeping 
me away from my mother? I forgave you that I was born out of wedlock. That most of your subjects look at me 
with disdain and contempt. I forgave you that I am not your legitimate son, but I do not know if I can ever 
forgive you for this!” Legolas knew he had to leave, had to get away from his father before his temper would 
get the better of him and he marched toward the doorway. “The next time I visit Imladris I will seek out my 
mother and tell her what you did!” Legolas flung the door shut on his way out.
 
“Maybe I should not have told you the truth,” whispered Thranduil, feeling miserable.
 
“Nay, sire. You did the right thing.” Avoralas, who had heard their yelling, entered the King’s chambers and 
walked toward Thranduil. “Legolas needed to hear the truth.”
 
“What good did it do us?” Thranduil lifted swimming eyes. “Avoralas, why did you offer me such bad 
counsel?”
 
“Your son is much like you, sire,” said Avoralas, as he rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “His temper 
flares and later, he regrets his reactions. Give him time to accept what you told him. He will return to you in 
search for more answers.”
 
“What answers?” Embarrassed at being caught crying, Thranduil wiped away his tears.
 
“I listened closely, and I know Legolas did as well. Your words will lead him to the truth.”
 
“Which is?”
 
“That you still love Elluin and that you regret your past actions.” Avoralas caressed his King’s face, hoping to 
soothe the distressed Elf. “Once he realizes that there is still love left, hope will blossom inside him.”
 
“And then what?”
 
“And then you will travel to Imladris, sire. You will make amends, ask for forgiveness, and do what you should 
have done decades ago. You will bind with Elluin.”
 
Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas.
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: After Melpomaen recovers Legolas, 
Thranduil and he travel to Imladris. Thranduil tries to court Elluin and 
Legolas learns more of his mother. Lómion learns to trust Ereinion and 
thanks to Estë, they take a very important step forward in their 
relationship.  
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 11
 
 
 
Legolas had eventually calmed down and battled a guilty conscience 
because of the way he had treated his father. He had actually slapped 
Thranduil! His first thought was going to Melpomaen, but when he arrived 
at his beloved’s side, he found him soundly asleep – sleeping a healing 
sleep. He just couldn’t wake Melpomaen to listen to him – his beloved 
should concentrate on healing. After pressing a loving kiss onto 
Melpomaen’s no longer hot brow, he left and headed for the highest 
branches of the talan. 
 
Letting his feet dangle down, he stared at his hands, which lay idly in his 
lap. He needed to talk to someone, but couldn’t go to his father. He was 
too ashamed to do that. 
 
“Legolas? What are you doing here?” Avoralas easily climbed up the talan 
and sat down beside Legolas. The Chief Advisor sensed Legolas’ need to 
talk and knew that the son would never seek out the father so soon after 
losing his composure. “Why aren’t you sitting with Melpomaen?”
 
Legolas released a deep sigh and looked into the advisor’s wise, green 
eyes. Whilst Landiant had always been his confidant, Avoralas his been 
his father’s most trusted friend. The other Elf had always been friendly 
toward him, although there had always been some formal distance 
between them. That was part of Avoralas’ character. “Did you know the 
truth?” There was no doubt in his mind that Avoralas had already heard 
what had happened moments ago. Nothing ever happened in Mirkwood 
without Avoralas knowing about it. 
 
“That Elluin is alive and lives in Imladris?” Avoralas’ golden hair moved 
against his cheek, and he pushed it back behind an ear. “I knew, aye.”
 
“And you never told me?” Now that he had calmed down a bit, Legolas 
felt more reasonable – more open to discussion. 
 
“It was always your father’s decision to tell you or not, Legolas,” said 
Avoralas in a compassionate voice. “Holding you in his arms healed a lot 
of Thranduil’s hurts. You do not know what he was like after he had just 
lost his father and many of his friends. He was insane with grief and 
anger.” He raised a hand, seeing Legolas was about to protest. “I am not 
saying that suffering such losses made right what Thranduil did, but it 
makes it understandable. He had lost them all – and I am convinced that 
he was deathly afraid to love your mother because he dreaded losing her 
too.”
 
Legolas cocked his head. “He should have told me that she was still 
alive.”
 
Avoralas shrugged his shoulders once. “Probably,” admitted the advisor. 
“But he did not. Thranduil tried being the best father he could. He loves 
you… He would die protecting you. He saw to it that you loved your 
mother, even though you never met her. He did well, as a father, didn’t 
he?”
 
Legolas didn’t want to admit that – he was still too cross with his father. 
“He should have told me, Avoralas! I could have traveled to Imladris and 
met with her!” His eyes pleaded with the advisor. “He did not only take 
my mother away from me, but he also took a son away from her!”
 
Avoralas’ kind eyes searched Legolas’ features. “Thranduil sent her letters 
– telling her how you were doing. He sent her locks of your hair, the first 
drawings you made. Thranduil even sketched you and sent her the portrait. 
When you meet your mother, she will know you. You are not a stranger to 
her.”
 
“You know much,” said Legolas, thoughtfully. “Do you also know what 
will happen next?” 
 
Avoralas nodded. “I already talked to your father. Once Melpomaen has 
recovered, your father, you and your beloved will travel to Imladris. Your 
father will ask your mother for forgiveness and if she will have him, he 
will right his wrongs and bind with her. That would make you his 
legitimate heir and solve many problems.”
 
“And what if she does not want to bind with him?” Legolas had never 
realized just how shrewd Avoralas was!
 
“She will agree to the marriage. Elluin never stopped loving your father, 
but Thranduil was not ready to commit to her. He is ready now.” Avoralas 
brushed Legolas’ hair in a fatherly way. “I overheard most of your 
conversation and I know you lost your temper. I was amazed that your 
father managed to control his. Don’t you think you owe him an apology?”
 
“For slapping him?” Guilty-eyed, Legolas lowered his gaze. “Probably.”
 
“Aye, I know you felt that blow was justified, but it was not. You are still 
very young, but you need to learn to control the urge to retaliate 
physically. It will not do for the future King.”
 
Legolas’ features contorted. “I do not want to become King.”
 
“In time, you might. Do not worry about that yet, pen-neth1. But wouldn’t 
it be nice to have both your parents at your side?”
 
Legolas nodded once. “That is true.”
 
“Then support your father when he heads for Imladris. He will need you.” 
Avoralas carefully got to his feet and began to descend the tree. “Go to 
him and talk with him. You won’t know any peace until you do.” Avoralas 
disappeared from view, leaving Legolas alone with his brooding thoughts.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Ada2?” Legolas shuffled into his father’s rooms, staring at the floor and 
wringing his hands. 
 
“Legolas!” Thranduil immediately rose from behind his desk and fought 
the urge to walk toward his son and bury him in a tight hug. 
 
“I am here to apologize,” said Legolas, cringing at the memory of slapping 
his father. “I should not have lashed out at you.”
 
Thranduil’s heart warmed, seeing his son’s regretful expression. “I do not 
blame you for lashing out. I might have done the same, had my father told 
me he had lied to me.”
 
Legolas found the courage to look up, hearing his father’s compassionate 
voice. “I should never have hit you. I am sorry I did…”
 
Thranduil moved toward his son and wrapped his arms around Legolas. “I 
forgive you. You had a very good reason to lash out and I do not blame 
you.”
 
Legolas returned the hug and held his father tight. “I am still angry with 
you, though.” But he was also relieved that his father had forgiven him so 
easily without throwing a tantrum of his own.
 
“I understand that you are still cross with me… I would not expect 
otherwise.” Thranduil soothingly stroked his son’s hair. “I will try to make 
amends. Once your love has recovered, we will travel to Imladris and I 
will take you to your mother.”
 
“You should have told me. You should have given me a choice!” Legolas 
defiantly glared at his father. It would take time for these wounds to heal.
 
“I was a coward,” admitted Thranduil, lowering his gaze. “And maybe I 
was afraid that you would hate and reject me and demand I take you to 
live with your mother instead. You do not know how much you mean to 
me. How much I love you – how much I need you. I could not lose you. 
So I kept quiet.”
 
“Oh, Ada, you will always have my love!” Seeing his father so vulnerable 
lessened Legolas’ anger. “You will never be alone.” After moistening his 
lips, he said, “And remember; when we are in Imladris, you could try to 
win Elluin’s heart all over again. She loved you once… Then, you would 
not only have a son, but also a wife.”
 
Thranduil managed a weak smile. “Legolas, she no longer wants me. She 
cannot want me after the way I treated her. She is better off without me.”
 
“Why don’t you let her be the judge of that?”
 
“Legolas, you asked for my forgiveness a moment ago. Now I must ask 
you for yours. Can you forgive me for being a coward who kept the truth 
from you out of fear of losing you?” Thranduil insecurely met Legolas’ 
eyes, hoping his son understood why he had acted like that in the past.
 
Legolas looked into the depths of his father’s emerald eyes and read the 
truth there. “I forgive you,” he said, clearly noticing his father’s relieved 
sigh. “But I expect you to travel to Imladris and to introduce me to my 
mother.” A smile surfaced on his face, saying, “And maybe you might 
even want to try courting her.” Avoralas *had* said that Elluin had loved 
Thranduil and might love him still. 
 
“I will try,” said Thranduil, half-heartedly. /Though I doubt she still wants 
me./
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Melpomaen blinked, sleepily, and smiled, finding Legolas at his side. The 
Woodland Elf had apparently cleaned himself up, as he wore clean clothes 
and had washed off the dirt of the road. For the first time since he knew 
Legolas, the blond Elf wore his hair loose, sans the warrior braids. “I like 
it… that way…” His mouth and throat felt awfully dry and he thankfully 
swallowed the water when Legolas helped him sip. 
 
“How do you fare, meleth3? Better? You look better.” Legolas exchanged 
a look with his father, standing at the head end of Melpomaen’s bed. His 
beloved hadn’t yet noticed Thranduil’s presence. 
 
“Aye, I… think so…” Melpomaen shifted on the bed, trying to sit upright, 
which he succeeded in with a little help from his lover. His shoulder still 
throbbed, but he felt stronger, compared to the last time he had been 
awake. “How bad… is it?”
 
“You should make a complete recovery within the next few days. With 
each morn, you will feel a little bit stronger.” Legolas frowned, seeing his 
father silently leave the room. Didn’t his father want to talk to 
Melpomaen? He would ask him later.
 
Melpomaen looked deeply into Legolas’ eyes and raised a shaky hand to 
caress the face. “Your…father?” He worried about Thranduil’s reaction to 
finding him in his son’s company.
 
“Everything will be alright.” Legolas wrapped an arm around the still 
weak advisor and smiled, feeling Melpomaen rest against him. “I talked to 
him. He threw a tantrum at first… And I must warn you. That is a family 
habit. I have a temper too.”
 
“Not… with me,” whispered Melpomaen, smiling happily at having 
Legolas close. 
 
Legolas chuckled. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But do not worry about my 
father. He will accept you as my beloved. He won’t reject you or work 
against us.”
 
“That is… good to hear.” Melpomaen flinched, as the pain traveling 
through his shoulder reminded him that he still wasn’t healed yet. “I 
should… lie down… again.”
 
Legolas lowered his beloved back onto the bed and then carefully 
stretched out beside him. “Comfortable?” His actions were colored with 
caution, as he didn’t want to jostle Melpomaen’s shoulder accidentally. 
 
“Very.” Melpomaen smiled, blissfully, and then drifted off into sleep 
again. This time however, his eyes remained open. A healing sleep was no 
longer necessary as his body was recovering quickly. 
 
Legolas’ fingertips caressed Melpomaen’s face. “I love you,” he 
whispered. “And I thank Erestor for suggesting that you to travel along. 
Your presence here has already wrought many changes – and there are still 
more to come once we return to Imladris.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Thranduil returned an hour later to check on Melpomaen. The dark-haired 
Elf was still asleep, but his son wasn’t. The moment he saw the puzzled 
expression in Legolas’ eyes, he knew he would be questioned. “What do 
you wish to know?”
 
“You could have introduced yourself to him earlier, but you didn’t. Why is 
that? Did you change your mind and don’t you approve of my choice after 
all?”
 
Thranduil shook his head. “Nay, that is not it. I merely did not want to 
upset him whilst he is still recovering. From what you told me, I gathered 
that he thinks I will not approve of his presence here. I would like to wait 
until he is more healed before I introduced myself to him.”
 
“That is very thoughtful of you, Ada.” 
 
“I will leave the two of you alone now. Avoralas wishes to meet with me 
so we can discuss our upcoming journey to Imladris.” 
 
Legolas heard the uneasy undertone in his father’s voice and realized 
Thranduil wasn’t looking forward to traveling to Imladris. “Would you 
prefer not to go? Are you only going because Avoralas and I are making 
you?”
 
Thranduil shrugged his shoulders once. “There are several reasons why I 
would prefer not to make this journey. One of them is your mother and her 
possible rejection of me. The other is Elrond.”
 
Legolas raised an eyebrow. “I met with Elrond. He was very friendly 
when we talked.”
 
“Probably because he did not know your identity.”
 
“Nay, I do not think that was the case… He worked out who I was fairly 
quickly; at least, Melpomaen told me so. Elrond knows I am your son and 
he treated me kindly.”
 
“Maybe he saw his chance and befriended you for that reason? He always 
had a hidden agenda, that one.”
 
“Ada,” whispered Legolas, as not to wake Melpomaen. “I know the loss is 
still fresh and that you miss your father and our kin, but maybe you should 
try to see Elrond for who he is? And not for who you *think* he is?”
 
“My son is much wiser than I am,” said Thranduil, giving Legolas a 
sorrowful smile. “I will try.”
 
Legolas nodded once; that was all he could ask for at this point.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Why am I always injured around you?” Melpomaen sat upright in bed 
and was digging into the stew Legolas had brought him. He had been in 
Mirkwood for four days now and his shoulder was mostly healed. It was 
beyond him why the healers wouldn’t allow him out of his bed yet. 
 
Legolas gave his beloved a fond smile. “Aye, first you fall off a horse and 
then you offer yourself as a midnight snack to some hungry wolves. I 
wonder what will happen next.”
 
Melpomaen groaned. “Must you tease me?”
 
“You blush delightfully,” said Legolas, continuing his teasing. 
 
“When do you think will they allow me to leave my bed?” Melpomaen 
pushed away the now empty bowl and finished the wine, mixed with water 
to make it less potent.
 
“My father will be the judge of that,” replied Legolas. He felt the time had 
come for his father to face Melpomaen. He had allowed Thranduil to use 
Melpomaen’s health as an excuse, but no longer.
 
“Your father?” Melpomaen gave Legolas a startled look. 
 
“Who do you think has been looking after you?” Legolas sat down on the 
side of Melpomaen’s bed, seeing his lover’s growing distress. “He checks 
on you on an hourly basis.”
 
Melpomaen frowned. “But…”
 
“He visits when you are resting – asleep.”
 
“That explains why I did not know he was looking after me. But, why? I 
thought he would lecture me on making you fall in love with me and send 
me back to Imladris?”
 
Legolas’ thumb trailed along Melpomaen’s quivering bottom lip. “If 
anyone made someone fall in love, then it would be me making you fall 
for me.” He thought back to that day, when they had sat on that 
windowsill, reading the same book and feeling at ease in the embrace. “I 
told you so before – my father approves.”
 
Melpomaen looked skeptical. “How can that be?”
 
Thranduil coughed, diplomatically announcing his arrival. Like Legolas, 
he had realized he couldn’t postpone this encounter much longer. “My son 
loves you. How can I possible forbid that?”
 
Melpomaen swallowed hard and grabbed Legolas’ hand for support. 
“Sire…” He tried to bow, but his body was stiff from resting all these 
days. 
 
“Do not trouble yourself,” said Thranduil, dismissing Melpomaen’s 
attempt at bowing for him. He moved in front of Melpomaen, and whilst 
standing at the foot end, he studied the dark-haired advisor. The eyes were 
large and still possessed some innocence. He literally tasted the love 
Melpomaen felt for Legolas, but he also noticed the nervous twitch near 
the corner of the advisor’s mouth. /He is nervous. Does he fear me?/ 
 
“Legolas told me about you and…” Melpomaen quickly stopped talking, 
realizing he had been about to refer to the King’s legendary temper and he 
had better not do that.
 
“He probably also told you that I am all bark… but I do not bite, 
Melpomaen. So, you belong to the Noldor?”
 
“Aye, sire, I do.” Pride appeared in the hazel eyes. 
 
Amused, Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Well, you will be counted among 
the Sindar from this moment on. No son of mine belongs to the Noldor.”
 
Melpomaen’s eyes had widened drastically, only hearing insult instead of 
Thranduil’s teasing tone. “Sire, I must protest! I…”
 
“Meleth, he is merely teasing you. It is his way of welcoming you into our 
family,” said Legolas, quickly intervening. 
 
Melpomaen’s jaw almost hit the floor. “Teasing?”
 
“Aye, I am capable of teasing,” said Thranduil, amused. 
 
Only then did Melpomaen recall what Thranduil had said; ‘no son of 
mine’. “You accept me as Legolas’ mate?”
 
“Aye, I do.” Thranduil gave them a smile. Wasn’t it ironic that his son had 
fallen for a Noldo as well? But at least Legolas had done everything right 
– he had accepted that love, unlike him. “I must leave you now, but we 
will talk later. Legolas, now that Melpomaen is capable of traveling, I 
want to leave in two days.” After uttering those words, Thranduil turned 
on his heel. The sooner they left, the soon he could return home and lick 
his wounds.
 
Melpomaen’s head spun. “Leave? Traveling? Legolas!”
 
“We are returning to Imladris, meleth.” 
 
“Why?”
 
“That is a long story,” said Legolas, stretching his legs and fondly looking 
at his beloved. “Listen carefully then and I will tell you everything I 
know.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Melpomaen had a hard time believing what he had just heard. “Elluin is 
your mother?”
 
Legolas instantly grew tense. “You know her?”
 
“Aye, she works with the healers.” Melpomaen frowned. “After Elrond 
returned to Imladris some of the warriors decided they had seen enough 
bloodshed and worked with the healers or married and started a family. 
Elluin works with the healers because she is in charge of that part of 
Elrond’s library that deals with books on healing.”
 
“She is a librarian?” That was unexpected!
 
Melpomaen smiled, kindly. “I know your mother, aye. When I was still a 
scribe in the library she would help me catalog huge volumes of books. 
She is a very kind soul.” Melpomaen’s smile brightened, seeing the 
pleased expression in Legolas’ eyes. 
 
“Would you tell me more about her? What does she look like?”
 
Melpomaen chuckled. “Her hair is darker than mine and so are her eyes. 
She is tall and carries herself in a regal way. She is friendly and kind, but 
she never forgot how to wield a sword. I do believe she bested Lord 
Glorfindel once.”
 
Legolas’ fingers found Melpomaen’s hand and twined around the limb. “I 
want to meet her!”
 
“You will,” said Melpomaen. “We will leave day after tomorrow, 
remember?”
 
“Aye, but…” A worried expression appeared on Legolas’ face. “Are you 
certain you are strong enough to make the journey?”
 
“Your father released me from the healing rooms yesterday, didn’t he? Do 
you think he would have done that if he did not consider me fully healed?” 
He was sharing Legolas’ rooms for now. He hadn’t thought he would like 
living high up in the talan, but he did. It was quite different from living in 
the Last Homely House. He felt freer and there was more light and sun, 
being reflected by the emerald green leaves of the ancient tree. “And you 
will be traveling with me – so you can keep an eye on me.”
 
“I wish we had time to bind – properly.” They still had tonight, but 
Legolas refused to rush this. He didn’t want either of them to be sore when 
they had to ride the next day. Also he refused to be rushed into this. 
Legolas wanted to take his time, making love to Melpomaen for the first 
time. 
 
“We will consummate our love upon our arrival in Imladris… I have a soft 
bed,” hinted Melpomaen, playfully. He pulled Legolas close and kissed 
his love. Aye, they would bind in Imladris and make this love official.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Thranduil shifted nervously on the back of his steed. Ferlas sensed his 
rider’s unease and reacted accordingly by nervously moving about. 
Thranduil leaned in closer and whispered an apology into the stallion’s 
ear. Upon hearing the soothing words, the mighty steed calmed. 
 
Legolas mounted his mare and looked over his shoulder to keep an eye on 
Melpomaen who had been given his own mare, as Thranduil thought it 
awkward for them to share one horse.
 
The mare sensed Melpomaen’s insecurity and Nimpeirien snorted. 
“Meldis4, I depend on you, so please treat me kindly. Do not throw me 
off.”
 
Overhearing Melpomaen’s remark, Thranduil chuckled. Legolas cast a 
curious look into his direction and Thranduil grinned. “We will make a 
warrior out of him!”
 
Legolas groaned. “I like Melpomaen just the way he is.”
 
“I do pray we won’t come upon any spiders,” remarked Landiant, who 
would lead the King’s escort. 
 
Melpomaen straightened his shoulders. “I know how to defend myself.” 
He just needed to train more and ride more often!
 
“I am certain you do,” placated Avoralas, who would stay behind in 
Mirkwood to rule in Thranduil’s place. “Landiant, keep them safe!”
 
“I will!” Landiant raised a hand in goodbye and then lead the party toward 
the road that would take them to Imladris.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
The next morning, Lómion left the cottage to sit in the grass. Ereinion was 
still asleep, and Lómion was determined not to stray too far, as he didn’t 
want to worry his lover when Ereinion woke. He had startled the former 
king too many times already.  
 
Sitting in the grass, he leaned in closer to watch a butterfly, sitting on a 
bright red flower. Close to his right hand, a little mouse was running 
toward her home, dragging some corn with her. A pigeon cooed above his 
head and a fish jumped from the water, splashing loudly. 
 
Anor’s warm rays caressed his skin and his dark hair shone like onyx. He 
crept toward the stream and stared at his reflection. Awed, he wondered 
about the changes that had taken place in his life. He *still* didn’t 
understand how it was possible that everything had changed for the better. 
He didn’t deserve this.
 
“But you do,” whispered Estë. She had left her island, where she usually 
dwelt, to visit with Lómion, as the time had come for the troubled Elf to 
continue healing. The soft fabric of her gray dress moved against 
Lómion’s skin and she stopped him, when he made ready to jump to his 
feet. “Be at peace, my child.” 
Stunned, Lómion looked at the Vala, feeling grateful that he had put 
leggings on before leaving the cottage. But he was still bare-chested, 
which made him feel vulnerable. Lowering his eyes, he waited for her to 
speak again. Why had she come here?
 
Estë knelt beside Lómion, sensing his hurt, pain, shame and guilt. Ereinion 
had started the healing process, but it was still far from finished. “I mean 
you well.”
 
“I know that… It isn’t you. It is me. I feel…”
 
“I know what you feel, my child.” Estë ran her elegant fingers through his 
dark hair and that gesture made Lómion look up in surprise. “Would you 
like to stop feeling these negative emotions? Haven’t they tormented you 
for much too long?”
 
“They are my punishment… I deserve them.”
 
“You stubborn child,” whispered Estë in a sorrowful voice. “Do you not 
want to be able to love Ereinion the way you want to love him?”
 
He slowly nodded his head. “But I will never be that person. I flinch when 
he touches me. The mere thought of intimacy makes me… scared.”
 
“Rest against me,” said Estë in a tone, which made it very clear that this 
was not a request, but an order. “And let me heal some of those wounds. It 
is time.”
 
Lómion didn’t want to do this. He was scared of the unknown. What 
would happen? What would she do? He obeyed and rested his upper body 
against her. She then pulled him even closer until his head rested in her 
lap. Her hands, soothing and warm, moved over his brow in a loving 
manner and she sang softly. All these sensations cocooned him and made 
him feel safe – so safe. Safe enough for the Elfling to react to the warmth 
and love surrounding him and the child inside him stilled, listening to 
Estë’s lullaby. Lómion felt how this young part of him fought letting go of 
the pain he had suffered. The child in him desperately tried to hold on to 
the memories, for they were familiar. He knew to expect pain in those 
memories, but he didn’t know what the future as Ereinion’s lover would 
bring.
 
But then the child inside him began to give in, soothed by Estë’s cunning 
and her gift for healing. The tears he had shed for so long dried and a 
warm smile replaced them. Pain dimmed from his eyes and instead, love 
shone brightly. Love and understanding. It was time to lay the pain to rest. 
It was time for the child to be free again, instead of chained to this 
heartbreak. 
 
Slowly, his eyes closed, his breathing slowed down and he drifted off into 
a sleep that would heal his soul. Estë remained at his side, stroked his 
silken hair and smiled benignly at her charge. Lómion had finally let go of 
his pain.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Oh, not again!” Ereinion groaned, finding Lómion gone once more. He 
had hoped that after showing Lómion that he *did* want him, things 
would change between them for the better. Apparently not. “I do hope you 
did not take another bottle of wine with you!” After weathering one 
emotional storm he didn’t feel strong enough to withstand another. 
“Where did you go this time?” 
 
Ereinion dressed casually in a shirt and leggings and left the cottage in 
search of his elusive lover.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Over here,” called out Estë, seeing Ereinion search frantically for 
Lómion.
 
Ereinion immediately headed in the direction of her voice and was 
immensely relieved to come upon the Vala and his lover. Apparently, she 
had kept him safe. “Thank you, my Lady. I was afraid for him.” He knelt 
at Lómion’s side and accepted him into his arms when Estë moved the 
sleeping Elf toward him. “Did he suffer another emotional breakdown?”
 
Estë shook her head. “Nay, quite the opposite happened. He was finally 
able to deal with the worst pain Eöl inflicted upon him. His soul is freer 
now, lighter. You will notice the difference when he wakes up.” She rose 
from the grass and straightened out her dress. “I will return shortly.”
 
“What do I do when he wakes up?” Ereinion wondered if he had handled 
Lómion correctly until now. Or had he used the wrong approach? Had he 
made mistakes which had only worsened his beloved’s pain?
 
“Put your mind at rest,” said Estë, twining a lock of Ereinion’s hair around 
her finger. “Your instincts guided you well. You did everything right. You 
are the very reason Lómion is doing so well. Continue on, Ereinion Gil-
Galad. Carry on loving him.”
 
Her words brought a smile to Ereinion’s face. “Thank you. I was 
beginning to doubt myself. Especially after what happened yesterday.”
 
“Yesterday was a turning point for Lómion,” replied Estë, letting go of 
Ereinion’s strand of hair. “Because of yesterday, he managed to face his 
past today.” Estë turned and began to walk away from them, but then she 
halted and looked at them from over her shoulder. “Lómion might surprise 
you in the next few days. The Dark Elf no longer has a hold on his soul. 
The child is now at peace and the adult will show more and more. You 
will soon have a lover who will love you as he should.” With those cryptic 
words, she continued her walk and eventually vanished from view.
 
Ereinion stayed behind with a sleeping Lómion, kissing the dark hair and 
murmuring a prayer of thanks to the Valar.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
Ereinion smiled, seeing Lómion lift his hand to wipe the sleep from his 
eyes. There was something vulnerable in that gesture – something trusting. 
“Hello there.”
 
Lómion blinked; surprised to hear Ereinion’s voice. He rubbed his eyes, 
blinked once more and sat upright, looking into his beloved’s puzzled 
eyes. “Estë was here.”
 
“Aye, she left after I arrived. How do you fare?”
 
Lómion smiled, ruefully, realizing he had worried Ereinion by leaving the 
cottage again. “I did not plan on getting drunk again.”
 
“I did not say that.”
 
“But you thought it.”
 
“I was worried you might resort to drinking wine again, aye,” clarified 
Ereinion. He probed the dark eyes, wondering what was different. There 
*was* something different in those eyes!
 
Lómion brushed back his long hair and moved into a kneeling position in 
front of Ereinion. He felt different. A new kind of warmth warmed him 
from within and the emotional pain he had been in for so long was gone. 
The child had gone quiet – the boy was at rest. 
 
Ereinion felt entranced, looking into the large, calm eyes. /Calm?/ He had 
never seen a calm expression in them before – not one of such intensity. 
What had happened during Estë’s visit? 
 
email addy for fb for the artist  faylark@hotmail.com
 
 
 
Feeling a tad shy, Lómion’s face grew flustered. “I would kiss you, if you 
would permit it, meleth.” 
 
Surprised, Ereinion nodded. “But of course!” Lómion had never looked at 
him like that before! Lómion leaned in closer and their lips touched. It was 
a sweet kiss, which spoke of trust and longing. Most importantly, Ereinion 
didn’t taste any fear in it. 
 
Lómion grew encouraged, feeling Ereinion lean into the kiss. The former 
king moaned, deep in his throat, and the sound woke an ancient need in 
Lómion – one, which he had never felt before. Lómion grew bolder and 
warm hands slipped beneath Ereinion’s shirt, roaming his back. 
 
Ereinion always maintained eye contact, determined to stop their kissing 
should he see any discomfort in his lover’s eyes. But there was none – 
only contentment. 
 
Lómion felt shy and nervous, but the fact that this felt right, gave him the 
strength and courage to continue. Feeling Ereinion sag against him, he 
lowered his beloved onto his back. Should he straddle him or not? Would 
that be moving too fast?
 
Ereinion solved Lómion’s dilemma by pulling him atop of him. “Say the 
word and we will stop.” 
 
“I am not scared, if that is what you need to know. I feel curious, but… I 
do not know how far I want to take this,” explained Lómion. Now that he 
was straddling Ereinion, he became aware of his lover’s arousal. /And I 
am hard too./ He had become erect as well, and was rubbing his lower 
body against Ereinion’s groin, which felt divine. 
 
“Meleth…”  
 
“I am fine,” said Lómion, seeing the need for confirmation in his lover’s 
dark eyes. “I do not know what Estë did, but the child is at rest. The 
memories are buried deep and do not torment me anymore. But… I am 
nervous.”
 
“So am I. Oh, ind nîn5, we do not have to go all the way!” 
 
“I know that,” replied Lómion, who leaned in closer to kiss Ereinion once 
more. “I will stop, should I feel uncomfortable.”
 
“In that case – do whatever you wish to me.” Ereinion drank in his lover’s 
sight. Lómion’s inner light shone brightly and radiated love. 
 
Lómion undid the lacing of Ereinion’s shirt, pushed the fabric aside and 
bared most of his lover’s chest to him. “I feel this need to touch you.”
 
“Then touch me.” Ereinion involuntarily held his breath, as Lómion’s 
fingertips manipulated his nipples. He bucked, unable to stop that reflex. 
“Meleth…” Oh, he had wanted this for so long! Had dreamt of this 
moment for so long! And now that it had arrived, he couldn’t stop his 
body from reacting to Lómion’s shy exploration. 
 
Ereinion’s reactions to his touch undid Lómion, who had never thought he 
could evoke such emotions in the former king. His lips left Ereinion’s and 
trailed lower. Wondering what it would feel like, he closed his lips over a 
hard nipple and suckled hard. Ereinion groaned, bucked once more, and 
Lómion reacted by gently scraping his teeth along the nipple.
 
“Oh, please…” Ereinion was close to orgasm. His body was highly strung 
and cried for release! 
 
Lómion gave Ereinion one long look and then undid the lacing of his 
lover’s leggings. He didn’t look at the hard flesh that bobbed free, but 
maintained eye contact. The horrid memories of past abuse might no 
longer torment him, but he couldn’t help being wary. The past had formed 
him. 
 
“Ind nîn, touch me, please…” Ereinion’s right hand buried itself in his 
lover’s long hair, whilst the other tried to slip inside Lómion’s leggings to 
return the pleasure. 
 
Lómion decided that he trusted Ereinion unconditionally and wrapped his 
fingers around the shaft, which was already slippery with pre-ejaculate. “I 
am sorry, melethen6, but I cannot return the pleasure you gave me 
yesterday… Will my hand do?” The thought of taking Ereinion into his 
mouth made him uncomfortable. It was too early for that.
 
“It will do perfectly.” Ereinion closed his eyes for one moment, 
experiencing pure bliss now that his beloved was so intimately touching 
him. The strokes were shy and even clumsy, but that didn’t matter. What 
mattered was that Lómion had taken a very important step by touching 
him in this way. 
 
Lómion gasped in surprise, growing aware of the warm fingers curled 
around his own arousal. When he had started this, it had been his intention 
to give pleasure, but now it looked like Ereinion had different ideas. “Oh, I 
love you so much!” Ereinion had been his salvation in so many ways!
 
Lips met in an arduous kiss, tongues wrapped around each other in a 
sensual dance and their hands sped up, stroking in tune. Lómion 
involuntarily bit on Ereinion’s bottom lip of the moment of his climax and 
trembled in his lover’s arms as the experience left him shaky. Never 
before had he felt anything as intense as this!
 
Ereinion climaxed a moment later. Looking into his lover’s dark eyes, he 
noticed the lust-dilated pupils and felt him quiver above him. His strong 
arms quickly buried Lómion in a reassuring embrace and he caught him, 
when Lómion collapsed atop of him. For one moment, they remained 
quiet, absorbing the pleasure given and received, enjoying the new sense 
of intimacy that now lingered between them.
 
Lómion rested his head against Ereinion’s shoulder and snuggled up to his 
lover. “I did not think it would be like that.”
 
“Like what?” Ereinion pressed a kiss onto the crown of his beloved’s 
head.
 
“Like pure bliss. I never felt so complete – so ‘whole’ before.” Lómion 
lifted his head so he could look into Ereinion’s eyes. “You cannot possibly 
know how much I love you, meleth.” 
 
“And that says you – who thought he was incapable of love.”
 
“Maeglin was. And Lómion, once Eöl got his hands on him.” A thoughtful 
expression appeared in his eyes. “But I am someone different today. I am 
not Maeglin, and I am not Lómion, the child.”
 
“You are my heart,” said Ereinion. “You are my love. Do you need a 
name?”
 
Lómion smiled, warmly. “Nay, I do not.”
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“Elrond? Thranduil is about to arrive and…” Erestor chuckled, finding 
one Elfling hugging Elrond’s leg, whilst the other clung to his father’s 
neck. There was no way Elrond could change his clothes before Thranduil 
arrived. He almost pitied the half-Elf – almost. 
 
“Ada, stay!” Elladan held on tight to his father’s right leg and refused to 
let go. “You promised to play with us!”
 
“I am sorry, but we will have to play later.” Elrond sighed, resigning 
himself to the fact that his sons were rather tenacious and would not let go. 
“Please, pyn-neth7, l must welcome Thranduil and Legolas.” Thranduil 
would see it as an insult, if he weren’t there to formally welcome him to 
Imladris!
 
“Legolas?” Elrohir frowned and then released his hold on his father’s 
neck, slipping into Elrond’s arms. “The Elf who will let us hunt giant 
spiders?”
 
Elladan listened up as well. “Aye, we want to play with Legolas!”
 
Erestor, who cunningly stayed out of the argument, gave Elrond an 
amused smile. The twins had taken a liking to Legolas, which would come 
in handy once meeting Thranduil. 
 
“Are they causing trouble?” asked Celebrían upon entering their private 
chambers. She burst out into chuckles, seeing Elrond trying to free himself 
of the tiny, but greedy hands. 
 
Another sigh left Elrond’s lips. He loved his sons dearly, but at times they 
made life impossible. “Would you help me, Melethril 8?”
 
Celebrían continued to chuckle, but took pity on her husband and reached 
for Elrohir. “Come here, you.” Elrohir pouted for a moment, but then 
moved into his mother’s arms. “We want to play!” Elladan finally released 
his father’s leg and ran over to his mother, burying his fingers in the folds 
of her skirt. 
 
“We will play later,” promised Elrond, realizing he lacked time to change 
into his formal robes. The shirt and leggings he was wearing had been 
drooled upon by his lovely offspring, but they would have to do. He hoped 
that Thranduil wouldn’t be offended.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Thranduil’s heart raced. He was nervous, now that he was about to meet 
with Elrond and later on, Elluin. During their journey Legolas and 
Melpomaen had tried to soothe his troubled mind, but he found it hard to 
believe that he would be warmly welcomed in Imladris. 
 
“Ada, stop driving yourself insane!” said Legolas, as they guided their 
horses into the courtyard. Erestor and Glorfindel already stood ready to 
welcome them and he noticed the fond smile on the Chief Advisor’s face, 
when those dark eyes sought out Melpomaen. Aye, Erestor’s gamble had 
worked out perfectly. 
 
“Elrond and I parted on bad terms,” whispered Thranduil. “He does not 
want me here.” Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, seeing Elrond running toward 
Erestor and Glorfindel. He had expected the half-Elf to show off in order 
to impress him, but Elrond wasn’t wearing formal robes or his circlet. His 
shirt looked wrinkled and his leggings ill-fitting, like hands had pulled the 
fabric in all kinds of directions. This was not the way he had imagined 
Elrond would look like!
 
“Welcome to fair Imladris,” said Erestor, hearing that Elrond was still 
trying to catch his breath. What had the twins been up to this time? Had 
they managed to flee their mother’s care at the last moment? Thankfully, 
they were nowhere in sight now!
 
“Thank you for your words of welcome,” said Thranduil, reluctantly. He 
watched Melpomaen dismount and embrace Erestor, doubtlessly 
whispering words of gratitude. Legolas slid off of his mare’s back and 
joined his beloved. Now that those three Elves were chatting busily, he 
was left alone with Glorfindel, and more importantly Elrond. 
 
Landiant broke the awkward silence by dismounting and introducing 
himself to Glorfindel. 
 
Glorfindel smiled at the fellow Captain and engaged the Sinda in 
conversation, which left Thranduil with no other option than to talk to 
Elrond.
 
Thranduil dismounted and walked toward Elrond. “It seems like it has 
been millennia since we talked last,” he said, trying to build a bridge 
through time and space. “I never thought I would visit Imladris, but here I 
am.”
 
Elrond managed a warm smile. “And you are most welcome, Thranduil.”
 
“Legolas! We wanna play with Legolas! And hunt spiders!” 
 
Elrond groaned; how had the twin menace escaped their mother’s 
supervision this time?
 
The twins ran toward the gathering of Elves, but just before reaching 
them, they halted in amazement. “Too many blond Elves,” whispered 
Elladan, confused. Who were they supposed to play with first?
 
“Yours?” Thranduil failed to hide his amusement – he had always been 
fond of children. 
 
“I am afraid so. Elladan, Elrohir, please return to your mother.” Elrond 
cringed; he simply couldn’t use two Elflings going rampant whilst 
welcoming Thranduil to Imladris! 
 
But the twins had different ideas and Elladan approached Thranduil. “Do 
you want to play with us?”
 
Thranduil laughed, and the warm sound vibrated through the courtyard. “It 
has been a while since I played with Elflings.”
 
Legolas shot his father an amused look. “Oh, go play with them. You 
know you want to.”
 
Encouraged, Elrohir advanced on the golden-haired Elf as well. He raised 
his hand and managed to curl his fingers around the adult’s. “We have 
colored pebbles… or we could draw… I can never stay within the lines 
though.”
 
Thranduil lifted Elrohir in his arms and studied the Elfling, who closely 
resembled his twin and Elrond. “Did you outrun your nana9?” A silver-
haired she-Elf came running toward them, her eyes simmering with 
displeasure.
 
“Aiya, help us,” whispered Elrohir into the big Elf’s ear, as he buried his 
fingers in Thranduil’s golden mane. 
 
“Elladan! Elrohir!” Celebrían raised her finger in a warning motion. 
“Come here!”
 
“Nay, the big Elf wants to play with us!” Elladan quickly hid behind 
Thranduil.
 
“Sire, I…” Celebrían bowed, and then her bright eyes sought out 
Thranduil’s. She had heard many stories about his temper and doubted an 
Elf like Thranduil would appreciate being hassled by the twins. 
 
“Oh, I will play with them… It will placate them and tire them out. We 
can talk in the meantime.” Thranduil allowed Elladan to pull him toward 
the main building. 
 
Elrond rolled his eyes. “Now what?”
 
Legolas took pity on the half-Elf and placed a hand on Elrond’s shoulder. 
“Now you befriend my father. Or, should I say, let your sons befriend my 
father?”
 
Elrond groaned.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“That is a lovely pebble and rather blue.” Thranduil sat cross-legged on 
the floor, allowing the twins to crawl all over him. 
 
Legolas smiled fondly at his father. “He played with me all the time when 
I was little. He was the best father I could have hoped for.”
 
Elrond nodded and saw Thranduil’s face grow flustered at hearing his 
son’s words of praise. “This will give us a chance to get to know each 
other. Our realms will benefit from that.”
 
Thranduil nodded; at the same time, he rolled the blue pebble toward 
Elladan, who promptly handed him a yellow stone. The twins quickly 
grew tired, due to all the excitement. Elladan eventually climbed onto his 
mother’s lap and fell asleep there. Elrohir went to his father, tugged at 
Elrond’s sleeve and was lifted onto the half-Elf’s lap. Curling up, he tried 
to wrap his too short arms around his father’s waist. A moment later, all 
was quiet. 
 
“Thank the Valar,” whispered Elrond, feeling quite tired himself. 
 
Erestor smiled and poured wine. After handing each Elf a glass, he sat 
back and sipped his. Glorfindel quickly moved closer, until their bodies 
were touching and Erestor enjoyed the physical contact. Glorfindel had 
been away on patrol these last few days and he had missed his lover.
 
“We will discuss the relations between our realms during the next few 
days,” said Thranduil, softly, so he wouldn’t wake the twins. “But for 
now, I have a request.”
 
Elrond raised an eyebrow – he was more than willing to listen. 
 
“I wish to talk to your librarian, Elluin,” said Thranduil, seeing Legolas sit 
up straighter at the mention of his mother’s name. 
 
“I will arrange for a meeting,” replied Elrond. 
 
“Tonight?” requested Legolas, who was very eager to finally meet with his 
mother.
 
“Tonight,” confirmed Elrond, a bit surprised at hearing such urgency in 
Legolas’ voice. What bound the Mirkwood Elves to Elluin? He would find 
out eventually.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“I am nervous,” whispered Legolas. Thranduil and he had come to the 
library at Elrond’s request to meet with Elluin. Although Melpomaen and 
Landiant had offered to accompany them, father and son had declined. 
This was something they had to do themselves. 
 
The door opened and Thranduil quickly moved into the shadows. He 
wanted for Legolas and Elluin to have some private moments before 
making his presence known, as he didn’t know how she would react to 
seeing him. 
 
“Legolas?” Elrond had told her who would await her and her heart raced 
now that she was to talk to her grown son for the first time in her life. She 
had taken great care dressing herself and wore a brown dress lined with 
gold, which brought out the dark of her eyes. Her hair was braided and she 
pressed a hand against her chest, trying to calm the pounding of her heart 
– but to no avail.
 
Legolas’ mouth went dry, laying eyes upon his mother for the first time. 
She was beautiful in his eyes – beautiful and strong -- and he was 
reminded of the fact that she had been a warrior once. Regally, she moved 
toward him. A moment later, he was buried in a possessive hug and he 
rested his head against her shoulder. “Naneth10?” 
 
“Oh, Legolas, I have waited over fifty years to hold you in my arms 
again!” Tears escaped her eyes and she cried out of happiness for having 
her son close. “You must be quite cross with me, for leaving you the way I 
did.” Legolas surprised her by hugging her even tighter, whilst she had 
expected him to push her away. “What I did was inexcusable. I left my 
baby.”
 
Legolas swallowed, convulsively. He felt no need to explore his reaction 
to her words and said, “Let us not dwell upon the past. We are here now 
and we should concentrate on the present.”
 
