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. All 
believed in the beauty of the body, and none felt they had any reason to 
hide. 

	Lindir had been in the baths before with his Lord, but never in such 
a companionable circumstance, and never in such close proximity. He was 
delighted with the opportunity and could not help but sneak glances at the 
one who held his affection. For Glorfindel was magnificent. Droplets of 
water clung to his golden skin, rolled slowly down his muscled chest to 
melt into the gentle waves that lapped at his trim waist. The ends of his 
long silky hair, now free from the warrior braids he usually wore, floated 
like strands of spun gold on the surface of the water, reminding Lindir of 
the tails of the flashy fish that swam in the pond in Lord Elrond’s garden. 
Under the water Lindir could just glimpse the powerful corded thighs of 
the warriors long legs. Glorfindel had the muscle and sinewy build of a 
warrior, but not the bulk. For his overall frame was slim and lithe. His 
movements that of a dancer. His was an ethereal beauty and it took 
Lindir’s breath away.

	Haldir had a different build that was no less pleasing. Only an inch 
shorter than the golden blond, but still tall by Elven standards, he did not 
have the aristocratic lines of the ancient warrior. His shoulders were broad 
and heavily muscled, a characteristic that was enhanced by his narrow 
waist and flat abdomen. And the planes of his face followed that of his 
body. His cheeks were slightly pudgy, and on an Elfling would have been 
called chubby. A large, but straight nose led to the most sensuous lips that 
Lindir had ever seen on an Elf. For like Haldir’s cheeks, they were full and 
rosy. Haldir’s forehead was high and broad and it was that and the 
straightness of his posture that gave him the aristocratic grace that his 
body thickness belied. His silver-blond hair fell past his waist and shone 
like mithril.  Like Glorfindel’s, it fanned like fine silver thread on top the 
water. Two warriors so different in look, lovely beyond imagine. 

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

	Erestor had spent most of the morning finishing Lord Elrond’s 
report, his only interruption that of his young assistant with his amusing 
dilemma. Lunch had been a hurried affair, consisting of a cup of hot tea 
and two apples he had begged from a servant who had passed by his door.

	 Retiring to his room later that afternoon for a rest, he had been 
awakened from his short nap by a loud growl from his stomach. He was 
on his way to the kitchen to see what he could beg from the cooks for a 
snack, when a commotion in the hall caught his attention. Two Imladris 
guardians, both out of breath and panting heavily were in a harried 
discussion with one of the house servants. The servant turned and catching 
sight of Erestor, directed the elves his way. The advisor recognized 
Tambor and Garion who had ridden out with the morning patrol. Tambor 
made quick of his report to Erestor, whose lips soon drew into a taut line. 
“Take him to the healing house,” Erestor commanded when the guard had 
stopped speaking, “and alert Lord Elrond. I will get Lord Glorfindel.” 
After querying another servant, Erestor quickly headed to the bathhouse. 

	Feeling ever so much better after their bath, Glorfindel, Haldir, and 
Lindir were putting on clean robes when Erestor entered the chamber. 
“Lord Glorfindel,” the advisor spoke calmly, “I need a word with you in 
private.” Glorfindel walked over to where Erestor was standing and after 
listening to the advisor, turned to his friends. “Haldir, I need you to dress 
quickly and meet me outside my room. You will have to excuse us, Lindir, 
we shall see you later on tonight.” And with that, the seneschal hurried 
after Erestor, who had already left. Haldir gave the minstrel an apologetic 
look, then quickly followed after the Imladris Lords.

	Lindir took his time heading back to his quarters. Although he 
regretted the loss of companionship, he was tired after the afternoon’s 
exercise, and as dinner would not be served for several hours, he would 
use the time to catch up on his rest. Once inside his room he ran his 
fingers through his damp hair to remove the tangles, and fastened the long 
locks into a simple plait. He removed the damp robe he had borrowed 
from the wardrobe in the bath and threw it into a basket on the floor 
reserved for soiled clothes. He pulled a simple cotton robe from his own 
closet, and after slipping it on, curled up on top of his bed. It was not long 
before he was deep in reverie.

	Sometime later, Lindir was awakened by a soft knock. Rubbing the 
sleep from his eyes, he moved off the bed, wrapped his robe tightly around 
him and walked over to open the door. “Lindir,” said Glorfindel softly, 
“may I come in? Receiving a nod from the still sleepy minstrel, the tall 
warrior stepped inside.

	“I need you to sit down, Lindir.” Glorfindel again spoke softly as 
he placed his hand lightly on Lindir’s arm and led him to the side of the 
bed. Once Lindir was seated on the edge, the seneschal sat down next to 
him so that he was facing the younger Elf.

	“Lindir, one of the patrol groups had a run in with bandits this 
afternoon. They were subdued, but not before some of our elves sustained 
injuries. There were no deaths, but one of those that was hurt was Tebring. 
He took a deep axe cut in the leg. Lindir, Lord Elrond did his best, but he 
could not save the leg. I am sorry, I know Tebring is a good friend.”

	Pain and shock filled Lindir’s eyes and Glorfindel winced to see it, 
for it reflected the way he felt inside after seeing the damage the barbarous 
men had inflicted on the faithful guardian. As a commander he had to 
distance himself from the hurt and suffering of his elves, but he could 
never wipe it away entirely. Tebring was well liked and had been 
partnered with Lindir and Tambor for a long time. The warrior knew the 
closeness that grew between elves that depended on each other for 
survival. To see one of their own so maimed hurt. Already Glorfindel’s 
heart ached, but he knew that Lindir and Tambor would feel even worse.

	“Does he know yet?” Lindir asked his Lord. “No,” Glorfindel 
replied. “Elrond gave him a sleeping draught, so he will be out for most of 
the night. I know you want to see him, but Elrond has requested no visitors 
until he is more stable. He is not in danger, but Elrond wants to be there 
when Tebring wakes, so he can break the news himself.” 

	“What of Tambor?” Lindir inquired of the other Elf that worked 
with them so often on patrol. 

	“Garion is with Tambor,” Glorfindel replied. “They were both 
participants in the fight. Neither were hurt physically, but Garion knows 
how close Tambor is to Tebring. He will not leave Tambor alone tonight.”

	“Which brings me to you, Lindir. I do not want you alone with 
your thoughts tonight either. If you like I shall ask Haldir to stay with you, 
or if you would prefer someone else, I will talk to them for you. I am sure 
you will be able to see Tebring tomorrow, and I want you and Tambor to 
be there for him. He will need both of your strength in the coming days 
and months.

	“My Lord,” Lindir asked, his eyes on his hands which were resting 
in his lap, “would, would you mind staying with me tonight?”

	Glorfindel made an effort to keep any expression from showing on 
his face. He had been so sure that Lindir would ask for Haldir, that the 
minstrel’s request had taken him by surprise. He thought for a moment 
about refusing, but one look at Lindir’s face told him that to do so might 
hurt the young Elf’s psyche even more.

	“I have some errands I must attend to, and I shall need to arrange 
to have dinner for us brought to your room later, but I will be more than 
happy to, Lindir. I shall come back as soon as I have finished. In the 
meantime, I am going to ask Haldir to sit with you until I return. Do not 
worry about Tebring. Healer Anaran and Lord Elrond will watch over him 
tonight.”

	“Thank you, my Lord, for telling me about Tebring yourself, and 
for agreeing to sit with me. I know you have things to arrange, and I do 
not mind talking to Haldir for awhile. You are so lucky to have him as 
your friend, for he has a good heart. I will miss him when he returns to 
Lothlórien.” Lindir smiled. Now that he had come to know the 
Marchwarden better, he realized how silly he had been to be so frightened 
of him.

	“Haldir is a good friend, Lindir". /More than you know/, thought 
Glorfindel. “I will go talk with him and I will see you later on.” Glorfindel 
turned and walked slowly from the room, closing the door quietly behind 
him.

	It was not a few moments later that the door opened again, and a 
worried looking Marchwarden hurried over to Lindir to voice his 
consolation.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~	 


Chapter 10: Matters of the Heart


	Glorfindel had gone to speak with Haldir the minute he left 
Lindir’s room. The Marchwarden was relaxing on his bed with a glass of 
red wine in his hand. Lifting his other, he made a casual wave towards the 
bottle sitting on a nearby table. “Help yourself, 'tis quite good.” 

	“Don’t mind if I do,” Glorfindel replied with a smile. He picked up 
a glass and filled it with the dark red liquid, then crossed the room and 
plopped down in a large padded chair. Leaning back, he crossed his legs 
and rested them on the matching cushioned ottoman. “I have a favor to ask 
of you, gwador (1). 

	Haldir raised an eyebrow curiously at the request. “And that is?” 
he replied, wondering what the blond Lord wanted.

	“I just told Lindir about Tebring. He is understandably upset, and I 
would rather he not be alone tonight. I have asked Garion to stay with 
Tambor, so he is taken care of, and had thought to get you to stay with 
Lindir. When I mentioned it, he surprisingly asked me to stay instead.” 
Glorfindel took a sip of wine, then sighed. "I agreed, but I have got some 
loose ends to tie up, and was wondering if you would mind talking with 
him until I get back?”

	Expecting an affirmative answer, Glorfindel was surprised when 
Haldir remained quiet. “Haldir, is there a problem?” the Elda asked 
somewhat concerned. His friend was looking at him with a very serious 
expression in his hazel eyes.

	“Glorfindel, what are your feelings towards Lindir?” Haldir asked, 
thinking it was about time some things were laid out in the open.

	The ancient warrior frowned at his friend. “I thought we had 
straightened that out this afternoon.” he replied a bit testily. “Lindir is a 
qualified guardsman as proved by your demonstration, not that I ever 
doubted him. But, I already gave my opinion and my apology. Haldir, you 
were there. What are you getting at?” Setting down his wineglass, the 
stately blond stared back at the other. 

	Haldir paused for a moment before replying. Moving so that he 
was sitting up on the bed in a cross-legged position, he fielded his friend’s 
question with another. “I mean how do you feel about Lindir personally? 
He is quite attractive you know. You two would make a good pair.” 

	Glorfindel let out an exasperated growl. “Ed’ I’ ear ar’ elenea, 
Haldir! (2) Since when did you become a matchmaker? If I remember 
correctly, you admitted your lust for the minstrel only this morning. As to 
my feelings, Lindir is a good friend, a fine warrior, and one of the best 
harpists in Imladris.” The Elda took another sip of wine and finished in a 
gentler tone. “I am not looking for a lover, lirimaer (3), if that is what you 
are implying. I am past that stage in my life.” 
	
	The Marchwarden laughed, the silvery peals floating merrily on 
the air. “Glorfindel, for all your ancient wisdom, my friend, you know 
almost nothing about matters of the heart. Did the Balrog take out your 
eyes? How can you have lived this long around Lindir and not realized 
that his every glance, aye, his very breath is directed towards you? 
Elbereth, the Elf is head over heels in love with you. He lives, sleeps, eats, 
and breathes for you.... Only you, Glorfindel..... And you are totally 
oblivious of him. He pines for you, gwador (1).” Haldir leaned forward, 
noticing the flustered look on Glorfindel’s face. “You should take more 
notice. He would be good for you.”

	“Y-You are mad, Haldir! Glorfindel was so astonished at the 
Marchwarden’s words that he was spluttering. He sat up in his chair. 
Where do you get these notions? Only this morning Lindir was trembling 
at *your* touch, taking bites of food from *your* fingers. Lindir was the 
hapless fly, and you had him deftly caught in your web. Aye, *gwador* 
(1), love was in Lindir’s eyes, and they were directed at none other than 
you!”

	Haldir sneered, his habitual smirk plastered on his sensuous lips. 
“Oh, but you are wrong, meldir (4),” he said wryly. “Lindir’s heart was 
yours long before he met me. He was trembling in fright of my reputation, 
which by the way is greatly overrated, and you missed his expression 
when you so blithely appeared. It was one of great longing – and it was 
directed at you, but it quickly shifted to embarrassment, for he was 
ashamed for you to see him so compromised." At this, Haldir became 
serious. “I know of what I speak, Glorfindel, for I saw with my own eyes 
the way he looked at you.”

	A long silence reigned in the air. “I hope you are wrong about that, 
Haldir,” Glorfindel replied sadly. “My heart belongs to no one. The door 
to that chamber closed long ago. I have loved before; it hurts, and my 
heart is scarred. Love is for the young, not this ancient soul. When and if 
the sea finally calls me, I will sail alone. That is, and has always been, my 
destiny.”

	“It does not have to be that way, mellonamin. If you would only 
open your heart again you could find happiness. No one should spend their 
life alone. Even you, my golden friend. Love can heal the hurts you hold 
inside. Your heart may be scarred, but if you open it to the light, it can be 
as new.” Haldir spoke softly, but emphatically, trying to gauge the mood 
of his friend, wincing at the pain that showed in the depths of the Elda’s 
eyes.

	Obviously, someone had hurt the ancient warrior. Hurt him so 
badly that he was afraid to love again. There were rumors of a great love 
affair between the Lord of the Golden Flower and the Lord of the 
Fountain, but Haldir had never believed the truth in them, and Glorfindel, 
who had been his friend for a long time, never spoke about it. Now, he 
wondered.

 	“Who was it?” he asked finally. “Who hurt you so that you close 
off your heart? Was it Ecthelion? Is it true then what they say?”

	Glorfindel looked at his silver-haired friend with a mixture of hurt 
and anger on his face. “Since when are you so versed in love, Haldir? I do 
not see a lover at your side. You flit from one bed to the next and leave a 
string of broken hearts behind you. But you claim no one. You are just like 
me, gwador (1), although we handle ourselves in a different way. You 
know why I can not give away my heart. And since you dare to ask, 
Ecthelion was my friend, just as you are. There was never more between 
us.
	
	"You ask who was my love? They all were. I see their faces every 
night... in my dreams. Nevrast, Gondolin, Gladden Fields, many places 
before that. .... My friends, my kin ... gone. They are no more ... lost. Lost 
to me. My comrades-in-arms, brave warriors that I marched to their death, 
they haunt me. I loved /love/ them all. They call to me. Each has taken a 
piece of my heart, Haldir. There is nothing left. I have no love to give, not 
even to myself.”

	Such pain and sadness radiated from the great warrior, that Haldir 
felt it palpably. He knew of what Glorfindel spoke, for there were many 
nights that Rúmil and Orophin, his brothers, wrapped their arms around 
him, trying in vain to help him chase away the dark dreams. He thought of 
the many times he had extolled the virtues of the dead to grieving families. 
Their eyes would appear in his night dreams too. Glorfindel was right. It 
had affected his heart, and he had lived but one life. Glorfindel’s angst 
must be great. 

	But there was a difference between him and the warrior that sat 
with such sorrow in the chair across from him. For Haldir *had* known 
love. And it was something he would never regret. And if he closed his 
heart to others, it was only because his heart was not yet free of that love, 
even though the object of his affection had long passed on. It was that 
memory that sustained him. And yet, Glorfindel had not even that, he 
thought sadly. His heart ached for his friend.

	“I am sorry, lirimaer (5). I too, have troubling dreams. But you are 
wrong about me. I have known love, and it is that love that keeps me 
going. One day I will be free to love again, and I will embrace it with open 
arms. Open your heart, Glorfindel. Open your heart and feel that which 
makes life worth living.” 

	Haldir had risen from the bed and now kneeled before the golden-
haired Vanya, his hazel eyes searching the fair face of the other, entreating 
his friend to listen to his words. “Give yourself the chance to know 
happiness. You give so much of yourself to others, and you ask nothing in 
return. Let someone in, Fin, let someone in before it is too late.”

	Glorfindel gazed into the warm brown depths of Haldir’s eyes, 
seeing the compassion and love that the silver-haired Elf felt for him, and 
was touched. They had a lot in common, he thought. The arrogant 
Marchwarden and the great Balrog Slayer. He placed a slender hand on 
each side of the familiar pudgy cheeks, bent his head down and placed a 
soft, lingering kiss on Haldir’s full lips. “You are worth your weight in 
gold, my bold warrior," he said softly. “I am glad to call you friend.” He 
raised his head, but kept his hands on the kind face. “When the time 
comes, Haldir, I want you on that ship at my side. I want us to sail 
together. Promise me that. Promise me that you will not join the faces in 
my dreams.” Sail with me, gwador (1). When Arda has no more use for 
the Firstborn, sail with me to Valinor, sail with me to Aman.”

	“We will go together, Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. We will 
sail as great warriors and as great friends. But I hope when we do, that our 
loves are at our side. I will keep your promise. But you must promise me 
to open your heart just once. Let the door open just a little. Someone is 
there for you. It may not be Lindir, but there is someone who waits to 
claim you.”

	/If it were only so easy as you imply, Haldir./

	“Aye, Haldir, I will try. Now, as much as I hate to, I must go. 
Would you mind staying with Lindir for just a little while? I shall not be 
that long.”

	“Rest easy, Glorfindel. I will stay as long as I am needed. Give 
some thought to what I have said, and keep an open mind with Lindir 
tonight. Sooner or later, no matter your feelings, you two are going to have 
to talk.”

	“I will not hurt him, Haldir, at least not intentionally. Now, I must 
go. We will talk about all this again later.” And with those words, he 
closed the door and was gone.

	Haldir sighed. He had done his best to help Lindir, but it did not 
look promising. At least he had opened the door. Finishing the last of the 
wine in his glass, he stood in front of the gilded mirror in his room and 
gazed at his reflection. Maybe my friend, it is time you took your own 
advice. Maybe it is time you opened your heart again. 

	Squaring his shoulders, he turned away from the mirror, left his 
room and walked down the hall. Lindir was hurting, and he did not want to 
keep him waiting. 

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~ 

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. gwador - brother (lit. sworn brother)
2. Ed’ l’ ear ar’ elenea, Haldir! - By the sea and stars, Haldir!
3. lirimaer - lovely one
4. meldir - friend

Chapter 11: The Comfort of a Friend


	“Mani marte, Haldir?” (1) Lindir asked. “Did you see Tebring?”
			
	“I am sorry about your friend, Lindir,” Haldir said softly. "They 
were bringing him in to the healing house when we got there. He was not 
conscious, and I could not see his leg as it was covered with a blanket. 
They took him in to Lord Elrond immediately. Glorfindel will have more 
information, I am sorry, that is all I can tell you.”

	Haldir sat down on the bed next to his friend. Lindir was a picture 
of dishevelment. Several strands of moon white hair had escaped from his 
long mussed braid, and his cotton robe was wrinkled and pulled from his 
hour-long sleep. But the young Elf did not seem aware of his condition. 
Compassion, shock, and pain radiated from his wide blue eyes as he gazed 
at the Marchwarden. 

	“This will kill him, Haldir.” Lindir spoke in anguish. “He will not 
take to being crippled. Nadorhuanrim (2) are Humans. They are not like in 
your story, Haldir. They are cruel and hateful. What reason had they to 
come to Imladris? What reason had they to attack us?”

	“I do not know, pen-neth (3).” Haldir shrugged. “I do not pretend 
to understand their motives. The Apanonar (4) are like the dandelion – a 
puff of wind and they are gone. They are not bound to this world as we 
are, and while none of us (races) know our final fate, Men above all, 
resent our seeming immortality. We who have lived long see the world 
with different eyes. Our dreams are not of things of material wealth, but of 
spirit, essence. We value beauty in its aesthetic form, Men think only of its 
value in coin. Men see glory in ownership, power, and wealth, and the 
bandits are the worst of Men. They kill not only for survival, but for lust 
and greed, and care not who stands in their way. They do not see the value 
of the seed, only the mighty oak that it becomes.”

	For a moment all was silent, as the two Elves sat lost in thought. 
Then a gust of wind blew the curtains inward and a slow roll of thunder 
broke the quiet. Tonight even nature was upset, for there was in the air the 
smell of rain and the slight burnt aroma that proceeds a sudden storm. 

 	“And Tebring?” said Lindir bitterly, “What is to become of him? 
His life as a warrior is over. Never again will he run with the wind, chase 
the rain, or fly through the trees. Amin ikotane dele ten’ ho.” (5) 

	“So you should be, Lindir. So you should be.” Haldir rubbed 
Lindir’s arm absentmindedly. Tebring will suffer through many different 
phases before he comes to terms with his loss. He will first feel sadness 
and self-pity, later, anger. He will need his friends by his side every step 
of the way. With time, he should resign himself to his fate. That sounds 
cruel, but it is what every warrior must face. We subject ourselves to 
injury or death whenever we pick up a weapon. Tebring will get through 
this. You must give him time.”

	Lindir hung his head. “I hope with all my heart, Haldir, that your 
words are true. I would not wish to lose him.”

	The older warrior looked at the billowing curtains, and a slight 
smile creased his face. “The rain bathes the earth and makes things look as 
new. So it will be with your friend. His fears will wash away in time and 
as water brings new life, so will he find new paths to travel. I have seen 
this happen many times before, Lindir. Trust me.”

	Petal lips returned the smile as Lindir too, watched the heavy 
fabric move with the wind. “You know I do, Haldir.” I have learned much 
about you these past few days, and can see why your Lord and Lady speak 
so highly of their Marchwarden.”

	Time slipped by as the two talked further and found out more 
about each other. Rain began to fall in large drops, and soon the 
atmosphere was charged with static from the bolts of lightning that rent 
the air, as the heavy drops became sheets of water falling from the sky. 
Ear-splitting booms shook the ground and rattled the walls as the splendor 
of the storm grew in force. 'Till finally, heaven took its rest, and the dark 
of the storm turned to the dark of night. The fury of the elements tamed, 
the music of the various night crawlers now the only sounds carried on the 
fresh-scented air. 

	The Marchwarden knew it would not be much longer before 
Glorfindel returned. He was rather surprised that Lindir had asked the 
Seneschal to stay with him, knowing how timid the young Elf was. It was 
a bold move for Lindir, and Haldir realized that the young minstrel had no 
idea what he was letting himself in for.

	The Lórien Elf had known the golden-haired Vanya for a long 
time. Glorfindel, like Erestor and Haldir, had a side of him that he kept 
hidden. Outwardly, he was compassionate, teasing, boisterous, with a fiery 
temper that showed itself when provoked. But there was much hurt inside 
the ancient warrior. He had not only lost his life when Gondolin fell, but 
his friends and home as well. For no trace of the fair city remained, and 
but few of its inhabitants now dwelled on Arda.

	Upon his death he roamed Mandos’ Halls; a place of darkness, 
solitude, and grief. There he faced centuries of atonement for his pride and 
arrogance, with no company but his own. In the Second Age, the re-
embodied Lord was thrust full kilt into the War of the Last Alliance. A 
dark time for all, for many Elves and Men fell to the minions of the Dark 
Lord. And Glorfindel was again a witness to death and destruction, and the 
loss of close friends. And through all his trials, he suffered alone. For 
never had he found his true love, the one to whom his soul called. Never, 
in all the ages of his long existence.

	And now that Haldir had come to know Lindir and Lindir’s heart, 
he feared for the young Elf.  For Lindir would give his heart to the golden 
warrior and Glorfindel would surely break it. One of the most respected 
and powerful Elves on Middle Earth, a legend in his own time; an Elf of 
golden deeds, ethereal beauty, great wisdom, but one who tragically 
believed with all his heart and soul that he would remain forever alone. 
 
      Glorfindel had been through too much, been hurt too many times, 
and so had built a hard shell around his heart. And Haldir did not think 
that Lindir had the strength to put a dent in it. Many had tried before him 
and failed.

	But Lindir deserved the chance, and Haldir was determined to help 
him in any way he could. Even if only to pick up the pieces when it was 
all over, if it ever began. 

	“Are you planning to change clothes before Glorfindel arrives?” 
Haldir asked during a lull in the conversation. You are quite tempting in 
your disarray, but you would look better with your hair combed and in 
somewhat more appropriate attire. If you show me where you keep your 
comb, I will help you with your hair. It is something I do for my brother’s 
all the time, and if you do not mind my saying so, I am quite good at it."

	Lindir looked down at his robe and laughed. “I had not even 
thought about my appearance. My comb is on top of the dresser. You will 
find a box of clips in the left drawer. But you do not have to do this, 
Haldir. Sit and relax, I will attend to my toiletries.”

	“No, Lindir. You sit. It is no trouble for me and something that I 
enjoy." 

	Lindir watched the Marchwarden as he gathered the necessary 
things together. There was much to like about the arrogant Elf. He smiled 
to himself. I never would have thought the day would come when I would 
call Haldir o Lórien my friend. At least something good had come out of 
Elladan and Elrohir’s plotting. 

	Haldir walked over to the large wardrobe that stood on the wall 
across from Lindir’s bed. “Do you mind if I choose something for you to 
put on?” he asked, not wanting to open the door without permission. He 
thought he might do a better job of making Lindir look his best than the 
young Elf would, considering the way the minstrel was feeling. 
 
	“Feel free, Haldir, since you are already up,” Lindir said playfully, 
for a moment his mind empty of thoughts of his injured friend, and 
slightly curious as to what the older Elf would pick. He laughed when he 
saw what Haldir pulled from his closet. The ingenious Elf had chosen one 
of his best tunics. It was a deep aquamarine silk, a brocade, embroidered 
with gold thread at the neck and on the sleeves, and Haldir matched it with 
a pair of soft white suede leggings and tan boots. 

	“The tunic will go well with your eyes, pen-neth (3). You should 
wear it more often, as it is a good color for you.” Haldir said. "Go ahead 
and change while I run to my room for a second. I will not be long.”

	When Haldir returned, Lindir was fully dressed. The older Elf sat 
down on the bed and motioned for Lindir to sit in front of him, then picked 
up the comb and began to remove the simple ribbon that bound the 
minstrel’s hair.

	Lindir relaxed under Haldir’s touch, enjoying the sensation of 
slender fingers moving through his hair, undoing the long braid, and 
letting the soft strands fall to mingle with the rest of the hair that hung 
down his back. When Haldir had worked it all free, he ran the comb 
through the long white tresses, gently working out any tangles. Lindir 
leaned back a little more as Haldir parted the silky locks and began to plait 
a section in the back. When he had finished with the braid, Haldir reached 
in his pocket and withdrew a lovely mithril hair clip with a dark clear blue 
stone.

	Lindir gasped when he saw it. “Haldir, it is beautiful, and much to 
fine for me to wear.” 

	“Nonsense, Lindir. It matches your tunic and makes a lovely 
contrast with your hair.” You need some color to set off your braid. Now, 
I am going to leave your hair loose in the front, for it brings out your eyes. 
Ah, you are beautiful, mellonamin (6). Glorfindel will not know what to 
make of you.”

	At Haldir’s words, the young Elf turned a deep red. Surely the 
Marchwarden did not know of his feelings for the blond Lord. 

	“Aye, Lindir,” Haldir said gently. “You gave yourself away 
yesterday. I know of your love for Glorfindel, and I wish you the best. 
You will have no better opportunity than tonight to tell him, and I advise 
you to do so. The Seneschal will never know your thoughts if you keep 
them hidden.”

	“Haldir!” Lindir said, an astonished expression on his face. “How 
could you even suggest that I do such a thing! To think of love when 
Tebring lies in the healing house, his life in ruins. This is a time of 
tragedy, sorrow. And the only reason Glorfindel sits with me tonight is to 
ease my mind. I could never take advantage of his compassion in such a 
way."

	“There are other ways to show your love besides words.” Haldir 
stated. “Glorfindel is not without feeling, nor any less deserving of the 
compassion he offers you. He grieves also, pen-neth (3), can you not see? 
It was his command that sent Tebring to his doom. At least that is how he 
will see it.”

	“Are you speaking from experience, Haldir?” Lindir gazed at the 
Marchwarden sadly. "Do you harbor the same guilt when those under you 
are injured or die?”

	“Oh, I try to rationalize it, Lindir. I tell myself the Galadhrim know 
what they are getting into, all the usual arguments, and it works to some 
extent. But, deep inside, any leader--be it me, Glorfindel, Lords Elrond or 
Celeborn--takes the blame, and yes, feels the guilt. I carry it with me 
always. But I cannot, and will not let it consume me.”

	“And who offers you comfort, Haldir?” Lindir asked. 

	For a brief moment the guarded look in Haldir’s eyes that he 
normally turned to the world was replaced with one of pain. It was so fleet 
that Lindir almost missed it. So, Haldir had his secrets too. 

	“Ah, you ask quite a personal question, meldir (7), the warrior 
replied, an amused look on his face. "That is something I will not tell 
you.”

	“Amin hiraetha, Haldir (8). I did not mean to pry.” Lindir said an 
apologetic look on his lovely face. 

	“Uuma dela (9), it is not anything you need to apologize for. 
Come, let us change the subject.” Haldir gave Lindir a big smile, then 
stretched his legs out on the bed to get more comfortable. 

	No sooner had he done so, than a soft knock sounded at the door. It 
was pushed gently open and a servant walked in carrying a large tray filled 
with food. Directly behind the maid was the ancient warrior himself. 

	“Mae govannen (10), Haldir, Lindir,” Glorfindel said. “I am sorry 
to be so long in returning. Haldir, my apologies, as I am afraid I have 
barely left you time to dress for dinner. I appreciate your staying with 
Lindir and also, all the other help you have given today.”

	“Lle creoso. Ta nae seasamin (11), Seneschal”, Haldir replied. I am 
sorry to leave your company, Lindir, but I do wish to freshen up a bit. 
Quel esta, Quel du! (12)” 

“Quel du (13), Haldir.“ Lindir replied with a smile, as Haldir turned and 
took his leave.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. Mani marte, Haldir? - What happened, Haldir?
2. Nadorhuanrim! - Cowardly dogs!
3. pen-neth - young one
4. Apanonar - The Afterborn 
5. Amin ikotane dele ten’ ho. - I am so worried about him.
6. Mellonamin - My friend
7. meldir - friend
8. Amin hiraetha - I’m sorry
9. Uuma dela - Don’t worry
10. Mae govannen - Well met
11. Lle creoso. Ta nae seasamin. - You are welcome. It was my pleasure.
12. Quel esta, Quel du - Rest well, good night
13. Quel du - Good night 				


Chapter 12: The Dark Side of the Moon


	Glorfindel’s mind was reeling after his conversation with Haldir. 
One minute they had been discussing Lindir, and the next he was baring 
the very depths of his soul to the Marchwarden. What was it about the 
silver-haired Elf that made him want to reveal his innermost secrets? 
Haldir could be cold, glacial, but when he let his guard down, he was a 
totally different Elf. Warm, caring, generous, aye, even loving. He was 
such an amalgam of personality. Glorfindel sighed, thinking of pudgy 
cheeks and warm brown eyes. He knew he could not ask for a truer friend 
than Haldir. 

	Walking down the corridor he mentally ran over his checklist; He 
had spoken with his second in command and been ensured that the 
security of Imladris was intact for one more night. He had checked in with 
Elrond and Anaran concerning Tebring’s progress, and had arranged with 
the kitchen for a dinner tray to be taken to Lindir’s room. He had visited 
with the other three Elves injured in the attack. He had checked on Garion 
and Tambor, and finally, had given a copy of the revised duty schedule to 
Erestor. And now he was trying to prepare himself for what he was sure 
would be another emotional confrontation. For if Haldir was correct about 
Lindir’s feelings, Glorfindel knew he was going to have to have a talk 
with the minstrel, and he was already emotionally drained from his 
conversation with the Marchwarden. But this was something he was not 
able to put off. He owed it to Lindir, and he owed it to himself. 

	He arrived at the white-haired Elf’s door just as one of the house 
staff was entering with a large serving tray. A quick glance showed that 
Haldir had worked his magic again, as the Marchwarden and Lindir were 
relaxed on the bed in what seemed to be pleasant conversation. After 
giving his greetings and seeing Haldir to the door, Glorfindel dismissed 
the servant and walked over to the table to see what the kitchen had 
prepared. 

	He lifted the cover off one of the dishes on the tray. Sitting on a 
bed of greens were six roasted quail in a thin brown sauce garnished with 
wild berries. The cooks, it seemed had gone all out tonight. “Come, 
Lindir, I suggest we eat while everything is still warm.”

	Glorfindel watched as Lindir walked over to take his seat at the 
table. Something about the Elf seemed different, but the Seneschal could 
not put his finger on it. “Pour us some wine, Lindir, while I serve our 
plates. There is soup if you would like that first?”

	“Soup will be fine,” Lindir replied, “but it is I who should be 
serving you, my Lord.”
Glorfindel looked at the minstrel with amusement. “Just Glorfindel, 
Lindir, and as tonight I am here for you, I will do the honors.” Lindir 
smiled. “Soup will be fine, then, Glorfindel.” 

	 The older Elf laughed, and it seemed to break the tension, for he 
could see Lindir’s shoulders visibly relax. The warrior, now servitor, 
placed a bowl of clear soup in front of the minstrel and another one at his 
own place setting, then sat down to enjoy the repast.

	There was silence for a few moments while the two settled 
themselves and tasted the first of the flavorful broth, then Glorfindel broke 
the spell. “I wish I could give you better tidings about Tebring, Lindir,” he 
said, watching the younger Elf’s face to see how he would react now that 
the painful subject was again broached. "Lord Elrond and Master Anaran 
will watch over him tonight, but they do not expect any complications. 
Unfortunately, the force of the blow completely shattered the bone, and 
damage to tendons, ligaments and veins was so severe, there was really 
nothing left to save. Elrond told me it was a matter of lose the leg or lose 
his life, Lindir. I am sorry."

	Glorfindel paused again to check Lindir’s reaction before 
continuing. “I too, am fond of Tebring, and it saddens me that he suffers 
so. He fought well. It took five of the men to bring him down. Garion tried 
to get to him, he just could not make it there in time to block the blow. If 
our reinforcements had not arrived when they did, they all would have 
been lost. As it was, there were three others, Ryldor, Fyril, and Galelas 
who were also injured, albeit not as serious. I was able to talk with each of 
them tonight, and they will be fine with a few days of healing rest.”

	Expecting tears, Glorfindel was surprised to see Lindir’s face twist 
in anger. “Scum of Arda are the descendants of Isildur. I curse his and 
their weakness. Did they not quest so for power and might, Tebring would 
be whole and hale, and not facing an eternity of sorrow. In all our history, 
what harm have we sought them? Was it not our kin who died alongside 
their’s at Barad-dur? Do they forget so soon? The ring may have been the 
bane of Isildur, but men are the bane of the Firstborn, Elrond should close 
the gates of Imladris to their kind!”

	“Do you truly mean to condemn the whole race because of the 
actions of a few?” Glorfindel replied, “Surely one who heralds the history 
of the past, as you do, Lindir, should realize the folly of your thoughts. I 
know you feel for Tebring, but you know as well as I the reason we fight 
at all; to bring peace to this land. Peace cannot be attained through hatred. 
Reserve your wrath for the demons of the dark, the ones who truly have no 
goodness inside. Even Isildur strove for the light, until darkness 
overwhelmed him. He was a great leader of men before he succumbed to 
the power of the ring. The bandits are the worst of their kind. Think of 
Beren, Tuor, do you condemn them? And our Lord Elrond, Masters 
Elladan and Elrohir, the blood of men runs also in their veins.”

	“Forgive my outburst, My Lord,” Lindir replied somewhat curtly. 
“I am sorry my words cause you pain, but I am entitled to my opinion. 
Aye, Tuor and Beren were the exception, and I fault them not, neither My 
Lord Elrond, nor his sons. For though their blood is tainted, it is still in 
majority Elven. But for the rest of the race, I have no love.”

