Title: The Gift
Type: Slash (FPS)
Author: Mirasaui (mirasaui@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13, NC-17 in later chapters
Pairing: Lindir/Glorfindel
Warning: Implied Rape
Disclaimer: The characters are Tolkien's creations, not mine.  This is all 
just for fun.
Beta: Lalaith Nienóri
Archive: Library of Moria, Of Elves and Men - Others please ask.
Timeline: Third Age, year 165

Notes: The song in the 2nd chapter is an old folk tune titled, "The Meeting 
of the Waters", lyrics written by Lesley Nelson-Burns.  I changed one 
word, Avoca, to, Anórien, to make the song more representative of Middle 
Earth.  Elven names other than Tolkien's are either my creation, or taken 
from Samantha's list on her website, "Elves".  Asterisks * * denote 
emphasized words.  Slash marks / / denote character sentences or words 
that are thought, not spoken.

Summary: Story - Lindir must choose a gift for his secret love 
(Glorfindel).  Haldir helps.  This is chapter 1 - Lindir frets over a decision.  


Chapter 1: Sleepless Nights

-A bedchamber at the Last Homely House, Imladris:


	The tall Elf rose from the chair to resume treading the path he had 
been wearing into the floor most of the night; back and forth, back and 
forth, the knot in his stomach growing tighter as he tried unsuccessfully to 
quell his anxious thoughts. Long strands of moon-kissed white hair flowed 
down his back past his waist, the ends swaying in time with his restless 
steps. Slender fingers played worriedly with the fine linen nightshirt that 
graced the lithe body which had yet to find repose under the cool sheets of 
the carved wooden bed.
 
	Back and forth, back and forth, unaware of the cold stones under 
his bare feet, or the frown upon his pale brow. Blue eyes tearing with 
frustration, he raised his hands to his face and pulled his hair from his 
forehead, grasping handfuls of the thick mass into his fists and pressing 
them close to the sides of his head. Pausing for another look at the clock 
ticking quietly in the corner, he cursed softly, then once more resumed his 
maddening pace; four o'clock in the morning and another sleepless night. 
Why did a thing that came so easily to others cause him such anguish? He 
had four days left and he was no nearer a solution to his dilemma than he 
had been on day one. "Think, Lindir, think," he muttered to himself, but 
every thought that came to mind was quickly rejected. He needed ideas; he 
needed help. Reluctant as he was to ask for it, he would seek out Erestor 
tomorrow and ask for his advice. With that decision, he finally crawled 
into bed to claim what sleep remained of the night.

	The morning brought it all back again. A hot bath helped, but as he 
walked back down the hall towards his room, the nagging question began 
to torment his being once again. He entered his room and closed the door, 
then turned around and rested his forehead on one of the smooth 
mahogany panels for a minute. He was tired and couldn't think straight. As 
much as he hated to, he was definitely going to have to confide in Erestor. 
Time was running out and he was desperate. He crossed the room to his 
wardrobe and began a halfhearted search for something to wear. Pulling 
out a pair of light gray leggings, a darker gray tunic and a pale blue 
blouse, he laid them on the bed, then removed his robe and started to get 
dressed. The silk shirt felt cool on his skin and he paused for a moment to 
think about silky things. Delicate woven fabrics, brocades, bolts of sheer 
pale pastels and dark heavy velvets. He shook his head to clear his 
thoughts. He had already been down that road to no avail. Elbereth, what 
was he going to do?

	He stepped into the leggings, then picked up the tunic and pulled it 
over his head, quickly tying the laces at his shoulders. Worn leather boots 
completed the ensemble. Moving to his dresser he sat and looked in the 
mirror. A pair of tired blue eyes traced with dark circles stared back at him 
from the silvered glass. Sighing, he picked up his comb and began to 
groom and braid his tangled hair, rooting in a box in a side drawer to find 
ribbons to bind the ends. What should have been a relaxing week off from 
border patrol duty had turned into an agonizing blend of days and nights 
of unrest and anxiety, and all because of Elrohir and Elladan, Lord 
Elrond's twin sons. Not that Lindir held anything against the two Elflings; 
he loved them with all his heart. But their latest scheme had turned 
Lindir's peaceful world upside down. It had all started at dinner three 
nights ago.


Three Days Prior - Dining Hall - The Last Homely House - Imladris
 
	Lindir could not eat another bite. After a month of dining on 
lembas, dried fruits and berries, tonight's repast had been heavenly. 
Buttery fresh salmon, steamed garden vegetables, and an absolutely 
delicious cold soup, ah... His stomach was pleasantly full, and the alcohol 
from the tasty white wine that had been served with the meal had soothed 
his body and soul. Relaxed and in a somewhat sleepy state, he was content 
just to sit back and listen to the amusing exploits of the visitor from the 
Golden Woods, Haldir, the Marchwarden o Lòrien.

	Haldir was an enigma. Sensuous full lips graced a fine sculpted 
face with large hazel eyes and expressive dark brows. His manners were 
impeccable, and he moved with a refined grace that belied his broad 
shoulders and warrior's physique. If it were not for his Lòrien uniform, 
one would think he was a visiting prince from another realm. He was a 
great conversationalist and a good listener. There was an air about him 
that drew people to him and held them spellbound. 

	Like all Lòrien Elves, he had a special glow, for Lothlòrien was a 
magical place, but in Haldir the glow seemed to shine stronger and 
brighter. Only those who knew him well realized how close was his bond 
to the Golden woods, for he had dedicated himself to their protection, and 
would gladly give his life to that end. Perhaps this was why he was chosen 
at such a young age to be High Warden of the Lòrien Guard. Such was his 
personality that his men felt for him as he felt for the woods. They would 
follow him anywhere, even unto death, and would gladly give their lives 
in defense of their home and their captain. 

	Upon first impression, he could be cold, aloof, condescending, and 
there were many that could not see past his habitual smirk. But those who 
chose to look behind the mask saw a gentle, honest, caring soul and those 
who called him friend were never sorry. But as much as Lindir admired 
and respected Haldir, there was for him another at the table who inspired 
even greater awe and reverence. He also was a renowned warrior, perhaps 
the greatest alive this day on Middle Earth. None would believe it at the 
moment, however, for tears were pouring from under the edges of his 
golden lashes, rolling down his cheeks. One of his tightly muscled arms 
was braced across his abdomen, and his whole body was hunched over in 
his chair as if he were in dreadful pain. In fact, he was in slight pain, but 
not from injury. Haldir had just espoused some particular witty remark, 
and Glorfindel, the mighty Balrog slayer, upon whom Lindir's thoughts 
had turned, could barely contain his mirth. He was trying so hard to 
control his laughter, that he was doubled over, struggling to catch his 
breath.
 
	Lindir, who had been so lost in thought as to miss the punch line, 
simply sat and stared at the golden-haired blond with undisguised 
admiration in his eyes. Luckily, no one else in the room looked his way or 
noticed, as the renowned warrior remained the center of attention.
 
	Once Glorfindel managed to get himself under control, he 
immediately launched into an amusing story of his own. It being near the 
end of dinner, and Glorfindel being somewhat in his cups, the tale soon 
revealed itself to be of quite a bawdy nature, and Elrond, the Lord of 
Imladris, was forced to put a stop to it, as it was not quite fit for mixed 
company.

	Grinning sheepishly, Glorfindel winked at Haldir, causing the 
latter to throw back his head emitting a loud chortle of his own. The two 
made quite a pair. Just being near them made Lindir feel like he was in 
heaven.

	Lindir was not the only one who stared at the two in rapture. 
Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond's twin sons had their eyes glued to the 
pair, both mouths opened in a wide 'O'. They were enjoying every minute 
of the playful bantering. Elladan pressed Haldir for one more story, and 
the silver-haired warden glanced at Elrond before replying. "One more," 
Elrond nodded, chuckling, "but make it a nice one." Haldir thought for a 
moment then, decided on a particular story he thought the young Elflings 
would enjoy.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~


Chapter 2: Haldir's Tale - The Vale Where The Bright Waters Meet 


	"We were a group of five on our second day out from Minas Tirith. 
The weather was stormy and we could not find a good place to make camp 
that night. After much discussion, we reluctantly decided to search for 
lodging at a small human settlement that we knew lay a few miles ahead. 
Two of us, myself included, had experience dealing with Men, but three of 
our party did not, and they were much against the plan. However, the force 
of the gale soon swept aside all concern, and it was a wet and bedraggled 
group of elves that finally made their way to the village gates a few hours 
later. 

	"The gatekeeper granted us entry, but to our disappointment, 
informed us that the local Inn was full. He directed us to a house that was 
known to occasionally take in guests. The house was set apart from its 
neighbors and surrounded by a low stone fence. It was not a large 
structure, but on this rainy night it looked quite inviting. There was a 
carefully tended garden out front and a cheerful light shining from the 
windows. Flowers lined the path to the front door. I walked up the path 
and knocked for entrance, while my companions waited at the gate, 
huddled in their cloaks. 

	"When the door opened, a pair of bright blue eyes looked up at me 
from a round red cheerful face. 'And what brings an Elf to my door at this 
time of night?' The owner of the blue eyes chuckled. I quickly explained 
our needs and the man welcomed me inside, waving my companions to 
come forward also. We walked into a room that was dominated by a large 
hearth with a roaring fire. Seated at a table in front of the hearth was a 
woman, whom I took to be the proprietor's wife, three strong lads, and a 
small boy. The table was piled high with dishes of various foods, and an 
aroma of delectable smells wafted through the air.

	"While we dried ourselves as best we could, the woman directed 
the older boys to find us chairs, then hurried to set more places at the 
table. As we served ourselves, our host poured each of us a large tumbler 
of a potent dark red wine.
 
	"Introductions were made. Althos, our host, was a short man with 
white hair and beard dominated by a pair of twinkling blue eyes. His 
cheeks were rosy red and so were his lips. His wife, Marda, was a slender 
woman with red hair just touched with gray. She had beautiful green eyes 
that like her husband's seemed to twinkle, and her complexion was pale, 
almost as pale as my own. Dusted across her cheeks were the light brown 
dots that humans call freckles. She would have been a beautiful woman if 
it were not for a scar that ran from her left temple midway down her 
cheek. We never found out how she came to receive it.

	 "The three older lads had brown hair and like their father, eyes of 
blue. All were tanned from working outdoors and their bodies were lean 
and muscular. The eldest bore the same name as his Father, Althos, but 
was called Alt. He was the tallest of the lads, and as was the custom of 
humans, would inherit the house and land when his Father passed. He 
looked quite capable, and anyone with eyes could see his ardor for that 
which he called home. 

	"Cay, the next to oldest son was of thicker build and we soon 
learned was apprenticed to the local blacksmith. It was he who had taken 
our horses to the barn and assured us of their good care. Of the four boys, 
he looked most like his Father.

	"Fadon was next in line and according to Marda had just turned 
fifteen years. He was lean and thin like his Mother, and would spend most 
of the meal staring at our bows with a wistful expression on his face, at 
least when he was not pestering Rúmil with questions about archery and 
life as a guardian. His dream was to be a soldier, but his lot was that of a 
simple villager's son. 

	"The youngest boy, Theren, was a surprise. Dark red curls graced a 
pale face, lightly dusted with freckles. His cheeks were fat and rosy and 
his small white teeth were framed by pouty red lips. He had enormous 
emerald green eyes that seemed to contain inner layers of golden sparkles, 
and when he smiled his whole face lit up with an inner joy. My 
companions and I were astonished at such beauty in a human child. 

	"The company was cheery, and the meal pleasurable. After we had 
eaten our fill, and Marda had removed the dishes from the table, another 
round of wine was poured and all sat back to relax and digest the meal in 
comfort. I had expected the young lad to be sent to bed, but Althos turned 
to us and explained that tonight was a special occasion for his family. 
Every year on this date they celebrated their love for each other. It was a 
custom only to their family and had been started by his great, great 
grandfather. Althos asked if we would mind staying at the table a bit 
longer to share in this event. I and my companions agreed, and another 
round of wine was served.

	"Althos explained that each year they placed their names in a bowl. 
Each family member then closed their eyes and withdrew one name. Each 
had the rest of the year to come up with a gift for the person whose name 
they chose. It was a bit more involved than that, he said, but we would 
find that out for ourselves soon enough. Then without further ado, Althos 
broke into song.

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet
Oh the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart
 
Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green
'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill
Oh No 'twas something more exquisite still
Oh No 'twas something more exquisite still

'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom were near
Who made every scene of enchantment more dear
And who felt how the best charms of nature improve
When we see them reflected from looks that we love
When we see them reflected from looks that we love
Sweet vale of Anórien! How calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace 

	"It was a beautiful song, and the whole family joined with Althos 
in the singing. His deep baritone carried the melody while the tenor of his 
three older sons and the lilting high notes of Marda and Theren provided 
subtle harmony. We were delighted with the performance, and it seemed 
to please our hosts immensely when we all joined in on the chorus. 

	"For the next hour, we were regaled with stories of their family. 
Love shone in their eyes and it was easy to see the regard they held for 
each other. We learned about Marda's love for flowers and growing things, 
Althos and Alt's love of the land, Cay's softhearted concern for the animals 
of the field and the creatures of the forest. Fadon, for all his preoccupation 
with soldiering, surprised us the most, for he had taught himself to read 
and write, and was much learned in the history of Arda. Most unusual, for 
the total books in the whole village probably amounted to five. Theren 
was too young to have developed much of an interest in anything other 
than that of which young boys of any race find to amuse their days. But he 
was such a beautiful and happy child that he was not lacking in friends, 
and according to his brothers, was the darling of the village. 

	"Soon we knew the grand moment of the evening was about to 
arrive, for Theren's eyes grew so large they almost seemed to pop out of 
his head.  He literally bounced in his seat as he asked his Father over and 
over, 'Is it time Da, is it time yet?' Althos laughed at his youngest son, and 
told him that yes, it was time, and he would have the honor to be the first 
to present his gift to the family. His red curls bouncing with delight, the 
youngster ran to one of the cupboards along the wall and pulled from it a 
bundle of soft cloth. He brought it to the table, and stood behind his chair, 
his young face suddenly very serious. 