His words felt like absolution and more tears left her eyes. “You make me 
so happy, Legolas.” She then moved slightly away from him. “Let me 
look at you! Oh, you do take after your father!” 
 
Thranduil carefully monitored her reaction to that realization, but didn’t 
detect any hurt or anger in her words. 
 
“You have his hair – but not his eyes.” She smiled, warmly, and her 
fingers curled around her son’s. “Let us sit.” She guided him to a couch, 
where she quickly sat down, as her knees were threatening to give way 
beneath her. “Your father kept me informed, Legolas. I feel like I know 
you – though I always regretted not being close.”
 
“I know why you left,” said Legolas, using a corner of his sleeve to wipe 
away her tears and dry her skin. “My father did not love you the way he 
should.”
 
Standing in the shadows, Thranduil cringed at hearing the truth.
 
But Elluin shook her head. “I no longer blame him. I might have, at first, 
after leaving you. But once the madness of war had left me, I realized how 
many of my kin had died and I began to understand. Had your father and I 
met under different circumstances, things would have developed in a 
better way. I felt sad mostly for you, Legolas, being born out of wedlock.”
 
Her words gave Thranduil hope.
 
“My father always loved me and although a few Elves made me feel less 
worthy because I am illegitimate it never bothered me too much. I had my 
father’s love… What else did I need?”
 
Elluin raised a hand and caressed her son’s face. “Thranduil was a good 
father. I am happy that the two of you became so close.”
 
“I just wish you could have been a part of that too.” Legolas hugged her 
close and held her tight. Then, he let go and he saw her surprised 
expression. He rose from the couch and leaned in closer to press a kiss on 
her brow. “We will talk later… There is someone else who wants to visit 
with you.” 
 
Alarmed, Elluin looked about. ‘Thranduil?” She should have known!
 
Legolas headed toward the doorway, gave his mother another smile and 
then closed the door behind him. Now it was up to his parents to reconcile 
– or not.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Elluin rose from the couch, feeling more equipped to deal with this 
situation whilst standing. “Thranduil,” she said, as he left the shadows. 
Oh, he hadn’t changed one bit in appearance. He was still the handsome 
Elf she fallen in love with at the Battle of the Last Alliance and her heart 
sped up with excitement.
 
“Elluin,” said Thranduil, respectfully inclining his head. “It has been too 
long.”
 
“Thank you for bringing Legolas to me. I watched him during his first 
visit, a few weeks ago, but I did not approach him. I did not want for him 
to face questions he never knew existed.”
 
“That must have been hard on you.” He walked toward her and halted 
when he stood in front of her. The tears in her dark eyes hadn’t dried yet, 
and he felt the urge to kiss them away – but he didn’t, as he had lost the 
right to do so decades ago. 
 
“Aye, it was. But I always had Legolas’ best interest in mind.” Elluin 
almost lost herself in his sea-green eyes and steeled herself against his 
charms. “You told him, then?”
 
“He found out, aye, and I told him. I should have told him years ago, but I 
was a coward. I was afraid he would prefer you above me and that I would 
lose him to you.” He felt strangely shy, standing in front of her. She was 
beautiful in his eyes, beautiful, strong and wise. This was the she-Elf he 
had fallen in love with and he loved her still. “I owe you an apology,” he 
said, trying to find the right words. “I was bitter, back then, and I could 
not love you the way I should. Legolas changed that. A child’s 
unconditional love taught me to love again. I know that it is too late for us, 
but had we met now, instead of decades ago, I would have done 
everything the proper way.”
 
His words touched her. “I never blamed you, Thranduil. After the birth – 
upon my return here – I saw the pain and grief many of my fellow 
warriors went through and throughout the decades I learned to understand 
why you acted the way you did. You did not only lose your father, but also 
your King. And your people looked toward you for leadership. You did 
not get the chance to mourn like many of us did.” She was surprised to see 
his eyes swimming. “Oh, Thranduil, I made mistakes as well. This is not 
just your fault. We share the blame. I left. I left you and our son. I could 
have stayed instead. I could have tried harder, but I did not.”
 
“Legolas said something very important, I think,” whispered Thranduil, 
feeling mesmerized, as her fingertips were moving over his face in an 
attempt to prevent him from shedding tears. “We should let go of the past 
and focus on the present. When he can do it, we should at least try. 
Legolas suffered the most and for him being able to leave this in the past, 
must mean…” He didn’t get the chance to finish, as Elluin rested a finger 
across his lips. 
 
“I never stopped loving you, Thranduil. And during many a night I lay 
awake in my bed and hoped you would come for me. That you would put 
my son into my arms and bind with me.”
 
Hope blossomed in Thranduil’s heart. “It cannot be this easy,” he 
whispered against her fingertip. 
 
“Maybe it is,” said Elluin, tracing the outline of his bottom lip with her 
fingertip. “You just said that if we had met under different circumstances 
you would not have shied away from committing to me. Maybe we should 
give ourselves another chance? We should also consider Legolas’ needs. 
He would want his parents to try again, don’t you think so?”
 
“I still love you,” whispered Thranduil, breathing heavily, trying to make 
sense of this emotional turmoil he was in. “I would court you anew, and if 
you permit it, bind with you.”
 
Elluin smiled, kindly. “When I rose from my bed this morn, I did not think 
it possible for you to enter my life again in this way. But it has happened 
and I am unwilling to allow you to leave. Whatever resentment I harbored 
for you does not compare to the love I still feel for you.”
 
Growing bold, Thranduil enfolded her in a hug. “There is hope for us, 
then?”
 
Elluin gave him a smile filled with contentment. “There always was.” 
Encouraged by the look of longing he gave her, Elluin bridged the 
distance between them and kissed him.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Legolas soundlessly opened the door to Melpomaen’s rooms, which he 
would share for the duration of his stay. They were luxuriously furnished 
and stuffed with books and scrolls. He hadn’t realized it yet, but he was in 
love with a bookworm! It was therefore no surprise that he found 
Melpomaen seated behind his desk, crouched over a book. “What are you 
reading?” Looking over Melpomaen’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a 
not so chaste embrace and smiled, realizing his lover was reading up on 
erotic literature. “Doing some research?”
 
Blushing to the roots of his hair, Melpomaen instantly closed the book. 
“You aren’t supposed to be here!”
 
“My parents are talking and I wanted them to have some privacy.” 
Legolas hopped onto the desk and probed his lover’s eyes. They should 
probably talk before consummating their love. “Am I your first? For you 
are my first lover.”
 
Still blushing, Melpomaen nodded. “Aye, you are. I have no experience in 
bed and therefore I was reading up on it.”
 
“We will figure out what to do,” said Legolas, soothingly stroking 
Melpomaen’s fingers, which he had taken into his. “Are you scared?”
 
Melpomaen shook his head. “Nervous.”
 
“So am I.” Legolas leaned in closer and pressed his lips against 
Melpomaen’s. The lips parted and so did the teeth. Sliding closer, Legolas 
engaged his lover in a passionate kiss. They had to stop due to lack of 
breath and looked adoringly into each other’s eyes. “I want to bind with 
you. I want to know you in that way,” said Legolas, eventually. 
 
“So do I.” The blush remained and even deepened. “But… what about… 
you know… the mechanics of it?”
 
“Ah.” Melpomaen’s bottom lip quivered, which Legolas found extremely 
erotic. “Do you have a preference, meleth?” 
 
Feeling shy, Melpomaen shrugged his shoulders once. “The book says that 
there will be pain – discomfort – for the one being taken.”
 
“And you would prefer that not be you?” Legolas moved closer still and 
slid onto Melpomaen’s lap. His lover’s arms instantly came up behind 
him, holding him close. Legolas clearly felt his lover’s arousal and his 
hands wandered to undo the top buttons of Melpomaen’s robes. “You may 
take me then.” Melpomaen bit his bottom lip and that sight caused Legolas 
to moan with desire. 
 
“I would prepare you properly and take good care of you,” said 
Melpomaen, very much aware of Legolas’ erection pressing against him. 
Lips met his and he deepened his loving kiss. His hands slipped beneath 
Legolas’ shirt and explored his lover’s back. They then dipped beneath the 
waistband and cupped the Woodland’s Elf buttocks. 
 
“We might want to move this to the bed,” suggested Legolas, who had 
managed to open Melpomaen’s robes. He pushed them down the 
shoulders and kissed beneath the collarbone. The dark-haired Elf threw 
back his head and Legolas suckled the skin, clearly leaving a mark for all 
to see tomorrow. 
 
“The things you do to me…” Melpomaen groaned, as Legolas got to his 
feet – he wanted to feel him close! Legolas pulled him along, using the 
hold he had on his hand and they tumbled onto the bed. Within seconds, 
they had done away with the restraining clothes and Melpomaen found 
himself on top, straddling his beautiful Woodland Elf. A blush had 
appeared on Legolas’ cheeks and the azure eyes had deepened with color, 
whilst the pupils had dilated with obvious lust. “I even have oil.”
 
“Good, you come prepared then!” Legolas felt nervous as well, but tried 
not to let it show. After all, this was also his first time! 
 
Melpomaen drew in a deep breath, steadied himself, and then kissed his 
way down from Legolas’ throat to the first nipple. Twirling his tongue 
around the hard nub, he rolled the other nipple between his fingertips. 
Legolas groaned, encouraging him. “I won’t last long, melethron11,” he 
said, feeling it was only fair to warn Legolas. 
 
“Neither will I,” admitted Legolas, whose erection begged for his lover’s 
attention. 
 
Melpomaen swallowed, hard, and then changed position. He parted his 
lover’s legs and knelt between them. The sight Legolas present – lust 
mingled with love – almost pushed him over the edge and he squeezed 
brutally at the base of his member, stopping himself from climaxing at that 
very moment. 
 
Legolas grinned, smugly, realizing what effect he had on his lover. 
Licking his lips, his right hand came to rest against his chest, pinching his 
nipple. 
 
Seeing Legolas touch himself in such a way urged Melpomaen on. “I want 
to kiss you for hours, worship your body, but…” His hand already reached 
for the oil. 
 
“I feel the same way.” Need had taken over and all he wanted was to feel 
Melpomaen bind them – make him his. “Claim me… bind with me.”
 
Melpomaen looked at Legolas, thoughtfully, and told his lover to raise his 
hips. He pushed a pillow below the narrow hips and removed the stopper 
from the vial that held the oil. “I have never done this before, so please tell 
me if anything feels wrong.”
 
“I will.” Legolas squirmed, and barely resisted the urge to stroke himself 
to completion. He parted his legs further in invitation and then the first 
slick finger touched him in a place he had never been touched before. Not 
even he himself had explored there. 
 
Recalling everything he had read, Melpomaen took his time massaging the 
ring of muscle. “Are you still comfortable?” 
 
“Aye, I just wish you would move on to the next step.” Legolas closed his 
eyes and that intensified the sensation of Melpomaen gently inserting that 
first finger. “Feels odd, but not uncomfortable,” he commented in an effort 
to reassure his lover.
 
Melpomaen felt awed and grateful that Legolas felt courageous enough to 
take this step. He wasn’t sure he could have dealt with being on the 
receiving end that first time. Adding more oil, he inserted two fingers and 
stretched his lover’s virgin passage. 
 
Legolas squirmed beneath the invasive feeling. But then, Melpomaen’s 
fingertips touched something inside him and his eyes opened -- filled with 
pure bliss. His erection, which had lessened during the probing, returned 
to full hardness. “Oh!”
 
Melpomaen grinned, wickedly. He had searched for that special place 
inside his lover’s passage, and complimented himself on finding it. He 
memorized its location, as he would later on direct his thrust in that 
direction. “One more…”
 
Legolas sucked on his bottom lip, feeling a third, oiled finger join the 
other two digits. “Feels… nice.” That surprised him. He had thought he 
would feel awkward, embarrassed even, but none of that had happened. As 
Melpomaen’s fingertips repeatedly brushed that gland inside his passage, 
he began to pant heavily. “Please… I am about to come, meleth.” 
 
“Are you certain?” Melpomaen removed his digits from Legolas’ body 
and studied his lover. 
 
“I am certain!” Legolas raised his hips invitingly. “Bind us, Melpomaen.”
 
Melpomaen coated his member with oil and positioned himself at his 
lover’s entrance. He hooked his arms beneath the trembling legs and 
supported them in that way. Slowly, he sank home, inching deeper into his 
lover’s passage until Legolas had taken his full length. 
 
Legolas’ hands became fists and clawed the sheets. Although the sensation 
was divine, he felt impossibly full. His wide eyes met Melpomaen’s and 
found his lover looking at him with pure rapture. “How does it feel?”
 
“I lack the words,” was all Melpomaen managed. Looking down, he felt 
awed, seeing his member disappear into Legolas’ body. They had become 
one now. “I bind myself to you, Legolas, son Thranduil.”
 
“I bind myself to you, Melpomaen.” Legolas yelped softly the moment 
Melpomaen delivered his first thrust. The head of his lover’s member 
forcefully glided over that sensitive place inside him and stars exploded 
behind his eyelids, which he had closed in concentration. “Do that again! 
And again!”
 
Melpomaen obliged and set a slow pace – even amidst their passion he 
kept his lover’s best interest in mind. He refused to leave him sore!
 
Orgasm came much too soon for them. They climaxed simultaneously and 
Melpomaen’s eyes widened in surprise, feeling Legolas’ inner muscle 
contract around him. Next, it was Legolas’ turn to moan in surprise, 
feeling Melpomaen reach orgasm. Warm seed filled his insides and he bit 
into Melpomaen’s shoulder, hoping it would ground him. 
 
Exhausted, Melpomaen rested his body atop his lover’s. Legolas’ arms 
came up behind him, holding him close. “I do not want this to end yet,” he 
whimpered, as his satiated flesh grew lax and left his lover’s body. 
Legolas giggled and the sound vibrated throughout his body, making him 
chuckle in turn. “What is so funny?”
 
“We can do this again, silly. We can do it again as many times as we like. 
And each time will be special!” Sated and content, Legolas buried his face 
in Melpomaen’s hair. “And maybe next time you will want me to take 
you?”
 
“What was it like for you?” asked Melpomaen, lifting his head so he could 
search Legolas’ eyes. 
 
“Bliss… You touched something inside of me with each thrust and it 
literally catapulted me to orgasm. Maybe you are curious to find out 
yourself?”
 
“Maybe,” said Melpomaen, enjoying teasing his lover a bit in the 
afterglow of their lovemaking. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, sobering 
instantly. 
 
“Nay,” replied Legolas. “You took great care in preparing me.” He 
wiggled, experimentally. “I am not even sore, I think.” Which was a nice 
surprise. 
 
“I am glad I did not hurt or disappoint you,” admitted Melpomaen. “I did 
not know it beforehand, but the one who does the taking has much 
responsibility.”
 
Legolas nodded once. “When the time comes I will take good care of you 
too, melethron.” Legolas suddenly yelped softly. “Oh my, we should clean 
up… I feel sticky.”
 
Melpomaen pushed himself into an upright position, swung his feet onto 
the ground and then pulled Legolas to his feet as well. “Sore?” he asked 
again. He couldn’t help it! He was concerned.
 
“Nay.” Legolas smiled at his lover. “It did not hurt – I just felt… full,” he 
said after searching for the right word to describe the sensation. “But you 
will find out shortly how it feels.” 
Melpomaen still managed to blush after making love to Legolas and he 
allowed his lover to pull him into the bathroom, where they enjoyed a 
long, hot bath.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
“May I walk you back to your rooms?” Thranduil and Elluin had talked 
for hours, but night was upon them and it was time to escort her to her 
chambers. 
 
Elluin rose from the couch and nodded once. “I would like that.” Her hand 
sought out Thranduil’s and their fingers twined. 
 
They walked in silence, Elluin guiding him through the long corridors. 
Their walk gave her the opportunity to think about the unexpected turn her 
life had taken. She had dreamt of Thranduil coming for her. Of him 
declaring his love for her and offering her marriage – of Legolas, 
Thranduil and she being the family they should be. And when she looked 
in his green eyes, she found that he was offering her that, and more. Love 
as well. That was more than she had dared to hope for. 
 
Now, what was she supposed to do? She realized the choice she had 
clearly. She could let her resentment guide her, which would estrange 
them and then he would return to Mirkwood. She would still be alone, 
although she would have Legolas’ love. Or, she could accept that they 
both had made mistakes and move on from that point. In the end, her 
choice wasn’t that hard after all. 
 
“This is where I live,” said Elluin, coming to a halt. Thranduil’s hold on 
her hand tightened and she read fear of rejection in his eyes. She realized 
how much it had cost Thranduil to come here and ask for her forgiveness, 
which she had granted. Did she really want to throw that all away?
 
“Thank you for listening to me,” said Thranduil, still feeling shy around 
her. He was always painfully aware of how much he had hurt her. 
 
Elluin opened the door and gave him a long and thoughtful look. “Would 
you like to come inside and keep me company tonight?”
 
Thranduil’s heart missed a beat and his eyes widened. “Elluin, are 
you…?”
 
“I know what I am saying – asking. And aye, I want you. I still love you. I 
have grown weary of being alone, of harboring any kind of resentment 
toward you or myself. Legolas is right – we need to focus on the present. I 
love you and…”
 
“I still love you,” whispered Thranduil, enthralled.
 
“Our circumstances are different now,” said Elluin. “We have a son, who 
was born out of wedlock. We can change that… We can change so much!”
 
“Does that mean… that when I propose… that you will accept?” 
Thranduil found it hard to draw in his next breath as he waited for her 
answer.
 
She cocked her head. “It does. I would have accepted you as my husband 
decades ago and I still want you. Maybe now – under different 
circumstances – we can work out?”
 
“I want that,” whispered Thranduil, leaning in closer. “It is my greatest 
wish to undo the past and to make you mine – in every sense of the word.”
 
Hearing what he wasn’t saying, she nodded once. “I want that too, 
Thranduil.” Now that she had made up her mind to accept what fate was 
offering her, she pulled him inside and closed the door behind him.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
Elrond and Celebrían had appeared early at the breakfast table, wanting to 
make a good impression on their guests, but to their dismay, the only Elf 
from the Mirkwood party present at their table was Landiant. The golden-
haired Elf was easily carrying on a conversation with Glorfindel and 
Elrond noticed the jealous look Erestor was giving the Woodland Captain. 
It amazed him that someone like Erestor, who should be confident in his 
love for Glorfindel, still managed to suffer from jealousy. 
 
“I should apologize on my King and Prince’s behalf,” said Landiant, 
seeing the disappointed expression in Elrond’s eyes.
 
“Where are they? I expected them to join us.” Elrond assisted his wife in 
seating herself and then took his place at the head of the table. Normally, 
the twins would be running around the room, creating havoc, but they had 
been ecstatic to learn that Lindir would spend time with them this morn. 
So, peace and quiet reigned instead.
 
“I believe Legolas has a valid reason to be excused,” began Erestor. “I ran 
into Melpomaen earlier this morn and the only one way to describe his 
expression is sated.”
 
Glorfindel laughed. “Ah, methinks that means they bonded. I already 
wondered about that.”
 
“With Melpomaen being so accident-prone, it took them some time,” said 
Erestor, teasingly. 
 
Celebrían smiled at hearing their bantering and enjoyed the peace and 
quiet around her. It wouldn’t be long before the twin whirlwinds would 
demand her attention again. 
 
“I apologize for being late,” said Melpomaen after clearing his throat. 
Behind him, Legolas stepped into the room, whistling cheerfully. Oh, he 
*so* didn’t want to do this, especially seeing Glorfindel’s conspiring grin. 
 
“You are forgiven,” said Elrond, coming to the rescue. “Please seat 
yourself and eat.”
 
“Aye, you need the food after using up so much energy last night,” added 
Glorfindel. 
 
Melpomaen blushed, whilst Legolas leered at the Imladris’ Captain. In a 
teasing voice, Legolas said, “In that case, you should eat more yourself. 
You do look a little pale, Glorfindel. Did Erestor exhaust you?”
 
Erestor laughed, warmly, seeing Glorfindel’s irate and slightly 
embarrassed look. “Quite the contrary, meldir. Glorfindel’s stamina is 
legendary.” Content, he saw Glorfindel’s expression brighten. 
 
Melpomaen moved the food around on his plate and watched in 
amazement as Legolas wolfed down his portion of the food. 
 
“You have got something – here,” said Landiant, pointing at Melpomaen’s 
throat.
 
Melpomaen’s fingers probed the area. “Ah.” He then pointed a finger at 
his lover. “Below the collar, remember that.”
 
That comment made all present burst out laughing and Celebrían’s silver 
giggling echoed through the room as well. It wasn’t very lady-like to 
giggle along, but she didn’t care. 
 
“Is there place for an additional guest?” asked Thranduil, leading Elluin 
into the room. He held her hand tightly, demonstrating the choice they had 
made last night. 
 
Legolas immediately jumped to his feet and embraced his parents, smiling 
happily. “I am so happy, Naneth. I am happy to see you both – holding 
hands.”
 
“Naneth?” Elrond saw Erestor mouth the word as well. “Would anyone 
please care to tell me what is going on?”
 
“I will,” said Thranduil, escorting Elluin to her chair. Once she sat down, 
he seated himself. One of the servants quickly placed another plate and 
utensils in front of the Mirkwood King.
 
“Elluin is my mother,” said Legolas, quickly, before his father had a 
chance to explain.
 
Elrond arched an eyebrow. He knew her well and often worked with her 
when new volumes on healing needed to be archived. “Is that true?”
 
“Aye, it is.” Elluin smiled at Elrond. “It is a long story, but it is sufficient 
to say that Thranduil and I have reconciled.” She saw Legolas’ ecstatic 
expression and added. “Last night, he proposed to me and I accepted.” 
 
Thranduil beamed with pride. “She is my wife now.” 
 
Erestor and Elrond exchanged a glance. This meant Legolas was now the 
legitimate heir to the Mirkwood throne. Many things would change – in 
Imladris as well as in Mirkwood.
 
Title: By the Grace of the Valar
Author: Morgana Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com Web page: 
http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon
Pairings for this part; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas and Elladan/Lindir.
Overall rating: NC-17 Summary: Lómion and Ereinion experience homely 
bliss and make several, welcome discoveries. In Imladris, the twins have 
become adults and Elladan wonders what to do about his attraction to 
Lindir. Elrohir finds interesting items all over the Last Homely House and 
only Erestor knows who could have put them there!
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge liberties with 
Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This story has the timeline from Hell, 
so you are warned! Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia Pleasant, thanks! I 
couldn’t have written this story without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
 
By the Grace of the Valar
Part 12
 
 
Lómion’s fingers swiftly braided his lover’s thick, dark hair. He had been 
doing this for several days now and Ereinion seemed to enjoy these 
moments. By looking in the mirror, Lómion saw that the former King had 
closed his eyes and that a peaceful smile had appeared on his lover’s face. 
 
Many things had changed since Estë’s visit that day. The changes had 
happened unnoticed at first. He had begun to touch Ereinion more often, 
offered to help cook, even began to read the books Lórien had left around 
the house, and he no longer felt intimidated when it was time to go to bed. 
Once or twice, he had turned the tables and had spooned up behind 
Ereinion, whilst it was normally his lover holding him instead. 
 
Once he had grown aware of these changes, he had observed Ereinion to 
find out if these changes pleased his lover or not. But Ereinion hardly 
seemed to notice, and if he did, his lover welcomed them, for annoyance 
never showed in the dark eyes. 
 
“Done,” announced Lómion, regretting that he had to stop caressing his 
lover’s silken hair. It was amazing, but the need to touch Ereinion was still 
growing stronger. 
 
“Thank you,” replied Ereinion, who had kept a close eye on Lómion. His 
lover had changed; had become more open and affectionate and they felt 
both more secure in their relationship. “Let us greet the day then!” He got 
to his feet and gathered his lover’s hands in his. They had started to run 
each morning and it was quickly becoming a routine. Dressed in boots, 
leggings and loose-fitting shirts they left the cottage and began to run. The 
gardens were a marvelous thing to behold and he felt blessed to be 
allowed to stay here. 
 
They ran for little over an hour and then removed their clothes to take their 
daily swim. Lómion no longer needed any encouragement to fool around 
with him in the water and was trying to pull him under. Happy laughter 
echoed through the gardens and it seemed the birds sang an even sweeter 
song hearing it.
 
After their swim, they returned to the cottage, finding new food items on 
the table. Each morning they would find a basket filled with bread, fruits, 
cheese and even occasionally some dry meat. They sat in companionable 
silence, smiling at each other. 
 
After the noon meal, Ereinion would drag his lover into the living area, 
where they spent hours reading and even composing. Ereinion had been 
pleased to find a flute the other day and had taken to playing it; ignoring 
the strange look his lover had given him. Questioning Lómion, Ereinion 
realized that his lover knew little of the art of music and he had taken it 
upon himself to teach him. 
 
“Would you sing for me?” asked Ereinion, realizing he had never heart his 
lover sing before.
 
“My voice is not suitable for singing,” whispered Lómion, feeling 
nervous. 
 
Ereinion raised an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe. All Elves are 
gifted in that way. Won’t you at least try?” He ignored the pleading look 
Lómion gave him and picked up the flute to play a song they had 
composed. Whilst he had written the music, Lómion had composed the 
text. 
 
Lómion felt cornered. He didn’t want to disappoint Ereinion, but he truly 
believed he couldn’t sing. But then the moment came for him to start 
singing and he did so because of the pleading look Ereinion gave him. 
 
Ereinion’s jaw practically hit the floor, hearing Lómion sing. He had heard 
many minstrels in his time perform, but not even Lindir or Ecthelion’s 
voice was as sweet as Lómion’s. Once they had finished, he leaned in 
closer to kiss his lover. “You sing even more sweetly than Ecthelion, 
meleth1.” 
 
Lómion blushed. “You do not have to lie.”
 
“It is the truth.”
 
A warm smile graced Lómion’s features. “You are speaking the truth?”
 
“Aye.” Ereinion returned the smile. The old Lómion would never have believed him, would never have accepted 
such a compliment, but the new Lómion did – with a little encouragement.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
That night, when Ereinion stepped into their bedroom to join his lover in bed, he found Lómion moving 
awkwardly beneath the sheet. “What is a… Oh…” 
 
Lómion bit his bottom lip. He was aroused and had hoped to bring himself to orgasm before Ereinion joined 
him. Although he felt more comfortable in most areas of their relationship, this aspect still worried him. He just 
didn’t want to impose on Ereinion for such banal needs.
 
Lómion’s face was an open book to Ereinion, who removed his shirt and leggings on his way over to the bed. 
Naked, he sat down on the side of the bed and reached for Lómion’s face. He buried his hand in the dark locks 
and gave his lover a patient smile. “I would like to do that for you, if you would permit it?”
 
Lómion squirmed. “I do not want to impose on you…”
 
“I do not see this as imposing,” whispered Ereinion, stretching beside his lover and drawing him close. His 
fingers curled around the slippery flesh and he stroked firmly. In the meantime, his lips found Lómion’s, and 
whilst maintaining eye-contact, he slowly but determinedly brought his lover to orgasm. Lómion trembled 
against him and a contended, sated look appeared in the brown eyes. The act, however, had made him hard as 
well and his erection pressed against Lómion. 
 
“Let me return the favor,” whispered Lómion, who was still taken aback each time Ereinion touched him 
intimately. 
 
Ereinion moistened his lips, deciding to take a risk. “Maybe you could bring me to orgasm in a different way 
than just using your hand?” He shifted on the bed until he was on his back and Lómion straddling his hips. His 
lover’s dark, long hair cascaded down his back and shoulders and the tips of the silken strands caressed his 
skin. 
 
Lómion’s gaze darkened. “I tried,” he said, defeated. “But I failed.” He had tried bringing Ereinion to orgasm 
orally, but the experience had left him shaken. It was the one act that still triggered his fear and memories. The 
Dark Elf had often made him perform that act and each time he had felt like suffocating, having to swallow 
Eöl’s seed. 
 
“I did not mean ‘that way’,” said Ereinion, whilst caressing his lover’s face. “I would like to feel you inside of 
me.” Involuntarily, he sucked in his breath, seeing his lover’s eyes widen. “But only if you wish for that too.”
 
“I do not know,” replied Lómion in a wavering voice. “I do not know if I can do that to you.”
 
“Why don’t we find out?” Ereinion threw caution to the wind then and risked it all. “You have no idea how 
much I want to feel you move inside of me. I have wanted this for a long time and you are the only one who can 
give me that. Please, meleth, won’t you try? I will guide you through it.” Gently, he caressed Lómion’s face.  
 
Lómion still wavered. “What if I cause you pain?” He refused to hurt his beloved in that way!
 
“I will tell you and should you want to stop, you can.” Ereinion realized that it was important for Lómion to be 
in control. “But there won’t be any pain because you will go slow and prepare me properly.”
 
“I…” Lómion still felt undecided, but then, he took heart, realizing he would have to take this step eventually. 
“Guide me then.” The way Ereinion’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at hearing those words, took Lómion aback. 
Did Ereinion want this so badly then?
 
“Spoon behind me!” Ereinion rolled onto his side and sighed happily, feeling his lover press close. During 
their conversation his lover’s arousal had weakened, but now the flesh was growing hard again. 
 
“What do I do now?”
 
“What would you like to do?” Ereinion closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy this moment in time. His 
lover’s soft lips pressed kisses against the nape of his neck and an exploring hand moved down his chest and 
toward his groin. Lómion’s touches were light and caring and it wasn’t long before Ereinion was panting and 
pressing back against his lover’s erection. “There is a vial of oil under the pillow.”
 
Lómion raised an eyebrow. “Did you plan this?”
 
“Nay, but I fervently hoped that this day would come.” Ereinion smiled and rubbed his backside against his 
lover’s member. “I always enjoyed being on the receiving end, meleth.” 
 
Ereinion had hinted at that before, but it was the first time his lover stated it that clearly. Lómion had taken 
hold of the vial and removed the stopper. “Ereinion?”
 
Ereinion sighed, happily, and pulled his knees closer toward his chest. “Coat a finger with oil and then 
massage the entrance to my body.” He knew it sounded a bit clinical, but Lómion needed these instructions. 
Once his lover felt more confident in making love to him, the mechanics would change. 
 
Still biting his bottom lip, Lómion did as he was told. Using one hand, he spread the globes and placed his oily 
finger at the ring of muscle. Massaging the guardian ring, his mind began to drift off – the Dark Elf had never 
prepared him. Maybe he would have been in less pain if Eöl had. But no, that was in the past and he didn’t want 
to bring those dark memories into their bed tonight! Unexpectedly, Ereinion pressed back and the tip of his 
finger slid inside his lover’s body. 
 
“Oh, yes…” Ereinion purred in delight. “Try to inch in deeper.”
 
Lómion complied, wondering how this could be pleasurable for Ereinion. But his lover quivered against him in 
delight and seemed eager for more. 
 
“Now, explore a bit. You are searching for a nub of flesh inside my passage.” Ereinion closed his eyes, waiting 
for Lómion to find the gland that would start his pleasure.
 
Lómion explored, timidly. The tight glove around his finger made him wary – how was he supposed to take his 
lover without hurting him? His fingertip suddenly encountered the nub Ereinion had mentioned, drawing a 
series of moans from his lover. “Is this it?”
 
“Aye… oh, stop now!” He was too close to finding completion and squeezed at the base of his erection. “You 
almost made me come!”
 
In spite of his nervousness, Lómion grinned. “I did?” 
 
“Oh yes… once you are inside of me, I want you to thrust in such a way that you rub that place inside of me.”
 
Lómion was beginning to realize that being on top wouldn’t be as easy as he had thought. “What do I do now?”
 
“Add more oil and return with two fingers.” Ereinion felt fuller this time, and tried to impale himself on his 
lover’s fingers when Lómion took his time penetrating him. “Now move them about.”
 
Raising an eyebrow at those instructions, Lómion did. “Why am I doing this?”
 
“You are stretching me, so I can accommodate you later.” Ereinion looked at his lover from over his shoulder. 
“That is why there won’t be any pain.”
 
“I see.” Lómion continued to stretch his lover, making sure his fingertips brushed his lover’s prostrate every so 
often. “What is the next step?”
 
Ereinion felt relaxed and more than ready to receive his lover. “Coat your member with the oil.”
 
This was it, realized Lómion. Could he do it?
 
“Please, meleth? I need you.”
 
Ereinion’s plea made Lómion comply. He used plenty of oil to coat his shaft and then drew in a deep breath. “I 
am ready… I think.” 
 
“Good.” Ereinion smiled, looking forward to the pleasure he would experience shortly. “Now slide inside.” 
 
Lómion hesitated. “You will tell me if you are in pain?”
 
“I will,” replied Ereinion, growing impatient. “Please take me, meleth.” He wiggled his backside, hoping for 
Lómion to finally take him. 
 
Lómion drew in a deep breath and took himself into hand. He positioned himself at the entrance to his lover’s 
body and watched in surprise how his hard flesh easily glided inside. 
 
“Oh…” Ereinion’s eyes opened and his fingers clawed at the sheets. “That feels…” Normally he wouldn’t talk 
much during such an intimate moment but he knew how important it was for Lómion to know that he was doing 
everything right. “Please, more… deeper.”
 
Curling up around Ereinion, Lómion buried himself to the hilt in his lover’s welcoming passage. He had 
expected Ereinion to tell him to stop because it hurt, but it looked like his lover wasn’t in any pain at all. “Like 
this?”
 
“Aye, like that.” Ereinion purred, closed his eyes and savored the feeling. Lómion filled him nicely. “How does 
it feel for you?”
 
Lómion licked his lips. “I never felt anything like it before. Are you sure you are comfortable?” It felt amazing, 
being inside of Ereinion and his body was urging him to thrust and bring them to orgasm.
 
“Comfortable?” Ereinion grinned. “I will feel more comfortable once you start thrusting, meleth.” 
 
Lómion thrust and stars exploded behind his closed eyelids. The sensation was divine and he nuzzled Ereinion’s 
neck, deeply inhaling his lover’s scent. “I did not think it would be like this.”
 
“You can think later – move now!” Ereinion pressed back, desperate for his lover to pick up pace.
 
Lómion caught on and delivered another deep stroke, rubbing his lover’s prostrate in the process.
 
“Aye, like that… again!” Ereinion guided his lover and they set a slow, but devouring pace, with deep strokes 
that almost drove Ereinion insane with the need to come. He wrapped his fingers around his neglected arousal 
and stroked firmly. 
 
Lómion let go of his fears and the strokes became faster – deeper. Ereinion pushed back and it wasn’t long 
before Ereinion tumbled over the edge. Warm cream dripped from the slit and onto his hand. His body, which 
had been tense a moment ago, relaxed. 
 
Not expecting the sensation of Ereinion’s inner muscle contracting around his length, Lómion stilled and 
submitted to the unexpected feeling. He climaxed a moment later and buried his face in his lover’s long hair. 
Trembling over his entire body, he clung to Ereinion for support. 
 
Ereinion’s eyes opened and he looked at his lover from over his shoulder. He waited for Lómion to come down 
from the sensual high and then said, “Pull out now – but do it slowly.”
 
Lómion obeyed, removing himself from his lover’s body. His first look was at his lover’s backside. He separated 
the mounds of flesh to check for blood.
 
“You did not hurt me,” said Ereinion, allowing the probing. He gave Lómion a moment to convince himself that 
he was fine and then turned onto his other side, so they were face to face. “I told you before – there does not 
have to be any pain.”
 
Lómion looked, thoughtfully, at his lover. The whole experience had baffled him and his body still reeled with 
release. “I…” The words wouldn’t come to him and he stared at Ereinion. 
 
“Did you enjoy making love? I certainly did.” Another soft purr left his lips and he licked his lover’s throat, 
enjoying the slightly salty taste. 
 
“I did,” replied Lómion in a shaky voice. “But you seemed to enjoy it too, which is…” He had never felt any 
pleasure when the Dark Elf had taken him. 
 
“We made love, meleth,” said Ereinion, trying to explain something important to Lómion. “You did not take me 
against my will and you prepared me. We made love -- you did not force yourself upon me. There is a huge 
difference.”
 
Lómion nodded; that realization had finally reached him as well. “You would like to do this again, then?”
 
“Aye,” said Ereinion, nodding his head. “Often.”
 
His lover’s words made him blush. “I might feel more at ease the next time we… we make love.” 
 
Ereinion smiled and buried Lómion in a hug. His lover finally understood.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
Lindir cringed; how many times had Elladan tried to get the melody right? Had tried and failed, he should add. 
“Again!” Lindir wondered why Elladan continued to come to him to study music. His student had no talent for 
it! Elladan was a born warrior and many guards would rather not spar with the powerful half-Elf.
 
Elladan sighed, drew in a deep breath, and played the melody on his flute once more. 
 
Lindir’s ears hurt by the time Elladan was halfway through the song. “Please stop,” he begged. 
 
Disappointed with himself, Elladan placed the flute aside. “I am trying,” he whispered, wishing he would do 
better. Looking at the minstrel, he wondered if he would ever get over the attraction, which had started at a 
young age, and had grown stronger after reaching majority. He was a hundred and twenty years old now and 
nine years ago, his little sister had been born. Arwen had completed the family and had made her parents very 
happy. But the only one who could ever make Elladan truly happy was Lindir. Unfortunately, the minstrel didn’t 
return his feelings. 
 
“Elladan? Are you even listening?” Irate, Lindir gave Elladan a stern look. He loved the twin dearly and they 
shared a special relationship, but Elladan seemed always so scatterbrained around him! Lindir wondered why. 
Elladan had sought him out since the twin had learned to crawl and had even sneaked into his bed on occasion, 
eager to be held. Once Elladan had grown older, that had stopped, but the twin still enjoyed his company and 
had asked to be trained in the art of music. Lindir had reluctantly accepted, knowing that Elladan had little 
talent for it, but he in turn enjoyed Elladan’s company too. 
 
“I am…” Elladan looked at Lindir and once again his stomach radiated the most intense feelings, which 
traveled upward, carrying the sensation high into his throat where he threatened to choke up. 
 
Lindir picked up the flute and looked, thoughtfully, at Elladan, who also rose from the floor. “Maybe you 
should go to the training grounds and work out? That would force you to concentrate.”
 
Elladan hung his head in defeat, realizing he was being dismissed. He felt terrible for disappointing Lindir! “I 
am sorry. The next time, I will try harder.” 
 
Lindir raised a hand and rested it on the twin’s shoulder. The Elfling of old had long ago become a grown 
adult. Elladan had reached his majority many decades ago and it was time for him to take a mate. He probably 
hadn’t done so because Elrohir hadn’t found a suitable partner yet and would stay behind alone. The twins 
were too close to allow for that happen. “Go to Glorfindel and spar with him.”
 
Elladan nodded and wanted to mouth another apology, but didn’t. He had made a fool out himself already, no 
need to add to that. “May I return later?”
 
Lindir squeezed his pupil’s shoulder. “We will talk during dinner, Elladan. And now, go.”
 
Being dismissed in that way hurt and Elladan left, eager to lick his wounds.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“Elladan? What is amiss?” Elrohir stopped sparring, seeing his twin approaching the training grounds with a 
defeated expression in the gray eyes. He walked toward his twin and probed the distressed eyes. “What did 
Lindir say this time?” He wrapped an arm around his twin’s shoulder and guided him to an old beech, where 
they sat down on the grass. He had been the first and only one to learn that Elladan had feelings for their 
former mentor. Hearing it had caused feelings of insecurity inside him, as he had been afraid that he would lose 
his twin to the minstrel. But as time passed by, he grew worried, seeing Elladan making no progress in winning 
Lindir’s heart. The minstrel had never noticed the twin’s attraction – or blatantly ignored it. 
 
“I do not know what else to do,” whispered Elladan, feeling miserable. He leaned heavily against his twin and 
savored the sensation of Elrohir holding him close. “I spend as much time as possible with him. I try so hard to 
be a good musician, but…”
 
“Your talent is not with music and you know that,” said Elrohir in a soft voice. “I understand why you keep 
trying though; you want him to be proud of you, but you are trying to be someone you are not. You are not a 
musician or a poet – you are a warrior.”
 
“But I do not want to be one! I want to be able to spend time with Lindir and the one thing he cares about the 
most is his music. It is the only way to reach him!”
 
“I am so sorry, tôr2. But maybe you are trying too hard to impress him? You are trying to beat him at what he 
is best. You are doomed to fail.” During the last few years, he had often comforted Elladan and he was 
beginning to give up hope that the minstrel would ever return Elladan’s feelings. At first, he had hoped that 
Lindir wasn’t interested in his twin, for then Elladan would remain his, but now, he felt sorry for Elladan, who 
hurt so badly due to this unrequited love.
 
“What do I do? How do I reach his heart?” Elladan lifted pleading eyes and stared at his twin. “I know that he 
lost his lover in the past, but one would think that he would be ready to love again. After all, more than a 
century has passed by!”
 
Elrohir inclined his head. “Lindir and Ereinion shared a deep love; at least that is what our father told us. It 
might be that he is just not interested in taking another lover.”
 
“Then my love is doomed!” Crestfallen and utterly discouraged, Elladan stared blankly ahead.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
Erestor raised an eyebrow at hearing such news. He had been standing close and had overheard the twins’ 
conversation. Elladan was in love with Lindir? Aye, the twin had always preferred Lindir’s presence above all 
others, even when he had only been a child, but to learn that this preference had matured into love surprised 
him. 
 
It also left him conflicted. Elladan was a good person. The twin had become a proud warrior, adept at fighting 
off his enemies. He also had a heart of gold. Elladan would make a good mate for Lindir, but… Elrohir’s words 
rang true to him. Lindir had loved Ereinion and had never shown interest to take a new lover. 
 
“Such a mess,” whispered the Chief Advisor. What should he do?
 
“If you want my advice, Lord Councilor, I would advise you to get them together.”
 
Erestor drew in a deep breath. “Good afternoon, Ada3.” Námo, invisible to all others, gestured to follow him, 
which Erestor did. The twins were still whispering, but he had heard enough. He knew what he needed to know. 
“It has been a while since I saw you last.”
 
Námo inclined his head. “I have been here more often than you know. Sometimes, you cannot see me either.”
 
That was rather alarming news! “What are you up to?”
 
Námo schooled his features in complete innocence. “I? Up to? Nothing, Erestor. You know me.”
 
“Aye, I know you – that is why I am asking.” Erestor fell into step with his father and studied him. “I have 
missed you. Do you bring news from the Halls of Waiting?”
 
“If you want to hear news, I can give you news,” said Námo, teasingly. They had reached the rose gardens and 
Námo sat down on a bench, plucking a rose and admiring its coloration. “Do you remember your old friend 
Maeglin?”
 
“Friend? I would hardly call him that. We met once, in Gondolin.” Reluctantly, Erestor sat down as well and 
watched his father pluck the rose’s petals one by one. 
 
“What did you sense when you met him?”
 
“A tormented soul. I pitied him.”
 
“You were right… Maeglin has redeemed himself. The child of twilight now dwells in Lórien’s gardens and has 
even found a lover – Ereinion.” Námo carefully monitored Erestor’s reaction. “The Last High-King’s heart has 
been claimed, Erestor. Ereinion and Lindir will never be lovers again.”
 
Everything fell into place for Erestor. “And that is why you want me to encourage a relationship between 
Elladan and Lindir?”
 