	“You are right, Lindir, those are your views and I cannot deny you 
expressing them, although it does shock me to hear you speak of Your 
Lord and his sons as tainted. Where would you be today if Elrond had not 
taken you in out of the goodness of his heart? Do you not feel you owe 
some allegiance to his name? I would hope your views stay within this 
room, and you do not express them so strongly in public. There are 
enough gossip mongers as it is.”

	What has gotten in to Lindir? the Vanya wondered. His shy, gentle 
guardian was showing a side that Glorfindel had not seen since the day the 
white-haired Elfling marched into Elrond’s office and demanded he be 
able to test his swordsmanship. But Lindir’s thoughts were not good. 
Revenge was one thing, but harboring hate could only lead to trouble. He 
would have to find some way to temper Lindir’s feelings.

	Lindir, on the other hand was torn. He was not ashamed of his 
words. Humans were behind the cause of all his misery, and he felt a deep 
hatred inside whenever he thought of them. It had been dredged up again 
since the skirmish and Tebring’s injury, and he could no more have 
controlled his outburst than he could keep the sun from rising each morn. 
But he had upset Glorfindel, and that did not bode well for the plans he 
had tonight. For as Haldir had advised, he needed to tell the seneschal of 
the feelings he held in his heart. He needed to declare his love for the 
golden Lord, and having the Seneschal to himself for a whole night was 
the opportunity of a lifetime. He had to get a grip on his feelings and bury 
his murderous thoughts. But once out, they were hard to push back down. 
Humans! He thought back to the one day he would never in a lifetime 
forget.
				
- Flashback to an earlier time
In the Forest miles outside of Rivendell

	They had broken camp early that morning, and his Adar (1) had 
told him they would be visiting a village soon to replenish supplies. Lindir 
was beside himself with excitement. With the type of life they led, on the 
road most of the time, excursions into permanent settlements were few and 
far between. It was not that he did not appreciate his life, it is just that 
there was so much to see in the towns. Things his family had no use for, 
exotic and enticing, new sights, new smells. 

	They rode in silence for the most part, for the music of the woods 
was such that even the lyrical speech of the Elves would have spoiled the 
moment. Birds sang as they basked in the sunshine that entered through 
the canopy of the tall trees. Squirrels and chipmunks chattered and 
scampered through the branches, bearing nuts in their bulging cheeks to 
feed their young. Dozens of different types of insects sang their mating 
songs or piped a warning at the travelers who moved slowly along the 
great road. It was spring, and the forest was in bloom. Delicate green 
leaves bright against dark trunks, colorful spring blooms of myriad 
wildflowers, merry brooks swollen from mountain drain-off, all sang of 
new growth and a new season. 

	Lindir had seen many such sights from his perch atop his Adar’s 
(2) horse, for it would be some years yet before he would be allowed to 
ride his own. But he did not mind. It was comfortable atop the great roan, 
and his Adar’s (2) arms kept him safe and warm. The plod of the hooves 
of the sure-footed beast against the leafy path was like a lullaby to his 
ears, lulling him to sleep, though he fought against it, determined not to 
miss a thing on this day of all days. For it was his begetting day, and 
though theirs was a simple life, his parents would make sure today was 
special. This was most likely the reason for the stop in the town. 

	His Nana (3) rode along side of Lindir and her mate on her favorite 
white mare, Trilla, laughing at her little Elfling who tried so hard to stay 
alert. They had traveled long the day before and were late setting up camp, 
so Lindir did not get as much sleep as he usually did. A nap would be 
good for him, and though he fought it, she knew he would soon succumb. 
And sure enough, not a few moments passed, before his body slumped 
back against the broad chest of his Adar (1). Lindir was deep in reverie, 
dreaming the sweet dreams of youth. 
	
	Lindir had not drifted off long, when he felt his Adar (1) tense and 
heard his Nana (3) gasp. A bearded man with reddish curly hair jumped 
down from a tree right in front of his Adar’s (2) horse. As Lindir’s 
awareness returned, he heard the man boldly ask his Adar (1) what their 
business was in this part of the woods. 

	“Mae Govannen (4), stranger,” the tall Elf spoke. “I was not aware 
it was a crime to travel through these parts, but our business is no secret. 
We are simply wandering minstrels, and travel to the next town to 
replenish our supplies. Our mission is simply one of survival. We mean no 
harm, and do not intend to stay long in these parts.”

	“We rarely see your fair kind passing through,” the man replied. 
“My friends and I would like to get to know you better.” As he spoke 
these words, more men pushed through the trees till their party was 
completely surrounded by about twenty fully armed warriors, though their 
armor bore no familiar markings.

	Lindir felt his Adar’s (2) hand move to the hilt of his sword, and 
began to get a bit nervous. “Ada, (5) who...?” He began to ask, but his 
Adar (1) hushed him in a stern voice, and clasped his arm tighter around 
his waist.

	“Your packs seem quite full, my friends, I am sure what small 
amount of supplies you need, we could provide. Perhaps you would like to 
barter with us. We would ask little, maybe you would not even have to 
part with any coin. A few minutes with your lady, might grant you a water 
skin and a sack of flour.” The man laughed at his joke, revealing a set of 
brown stained teeth that looked like they had never been cleaned. Several 
of the other men laughed and made rude gestures. Lindir felt fear radiate 
from his Adar’s (2) body, though he still sat straight and tall and answered 
the man with a voice that did not tremble.

	“Touch her and you die. I may not be able to take all of you, but I 
can guarantee many of you will not see the setting sun. Let us go 
peacefully. If it is coin you wish, we will give you what we have. There is 
no need for any of us to harm the other.”

	“There is wisdom in your words, Elf, but I see only one warrior 
against twenty. Surely we can have what we want and your coin too. We 
have been in these woods for a long time and are in need of manly 
comfort. Perhaps we will take of yourself, for it would not be too hard to 
imagine a woman underneath all that long silky hair.” 

	The next moments were ones of chaos, as the man made a 
movement with his arm, and the warriors surged forward. Lindir’s Nana 
(3) was pulled from her horse at the same time others grabbed for himself 
and his Adar (1). He found himself clasped in the strong arms of a man 
and could only watch helplessly as his Adar (1) managed to free himself 
long enough to draw his sword and enter battle against at least ten of the 
evil warriors. He could not see his Nana (3), but heard her screams of 
terror. His Adar (1) heard them too, and the desperate look on his face as 
he fought for his life, tore at Lindir’s heart. The tall Elf had killed at least 
six of the mortal warriors, but was tiring fast.

	A scream left Lindir’s throat as a blow to the arm loosened his 
Adar’s (2) grip on his weapon, sending it clattering to the ground. The 
screams did not stop as the red-haired leader plunged the tip of his sword 
straight into his Adar’s (2) heart, spilling his life blood, causing him to 
slump to the ground. 

	But the worst was to come. Lindir’s Nana (3) still lived. She was 
dragged forth and shown the lifeless body of her mate. Lindir struggled to 
free himself from the man who held him, but the man was too strong. 
Twenty men took his Nana (3) as she lay next to her fallen mate. Took her 
'till she too lay broken and bleeding on the forest floor, all life gone from 
her eyes. And Lindir was forced to watch it all. His cries of “Ada, Nana.” 
(5,3) went unheard. His prayers to the Valar were not answered. When all 
was still, he was brought forth to the leader of the men who would decide 
his fate. 

	“Give him a shovel”, the man said cruelly. “Let him dig their 
grave.” The men made bets as to how long it would take him. Skins of 
wine were passed around, and the more the men drank, the more evil they 
became. When three of the men mentioned that the young Elf was 
sweating heavily and they might lose their bet, he was stopped from his 
task, his clothes pulled from his body, and water poured over him. Dirty 
fingers touched him all over, fondling even his most private parts, before 
he was pushed back to finish his grisly duty. But he persevered, if only 
that his life might last a little longer, or the unknown fate to which he 
would be subjected put off for a while.

	After what seemed like days, Lindir managed to dig a long trench 
deep enough to hold the lifeless bodies of his parents. He was allowed to 
kiss each one, before four of the men callously dragged his Nana (3) and 
Adar (1) to the trench and threw them carelessly into the freshly dug hole. 
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Lindir was forced to shovel dirt over 
their bodies. It was to be his last glimpse of the two Elves most dear to his 
heart. 
	
When the last shovel full of earth had been cast, the red-haired warrior 
moved forward and grabbed a handful of Lindir’s hair near the back of his 
neck. If you care for them so much, you can be their guardian. He pulled 
Lindir down onto his back and drew a dagger from his waistband. The 
young Elf cringed, knowing this breath would most likely be his last, but 
in a motion quicker than a striking snake, the man grabbed Lindir’s feet 
and cut a deep slash in both from the ball of the foot to the heel. 
Whimpering in shock and pain, Lindir watched as dark red blood began to 
immediately well from the cuts, sinking into the freshly dug earth of his 
parent’s grave.

	“Get their horses, we leave immediately.” The red-haired warrior 
yelled to his men. Looking at the Elfling still lying on the ground, he 
emitted a rude curse, and murmured to four of the grinning warriors at his 
side. “Young and tender as he is, he will not last long without food or 
water. I would take him with us, for his body could be put to use, but we 
have not the time, and he would only slow us down.” Moving over to his 
horse, he mounted quickly, raised his sword into the air and shouted so 
that all could hear. “Mount up, lads, we ride forth, now.” And with that, 
the men cantered off through the woods, leaving Lindir naked on the 
ground, with nothing left but a grieving heart.

	How long he lay face down on top the fresh earthy mound crying 
till no more tears would come, he knew not. It could have been hours, it 
could have been days. The sun was low in the sky when he realized he was 
dying of thirst. He had to find water soon or he knew he would perish. 
Getting painfully to his feet, he began limping back towards the road. His 
only hope lay in finding a small creek or water hole. And there’s where his 
recollection stopped. Half crazed with pain and grief, the young Elf’s 
mind went blank; only instinct drove him forward. How he managed to 
reach the outskirts of the borders of Imladris, only the Valar knew, but it 
was there he was found almost three months later. 

	All Lindir remembered of his rescue was a pair of kind blue eyes 
and a gentle voice murmuring soft words of comfort, as strong arms lifted 
him onto the back of a horse and cradled him to his chest. His last vision 
before he lost consciousness was of golden hair shining in the sun. He 
learned later the name of his benefactor. The second in command of 
Imladris had been checking the borders that day. It was Lord Glorfindel 
who had found the waif, and brought him back to what would become his 
new home.

	He had never told his story; the details of how his parents died. He 
wished no one to know of their shame, nor his. So when asked, he said 
only that his parents had been killed. That he had been away from the 
camp and returned to find their bodies. Most assumed he meant Orcs, and 
he did not tell them different. But it was not Orcs, it was men, and he 
would never forgive them for what they did. And he would never forget. 

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

	Lindir came back to the present with a start. Glorfindel was 
looking at him as if expecting a response, and it took the younger Elf a 
second to remember the last words that the warrior had spoken.

	“I apologize, Glorfindel, for my heated words. I have other reasons 
to dislike the race, but what I said about Lord Elrond and his sons was 
unfair. I do hold them in great esteem, and owe Lord Elrond such debt that 
I will never be able to repay it. He has treated me more than fair, and in 
my anger I said things that I now regret. Please forgive my rudeness. You 
are here at my request and I have treated you abominably.”

	Lindir was nothing but honest. He truly did regret his words, and 
hoped the Vanya would accept his apology. He knew that Glorfindel was a 
compassionate Elf and wished with all his heart that he could feel the 
same. But men had violently hurt and taken away those he loved, and he 
could not see his way to feel differently about them.

	“Your apology is accepted Lindir. I have no wish to fight with you. 
And we all speak words that we regret sometimes in anger. Here, let me 
clear away your soup bowl and I will serve the entree. Refill our wine 
glasses, and let us find something more pleasing to talk about while we 
enjoy the rest of our meal.” Glorfindel rose from his chair and removed 
the bowls, putting them back on the tray. In addition to the quail, there 
were steamed vegetables that had come from the gardens of Imladris, and 
roasted tubers that were dripping with fresh butter. He served them each a 
plate and sat back down. Lifting his wineglass and taking a few sips, he sat 
back and took a closer look at his companion. 
	 
	Lindir was wearing a beautiful blue tunic that seemed to turn his 
eyes the color of the deep waters of the ocean. They were startlingly dark 
in comparison to his pale face and Glorfindel of a sudden was drawn to 
them like a magnet. Lindir was beautiful. His face tonight was somehow 
softer, yet more masculine. It took him a while to figure out the change, 
but he finally realized that Lindir was not wearing his traditional warrior’s 
braids. His long white hair was pulled forward on his face, covering the 
pointed ears, and accentuating his high cheekbones. The paleness of his 
hair and face drew out the blue of his eyes and the rosy pink of his cheeks 
and lips. He reminded the Seneschal of one of the marble statues that 
Elrond had commissioned and which graced the lovely gardens of the 
Elven city.

	And this Elf felt love for him. Ah, but he was tempting. Glorfindel 
felt a longing to taste of the pink lips and caress the soft skin, but he knew 
it could not be. Lindir wanted more than just a night of pleasure, and that 
the ancient warrior could not give him. It was a shame, for Lindir was 
truly a prize worth having. He hoped that one day, the minstrel would fall 
for someone who would make him happy, and value him for the jewel that 
he was.

	“So, Lindir, how are you doing in your musical studies?” 
Glorfindel asked, trying to change the nature of his thoughts. “Lord Findal 
considers you one of his prized pupils, I hope you know. I daresay Haldir 
is impressed. Did you know that he also plays the harp? Not many realize 
his skill, but it is one of his passions. Of course, he does not have talent as 
fine as yours, but he has written a few pieces of his own. You might ask 
him to show you one day.”

	“That does surprise me,” Lindir replied. “I know he has a fine 
voice, for we sang together the other day, but I did not know he played. I 
would truly like to hear him. Perhaps I will bring it up before he leaves 
Imladris. He has many talents of which I was not aware, it seems.”

	“You would be surprised, mellonamin,” (6) Glorfindel chuckled. 
"Haldir amazes me, and I have known him for millennia! Most people do 
misjudge him. I will not say he is all bark and no bite, for when riled, he 
has a ferocious temper, just ask his brothers. But he is a good Elf. 
Lothlórien is proud of him.”

	During the lulls and bouts of conversation, both Elves had finished 
the main course and Glorfindel had cleared the table and served dessert. 
The empty dessert plates still sat in front of them as they enjoyed a glass 
of a light sweet wine. A comfortable silence had grown between the two, 
and was finally broken when the Elda stretched and leaned forward to 
remove the last of the dishes from the table. “If you are finished, Lindir, I 
will put all this aside.” At a nod from the minstrel, Glorfindel removed the 
last remnants of the meal and set the serving tray aside. Then he stood and 
stretched again. 

	“I suggest we move to more comfortable seats,” the Elda 
suggested. The night is cool, perhaps you would like to sit out on the 
balcony for a while; look at the stars? Or better yet, would you care to take 
a walk with me in the garden?”

	“I think I would prefer the walk,” Lindir said with a smile. “It is so 
beautiful out tonight, and I feel at peace underneath the stars. Give me a 
moment to get my cloak and I will join you.”

	/What better chance have I to tell the Seneschal of my love, and 
what better place than underneath the star-kissed sky. It is now or never. 
And no matter what his response, after this night my life will change 
forever./ 

	Saying a prayer to the Valar to grant his wish of all wishes, Lindir 
followed his love out of the room and down the hall, wondering what the 
rest of the night would hold.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. Adar - Father
2. Adar’s - Father’s
3. Nana - Mother
4. Mae govannen - Well met 
5. Ada - Father (short endearing term of Father)
6. mellonamin - my friend
 


Chapter 13: Under the Stars


	The air had the sweet smell it gets after a heavy rain, and droplets 
of water still clung to the leaves of the plants and trees, the rays of Ithil 
refracting from their depths like tiny jewels. Two tall Elves walked the 
paths of the gardens under the moonlight, one with hair like the moon 
itself, the other’s like the sun. No words were spoken as each took comfort 
in the other’s company and in the silent stars that shone above them; 
Varda’s gift to the Firstborn.

	“Come with me, Lindir,” Glorfindel gently grasped the minstrel’s 
hand. “I want to show you something.” The stately warrior left the stone 
path of the gardens and led his friend across the wet grassy lawn, heading 
for the tall trees that guarded the Last Homely House. Disregarding the 
main track through the woods, the Seneschal followed a faint trail that was 
just discernable to Elven eyes. Drops fell from the branches that they 
brushed along the way, falling like diamonds upon their hair and clothes. 
The barely visible path wound through brush and scrub, but the two elves 
stepped through it effortlessly as was the way of their kind.

	The canopy overhead grew thicker, blocking Ithil’s rays, and the 
darkness cloaked them in shrouds of black velvet. Glorfindel had not 
spoken another word since asking Lindir to follow. The hoot of an owl 
echoed once through the night, sounding eerily like a baby’s cry, but then 
all stilled once again. Deeper they went, onwards into the heart of the 
wood, where ancient oak, beech and ash trees dug thick roots into the 
ground, guarding secrets of old. 

	The aged trees seemed to sigh in their passing as if they knew what 
lingered in the Elves' hearts, their voices whispering songs of ages past. 
Here the air was heavy with moisture, forming a grey mist that sinuously 
caressed and wound it’s way around the darkened trunks, cloaking the 
silent figures from the outside world. There was power here, one could 
feel it in the ground, in the air, in the thick limbs and boughs that reached 
up to the sky. It was here before the time of the Elves; sowed perhaps by 
Yavanna when the world was new. Glorfindel stopped as a low hum 
permeated the air. Reaching out he placed both palms on an ancient oak 
and beckoned for Lindir to do the same. The tree pulsed under their 
fingertips sending vibrations through their arms and into their bodies. The 
hum increased slightly in volume and seemed to thrum with the beat of 
their hearts. They became one with the forest, living the song of the trees. 

	Minutes passed, and still they stood, lost in another time, one with 
nature. As gradually as it had started, the vibration stopped, and the hum 
quieted. They were left with a feeling of peace and serenity. Then 
Glorfindel once again took Lindir by the hand. “Come,” he said again. 
They moved further into the woods, away from the ancient center, in a 
slightly westward direction, still following the faint path. Lindir opened 
his mouth to speak, but the ancient warrior placed a finger on his lips, and 
shook his head. They walked a little ways further and suddenly the trees 
gave way to a circular clearing. The stars shone brightly overhead, and in 
the center, Ithil’s rays lit a silver circle on the wet grass. Delicate white 
and yellow blossoms littered the ground, their heads just peeping above 
the plush green lawn. A shrine, it seemed in the middle of the wilderness.

	“It is beautiful, is it not?” the golden-haired Vanya whispered. “I 
come here often. 'Tis a sacred place. As far as I know, only Lord Elrond 
and myself know of its existence.”

	He led Lindir to the center of the clearing till they were both 
standing in the spot where Ithil’s rays shone down upon their faces. 
Lifting his arms and face up to the stars, Glorfindel began to sing. The 
song was Quenyan, one sung at the time of awakening, a tribute to Varda 
Elentári, the Lady of the Stars. 

	Lindir watched spellbound as a soft glow golden began to surround 
the tall warrior. He could feel great power emanate from the ancient Elf’s 
body. He seemed to call to the heavens, and indeed, it seemed the stars 
answered, for they seemed to take on a brighter glow. The deep clear 
voice of the golden warrior was beautiful, and as the song continued to 
flow from his lips, Lindir could only sigh in rapture. Other voices joined 
with Glorfindel’s, as if the very stars themselves were singing. The sound 
was as none Lindir had ever heard before, like a heavenly chorus, for the 
voices were singing with great joy and happiness. Such a wondrous sound 
that it brought tears to his eyes, and made him want to cry out in ecstasy 
and bliss. Another lovely voice joined the singers, harmonizing sweetly 
with the bass tones of the golden Lord. With surprise, Lindir realized it 
was his own, as he too had raised his arms and was singing with the stars.

	The song ended, the last notes dying softly, as the voices stilled to 
just a whisper, then were gone. Glorfindel lowered his arms and turned to 
face the white-haired Elf at his side. Cupping Lindir’s face in his slender 
hands, he looked into his friend’s eyes, sky-blue to ocean. “Did you hear 
the voices? Did you hear the song of the stars?” He gazed hopefully at his 
friend, who could only nod his head in affirmation. “Yes, I heard them,” 
Lindir whispered, his voice raw with emotion, “How did you .....?

	“Shush, do not speak,” the Elda whispered, “give me your cloak.” 
Lindir undid the clasp of his gray cloak and handed the garment to his 
friend. Glorfindel spread it out on the grass then lay down upon it, his 
back to the earth. He motioned for Lindir to lie beside him. “Watch,” the 
Elda said softly, “Watch the stars.”

	They lay in the grass, in the clearing, Ithil’s light bathing them in a 
soft white glow. They watched, and as they did the light of the stars grew 
even brighter, 'till the whole sky was lit as if billions of candles 
illuminated the heavens.  As if the sun forgot its routine in the sky and 
rose to couple with the moon, for it was almost bright as day. And then 
without warning, all the lights in heaven went out; the stars, the moon, 
gone. Only darkness remained, a darkness Lindir had never known, as if 
someone had extinguished his soul, and he was afraid. Every doubt he had 
ever felt, every bad thought, fear, prejudice, all evil that was in him came 
to the surface, and threatened to overwhelm him. 
	
	What lasted but a moment, seemed an eternity, but with the same 
suddenness, it was over. The heavens were back to normal. Ithil’s light 
shone once more, and the friendly light of the stars once again peopled the 
sky. Lindir opened his mouth to speak, but again Glorfindel stopped him. 
“Watch,” he said, and once more, Lindir obeyed.

	In the midst of the star field, one bright star began to move. Soon 
others followed it in a swirling dance across the midnight blue sky. As 
they left their place in the heavens, they seemed to move closer to the two 
bodies lying in the grass. They continued their dance, and in their midst, a 
face appeared, that of a woman, fair of face with shining eyes and long 
wavy blond hair. The stars became a crown upon her head, and she 
glimmered and twinkled as if she was a star herself. A slim white foot 
appeared on the ground before them and the lady materialized in whole, 
her laughter ringing like tiny bells jingling in the wind. 

	“Glorfindel, Lindir, Firstborn of Iluvatar, you who sing with the 
stars, I hear your call and I have come before you.” 

	Robes of white touched with stars and edged with gold cloaked her 
graceful form, the long billowing sleeves moving as if in a gentle breeze. 
She reached out a white hand and fingered a lock of Lindir’s hair. 

	 “Child of Ithil, you have seen much sorrow in your life. Stray not 
towards the dark, but embrace the light. You hold a precious gift, for the 
Music of the Ainur resides in your heart. Let it spring forth so that others 
may share in its beauty. For it is in the music you will find your heart’s 
desire.” And the Lady smiled at the young Elf who gazed at her with such 
awe. “Elbereth Gilthoniel,” Lindir whispered, and the Lady answered, 
“Did you think I would desert you? I am here always. Listen to my words. 
To know joy you must experience sadness; to gain strength you must first 
show weakness. The answers lie within you, Lindir. What you seek you 
must first find inside.” She bent down and placed a gentle kiss on Lindir’s 
forehead, and where her lips had touched, for a moment a star appeared.

	As the white locks slid through her fingers, she moved her hand to 
grasp those that were golden. “Glorfindel of Gondolin, old friend, Child of 
Anor, you ask for guidance, but you do not listen to my words. They do 
not always come from my mouth, but sometimes from the mouths of 
others. Open the doors that you have closed. Let in the music and the light. 
Listen to the one who sees inside your soul, for he is Guardian of more 
than the Golden Woods.”

	With a smile and a silvery laugh, she was gone, the sparkling stars 
weaving their way back to the heavens, where they once more took up 
their nightly positions, smiling down upon the two lonely Elves that 
bathed in Ithil’s spotlight.

	Glorfindel’s blue eyes were like a mirror, reflecting the light of the 
silvery stars. He turned them on his friend as he felt Lindir’s hand upon 
his arm.
	
	“Why?" Lindir whispered, "Why did you bring me here? I am 
nothing to you and yet you share with me something so wondrous that it 
has left me almost speechless. The Lady of the Stars.... she spoke to me.... 
kissed me. I can still feel her sweet lips upon my brow.” Tears of joy were 
flowing down Lindir’s cheeks. He had spoken with the Lady that all Elves 
revere, one of the Valar, the creator of the stars. His eyes shone with the 
wonder of it.

	“You belittle yourself, Lindir. Since the day I found you lost on the 
borders, I have cared for you. I know not what the Lady told you, for she 
speaks to each of us in her own way, and her words are not for others to 
hear. Tonight she opened my eyes to that which I should have seen along 
time ago.” 

	“As to why I brought you here?” Glorfindel took a deep breath. 
“Many reasons, Lindir. First, all Elves experience sorrow. We see the 
things we know die away, but in balance, we also see new growth, new 
life. I have always felt that I saw more than my share of death and 
destruction, and I let my pain run deep, holding it inside 'till it became an 
integral part of me. I sensed the same in you when I first met you, and 
over time it seemed to get worse. But I was so caught up in my own self 
pity that I could not feel for anyone else”

	"Haldir opened a door for me. Over the centuries he has been there 
to share my sorrows. A step at a time he broke the locks on the door 
wherein dwelt my despair and pain. This afternoon, he set me free. But I 
knew it not.

	"Second, after our argument tonight I felt you had lost your way. 
Peace is our only salvation, and I feel that strongly. Men have their faults, 
but they are also Children of Iluvatar. I felt if I showed you the stars it 
would help you understand the place men hold in this world. One day the 
Firstborn will leave Arda, but Men will remain. It will be theirs to hold 
until the end of time, when we all meet again and Eru decides our fate.

	"Third, I wanted to relieve some of your pain, because I knew that 
tonight I would be the one to cause you more sorrow. Haldir and I had a 
long talk today. I opened up to him and revealed my innermost secrets. 
Something I have never done with anyone before. He is my best friend, 
and I love him with all my heart. His only concern is my happiness, but he 
also spoke with me of things that were disturbing. Things I felt I was not 
ready for. He told me your secret, Lindir, he told me of the love you hold 
inside. Love for me.”

	With this admission, Lindir kneeled in front of the ancient warrior 
and placed a finger on the other’s lips. “Speak no more, Glorfindel. Let me 
first tell you of my feelings. I have loved you since I first set eyes upon 
you, since I was no more than an Elfling. Deep in my heart I knew you 
would never return my feelings, but I could not change what I felt inside. 
You speak of faults, but you are perfection to me. You are beautiful, my 
love, not just on the outside, though you rival Anor itself, but on the inside 
as well. And it is not just me that feels this love, for you are beloved of all 
Arda. All speak well of you.

	"These years past my love for you has grown until I felt my heart 
would burst. And yet, I could never speak to you of my feelings. I was so 
scared of rejection that I forced myself to be content to love you from afar. 
I too, spoke to Haldir. And he convinced me to tell you that which I had 
never been able to before. And so, I am telling you now, Glorfindel, Amin 
mela lle.” (1) 

	The Elda tried to speak, but Lindir again silenced him. “Please, this 
is so hard for me to do, even now, I feel myself tremble in my fear of 
saying these words, let me finish before you tell me what I’m sure will 
break my heart.

	"I can tell, Glorfindel, from what you have spoken so far that you 
do not have the same feelings towards me. In my heart, I have always 
known it was so, and yet, I hoped against all hope that I had some small 
chance. And now that is taken from me. Yet, if you could in your kindness 
grant me one request, I would treasure it forever,” At this Lindir’s voice 
dropped to a whisper, and his eyes, which had been downcast turned 
pleadingly to those of his love. “Lie with me tonight, Glorfindel. Saes.” 
(2)

	Glorfindel looked at his friend with sadness in his eyes. He raised 
his hand and gently caressed a lock of moon-kissed hair. “Lindir, I brought 
you here tonight to tell you that my heart is closed. I have never been in 
love, never found the one who was meant for me. It has been that way for 
both of my lives. I let those that I have lost in my lives all steal a piece of 
my heart 'till I was left with no heart to give. 

	"When first I found you, a dirty, half-starved, frightened Elfling, 
and held you in my arms to comfort you, I looked into your eyes and they 
were so filled with pain I thought my heart would break. The heart I 
thought was gone. Something in your eyes pulled me into their depths, and 
a feeling went through me that rocked me to the core. It was so strong it 
scared me, and I knew not what it was. I thought myself bewitched. 

	"As you grew and came of age, the feeling remained. Every time I 
looked at you I felt the pull. I kept you at a distance, unable to let you go 
from my heart completely, but unable to deal with my feelings inside. For 
it was the pull of a soul mate, Lindir. You haunted my dreams, my waking 
moments, and I could not bear it. 

	"I have nightmares, Lindir. I see the faces of the friends I lost over 
my lifetime, and they call to me, begging me to save them. I could not 
bear it if your face entered those dreams. So I backed away from the 
feelings I had inside, and I built a shell around my heart. Haldir was 
somehow always there to help me through my nightmares, but I never told 
him of the feelings I had for you. 

	"Tonight he begged me to open my heart and live. I, as I have 
always done in the past, ignored his words. And when he told me of the 
love you had for me, my only thoughts were to turn you away.
	
	"But Varda showed me how foolish I have been. There is music in 
your heart, Lindir, and it has been calling me ever since I first saw you. It 
is the voice of one soul calling to another, and tonight my heart sings for 
the first time to yours.”

	 “Amin mela lle, Lindir, corm en cormamin.” (3) 

	“I will have you tonight and every other, if you will let me.” And 
with that, the Elda pulled Lindir close to him and pressed a chaste kiss to 
his lips. The stars grew brighter and a silvery laugh accompanied by the 
jingle of tiny bells floated lightly on the air. Sky blue eyes locked with 
those of ocean, and pure love flowed between them. The second kiss was 
longer, as lips parted and tongues entwined. Ithil and Anor joined together 
in a flash of golden light, shining over the two lovers as they shared their 
love under the stars.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter.

1. Amin mela lle. - I love you.
2. saes - please
3. Amin mela lle, Lindir. Corm en cormamin. - I love you, Lindir. Heart of 
my heart. 
 
A/N: Parts of this chapter were inspired by two stories: The Face of the 
Sun by Nildrohain and the Glorfindel/Haldir RPG Series at Rivendell-
Reflections written by Leanan 2000, Ember Vixen & co. 



 
	

Chapter 14: Love Under the Stars 
 
 	By the Valar, he is beautiful, the Elda thought, gazing down at the 
one to whom he had just confessed his love. Lindir’s cheeks were flushed 
a deep rose, and his eyes which had darkened with passion were like 
velvet pools of indigo. His pink lips, slightly swollen from Glorfindel’s 
kisses, were parted, and the Elda could feel the minstrel’s soft breath 
caress his face, its scent as fresh as the minty herb the Elves used to flavor 
their tea. Silken strands of snow-white hair fanned out like liquid silver 
against the coarse gray folds of the woolen cloak upon which they lay. 
Reaching up, he slowly released the shoulder ties on Lindir’s tunic, sliding 
the garment open to expose the minstrel’s bare chest. He gasped as he ran 
his fingers lightly over its warm surface. Lindir’s skin was soft as the 
wings of a butterfly, its texture like the velvety petals of the roses growing 
in Celebrían’s garden, its color like that of a pale pink pearl.
 
 	Glorfindel moved his hand so it lay directly over Lindir’s heart, 
feeling its beat as it fluttered under his fingers. “Corm en cormamin, mela 
en’ coamin. Lle naa vanima (1),” he whispered.
      
      Lindir said not a word, but his heart felt as if it would jump out of 
his chest. Glorfindel’s touch sent shivers up and down his spine, igniting 
waves of desire that threatened to overwhelm him. A small whimper 
escaped his lips as the tip of the Elda’s tongue lightly caressed his left 
nipple, swirling in a lazy circle around the tiny nub sending an electric jolt 
through Lindir’s abdomen straight down to his groin. Golden hair fell like 
a blanket around him, as the warrior suckled the teat like a newborn babe 
at its mother’s breast. Warm hands ran gently up and down his sides, then 
lifted him into a loving embrace as Glorfindel’s lips left the ministration of 
the tiny bud to once again seek his own. The younger Elf threaded his 
hands into his lover’s golden hair, pulling gently in an effort to make the 
kiss last as long as possible. Tongues entwined in a sensuous dance, as the 
lover’s broke apart only to draw breath. 
      
      A strong arm braced Lindir’s back as his tunic was removed 
completely and tossed to the side. Glorfindel eased the minstrel back to 
the ground while his tongue sought the other pink bud on Lindir’s chest, 
laving it until it glistened with wetness and turned a lovely shade of rose. 
After mouthing it gently for a few moments, the golden warrior 
straightened up and drew his own tunic over his chest, revealing himself in 
all his golden glory. Lindir’s eyes widened as he watched the play of 
muscles under the golden skin, imagining how they would feel under his 
fingertips. Unable to resist any longer, he reached out and touched that 
which he had wanted for so long, bringing a smile to the ancient warrior 
that threatened to undo Lindir once and for all. This was what he had 
longed for, dreamed of, and it was happening right now, under the 
watchful eyes of Ithil and the silver stars.

      Moving like a great lion, the Elda slowly kissed down the ridge in 
the center of Lindir’s chest, his hands following along the minstrel’s sides, 
until they slipped around his hips and grasped him firmly. Lindir could 
feel the warmth that was Glorfindel, and the hotness of his exhalation 
against his skin as the golden warrior moved closer and closer to the 
waistband of his leggings. Fire coursed through the minstrel and he arched 
his back upwards as he felt his lover’s breath warm the evidence of his 
desire as it strained against his suede leggings. Glorfindel’s mouth closed 
around the hardened mound for the barest of seconds, before he began to 
gently bite at it with his teeth. Moving lower, he nuzzled at the rounded 
globes below and the gentle touch of his lover through the soft fabric had 
Lindir writhing underneath the Elda in ecstasy.
      
       “Aye, this is pure torture,” Lindir cried. “Touch me, Glorfindel, 
saes, (2) I need to feel your hands and your lips against me." Glorfindel 
laughed as he watched the frantic efforts the minstrel was making. Lindir 
was desperately trying to reach the ties of his leggings without success, for 
each time he made a move, Glorfindel would do something wonderful 
with his mouth that would thwart his efforts.

      Taking pity on the white-haired Elf, the ancient warrior quickly 
untied Lindir’s laces and grasping the waistband of his leggings, slowly 
pushed them down past his knees. Placing soft kisses on the pale thighs, 
he eyed the telltale evidence of Lindir’s desire as it stood at attention 
awaiting his ministrations, its tip rosy and inviting, leaking drops of dewy 
moisture. Burying his nose in the soft white curls that nestled at the base, 
Glorfindel inhaled the scent of mint and earthiness that was Lindir’s alone. 
Then, moving upwards, he closed his mouth around the rosy head and 
began to gently suckle, running the end of his tongue over the tiny opening 
at the top, down the firm surface and back up again to take in just the 
crown once more. 

      Lindir fought against the confining fabric of his leggings as he 
tried to move his legs and raise his knees to give Glorfindel better access 
to his most private of places. His breaths were coming in short gasps, and 
it was all he could do to keep his hips on the ground. When he felt himself 
drawn deeply into the warm cavity of Glorfindel’s mouth, he almost 
swooned from the sheer bliss of the sensation. Looking down he saw sky-
blue eyes gazing into his, and the image of the golden warrior doing to 
him what none other had before sent him spiraling over the edge.