	" 'The name I drew,' said the auburn haired boy, as his green eyes 
sought those of Marda, 'is that of my dear Mother. She is the one who 
soothes our hurts and dries our tears when we are sad. She feeds us, sews 
and mends our clothes, is our teacher, friend and companion.' He opened 
the cloth and displayed a lovely ceramic pot filled with a bunch of wild 
violets from the woods. The plant had been lovingly cared for, and the 
perfume from the dark blue flowers was heady and strong. 'I made the pot 
myself, and another one almost the same,' the youngster said as he beamed 
with pride. Reaching under the cloth again he pulled out a little lidded jar. 
'Inside you will find the sweetest honey this side of Arda. It is worth the 
stings from the bees, for I have tasted it myself!' 

	"Marda accepted her gifts with joy in her eyes. 'I have never seen 
more lovely flowers,' she sighed. 'I will simply enjoy them for now. In 
time, I will separate the roots and plant them in my front garden. The 
violets will multiply, and soon we will have a lovely border of rich green 
leaves. In the spring and fall, we will be blessed with beautiful scented 
lavender-blue blooms. Tomorrow we will all taste this fine honey, for I 
will bake scones that we can drench in its sweetness. Thank you Theren 
for my lovely presents. You give me much happiness.' 
	"Theren was beside himself when he saw how much his Mother 
appreciated his gifts. He hoped that everyone would receive his heart's 
desire tonight, him included, for there was something that he had longed 
for the whole year. He had kept it a secret deep down inside, but a little 
voice told him that this just might be the night his wish came true. If you 
wonder how I know this, the little imp had confided all to me by 
whispering in my ear. Would he get his secret wish? Ah, but that will 
come later in my story.
 
	"It was now Marda's turn to state the name she had chosen. She 
stood and turned her eyes to her son Cay. 'I miss you each day when you 
leave at dawn, even though I know that I just have to walk down the road 
to find you. Your work with the smithy has seen you grow from a boy into 
a man. And not just from the muscles and sinew you have gained, for you 
have also learned responsibility and trust. I hear nothing but songs of 
praise from your employer, and he has told Althos that you will succeed 
him when he steps down. I am proud of you my son.

	" 'This year my gift to you comes with blessing from your Father 
also, for we have spoken with Mendan, and when she is old enough to be 
weaned, he has agreed that you shall have Anor's foal. We have all seen 
your wistful looks and it is time you had your own horse.'
 
	"Cay did not know what to say. Anor was Mendan's top mare. She 
was a gorgeous animal whose sire was one of the famed horses of Rohan. 
He had been there the night that she foaled and had become entranced 
with the tiny newborn. To be able to train her and call her his own was a 
dream come true. He tried to thank his parents, but of a sudden could not 
find the words. This was more than he ever expected, and his joy shone for 
all to see. 'I never thought...' he tried to get out, but could not. 

	" 'That is all right, Cay,' said Marda, 'We know how much you 
wanted the little horse and Mendan was only too happy to let you have 
her. Especially after you helped save his bull last year. He spent quite a 
penny for him and would have been devastated at his loss. Now it is time 
to let us know whom you have been planning for all year. Whose name 
did you pull from the bowl?'

	"Cay grinned. 'For the third year in a row I pulled my exalted elder 
brother's. Alt, it is getting harder and harder to figure out what you need! 
So I decided to give you something you already have, but perhaps you will 
think more of it because it came from me and I made it myself. 'He 
excused himself from the table and came back with a roll of soft leather 
that he handed to his older brother. Inside was a beautiful set of matched 
knives. The handles were of ivory and the blades etched with a flowing 
pattern of lines and leaves. The craftsmanship was superb, and as the 
knives were passed around, I noticed a nod of appreciation from my 
companions. The young human did do excellent work. We were not the 
only ones impressed, as Alt turned each over lovingly in his hands, 
thanking Cay profusely for his efforts, promising that he would cherish 
them always. He turned to his brother, 'You have given me an heirloom to 
pass down to my future sons. At least I hope to have sons. Thank you, 
Cay. They are exquisite. I will treasure them forever, not just because of 
their beauty, but because they were made by your hands.'

	" 'By the way, speaking of weapons...' Alt composed his face, 
stood and grasped the top of his chair. 'My gift is not so fine as those that 
are carried by our guests here tonight but neither is it as large. In fact, the 
bow hanging over my bed is just the right size for --' and here he paused 
looking around the table -- 'one small redheaded brother!'

	 "With a whoop of joy, Theren was out of his chair and climbing 
onto the bed in his brother's room before Alt could finish the rest of his 
sentence. He emerged a few moments later, his mouth formed in a wide 
'O', a carved wooden bow clutched in his tiny hand. 'Can I try it out in the 
morning, Alt? Oh, please, Alt, will you teach me how to shoot?' 

	" 'Not so fast, Theren,' Alt said with a grin, 'You need arrows 
before you can even begin to learn the craft of archery. If you look under 
the bed, you will find a quiver containing a dozen. I will work with you 
tomorrow when I finish my tasks. You will have to promise to wait till 
then.'

      " 'I promise, Alt. Thank you, thank you, thank you!' Theren 
practically screamed. Alt had given him that which he most desired in the 
entire world! Racing from the room once again, he returned with a fine 
leather quiver filled with long, straight arrows fletched in the same color 
green as his eyes, the hen feather edged in silver. We learned later that his 
brother had to pry the bow from his hands before tucking him into bed.

	" 'I believe it is my turn now,' Fadon said, pushing his chair back 
from the table. 'I picked Da's name. I knew not what to get for the one who 
holds our family together, the one that I and my brothers look up to and 
admire so. You are our strength, Da, our rock, our root. We love you 
dearly. I love you dearly.' 

	"With that he bent and retrieved a rolled parchment from 
underneath the table which he passed to his dad. It was tied with a bright 
red silk ribbon. Althos untied the bit of silk and unrolled the parchment. 
He let out a gasp of surprise then held the paper up for all to see. It was a 
pen and ink drawing of the family seated around the dinner table. Fadon's 
talented fingers had wrought each person in the finest detail, down to the 
tiniest sparkle in young Theren's eyes. 'I have a frame for it also, Da, and 
will mount it for you later. I thought you could hang it over the mantle, so 
we can look at it every time we gather each day for our meal.' 

	" 'Your talent amazes me Fadon,' his Father said, 'You get better 
with each drawing you make. Would that I could afford to send you to the 
city to study. You will make a fine artist one-day. Thank you for my gift, 
there is nothing that could please me more than a picture of us all together. 
It is especially fitting on this night when we celebrate family. '

	" 'Of course, you know that I hold the last name drawn. Fadon, as I 
said before, it saddens my heart that I cannot send you to the city to study. 
But I did run into a young scholar last year while I was there, and we 
became fast friends. I told him about you and he was very impressed with 
your learning, all the more so when he found you had done it on your own. 
I realize this is not much of a gift on my part, but my friend and I made a 
deal. I am to send you to Minas Tirith for half a year. During this time you 
will draw a portrait of my friend. In return, he will provide you with paper 
and let you copy some of the books from the great library. He will bind the 
paper for you and you will then own your own copies, which you can 
bring with you when you return home. He will also give you what lessons 
he can in his spare time. I will pay for your lodging and part of the costs of 
the paper. It is always possible that if you do well, someone will step 
forward and sponsor you. I wish I could grant you more, but I hope you 
will be pleased to have this opportunity.'

	"Fadon didn't move. Large fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His Da 
could not know how much this meant to him. To have access to hundreds 
of books at the library in Minas Tirith, to be able to talk with someone 
who had seen and studied the world. He could not have hoped for 
something like this.  And to have books of his own, that was his most 
precious dream in the entire world; more so than soldiering. His own, his 
very own. Books were valuable, and for a third son, a simple villager to 
have one, much less two, was unheard of. 'Oh, Da! You have made me the 
happiest ever under Anor.' (1). 

	" 'I am sure you will be even happier when you finally get to sit 
down amidst all those books,' his father replied. 'I admit I was hard 
pressed to come up with something that would please you. It was pure 
luck that I became friends with Dinethain. He will be your guide and tutor. 
I have already written a letter informing him of your plans. You will leave 
in two month's time. Again, I wish I could do more.'
 
	"Althos stood again. 'In honor of this special night, we do not wish 
our guests to leave empty handed. I present to you a bottle of Anòrien's 
finest wine. May you share it together in friendship and enjoy its fruits. 
We are happy to have your company on this stormy night. You are very 
gracious guests.'
 
	"I accepted the wine on behalf of my comrades. 'Thank you Althos. 
We are pleased to receive this gift from you, and will be sure to think of 
you and your fine family when we taste of it. We travel light, and do not 
have anything of value to give to you in return. If any of you chance by 
our Fair Woods, please tell the Guardians you are a friend of Haldir o 
Lórien. That will grant you entrance and a reception with our Lord and 
Lady. They will welcome you with open arms, as you have done to us on 
this night. It was our honor to be invited to partake in your celebration and 
we thank you for your kind hospitality. Now we will leave you to your 
rest, and will speak with you in the morning before we leave. Aa' menealle 
nauva calen ar' malta (2).'

	"With that we retired for the night. The next day after a breakfast 
that included Marda's delicious scones and the honey that Theren had 
harvested, we said our good-byes and were back on the trail. But none of 
us ever forgot the family we met that night. They were very special.
 
	"About sixty years later, I and my brothers chanced to question a 
man who sought to enter the Golden Woods. He had the proud bearing of 
a warrior, one that had seen many battles, but had entered the twilight of 
his life. For his face was aged, craggy and wrinkled, dark lines creased his 
brow and etched his features. His long auburn hair that once must have 
shone with the golden highlights of the sun was now dull and flecked with 
gray. He did not flinch at my stare, but in a proud voice asked to speak to 
Haldir, the Marchwarden of Lòrien. 'I am a friend of his.' He said proudly.

	" 'And what name am I to give to the Marchwarden when he asks 
of his friend?' I said, showing my amusement at the boastfulness of the 
man who stood before me. His features were not familiar, and I felt sure I 
would have remembered making an acquaintance with a man of his 
striking looks. I could feel the puzzlement of Rúmil and Orophin as they 
too stared at the one who stated my name so boldly. 

	"Anger entered my voice when instead of speaking the mortal 
simply stared back at me with his gold flecked green eyes. 'There are 
twenty arrows in the trees pointed at your chest! Speak stranger, or you 
will not live to see the setting of Anor,' I said heatedly. 

	"To my surprise, the man bowed before us and spoke in a soft 
whisper. 'Rúmil, Orophin, Haldir, do you not remember Theren of 
Anórien? It was your invitation, Marchwarden, which has caused me to be 
here these many years since our meeting. A time that is long to me, but to 
my thinking, just a short span in the lives of Elves?'

	"And he was right, for it was then I remembered the head of dark, 
unruly curls. The vision of loveliness that we Firstborn had found so 
remarkable in a human child that stormy night. I gave a short whistle to 
my tree-perched guardians to let them know all was well, then grasped the 
man's arm in a warrior's grip. 'I bid you welcome to the Golden Woods, 
Theren of Anórien. My apologies for not recognizing you immediately, 
although I must say, your appearance has undergone a startling change.' At 
this we all smiled. 'Come, I will introduce you to my Lord Celeborn and 
Lady Galadriel, for I and my brothers have told them of your fine family 
and hospitality. Tonight, I hope you will accept the same from mine, as I 
offer to share with you our food and the use of our talan for the length of 
your stay.'

	"Theren did accept our offer, and stayed with us for several weeks. 
We were sad to learn that he was the only one left of those with whom we 
had spent such a memorable night. Althos had died twenty-five years after 
our visit. Marda had followed him to wherever mortals go three years 
after. They had seen their sons grow into fine young men, and were 
blessed to have been able to spend much time with the house full of grand 
children who had sprung from the seeds of their sons and their mates. 
Children who still continue the annual celebration of family.

	"Alt had inherited his father's property and had turned it into one of 
the finest Inns outside of Minas Tirith. It was known for its friendly 
atmosphere, fine fare, and hospitality. It also served some of the finest 
wine in Anórien. Alt married a girl from the village who helped him run 
the Inn and bore him three strong sons. His eldest runs things now, and has 
four children of his own.

	"Cay took over from the smithy when he retired and was known 
far and wide for his quality iron and metal work. He never lost his love for 
horses, and owned some of the fastest runners in the area, all descendants 
of the noble breeds of Rohan. He too married a local girl. His eldest son 
became the smithy when he died, while his three daughters married well 
and moved to the city.

	"Fadon had done well in Minas Tirith and had indeed found a 
sponsor. His search for knowledge had known no bounds, and in time, he 
was offered a permanent position at the Great library. His art graced the 
halls of the palace, and so many requested his service in that craft, that his 
drawings became quite valuable. He never married, but there were many 
that spoke of the closeness he had to his friend Dinethain. Theren 
confirmed that they had been lovers, but same sex pairings were frowned 
upon in the city, so it was their secret unto death. Theren told me that after 
his brother died, he discovered a portfolio of drawings that Fadon had 
done of himself and his love. They were some of the most breathtaking 
works Theren had ever seen. He knew then how special the bond had been 
between his brother and his friend. Somehow it eased the pain, knowing 
his brother had been happy, for Theren, although he loved all in his family 
dearly, had been closest to Fadon. 

	"Theren, through the influence of his brother, was able to join the 
guard at Minis Tirith. His skill as an archer and swordsman attributed to 
his rapid rise in rank, his current status equivalent to that of Haldir's as 
Marchwarden, although Theren had retired some years ago. He also had 
three strong sons, two of who followed in his footsteps. The third and 
youngest, and according to Theren, the spiting image of himself as we 
remembered him, had surprisingly followed after Fadon, and was 
currently a scholar at the Great Library. He was also a renowned artist in 
his own right.

	"Rúmil, Orophin and I were glad to hear the history of the friends 
we had thought of so often. Our dealings with men were rare, and most not 
as pleasant as the time we spent with Althos and his family. I was the most 
fluent in Westron, and through the grace of my Lord, was given time off 
from duty to show Theren the delights of the Golden Woods. In all my 
days I have never met a man so gracious, kind, and giving as was Theren 
during his short visit. We became fast friends, a bittersweet experience, as 
we both knew this would most likely be the last we would ever meet. 