“That is one reason, aye.” Námo had plucked the rose empty and let the remains drop to the ground. “It would 
also help if Elladan had a lover when Elrohir dies.”
 
Erestor’s eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. “Nay, I won’t allow it! Elrohir is so gentle, so full of life! You 
cannot claim him yet! He is too young!”
 
Námo gave his son a look filled with compassion. “I know that, Erestor. But Eru’s will must be done.”
 
“His parents will be devastated! How can you do this to them?”
 
“It is not my decision that Elrohir must die. It is part of Eru’s song.” Námo straightened out the folds of his 
robes. “Erestor, even you cannot stop this. You are only an Elf, remember?”
 
Erestor trembled. “I faced such a decision once before…” he said, realizing the terrible truth.
 
“Aye, and back then you chose Glorfindel. You refused to leave his side until after he had died. He never quite 
forgave you for choosing him over Gondolin. It is a good thing that those memories are locked away from him.” 
Námo understood his son’s terror, but could do nothing to take it away. “There will come a time when you have 
to make a similar choice.”
 
Erestor’s tremors worsened and he stared into his father’s eyes. “Will I lose Glorfindel again?”
 
“I cannot tell you the answer to that question.” Námo caressed his son’s face and wiped away the single tear 
that descended down Erestor’s face. “You still have some time left before Elrohir’s soul will travel to the Halls 
of Waiting.”
 
“How long?” Erestor was afraid to hear the answer. “Centuries? Decades?” Seeing his father shake his head, 
his heart raced with fear. “Years?”
 
“Nay, months…” Námo wished he could change the future, but everything had been laid out in Eru’s song. “Do 
not waste any time in getting Lindir to accept Elladan as his lover. Once Elrohir dies, Elladan will want to 
follow him. Elladan might try to take his own life or choose to fade. Lindir will be the only one to hold him on 
Arda.”
 
“Oh, Ada! Why?” Erestor didn’t want any of this to happen! He had heard so many things that upset him! 
Elrohir would die and Elladan would try to follow his twin. /And I will face another choice… If I choose wrong, 
I will lose Glorfindel!/ He couldn’t lose his lover! Glorfindel was his life!
 
Námo leaned in closer and wrapped his son in a fatherly hug. “I know that my words offer you little comfort, 
but you could try to trust in me.”
 
Erestor shook his head. “There won’t be a happy ending to this story, will there?” 
 
Námo remained quiet; he wished he could tell his son the outcome, but this knowledge was to be kept from 
Erestor.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
That night, Glorfindel wondered why Erestor lay trembling in his arms. They had made love – slowly and 
passionately – as Erestor had practically begged him to take him. He had obliged his lover, feeling the need 
inside Erestor to make love and he had hoped that his lover’s depressed mood would disappear after being 
intimate. But it seemed to have worsened. “What is on your mind, melethron4? Will you share your troubled 
thoughts with me?” He lay spooned behind Erestor and it vexed him that he couldn’t see his lover’s expression.
 
“I had a dream,” whispered Erestor, closing his eyes. He pressed back against Glorfindel, desperate to feel his 
lover as close as possible. 
 
“What happened in that dream to upset you?” Glorfindel stroked his lover’s raven hair and pressed tender 
kisses against the nape of Erestor’s neck. “Please confide in me.”
 
Should he? He couldn’t keep it inside for long. Glorfindel would be persistent and in the end, he would tell him 
at any rate. “I dreamt you hated me.”
 
Glorfindel’s heart sped up. “I… what?” How could Erestor possibly dream such a thing? “I love you!”
 
“In my dream you hated me. You no longer wanted anything to do with me and rejected me. I never felt 
lonelier.” Erestor fought back his tears at the memory of Glorfindel rejecting him in the Halls of Waiting. The 
blond Elf had been furious with him and that rejection had broken his heart. How could he ever bear it a second 
time? 
 
“I will never hate you!” said Glorfindel, determinedly. “I love you! How could I hate you? You are my life! I 
was nothing without you! I only felt alive after you found me!” Feeling Erestor tremble, Glorfindel rolled 
Erestor onto his back and stretched beside his lover, who he pulled close again. Now, he saw the swimming 
dark eyes. “Oh, Erestor, it was only a dream! And dreams never come true.” Fear suddenly coursed through 
him. “It was only a dream and not a vision?” And even if it had been a vision, he would make certain that it 
would never become true!
 
“I did not see it in the form of a vision,” admitted Erestor, slowly turning onto his side. Face to face with 
Glorfindel, he saw the shock in the azure eyes. /You hated me once, Glorfindel. If you remembered the truth, 
you would hate me still. Was what I did wrong? Should I have insisted my father returned those memories to 
you? But I cannot live without you!/
 
“I do not like the way you look at me,” whispered Glorfindel, sensing his lover’s troubled thoughts. The 
expression in Erestor’s eyes spoke of fear and hurt. 
 
“I do not want to lose your love, Glorfindel.”
 
“You never will. I will always love you.” Erestor still trembled against him and Glorfindel was eager to do 
away with his beloved’s fear. “I vow to always love you, Erestor. I will never turn my back on you or hate you.”
 
“Do not make such a promise,” whispered Erestor, quite upset because he knew that Glorfindel was capable of 
hating him and would go back to hating him once the warrior recalled the truth. 
 
Shocked, Glorfindel asked, “Why? Are you afraid I will break it?”
 
Erestor remained quiet, as he was unable to voice his fears in detail. “Just hold me – please.”
 
Glorfindel obliged at once and held his distressed lover. /No matter what will happen in the future, I will never 
hate you! Never!/
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
Feeling drained, Elrohir pushed the door open to his rooms. Until now, he had kept Elladan company, 
comforting his brother, who had remained upset for the rest of the evening – even during dinner when Lindir 
had joined them. /I wish there was something I could do, tôr. I do not like seeing you so unhappy./ But there was 
so little he could do! What *was* he supposed to do, then? Go to Lindir and beg the minstrel to finally notice 
his twin? Elladan’s pride would not have that!
 
He stripped, folded his clothes, and draped them over the back of the chair before heading toward the bed. 
What he needed was a good night’s sleep! But then, his guilty conscience attacked him; shouldn’t he have 
stayed with Elladan? Have sat with his brother through the night? But no, he needed rest! He had just returned 
from a two-week patrol and was tired to the bone!
 
What was that? He didn’t remember leaving a book on his bed! Curious, in spite of his fatigue, he picked up the 
book – which looked brittle and smelled of ages gone by. He knew an antiquity when he held one in his hands. 
This book was old! But how had it found its way into his room? Puzzled, Elrohir sat down and opened it. 
 
Turning the pages, he realized the book mostly held poetry. Elrohir didn’t recognize the handwriting and 
searched for a name, which would lead him to the poet and owner. 
 
On the last page he found what he had been looking for – a name. But a name, which he had never expected to 
find. 
 
“Ecthelion, Captain of the House of the Fountain?” Could that be? Had he come across some poetry the fabled 
warrior had written? “How did this get into my room?” Or should he be asking how it had gotten into 
Imladris? Elrohir was a bookworm, much like Erestor and he and his father had spent much time in the library, 
familiarizing himself with the volumes there. He knew with certainty that his father’s library held no poetry 
written by Ecthelion!
 
Leafing through it, he was surprised to notice the depressed tone the poetry radiated. Ecthelion wrote of love 
never found, family and friends lost, and this overwhelming desire to finally know love. 
 
Gloomy shores, empty and forgotten
Stained with blood
Full of remnants of past glory
 
Black sand keeping time
Passing
Life into death
 
Shadows glimmer in the water
Remains of souls long gone
 
Eternal feelings of loneliness
Almost lost…
The sound of the flute wakes my heart
 
Pain claims it
Making my heart
Forever lost
 
Shivers ran down Elrohir’s spine. Glorfindel and his father had taught him about Gondolin’s history and the 
blond Captain’s voice had always been warm and caring when mentioning Ecthelion. Once or twice, Elrohir 
had thought he had even heard some old hero-worship echo in Glorfindel’s voice. In Glorfindel’s tales, 
Ecthelion was a bright light, warm and loving. But reading these poems gave him a different view of the 
Captain of the Fountain. A lost soul, trying to find love – some sort of connection with his loved ones. “Do all 
his poems breathe such dark loneliness?” he wondered. 
 
Tonight
Love is alive
Burning deeply
The skin touched by you burns
It seems like we are a million years apart
Though in reality we are one
 
Equal love
 
Oh, my beloved
Open your eyes
See the truth
 
Find me!
 
The second poem woke even more questions in Elrohir, who thoughtfully closed the book and placed it on the 
nightstand next to his bed. /I must speak with Glorfindel. He will know where this book came from./ But that 
wasn’t the most important question on his mind – he wanted to learn more of Ecthelion and hear the things 
Glorfindel hadn’t told him before!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“Why did you do that?” In the Halls of Waiting, Ecthelion gave Námo a resentful look. “That book was never 
meant for his eyes – for anyone’s eyes! It burned to cinder! It cannot exist again!”
 
Námo shrugged. “Remaking a book is an easy feat.” 
 
Ecthelion’s eyes widened. “You remade it? Why?” His gaze traveled back to Vairë’s latest tapestry, showing 
him Elrohir closing the book and lying down to rest. “I wrote that when I thought I would never find love! 
Erestor and Glorfindel had just bonded and I felt lonely! Elrohir will think me…”
 
“Lonely? In need of love?” Námo shrugged a second time. “And isn’t that the truth?”
 
Ecthelion growled. “You had no right to do that!”
 
“Oh, but I need to prepare him for you!” Námo gave Ecthelion a conspiring look. 
 
“Nay, you do not! Elrohir won’t die! I will find a way to prevent it!”
 
“Are you getting cold feet, my Lord?” teased Námo.
 
“You…You are… You enrage me!” Ecthelion turned on his heel and marched away, leaving behind a chuckling 
Námo.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
Erestor failed to concentrate on his correspondence. Melpomaen had written him a long letter, which breathed 
contentment and fulfillment. Life in Mirkwood was different these days. Thranduil was happily married to 
Elluin, making Legolas the legal heir to Mirkwood’s throne. Melpomaen and Legolas had long bonded and 
were living their love. And by the looks of this letter, even Thranduil’s subjects had felt the change, as some of 
them requested to visit Imladris to strengthen relations between the realms. 
 
One of the Woodland Elves requesting permission to visit was Landiant, and Erestor had already sent word 
back that the Captain was welcome. He had even bit down the hints of jealousy he had felt when writing that 
reply, as he still remembered how well Glorfindel and Landiant had gotten along during Thranduil’s visit. 
 
“You aren’t concentrating,” whispered Glorfindel into his lover’s ear. “Shouldn’t you be replying to our dear 
Melpomaen?”
 
“I approved Landiant’s request to visit Imladris,” said Erestor, feeling the need to unburden his heart. 
 
Glorfindel arched an eyebrow. After the Mirkwood party had left, Erestor had admitted to feeling jealous of the 
Mirkwood Captain, and hearing that had utterly stunned Glorfindel. “I love only you, Erestor.”
 
Erestor sighed. “Glorfindel, I do not know why I am jealous. I never felt jealous before.” It had worsened after 
his father’s visit, during which Námo had told him of his impending choice. He was so afraid of losing 
Glorfindel that he tried to hold on to his lover as tightly as he could.
 
Glorfindel cocked his head to capture Erestor’s gaze and smiled. “I love you, Erestor. Not some Mirkwood Elf. 
We have been together for a long time and maybe it is understandable that you are feeling insecure. But I can 
only repeat my vow – I will always love you. Always.”
 
/I wish I could believe that./ Erestor bowed his head and allowed Glorfindel to pull him to his feet. Once he 
stood, his lover’s arms came up behind him and he pressed close against the warrior’s body. /Oh, I need you so 
much. I love you so much!/ Should Glorfindel reject him again, he would not survive having to go on without 
the other half of his soul.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“Lindir? May I have a word with you?” Erestor had carefully thought this over – at least he hoped so. In the 
end, he had reached the conclusion that he had to talk to his old friend. His father would never lie to him, and 
Námo *had* said that Elrohir would die. He would never doubt his father’s words. If Elrohir’s death was a 
fact, he had to take precautions now and ensure that they didn’t lose Elladan as well. “It is a personal matter.”
 
Lindir placed his lyre aside and gestured for Erestor to seat himself close to the fire place. “You can always 
talk to me, meldir5.” 
 
Erestor sat cross-legged and wondered how to introduce Elladan to their conversation. He decided on a detour. 
“I was wondering how you fare, Lindir. It has been over a century since you lost Ereinion and I wonder if you 
truly dealt with his death.”
 
Lindir’s expression grew sad. “Ereinion… I loved him with every ounce of my being.” 
 
Erestor reached for Lindir’s right hand and covered it with his own. “Have you dealt with the loss?”
 
“I believe so,” said Lindir, after carefully considering Erestor’s question. “I found peace of mind whilst staying 
with Círdan. We talked for nights and I sang to Ereinion – saying my goodbyes.”
 
Erestor nodded once. “I had hoped so.”
 
Lindir cocked his head. “Why bring this up now, meldir?” He hadn’t spoken about Ereinion for so long! Why 
would Erestor address this now?
 
“Because I have learned that someone is in love with you.” Erestor monitored Lindir’s reaction and sensed his 
friend’s surprise. “You did not notice?”
 
“In love? With me?” Lindir felt shocked. “But who… and how do you know…?”
 
“I overheard him confess his love for you.” Erestor smiled, seductively. “This one truly loves you – has loved 
you for many years.”
 
“It is a male Elf then?” He still didn’t know what to make of this development!
 
“Aye, it is a he.” Erestor leaned in closer and he whispered his next words. “I believe him worthy of you, 
meldir.” 
 
“Who is it?” asked Lindir, wondering who in Elbereth’s name would fall in love with him. 
 
“It is a delicate matter,” said Erestor. “And I would prefer not to reveal his name yet.”
 
“What do you wish to know?” asked Lindir, knowing Erestor well enough to realize his old friend was after 
specific information and would only divulge the name after receiving those answers.
 
“Is your heart open? Would you welcome such interest? His love? Or has your heart closed and do you still 
cling to memories? Please understand. I need to know this first, for your suitor is precious to me.”
 
Those last words puzzled Lindir. Not many Elves were that close to the Chief Advisor! 
 
“Please search your feelings and answer me truthfully,” requested Erestor. 
 
Lindir nodded once and searched inside. What were his feelings in this matter? “Your words surprised me, 
Erestor. I never thought someone would be interested in me in that way ever again.”
 
“I understand that it is a surprise,” said Erestor, stroking the back of Lindir’s hand. “But would you welcome 
it?”
 
Lindir cocked his head. “It would be nice to have someone to come home to. Someone to hold at night. Someone 
to love, but…”
 
“Do you worry that you might betray Ereinion?” asked Erestor, sensing what was holding Lindir back.
 
“In a way, aye,” admitted Lindir. “But he is in the Halls of Waiting and I am alive. And it does not look like I 
will die shortly. He would want me to focus on the living.”
 
Erestor nodded again. “You would welcome his interest then?”
 
“I might…” whispered Lindir. Letting down his guard, he added, “I do feel lonely and I miss having a love in 
my life. But what if I do not return his feelings? What if I cannot love him?”
 
Erestor smiled, reassuringly. “You already love him, meldir.” Over the years, he had seen the affection and 
love, which Lindir held for Elladan, grow. Aye, the minstrel adored both twins, but Elladan had always had a 
special place in his heart. Maybe it had started out as friendship on Lindir’s part – trying to befriend an Elfling 
– but Erestor knew it had always been more on Elladan’s part. Elladan had been in love with Lindir forever. 
Childhood adoration was only one step away from falling in love. 
 
“I do? Would you give me his name then?” Lindir inched closer. 
 
“Lindir… Who has been following you around ever since he was born? Who looks at you with large, adoring 
eyes? Who tries so hard to please you whilst he is doomed to fail as a musician?” 
 
Lindir’s heart missed a beat, as he knew exactly who Erestor was referring to. “It cannot be Elladan!”
 
Erestor gave his friend a blinding smile. “Elladan is in love with you. That is why he asked you to train him in 
the art of music, whilst he has no talent for it. It is his way to spend time with you. Did you really not realize 
this?”
 
Lindir shook his head. “It never crossed my mind that he could be in love with me!” 
 
“So, what are your feelings in this matter? Will you give him a chance to win your love?”
 
Stunned, Lindir blinked. “Erestor, I… I do not know… I never thought… By the Grace of the Valar, what am I 
supposed to do? He is a child!”
 
Erestor chuckled. “Elladan came of age over half a century ago. He is an adult and it is time for him to take a 
mate. Stop looking at him as that Elfling who crawled after you!”
 
“How can you say that?” Lindir’s white hair danced furiously against the small of his back, as he rose from the 
floor and began to pace. “He is Elrond’s son! What do you think Elrond will do when he realizes his son is in 
love with me? I am his teacher!”
 
“You used to be his teacher, Lindir. The child has grown up and is an adult.” Erestor grinned, imaging 
Elrond’s reaction. “I believe he would be stunned, much like you. But once the shock wore down, he would 
approve. Lindir, Elladan and you are well-suited for each other!”
 
“I do not know what to think,” whispered Lindir, feeling quite lost. “I will never be able to keep this from 
Elladan the next time we meet. I will treat him differently, unwillingly.”
 
Erestor rose from the floor and walked over to his friend. “Lindir, stop pacing and look at me.” Reluctantly, the 
minstrel complied and Erestor probed the large blue eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for 
him!”
 
“I cannot do that,” mumbled Lindir, bowing his head in embarrassment. “I do not know what I feel for him, but 
there is something.”
 
“Then give Elladan his chance!” Erestor lightly shook Lindir, forcing the minstrel to rebuild eye-contact. “You 
know how precious love is and how swiftly it can be taken away from you. Do not waste precious time, meldir. 
Open your eyes and admit to yourself that not only does Elladan love you, but that you return his feelings.”
 
Lindir swallowed, nervously. “He is so young, Erestor…”
 
“Age does not count as an excuse not to love, Lindir.” 
 
Lindir sighed, deeply troubled. “I need to give this matter some thought.”
 
“Do not waste too much time,” said Erestor, walking toward the doorway. “Take hold of love when it finds you. 
Do not dismiss it!” He closed the door behind him and rested his back against the wall. “That is done – I 
hope.”
 
“You did well,” commented Námo, grinning widely.  
 
Erestor muttered beneath his breath and glared at his father. “Your visits are becoming more frequent.”
 
“I wanted to tell you that you did the right thing.” Námo brushed his son’s face with a tender touch and then 
walked down the corridor. “You will be seeing me more often, Erestor.”
 
“Where are you going now?” said Erestor, groaning, as he realized that his father had more hidden agendas 
than he had ever thought possible!
 
“That does not concern you, my son!” Námo looked over his shoulder, gave Erestor a wink and then 
disappeared from view. He had another present to deliver to Elrohir’s rooms!
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Glorfindel? Can I ask you something? Something personal?” Elrohir had located him in the Captain’s office, 
where he was slaving over this month’s duty rosters.
 
“Are you here to steal my duty rosters again?” asked Glorfindel, goodheartedly. He was happy Elrohir was 
here to distract him for working out the assignments was driving him mad! He smiled at the fond memories of 
Elrohir stealing the rosters from him and hiding beneath the desk. Ah, the twins had grown up too quickly, but 
luckily there was a new Elfling to dote upon. 
 
“Nay, not this time.” Elrohir seated himself opposite the Captain and fumbled with the corner of his sleeve. 
 
Realizing that something was wrong, Glorfindel sobered and stopped teasing the twin. “What brings you here 
today?” It was more often Elladan than Elrohir who sought him out. Although both were accomplished sword’s 
men, it was Elladan who excelled at weapon’s skill. Elrohir was more like his father and had the makings of a 
scholar and a healer. 
 
“I wondered if you had ever seen this book before.” Elrohir placed Ecthelion’s book of poetry on the desk in 
front of Glorfindel. 
 
Glorfindel picked it up and looked at it, critically. “I cannot say I have.” Opening it, his gaze was instantly 
drawn to the name on the last page. “Ecthelion?” He frowned; he had never known his friend wrote poetry. 
“How did you come by it?” Glorfindel read some of the poems and recalled his friend’s, often somber, moods. 
 
“I found it in my room. I never put it there.” Elrohir closely watched his former tutor. “You always spoke of 
Ecthelion fondly and described him as an energetic person, with a lust for life. I have read most of those poems 
by now and they breathe a different mood.”
 
Glorfindel nodded once. “Ecthelion avoided speaking about his loneliness. I sensed he was not happy, but he 
would not confide in me. Only once, did he slip, and mention missing having a love in his life. Maybe his moods 
became even more depressed after I bonded with Erestor.”
 
“Who is the real Ecthelion, then? The valiant warrior you painted in your stories or the lonely soul who wrote 
these lines?”
 
“He was a combination of both.” Glorfindel closed the book and placed it back onto his desk. “Ecthelion was a 
complex Elf, Elrohir. I cannot describe his character in a few words. He was a valiant warrior. He took out 
more Balrogs than I did.” Glorfindel closed his eyes. “I witnessed his death, Elrohir. He died a hero – more so 
than I ever did. He died defending Tuor. He literally sacrificed his life to save him.” 
 
Elrohir took hold of the book and his fingertips caressed the withered leather. “Do you wish to keep it? You 
have ties with Ecthelion, I do not. It seems more fitting that you should have it.”
 
But Glorfindel shook his head. “You found it. You keep it. I do not know who put it in your rooms, but I believe 
there is a reason why you found it.” Glorfindel smiled, weakly. “Knowing Ecthelion, he hoped no one would 
ever read it and that it had been burned in Gondolin. It is a miracle that it survived the fire.”
 
Elrohir rose, pressing the book against his chest. “I will keep it then. Glorfindel, thank you for discussing 
Ecthelion with me. I know that could not have been easy. I still sense pain when you mention him.”
 
“He was a good friend, Elrohir. I trusted only two Elves with my life in those times and they were Ecthelion and 
Erestor.”
 
Elrohir nodded once. “You can always borrow it, if you change your mind and want to read it.”
 
“Thank you. That is very kind.” He would always remember Ecthelion fondly, but also with pain in his heart, 
for his trusted friend had died too young and without having known a lover’s embrace.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“Why are you doing this?” Ecthelion was trying hard to remain in control of his raging emotions. One moment 
he had been wandering the endless corridors of the Halls of Waiting, and the next, he found himself standing 
beside Námo in Glorfindel’s office, overhearing their conversation. “Why did you take me here? Aren’t you 
breaking any rules by allowing me to witness this?”
 
Námo shrugged his shoulders. Within the blink of an eye, he transported them back to the Halls of Waiting. He 
had taken Ecthelion to his private Hall, where souls seldom came. He sat down and studied Ecthelion. 
“Elrohir’s death is approaching.”
 
“How will he die?” Maybe if he knew, he could find a way to prevent it!
 
Námo sensed those thoughts, but didn’t respond to them. It was folly of Ecthelion to think he could change 
Eru’s song. “The twins will leave on patrol and will have a run in with Orcs. Normally, they would easily take 
them out, but Elladan will be distracted, as Lindir will have accepted his love. Elladan will let his guard down 
and the Orcs will take advantage of his open back. Elrohir will take the lethal blow, meant for his twin, and 
die.”
 
“Oh, no,” whispered Ecthelion, shocked. “I thought he would not die for many more centuries!”
 
“Nay,” replied Námo in a compassionate tone. “He will die before reaching his next begetting day.”
 
“Eru is cruel.”
 
“Nay, that is not true. In time, you will see the wisdom to his song.” Námo felt sorry for Ecthelion, who only 
saw death – and not the chance at love the two souls would be given. “When the day of his death comes, I will 
take you with me.” The first face he wanted Elrohir to see in death was Ecthelion’s.
 
“Why?” 
 
“Because you will be able to soothe him in a way I can not. Because you already love him.” Námo rose from 
his chair and stood in front of the soul. “Ecthelion, you cannot stop Eru’s song from becoming reality, but you 
can be there to lessen Elrohir’s pain.” And Elrohir, in turn, would soothe Ecthelion’s.
 
“I will be there,” promised Ecthelion, but his heart felt heavy, as he simply didn’t want Elrohir to join the dead. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“What is this? Another ‘gift’?” Elrohir felt wary, finding a delicately sculpted mithril flute on his bed. Whoever 
had placed it here had made a mistake. It was Elladan who aspired to be a musician!
 
Elrohir cautiously approached his bed. The flute looked innocent enough, but its mere presence meant someone 
had been inside his rooms whilst he had talked to Glorfindel. This ‘visitor’ could have left other surprises as 
well! 
 
Elrohir extended his arm and picked up the flute. It had been crafted by a true master and the design was 
astounding – and it was old…
 
“Elladan? Are you in there?” Lindir knocked on the door. He had long contemplated his next step and had 
realized that he needed to talk to the twin. Hearing some muttering inside the room, he pushed down the door 
handle and entered. Finding one twin in the room Elladan and Elrohir shared, a quick look told him that he was 
dealing with the younger twin and not Elladan. “I am sorry… I should not have entered like that.” Lindir 
wanted to turn about and leave when he caught sight of the magnificent instrument in Elrohir’s hand. 
Entranced, he walked toward the younger twin. “May I?” 
 
“Did you leave it here? For Elladan?” asked Elrohir, placing the flute in Lindir’s hand.
 
“I do not possess a flute made from mithril.” Lindir sucked in his breath, finding delicate writing on one side of 
the flute. “Look here.”
 
“What does it say?” Elrohir tried, but couldn’t decipher the writing.
 
“I know what it says,” whispered Lindir. “Some of the bards, who resided in Gondolin used this script to name 
their instruments.”
 
“Gondolin?” Elrohir grew suspicious; was this flute somehow connected to Ecthelion? “What does it say?” 
 
“The silver wind breathes my name… Ecthelion.” Lindir grew pallid, remembering his friend of old. “I have 
seen him play this flute. Oh, he was a true master, Elrohir. I never came close to mirroring his talent for the 
flute.”
 
“This flute belonged to Ecthelion?” Elrohir blinked. What has happening to him? Why was he suddenly finding 
objects that had belonged to Ecthelion in his rooms? 
 
“He allowed me to play it once,” said Lindir. His pallor slowly faded and a fond smile appeared now that the 
initial shock had worn of. “Her sound is unrivaled.”
 
“Maybe you should keep it then,” suggested Elrohir, feeling ill at ease, receiving these valuable gifts. 
 
“Oh no, I never could.” Reverently, Lindir handed the flute back to Elrohir. “You said you found it here?”
 
“It was lying on my bed. I do not know who placed it there.”
 
“I cannot answer that question either,” said Lindir, feeling thoughtful. “As far as I know Ecthelion’s 
belongings were burned in the great fire that devastated Gondolin.” Lindir looked into Elrohir’s eyes and saw 
the questions there. “Ecthelion was a master-minstrel, Elrohir. I do not even begin to compare to him. He was 
blessed with music. Melody and words flowed through his very veins.” Lindir nodded once, and then headed for 
the doorway. “If you happen to see your brother, please ask him to seek me out for I need to talk to him.”
 
“I will,” replied Elrohir, absentmindedly. He couldn’t stop staring at the flute in his hands. First, he had found 
that book and now Ecthelion’s flute. Just what *was* happening?
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“You found these in your rooms?” asked Erestor.
 
Elrohir nodded once. He would have preferred to talk to his father, but his parents had taken Arwen for her first 
visit to the Golden Wood and wouldn’t return for another fortnight. So he had gone to Erestor instead. “I do not 
know what this means. Glorfindel and Lindir told me that they thought Ecthelion’s belongings had been burned 
in the great fire.”
 
“And yet you found them in your room. They appeared out of nowhere, so to speak?” Erestor recognized his 
father’s touch. 
 
“Aye, and I offered the book to Glorfindel and the flute to Lindir, but both of them told me I should keep them.”
 
Remembering Elrohir’s fate was bound to Ecthelion’s, Erestor asked, “Would you like to keep them?”
 
Elrohir nodded, timidly. “I find I like his poetry more than I at first thought. I read all the poems and not all of 
them are dark and speak of longing.”
 
“And the flute?”
 
Elrohir searched for words. “I am no minstrel – not even a gifted musician, but I wonder what such a 
magnificent instrument would sound like.”
 
“Why don’t you find out?” Erestor handed Elrohir the flute. “Play me a melody, pen neth6.” 
 
Elrohir felt nervous, placing the mouth piece against his lips. “Do you think the last one to play this flute was 
Ecthelion?”
 
“I do,” replied Erestor, leaning back in his chair. He had heard Ecthelion play and even if Elrohir was only 
half the musician Ecthelion had been, the sound of that flute would be enchanting.
 
Elrohir closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and played a simple song. But the music that came out of the 
flute was nothing like he had thought it would be. It was magical and he felt heavily entranced by the time he 
finished the melody. 
 
Erestor’s eyes opened and searched Elrohir’s features. There was no denying that his father’s words would 
come true – he knew it that instant. Elrohir would die and find Ecthelion’s soul in the Halls of Waiting. “Aye, 
you should keep the book and the flute. Read the poems and play the flute as often as you like. They belong to 
you now – I truly believe Ecthelion would want that.”
 
Elrohir nodded. “I will take them back to my room with me. But what if I find more of these kinds of items? 
Items that belonged to Ecthelion and suddenly appear in my room?”
 
“Then you accept them,” said Erestor in a calming tone, realizing fate was about to change the lives of many 
Elves in Imladris.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“Is *that* Maeglin?” Idril looked on in surprise, seeing her former suitor seated on the grass, close to the 
stream. Bright butterflies had found a temporary home in the long hair and lady bugs were flying around the 
Elf’s fingers. 
 
“Not Maeglin,” said Lórien. “This is Lómion. Remember, I explained this to you.”
 
Next to Idril, Tuor snorted. “He might have changed his name, but he remains the same.”
 
But Idril shook her head. “I am not so sure about that.” Lómion, as Lórien called him now, was smiling, and 
quite enchanted with the lady bug dancing between his fingers. One butterfly stirred and climbed up the dark 
hair, whilst a caterpillar nestled near the neck, cocooning and getting ready to shed his old skin – and life – and 
transform into a beautiful butterfly. “But I would like to get a bit closer before I make up my mind.”
 
“By all means, do.” Lórien stepped aside and watched as Idril approached Lómion, who was still unaware of 
her. 
 
“I should go with her.” 
 
But the Valar shook his head. “Stay here, Tuor. This is between Idril and Lómion for now.” Tuor was the more 
resentful one of the two and Lórien knew the Man would lash out at Lómion, only seeing Maeglin. But Idril was 
different. Idril would see the change. She had always seen more than others – had had visions. 
 
Idril came to a halt beside Lómion. So focused was the Elf on those butterflies that he didn’t notice her 
presence. And when Lómion began to sing softly, Idril’s lips formed a smile. Lórien had been right. Her 
husband might never admit that this was a changed Elf, but she could. Her conversation with the Vala returned 
and she recalled why she had come here in the first place. “Lómion?”
 
“Estë?” The only female voice he ever heard here in the gardens was hers and he looked up, smiling brightly at 
her. But then the smile cracked and terror appeared in his eyes. The butterflies clung to his hair, disturbed, as 
he jumped to his feet. 
 
“Stay! Do not run!” She reached out a hand, trying to catch his sleeve, but he was faster and Lómion turned to 
run. Unfortunately for Lómion, he chose the wrong direction to flee in and found himself facing Lórien and 
Tuor. 
 
Panicking, Lómion turned on his heel and found Idril standing close to him. Choosing the lesser of two evils, he 
faced Idril.
 
“Please calm yourself,” said Idril, softly. The serenity, which she had seen in his eyes just moments earlier, was 
gone and fear had replaced it. One by one the butterflies let go and flew away from them. “I regret disturbing 
your peace, but Lórien asked me to talk to you.”
 
Where was Ereinion? Where was his lover? Frantically, he looked over at the cottage, but there was no sight of 
his beloved! Did he really have to face Idril and Tuor alone? He wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to 
make himself feel a bit protected and lowered his eyes to stare at the grass. 
 
“I do not think we have been introduced. I am Idril, and this is my husband, Tuor.” Tuor gave her a look full of 
annoyance, but Idril ignored it. “What is your name?”
 
Lómion felt terribly confused. “You know my name,” he said, in a tiny voice. 
 
When Lórien had first visited with her, she had thought the Vala had lost his mind. How did he dare ask her to 
forgive Maeglin for his dark deeds? But Lórien had revealed Maeglin’s past to them, had described the abuse 
in detail and her heart had softened. In the end, she had accepted Lórien’s suggestion to visit and talk with 
Lómion, so she could see the difference herself. And now, she also understood why Lórien had felt it was so 
important for her to forgive him. “Will you not reveal your name then?”
 
Lómion shuffled his feet. There was only one thing for him to say. “I am so sorry for what I did. For harassing 
you. For coveting you. I do not expect you to understand, but I thought you were my salvation.” There was 
something else he had to apologize for and he did so whilst staring at her feet as he felt too intimidated to look 
her in the eye. “I regret trying to end your son’s life. My behavior was inexcusable. I should never have touched 
him.”
 
Tuor sucked in his breath. A part of him still wanted to attack the dark-haired Elf and beat him into submission. 
He would never forget seeing Maeglin drag Idril by the hair and threaten to murder their son. But there was 
something in the voice – some sort of sentiment – that calmed his rage. After all, it had been several millennia 
since Gondolin had fallen, and Idril and Eärendil had survived.
 
Smiling a rueful smile, Idril took a step toward Lómion, who instantly backed away from her. “Will you look at 
me?”
 
“Nay, I can not do that.” Lómion let his dark hair fall in front of his face and hid behind the dark curtain. 
 
“Lómion? Look at me.” Idril noticed the tremors running through his body at hearing her address him in that 
way. Lómion didn’t react, which forced her to act. She took another step closer to him, placed a finger beneath 
his chin, and lifted his head, forcing him to look at her. Dark, panicking eyes met hers and she smiled, showing 
understanding. “Tell me your name.”
 
“It is…” He felt lost then, knowing what name he should say, but there was another name that now pushed 
toward the surface. /Nay, that is in the past! I am not he any more!/ 
 
“Tell her your name,” said Lórien, firmly. 
 
“Lómion,” said he, obeying the Vala.
 
“You were called Maeglin once,” said Idril.
 
Lómion nodded. “He was a part of me, but he is no more. I have put him to rest.”
 
“Is there something you need from me, Lómion?” Idril realized Lórien had been right; Lómion needed her 
forgiveness for what Maeglin had done, and she was strong enough to face him and to grant it to him. “You 
may ask for it freely.”
 
Did he need something from her? Aye, but… Tuor was present as well and the Man was giving him probing 
looks. One wrong move and Tuor would be upon him. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, my Lady. My deeds 
were too horrid to ever receive it.”
 
Idril felt at peace, hearing those words. She realized that by forgiving him she could finally put an end to the 
memories that haunted her as well. After all, she had warned Turgon, but he had not listened to her. To some 
extent, she blamed herself for Gondolin’s fall.
 
“Lómion?” She smiled, seeing his nervous expression. “I forgive you. You deserve a new chance at life. Lórien 
explained everything to us. At first, I was shocked that he would allow you to dwell here, but the gardens cannot 
harbor evil and that was when I realized that something must have changed. Looking into your eyes now I see a 
stranger. Not Maeglin. And therefore I can forgive you.”
 
Tears swam in Lómion’s eyes. “You do?” Unable to believe he was being  forgiven, his eyes sought out Tuor’s. 
 
Lórien elbowed the Man in his side. “You know what to say!”
 
Tuor cursed beneath his breath. “I forgive you too.” 
 
Lómion’s tears now flowed freely down his cheeks and he reverently kissed the back of Idril’s hand. “Thank 
you.”
 
Until now, she hadn’t realized the power of forgiveness. By forgiving him, she had found peace herself. “Be 
happy here.”
 
“Lómion! Lómion!” Ereinion ran toward the gathering of Elves and quickly pulled his beloved close to him. 
Seeing tears drip from Lómion’s eyes, he grew protective of him and he glared at Lórien and the strangers. 
“What happened here?”  
 
“Peace, Ereinion,” said the Vala. “This had to be done!” 
 
“He is right, meleth,” soothed Lómion. “All is well now.”
 
Ereinion remained unconvinced and watched carefully as Lórien and the two strangers departed. Once it was 
only the two of them again, he looked toward Lómion for answers. “Who are they?”
 
“I have been forgiven,” said Lómion with a blissful smile on his face. “Idril and Tuor forgave me for wanting to 
kill them and their son.”
 
“That was Idril? And Tuor?” He cursed Lórien for bringing them here, for upsetting his lover. “We will return 
to the cottage, meleth. You are shaking all over.”
 
Lómion allowed Ereinion to guide his steps and leaned in closer when his lover wrapped an arm around him.  
 
The caterpillar, nestled deeply into the dark hair, broke free from its cocoon and the butterfly stretched its 
wings, flying toward the sun.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“Elladan? Lindir wants to talk to you. He asked me to tell you to seek him out.” Elrohir sat cross-legged on 
bed, trying to center his mind and to meditate. He had placed the book inside the nightstand and the flute rested 
beneath his pillow. For some reason, he preferred not to show them to Elladan yet. Maybe it was because they 
were twins and seldom had something to call their own. Everything belonged to *them*. 
 
Elladan grew pallid at hearing that news. “Oh no… What mood was he in? Do you think I displeased him?” 
 
“He looked calm – not upset – if that is what you are asking.”
 
“Do you think he figured it out?” Why else would Lindir come to his rooms?
 
Realizing there wouldn’t be any calm and peace until Elladan had left, Elrohir left the bed and went to stand in 
front of his twin. “Tôr, tell him. I really think you should.”
 
But Elladan shook his head. “What if he rejects me? I would never be able to look him in the eye again. I would 
feel awkward each time we met!”
 
“What if he accepts you?” Elrohir took his brother’s clammy hands in his. The mere thought that Lindir might 
know about this attraction was enough to send shivers of apprehension through his brother. “Go to the Hall of 
Fire. Lindir is usually there alone around this time of the day. The other minstrels will have left by now. Tell 
him.”
 
Elladan bowed his head. “That is easy for you to say! You do not begin to shake when standing close to the one 
you love!” Elladan immediately regretted his words. “I am sorry, tôr; that was uncalled for.” He knew it 
weighed heavily on his twin’s mind that he hadn’t found someone to love yet. 
 
Elrohir forced a smile onto his face. “You always react too rashly, Elladan. Think before you say something.” 
He released his brother’s hands and returned to the bed. “Go now.”
 
Elladan obeyed and slowly shuffled toward the doorway. He didn’t want to hear Lindir reject him, but Elrohir 
was correct – the time had come to face his feelings.
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 
“You wanted to talk to me?” Elladan entered the great hall, keeping his eyes lowered and fidgeting nervously 
with his hands. 
 
Lindir placed aside his lyre and rose from the rug he was sitting on. “Thank you for seeking me out this 
quickly.” Aye, now that he looked closer, he saw the signs of love on Elladan. “Will you sit with me?” He 
walked toward a pair of comfortable chairs close to the fireplace and sat down.
 
Elladan followed and seated himself. Unable to start this conversation himself, he waited for the elder Elf to 
take control of the situation. 
 
Lindir coughed, clearing his throat, and wondered what to say. How to let down Elladan -- gently? The last 
thing he wanted was to hurt the half-Elf. “How do you fare today, meldir?” 
 
“I do not feel that good,” mumbled Elladan, peeking a first time at Lindir and what he saw in the Elf’s face 
discouraged him. 
 
“You seem distracted lately,” said Lindir, trying to steer their conversation in the desired direction. “Has 
something been on your mind?”
 
/He knows,/ realized Elladan. A horrible sensation built in his throat, almost making it impossible for him to 
reply. “Aye -- you.”
 
“It is true then? You feel attracted to me?” Lindir reached for Elladan’s hand, but for some reason the half-Elf 
pulled away. “Have you fallen in love with me?” A short nod from Elladan was his only answer. By Elbereth, 
he didn’t want to hurt the young one! “We all fall in love a first time, pen neth. And sometimes the object of our 
desire does not return our feelings.”
 
Elladan’s heart broke, hearing the crushing words. “You do not love me?” 
Lindir cringed at hearing the dead tone. “Elladan, you must understand. You are a child!”
 
“I am no child!” Elladan’s temper exploded and he jumped to his feet. “I reached my majority decades ago! I 
am an adult and I make my own decisions. Do not call me a child!”
 
“But Elladan, that is the way I see you, as an Elfling who crawled after me and sneaked into my bed to hear 
another bed time story or to be held. Loving you would feel wrong. I have been your teacher and…”
 
“Do not say such things!” Elladan glared at Lindir. “The only question I want answered is; do you love me in 
return?” 
 
“It is not that simple, pen neth.” 
 
“Stop calling me that, Lindir. I have a name and I am no longer an Elfling.” Elladan cringed at the way that 
sounded, but he had to convince Lindir that the minstrel's view of him was flawed. “I am a warrior! I lead 
patrols and fight our enemies. Aye, I might only be one hundred and twenty years old, which is probably 
nothing compared to your millennia, but that does not make me unsuitable as your lover!”
 
Elladan’s passion to prove his point surprised Lindir, who forced himself to remain seated and not accept the 
challenge Elladan was throwing at him. 
 
“You still did not answer my question,” said Elladan, his eyes narrowing. “Do you return my feelings? Or not? 
If not, tell me and I will leave. I will never mention my love to you again!”
 
Oh, he couldn’t lie to Elladan! Lindir shook his head. “As I said before it is not that simple. Even if I *were* 
interested in you I would not act upon my feelings before your parents had returned.”
 
“My parents?” Elladan blinked. “What have my parents to do with any of this?”
 
“Oh, that question just shows how young and naive you are!” Lindir lost the battle to remain seated and 
jumped to his feet. “Aye, you are an adult, but that does not change the fact that I cared for you when you were 
an Elfling! Your parents trust me with you! I cannot simply abuse that trust and take their son to my bed!” 
Oops, that was more than he had wanted Elladan to know! Had he revealed his real feelings?
 
Elladan’s eyes widened. “You *do* have feelings for me!”
 
Lindir moaned, his shoulders slumped, and he sagged down onto his chair again. 
 
Seeing the minstrel so defeated caused heartbreak in Elladan’s chest. He knelt at Lindir’s feet and gathered the 
trembling hands in his. “Do you love me?”
 
Lindir peeked at Elladan’s face. “You must understand that this is hard on me. You were my pupil once… I feel 
like I am betraying your parents’ trust by harboring these feelings for you.”
 
Elladan felt relieved. “This has nothing to do with Ereinion then?” Oh, the moment he said those words he 
could have slapped himself for saying them! 
 
Lindir shook his head – he should have expected for Elladan to bring his former lover up. “Nay, it has nothing 
to do with him.”
 
“Do you still love him? Is it keeping you from loving me?” 
Elladan’s big, gray eyes revealed the half-Elf’s innermost feelings and Lindir wondered about the younger Elf. 
Elladan had a temper, could act dramatically at times, but underneath it all was a very kind, very loving person 
with a heart of gold. “I said my goodbyes to him, Elladan. Ereinion will always hold a special place in my 
heart, but I have let him go.”
 
Relieved, Elladan smiled and rubbed the minstrel’s long and elegant fingers between his. “There is still hope 
left for me?”
 