      Glorfindel’s cheeks hollowed as he increased his intensity, trying 
to milk all that was from the body beneath him. Bobbing his head up and 
down with his efforts, he let his teeth lightly graze the mushroom-like 
crown. Lindir moaned as the Elda again suckled and licked at the tip 
before taking the whole into his mouth again, his tongue swirling madly in 
a wild dance.

	And then he stopped.  So lost was Lindir in a sea of pleasure, that 
the abrupt departure of the warm mouth from his aroused member came as 
a shock.  His eyes opened wide in surprise, causing his partner to smile.  “I 
do not know how far you wish to take this Lindir,” Glorfindel said softly, 
but I do not wish to hurt you, and I have nothing here to prepare you with.  
Unless ....   The warrior thought for a moment, then reached into a pocket 
of his tunic and brought out a tiny circular lidded jar.  Balm for my lips”, 
the seneschal mumbled, his cheeks turning a slight pink, “they tend to 
chap in the sun and wind.”  Opening the lid, he rubbed some of the creamy 
wax on his fingers, then placed the jar on the edge of the cloak.  “Now, 
mela,” he said with a purr, “where were we?” 

	Picking up where they had left off, Lindir found himself once 
again floating in a cloud of bliss.   When Glorfindel’s hands released 
Lindir’s hips to caress the firm globes of his backside, Lindir began to 
move, driving himself deep into the back of the warrior's throat. Fingers 
pushed into the cleft between Lindir’s round cheeks, rubbing against his 
hidden opening. Lindir’s hips bucked wildly when the tip of a finger 
pushed gently against the puckered entrance, repeating with a bit more 
pressure each time until the ring of muscle relaxed enough to allow 
shallow entry. Lindir could only whimper and moan and toss his head 
from side to side. It was not much longer before the minstrel tensed and 
gushed forth his release deep into the back of the Seneschal’s throat. Stars 
played before his eyes, as wave after wave of pure heat threatened to send 
him into unending nirvana. Tremors of ecstasy wracked his body as he 
rode a cloud of euphoria, screaming his lover’s name over and over into 
the night. 

      Glorfindel removed Lindir’s leggings and his own while he 
watched his mate’s breathing return to normal and his muscles begin to 
relax. Crawling across the sated body, he pressed his full length against 
Lindir, feeling the others warmth caress his skin. He pressed his swollen 
member against Lindir’s now flaccid one, trying to let his lover know that 
he too, needed some attention. When he felt a hand slide underneath his 
hips and grasp his needy self, he sighed with relief. Feeling Lindir’s 
tongue press against his lips, he opened his mouth greedily. There was no 
trace of shyness as Lindir plundered the warm cavity of the other, his 
tongue dancing across teeth and gums, swirling and teasing in imitation of 
the ministrations the Elda had just performed. 

      Releasing Glorfindel’s lips, Lindir continued his kisses down the 
Elda’s chest, slowly moving his body until his face was directly 
underneath the Seneschal’s hips, nestled in golden curls. Lifting his head, 
he kissed the tip of Glorfindel’s arousal, lovingly tracing a line with his 
tongue to the base, following the blue vein that ran like a road down the 
underside. Then, taking the whole into his mouth, he suckled gently as if 
he were an Elfling with a forbidden lollipop. His hands grasped the 
warrior's firm backside, pulling the Elda deeper into his throat, then slowly 
pushing him back, building a steady motion of thrust that threatened to 
drive the older Elf to an early release. “Lindir, stop,” the Vanya whispered 
as he pulled himself from the other’s questing mouth. At the minstrel’s 
puzzled look, the Elda pulled Lindir up and took him gently in his arms. 

      Kissing his face tenderly, Glorfindel whispered soft words of love 
into the minstrel’s pointed ear, then ran his tongue across the tip, making 
the young Elf whimper and sigh. “I want to make you mine tonight, 
melamin (3). That is if you are willing. Let me know what your heart 
desires.” 

      “I want you inside me, nin bain,”(4) Lindir whispered. I want to be 
yours, all yours, to belong to you forever. Take me now, do to me as you 
will, aratoamin, a’maelamin.” (5)

      A growl escaped from the ancient warrior as he pulled his love to 
his chest and smothered him with hot kisses. “All I have to do is look at 
you and you set me on fire,” he whispered into Lindir’s throat, nuzzling 
the smooth surface, licking and nipping gently at the milky white skin. I 
will try to take it slow; lirimaer, (6) but you drive me wild with desire. I 
want you so badly I hurt.” 

      Spreading Lindir’s legs, the Elda positioned himself between them 
and knelt, sitting back on his heels. Picking up one of the white muscled 
limbs, he kissed the bottom of Lindir’s foot, brushing his lips across the 
surface. Moving his head downwards he placed sweet kisses on the 
minstrel’s ankle, calf, and inner thigh. Then, pushing the leg forward until 
Lindir’s knee was pressed against his chest, he grasped the other leg and 
repeated the same motions. Positioning the second leg the same as the 
first, he exposed the minstrel’s lovely white cheeks and the soft pink 
puckered opening that lay hidden between them.

      Lowering his head, he bit softly at the junction of Lindir’s thigh 
and buttocks, licking and sucking, pulling the blood to the surface leaving 
a faint red mark of passion. Moving lower, he kneaded and massaged 
Lindir’s firm cheeks until the minstrel was wantonly panting and 
squirming in his hands. Then, turning his lover over and positioning him 
on his hands and knees, he took a moment to admire the beauty spread 
before him. Gently pulling apart the milky white globes of the minstrel's 
cheeks, he pushed his nose deep into the cleft and pressed his tongue 
against the revealed puckered opening, licking at it slowly like a deer at a 
salt lick. 

      Glorfindel felt Lindir’s thighs quiver, and watched as the 
minstrel’s sacks tightened and his flaccid member grew in length and 
twitched with desire. Deep moans started in the young Elf’s chest, as he 
begged the Vanya shamelessly for more. Glorfindel complied, pressing 
harder, using the tip of his tongue to slowly trace the outlines of the 
velvety rosebud. Then without warning, he shoved his tongue deep inside 
the tight entrance, causing Lindir to clutch wildly at the cloak underneath 
him as his head raised up and a scream left his lips. In and out, in and out 
went the hot tongue, 'till Lindir was pushing against it in a frantic effort to 
draw it deeper inside. “Saes, saes (2), deeper, please,” the young Elf cried, 
his voice raspy in his delirium. “Oh Elbereth, Glorfindel, it feels so good, 
saes, don’t stop, don’t ever stop." Tears were falling from beneath the 
minstrel’s tightly closed eyes he was in such ecstasy.

      The warmth of Glorfindel’s breath, the gentle knead of his fingers 
against his upthrust pale cheeks, and the glorious feel of the warrior’s 
tongue as it slithered like a lizard in and out of his tight opening caused 
Lindir’s bobbing shaft to swell so much it hurt. Grabbing it with one hand, 
he started to stroke in time with the thrusts of Glorfindel’s tongue, faster 
and faster 'till his whole body convulsed, and white hot creamy liquid 
poured over his fingers to splash onto the cloak below.

      Glorfindel nearly came himself as he felt the muscles of the 
guardian ring spasm against his tongue. Withdrawing the organ slowly, he 
rubbed more of the lip balm onto his hand and spread the creamy 
substance where his tongue had just been, then reaching down, spread the 
remainder on his own swollen member. Pressing the tip against Lindir’s 
opening, he pushed gently until the crown just penetrated the relaxed 
muscle. Pausing until the minstrel grew accustomed to the larger insertion, 
he then began to slowly rock in and out, pushing a bit deeper with each 
thrust until he was completely embedded inside his mate. He continued 
thrusting slowly as he reached around and grasped Lindir’s flaccid 
member and began to stroke it in time with his movements. 

      Soon Lindir was rocking with him, and the slap of flesh hitting 
flesh resounded across the clearing. Glorfindel’s thrusts became more 
powerful, and he aimed for that spot that sent Lindir into absolute bliss, 
hitting it over and over as he drove deeper into the tight hot channel of the 
wanton body beneath him. Both Elves were panting with their effort, and a 
thin film of sweat covered each, causing Glorfindel’s hands to slip as he 
tried to grasp Lindir’s hips and pull him closer. Leaning down he brushed 
his lips against the base of Lindir's neck, inhaling the sweetness of the 
minstrel's hair. Never had he dreamed he could feel this way about 
another. Lindir woke in him a passion that had been hidden for way too 
long. Words could not express the way he felt about the young Elf.
      
       Straightening his body, he tilted back his head, the tips of his 
golden hair almost brushing the ground. He was in a state of complete 
ecstasy, and he wished this moment would never end. Feeling his time was 
nigh, the Seneschal increased his pace and both Elves cried out the other’s 
name as they reached their climax at the same time, riding that point of no 
return for what seemed like hours, until each collapsed in exhaustion. 
Sated and spent, they wriggled until they were in each others arms, and 
murmuring tender words of love, each succumbed to the land of sleep, 
dreaming of what just passed and what was to come.

      Not long afterwards, Glorfindel awoke. Stroking the sleeping body 
of the Elf curled at his side, he thought about their first time together. 
Their union had been like the first day of spring, when the dormant life 
hidden in the trees first awakened, and the gray nubs on the branches 
joyously released tiny green shoots, which slowly uncurled to bask in the 
warm life-giving rays of the sun. When the stark, barren limbs of winter 
blossomed with color and new growth, bringing hope to the heart, as 
nature clothed itself in all its glory. When from death and decay, new life 
and beauty sprang forth. 

      Lindir melted the winter and brought new life to his heart. Like a 
moth to a flame, Glorfindel was drawn to the gentle Elf, and he knew that 
now he had claimed Lindir for his own their lives would never be the 
same. Their love was new, but somehow Glorfindel was aware that it 
would never die. For Lindir gave what was his unconditionally, and he 
gave it all, his heart, his soul, his very essence, all poured out for the 
taking, and Glorfindel drank of it like fine wine. 

      Never had he felt this content, not even in the bliss that was 
Valinor. Unable to resist, he bent his head and pressed his lips to those of 
his lover, tasting again the essence that was Lindir, feeling his heart sing 
with unrelenting joy. Sighing, he sat up and began to search for the clothes 
they had shed so wildly. 

      Much as he would like to, it would not do them good to stay out 
here all night. Lindir was on holiday, but Glorfindel had to be up before 
dawn, as he had to be out early on morning patrol. Crawling inelegantly 
on all fours, drawing a merry laugh from his partner who had come awake 
with the gentle kiss, he managed to gather together all the stray garments 
and sort them out by owner. 

      Lindir watched the Elda as he crawled through the wet grass 
gathering together their cast off clothes. The ancient warrior reminded him 
of the large yellow mountain cat that was oft times seen prowling the high 
mountain passes. Glorfindel’s thighs rippled with muscle, mirroring the 
sleekness of the stealthy feline, their downy softness hiding the dangerous 
strength and power lying just beneath the surface. As the feral cat would 
silently stalk its victim, waiting for the perfect moment to time its deadly 
spring, so did Glorfindel seem to pounce upon the hapless fabric that lay 
on the wet ground. His likeness to the canny hunter belied only by the 
pink tongue that slipped from between his lips, giving his fierce 
countenance somewhat of a comic appearance. Lindir laughed at his 
analogy, causing the Elda to raise his eyebrows in question, before 
shrugging his shoulders and giving Lindir a quick smile.

      Glorfindel’s easy and somewhat childish behavior was what 
endeared him to many, but in truth, it was only a part of his persona. As a 
commander, he ruled his forces with an iron, albeit fair hand. He was a 
superb tactician and strategist, versed in the art of diplomacy and 
statesmanship, and a Lord in his own right, his rank dating back to his 
previous life on Arda, where he was head of the House of the Golden 
Flower in fair Gondolin. 

      The golden flower, the simple Celandine that bloomed so profusely 
around that fabled city. Which this night under Ithil’s watch, raised its 
head above the grasses where they lay. The golden flower and the rayed 
sun, splayed upon a field of blue, the symbol of a house fallen, but not 
forgotten. For on the night of the Hidden City’s demise, not one of that 
noble house survived. No grave or tombstone marked the passing of those 
fair and brave. And millennia later, their Lord reborn, cried tears of 
remembrance each year; in a forest in Imladris; in a field of golden 
flowers.

      Lindir knew automatically what drew his lover to this hidden 
arbor. For though Glorfindel spoke not much about the centuries before 
his death, Lindir could feel it was ever on his mind. The armor that the 
ancient warrior wore bore the crest of Imladris, but it was second to the 
rayed sun and golden flower. His robes of state reflected not the reds and 
browns of Elrond’s Elven sanctuary, but the blue and gold of the house 
that fell, failing to protect the wondrous Elven city that now lay lost and 
shattered under the waters of the sea. Glorfindel grieved for a time that 
was lost, as Lindir grieved for the lost time of his youth. But no longer 
would they face that grief alone. Two hearts and minds had melded this 
night, and forever after they would face the world together – sharing all – 
sadness and sorrow, happiness and bliss, until the end of the world, until 
the end of time.

      Gazing at each other with new eyes, the ancient warrior and the 
gentle minstrel dressed in companionable silence, each lost in his own 
thought; thoughts of the other. Then grasping hands, they started the walk 
back to the Last Homely House, knowing that for tonight and most other 
nights to come, they would sleep in each other’s embrace, in each other’s 
arms. They smiled as the soft jingle of bells once more floated on the air, 
and the stars above winked their approval at the two lovers. The trees too, 
whispered their acceptance as they passed underneath their leafy boughs, 
and sang to them songs of lovers of old. Ithil’s light shone brightly as the 
two crossed over the grassy sward and through the formal yard and garden 
where colourful flowers nodded their heads in sleep. Hand in hand they 
crossed the threshold of the Last Homely House, walking down the silent 
corridors until at last they reached the door to Lindir’s room and stepped 
inside.

      The minstrel tossed his wet cloak into the basket for dirty laundry, 
then removed the rest of his clothing while Glorfindel did the same. The 
Elda turned back the covers of the bed and smiled as Lindir walked to the 
other side. Both slid under the silky sheets and reached for the other, their 
lips meeting in a passionate kiss. The Vanya laughed as he ran his fingers 
through Lindir’s hair and removed a tiny yellow flower that had caught in 
a tangle. Lindir took it from his hand, gave the warrior a soft kiss, then left 
the bed and walked to a small bookcase near the door. Reaching for one of 
the thickest tomes, he opened it to the middle and pressed the golden 
Celandine blossom between the pages, a lasting keepsake of the love they 
first shared in the clearing under the stars. Then crawling back beneath the 
covers, he snuggled into Glorfindel’s waiting arms. “Amin mela lle (7), 
my Golden Warrior,” he whispered softly gazing into the sky-blue eyes of 
his love. “I love you too, pen-neth (8), the ancient warrior returned, 
moving his body against the minstrel until they were spooned tightly 
together. “Quel esta, Lindir. Amon anta kaim. Amrun tuluva avorn.” (9) 

      “Quel du, Glorfindel. Quell kaima.” (10)

      Ithil’s light shone through the window on the two peaceful faces, 
both lost in the dreamscape of reverie. 
 
~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~
 
Elven words and phrases used in this chapter
 
1.Corm en cormamin, mela en’ coamin. Lle naa vanima. - Heart of my 
heart, love of my life. You are beautiful.
2. saes - please
3. melamin - my love
4. nin bain - my fair one (my lovely one)
5. Aratoamin, a maelamin. - my champion, my beloved.
6. lirimaer - lovely one
7. Amin mela lle - I love you.
8. pen-neth - young one
9. Quel esta, Lindir. Amon anta kaim. Amrun tuluva avorn. - Rest well, 
Lindir. I need to sleep. Morning will come too soon. (Lit. Morning will 
come quick.)
10. Quel du, Glorfindel. Qeul kaima. - Good Night, Glorfindel. Sleep well.
 




Chapter 15: The Healing House


	The Healing House at Imladris was a large one-story building 
separate from the main house, situated not far from the stables. It consisted 
of a large ward which held approximately twenty-five beds, three private 
rooms usually reserved for nobility, eight small two-bed rooms, the private 
quarters of the healers, the herb room, kitchen, and solarium.

	It was so designed that the rooms housing the injured received the 
morning sun, in the hopes that the cheerful rays of Anor would lift the 
spirit and dispel some of the gloom that was always associated with illness 
or hurt. The solarium was a small sunny place of solace and rest with cozy 
nooks where those recuperating from illness could sit and enjoy a sense of 
the outdoors without having to dress or be exposed to the elements.

	The building was entered through a double archway that fronted a 
wide central corridor lined with benches and potted plants. The corridor 
ran the entire length of the house and exited at a stone path that led to an 
extensive garden of herbs and flowering plants grown specifically for 
medicinal purposes. 

	Although Lord Elrond was a Master Healer in his own right, and 
well respected throughout the land, it was Master Healer Anaran and his 
wife Miradhel who oversaw the day to day operations and management of 
the house itself. Miradhel’s knowledge of herb craft was extensive, and it 
was she, along with two apprentice healers who cared for and tended the 
various plants and gardens, harvesting and drying the tender leaves and 
roots, bottling and labeling them according to their content and usage. 
Anaran currently had one permanent journeyman healer, and two others in 
training, so the house was well staffed and prepared for any emergency.

	The herb room was where most of the medicines were stored, and 
contained a small stove for heating water, a large sink, various cabinets 
and shelves which were used for the mixing and storing of the healing 
plants and flowers, and a large table and chairs.

	The healing rooms were bright and airy and designed with comfort 
in mind. Each occupant would have his or her own nightstand, chest of 
drawers, visitor’s chairs, washbasin, footstool, and a windowed view of 
the beautiful waterfalls whose beauty graced the Elven realm. Currently 
there were only five patients in residence, all warriors, three in the ward 
and two in private rooms. Four had been injured in the skirmish with the 
bandits, one from a mishap at daily practice. Of the five, Tebring had the 
most serious hurts.

	Two elves were seated on a bench in the main hall when Lindir 
entered the healing house after breakfast. They were his comrades-in-
arms, Garion and Tambor. Garion was a long time resident of Imladris. 
Much older than Lindir and Tambor, he was a highly intelligent Elf with a 
quiet and dignified manner. Second in command of Lindir’s unit, he was 
the one the warriors turned to when they had a problem or just needed a 
companionable ear. Tall, with honey-colored hair and light-green eyes that 
always seemed to radiate warmth and affection, he was well liked and 
respected by not only the troops, but others as well.
	Tambor was smaller in stature, with dark straight hair cut even 
with his shoulders, almond-shaped brown eyes, and a highly energetic 
nature. At least this was his normal personality. But today he was slumped 
over in misery, his hair mussed and lank, his bright eyes red and tear-
stained. 

	Garion had his arm around Tambor’s shoulder and was whispering 
in his ear when Lindir approached. “Has Tebring awakened yet?” he asked 
the older Elf.

	Garion glanced at Tambor and paused a moment before replying. 
“He has, Lindir, and before you ask, yes, Lord Elrond has told him about 
his leg. We have been here all night, and Master Anaran has been kind 
enough to talk with us every so often about his condition. Tebring awoke 
early this morning. Elrond was with him and broke the news as gently as 
he could. “Tebring took it quite calmly... mayhap a bit too calmly.”

	“What do you mean by that?” Lindir asked, a look of concern on 
his face.

	“Lord Elrond told us the usual reaction of an Elf losing a limb 
would be shock, denial, and for a while, deep despair. Tebring evinced 
none of those symptoms. He just asked to see Tambor, which at first we 
thought was a good sign. But . . . ”

	At this, Tambor interrupted. “He does not wish to see me 
anymore!” he said with a quaver in his voice as tears filled his eyes. “He 
says he is releasing me from our bond, and when h-his stump, as he calls 
it, is healed, he will sail over the sea.” At this, the dark-haired Elf broke 
down completely and sobbed against Garion’s shoulder.

	“He cannot mean what he says, Tambor,” Lindir said softly. “It is 
only his shock that is making him say these words. He loves you deeply, 
gwador, (1) everyone knows that. Give him a few days and he will change 
his mind.”

	“Nay, Lindir,” Tambor whispered. “We have talked about this 
before. It was one of those moments when we were just thinking, what if, 
and he said if he ever was crippled he would go to Valinor. At the time, I 
just laughed. But he was in earnest. He said that if he could not complete 
his purpose on Middle Earth that he would not stay and be a burden to 
others. I jokingly asked him if he would not stay out of love for me, and he 
looked at me directly and told me, no. It hurt, and I told him so, and he 
just said he did not want to talk about it anymore. I-I stayed angry with 
him for a while, and then, well, it was foolish being angry over something 
that I thought would never happen, so I forgot about it. But it has 
happened, Lindir, and he is going to leave me.” 

	“Oh, Tambor, surely you are mistaken. His pride is hurt and he is 
in denial right now. When he has time to think things out he will change 
his mind. You two have been together too long for him to make such a 
hasty decision.” Lindir spoke these words out of concern for his friend, but 
in the back of his mind he was wondering what he would do if he was in 
Tebring’s place. Would he want to force Glorfindel to be saddled with an 
invalid? An involuntary shudder ran down his spine. He could not bear 
thinking along those lines. Poor Tebring. Poor Tambor. What a crushing 
blow to befall his friends. He opened his mouth to say something soothing 
to Tambor, but quickly closed it, as no thought came to mind. Slightly 
embarrassed, he looked down at the floor, feeling somewhat sick and 
shaky.

	“You do not understand, Lindir. I do not think Tebring is going to 
sail. I think he just told me that to keep me away. He is fading, Lindir. 
Already his eyes are dead. I pleaded with him, begged him to reconsider, 
to let me stay by his side and help him through this. He never raised his 
voice, just told Lord Elrond that he wanted me to leave. He would not look 
at me. You have come in vain, Lindir. He will not see you. Nor Garion, 
nor Glorfindel, no one. And do not bother trying to tell me he will decide 
differently. Lord Elrond thinks he is fading also, and his concern is that its 
happening so fast. What am I going to do without him, Lindir? He is my 
life!”

	Lindir sat down on the bench and along with Garion, tried his best 
to comfort his friend. He knew not what to say, except that he was sorry. 
Stroking the other’s hair, he told Tambor that he would be there for him 
and help in any way he could. “We will just have to find a way to bring 
him back, Tambor. Do not give up hope yet. We will fight for him gwador 
(1), all of us. Please, Tambor, do not give up. He loves you. Once he sees 
how much this will hurt you he will have to stay.”

	Tambor could not answer. The three sat a long time on the bench, 
holding each other, feeling each other’s pain. Finally, Garion told Lindir to 
go. “I shall stay with Tambor, Lindir. He needs to eat and get some rest. 
Come back later. We will get in touch with you if there are any changes.” 
Reluctantly, Lindir agreed.

	“Thank you, Lindir,” Tambor said softly. "Garion is right. There is 
nothing you can do right now. We will need all our strength later. I will 
not give up, Lindir. I cannot lose him. If he fades, I will also. Go eat.  It is 
almost time for lunch. Lord Elrond promised to come talk with us a little 
later. We will let you know what he has to say.”

	Lindir gave both his comrades a hug and a wistful smile, then 
turned and made his way out of the Healing house, heading back toward 
the Manor. His thoughts were heavy as he walked down the path. So much 
so that he did not notice at first that Haldir had joined him. 

	“You look troubled, meldir (2). Do you wish to talk?” Haldir had 
figured that Lindir would visit Tebring, and had been on his way to the 
Healing House to find him when he saw the minstrel heading his way. He 
was concerned about Tebring’s condition and Lindir’s reaction to it, but 
also wished to ask his friend how things had gone with Glorfindel. For the 
seneschal had left early this morning for patrol and Haldir had not had a 
chance to speak with him. 

	“If you do not mind, Haldir. There is much I have to tell you, but I 
wish our conversation to be private. Would you mind skipping lunch in 
the dining hall and eat with me in my room instead?”

	“I would enjoy that, Lindir.” Haldir replied. “Why not let me 
arrange with the kitchen to have a tray sent up and I will meet you back at 
your chambers.” 

	“Nay, Haldir. It is my turn this time. Let me go talk with the 
kitchen staff and you meet me back here." Lindir felt bad about what had 
happened yesterday and wanted to make it up to the Marchwarden.

	“Why do we not just go together, Lindir,” Haldir said, giving the 
minstrel an amused glance. After lunch, if you are up to it, we will go 
down to the market and see what we can do about your gift to Glorfindel. I 
have not forgotten my promise. We will be back by the time he gets off 
patrol, if you need to speak with him.” Haldir looked at Lindir slyly. “Do 
you wish to tell me anything about last night?”

	The sudden light that sparked in Lindir’s eyes told Haldir all he 
needed to know. “You told him, I see, and it looks like you might have 
some good news for me?” Lindir was about to speak, but Haldir placed a 
finger on his lips. “I can see you are bursting to tell me, but wait until we 
get lunch arranged. Then you can tell me over a glass of wine.” He gave 
his friend a hug, then grabbed his hand and headed for the kitchen.

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

	Glorfindel had awakened after only about three hours sleep, for the 
first time in a long while, regretting that he had to ride out early on patrol. 
It would have been so nice just to lay in bed curled up next to his love, and 
to be there to watch his beautiful Elf when he awoke. But alas, duty called. 
As quietly as he could, he entangled himself from Lindir’s arms and 
moved gently off the bed. The minstrel mumbled a bit in his sleep and 
reached out an arm as if searching for the warm body that had held him 
close through the night, but soon settled down and was at peace once 
more. Glorfindel placed a gentle kiss on Lindir’s forehead, then quickly 
dressed in the same clothes he had on last night and quietly left the room, 
heading for his own quarters. 

	Once he reached his suite, he quickly stripped off his garments 
then went into his private bath and filled the tub with warm water. When it 
was full, he stepped in and stretched out his legs, enjoying the soothing 
feel of the water as it caressed his body and relaxed his muscles. Leaning 
back he wet his head, then poured a small amount of aromatic liquid soap 
into his hand and began to wash his long golden hair. The minty smell of 
the soap made him feel refreshed and more awake, ready to start the new 
day. Rinsing his hair with clear water, he quickly bathed the rest of his 
body, then drained the tub and dried himself off with one of the linen 
towels that the maids delivered fresh and clean to his room each morning.

	Heading to his dresser, he picked up his comb and began to work 
the tangles out of his hair. He was running a bit behind schedule, so 
instead of his usual warrior braids, he plaited his hair in one long braid 
down his back then bound it with a leather cord. He selected a pair of 
worn leather leggings from his wardrobe, pulled them over his hips, then 
slipped into a thin undershirt over which he placed a well-worn leather 
tunic. Quickly tying off the laces, he donned his belt, and the leather 
harness that held his quiver and knives, then strapped on his armbands and 
glove. Deciding not to wear his cape, he folded it neatly and packed it in 
his carry bag. Pulling on his boots, he tucked a pair of short knives into the 
inner pockets, then sheathing his sword and picking up his bow, headed 
out to the stables.
	The sky was just starting to lighten when he reached the wooden 
structure. One of the lads greeted him warmly and offered to pour him a 
cup of tea. Accepting the offer gratefully, he sipped at the warm liquid 
while waiting for the lad to lead Asfaloth, his white stallion from the stall. 
The great horse was full of energy this morning, and at the sight of his 
master, gave a loud snort, then trotted up to Glorfindel and nudged the 
warrior with his nose, trying to reach the pocket that usually held an apple 
or one of his favorite treats. With a wide grin, the Seneschal pulled a fat 
red apple from his pocket and watched as velvet lips delicately plucked the 
ripe fruit from his palm. Asfaloth seemed to truly enjoy these morning 
rituals, and once he had finished the tasty snack, stood waiting patiently 
for his master to mount so they could begin the morning ride out to the 
woods. Usually they would start at a canter, then his master would let him 
have his head and they would fly down the road at a fast gallop, the wind 
in their hair, both horse and rider enjoying the freedom of the moment and 
the bond between old friends.

	A rosy glow was beginning to show on the horizon when 
Glorfindel and Asfaloth reached the first checkpoint. The shifts had just 
changed, and the night duty officer pulled the Seneschal aside to give him 
his report. All had gone well and the borders at the moment were quiet. 
Glorfindel dismissed the officer and went to talk with the guardians that 
had just come on duty. Double-checking the schedule and the plans for 
this day, he left soon after and headed for the next guard talan. He would 
continue his rounds, meeting with each unit head, before finally joining 
his patrol to search their assigned area for signs of trouble or unrest. He 
was in a great mood. The day was looking to be fine weather wise, and his 
night with Lindir had lifted his spirits and made him eager to face 
whatever the world brought his way.

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

	Lindir could not help but smile as he watched the Marchwarden 
flirt with Eowidith, the head cook. The silver-haired Elf could charm the 
pants off a dwarf if he tried hard enough, and Eowidith was as close to a 
dwarf as an Elf could get, at least in temperament. She guarded her terrain 
with the ferocity of a she-bear protecting it’s cubs, and she especially 
hated the thought of Elves eating in their rooms. For did not she and her 
staff spend hours setting up and laying things out perfect in the dining hall 
for the express purpose of pleasing these same Elves three times a day. 
Even Lord Elrond would try to find one of the lesser cooks to speak with 
when he had to make arrangements in the kitchen. If it were not for her 
grand culinary skills, Eowidith would surely never have the position she 
did today, for tact and diplomacy were two words that did not exist in her 
vocabulary.

	Therefore, it was with amazement that Lindir watched Haldir 
charm the sour-faced black-haired Elf till she was almost cooing in 
delight. Nothing was good enough for her Lórien visitor, and soon a tray 
was prepared that was filled with more delicacies than Lindir and Haldir 
could eat in a week, not to mention a bottle of one of Mirkwood’s finest 
wines. The grumpy Elf even promised to deliver it to Lindir’s room 
herself, although she did redeem herself by giving the minstrel an evil 
look and telling him that two of the blueberry tarts were reserved 
specifically for the Marchwarden.

	Lindir was still shaking his head in amazement when they left the 
kitchen and started walking towards the section of the building that housed 
the sleeping chambers. “I do not see how you do it, Haldir,” Lindir said, 
laughing at his friends puzzled look. “We all hide when Eowidith is in the 
kitchen. Even Lord Elrond secretly lives in fear of her temper. Erestor is 
the only Elf in Imladris that she halfway tolerates to disturb her domain, 
and yet you had her so wrapped around your little finger that I bet in five 
more minutes she would have been showing you the larder and trying to 
tuck you in her pantry!”

	Haldir raised his dark eyebrows and arranged his face in that 
arrogant smirk that was such a familiar trademark. “Shame on you, Lindir. 
She’s a sweet lady. You just have to know how to get on her good side. 
Why, she even told me you need to eat more. She worries about you, 
thinks you are way too thin.” Haldir did not crack a smile as he continued 
to talk about the head cook’s virtues. Although, he did give the minstrel a 
quick wink. He had Lindir laughing so hard he thought his sides would 
split. Each time the minstrel brought to mind the picture of stone-faced 
Eowidith flirting with the Marchwarden, fresh peals of laughter erupted 
from his lips.

	He remembered the long ago days when the old cook used to chase 
him and Tebring around threatening to bean them on the head with her old 
black skillet if they stole another cookie or tart from the cooling trays in 
the kitchen. They used to live in dread of the old witch actually catching 
them, although her fiery temper and evil eye still somehow never kept 
them from trying to snatch the tempting desserts the next time they 
smelled their delicious aroma. Lindir sobered immediately at the thought 
of Tebring. The thought of losing such a good friend brought tears to his 
eyes. The light-hearted Elf had been the first friend his own age that he 
made at Imladris. For a long time, his only friend. He could not be fading, 
he just could not leave them like that. 

	Haldir noticed Lindir’s change in manner and stopped his teasing. 
The two walked for a ways in silence, when Lindir suddenly stopped 
before a door and told Haldir to wait in the corridor, that he wanted to get 
something and would only be a minute. After slipping quietly into the 
room, true to his word, he was back out in just a few moments, a lap harp 
clutched under his arm. When Haldir looked at him in surprise, he smiled 
at the Marchwarden. “Glorfindel told me you played. I thought if you 
liked, we could play together later.” 

	“Glorfindel has a big mouth,” Haldir said with a wry smile. “I have 
nowhere near your talent, Lindir, but playing with you could only help me 
to improve my skill. Besides, I would play a stick if it would guarantee a 
command performance all my own from the best Harper in Imladris.” 
Lindir blushed at the compliment. Haldir had a way of making his troubles 
take a backseat. Lindir could see why his men loved their commander so 
dearly. He wondered at the tales he had heard about the Marchwarden and 
the way he so cavalierly tossed one lover aside for another. Somehow, 
although he could picture Haldir as a flirt, he could not imagine his friend 
treating another Elf so coldly. Perhaps he would ask Glorfindel for the 
truth about all the rumors. His thoughts were interrupted as they had 
arrived at the door to his room, and Haldir had already opened it and was 
ushering him inside. 

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

	The woods were quiet, too quiet, too still. The normal chatter of 
the forest animals was gone, and the air around them was hot and 
oppressive. Hanging vines clutched at their faces as they led their horses 
close to the trunks of the massive trees, trying to stay within the shadows. 
They were following a trail of blood that led from an area where it 
appeared there had been some sort of scuffle or fight. Glorfindel was in 
the lead, the other two guardians in single file behind him. All had their 
arrows nocked in their bows, muscles tensed, eyes and senses alert to any 
sudden movement or unusual noise. Sighting a bent branch with drops of 
wet red blood smeared on the leaves, Glorfindel urged his mount in that 
direction. Whomever or whatever had left the trail was hurting badly, and 
was traveling at a rapid pace. So they were seeking at least two, the hunter 
and his prey. The Seneschal had already sent a guard back for 
reinforcements, just in case. After the attack by the bandits the other day it 
would not hurt to be too careful.

	It was already past time for their shift to end, but they would stay 
on the trail 'till they found out what lay at its end. Continuing their slow 
search, the three Elves realized their quarry was slowing down. 
Considering how long they had been traveling, whomever it was had to 
have lost quite a bit of blood. Guiding Asfaloth around a particular wicked 
hanging vine, Glorfindel tensed, then ducked just in time as a knife flew 
past his ear and embedded deeply into the trunk of a tree behind him. 
Before he could make another movement, loud cries filled the air and the 
three Elves found themselves in the fight of their lives.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter.

1. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)
2. meldir - friend

Chapter 15: The Healing House


	The Healing House at Imladris was a large one-story building 
separate from the main house, situated not far from the stables. It consisted 
of a large ward which held approximately twenty-five beds, three private 
rooms usually reserved for nobility, eight small two-bed rooms, the private 
quarters of the healers, the herb room, kitchen, and solarium.

	It was so designed that the rooms housing the injured received the 
morning sun, in the hopes that the cheerful rays of Anor would lift the 
spirit and dispel some of the gloom that was always associated with illness 
or hurt. The solarium was a small sunny place of solace and rest with cozy 
nooks where those recuperating from illness could sit and enjoy a sense of 
the outdoors without having to dress or be exposed to the elements.

	The building was entered through a double archway that fronted a 
wide central corridor lined with benches and potted plants. The corridor 
ran the entire length of the house and exited at a stone path that led to an 
extensive garden of herbs and flowering plants grown specifically for 
medicinal purposes. 