	"Theren made a lot of friends during his stay in our city. But all too 
soon it was time for him to leave. He needed to be home in order to head 
this year's annual celebration. The drawing of names and the presenting of 
gifts still a tradition in the new generation of that loving family that had 
made such an impression on our minds that night. I never saw him again, 
and such time has passed that his bones must long lie under some grassy 
hill. But I will never forget him. And it is my hope that somewhere in 
another place, another time, Althos, Marda, Alt, Cay, Fadon, Theren, their 
past and future kin, meet again in celebration to profess their undying 
love, to sing once again of the vale where the bright waters meet."

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter:

1. Anor - sun (the)
2. Aa' menealle nava calen ar' malta - May your ways be green and 
golden.



Chapter 3: A New Tradition


	“That was a wonderful story, Haldir!” Both of the twins exclaimed 
after Haldir had finished, brushing tears from their eyes. “Theren had a 
loving family and many friends just like we do. Ada, why can we not do 
the same here?” Elrohir asked his father with a pleading look in his large 
gray eyes. “Yes, Ada, we could draw names this very night.” Elladan 
seconded his brother’s idea. “We do not have as many in our family as 
Althos, but we could include all at the table here, for they are our close 
friends. We could all meet next year at the same time. Please, Ada? Let it 
be so. Please?”

	Elrond laughed softly. “See, Haldir, what you have started! Now 
we will never have a moment’s peace until I give in. Very well, Elrohir 
and Elladan. I see no reason why we could not do such a thing. That was a 
beautiful story, and it would please me to start such a tradition here at 
Imladris.”

	 “I cannot guarantee that I will be able to come each year,” Haldir 
told the two boys. Maybe you should limit this to just your family.” 

	“But it was you who gave us the idea,” Elladan pouted. “Please 
Ada, can you not tell Grandmother and Grandfather that Haldir must be 
here at this time each year. Surely, they can do without him for one day?” 

	Elrond winked at the Marchwarden. “I am sure we can work 
something out.” He turned and spoke to one of the servants. “Would you 
please bring me a pen, some parchment and ink?” When the Elf had done 
as he requested, Elrond wrote down the names of all that were sitting at 
the table. “Let us see now, we have:

	"Elrond, Celebrían, Glorfindel, Erestor, Elrohir, Elladan, Haldir 
and Lindir.

	"That is eight, a nice round number, I think that is a very good 
combination. Now, Elrohir, tear this into strips and fold each so that the 
names do not show. Go find a bowl, Elladan. We need one to be able to 
draw the names fairly.”

	“I am not really sure I should be included in the drawing,” Lindir 
spoke up. I am not really a member of the immediate household. I am only 
here at the table because I am off duty this week.” 

	“Nonsense,” Glorfindel spoke up loudly. “You belong just as much 
as Erestor, Haldir and I, we are not immediate family either, but we are all 
family friends. That is what really counts, is it not, Haldir? Was that not 
the point of your story?” 

	“Aye, I suppose it was,” Haldir mused. “I hope I draw your name 
*lirimaer* (1), I know just what to give you!” Haldir grinned seductively; 
batting his eye lashes playfully at the blue-eyed Vanya across the table. 
Glorfindel was about to make a similar retort, but held his tongue at a 
glare from Elrond. 
	“That is enough of that from you two!” Elrond spoke up sharply. 
He turned his gaze to his two sons. “If you are through, pass the bowl 
around and let everyone pick a name. Do not tell whose name you pick, 
we want it to be a surprise when we meet again next year.”

	 “Ada?” spoke up Elladan. “Do we really have to wait a whole year 
before we give our presents? Can we not make an exception this time? 
Haldir will be leaving at the end of the week. Why could we not present 
our gifts on his last night? Then we could draw names again for next year. 
Please, Ada?” Both twins again turned their pleading eyes to their Father, 
and again, he could not turn them down.
	
	“Is that alright with everyone present?” Elrond asked meekly. “I do 
not think these youngsters are going to be able to wait much longer than 
that. We will drop Celebrían’s name this time since she’s in Lothlórien. 
We will add her name back in for the drawing next year. I will have the 
cooks prepare a special meal and we will open a cask of that Mirkwood 
wine Erestor likes so much.” Elrond gave his advisor a wink.

	Erestor arched an eyebrow at his Lord. “Was that not the same 
vintage that was served the night you...”

	“Not another word, Erestor,” Elrond gave a warning cough. “It is 
hard enough controlling Haldir and Glorfindel, don't you get started on a 
similar subject.” A giggle from Glorfindel caused him to turn his glare on 
the blond warrior. "That goes double for you, seneschal."

	 “Oh, Elbereth, I remember that night only too well. Erestor was...” 
Glorfindel could not finish what he was trying to say, for he was laughing 
so hard he was again doubled over. 

	* “That is enough, Glorfindel!” * Elrond’s face was blood red. 
Erestor, Haldir, and Lindir were trying their best to hold their mirth, all 
remembering the night that Lord Elrond had imbibed a bit too much of 
*that* particular vintage.

	 Elrohir and Elladan were staring at the adult Elves in confusion, 
wondering why in the world their adar (2) was so upset while the others 
were besides themselves with laughter. No one was planning on 
enlightening them anytime soon. That would have to wait until later, when 
they passed their majority. Erestor, trying his hardest to bring his emotions 
under control, thought back to what at the time, was one of the most 
embarrassing moments in his service to Lord Elrond. Yes, it had really 
been quite a night!

	It happened some years ago, when Lord Celeborn and a group of 
Lórien nobles arrived for a visit. As was custom, Elrond had thrown a 
large party in their honor. Celebrían was not present. She was in 
Lothlórien visiting with Galadriel and in fact, had been there for some 
time. Ever since the birth of the twins, the relationship between her and 
her husband had begun to deteriorate. For the sake of decorum, they 
shared the same chamber, but it had been quite some time since they 
shared the same bed. Her trips to the Golden Wood had become more 
frequent and of a longer duration each time. Elrond missed the gentle lady 
he had fallen in love with so long ago. Now his nights were lonely and 
filled with sorrow. He had truly not slept well for a long time. If it was not 
for the fact that Lord Celeborn was his father-in-law, he would have found 
an excuse to be absent from the night’s celebration.

	But it was not to be. Dressed in robes of state, Imladris’ Lord 
graciously greeted each guest as they entered the large, brightly-lit room. 
Once the receiving line courtesies were over, Elrond somehow found 
himself cornered by Celeborn, who proceeded to launch into a long boring 
tale having to do with some strategic battle plan in the war of the Last 
Alliance. Try as he might, Elrond could not interject a word edgewise, nor 
find an opportunity to make his excuses to get away. When the Lórien 
Lord did stop for a breath, it was to signal a servant to refill their 
wineglasses, forcing Elrond to match him in drink glass for glass. 
Celeborn had no problem downing such a vast quantity of alcohol in such 
a short period of time, but soon Elrond had gone way past his limit. The 
party droned on and on, until finally some of the guests started to take 
their leave and retire to their rooms.

	However, many others, including a slightly tipsy Lord Elrond and 
a more sedate Celeborn, had retired to the Hall of Fire and were listening 
to a particularly lovely ballad being sung by Lindir. Elrond, in his bid to 
get away from Celeborn had taken a seat next to Erestor and felt pleased to 
not have to listen to any more of his in-law's monologue on the battles of 
the Second Age.

	 Although feeling somewhat dizzy, Elrond felt that it was still too 
early to retire to his chambers. Lindir had a beautiful soothing voice, and 
before long his eyes started to close. It was not a few moments later when 
someone nudged him in his side. He glanced over to see who would do 
such a thing, and in his somewhat drunken state, soon found something 
from which he could not and did not want to tear himself away. He was 
suddenly very aware of the person sitting next to him on the bench.

	/Why had he never noticed how beautiful Erestor was? When had 
his Chief Advisor become so enticing? / He stared in blurry fascination at 
Erestor’s hair. Blue-black locks graced an exotic oval face with lovely 
dark eyes framed by even darker lashes. High cheekbones reflected the 
firelight off the advisor’s ivory skin, accenting full ruby lips that begged to 
be kissed.

	 “Mmm.” He leaned closer to the tall dark-haired Elf and started 
running his fingers through the soft, luxuriously thick black silky mass 
that careened halfway down the lovely Noldo’s back. Elrond sighed with 
delight. Erestor, for his part, just beginning to develop an inkling of what 
was going through the mind of his employer, sat stiff as a board 
pretending not to notice, hoping in turn that no one else could see what 
was going on.

	Unfortunately, the effects of the alcohol in Elrond’s system were 
such that he soon lost all trace of sensibility. Certain hormones in his body 
began to work overtime. To him, Erestor was looking more and more like 
a tasty treat that he just could not resist. Imladris’ Lord started whispering 
endearments into the ear of his extremely sober advisor, much to Erestor’s 
consternation and extreme embarrassment. At least Elrond *thought* he 
was whispering. 

	 In fact, the more his body reacted to the presence of the, in his 
alcohol soaked mind, luscious tidbit sitting beside him, the louder and 
more passionate his declarations of love became. Poor Erestor could do 
nothing without attracting more attention their way. What was worse, his 
body was starting to react to the lewd suggestions pouring into his 
sensitive ear. It was when one of Elrond’s hands moved to the buttons on 
Erestor’s robe and the other slipped under the heavy garment to the 
waistband of his leggings, that Erestor began to panic. Elrond was no 
longer spouting words of endearment, but was alternating between frantic 
pants and animal growls, the volume of which increased to such a point 
that a horrified Lindir had to raise his voice to try and drown out that of 
his Lord’s. Erestor realized he had to do something fast!

	As nonchalantly as he could, he grasped his Lord’s roving hands 
and tried to force Elrond into a more respectable position. That was a 
major mistake as the inebriated Elf proceeded to tell Erestor in no 
uncertain terms just how lovely he was and how desperately he wanted 
him. The more Erestor tried to quiet his over eager lover, the louder and 
more aggressive Elrond became in his efforts to satisfy his carnal desire. 
Things got truly out of hand when Lindir became so flustered that he 
stopped singing.  The resulting quiet bringing more of Elrond’s lustful 
cries to a larger portion of the audience, who by now was totally aware of 
what was going on, and trying their best to keep it from showing on their 
faces. Erestor was edging past brick red by the time Lords Glorfindel and 
Celeborn took pity on him and helped the poor advisor escort the totally 
soused Lord of Imladris to his quarters. The walls of the Hall of Fire 
echoed with laughter the minute the trio rounded the corner. 

	It was a sober and chagrined Lord Elrond who apologized to 
Erestor, Lord Celeborn, and the rest of his guests the next morning. And of 
course, it was an incident he would never be allowed to forget! But, the 
fiery dark-haired Elf vowed, he would be damned if it was going to be 
dredged up at the dinner table in front of his innocent children! * 
“Glorfindel!” *

 	“Yes, my Lord,” the seneschal was able to finally spit out. * “Draw 
a name!” * Elrond commanded. Glorfindel reached into the bowl and 
made a big production of picking out a piece of folded parchment. He 
unfolded the paper an inch before his eyes and looked sneakily at 
everyone at the table before pouting prettily. “I drew my own name,” he 
said. “Does that mean I have to give myself a present?”

	Haldir groaned. “Just pick another name, Orc breath,” he touted at 
the precocious blond in front of him. “We are getting tired of waiting.” 
Glorfindel swirled around the folded tabs in the bowl and finally made a 
second choice. Peeking at it, he broke into a smile and, to everyone’s 
relief, decided he was happy with his choice. 

	“Your turn, Oh Mighty Lord of Imladris,” he said in a smug voice, 
passing the bowl to Elrond. Elrond gave him an exasperated look, then 
reached into the bowl to make his own selection. Satisfied that he had not 
also chosen his own name, he passed the bowl to Haldir. After all present 
had each had a chance to take a pick from the bowl, Elrond declared 
dinner officially over. He was truly glad, for Glorfindel and his silly antics 
had started to get on his nerves. He would have to have a talk with his 
seneschal in the morning. Not that it would do any good, he thought sadly. 
With that, he headed off to his chambers for a good night’s rest.

	Lindir had taken his time opening his folded parchment. He had 
not liked the idea of choosing names in the first place. Please let it be one 
of the children, he prayed. They would be easiest to choose a gift for. He 
finally managed to get the paper unfolded and with bated breath, read the 
name before his eyes.
			
					*Glorfindel*

 	Oh no, not him. What was he going to do? The one person at the 
whole table whose name he truly had not wanted to chose. What did you 
give a legend? What did you give to the one person who meant more to 
you than anything? What could he ever hope to find that was perfect 
enough for such a flawless Elf? Nothing he could think of would ever be 
good enough for the vision of beauty that was Glorfindel.

	 For Lindir had been in love with the golden blond since the first 
day he saw him. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone. What could 
the famous golden-haired Vanya, the Lord of the Golden Flower of fair 
Gondolin, Mighty Balrog Slayer and renowned ancient warrior, see in 
someone like Lindir? For Glorfindel was a hero, the subject of myriad 
ballads and songs. He had died fighting a Balrog during the fall of 
Gondolin, saving Tuor, Idril and their son Eärendil (Lord Elrond’s father) 
and many others. After his death he had spent an eternity in Mandos’ 
Halls, but the Valar looked kindly upon the golden Elf who had sacrificed 
so much for his beloved people. In reward for his valiant deed, they gave 
him new life. He was re-embodied and allowed a second childhood in 
Valinor. 

	 It was there he was befriended by the Maiar, most specifically, 
Olórin, and he became almost like them, gaining powers that no Elf before 
him ever had. But unlike most of the reborn, he did not spend the rest of 
his days in the blessed realm. For later, the Valar returned the gallant 
warrior to Middle Earth, where he was to distinguish himself once again. 
Lindir’s secret love fought at Gil-galad’s side in the battle of the Last 
Alliance, his mighty sword skewering the enemy in droves. Those who 
saw him claimed he was one of the greatest warriors of all time. But he 
claimed no honors, faulting himself for failing to prevent the death of the 
High Elven King. Partly as penance, but also because of his respect for the 
Half-elf, he offered his service to Lord Elrond of Imladris, who appointed 
him seneschal, Commander of all Imladris' forces, second in command of 
the realm.