“Elladan, I have to talk to your parents first. I cannot simply accept you as my lover. You must understand 
that.”
 
“I think I do,” said Elladan. “But please, never scare me like that again! For one horrible moment I thought 
you would reject me!”
 
“I had every intention of rejecting you,” admitted Lindir. “You *are* very young, Elladan. And you are 
Elrond’s firstborn. I do not think he will be pleased with your choice of a mate.”
 
“Why would that be?” Carefully, Elladan guided the trembling hands to his lips and he pressed a chaste kiss 
onto the back of them. 
 
“You are his heir, Elladan. Elrond might have hoped for you to take a wife and sire children.” 
 
Elladan shrugged, dismissing Lindir’s words. “Elrohir can sire heirs. I want *you*.”
 
Lindir laughed. It was so delightfully easy for a young half-Elf like Elladan to think like that! Sometimes, he 
wished he still possessed such innocence!
 
“I like hearing you laugh,” said Elladan. “You do not laugh often enough.” That would change, though. He 
would see to it. “After you've talked to my parents, may I court you then?”
 
Lindir’s smile remained, impressed by Elladan’s determination. “If your parents permit it. Aye.”
 
Elladan had never felt happier before. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents would welcome Lindir as 
his lover with open arms!


Title: By the Grace of the Valar 
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon 
Pairings; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas and Elladan/Lindir. 
Overall rating: NC-17 
Summary: Elrohir finds more surprise presents. 
Landiant runs into his savior. Elladan and Lindir 
receive permission to bind, but then disaster strikes 
during a patrol and Elrohir dies. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. 
Warning: AU of course! Character death – Elrohir! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge 
liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This 
story has the timeline from Hell, so you are warned! 
Additional warning; CHARACTER DEATH! 
Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot 
for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia 
Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story 
without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
By the Grace of the Valar 
Part 13 
 
A moment ago, Elladan had stolen a kiss from the 
minstrel’s lips and now that he was certain of 
Lindir’s love he didn’t want to let go. Elladan 
congratulated himself on pursuing the minstrel and for 
not giving up. He had fought for his love and Lindir 
had given in. His wildest dreams had come true and he 
would never let Lindir go again – regardless of his 
parents’ reaction to his choice of a mate. Lindir was 
his – for now and for all eternity! Neither Elrond, 
nor Celebrían could ever separate them until the end 
of Arda! 
 
“Can I tell Elrohir now?” asked Elladan, eager to 
share the good news with his twin. 
 
Lindir gave Elladan his sweetest smile. “Are you 
saying that your twin does not know about this 
attraction?” 
 
“Oh, he knows! Elrohir even encouraged me to risk it 
all and tell you.” Elladan lowered his gaze. “But I 
was too much of a coward to take that step. I was 
convinced you did not return my feelings. Never, in 
all those hours in which I studied the flute under 
your guidance, did you show any interest in me. I had 
given up hope, but not Elrohir. He told me to pursue 
you.” 
 
“You may tell him,” said Lindir, chuckling. “For I 
doubt we can keep our love a secret for long.” Elladan 
radiated happiness and fulfillment and any Elves who 
encountered him would easily realize what had 
happened. “Why don’t you seek out Elrohir right now? I 
need to talk to Erestor as well.” 
 
“Erestor?” Elladan frowned. “Does he also know…?” 
 
“It was Erestor who urged *me* to talk to you about 
this attraction. He was rather convinced that we would 
work out.” Lindir’s fingertips moved through Elladan’s 
hair and for one moment he was struck by the fact that 
the half-Elf’s hair greatly resembled that of 
Ereinion’s. The High-King’s hair had possessed the 
same dark color. “I am glad he urged me on. Without 
his advice I might have never mentioned my love to 
you.” 
 
“I will thank him the next time I see him.” Elladan 
gave Lindir a smile and his eyes closed in bliss, 
feeling the long and agile fingers massage his scalp. 
“I will do my best to keep my distance until my 
parents return to Imladris, but that will be 
difficult, as I greatly desire you.” He had grown 
aroused, whilst Lindir was stroking his hair. “I am 
young,” he whispered. “And you are my first lover. I 
am bursting with sexual energy!” 
 
Lindir laughed in amusement. “You will exhaust me, 
Elladan.” 
 
“I hope so!” Elladan sighed, blissfully, finding 
Lindir smiling once more. In these last few minutes 
the minstrel had laughed more than he had in the last 
few years! “I love you, Lindir. And I want to be with 
you in that way.” 
 
Lindir’s eyes darkened; he could only pray that Elrond 
and Celebrían would approve of their son’s choice of a 
mate. He didn’t want to consider what could happen 
should the Lord and Lady deny Elladan. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Erestor looked up from the report he was writing, 
seeing Lindir shuffle into his study. It had been a 
while since he had seen the minstrel this timid and 
insecure. He raised a hand and gestured for his friend 
to seat himself opposite him. “How did the 
conversation go?” 
 
“Elladan and I… We agreed to wait until Elrond has 
returned.” Lindir seated himself and shifted on the 
chair. His gaze sought out Erestor’s and amusement 
glittered in the dark eyes. “You were right; he loves 
me and I have feelings for him. But I am hesitant to 
do anything about this until I have Elrond’s blessing. 
I do not want to proceed without his parents’ 
permission. Aye, I know that Elladan is an adult, but 
he will always remain their child and I think Elrond 
and Celebrían should approve of this relationship 
before taking it any further.” 
 
Erestor inclined his head in agreement. “A wise 
decision, meldir1.” Probing Lindir’s eyes deeper, he 
saw contentment, love and relief in the blue eyes. It 
had been about time that Elladan and Lindir admitted 
their love for each other. “Didn’t you see this 
coming? Elladan has been following you about since he 
could crawl.” Erestor grinned, wickedly. “I have the 
feeling he will start sneaking into your bed more 
often!” 
 
Lindir blushed. “Do not tease me, Erestor. I still do 
not feel comfortable with the idea of courting our 
Lord’s son.” His eyes grew troubled. “What if Elrond 
and Celebrían do not approve?” 
 
Erestor shrugged his shoulders once. “Elladan would 
not accept that. He would somehow make them accept 
this relationship.” Seeing fear of rejection in 
Lindir’s eyes, he leaned in closer and rested a hand 
atop of his friend’s. “Personally, I do not believe 
you have any reason to worry about their reaction. 
Elrond greatly values you as a friend. The two of you 
fought side-by-side and he never left your side after 
Ereinion died. Elrond cares about you and so does 
Celebrían.” He paused and then added, “The only thing 
that might worry them, could be the fear that you 
still love Ereinion and that this love will stop you 
from loving Elladan the way he deserves to be loved.” 
 
“I have let go of Ereinion,” replied Lindir in a calm 
tone. “I know he would want me to live my life instead 
of spending my days mourning his death.” 
 
“I could,” started Erestor in a thoughtful voice, 
“send a letter to Elrond and ‘gently’ introduce him to 
the fact that Elladan has chosen you for his mate. 
That way, Elrond and Celebrían would have time to 
become accustomed to the idea and once they arrive in 
Imladris, they would be better prepared to accept 
this. But, that is your decision to make. If you do 
not wish me to write that letter, I won’t.” 
 
“Do you think that would be best?” Lindir freed his 
hand from beneath Erestor’s and wrung his hands in a 
nervous fashion. 
 
Erestor nodded his head once. It was obvious that 
Lindir was worried about Elrond’s reaction, whilst 
Erestor was convinced that Elrond and Celebrían would 
give him their blessing. But, he understood Lindir’s 
nervousness and wanted to do whatever he could help 
ease his friend’s worries. “I do.” 
 
“Then please write that letter… Oh, by the Grace of 
the Valar, I won’t be able to sleep properly until I 
have talked to Elrond and Celebrían!” 
 
Erestor couldn’t help teasing Lindir just a little. 
“Don’t expect much sleep *after* they give you their 
blessing. Elladan is young and will want to make love 
– night after night… and probably during the day as 
well.” 
 
“Oh my…” Lindir’s face turned beet red. “I had better 
get some sleep whilst I can!” 
 
Amused, Erestor watched Lindir practically run out of 
his study. “Sweet dreams, meldir.” He chuckled, and 
picked up a blank sheet of paper – he had a letter to 
write! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“I told him! Elrohir, I told him!” Elladan dashed into 
their room and pounced on his brother, who sat 
cross-legged on the bed, reading. “Lindir accepted me! 
He returns my feelings!” Elladan wrapped his arms 
around his twin and hugged him tight. “You were right! 
You were right all along! I should have told him years 
ago, but…” Elladan giggled, his nerves unwinding and 
finally finding the rest they had missed for years. He 
relaxed and dropped onto his back, still giggling, 
happily. 
 
Elrohir quickly hid Ecthelion’s book of poetry beneath 
the pillow and stretched beside his twin. Elladan 
radiated happiness; he had never seen his twin’s eyes 
sparkle that brightly. “I knew everything would turn 
out fine.” 
 
“There is only one drawback,” said Elladan, rolling 
onto his side so he was face to face with his twin. 
“Lindir refuses to court me until our parents have 
approved of this relationship.” 
 
“Our parents will return within a fortnight,” replied 
Elrohir, soothingly. “You can wait that long. You have 
waited for years!” 
 
Elladan draped an arm over his twin’s hip and pulled 
Elrohir close. A thoughtful and serious expression 
appeared in his eyes, realizing something bitter. “I 
won’t leave you, tôr2. I will still spend time with 
you. You are my twin – my blood.” 
 
Elrohir gave his brother a sad look. “I always knew 
this day would come, Elladan. And aye, I am sad 
because I won’t have your love any longer in such an 
exclusive way, but I am mature enough to accept that, 
without throwing a tantrum!” He said those last words 
in a playful voice, hoping to reassure his brother. 
“And who knows? Maybe I will find my love shortly as 
well?” 
 
Elladan chuckled. “You will have to choose a female, 
Elrohir. As Lindir and I cannot have any children that 
task will fall onto you.” 
 
Elrohir smiled. “You know that I do not like females 
in that way. Maybe you can adopt a child?” 
 
Elladan buried his twin in a warm hug. Elrohir might 
act unconcerned, but he sensed his twin’s worries 
through their connection. “Everything will be all 
right, tôr. I promise you that you will find a love of 
your own.” 
 
Elrohir savored the moment, knowing that there 
wouldn’t be many in the future once Elladan and Lindir 
had bound themselves. For one more moment, he had his 
brother to himself. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Elladan and Lindir?” Stupefied, Glorfindel stared at 
his lover.  “I never saw that one coming… though…” Now 
that he thought about it, the signs had been there. 
“Elrond will be pleased.” 
 
“That is what I thought.” Erestor had long finished 
his letter and a messenger was already on his way to 
the Golden Wood. “Lindir is a bit concerned that 
Elrond won’t be that accepting.” 
 
“I can understand that,” replied Glorfindel. “Lindir 
helped raise Elladan… but then again, he never sneaked 
into *our* bed, did he? Elladan always went to 
Lindir.” 
 
Erestor nodded once. He pushed back his chair and rose 
from behind his desk. He advanced on his lover and 
wrapped his arms around him. “This will be hard on 
Elrohir, though. He might not show it, but he feels 
lost. We should be there for him.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded and rested his head against his 
lover’s shoulder. Erestor’s raven hair teased against 
his face and he deeply inhaled his lover’s scent. “Did 
he tell you about Ecthelion’s flute? And the book he 
found in his rooms?” 
 
“Aye, he did.” Erestor regretted that he couldn’t 
confide in Glorfindel – that he couldn’t tell his 
beloved that it was Námo who had planted those objects 
there. 
 
“I do not understand how they found a way into his 
room. Those items were destroyed in the fire… Or, at 
least I thought so!” 
 
“I do not know the answer either,” said Erestor, 
feeling guilty for lying. “We will keep a close eye on 
Elrohir… just in case.” 
 
“Aye, that sounds like a good idea.” Glorfindel pushed 
his worries aside and focused on the Elf in his arms. 
“Let me kiss you…” He kissed Erestor sweetly, savoring 
his lover’s closeness. /Regardless of your fears, 
Erestor, I will always love you and never leave you./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Landiant cringed, realizing he had to report to 
Erestor first. The Chief Advisor would welcome him and 
assign guest rooms to him. He vividly recalled the 
jealous looks Erestor had given him during his last 
visit here. He simply did not understand why Erestor 
felt threatened -- just because he had carried on a 
conversation with Glorfindel. That conversation had 
come naturally, as they were both Captains and had 
desired to exchange information. They had their work 
in common, but that was about it! He didn’t even fancy 
blonds! 
 
After drawing in a deep breath, he knocked on the door 
to Erestor’s study. Hearing a muffled sound coming 
from within, he assumed it was Erestor telling him to 
enter and he pushed open the door. On the threshold, 
he froze, and quickly closed the door again. He hadn’t 
seen that! 
 
“Oh no!” Panicking, Erestor pulled his robes into 
place again. “Why didn’t you lock the door?” They had 
been in the middle of making love when Landiant had 
entered and Erestor’s face turned flustered, realizing 
in what a compromising position the Woodland Captain 
had seen him – flat on his back, legs parted and 
answering Glorfindel’s thrusts! How could he ever look 
Landiant in the eye again? 
 
“Oh, do not worry,” said Glorfindel, annoyed that 
their lovemaking had been interrupted. He had been so 
close to reaching completion! “At least now you do not 
have to worry about Landiant thinking he has a chance 
with me.” Pushing aside his feelings of unfulfillment, 
he gave Erestor a wink. “I think it is now very clear 
to whom I belong, meleth3.” 
 
“Oh… How can you say that? He saw us! Me!” Erestor was 
once more decent, but he was also still hard and his 
arousal throbbed demandingly beneath the fabric. “Go 
to our rooms… I want to finish this the moment 
Landiant leaves!” 
 
Glorfindel licked his lips. “As you wish, meleth.” He 
walked toward the doorway, but before pushing down the 
door handle, he looked at his lover from over his 
shoulder. Glorfindel sported a rather colorful passion 
mark, way above the collar and his lover didn’t 
realize that yet. Good. “Don’t keep me waiting.” He 
closed the door behind him and gave Landiant a radiant 
smile. “Welcome to Imladris.” 
 
Landiant coughed, clearing his throat. “I should 
apologize… I did not do that on purpose, but I heard…” 
Glorfindel’s laughter stopped him. 
 
“It had to happen eventually. We have been lovers for 
millennia and I am surprised we weren’t caught before. 
Do not feel guilty, meldir.” Glorfindel rested a hand 
on Landiant’s shoulder. “You had better be careful 
though, when dealing with Erestor. He is in a foul 
mood.” 
 
Landiant swallowed, nervously. “I will be careful.” 
 
“Enter!” came Erestor’s harsh and impatient voice. 
 
“Good luck!” After squeezing Landiant’s shoulder, 
Glorfindel made his way back to their rooms, where he 
undressed and stretched out on their bed – naked as 
the day he had been born. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Lord Councilor.” Landiant decided against apologizing 
for entering earlier, as it would only remind Erestor 
of the scene he had witnessed upon entry. Erestor’s 
face was still flustered and Landiant clearly saw 
shyness and nervousness beneath the so-called anger 
Erestor displayed. “Thank you for granting me 
permission to visit Imladris. Would you be so kind as 
to give me directions to my guest rooms? The journey 
left me covered in dirt and grime and I would like to 
freshen up.” It would also give Erestor a reason to 
dismiss him quickly. 
 
Erestor wavered; what should he do? Apologize for not 
locking the door? For not being more discreet? But as 
Landiant was avoiding the delicate subject, so would 
he. “I have assigned the same rooms to you which you 
occupied during your last visit.” 
 
“Thank you. I still remember the way that will take me 
there.” He turned and headed for the doorway. Just 
before opening the door he turned to ask one last 
question. 
 
Erestor sucked in his breath. Was Landiant going to 
address the ‘incident’ after all? 
 
“There is a reason why I requested permission to 
visit,” said Landiant in thoughtful tone. “I am 
looking for an Elf called Celach. Do you know an Elf 
of that name? He was a warrior who fought at the 
Battle of the Last Alliance. He was a Noldor and had 
long, dark hair and dark eyes.” He didn’t want to get 
his hopes up, just in case Erestor had never heard the 
name before, but he had hoped to find a clue here that 
would lead him to his savior’s location. 
 
“Celach?” Erestor nodded once. “He joined the guards 
after that war and has become one of Glorfindel’s 
confidants. You can find him in the barracks, or the 
training field. I believe he just returned from a 
patrol, so you should be able to find him.” Erestor 
wanted to ask why Landiant was interested in one of 
their guards, but didn’t, appreciating the fact that 
the Woodland Elf hadn’t mentioned the ‘incident’ 
either. 
 
“Thank you,” said Landiant, smiling brightly. “I was 
afraid to hope that I would actually find him here!” 
He quickly closed the door behind him and headed 
toward the barracks. Freshening up could wait. First, 
he needed to thank the Elf that had saved his life so 
many years ago. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Lindir?” Elladan entered Lindir’s rooms. He had been 
here countless times before, but it felt different now 
that they had revealed their feelings for each other. 
Elladan found Lindir seated in front of the fire 
place, staring into the flames with a distant 
expression in his eyes. Worried, he approached the 
minstrel and sat on his heels beside his new lover. 
“What troubles you?” 
 
At hearing Elladan’s concerned voice, Lindir smiled. 
“Nothing… I was merely remembering, maybe letting go 
of those last few memories that have kept me company 
for so long.” 
 
“Memories of Ereinion?” Elladan sat cross-legged and 
gave Lindir a shy look. “I understand that you loved 
him and that a part of you will always continue to. I 
would not ask of you to let go completely.” Elladan 
grew a little pale. “I could never let go of Elrohir 
either – so I understand.” 
 
Touched, Lindir smiled. “Although you are still rather 
young, you are also wise in your very own way. Thank 
you for understanding.” 
 
“I am not a minstrel,” said Elladan, slowly wrapping 
his arms around Lindir and shifting closer until he 
sat behind the white-haired Elf. “Neither am I a King. 
I cannot play the flute without making mistakes or 
sing a song without hitting the wrong notes. I am a 
warrior. I have tried so hard to fit in – to become 
someone I am not.” 
 
Lindir smiled in understanding. “I realized a long 
time ago that you have no talent for music, Elladan.” 
 
“But I do know how to wield a sword.” Elladan rested 
his chin on Lindir’s shoulder, closed his eyes, and 
relished holding the white-haired minstrel so close. 
“I know that you are a warrior in your own right and 
that you do not need protection, but… It is the only 
thing I excel in – fighting. I would vow to protect 
you for all times.” 
 
Lindir leaned back into Elladan’s embrace and 
privately thanked Erestor for telling him to take this 
chance. If it hadn’t been for his friend, he would 
never have addressed this matter and he would have 
thrown away a precious love. “Thank you for your 
offer, melethron4.” 
 
At hearing that endearment, Elladan beamed with pride 
and love. Holding Lindir close, he joined his lover in 
staring into the fire. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Purrrrr,” whispered Glorfindel, contentedly. No 
matter how many times they made love, or in which way, 
Erestor’s passion always took him aback. It was simply 
beyond him why his beloved dreamt he hated him! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Landiant’s plan to seek out Celach was thwarted by 
smelling delicious odors coming from the kitchen. He 
made a detour and the cook served him several tasty 
dishes. It hadn’t been until the moment he started 
eating that Landiant realized he was starved. It had 
been several days since he’d had his last decent meal. 
 
About one hour later, he finally made his way over to 
the training grounds, which were deserted at that 
point. Ithil was rising in the sky and night settled 
over Imladris. Candle light still showed in 
Glorfindel’s office and Landiant knocked, waiting for 
Glorfindel to open the door. He wasn’t going to repeat 
his previous mistake! 
 
“Enter!” 
 
“Are you certain?” 
 
Glorfindel grinned, recognizing Landiant’s voice. He 
rose from behind his desk, walked over to the doorway 
and opened the door. “Ah, you survived Erestor’s 
wrath, then?” He gestured for the other Captain to 
step inside and returned to his desk. 
 
“Aye, he was rather mellow, I must say. I believe he 
was a bit embarrassed.” 
 
Glorfindel chuckled. “Aye, understandably so.” 
Glorfindel seated himself and observed Landiant, who 
took a seat opposite him. “What brings you here? Do 
you wish to chat or…?” 
 
“Actually, I have a request.” Landiant shifted on his 
chair and leaned in closer. “During the Battle of the 
Last Alliance one of your guards saved my life. His 
name is Celach and I have been searching for him ever 
since. Now that relations between Imladris and 
Mirkwood have normalized, I decided to search for him 
here as well. Erestor told me one of your confidant’s 
names is Celach and now I am hoping they are one and 
the same person.” 
 
Glorfindel frowned, thoughtfully. “Aye, he fought at 
Mount Orodruin.” 
 
“Do you know where I can find him? I want to talk to 
him.” 
 
“He should be in the stables, looking after the 
horses.” Glorfindel leaned back, studying Landiant. “I 
was under the impression that Thranduil pulled back 
his forces.” 
 
Landiant gave Glorfindel a rueful smile. “I was a 
disobedient Elf. After Oropher died, and Thranduil 
ordered us to retreat, I did not follow orders. I 
thought it was more important to fight the Dark One. 
So, I stayed on the battlefield and became isolated in 
the heat of the battle. Celach helped me to safety and 
I have wanted to thank him ever since.” 
 
Glorfindel wondered if there wasn’t something more – a 
different reason why Landiant wanted to thank Celach. 
“Then do not let me keep you. I believe you know where 
the stables are situated?” 
 
“I do.” Landiant got to his feet and inclined his head 
in goodbye – he couldn’t resist making a last teasing 
comment. “Tell Erestor that he has no reason to worry 
that I will steal you away from him. I prefer 
dark-haired Elves. So, if anyone is in danger of being 
stolen away, it would be him – not you.” 
 
“I will tell him,” said Glorfindel, chuckling, 
merrily. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Wake up… Wake up, Elrohir…” 
 
Elrohir blinked, trying to do away with the sleep in 
his eyes. After Elladan had left, he had finally found 
sleep, but now someone was calling his name. He sat 
upright and scanned the room. He was alone, so who had 
been calling him? 
 
Running a hand through his long hair, his eyes 
widened. He had gone to bed wearing his hair loose! 
But braids stopped his fingers from moving downward. 
And not only braids… Pushing the dark hair into sight, 
he found midnight-blue and silver ribbons braided into 
the strands. Blue and silver? He didn’t even possess 
ribbons in that color! When he wore ribbons, they were 
red and brown! 
 
He shivered; when Elladan and he had been little, 
Glorfindel had told them that Ecthelion’s favorite 
colors had been blue and silver. For long moments, 
Elrohir didn’t know what to make of this. First, he 
had found the book, then the flute and now his hair 
sported ribbons. 
 
Elrohir pushed himself to his feet and he walked until 
he stood in front of the mirror. Turning, he studied 
his reflection. He didn’t know the style his hair had 
been braided in, but it was an intricate design and 
looked sophisticated – probably something Ecthelion 
would wear during festivities in Gondolin. But the 
question remained – how had the braids and ribbons 
gotten into his hair? He was tempted to remove them, 
but then Ecthelion’s poems returned to him – poems in 
which the warrior had longed for a lover. 
 
He didn’t know why this was happening to him or *how*, 
but he realized that this was somehow tied to the 
fabled warrior. Caressing one of the ribbons, he 
stared at his reflection. “What do you want from me, 
Ecthelion?” He almost expected his reflection to 
answer him, and when no reply came forth, he felt 
disappointed. 
 
Unable to go back to sleep, he left his rooms to go 
for a stroll in the gardens. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Landiant entered the stables, making sure he made 
sounds so he wouldn’t take Celach by surprise. He 
didn’t want his savior to feel snuck up on. His gaze 
swept through the stables and he found a dark-haired 
Elf at the back, looking after a mare. Long, dark hair 
descended down the elegantly curved back and strands 
of the brown hair had been tamed in warrior’s braids. 
The Elf was dressed in red and browns, like most of 
the Imladris’ guards. 
 
His heart pounded madly in his chest and his mouth had 
gone dry. Nervously, Landiant approached the Elf, who 
still had his back toward him. “Celach?” 
 
Celach turned around, surprised to hear his name, 
spoken by a stranger. He frowned, finding a 
golden-haired Elf standing at some distance of him. 
Large, curious green eyes stared at him, and the 
stranger wore greens, which identified him as a 
Woodland Elf. He had heard that some of Thranduil’s 
subjects were visiting and decided to be on his best 
behavior, as this Elf was a guest. “Can I be of 
assistance?” Maybe the Elf had lost his way and needed 
directions? He rubbed his mare’s nose one last time 
and then closed the door of the box behind him. 
 
Landiant swallowed, hard. His pulse raced and sweat 
formed a fine film on his skin. He had dreamt of his 
moment for so long! “Is your name Celach?” This Elf 
possessed the same hazel eyes, which he remembered, 
but he couldn’t be completely certain as he had been 
feverish on the battlefield. 
 
“Aye, I am Celach.” The dark-haired guard continued to 
study the golden-haired Elf, who looked faintly 
familiar to him. “You have the advantage here, sir, as 
I do not know your name.” 
 
Aye, it was *his* voice. Landiant recognized it. “You 
do not remember me?” That shouldn’t come as a surprise 
– he had been covered in dried blood and dirt when 
Celach had looked after him. “I recognize you. I have 
been looking for you since the day we defeated Sauron 
at Mount Orodruin.” 
 
Celach’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You have been 
looking for me? We have met before?” He searched his 
memories, which had faded over the years. He had tried 
hard to forget the horrors he had witnessed on the 
battlefield. 
 
Landiant took a step close to Celach. His hand 
trembled, raising it to touch Celach’s face. The 
dark-haired Elf took a step away from him, which 
saddened Landiant, but it was understandable that the 
other Elf was slightly suspicious. “You saved my life. 
I had suffered several blows and I would have died if 
it hadn’t been for you. You looked after me and shared 
your water and rations with me.” 
 
Celach’s eyes widened further, finally realizing who 
was standing in front of him. “You were one of 
Oropher’s men and had been left behind.” 
 
“Aye, I stayed to fight Sauron.” Landiant smiled, 
relieved, now that Celach took a step closer to him. 
Seeing wonder in the hazel eyes, he felt encouraged. 
“I have been searching for you ever since.” 
 
“Why?” Celach had never thought he would meet that 
mysterious Elf ever again! He had lost sight of him 
once he had returned to the frontline, and when he had 
returned after the battle had ended the blond Elf had 
been gone. 
 
“I wanted to thank you for saving my life.” Landiant 
finally succeeded in touching Celach’s face. 
 
Celach nodded once and smiled. “I remember you… You 
have always been in my thoughts. I wondered if you had 
survived.” Realizing they were discussing this in the 
stables, he carefully took hold of the blond Elf’s 
arm. “Would you accompany to my rooms? I would prefer 
to discuss this in private instead of the stables.” 
 
Landiant gave him a radiant smile. “I would like 
that.” He needed to sit down and maybe Celach even had 
a glass of wine for him– for he needed a strong drink 
right now. 
 
“Come with me, then,” said Celach, guiding the blond 
Elf out of the stables by maintaining a hold on his 
arm. “You never told me your name, you know… If I had 
known your name, I might have been able to find you.” 
 
Landiant’s heart beat faster. “You tried to find me?” 
 
“I did,” replied Celach. They had left the stables and 
now entered the main building. “Will you tell me your 
name?” 
 
“I am called Landiant.” 
 
Celach cocked his head. “I know that name. Glorfindel 
mentioned it after Thranduil visited. You are the 
King’s Captain.” That was a surprise! He sighed, 
deeply. “I wish I had been here during that visit, but 
I was on patrol. If I had been here, I might have 
recognized you.” At least, he hoped he would have. 
This radiant, golden-haired Elf looked quite different 
from the injured, blood covered warrior he had looked 
after on the battlefield. He squeezed Landiant’s arm 
in order to reassure himself that he had really found 
his mysterious Elf. He had dreamt of finding him! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Please make yourself comfortable,” said Celach, 
closing the door to his rooms behind him. He studied 
Landiant, thanking the Valar that he had been allowed 
to save the other Elf’s life that day. 
 
Landiant sat down, still feeling rather nervous. In an 
effort to distract himself, he studied Celach’s rooms. 
The walls had been painted in a soothing green and 
several plants had found their way into the room. From 
the wall hung several knives, a sword and a crossbow, 
doubtlessly weapons which had served him well in the 
battles he had fought in. The rooms were comfortably 
furnished, but not nearly as luxurious as his chambers 
in Mirkwood. Clothes, which should have been given to 
the Elf on laundry duty, lay in a heap in the corner 
of the bedroom, which sported a comfortable, large 
bed. There was only one painting on the wall and it 
hung opposite the bed, so it was the first thing 
Celach saw when he opened his eyes in the morning – it 
showed a radiant sunrise above the river Bruinen. He 
liked these rooms; they were warm, simple and 
comfortable. 
 
“Would you like some wine?” Celach had poured one 
glass and now looked questioningly at his guest. 
 
“Wine would be fine.” Landiant needed something strong 
to soothe his raging emotions. He accepted the glass 
when Celach handed it to him and stretched his legs. 
Celach pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him. 
“This is strange, isn’t it?” 
 
Celach shrugged once. “Strange in a good way. I often 
wondered what happened to you. I felt responsible for 
you after taking you under my wing.” 
 
“After you returned me to the camp, Thranduil’s guards 
came for me and took me to Mirkwood, where I recovered 
from my injuries.” 
 
“You could have let me know you had survived,” said 
Celach, sipping his wine. 
 
“I did not know where to find you and Thranduil had 
forbidden all contact with the other Elven realms. My 
hands were tied. I always wanted to thank you for 
saving my life, Celach.” 
 
Celach emptied his glass and placed it on the floor. 
“I did not know that you held such a high position at 
Thranduil’s court. I took you for just another 
warrior.” 
 
“I might be Captain in name, but I do not carry that 
title in informal settings. I am Landiant…” 
 
Celach nodded in understanding. “It is good to know 
your name now.” He smiled at the golden-haired Elf. 
“If I had known it was you who I had saved, I would 
have tried to return from patrol earlier so we could 
meet.” 
 
“The truce was still fragile at that time,” replied 
Landiant. “It took me until now to visit in an 
informal setting.” 
 
“I am glad you found me.” Celach drew in a deep 
breath. “Will you be staying for some time or are you 
about to leave again?” 
 
“I will stay for several weeks.” Landiant finished his 
wine, enjoying the warm sensation as it ran down his 
throat. Oh, he had needed that drink! “Maybe we could 
spend some time together whilst I am here? Talk about 
those days on the battle field?” 
 
“I would like that,” said Celach. He had taken an 
instant liking to the injured Elf and that attraction 
had survived through the years. Aye, he wanted to get 
to know Landiant better. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Uhm, you have something in your hair… Or is this 
Imladris’ latest fashion?” Glorfindel pointed at the 
silver and blue ribbons in Elrohir’s hair. “You might 
want to remove those before starting your sparring 
session. You might trip.” 
 
“Not funny,” muttered Elrohir beneath his breath. 
“This is the way I woke up! And believe me when I say 
that I did not go to bed wearing my hair in this 
fashion!” Elrohir sat heavily beside Glorfindel on the 
wooden bench and stared blankly ahead. 
 
Glorfindel’s eyebrow arched higher. “You woke up this 
way? You did not weave the ribbons into your hair?” 
Examining closer, he cringed, recognizing several 
patterns of braiding which Ecthelion had used in his 
hair. 
 
“I do not know why this is happening to me,” whispered 
Elrohir, sighing. “The only possible explanation I can 
come up with is that someone entered my room and 
braided these ribbons into my hair. But why didn’t I 
wake up? I am a light sleeper!” 
 
Shivers ran down Glorfindel’s spine. “It almost seems 
like Ecthelion’s ghost is haunting you. But that is 
nonsense. His soul dwells in the Halls of Waiting and 
can not leave there.” 
 
“I only find objects,” clarified Elrohir. “I never 
sensed a presence or saw his image. I just *find* 
things.” Another sigh escaped his lungs. “I do not 
know what to make of this. Why am I finding objects 
that belonged to Ecthelion?” 
 
Glorfindel gently squeezed Elrohir’s shoulder. “I wish 
I knew. I must confess to some curiosity myself.” It 
was out of the question that this was Elladan’s newest 
prank. Not only was Elladan *occupied* with Lindir, 
but the twin didn’t own any of Ecthelion’s personal 
belongings, nor did he know how to weave Elrohir’s 
hair in this complicated way. /But if Elladan isn’t 
behind this, who is?/ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Do you like my handiwork?” Námo leaned against 
Erestor’s desk and waited for his son to make 
eye-contact. 
 
“I assume you are referring to Elrohir’s new hair 
style?” He had visited with Glorfindel earlier and had 
found a very confused Elrohir watching the guards 
train instead of participating himself. He had asked 
Elrohir why the half-Elf wasn’t sparring and Elrohir 
had replied that he felt too bewildered to do much 
fighting. “You are confusing him. I wish you would 
stop meddling.” 
 
“Elrohir must die,” said the Vala in a calm tone. “Why 
not already familiarize him with some of his future 
lover’s characteristics?” 
 
“One of these days someone will find a way to 
manipulate you in turn,” growled Erestor, displeased. 
 
“I only mean well,” said Námo in a thoughtful tone. 
Changing the subject, he asked, “And how do you fare, 
my son? I gather all is well?” 
 
“I have not been sleeping well,” admitted Erestor, 
placing the quill onto the desk and studying his 
father’s eyes. “Your words of warning keep me awake at 
night. I am afraid of the choice I will have to make. 
I am afraid I will lose Glorfindel – his love.” 
Erestor rose from behind his desk and advanced on his 
father. “I wish you would tell me what to expect and 
what to do, but I know you well enough to know you 
won’t reveal anything to me.” 
 
Námo drew his son close for a warm hug. “Have some 
faith in yourself, Erestor. Have faith in Glorfindel.” 
 
He clung to his father’s words, knowing darn well 
there was nothing he could do to stop fate from taking 
place. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
The next day, Celach and Landiant met after practice. 
Glorfindel had relieved Celach from patrol duty for 
the next week so the two warriors could get properly 
acquainted. Glorfindel had been stunned to learn that 
Celach had saved Landiant from certain death, that day 
on the battlefield. Celach had merely smiled 
awkwardly, feeling a bit embarrassed. As far as he was 
concerned he had done nothing out of the ordinary. 
Every Elf would have done the same, had they been in 
his position. 
 
Glorfindel watched them leave. He had overheard 
Landiant saying that he wanted to see more Imladris 
and Celach had happily volunteered to show him around. 
It might be only his imagination, but he thought he 
saw some attraction between the two warriors. 
 
Glorfindel left the practice area and joined Lindir, 
the twins and Erestor in his lover’s study. They had 
agreed to meet there to discuss a game plan for when 
the twins’ parents returned. They had to find a way to 
diplomatically warm Elrond up to the idea of having 
Lindir as his son-in-law. Thankfully, they still had 
two weeks left, before the couple and their daughter 
would return to Imladris. 
 
He found Lindir nervously pacing the study. Elladan 
was trying to calm the minstrel down, but Lindir 
remained distressed and Glorfindel knew that Lindir 
would remain nervous until the minstrel had received 
Elrond and Celebrían’s blessing. Glorfindel frowned, 
finding that Elladan paid no attention to his twin, 
who looked even more distressed than Lindir. The 
ribbons still sat smugly in the dark hair – Elrohir 
had told him that he felt uncomfortable removing them, 
but why, Elrohir couldn’t tell him. 
 
The only calm presence in this room appeared to be his 
lover. Erestor sat behind his desk, hands steepled and 
eyes narrowed. Now that he focused on his lover, 
Glorfindel calmed himself. Until now, he hadn’t 
realized that Lindir’s nervousness had made him 
nervous in turn. “Any ideas yet, meleth?” 
 
“I advise the direct approach,” said Erestor. “They 
will read the letter I sent and Elrond especially, 
will appreciate it if you come to him directly, 
Lindir.” 
 
Lindir nodded once. “But I am nervous.” 
 
“You have little reason to be nervous,” reasoned 
Erestor. “I understand your trepidation, but I do not 
think it is warranted. Elrond will accept this.” 
 
Lindir finally stopped pacing and sat down in front of 
Erestor’s desk. Meeting his friend’s gaze, he said, “I 
trust in your judgment, but still…” 
 
Elladan sat down on the edge of the desk and gathered 
Lindir’s hands in his. He would remain at his lover’s 
side these next two weeks – until they’d had a chance 
to talk to his parents. 
 
Glorfindel’s gaze drifted back to Elrohir, who didn’t 
seem to hear anything of what was said. The twin 
stared out of the window and into the distance, like 
he saw something only he could see. He hated admitting 
it, but at the moment he worried more about Elrohir 
than Elladan. Erestor intercepted his gaze and his 
lover nodded once. Erestor shared his concern. 
 
Suddenly, the door opened and one of the servants 
stormed inside, looking rather panicked. “My Lords! 
They returned home early! Lord Elrond and the Lady 
Celebrían… They are here!” 
 
“Oh no,” whispered Lindir in a whimpering tone. “Not 
now…” 
 
Erestor rose from his chair and straightened his 
formal robes. “I will stand by your side when you talk 
to him.” Erestor extended his right hand and Lindir 
eagerly clasped it in his, whilst Elladan claimed the 
minstrel’s other hand. 
 
“We will face my father together,” said Elladan, 
determined. “Come, we will speak with my parents now.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded once, telling Erestor to accompany 
Elladan and Lindir, whilst he would remain here – with 
Elrohir. For some reason, he didn’t feel comfortable 
letting the younger twin out of his sight. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“I wanted to visit for centuries, but Thranduil would 
not allow it.” Landiant sat on an overhanging rock, 
letting his feet dangle into the soothing water of the 
Bruinen. “During all those years I wondered if you 
ever thought about me.” 
 
“I did,” said Celach, smiling, as he sat down beside 
his friend. He had also removed his socks and boots 
and immersed his feet in the water. “If only I had 
known your name, or that you served Thranduil.” He had 
tried finding out who the mysterious warrior was and 
had even asked Lord Celeborn if one of his subjects 
had been injured in such a way. Thranduil had removed 
his warriors from the battlefield and Celach had 
almost automatically assumed that Landiant had been 
one of Celeborn’s men. “We should make the best of the 
time that you are here.” 
 
Landiant gave Celach a rueful smile. “You will always 
be welcome in Mirkwood. My King won’t refuse you 
entrance any longer. He might even want to thank you 
for saving my life.” 
 
“I have heard many tales of Thranduil,” said Celach, 
thoughtfully. “Your tone is fond when you speak of 
him, which I must admit, surprises me.” 
 
“He is a fine Elf – and a good ruler. But losing his 
father and so many of our kin temporarily hardened his 
heart. I would be honored if you would visit me in 
Mirkwood one day. Then, I can show you that Thranduil 
is a different Elf than you think.” 
 
Celach smiled, sweetly. At this moment, he wasn’t 
interested in Thranduil, but the very Elf by his side. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Lindir’s trembling caused a smile to surface on 
Erestor’s face. It was amazing that his old friend 
could still be this nervous! Elladan had a possessive 
hold on both of the minstrel’s hands now. Erestor had 
let go a moment ago, after feeling Elladan’s gaze upon 
him. It had been rather obvious that Elladan wanted 
Lindir for himself and wasn’t prepared to share. 
 
“Ada5! Nana6! Arwen!” Elladan greeted his family and 
even managed to undergo Arwen hugging him whilst 
maintaining his hold on Lindir’s hands. 
 
“Come here, pen neth7,” said Erestor, lifting Arwen in 
his arms once the young she-Elf had hugged her 
brother. Her chubby arms folded themselves around his 
neck and hugged him tight. Erestor settled down with 
her in one of the comfortable chairs and exchanged a 
smile with Celebrían. 
 
The Lady of Imladris was happy to be home again and 
moved through their private chambers, reacquainting 
herself with the rooms. 
 
Elrond stood near the fire place and gave his son a 
stern look. Elladan visibly flinched under his 
father’s scrutiny, but didn’t averse his eyes, which 
in turn pleased Elrond, but the elder half-Elf was 
careful not to show his approval. “Some very 
interesting news reached me in the Golden Wood.” 
Actually, it had been Galadriel who had told him about 
his heir’s heart’s desire. He’d had a hard time 
believing the news at first, but now that he saw them 
standing in front of him, holding hands, he realized 
Galadriel had spoken the truth. 
 
Elladan swallowed, hard, and straightened his 
shoulders now that he stood in front of his father. 
Filled with pride, he nodded once. “You heard 
correctly.” 
 
Elrond inclined his head. His firstborn impressed him 
more with his bravado than he wanted Elladan to know. 
He respected his son for standing up for his beloved. 
“You decided to take a mate without consulting me 
first?” 
 
“Respectfully, Adar8, I do not think it is your place 
to choose my beloved for me.” Elladan’s eyes darted to 
meet with his mother’s, and what he saw in the soft, 
silver-gray eyes, reassured him. He pulled Lindir 
closer and wrapped an arm around him. “Adar, Naneth9, 
this cannot truly come as a surprise? That I would 
choose Lindir?” 
 
Elrond nodded his head once. “It was to be expected, 
but I am still surprised.” 
 
“We expected you to come to us first -- *before* 
announcing your beloved to us. We would have liked to 
council you in this matter,” said Celebrían. 
 
“What is there to council?” asked Elladan, surprised. 
“I always knew my heart belonged to Lindir.” 
 
“It was Lindir who was too blind to see,” muttered 
Erestor beneath his breath, whilst playing with Arwen, 
who was blissfully unaware of the serious topic the 
adults were discussing. She was much more interested 
in putting knots in Erestor’s long hair! He 
conveniently forgot that he hadn’t known either until 
he had overheard that conversation! 
 
Elrond walked toward Elladan and placed his hands on 
his son’s shoulder. “Are you certain you want to bind 
with Lindir? Do you love him?” 
 
“I do,” said Elladan, steadfast. 
 
Elrond inclined his head, realizing Elladan was 
determined to do this. His gaze shifted from Elladan 
to Lindir. “Walk with me, meldir.” He desired a word 
in private with Lindir. 
 
Lindir’s heart missed a beat, seeing the serious 
expression in Elrond’s gray eyes. Elladan tried to 
keep him from leaving his side, but he looked Elladan 
in the eye and said, “I have to do this.” 
 
Reluctantly, Elladan let him go and the twin watched 
the elder two Elves leave the room. He had not heard 
his mother approach and when she caressed his face, he 
blinked in surprise. “Will he give us his blessing? 
Will you give us yours?” 
 
She smiled, gently. “Lindir is a very kind and wise 
soul. If you've won his love, I won’t stand between 
the two of you.” Her gaze darkened. “How does Elrohir 
fare after hearing this news?” 
 
“Elrohir?” Shame-faced, Elladan realized he had 
neglected his twin these last few days. “He told me to 
go after Lindir. He approves.” 
 
As a mother, Celebrían heard the words her son didn’t 
say and she reacted to them. “Elrohir is your brother 
– your twin. Do not forget about him now that you have 
Lindir.” 
 