	Although Lord Elrond was a Master Healer in his own right, and 
well respected throughout the land, it was Master Healer Anaran and his 
wife Miradhel who oversaw the day to day operations and management of 
the house itself. Miradhel’s knowledge of herb craft was extensive, and it 
was she, along with two apprentice healers who cared for and tended the 
various plants and gardens, harvesting and drying the tender leaves and 
roots, bottling and labeling them according to their content and usage. 
Anaran currently had one permanent journeyman healer, and two others in 
training, so the house was well staffed and prepared for any emergency.

	The herb room was where most of the medicines were stored, and 
contained a small stove for heating water, a large sink, various cabinets 
and shelves which were used for the mixing and storing of the healing 
plants and flowers, and a large table and chairs.

	The healing rooms were bright and airy and designed with comfort 
in mind. Each occupant would have his or her own nightstand, chest of 
drawers, visitor’s chairs, washbasin, footstool, and a windowed view of 
the beautiful waterfalls whose beauty graced the Elven realm. Currently 
there were only five patients in residence, all warriors, three in the ward 
and two in private rooms. Four had been injured in the skirmish with the 
bandits, one from a mishap at daily practice. Of the five, Tebring had the 
most serious hurts.

	Two elves were seated on a bench in the main hall when Lindir 
entered the healing house after breakfast. They were his comrades-in-
arms, Garion and Tambor. Garion was a long time resident of Imladris. 
Much older than Lindir and Tambor, he was a highly intelligent Elf with a 
quiet and dignified manner. Second in command of Lindir’s unit, he was 
the one the warriors turned to when they had a problem or just needed a 
companionable ear. Tall, with honey-colored hair and light-green eyes that 
always seemed to radiate warmth and affection, he was well liked and 
respected by not only the troops, but others as well.
	Tambor was smaller in stature, with dark straight hair cut even 
with his shoulders, almond-shaped brown eyes, and a highly energetic 
nature. At least this was his normal personality. But today he was slumped 
over in misery, his hair mussed and lank, his bright eyes red and tear-
stained. 

	Garion had his arm around Tambor’s shoulder and was whispering 
in his ear when Lindir approached. “Has Tebring awakened yet?” he asked 
the older Elf.

	Garion glanced at Tambor and paused a moment before replying. 
“He has, Lindir, and before you ask, yes, Lord Elrond has told him about 
his leg. We have been here all night, and Master Anaran has been kind 
enough to talk with us every so often about his condition. Tebring awoke 
early this morning. Elrond was with him and broke the news as gently as 
he could. “Tebring took it quite calmly... mayhap a bit too calmly.”

	“What do you mean by that?” Lindir asked, a look of concern on 
his face.

	“Lord Elrond told us the usual reaction of an Elf losing a limb 
would be shock, denial, and for a while, deep despair. Tebring evinced 
none of those symptoms. He just asked to see Tambor, which at first we 
thought was a good sign. But . . . ”

	At this, Tambor interrupted. “He does not wish to see me 
anymore!” he said with a quaver in his voice as tears filled his eyes. “He 
says he is releasing me from our bond, and when h-his stump, as he calls 
it, is healed, he will sail over the sea.” At this, the dark-haired Elf broke 
down completely and sobbed against Garion’s shoulder.

	“He cannot mean what he says, Tambor,” Lindir said softly. “It is 
only his shock that is making him say these words. He loves you deeply, 
gwador, (1) everyone knows that. Give him a few days and he will change 
his mind.”

	“Nay, Lindir,” Tambor whispered. “We have talked about this 
before. It was one of those moments when we were just thinking, what if, 
and he said if he ever was crippled he would go to Valinor. At the time, I 
just laughed. But he was in earnest. He said that if he could not complete 
his purpose on Middle Earth that he would not stay and be a burden to 
others. I jokingly asked him if he would not stay out of love for me, and he 
looked at me directly and told me, no. It hurt, and I told him so, and he 
just said he did not want to talk about it anymore. I-I stayed angry with 
him for a while, and then, well, it was foolish being angry over something 
that I thought would never happen, so I forgot about it. But it has 
happened, Lindir, and he is going to leave me.” 

	“Oh, Tambor, surely you are mistaken. His pride is hurt and he is 
in denial right now. When he has time to think things out he will change 
his mind. You two have been together too long for him to make such a 
hasty decision.” Lindir spoke these words out of concern for his friend, but 
in the back of his mind he was wondering what he would do if he was in 
Tebring’s place. Would he want to force Glorfindel to be saddled with an 
invalid? An involuntary shudder ran down his spine. He could not bear 
thinking along those lines. Poor Tebring. Poor Tambor. What a crushing 
blow to befall his friends. He opened his mouth to say something soothing 
to Tambor, but quickly closed it, as no thought came to mind. Slightly 
embarrassed, he looked down at the floor, feeling somewhat sick and 
shaky.

	“You do not understand, Lindir. I do not think Tebring is going to 
sail. I think he just told me that to keep me away. He is fading, Lindir. 
Already his eyes are dead. I pleaded with him, begged him to reconsider, 
to let me stay by his side and help him through this. He never raised his 
voice, just told Lord Elrond that he wanted me to leave. He would not look 
at me. You have come in vain, Lindir. He will not see you. Nor Garion, 
nor Glorfindel, no one. And do not bother trying to tell me he will decide 
differently. Lord Elrond thinks he is fading also, and his concern is that its 
happening so fast. What am I going to do without him, Lindir? He is my 
life!”

	Lindir sat down on the bench and along with Garion, tried his best 
to comfort his friend. He knew not what to say, except that he was sorry. 
Stroking the other’s hair, he told Tambor that he would be there for him 
and help in any way he could. “We will just have to find a way to bring 
him back, Tambor. Do not give up hope yet. We will fight for him gwador 
(1), all of us. Please, Tambor, do not give up. He loves you. Once he sees 
how much this will hurt you he will have to stay.”

	Tambor could not answer. The three sat a long time on the bench, 
holding each other, feeling each other’s pain. Finally, Garion told Lindir to 
go. “I shall stay with Tambor, Lindir. He needs to eat and get some rest. 
Come back later. We will get in touch with you if there are any changes.” 
Reluctantly, Lindir agreed.

	“Thank you, Lindir,” Tambor said softly. "Garion is right. There is 
nothing you can do right now. We will need all our strength later. I will 
not give up, Lindir. I cannot lose him. If he fades, I will also. Go eat.  It is 
almost time for lunch. Lord Elrond promised to come talk with us a little 
later. We will let you know what he has to say.”

	Lindir gave both his comrades a hug and a wistful smile, then 
turned and made his way out of the Healing house, heading back toward 
the Manor. His thoughts were heavy as he walked down the path. So much 
so that he did not notice at first that Haldir had joined him. 

	“You look troubled, meldir (2). Do you wish to talk?” Haldir had 
figured that Lindir would visit Tebring, and had been on his way to the 
Healing House to find him when he saw the minstrel heading his way. He 
was concerned about Tebring’s condition and Lindir’s reaction to it, but 
also wished to ask his friend how things had gone with Glorfindel. For the 
seneschal had left early this morning for patrol and Haldir had not had a 
chance to speak with him. 

	“If you do not mind, Haldir. There is much I have to tell you, but I 
wish our conversation to be private. Would you mind skipping lunch in 
the dining hall and eat with me in my room instead?”

	“I would enjoy that, Lindir.” Haldir replied. “Why not let me 
arrange with the kitchen to have a tray sent up and I will meet you back at 
your chambers.” 

	“Nay, Haldir. It is my turn this time. Let me go talk with the 
kitchen staff and you meet me back here." Lindir felt bad about what had 
happened yesterday and wanted to make it up to the Marchwarden.

	“Why do we not just go together, Lindir,” Haldir said, giving the 
minstrel an amused glance. After lunch, if you are up to it, we will go 
down to the market and see what we can do about your gift to Glorfindel. I 
have not forgotten my promise. We will be back by the time he gets off 
patrol, if you need to speak with him.” Haldir looked at Lindir slyly. “Do 
you wish to tell me anything about last night?”

	The sudden light that sparked in Lindir’s eyes told Haldir all he 
needed to know. “You told him, I see, and it looks like you might have 
some good news for me?” Lindir was about to speak, but Haldir placed a 
finger on his lips. “I can see you are bursting to tell me, but wait until we 
get lunch arranged. Then you can tell me over a glass of wine.” He gave 
his friend a hug, then grabbed his hand and headed for the kitchen.

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

	Glorfindel had awakened after only about three hours sleep, for the 
first time in a long while, regretting that he had to ride out early on patrol. 
It would have been so nice just to lay in bed curled up next to his love, and 
to be there to watch his beautiful Elf when he awoke. But alas, duty called. 
As quietly as he could, he entangled himself from Lindir’s arms and 
moved gently off the bed. The minstrel mumbled a bit in his sleep and 
reached out an arm as if searching for the warm body that had held him 
close through the night, but soon settled down and was at peace once 
more. Glorfindel placed a gentle kiss on Lindir’s forehead, then quickly 
dressed in the same clothes he had on last night and quietly left the room, 
heading for his own quarters. 

	Once he reached his suite, he quickly stripped off his garments 
then went into his private bath and filled the tub with warm water. When it 
was full, he stepped in and stretched out his legs, enjoying the soothing 
feel of the water as it caressed his body and relaxed his muscles. Leaning 
back he wet his head, then poured a small amount of aromatic liquid soap 
into his hand and began to wash his long golden hair. The minty smell of 
the soap made him feel refreshed and more awake, ready to start the new 
day. Rinsing his hair with clear water, he quickly bathed the rest of his 
body, then drained the tub and dried himself off with one of the linen 
towels that the maids delivered fresh and clean to his room each morning.

	Heading to his dresser, he picked up his comb and began to work 
the tangles out of his hair. He was running a bit behind schedule, so 
instead of his usual warrior braids, he plaited his hair in one long braid 
down his back then bound it with a leather cord. He selected a pair of 
worn leather leggings from his wardrobe, pulled them over his hips, then 
slipped into a thin undershirt over which he placed a well-worn leather 
tunic. Quickly tying off the laces, he donned his belt, and the leather 
harness that held his quiver and knives, then strapped on his armbands and 
glove. Deciding not to wear his cape, he folded it neatly and packed it in 
his carry bag. Pulling on his boots, he tucked a pair of short knives into the 
inner pockets, then sheathing his sword and picking up his bow, headed 
out to the stables.
	The sky was just starting to lighten when he reached the wooden 
structure. One of the lads greeted him warmly and offered to pour him a 
cup of tea. Accepting the offer gratefully, he sipped at the warm liquid 
while waiting for the lad to lead Asfaloth, his white stallion from the stall. 
The great horse was full of energy this morning, and at the sight of his 
master, gave a loud snort, then trotted up to Glorfindel and nudged the 
warrior with his nose, trying to reach the pocket that usually held an apple 
or one of his favorite treats. With a wide grin, the Seneschal pulled a fat 
red apple from his pocket and watched as velvet lips delicately plucked the 
ripe fruit from his palm. Asfaloth seemed to truly enjoy these morning 
rituals, and once he had finished the tasty snack, stood waiting patiently 
for his master to mount so they could begin the morning ride out to the 
woods. Usually they would start at a canter, then his master would let him 
have his head and they would fly down the road at a fast gallop, the wind 
in their hair, both horse and rider enjoying the freedom of the moment and 
the bond between old friends.

	A rosy glow was beginning to show on the horizon when 
Glorfindel and Asfaloth reached the first checkpoint. The shifts had just 
changed, and the night duty officer pulled the Seneschal aside to give him 
his report. All had gone well and the borders at the moment were quiet. 
Glorfindel dismissed the officer and went to talk with the guardians that 
had just come on duty. Double-checking the schedule and the plans for 
this day, he left soon after and headed for the next guard talan. He would 
continue his rounds, meeting with each unit head, before finally joining 
his patrol to search their assigned area for signs of trouble or unrest. He 
was in a great mood. The day was looking to be fine weather wise, and his 
night with Lindir had lifted his spirits and made him eager to face 
whatever the world brought his way.

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

	Lindir could not help but smile as he watched the Marchwarden 
flirt with Eowidith, the head cook. The silver-haired Elf could charm the 
pants off a dwarf if he tried hard enough, and Eowidith was as close to a 
dwarf as an Elf could get, at least in temperament. She guarded her terrain 
with the ferocity of a she-bear protecting it’s cubs, and she especially 
hated the thought of Elves eating in their rooms. For did not she and her 
staff spend hours setting up and laying things out perfect in the dining hall 
for the express purpose of pleasing these same Elves three times a day. 
Even Lord Elrond would try to find one of the lesser cooks to speak with 
when he had to make arrangements in the kitchen. If it were not for her 
grand culinary skills, Eowidith would surely never have the position she 
did today, for tact and diplomacy were two words that did not exist in her 
vocabulary.

	Therefore, it was with amazement that Lindir watched Haldir 
charm the sour-faced black-haired Elf till she was almost cooing in 
delight. Nothing was good enough for her Lórien visitor, and soon a tray 
was prepared that was filled with more delicacies than Lindir and Haldir 
could eat in a week, not to mention a bottle of one of Mirkwood’s finest 
wines. The grumpy Elf even promised to deliver it to Lindir’s room 
herself, although she did redeem herself by giving the minstrel an evil 
look and telling him that two of the blueberry tarts were reserved 
specifically for the Marchwarden.

	Lindir was still shaking his head in amazement when they left the 
kitchen and started walking towards the section of the building that housed 
the sleeping chambers. “I do not see how you do it, Haldir,” Lindir said, 
laughing at his friends puzzled look. “We all hide when Eowidith is in the 
kitchen. Even Lord Elrond secretly lives in fear of her temper. Erestor is 
the only Elf in Imladris that she halfway tolerates to disturb her domain, 
and yet you had her so wrapped around your little finger that I bet in five 
more minutes she would have been showing you the larder and trying to 
tuck you in her pantry!”

	Haldir raised his dark eyebrows and arranged his face in that 
arrogant smirk that was such a familiar trademark. “Shame on you, Lindir. 
She’s a sweet lady. You just have to know how to get on her good side. 
Why, she even told me you need to eat more. She worries about you, 
thinks you are way too thin.” Haldir did not crack a smile as he continued 
to talk about the head cook’s virtues. Although, he did give the minstrel a 
quick wink. He had Lindir laughing so hard he thought his sides would 
split. Each time the minstrel brought to mind the picture of stone-faced 
Eowidith flirting with the Marchwarden, fresh peals of laughter erupted 
from his lips.

	He remembered the long ago days when the old cook used to chase 
him and Tebring around threatening to bean them on the head with her old 
black skillet if they stole another cookie or tart from the cooling trays in 
the kitchen. They used to live in dread of the old witch actually catching 
them, although her fiery temper and evil eye still somehow never kept 
them from trying to snatch the tempting desserts the next time they 
smelled their delicious aroma. Lindir sobered immediately at the thought 
of Tebring. The thought of losing such a good friend brought tears to his 
eyes. The light-hearted Elf had been the first friend his own age that he 
made at Imladris. For a long time, his only friend. He could not be fading, 
he just could not leave them like that. 

	Haldir noticed Lindir’s change in manner and stopped his teasing. 
The two walked for a ways in silence, when Lindir suddenly stopped 
before a door and told Haldir to wait in the corridor, that he wanted to get 
something and would only be a minute. After slipping quietly into the 
room, true to his word, he was back out in just a few moments, a lap harp 
clutched under his arm. When Haldir looked at him in surprise, he smiled 
at the Marchwarden. “Glorfindel told me you played. I thought if you 
liked, we could play together later.” 

	“Glorfindel has a big mouth,” Haldir said with a wry smile. “I have 
nowhere near your talent, Lindir, but playing with you could only help me 
to improve my skill. Besides, I would play a stick if it would guarantee a 
command performance all my own from the best Harper in Imladris.” 
Lindir blushed at the compliment. Haldir had a way of making his troubles 
take a backseat. Lindir could see why his men loved their commander so 
dearly. He wondered at the tales he had heard about the Marchwarden and 
the way he so cavalierly tossed one lover aside for another. Somehow, 
although he could picture Haldir as a flirt, he could not imagine his friend 
treating another Elf so coldly. Perhaps he would ask Glorfindel for the 
truth about all the rumors. His thoughts were interrupted as they had 
arrived at the door to his room, and Haldir had already opened it and was 
ushering him inside. 

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

	The woods were quiet, too quiet, too still. The normal chatter of 
the forest animals was gone, and the air around them was hot and 
oppressive. Hanging vines clutched at their faces as they led their horses 
close to the trunks of the massive trees, trying to stay within the shadows. 
They were following a trail of blood that led from an area where it 
appeared there had been some sort of scuffle or fight. Glorfindel was in 
the lead, the other two guardians in single file behind him. All had their 
arrows nocked in their bows, muscles tensed, eyes and senses alert to any 
sudden movement or unusual noise. Sighting a bent branch with drops of 
wet red blood smeared on the leaves, Glorfindel urged his mount in that 
direction. Whomever or whatever had left the trail was hurting badly, and 
was traveling at a rapid pace. So they were seeking at least two, the hunter 
and his prey. The Seneschal had already sent a guard back for 
reinforcements, just in case. After the attack by the bandits the other day it 
would not hurt to be too careful.

	It was already past time for their shift to end, but they would stay 
on the trail 'till they found out what lay at its end. Continuing their slow 
search, the three Elves realized their quarry was slowing down. 
Considering how long they had been traveling, whomever it was had to 
have lost quite a bit of blood. Guiding Asfaloth around a particular wicked 
hanging vine, Glorfindel tensed, then ducked just in time as a knife flew 
past his ear and embedded deeply into the trunk of a tree behind him. 
Before he could make another movement, loud cries filled the air and the 
three Elves found themselves in the fight of their lives.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter.

1. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)
2. meldir - friend


Chapter 16: The Harpists


	True to her word, Eowidith lugged the heavy serving tray down the 
corridor heading to Lindir’s chambers. Grumbling every step of the way 
and scowling at any who crossed her path, the old cook thought about the 
silver-haired Elf who charmed her so.  She knew that every word that 
came out of the pudgy-cheeked warrior’s mouth was pure wargwash, but 
she did not care.  It had been a long time since any Elf had bothered to 
speak to her in honeyed tones, and even though she knew it was all in 
play, she loved the Marchwarden the more for it. 

	Reaching the door to the minstrel’s room, she rested one edge of 
the tray against its surface, freeing her hand to knock against the wooden 
panel.  Before she could actually make the sound, the door opened and a 
smiling Haldir took the tray from her grasp.  “My dear Eowidith,” the 
Marchwarden chided, “I really did not expect you to lug this tray up here 
all by yourself.  You must truly love me after all!” He laughed as the 
black-haired cook just shook her head and tsked at him.

	“Kano (1) Haldir, you will have me blushing like a young maiden 
if you keep this up. Now tell me where you wish to dine and I will set out 
your plates.  You two lovebirds might wish to share your feast on the 
balcony, considering what a fine day it has turned out to be.”  Eowidith 
gave the Lórien warrior a huge smile, then turned her gaze to Lindir and 
frowned. “Leave it to the young ones to sit on their thumbs and let their 
elder’s do all the work. You have hooked quite a prize, nandaro (2), and if 
you do not watch it, he will swim away!”  

	“Ah, Eowidith, Lindir is Glorfindel’s love, not mine.”  Haldir said 
with a smug look.  “But for now that is our little secret.  So it is best you 
set up here on the table, after all, we do not want to give anyone the wrong 
idea.”

	“I should have known you would have better sense than to choose 
an Elf who has not a bit of meat on his bones.” Eowidith said, looking like 
the proverbial cat that had just swallowed the canary.  “Lord Glorfindel 
now, with all his fine ways and airs...well, I can see how such a delicate 
little bird would strike his fancy.  Balrog Slayer indeed!  Was he not just 
in my kitchen the other day asking for a tray to be brought to this very 
same room? And right in the middle of my dinner preparations, too.  I let 
him know what I thought about that!  Never seen an Elf so glad to leave 
my kitchen; practically tucked his tail between his legs in his effort to 
leave.  Protector of Imladris, hah!  Why the first sign of an Orc and he 
would...”

	“Now, now Eowidith,” Haldir said, quickly interrupting the cook 
before she truly got started on her diatribe against the ancient warrior, 
”You must not go on so about Lindir’s heart.  I shall let you in on another 
secret, I am a long time friend of the seneschal, and know all about the 
stories of the First and Second age.”  The Marchwarden put his arm 
around the stiff-backed cook and began to lead her gently from the room.  
	
	“Glorfindel was a lot different back then, and that night there was a 
terrible conflagration...dragons, Orcs, demons from the darkest depths of 
Arda pouring destruction on the hidden city.  Very few escaped their 
wrath... And when the dreaded Balrog appeared cutting off all escape, his 
fiery whip slaying all in his way, brave Glorfindel stepped up and...then 
the dark demon cried out, “Who is that ugly being that shines like the 
sun?”...which of course infuriated...and he plunged his sword deep into the 
heart...and while dear Glorfindel was boasting of his bravado, preening 
and running his fingers through his shining hair, the cheeky Balrog 
grabbed a handful of the golden locks and pulled... ”

	And so it went, out the door and down the hall, Haldir regaled an 
almost giggling Eowidith with a mostly nonfactual and somewhat comic 
account of the duel to the death between the force of evil...the putrescent 
Balrog...and light...Rivendell’s own Mighty Balrog Slayer, Glorfindel.  By 
the time they made it to the great hall, where they would part, Haldir knew 
that the ancient warrior would never be able to redeem himself in 
Eowidith’s eyes.  Eowidith, for her part proceeded to the kitchen with a 
smug grin, determined it was her duty to keep a watchful eye on the vain 
and self-centered Elf that Lord Elrond had misguidedly brought home to 
Imladris and trusted to its security.

	Now that she was out of sight, Haldir almost skipped down the 
corridor back to Lindir’s room.  He usually did not indulge in such 
fanciful tales /lies/, but he knew the dour cook could use a little humor in 
her life, and that she had sense enough to know fact from fiction, even if 
she would be loathe to admit it.  He laughed.  That was fun.  His only 
regret about the whole incident was that if Lindir and Glorfindel had 
planned to keep their love a secret, the cat was now out of the bag. For 
Eowidith was known not only for her fiery temper, but also for the biggest 
mouth this side of the Bruinen!

	Pulling up once again to the entrance of Lindir’s chamber, the 
Marchwarden slipped inside and rested his back against the door.  As soon 
as his eyes met those of Lindir, the two Elves burst into laughter, neither 
able to stop for a long moment.  “Ah, Haldir, I needed that,” Lindir said 
when he was finally able to speak.  

	“A little laughter is good for the soul,” the Marchwarden replied, 
his shoulders still shaking slightly.  “And Eowidith did take the time to 
bring our lunch to us in person, so we must not let her efforts go to waste.”  
The food was not only hot, but also delicious, and it did not take long 
before both Lindir and Haldir had eaten their fill, and finished most of the 
bottle of the vintage Mirkwood wine.  In between bites, the minstrel told 
the Warden of what had transpired between him and Glorfindel, of the 
love they now shared, and he thanked Haldir for giving him the courage to 
bring it all out in the open.  And Haldir was truly glad for both his friends.  
It gave him a warm feeling inside to know that two hearts would be lonely 
no longer.

	They talked for a little bit, then Lindir began to clear the remnants 
of their luncheon from the table.  Haldir watched the minstrel idly, then 
got up and moved over to sit upon the bed.  As he looked around Lindir’s 
room, he wondered at the life of the comely Elf.  Lindir’s room was quite 
luxurious, but terribly impersonal.  There were none of the tangible 
reminders of a homely existence present. No souvenirs from distant 
places, no sentimental ornaments or the type of clutter one would normally 
see in a lived-in room.  All surfaces were bare of any type of decoration; 
the room sterile and cold.
     
	A bank of arched windowed openings in the far wall, leading to a 
wide balcony upon which sat two chairs and a small table relieved the 
mahogany-paneled walls, which normally would have darkened the 
chamber.  Lindir’s carved wooden bed was the dominant piece of 
furniture.  Covered with a beautiful dark blue quilt, worked with light blue 
embroidery in a pattern depicting a stylized lyre entwined with flowering 
vines, and piled with plump velvet pillows that carried the same color 
scheme; it looked quite inviting.

	 In fact the whole room was lovely.  The heavy curtains that 
framed each window and matched the spread, were held back with ties 
that were fringed in the same light blue as the embroidery on the coverlet.  
A large cushioned chair with a comfortable matching ottoman repeated the 
same colors in heavier velvet brocade, the wood of its frame and legs 
carved in a beautiful flowing pattern so typical of Elven design.

Opposite the footboard of the bed, was the second largest piece of 
furniture.  A heavy burled mahogany wardrobe, its front paneled doors 
highly polished and outlined with raised molding.  The top of the 
wardrobe contained a decorative panel that rose to a point which was 
carved in high relief, depicting the same lyre centered in the stitches of the 
spread.  The whole was balanced on seemingly delicate curved feet, the 
entire piece reaching upward to within a foot of the high ceiling, whose 
broad surface was painted a pale blue and decorated with stars.

	On each side of the bed was a small wooden table, one of which 
held a cast metal candelabra, and the other a vase of fresh cut flowers. On 
the left of the bed, against the corridor wall was a small bookcase.  There 
were many volumes of books on its shelves, each sorted and arranged in 
precise order, for Lindir, like Erestor, was highly organized.  After all, the 
minstrel did help the advisor with research and with maintaining Lord 
Elrond’s large library. But again, it too was sterile and cold.

	In fact, on a whole, the room appeared as one reserved for guests.  
The only truly personal item was couched in the far corner, close to the 
window as to take advantage of the light.  It was undoubtedly the most 
beautiful object in the room, and the most loved. 

	The full-sized harp, only the second that Haldir had ever seen, rose 
to a height of almost six feet, and brought tears to his eyes.  It was lovely 
beyond all imagine.  The sound box was vast, at least to Haldir’s eyes, for 
he was used only to the lap harp, and rose at a slant from its stepped base 
on the floor.  The rounded column was fluted with a carved capital, ending 
with a distinctive backward curlicue at the top.  The neck was gracefully 
curved, and 89 strings were attached to its left side.  There were three rows 
of these strings, their bottoms attached in alternate spacing on the center of 
the soundboard.  The two outer rows were strung in unison, which–Lindir 
later explained–were tuned to natural notes, and the middle row was tuned 
to the accidentals.  The whole harp was smoothly sanded and polished, 
with a detailed carved and gilded decoration at the neck and knee.  The 
wide sound box was pierced, and a lovely gilded and colored floral design 
was painted around each hole.  Haldir had never seen a triple harp up 
close, and was extremely impressed with its size, look, and beautiful 
design.

	Lindir, noting Haldir’s examination of his harp, went to stand by 
its side.  “Have you ever played a three row harp?” he asked.  When 
Haldir shook his head, Lindir smiled.  “It is quite difficult, for you must 
pluck the inside strings to play sharps and flats, but there are many more 
things about it that are unique, and make the effort worthwhile.  “For 
instance,” and with this, Lindir sat behind the harp and rested it upon his 
left shoulder.  His fingers gracefully plucking the outer strings, he played a 
series of quick repeated notes.  Haldir’s face lit up with surprise.  There 
was no way to reproduce that sound on a simple lap harp.

	Lindir laughed at his expression.  “Oh, there are many advantages 
to this instrument.  I can play it so many different ways.  I can play the 
melody of a tune with one hand, or both hands.  I can alternate the melody 
with both hands, or play the melody with one hand and harmonize with the 
other.  It is so much more complex than that which you play.  He plucked 
a quick little tune, and the shimmer of notes that the harp produced was 
like nothing Haldir had ever heard.  

	Entranced, the warrior came closer and reaching out, plucked a few 
of the strings with the pads of his fingers.  “So lovely,” he mused.  “Play 
something, Lindir.  The minstrel complied, and the sound was as if three 
Harpers sat together and played.  The notes trilled up and down the scales, 
their sweet sounds lingering in the air, building in volume as Lindir 
plucked faster and harder on the strings, then softening, till almost naught 
was heard.  The sound was as of laughter on a summer day, and Haldir 
could hear the chirrup of tiny birds, then the trill of a nightingale.  Lindir 
changed his finger motion, and Haldir imagined the soft patter of a gentle 
rain, the tinkling of a fountain.  Each individual note rang clean and crisp 
and the two Elves laughed with the joy of the music.  

	“Name me one of your favorites and we will play together,” Lindir 
said, looking at the Marchwarden with shining blue eyes.  Picking up the 
lap harp and testing its strings, Haldir cocked his head to the side in 
thought. “Perhaps the Lay of Nimrodel?” he suggested.  And with Haldir 
playing the melody, Lindir’s fingers on the great harp wove a delightful 
accompaniment to the well-known tune.  

	“You are much better than you profess, Haldir,” Lindir said with a 
serious look on his face.  “I had no idea you played, much less the extent 
of your talent.  I am surprised you do not sit with the Harpers at the 
Festivals in Lothlórien.”

	“You are kind in your compliments, Lindir, but you overstate my 
skill.  I have played at some of the simple gatherings of the guardians.  
There are quite a few who have some talent at the pipes and harp, and we 
get together in fun.  But it is never arranged, nor do we have formal 
practice.  Just an impromptu get together, and not often at that.”  Haldir 
shrugged his shoulders as if to emphasize the non-importance of the 
gatherings.

	“Nevertheless, you are much better than you admit, and now that 
we have played together we must do it more often.  Promise me we will 
play again at least once more before you leave!”

	Lindir kept at it until he obtained a promise from the 
Marchwarden.  They played a few more simple tunes, then Haldir played 
one solo that he had written himself.  It was quick and lively and once 
Lindir learned the melody, he hummed along in time.
	Eventually, Haldir tried his hand at the great Harp, laughing as his 
fingers tried to reach inside to the center strings, much more difficult than 
it looked.  “Aaagh, he cried in frustration, I can hit the notes, but it throws 
my timing off.”  

	“It is just something you have to get used to,” Lindir said, laughing 
along with the Warden.  “It would not take you long to do so, and you will 
find once you play a triple harp, it is hard to give up.

	“I daresay,” said Haldir, "but I am sure they cost a pretty penny, 
and I really cannot see one sitting in my talan.  Besides, Rúmil and 
Orophin would have a fit.  They tease me enough about the simple harp I 
play at home!”

	“Well, you are welcome to play mine anytime.  And the next time I 
visit Lothlórien I plan to call you up for a duet.  It is about time others 
heard of your skill, for you play as well as many of the Harpers here at 
Imladris.  You constantly surprise me, Haldir.  Your talents are numerous, 
and you display them with such modesty.  What other skills have you that 
I have yet to discover?” Lindir smiled at the odd look that Haldir gave 
him.

	“I have plenty others that it would not be appropriate for me to 
show you,” Haldir said wistfully, but with a sly grin on his face.  “I hope 
Glorfindel realizes what a treasure he has in you, mellonamin (3), for if 
things were different, I would take you home with *me* to love and 
cherish.  Ah, but you cannot control the ways of the heart, and yours is 
bound to another.”

	“You are such a tease, Haldir,” Lindir replied.  “Come, let us play 
one more tune, and this time we will sing the different parts together while 
we play.  What about the song of Beren and Lúthien?”  It is long, but if 
you can play it, I would love to hear us together.”

	“I can play it,” Haldir replied.  “I shall play the melody and you the 
accompaniment.  I shall sing the low part and you can sing the high.”  It 
was a beautiful performance, the sad strains of the music telling the tale of 
the fateful lovers.  Haldir’s bass to Lindir’s sweet high notes paid homage 
to both the music and the lyrics.  

Song of Beren and Lúthien

The leaves were long, the grass was green, 
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, 
And in the glade a light was seen 
Of stars in shadow shimmering. 
Tinúviel was dancing there 
To music of a pipe unseen, 
And light of stars was in her hair, 
And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold, 
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves 
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves, 
And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam; 
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, 
And grasped at moonbeams glistening. 
Through woven woods in Elvenhome 
She lightly fled on dancing feet, 
And left him lonely still to roam 
In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound 
Of feet as light as linden-leaves, 
Or music welling underground, 
In hidden hollows quavering. 
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, 
And one by one with sighing sound 
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far 
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, 
By light of moon and ray of star 
In frosty heavens shivering. 
Her mantle glinted in the moon, 
As on a hill-top high and far 
She danced, and at her feet was strewn 
A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again, 
And her song released the sudden spring, 
Like rising lark, and falling rain, 
And melting water bubbling. 
He saw the elven-flowers spring 
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing 
Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came. 
Tinúviel! Tinúviel! 
He called her by her elvish name; 
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell 
His voice laid on her: Beren came, 
And doom fell on Tinúviel 
That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes 
Within the shadows of her hair, 
The trembling starlight of the skies 
He saw there mirrored shimmering. 
Tinúviel the elven-fair, 
Immortal maiden elven-wise, 
About him cast her shadowy hair 
And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore, 
O'er stony mountains cold and grey, 
Through halls of iron and darkling door, 
And woods of nightshade morrowless. 
The Sundering Seas between them lay, 
And yet at last they met once more, 
And long ago they passed away 
In the forest singing sorrowless.

	Such was their joy in the music, they could have sat for hours.  But 
time was passing and they had much to do.  With a happy sigh, Haldir put 
down the harp and mentioned that they had best stop and get a move on if 
they wanted to browse the market and be done before Glorfindel came 
back.

	Feeling somewhat guilty about Tebring, Lindir asked if Haldir 
minded making a quick stop at the Healing house first.  Haldir agreed, 
they left with that intention in mind.

	Reaching their destination, the two talked for a while with Garion 
and Tambor.  Tambor told them that Tebring still locked himself in 
seclusion and would speak only with Healer Anaran or Lord Elrond.  
Realizing there was not much they could do besides give their support to 
the grieving Tambor, they stayed for a while longer, then politely made 
their leave, promising to return later that night.

	Since it would not be too much longer before Glorfindel was due 
off patrol, they walked swiftly down the tree-shaded path that led to the 
market. They would spend a few hours looking at the different wares, and 
Haldir planned to suggest some items he thought might appeal to Lindir 
and his ancient warrior.

Under Attack

	“Ta naa neuma. Lanta n’ alaquel!” (4) Glorfindel shouted, as he 
spun Asfaloth around.  He had exchanged his bow for his sword as soon as 
the men dropped from their hidden perch in the trees. Vastly outnumbered, 
the seneschal knew the Elves only hope would be to make a quick escape 
and ride back to meet up with the reinforcement unit he had sent for 
earlier.

	Swinging his sword like the seasoned warrior he was, Glorfindel 
tried to keep his eye on both the attackers and the two Elves fighting by 
his side.  During a moment of opportunity, he swung Asfaloth in between 
the men and his companions, giving the two Elves a free path to escape.  
“Rima ten’ ta!” (5) he shouted, knowing they were too well-trained to 
hesitate, and would obey his command and flee.  He paused only long 
enough to make sure, before he plunged back into the thick of the battle.  
He had fought a Balrog, surely he could hold the men off long enough to 
save his friends.