	Lindir sighed. To him, the Elf was unapproachable. Not only that, 
but he was also Lindir’s commanding officer. What could he ever have in 
common with a lowly Elf like Lindir, whose only claim to fame was his 
musical voice and song writing ability? Lindir, one minstrel in a house of 
many others, not even a true bard, for he only plied his craft part-time.

	 And what else did Lindir contribute to the blessed realm of 
Imladris? Part-time duty as a guardian of the border patrol. What was 
worse, Lord Glorfindel had not even wanted Lindir in his command. The 
white-haired musician had to beg Lord Elrond to be allowed to begin 
training. And once he had proven his ability with sword, bow, and knife, 
Glorfindel still had to be persuaded by Elrond to accept him into the ranks. 
The ancient warrior did not see a need for a guardian who would only 
serve part-time. 

	Part-time, there it was again. He was also part time assistant to 
Lord Erestor. Erestor was more than capable of running the household 
without his help. Lord Elrond had created Lindir’s position only because 
Lindir had too much free time on his hands. 

	Lindir sighed. He was a failure, a nobody. He was indebted to Lord 
Elrond, for the kindly Elf had taken him in when he had nowhere else to 
go. Lindir wished he could do more for his Lord, but he had no noticeable 
skills. Lord Elrond simply put him where he would do the least harm. 
Everyone put up with him because they felt sorry for him. Oh, they were 
polite and gave him praise every so often. But he knew they only did it out 
of pity.

	Just as Lord Glorfindel tried to include him in the group at the 
table tonight. Lindir did not normally take his meals in the dining hall. He 
usually ate in the barracks. But he did not feel right doing so if he was not 
on duty and Erestor had forbidden him to eat in the kitchen where he felt 
more comfortable. So it was, that every time he finished his month long 
patrol, he was forced to don robes and pretend to be part of the noble 
circle that revolved around his Lord. But he knew his place; he was not of 
their kind. 

	He was an orphan, abandoned at an early age when his parents 
were killed in the woods. Someone had found him and brought him to 
Imladris where Lord Elrond took him in out of pity. His true heritage was 
not discovered until later when his uncle, Lord Gildor Inglorion, visited 
Imladris and recognized Lindir’s resemblance to his sister. Still no one 
believed him until the Lord pointed out Lindir’s odd-shaped birthmark, 
proof that he was Gildor’s nephew.

	Well, he might through birth have noble blood, but he did not feel 
noble. He had not fought in the great wars like Glorfindel, Elrond, and 
Erestor. Neither did he have the grace, the refinement, nor the easy 
manner that came so easy to the Eldar. Knowing that he was not worthy of 
such an honor, he had refuted his claim to a title. His uncle had been 
sorely disappointed. Well, that was something that Lindir was good at, 
disappointing people. And now, he had to find a gift for the one Elf that 
mattered most to him in all of Arda. And Lindir knew that no matter how 
hard he tried, Glorfindel would be disappointed with his choice. 
 
	Why did this have to happen? Why did Haldir have to tell that 
stupid story? Why did he have to draw Glorfindel’s name? And so it 
began, the gnawing pain in the pit of his stomach, growing anxiety and 
endless, sleepless nights.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1.	lirimaer - lovely one
2.	Adar – Father


Chapter 4: Confidant


	Lindir stood in front of Erestor’s office door trying to work up 
enough courage to knock. Should he tell Erestor of his troubles? What if 
Erestor laughed at him? Much worse, what if Erestor told Glorfindel? But 
Lindir was all out of ideas, he had nowhere else to turn, nothing left to try. 

	Erestor looked up at the soft knock. “Come in,” he called, hoping 
his visitor would not take too much of his time, for he had to deliver his 
report to Lord Elrond before noon. The door opened and Erestor smiled. It 
was his young assistant. 

	“Good morning, Lindir. Is there something that you need?” Erestor 
looked at the shy Elf. Lindir was pale as a ghost with dark circles under 
his eyes. Once he reached Erestor’s desk he just stood there, nervously 
twisting his hands together. The dark-haired advisor had never seen him 
looking quite so miserable. “Is something bothering you, Lindir? Are you 
not feeling well?” Lindir had come to mean a lot to Erestor and he hated to 
see the tall Elf in this condition. “Sit, Lindir, tell me what is troubling 
you.”

	Lindir sank gratefully into one of the chairs in front of Erestor’s 
desk. “I do have a problem, My Lord. I am just not sure if I should bother 
you with it. Would you promise to keep the matter just between you and 
me? I could not bear it if anyone else found out.”

	“I promise, Lindir. Take your time and start from the beginning. I 
swear that nothing you and I say will ever leave this room. Although I 
cannot imagine anything that could make you get this worked up?”

	Lindir took a deep breath. “My Lord, I have drawn Lord 
Glorfindel’s name for the gift giving and I have no idea what he would 
want.” Lindir’s face, after blurting out these words, immediately turned a 
bright pink. He cast his eyes to the floor, afraid to look at Erestor, thinking 
he would die of embarrassment.

	Erestor tried not to smile at Lindir’s discomfort. He knew the Elf 
was shy, but to see Lindir in such obvious distress over something so 
trivial had Erestor somewhat amused. Was he that scared of his 
Commander? Erestor knew Glorfindel could be somewhat intimidating at 
times, but Lindir was not a new recruit. He was part of Lord Elrond’s 
household, had been so for years. He wondered if something had 
happened between the two.

	“Lindir, I think Lord Glorfindel would be pleased with anything 
that you give him. What about a clip for his hair, or a book, Glorfindel 
loves to read. Or better yet, why not ask Haldir for ideas? They are good 
friends and have much the same interests. I am sure he could give you 
many more suggestions than I. The seneschal and I, as I am sure you have 
noticed do not always exactly see eye to eye.”

	“But you and Lord Glorfindel are friends, I know that my Lord. I 
would not feel comfortable talking to Haldir. I do not know him that well, 
and I am afraid he would think me an imbecile.” Lindir mumbled, finding 
it almost as hard to think about approaching the handsome Marchwarden, 
as it would be to speak to Glorfindel himself. “I would have liked to come 
up with an idea on my own, but nothing I think of seems good enough. 
Lord Glorfindel is just, well, he is just....” Lindir could not get the words 
out, as he raised his blue eyes pleadingly to his friend and employer.

	Erestor was beginning to think that his assistant was a bit 
infatuated with the blond Lord. “Are you not trying just a little too hard to 
impress your superior officer? Truly, Lindir, Glorfindel is not that 
different from you and me. His tastes are a bit frivolous in my opinion, but 
then again, we are opposites. Remember, it is the thought that counts when 
you are giving a gift. Lord Glorfindel will like whatever you chose 
because it comes from you. He does think highly of you, you know. I have 
heard him speak of you several times.”

	How I wish that were true, Lindir thought, but he knew that Erestor 
was just trying to make him feel better. “I do not know, my Lord.” Lindir 
finally said in answer to Erestor’s question. “A hair clip was the first thing 
I thought of. But when I went to look at them, I could not picture Lord 
Glorfindel wearing any of the ones I saw. Besides, most of the time he just 
uses bits of ribbon or leather. As to books, surely he can find almost any 
title he wants in the library. What could I possibly choose that he might 
not have already read? I thought maybe a new tunic. But that might be too 
expensive, too personal. And how much should I invest on his present? I 
so want it to be special. A bottle of wine or sweets, well that just seems 
too ordinary. Please, my Lord, can you not give me some ideas? There are 
only four days left and I am desperate.”

	Erestor leaned back in his chair and looked about his office as if 
seeing it for the first time. Floor to ceiling bookcases lined the interior 
wall, each bound manuscript on the shelves indexed and ordered to the 
advisor’s exacting standards. A large desk of exotic dark wood took up 
most of the floor space, its surface littered with multiple stacks of 
documents awaiting Erestor’s perusal. For the dark-haired Lord was never 
idle. In fact, no one at Imladris could ever remember Erestor’s desk 
looking any other way, except for the one time Lord Glorfindel thought to 
help him with his filing. Erestor had been ill that month and not 
surprisingly, Lord Glorfindel was ill the next, although from a quite 
different malady. 

	The room would have been quite a depressing place if it were not 
for the large triple window cut into the outer wall. At the moment, the thin 
silk inner curtains were drawn to keep out the glare of the morning Sun, 
but once Anor rose higher in the sky; Erestor would pull them aside. Not a 
day went by that he did not take a moment to enjoy the lovely view of the 
great waterfalls of Imladris. Dropping from great height, the frothing 
white waters spit out breaths of mist that refracted the Sun’s warm rays 
into a spectrum of color, the ever present rainbows one of the great 
wonders of the Elven realm. Only Lord Elrond’s suites had a better view.
 
	For centuries, Erestor had this glory all to himself. But then Elrond 
decided he was overworked and introduced Lindir as his new assistant. 
They did not get off to a magnanimous start. Erestor was set in his ways 
and resented having to take the time to train the white-haired Elf. Lindir 
on the other hand, was too eager to please. His constant litany of “What 
can I do to help, my Lord?” had driven Erestor almost to the point of 
insanity. After two weeks he could take it no more. He had gone to his 
Lord with plans to ask that Lindir be assigned elsewhere. 
	“Why, Elrond? Why an assistant after all these centuries?” Erestor 
had asked with a pained expression on his face. “Are you suddenly 
displeased with my work? Do you think me too slow?” Erestor hated to 
think he had somehow let down his Lord.

	Elrond had hemmed and hawed and paced around a bit before 
finally telling Erestor the truth. “I value your service every day, Erestor. I 
could never have managed all these years without you.

	 “But I am at my wits end over what to do about Lindir. He has 
such a gift. I had expected him to eagerly accept membership in the 
Harper’s Guild, but he has finally convinced me that will never happen. I 
am afraid Lord Findal has something to do with his decision. Lindir puts 
up with the elf, but barely. I realize he can be a tyrant at times, but his bark 
is worse than his bite, and there is no other who can give Lindir the 
advanced instruction he needs. But truthfully, I cannot see Lindir thriving 
in Findal’s house. And of course, were he to join the guild he would have 
to make his home there. I could not make an exception to the rule. That 
would be unfair to the other minstrels. Yet, neither can I let Lindir wander 
the halls in idleness. 

	“Lindir is shy, but he is highly intelligent. You were his favorite 
tutor, and you both have a tremendous love for books. I had thought that 
he could help you with your research and seriously, Erestor, would it be so 
bad to have more time for yourself? 

	“I know you do not really need an assistant, but where else could I 
put the child? He needs to be around someone who can give him the love 
and attention he secretly craves. You hide behind your mask Erestor, but I 
know your heart. You will come to love Lindir as I do, and he will thrive 
under your influence. I am not asking you to give him any special 
considerations, but he desperately needs a friend right now, and I truly 
believe that you are the one who can penetrate his defenses. If you wish I 
will find another place for him, but I will be hard pressed to do so.”

	“He is not a child, Elrond,” Erestor had taken it upon himself to 
correct his Lord, “and it is not that I dislike him, it is just I have my own 
way of doing things. Lindir tries to help me but he knows so little about 
my methods. In the time it takes me to teach him, I could do the task three 
times over.  And his hovering drives me up the walls, so I get irritated and 
I end up hurting his feelings. Then I feel miserable, and…" 

	“It is alright, Erestor, I understand. I will talk with Lindir 
tomorrow and find him a place with someone else.” Elrond’s shoulders 
dropped a few inches as he turned away from the advisor. He had not 
expected it to work out, but he did not realize Erestor would come to him 
this quickly. /Maybe I should send Lindir to Lothlórien. Galadriel could 
use an assistant and would not treat the young Elf unkindly. / Not realizing 
he had voiced his thoughts, Elrond was therefore surprised at his advisor’s 
outburst.

      “You would send him away from the only home he has ever 
known? Do you not know how much he loves Imladris? Elrond, he will 
not understand. He will not understand at all.”

	And so Erestor had agreed to give Lindir another try. And now, 
looking back, he realized how much he had come to depend on the 
youngster. Perhaps they had not become such great friends as Elrond had 
predicted. Erestor cared for Lindir, but the white-haired Elf was so 
reserved that it was not easy to reach him. They were friends on the 
surface, but Erestor did not know of anyone to whom Lindir totally 
unburdened himself. He was close to Tebring, but they did not interact 
when Lindir was off duty. In fact, now that he thought about it, this was 
the first time that Lindir had approached him with any sort of personal 
problem. And here he was lost in thought, not listening to a word that the 
young Elf was saying. He forced himself back to the present.

	“What would you give, my Lord, if you had drawn his name? The 
men in Haldir’s story put such thought behind their gifts. But they were 
family and knew each other’s wants. I do not even know what Lord 
Glorfindel does in his spare time. What his interests are? His likes? His 
dislikes? What if I choose something that he hates? You know him so 
much better than I.” 

	“Give me some time to think about this,” Erestor told Lindir with a 
smile. “I will try to come up with a list. But Lindir, unless you look at this 
more realistically, you are not going to like anything I suggest. I still think 
you should talk to Haldir. I am sure he has received gifts from the 
guardians that are under him in rank. He should be able to help you come 
up with something appropriate. Just do not act like it is the end of the 
world when you speak with him. Bring this up in a normal conversation. 
Haldir will be more than willing to help you, trust me.” 

	Lindir was not too sure about that, but he had not come any closer 
to solving the problem by talking with Erestor. Maybe asking Haldir 
would not be so bad. He would just do like Erestor said; bring it up in a 
normal conversation. 

	“Thank you Erestor,” he said. “I think I will speak to Haldir. You 
would not by chance have an idea where he is?”