Elladan lowered his eyes. “I won’t,” he promised. He 
had been focused on Lindir and his beloved’s 
nervousness – and once Elrond gave them his blessing, 
they could move on. And he could go back to being 
Elrohir’s twin again. Aye, it *was* true; he *had* 
neglected Elrohir! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrond walked in silence, gathering his thoughts. The 
half-Elf didn’t realize it at first, but his silence 
was driving Lindir mad. 
 
“Please say something!” Lindir exploded with emotion. 
“Tell me that you feel I betrayed your trust and that 
you won’t allow this! Just say something!” 
 
Alarmed at hearing Lindir’s panicked tone Elrond came 
to a stop and searched Lindir’s eyes. The minstrel had 
come to an abrupt halt and was gesturing wildly, his 
arms flying and his hair dancing. “What?” 
 
“I am his teacher! You trusted me with your sons and 
I… I… I fell in love with one of them!” Lindir bowed 
his head in defeat. “Just say it!” 
 
Elrond however, smiled, and placed one finger beneath 
Lindir’s chin so he could raise the handsome face. “Do 
you love Elladan? With your whole heart? Or does it 
still belong to Ereinion? I need to know.” He made 
certain he spoke in a calm voice, not wanting to 
distress Lindir any further. “I am his father, Lindir. 
I am protective of Elladan. That shouldn’t come as a 
surprise. I need to know what you feel – how serious 
you are where my son is concerned.” 
 
“Very serious,” replied Lindir, meeting Elrond’s 
probing gaze head-on. “You know how much I loved 
Ereinion and you also know how I much suffered when I 
lost him. But you should also know me well enough to 
know that I dealt with his death and that my love for 
him is in the past. He always told me to go on and to 
focus on the present and even more so, the future. 
That is what I am doing. When I look at Elladan, I see 
my future. I see love. I should have seen it a long 
time ago, but he was a child to me. Even now, it is 
hard for me to see the adult.” 
 
Elrond nodded in understanding. “Lindir, Elladan 
reached majority many years ago. He is an adult. You 
are no longer his teacher and you did not betray my 
trust…” A thoughtful expression appeared in his eyes. 
 
Lindir understood at once. “I did not bed him. I 
wanted your blessing first, your permission to deepen 
this relationship. I value you, Elrond. I love you 
like the brother I never had and I would never do 
anything to hurt you. I insisted we wait until we 
spoke with you. I will only bind with Elladan with 
your permission.” 
 
“Thank you for that,” whispered Elrond. “You must 
understand, Lindir. He is my firstborn – my heir. I am 
protective of him. I do not want him to get hurt by 
his first love.” 
 
“I understand. I would probably act in the same way.” 
Lindir wrung his hands. “Where do we stand, Elrond?” 
 
A teasing smile appeared on the half-Elf’s face. “I 
approve of Elladan’s choice for several reasons. 
First, choosing you means he will choose to belong to 
the Firstborn when his time comes. I will not lose my 
son like I lost my twin.” 
 
A weak smile was born onto Lindir’s face. “You 
approve?” He had hoped to hear those words! 
 
“Aye… Furthermore, you are someone who will always put 
my son’s interest before his own. You will always keep 
in mind what is best for Elladan.” 
 
“I was a bit concerned you would not approve,” 
admitted Lindir. “Basically because I am a male Elf 
and I thought you would like for Elladan to sire 
heirs.” 
 
Elrond shrugged his shoulders once. “I often wondered 
about my sons’ future. I am not blind and noticed that 
male Elves frequently catch their eyes and not the 
she-Elves. If I desire to have any grandchildren I 
will have to put my faith in Arwen.” 
 
Lindir felt truly relieved now. “I will always love 
your son. I will always keep him safe.” 
 
“Let us hope so,” said Elrond in a somber tone. 
“Galadriel saw parts of the future in her mirror. The 
One Ring will return and Sauron will grow strong 
again.” 
 
Lindir’s heart grew chilled, hearing such grave news. 
“I will fight again, if necessary. We defeated Sauron 
once before and we can do it again.” He wondered about 
the way Elrond’s eyes misted over at hearing his 
words. 
 
“But that last victory cost us greatly, Lindir. So 
many lives were lost in that Battle.” 
 
/Including Ereinion’s./ Lindir grew sad, remembering 
his former lover. /I do not know the ways of the dead. 
I do not know if you are happy or mourning the past. 
Oh, by the Grace of the Valar, I hope they will allow 
you some happiness. You deserve it!/ 
 
“I am sorry if my words woke painful memories,” said 
Elrond in a whispering voice. “I will always carry his 
memory in my heart. Ereinion was the best of us.” 
 
“Aye, he was… A true King…” Lindir pushed the memories 
into the back of his mind and focused on the present. 
“We should return to Elladan and inform him of your 
decision. He will be relieved… I know I was, to hear 
you approved.” 
 
Elrond grinned. Aye, Elladan would be thrilled to 
learn his parents approved of his chosen one and that 
they would allow him to bind with Lindir. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Landiant flinched, recognizing one of the long knives 
hanging from Celach’s wall. Last night, he had been 
too captivated to notice much of his surroundings as 
his interest had been focused on Celach. 
 
Celach stepped up behind Landiant and followed the 
emerald gaze, fastened onto the broken knife. “It 
served me well in the Battle of the Last Alliance.” 
 
“It is one of the knives you carried upon your person 
when…” Memories and images flared in his mind, taking 
him back in time. Landiant was back on the 
battlefield. He lay on the blood-soaked earth and 
watched a group of Orcs approach, ready to end his 
life and send him to the Halls of Waiting. They had 
taunted him, but he had faced them, and he had been 
ready to die when Celach had appeared out of nowhere. 
“You are a true master at the long knives. You took 
them out one by one. They never knew what happened.” 
 
Celach accepted the compliment. “I am still grateful 
that I found you before they could end your life.” 
 
Tremors shook Landiant’s body. “I had already been 
there for two days. Birds of prey and other predators 
were eyeing me, hoping I would die quickly so they 
could feed upon me.” 
 
“But you survived, meldir.” Celach carefully monitored 
Landiant’s reaction to being called that and he 
smiled, finding the tremors lessening. 
 
“Those two days were the most gruesome days of my 
life. I am a soldier. I accepted that I could die on 
the battlefield when I followed my calling as a 
warrior. But to fall after the main battle had taken 
place and being left to die was…” 
 
Celach followed his instincts by wrapping his arms 
around the blond Elf. “I have not been in your 
situation and I cannot say I know what you went 
through. But I tried to take care of you.” 
 
“You did. You even carried me back to the camp.” 
Landiant leaned back into the embrace without actually 
noticing it. It happened naturally. “I owe you my 
life.” 
 
“You owe me nothing,” clarified Celach. 
 
Landiant chuckled. “Let me rephrase that. I would be 
honored if you would accept my friendship.” 
 
Celach noticed the way the golden-haired Captain was 
pressing back against him and prayed to the Valar that 
he had drawn the right conclusion – if not, he would 
be in serious trouble. He maneuvered Landiant around 
until the Woodland Elf’s green eyes were locked with 
his. There was something between them – some sort of 
attraction. And it has also been there that day on the 
battlefield, but they had never had a chance to 
explore it – to react to it. “Do you feel it too?” 
 
Landiant smiled. “I do.” He didn’t need to ask what 
Celach was referring to. “I have felt it all these 
years and my heart broke little by little.” 
 
“I saw your face in my dreams,” whispered Celach, 
running his fingertips down Landiant’s jaw. “What does 
this mean? For us?” 
 
“It means this will be complicated.” Landiant’s smile 
broke. “In a few weeks’ time I will return to Mirkwood 
whilst you must remain here. We should ponder this 
development and discuss it. The last thing we should 
do is to act rashly.” 
 
“You speak of reason whilst I desire to touch you.” 
 
Landiant’s smile returned. “I feel the same way, but 
we should think before taking such a step. We would be 
binding our souls and that whilst we know that we 
cannot be together. Will the sweet love of mere 
moments last when we are lonely and longing for each 
other?” 
 
“But you do feel it?” Celach traced Landiant’s upper 
lip with a fingertip. 
 
“Of course. It has been there since the beginning.” 
 
Celach cocked his head. “I do not know what the future 
will bring, and aye, you are wise to caution me. For 
my actions would be rash and I might throw us into 
despair.” 
 
Landiant searched the hazel eyes and found a mind, 
equal to his own, staring back at him. “We have time, 
Celach. We do not have to decide what to do right 
now.” 
 
Reluctantly, Celach nodded. If it were up to him, he 
would ravish Landiant and be ravished in turn, but 
Landiant was right – they needed to discuss this and 
only then, should they reach a decision that would 
affect them both for the rest of their immortal lives. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Lindir!” Elladan ran toward his beloved and caught 
Lindir in a tight hug. As he swirled Lindir around, he 
only had eyes for the white-haired Elf. Once he had 
placed Lindir back to his feet again, he found that 
his parents and Erestor had left. Lindir and he were 
alone. “What did my father say?” He was rather certain 
that it was good news as Lindir looked positively 
radiant. 
 
“Your parents are giving us their blessing. We are 
allowed to bind.” Lindir placed one hand at either 
side of Elladan’s head and surprised the both of them 
by kissing the half-Elf hard on the lips. 
 
Elladan closed his eyes, savoring his lover’s 
possessive kiss. Lindir had not taken the initiative 
in such a way before! Only then, registered Lindir’s 
words and he pulled away from his beloved. “They 
approve? Oh, I had hoped so much, but…” He left his 
words unspoken, reading them in Lindir’s eyes. His 
lover had shared that fear with him. 
 
“But, your father made one request…” Oh, Lindir wasn’t 
looking forward to telling Elladan this! 
 
“What?” Elladan frowned, adapt enough at reading 
Lindir to realize that his beloved had unpleasant 
news. “What did my father say?” 
 
“He asked us to attend a formal binding ceremony… in a 
month.” Lindir cringed, seeing Elladan’s agitated 
expression. “It is only a month! He wants your 
grandparents to attend and even Thranduil, Legolas and 
Melpomaen. Elladan, you must understand. You are his 
firstborn. Elrond wants to do you right. He wants to 
give you the celebration you deserve!” 
 
“I understand that,” said Elladan, who couldn’t help 
feeling annoyed. “But I had hoped to make love with 
you as quickly as possible. Now we must wait a month!” 
One month… One whole month! How was he going to cope? 
“Can we not bind in secret and then have the ceremony? 
My parents never need to know!” 
 
Lindir stroked elusive dark strands of hair away from 
Elladan’s face. “You waited so many years, Elladan, 
without hope of having me. Now you *do* know that you 
have me. Will waiting one month really be so 
impossible?” 
 
“Not impossible,” said Elladan, relenting. “But hard – 
literally hard.” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir walked the gardens, painfully aware of 
Glorfindel following him at a distance. “I know you 
are there, Glorfindel.” 
 
Caught, Glorfindel walked up to the lonely twin and 
fell into step beside Elrohir. The ribbons were gone – 
Elrohir had removed them during the day. It was 
evening now and only Ithil supplied them with silver 
light to guide their steps. “This must be a difficult 
time for you.” 
 
Elrohir looked up, questioningly. “Why do you say 
that?” 
 
“Because Elladan and Lindir received permission to 
bind.  Don’t you miss your twin?” 
 
Elrohir shrugged once. “Elladan has loved Lindir for a 
long time. I have grown used to it.” His voice turned 
low and sad. “I always knew that the day would come 
when we would go our separate ways.” 
 
Glorfindel bit his bottom lip, feeling like he was 
failing the younger twin. “You are always welcome to 
spend time with Erestor and me.” 
 
Elrohir managed a weak smile. “I do not want to 
intrude, meldir. I cannot run to you like I did when I 
was an Elfling. Even back then, Elladan left me alone 
so he could be with Lindir. I should have grown used 
to that by now.” 
 
“You sound sad and lonely,” said Glorfindel, brutally 
honest. 
 
Elrohir shrugged once more. “A part of me always 
wanted a tighter connection to my twin. The truth is 
that while Elladan and I may look alike, we are two 
very different people. Whilst he chased after Lindir, 
trying to court him, I buried myself in work. I worked 
with the healers, assisted my father in the library 
and led patrols for weeks at a time.” Feeling 
strangely melancholy and willing to open up, Elrohir 
sat down on the grass, leaned his back against a tree 
trunk and stared into the night. “I have been trying 
to fill this hole for a long time and I am failing.” 
 
Glorfindel sat beside the troubled half-Elf and 
offered him his silent support. 
 
“I envy Elladan for what he has – Lindir’s love. Like 
your friend, Ecthelion, I am beginning to think there 
is no love meant for me. What if history repeats 
itself? Ecthelion died lonely and probably even a 
virgin. If what you told me is true, then he never had 
a lover. What if his fate is my fate?” 
 
Elrohir’s deep feelings of desolation alarmed 
Glorfindel. “I never realized how much this troubles 
you. Elrohir, you are a lovely and caring person. I am 
certain that you will find your beloved like Elladan 
did. Maybe it just takes a little more time?” 
 
Elrohir forced a smile onto his face, realizing he was 
worrying Glorfindel. “These gloomy thoughts will leave 
once I am on patrol again. I won’t have much time to 
ponder these things then.” 
 
“Patrol?” Glorfindel frowned; that didn’t sound like a 
good idea! Not whilst Elrohir was upset. 
 
“I am leaving the day after tomorrow.” Elrohir gave 
Glorfindel a warm smile. “Do not worry, meldir.  I 
will be a good son, like I always am. I will do my 
duty and return home… only to wait until it is time to 
leave on the next patrol and in the meantime I will 
assist the healers and my father. That is my life.” A 
very sad life, but he didn’t want to worry Glorfindel 
further by saying that aloud. 
 
Glorfindel’s thoughts raced. He was determined to make 
certain that Elrohir didn’t leave on that patrol 
alone. What Elrohir needed was some quality time with 
his twin! Aye, he would approach Elladan and suggest 
the twins go on this patrol together. That way, they 
had a chance to tighten their bond and remember how 
close they really were. /And hopefully those gloomy 
thoughts will leave him alone then. His life is not as 
bleak as he thinks./ But it would take Elladan to show 
Elrohir that. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elladan really didn’t want to do this, but he owed his 
twin. He had neglected Elrohir and joining his brother 
on this patrol sounded like a good idea. But, the 
thing was – he really didn’t want to leave Lindir. 
 
“Think about it, Elladan,” said Glorfindel, leaning in 
closer to whisper into his former pupil’s ear. “Your 
binding ceremony is still a month away. You cannot 
touch Lindir even if you wanted to.” 
 
Elladan groaned; oh, Glorfindel knew him so well! 
 
“By going on patrol you would distract yourself *and* 
dedicate some time to your twin.” 
 
“You are right…” admitted Elladan, reluctantly. If 
only his father had not requested a formal binding 
ceremony! He already felt like bursting with sexual 
energy! Not a day went by without Elladan stroking 
himself to orgasm. 
 
“You will do it, then?” asked Glorfindel, hopefully. 
 
Elladan nodded once. “I will join him and I will talk 
to him. I will find a way to bridge whatever distance 
he thinks exists between us.” 
 
Glorfindel felt reassured now that Elladan had agreed 
to his plan. Hopefully the twins would feel close 
again upon their return to the Last Homely House. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Landiant blinked, confused. Where was he? Moving about 
in bed, he realized he wasn’t alone. Celach was curled 
around him and the warrior’s dark hair mingled with 
his gold. A smile surfaced on his face. Celach had 
been rather determined to let emotion prevail over 
reason, but Landiant had put his foot down. He was 
reluctant to bind so quickly, whilst their future was 
everything but certain. 
 
The attraction was there, aye. The love was there, had 
been there during those lonely years, but was that 
enough to build a solid relationship? Solid enough to 
endure separation? For Celach was bound to Imladris 
and Landiant served Thranduil. 
 
Reason had won in the end, and although they had gone 
to bed naked, they hadn’t touched intimately. That had 
been especially hard on Celach, who had been the more 
aroused of the two. 
 
Landiant pressed back against Celach, who reacted in 
his sleep and pulled him even closer. This was nice – 
this was sufficient for now. They were several 
millennia old and would find a way to make their love 
last. And when they did – they would commit to each 
other for eternity. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir wondered if he should feel annoyed now that 
Elladan had decided to join him on this patrol. He 
almost spat, ‘I am capable of leading this patrol. I 
do not need you at my side.’ But it had been a long 
time since they had fought and ridden side by side and 
a part of him insisted they should spend time with 
each other. So in the end, Elladan won and the twins 
set out together. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Ecthelion? That time is drawing near. I need you at 
my side.” Námo entered Ecthelion’s rooms, where he 
found the Lord of the Fountain brooding and staring 
darkly into the fire. “You knew this day would come.” 
 
“I had hoped you would give him a bit more time. He is 
so young, my Lord. Only one hundred and twenty. That 
is nothing but a moment in the lives of the Firstborn. 
Won’t you reconsider?” 
 
“My hands are bound. You know that.” Námo, dressed in 
black and burgundy, approached Ecthelion and placed a 
gloved hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “I would like 
for Elrohir to see your face in the hour of his death. 
Your presence will soothe him.” 
 
“He won’t even recognize me! He does not know me!” 
Ecthelion jumped to his feet and paced his room. 
 
Námo shook his head. “His soul will recognize yours.” 
 
“I do not want him to die! Please, I beg of you! Is 
there nothing I can do to stop him from dying?” 
Ecthelion raised his arms and pleadingly reached for 
the Vala. “I would do anything!” 
 
Námo walked toward Ecthelion and placed his hands on 
the warrior’s shoulders. Once Ecthelion’s gaze locked 
with his, he said, “This is your destiny. And 
Elrohir’s. Don’t fight it.” 
 
Ecthelion gave in, realizing that he was helpless. 
There was nothing he could. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Elrohir! Have faith! You will find someone to love! 
Even I found one!” Elladan shifted closer to his twin 
and threw more wood onto the fire. The guards had 
searched their surroundings and had found no threat. 
As they were safe, the twins had given permission to 
build a fire. 
 
“You always loved Lindir,” said Elrohir, throwing a 
pebble into the fire. “In my heart I always knew that 
the two of you would bind.” He lifted his head and 
forced a smile onto his face. “Do not worry about me, 
tôr. Live your life. I will be just fine.” 
 
But Elladan heard the lies in his brother’s voice and 
that realization made him grab Elrohir’s hands. 
Squeezing them, he said, determinedly, “You are my 
brother, Elrohir! You are my twin. We will always be 
bound by blood. The fact that I have taken a mate does 
not mean you lost me.” 
 
/I lost you many decades ago. I lost you when we were 
children and I would follow you in the hope you would 
play with me, whilst you were only intent on being 
with Lindir. Aye, we fought and we made up, but 
somewhere along the line we lost something very 
special…/ 
 
“Elrohir, you are scaring me. You have a look in your 
eyes that…” Elladan didn’t want to finish that 
sentence. “You do not have to be lonely. You have me.” 
 
/Nay, Lindir has you. I have no one./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Why? Why are you allowing me to hear his thoughts?” 
Ecthelion stared accusingly at Námo. 
 
Námo’s expression was soft and warm when it shifted 
from Elrohir to Ecthelion. “Because I want you to know 
that he is not happy. Elrohir longs for a love, much 
like you did – and still do.” 
 
They stood next to the camp fire, close to the twins, 
but invisible to their eyes. Elladan had buried 
Elrohir in a hug, but it was clear to see that the 
younger twin only complied because he didn’t want to 
disappoint Elladan. Elrohir’s heart wasn’t in the 
embrace. 
 
Ecthelion nervously shuffled his feet. He didn’t want 
to be here, for his presence meant that Elrohir was 
about to die. “Is there really no other way?” 
 
Námo shook his head. “This is the way it is supposed 
to be. Accept it.” It wouldn’t be long now, before the 
Orcs would appear and Elrohir would give his life to 
save his brother’s. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Alarm! Alarm!” 
 
Elladan woke first. He had fallen asleep seated 
against his twin and his first reaction was to make 
certain Elrohir was still safe. His twin blinked, 
still sleepy, but was also already drawing his sword. 
 
“Orcs!” called out the sentry, trying to alert as many 
members of the patrol as possible. Arrows flew, swords 
danced in the air, and slew several Orcs. But there 
were many of the foul creatures – maybe even too many! 
 
“Elrohir! We need to regroup!” Elladan was already 
busy shouting orders to the guards, who were beginning 
to form a line. Side-by-side, the Elves fought off 
their attackers. 
 
“Where did they come from? None of our sentries found 
signs that they were close!” Even Glorfindel had 
jokingly remarked that this would be a boring patrol 
as no enemy was in sight. Now, Elrohir cursed his own 
stupidity. They should never have gone to sleep! 
 
“We can find out later! Now we must deal with them! 
Charge!” Elladan, in his energetic way, led the 
charge, and the guards followed their leader when he 
attacked. 
 
Elrohir merely shook his head at Elladan’s foolish 
charge. They should be concentrating on their defense 
instead! But he didn’t get much time to consider his 
next move. Orcs surrounded them and Elrohir’s heart 
missed a beat, finding his brother in peril. One Orc 
had managed to disarm his twin and another was 
attacking from behind. Elrohir didn’t have the time to 
warn his brother – didn’t have the time to consider 
what to do. 
 
Elrohir acted and threw himself in harm’s way, 
catching the blow meant for his twin. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“NO!” 
 
Not one, but two voices screamed that little word to 
the heavens in a mute plea, but only one was heard by 
Elven ears. Ecthelion’s cry of outrage was never meant 
for the ears of the Firstborn. 
 
Two forms started to catch Elrohir, who was stumbling 
toward the cold earth. A sword stuck from his back, 
buried to the hilt in the half-Elf’s body. The wound 
was lethal and quickly drew life from Elrohir. It was 
Elladan who caught his twin in his arms, who held him 
in those last moments, but it was Ecthelion who gently 
caught the falling fëa10 and cradled it close. 
 
Námo remained at a distance, not wanting to infringe 
now that fate was taking its course. 
 
Elrohir was falling. He felt cold and lonely, even 
though his brother was holding him close. Blood 
dripped from his back and through his twin’s fingers. 
Life was fleeing him and his last smile was for 
Elladan. Elrohir succeeded in raising his right hand 
and caressed his brother’s face. He wanted to tell 
Elladan not to feel guilty, that it had been his 
choice to give his life so his brother could live, but 
he lacked the strength to say those words. Death had 
come for him. 
 
“Do not despair, Elrohir. Please, look at me… Do not 
despair.” 
 
Elrohir was certain that he had never heard this 
melodic voice before, and curious, he looked at the 
voice’s owner. Oh, had he ever seen such a lovely 
sight before? Aye, Erestor was ethereal in his own 
way, but he had never before laid eyes on such 
exquisite beauty as this. “Who are you?” he asked, 
quite stunned to hear his voice, when only a moment 
ago he had lacked the strength to address his brother. 
Elladan was no longer in sight – all he saw was this 
handsome Elf. 
 
Ecthelion cradled Elrohir’s fëa close, wanting to give 
the younger twin a sense of safety. “I am a friend.” 
 
”What is happening to me?” His life fast forwarded in 
front of his eyes. He relived his birth, his childhood 
and reached his majority again. Every decision he had 
ever made, was now presented to him and he finally 
realized he had been working toward this point his 
entire life. *This* was why he had been born. This 
Elf. Other memories momentarily faded and he forgot 
about his sobbing brother, holding him in his arms and 
rocking him. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Hold on!” Glorfindel, enraged that the scouts hadn’t 
picked up the Orc tracks any sooner, had left Imladris 
in the company of several guards. All the way over 
here, he had prayed fervently that he would reach the 
twins in time. 
 
Glorfindel’s heart momentarily stopped beating, seeing 
Elladan collapse onto his knees, dragging his 
brother’s body down with him. The horrified expression 
in Elladan’s widened eyes said more than those 
screamed words ever could. Whilst his guards dealt 
with the foul intruders, Glorfindel headed for 
Elladan. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elladan’s whole world crumbled in his arms, feeling 
Elrohir sag lifelessly against him. The last breath 
left Elrohir’s lips, the eyes went blank and stared at 
the dark sky. 
 
“No!” Elladan screamed his anger, fear and disbelief 
into the unresponsive skies and went down. Kneeling on 
the cold earth, he pulled Elrohir close and rocked his 
twin’s lifeless body in his arms. No, this couldn’t 
have happened! This couldn’t be real! He wasn’t 
holding his dead brother in his arms! 
 
“Noooooo!” Elladan threw back his head and screamed – 
screamed as hard as he could. He didn’t notice the 
strong arms wrapping themselves around him and holding 
him. The only thing he was aware of was the dead 
weight in his arms and the blood dripping down his 
fingers. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Back in Imladris, Celebrían staggered. Elrond quickly 
reached for her and steadied her. Seeing her large, 
swimming eyes, he knew something terrible had 
happened. “What has happened, Melethril 10?” 
 
Celebrían had grown ghastly pale and curled her 
fingers around her husband’s. “Elrohir… he…” She 
failed to finish her sentence, fainting, unable to 
cope with her son’s death. 
 
Elrond drew the only possible conclusion and his first 
reaction was to scream at the Valar and curse them, 
but then he realized that his wife needed him. 
Celebrían had somehow experienced Elrohir’s death and 
it was up to him to take care of her. He would have to 
mourn later. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Curiously, Elrohir looked about. The handsome Elf was 
still holding him – holding him close. Strong arms 
were wrapped around him and the luscious, red lips 
were temptingly close. “Shouldn’t I be dead?” 
 
Ecthelion nodded once. What did Námo want him to say? 
To do? As the Vala remained quiet he had to decide for 
himself what to do. “Aye, you died. You are dead.” 
 
“In that case, death is much more pleasurable than 
life.” Elrohir felt entranced, staring into the Elf’s 
dark eyes. “I feel like I know you.” Another look told 
him that the stranger wore dark-blue leggings and a 
turquoise shirt, lined with silver. “I know you,” he 
repeated, vexed that he couldn’t remember. 
 
Ecthelion blushed. /How can the dead blush?/ wondered 
a distant part of him. 
 
“Are you Námo? But nay, that does not seem right.” 
Elrohir didn’t want to free himself of the embrace, 
but he needed to stand on his own feet again. 
 
Ecthelion shook his head once. “I am not Námo. I do 
not belong to the Valar.” Elrohir surprised him by 
raising a hand and brushing strands of his hair back 
behind his ear. The touch burned him with sensual 
desire and his blush deepened. 
 
“I am Námo,” said the Vala, revealing himself. 
Elrohir’s reaction to Ecthelion hadn’t surprised him 
in the least – he had even counted on it! 
 
Elrohir heard the Vala’s voice, but couldn’t tear his 
gaze away from the handsome stranger. /Who are you? 
Why do I know you?/ 
 
Námo approached and even chuckled softly. “Elrohir, 
you do not seem upset by the fact that you just died.” 
 
Elrohir nodded once. “Not as upset as I thought I 
would be. Maybe it has everything to do with him.” 
Still feeling entranced, Elrohir took a step toward 
Ecthelion. 
 
Ecthelion considered backing away from Elrohir, but 
found he couldn’t move. He felt paralyzed. Never 
before had anyone looked at him with such wonder in 
their eyes – such admiration. 
 
Námo continued to chuckle. “Don't you know his name, 
Elrohir?” 
 
Elrohir’s eyes narrowed. “Should I?” 
 
Námo grinned, triumphantly. “You read his poetry. You 
played on his flute… You wore the colors of his house 
in your hair. You should know him, Elrohir.” 
 
Finally realizing the truth, Elrohir said, 
“Ecthelion?” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“I can… not… go… on…How…can I…?” Emotionally 
devastated, Elladan stared blankly at Glorfindel, who 
was doing his best to calm him down. /Calm? I feel 
strangely calm… like I died as well./ And in a way, 
that was true. With Elrohir, a part of him had died. 
/I am no longer a twin… no longer a brother…/ And 
suddenly he understood how his father must have felt 
when he had held a dying Elros in his arms. /We are no 
longer someone’s brother…/ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel decided that he had to take charge now that 
Elladan was staring at him in such a helpless way. His 
men had taken care of the threat and the Orcs had been 
killed. /I am sorry that I reached you too late,/ 
thought Glorfindel, but this was not the time to speak 
those words. Elladan needed him. /I will take care of 
you, pen neth./ 
 
Glorfindel caught Elladan just in time when Elladan 
fainted. Holding one dead twin and one breathing 
half-Elf in his arms, he cursed the Valar for taking 
Elrohir away from them. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Erestor swayed and reached for the wall. A terrible 
cold had formed a fist around his heart and squeezed – 
hard. Realization came instantly. “Elrohir…” 
 
“Uncle Erestor?” Arwen, who had been playing close to 
his desk, pushed herself to her feet and walked over 
to him. She rested her tiny hand upon his and looked 
at the adult with big eyes. “What is wrong?” 
 
Erestor shook himself from his stupor and forced 
himself to react. There was no reason to scare this 
little Elfling. “I must have worked too much and 
long.” 
 
Arwen gave Erestor a serious look. “Aye, that is what 
Naneth says when Ada looks like that.” The Elfling 
readily accepted the adult’s explanation. “Maybe you 
want to take a nap?” It was almost time for her nap at 
any rate. 
 
Erestor tried to fight down the tremors that shook his 
hands whilst lifting Arwen. “A nap sounds perfect.” He 
forced himself to act like nothing was wrong so he 
would not worry her. At the same time, he realized he 
needed to talk to Elrond and Celebrían as quickly as 
possible. “Why don’t we take that nap in your parents’ 
rooms?” 
 
Arwen nodded once, in a serious way. “I'd like that.” 
 
On his way over to the couple’s chambers, he wondered 
what he would find. Had the parents sensed their son’s 
death as well? 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“You are Ecthelion,” said Elrohir in a voice filled 
with wonder. “I always wanted to meet you.” Elrohir 
took hold of Ecthelion’s arm and pulled the other Elf 
closer. “Many minstrels sang of your beauty, but none 
of them did you justice!” Elrohir had never believed 
in love at first sight – until now that is. 
 
“Come with me,” said Námo, gesturing for Elrohir and 
Ecthelion to join him. “It is time to go home.” 
 
“Home?” Elrohir frowned; finally realizing what it was 
that Námo was saying. “You are taking us to the Halls 
of Waiting.” 
 
“Aye, your new home.” Námo smiled, kindly. “Would you 
mind sharing quarters with Ecthelion?” 
 
Elrohir shook his head once. “Not at all.” 
 
“That is decided then.” Námo transported them to the 
Halls of Waiting and deposited the two souls in 
Ecthelion’s rooms. Now that his work was done, he 
sought out his wife – only in her presence would he 
finally find some rest. 
 
TBC 
 
1  meldir (sing.) –-“male” friend (Sindarin, noun) 
mell + dir 
2 tôr (sing.) –- brother (Sindarin, noun) 
3 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun) 
4 melethron  –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun) 
5 Ada  –- dad, daddy, papa (Sindarin, noun) 
6 Nana –- mom, mommy, mama (Sindarin, noun) 
7 pen-neth (sing.) –- young one (Sindarin, noun, 
pronoun) 
8 Adar  –- father (Sindarin, noun) 
9 Naneth –- mother (Sindarin, noun) 
10  fëa (sing.) –- soul (Quenyan, noun) 
11  Melethril –- (fem.) lover (Sindarin, noun) 
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin 
dictionary 
Definition of OC names: 
Celach – Flowing Flame 
Landiant – broad bridge

Title: By the Grace of the Valar 
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon 
Pairings; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas, Elladan/Lindir, 
Elrohir/Ecthelion and Celach/Landiant (two OMC’s) 
Overall rating: NC-17 
Summary: Imladris mourns Elrohir’s death, whilst 
Elrohir has never been happier before. Elladan is 
determined to follow Elrohir into death and Erestor is 
forced to reveal himself. He now faces the same 
decision as he did in Gondolin. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. 
Warning: AU of course! Character death – Elrohir! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge 
liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This 
story has the timeline from Hell, so you are warned! 
Additional note; Ereinion and Maeglin/Lómion were 
never an intended pairing, but I developed a soft spot 
for them! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia 
Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story 
without your help! 
All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
By the Grace of the Valar 
Part 14 
 
Glorfindel’s facial expression was grim, whilst 
holding Elladan tightly against him. He had placed the 
half-Elf in front of him and Asfaloth took great care 
in trotting lightly. Elrohir’s body had been wrapped 
in several traveling cloaks and the guards had built a 
litter, which now carried the corpse. After Elrohir 
had died, Elladan had fallen into a state of shock and 
had been unresponsive since then – drifting in and out 
of consciousness. The measure in which Elrohir’s death 
affected Elladan worried Glorfindel immensely. He had 
always known that the twins shared a connection, but 
it appeared none of them had realized just how strong 
that link was. 
 
He kept one arm tightly curled around Elladan’s limp 
form and made certain his charge wouldn’t accidentally 
take a fall. Glorfindel’s heart was heavy with worry, 
as he couldn’t help wondering if Elrond and Celebrían 
had sensed their son’s death. Oh, this would be hard 
on the parents, who now had to bury their youngest 
son. Would the family ever recover from this blow? 
They had always been so close! 
 
Bowing his head in defeat, Glorfindel wished he had 
reached the patrol earlier. The twins had already left 
when scouts reported the sighting of a large group of 
Orcs. The patrol had already been out of reach at that 
point and all Glorfindel could do was gather his men 
and hurry after them. 
 
He felt guilty for letting them down. Guilt, blame and 
self-accusation slipped in, making Glorfindel’s heart 
heavy with self-hatred. He should have paid more 
attention to the border scouts. He should not have 
allowed the twins to leave! But a part of him rebuked 
himself, telling him that he wasn’t to blame and that 
drowning in self-pity and loathing wouldn’t help 
Elladan, who needed him. 
 
“I will take you home. I will take you to Lindir.” 
Glorfindel was grateful that his old friend had 
accepted the half-Elf as his lover – for Elladan would 
need all the support he could get as his parents would 
be drowning in their own grief. Lindir would be 
Elladan’s reason to fight and stay with them. Without 
the minstrel’s love Elladan would decide to fade. /He 
can still give up, even in spite of Lindir’s love. By 
the Grace of the Valar, we cannot allow that. We lost 
Elrohir – we cannot lose Elladan as well./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir curiously scanned his new home. Ecthelion’s 
rooms were sparsely furnished; they held a bed, a desk 
and a couple chairs. But scented candles illuminated 
the rooms and spread a fragrance that smelled of 
roses, giving the suite a warm impression. “Death is 
nothing like I thought it would be,” he said, his 
voice sounding loud and surprisingly hollow. 
 
Ecthelion was at a loss. Elrohir didn’t look 
particularly distressed – he looked surprisingly 
accepting instead. “I do not understand your 
reaction,” he admitted in the end. 
 
Elrohir sat down on the bed and patted the space next 
to him. “Come over here.” 
 
Ecthelion went hesitantly and seated himself at some 
distance from Elrohir. 
 
Elrohir chuckled, realizing Ecthelion felt shy. “I was 
not happy in life, Ecthelion. Maybe death is an 
improvement?” It definitely looked like an 
improvement, now that he had found Ecthelion. “Did you 
know that your flute and your book of poetry found a 
way into my rooms?” 
 
Ecthelion nodded, slowly. “Námo put them there. The 
poems… They were never meant to be read by anyone but 
me.” 
 
“Why?” 
 
“I felt depressed at the time – lonely.” 
 
“I also felt like that for a large part of my life.” 
Elrohir’s gaze searched Ecthelion’s. “Do you believe 
in fate, Ecthelion? Do you believe in destiny?” 
 
Speechless, Ecthelion was only capable of staring into 
Elrohir’s warm eyes. 
 
“I do. When I was little, I felt alone because Elladan 
preferred Lindir’s company over mine. And when I grew 
older, I missed having a love of my own. A part of me 
always knew that Elladan and Lindir were destined for 
each other and I could not help but wonder if there 
was someone set aside for me to love as well.” 
 
Ecthelion nervously moistened his bottom lip, as 
Elrohir’s words drew him in – drew him close – and he 
shifted nearer. “My life’s story is similar to yours. 
I watched people around me fall in love, but I never 
found love myself.” 
 
Elrohir raised his right hand and pressed it against 
Ecthelion’s face, which felt pleasantly warm. “I knew 
it when I died.” 
 
Ecthelion’s eyes widened. “What?” 
 
“I knew that we belonged together the moment I died. 
My life passed by me and I realized why I had been 
born; it was so I could die. I was made to be with 
you.” 
 
Ecthelion couldn’t believe what he was hearing and 
stared into Elrohir’s eyes. 
 
“We were born too many millennia apart, Ecthelion. You 
should have been born in Imladris, or I in Gondolin, 
but we weren’t. Yet, we found a way to be together.” 
Elrohir didn’t know where all this knowledge had come 
from. He just knew it had come into his mind the 
moment he had died. “You caught me when I died and 
that was supposed to happen. I was not supposed to 
live a long life because my destiny lies with you.” 
For the first time, since he had come into existence, 
Elrohir felt at peace and loved. “Maybe that is why my 
death does not upset me. Maybe that is why I do not 
long to return to life. I want to be here – with you, 
now that I have found you.” 
 
Elrohir’s monologue had taken Ecthelion aback and all 
he could do was nod. He felt the same way. The moment 
their souls had touched, he had known it as well. He 
had also felt it. They *did* belong together. Life had 
been a farce for both of them, as their destiny was 
death – and in death, they had found love. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrond had curled himself around his wife. She had 
repeated Elrohir’s name for quite some time, but had 
then grown quiet, worrying Elrond even more. His heart 
also cried out for the loss of his son, and he wanted 
to join his beloved wife in mourning, but he couldn’t. 
Right now, his wife needed him to be the strong one, 
and he had to show the same strength upon Elladan’s 
return. 
 
Celebrían’s eyes were wet with tears and she shivered 
in her husband’s arms, as she slowly left the 
entranced state she had been in. “I felt him die…” She 
sobbed, and pressed back against him, needing to feel 
him close. “We lost our son.” 
 
Elrond’s eyes swam with tears and they slowly dripped 
down his face. “Our youngest son… Oh, why?” And how 
would Elladan deal with losing his twin? /Losing Elros 
almost destroyed me./ 
 
“You will have to be there for him… You must be the 
strong one,” whispered Celebrían, feeling a loss she 
would never be able to express in words. She had lost 
a child – her precious son. No one – not even Elrond – 
would understand the way she suffered – for she had 
carried him in her womb and had given birth to him. 
 
Elrond swallowed hard. “This will be difficult for 
Elladan to accept. He lost his twin.” Elrohir’s death 
was bringing back memories of losing Elros. “His whole 
life has changed. Elladan has always identified 
himself as Elrohir’s twin – he is no longer that 
person.” It had taken him decades to adapt to the new 
situation Elros’ death had left him in. Elrond had 
never let it show, and had buried his longing for his 
twin deeply, but he still missed the other half of his 
soul. At least Elladan would be reunited with Elrohir 
in the Halls of Waiting one day, but Elros had chosen 
a mortal life and his former twin was forever lost to 
Elrond. 
 
Elrond sent for Lindir, knowing how important it was 
that the minstrel was present upon Elladan’s return. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Lindir ran into Erestor on his way to Elrond’s 
chambers. The summons had taken him by surprise, and 
once he had learned the reason he was summoned, his 
heart had skipped several beats. His first, 
treacherous thought had been – it could have been 
Elladan instead. He had instantly felt guilty for 
thinking that, but it was the truth. Deep down in his 
heart, he was immensely grateful that his beloved had 
been spared. 
 
“Lindir, wait!” Erestor walked up to Lindir. Seeing 
the distressed expression in the minstrel’s eyes, he 
realized that Lindir knew what had occurred. Arwen was 
growing restless in his arms, and he soothed her. The 
result was that she cuddled back up to him. He wished 
he could discuss this now, but Arwen’s presence 
prevented that, as he didn’t want to upset her. It 
would be best if she was with her parents when she was 
told what had happened. “I am also on my way to speak 
with them. I will join you.” 
 
Lindir cast a quick look at Arwen, understanding that 
he couldn’t mention Elrohir’s death directly. “Do you 
know what has happened?” 
 
Erestor nodded. “I felt his passing.” 
 
Lindir fell into step with Erestor and grew even 
guiltier for being relieved that it was Elrohir and 
not Elladan who had died. But it was also a very 
understandable reaction. “What do we do?” He knocked 
on the door to the couple’s rooms, not wanting to 
enter unannounced. 
 
“We must be there for them in every possible way.” 
Relieved, Erestor found that Arwen had fallen asleep 
in his arms and was no longer able to hear them. 
“Elladan will need you. You must keep him grounded.” 
 
“But we haven’t bound yet!” Lindir’s fear doubled; 
what if Elladan was determined to follow his twin into 
death? 
 
Erestor cocked his head – Lindir had made a valid 
point. If Elladan was determined to fade, Lindir 
wouldn’t be able to stop him. A very soft ‘enter’ 
sounded from within the room and Lindir pushed down 
the door handle. Erestor followed Lindir inside and 
was stricken, seeing Celebrían’s defeated expression. 
In an effort to give her hope and strength, he placed 
Arwen in her arms. 
 
Celebrían accepted her daughter into her arms and 
hugged her close. She continued to shed tears and 
Arwen reacted in her sleep, extending her arms and 
wrapping them around her mother’s neck. 
 
Elrond regretted having to let go of his wife, but 
whilst she had the opportunity to grieve, he hadn’t. 
After giving his wife a mournful look, he raised his 
hand and gestured for his two friends to head to the 
corner with him. Now that they were out of hearing 
range, he said, “Glorfindel is already on his way 
back.” Normally, he would not resort to using Vilya to 
supply him with information, but he had to know when 
to expect them so he could make arrangements. “I will 
look after my son personally.” He would carry Elrohir 
to the Healing House, wash, and dress him in his 
finest clothes and the funeral would be held in two 
days. “Lindir, I would ask of you to take care of 
Elladan.” He thanked the Valar that Lindir had 
accepted Elladan’s love. “You will have to pull him 
through the grieving process.” 
 
Lindir swallowed, nervously, and then nodded once. “I 
will find a way to keep him here.” 
 
Elrond nodded, hoping their love was strong enough to 
overcome this. “Erestor, would you stay with Celebrían 
and Arwen? I do not want them to be alone.” 
 
Erestor wished Elrond had made a different request, as 
he wanted to be there when Glorfindel returned. He had 
once vowed to protect Elrohir and he had failed 
miserably. But he would carry out his Lord’s orders, 
knowing Elrond’s words showed how much the half-Elf 
trusted him. “I will take care of them.” 
 
Elrond’s shoulders slumped and his head drooped 
forward. For one moment, he allowed them to see how 
hurt he really was. How tired and vulnerable. But then 
he straightened out his shoulders and drew in a deep 
breath. “Lindir, you are with me.” Elrond walked to 
the doorway and was followed closely by Lindir. 
Hopefully the two Elves would find strength in each 
other’s presence in the upcoming, grueling 
confrontation with death. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Erestor seated himself on the edge of the bed, and 
when Celebrían moved toward him, he pulled her close. 
She rested her head on his lap and Erestor wrapped an 
arm around her. He was painfully aware of the fact 
that she wanted her husband close instead, but it was 
Elrond’s duty to attend to Elrohir’s corpse. 
 