	But these were not a mis-matched group of bandits he was 
fighting.  True, they wore no marked armor, but they fought as a highly 
trained unit, and they knew how to fight against Elves.  	
	Managing to keep Asfaloth near a close group of trees and vines, 
Glorfindel was able to keep the men from circling around behind him, but 
their numbers were such he and Asfaloth were hard put to hold them off 
much longer.  Drawing on inner reserves, the warrior began an ancient 
chant in Quenya.  His time spent incarnate in Valinor was not in vain, as 
he had gained much power from his association with the Maiar.  As the 
last words left his lips, his body began to glow from deep within, till a 
golden light burst forth, blinding all in its path, causing his enemies to 
back away.  But the protection came a bit late.  Before the spell had time 
to take hold, the ancient warrior received a deep gash in his thigh and 
another in his sword arm.  Gritting his teeth against the pain, Glorfindel 
continued his chant in silence, praying his strength would hold in time for 
reinforcements to arrive.

~~~~~   TBC   ~~~~~
     
Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1.  Kano - Commander
2.  nandaro - harper
3.  mellonamin - my friend
4.  Ta naa neuma, Lanta n’ alaquel! - It’s a trap, Fall back!
5.  Ruma ten’ ta!  - Run for it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
		
A/N:  The Song of Beren and Lúthien is Tolkien’s

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Three course or Triple Harps were believed to have been developed 
in Italy around the 16th century and introduced in the British Isles around 
the 17th century.  Its popularity declined with the invention of the pedal 
harp, but its use was continued in Wales.  The Welsh people adopted the 
Triple Harp as their own, and it is now commonly called the Welsh Harp.  
Tolkien of course makes no mention of the Triple Harp in his books.  The 
use of it in my story is simply due to the fact that I fell in love with it long 
ago.


Chapter 17: The Market - Imladris


	They could hear it before they reached the market. Vendors crying 
their wares, the cluck of chickens, squeal of pigs, hammering of farriers 
and metalworkers, all merged with the ever present voice of the crowd to 
create a cacophony of sound. And the smells... mingled with the delicious 
aroma of baking bread and roasting meat, were the exotic odor of spice 
and herb, and the heady scent of the fragrant blossoms in the trees. 

	Lindir had, of course, been to the market many times before. But 
he saw it with new eyes when accompanied by his friend. The large field 
beneath the shady trees had been used as a marketplace ever since the end 
of the War of the Last Alliance. It was more than just a site where vendors 
came to sell their merchandise. It was also a gathering spot for friends 
both of home and afar, for there were many foreign faces in the crowd. 
The stalls ranged from simple wooden barriers, to grand tents and 
canopies, all hung with cloths of sheer silken material of all color and 
pattern. The breeze caught the fabrics and they fluttered like the sails of a 
sailing ship that were lost as to which way the wind would blow. The 
myriad flags and banners of the craft guilds added to the bright scheme, 
and many of the booths had colorful ribbons attached to the supporting 
poles, their ends swinging freely in the gusts, and containing tiny bells or 
bits of shell or clay that tinkled merry tunes.

	Haldir o Lórien had a smile from ear to ear, for he had not much 
opportunity to visit the thriving market community of Imladris. Lothlórien 
had its own, just as big, if not bigger, but its displays were of local ware. 
Here there were items unusual and exotic, coming from all the different 
corners of Arda, and Haldir, despite his travels to many places, was duly 
impressed with the variety and selection.

	“Where do you wish to look first,” he asked Lindir, not wanting to 
sway the young Elf any more in his choice than was necessary. The 
minstrel looked back at him with haunted eyes. 

	“I have no idea, Haldir. Now that Glorfindel and I are close, I am 
even more at a loss of what to choose. For though I feel great love for my 
Lord, I still know him not.” 

	Haldir felt a sense of shame radiating from Lindir at these words, 
almost as if the young Elf blamed himself for not being aware of how the 
Seneschal spent his days. He did not seem to understand that part of the 
wonder of new love was getting to know your mate. His likes, dislikes, 
fears, joys, the minutiae of his being revealed slowly and carefully, as one 
peeled the outer covering of a rare fruit to find the enticing sweetness and 
beauty inside. Ah, poor Lindir, he thought. Such much to offer, and so 
little faith in himself and his abilities. Haldir hoped that Glorfindel could 
find a way to build the young Elf’s self esteem.

	“Well, I have always found the best way to start is just by looking. 
If you are lucky, something will jump out at you and say this is it. More 
often than not, you will have to use some thought, but it is much better to 
just relax and enjoy the beautiful things around you than to have a pre-set 
notion in your mind and try to match it. Let us just stroll through today 
and see what is offered."
	
	Passing up the food booths, their first stop was at a large tent that 
flew the pennant of the weaver’s guild. The sides of the tent were rolled 
up allowing the sun to show off the bolts of lovely fabric on display. There 
were tables stacked with hand made tunics and robes in every color of the 
rainbow, some plain, and some with intricate design. Two female Elves 
with dark brown hair and measuring strings hanging from their necks were 
busy chatting with potential customers. The clickety-clack of hand-looms 
could be heard from behind a heavy curtain hanging in the back. A large 
oval mirror stood in one corner, and one of the females positioned her 
customer in front of it and held up a beautiful light gray tunic to his chest. 
The velvety fabric was embroidered with green and blue dragonflies and 
trimmed with silver braid. Somehow the Elf maid knew just the right 
colors to bring out the hair and eyes of the Elf who stood in front of the 
glass. Lindir could tell the male patron was pleased, for he turned his 
shoulders to and fro, and a look of smug satisfaction crossed his face. It 
was not long before coin changed hands, and the happy Elf left with his 
purchase under his arm.

	The pretty maid stepped over to the minstrel and gave him a wide 
smile. “Are you looking for anything in particular today,” she asked. "A 
new tunic, or perhaps a new robe for when you play nights in the Hall of 
Fire?" Lindir was surprised that the she-Elf knew he was a minstrel, and 
the look on her face showed she understood his thought. “You are well-
know through-out Imladris, Lindir. Did you think I would not recognize 
you in daylight?” The maid laughed and turned to Haldir. “Perhaps you 
are wishing to purchase some gifts to bring back to your friends? Or need 
a new tunic for yourself? It is not often we see the Marchwarden of 
Lothlórien at our humble fair. I would be proud to show you some of our 
best made. In fact, I have a tunic that was just finished this morning that 
would bring out the golden highlights in your eyes.” She moved over to 
the table and picked up a tan tunic that was embroidered with red and gold 
mellryn leaves and held it up to Haldir. The silver-haired Elf fingered the 
material and sighed. “It is lovely, sweet one, but I am not buying today, 
just looking. Perhaps I will change my mind tomorrow, for I daresay we 
will be back here again. I would try it on, but we are too pushed for time. 
Thank you for showing me, though. If nothing else, it has been delightful 
to gaze upon your sweet face.” Haldir gave the lass a brilliant smile, and 
the maid lowered her eyes and blushed.

	“Well, kind sir, I hope to see you tomorrow then,” she said coyly.

	“Come, Lindir, we have lots yet to visit,” the Marchwarden said, 
giving the maid a wink, then turning back to his friend. “You might 
consider trying a few things on yourself if we come back.” 

	Walking side by side, they drew up to the leather-workers pavilion, 
the sights of the tanned and prepared skins a familiar one to warriors. 
Belts, boots, arm bands, saddles, sheaths, and other various odd pieces, all 
exuding that particular smell of the tack room, a musky yet satisfying 
odor, hung from pegs on posts, or lay on the table-like shelf surrounding 
the structure. An older Elf with sparkling green eyes was sitting at a bench 
in the corner, hammering a tooled die to a strip of hard leather, stamping 
the design on its hardened tip into the browned skin. “Come to shop or just 
feel at home?” The old warrior asked with a wry grin, as he got up to greet 
his guests. 
	
	“Celeng!” Lindir replied, matching the warrior’s grin with a wide 
smile of his own. “It has been a long time. What have you been doing with 
yourself? 
 
	“I would ask the same of you, young minstrel, for you are looking 
well, and have found a new companion I see,” the green-eyed Elf replied.

	“Forgive my manners, Celeng, this is Haldir, Marchwarden of 
Lothlórien. He is staying in Imladris for the week and is a good friend. 
Haldir, this is Celeng, also an old friend. I have known him since I first 
entered the guard, for he was one of my weapon masters, and taught me 
the use of the knives.”

	Haldir bowed slightly in deference to the older warrior. “It is 
always an honor to meet a fellow centurion. You taught Lindir well, for I 
have had a chance to judge his skill.”

	“I knew your father, young Haldir,” Celeng replied. “He used to 
speak often of you and your brothers. He always had my respect.”

	“Thank you for your kind words. If it would not offend, may I ask 
why you are no longer a member of the guard?” Haldir raised his 
eyebrows in question to his elder.

	“It would not offend, pen-neth, and it is no secret, anyway. I lost 
my foot to the sharp hooves of a wild stallion, and must now walk with the 
use of a crutch. It is no more a life of the warrior for me, so I took up the 
craft of my kin, and I must say, it suites me well.” The old warrior laughed 
heartily, revealing a set of beautiful white teeth. “Perhaps, you would be 
needing a new pair of boots or the like, Master Haldir?”

	Haldir frowned at the address. “It has been many an age since I 
have been called Master, gwador (1), and you are not that much older to 
speak of me as such.” 

	Ah, I was just teasing, Marchwarden, do not get in a fret,” the 
tanner replied. "I see you have inherited your Father’s quick temper as 
well!” At this the green eyes twinkled merrily. "Hah, young Lindir, you 
had better watch this one.”

	Haldir emitted a “hmpf”, then picked up a pair of soft brown boots. 
He eyed the elder Elf for a moment then said in a low voice. “Lindir’s 
partner lost his leg in a skirmish a few days past. Lord Elrond fears he will 
fade. Do you know Tebring, mate of Tambor?”

	The tanner looked sad for a moment. “Aye, I know the Elf well. 
Came here just a fortnight ago and ordered a pair of boots similar to 
those." He pointed to the pair in Haldir’s hands. "Guess he will not be 
picking them up any time soon.” The older Elf sighed. “I trained Lindir, 
Tambor, Tebring, Galelas, and Fyril, all in the same class. They were a 
close knit group. Always hanging out together and getting into mischief. 
Tebring and Tambor were the ringleaders. Back then they were like 
brothers. Tebring was the heart and soul of the group, always full of 
laughter and fun, and Tambor was the motivator. Never stopped that one, 
had so much energy he could run you around in circles. Ran Tebring 
around, finally caught him I hear. Guess I need to go up to the healing 
house and have a talk with those two.”

	“He will not see you,” Lindir told his former mentor. “He has 
closeted himself in his room and only lets Lord Elrond or Master Anaran 
in, and that only to check his wounds. He is just a shell of his former self. 
He even pushes Tambor away. He is fading, gwador.”

	“He will see me,” Celeng replied. “I shall take Glorfindel with me. 
Together we should be able to get through to him. If you remember, 
Lindir, I was in much the same shape after my accident. Lord Glorfindel 
knocked some sense back into my head.”

	“I think you shall find Tebring beyond recovery," Lindir said 
sorrowfully. "Tambor thinks it is only a matter of weeks before he leaves 
for Mandos’ Halls. To live the life of a guardian was always his dream, 
and now it is shattered. He feels he has nothing left to live for.”

	“Young Tambor is worth living for,” Celeng said heatedly. “This 
land is worth living for, the trees, the sky – Tebring needs to open his 
eyes. There is more to this world than fighting and war. I will keep my 
promise and go see him tonight. Do not worry, we shall find a way to 
bring him round.”

	“Thank you, Celeng. Anything is worth a try at this point. I know 
Tambor, for sure, will appreciate it. I would love to stay and talk with you 
a while, but we are to meet Lord Glorfindel when he gets off patrol. We 
just came down here to look for a bit.” Lindir felt bad leaving his old 
friend so soon, but he truly did not want to miss the opportunity to greet 
his lover. He felt a few butterflies flutter about in his stomach just thinking 
about the Golden Lord. A hand on his arm brought him back down to 
earth. 

	“Lindir, we must go,” said Haldir, then turning to the tanner, he 
grasped the other’s arms in a warrior’s grip. “Tenna ‘ento lye omenta, 
Celeng.” (2)

	“Tenna san, Haldir, Lindir,” (3) the old warrior replied. “I will be 
there for Tebring. Go now, there is much here to see, and this old warrior 
needs to get back to his work.”

	Lindir also gave his old friend a warrior’s grasp. “Tenna san,” (4) 
he repeated, then turned back to the main pathway to catch up to Haldir.

	He found Haldir standing in front of an extremely thin black-haired 
Elf wearing a dirty white smock. The Elf was seated at a wooden potter’s 
wheel, his hands slithering wetly up the sides of a rotating slick clay 
cylinder. His long legs were splayed under the table holding the wheel, his 
right foot kicking a circular wheel at the bottom which caused the top 
wheel to spin in tandem. Haldir was staring at the contraption in 
fascination, and the potter was looking back at the Marchwarden with an 
intense interest. 

	“Do you like pottery?” Lindir asked of Haldir. When his friend did 
not answer, the thin potter spoke. “Cat got your tongue, silver-hair? 

	Haldir looked up into a pair of blue eyes that were so dark they 
were almost black. “I have never seen how they were made. The potters 
where I am from shape their ware from coils of clay, at least that is what I 
have seen them do in the shops. Maybe they have one of those 
contraptions in another location.”

	The potter laughed. “Most likely, silver-hair. Probably wherever 
they keep their kiln. I have found bringing my “contraption”, or potter’s 
wheel here helps stimulate interest. Brings the crowd into my shop so I get 
more sales. It caught your eye, did it not? Or perhaps you are more 
interested in the potter?”

	Haldir smirked, cheeky Elf, he thought. A bit too thin for his tastes. 
“I think your pot just went out of round," he replied in a snippy voice. 
"Perhaps you ought to pay more attention to it. What are you making, by 
the way?”

	“Anything you wish it to be, silver-hair.” And with those words, 
the potter's hands began to move sensuously up and down the wet column 
of clay. The column rose higher when he moved his fingers upward, then 
with a slight shift, the top edge of the cylinder flared out. Cupping his 
hands, the Elf changed the design, causing the top edge to gently fold back 
in. Glancing over to see that Haldir was still watching, he slowly slid his 
fingers down the column again. Each change in the movements of his 
hands caused a similar change in the revolving piece of clay. Haldir 
watched fascinated, as the potter slowed his movements and began to 
almost stroke the slick surface. Up and down went his fingers, slow at 
first, then a bit faster. With each upward stroke and a bit of pressure from 
his fingers inside the cylinder, it grew longer and wider. “See how I make 
it grow with the touch of my fingers,” the potter whispered. There was 
something very sexual about his movements, and as Lindir watched, the 
tip of Haldir’s tongue slipped out to slowly wet his dry lips. 

	“I have excellent hands,” the potter murmured in an almost 
hypnotic voice. "If you have time, come back later and I will show you 
what they can do.” 

	“Mmm," Haldir mumbled under his breath, his eyes still locked on 
the slender fingers of the Noldor. That is until he felt a sharp punch in his 
side. “Ouch,” he yelped, looking at Lindir, then laughing as he saw the 
pink that stained the young Elf’s cheeks. 

	“Some other time,” he said with a low growl to the bewitching 
potter. 

	“You know where to find me, silver-hair,” the other replied, 
looking at Haldir from under half lowered lids, then giving the March 
Warden an extremely sensual smile.

	“Let us go," said Lindir, somewhat sharply, pulling at Haldir’s 
arm. Reluctantly the older Elf complied. 

	“What was that all about,” Lindir asked Haldir, a pout on his soft 
pink lips. Haldir reached up and pinched the minstrel’s cheek. “Just 
looking at the wares, Lindir. Just looking at the wares.”

	“Y-You cannot be interested in him!” Lindir replied, turning back 
to look at the dark-haired Elf, who still had his eyes on Haldir. “Haldir, 
you cannot be serious.” The Marchwarden just laughed and wrapping his 
arm around Lindir’s waist, led him further down the market path.
	
	They walked past pens of animals, woodcarvers, artists, booths 
containing fat linen sacks of myriad spices and herbs, all the while 
heading to what was undoubtedly the noisiest place in the market area. 
The whosh of the large bellows, and the steady pounding of a hammer on 
iron competed against the smaller beats of the mallets of the metalworkers, 
the finer craftsmen who forged the bright precious metals into beautiful 
works of art. 

	“Wait here, Lindir,” Haldir said touching the other on the shoulder. 
“I shall be right back. There is someone I need to speak with for a 
minute.”

	Lindir looked to where Haldir was heading and his forehead 
creased into a frown. Midways up the path was a tall black-haired Elf 
clothed in a black tunic and leggings. The potter had obviously taken off 
his smock and hurried ahead with the idea of waylaying Haldir. That 
sneaky devil, Lindir thought, quickly debating on whether or not he should 
interfere. His mind made up, he began to walk briskly over to where the 
March Warden was heading.

	Haldir moved silently up to the tall Elf and grabbed him smoothly 
around the waist. “Do not turn around, lirimaer (5). Sliding around till he 
was facing the black-haired beauty, he took a peek over the other’s 
shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Humor me, gwador.” And with that, 
he wrapped his strong arms around the other and gave him a deep, slow, 
lingering kiss.

	Lindir quickened his steps as he saw Haldir’s arms encircle the 
other Elf. I cannot believe Haldir is doing this, he thought. Right in the 
middle of the market. That black-haired raven has somehow bewitched the 
Marchwarden. Stepping up behind the tall Elf, Lindir grabbed him by the 
shoulder and in a loud voice asked the other what he thought he was 
doing. The Elf turned around slowly and dark eyes swept Lindir from the 
tip of his boots to the top of his moon white hair. 

	Lindir stepped back in complete shock. “Lord Erestor!” He gasped. 
“I....”

	At this, both Haldir and Erestor doubled over with laughter. Haldir 
had just about managed to get himself under control when he took another 
look at Lindir’s face and completely lost it again. The poor Elf’s blue eyes 
were about to pop out of his head, and his face was a red as a sugar beet. 
His words were running over themselves as he tried to get out his apology 
to the dark-haired Lord. Erestor, meanwhile could not manage to stop 
laughing long enough to draw a breath. When Lindir finally realized it had 
all been a joke, the red of embarrassment quickly turned to that of anger. 

	“Haldir, how could you do that to me! Surely you did not have 
time to set that up.” Lindir trailed off when he noticed the tears running 
down Erestor’s cheeks. The tall Elf was still desperately trying to regain 
his breath. The start of a smile appeared on Lindir’s face, and soon he was 
laughing along with the other two. 	
	
	It took a moment, but finally they all managed to get their 
breathing back under control. The crowd, which had begun to gather 
around the three Elves, soon went back to their own business when they 
realized nothing exciting was going to come of the three’s actions. 

	“Shopping for a special gift?” Erestor asked, smiling knowingly at 
Lindir. 

	“Aye, Erestor,” Lindir replied. “You had best walk with us for 
awhile. Haldir and I have quite a bit to fill you in on. Much has happened 
since we had our little talk. And with that, the three began a slow walk 
down the path. Lindir and Haldir telling Erestor all about the latest 
blossoming of love in Imladris.

Rescue?

	Glorfindel continued his chanting. Blood was flowing freely from 
the wounds in his thigh and arm, but he could not take the time to bind 
them. He could feel himself getting weaker by the minute, but still he grit 
his teeth and continued his silent chant, while he fought desperately to 
keep a clear head.

	Minutes passed that seemed like hours, and still the attackers held 
back, although he could hear their muttering as they laid out their plans. 
The golden glow began to weaken, and the men looked to their leader as 
to when to begin their move. 

	The lone warrior on the proud white horse continued to fight a 
losing battle with time. Each second that passed found him closer to losing 
himself to the blackness. As his mind began to stumble on some of the 
ancient lines, the glow began to diminish greatly, and the men watched 
their leader’s hand for the signal to attack. Glorfindel slumped forward on 
Asfaloth’s back just as the men made their move, and a barrage of red and 
brown fletched arrows flew through the air. 

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~
								
Elven words and phrases used in this chapter.

1. gwador - brother (sworn brother)
2. Tenna ‘ento lye omenta, Celeng. - Until we next meet, Celeng.
3. Tenna san, Haldir, Lindir. - Until then, Haldir, Lindir.
4. Tenna san. - Until then.
5. lirimaer - lovely one. 
 


Chapter 18: Discord


      Erestor had returned to his rooms to bathe and change after his 
time spent at the market with Lindir and Haldir. Now the hem of his black 
robe of office flared out behind him as he hurried down the corridor with 
an intent purpose. His mind was awash with all that the two Elves had told 
him, and although he hated his errand, it was one he could not put off.

      Crossing through the gardens, Erestor headed down the path to the 
healing house, for he knew his Lord was still holding vigil over Tebring 
and guessed that Elrond would stay with the guardian until his condition 
changed for the better, or Varda forbid, deteriorated to the point of no 
return. Such a sad thing to happen to one normally so vibrant and full of 
life. Erestor liked Tebring, and hoped the young guardian could overcome 
his depression and find a way back to the light.

      Entering the building through the wide archway, the advisor was 
heading for Tebring’s room, when he saw Elrond standing in the main hall 
talking to Tambor and Garion. Waiting until Elrond had finished his 
conversation, Erestor hurried to his side and lightly touched him on his 
arm. 

      “My Lord, I need to speak with you for a moment in private. I 
would not interrupt, but it is extremely important.”

      “That is all right, Erestor,” Elrond said, giving his advisor a sad 
smile.  Then, leading the advisor into one of the unused rooms, he said, 
“No one will disturb us in here. What is it you need to speak with me 
about?”

      Erestor sighed. He hated to burden his Lord with more problems, 
for he could see how much the past few days had affected him already. 
But it could not be helped. Gesturing for Elrond to take a seat on the bed, 
Erestor waited for him to do so, then moved up to stand before the Half-
elf.

      “Lord Glorfindel is about to bind himself with Lindir,” Erestor 
said, watching Elrond’s face closely to see how he would take the news.

      Elrond’s face darkened with anger. “I would have expected better 
from Glorfindel!  Has he no concern at all for Lindir? He knows what this 
could do to the minstrel. Why, after keeping his love silent for all these 
years, does he choose now to reveal it? Curses, Erestor! I could wring the 
fool’s neck. Send him in to see me the minute he returns. I should still be 
here.”

      “I will do so as soon as I find him,” Erestor said, turning from his 
Lord and heading towards the door.

      “And, Erestor,” Elrond said as his advisor paused to look back at 
the now fuming healer. “Keep Lindir away from here until I have spoken 
with Glorfindel. I do not want him to be anywhere near the Healing House 
until this is resolved.”

“I understand, my Lord,” the advisor replied, “I will keep him occupied 
until I hear from you.” And with that, he hurried from the Healing House 
in search of the Seneschal.
Prisoner

      Glorfindel was barely conscious when he felt someone leap onto 
Asfaloth behind him. Strong arms clasped around his waist, as the proud 
war-horse was urged to move away quickly from the escalating attack. 
Realizing the arms belonged to a friend, not a foe, the ancient warrior 
relaxed and succumbed to darkness. 

      Quite a while later, a whiff of strong smelling salts brought him 
back to consciousness. He was resting against the trunk of a wide tree, a 
healer hovering on one side of him, and Captain Naldor, his second-in-
command on the other. “Calimal and Neldur made it back safely,” Naldor 
told his Commander once he was sure that Glorfindel was alert enough to 
understand his words. “And we were able to subdue all of the force that 
attacked. Most of them are dead or vanquished, but we were quite lucky 
this time, for we managed to capture their leader.”

      Glorfindel listened attentively to everything the Captain said, then 
answered in a low raspy voice. “They were not rabble, they were well-
trained and knew how to fight against Elves. I would like to interrogate the 
man who led them. Put him in a cell and hold him until further orders. I 
will be there as soon as I gain my strength.”

      “I beg your pardon, my Lord,” the healer spoke, “But the only 
place you are going is to the Healing House. Your injuries are too great for 
you to be walking about. They are readying a stretcher this moment, and 
are going to bring you there as soon as Captain Naldor finishes his report.”

      Angry blue eyes turned to the healer, and Glorfindel issued a string 
of curses that caused the Elf to blanch. The Seneschal started to get up to 
continue his tirade and prove his point, but a wave of pain and weakness 
caused him to grit his teeth and fall back against the tree. Naldor reached 
out a hand to steady him.

      “The healer is right, my Lord. As soon as we have cleaned up here, 
I will talk to the prisoner myself. You can speak with him when you have 
regained your strength. However, there is one thing that you should know. 
The one that created the false blood trail, that led you into the ambush, he 
is the one we captured. He is their leader. I know now why these men 
were so hard to fight, why they were able to penetrate our defenses. The 
one that led them is Half-elven, the same as Lord Elrond and his sons, but 
it seems he has not aligned himself with our kind. He keeps the company 
of Men.”

      “All the more reason that I wish to question him,” Glorfindel 
ground out. “I want to know his motives for planning this attack. Keep me 
posted, Naldor. That knife he threw  was Elven. I knew there was 
something odd about the trap we found ourselves in. Send me a report as 
soon as you are finished, and meet with the other unit leaders and keep 
them abreast.”

      The effort of talking and staying alert had taken its toll on the 
ancient warrior. The healer, who had been watching him closely, signaled 
to Captain Naldor that the Seneschal had had enough. It was time to move 
him, and he beckoned for the stretcher-bearers to come forward. As 
carefully as they could, they placed Glorfindel on the litter, then quickly 
set off through the woods for the Healing House.

Back at The Last Homely House

      “Haldir, I am getting worried,” Lindir confided to his friend. 
“Glorfindel should have returned by now. Something must have happened. 
I am going to the stables to see if he is there.”

       “I will come with you, Lindir,” Haldir replied. The Marchwarden 
was worried also. It was not like Glorfindel to not report in at the end of 
his tour. But what truly had him concerned, was that none of the morning 
patrol had returned. Lindir was no fool, Haldir knew the same thoughts 
crossed his mind.

      On their return from the market, Lindir had become decidedly 
animated. Haldir knew it was the anticipation of seeing his lover that had 
the minstrel acting so out of character. But when Lindir had found both his 
room and Glorfindel’s empty, the giddiness had turned to anxiety. They 
had asked around, but none had seen the golden Lord. For the past quarter 
hour, Lindir had been pacing back and forth, unwilling to voice his fears, 
but expressing them anyway through the motions of his body.

      Now that a course of action had been decided, both Elves set off 
briskly towards the wooden structure that housed the horses. They were 
within shouting distance of the barn, when they came across Erestor and 
Celeng. Both had looks of concern on their face, and it was easy to see 
that the absence of the patrol was what caused their disquiet. 

      Erestor and Lindir started to speak at the same time. Lindir 
deferred to his Elder, but the advisor voiced the words he had been about 
to utter. “Have you seen Lord Glorfindel?” the dark-haired Elf asked the 
two.

      “No, Erestor, we have not, and were on our way to the stables to 
look for him,” Haldir replied before Lindir had a chance to speak. He was 
about to say more, when the distinct sound of hooves thudding against 
earth caused all four Elves to turn towards the path that led to the woods. 
Two guardians were riding hard towards the stables. When they reached 
the stable yard both dismounted, and the eldest quickly walked over to 
Erestor.

      “My Lord,” the guardian bowed to Erestor, “Lord Glorfindel, 
Calimal, and Neldur rode into a trap this afternoon. Glorfindel was able to 
hold off the attackers long enough to let Calimal and Neldur escape, but he 
was injured before reinforcements could arrive. They are bearing him in 
now on a stretcher. The attack was routed, and the leader captured. I was 
told to also give my report to Lord Elrond. If you could direct me to him, I 
will do so now.” 

      “He is at the Healing House attending Tebring,” Erestor replied 
quickly. “Tell me, what is Glorfindel’s condition?”

      “I know not, my Lord,” the guardian replied. “He was unconscious 
the last I saw him, and the healer was just starting to assess his wounds. 
There are others coming in behind me, you will have to wait and ask them 
for more news.”

      “Go now and find Lord Elrond,” Erestor told the young messenger, 
“We will wait here for the others, and see that Glorfindel is brought to the 
Healing House directly.” 

      The messenger gave the advisor another bow, then he and his 
partner took off swiftly in the direction of the Healing quarters.

      As soon as they had gone, Erestor, Haldir, and Celeng turned to 
Lindir. The minstrel’s face was pale, and his breath was coming in short 
gasps. Tears were in his eyes as he prayed to Varda that his love would be 
all right. The other three could do naught but comfort him, as they all 
waited for the litter-bearers and the rest of the patrol to arrive.

The Healing House

      “Elrond, why do you not go back and get some rest?” Master 
Anaran directed his question to the weary Half-elf as they were working at 
the table in the herb room. "Miradhel and I can watch Tebring. I do not 
think his condition is going to change in the next few hours, and you can 
not keep pushing yourself like you are.”

      “It would not do me any good,” the Lord of Imladris replied, "I 
would not be able to sleep. It is not just Tebring I am worried about. If we 
lose him, we are going to lose Tambor.  Celeng was around here earlier 
asking my permission to speak with Tebring. I was against the idea at first, 
but now I am not so sure. I do not want to push Tebring over the edge, but 
again, I cannot just sit back and let him enter Mandos’ Halls without a 
fight.” Elrond reached over to one of the shelves and picked up a mortar 
and pestle and began crushing some of the leaves he had taken from the 
pile before him. 

      “If I remember correctly, it was Glorfindel who finally kicked 
some sense into Celeng back when that stallion destroyed his foot,” 
Anaran mused, "It could be that the same would work with Tebring. It is 
hard to say. He has some kind of deep-rooted idea in his head that being a 
guardian is the only life for him. He does come from a long line of 
warriors.  You would think that would make him more aware of the 
danger of permanent injury. I had to carry him to the bath this morning 
and he almost died of shame. That is the only time I have heard him speak 
more than a syllable since he first awoke. He was mumbling something to 
the effect that he could not see Tambor carrying him every time he had to 
perform a bodily function. It heartened me a bit to see him thinking of his 
mate, but then he sank further into depression afterwards.”

      Lord Elrond was about to reply, when Garion knocked on the door. 
“My Lord, there are messengers here from the morning patrol. 
Glorfindel’s unit was attacked earlier today and the Seneschal has been 
severely injured. They are bringing him here by stretcher, the extent of his 
injury is not known. Do you wish to speak with the messengers now?”

Elrond groaned. “Please, Garion, send them in. By the stars, Anaran, this 
is supposed to be a time of peace! We have not had this much activity in 
years. What is going on?” At the sound of a slight cough, he looked up 
and saw two young guardians waiting in the doorway. Rising to his feet, 
he motioned them to come inside.
The Stables

      The four Elves did not have too much longer to wait before the 
sound of hooves informed them more of the patrol was exiting the woods. 
Sure enough, five warriors on horseback urged their horses into a canter 
once they reached the meadow adjacent to the stables. They did not seem 
surprised to see Erestor and his friends waiting for their arrival. While the 
stable lads looked to their mounts, Erestor questioned the riders as to the 
condition of Glorfindel, and what exactly had occurred during the fray. 
Satisfied that the Seneschal was not mortally wounded, he was able to 
give somewhat good news to Lindir and the others. He dismissed the 
guardians, and sent Celeng back to the Healing House to speak with 
Tambor and Garion. Haldir, Lindir and himself would wait until they 
knew for sure that Glorfindel was out of danger.

      More riders were coming in as the others left, and each was able to 
give Erestor a bit more news about the Seneschal and the ambush. He 
learned that the leader had been taken prisoner, and that Glorfindel had 
been conscious when they left and given a draught for pain. 

      Finally, after what seemed like hours, the group bearing the litter 
could be seen at the edge of the forest. Lindir could not stand the wait, and 
ran ahead to catch up with the guards who were carrying his lover. He was 
able to hear the curses erupting from the mouth of the great warrior before 
he finally reached his side. Now that the pain in his leg and arm was 
bearable, Glorfindel himself was not. Never one to lie still and listen to the 
advice of the healers, the Balrog Slayer was already trying the patience of 
the guards who had the duty of carrying him along. 

      Speaking to one of the guards, Lindir took his place as a bearer so 
he was able to converse with his love. “Glorfindel, are you in much pain?” 
he asked tenderly, looking down at the pale face of Seneschal as he 
bounced on the litter. 

      “Nay, Lindir, just aggravated at having to be carried like a log. I 
shall live. My injuries look worse than they are. It is the blood loss that 
has me weak. Master Anaran will sew me up and force some of that nasty 
tea down my throat and I will be up and around tomorrow. By the Stars, 
can you blasted guardians not keep my head higher than my feet! You 
shall all be doing double duty if you do not hurry this up and get me off 
this blasted hammock.” 

      The litter-bearers and Lindir just rolled their eyes, knowing their 
Commander was not going to keep quiet until they reached their 
destination. Haldir and Erestor fell in step with the group once they 
reached the stables, and if nothing else, the presence of the Marchwarden 
sobered the grumbling blond for a moment.

      “Not your usual bubbly self today, are you?” Haldir asked as he 
gave his friend one of his well-known smirks. Now that he knew the 
warrior was going to be all right, he did not mind teasing his friend. 
Glorfindel just gave him a “humph” in return. 

      “I have seen them carry you in worse than this, Marchwarden,” 
Glorfindel muttered through gritted teeth as the lead guardian stumbled on 
the pathway, giving the warrior a painful jolt. Then glancing upwards he 
spotted the black robes of Erestor. “Come to gloat, old bat?” he directed at 
the advisor. Erestor just raised an eyebrow and straightened to his full 
height, ignoring the grumpy blond's comment. “Not speaking today, I 
see,” Glorfindel rattled on. “I had to do something to get your nose out of 
those old moldy books. You need to get out in the sun more, Erestor, you 
are starting to look like biscuit dough, pasty and soft. I bet if I poked my 
finger at your stomach it would sink in an inch. Getting soft, mellonamin 
(1), I can hear you huffing and puffing already, and you have not walked 
but a few paces. You are not going to worm your way into Elrond’s heart 
looking like a little dumpling. You need to get more exercise. Pulling 
books off the shelves is not going to do anything for that little bump on 
your stomach. I saw you the other day in the bath, you know.” 

      “Glorfindel!” Lindir was shocked at the behavior of the warrior 
and his treatment of Erestor. The poor advisor had turned a slight shade of 
pink at the mention of Lord Elrond, and the guardians were doing their 
best to carefully control their expressions as Glorfindel rambled on and on.

      “Well, it is true.” the blond retorted. 

      He was about to say more, when a large hand reached down and 
covered his mouth. He looked up into the hazel eyes of Haldir, who just 
shook his head and put a finger to his lips. “You had better quit while you 
are ahead, gwador. When you come to your senses you might regret some 
of your words.” 

      Turning to Erestor, the Marchwarden spoke softly. “The draught 
they gave him makes him somewhat loquacious. Do not pay any attention 
to his words.”

      “I never do,” Erestor said with a sigh. "This is not something new, 
just a silly game Glorfindel likes to play. I cannot imagine what delight he 
gets out of it. You would think one who has lived as long as he would 
learn to act like an Elf instead of an Elfling.”

      “There is more life in me than in a thousand of you, Erestor.” The 
voice of Glorfindel carried up from the stretcher. 

      “You can save it for Lord Elrond, Seneschal,” Erestor said, giving 
the warrior a disdainful look, “we have arrived at our destination.”

      “That is right, Glorfindel, you may now direct your comments to 
me,” a new voice spoke from behind his head. “Take him into the first 
room,” Lord Elrond said with the voice of one who would brook no 
complaint. “And if he cannot hold his tongue, tell Master Anaran to 
withhold the draught for pain while he sews up those wounds.”

      “Erestor,” Elrond said, turning to his advisor, “we need to have 
another talk.”

      While Lord Elrond led Erestor to another part of the Healing 