	“He was in Celebrían’s garden earlier. He took a book with him, so 
he is most likely reading. Go speak with him, Lindir. If he can not help 
you, come back here and we will put our heads together and see what we 
can come up with. Try not to worry so much about it. As I said before, 
Glorfindel will like anything that you choose.” Erestor chuckled. “Take a 
deep breath Lindir. The sun will still come up tomorrow. Now, I hope you 
do not mind me shooing you out, but I must finish my report.”

~~~~~ TBC  ~~~~~



Chapter 5: Little Bird


	The Elf of whom Lindir and Erestor had just been speaking was 
sitting on a bench in Celebrían’s garden reading a thick book. It was 
pleasant basking in the warm sunlight breathing in the heady scent of the 
spring blooms. In fact, it felt so good, Haldir was thinking about stretching 
out and taking a nap. He picked up the piece of ribbon he was using for a 
bookmark and placed it behind the last page he had read. He was just 
beginning to lie down when he sensed he was not alone. Turning, he saw 
Lindir standing behind him. The white-haired guardian looked upset. 
Haldir frowned; hoping the Elf did not bring bad tidings. “Is something 
amiss, Lindir? You look troubled.”

	“I am a bit tired, Haldir, but otherwise fine.” Lindir brushed a 
small insect away from his face. “I was wondering if we might talk? It is a 
beautiful day and we are both off duty. I just thought you might like some 
company. I mean, I know you do not visit Imladris that often, and I 
thought you might be a bit lonely. I do not mean that in a bad way. What I 
meant to say is that I realize that you do not have many friends here and I 
do not have anything to do at the moment, so I thought you might like, 
um, you might like to....” 

	Elbereth! Lindir thought. He could not even talk straight around 
the Marchwarden. He had just insulted Haldir by implying that the Lórien 
Elf did not have any friends. That was not what he meant at all. He 
wracked his brain trying to think of something to say that would smooth 
things over, but his mind seemed to have shut down. Haldir was looking at 
him with that irritating smirk on his face and it just made Lindir feel more 
intimidated. He should have known this was a bad idea. But he could not 
just walk away, Haldir would think there was something wrong with him. 
He was saved from any more distress when Haldir spoke.

	“Sit down, Lindir,” Haldir said, patting at the empty spot on the 
bench beside him. “It is pleasant here and you are right, I would appreciate 
some company. If I remember correctly, you have the rest of this week off. 
Tell me, what do you usually do in your spare time?” 

	Haldir took a closer look at the tall Elf. He knew somewhat of 
Lindir’s history from Glorfindel and Lady Galadriel, but had never had 
much interaction with the guardian. Now that Lindir had made an effort to 
approach him, Haldir saw him in a new light. Lindir was young, but highly 
attractive, and he definitely seemed like he could use some cheering up. 
Haldir did not have any specific plans for today, and the thought of 
spending time with a lovely Elf such as Lindir suddenly seemed very 
appealing. He looked up with a gleam in his eye.

	“You have said this is one of your favorite places, and it is quite 
fair. But from the sparkles in those blue eyes of yours when you speak of 
Imladris, it seems there are many treasures in this fair realm I have not yet 
tasted. You have lived here all your life, Lindir. Would you be willing to 
show me some of what I have been missing?” 
	
	Lindir became even more flustered. Was Haldir hinting at 
something? /Treasures that I have not yet tasted? / Was that an 
implication of something more than friendly companionship? Lindir felt a 
lump begin to form in his throat. The minstrel knew that Haldir had 
somewhat of a reputation in Lórien. There was talk among the Imladris 
guardians that the Marchwarden’s bed was rarely empty, but surely Haldir 
had some other meaning behind his words. He certainly would not be 
interested in Lindir in that way! Glorfindel had been in his thoughts so 
much lately, that he was putting too much meaning behind things that 
others said. 

	“Lindir?” Haldir spoke softly. “Are you sure you are alright?” 
Lindir didn’t appear to have heard a word that he said. The Elf had a 
strange look on his face and his eyes were completely blank, almost as if 
he were in reverie. “Lindir?” 

	Lindir jumped, then looked down at the Marchwarden. “Sorry, 
Haldir, I was thinking about what you said and I guess I started 
daydreaming. “What do I do in my spare time? Well, I ...?" Lindir could 
not think of anything in reply. What was it Haldir had asked him? He 
could not remember. The restless nights and lack of sleep were finally 
catching up with him. He was so tired he just could not think straight.

	 “I am sorry, Haldir, I forgot your question,” Lindir sighed, 
wishing he were anywhere else but where he was. “I have not been 
sleeping well, and I think it has all just caught up with me. Perhaps it 
would be best if I just retired to my room and took a nap.” Lindir gave 
Haldir what he hoped was an apologetic smile. 

	But the Marchwarden was not buying his excuse. Haldir had too 
much experience too be fooled by Lindir’s words. “I think you have a 
problem, aier (1), and it is something that has been bothering you for quite 
awhile. Perhaps it would help if you talk about it? I am a good listener, 
and have two brothers at home who come to me all the time for advice. I 
have not let them down yet. Want to give me a try? 

	“Better yet, why do I not go to the kitchen and find us something 
to eat. We can sit by the falls and have lunch while we talk. It will do us 
both good to be outdoors in such a lovely setting on such a fine day. In 
fact, I will not take no for an answer. Wait here, it will not take me a 
minute to get things together. Amin aluva rato!” (2).

	Wondering what he had gotten himself into this time, Lindir took a 
seat on the bench and watched as Haldir hurried off in the direction of the 
kitchen. Why did everything always have to be so complicated, he 
wondered. All he wanted was to have a simple conversation with the 
Lórien Elf, but then he had to go and act like a complete fool. Erestor had 
warned him not to make a big deal about this, and he had managed to blow 
things all out of proportion before Haldir was even aware of what was 
truly bothering him. And from the way Haldir was reacting, one would 
think Lindir had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Well, if Haldir 
was as good as he implied, maybe, Lindir thought, my worries will soon 
be over.

	True to his word, Haldir appeared shortly with all the makings for 
a picnic. Apparently he had used his charms on the kitchen staff, for 
Lindir could smell the delicious aroma of fresh baked bread and some type 
of sweet dessert. Peeking out from the corner of the basket were the necks 
of two bottles of wine. Two? Could they really drink that much in one 
sitting? Maybe Haldir did have something else on his mind besides 
listening to Lindir’s troubles? Lindir sincerely hoped he was mistaken. He 
liked the silver-haired warrior, but not in that way. Those feelings he 
reserved for another.

	It did not take long to reach the falls, and Lindir realized that 
Haldir could not have picked a more pleasing spot. The sky was a brilliant 
blue overhead, and the fine mist from the falling water felt wonderfully 
cool on his sun-warmed skin. He idly watched his newfound companion as 
he spread the picnic blanket on the ground. Haldir was not as slim as his 
golden idol, but the fine play of muscles under the tightly stretched fabric 
of Haldir’s tunic reminded him of his love. So did the long silky tresses 
that brushed gently against the Elf’s back to fall past his waist, although 
Haldir’s locks were silver to Glorfindel’s gold. Erestor was right. The two 
were alike in many ways. 

	Lindir’s eyes turned inward as he thought about the object of his 
desire. Glorfindel was fair as the finest porcelain. Tall, straight-
shouldered, he walked like a king, with head held high. His was a 
commanding presence, but unlike Haldir, Glorfindel’s normal expression 
was one of warmth, light, and strange as it may seem, innocence. For at 
first glance, his sky-blue eyes seemed guileless, like those of a child. But 
hidden beneath the seeming wide-eyed innocence, was a mind sharp as a 
whip. For Glorfindel had lived a long time in this world. Two lifetimes, in 
fact, and he had seen and learned much. 

	Lindir was so lost in thought that he missed the look that crossed 
Haldir’s face. In fact, he had totally forgotten about the Marchwarden, 
until he felt a hand gently grasp his shoulder. Warm hazel eyes peered into 
his own blue as Haldir moved closer. “Where have you been, lirimaer (3)? 
In what dream have you lost yourself?” Haldir’s fingers brushed a stray 
lock of white hair from Lindir’s cheek. “Come, my little bird, let us sit and 
eat. I do not want this good food to go to waste, and you need something 
in your stomach to hold you to the ground.” Haldir laughed softly, then 
reached for Lindir’s hand and led him to the blanket, motioning for him to 
sit.

	With practiced efficiency Haldir invaded the basket and soon a 
delectable assortment of fresh sliced fruit, soft cheese, warm bread, and 
crusty pastry was artfully arranged on a large plate. He set the plate down 
and again reached into the basket to remove two glasses into which he 
poured a clear white wine. Handing one of the glasses to Lindir and one to 
himself, he took a deep breath and began to sing. The song was an old one 
that spoke of delightful summer days, clear sparkling water, and laughing 
elves. Haldir had a deep pleasing voice, and Lindir could not help but add 
his own sweet notes in accompaniment. They had finished the fourth verse 
when Lindir noticed that Haldir had quit singing. “Why did you quit?” 
Lindir asked.

	 “Would you pair a crow with a nightingale?” Haldir replied. “You 
have a beautiful voice, Lindir. It puts mine to shame. I would that I could 
bottle the sound to have it with me always.”

      Lindir blushed at the compliment. “There is nothing wrong with 
your voice,” Haldir,” the minstrel said shyly. “I enjoyed singing with 
you.” 

	“Well, It served my purpose anyway.” Haldir said as he picked up 
a piece of fruit. “You are in a much better mood! You have a lovely smile 
as well as a pretty voice. But if you do not eat, I will think you do not 
enjoy my company.” He lifted the fruit to Lindir’s lips and watched as the 
white-haired Elf took a dainty bite. Haldir noted the flushed cheeks and 
the silver glitter in Lindir’s blue eyes. He loved the feel of Lindir’s lips as 
they touched his fingers ever so lightly. Lindir had a delicate beauty. His 
pale hair framed flawless white skin that was tinted a slight pink on his 
cheeks and petal-shaped lips. He was tall and willowy, with the grace and 
lithe moves of a dancer, yet there was an aura of innocence about him that 
made Haldir want to embrace and protect him. But it was a false image, 
for underlying this frailty were the muscle and sinew of a warrior. Lindir 
might only be a part-time guardian, but he kept himself in shape with daily 
exercise. And it showed. Such an enticing being, Haldir thought, then 
sighed. It was obvious that Lindir did not have the slightest interest in the 
Marchwarden. 

	 Haldir knew this one was not the type to play around. Lindir was 
waiting for someone to claim his heart. He was saving himself for the one 
that wanted him forever. Haldir knew that whomever it was, they would 
be very lucky. For Lindir was indeed special. Gentle, honest, with a large 
capacity for giving. He was one who would give his all to his lover and 
expect nothing in return. Haldir wondered who held his eye, for it was 
obvious that Lindir was in love, just not obvious who with.

	But in addition to his heart, Haldir sensed there was something else 
that was truly bothering his lovely friend. Lindir reminded Haldir of a 
little bird who would tuck his head under his wing to hide from the world. 
Haldir wanted to be the one who would comfort the bird and let him soar 
free. But first, he had to figure out what it was that had Lindir so upset. He 
had to get him relaxed enough to talk. And as shy as Lindir was, it was not 
going to be easy.

	What troubles you, little bird? Haldir wondered once again, as he 
and Lindir had finished their lunch and were leaning back looking up at 
the sky. He had tried to draw Lindir out while they were eating, but the 
poor Elf seemed to resist every attempt Haldir made. Lindir had stuttered 
and mumbled throughout the whole conversation. It was obvious Lindir 
was frightened of him, and he idly wondered why. He had tried to be as 
gentle as possible with the minstrel, but it only seemed to increase his fear. 
Haldir finally decided that honesty was the only thing left to try.

	“Lindir, can I ask you a personal question?” Haldir asked softly.

	 Lindir looked at him with a worried expression on his face. “What 
is it that you wish to know?” he whispered.

	Haldir reached out and covered Lindir’s hands with his own. He 
could feel the trembles that Lindir was desperately trying to control. “Do I 
frighten you?” Haldir inquired.”
 
	“N-no, y-yes.” Lindir managed to reply. “I-I mean, I am not scared 
of you, but I am not sure what you want from me. I am afraid you want 
more than I am willing to give.” 

	“I would love to have you, Lirimaer, for though you might not 
think so, you are beautiful. But I do not think that I could give you my 
heart, and that is what you would require. No more, no less. And if I am 
not mistaken, I believe someone has already laid claim to yours. Who 
claims your heart, Lindir? Can you tell me? For I sense that I never had a 
chance.”

	Lindir’s eyes had grown wide with surprise, and his trembling had 
increased to the point that he was visibly shaking. But before he had a 
chance to answer Haldir’s heartfelt question, a shadow fell across the 
blanket and both elves looked up into a pair of laughing blue eyes.

	“So, what am I interrupting, Marchwarden, Minstrel? Do we have 
a little love nest here in the grass? Or are you just enjoying the attributes 
of this fine day as I am?” Glorfindel laughed as he gazed down at the faces 
of the two surprised Elves below him. 

	Haldir was the first to recover. “Nay, golden one, we were just 
partaking of a little friendship and food. You are welcome to join us if you 
like. We have eaten our fill, and have a bit left over. It will not fill your 
belly, but we do have enough wine for three to share. I am sure my 
companion will not mind another presence at our outdoor table.”

	 Haldir glanced over at Lindir expecting to see him smile in 
acquiescence, and was shocked to see that Lindir had turned an amazing 
shade of red and was gazing at the blanket as if he wished it to be over his 
head. Glorfindel, thankfully, was completely oblivious of Lindir’s state, 
and was looking at Haldir with an amused grin on his face, delighted at 
having the chance to tease his friend.

	Haldir quickly put two and two together and realized that he 
already had the answer to the question he had asked Lindir. So Lindir 
loved his golden-haired friend. It was obvious from the look on Lindir’s 
face. And... Haldir grinned to himself, also obvious that Lindir had not 
been bold enough to let Glorfindel in on his feelings. Hmm, this was quite 
interesting. Glorfindel, to his knowledge had no current lover. In fact, had 
not for a long time. Haldir just might have to take on the roll of 
matchmaker. For if he left these two to their own devices, Haldir knew, 
absolutely nothing would happen! For now, he would not let this golden 
opportunity pass, and he swiftly cleared a spot on the blanket, motioning 
to his long-time friend to join them. 

	“You are just what we need to spice up our party, my friend. 
Come, you need a few glasses of wine to catch up with us. If Lindir will 
pass me that wine bottle, I will let you have my glass. It will not take me 
but a minute to run to the kitchen to fetch another. Don’t you two get too 
comfortable while I am gone.” And with that he rose gracefully to his feet 
and took off across the grass.
 
	Lindir watched mortified as Glorfindel sat down gracefully next to 
Haldir on the blanket. At least Haldir had kept his Lord occupied long 
enough for the blush to leave Lindir’s face. But now the Marchwarden had 
left the two of them alone, and Elbereth knew what Glorfindel had seen 
and heard of the exchange between him and Haldir.

	“My Lord.” Lindir nodded his head at the glowing blond sitting 
across from him.

      Glorfindel emitted a laugh. “You can drop my title for today, 
Lindir. Just plain Glorfindel will do.” And with that he reached over and 
grabbed Lindir’s wrist, pulling him closer until Lindir’s face was inches 
from his own.

	“I fear my friend has found a new toy. Are you sure you are up to 
his charms, Lindir?” Glorfindel’s blue eyes roamed over Lindir’s body as 
if he was lying naked before him. “I can see what interests Haldir, but do 
you know what you are setting yourself up for, mellonamin (4)? I hope so, 
for I would hate to see your heart broken into tiny pieces. What Haldir 
wants, he usually gets. Do you think you can handle him, Lindir? I fear in 
your youth you may be making a mistake. Haldir lays claim to no one, and 
you are not the one to tame him, I fear.”

	Blood again suffused Lindir’s face as he stared in shock at the face 
before him. “You-you have it all wrong,” he stammered. “I do not want 
Haldir. He seemed lonely and I offered my company for today. It was 
Haldir’s idea for the picnic. What you saw was not what it seemed. We-we 
are just friends.”

	Glorfindel smiled inwardly at the youngster. No matter how much 
he denied it, Glorfindel had seen the loving gestures between the two. He 
was surprised at Haldir’s choice of one so innocent, his friend’s taste 
usually ran to those with much more experience. But he supposed there 
was a first time for everything. He only hoped that Lindir did not get hurt 
in the process. It was obvious that the minstrel was hooked, for Glorfindel 
had seen the love shining in his eyes. Perhaps he could help out the young 
guardian. He would have a talk with Haldir later on and find out what his 
intentions were.

	Glorfindel released Lindir’s wrist to pour himself a glass of wine. 
Straightening up, he took a sip then ran his tongue over his lips. “Mmm,” 
he said, “this is very good. Hand me your glass, Lindir and I will pour you 
some more.” Lindir handed over his glass and watched his love as he filled 
it almost to the brim then passed it back to Lindir. “If you do not mind I 
will help myself to some of your left-overs,” the older Elf said. He swiped 
a fruit-filled pastry from the plate and popped it into his mouth. 

	“So, Lindir, other than seducing my long-time friend, what do you 
plan to do with the rest of your off time?” the golden-haired beauty asked. 
“Will you sneak off by yourself to a private glade and compose one of 
those lovely songs you are always singing? You are quite good, you know. 
I have always wondered why you did not join the Harper’s guild. The 
guard is not a place for someone with talent such as yours.”

	Tears welled in Lindir’s eyes as the words left Glorfindel’s mouth. 
He knew the warrior had not wanted him in the guard, but he thought that 
his many years of service might have accounted for something. Obviously 
not, as his commander still thought he belonged elsewhere. That hurt. Not 
to mention, that now his Lord thought he was chasing after Haldir like a 
common whore. Love or not, Glorfindel did not have the right to talk to 
him this way. As unwanted tears rolled slowly down Lindir’s cheeks, his 
heart filled with anger at the injustice of the hurtful words. Rising to his 
feet his eyes flashing fire, Lindir told his secret love just what he thought 
of him at the moment.

	“I am not a common whore who lusts after anything in tight 
leggings. And I have given years of dedicated service protecting Lord 
Elrond’s realm. I may not be the best, but I did win third prize in the 
archery contest last year. Tebring says I am quite good, and is glad to have 
me as his partner. I can shoot six arrows a minute and I have killed more 
than my share of Orcs. Why you cannot give me the same consideration as 
others under your command, I will never know. What is it you think I 
lack? My hands are not soft. I have calluses from both bow and harp. They 
are thick, tough. I am not a novice. Even Haldir thinks I am capable, and 
he is a Marchwarden. What have I ever done to you that you despise me 
so?”

	And with that Lindir turned and ran back towards the Last Homely 
House. How could he ever face Glorfindel again? He had not meant to 
lose control, but too much had happened this day. He wanted to die. He 
had just made a total fool of himself in front of the one person he wanted 
so badly to impress. Lindir had every intention of locking himself in his 
room and staying there forever. His eyes blurry from falling tears, he did 
not see the other Elf until he ran right into him. 

	“Lindir,” Haldir cried, grabbing the sobbing Elf’s arm in a tight 
grip. “What is wrong, Why are you crying?”