Looking at her daughter, Celebrían realized that she 
couldn’t give up. Her first thought after sensing 
Elrohir’s death had been that life had become 
meaningless. Now that her son was dead, she felt dead 
inside as well. But the tiny body in her arms told her 
that she was still needed. Her daughter needed her. “I 
never thought I would lose a son,” she whispered in a 
broken voice. “And most certainly not one at such a 
young age. He barely lived, Erestor. Why are the Valar 
this cruel?” 
 
Erestor felt privately torn; her words reminded him of 
his vow and his father’s words that he would have to 
make a choice. Erestor now realized what that choice 
would be about. “The Valar do not decide who is to die 
and to live. This is part of Eru’s song and we cannot 
change his will. All we can do is accept and find a 
way to carry on.” 
 
“You can easily say that,” said Celebrían – anger and 
hurt sounded in her voice. “You never lost a child. 
You do not know what it feels like.” 
 
“You are right,” said Erestor, softly. /I never lost a 
child, but I lost Glorfindel once and I remember the 
pain I was in back then./ He gently stroked her long, 
silver hair, and mumbled, “I apologize for my words. I 
do not know the pain a mother feels when losing her 
child.” 
 
Celebrían closed her eyes. “I am sorry too, Erestor. I 
did not mean to lash out. It is just… My heart hurts. 
It has broken and I do not know if it will ever heal 
again. But I cannot give in – Arwen needs me… Elladan 
and Elrond need me.” 
 
Erestor bit his bottom lip, now that his choice was 
growing clearer. In Gondolin, he had chosen Glorfindel 
over the fate of the inhabitants of the Golden City 
and Glorfindel had never forgiven him for that. Now, 
he faced a similar choice. As Námo’s son, it was 
within his power to arrange for Elrohir’s return to 
Arda. He could go to his father and ask Námo to allow 
Elrohir to be reborn, or maybe, heal the half-Elf’s 
body and return his soul to it. But doing that meant 
using his powers, and once he did that, he would 
forfeit this life – his love. He would lose Glorfindel 
and his life here. It was a horrid choice, but one he 
had to make. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel lowered his eyes in shame and guilt, upon 
entering the courtyard. Elrond and Lindir were already 
waiting for them and Glorfindel missed his beloved’s 
presence in this dark hour. 
 
Lindir moved forward and caught Elladan when 
Glorfindel lowered the half-Elf from his horse. Lindir 
fought back tears, seeing the dead expression in 
Elladan’s normally so lively eyes. “Oh, no… what 
happened?” 
 
“He collapsed the moment Elrohir died… He has not 
returned to awareness since.” Glorfindel dismounted 
and shuffled closer to Elrond, until he stood in front 
of his friend and Lord. He wanted to apologize – 
wanted to accept the guilt and blame that were his 
part, but the words remained stuck in his throat as 
they seemed to belittle Elrond’s grief. “I came too 
late,” was all he could manage. 
 
Elrond felt devastated, seeing Elladan lost in grief 
and Elrohir wrapped in traveling cloaks. He walked 
over to the litter and pushed the fabric away from 
Elrohir’s face. Some cruel coincidence had let Elrohir 
die with a smile on his face and the sight undid 
Elrond, who released his tears and dropped onto his 
knees. Wrapping his arms around his son, he pulled 
Elrohir close to his chest. 
 
Feeling rather lost, Glorfindel watched the scene 
unfold. Elrond was sobbing and rocking Elrohir in his 
arms, whilst Lindir supported Elladan, who swayed on 
his feet. The half-Elf’s eyes cracked with awareness 
for one moment and seemed to focus on Lindir. 
 
Lindir sensed the change in Elladan and hugged him 
close, searching the big eyes. “I am here for you. I 
love you, Elladan.” 
 
Elladan nodded once and then his eyes closed. He 
collapsed against Lindir, who promptly lifted him in 
his arms and carried him toward the Healing House. 
 
Glorfindel now sat on his heels beside Elrond, 
wondering what to do. Would his friend welcome his 
touch and soothing words or would the half-Elf reject 
them? “He died defending Elladan. Elrohir took the 
blow meant for his brother. It was his decision to 
sacrifice his life to save his brother’s.” 
 
Elrond heard the words through a haze of sobs and 
pain. /Elladan will blame himself for Elrohir’s death. 
This increases the risk of losing him as well./ Elrond 
realized he had to compose himself. He couldn’t let go 
like this – not yet. First, he had to attend to his 
son. “Help me, Glorfindel. I cannot carry him… I want 
to, but I cannot do it.” He shook over his entire body 
and his arms seemed to lack the strength to carry his 
son. 
 
Glorfindel’s heart burst with sympathy and he helped 
Elrond lift Elrohir. He stayed close and supported his 
friend, whilst they made their way into the Healing 
House. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Lindir placed Elladan on a bed and watched the healers 
fuss over his lover. It wasn’t long before they had 
stripped him and then wrapped him up in warm blankets. 
They fed him tea that would strengthen him, and then 
left them alone. Lindir stretched beside Elladan and 
buried the half-Elf in a tight hug. His hands rubbed 
large, soothing circles onto his beloved’s back and he 
placed butterfly kisses on Elladan’s face. Sadly 
enough, the young half-Elf didn’t react to any of his 
caresses and Lindir’s heart grew even heavier. What if 
he couldn’t reach Elladan? 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrond began carrying out the saddest and most painful 
duty he had ever carried out. He dismissed the healers 
and only allowed Glorfindel to stay. He had placed 
Elrohir on a bed and whilst fat tears dripped from his 
face, he began attending to his son. Glorfindel wasn’t 
certain what Elrond wanted him to do and awaited 
instructions. 
 
Elrond remembered Glorfindel’s presence, as he was 
about to remove the blood-dried shirt. “Help me 
undress him.” 
 
Glorfindel’s hands trembled, as he reached for 
Elrohir. He wasn’t certain he could do this. 
 
“Let me.” Celebrían, deathly pale, entered the room 
and gave Glorfindel a stern look. “Join Erestor and 
Arwen, Glorfindel. Stay with them. Elrond and I will 
perform this last duty for our son.” Speaking those 
words took all of her courage, but she believed that 
this was the only right way. Her gaze met her 
husband’s, and she flinched, finding his face wet with 
tears. “I am here… I am at your side.” She had left 
Arwen in Erestor’s care and had pushed herself to her 
feet to join her husband in carrying out this final 
task for Elrohir. 
 
Elrond nodded once. “Go, Glorfindel.” Looking into her 
eyes told him how much strength was involved for his 
wife to do this. She was stronger than he had thought. 
 
Glorfindel bowed, feeling utterly useless now that he 
couldn’t lessen their pain and practically fled the 
room, needing Erestor close. Erestor would know what 
to do and guide him through this. 
 
Elrond took his wife’s hand in between his and rubbed 
the icy fingers. After pressing a kiss onto the back 
of her hand, he released her from his hold. Working in 
silence, they attended to their son for the very last 
time. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Would you like to kiss me?” Elrohir was growing 
impatient. As time didn’t pass in a normal fashion, 
here in the Halls, it felt like Ecthelion had been 
staring at him for days now. He found Ecthelion’s 
shyness adoring, but his impatience to be kissed urged 
him to take the initiative. Who would have thought 
that the fabled Ecthelion was too shy to instigate 
their first kiss? Elrohir shifted closer and rested a 
hand on Ecthelion’s thigh. This felt right – this 
touch felt right. “I want you to kiss me, Ecthelion,” 
he added. “If we had been born in the same era we 
would have become lovers. But we were not and I refuse 
to allow death to keep us apart.” Their lives had been 
hollow and empty without each other. “I actually feel 
grateful that I died so young, because it brought us 
together. Do not feel guilty for the tender age I died 
at.” 
 
Ecthelion took heart, hearing those words. “I 
understand what you are saying, Elrohir. We had to 
live in order to die. That was our sole reason for 
walking Arda.” 
 
“I regret you had to wait so long for me to die,” 
whispered Elrohir. 
 
Those words took Ecthelion aback. “Elrohir…” 
 
“I mean it… if only I had been born at Gondolin!” 
Elrohir grabbed Ecthelion’s hands and brought them to 
his lips. He pressed sweet kisses onto their backs and 
then met Ecthelion’s gaze once more. “My words 
contradict themselves, but Ecthelion, our life starts 
now. In death, we will live out our love.” 
 
Ecthelion surprised himself by shedding tears – tears, 
which Elrohir caught with his fingertips. Seeing 
Elrohir lick the salty liquid off of his fingertips, 
made Ecthelion feel weak. Oh, he was in love – utterly 
and undeniably in love. Everything Erestor and Námo 
had predicted had come true. He had found his love in 
death! “Aye, I desire to kiss you,” he admitted in a 
timid voice. 
 
That was all Elrohir needed to hear. Elrohir leaned in 
closer and touched his lips to Ecthelion, finally 
tasting love after a lifetime of waiting! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Lindir was growing increasingly worried. He had kissed 
Elladan, whispered endearments into his ear, hugged 
him close, caressed his hair and none of those 
caresses had brought forth a response. Elladan 
remained catatonic and beyond his reach. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel marched into the nursery, knowing he would 
find Erestor there, looking after Arwen. One look into 
the cradle told him that the she-Elf was soundly 
asleep and his gaze shifted from Arwen to Erestor. His 
beloved stood in front of the window and was staring 
outside. The first snow was falling and slowly covered 
Imladris with a virgin blanket. It almost felt like 
mockery, for the Valar to let it snow during a moment 
when the heavens should open and reveal thunder, 
lightning and storm. For that type of weather would 
reflect their feelings. “Erestor…?” He approached his 
lover, puzzled to why Erestor wasn’t turning around 
and offering him his embrace. 
 
Erestor released a deep sigh before turning to face 
Glorfindel. The moment of truth had come. 
 
Erestor’s expression worried Glorfindel, who couldn’t 
identity the look in the dark eyes. “Erestor? What is 
amiss?” 
 
“What is amiss?” repeated Erestor. “Elrohir is dead.” 
 
Glorfindel closed his eyes. “I blame myself for his 
death. I am Captain here. I should have…” 
 
“Stop it! You are not to blame! Don’t you dare assume 
that guilt!” 
 
Erestor’s angry voice made Glorfindel open his eyes. 
The chocolate brown eyes were afire and seemed to 
shoot daggers at him. “But, if you do not blame me, 
why are you cross with me?” 
 
“You have a tendency to assume responsibility when you 
had nothing to do with it. Glorfindel, this is not 
your fault!” Erestor forced himself to speak softer 
when Arwen stirred unhappily in her sleep. “Step into 
the corridor with me.” They could speak undisturbed 
there. 
 
Glorfindel followed Erestor into the corridor and 
possessively claimed his beloved’s hand, as he needed 
the contact to ground him. 
 
“You did not fail Elrohir…’ Erestor lowered his eyes 
and stared at their entwined fingers. “But his death 
will tear this family apart.” 
 
“Did you have a vision?” Glorfindel rubbed Erestor’s 
fingers, pulling his beloved closer. 
 
Erestor had not planned on confiding in Glorfindel 
just yet, but found he couldn’t lie. “I did… Although 
Lindir will try to keep Elladan from fading, his love 
will fail him. Elladan is determined to follow his 
brother. Elrohir died so Elladan could live. But 
Elrohir never realized the guilt would slowly kill his 
twin.” Erestor closed his eyes and allowed Glorfindel 
to pull him close. He was running out of time. If he 
wanted to bring Elrohir back, he couldn’t wait much 
longer. “Elrond and Celebrían will lose their reason 
to live. With both of their sons dead, not even Arwen 
can give them enough joy. They will slowly fade – it 
will take millennia, but they *will* fade.” 
 
“And we cannot stop any of this from happening?” 
Glorfindel nuzzled Erestor’s neck, inhaling his 
lover’s scent. 
 
Erestor shivered, realizing only too well that these 
were his last peaceful moments with Glorfindel. 
“Actually, I can stop this from happening.” 
 
Glorfindel’s eyes widened at hearing Erestor’s 
determined tone. “You can?” 
 
Erestor didn’t want to do this, but it was time. “I 
cannot make the same mistake twice, meleth1. The first 
time that I had to make a decision such as this, I 
chose you – our love – and you hated me for it. You 
turned away from me and left me alone.” 
 
Something flared in Glorfindel’s memory, but the 
images wouldn’t come to him yet. “What are you talking 
about?” 
 
“You told me that I should have fought to keep 
Gondolin intact and her inhabitants alive. You hated 
me for choosing our love over them.” Erestor’s voice 
became dark and sad, seeing memories surfacing in 
Glorfindel’s eyes. “After your death, I used my powers 
and broke the rules my father set for my existence as 
one of the Firstborn. In the Halls of Waiting you 
found out my real identity and declared you hated me.” 
 
Glorfindel shook his head, trying to make sense of all 
the images that assaulted him. What was Erestor 
talking about? But then one scene after another was 
uncovered and showed him what had happened after his 
death – how he had shunned Erestor, Námo’s son. 
Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed, suspiciously, realizing 
who was standing in front of him. “You… Did you lock 
away my memories?” 
 
“My father did.” Erestor freed his hand of 
Glorfindel’s hold and took a step away from 
Glorfindel. “Back then, you said that I had made the 
wrong decision. That I should have never chosen our 
love above Gondolin and now I have reached a similar 
situation.” 
 
Glorfindel’s head spun. What was happening? 
 
“When Elrohir was born I vowed to keep him safe. If 
anyone failed him, it is I. But it is not too late yet 
to undo my mistake.” Erestor walked away from 
Glorfindel, unwilling to see the rebirth of hate in 
his lover’s eyes. “I can summon my powers and make my 
father return Elrohir to the living.” 
 
Glorfindel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 
Everything was going too fast! So this was why Erestor 
had told him he was afraid he would hate him! Would 
leave him! He had to stop this from happening! Erestor 
was already making decisions, whilst *they* should be 
thinking them over together, instead. “Don’t do this.” 
 
“I must.” Erestor spun around and found the courage to 
look Glorfindel in the eye. “Don’t you understand? I 
would rather lose you and return Elrohir to Arda than 
give you a reason to start hating me again. I won’t 
repeat my last mistake. I will do as you want me to. I 
will let you go and be unselfish – just as you want me 
to.” 
 
“Nay…” Glorfindel’s heart momentarily stopped beating. 
“I remember our conversation in the Halls, but…” He no 
longer hated Erestor! 
 
Erestor interrupted him. “My mind is set. Glorfindel, 
I love you and I do not know how to exist without 
having you at my side and your love to sustain me, but 
I will find a way. I will find comfort and strength 
knowing that my sacrifice returned Elrohir to his 
family!” 
 
“What is happening here?” Elrond, tired and burdened 
by grief, stood in the doorway. He had escorted his 
wife back to their rooms and had wanted to check on 
their daughter before hurrying over to Elladan’s side 
when he had overheard his friends’ conversation. 
 
Erestor straightened his shoulders. “I will return 
your son to you.” 
 
Elrond blinked. “I always knew you were hiding 
something from me, Erestor. There were too many 
unanswered questions, but I let it rest, wanting 
Glorfindel to be happy.” 
 
“The time has come for you to learn the truth,” 
decided Erestor and he reached out to his parents. 
 
Námo answered that call and brought them to the Halls 
of Waiting. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Nothing had ever tasted so sweet to Elrohir before. 
Not the juiciest berries, not the marmalade the cooks 
made, the sweet cakes or his father’s best wine. 
Nothing ever tasted as sweet as Ecthelion’s lips. He 
deepened the kiss, carefully pushing Ecthelion’s lips 
and teeth apart. 
 
Ecthelion allowed it, as he had dreamt of a moment 
like this for his entire existence. It surprised him 
how real, warm and strong Elrohir felt in his arms. 
Was a soul supposed to feel like this? Or was Námo 
granting them this special favor and allowing them to 
*feel*? Did it matter? 
 
Elrohir didn’t even bother to ask himself such 
questions; the kiss enraptured him and showed him that 
death was much sweeter than life had ever been. /And 
the best thing is, we have forever to love each other. 
Death cannot pull us apart – it brought us together! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel blinked and shuddered. “I have been here 
before.” 
 
“You are in the Halls of Waiting, my old friend,” said 
Námo, who watched the group of Elves trying to grow 
accustomed to their new surroundings. He had been 
waiting for Erestor’s call and had been prepared to 
bring them here. 
 
Elrond swallowed, hard. His mouth had gone dry, 
realizing who was standing opposite him. “My Lord 
Námo?” 
 
“Elrond! Help me!” Lindir suddenly found himself in 
strange surroundings, with a still limp Elladan 
pressed against him. He caught the half-Elf and 
supported the dead weight, but felt weak himself. 
 
Elrond covered the distance between them and wrapped 
his arms around Elladan, helping Lindir to support his 
son. 
 
Glorfindel blinked again now that all memories had 
returned to him. “You are his son,” he said, 
addressing Erestor. 
 
Erestor nodded once. “Námo is my father and Vairë my 
mother. Aye, I belong to the Valar.” 
 
Lindir’s eyes widened. “That is how you saved me!” 
 
Glorfindel’s eyes kept Erestor’s gaze prisoner. 
“Explain!” 
 
“After I broke my promise to my father, I sensed 
Lindir’s distress. I fought my father’s pull, which 
was drawing me back here, and made one more trip to 
Gondolin. Using my powers I destroyed the Orcs and 
took Lindir to Círdan. The journey only took seconds.” 
 
Even in spite of their strange situation, Elrond 
nodded. “Now Lindir’s tale makes sense. You never 
traveled for weeks and the light they saw was you.” 
 
“I had stripped off my corporal form, aye. I had taken 
on my form as a Vala.” 
 
“And now you brought us here… Why?” asked Glorfindel. 
His heart was at war with itself. He loved Erestor – 
loved him more than life itself – but it also 
remembered Erestor’s betrayal. 
 
Erestor wanted to sigh, but realized he was no longer 
able to. He had lost the body of the Firstborn and it 
had become nothing but a reflection – a manipulation. 
He belonged to the Valar again. “I am here because I 
made my decision.” 
 
Námo nodded once and walked over to his son. “You knew 
this day would come.” 
 
Erestor nodded his head once. “I offer you my return 
to these halls in return for Elrohir’s life. He is 
still too young. His death would cause Elladan’s as 
well, and in the end, his parents, too, would succumb 
to grief. I cannot allow that. Not when it is within 
my power to stop it from happening.” 
 
Elladan’s eyes slowly regained awareness – it was 
Erestor’s words, which had penetrated his mind and his 
eyes focused on the Vala. /Vala… and I always thought 
he was an Elf…/ 
 
Finally understanding what was happening Glorfindel 
called out, “Nay!” 
 
Erestor shook his head and an immensely sad look 
appeared in his dark eyes. “I do not want to cause 
more hatred inside of you. I love you too much to do 
that. I love Elrohir, Elladan and Elrond too much to 
stand by and let this happen when I can stop this.” 
 
Námo rested a hand on his son’s shoulder, knowing how 
hard this was on his son. “You made your decision when 
you called out to me. It is too late to change your 
mind now.” 
 
“I know that.” Erestor closed his eyes. “I love you, 
Glorfindel, but I need to prove to you that I am not 
as selfish as you think that I am. I can sacrifice a 
part of me.” 
 
Glorfindel felt absolutely terrified. “Erestor, do not 
do this! Aye, I know I told you I hated you, but… I 
was hurt!” He couldn’t lose Erestor. The mere thought 
of losing his beloved caused terror inside him. 
 
“It is not your choice to make,” said Námo in a 
compassionate voice. 
 
“Where… is… El… rohir? Where… is… my twin?” Elladan’s 
mouth felt awfully dry and the act of speaking 
actually hurt, but he persevered. “Where… is he?” He 
needed Elrohir – needed to see and hold him. 
 
“Erestor!” Glorfindel stalked toward his beloved and 
stared deeply into the stunned eyes. 
 
“Be at peace, Glorfindel. I made my decision because I 
know you would want me to make it this way.” 
 
Glorfindel felt like screaming! He had changed since 
he had told his lover he hated him! “You do not have 
the right to make this decision without consulting 
me!” 
 
“The decision has been made,” said Námo in a firm 
voice. “And it cannot be undone.” 
 
Elrond stared at Námo and Erestor in shock. For so 
long one of the Valar had acted as his Chief Advisor 
and he had never suspected anything! And what was 
Erestor saying? “You will give up your love for 
Glorfindel so my son might be returned to me?” 
 
It was Námo who answered the half-Elf. “Many millennia 
ago, my son fell in love with Glorfindel of Gondolin 
and we made a pact. I would allow him to dwell on Arda 
as long as he did not use his powers as a Vala. He 
agreed and Glorfindel and Ecthelion found him in 
Gondolin. Love blossomed between Glorfindel and my son 
and for a time they were happy. But visions plagued my 
son and like Idril, he knew Gondolin would fall. 
Together, they made certain a tunnel was built. That 
tunnel took the refugees into safety. Glorfindel died 
defending the refugees and in his grief, Erestor 
called upon his powers and broke the terms of our 
agreement. Erestor returned here and Glorfindel was 
told about my son’s real identity.” 
 
Glorfindel bowed his head. “I reacted violently. I 
felt hurt and betrayed. My love turned to hate.” 
 
Elrond blinked and saw similar surprise in Lindir’s 
eyes. Elladan was quickly regaining his strength and 
leaning less heavily upon them. 
 
“I allowed Glorfindel to be reborn, whilst my son 
stayed here, with me. In time, Glorfindel calmed and 
his mind became more balanced. For his sake, I locked 
away certain memories. So, when I returned Erestor to 
Arda, Glorfindel eventually remembered his love, and 
not the betrayal he had felt.” 
 
“You manipulated me,” said Glorfindel, pointing a 
finger accusingly at Námo. 
 
Námo shrugged once. “I wanted my son to have another 
chance at love.” Námo met Glorfindel’s gaze, and 
added, “For some time Erestor and you were happy, but 
Elrohir’s death changed that.” 
 
“I vowed to always protect him and keep him safe.” 
Erestor wanted to wrap his arms around Glorfindel and 
hold him close, but he didn’t – this wasn’t the moment 
for it. “In Gondolin I made the wrong decision – in 
your eyes, Glorfindel. And I want you to be proud of 
me, instead of hate me. That is why I made the 
decision I made. Elrohir will live again and his 
return to Arda will save lives. Glorfindel, I love 
you, but I must do this. I know you want me to do 
this.” In a tiny voice he added, “I do not want to 
give you another reason to hate me.” 
 
Stunned, Glorfindel stared at Erestor. “What have you 
done?” He finally realized what Erestor’s choice 
entailed; he would lose Erestor, who would dwell here 
and his beloved would be out of his reach! Erestor had 
condemned them to a life without each other – without 
love! 
 
Námo turned and told one of the souls to collect 
Elrohir. /Elrohir won’t be pleased and neither will 
Ecthelion… and so fate takes its course./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir pulled Ecthelion along, after being summoned 
to appear in front of Námo. Now that he had found his 
love, he refused to let him out of his sight. Stepping 
into the hall, he suspecting nothing wrong, but when 
he saw the assembled Elves there, he realized 
something terrible was amiss and he pulled Ecthelion 
close for support. 
 
“Elrohir…” Elladan’s eyes lit up with life and energy. 
Pushing himself away from Lindir, he headed for his 
twin. “Elrohir!” 
 
Elrohir’s eyes widened in alarm, feeling Elladan’s 
arms wrap around him. His brother’s possessive embrace 
meant he was pulled away from Ecthelion and panic 
flared in his eyes. 
 
Elrond couldn’t believe his eyes, seeing his sons hug. 
After shaking himself from his stupor, he ran toward 
Elladan and Elrohir and wrapped his arms around them 
both. 
 
Tears leaked from Glorfindel’s eyes, seeing the family 
reunited. But then his gaze shifted and came to rest 
on the soul who had entered with Elrohir. “Ecthelion?” 
Oh, he had missed his friend! Overcome with emotions, 
he covered the distance between them and rested his 
hands on Ecthelion’s shoulder. “My good, good friend. 
I have missed you so!” Overwhelmed, Glorfindel pulled 
Ecthelion close and held him tight. 
 
Lindir, who stood alone now that Elladan had hurried 
over to his twin, looked at Erestor. The Vala’s eyes 
were swimming with pain and emotions. “I wanted to 
thank you for saving my life.” Maybe these words would 
heal Erestor’s heart a little – a heart that had been 
broken twice now. “May I ask… Is Ereinion here as 
well? Is it possible to see him?” Was there a chance 
that he could say his goodbyes to his former lover? 
 
It was Námo who answered and not Erestor. “Ereinion no 
longer dwells in these Halls. He dwells in Lórien’s 
gardens with his beloved instead.” 
 
Lindir’s heart cringed momentarily. For one terrible 
moment he felt betrayed, but then he told himself not 
to feel that way. He should be happy that his former 
lover had found new love -- like he had. “He is well, 
then?” 
 
“He is happy,” said Námo, smiling at Lindir. “He will 
never forget you, Lindir, but he is happy with his new 
love.” 
 
Lindir nodded once – in his heart, he felt at peace 
where Ereinion was concerned. A yelp forced him to 
focus on the present and he watched, in amazement, how 
Elrohir pulled away from his twin. 
 
“What are you doing here, Elladan? Don’t tell me you 
died!” Elrohir glared at his twin. “I took that blow 
so you would live!” 
 
“I cannot live without you! You are my twin!” Elladan 
clung to Elrohir, whose reaction baffled him. “I 
thought you would be pleased to see me!” 
 
Elrohir simply stared at Elladan. “I died, leave me 
be.” 
 
“How can you say that? Do you have any idea of the 
pain your death has caused?” asked Elrond in surprise, 
hugging his youngest son close. 
 
“Why are you here?” repeated Elrohir, who didn’t like 
this development one bit. Instinctively, he reached 
for Ecthelion. 
 
But Ecthelion was buried in Glorfindel’s tight 
embrace. “Aye, it is good to see you again, meldir2,” 
said Ecthelion. “But you should not be here, 
Glorfindel.” 
 
Glorfindel pulled away so he could look into 
Ecthelion’s eyes. “I have missed you.” 
 
“Why are you here?” asked Elrohir a third time and his 
voice began to show some of that Peredhil temper now 
that he wasn’t receiving an answer. 
 
“I took them here,” said Erestor, cringing now that 
Elrohir’s glare shifted from Elladan to him. “It is 
within my power to change your fate and my father will 
allow you to return to Arda.” 
 
“And in return you will stay here?” said Glorfindel, 
who fumed with anger. “Don’t you love me, Erestor? 
Does our love mean nothing to you? How can you give up 
on it so easily?” He felt betrayed once again, and 
this time, it hurt even more. 
 
What also hurt was the blow Ecthelion landed on his 
face. “What? You actually hit me?” Glorfindel needed a 
moment to process that. “Why?” 
 
“I thought you had matured, but I was wrong. You 
really do not understand how much Erestor loves you – 
that he is doing this for you!” Ecthelion shook his 
head at his friend’s stupidity. “He can never do right 
by you, can he? He is doing this because he wants to 
please you!” 
 
“Enough!” roared Námo. “Elrohir, you will return to 
Arda – to your family. You no longer have to dwell 
here.” He saw the instant rage in Elrohir’s eyes, but 
ignored it. The young one was capable of fighting his 
own battles and so was Ecthelion. “Be gone now!!” He 
wanted to comfort his son! And so did Vairë, who 
materialized behind her family. 
 
“Nay! I will not go back! I will stay here! I want to 
stay with Ecthelion! I love him…” But Elrohir’s words 
faded as the visitors were transported out of the 
halls. A moment later, only Vairë, Námo and Erestor 
remained. Erestor eased into their embrace and cried, 
releasing his emotional pain about losing Glorfindel. 
He had willingly made this sacrifice, but that didn’t 
lessen his pain. It still hurt. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Ecthelion couldn’t accept this. Couldn’t accept that 
love had entered his existence and had then been 
ripped away from him. He only had one way out left – 
and so Ecthelion did the one thing no soul had ever 
dared doing before; he sneaked past the large doors 
and left the Halls of Waiting in search of Elrohir. He 
didn’t know how to accomplish the impossible, but he 
was determined to try. If he was to be a ghost in the 
world of the Firstborn then that was what he would be 
– just as long as he was close to Elrohir. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
/Ecthelion just passed beyond the gates of the Halls,/ 
thought Vairë, sharing her thoughts with her husband. 
Erestor had finally calmed down and now rested whilst 
his parents watched over him. 
 
/I sensed his departure,/ replied Námo. 
 
/And you won’t go after him?/ This fact surprised his 
wife. 
 
/I won’t. It is Eru’s will that Ecthelion takes this 
step./ 
 
/Sometimes I wonder what lies in our future,/ wondered 
Vairë. /I know there is a reason why you let Erestor 
make this sacrifice, but I do not know why you would 
let Ecthelion’s soul leave./ 
 
/Glorfindel has much to learn and Ecthelion is the 
perfect person to show him what he has been missing. 
Furthermore, I approve of Elrohir and Ecthelion loving 
each other and their love will be rewarded in the 
end./ 
 
/I will put my trust in you,/ thought Vairë. /Like I 
always do./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir felt shocked, realizing he was alive again. 
His lungs drew in his breath and his heart pumped 
blood through his veins once more. The wound that had 
caused his death was gone and his body was whole 
again. Unexpectedly, he was pounced upon and he 
tumbled toward the grass, catching the form that 
pressed close to him. 
 
“You are alive again!” Elladan felt energetic and his 
apathy had left now that he had his twin back! He 
rolled atop of Elrohir and pressed him down, kissing 
his twin’s brow and chuckling wildly. “I have you 
back.” 
 
Elrond, equally delighted at having his son back, 
smiled, and then looked about to study their 
surroundings. For some reason the Valar hadn’t 
returned them to Imladris. He recognized their 
surroundings and a look from Lindir confirmed his 
conclusion. They were at the Gray Havens, where Círdan 
dwelt. Elrond wondered why the Valar had taken them 
here instead of home. A look to his right showed him 
an extremely pale Glorfindel, who was shivering over 
his entire body. The normally sparkly, azure eyes 
appeared dim and shadowed – haunted even. 
 
“I lost him,” whispered Glorfindel. “And I do not know 
what I did wrong.” 
 
Elrond reached out to his old friend and placed a hand 
on Glorfindel’s shoulder. “We will talk later.” First, 
he needed to come up with some sort of plan. They 
would stay at the Havens for a day, maybe two, but 
then they would head home. Celebrían was probably 
panicking, now that her husband and sons had 
disappeared. 
 
“Why did you do that? How could you make that decision 
for me?” Enraged, Elrohir kicked off Elladan and 
jumped to his feet. The hurt look Elladan gave him 
finally registered, but didn’t lessen his rage. “Why 
did you come for me?” 
 
Elladan swallowed, convulsively, and he pushed himself 
to his feet. Feeling shaky and insecure, he sought out 
his twin’s eyes. “You died… You died because of me. I 
did not want you to die and… I wanted to fade… to 
follow you into death… but they wouldn’t let me.” 
 
Elrohir’s furious gaze now settled on his father. 
“Why, Adar? Why couldn’t you just let me go?” 
 
Elrohir’s reaction baffled all present. They had 
expected gratitude and happiness, not this rage. 
Elrond was the first to find the courage to face 
Elrohir’s wrath. “You do not know how your death 
affected us. Elladan was beginning to fade and not 
even Lindir could reach him. Your mother… She 
witnessed your death and she broke down… our family 
was ripped apart and…” 
 
“Who is responsible for this madness?” asked Elrohir 
in a demanding voice. None of them possessed the power 
to reach out to the Valar! Then, it returned to him – 
Erestor! 
 
“It was Erestor,” said Glorfindel a broken voice. “He 
vowed to protect you when you were born and he wanted 
to keep his promise.” 
 
Elrohir’s rage dimmed gradually. What helped was the 
realization how much his death had affected his 
family. Once he had calmed down, he met his twin’s 
gaze. Elladan looked vulnerable and his twin had made 
his way over to Lindir. The minstrel’s hand rested 
against the small of Elladan’s back, rubbing 
soothingly. He saw how pale Elladan was and still 
smelled the fading sensation on his twin. Elladan had 
been ready to follow him into death. “Don’t you ever 
do such a stupid thing again, tôr 3!” He pulled 
Elladan into his arms and his twin sagged against him, 
sobbing softly. “I am sorry I was cross with you, 
but…” But they didn’t know what he had just lost – the 
greatest love of all. 
 
“I am sorry, Elrohir,” sobbed Elladan, slowly taking 
heart again now that his twin was hugging him. “But 
you died because of me and I could not live with that 
thought. I wanted to join you in death.” 
 
Elrohir raised his twin’s face and looked Elladan 
deeply in the eyes. “Promise me that you will never do 
such a stupid thing again. I want you to live. I want 
you to be happy with Lindir. Never try following me 
into death again. Do you swear?” 
 
Elladan’s bottom lip trembled. “I do not know if I can 
do that.” 
 
“Lindir?” Elrohir gestured for the minstrel to take 
step closer and then gathered Lindir’s hand and 
Elladan’s in his. He joined them and looked at them. 
“Elladan, I want you to be happy and to love Lindir. 
Promise me that you will never follow me into death 
again.” 
 
Elladan shivered, but promised. “I won’t follow you 
into death again.” 
 
“Good!” Elrohir was pleased. “I hope the two of you 
will be happy.” 
 
“Elrohir?” Elrond approached and waited for Elrohir to 
turn about so they were face to face. “I cannot 
believe you are alive again.” In his life, people died 
and remained dead. They simply didn’t join the living 
again. 
 
Elrohir read some of his father’s pain and disbelief 
in the gray eyes and he carefully took the elder 
half-Elf into his arms. “When the time comes, you must 
find the courage to let me go.” Námo had said that his 
death would have caused that of his twin’s and his 
parents – and that was simply unacceptable. He had to 
strengthen them, so they would be able to let him go 
when he took his life to return to Ecthelion. “You are 
strong, Ada4, so very strong. You can never give in to 
your pain.” 
 
Elrond rested his head against his son’s shoulder. “I 
do not have to be strong any more, now that I have you 
back.” 
 
Elrohir flinched. He couldn’t stay with them. He 
couldn’t stay alive – for he missed Ecthelion. His 
need to be reunited with his new love consumed him! 
 
Glorfindel looked on with bleary eyes. Was it just his 
imagination or did Elrohir look upset by the fact that 
he was alive again? And did it matter? Glorfindel 
wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging himself 
close. He had lost Erestor, and would never hold his 
beloved in his arms again. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Círdan was surprised to see his guests, but welcomed 
them goodheartedly and made quarters available to 
them. His guests seemed shocked for some reason and 
weren’t talkative. Elladan clung to Elrohir and 
refused to be separated when they were assigned 
different rooms. In the end, it was Lindir, who 
succeeded in freeing Elrohir of Elladan. The 
white-haired Elf took Elladan into their rooms and 
then closed the door behind him. 
 
“You should not be alone right now,” said Elrond, 
after Elrohir had expressed his wish to have private 
rooms. 
 
Elrohir sensed his father’s true concern and felt 
touched, but… “I need some moments alone, Ada. Please 
grant me these.” 
 
Reluctantly, Elrond allowed it, and he watched as his 
son disappeared into his room. That left him with a 
severely depressed Glorfindel. “Come with me, meldir.” 
Glorfindel went willingly and after Elrond had closed 
the door behind them, he guided his charge toward the 
bed. “Sit down.” Glorfindel obeyed and Elrond sat on 
his heels in front of his friend. The empty expression 
in the pale-blue eyes worried him. “Glorfindel, can 
you hear me?” 
 
Glorfindel nodded weakly. “What did I do, Elrond?” 
Ever since his memories had returned, his thoughts had 
raced. “I told him I hated him…” 
 
“Why don’t you tell me *exactly* what happened in the 
past?” Elrond shifted until he sat on the bed beside 
Glorfindel. 
 
“It is a long story.” 
 
“We have time.” They wouldn’t leave until tomorrow 
afternoon and he was too restless to sleep at any 
rate. Maybe after listening to Glorfindel’s tale he 
could offer his friend some advice. Erestor’s actions 
had indebted him and if he could help Glorfindel and 
Erestor, he would. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Erestor walked the Halls as of old. Everything seemed 
the same, but he quickly realized it wasn’t. Ereinion 
now dwelt in Lórien’s gardens with Lómion and the 
Gondolin Elves had changed. Turgon was no longer 
filled with arrogant pride, but with thought and 
concern. Eöl had been imprisoned in one of the 
lower-situated halls and would never be released. The 
thing that struck him as the oddest was the fact that 
Ecthelion was gone. 
 
“You made the right decision,” said Vairë, seeing her 
son enter her rooms, where she sat weaving. “You 
really had no choice.” 
 
Erestor seated himself and watched how another 
tapestry grew beneath her agile fingers. “I know I 
made the right decision. Elrohir needed to return to 
his family, but… I do not mind being back here. It is 
just…” 
 
“You miss Glorfindel,” finished his mother. “Erestor, 
have you lost all hope that you will be reunited with 
Glorfindel? Do you accept your existence here?” 
 
“I will not flee, if that is what you are asking. That 
is what Ecthelion did, didn’t he?” 
 
“Ecthelion’s fate is not clear to me, but your father 
knows his future and he decided to allow Ecthelion to 
flee. I would never question your father’s motives. He 
means well, though he can be manipulative at times.” 
 
Erestor’s heart fluttered in his chest, seeing 
Glorfindel’s face come alive beneath his mother’s 
hands. Apparently Glorfindel was talking to Elrond, 
who was trying to comfort him. “I should not feel this 
angry. I had many happy years with Glorfindel. I never 
expected him to take me back in Imladris, but due to 
his memory loss, he did. Those memories will have to 
suffice and sustain me for the rest of my existence.” 
 
Vairë disliked seeing his defeated expression. 
“Erestor, may I offer you some advice?” 
 
“Always, Naneth5.” 
 
“Do not give up hope yet. Your father allowed 
Elrohir’s return to Arda for a reason – and that 
reason has everything to do with Glorfindel. He 
disliked Glorfindel’s reaction to hearing about your 
real identity and I know your father well enough to 
realize he is up to something.” 
 
Hope flared inside Erestor. “Do you mean that?” 
 
“I do. When I asked your father about it, he said that 
it was time for Glorfindel to learn a valuable 
lesson.” She let go of the tapestry and rested her 
hand on Erestor’s arm instead. “Your father has placed 
Glorfindel in this situation for a reason. He needs to 
understand what has happened – what he has lost. And 
Elrohir and Ecthelion will play a part in this.” 
 
His mother’s words gave Erestor hope, and when he 
looked at the now finished tapestry, he hoped the day 
would come that he would hold Glorfindel in his arms 
again. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“That is a very complex story,” mumbled Elrond, after 
Glorfindel had told him everything about Erestor and 
the past they shared. 
 
Glorfindel felt tired and drained now that he had 
bared his soul and his eyes emptied, as his awareness 
faded. 
 
Elrond was about to question Glorfindel further, but 
then saw the exhaustion in the blue eyes. He eased 
Glorfindel down onto his back and covered his friend 
with a blanket. Whilst he sat guard at his friend’s 
side, he wondered what kind of hidden agenda Námo had. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Lindir? I owe you an apology.” Elladan had pulled 
Lindir down with him and had then curled around the 
white-haired minstrel. “I never wanted to lock you 
out. That must have hurt.” 
 
Lindir nodded, but was much too happy to have Elladan 
in his arms again to remain feeling hurt. “I should 
have realized that your connection to Elrohir was 
strong.” 
 
Elladan shrugged and then pressed a kiss onto Lindir’s 
white hair. “I did not know how strong until it was 
severed.” Being brutally honest, he said, “I always 
thought that it would be harder to live on without you 
than without Elrohir. I might have been wrong. There 
is this connection that binds Elrohir and me…” He 
cocked his head, caught Lindir’s gaze and said, “Maybe 
that will change once we bind.” 
 
“Maybe it will.” Lindir raised a hand and caressed 
Elladan’s face. “You scared me, Elladan. I could not 
reach you – no matter how hard I tried.” 
 
“I learned my lesson,” whispered Elladan. “I will 
never lock you out again.” 
 
Their lips met in a sweet kiss and they momentarily 
forgot all their problems. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
/Oh, Ecthelion, they have no idea what they did./ 
Feeling miserable, Elrohir curled up in a fetal 
position, hugging his legs and closing his eyes. /Only 
a few hours ago I was happy! I had never been that 
happy before. I had finally found what was missing 
from my life and now they took it away from me – from 
us. Why? Why did they do that?/ Wasn’t it ironic that 
in those few hours in which he had been dead, that he 
had been happier than in his entire life? He was 
tempted to take his life this very moment, so he could 
return to Ecthelion, but taking his own life seemed 
wrong – terribly wrong. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir’s thoughts guided him and pulled Ecthelion 
closer. He didn’t know how he had managed to flee the 
Halls or how he had crossed the Sea, but he had and he 
had somehow found the Gray Havens. He stood in front 
of Círdan’s house, which housed the party of Elves to 
which Elrohir belonged. 
 
He entered Elrohir’s room and found his love on the 
bed, crying soundlessly. He wished he were alive 
again, for then he could reach out – or that Elrohir 
was dead, for then they could touch and communicate. 
But with one of them dead and the other alive their 
case seemed hopeless. 
 
Seeing trails of tears on Elrohir’s cheeks, Ecthelion 
inched closer and sat down on the bed. “I miss you, 
which seems absurd as we were only together for such a 
short time.” 
 
“I miss you too. I miss you so much that I am dreaming 
about you.” Elrohir’s eyes focused on Ecthelion and 
widened, finding the specter at his side. “This isn’t 
possible.” 
 
“You see me?” Ecthelion couldn’t believe this was 
happening. “You can really see me, but how is that 
possible…?” He hadn’t expected for that to happen! “I 
am dead and you are not!” 
 
“Maybe it is because I was dead once?” Elrohir pushed 
himself into an upright position and drank in his 
lover’s sight – even though Ecthelion’s appearance was 
a bit on the transparent side. 
 
Ecthelion frowned; did that mean Glorfindel would be 
able to see him as well? He hoped not. Raising his 
hand he wanted to touch Elrohir’s face, but his 
fingers passed through the half-Elf, not finding any 
solid form. “I am a ghost,” he said; he had been 
afraid this would happen. “I cannot touch you.” 
 
“But I can see you and we can speak!” It was enough 
for the moment – until… 
 
“You are contemplating taking your life,” said 
Ecthelion, uncertain how to feel about that. 
 
“I want to be with you and we cannot be together if we 
are apart like this. Ending my life seems like the 
most logical thing to do, but…” 
 
“You were given life and taking it seems like 
blasphemy. I understand. I would be hesitant to take 
my life as well.” If only he could touch Elrohir! Then 
his existence would be bearable! “You are so close and 
yet completely out of reach!” 
 
In turn, Elrohir tried touching Ecthelion, but failed 
just as miserably. “This is so unfair!” 
 
“It is,” said Ecthelion, nodding once. “But you are 
right – we can communicate and see each other. That 
must be enough, for now.” 
 
“Ecthelion, why are you here? Well, I think I know why 
you are here, but how is it possible for you to be 
here?” 
 
“I fled… I left the Halls of Waiting.” 
 