House, Haldir and Lindir settled down on the bench outside to wait for 
Master Anaran to finish attending to Glorfindel. 

      “Not exactly how you expected your night to go, is it, Lindir?” the 
Marchwarden said, turning to look at the minstrel, who was trying his best 
to hold back his tears. “He will be fine, meldir (2). He just needs those 
deep cuts sewn and a night’s healing rest.”

      “I know that, Haldir,” Lindir replied. “It was the waiting that got to 
me. Now that I realize he is not critical, I can deal with it. Thank you for 
sticking by my side. You do not have to stay, you know.”

      “I know, Lindir. But he is a good friend. He may not act like it, but 
he will appreciate the fact that we are here for him. You might want to lay 
down on the bench and try to get some rest. It looks like it’s going to be a 
long night.”

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter.

3.	mellonamin – my friend
4.	meldir – friend

 


Chapter 19: Dark Clouds


      The view from the windows of the solarium was enough to take 
one's breath away. For watching over the Elven realm was a cloudless 
cerulean sky. Anor's rays, besides warming the fertile fields and the valley 
woodlands, wrought mysterious patterns of deep emerald and midnight 
blue on the carpet of tall fir that graced the sides of the steep cliffs. Here 
and there, bare rock contrasted against the soft green. Silvery-white water 
flowed down the gray surface as the run-off from swollen streams 
followed the pull of gravity to seek liquid pools of clear water below. The 
spray from the roaring falls was visible even from as far away as the 
healing house, and the rainbows that filtered through the mist added a 
surreal quality to the stunning vision. But the two occupants of the cozy 
sunlit room were totally unaware of the beauty of nature, or the ambience 
of the chamber, troubled as they were by the myriad events that threatened 
the peacefulness of Imladris. 

      "I am sorry, my Lord," Erestor said to Elrond once the door to the 
solarium was closed and he was sure they were alone. "I could not find it 
in my heart to separate Lindir from Glorfindel once I found the Seneschal 
was injured."

      Elrond sighed. "I understand, Erestor, but this does complicate 
things." 

      In fact, this new problem was only one of many that burdened the 
Elven Lord. Humans had attacked his forces twice. First, a hoard of filthy 
bandits, bent on nothing but greed and destruction, their folly leaving one 
of his guardians close to the doors of Mandos' Halls, and second, a trained 
squadron, headed by an Half-elf with a heritage similar to his own; a blood 
mix of First and Secondborn. This ravager now sat chained in the 
dungeons of the Last Homely House, while Elrond waited for his 
Commanders to delve out the reason for the mortal's viscous attack. But 
the latest crack in the veil of tranquility that normally covered the 
mountain valley had taken him by surprise. Why would Glorfindel turn his 
back on a promise made specifically for the well being of an Elf he so 
plainly cared for? Elrond could not begin to imagine.

      "As soon as Glorfindel has re-gained his strength I must speak with 
him, and this time I do expect you to keep Lindir away," Elrond said as he 
turned around to face his advisor. Running his fingers through his hair, he 
voiced the thought that ran through both their minds. "What happened, 
Erestor, what prompted Glorfindel to make this move? I thought we all 
agreed how to handle this a long time ago."

      Erestor returned the sigh, feeling guilty for betraying his friend, but 
knowing he was unable to keep anything hidden from his Lord. 
"Glorfindel has always been a mystery to me. We get along, mind you, 
because I am willing to play his games, and I consider him one of my 
closest associates. But he does not reveal his innermost self to anyone, 
except maybe Haldir, and Haldir can be just as enigmatic as Glorfindel. In 
fact, Haldir played a part in getting them together.

      "It all started with Haldir's story about the gift giving. I should not 
reveal this, but Lindir drew Glorfindel's name and came to me for advice 
as to what to give him. He was extremely distraught, so much that he was 
having problems sleeping. At first I thought his concern was that 
Glorfindel was his superior officer, but nay, it was worse. Lindir has 
always idolized the Seneschal, and at some point his feelings crossed the 
border between hero worship and love. I mistakenly took it for infatuation; 
never dreaming Lindir would act on his desire, and thinking I was doing 
him a favor, I advised him to speak with Haldir.

      "What it is about Haldir that makes everyone wish to confide in 
him, I know not, but Lindir revealed his feelings about Glorfindel to the 
Marchwarden, and Haldir took it upon himself to play matchmaker. The 
result is, well, Glorfindel spent last night in Lindir's room, and their 
interaction was not of a platonic nature."

      "So it has gone that far," Elrond said with a frown. "Lindir 
confirms the binding?"

      "No," Erestor replied, "That is conjecture on my part. Glorfindel 
would not take a lover lightly. In fact, in my memory he has never had a 
serious romantic interest. But according to both Haldir and Lindir, he has 
declared his eternal love for Lindir. Glorfindel would never jest about 
something like that."

      "Then the relationship is not as far along as I thought. I will speak 
with Glorfindel, and if he does not heed my warning, I may be forced to 
send the Seneschal away from Imladris for a time. They cannot bind, 
Erestor. If they do, Lindir will know all there is of Glorfindel's mind. He 
will find out that which we have hidden from him all these years, and he 
may never recover from that knowledge. It is still hard for me to 
understand why, if Glorfindel loves Lindir, he would place him at such 
risk?"

      "I know not, My Lord," Erestor replied. That is why I came to you 
as soon as I could."

      Elrond struggled with the temptation to run down the hall and 
throttle the Golden Lord. "It is the will of the Valar that two minds merge 
during a bonding. Erestor, there is no way Glorfindel can thwart that. 
While I feel for Lindir, I will do every thing I can to see that this 
relationship goes no further. I know Glorfindel is your friend, I hope you 
can see why I need take these desperate measures."

      "Even though I understand, my Lord," Erestor said slowly, "It does 
not make this any easier. I know you feel the same as I. Glorfindel should 
be able to understand your reaction, but young Lindir will not, and he will 
be crushed. But better that, than to have him fade as Tebring." 

      Elrond grimaced at the thought. "Unfortunately, I do not have any 
more time to spend on this, Erestor, for I must also speak with Celeng. 
Grant me a few minutes alone, then tell him to wait for me if he is still 
outside."

      "As you wish, my Lord," Erestor said, a slight ache beginning to 
build in his stomach. "With your permission, I will take my leave." At a 
nod from Elrond, the advisor turned and walked to the door, leaving his 
Lord sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. Erestor hated to walk 
out on him in that condition, but he knew there was nothing he could do to 
ease his mind. Squaring his shoulders, and feeling like a traitor, he opened 
the door and left the room.

      In spite of the furor that had taken place not so long ago, the 
atmosphere about the main hall of the Healing House was that of serene 
quiet. No one spoke above a whisper, and the stillness only added to the 
feeling of despair that cloaked many of the Elves who sat or stood within 
its confines.

      While Erestor talked with Celeng, Master Anaran did the same 
with Lindir and Haldir, the circles under the Healers eyes attesting to his 
long hours and lack of sleep. "Glorfindel has two deep gashes, one on his 
right forearm and the other on his right thigh. I have stitched and bound 
the wounds, and his natural healing abilities will take care of the rest. The 
loss of blood and the energy he used to hold back the attackers made him 
weak enough to lose consciousness, making his injury seem worse than it 
really is.

      "I will try to make him rest in bed tomorrow, but if I know the 
warrior, it will not be an easy task. You are welcome to go in and see him 
now. I have left a draught for pain on the table by the side of the bed. It 
will make him drowsy, so you may wait and give it to him after your visit, 
unless he asks for it sooner.

      "As for Tebring, his physical injury is healing well, but his mental 
condition has not changed. If anything, he is drifting farther away. I have 
done everything I can for him, now the only thing to do is try and make 
him comfortable."

      "Thank you, Master Anaran," said Lindir. "I did not expect there 
would be any change, but I appreciate your effort to keep us informed."

      The healer smiled and gave Lindir a pat on the shoulder. "You had 
best go see Glorfindel now, he was asking for you, and will not be awake 
long." Master Anaran nodded at Haldir. "Marchwarden, I hope you enjoy 
the rest of your visit here. If you both will excuse me, I will return to my 
tasks."

      The Marchwarden turned to his friend and placed a comforting 
hand upon his shoulder. "If you wish, Lindir, I will wait outside." 

      "Nay, Haldir. I believe Glorfindel would wish to see both of us. 
Let us go in now while he is still awake."

      Sky-blue eyes followed the two Elves as they entered the chamber. 
Glorfindel was lying on his back in the bed, his glorious hair, now 
removed from its braid, spread over the pillow, falling in golden rivulets to 
the sheet below. His bandaged arm was lying outside the covers, and his 
uninjured leg propped up underneath the light sheet. Apparently whatever 
the healers had given him originally was beginning to wear off, because 
the once garrulous blond was now quiet and subdued, his face pale and 
drawn, with a slight expression of pain glazing the surface of his eyes.

      "How are you feeling?" Lindir asked. "You had me worried, 
melamin (1). When the patrol did not return, I thought the worst."

      "I am fine, Lindir, just tired. I have had much worse injury. What I 
need is simply a night of healing rest."

      Glorfindel in actuality felt quite awful, although in his pride, he 
would never admit it. The loss of blood, plus the mental energy he had 
used to bring forth his power, combined with the after effect of the 
narcotic, had left him weak and slightly nauseous. He remained quiet as he 
studied his lover, the only sound in the room that of his breath going in 
and out of his lungs. Lindir looked almost as bad as Glorfindel felt. The 
young Elf had much sorrow in his eyes, and his face was a shade or two 
lighter than its normal pearly hue. He could read Lindir's solemn 
expression, and knew the report of his injury had caused the young 
guardian a fright. Glorfindel imagined that the minstrel's intentions were 
to stay by his side and nurse him throughout the night, but that, Glorfindel 
vowed, was not going to happen.

      While the Seneschal wanted nothing more than to take the minstrel 
in his arms and murmur words of love and reassurance, it was not what 
Lindir needed. He knew the guardian had not had much love in his young 
life, and Glorfindel was ready and willing to give him all he had, but he 
did not want Lindir to become too dependent on him. The Elf suffered 
from an extreme lack of confidence, and pampering him in that way would 
only make the condition worse. Glorfindel was determined to bring the 
young one out of his shell, but he was going to have to hurt him somewhat 
to do it. 

      "Lindir, before this goes any farther, we need to come to an 
understanding. You are going to have to learn not to get upset when the 
patrol is late. Remember your training. The time to worry is when you are 
informed there is a problem. Worry beforehand causes you to lose control 
and make mistakes. This applies not just to warfare, but also to real life. 
That we have declared our love does not change these rules. We are 
warriors, pen-neth (2). I am not looking for a wife, do not try to be one for 
me."

      "Can I not be concerned about your welfare, Glorfindel? You are 
more to me than just a warrior. I have given you my heart," Lindir replied, 
feeling somewhat hurt by Glorfindel's words.

      "You misunderstand me, mela (3), I did not mean I am not 
appreciative of your care. Just do not put me in my grave before my time, 
before you know the facts. What could you have done before the 
messengers alerted you of the ambush? Not a thing. And when you did 
hear the news, could you have arrived in time to help? No. Those are the 
tasks of the sentries on duty. What if the patrol had been late for more 
mundane reasons? Not only would we both have been embarrassed by 
your anxiety, but also, your stress and fear would have been for naught.

      "I need you to be strong, Lindir. If we fight side by side, I have to 
know that you will concentrate on none but the enemy. That you will trust 
in my skill to take care of myself, as I will trust yours. That you will do 
the same if I am on patrol or away on a mission. Otherwise, we should end 
what we have between us now."

      "I understand, my Lord," Lindir answered in a low voice, his eyes 
pinned to the floor. Even though the words Glorfindel spoke made much 
sense and were said in a kind voice, it pained Lindir to hear the 
Seneschal's rebuke, especially since it was the last thing he had expected. 
"I can do as you ask."

      Glorfindel winced at the hurt in Lindir's voice. "Come here, 
melamin," the Seneschal replied, holding out his hand. When Lindir 
walked over to the bed and grasped his hand, Glorfindel motioned for him 
to take a seat by his side. Reaching upwards, he traced his fingers down 
the minstrel's cheek. "Do not be upset by my words, pen-neth. It gladdens 
my heart to see you here, to have you close. Amin mela lle (4), Lindir. I 
have said this to no other. You hold my heart in your hands.

      "But, to again stress my point. You know the dangers and the 
possible risks we face each day. To fight, we must be strong, physically 
and emotionally. If we let our love make us weak, we lessen our chance of 
survival. This is all I am asking, Lindir. That we stick by the warrior's 
code, in life, and in our love for each other."

      "Amin mela lle, Glorfindel. I do not wish to think of losing you, 
for I have just found you, our time together is just beginning."

      "I know pen-neth. But we can not go into this relationship blindly. 
If I hurt you, Lindir, know that I do so only out of my love for you. You 
are mine, Lindir, for always if you want me."

      "You know I do, Glorfindel." Lindir spoke so softly that the 
Seneschal barely caught his words. Lindir's lower lip trembled and a 
single tear rolled down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes to keep others 
from following, tightening his grip on his lover's hand. "I do not mean to 
weep, Glorfindel. In the future I promise to be stronger. I will do anything 
you ask of me, rather than risk losing your love."

      "Ai, Lindir, again you misunderstand me." Glorfindel sighed. 
When I have back my strength we will talk of this again. Know that 
whatever problems we have, we can always work them out. Learn to trust 
me, Lindir. Learn to trust my love, but above all, learn to trust yourself. 
You have many fine attributes, Lindir, have faith in them. You cannot gain 
the confidence of others until you have gained the same confidence in 
yourself. But we will work on this together, for as of this day, you are no 
longer alone."

      Lindir took a deep breath and managed a smile for his lover. He 
needed to be strong if he were to keep the Golden Lord by his side. 
Glorfindel had a way of tearing down his defenses. It was as if the 
Seneschal could see into his very soul, and it frightened him. He was not 
sure if he could measure up to the expectations of the great Lord. He 
wanted so much to believe in what the warrior said, but he still could not 
come to terms with the fact that an Elf such as Glorfindel would have the 
slightest interest in an Elf like him.
 
      "Come now," the ancient warrior said, giving Lindir a re-assuring 
smile. "If we keep on like this, we will embarrass the Marchwarden." 
Releasing Lindir's hand, he turned to the silver-haired Elf standing at 
Lindir's side. Glorfindel could see the amusement dancing in Haldir's eyes. 

      "Mae govannen, Haldir. Do not hang back, I would speak with you 
also."

      Haldir stepped up to the bed and grasped Glorfindel's arm in a 
warrior's handshake. "I am glad to see you in one piece, meldir (5)."

      "Aye, Haldir, I will be as new in but a short while. The more 
reason for both of you to rejoice, you especially, Lindir." Glorfindel 
grinned toothily at his love, then turned back to the Marchwarden with a 
more serious expression.

      "I would ask another favor, Haldir."

      "How may I be of service?" Haldir replied.

      "My guardians captured the leader of the men that ambushed us. 
He is Half-elven. Captain Naldor had him placed in chains and brought to 
a cell. He is on his way to interrogate him as of now. I would ask that you 
be present also. I could use your thoughts and insight. You have seen 
much of the way of men, and this rogue has teemed himself with them. 
Naldor speaks the language of the Secondborn, but has not much 
experience among their kind. He would be appreciative of your aid."

      "You have but to ask, gwador (6). I will leave immediately," 
Haldir replied. 

      "My thanks, Haldir. I am in your debt," the Seneschal said. "I will 
meet with you in the morning, if that is convenient."

      "Until then," the Marchwarden responded with a nod. Then turning 
towards the door, he made a swift exit. 

      Once Haldir had gone, Glorfindel turned back to Lindir. "Melamin, 
I have a favor to ask of you also. You will not like it, but I ask it all the 
same. I want you to go back to The Last Homely House and find 
something to occupy your time. Do not think I will let you sit here by my 
side all night. I am going to drink that which Master Anaran left. It will 
induce a healing sleep. My body needs it, Lindir. There is naught you can 
do here. If you wish to please me, go seek Erestor. With Lord Elrond so 
occupied and myself injured, Erestor is forced to take on all our burdens. 
He needs you more than I do tonight."

      Lindir smiled. "Anything to make sure you follow Master Anaran's 
orders. I will leave as soon as you drink your tea. I have neglected Erestor 
this week, and I feel guilty for that. He will find something for me to do, I 
have no doubt."

      Lindir picked up the cup from the small table and held it to 
Glorfindel's lips. "I know you can handle this yourself, but let me do this 
one thing for you before I go."

      The ancient warrior just smiled and obediently drank from Lindir's 
hand. When Glorfindel had finished all that was in the cup, the minstrel 
bent down and placed a soft kiss on the lips of his love. Glorfindel 
immediately deepened it, and the two were locked together in the 
passionate kiss for some moment. When they finally broke apart, Lindir 
wished the warrior a good night, then reluctantly left the room. 
Glorfindel's eyes were already heavy from the effects of the hot liquid, 
which had started to work almost immediately. Before Lindir made it into 
the hall, the Balrog Slayer was lost in a deep healing sleep.

      The smile left Lindir's face as soon as he exited the room. He had 
done his best to appear in good spirits when Glorfindel asked him to leave, 
but it had all been an act. The warrior's words had stung. Only last night 
the Seneschal had welcomed him with open arms, and this night he did 
everything he could to push Lindir away. I will not lose him so soon, 
Lindir vowed. If I have to submit to his every whim to keep him happy, I 
will. And with that firm resolve, he went to find Erestor.

      "How does Glorfindel fare?" Lord Erestor asked, once Lindir had 
located the dark-haired advisor. "I would have thought you would still be 
at his side, Lindir."

      "He is doing well, My Lord. He asked me not to stay, but to help 
you instead, for he feels guilty that you must handle everything alone." 
The advisor did look quite harried, Lindir realized. Maybe Glorfindel was 
right. There was truly nothing he could do for Glorfindel while his lover 
slept. But there should be plenty he could do to help Erestor. 

      Erestor gave the minstrel a quick appraisal. "I hate to put you to 
work on your holiday, Lindir, but there is something you could do for me. 
I was copying scrolls this morning, and with all the uproar, they are still 
laid out on the main table in the library. Some of them are quite old, and 
should be put back in their protective coverings. If you could take care of 
that, I would be extremely grateful. If you need something else to occupy 
your time, there are three crates of Elrond's that I had removed from attic 
storage that are sitting on the floor of my office. I am not sure what is in 
them, but if you could go through the contents and catalog them, that 
would free up more of my time. If you can not get to it, do not worry. I ask 
that only if your concern for Glorfindel does not allow sleep. Otherwise, 
Lindir, get you some food and rest. I know this day has been a hard one."

      "I will do as much as I can, Erestor. If I can help in any other way, 
let me know." Lindir replied.

      Erestor was about to make a comment when Master Anaran called 
to him from the adjacent room. "I must go, Lindir. Thank your for your 
offer of help. I will see you in the morning, if not before." And with that 
the advisor hurried off to see what the healer wanted, while Lindir made 
his way to the library.

      Lord Elrond was with Master Anaran when Erestor walked into the 
room. If anything, his Lord looked more exhausted than he did when 
Erestor had spoken with him earlier. 

      "Erestor, I have met with Master Anaran and with Celeng, and 
have given my permission for Celeng to speak with Tebring tomorrow. I 
asked only that he talk to Glorfindel first. If the two of them cannot sway 
Tebring's mind, I am afraid there is no hope. Tebring's condition degrades 
with each passing hour. 

      "We have a bit of a problem in that Lindir expects to meet with 
Glorfindel in the morning, and so do Haldir and Captain Naldor. 
Glorfindel asked Haldir to help the Captain interrogate the prisoner, and 
they will wish to give the Seneschal their report. I am assuming that Lindir 
will arrive early. If so, will you find something to occupy him when Haldir 
gets here? Preferably something that will keep him away from the Healing 
House until you hear from me. As soon as I finish my talk with Glorfindel, 
I will send Celeng in to him. That should place his mind on something 
else, and take the heat out of his anger, for he is not going to take my 
words lightly. In fact, there is a good chance, Erestor, that we may have 
chaos reign here tomorrow, so be prepared."

      "I will help in any way I can, my Lord," Erestor promised. 
Realizing it was getting close to the dinner hour, the advisor mentally 
added a trip to the kitchen to his checklist. "If you like, I will have a tray 
prepared in the kitchen and brought to you here. Have you eaten at all 
today?"

      "Do not worry, Erestor," Master Anaran spoke up. "Miradhel and I 
have made sure that our Lord is well fed, and I will also make sure he gets 
some well needed rest tonight. We will take care of the problems on our 
end as best we can."

      "Thank you for your help, Erestor," Elrond replied. "You may 
return to the house now. I trust in you to make sure all is well."

      "As you wish, My Lord," Erestor said, giving his Lord a small 
bow. I will keep an eye on Lindir, and will check on the twins as well." 
With a nod to both Elves, he took his leave.

      As the last rays of Anor sank beneath the horizon, so did the hopes 
of many in the Healing House. Tambor and Garion still kept their watch 
outside the room of Tebring, and Lord Elrond and Master Anaran placed 
their eye on the hourglass, watching as the grains of sand marked passage 
of the time that slipped so swiftly away. Tebring and Glorfindel slumbered 
unaware of the grief and sadness that wrapped the inhabitants of Imladris 
in its numbing grip. And in the confines of The Last Homely house, there 
were others who would find restless sleep this night, for gray clouds of 
trouble hovered in the air, and no one knew what the dawn would bring. 

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Sindarin words and phrases used in this chapter 

1. melamin - my love
2. pen-neth - young one
3. mela - love
4. Amin mela lle - I love you
5. meldir - friend


Chapter 20: The Library and the Prisoner


	Luckily there was no one in the library when Lindir entered, and 
the scrolls that Erestor had been working on were in their place and 
untouched. It did not take Lindir long to wrap them in protective covers 
and store them away. 

	The library was among the few places in Imladris where Lindir felt 
truly comfortable. Perhaps it was the sense of seclusion he had when 
settled in a comfortable chair beside a lovely potted fern, or the restful 
atmosphere that always pervaded the large room. In any case, the books 
and tomes were as familiar to him as the strings of his favorite harp, and 
among their pages he found many friends. 

	It had been a dear place to him even before he started work as 
Erestor's assistant; its comforting confines calling out to the young Elf 
who spent much of his time alone.
Floor to ceiling bookcases lined one half of the great room, the contents of 
their shelves exuding a familiar scent of ink and aged parchment. Two 
wide ladders set into tracks allowed easy access to those volumes beyond 
arms reach. In front of the U-shaped book-filled walls, freestanding 
bookcases marched across the floor like soldiers on parade. The dark 
stained wood, of which they all were built, was highly lacquered, and 
polished daily to a brilliant sheen. Each book, manuscript, and scroll was 
sorted and indexed in a precise manner consist with a successful method 
Erestor had adopted in Lindon long ago. 

	In the central part of the room, sat four wooden tables with 
straight-backed chairs and two small desks. Centered on two of the tables, 
were clay jars containing the tools the scholars used in their repair and 
maintenance of the library's precious contents. Immense bronze 
chandeliers hung from the curved ceiling; their scrolled arms the home of 
numerous candles that provided plenty of light for work and reading.

	Directly opposite the tables was a comfortable area designed for 
those who just wished to read or relax. It centered on the far wall, where 
two large stone hearths became the focal point for an arrangement of 
divans, over-stuffed chairs, and small tables. Artfully placed potted plants 
provided color and ambience, while paintings and tapestries depicting 
various scenes of history and famous personages graced the chamber's 
walls. A series of curtained archways lined the outside wall; deep enough 
that velvet cushioned benches could be set against their sides. During the 
day, sunlight streamed into the room, giving the large chamber a bright 
cheeriness, where gentle breezes brought in the soothing scent of the 
outdoors. At sun's set, the curtains were drawn, and the soft glow of 
candles reflected off the surfaces of polished wood. It was a favorite haunt 
after dinner for those who did not wish to spend their time in the Hall of 
Fire, for there were usually always a few Elves gathered near the hearths 
reading, drinking wine, or playing a quiet game of chess.

	But tonight, Lindir could not find peace in the silent room. Still 
edgy and restless from all that had happened, he opted instead for a visit to 
the bathhouse. A warm soak should help him relax. He would then grab a 
quick snack, and be ready to start cataloging the items in the crates from 
the attic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	While Lindir was soaking in the warm waters of the bath, Haldir 
was fulfilling his promise to Lord Glorfindel. He asked one of the Imladris 
sentries to direct him to the lower chambers of The Last Homely House, 
that which held the cells where miscreants and worse were incarcerated 
for wrongdoing. 

	Following the guard down a series of stairs, they soon reached a 
narrow corridor, where Haldir was led to the entrance of the cell where the 
prisoner was kept. Captain Naldor and two other guardians in his company 
greeted the Warden with military briskness and formality. 

	"Marchwarden," Captain Naldor nodded at the Elf from 
Lothlórien, "I appreciate your help, and am ready to fill you in on what we 
have learned. The Half-elf is quite talkative, although not about that which 
we wish to know. Instead, he favors insults and barbs at our kind, for he 
does not associate himself at all with the Firstborn. If you would like to 
speak with him now, I will accompany you into the cell."

	"Lead the way, Captain," Haldir said to the dark-haired Noldor 
who was Glorfindel's second-in-command. Another guardian produced a 
set of keys and unlocked the heavy door that allowed entrance into the 
chamber. Captain Naldor went in first, followed by Haldir and the 
Captain's adjutant who was carrying a large torch. 

	The flickering light of the torch outlined the features of the room's 
occupant in an orange glow. He was seated on a bench against the stone 
wall, wrists and ankles manacled as to limit movement. Golden hair 
framed a face that was fine boned and fair, and the tips of pointed ears 
peaked through golden locks that were clean, but mussed and tangled. The 
prisoner's body was slim, lithe and long, his Elven heritage apparent in his 
every movement. Only his eyes reflected his mixed blood, for they had the 
particular round shape of mankind, not the graceful slant of the Firstborn, 
and though their color was a lovely shade of gray-blue, their was no 
warmth in their depths. Instead, they were as icy cold as the glaciers of the 
north, reflecting a deep-seated hatred that was directed at the officers 
standing before him. 

	Captain Naldor broke the silence first. "This is Marchwarden 
Haldir, from the Elven realm of Lothlórien, ruled by the Lord Celeborn 
and the Lady of the Light, Galadriel. He speaks the language of Men, and 
is here to ask you more questions."

	The Half-elf made no acknowledgement of the words that were 
addressed to him. Instead he stared at the Marchwarden with much malice, 
a slight sneer on his ruby lips.

	"It is a common courtesy to answer when addressed," Haldir said 
in a formal tone. "It seems in your plight you have forgotten your 
manners."

	"Fine words, coming from an Elf who by parentage is of the 
working class of Caras Galadhon", the Half-elf spoke in perfect Sindarin. 
"Think I know nothing of your Golden Woods and your Lord and Lady? 
They, who sit in the Heart of Elvendom and consider themselves the 
fairest of all kind? Were it not for the ring on your Lady's finger, your 
woods would be consumed with darkness, and your precious Mellryn trees 
would dwindle and die. As it is, your time on Arda is fast coming to an 
end. What right have you to put your kind on a pedestal and laugh at the 
acts of Men? We who will soon rule the world?" The Half-elf spat the 
words at the Marchwarden.

	"Who are you and why did you set ambush to Imladris patrols?" 
Haldir asked next, ignoring the insult that the brazen figure on the bench 
directed at him. "What did you hope to gain from your madness?"

	"Do you think me mad, Marchwarden? With my hands on 
Imladris, I would be in good position to attack both Mirkwood and 
Lothlórien. Even though I failed, my kind will still control these lands, and 
soon."

	"It was folly to attempt such a coup. Did you think a few men 
trained in Elven warfare could really overtake the forces of Imladris? 
Overtake Elven warriors?" Haldir asked, a look of amused disbelief on his 
face.

	At his words, the Half-elf could hardly control his anger. "If it had 
not been for the Balrog Slayer and his Maiar powers, it would be Lord 
Elrond in this cell instead of me. Drat the blasted Elf, how was I to know 
that Glorfindel of Rivendell was the same as the famed Glorfindel of 
Gondolin. No Elf has ever returned to Arda from Mandos' Halls."

	"For one of the race of Men, as you so ardently claim you are, your 
knowledge of Elven history is not lacking. Obviously you have lived 
awhile amongst our kind. What turned you then from your Elven heritage? 
What caused you to embrace the ways of Men?" Haldir asked, not so 
much from a military need to know, but from his own curiosity.

	"Odd that you should ask that question, gwador (1)," the Half-elf 
said with a sneer, "You who have the features of the race you think so 
beneath you. Is it not odd that it is my face, not yours, that has the fine and 
delicate bones of the Firstborn. Admit it, gwador, I am much prettier than 
you!" The blond Half-elf laughed as he saw he had touched a nerve with 
the large Lórien Elf.

	"Aye, I have lived among your kind, and they are not as noble and 
pure as you claim them to be. You see some of it yourself, gwador, as I 
saw the hurt in your eyes when I mentioned your looks. There are those 
among you who think your blood is not so pure as you claim. But they can 
only speak this behind your back. 

	"Imagine then, growing up knowing that your blood was stained, 
knowing that no matter what you did you could never fit in. Beaten simply 
because you were different. I was jeered and laughed at because I knew 
not my father's name. Ostracized by my kind and pure Elven peers. My 
mother was taken by a human male, yet was she given succor by her kind? 
Nay, she was scorned, and so was her spawn, as they called me. Soon after 
my birth she faded, and I was left alone. But none of *your* kind cared.

	"Do you know of me, Haldir? I grew up in your Golden Woods, 
but no, I see my face is not familiar to you. Low as your status was on the 
ladder, mine was at the bottom. Your like would not concede to give me 
the time of day. 

	"After too many years of being an object of contempt, I left, and 
after much misery discovered that men thought I was beautiful. Whereas 
no Elf would touch me, men fought over me, died over the chance to feel 
my caress, run their hands through my golden hair. They showered me 
with rich garments, and treasures I dared not even dream of. And you ask 
why I forsake my Elven kin? Would that they all rotted in the pits of 
Mordor!" 

	That the Half-elf was bitter was obvious. Haldir's stolid face gave 
away no emotion at the other's words, but a tiny voice inside whispered in 
his mind that he, too, had felt some of the pain that the prisoner had 
endured. There were those that whispered of his heritage and his looks, so 
different from those of his fine boned brothers, and Haldir was quite aware 
of it. But any pity he felt for the other was wiped away when he 
remembered the purpose of the Half-elf's confinement, and thought of the 
Seneschal lying in the Healing House with multiple wounds.

	"If you have dwelt among the Elves, then you know the penalty for 
kin-slaying. That you did not fulfill your intent, lessens the charge but 
little. It seems ironic that your victim and intended victim will be among 
those who decide your fate. That you claim to be of men changes not the 
verdict either, for in spite of your wish, Elven blood runs in your veins. I 
would pity you for your early life, were it not for your actions this day. 
You alone have decided your fate, and now you must live with the 
consequences. Do not expect any quarter, for none shall be given." 

	The prisoner's answer was to spit at the Marchwarden and the 
Captain. "I will go to my grave with hatred in my heart then, Elf, and 
laughter at your pride. For it will not be ere long that men will walk the 
woods that you so prize, and your kind, which you deem so fair, will be 
naught but memory. Build my pyre high, Sylvan, Noldo, for I will have 
the last laugh in the end. I will answer no more of your questions. I desire 
to sleep."

	"Your chance to sleep is at the Captain's command, not yours, 
peredhel (2)," Haldir said curtly. "However, I have no further questions." 
Turning to the Captain, he motioned that he wished to leave. When he and 
the other officers had exited the cell, Haldir looked at Captain Naldor and 
sighed. "He has built his own tombstone. For that which he faults others, 
he practices himself. I think for now, we have learned all we can.

	"I will go with you in the morning when you deliver your report to 
Lord Glorfindel. With your leave, I will retire and seek food and rest."

	The Captain simply nodded his head and thanked the 
Marchwarden for his efforts. Then bidding his sentries goodnight, 
followed Haldir up the stairs. He too wished for nothing more than a hot 
meal and peaceful sleep.

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

	Lindir felt much better after the bath and light supper, and he 
looked forward to the work Lord Erestor had left for him. Sorting through 
the crates from the attic was something they both enjoyed, and usually a 
task they did together. For Lindir, it was almost like opening presents on 
begetting day, for one never knew what treasures might be found. One 
year, he and Erestor had unearthed a beautiful chess set, packed away ever 
so carefully. It had been a gift to Imladris from the High King Gil-galad, 
and Lord Elrond had tears in his eyes when they showed it to him. 

	Over the centuries, many things had been packed away and placed 
in the attic. The problem was that no one knew anymore just exactly what 
was stored there. It had been Erestor's idea to sort through everything and 
catalogue it, but it was quite a daunting task. So he and Lindir decided to 
take it one step at a time. Every so often they would carry down three or 
four crates and go through their contents. It would take a long time to 
finish this way, but it was not like it was top priority, and it provided a 
welcome respite from the daily routine.

	Lindir picked up a wooden punch from Erestor's desk and knocked 
out the pins that held the lid of the first crate to the body. Lifting the top 
completely off, he began to remove the contents from inside. The first 
item he picked up was wrapped in some kind of rough cloth. Carefully 
unrolling the fabric, he uncovered a small-carved box. He opened the top 
and peered inside. The box was empty. Labeling the sides and top of the 
crate with a number, he penned the same number on the parchment where 
he would record the contents. The first item he listed was a wooden trinket 
box. Wrapping the box back in the fabric, he reached for another fabric 
wrapped bundle. 

	By the time he had recorded and re-packed everything in the first 
crate, he was ready for a break. Most of the contents had been small knick-
knacks, the type used as accessories in many of the guestrooms. He 
imagined they had all been boxed during a time of construction or 
remodeling, and perhaps other ornaments had been purchased to take their 
place. Whatever the reason, there was now a record of their existence on 
file.

	He stood for a moment and stretched, then walked over to one of 
the arched windows and looked out at the stars. Forever after they would 
always have a special place in his heart, for it was under the starlight that 
he and Glorfindel had first made love. Sighing as he thought about the 
Seneschal spending the night in a bed in the Healing House, he made a 
quick appeal to the Lady of the Stars to watch over his love. Then 
returning to his task, he removed the lid from the second crate.
	
	Upon discovering its contents, Lindir laughed with delight. The 
first object he removed was a simple wooden flute. He held it to his lips 
and blew a few notes. Not bad, he thought. Turning the flute in his fingers, 
he looked for the runes he knew would be carved in the wood. He found 
them, but the initials were of no one he knew.

	The next flute he picked up was of better craftsmanship. Testing it, 
he found it had a much better sound. Placing it to his lips, he played a 
simple tune. Looking at it closer, he found the creator had carved a 
running horse on its side. Underneath the horse was the carver's name. 
Lindir recognized it as belonging to one of the senior journeyman harpists. 