~~~~~ TBC  ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. aier - little one
2. Amin aluva rato! - I will see you in a moment!
3. lirimaer - lovely one
4. mellonamin - my friend



Chapter 6: Confessions


      Glorfindel sat stunned as Lindir shouted at him. What had he said 
that had upset the Elf so? But before he could utter a word in defense, 
Lindir had run off. The ancient warrior silently replayed the conversation 
back in his mind. He had complimented Lindir on his music and simply 
asked him what he planned to do on his holiday. Maybe he was wrong to 
say what he did about Lindir and Haldir, but he was only teasing, and after 
all, the two had been close to a kiss when he interrupted them earlier.

      And wherever did Lindir get the idea that Glorfindel thought he 
was an incompetent guardian? Of course, he would prefer to have Lindir 
serve full-time, but Elrond was adamant that Lindir keep up with his 
music. The Elf had so much talent it would be a shame for him to turn it 
aside. And he most definitely did not hate Lindir. How could anyone hate 
Lindir? Lindir was, well, just Lindir. Everyone liked him.

      Something else was bothering the Elf and Glorfindel guessed he 
had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps Lindir was 
overworked, doing too much. He would talk with Erestor and see if they 
could work out a schedule to give Lindir more time off. Maybe what he 
needed was a long rest. If need be, Glorfindel could give him an extra 
week off duty. Or, better yet, if he was so enamored of Haldir, maybe he 
should ask Elrond if Lindir could spend a few weeks in Lothlórien. That 
way he could spend some time with his lover. If there was ever a way to 
cure melancholy, that would be it. Yes, that was just what Lindir needed. 
He would go see Elrond tonight after dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      Back at the Last Homely House, the last thing that Lindir wanted 
right now was to talk to Haldir. He was so ashamed of himself that he just 
wanted to lay down on his bed and cry. But the Lórien Elf's grip was 
strong and Lindir could not tear himself away.

      "What happened, Lindir? Talk to me," Haldir insisted, shaking 
Lindir slightly in his emotion. "Did something happen between you and 
Glorfindel? Did he hurt you?"

      "I can not talk to you now, Haldir. I have just made a complete 
fool of myself. I lost control in front of Lord Glorfindel, and I will never 
be able to face him again, and I have dragged you into the middle of it, 
and now you will think me the fool also. Please, Haldir, please just leave 
me alone." In his agony, Lindir was pleading, begging the Marchwarden. 
He truly just wanted to be by himself. If only Haldir would understand.

      "Calm yourself, Lindir. I do not think you a fool." He led the other 
Elf over to a bench and made Lindir sit down. Placing the wineglass on 
the ground, he sat down next to his friend and placed his arms around him. 
"Start at the beginning, pen-neth (1). Tell me what happened. I will not 
think less of you." Haldir wiped a tear off Lindir's cheek, then pushed a 
stray lock of white hair from his face, tucking it behind one ear. Placing 
his hand under Lindir's chin, he turned the dejected Elf's face to his until 
Lindir could not help but look directly into Haldir's hazel eyes. What the 
minstrel saw was kindness and compassion. "We have all had bad 
moments, Lindir, you just have to learn to overcome them. It will help if 
you talk this out. Keeping something inside just makes it worse. Let it out, 
Lindir, talk to me."

      There was not much that Lindir could do. He might as well tell 
Haldir the whole story. Taking a deep breath, he started from the very 
beginning, telling Haldir about drawing Glorfindel's name, his talk with 
Erestor, and the main reason why he sought Haldir out in the first place.

      "I only wanted to ask your advice as to what I could give for my 
gift," Lindir said with a sigh. "But everything has just gone so wrong 
today. Haldir, every day I try hard to fit in, but I feel a stranger in my own 
home. Did you know Glorfindel did not want me to become a guardian? I 
had to beg Lord Elrond to make him take me. Everyone thought me frail, 
weak. I needed to prove them otherwise. Can you understand that? That is 
not the only reason, though. I love Imladris. It is the only home that I 
know. I wanted to do my part to protect it. It is just that no one thought me 
capable. I truly thought after all these years that I had proved them wrong. 
But when Glorfindel told me he could not understand why I did not quit 
the guard and become a full time minstrel, it hurt. It is like all the training 
I went through, all the time I spent on patrol was meaningless to him, and 
I guess because I knew he did not want me, I tried harder than most to 
please him.

      "And so I lost control, Haldir. I told him that his words hurt me. I 
told him I could not understand why he treated me differently from 
everyone else, why he hated me. I told him that I thought I had served well 
as a guardian. And the worst part, Haldir, was that after I was through, he 
did not say anything. I wanted him to deny it. I wanted him to tell me that 
I was worthy; that it had not all been in vain; but he did not. He just 
looked at me as if I was a fool. And that is what he thinks I am. It is what 
he has always thought of me. And I cried, Haldir. The whole time I 
screamed at him, I cried. I am no better than an Elfling. I am weak, I *am* 
what they say."

      Lindir had exhausted all his tears. He spoke to Haldir in a voice so 
heavy with despair, that Haldir's heart almost broke. Lindir's problem was 
one of lack of self-esteem, unusual in one of the Firstborn, but one saw it 
occasionally. Haldir thought back to what Galadriel had told him. Lindir 
had lost his parents, and had been given a home at Imladris through the 
generosity of Lord Elrond. Not unusual, for the Last Homely House was 
built as a haven for all kind. But Lindir's unique heritage was such that he 
was treated differently from the other orphaned Elflings. He had noble 
blood in his veins, and it would not be fitting for him to take on a role of 
servitude. So he was raised in the manor itself, but was not actually a 
fostered son. Unfortunately, his role models as he was growing up, were 
some of the most respected and oldest Elves on Arda. The young Elf could 
never hope to reach the heights they had attained, not without a few 
millennia of experience under his belt. But Lindir did not take this into 
account. Compared to them, he felt he was a complete and utter failure. 
Haldir was going to have to find a way to boost his self-esteem. But it 
could not be done in a day. However, there was no time like the present to 
start. 

      "Lindir, is it possible you could have mistaken Glorfindel's 
meaning? I do not think even Lord Elrond would let you stay in the ranks 
as long as you have if you were not competent. Let me ask you something, 
Lindir. Do you trust me?"

      Lindir nodded. He did trust Haldir. If the Marchwarden of 
Lothlórien was known for anything other than his romantic involvements, 
it was for his unswerving loyalty and honesty.

      "If I offer to spar with you, to test your capabilities, would you 
trust my judgment of your skill? I may not hold as high a rank as Lord 
Glorfindel, but I have the confidence of my Lord and Lady that I am a 
skilled warrior and leader. I will be honest with you, Lindir. If I think you 
are lacking, I will not hesitate to tell you so, even if I have to hurt your 
feelings. Would you agree to such a test? Would that put your mind at 
ease?"

      Lindir did not have to think too long. What Haldir was offering 
was a chance to prove himself, and Lindir was ready to take that chance, if 
to prove to none other than Haldir that he was of worth. "If you do not 
mind, Haldir, I will take you up on your offer. I promise not to be upset by 
your decision, whichever way it goes. I owe it to myself."

      "Meet me at the training field in two hours, Lindir. That should 
give both of us enough time to change, ready our weapons, and get a little 
rest. I have confidence in you, mellonamin (2), I am sure you will do fine. 
Two hours, I will see you then. And, Lindir," Haldir smiled gently at the 
teary-eyed youngster, "Do not worry about the gift. I will help you choose 
something tomorrow."

      Haldir watched as Lindir headed off to his room. When he was 
sure the other Elf had gone, he headed back to the falls to find Glorfindel. 
He was sure his friend was wondering what had kept him so long, and 
knowing the seneschal, he probably needed someone to confide in also.

      The lanky blond was still sitting on the blanket, lost in thought, 
absent-mindedly sipping from his wineglass. He gave Haldir a quizzical 
look as the other sat heavily down beside him. "Did you see Lindir, 
Haldir? I have upset him somehow, and in turn, spoiled your afternoon 
plans."

      "Aye, Glorfindel, I saw him, and yes, he was upset. But mostly 
because he felt he had acted a fool in front of you. You are right, at the 
moment he is overly sensitive, and doubts his self-worth. He is under the 
impression you think him a failure and believe he has no skill. Is it true 
that you tried to persuade him from joining the guard?"


      Glorfindel sighed. "It is true, Haldir, but it was a long time ago. 
Lindir was extremely young, and even then, had an unbelievable gift for 
music. His fingers would fly over the harp and the sounds that he forced 
from the instrument were almost as the music of the Ainur. He had more 
talent at his tender age than many that had been at it for centuries. The 
head of the Harper's Guild was enraged that we would even consider 
putting Lindir in a position where he would be susceptible to injury. For if 
Lindir lost the use of his fingers or hand, he would not be able to play. For 
someone blessed with such skill, it would be devastating.

      "But Lindir was stubborn. He did not want to join the Harper's 
Guild. He threatened to leave Imladris and live on his own if Elrond made 
him. He wanted to be a guardian. You had to have seen him back then, 
Haldir. There was not a firm muscle in his body, and his hands were soft 
as a mother's breast. He could barely lift a practice sword, much less wield 
one. He would not have lasted ten minutes in a training class. I would not 
let anyone begin training in that condition and I told him so.