“Without Námo’s permission?” Elrohir’s heart missed a 
beat, seeing Ecthelion nod. “You should not have done 
that.” He didn’t know what happened to souls that fled 
the Halls of Waiting, but common sense told him that 
Námo would not allow it for long. The Vala would come 
for him. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrond was asleep and Glorfindel didn’t want to wake 
the half-Elf, who had suffered so much during these 
last two days. His friend needed his sleep and so 
Glorfindel soundlessly left the room they shared and 
stepped outside. The room came with a balcony, which 
was connected with Elrohir’s room. Stepping onto the 
balcony, Glorfindel wondered about Elrohir. The 
younger half-Elf sat on the balcony and although he 
was alone, Elrohir was talking and gesturing wildly. 
But no, Elrohir wasn’t alone. A dark-haired Elf sat at 
his side. Was it Elladan? He wouldn’t know until he 
saw the Elf’s face. 
 
Glorfindel approached Elrohir, who didn’t seem to 
notice his presence. “Elrohir?” 
 
Elrohir’s eyes widened, looking up at Glorfindel who 
towered over him. “Glorfindel? What are you doing 
here?” 
 
“I woke and could not sleep any more. Won’t you 
introduce me?” he said, pointing at the stranger, 
whose features were still hidden behind the long, dark 
hair. 
 
“You see him?” Elrohir’s fear had just come true. 
 
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” 
 
“We knew this could happen,” said Ecthelion, sweeping 
back his hair with the back of his hand. 
 
Glorfindel stumbled backward. “You? But… you are 
dead!” He couldn’t be looking at Ecthelion! Frantic, 
he reached out with his right hand and he jumped back 
in fright, finding his hand passed through Ecthelion’s 
form. 
 
“I am a ghost,” said Ecthelion, smiling sorrowfully. 
“I am without form, but Elrohir and you can see me.” 
 
“I think it is because we were dead once,” supplied 
Elrohir. He wanted nothing more than to lean against 
Ecthelion and relish the feel of the warrior’s arms 
around him, but it wasn’t meant to be. 
 
His knees gave out beneath him and Glorfindel was 
forced to sit down beside Elrohir. Staring at 
Ecthelion, he was trying to work out what had 
happened. “You left the Halls without being reborn… 
You fled! Why?” 
 
“Because I love Elrohir,” replied Ecthelion, whose 
eyes adoringly focused on the half-Elf. “I was never 
happy in life, you know that, Glorfindel. I always 
longed for more, for something special. For the same 
thing that you had with Erestor. I never got it. I 
died instead.” 
 
“You love Elrohir?” Glorfindel was doing his best to 
process this news. “But…” 
 
“Erestor once foretold that I would find a love called 
Elrohir and that he would be a half-Elf. He was right. 
I have watched Elrohir since he was born and when he 
died, I tried to prevent it, but Eru’s will must be 
done, so he died. I caught his soul when he died and 
the moment our souls touched, we knew we were meant 
for each other.” 
 
“And that is why you left the Halls? You went against 
the rules!” 
 
“Does it matter, Glorfindel? I love Elrohir and I lost 
him to life again. If I can only be a ghost to him, I 
will make my peace with that.” Ecthelion watched 
Glorfindel closely. “Erestor loves you, meldir.” 
 
Glorfindel hadn’t anticipated the change of subject. 
“I do not know what to think anymore.” 
 
“Glorfindel, I know you best. Maybe I know you even 
better than Erestor does. I understand that you felt 
hurt because he didn’t tell you from the start who he 
was, but he couldn’t. It was part of the agreement, 
which father and son had reached. He loved you, why 
wasn’t that enough?” 
 
Before his rebirth, when he had talked to Erestor, 
Glorfindel had known why it wasn’t enough. He had 
scolded Erestor and shunned him. But the reason why 
now eluded him. “I do not know why it wasn’t enough.” 
 
“Erestor hoped that the two of you would be together 
in the Halls. He loved you so much to make whatever 
necessary sacrifice. First, he left behind his life as 
a Vala and became one of us – one of the Firstborn. 
Then, after your death, he gave in to his sorrow and 
returned to the Halls, which was no sacrifice at all, 
as you already dwelt there. Would it have been so hard 
to accept him? His love?” 
 
Glorfindel lowered his eyes and wrung his hands. “I do 
not have an answer for you.” 
 
Ecthelion and Elrohir exchanged a look, and realizing 
what his lover wanted him to do Elrohir reached out to 
Glorfindel and squeezed his shoulder. 
 
“Námo allowed you to be reborn because he wanted to 
free his son of your tormenting presence. Later, he 
allowed Erestor a second chance at love, and because 
your memories were locked away your love blossomed 
again,” said Ecthelion. 
 
“He would wake in the middle of the night and beseech 
me not to leave him. Not to hate him. I never 
understood why he felt like that. I was convinced that 
I could never hate him! And yet, in the past, I did.” 
Glorfindel gave Elrohir a weak smile, thankful for the 
comforting contact. 
 
“And then I died,” said Elrohir. 
 
“Aye, you died and the memories returned.” Glorfindel 
had never felt more miserable before. “I understood 
why he was afraid that I would return to hating him – 
leaving him. But when he mentioned his choice, I felt 
lost. Why did he make that decision? I thought he 
loved me? If he did, how could he choose you and not 
me?” 
 
“You really do not understand, do you?” Ecthelion 
forced himself to remain patient with his old friend. 
“You were angry with him for choosing you over the 
inhabitants of Gondolin. And so, when faced with a 
similar choice, he did what he thought you would want 
him to do. You had told him that you thought him 
utterly selfish, so now he had to perform the most 
selfless deed ever – he returned to his parents and 
sacrificed his love for you.” 
 
Glorfindel slowly began to understand. “I am no longer 
the person I was when I told him I hated him. Erestor 
and I were happy in Imladris. Our time together has 
healed much of my wounds and took away my sense of 
betrayal. I learned much.” 
 
“You no longer think of him as selfish then?” 
Ecthelion grew hopeful that Glorfindel had learned his 
lesson. 
 
“I do not.” Glorfindel finally admitted the truth. “In 
Gondolin, his hands were tied, I understand that now.” 
 
Elrohir gave Glorfindel a sad smile. “The irony of the 
matter is that I do not want to live again. I was 
happy in the Halls of Waiting – with Ecthelion. It was 
Námo who delivered the flute and the poetry book to my 
rooms, and who braided the ribbons into my hair. 
Ecthelion and I were meant to be with each other.” 
 
“Erestor made his sacrifice in vain,” mumbled 
Glorfindel, crestfallen. 
 
“Not in vain. His deed opened your eyes.” Elrohir 
wished he could take Ecthelion into his arms. “I miss 
feeling you close.” 
 
“So do I.” 
 
Glorfindel heard the longing and misery in their 
voices and wondered about them. “You cannot be 
together?” 
 
“Elrohir is alive and I am dead. I am nothing but a 
ghost to him.” Ecthelion’s voice dripped with tears. 
 
“And you left the Halls in order to be with him?” 
Glorfindel shivered, wondering what punishment awaited 
Ecthelion once Námo realized what had happened. 
 
“I love him so much that I risked it all. I will do 
whatever is necessary to be with Elrohir.” 
 
“Oh, meleth6!” Elrohir’s eyes spoke volumes of love. 
“I will end my life shortly so we can be together 
again!” He couldn’t bear being separated from 
Ecthelion! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel walked along the harbor, watching ships set 
sail and others return to the safety of the Gray 
Havens. His conversation with Elrohir and Ecthelion 
had given him much food for thought. How was it 
possible that Ecthelion defied the Valar in order to 
be with Elrohir, whilst he accepted whatever fate he 
was given? Was he a coward? Why did he accept being 
separated from Erestor? 
 
/I love you, Erestor. For the very first time I 
understand you – understand your complex being. I see 
the sacrifices you made in order for us to be 
together. You are a Vala and yet you chose me as your 
lover. I never realized how blessed I am – how very 
fortunate to have your love. In the Halls of Waiting, 
I threw your love away. I threw it at your feet and 
left it there to rot. I overreacted and clung to my 
rage instead of seeing what was really happening./ 
 
In the distance, Arien began her daily journey and a 
spectacular sunrise momentarily distracted him. But 
then depression struck again – he wanted Erestor to be 
here with him to share this beatific moment with him. 
But he was alone. 
 
Looking over his shoulder, he located Elrohir and 
Ecthelion, still seated on the balcony. They seemed 
lonely, trying to touch each other, whilst knowing 
their hands would pass through the other’s form. And 
yet, Ecthelion had risked it all in order to be with 
Elrohir. 
 
Had risked it all. 
 
Ecthelion had risked it all. 
 
Ecthelion had fled the Halls of Waiting – had proven 
his love to Elrohir. 
 
What had he, Glorfindel, even done to prove his love 
to Erestor? 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Círdan walked beside Elrond, escorting the half-Elf to 
the breakfast table. “Give them some time. They have 
been through much.” He had been stunned to hear where 
his guests had come from. “Elladan and Elrohir need 
time to accept that things have changed.” 
 
Elrond nodded, reluctantly. “I worry about Elrohir the 
most,” he said, seating himself at the breakfast 
table. “I expected him to be happy that he was alive 
again. But instead, he lashed out in anger, demanding 
why we had come for him.” 
 
Círdan’s gaze happened upon Elrohir, walking the 
balcony and seemingly engaged in conversation, but no 
one was close. 
 
Seeing his friend’s intense look, Elrond followed the 
direction of the Shipwright’s stare and his heart 
missed a beat, seeing Elrohir raise his arms, as if 
embracing someone. “Was bringing him back the right 
thing to do?” 
 
“From what you told me I gather that it wasn’t your 
choice if Elrohir was to be returned or not.” Círdan 
sipped his morning tea, watching Elrohir intently. 
 
“It wasn’t my decision.” Elrond stared at the hot 
liquid in his cup, but couldn’t bring himself to drink 
it. 
 
Círdan remained quiet – lost for answers himself and 
studied Elrohir instead. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Lindir? Elrohir worries me.” Elladan stood near the 
window and watched his brother talk to the air. 
 
Lindir embraced his beloved from behind. Last night, 
they had talked and held each other close, but nothing 
more intimate had taken place. Elladan was still too 
emotional for that. “Maybe you should talk to him?” 
 
“I will do just that!” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“You cannot return to the Halls! I won’t let you!” 
Elrohir’s hands became fists and he glared at 
Ecthelion. 
 
“Elrohir, I cannot stay here… I want to, but…” 
 
“Stay! Let Námo come for you! It might be years before 
he finds out that you are gone!” 
 
“If I could touch you, I would wrap you in my arms and 
kiss you.” But he couldn’t. 
 
The words brought tears to Elrohir’s eyes. “This is 
not fair!” 
 
“Nay, it isn’t,” said Glorfindel, surprising the both 
of them. 
 
“Glorfindel…” Ecthelion glared at his old friend for 
sneaking up on them like that. 
 
“Ecthelion… I have been doing some thinking and I 
wonder…” Glorfindel swallowed hard. Doing this took 
all of his courage. “Would you risk it all one more 
time?” 
 
“What are you talking about?” asked Ecthelion, 
worried. 
 
“As I said, I have been thinking… I have lost Erestor, 
and like you, I want to risk it all.” 
 
“What are your plans?” Ecthelion had seen his friend 
plot before. 
 
Glorfindel straightened his shoulders and stared into 
Ecthelion’s eyes. “I plan on returning to the Halls of 
Waiting and confronting Námo. I will tell him how much 
I love Erestor and that I cannot live without him. I 
will dwell in the Halls of Waiting until I have 
convinced Erestor of my love and if he will have me, 
forevermore.” 
 
“But there is a problem, Glorfindel. You are alive,” 
pointed out Elrohir. 
 
“Not if you agree to my plan,” said Glorfindel, 
holding Ecthelion’s gaze prisoner. 
 
“What plan?” Ecthelion was beginning to feel 
suspicious. 
 
“You and I,” said Glorfindel, addressing Ecthelion, 
“will return to the Halls where I will offer Námo my 
life in exchange for yours. If he accepts, you will be 
reborn and free to be with Elrohir. Elrohir won’t have 
to die again.” 
 
“And what makes you think Námo that will agree to your 
plan?” asked Ecthelion, skeptically, though 
Glorfindel’s plan was giving him new hope. 
 
“I am counting on Erestor to influence his father. He 
loves me and we can be together if I am dead.” 
Glorfindel nodded once. “This will work.” 
 
Ecthelion and Elrohir exchanged a look. “Can it work?” 
asked Elrohir, growing hopeful. 
 
“It might,” admitted Ecthelion. Erestor was on their 
side. “But how do we return to the Halls?” He didn’t 
even know how he had left them! 
 
The moment Ecthelion uttered those words their forms 
vanished, leaving Elrohir behind, alone. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Námo’s smile was radiant, seeing Glorfindel return to 
his Halls. Maybe, Glorfindel had matured and was 
finally ready to make his choice. 
 
TBC 
1  meldir (sing.) –-“male” friend (Sindarin, noun) 
mell + dir 
2 tôr (sing.) –- brother (Sindarin, noun) 
3 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun) 
4 Ada  –- dad, daddy, papa (Sindarin, noun) 
5 Naneth –- mother (Sindarin, noun) 
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin 
dictionary


Title: By the Grace of the Valar 
Author: Morgana 
Author's Email: morganalebeau@yahoo.com 
Web page: http://www.paranoid.nl/avalon 
Pairings; Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor/Glorfindel, 
Lómion/Ereinion, Melpomaen/Legolas, Elladan/Lindir, 
Elrohir/Ecthelion and Celach/Landiant (two OMC’s) 
Overall rating: NC-17 
Summary: Glorfindel makes his own choice and realizes 
how deep his love for Erestor really goes. They find 
peace and happiness. Elrohir, Elladan, Elrond, Lindir 
and Ecthelion return to Imladris. 
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien’s. 
Warning: AU of course! 
Author’s Note: Completely AU. Plus, I am taking huge 
liberties with Erestor, Námo and his wife, Vairë. This 
story has the timeline from Hell, so you are warned! 
Beta reading, translations and research by Patricia 
Pleasant, thanks! I couldn’t have written this story 
without your help! All remaining mistakes are mine. 
 
By the Grace of the Valar 
Part 15 
 
A surge of energy swept through Erestor, revealing 
that one of the living had entered the Halls and not 
just someone, but Glorfindel. 
 
Vairë, who was still weaving, looked at her son. “Your 
beloved Glorfindel has returned to the Halls.” 
 
Erestor nodded, still dumbfounded that Glorfindel 
would do something like that. “But why?” 
 
“Knowing your father, he will summon you within the 
next few moments and then you will learn why. You had 
better mentally prepare yourself for a confrontation.” 
Vairë smiled at Erestor and concentrated on her 
weaving once more. She had always known that her 
husband would find a way to make things in Erestor’s 
life right again. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel swallowed, nervously, finding himself in 
the main hall again. Next to him stood Ecthelion, 
looking equally nervous. They had every reason to be 
nervous, as they had broken several rules and didn’t 
know how Námo would react to that. But it was too late 
now to reconsider, and he didn’t want to change his 
plans. He was here to fight for Erestor’s love and to 
return Ecthelion to the living. With Erestor’s help he 
would achieve both goals. 
 
Ecthelion was extremely nervous, finding himself 
standing in front of Námo’s throne. The comfortable 
chair stood on a pedestal and often held the 
Doomsman’s form. “We did not think this through.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded. “I will improvise.” 
 
Glorfindel’s words didn’t reassure Ecthelion, who was 
about to propose a certain strategy in order to deal 
with Námo, but then the Vala appeared behind the 
chair, giving them a stern look. Námo didn’t look 
pleased and Ecthelion prepared for a lecture, but at 
the same time he knew the Vala well enough to realize 
that they weren’t in any real danger. Námo had a good 
heart and only punished the ones who really deserved 
it. “My lord,” said Ecthelion, bowing deeply. 
 
“I always knew you were trouble, Ecthelion,” replied 
Námo, stepping away from the chair and approaching the 
Lord of the Fountain. “What were you thinking, 
sneaking out of my Halls and entering the land of the 
living?” 
 
Ecthelion straightened his shoulders and faced the 
Vala. “I love him, my Lord. That is the only 
justification I can give you. I love Elrohir and I 
cannot bear being separated from him.” 
 
“You are still separated from him,” said Námo, whose 
expression and tone was neutral. “For you cannot 
touch.” 
 
“Maybe I can change that?” Glorfindel was determined 
to risk it all. After all, what did he have to lose? 
Nothing! He had already lost Erestor! 
 
“You?” Námo’s gaze shifted from Ecthelion to 
Glorfindel. “Do you have any idea how much pain you 
caused my son in the past? And now you appear here in 
my Halls without being invited?” Námo sensed how his 
wife and son entered the hall, but they remained 
hidden in the shadow. Vairë knew it was best not to 
meddle in his affairs, and Erestor felt too hesitant 
to engage in this conversation just yet. 
 
Erestor stared at Glorfindel in disbelief. He simply 
couldn’t believe that the blond Elf had returned to 
the Halls out of his own accord! Why? 
 
Glorfindel’s eyes shadowed over with regret. “I 
understand that I hurt him and I apologize for 
rejecting him. Now that I remember everything, I have 
been able to work through the feelings of betrayal, 
which I felt back then. I do not hate him any more. I 
understand that making such a decision was hard on him 
and that it was hard on him yesterday.” 
 
Impressed, Námo nodded once. “Continue.” 
 
Glorfindel straightened and seemed to grow by several 
inches. “I am here to propose a pact.” 
 
Erestor was growing nervous, as he didn’t know what 
his beloved’s plans were. He was about to step away 
from the shadows when his mother placed a hand on his 
shoulder, keeping him in place. 
 
“You see, my Lord, Erestor offered his life in return 
for Elrohir. But Elrohir has fallen in love and lost 
his heart to Ecthelion – who is dead. Which leaves us 
with a dilemma.” 
 
“Us?” said Námo, amused, and raising an eyebrow. 
 
“Aye, us. I have given this matter ample thought and 
have found a solution. Ecthelion desires to be with 
Elrohir and for that to happen, he would have to be 
reborn. He would have to live again. I – on the other 
hand – desire to dwell in these Halls, because that it 
where Erestor is. I know he is not pleased with me at 
the moment, but I would like a chance to prove my love 
to him. The deal I propose is simple, my Lord. Take my 
life and give it to Ecthelion.” 
 
Erestor could no longer remain quiet and shook off his 
mother’s hand. “Nay, Ada1, do not accept his offer!” 
He left the safety of the shadows and joined them. 
 
Námo raised an eyebrow – this was the moment he had 
been waiting for. “Why shouldn’t I accept, Erestor?” 
 
“Because I do not want Glorfindel to die! His zest for 
life, his energy – they attracted me to him. I 
remember the way he was when he walked these Halls. 
When he was dead he was nothing but a shell!” Erestor 
regretted speaking those words, seeing Ecthelion’s 
crestfallen expression, and he realized that by 
advising his father in that way, he had taken away the 
soul’s last hope. 
 
“Do not listen to him,” said Glorfindel, smiling 
fondly at Erestor, as he realized he still had his 
beloved’s love. “It is a small sacrifice to make, for 
I want Ecthelion and Elrohir to have a chance at 
love.” 
 
“Ada, I want Ecthelion to be reborn as well, but the 
price is too high!” Erestor took that last step toward 
Glorfindel and wrapped an arm possessively around the 
blond Elf’s waist. 
 
“This is a most serious problem,” said Vairë, who came 
to stand at her husband’s side. “One of the living 
cannot dwell here for a long time. For Glorfindel to 
stay, he must be dead.” 
 
Three pairs of eyes fastened on Námo. “And now you are 
looking toward me for a solution?” 
 
“You must make a choice,” said Erestor. “This time it 
is *your* decision that will shape our existence.” 
 
Námo already knew what his decision would be, as he 
knew Eru’s will. “You will accept whatever decision I 
make?” 
 
Glorfindel swallowed hard. “I beg of you, do not 
separate Elrohir and Ecthelion.” His first thought had 
been to ask the mighty Vala to have mercy on Erestor 
and him, but he had learned the act of self-sacrifice 
from Erestor and he had learned it well. 
 
Námo shared a look with his wife and then, his 
thoughts. Vairë’s eyes lit up with pleasure and 
approval and her reaction gave Erestor hope. Just what 
had his parents decided? 
 
“Eru’s will shall be done.” 
 
With those words, spoken by the Doomsman of the Valar, 
their fate took shape. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Vexed, Elrond paced Círdan’s library. What was he to 
do? Lindir and Elladan were eager to return to 
Imladris, but his other son sat on the balcony and was 
lost to him. No matter what he said, what he did, 
Elrohir wouldn’t talk to him. And now Glorfindel had 
disappeared as well! 
 
“You have every reason to be worried,” said Círdan, 
upon entering the library. “But have you considered 
that your hands are tied and that all you can do now 
is to wait?” 
 
“Wait? What for?” Elrond threw his arms toward the 
heavens. “I do not understand what went wrong! I 
thought everything had turned out rather well after 
leaving the Halls of Waiting, but Elrohir…” His eyes 
sought out his youngest son, who was intently scanning 
the horizon. “What is he looking for? Waiting for?” 
 
“I overheard some of the things he said earlier when 
we thought he was talking to the air.” Círdan seated 
himself and watched the nervous half-Elf take up 
pacing once more. “He was talking to Ecthelion.” 
 
“Ecthelion?” Elrond came to a halt and stared at 
Círdan. “But Ecthelion is dead!” Then he frowned, 
remembering something. “Ecthelion was there with 
Elrohir. They were holding hands…” Could it be that…? 
 
“Can it be that he found love in the Halls of 
Waiting?” asked the Shipwright. 
 
“Everything happened very fast and I did not really 
listen to what he was saying. I was too thrilled to 
have him in my arms again.” Elrond shivered. “No good 
can come from this for Elrohir belongs to the living…” 
His eyes widened dramatically. “Oh, no, he cannot be 
contemplating ending his life in order to be with 
Ecthelion again!” 
 
Círdan shrugged. “From what you told me I gather that 
Elrohir did not want to return to the land of the 
living.” 
 
“Oh, Erestor… Was your sacrifice in vain?” Elrond’s 
heart urged him to seek out his youngest son and to 
talk to him. “Would you excuse me?” 
 
Círdan nodded once. “Of course.” The Shipwright 
watched Elrond march out of the room. He could only 
hope that there would be a happy ending to this story. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Elrohir? May I sit with you?” asked Elrond in a soft 
voice. His son seemed mesmerized and unresponsive and 
therefore he didn’t really expect an answer. But then 
Elrohir nodded; the fact that his son was reacting to 
him gave him new hope. He sat down, cross-legged, and 
joined Elrohir in searching the horizon. “What are we 
looking for?” 
 
“White sails.” Elrohir didn’t know why this thought 
obsessed him, but he somehow knew that a ship with 
white sails would bring Ecthelion home – if the Valar 
allowed Ecthelion to return to Arda, that was. If they 
didn’t, he would take his life and join Ecthelion in 
the Halls. 
 
“Who will be on board?” Elrond carefully folded an arm 
around his son and pulled him close. To his relief, 
Elrohir allowed it, leaned in, and rested his body 
against him. 
 
“Ecthelion.” 
 
Hearing that name confirmed Elrond’s suspicions. “Did 
you fall in love with him?” 
 
“Whilst you were away, I found several objects in my 
rooms which belonged to Ecthelion. I did not know it 
at the time, but Námo was already acquainting me with 
Ecthelion.” He lifted his head and locked gazes with 
his father. “My death was quick and painless. 
Ecthelion caught my soul when I began to fall and the 
moment our souls touched, we knew. We knew we belonged 
together.” 
 
It was as if an iron fist squeezed the life out of 
Elrond’s heart, hearing that. “You long for him?” 
 
“I won’t lie to you, Ada,” said Elrohir in a calm 
tone. “If Glorfindel fails I will take this matter 
into my own hands.” 
 
Elrond knew exactly what Elrohir was saying, but then 
something else registered with him. “If Glorfindel 
fails?” 
 
“Glorfindel returned to the Halls to offer his life in 
exchange for Ecthelion’s.” 
 
“But…” That meant Glorfindel was lost to them as well! 
Elrond’s head reeled. 
 
“Sails!” Elrohir jumped to his feet and scanned the 
horizon. “White sails!” A ship with white sails had 
appeared in the distance, urging Elrohir into action, 
who promptly left the balcony and ran toward the 
harbor. 
 
Elrond wondered what this meant, but then he followed 
Elrohir down to the harbor. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
The ship was unmanned, no one was needed to steer it 
to the Gray Havens and it only carried one passenger, 
who was to be returned to Arda. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrohir’s heart thundered in his chest and he was 
panting hard by the time he reached the harbor. The 
ship had found its resting place in the harbor and 
Elrohir’s sharp eyes made out the form of one 
dark-haired Elf. Unable to wait for Ecthelion to come 
to him, he jumped onto the deck and ran toward his 
beloved. 
 
From a distance, Elrond watched on. He felt rather 
confused, seeing Elrohir shower the stranger’s face 
with butterfly kisses and parts of their conversation 
reached him. 
 
“You are alive!” Elrohir watched Ecthelion draw in 
oxygen and saw veins moving beneath the skin’s 
surface. “You are alive!” 
 
Ecthelion was still trying to accept his unexpected 
return to life and hugged Elrohir close. Elrohir felt 
warm against him and whilst holding him, Ecthelion 
lost the battle to keep back his tears. 
 
“Why are you crying?” 
 
“Those are tears of happiness. I never thought… never 
believed Glorfindel’s plan would work.” Ecthelion 
nuzzled Elrohir’s neck, savoring the half-Elf’s musky 
scent. “We are alive, meleth2. We both are.” A part of 
him still couldn’t believe that this was really 
happening! 
 
Elrond, who had kept his distance until now, also 
stepped onto the deck. Was this really Ecthelion, Lord 
of the Fountain? He coughed, diplomatically announcing 
his arrival. 
 
Elrohir smiled into Ecthelion’s dark hair and then 
pulled away so he could introduce his father. “Meleth, 
this is my father, Elrond Half-Elven.” 
 
Ecthelion felt nervous, meeting his beloved’s father 
under such odd circumstances. “Lord Elrond… My name is 
Ecthelion and I love your son.” 
 
Elrond blinked. “You are Ecthelion? Lord of the 
Fountain?” 
 
“Aye, I am.” Ecthelion’s gaze was drawn to Elrohir’s 
hand, when the half-Elf curled his fingers around his. 
“Your son and I met in the Halls of Waiting and we 
fell in love. In time, I will ask for your blessing so 
that we may bind.” 
 
“I…” Elrond shook his head. It was too much. 
Everything was happening so fast! And then, he 
remembered the deal Elrohir had mentioned. “Where is 
Glorfindel? I do not see him on board.” 
 
Ecthelion’s eyes grew shadowed. “I do not know what 
happened to him, my Lord. The last time I saw 
Glorfindel, we were in the Halls of Waiting and Námo 
was about to decide what to do with Glorfindel’s 
proposal. The next moment, I found myself on this 
ship, taking me to the Gray Havens – and to Elrohir, 
my love.” 
 
Elrond felt worried – deeply worried. “You are alive 
again, Ecthelion, which can only mean that Námo 
accepted the terms of this arrangement. If you are 
alive, then Glorfindel must be dead.” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel and Erestor were tightly holding hands, 
finding themselves not only facing Námo, but Manwë as 
well. The Valar were locked in conversation and, 
unfortunately enough, they couldn’t hear a single word 
they were saying. “What do you think will happen?” 
asked Glorfindel, feeling anxious. 
 
Erestor reassuringly squeezed Glorfindel’s hand. “I 
have faith in my father.” 
 
Those words reminded Glorfindel of something very 
important. “You belong to the Valar.” Awed, he stared 
at his lover. “And I never noticed a thing.” 
 
“I was careful.” Erestor smiled, sweetly. He leaned in 
closer and stole a kiss from Glorfindel’s lips, who 
sighed into the kiss. “I love you,” whispered Erestor 
in a moment of complete surrender. “I will always love 
you.” 
 
Glorfindel’s heart seemed to have gained wings and 
fluttered madly in his chest. “I love you, Erestor, 
and I will never desert you again. I've learned from 
my mistakes.” 
 
The Valar had seemingly reached an understanding and 
turned to face Erestor and Glorfindel. 
 
“We will accept your ruling,” said Erestor, showing 
his trust in the Valar. At his side, he felt 
Glorfindel shift, nervously. Apparently his lover 
didn’t put as much trust in them as he did. “All will 
be well,” he whispered into Glorfindel’s ear. 
 
Realizing he had no choice in this matter, Glorfindel 
nodded once and tightened his hold on Erestor’s hand. 
 
Námo gave his son a fond smile. “We have reached a 
decision.” 
 
Manwë continued. “You will spend one half of an Elven 
year in Imladris and the other half here.” 
 
“Here, meaning the Halls and Lórien’s gardens,” added 
Námo. “As Glorfindel remains alive he cannot dwell in 
the Halls for long. You will visit the gardens 
regularly, where you can take in new life energy.” 
 
Glorfindel couldn’t believe they were this lucky. “You 
won’t separate us? Punish us?” 
 
“Punish my own son?” Námo pretended being insulted and 
raised an eyebrow. “I only want what is best for 
Erestor.” 
 
Erestor smiled at his father. “You reached a very wise 
decision. Thank you.” He had already realized that 
they would have the best of both worlds. Turning 
toward Glorfindel, he said, “Do you understand what 
they are giving us? We will see Arwen grow up. We will 
bear witness to Elrohir and Ecthelion’s love. We will 
be there when Elladan and Lindir bind, officially. We 
will have all that.” 
 
“And the gardens are a lovely place. You will even 
have company there,” said Námo. “Ereinion and Lómion 
need to grow accustomed to having company or else the 
change will be too traumatic, when they join the Elves 
living on the shores of Valinor.” 
 
Erestor loved the way Glorfindel’s azure eyes came to 
life at hearing such good news. 
 
“And I will remain alive?” asked the blond Elf. 
 
“Aye,” replied Námo. “I see no reason why I should 
take your life.” 
 
“Only one question remains,” said Manwë. “Do you 
prefer to spend the first half of the year in Imladris 
or here?” 
 
”Imladris,” said Erestor and Glorfindel in one voice. 
They chuckled and then Erestor explained. “We should 
reassure them that all is well. They will be worried, 
as Glorfindel and I simply disappeared.” 
 
Námo and Manwë looked at each other and then nodded 
once. “We will transport you to the Gray Havens, as 
Elrond’s party still dwells there. You can join them 
on their journey to Imladris.” 
 
“Thank you, Ada,” whispered Erestor, who promptly 
hugged his father. “Thank you for everything, which 
includes your manipulation.” 
 
Námo laughed, warmly, and returned his son’s hug. “I 
always told you to have faith in me, didn’t I?” 
 
Erestor nodded and after pressing a chaste kiss onto 
his father’s brow, he let go. 
 
Glorfindel, feeling rather giddy due to his relief, 
grabbed Námo tight and hugged him. “You do not mind if 
I call you Ada, do you?” 
 
Erestor smiled, seeing his father’s rather confused 
expression. Aye, it had been worth it. Making all 
those sacrifices had been worth it, for he had found 
true love. Glorfindel now knew who he was and accepted 
him just the way he was – with his bad decisions and 
his flaws. They could truly be called lovers now. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Elrohir?” Elladan blinked, wondering if his mind was 
playing tricks on him. Was Elrohir really kissing a 
stranger? He grabbed hold of Lindir’s hand, needing 
his beloved at his side. 
 
Elrohir looked into his twin’s direction, hearing 
Elladan’s surprise in his voice. He smiled at Lindir 
and inclined his head in respect. “I think you already 
know the love of my heart?” 
 
Lindir nodded, feeling totally baffled. “Ecthelion? 
But…” 
 
“Ecthelion?” Elladan moistened his suddenly dry lips. 
“But…” 
 
“The Valar allowed me to return to Arda.” Ecthelion 
let go of Elrohir and buried his old friend, Lindir, 
in a hug. “It is good to see you again – and this time 
in the land of the living.” 
 
Lindir closed his eyes and rested his head against 
Ecthelion’s shoulder. The warrior’s scent hadn’t 
changed and the body still felt firm and muscular. 
“Welcome back to Arda, meldir3.” 
 
“Elrohir?” Elladan had seldom felt this confused! 
 
“Come with me, tôr4, and I will explain everything to 
you.” Elrohir took Elladan’s hand in his, and after 
exchanging a look with Ecthelion, he guided his twin 
to the harbor, where they would find a quiet place. 
There, he would tell his twin his story. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elladan stared at his twin in shock. “You did what?” 
 
“Ecthelion and I are lovers, and in time, we will 
bind. It looks like having children will be left to 
Arwen,” said Elrohir, cheekily. “Are you happy for me, 
tôr?” 
 
“I… Elrohir, I need some time to understand what you 
told me… It is not every day that the dead come alive 
again and… Oh, I did not mean it like that!” Elladan 
was angry with himself for putting the look of misery 
back into Elrohir’s eyes. “I know you died… and that I 
should have let you go, but I couldn’t. I do not know 
how to explain it, but the time to let you go had not 
come yet. And I am happy that you found a love of your 
own… It is just… It is Ecthelion and he died in 
Gondolin… I…” 
 
Elrohir reached out and rested a hand on his brother’s 
trembling shoulder. “I understand, tôr. It is a lot to 
take in.” Elrohir moistened his lips, suddenly feeling 
nervous as he was about to address something equally 
important. “We share a connection, Elladan.” 
 
Elladan nodded once. “When it was severed I thought I 
would die.” 
 
“You do realize what this means? When we make our 
choice…” 
 
“Elrohir, we already made our choice, didn’t we?” said 
Elladan in a comforting voice. “I chose to belong to 
the Firstborn because of Lindir. He belongs to the 
Firstborn and thus…” Elrohir interrupted him and he 
allowed it. 
 
“Now that Ecthelion has joined the living again, my 
choice is clear as well. I choose to belong to the 
Firstborn.” 
 
“We will make our parents very happy,” said Elladan, 
giving Elrohir a beaming smile. “They always hoped for 
us to choose immortality.” 
 
“We should find our father and tell him,” decided 
Elrohir, who pulled Elladan along with him. A time of 
peace and happiness was upon them – a time to explore 
love and deepen their relationships. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Elrond cried tears of happiness after learning about 
his sons’ choices. He hugged them for some time and 
then told them to seek out their respective lovers, as 
he needed a moment for himself. During these last few 
days he had experienced so many emotions, and they had 
ranged from the deepest, darkest despair to ecstatic 
happiness. It was simply too much – he needed 
Celebrían at his side. Tomorrow, they would leave for 
Imladris. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
That night, two forms entered the Gray Havens and 
headed for Círdan’s house. They knocked, announced 
themselves to the servant, and were then lead into the 
Shipwright’s study. When Círdan joined them the 
bearded Elf wasn’t alone – Elrond was accompanying 
him. The two Elves had been talking deep into the 
night, and when the servant had given Círdan the name 
of the new arrivals, Elrond had insisted he joined 
them. 
 
Looking at Glorfindel and Erestor, a great sense of 
joy overwhelmed Elrond, who hugged the blond Elf 
first. “I thought the Valar would demand your death 
and that I would never see you again, meldir.” 
 
Glorfindel returned the embrace, touched that Elrond 
cared this much for him. In the many years during 
which he had served Elrond, he had always felt part of 
the half-Elf’s family and Elrond’s emotional welcome, 
now, only confirmed that. He had much to tell Elrond, 
but that had to wait until later. “I am well,” 
Glorfindel whispered, feeling Elrond tremble against 
him. “And so is Erestor.” 
 
Elrond pulled away and drew in a deep breath to 
compose himself. Once he felt in control of his 
emotions, his eyes sought out Erestor. “You kept many 
things from me.” Elrond walked over to Erestor and 
offered him a careful hug, always keeping in mind that 
he wasn’t dealing with an ordinary Elf. 
 
“My hands were tied, Elrond. I could not tell you who 
I was.” 
 
“But I know who you are now…” Elrond searched 
Erestor’s eyes. “And the rest also knows about your 
real identity.” 
 
Erestor nodded. “I must admit to being surprised. I 
thought my father would lock those memories from your 
minds, but I am glad he did not. It means I no longer 
have to pretend I am someone I am not.” 
 
“I cannot believe everything turned out so well,” 
whispered Elrond, who quickly sat down, as his knees 
were giving out on him. He had been through an awful 
lot these last few days. 
 
In his best ‘Chief Advisor’s’ voice, Erestor said, 
“You, my Lord, need rest.” 
 
“I will get all the rest I need when we are back in 
Imladris.” Oh, he couldn’t wait to return home and 
reunite his family! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Ecthelion had removed his cloak, boots and shirt and 
stood in front of the open window. The soft breeze, 
warm and slightly salty, smelled of the Sea and 
Ecthelion smiled, as he was at peace with himself. He 
had waited to find his true love for millennia and he 
had almost given up hope that he would ever find 
Elrohir. And then, in his very own way, Elrohir had 
found him. 
 
It was strange, how his existence had changed. He 
vividly remembered being dead, being lonely and full 
of despair. All that had changed. He was alive once 
more, his heart beat with love and his body wondered 
what making love would be like. Back in Gondolin, he 
had always wondered about the sated smile that would 
appear on Glorfindel’s face after his friends had been 
together in that way. Would it be that way for him 
too? 
 
Elrohir’s breath caught in admiration, seeing the wind 
move Ecthelion’s hair until it danced against the 
broad back. The breeze ran over the exposed chest and 
its gentle touch had already teased nipples into 
hardness. Elrohir licked his lips, realizing how much 
he wanted to make love to Ecthelion, to finally bind 
them. He had planned to humor his father, who would 
prefer for them to bind in words before they would 
become one in body, but he found he couldn’t carry on 
in chastity. Ecthelion and he had been through a lot 
and he needed to feel Ecthelion’s love for him. So, 
Elrohir walked up to his lover and embraced him from 
behind. “I love you,” whispered Elrohir into 
Ecthelion’s right ear and then kissed the nape of the 
warrior’s neck. “I have waited for you for so long.” 
 
Ecthelion closed his eyes in bliss, feeling Elrohir 
rub his naked chest against his back. “I love you, 
Elrohir. And I have also waited long.” 
 
“Much too long.” Elrohir buried a hand in Ecthelion’s 
dark tresses and pressed kisses down his lover’s 
throat. “Will you make love with me tonight?” 
 
Ecthelion quavered and parts of him that had been 
dormant for millennia began to wake. “I am not 
experienced in the art of love, Elrohir.” 
 
“Neither am I, but I trust you know the basics?” 
 
“It would be hard not to know them when you lived 
around Erestor and Glorfindel for years,” said 
Ecthelion, jokingly. He turned into the embrace and 
looked Elrohir in the eye. The half-Elf’s pupils had 
dilated with lust and a fine film of sweat had 
appeared on Elrohir’s brow. Although Elrohir still 
wore his leggings, the half-Elf’s arousal pressed 
clearly against him and he was hard himself. 
 
“Come to bed, meleth.” Elrohir pulled Ecthelion along 
until they stood in front of the bed. “Let me undress 
you.” 
 
Ecthelion shivered with anticipation, feeling 
Elrohir’s fingers dip beneath the waistband and then 
easing his leggings down. His erection eagerly bobbed 
free. 
 
Elrohir grinned and seductively ran his tongue along 
his top lip. “Oh, my, you are…” Ecthelion was 
definitely well-endowed, something he most definitely 
approved of. /It also answers the question who goes on 
top – you, meleth./ Elrohir quickly removed his 
leggings. Now that both Elves were naked, they took in 
each other’s form. 
 
Ecthelion possessed the body of a well-trained, 
muscular warrior and Elrohir practically drooled, 
seeing Ecthelion involuntarily flex his muscles. 
 
Being so closely watched, made Ecthelion feel somewhat 
nervous. Instead of looking Elrohir in the eye, he 
focused on the half-Elf’s body. Elrohir was built for 
speed, not for power. His long legs were muscular, but 
had contained their natural grace. Elrohir also was 
slightly smaller, and when Ecthelion leaned in for a 
kiss, he found the height difference worked in his 
advantage. Elrohir leaned back and Ecthelion 
established firm control of the kiss. His hands moved 
over his lover’s soft skin, exploring all sensitive 
areas. To his delight, he soon had Elrohir moaning and 
thrusting against him. 
 
“Claim me,” whispered Elrohir, eyes heavy with lust 
and passion. He pulled Ecthelion along, when he sat 
down on the bed. Lying down, he pulled his lover atop 
of him and wrapped his long legs around the warrior’s 
frame. “I want you.” 
 
Ecthelion was eager to please and would assume 
whatever role in bed Elrohir assigned him to. “Do we 
have anything to help me ease in?” 
 
Elrohir nodded, and reached for a vial of oil he had 
found in the bathroom. “Will this do?” 
 
Ecthelion swallowed, nervously, finally realizing what 
they were about to do. He had waited his entire life 
for this moment. He placed the vial on the bed and ran 
his fingers through the long, dark hair. “You are 
beautiful, Elrohir. I have waited long for you, but I 
do not regret it. My reward is most satisfactory.” 
 
Elrohir felt completely at ease around Ecthelion. 
During his first life, he had always expected to feel 
nervous and clumsy when making love for the first 
time, but with Ecthelion everything felt right. “I 
just wished the Valar had brought us together 
millennia ago.” 
 
“I had to wait for you to be born,” whispered 
Ecthelion, who placed possessive kisses down Elrohir’s 
throat. His lips moved downward and encountered a 
hardened nipple. Licking it, he smiled, hearing 
Elrohir purr beneath him. “We will be bound after this 
night. Is that what you want?” 
 
“Do you need to ask?” Elrohir was growing frustrated; 
didn’t Ecthelion know by now what he really wanted? “I 
was ready to take my life in order to be with you…Oh!” 
Ecthelion’s lips had found a new target area and 
closed around the slippery head of his erection. 
 
Inexperienced at this act, Ecthelion was careful not 
to take in too much of the twitching flesh. Elrohir 
tasted of liquid fire and the half-Elf vocally 
welcomed each new caress. Moans, groans and soft yelps 
burned Ecthelion’s veins and he reached for the vial 
of oil. He had wanted to make this last, but the way 
Elrohir moved beneath him and moaned under his touch 
was pushing him toward the edge. 
 
Elrohir’s eyes widened in surprise, as one slick 
finger touched the entrance to his body. Suddenly the 
act was becoming very real and his thoughts raced. 
“Wait.” 
 
Ecthelion groaned, but did as he was told. He pulled 
away and looked to Elrohir for an explanation. Had the 
half-Elf changed his mind? 
 
“Would you mind changing positions?” 
 
Ecthelion felt relieved. He would stop whenever 
Elrohir wanted him to, but his body was screaming for 
release. “What position do you have in mind?” He 
shifted away from Elrohir and watched how the half-Elf 
rolled onto his stomach. A moment later, Elrohir 
raised himself on all fours and parted his legs. The 
mere sight almost made him come and he squeezed hard 
at the base of his erection. 
 
Seeing the effect he was having on his lover, Elrohir 
grinned, wickedly. “Like this?” 
 
“As you wish.” Ecthelion ran his hands over the firm 
mounds of flesh in front of him. He parted them and 
added more oil to his fingers. 
 
Elrohir bowed his head and rested his brow on his 
forearms. The slick sensation was incredible and he 
eagerly pushed back. “Oh, yes…” 
 
Ecthelion suddenly realized something about his lover. 
Elrohir was a *very* vocal lover, moaning, groaning 
and whispering encouragement when necessary. That 
realization only served to arouse him even further. 
 