He was not surprised then at the workmanship, for the carver was a master 
flutist now.
	Digging further into the crate, he pulled out more flutes, until he 
came to one he was very familiar with. It was the first instrument he had 
ever made on his own. For this was obviously a crate that Lord Findal had 
placed in the attic. All the recorders were the creations of first year 
apprentice students. Lindir had always wondered what Lord Findal did 
with them. Delighted to have found his, he spent the next half-hour 
playing silly little tunes. He hoped he could talk his Master into letting 
him keep the one he had made, so he set it aside and began to record the 
others on the parchment.

	Re-packing the second crate took quite some time, as Lindir could 
not resist trying out each flute he pulled from the box. Some sounded quite 
awful, but there were others that were a delight to play, and Lindir made 
note of their owners so he could tell them of his discovery.

	He debated whether or not to tackle the third crate, but finally 
decided he would. But first, he headed back to the kitchen for a bottle of 
wine and some bread and cheese.
He had just returned and was opening the bottle, when Erestor stuck his 
head through the door.

	"I heard music coming from here earlier, so I thought that must be 
you," Erestor remarked as he continued in to the room, peeking at 
parchment on which Lindir had the items recorded. "I see you have made 
quite a bit of progress, in spite of the fact that you must have played every 
flute in the crate!" Erestor chuckled. "If you offer me some of your wine, I 
will help you with the last one."

	"Are you sure, my Lord? I am supposed to be helping you, not you 
helping me," Lindir said with a smile. "You are most welcome to the wine, 
and I also have bread and cheese if you care for some." 

	Erestor opened a cabinet in the room and took down two 
wineglasses. Reaching for the bottle he poured two glasses, handing one to 
Lindir and keeping the other for himself. Then grabbing a piece of bread 
and a slice of cheese, he settled on the floor next to the third crate.

	Lindir popped the lid on the crate and the two Elves looked at the 
contents. The top layer was a row of leather bound books. "No wonder it 
was so heavy," Erestor commented, "I thought I would never get it down 
the stairs."

	Opening the first book in the row, Erestor read the title and author 
while Lindir recorded the information on the sheet of parchment. "These 
are some of the volumes that came from the library at Lindon," Erestor 
remarked. "I remember packing them myself. These should have been 
filed a long time ago. Let us get them recorded, and then we will restore 
them to the library shelves."

	It was pleasant working with Erestor, and before long they were 
down to the last few books in the crate. "This is one you might wish to 
read, Lindir," Erestor said with a smile, as he handed Lindir a blue leather 
bound book that was edged in gilt. Lindir glanced at the cover page. 
"Glorfindel of Gondolin", it read. The author's name was smudged and 
unreadable, so Lindir wrote "Unknown" besides that category on the 
parchment. 
 	
	"Have you read it before, Lord Erestor?" Lindir asked. 

	"I have, Lindir, and I believe you will be surprised at its contents. 
Glorfindel does not talk much about his former life, but he has mentioned 
that this book is a fairly accurate representation of those days. Keep it, and 
read it at your leisure. It will help you understand some of Glorfindel's 
ways."

	"I will start on it tonight," Lindir replied, holding on to the book as 
if it was a cherished possession. "Let us finish inventorying these last 
remaining tomes, and then if you do not mind, I will take the book to my 
room."

	By the time the two Elves had finished their second glass of wine, 
all the contents of the crates had been inventoried and recorded, and the 
books that were to be shelved were placed in stacks, ready to be carted to 
the library. Lindir bade Lord Erestor a good night and walked down the 
corridor to his room. 

	Changing into his nightshirt, Lindir crawled under the covers of his 
bed and propped himself up with pillows. Then reverently opening the 
blue book, he began to read about the Elf who had become such an 
important part of his life.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Sindarin words and phrases used in this chapter

1. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)
2. peredhel - Half-elven 
 


      

Chapter 21: The Calm Before the Storm
	

      The rosy hues that announced the return of Anor painted the sky 
above the horizon with a soft glow. Dew coated the grass and tender 
leaves of the flowering plants, and the air had a certain moistness that 
signaled the arrival of a new day. A flock of Grackles noisily hunted with 
Starlings for morning insects amidst the fragrant plants in the herb 
gardens, disturbing the thoughts of the tousle-headed blonde that stared 
out the windows of the solarium. 

      Never one to stay idle, Glorfindel had awakened before the sun’s 
rise, and feeling much better, walked down the corridor to the sanctuary of 
the solarium with barely a limp. Now he stood watching as the eastern sky 
slowly turned a deeper shade of coral. This was his most favorite time of 
day, and he always felt amiss when he could not see the first rise of the 
golden orb along its path. He had much to do today, and this simple 
moment of solitude allowed him to arrange his thoughts and come to terms 
with the world around him. This almost daily ritual had started soon after 
the memories of his former life and his time spent in Mandos’ Halls 
returned to his consciousness. Perhaps it was due to a newfound 
appreciation of life, but whatever the cause, he did not forsake this 
morning liturgy without good reason.

      Mouthing a silent curse at the garrulous black birds for disturbing 
his peace, his anger soon turned to laughter as they commenced their zany 
habit of raising their heads up to the sky as if waiting for a piece of it to 
fall. They would hold the senseless pose for a few seconds, then raucously 
go back to their greedy search, gobbling everything in site, until they 
would suddenly still, and crane their heads up to the sky again.

      So intent was he on watching the silly antics of his fine-feathered 
friends, that he visibly started when a large hand grasped his shoulder.

      “Glorfindel, know you as well as I, you should not be out of bed,” 
a voice chided softly in his ear.

      “Do not worry, Master Healer. You have worked your magic, and 
once again I am as good as new,” the Seneschal said with a chuckle. 
“Miradhel is waging another losing battle with the Grackles, I see.”

      “Aye, they pull up the new shoots faster than she can replace them, 
plus they drop all manner of detritus on the linens when she hangs them 
out to dry,” Anaran responded. “But you change the subject, meldir (1), 
we were discussing your injury. If you will not take my advice, at least go 
back to the room so I may change your dressing. Humor me in this and I 
might persuade Miradhel to part with one of her sweet pastries for your 
morning meal.”

      “You drive a hard bargain, hodoer (2), for you know of my sweet 
tooth, and the thought of such already makes my mouth water. Lead the 
way and let us get this over.”

      “Do not try to fool me, ancient one,” Master Anaran replied. “I 
wish to see how you take your weight on that leg. I will follow behind 
*you*.”

      True to the healer's word, the dressings were quickly changed and 
it was not long before Glorfindel was enjoying a flaky apple fritter and 
freshly prepared juice. Crumbs from the delectable sweet clung to his 
fingers and littered the bed sheet, but the ancient warrior was too 
engrossed in the savory treat to notice. Two more followed the first, and a 
fourth was in his hand when a soft voice beckoned from the doorway.

      "May I come in?" Lindir asked shyly, not sure how the Seneschal 
would take his early morning visit.

      "Only if you promise not to steal my fritters," the blue-eyed 
warrior said with a grin. "You must ask Miradhel for your own if you wish 
to break your fast with me."

      Lindir had to smile. He had never seen Glorfindel so disheveled. 
The golden hair that was normally so carefully dressed was tousled and 
tangled. A large flake from the sweet torte he was so obviously devouring 
clung to his chin, and a trail of the same ran down his chest to the sheet 
below. Sticky fingers clutched another sweet, and the look on the blonde's 
face was one of cherubic delight. All traces of pain had fled, and the 
guileless blue eyes that followed Lindir as he walked closer to the bed, 
spoke of love and happiness. Whether for him, or the morning treat, the 
minstrel was not too sure.

      "You are in much better spirits today, I see," Lindir said, "And 
thank you, but I have already eaten. I came to see if there was anything 
you wanted."

      "Only your company, melamin (3), and that for just a short time, as 
there is much I need to deal with today. For a start, I must find out the 
reason behind the ambush yesterday. Captain Naldor and Marchwarden 
Haldir will arrive shortly with their report, but I also intend to speak with 
our prisoner. Then I must meet with the unit leaders, as I want to increase 
the scope and breadth of our patrol. That will require a schedule change, 
which I need work out on paper. Lord Elrond must be advised of our 
current situation and will want the details of what occurred yesterday, and 
I am sure there will be plenty of other work that will keep me occupied 
quite late. If I am able, I will join you for dinner, but if not, would you 
come to my room tonight? I want to continue where we left off, mela (4), 
and we also need to talk. I want to get to know you inside *and* out." The 
Elda gave Lindir a beautiful smile with these words. "Amin mela lle, 
Lindir (5). At the moment I cannot spend the time with you that I would 
wish, but I promise to make it up to you later. Come sit and tell me of your 
night."

      "There is not much to tell, cormamin (6). I spent my time in the 
library on tasks Erestor set before me. He joined me later and we shared a 
glass of wine, bread and cheese. When our work was finished I read for a 
while and then fell asleep. My thoughts were often of you."

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

      Lindir told the ancient warrior the truth, but not the whole truth. He 
*had* read last night, but it was quite late when he extinguished the 
candles beside his bed. The book that Erestor lent him was more than just 
a historical account of the time that Glorfindel spent in Gondolin. 
      
      Whoever the author was, he had known the Chief of the House of 
the Golden Flower intimately, for much was revealed of the thoughts and 
nature of the Golden Lord. Gondolin's Glorfindel had been a just, but hard 
taskmaster, for the men of his House adored him. He was Lieutenant, 
along with Ecthelion, to Turgon, and as such, had close business with the 
King. Here the book told much of the discourse between the two. It also 
described the beauty and grace of the city, for it had been known as one of 
the fairest in all Elvendom. Of the House which Glorfindel was head, the 
author noted its richness was beyond description, and he painted the 
Golden Lord as happy in his life, with many and varied friends, a favorite 
of the King and Court. 

       	But the most fascinating, yet heart-rending chapter in the 
book, told of the fall of Gondolin itself, and it was this relating that first 
gave Lindir the idea that the author must have been part of that epic event. 
Through the author's written word, the minstrel lived the fear and fright 
the residents of the great city underwent. On a night of celebration – the 
summer festival –the dark hordes of Melkor attacked the northern wall 
without warning. They were aided by the traitor Maeglin, Head of the 
House of the Mole. Innocents died in their homes, or fled in panic, 
knowing not where to go or what to do. In the ensuing pandemonium, 
families were sundered, and lovers saw their mates cut down, children 
were left crying and abandoned in the streets. The defenders of the city 
were caught unawares, and chaos reigned as leaders tried to organize their 
troops. 

      The warriors of Glorfindel's House were brave and bold, as were 
those of the other noble Houses. Lindir remembered reading the first 
person view of the fight. "We rallied to the city's defense, and the smoke 
and darkness were such that we could hardly see our way. Hordes of Orcs 
were running through the streets and I saw women, children, whole 
families cut down with the stroke of a sword. Others fled screaming into 
burning houses, their minds so crazed with fear they sought death in relief. 
My comrades fell around me, and I was forced to step over their bodies 
and those of the Gondolindrim of other Houses as one would avoid 
puddles during a summer rainstorm. 

      "The din and confusion were great as we pushed onwards towards 
the center of the city. But before we could reach our destination, a great 
swarm of Orcs came upon us. In no time we were surrounded, and no 
matter how many we felled, more stepped in to take their place. A 
messenger was sent to King Turgon to request aide, but none came and 
our hopes fell. Within the space of an hour, our ranks were so decimated 
that we fought and sloshed in pools of blood, too much of it that of our 
own kind, and there were none among us who did not sport some type of 
injury. 

      "With our numbers cut to less than a quarter, our minds reeling in 
shock, we managed to break through and fight our way to the square of the 
King. Tuor was there, and Galdor and Ecthelion, but the House of the 
White Wing, the Tree, and the Fountain were in as bad a shape or worse 
than that of the Flower. The Gondolindrim cheered our arrival, while at 
the same time what was left of the House of the Swallow felled the Orcs 
that had been on our tail, joining us, however, swelling but little our ranks. 
Our hearts sank, for we knew we were not enough. With the arrival of 
Egalmoth and the remnants of the House of the Heavenly Arch, which 
now included warriors of the Swallow, Pillar, and Snow – Duilin and 
Penlod the Tall having fallen – we realized there would be no more 
reinforcement. Egalmoth told me that Rog and all his brave warriors had 
died at the North wall. The House of the Hammer of the Wrath and its 
brave Lord this night ceased to exist. 

      "Though I had not much chance to look around, being too busy 
cutting down the foul beasts that seemed to come from all sides, I did see 
Galdor step in front of Tuor and Ecthelion, saving both their lives in a 
foolhardy, but brave move. Then during a lull I was able to take a closer 
look. Tuor was supporting my friend, the Lord of the Fountain. Galdor had 
rescued him, but I could see death in Ecthelion's eyes.

      "At that moment I realized the cause for the lull, for a great 
shadow fell upon us. Gothmog, the Lord of the great Balrogs, chief 
servant of Melkor, stood before us. Ecthelion knew he was dying. His 
shield arm had been rendered useless by the whip of one of the demon's 
brothers, but he hefted his sword and with great determination, charged 
the beast. As he met the burning fires of the fell demon, we could smell 
the nauseating aroma of roasting flesh. But though he inflicted a great 
wound, the fiery monster did not fall, and Ecthelion received a grievous 
wound to his other arm, causing him to drop his sword. Desperate to save 
his brothers-in-arms, Ecthelion rammed the peak of his helmet directly 
into the Balrog's chest, tangling his feet with that of his foe. The force of 
the thrust pierced the great body, pushing Gothmog into the Fountain that 
was the symbol of the brave Lord's House. His own weight caused 
Gothmog to sink like a stone, but alas, Ecthelion fell with him, his heavy 
armor acting like an anchor thrown from a drifting ship. Before we could 
move, he had sunk beneath the surface, and there he took his last breath. 
      
      "In the midst of our sorrow, we saw that Turgon had left the palace 
and ordered a charge. With our banners and armor in shreds, we regrouped 
under the King, and fought as we never had before, almost gaining back 
control of the square. But our luck was not to hold, for the body of a foul 
dragon fell into the waters that cradled my friend.

      "Steam boiled up from the fountain obscuring our vision and 
scalding our skin. Blinded, the enemy picked us off like flies, and Turgon, 
seeing the hopelessness of our cause, signaled a retreat. We had fought 
and lost, and now our thoughts turned toward escape. Turgon, in his guilt, 
swore to stay with the city to its last, and threw down his crown. Those of 
the Royal House who still lived followed him to the Tower of the King. 
Tuor pleaded with Turgon to leave the city, to no avail, and was set to go 
after him, but the Lord of the White Wing could not forsake the small 
group of refugees and Gondolindrim who still survived. With Tuor and 
Galdor in the lead, we headed for the secret exit that Idril planned so long 
ago, to the path of the Eagles, Christhorn."

      It was there in the book, oddly, that the point of view of the 
narrator changed. Lindir as long as he lived, would never forget the lines 
on the next few pages.

      "Ever upwards the ragged line struggled. Tuor had met Idril, who 
with her son Eärendil also fled the city. Following her were a few more 
survivors. With Galdor leading and protecting the front of the line, Lord 
Glorfindel and what remained of the House of the Golden Flower brought 
up the rear. More of the brave warriors of the Flower fell before the 
refugees reached the base of the mountains. Tuor stayed close to Idril and 
Eärendil, and tried his best to comfort the frightened. Egalmoth was in 
shock and mourned the loss of his best friend Rog, mumbling his name 
with each step he took. Glorfindel was crying openly, his men falling 
around him. His sword never stilled as he and his warriors valiantly fought 
those few Orcs or worse who tried to follow after. 

      "Farther and farther they trudged upwards, sorrow in their hearts, 
terror on their faces. Great rock walls rose above them on their left, a sheer 
drop on their right, and the way was dark, as the light of Ithil did not reach 
the pass. Tuor set Legolas Greenleaf as guide, for the Elf could walk these 
paths blindfolded. But Melkor, though he was not aware of their passage, 
had set Orcs to guard the mountains, and they hit the pitiful group hard. 
While Galdor and his remaining warriors fought the brutes attacking the 
front, the House of the Golden Flower bravely fought those assaulting the 
rear. But on their heels was another nightmare, a Balrog twice the size of 
an Elf climbed along the cliffs, its deadly whip mowing down the 
Gondolindrim with each flick of its wrist. While most stood frozen in 
horror, one acted without thought. Most beloved in Gondolin for his sharp 
wit, quick smile, and prowess with sword and bow, the Chief of the House 
of the Golden Flower climbed up the cliff face until he was facing the 
Balrog eye to eye. At the same moment, Thorondor, the great eagle and 
his kin began to hound the Orcs at the front.

 	"The sword of the fiery demon met that of the Golden Lord time 
and time again, until Glorfindel was almost out of breath and barely had 
strength left to fight. Desperate to find some chink in the demon's black 
armor, the great warrior was about to despair, when he saw his chance. 
With a thrust of his sword that was almost quicker than the eye, he pared 
the arm from the monstrous beast. Howling in pain, the Balrog turned, and 
Glorfindel, seizing the advantage, grabbed his dirk and plunged it into the 
Balrog's stomach. The dying wails of the demon echoed throughout the 
pass, and with his death throes, the cliff edge began to crumble. Glorfindel 
tried to scramble to safety, but the Balrog grabbed a lock of the gilded hair 
that streamed in the wind beneath his helm. Those present could only 
watch in horror as the fell beast plunged into the abyss, dragging the 
beloved warrior with him to certain death below." 

      Lindir almost put the book aside at that point, so upset was he 
reading about the death of the Elf who held his heart. But when he saw 
that the handwriting had once again changed, he continued on. This was 
the part that would ingrain itself in his mind forever.

      "I wish I could say I did not remember the fall, but that would not 
be true. I knew not such pain could exist. The fetid smell of the breath of 
the horrid beast was in my nostrils and the fiery air that surrounded him 
burned my lungs. The flames that encased his body scorched my skin, and 
my hair was a mass of fire. I tried to scream, my throat so raw my voice 
was gone. Every part of me that touched the beast melted to the bone, and 
I would have cried from the agony, had I but eyes to produce tears, for the 
flesh of my face was also burned away.

      "Mercifully I passed out before we hit the water, for after what 
seemed a lifetime, darkness overtook me. I knew not that Thorondor 
retrieved my blackened body from the depths of the waters below and bore 
it back to my kin. For by then I had entered the realm of Mandos, and my 
pain was gone, replaced by a cold worse than that of the Helcaraxë. It 
penetrated deep into my bones, a cold so bitter it felt as if a thousand 
knives pierced my skin. And then I realized that I had no skin, no bones, 
no body, just my thoughts and the ever-present painful cold that made my 
mind think my body still existed. There was no light, just a dark void, and 
I was alone, and I was afraid. Though I did not know it at the time, this 
was to be my existence for millennia. Plenty of time to wonder, to regret, 
to curse my arrogant pride and that of my kin, to remember all I had lost."

      Lindir had not been able to read more, for he knew there could be 
only one Elf who had written that passage, and he realized then what 
Glorfindel lived with each and every day, and he cried for his friend and 
lover. He knew not when he finally fell asleep, but in the morning he did 
not feel rested, and knew he must have tossed and turned in the throes of a 
nightmare throughout what was left of the night. After hiding the book 
under his pillow, he made his bed and began to ready himself for the new 
day.

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

      "You look as if you lost your best friend, Lindir." Glorfindel said 
as he looked questioningly at the sad face before him. "Did I hurt you so 
much last night?"

      Lindir broke out of his trance and played with the warrior's hand 
absent-mindedly. "I was thinking suddenly of Tebring. Master Anaran 
says he is no better," the minstrel said, blurting out the first thing that 
came to mind, then feeling guilty that he used the misfortune of his friend 
to cover his true thought.

      The Seneschal winced. "Do you remember Celeng, the Arms 
Master? Master Healer Anaran says he is to visit me this morning. Celeng 
wishes to persuade me to help him talk sense into Tebring." The warrior 
sighed. "Perhaps we can do some good, I do not know."

      Now it was Glorfindel's turn to look sad. Tebring had been on his 
mind since first he heard of the guardian's injury. He was not surprised at 
the Elf's reaction, for Tebring took his duty seriously, obsessively so. He 
had hoped Lord Elrond could help the warrior deal with his loss, but 
Elrond had tried and failed. Glorfindel was not sure he and Celeng would 
succeed where his Lord could not, but they had to try. Celeng had 
overcome his depression after his accident, although it had been a long 
road to complete recovery. But his old friend had come to terms with his 
disfigurement, and was content in his new life. 

      "Let us put aside these thoughts for now, Lindir, and speak on a 
more pleasant topic. But first, if you do not mind, I need to wash this 
stickiness from my hands and face." Glancing down, Glorfindel saw the 
mass of crumbs on the linen sheet. "Lord Erestor would have a few snide 
remarks if he were to see the mess I have made." Glorfindel told Lindir, 
laughing at the knowing look on the minstrel's face. "How you manage to 
work with such a persnickety Elf day after day amazes me. Erestor and I 
would be at each other's throats once the first hour passed."

      "That you and Erestor love to antagonize each other is a given in 
Imladris. But all know your true feelings. Do you not, Glorfindel, consider 
Erestor one of your closest friends? Perhaps not so close as Haldir, but the 
two of you have put up with each other for millennia."

      Glorfindel just smiled, then pushed himself out of bed and walked 
to the washbasin to perform his morning toiletry. He washed his face and 
hands, then asked the minstrel to comb and braid his hair.

      Lord Erestor found the two seated on the bed, Lindir just finishing 
tying a leather lace to the end of the plait he had fashioned at the back of 
the Seneschal's head. 

      "I am sorry to disturb you, Lord Glorfindel, Lindir, but I have 
come to ask for Lindir's assistance this morning. Haldir and Captain 
Naldor are outside and wish to speak with you, Glorfindel, and if you do 
not mind, Lindir, I need you right away."

      "Give us two minutes alone, Erestor, then you may have Lindir, 
and may send in Captain Naldor and Haldir," Glorfindel asked of his 
friend. 

      "As you wish," Erestor returned with a slight bow, then, as silently 
as he had entered, turned and exited the room.

      Glorfindel wrapped his strong arms around Lindir and pressed a 
kiss to the minstrel's lips. "I will see you tonight, my love. I wish to make 
up for the time we must spend apart today."

      Lindir returned the kiss, then reluctantly broke apart from the 
warrior. "Nothing will keep me away. Until then, my heart, take care." 
And with that he left to join Erestor.

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

      Haldir entered the room as soon as Lindir had left, followed by 
Captain Naldor. Each was dressed in the uniform of his realm, Haldir in 
the gray and black of Lothlórien, Captain Naldor in the red and brown of 
Imladris. "My Lord," Captain Naldor said with a slight bow, "I have the 
report on the interrogation of the prisoner."

      Glorfindel nodded, "Proceed Captain," he commanded, all business 
now that his lover had left. 

      "Once the fight was ended, we had the Half-elf and one of his men 
in custody. The mortal was grossly injured, and did not survive our 
healer's care. His body was searched, then brought to the Healing House 
for disposal. The Half-elf showed no remorse at his comrade's death, and 
spoke not a word when we tied him and brought him to the cell. The 
Healer found no injury to his person, save a badly sprained ankle, which 
could be why he was so easily caught.

      "Once confined, he asked for water, which we gave to him. After 
his thirst was quenched, he showered us with insults, mostly crude 
remarks concerning our Noldorin heritage, but also those pertaining to 
Elves in general. His language was that of men, and he ignored our 
Sindarin, acting as if he knew it not.  

      "I questioned him as to the purpose of the attack, and if he was 
acting on another's command, but he would not give forth the answers I 
sought. His only response, that of jeers and slurs against our kind. He 
began to reveal more when Marchwarden Haldir took over the 
interrogation. I defer to the Marchwarden now, and will let him relate the 
rest."

      "Seneschal," Haldir nodded in respect to Glorfindel. "I sensed a 
feeling of hatred coming from the prisoner immediately upon entry to the 
cell, and it seemed it was directed at me more so than the other officers in 
the room. Upon further interrogation, the Half-elf revealed he was born 
and raised in Lothlórien, apparently the bastard son of a Lórien maid and a 
mortal. He claims we Silvans were prejudiced against him and treated him 
ill, causing him to leave and seek the race of men. It was apparently his 
hatred of all that is Elven, which caused him to plan the ambush, his stated 
goal to overrun Imladris and use it as a base to invade Mirkwood and 
Lothlórien. He also hinted of a grander plan wherein men would one day 
rule the land of the Elves. Whether this was just more of his delusion or he 
has knowledge of a master plan, I am not sure. At present, that is all the 
information I could obtain."
      
      "Thank you, Marchwarden, Captain," Glorfindel replied after 
listening intently to both. "I would like to question the prisoner myself 
later this afternoon, and would request that you both be there. I will send a 
messenger to inform you of the time. Captain Naldor, if you would leave 
your written report on the table there, I grant you permission to leave. That 
is, unless you have any questions? Marchwarden, if you would stay a 
moment, I would like to speak with you further."
      
      Captain Naldor walked over to the small table and placed his 
report upon it, then turned to his commander and stood at attention. "I will 
take my leave, my Lord, and will await your messenger." 

 	Once he had gone, Glorfindel beckoned Haldir to come closer. 
"What are your true thoughts, Haldir?" 

      The Marchwarden did not hesitate in his reply. "Captain Naldor 
seems a competent commander, I did not hide any truth from him when I 
gave my report. My intuition tells me the prisoner is bitter and acted out of 
revenge, that the attack was exactly what he says, an attempted coup that 
failed. There is always the possibility that someone with more intelligence 
planned the ambush as part of a larger operation, and that should be 
checked thoroughly, but I would be surprised if that were the case."

      "I appreciate your help, Haldir," Glorfindel replied with sincerity, 
"and I respect your opinion. Lord Elrond will be appreciative of your help 
also."
      
      "On a different subject, I meant what I said the other night. You 
are one of my dearest friends, and I love you, Haldir. Without your help I 
would not have found Lindir, nor would I have opened my heart. You 
have always been there for me, and I would have you know, I would give 
my life for you, if ever it was needed."
      
      Haldir smiled, and clasped the golden warrior's hand in his. "You 
are dear to me as well, ancient one. You chastised Lindir the other night, 
but I feared for you the same as he. Be careful, Glorfindel, do not seek 
Mandos' dwelling again, for he might not be as kind the second time. As 
for myself, I am ever at your service."
      
      The two exchanged a warrior's handclasp, then Haldir gave his 
long time friend a hug. "I saw Celeng waiting in the hall, so I will not stay. 
You have much to do, and I am keeping you from your tasks. As Captain 
Naldor, I await your messenger. Rest during your breaks if you can, for 
you will feel your injury much today. Until later, my friend."
      
      "Send in Celeng on your way out, would you, Haldir? We will try 
to reason with Tebring today. With the blessing of the Valar, maybe we 
can make a difference. Namarië (7) friend, until later."
      
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      The tap of wood on the stone floor signaled Celeng's arrival. The 
arms master could move quite well with his crutch, but it still pained 
Glorfindel to see an Elf so limited in his movement.

      "It is good to see you, Commander." Celeng said with a grin. 
Although I did not expect to visit *you* in the Healing House! Woe the 
circumstances that places Elrond's second-in-command out of 
commission."

      Glorfindel returned the grin. Celeng and he went back a long ways, 
for the green-eyed Noldor fought at his side in the War of the Last 
Alliance, and in the years preceding the great war, helped train the raw 
recruits at Imladris. His prowess with knives was almost legendary, or 
rather had been, for after his injury he had retired his weapons. But in the 
time before his accident, he was unequaled in the art of the blades. He had 
instructed most of the older Imladris guardians in their use, and many 
Lothlórien Galadhrim as well. Glorfindel had been hard put to replace 
him. But above all, he had been a good friend to the Elda. One he turned 
to on those black nights when he sat alone in his battlefield tent, his mind 
sunk in deep despair, a comrade with whom he would share a glass of 
wine, a warrior's song, or thoughts of home. And there had been many 
such nights, and many such times that he had called upon his friend.

      "Aye, Celeng, I blame myself for this occurrence. Through some 
error on my part, we allowed an enemy to breach the borders and set an 
ambush, and I was the one who was caught in the trap. The Valar forbid, it 
could have been Elrond. It is beyond my comprehension that I should have 
been so lax." The great warrior shook his head in puzzlement. "I deserve 
any punishment Lord Elrond plans."

      "Do not chasten yourself, Glorfindel, I have heard it was a Half-elf 
who commanded the men, that his mercenaries were trained in our ways."

      "And does that excuse the fact that I was caught unawares? Does 
that mean if Mirkwood decided today to attack Imladris and was 
successful, that I would not be to blame? I have let Lord Elrond down, and 
failed in my duty. By rights, he should ask me to retire and put Captain 
Naldor in my place."

      "That my friend he will not do. There is none more suited to the 
job than you." Celeng replied.

      "Why, because I slew a Balrog? You forget I died in the attempt. 
The great warrior suddenly faltered. "Am I slowing down, Celeng? Is my 
great age affecting me like it does Men? I-I seem to have lost the 
confidence I once had in my youth."

      "None of us are infallible, Glorfindel, we all make mistakes, and 
you did save the situation. There were no other injuries besides your own, 
if the rumors are correct." Celeng said, trying to improve the mood of his 
friend.

      "I miss you Celeng." the Seneschal replied with a weak smile. 
"There are none left in the guardians with whom I can truly relate. What is 
the saying that men have? 'Old soldiers never die, they simply fade away.' 
Is that what is happening to us, Celeng?"

      "I will forgive you for that one, Glorfindel. In your current mood, 
your wits are addled. It is I who have faded away, mellonamin, (8) not 
you. Give yourself time to heal from your wounds, both mental and 
physical. You just left your bed this morning."

      "Ai, Celeng, do forgive me for the insult. I did not think before the 
words left my mouth." Glorfindel kicked himself mentally. Celeng was 
here to persuade Tebring to come to terms with his handicap, and 
Glorfindel had just rudely reminded Celeng of his. In his bout of self-pity, 
he had hurt the feelings of his friend. "Let us change the subject and talk 
about that for which you have come. What are you ideas for dealing with 
Tebring?"

      For the next half-hour the two discussed plans for helping the 
young guardian out of his melancholy. Both knew they must take drastic 
steps to keep the Elf from fading. Tebring's spirits were so low, he would 
not last the week if left as he was, and aside from Lord Elrond and Master 
Anaran, Tebring allowed no one else into his room. They would just have 
to enter unannounced and hope they could perform a miracle. As they 
were finalizing their plan, one of the apprentice healers knocked at the 
door.

      "Forgive me my Lord Glorfindel, but Lord Elrond requests your 
presence after your talk with Arms Master Celeng. He asks that you meet 
him in the Herb Room."

      "Thank you for relaying the message," Glorfindel replied. "Please 
tell Lord Elrond I will be with him in a moment. We are just finishing 
here."

      "As you wish, my Lord." The messenger replied; then left to 
perform his duty.

 	Celeng fingered a lock of the Seneschal's golden hair. Do not 
worry, mellonamin, Lord Elrond knows your worth. He will not seek 
Naldor to take your place. The situation is not as dire as you make it out to 
be. I will seek you after lunch and we will talk with Tebring. Go now, you 
will not wish to keep Elrond waiting."

      Glorfindel sighed, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "If 
you would, please hand me the robe that Master Anaran left. It will not do 
to appear in front of my Lord as I am. Unfortunately, my clothes are 
stained with blood."

      Taking the robe from Celeng, the Seneschal slipped his arms inside 
the garment and fastened the braided loops around the buttons that closed 
it in front. He and Celeng exited the room together, Glorfindel heading for 
the Herb room, Celeng to seek out Tambor and Garion. 

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

	Lord Elrond was seated at the large table when Glorfindel knocked 
at the door. "Come in, Glorfindel," the ruler of Imladris said to his second-
in-command. "I have been waiting for you to finish with Celeng as I have 
something important to discuss."

	"My Lord," Glorfindel replied, crossing the room to stand on the 
opposite side of the table from his liege. The warrior's nervousness 
increased as he saw the look on the dark-haired Half-elf's face. Elrond had 
a fierce temper, and his expression at the moment was not at all 
benevolent.

	"Quite a few years ago, Glorfindel, you, Erestor, and I had a 
serious talk about young Lindir. Do you remember our discussion?"

	"Yes, my Lord," Glorfindel replied, unnerved for a moment as his 
Lord spoke of a different matter than that which he had expected.

	"And do you also remember, Glorfindel, swearing an oath that not 
a word of that discussion would be revealed to Lindir?" Elrond had risen 
from the table and almost spit these words in Glorfindel's face.

	"Yes, my Lord, I remember, and I have not broken that oath." The 
Seneschal's face turned pale. "Has Lindir found out that which we 
discussed?"

	"I do not know, Glorfindel," Elrond said in a scathing voice. "But I 
also remember you coming to me when Lindir reached his majority and 
telling me of your feelings for the Elf. Another one of our discussions you 
seem to have forgotten. I advised you at that time to stay away from him, 
and to keep those feelings buried deep inside."

	A dull ache began to form in the pit of Glorfindel's stomach as he 
watched Elrond's face turn a deep shade of red. "I know I made that 
promise, my Lord, but…"

	But Elrond in his anger did not let him finish his sentence. "Erestor 
tells me that, against my wishes, you have not only sought out the 
minstrel, but have declared your love to Lindir, and on top of that, 
Glorfindel, have taken him to your bed!"

	"Aye, my Lord, I did, but you must understand…" Glorfindel tried 
to tell his Lord all that had happened between him and the minstrel. But 
again, Elrond interrupted.
	"I must understand *nothing*, Glorfindel! It is you who must 
understand. As of this moment you are to stay away from Lindir. And 
since it seems I cannot trust you to do that, I will make certain you obey 
my command. You are to pack your bags and ride to the Gray Havens. I 
have a message already written for you to give to Círdan. Do not fight me 
on this, Glorfindel, for it solves two problems. It gets you away from 
Lindir, and it releases me from having to demote my long time 
Commander, who for the first time in Imladris' history, allowed a band of 
misfits to invade Imladris!"

	Glorfindel felt as if all the breath had been knocked from his lungs. 
His eyes narrowed to mere slits, as adrenaline rushed through his body. 
Any words of apology he had been prepared to utter flew out the window, 
and a flash of anger such as he had not felt in a long time flooded his 
senses.

	"*No! *" Glorfindel shouted, bringing one of his large fists down 
and banging it on the table with such force that the sound echoed 
throughout the Healing House. Leaning forward until his nose was inches 
from that of his Lord, his spat his words back in Elrond's face. "You do 
not have to worry about demoting me, my Lord, for I *resign! * But I will 
not leave Imladris. I will not leave Lindir!"

	"You are right, I did declare my love to him, and for that I have 
Varda's approval. I – Do – Not – Need – Yours! Keep your nose out of my 
love life, Peredhel. If you do not wish me to stay in your house, I will 
move to the barracks, and if you do not wish me there, well, I am no 
stranger to a bedroll! Leave Lindir alone. Cross me on this, Elrond, and 
you will have my sword at your throat!"