      "Lindir did not speak to me for weeks. Unbeknownst to anyone, he 
would wake hours before dawn and run as fast as he could through the 
forest. He stole a practice sword from storage and searched the library for 
books on how to fight, sneaking away to try what he read. He did this for 
five years. Then one day he strode into Lord Elrond's office and demanded 
to be allowed to demonstrate his skill. He would not take "no" for an 
answer. Elrond somehow got me to agree to test him, and I had to admit 
the young Elf had come a long way. I did not tell Lindir that, reserving my 
judgment until I talked with my Lord.

      "But Lord Findal found out about the demonstration and was 
furious. He threatened to stop Lindir's music instruction if Lord Elrond 
allowed Lindir into a training class. So I was the one who had to tell 
Lindir for a second time that I did not want him. It was not an easy thing 
to do, and the disappointment in Lindir's eyes was heartbreaking.

      "I thought that would be the end of it then, but Lindir carried out 
his threat. He packed all his belongings and ran away that night. One of 
my patrols found him three days later. He had been attacked by Orcs and 
managed to kill five of them on his own before being rescued. He had 
taken two arrows to his shoulder and was unconscious by the time they 
brought him back to the Last Homely House. His injuries were not life 
threatening, and he was alert and responsive the next day, but he would 
not speak. He was angry with everyone, especially me, and took it out on 
us with his silence.

      "He held his tongue until one day Lady Galadriel came to visit. 
She sat with him for hours, and finally reached him with mind speak. She 
told him that she would see that Lord Elrond granted his wish. True to her 
words, she approached our Lord on Lindir's behalf, and when Lindir was 
recovered from his wounds, I was instructed to let him begin training. 
Lord Findal had reluctantly agreed to a compromise. Lindir was allowed 
to train as long as he continued with his music.

      "And he did well, Haldir. He was tall, so his long reach gave him 
advantage with the sword. Plus, he had the natural grace of a dancer, and 
what is the use of the sword, but dance. But it was at archery that he really 
excelled. He used to laugh and say he could play his bowstring like a harp, 
and it was true. His eyesight was exceptionally keen, and once he 
mastered the technique, it was rare that he missed his target. Knives were 
another matter. Even to this day, they are not his favorite, but he manages 
them well enough.

      "Aye, Haldir, Lindir has much skill. But Lord Findal and I stick to 
our agreement. Lindir must still devote as much time to his musical study 
as he does to Imladris' protection. Were he full time, I would have raised 
his rank long ago. But I can not play favorites. I have no part-time 
officers. That would be unfair to those who devote their life to the career."

      "I understand your situation, my friend," Haldir replied, as he 
thought about all that Glorfindel had said. "But perhaps I am not the one 
who needs to hear these words. Lindir is under the impression that you 
never wanted him, and that you think his hard work wasted. Have you 
never complimented him on his skill? Do you still fear to play favorite?" 
Haldir did not think his friend capable of such a trait, but he had to ask.

      "I give credit where credit is due," Glorfindel growled. "I would 
not be a good leader if I did not. Just last year Lindir placed third in the 
archery tournament. If you remember, friend, it was you who won top 
prize. I believe Lindir could have made second if the wind had not given 
him an unlucky break. I was generous in my praise, but Lindir acted as if 
he did not hear my words. But aside from contests, Lindir has done more 
than earn his place. He is steadfast, true, loyal. He is one of us, though he 
believes differently. I have tried to tell him so. 
      

      "I think there is more to his outburst today than meets the eye. You 
do know he has feelings for you, Haldir. I have seen it in his face. He is in 
love, mellonamin (2). It is you who holds his heart, and I am afraid he 
wants more than you are willing to give him. Am I not correct in this?"

      "Ah, Glorfindel, Lindir is in love all right, but not with me," Haldir 
said a little sadly. "He is lovely, though, is he not? I know not who is the 
object of his desire, for he keeps it well hidden. But when, or if, I ever 
meet the one who is the other half of my soul, I would hope they be 
somewhat like Lindir. He suffers from a lack of self-confidence, and is 
painfully shy, but there are not many that are so good-hearted. He is a 
treasure, that one."

      "Well, that messes up my plan," Glorfindel grinned. "I was 
prepared to ask Lord Elrond tonight if Lindir could spend some time with 
you in Lothlórien. I figured a few weeks with his lover would cure his ills. 
But now you tell me that you two are not on those terms. You could have 
fooled me this afternoon, though. I saw the look on your faces, and if that 
is not love, then what?"

      "I must admit I lust after him," Haldir laughed. "Who could resist 
such innocence and beauty. But, alas, I am afraid you must rethink your 
plan. If you ask me, it would be more to his benefit if he were to spend 
more time with you."

      "With me!" Glorfindel looked at his friend like he had fallen from 
a tree. "I am the last person he wants to see right now. Am I not the one 
that he just finished venting his anger upon? Elbereth, Haldir, I would 
have thought you had more sense than to suggest something like that."

      Haldir leaned over and looked his friend straight in the eye. "In 
about an hour and a half, Glorfindel, Lindir is going to spar with me. He 
requested that I judge his skill, and has agreed to take my judgment to 
heart, no matter what the result. He is deadly serious on this matter, and 
will quit the guard if I tell him he is not worthy. We are not using practice 
weapons, by the way. It was one of his terms. It might do him some good 
if you were to be there. He much values your opinion. It would mean so 
much more to hear he did well coming from your lips than mine."

      "Does my opinion truly matter so much to him, Haldir?" 
Glorfindel asked, his face full of concern. Are you sure you have not 
misjudged where his feelings lie? I did see love in Lindir's eyes today. Of 
that I am not mistaken. You are a creature of beauty, Haldir. There are 
many that long for your touch. Lindir, I am sure is not immune to your 
charm."

      Haldir laughed. "Why are you so sure that it is I that Lindir 
desires? I was not the only one present this morning. You are yourself the 
object of many eyes, what with your long gilded tresses and sea blue eyes. 
Aye, you are right that Lindir is in love. Perhaps it is you that he pines 
for?"

      Glorfindel shook his head. "Now my friend, I know you have lost 
your mind. If anything, Lindir avoids me. In fact," Glorfindel admitted 
sheepishly, "I sought to give him advice concerning yourself earlier and he 
shrank from my touch. Besides, if I were the object of his affections, 
would he not have told me? Surely, my friend, you jest!"

      /Ah, you are hopeless, Glorfindel. You cannot see what is right 
under your nose. The Elf longs for you and you treat him like a child. One 
word from you would have him melting at your feet, and you cannot even 
give him that. Yes, you have complimented him, but always to someone 
else, never to Lindir. That is all he asks of you, that you acknowledge that 
he exists. /

      "Be there for him this afternoon, Glorfindel. If not for him, do it 
for me. If you truly believe what you have just told me, tell it to Lindir. 
That is all he wants from you, your approval. Is it so hard to give it to 
him? It does no good for me to tell him what you think; he does not 
believe me. He needs to hear the words from your mouth. Give him that 
small thing, Glorfindel."

      "If it is so important to you, Haldir, I will be there. I think you are 
mistaken though. After his harsh words today, I believe I am the last Elf 
that Lindir would wish to see. It is not everyday that a guardian confronts 
his Commanding Officer. I made the same mistake once with  Gil-Galad, 
and wished to crawl into the ground afterwards."

      /Tell him that, you fool! Why is it that you can say these things to 
me and be so blind as far as Lindir is concerned? /

      "We meet at the practice fields. I am going to bring these supplies 
back to the kitchen, and I will take that second bottle of wine with me. I 
want you to be sober when you talk with Lindir. Do not belittle this, 
Glorfindel. It means a lot to Lindir." And with that, Haldir began to pick 
up that which he had brought out for the picnic.

      Glorfindel stretched and helped his friend pack the basket. Then, 
lost in thought, he ambled back to the Last Homely House. He would meet 
the two this afternoon, but against his better judgment. He sighed. How 
did he get himself into these situations? Lindir in love with me? Ha, Haldir 
is a fool! The pretty musician goes out of his way to avoid me at all costs. 
Haldir could be so obtuse at times. It was the Marchwarden that had 
caught Lindir's eye, and if Haldir hurt his guardian, Glorfindel would see 
to it that the silver-haired warrior spent the rest of his days patrolling the 
black gates of Mordor.

~~~~~ TBC  ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1.	pen-neth - young one
2.	mellonamin - my friend 



Chapter 7: The Lords of the Dance 


	A circle was drawn in the dirt. Tunics were removed and weapons 
unsheathed, the blades of the swords shining like silver in the sun. A line 
was drawn in the middle of the circle and a sword placed on either side, 
blades facing outward, hilts aligned in opposite direction. The two 
warriors stretched, bended, and twisted supple limbs, making sure their 
tight muscles would be limber enough to withstand injury. When both 
were finished with the warm-up, they crossed the line and stood face to 
face in the center of the circle. Arms were clasped in a warrior's 
handshake, as both raised their voices to the sky in an age-old song. When 
the last note died, each took one step back and on a count of three picked 
up their sword. The dance began. 

	Neither said a word as the two took the customary stance of 
experienced fighters, each circling the other waiting to see who would 
make the first move. Haldir attempted a simple lunge, his thrust easily 
blocked by a parry from Lindir. They continued to circle slowly, eyes 
locked, knees bent, bodies balanced on the balls of their feet. The dance 
picked up speed. Soon the clash of metal, an occasional grunt, and the 
glide of soft leather across the dirt were the only sounds in the small 
clearing. The two warriors twisted, turned, spun, lunged in a choreograph 
of familiar practiced moves. Haldir was surprised at the skill of the white-
haired Elf. He had been taught well. He was good, extremely good. The 
Marchwarden’s scowl soon turned to a smile as he began to enjoy the 
challenge. The look was mirrored on the face of the other. Then Haldir 
began a more intricate dance, wanting to see just how much his opponent 
could handle. Soon feet and blades were flying. Silver hair merged with 
white in a tantalizing swirl of arms, legs, dust, and flashing steel. The 
dance continued. 

	Clouds moved to block the sun at the same time a figure stepped 
out from where he had been watching hidden in the trees. Glorfindel knew 
that Lindir was a reputable swordsman, he had seen him at practice. But 
either he held back during his daily sparring with Tebring, or Haldir 
brought out the best in him, for Lindir was holding his own with every 
move the silver-haired warrior made. And of Haldir's skill, there was no 
doubt. They had been going at it for quite a while now and both were 
drenched, sweat running in rivulets down their chests, the front of their 
leggings dark and damp. 

	“Daro!” (1) Glorfindel’s voice rang out loudly. Both warriors 
ground to a halt at the sharply spoken word. Weapons were lowered and 
placed on the ground as each stood bent slightly and panting. Two heads 
turned to look at the speaker. The faces of both Elves were flushed and 
covered with sweat-streaked dust. Wet tendrils of hair clung to their 
cheeks, forehead, and back. Almost in tandem, two arms reached upwards 
to sweep heavy locks up and away. They laughed at their mirrored motion. 

	“Take a break, get some water. I have a skin over by that tree. You 
can sit for a while, Haldir. I will take up the sword against Lindir for the 
next round,” Glorfindel spoke in a quieter voice. 

	“I hardly think that is fair, Megiltura (2), as you are fresh-faced, 
and Lindir has been going at it for some time now,” Haldir chided. “So, 
seneschal, what did you think?” 
      Lindir turned to look at his commander, a stony expression in his 
blue eyes.

	Glorfindel looked down at the ground. “You are the judge of this 
contest, Haldir. I will give my opinion after all three phases are over. But I 
believe the agreement between you and Lindir was that your say was the 
final word.” With that he stood up and removed his tunic, then walked 
over and grabbed his scabbard from where it was leaning against a tree 
trunk. Unsheathing his sword he began a series of slow practice moves 
designed to limber his muscles. Lindir watched him as he danced in slow 
motion. 

	“You told him of this?” Lindir turned and spoke angrily to Haldir. 
“Why?” 

	“It is his opinion that matters most, is it not, Lindir?”, Haldir 
returned calmly. “While Glorfindel trusts my words, I think both of you 
would feel better if he saw the evidence with his own eyes. We all take 
things for granted sometimes, even as commanders. Plus we cannot watch 
everyone under our command on a daily basis. Has he never questioned 
you about your sparring partner? He would trust you to be honest in your 
evaluation.”

	“Aye,” Lindir said. “He has asked, and I have never had reason to 
fault Tebring. We know our lives may one day depend upon the other. I 
guess I have never thought about the reason behind the method before. 
How did you think I did, Haldir?” 

	“How do *you* think you did, Lindir?” Haldir reversed the 
question.

 	 Lindir grinned. “I kept up with you, did I not?”

	“You have nothing to worry about, hallaer (2). There is nothing 
wrong with your form. I would take one with your skill into the Lórien 
guard without hesitation; would take you now if I thought I could lure you 
away. We will continue this farce for Glorfindel’s sake, but I think you 
have your answer. You had best get up now, before your muscles tighten. I 
think your partner is ready for you.”

	Again, the dancers circled, Anor’s (4) rays casting a golden glow 
on pale flesh. This time it was white hair that mingled with gold as the 
dance started slow then increased in pace. Blue eyes locked as blades 
sang. Each thrust and parry was carried out with grace and litheness. Time 
passed and Haldir watched, mesmerized by the beauty before him. Then a 
curse and a soft cry rent the air, the dance faltered, and Lindir was on his 
back with a sword at his throat, his own just out of reach. Glorfindel 
kicked it to him. “Get up,” he said moving his weapon away from Lindir. 
“We will practice that move once more. Move to the left next time when I 
feint.” And with that they were off again. Lindir did not make the same 
mistake twice. 

	The dance continued, moving faster and faster, always in a circle. 
They were not allowed to step out of bounds. That would give the other 
forfeit. As he had done with Haldir, Lindir matched Glorfindel stroke for 
stroke, but the white-haired Elf was tiring. Haldir could hear him as he 
fought to catch his breath. His movements were not as smooth and quick. 
They would fight until one fell again, but there was still archery and 
knives left to judge. Haldir stepped up to the edge of the circle, and as 
Glorfindel had done earlier, issued the command to cease fighting. Swords 
were put away and the two combatants granted a rest and water break. 
Haldir left to set up the archery targets. He would allow Lindir a chance to 
show his best skill, but had already decided to cancel the test of knives. 
They were not Haldir’s favorite either. And it was pointless anyway. 
Lindir had already proven what he set out to accomplish.