“Two… I want two,” instructed Elrohir, who realized he 
was the one in control. 
 
Ecthelion complied, added more oil, and inserted two 
fingers into the loosening passage. Moving them about, 
one fingertip rubbed across a nub inside the passage 
and Elrohir pushed back with a vengeance. 
 
“Yes!” Elrohir looked over his shoulder at Ecthelion. 
“Do that again!” 
 
Ecthelion rubbed the nub again and found Elrohir 
firmly pushing back onto his fingers. “Are you ready 
for me, then?” 
 
“Oh, more than ready! I will come if you do not claim 
me now!” Elrohir grabbed hold of the bed posts. “Do 
it!” 
 
Ecthelion took himself into hand and positioned 
himself at the slick entrance. Leaning in closer, he 
pressed a kiss onto Elrohir’s shoulder blade and 
whilst sheathing himself, he suckled the skin there. 
 
Elrohir’s fingers clawed the bed posts. He threw back 
his head and howled in ecstasy. Ecthelion plunged the 
last bit in and Elrohir quivered with delight. 
Ecthelion was well-endowed and filled him completely. 
Never before had the sense of belonging been so 
strong. Not with Elladan – with no one. The connection 
Ecthelion and he now shared was of a sensual nature 
and even stronger than the emotional link he had with 
his twin. “Oh yes… yes…” 
 
Ecthelion placed his hands on either side of Elrohir’s 
hips and remained motionless, savoring the tight glove 
surrounding him. He leaned in, and kissed his way down 
Elrohir’s spine, keeping still, not delivering even a 
single thrust yet. 
 
“Oh, please… please… move… I need you… I need to feel 
you… Move!” Growing impatient, Elrohir tried to push 
back, but the large and powerful warrior’s hands kept 
him in place. Frustrated, he stared at Ecthelion from 
over his shoulder. “Take me!” 
 
Ecthelion finally relented and delivered a first, deep 
stroke. The tip of his erection rubbed against the 
gland inside Elrohir’s passage, and hearing Elrohir 
mew softly heightened his lust. 
 
Elrohir’s eyes filled with pleasure, feeling 
Ecthelion’s thrusts speed up. They became deep, 
possessive and in those moments, he belonged to 
Ecthelion. Ecthelion’s hands moved over his body; one 
hand came to rest against the nape of his neck and the 
strong fingers massaged the skin there. Ecthelion’s 
other hand found its way into his dark tresses and the 
fingers twined in the locks, using his long hair as 
reins to ride him. Elrohir pushed back, went with the 
rhythm, which catapulted him to completion. Warm cream 
erupted from the slit and splashed against his 
stomach. Panting hard, he continued to move with 
Ecthelion. 
 
Ecthelion had never experienced anything so divine 
before. The passion with which Elrohir reacted to his 
thrusts drove him over the edge, and when his lover’s 
inner muscle contracted around him, he cried out. He 
reached completion with his lover’s name on his lips. 
“Elrohir!” 
 
The lovers collapsed and Ecthelion ended up atop of 
Elrohir. They were panting softly and Ecthelion 
nuzzled his lover’s neck, leaving passionate kisses on 
the skin. “You surprised me, meleth.” He had expected 
their lovemaking to be mellow and gentle, and instead, 
Elrohir had made him lose control by allowing him to 
ride him in that way. 
 
“You are mine now,” said Elrohir, rolling away from 
underneath Ecthelion until they lay face to face. “And 
I plan on using you on a daily bases.” 
 
Ecthelion laughed and buried Elrohir in his powerful 
arms. “I will gladly serve you in whatever capacity 
you see fit.” 
 
The laughter, teasing and play slowly ended, as they 
looked into each other’s eyes. They were bound now. 
The two Elves were alone no more – they had each other 
for eternity. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Glorfindel? Erestor?” Elrohir was the first to run 
toward them. Lindir, Elladan and Ecthelion halted, not 
expecting to see the Vala among them. Elrond rubbed 
his mare’s nose and watched Elrohir bury first 
Glorfindel, and then Erestor in a hug. 
 
Elrohir’s eyes sought out Erestor’s, and the half-Elf 
reminded himself that he wasn’t dealing with his old 
tutor – this was the son of Námo and Vairë. Erestor 
belonged to the Valar. Awed, he moistened his lips in 
an attempt to find the right words. 
 
“Mae govannen5, pen neth6,” whispered Erestor in an 
amused tone. “I take it you missed me?” 
 
Elrohir glared at Erestor. “What did you think you 
were doing? I was happy being dead! You did not have 
to make such a sacrifice!” 
 
Erestor’s gaze was soft and understanding. “I had to 
make that decision.” 
 
Glorfindel nodded once and said, “That decision opened 
my eyes and then seeing Ecthelion’s dedication to you, 
Elrohir, made me see that I needed to prove my love to 
Erestor.” 
 
Elrohir still looked unconvinced and Erestor added, 
“Look at it in this way. Glorfindel received a chance 
to prove his love. He was willing to sacrifice his 
life in order to be with me.” 
 
“And because of that, the Valar decided to return me 
to life,” said Ecthelion, who had come to a standstill 
beside Elrohir. 
 
Elrohir nodded, but his expression still remained 
unconvinced. “Ecthelion being returned to the living 
was the best thing that could happen.” He would have 
joined Ecthelion in death and dwelt in the Halls of 
Waiting forevermore, but he preferred being alive and 
dwelling in Imladris. “Are you coming home with us?” 
asked Elrohir. 
 
Erestor cleared his throat, realizing he still needed 
to tell his friends something very important. “Aye, 
Glorfindel and I will stay with you for the next half 
year.” 
 
“And then what?” asked Elrond, sensing that Erestor 
was keeping something from them. 
 
“Manwë ruled that we have to spend part of the year in 
the Halls of Waiting and in Lórien’s gardens. And we 
accepted,” explained Glorfindel. 
 
Elrond understood; a bargain had been struck and 
Glorfindel and Erestor had agreed. “We should make the 
best of that time then.” Elrond mounted and the others 
followed the half-Elf’s example. 
 
Círdan appeared in the doorway and raised his hand in 
goodbye. This story had a happy ending after all! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Celebrían ran toward the arriving party, relieved to 
have her family back at home. 
 
Elrond, unable to remain on horseback, jumped onto the 
courtyard and ran toward his wife. He caught her in 
his arms and whirled her around. Kissing her lips, he 
pressed her close and deeply inhaled her flowery 
scent. “We are back, Melethril 7. We are all back.” 
 
Elrohir dismounted next and joined his parents, 
wrapping his arms around his mother. 
 
Elrond released his wife and stepped back, watching 
mother and son being reunited. Tears appeared in his 
eyes – tears of happiness. For one moment, an ugly 
memory intruded on the happy scene, as he remembered 
how his wife and he had seen to his son’s corpse. He 
pushed that awful memory away and enjoyed having his 
family together again. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Later on, during dinner, the whole household had 
assembled in the Hall of Fire to welcome Elrohir back 
home. At the head table sat Elrond and Celebrían, 
Elladan with Lindir at his side, and Elrohir, who was 
holding hands with Ecthelion beneath the table. 
Glorfindel and Erestor hadn’t joined them yet. 
 
Prior to joining the rest of the household they had 
discussed the revelations concerning Erestor. They had 
informed Celebrían that Erestor belonged to the Valar, 
and the she-Elf had been stunned to hear this. She 
also planned to thank Erestor for bringing back her 
son. 
 
Finding Ecthelion at Elrohir’s side had also stunned 
Celebrían. She had heard many tales of the fabled 
warrior and was baffled to see the Lord of the 
Fountain holding hands with her son. But, accepting 
his presence had been remarkably easy, seeing the love 
he held for Elrohir in his eyes. 
 
Her family had two new members – Lindir and Ecthelion 
– and she hoped that the two Elves would make her sons 
very happy. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Glorfindel threw back his head, buried himself to the 
hilt and growled, possessively. Erestor and he had 
only planned to take a quick bath to remove the dirt 
of the road, but desire had overwhelmed them, and he 
had placed Erestor against the wall, guiding his hands 
against the tiles. Standing behind him, he had claimed 
his lover, savoring the way he could make one of the 
Valar beg for release. 
 
Erestor, spent and exhausted, leaned back. 
Glorfindel’s arms settled around his waist, supporting 
him, and he rested the back of his head against the 
blond Elf’s shoulder. “You were forceful, melethron8.” 
 
“You did not seem to mind.” Glorfindel kissed Erestor 
and grinned. 
 
“Why the grin?” asked Erestor, the moment Glorfindel 
had released his lips. 
 
“I made love to one of the Valar… I made you tremble 
and beg… Your body belongs to me, meleth.” 
 
Erestor laughed, seeing the teasing expression in the 
azure eyes. “Oh, you feel smug now! Just wait until I 
turn the tables tonight.” 
 
“Is that a promise?” 
 
“A threat…” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
During the next few days, life returned to normal in 
Imladris for as much as possible with Celebrían and 
Elrond busy making arrangements for Elladan’s binding 
ceremony to Lindir. They had suggested Elrohir and 
Ecthelion also take part in that ceremony, but whilst 
blushing, Elrohir had told his parents that he was 
already bound in body to Ecthelion and that they 
preferred not to draw much attention to their 
situation. That left Elladan and Lindir at the center 
of everyone’s attention. 
 
The upcoming celebration allowed Erestor to fade back 
into the background and he took up his normal routine. 
The only obvious change was the fact that Glorfindel’s 
grin had become even more smug than normal. 
 
Glorfindel’s smug grin was in place when he made his 
round over the training grounds. He was back in his 
element now – training the guards and overseeing their 
sparring matches. He found one pair in the middle of 
training, which he really didn’t expect to see. Celach 
was sparring with Landiant and the two Elves moved 
with elegance and confidence. Interested in their 
potential, Glorfindel sat down on the grass and 
watched them spar. 
 
Observing them, Glorfindel realized there was tension 
between the two Elves and that tension was of a sexual 
nature. He had seen it often enough in Erestor to 
recognize it now. /Celach and Landiant? That spells 
trouble. They will have a hard time finding a way 
being together as Landiant will shortly return to 
Mirkwood./ 
 
The two sparring Elves ended their match, growing 
aware of Glorfindel watching them. 
 
Celach smiled at Glorfindel. They had been friends for 
many years and he had long stopped calling Glorfindel 
by his title. “It is good to have you back. The guards 
were complaining that they didn’t like the rosters I 
had made.” During Glorfindel’s absence he had taken 
over some of the Captain’s tasks. 
 
“Ah, that way they will appreciate my return even 
more,” said Glorfindel, giving Celach a wink. “I see 
you have been busy during my absence?” 
 
Celach fought the urge to blush. “I have befriended 
Landiant, aye.” 
 
Glorfindel’s eyebrow inched higher. “Did you befriend 
him? Or did you do more?” 
 
“Glorfindel!” Feeling embarrassed, Celach lowered his 
eyes. 
 
“You saved his life once, didn’t you?” asked 
Glorfindel. 
 
“Aye, he did,” replied Landiant. “And I am grateful 
that I found him. I had almost given up hope that I 
would ever find my savior.” 
 
“Does Thranduil know your savior belongs to the 
Noldor?” inquired Glorfindel, who got to his feet 
again. 
 
“Aye, he does… When he first learned of this fact, he 
was rather annoyed, but that has changed. I believe he 
would be grateful as well, meeting my savior.” 
 
“Ah, so you plan on abducting Celach to Mirkwood then? 
I must say that would not please me as I would lose 
one of my best warriors.” Glorfindel grinned at 
Landiant, taking the sting out of his words. 
 
“What?” Celach looked at Landiant in surprise. They 
had built a solid friendship since Landiant’s arrival, 
and were still discussing their future. Neither had 
they been intimate yet. Glorfindel’s words therefore 
took him by surprise. 
 
Landiant had the grace to blush. “I cannot deny that 
the thought crossed my mind.” Why did Glorfindel have 
to mention that? He had wanted to suggest this in a 
few years, once they were secure in their love! 
 
“You plan on taking me to Mirkwood?” Celach shook his 
head in disbelief. He hadn’t realized how serious 
Landiant took this attraction! Hadn’t they agreed to 
take things slowly? Had not *Landiant* insisted that 
they take this slowly and not bind until they had 
found a solution to their dilemma? 
 
“It was only an idea and I would not have suggested it 
just yet.” Landiant shuffled his feet. “Glorfindel, 
why did you have to mention that?” 
 
Glorfindel quickly excused himself. “I apologize… I 
think it is best for me to leave now.” He had only 
wanted to help and had been certain that the two Elves 
had discussed this. Otherwise he would never have 
mentioned it. He quickly left, leaving Celach and 
Landiant to talk in private. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Celeborn has accepted the invitation to witness the 
binding ceremony…” said Erestor in a thoughtful tone. 
“There is no mention of the Lady Galadriel joining 
him.” 
 
Celebrían, seated on a rug in front of Elrond’s desk, 
looked up and met her husband’s questioning gaze. “I 
am not surprised,” she said. “Mother has become 
reclusive and is unwilling to leave the Golden Wood.” 
 
Erestor placed the letter aside and cocked his head. 
“I will arrange for guest quarters for Celeborn.” 
 
Celebrían nodded once. She had hoped against all odds 
that her mother would join them, but she should have 
known better. 
 
“How about Thranduil? Did he accept?” inquired Elrond. 
 
Erestor searched through the papers until he 
encountered the letter he was looking for. “Aye, and 
Legolas and Melpomaen will accompany him.” 
 
“It will be good to speak with Melpomaen again,” 
whispered Elrond. He knew the younger Elf was happy in 
Mirkwood with Legolas, but Melpomaen would always 
remain a part of his family here in Imladris. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Landiant? I thought…” They had waited to discuss this 
matter until they had reached Celach’s rooms. Now that 
they had their privacy, the Noldorin Elf studied the 
Mirkwood Captain. “I thought you wanted to take this 
slow.” 
 
Landiant looked embarrassed. “I did not plan on asking 
you just yet.” He knelt behind Celach, who was seated 
on the bed. “But I have been thinking about our 
future. I can never turn my back on Thranduil and 
Mirkwood. I am Captain there and needed.” 
 
Celach released a deep breath. “It would be the most 
logical solution,” he admitted. “And I would leave 
Imladris for you, but this comes unexpectedly. You 
*do* understand that, don’t you?” 
 
Landiant nodded. “There is something else we need to 
discuss.” Trying to ease Celach’s worries, he placed a 
kiss on the temple of the dark-haired Elf’s head. “I 
received word from my King. Thranduil will come to 
Imladris to witness Elladan’s binding ceremony. When 
he returns home again, he will want me to accompany 
him.” 
 
Celach swallowed hard. “When will he arrive?” 
 
“Within the next two weeks.” 
 
“Then our time here is limited.” 
 
“Only if…” Landiant bowed his head, as he couldn’t say 
the words just yet. 
 
“Only if I deny you and decide to stay here in 
Imladris.” Celach looked Landiant in the eye. “You 
really want me to stay with you?” 
 
“I do…” Landiant moistened his lips. “Do not decide 
yet. Think everything over. We still have two, maybe 
three weeks left to reach a decision.” 
 
“I will consider your proposal very carefully.” Celach 
ran a hand through Landiant’s golden hair. /I love 
you, Landiant. And I am not certain I can live without 
you. Maybe I will have to accept your proposal. If we 
do not find another solution I will have to follow you 
to Mirkwood./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
The next two weeks passed by quickly. Imladris was 
covered in a thick blanket of snow by the time the 
guests began arriving. They were taken to the guest 
quarters and when Celeborn’s arrival was announced, 
Celebrían rushed toward her father, carrying Arwen in 
her arms. “Ada!” 
 
Celeborn jumped onto the courtyard and caught his 
daughter and granddaughter in his arms. His eyes 
sparkled, seeing his daughter this happy. He had been 
devastated, hearing Elrohir had died on a patrol, and 
hadn’t known what to make of it when the news had come 
that both twins had safely returned to the Last Homely 
House. In the end, he had simply accepted the fact 
that his youngest grandson had been spared. “You look 
absolutely radiant, sell 9!” He giggled, hearing Arwen 
call his name. “And you look beautiful too, pen neth!” 
Arwen managed to climb into his arms and Celeborn 
rocked her. 
 
Elrond hurried to welcome his father-in-law. He had 
been caught up with some last moment details 
concerning the binding ceremony and had noticed 
Celeborn’s arrival too late. “I am happy you managed 
to join us. Your presence here means much to us.” 
 
Celeborn gave Arwen a wink, and she burst into 
giggles, seeing him pull one strange face after 
another. She raised her arms and wrapped them around 
Celeborn – her favorite grandfather. “You are funny!” 
 
“I am glad I pleased you, pen neth!” Celeborn carried 
Arwen whilst they entered the Last Homely House. “It 
is crowded here.” Everywhere he looked he saw Elves, 
busy and stressing to get everything ready in time. 
 
“The ceremony is tomorrow. We need to get everything 
right,” explained Elrond. 
 
“My Lord! My Lord! King Thranduil!” Celach, who had 
been on guard duty, hurried over to Elrond’s side. “He 
will arrive within minutes!” 
 
“Oh, let us welcome him then.” Celeborn’s eyes 
twinkled, tickling Arwen’s side. The Elfling giggled 
and banged her tiny hands against Celeborn’s chest. 
“Oh, you are too strong for me! Have mercy!” called 
out Celeborn. Arwen’s reaction was to stop pounding 
him and to go back to hugging him. The party of Elves 
headed outside again, and awaited Thranduil’s arrival. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“There is something you are not telling me,” mumbled 
Thranduil, staring at Landiant, who had welcomed him 
at Imladris’ borders. “There is something different 
about you.” His Captain practically radiated 
happiness. “What happened?” 
 
Legolas felt equally puzzled, as he also saw the 
change in his old friend. Exchanging a look with 
Melpomaen, he asked, “What do you make of it?” 
 
Melpomaen cocked his head and then said, “Love.” 
 
“Love?” Legolas frowned, but then realized his beloved 
could have reached the right decision. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Oh, just look at Melpomaen,” said Glorfindel, amused, 
when he joined Elrond and his family. The Mirkwood 
party was now approaching and a bright smile appeared 
on Glorfindel’s face, seeing Melpomaen dressed in 
Mirkwood’s greens and browns. The former advisor and 
scribe now looked comfortable seated on his horse’s 
back. Gone was the unease and insecurity. “He has 
become a true Woodland Elf.” 
 
Erestor elbowed his lover in the side. “Behave 
yourself… No remarks that would make Melpomaen feel 
embarrassed.” 
 
“I will try,” whispered Glorfindel, rubbing his side 
and giving Erestor a displeased look. 
 
“Thranduil, you are very welcome here in Imladris,” 
said Elrond, extending his hand in friendship. 
 
Thranduil took it and shook it. “It is good to be back 
– better than I thought.” 
 
A frown appeared on Celebrían’s face. “You did not 
bring Elluin with you?” 
 
Thranduil managed to smile and blush simultaneously. 
“Elluin is with child and I thought it best not to 
take her with me. I feel better knowing her safe at 
home.” 
 
“With child?” Elrond was pleased to hear this. “There 
will be a little brother or sister for Legolas, then?” 
 
“A little brother, I hope,” said Legolas, dismounting 
as well. He locked eyes with Melpomaen and smiled, 
proudly, seeing his lover elegantly dismount. 
Melpomaen had become much of a warrior since they had 
bonded. Thranduil had trained him personally. At 
first, Melpomaen had been horrified, hearing the King 
himself planned on training him, but Thranduil had 
proven to be a very capable and surprisingly patient 
teacher. 
 
Melpomaen’s smile was warm and radiant, as he leaned 
in closer to hug Erestor and then Elrond and his 
family. “You must one day pay us a visit,” he said. At 
first, living in Mirkwood had terrified him, 
especially after running into one of their deadly 
spiders, but he had learned to see the beauty beneath 
the wildness. 
 
“Someone might take you up on that offer,” said 
Glorfindel, cryptically, casting a look into Celach’s 
direction. Judging from Celach’s reaction, Landiant 
and he still hadn’t reached an agreement. 
 
Arwen, delighted to have more Elves around her, 
managed to curl her chubby fingers around one of 
Thranduil’s braids. “Play!” 
 
Celeborn chuckled and tried to convince his 
granddaughter to let go of the golden hair. “Come on, 
pen neth, you are not being very polite!” 
 
“What is it with you and Elrond’s children?” asked 
Legolas, teasingly. He vividly remembered the twins 
befriending Thranduil during that first visit. 
 
Until that moment Thranduil had managed to ignore 
Celeborn. There were still some bad feelings between 
the two rulers, which stemmed from the Battle of the 
Last Alliance. 
 
“Thranduil, the little one wants you.” Celeborn 
involuntarily held his breath, as he placed Arwen in 
Thranduil’s arms. How would Thranduil react? 
 
Thranduil opened his arms and caught Arwen, who 
delighted in pulling at his braids. His green eyes 
found Celeborn’s hazel ones and he straightened his 
shoulders. He felt ill at ease, facing the Lord of the 
Golden Wood. Until now, he had managed to avoid 
dealing with Celeborn. 
 
“Lord Celeborn, I am honored to finally meet you.” 
Legolas, sensing his father’s hostility toward 
Celeborn, acted. 
 
“Prince Legolas, I have heard many tales of your valor 
and weapons’ skill,” said Celeborn, paying Legolas a 
compliment. 
 
“May I introduce my husband to you? This is 
Melpomaen,” said Legolas, proudly presenting his 
beloved to the Lord of the Golden Wood. 
 
“Melpomaen…” Celeborn recalled the name. “You are a 
refugee from Lindon and followed Elrond here… Did you 
not serve him in the capacity of advisor?” 
 
“Aye, my Lord, I did. That was, until Legolas stole me 
away.” 
 
“You did not mind being stolen,” said Legolas, 
teasingly putting a kiss on the tip of Melpomaen’s 
nose. 
 
”We should go inside,” suggested Elrond – the 
darkening sky would shortly release rain, or more 
snow. His wife pulled at his sleeve and he gave her a 
surprised look. After a moment’s thought he realized 
that she worried about Thranduil looking after Arwen, 
who was putting knots in the King’s hair. Remembering 
the way Thranduil had played with the twins all that 
time ago, he soothingly rubbed her hand. “She is in 
good hands.” 
 
“The best,” whispered Legolas, having overheard 
Elrond’s words. “My father adores children.” At first, 
Legolas had been saddened, realizing Thranduil would 
never have grandchildren, but now that Elluin was with 
child, Thranduil would have a new child to dote upon. 
Aye, all was well in Mirkwood. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“I am nervous,” confided Elladan to his twin. “Why did 
I agree to this in the first place?” 
 
“Because our father asked you to.” Elrohir studied his 
twin’s appearance and feeling content, he nodded his 
head once. The ceremony was about to take place and 
Elladan was dressed in Imladris’ brown and reds, which 
brought out the warm tones of his eyes and hair. 
 
“Ai, but look at the crowd!” They were standing on the 
landing and looked out over the assembled crowd. Where 
had the hundreds of guests come from? “Oh, I wish this 
was already over with! You definitely did the 
intelligent thing, binding with Ecthelion in body 
before promising our father to wait!” 
 
During these last two weeks, Elladan had made his 
peace with everything that had happened and had made 
an honest effort to get to know and befriend 
Ecthelion, in which he had succeeded. Ecthelion and he 
were on the way to become good friends. He was happy 
that his twin had found a love of his own, but he was 
even happier that he had this twin back! 
 
“Elrohir?” Elladan took a step toward his twin and 
folded his arms around him. He smiled, seeing the blue 
and silver ribbons that adorned his brother’s hair. “I 
love you and I am sorry for all the times that I 
deserted you in order to be with Lindir.” 
 
“You are forgiven,” said Elrohir, chuckling softly. 
And aye, it was easy to forgive now that he had 
Ecthelion’s love. 
 
“It is time,” said Erestor, after carefully clearing 
his throat to announce his presence. “Lindir is 
waiting for you.” 
 
Elladan drew in a deep breath. This was the moment he 
had been waiting for – he was going to bind with 
Lindir. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Lindir looked breath-taking in Elladan’s eyes. The 
minstrel was dressed in soft-green robes, which were 
lined with white and adorned with blue. The long, 
white hair had been forced into lover’s braids and the 
eyes sparkled with life. Although Elladan still felt 
nervous, he approached his lover and stood beside him 
when Elrond welcomed them to the Hall of Fire. 
 
Celebrían, standing at her husband’s side, smiled at 
the younger Elves. Seeing Elladan this happy, made her 
happy in turn. Dressed in a simple, yet stunning 
silver-colored gown, she looked radiant at Elrond’s 
side, who had dressed in his formal robes for this 
special occasion. 
 
Elrond spoke in a deep, warm voice, addressing the 
younger couple. “May the place of this rite be 
consecrated by the Valar. For we gather here in a 
ritual of love with two who would be wedded. Lindir 
and Elladan, please come forward and stand here before 
us.” Elrond smiled, feeling his wife’s hand come to 
rest upon his shoulder. Standing here, this very 
moment, he thanked the Valar, and most specifically 
Námo and Erestor, for returning Elrohir and by doing 
that, saving Elladan’s life. Had Elrohir not been 
returned to them, they wouldn’t be celebrating this 
wedding this very day. 
 
Sensing Elladan’s nervousness, Lindir protectively 
took hold of his lover’s left hand and rubbed the 
surprisingly cold fingers. He mouthed, “All will be 
well,” and earned a hesitant smile as reward. He 
hadn’t thought Elladan would be so shy. 
 
Elladan took heart, hearing Lindir’s encouraging 
words. His gaze shifted from Lindir to his parents. 
His mother smiled beatifically at him and Elladan 
returned that smile. It was Celebrían who addressed 
them next. 
 
“Be with us here, Varda. 
With your clever fingers 
Tie closely the bonds between these two. 
 
Be with us here, Manwë. 
Give their love and passion 
your own all-consuming ardor 
 
Be with us here, Yavanna. 
Give them the deepest of love 
and the richness of the body, of the soul and of the 
spirit. 
 
Be with us here, Tulkas. 
Let your strength and constancy 
Be theirs for so long as they desire 
to remain together 
 
Ilúvatar, 
Give to these before you, we do ask 
your love and protection.” 
 
A moment of silence rose from the assembled crowd and 
Erestor sensed the words had reached his kin. Looking 
to his right, he found his parents had joined them. 
Námo winked at him, and his mother gave him a content 
smile. Aye, this love would truly be blessed by the 
Valar! 
 
Elrond and Celebrían joined hands and raised them, 
revealing the rings resting on their palms. 
Celebrían’s voice tingled with warmth, as she 
continued with the ceremony. 
 
“Place your right hands 
over your rings 
Elladan’s hand over Lindir’s. 
 
Above you are the stars 
below you are the stones 
as time does pass 
Remember 
Like a star should your love be constant 
Like a stone should your love be firm 
Be close, but not too close 
Possess one another, but be understanding 
Have patience each with the other 
For storms will come, but they will go quickly 
Be free in the giving of affection and warmth 
Make love often, and be sensuous with one another 
Have no fear and let not the ways or words 
of the unenlightened give you unease 
For the love that you share binds you, 
Now and Always.” 
 
Elladan and Lindir exchanged ecstatic looks, and a 
soft murmur of approval rose from the gathered crowd. 
 
Sensing the couple’s need to make this final, 
Celebrían asked them the question they had been 
waiting for. 
 
“Is it your wish, Lindir to become one with Elladan?” 
 
Lindir only managed to answer after swallowing the 
lump of emotions that had gathered in his throat. 
“Aye, it is.” 
 
Celebrían now addressed her son. “Is it your wish, 
Elladan, to become one with Lindir?” 
 
“Aye, it is my greatest desire,” replied Elladan, 
enthusiastically. 
 
Elrond now spoke the final blessing, ending the 
ceremony. “In the binding of yourselves have you 
created life anew. Step forth, therefore, into that 
new life, and rejoice in your love.” 
 
Elladan pulled Lindir close and touched his lips to 
the minstrel’s, sealing the binding ceremony with a 
kiss. “I love you,” he whispered into Lindir’s ear. 
“Always.” 
 
Námo exchanged a pleased look with his son. 
Whispering, he said, “I got them together, didn’t I?” 
 
Glorfindel, who had been unaware of the Valar’s 
presence, looked up, hearing Námo’s voice. Stunned, he 
looked at Námo and Vairë, and he wanted to bow in 
respect, when he saw Erestor shake his head. 
Apparently, the Valar wanted to remain unnoticed and 
not draw attention. 
 
“Aye, you did,” replied Erestor, whispering in turn. 
He was still amazed that his father’s manipulation had 
led to so much good! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Thranduil watched Landiant for most of the evening, 
curious to find out what was different about his 
Captain. In the end, it appeared that Melpomaen was 
right after all. Landiant was seldom alone; a 
dark-haired Elf, dressed in a guard’s outfit always 
remained close. Once or twice, he even saw them 
holding hands. Thranduil leaned in closer so he could 
whisper into Melpomaen’s ear. “Pray tell me, who is 
that Elf at Landiant’s side?” 
 
Melpomaen grinned, seeing his suspicions confirmed. 
“His name is Celach. He is one of Glorfindel’s 
confidants. And a fine warrior, if I may add.” And 
obviously very much in love with Landiant. 
 
Thranduil frowned. “Celach?”  He had heard that name 
before. Landiant had mentioned it to him. Ah, yes, it 
was the name of the Elf who had saved his Captain on 
the battlefield. /That might explain it./ It wouldn’t 
be the first time someone fell in love with his 
savior. Thranduil also realized the dilemma the two 
Elves would find themselves in, as he would shortly 
leave for Mirkwood. /I wonder if my escort will have 
grown by the time I leave./ 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
Accepting congratulations and acting friendly was 
getting hard. Elladan wanted nothing more than to 
abduct Lindir to their new rooms, which Elrond had 
kindly assigned them to. He wanted to lay Lindir down 
on their bed and make him his. Instead, he was stuck 
shaking hands and thanking his guests for their gifts. 
 
Lindir felt the same way and he scanned the queue, 
wondering how many more Elves wanted to wish them 
well. Not so many… only two were left. His eyes 
narrowed, recognizing them. “Elladan!” he hissed the 
name, instantly drawing his mate’s attention. 
 
Elladan turned and searched Lindir’s gaze. Next, he 
followed the direction of his beloved’s stare and he 
gulped, seeing who were heading toward them. Was it a 
bad omen to have the Doomsman of the Valar and his 
wife as wedding guests? “My Lord, my Lady,” he said, 
hoping his voice sounded calm. 
 
Námo and Vairë made certain that only the Elves who 
had already seen them before saw them and so they 
remained invisible to the eyes of most. Vairë inclined 
her head in greeting and then addressed them. “May 
your union be blessed.” 
 
“And may it be many millennia before we meet again… I 
am looking forward to some peace and quiet in my 
Halls!” added Námo, teasingly. 
 
“We will stay out of harm’s way,” promised Lindir, 
bowing respectfully. The next moment, he gasped in 
surprise, as the Valar had faded from view. 
 
Elrond’s voice suddenly echoed in Elladan’s right ear. 
“The formalities are over and done with. You are free 
to leave for your rooms, if you desire so.” 
 
Elladan nodded once and grabbed hold of Lindir’s hand. 
“Finally!” 
 
Lindir allowed his mate to drag him out of the Hall 
and pretended not to hear the cheering and chuckling 
that echoed through the Hall at seeing Elladan’s 
enthusiasm. 
 
“Young love,” said Elrond, fondly. 
 
Celebrían nodded. “Young love indeed.” Her gaze sought 
out Elrohir and Ecthelion and she smiled, finding them 
kissing. 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“You are mine now!” Elladan practically tore the 
clothes from Lindir’s body. “Oh, you have no idea how 
much I want you! How much I need you!” 
 
Lindir chuckled, as Elladan’s eagerness amused him. He 
easily gave in when Elladan pushed him onto the bed. 
Looking up at his mate, he decided he loved the way 
the gray eyes sparkled. “You could be a bit more 
careful. I was planning on wearing these robes again.” 
 
“Oh, no, they have to go! They are a most annoying 
barrier!” Elladan licked his lips, now that his 
fingers encountered bare skin. He had pushed the robes 
apart and had bared Lindir’s chest to him. His dark 
hair fell like a curtain in front of his face, leaning 
in closer to kiss that precious skin. 
 
Lindir arched his back and watched Elladan do away 
with the rest of his robes. He laughed, hearing 
Elladan tear at the lacing of his leggings instead of 
simply untying it. “Let me, or else I won’t have any 
clothing left!” He shoved Elladan’s trembling hands 
out of the way and undid the lacing. 
 
Elladan took charge again and pulled the leggings down 
Lindir’s legs. “Finally,” he mumbled. “I finally have 
you to myself.” The minstrel was a divine vision. Firm 
and muscular in certain places, he still had the 
makings of the warrior he had once been. Yet, delicate 
hands rested upon his abdomen, reminding him his mate 
possessed artistic talent as well. 
 
“You do realize you are still dressed?” said Lindir, 
teasingly. He raised his hands and undid the buttons 
of Elladan’s robes. He pushed the robes down Elladan’s 
shoulders and smiled at his younger lover. “Tell me 
what you want, meleth.” He thought he saw Elladan’s 
desire in the gray eyes, but he had to make sure. 
 
“I want you… I want to take you and make you mine,” 
admitted Elladan in a hoarse voice. He quivered, as 
Lindir continued to undress him and he shifted, 
allowing his mate to remove his leggings as well. His 
erection gained its freedom and eagerly pointed at the 
minstrel. “Oh, I want you so much!” His only fear was 
reaching completion before Lindir did and leaving the 
minstrel behind. “And I want to last long, but I am 
not certain I can.” 
 
Lindir lay down on his back and pulled Elladan atop of 
him. The younger half-Elf’s chest was rippling muscle 
and the arms could easily hold him during their 
lovemaking. Elladan had been right when he had named 
himself a warrior at heart. For that was what Elladan 
was. “There will be other times, meleth. I do not know 
if I can long last myself… It has been so long since I 
made love.” 
 
Elladan nodded in understanding and lowered his upper 
body onto Lindir’s. Now that their lips were close, he 
caught Lindir’s in a kiss. Rubbing his arousal against 
Lindir’s abdomen, he wondered if his beloved felt 
comfortable with being on the receiving end. “Lindir, 
I… I did not even ask what you desire… Do you wish to 
take me?” 
 
“In time,” admitted Lindir. “I would like to know you 
in that way, but tonight, it will be you doing the 
taking.” It would be best that way, as Elladan was 
inexperienced in the art of love. It would be easier 
if Lindir was the one on the receiving end as he 
didn’t want to accidentally hurt the inexperienced 
half-Elf. 
 
“I will be gentle with you,” promised Elladan. He knew 
his strength – his power -- and would be extremely 
careful. “But first, let me explore.” 
 
Lindir closed his eyes in bliss, feeling Elladan’s 
lips move down his throat. Lips, which left passionate 
kisses all over his chest. Just when he thought 
Elladan would bestow a kiss onto his hard flesh, his 
lover moved downward and kissed his legs apart. Lindir 
writhed below Elladan and involuntarily thrust upward. 
Elladan had been right, he realized. “I want you to 
claim me… now, Elladan.” He was on the edge himself 
and as this was Elladan’s first time, his lover 
wouldn’t last long. They had better do this now! 
 
Elladan licked his lips. “I put oil on the 
nightstand.” 
 
Lindir reached for the vial and handed it to Elladan. 
“Would you…?” 
 
“What?” Elladan had removed the stopper and watched 
Lindir closely. 
 
Lindir drew in a deep breath; he knew what he wanted, 
but would Elladan indulge him? “Let me.” He took 
possession of the vial, sat upright and reached for 
his lover. 
 
Elladan moaned, feeling Lindir’s warm and agile 
fingers coat his hard flesh with the oil. His eyes 
sought out Lindir’s and he gasped, seeing the need and 
desire in them. “What do you need from me? Ask, and I 
will give it to you.” 
 
Lindir placed the vial aside, grabbed hold of a pillow 
and placed it beneath his buttocks. “Come here, 
meleth.” Whilst Elladan moved closer, Lindir raised 
his legs and rested his ankles on his lover’s 
shoulders. “Have me.” He was panting at this point. 
Until now, he hadn’t realized just how much he wanted 
this – how much he had missed making love. “In one 
thrust, make me yours.” 
 
Elladan wavered. “Am I not supposed to prepare you?” 
 
“Trust me when I say that I am ready for you.” Lindir 
reached for his lover’s arousal and guided Elladan’s 
hard flesh to the entrance of his body. “Please, I 
want this.” 
 
This wasn’t the way Elladan had thought their first 
time would be like, but he was eager to please Lindir. 
He placed his hands on either side of his lover’s body 
and closed his eyes in bliss, feeling Lindir position 
himself for penetration. 
 
“Now… I need you now.” Lindir trembled with 
anticipation. It had been so long since he had made 
love, that he wanted it to feel as intense as 
possible! “Claim me with one thrust… You won’t hurt 
me.” 
 
Elladan’s gaze met Lindir’s, and seeing determination 
in the blue eyes, he nodded once. He would do whatever 
his lover wanted. Sliding inside, he encountered some 
resistance, but Lindir arched his back, and before 
Elladan knew it, he was buried to the hilt. 
 
“Ah!” There was some pain, but Lindir had expected it 
and was prepared to undergo it. Aye, this was what he 
had wanted; he felt claimed, possessed. Finally, he 
belonged with someone again. “Now, thrust!” Lindir’s 
fingers clawed at the sheets and he met Elladan’s next 
thrust when the younger half-Elf delivered a deep 
stroke, which rubbed against his prostrate. Stars 
exploded behind his eyelids and he moaned, needing 
more. 
 
Realizing what Lindir was asking of him, Elladan rose 
to the challenge and set a deep and slow rhythm. 
Growling, he drove himself deeper into the tight 
passage and his lips found Lindir’s lips once more, 
claiming them in a bruising kiss. He wanted to last 
long, but couldn’t. His body cried for release and he 
arched his back and threw back his head, letting go. 
 
Lindir quickly took himself into hand and stroked 
firmly. The result was that he found completion with 
Elladan and whilst his lover filled him from the 
inside, warm cream dripped from his slit. 
 
Elladan relished finding release inside Lindir. His 
seed had branded Lindir as his. “Oh, I love you so 
much!” He didn’t want to pull out yet, and as he was 
still rather hard, he remained inside of his lover. 
 
Lindir smiled, sated, pleased to feel Elladan still 
inside of him. “You have permission to sneak into my 
bed whenever you want.” 
 
“Your bed?” Elladan chuckled. “Our bed!” 
 
The chuckling caused vibrations and Lindir moaned, 
feeling Elladan move inside him. And then he felt 
something else. Elladan had softened after finding 
release, but… “You are hard again!” 
 
“I have a lot of years to catch up on,” commented 
Elladan, teasingly. “And this time, I promise you, 
that I will last.” 
 
Lindir closed his eyes and quavered, as the pounding 
started all over again. Oh, he would be sore in the 
morning! But at the moment, he didn’t mind at all! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“Celach?” Landiant and Celach had gone for a walk in 
the garden and Landiant felt somewhat apprehensive as 
Celach had grown quiet after talking to Thranduil. 
“What is on your mind?” 
 
Thranduil had thanked him for saving Landiant’s life 
and the King had also issued an invitation to visit 
Mirkwood where Thranduil would be his personal host – 
another way for the King to thank him for saving 
Landiant. “Mirkwood, Thranduil… you,” replied Celach 
eventually. 
 
Landiant sucked in his breath. “If you decide to stay 
here I will understand.” 
 
“I am afraid that staying in Imladris is no longer an 
option.” Celach came to a halt and looked Landiant in 
the eye. “I cannot stay here whilst you return to 
Mirkwood. A separation is not acceptable.” 
 
“But… but then…” Landiant didn’t dare hope he had 
reached the right conclusion! 
 
“When I travel to Mirkwood it won’t be for a mere 
visit.” 
 
Landiant moistened his lips. “You will come with me? 
And live with me in Mirkwood?” 
 
“I do not really have a choice, do I?” said Celach, 
thoughtfully. “Not if I want to be with you.” 
 
“Oh, I promise you won’t regret reaching that 
decision!” Landiant kissed him, passionately, and 
gazed into the hazel eyes. He would make certain that 
Celach was happy with him in Mirkwood! 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
 
“I am sorry to see you leave again,” said Elrond, 
honestly. “But I understand why you are eager to 
return to Mirkwood – to your wife.” 
 
Thranduil inclined his head. “I knew you would 
understand.” Thranduil’s gaze swept over the members 
of his escort. Legolas and Melpomaen had already 
mounted and the only one missing was Landiant. “You 
are welcome to visit Mirkwood whenever you can, 
Elrond.” 
 
Elrond smiled; pleased by the way their relationship 
had improved. What he had never dared to hope was 
happening; they were becoming friends. “I will take 
you up on that invitation!” 
 
“Excellent,” said Thranduil, smirking, as he had 
spotted Landiant. “I will keep an eye on Celach,” he 
said, wanting Elrond not to worry about the safety of 
one of his guards. 
 
“Celach?” Frowning, Elrond sought out Glorfindel for 
answers. 
 
Glorfindel shrugged. “What can I do? I stand helpless 
against the power of love.” 
 
“Love?” Elrond finally caught sight of Landiant and 
Celach, who were holding hands. Reaching the right 
conclusion, he raised a finger and pointed it at 
Thranduil. “Stop stealing my subjects!” 
 
Thranduil gave Elrond an innocent look. “Stealing? Me? 
I am not stealing them! Legolas did and now Landiant…” 
Suddenly, realization sat in. “Oh, I did… I stole 
Elluin.” 
 
“That is three Imladris’ Elves!” Elrond enjoyed 
teasing Thranduil. “It is about time I stole an Elf 
from you.” 
 
“You are welcome to some Mirkwood spiders,” replied 
Thranduil, maintaining their bantering although he was 
already steering his horse to the road that would take 
him home. 
 
“Spiders? I do not want any spiders!” Elrond shook his 
head in mock annoyance. Fondly, he watched the 
Mirkwood party disappear from view. “Be safe…” Elrond 
turned and found Celebrían standing in the doorway, 
with Arwen safely seated in her arms. He smiled, 
fondly, and joined his family. The Valar had been kind 
toward him; his family was intact and love ruled 
Imladris – as it should. 
 
The end 
Thank you, Patricia, for beta reading!!! 
 
Back to index page 
 
1 Ada  –- dad, daddy, papa (Sindarin, noun) 
2 meleth –- love (Sindarin, noun) 
3  meldir (sing.) –-“male” friend (Sindarin, noun) 
mell + dir 
4 tôr (sing.) –- brother (Sindarin, noun) 
5 Mae govannen –-  Well met –- spoken greeting 
(Sindarin, phrase) 
6 pen-neth (sing.) –- young one (Sindarin, noun, 
pronoun) 
7 Melethril –- (fem.) lover (Sindarin, noun) 
8 melethron  –- (male) lover (Sindarin, noun) 
9 sell (sing.)  –-  daughter (Sindarin, noun) 
From the Council of Elrond Quenyan and Sindarin 
dictionary 
Definition of OC names: 
Celach – Flowing Flame 
Landiant – broad bridge