~~~~~ TBC  ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. Daro! - Halt!
2. Megiltura - Swordmaster
3. hallaer - tall one
4. Anor’s - Sun’s (the)



Chapter 8: On Your Mark


	Archery was Haldir’s passion, and his skill was renowned. He had 
trained with the best, for his father before him was a champion archer, and 
it was his father’s hands that had guided his first arrow to the bowstring. 
To test Lindir, Haldir simply used the same that his father used so long 
ago with him and Orophin. Haldir and Lindir would be allowed twelve 
shots in three rounds at a stationary target, then six shots in two rounds at 
a moving target. Lindir had chosen the long stick on the draw and would 
go first.

	Haldir did not pay much attention as Lindir worked with his 
equipment, until he saw Lindir strap a glove on his left hand. So the archer 
was left-handed, he mused, surprised. Left-handedness was rare among 
elves, but greatly respected. He wondered why he had not noticed it 
before. After all, they had competed against each other just last year. Not 
that it would give Lindir an advantage, it was just unusual. 

	An archer’s glove is not just decoration. Leather covered only the 
first knuckles of the first three fingers of the hand, leaving the fingertips 
bared. It was designed to protect only the part of the fingers that actually 
touched the bowstring. In addition to a glove, an archer wore a leather 
band or guard on the other arm that held the bow. This protected the inside 
of the arm from the twang of the string, which could cause a quite painful 
bruise. 

	Haldir watched Lindir string his bow. The Elf removed a long 
length of twisted hair from his quiver, placing the loops on each end over 
the ends of the bow, settling the one at the bottom into a grooved notch. 
Resting that same end of the bow on the outside of his left foot, he stepped 
over the bow and under the string with his right. Then pressing the back of 
the bow gently with the flat of his hand he caused it to flex against his 
right thigh just enough so that he could slide the other loop on the string 
into a similar groove at the top of the carved weapon. The curved wood 
now pulled the bowstring taut. To ensure that it would not slip, he drew on 
it gently a few times. Not all the way, for that was not good practice, just 
enough to ensure that it would stay in place.

	Unlike the famed archers of Mirkwood, the guardians of 
Lothlórien and Imladris did not carry longbows. They preferred the shorter 
and more graceful recurve bow. The arguments as to which was best had 
gone on since the beginning of time. To Haldir, who could shoot each with 
accuracy, the point was moot. The main difference between a longbow 
and a recurve, in spite of what most thought, was not so much that the 
longbow was “longer”, but that the limbs of the bow did not touch the 
string when the bow was strung. In the longbow’s favor, it was 
lightweight, could be shot accurately held at almost any angle--even 
horizontal--and it was very quiet. However, it had more vibration, was not 
as fast, and due to its length, was harder to maneuver in a tight spot than a 
recurve.

	The tips of a recurve bow curved away from the string. It was this 
curve that gave the bow its beautiful look. But that was not why it was 
favored. Although not as accurate when held at an angle, it was very fast, 
and less prone to hand shock. And because a recurve was shorter than a 
longbow, it was easier to handle when firing, say when perched in a tree. 
The main disadvantage of the recurve was its weight. It was much heavier 
to pack and carry around. Haldir grinned. He did not have muscles in his 
arms for anything! But, there would be no debate today, for they were not 
of Mirkwood, and although somewhat different in look, both bows in use 
today were recurves.

	Lindir had finished preparing his bow and now began to check 
each of the arrows in his quivers. They were already separated by the size 
of the fletching. Smaller feathers were used for longer distance and faster 
flight, larger for shorter range and stability. Since the stationary target was 
to be set at quite a distance, he picked up the quiver containing the arrows 
with the larger fletching and strapped it to his back. He would change his 
bowstring when he switched quivers, as the number of strands had control 
over how his arrows would fly.

	These were some of the reasons why most archers made their own 
bowstrings and their own arrows. The arrows of the Lórien guards, 
including Haldir’s were fletched all in white, with just a trace of black 
edging the tip of one feather. Imladris guardians used a combination of 
color. Red, for the cock or hen feather--the one facing 90 degrees to the 
nock--and brown for the others. Cresting, decorative markings along the 
arrow shaft, was to individual taste and helped distinguish ownership. 
Lindir had a distinct pattern of rings repeating the Imladris colors on his, 
while Haldir’s were more elaborate, depicting a stylized vine of green and 
gold leaves. 

	Approaching the shooting line, Lindir aligned his right shoulder 
with the target and stood with his feet shoulder length apart, knees slightly 
flexed. Holding his bow horizontally across his body, the bowstring 
resting against the inside of his right arm, he pulled an arrow from his 
quiver with his left hand, brought it across his bow and nocked it on the 
center of the bowstring. Raising the bow up to a vertical position he used 
just the tips of his first three fingers to draw the bowstring back until his 
left hand touched his chin. Sighting down the arrow to the target he found 
his mark, aiming slightly above the center ring to account for the arrow’s 
drop in flight. He took a deep breath, let it out halfway, steadying his 
movements and relaxing his body. Satisfied he had things under control, 
he gently opened his fingers and released the bowstring. With a satisfying 
thud, the tapered tip of the arrow sank deep into the center circle of the 
target. However, the impact was a bit high and to the left of dead center. 
Adjusting his aim continuously until he was satisfied he found a true 
mark, he fired the remaining allotted practice arrows. When he had 
finished, he walked over to the target to retrieve them.

	Haldir stepped up next for his practice shots. When he had finished 
and retrieved his arrows, Lindir stepped up to the line again and the 
competition began. At the end of three stationary rounds, both had not 
once missed the center ring. Each had a perfect score and the competition 
stood at a tie. The next stage would be much harder.

	A rope was tied at a great height between two trees. Another rope 
was tied perpendicular to the center and the target was attached to the 
bottom of the vertical rope at an appropriate shooting height. The rope was 
then twisted a certain number of turns so that when released, the target 
would spin, faster at the beginning of the release, slower with each 
revolution. The idea was to hold off shooting during the fast revolution, 
releasing the majority of shots at a rapid fire pace during the later stage, 
but not waiting too long, for the competition was timed. Any arrow that hit 
the front of the target scored. It was rare to score all six. 
	The last phase of a tournament competition involved a hanging 
target that swung from side to side, entailing the archer to move his bow 
with the swing, timing the placement of the arrow, taking into account the 
travel time through the air. Haldir and Lindir had agreed to skip this phase 
only because of the difficulty of setting up the target. It usually required 
help, and for their purposes, was just not worth the effort.

	Haldir went first this time. At the end of the first round, he had 
managed to fire four of his six arrows into the front of the target, most 
landing close to the center ring, one at dead center.

	Lindir waited patiently for his turn. When it came, he had an arrow 
nocked and ready. He watched as the target was released, waiting for the 
perfect moment to fire. As the revolutions slowed, he released all six 
arrows, one right after the other in a steady stream. He came very close to 
matching Haldir. Three arrows hit the front of the target dead center. A 
fourth hit, but did not have enough force behind it to stick, bouncing off 
and falling to the ground. Each archer would have one more round to try 
to best the other. 
 
	Haldir readied himself for the last round. At the release of the 
target, he fired his six arrows so rapidly that his movements were a blur. 
When the target had slowed to almost a stop, all six of his shots had 
landed, none outside of the third ring. It was an amazing show of skill, and 
the Marchwarden could not help but grin at his results.

	Lindir was determined to make a good showing. As Haldir, he 
waited for what he deemed the perfect moment to fire, then released his 
six arrows with almost as much speed as the Marchwarden had done 
before him. He tried his best, but only five of the six arrows hit the front. 
However, like Haldir, all five were within the first three rings. 

	Lindir approached his friend, complimented him on his fine 
shooting, and conceded to his loss. But he was not ashamed of his effort. 
Haldir had a talent with the bow that was almost unmatched, so he was 
quite proud to have stood up so well against him. 

	The two Elves put away their equipment while Glorfindel took 
down the target, then headed for the storage shed to put it away.

	The Marchwarden had already told Lindir that he had decided to 
waive the match with knives, so Lindir was ready to hear Haldir’s 
evaluation by the time Glorfindel came back. Walking over to the other 
two elves the seneschal stood silently while Haldir pronounced his 
judgment. 

	“I told you earlier, Lindir, there was nothing wrong with your 
form. You are better with the bow than the sword, but we all have our 
favorites. There was nothing in either of your performances today that 
were lacking. You did exceptionally well Lindir, with both weapons. But I 
expected that you would. I trust you have taken what I have said to heart 
and that this will ease your doubts.” 

	“Thank you, Haldir. I told you I would stand by your decision, and 
I respect your judgment. I would be glad to serve under you if ever I have 
the opportunity. I appreciate the time you have taken to work with me 
today. I will make it up to you soon. If you ever need a favor, do not 
hesitate to call on me.”

	“Be careful what you offer, mellonamin (1), I might just take you 
up on that!” Haldir said with a laugh. He reached over and gave his friend 
a hug. “I suggest we put these things away quickly and head to the baths. 
All three of us definitely need one!”

	“Wait, Lindir,” Glorfindel put out his hand and gently grasped 
Lindir’s wrist. “I want to second Haldir’s opinion. I have never doubted 
your abilities, Lindir. Perhaps I should have told you so more often, but 
your actions have always spoken for themselves. I accept no slackers in 
my ranks. If you could not perform what I asked of you, I would have 
released you from duty a long time ago. I have long been impressed with 
your skill with the bow, but you did surprise me today with your 
swordsmanship. Either you have been holding back with Tebring, or you 
found some inner strength today you did not know you had. I felled you 
once, but I was more rested. You did not make the same mistake again, 
although I tried to trick you into it. Do not ever doubt yourself again, 
Lindir.” 

	Lindir gave a curt nod to his Lord and was about to walk away 
when Glorfindel stopped him once more. “I have not yet finished what I 
want to say to you. Lindir, I owe you an apology for this morning. Haldir 
told me that you two are only friends. I was too quick to jump to 
conclusions, and I resent now the words I spoke. Your private life is not 
my concern. I sometimes open my mouth before I think. If I offended you 
in any way, and obviously, I did, then I am truly sorry.

	And while it is true, Lindir, that I once discouraged you from 
joining the guard, I had good reason. And it was not your lack of skill. I 
did turn you down the first time you asked, for to be honest, you would 
never have made it through training. I think you know that now. But the 
second time, after you had worked so hard on your own, I would have 
accepted you. But it was not up to me Lindir. Elrond and Findal did not 
want to expose you to injury. I was bound by Lord Elrond’s decision and 
he left it to me to turn you down. It was not an easy thing for me to do, for 
I know how hard you worked and how badly you wanted my approval. 
And I say again, I would have given it gladly, Lindir, but it was not my 
decision to make. 

	 If Lady Galadriel had not spoken for you and convinced both Lord 
Elrond and Lord Findal to grant your wishes, you would never have been 
allowed entrance, no matter my opinion. I am sorry that I let you think 
differently all these years. Again, I hope you can accept my apology and 
forgive my lack of forethought. And I have never hated you, Lindir. I 
count you as my friend, and hope that one-day you will feel the same. You 
are as much like family to me as Erestor. I will excuse your behavior this 
morning, as I think I gave you more than enough cause to lash out. I am 
willing to forgive and forget if you are.”

	“No, My Lord, it is I who should apologize,” Lindir spoke 
candidly. “There was no excuse for my behavior, and I regretted it as soon 
as I left your presence. I am glad you told me the truth about your decision 
long ago, for I did hold that against you. And I regret also my behavior 
back then, for I acted selfishly and was foolish to run away and hide. That 
I was rescued by your forces at the time, only served to fuel my anger. If 
youth is an excuse, then I will take it, for I can only say that I sorely 
wronged you that day. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, it 
would mean the world to me. I value your friendship. I have ever looked 
up to you and Erestor, and to you, Haldir. To count you as my friends 
means a lot.” 

	Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief. “Apology accepted. Let us all 
wash off this dirt and sweat and I will get that second bottle of wine from 
the kitchen. I think we could all do with a drink. Come, my friends, let us 
not tarry. Between the three of us we smell worse than Orcs!” 

	 Glad to have things settled between them, the three companions 
headed back towards the Last Homely House, looking forward to the 
relaxing waters of the baths, and a chance to rest before meeting once 
again in the dining hall for supper.

~~~~~ TBC  ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. mellonamin - my friend




Chapter 9: The Bathhouse 

- The Last Homely House - Imladris 


	The large indoor bath at the Last Homely House was a marvel in 
design. Water from a nearby hot spring was piped into two large sunken 
pools of polished rock set in the center of an immense high-ceilinged 
room. A third pool to the left contained cool water drawn from artesian 
wells. Broad steps lined the sides of all three, forming a ledge where 
bathers could sit comfortably. Chased copper bowls were placed in 
convenient spots around the pools and held soap, sponges, and an 
assortment of fragrant oils. Wooden benches lined the walls and two large 
wardrobes held fresh linen drying cloths and clean robes. 

	 At the northern end of the chamber, a garden containing small 
trees and fragrant flowers gave a sense of the outdoors and added a splash 
of color. In the middle of the garden was a large fountain. It was made of a 
series of shallow fluted stone bowls placed at different levels. Water 
trickled gently over the fluted sides, providing relaxing, soothing sounds 
that added to the chamber’s ambience. The floor was polished stone, but 
its surface was etched with colorful flowing lines in the shape of stylistic 
leaves and flowers, the slight texture preventing nasty falls that might 
occur from bare feet on a slippery surface. Heated air rose from the two 
large pools forming a warm mist, which kept the room at a mild 
temperature year round. 

	The three warriors found they had the place all to themselves. 
Sweaty leggings and soiled tunics were quickly removed and soon all 
three were relaxing in the warm, soothing water; naked as the day they 
were born. Elves were not modest when it came to public bathing. Al