	Without waiting for a response, the ancient warrior shouted a string 
of curses in Quenya and stalked angrily out of the room, slamming the 
door behind him. His wrath could be felt by all in the Healing House, and 
those who were in his way, quickly found someplace else to go. Fire was 
in his eyes, and heat coursed through his veins. He was a swirling 
hurricane, an active volcano ready to burst. All who saw him fled in terror. 
For Glorfindel in his ire was an Elf to be reckoned with, and Glorfindel 
had not been this enraged since a Balrog crossed his path.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter
1. meldir - friend
2. hodoer - wise one
3. melamin - my love
4. mela - love
5. Amin mela lle, Lindir - I love you, Lindir
6. cormamin - my heart
7. Namarië - farewell
8. mellonamin - my friend
       


Chapter 22: Tempest-Tossed


	Tambor and Garion were sitting together on a bench in the 
solarium. Celeng was with them and was discussing his plan to help 
Tebring. He had just told the two Elves that Glorfindel would go with him 
to speak with Tebring, when the angry voice of the seneschal reverberated 
throughout the Healing House. "You do not have to worry about demoting 
me, my Lord, for I *resign! * But I will not leave Imladris. I will not leave 
Lindir!"

	It was not a few moments later that a door slammed so hard that it 
caused the three Elves to jump. Garion rose quickly and made it to the 
corridor just in time to see his Commander fly down the hall in a fury. 
Celeng was at Garion's side a second later. Both of their faces reflected 
their disturbance at what they had seen and heard. Garion made as if to 
follow the Seneschal, but Celeng grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 
"Stay with Tambor. I will go find out what happened. It will be a sad day 
in Imladris if Glorfindel has stepped down."

      Garion just shook his head and watched Celeng as he hurried after 
the ancient warrior, the tap of his wooden crutch the only sound that broke 
the hush that had fallen over the building. Tambor had also risen during 
the outburst, and as Garion turned, the smaller Elf clutched at Garion's 
tunic. "Tell me, Garion, has all Imladris gone mad? Are we to lose 
Glorfindel also?" Tambor's shoulders shook as he broke into sobs. His 
lover was at the door of Mandos' Hall, and now his beloved Commander 
was also leaving. It was too much. What would they take from him next? 
      
	Garion sighed as he wrapped his arms around the shaken Elf, 
leading him back to the bench. When trouble came, it came in droves. A 
storm was brewing, that was for sure, and all he and Tambor could do was 
sit. Sit and wait for the tempest to break.

	Glorfindel's thoughts were in turmoil. How dare Elrond try to send 
him away, how dare his Lord think he would harm Lindir in any way. The 
golden warrior wanted to scream his anger to the world. His face was red, 
his mouth was shaped in a determined line, and fire seemed to spark from 
his eyes. Just as his anger threatened to boil to the surface, a hand touched 
his shoulder, and without thought he lashed out with all his strength. 
Celeng went flying through the air, his crutch falling to one side as he 
landed with a thud on his rear, falling back stunned to the ground.

	Wide shocked green eyes looked up into fiery blue, as Celeng 
faced a stormy Glorfindel. The blond warrior's hair flew about his head 
wildly, as if an electric charge had passed through it, and although there 
was some cognizance of his friend in the seneschal's gaze, Celeng felt a 
trembling in his bowels. He had faced many a foe, but the ancient creature 
before him was almost unrecognizable. Glorfindel seemed larger than life. 
Every muscle in his large frame was tensed and coiled, as that of a great 
cat ready to spring. There was an intangible sense of power radiating from 
his form, and for the first time in his life, Celeng was afraid of the warrior. 
For Glorfindel was feral in his anger, and Celeng could now see how an 
enemy would quail before the great Lord. He gazed upon a being ancient 
beyond imagine, wild, virulent, powerful and beautiful. But the allure was 
that of a poisonous serpent. One who's jeweled hues gave a false sense of 
charm to its prey. Celeng felt his heart stop and his control falter. His body 
began to tremble and his limbs to quake. He held his breath, waiting to see 
what the wild creature in front of him would do next.

	"*What. Do. You. Want? *" The tempestuous vision before his 
eyes spoke, power emanating from every word of a voice that boomed like 
thunder. Celeng could not speak. A large hand reached down and in one 
movement pulled him to his feet, bringing his face just inches from that of 
the puissant warrior. It was as if Glorfindel would eat him alive, and 
Celeng could only stare at the seneschal, his courage gone, and his 
complexion wan and ghostly.

	"Orch thûl!" (1) The powerful hands let him go, causing him to 
tumble to the ground once more. It was that more than anything that 
caught the attention of Glorfindel, for he suddenly took a deep breath and 
brought his hands to his brow. "You have picked a bad time to come after 
me, meldir (2). State your cause, before I completely lose control."

	"I just--just wanted…" a shaken Celeng managed to get out as he 
fumbled for his crutch. "I mean I overheard your argument with Lord 
Elrond and I came to see what it was about, to see if I could help. After 
our conversation about Tebring, I felt I… Elbereth, Glorfindel!" The 
crippled tanner struggled to catch his breath, "I thought you were going to 
kill me."

	The seneschal stared at his friend, his anger subdued for the 
moment, but still boiling under the surface. "Ah, Celeng, I am sorry. You 
caught me unawares and my mind is in turmoil. Forgive me, for I have no 
ill will towards you." Glorfindel bent down and helped the fallen Elf to 
stand, apologizing not just with his words, but with his eyes. "You are 
right. Tebring should be my number one concern above all others. Let us 
put our plan into action. That is, if you can stomach my presence after 
what I just did to you."

	"Since I am unharmed and in one piece, I will forgive you." Celeng 
replied. "By Aulë, you had me worried for a moment, I was completely at 
your mercy. I hope I never truly earn your wrath, for I would not last a 
second! Give me a minute to calm my heart, and we will seek out 
Tebring."

	"I would never have harmed you intentionally, Celeng." Glorfindel 
said, feeling ashamed of his behavior. "As I said before, you caught me at 
a bad moment. I am still not myself, but I am not so out of control that you 
need fear me."

	"That is good news," Celeng said shakily. "I would hate to think I 
need go through that again! I am ready if you are, mellonamin (3), 
although I pray Lord Elrond has the wits to hide from you today."

	The only answer he got from the seneschal at the mention of 
Elrond's name was a growl. But the warrior did wait for Celeng to get 
settled before they both headed back to the Healing House. Celeng could 
only pray that Glorfindel would keep his calm in the presence of Tebring.

	Master Healer Anaran did not say a word as he ushered the two 
Elves into the darkened room, although the reproachful look on his face 
told Glorfindel that he did not approve of the seneschal's earlier outburst. 
Glorfindel's response was to set his shoulders and hold his head high. But 
the look in the blue eyes that stared at the Healer made Master Anaran 
quickly lower his gaze, frightened of what the saw in their depths.

	"I will leave you both alone with Tebring," the Healer finally 
spoke, "but I will be right outside in the corridor if he should need me. Be 
gentle with him, he is very weak."

	It did not take a healer to see that the Elf in the bed was fading. 
Tebring was but a ghost of his former self. His skin was pale, almost 
translucent, and the dark bouncy curls that usually framed his angular face 
were limp and dull in color. Shadows pooled underneath his eyes and 
hollowed his cheeks, and his lips were dry and cracked. Brown eyes that 
used to shine with a merry gleam now gazed dully into space. If the Elf 
was aware of his visitors, he gave no notice.

	Glorfindel dragged two chairs close to the bed and beckoned 
Celeng to sit. Taking the other's crutch from his hand, he leaned it against 
the wall, then seated himself. In a voice as soft as the wool on a newborn 
lamb, the Seneschal spoke the name of the injured Elf.

	"Tebring, can you hear me, gwador (4)? It is Glorfindel and 
Celeng." A large hand that had previously lashed out in anger gently 
moved a strand of brown hair away from the pale face of the guardian who 
lay unmoving in the bed. Tebring did not respond or utter a word.

	"We are concerned about you, mellonamin. Will you not talk with 
us a while? We have only your best interest at heart." Celeng, too, spoke 
softly, watching as Glorfindel's hand stroked the side of Tebring's face, 
then gently turned it so the guardian was facing his mentors.

	Lackluster brown eyes looked at the two Elves without recognition, 
then resumed their vacant stare into space. Celeng wet his lips and tried 
again. "I know you can hear me, Tebring. You must talk to us. You cannot 
continue on this path, meldir, there is much to live for. Do not seek 
Mandos' Halls before your time."

	"Aye, Tebring," Glorfindel spoke up. "It is not a place to wish for. 
I know, for I have been there. No matter how despairing you think life, the 
cold and void of Mandos' home is far worse. Take my advice, Tebring, 
come back to us."

	"Leave me alone." The voice that issued from cracked lips was 
whisper soft, and contained a hint of anger, but there was no force behind 
the words. It was as if Tebring was resigned to the fact that his visitors 
would not go away.

	"That we cannot do, mellonamin. We cannot ignore your slide into 
despair, we cannot just sit and watch you fade away." Celeng's voice 
broke with emotion as he said these words. The young guardian in the bed 
was not just a student he had trained. He had followed the career of each 
of his pupils, and he cared for them like the sons he never had. Tebring 
had been one of his favorites, as the Elf had always been full of mischief 
and high energy. He was charismatic, and drew others to him like a 
magnet, the type who was never lacking in friends. He had a brooding 
side, but it rarely surfaced, and when it did, it was never for long. The 
youngster was a natural leader, and had he not been cut down, would have 
advanced far in the guardian ranks. To see him in this shape, lost and 
hopeless, was almost more than Celeng could bear.

	"There are so many here who love you, and would miss you if you 
left, Tebring. Do you think we care less for you now that you are injured? 
And what of Tambor, he has sat outside your door with almost no sleep or 
rest ever since you were brought here. Yet you will not even speak to him. 
He is heart-broken, Tebring. Do you not know that if you fade he will 
follow? Follow you unto death? Is that what you wish? Can you truly 
mean to be that cruel?"

	A single tear slid from under the lid of the wasted form in the bed, 
but the Elf did not speak again, just turned his head away. Trembling 
fingers pulled the covers up higher, then with much effort switched 
position in the bed, turning his back to Glorfindel and Celeng.

	Glorfindel would not be deterred. He rose from his chair and 
walked to the other side of the bed and stood by Tebring's side. "Celeng is 
right, Tebring. You cannot wallow here in self-pity. There are others who 
depend on you, and you cannot forsake them. What of the guardians in 
your patrol, do they give up when they are injured? No Tebring, only you 
have done that. Did Celeng bow to despair when he lost the use of his 
foot? Nay. He may no longer lead the life of a warrior, but is he any less 
an Elf because of that? Do I love him any less? No, he is still my friend. 
Do you think the life of a warrior is all there is? What of Lord Erestor, he 
too was a great warrior, but he traded in that life because of his love for 
books. Is he less an Elf because he does not fight? Tebring, you come 
from a family of warriors who have pledged their sword to their Lord and 
King. I know you are disappointed that you cannot continue the tradition. 
But everyone has other talents that can be furthered, talents that are just as 
fulfilling. Give yourself a chance, gwador. Do not give up so easily."

	"Go away, leave me alone! I do not want your pity. I do not want 
Tambor's pity. You speak with such emotion, Lord Glorfindel, but only 
now, at the beset of my injury. Later I will be forsaken. Are you truly a 
friend of Celeng's? When last did you see him before today? Has he not 
been tossed to the wayside because he can no longer do that which his old 
comrades still can?

	"I am sorry, Celeng, but I have seen the looks that others give you, 
and I could not bear to see them directed at myself. Call me vain if you 
wish, but if I cannot be whole, then I do not care to live. You speak of 
Tambor and his devotion. Do you think I wish Tambor to see me like this? 
To be with me when I am like this? What life would he have playing 
nursemaid to me for all eternity? I cannot even make it to the bathroom by 
myself! Tambor will find another to love. It will not take him long to 
forget about me." Tebring was gasping with the effort of his outburst.

	Glorfindel could feel no pity for one with such an attitude. He had 
taught Tebring better. This was not the behavior of a warrior. Glorfindel 
knew, because Glorfindel was one of the greatest warriors of all time. His 
battles were not only those of the field. He thought of Ecthelion, who had 
selflessly given his life to save his comrades. He thought of all the fallen 
warriors of the Houses of Gondolin, and those of countless battles before. 
He thought of the faces that he saw at night in his dreams, and he 
remembered those who were maimed. Those who had struggled to find 
their way and made it, and the anger that he had but a short time ago 
suppressed, surged back with even greater force. With all the strength he 
could muster, he forced his voice to be gentle.

	"Do you have the courage to tell Tambor of your thoughts? If I 
bring him into this room right now, will you tell him what you have said to 
Celeng and me? If you can do that Tebring, then I will leave you be, leave 
you to your own fate."

	"I do not wish to speak to Tambor," Tebring said in a low voice. "I 
do not wish to speak to you or Celeng or anyone. I just wish to be left 
alone! Leave me now, or I will call Master Anaran who will make you 
leave. He and Lord Elrond understand and respect my wishes!"

	Glorfindel's eyes widened at these words, and he could no longer 
contain his wrath. "You may do what you like, Tebring, but you will not 
leave young Tambor without at least saying good-bye, and whether you 
like it or not you will tell him to his face!" And with that, the Balrog 
Slayer scooped the protesting Elf up into his arms and stormed down the 
hall to the solarium.

	Tambor and Garion rose in shock at Glorfindel's entry. Celeng and 
Master Anaran followed in the seneschal's wake, consternation on their 
faces. The warrior carried a frightened Tebring to within a foot of Tambor, 
and in a voice that shook with rage, spoke directly to Tebring. "Tell him, 
Tebring. Tell Tambor that you no longer want him. Tell him that his love 
means no more to you than a whisper in the wind. Tell him that you would 
willingly give him up to walk Mandos' Halls, because you are too vain to 
stay in this world unless you are whole. Tell him to his face, Tebring. Tell 
him you wish him to choose another mate!"

	Tebring buried his face into the warrior's neck, refusing to look at 
Tambor. Tears were streaming down Tambor's cheeks as he saw how frail 
and weak his lover was, and how Tebring turned away from him.

	"Is it true, Tebring?" Tambor whispered. "Is that what you wish, 
for me to go away? Do you not love me anymore? I could not bear it if 
this is true. You bound yourself to me, melamin (5). We swore our love 
for all eternity before Ilúvatar, swore our love until death and beyond. I 
will follow you, Tebring. I will follow you to Mandos' Halls if you can 
live no more on Arda. You are the other half of my soul, Tebring. I cannot 
live without you. Please, tell me that you feel the same."

	Tebring's arms wrapped around Glorfindel's neck as he pressed his 
face into the warrior's shoulder. Great sobs wracked his frail body as he 
listened to his lover's words that were spoken with such anguish. But still 
Tebring would not look at Tambor.

	Tambor could stand it no longer. He moved next to Glorfindel and 
with a shaking hand, gently stroked his lover's hair. "Will you not even 
look at me Tebring? Do I mean so little to you that you will not even tell 
me how you feel to my face? Is all that we had these past centuries a 
sham? Please, Tebring, talk to me. I will not force you to love me, but 
please, do not ignore me. You are breaking my heart."

	Long moments passed, and still Tebring clung to Glorfindel, hiding 
his head from all present. 'Till finally, with a voice filled with defeat, the 
Seneschal addressed the group. "I will take him back to his room. I am 
sorry to be the one to cause you more pain, Tambor."

	"Wait." The voice spoke so low that Glorfindel barely heard it, but 
he hesitated, hoping he had not misunderstood. Slowly, Tebring raised his 
head and with tear-filled eyes looked at Tambor. "I cannot hurt you any 
longer, melamin. I love you, Tambor. Do you not understand that? But I 
do not wish you to be burdened with a cripple for the rest of your life. You 
are young, Tambor. You deserve so much better than that."
	"Do you think I love you only for your looks, Tebring?" Tambor 
said as he pressed his head against his mate. "Do you think I care whether 
you are a warrior or a cook or a gardener? Do you think I will hate you 
because you have lost part of your leg? I will be your leg, Tebring, until 
you can learn to use a crutch like Celeng. I will do anything for you, my 
beloved, if you will stay with me. Please Tebring, I will get on my knees 
and beg, if it will make you change your mind." And Tambor knelt, 
reaching up toward his mate in supplication. "Do not leave me here alone, 
Tebring. Stay with me, please?"

	The Elves in the room held their breath. All eyes were glued to 
Tebring as they waited for his answer, but Tebring just shook his head, 
causing Tambor to press his hands to his face and weep in despair. Garion 
stepped forward to comfort Tambor, his anger at Tebring for hurting his 
friend evident on his face. But when he went to lead Tambor away, 
Tebring's words made him stay his hand.

	"I will stay with you, Tambor." It was spoken softly, but there was 
so much love in the words that all understood Tebring had made his final 
decision. Tambor smiled happily through his tears and stood, holding out 
his arms. Glorfindel carefully placed Tebring where he belonged, wrapped 
in his lover's arms. The two Elves had eyes only for each other, as Tambor 
slowly carried the one who meant everything to him back to his bed to 
rest.

	Tambor and Tebring were not the only Elves present with tears in 
their eyes. Glorfindel, Celeng, and Garion, warriors of the past and 
present, and one Master Healer, all reached up to wipe wetness away from 
their faces. Master Anaran smiled and nodded at the Seneschal, then left 
the room. He had other patients to attend to. Glorfindel sighed. Turning a 
weary face to the others, he looked at them as if in deep thought. "Come 
my friends, I owe you an explanation for my actions this morning. Tebring 
and Tambor need time alone. I would ask you to take a walk with me."

	At a nod from the others, Glorfindel led them from the Healing 
House out into the open, heading for a secluded spot where they could talk 
in private.

	While Glorfindel was doing his best to give Garion and Celeng a 
censored version of the fight with Lord Elrond that led to his resignation, 
Lord Erestor, Haldir, and Captain Naldor were seated in Erestor's office 
discussing the same thing. Lindir, fortunately, was translating scrolls in 
the library, totally oblivious to what had taken place that morning in the 
Healing House.

	"Lord Elrond placed you in command upon Lord Glorfindel's 
resignation," Lord Erestor told Captain Naldor.

	"My Lord, if I may be so bold." Captain Naldor replied. "I have 
known Lord Glorfindel for a long time. He has always considered it his 
sworn duty to protect Lord Elrond and Imladris. Surely this resignation 
was made at the height of his anger. I cannot believe he truly intends to 
step down."

	"What he intends and what he has done are two separate things, 
Captain Naldor." Erestor replied. "As the result of his actions, Lord Elrond 
is left without a second-in-command. If you do not accept the position, it 
will be offered to another. However, in his opinion you are the most 
qualified."

	Captain Naldor knew his first duty lay with the Lord of Imladris. 
Therefore, he reluctantly agreed to assume command, but only after 
making sure Lord Erestor knew that he would gladly take back his old 
position if Glorfindel should change his mind.

	"I believe you have made a wise decision, Commander Naldor." 
Erestor addressed the new Chief of Imladris forces. Now that you have 
taken command, Lord Elrond wishes to know your intentions concerning 
the prisoner."

	"I would speak with Glorfindel and the guardians first, Lord 
Erestor, before I make any decision. If my Lord Elrond wishes, I will meet 
with him after I carry out these tasks."

	"As you wish, Commander." Erestor replied. "I release you to your 
duties." Then turning to the Marchwarden, Erestor asked Haldir if he 
would stay for a moment.

	"Lord Erestor, Captain Haldir." Commander Naldor said, nodding 
to both Elves as he took his leave.

	The minute the new commander left the room, Erestor's mask 
crumbled. "Haldir, I am afraid Glorfindel has finally gone too far. He and 
Elrond have had heated arguments many times before, and this is not the 
first time Glorfindel has threatened to resign. It is not even the fact that he 
did so. Elrond could forgive him that, for it was said in the heat of 
argument. But, never Haldir, has Glorfindel ever threatened to physically 
harm our Lord, and that is what he did today. He told Elrond in no certain 
words that if he came between him and Lindir, he risked a sword to his 
throat. That is not a threat Lord Elrond took lightly. Haldir, I have never 
seen him so furious with the warrior."

	Haldir, who had taken a seat in one of the chairs next to Erestor's 
desk, cocked his head and simply looked at Erestor for a moment. 
"Erestor, Glorfindel has found something that not many do in a lifetime. 
His love for Lindir is not infatuation, it is that of a soul mate, witnessed 
and blessed by the Valar. Knowing that, what reason could Lord Elrond 
have for tearing them apart, for forbidding Glorfindel to see Lindir?"

	"There is good reason, Haldir, but that is all I can tell you. 
Glorfindel is privy to a matter that could cause Lindir great harm. He took 
an oath long ago, as did I, not to reveal this secret. Elrond is worried that if 
the relationship between Glorfindel and Lindir continues, they will 
eventually want to bind themselves to one another. If what you say is true, 
and Glorfindel believes Lindir to be his soul mate, then how could they 
not wish to marry? In binding, Lindir would learn that which he should 
not. Can you not see what Glorfindel has done by courting the minstrel? 
He dooms Lindir to hurt no matter which path he takes. It is that which has 
Elrond so upset with the warrior. The fact that Glorfindel threatened him 
makes it even worse."

	"It makes no sense to me, Erestor," Haldir replied. "Lindir has 
loved Glorfindel for centuries, and then Glorfindel admits he has long had 
the same feelings for Lindir. Did Elrond truly think he could forever keep 
the two apart? What secret could be so dire as to risk the grief of broken 
hearts?"

	"Know that it is, Haldir. The sad thing is that Glorfindel knows of 
it and after swearing never to reveal it to Lindir, has put himself in such a 
position that he cannot help but do so. He promised Elrond a long time 
ago that he would not act on his feelings for Lindir, and he has broken that 
promise."

	"He swore an oath to that?" Haldir asked, a look of disbelief on his 
face. "How could you ask that of him, Erestor? How could Elrond? How 
could anyone who has ever loved ask that of another? You say you are 
Glorfindel's friend. Then how can you side with Elrond on this? Erestor, I 
would never have believed this of you!"

	"No, not an oath, just a promise, but perhaps you are right, Haldir. 
Perhaps only someone who has truly loved another could understand your 
point of view. But that rules me out doesn't it, Haldir? For that is 
something, unfortunately, that I have never known!" And with those 
words and a sob, Erestor all but flew from the room.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. Orch thûl! - Orc breath!
2. meldir - friend
3. mellonamin - my friend
4. gwador - brother (as in sworn brother)
5. melamin - my love



Chapter 23: Out of the Mouths of Babes


	Glorfindel leaned against the doorframe at the entrance to the 
library mesmerized by the beauty of the lone Elf in the room. Lindir, 
unaware of his presence, sat engrossed in his work, his pink tongue 
protruding slightly and resting against the bottom of his upper lip. A 
section of snow-white hair draped across his shoulder, hugging his arm 
like a cape of the finest silk. His long dark lashes, in sharp contrast to his 
pearl-white skin, fluttered slightly as his eyes scanned the unrolled 
parchment on the desk below. While Glorfindel watched, a ray of sunlight 
beamed through an open archway, highlighting the back of the minstrel's 
head, bathing it in a halo of gold. The ancient warrior felt a contraction 
deep in the pit of his stomach, as his love for the Elf in that moment 
threatened to overwhelm him. /This is what Elrond wishes to take from 
me,/ he thought. /This, which I never knew I needed, which now makes 
me so complete. It is this he wishes to tear apart. Never, the blond vowed. 
Never will I allow it to happen./

      Crossing over to the table, Glorfindel cleared his throat. Lindir 
looked up at the sound and gave the warrior a quick smile. "Is this a short 
visit or do we have time for lunch?" he asked, placing his quill in its 
holder and leaning back gracefully in his chair. 
      
      "I wish I could indulge in such pleasure," Glorfindel said, gazing 
longingly at the innocent face of the one he loved. He held the expression 
for a moment, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "But there is 
something we need to discuss."
      
       /And I, who want so much to make you happy, will once again 
bring you sorrow./
      
       "Much happened this morning, Lindir, events which affect both of 
us. Some of the news I bear is good, but the rest, well, that is one of the 
reasons I have come in person."
       
      The smile left Lindir's face and he looked at the warrior somewhat 
nervously. /Was Glorfindel going to tell him this was all a mistake? Did 
Glorfindel wish to end that which they had just begun? / There was great 
sadness reflected in the seneschal's crystalline blue eyes, and that could 
only mean one or two things. Either Glorfindel had changed his mind 
about their relationship, or Valar forbid, something had happened to 
Tebring. The minstrel swallowed around the lump in his throat and 
prepared for the worst.
      
      Glorfindel pulled a chair back from the table and sat himself so he 
was facing Lindir. Taking the minstrel's hands in his own, he rested both 
in his lap. "First, I wanted to let you know that Tebring has found reason 
to live. Celeng and I went to see him this morning and were able to talk 
him into meeting with Tambor. The two are together right now and 
Tambor's fears are eased. Tebring could not continue his quest for death 
once he saw the way it affected his mate."
      
      "Oh, that is good news!" Lindir exclaimed, relieved that Tebring 
had finally come to his senses. He had been so worried about the welfare 
of his friends, especially after his last conversation with Master Anaran. 
He had felt sure that nothing would keep Tebring from fading, and that in 
his grief, Tambor would follow. "I am so happy for them both! Oh, 
Glorfindel that is wonderful to hear." But the happiness he felt for his 
friends was tempered by his dread of what Glorfindel would say next.
      
      "It pleases me also, Lindir. I care deeply for those under my 
command, and I too feared Tebring could not be saved." Glorfindel spoke 
softly, rubbing his thumbs across the minstrel's fingers as he thought how 
best to bring up the next words he must say.
      
      "And you, Glorfindel, how are you feeling?" Lindir asked, hoping 
to prolong the moment before the warrior uttered that which he feared. "It 
is not long since you left the Healing House and Master Anaran had hoped 
you would rest today. Your wounds were deep and you lost much blood. I 
have worried about you." Lindir spoke the truth, for he had been thinking 
about the warrior most of the morning.
      
      "My injuries are nothing to be concerned about. What I needed 
most was the healing sleep of last night. I am sore, but not enough to 
warrant bed rest, and my duties forbade it anyway. After you left Captain 
Naldor and Haldir gave their report of the interrogation of the prisoner. It 
was not something that could be put off, and their findings were 
frightening. The Half-elf is unbalanced Lindir. He has hate for our kind 
because he was mistreated in his youth. In his twisted mind he thought to 
conquer Imladris and use it as a base to destroy Elvenkind. I shudder to 
think what could have happened had we not foiled his plan. I wanted more 
than anything to speak with him today, to look into the eyes of the one that 
caused me harm and wished to do the same to our kin, but because of this 
morning's events that will have to wait." 
      
      "What type of mistreatment could cause the Half-elf to hate us 
so?" Lindir asked. "You are right, his plan was pure madness."
      
      "Ai, Lindir, according to Haldir the Half-elf's mother was assaulted 
and raped by men. Shortly after he was born she faded. As you know, 
youth are not always kind and can make life miserable for those who are 
different. He was teased about his mother's fate and spurned because of his 
mixed blood. Lórien looks after its orphans, but you know what happens 
when you group youth together. In their innocence they can be cruel. 
Arwen and the twins know there are some that speak behind their back 
about their mixed heritage, but none would dare say a word to their face. 
The Half-elf did not have the protection of nobility. Add to that the nature 
of his conception, and well, I am sure more than a few mean words were 
directed his way. But that is no excuse for what he did, Lindir. He is evil, 
scum of the earth. He deserves whatever fate the council recommends, and 
I hope the penalty is harsh."
      
      Lindir did not comment. He was thinking of another Elf whose 
Nana met a similar fate, and he was thankful he had kept the nature of his 
parent's death a secret. /What would it have been like to be shunned by 
others, teased and taunted with no friends to comfort or relieve your pain? 
Would he have been able to bear such misery? / He shuddered to think 
what the Half-elf must have gone through. But Glorfindel was right; 
nothing could excuse the prisoner's actions. The punishment for kinslaying 
was death. 
      
      "Do not concern yourself with him," Glorfindel was saying, "that is 
a task best left to others. What I have to tell you now, Lindir, will bring 
you grief. Would that I could spare you from this pain, but I cannot. It is 
important to me that you hear of it from my own lips and not from those of 
someone else." 
      
      Here the seneschal paused and took another deep breath. Lindir's 
face turned pale and the palms of his hands clammy. /Please, do not say it 
is over between us, he prayed./ 
      
      Glorfindel resumed speaking. "Lord Elrond called me to task this 
morning. He is not happy with our relationship and was upset that I took 
you to my bed. He forbade me to see you and to that end planned to send 
me to the Grey Havens."
      
      Nothing the minstrel imagined prepared him for this. The thought 
that Lord Elrond, one he thought of almost like a father, disapproved of 
his and Glorfindel's love, that hurt more than he could say! "But why, 
Glorfindel? Why would he not want us to be together? Does he think a 
minstrel not a good match for his Seneschal?"
      
      Glorfindel felt miserable knowing that he was the cause of Lindir's 
sorrow. "Nay, Lindir, it has nothing to do with your rank or mine. I cannot 
tell you why he disapproves, but please, let me finish what I have to say 
before you give your reply. 
      
      "What I want you to know Lindir, is that it matters not what Lord 
Elrond thinks or says. I will not give you up. His disapproval does not 
change the way I feel about you. He and I go back a long ways, and when 
I returned from the dead, I swore an oath to the Valar that I would protect 
him and his family. Only with permission from them would I ever break 
that oath. But Varda gave me that when she told me to follow my heart. It 
was with her blessing that I revealed my feelings to you. You are more 
important to me than life itself. 
      
      "Elrond believes he has reason to keep us apart and he was furious 
that I thought to disobey his command. For I told him immediately that I 
would not go, that I would not leave you, and I meant every word, Lindir. 
So much that I threatened a fight if he were to come between us. 
      
      "You must understand Lindir. Lord Elrond and I can say much to 
each other that others would not dare. But never have I threatened him 
before. He was already furious with me and that just fueled the flames. 
The subject changed from us to that of Imladris' protection, and he blamed 
me for the security lapse. He was right, Lindir. It was due to my neglect 
that a force of men breached our borders, and by rights I should have 
immediately stepped down from my position. But I did not have the 
chance, for he already made the decision. But I carried it further than that. 
In the heat of the moment, I resigned." 
      
      "Because of me? You broke your oath to protect and serve Lord 
Elrond and Imladris? You resigned because of me? Glorfindel, please tell 
me this is not true." Lindir could not believe what he had just been told. 
      
      "Nay, Lindir, I resigned for reasons more than that. For one, Lord 
Elrond has no right to interfere in my personal life. I served as seneschal, 
not vassal. As to the other, to be honest Lindir, what happened yesterday 
should have been prevented. I no longer deserve the position of 
Commander. Captain Naldor should take my place and I step down to his, 
but I fear I would also fail in that standing. Elves may not age as men, but 
they do age. I am an old Elf, Lindir. It is time for someone with fresh ideas 
to take my place. So you see, I may have made the decision in anger, but it 
is for the best."
      
      "You are wrong, Glorfindel!" Lindir replied, still not believing 
what he had just heard. "You must go to Lord Elrond and plead with him 
to give you back command. Imladris needs you as its protector. I know 
how the guardians feel, for I am one of them, and we wish to follow you, 
not Captain Naldor. You cannot let this stand!"
      
      "My pride will not allow me to do that," Glorfindel admitted. 
"Captain Naldor is a good Elf. He will not let Imladris down."
      
      Their discussion was broken when two Elves simultaneously 
appeared at the library entrance. Haldir had come seeking Lindir, and 
Commander Naldor, Glorfindel. Finding both in what appeared to be 
private conversation, they hesitated to interrupt. It was Glorfindel who 
noticed them and beckoned them over.
      
      Commander Naldor, newly advanced in position, deferred to the 
Marchwarden, allowing him to speak first. "Lindir?" Haldir said 
hesitantly, "I can come back at a later time if you prefer?"
      
      Lindir was about to tell Haldir to do so, when Glorfindel spoke. 
"Go with Haldir, Lindir, It is important that I speak with Captain Naldor. 
We will continue our discussion at a later time."
      
      Lindir was torn. On one hand he was reluctant to leave Glorfindel's 
side, especially after all he had just heard. But on the other, he knew 
Captain Naldor, perhaps better than Glorfindel himself. If anyone could 
talk the Elda into changing his mind, Naldor was a good bet. For Lindir 
knew the Captain was happy in the position of second-in-command to the 
golden Lord. Naldor did not actively seek to climb higher, and he 
worshipped the ground the Balrog Slayer walked. No, the Noldo was 
happy with his life the way it was, and if Lindir knew the Elf, Naldor 
would press the ancient warrior to retract his resignation.
      
       With a squeeze to Glorfindel's shoulder, Lindir rose from his chair 
and addressed Haldir. "These two need to talk. Glorfindel, I will seek you 
out later tonight." 
      
      "Are you sure?" Haldir questioned, looking at both Lindir and the 
blond warrior. When both nodded their agreement, the Marchwarden 
escorted his friend from the room.
      
      "My Lord," Naldor said with a sigh, "We definitely need to talk."

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

	"You have heard, Haldir, that Glorfindel resigned?" Lindir asked 
the Marchwarden as soon as they left the library.

	"Erestor told me," he replied. "That is the reason Captain Naldor 
wished to speak with Glorfindel. Lord Elrond asked him to take command 
of the guardians."

	"That was to be expected." Lindir said. "Glorfindel has made a 
grave mistake, Haldir. I asked him to rethink his decision, to ask Lord 
Elrond to reinstate him. But he will not even consider it. He feels at fault 
for the attack and says he is too old and set in his ways, that his 
resignation was for the best. But the guardians will not see it that way. 
This is going to effect moral."

	"I know Lindir," Haldir said, "but there is not much you can do 
besides offer Glorfindel your support. He is too proud to back down, and 
so is Lord Elrond. Once their anger has cooled they may reassess the 
situation. They both have the same goal, the welfare of Imladris. I think in 
time Lord Elrond will take him back."

	"Do you think I should speak to Lord Elrond, Haldir?" Lindir 
asked. "This whole mess happened because of me."

	"No, stay out of it, Lindir. Lord Elrond is not upset with you, but 
with Glorfindel. Do not fan the flames. Let them die of their own accord."

	"If you think that is the best way to handle it, Haldir, I will take 
your advice, but I cannot help feeling guilty."

	"It is time for lunch. We can finish our discussion in the dining 
hall," Haldir replied. "That is why I was looking for you in the first place. 
If you would prefer not to sit at Elrond's table we could eat in my room."

	Lindir sighed. "I will have to face him sooner or later, I might as 
well do it now." 

	The rest of the walk to the dining hall was made in silence, each 
Elf lost in his own thought. 

       Lindir really would have preferred to eat in Haldir's room, for in 
spite of what he said, it would be awkward meeting with Elrond. But it 
was not every day that the Marchwarden came to Imladris, and Lindir with 
all his problems had monopolized most of the time Haldir had spent here. 
There were only two days left of his stay and Lindir wanted him to enjoy 
them. Today he would do what Haldir wanted. Unconsciously, he sighed 
again. 
      
      Now that the shock of the morning's events was waning he was 
able to think more clearly. So much of this was his fault. Maybe not 
directly, but his fault all the same. He had spoiled Haldir's holiday, lost 
Glorfindel the position he had held for millennia, not to mention the 
respect and admiration that went with it, and disappointed Lord Elrond. 
He was sure he was the last Elf that Elrond would wish to see paired with 
his seneschal. Glorfindel was a Lord in his own right. Lindir was an 
orphan who had a home only through the grace of Lord Elrond. The more 
the minstrel thought on the events of the past days, the more melancholy 
he became. 
      
      Haldir too was thinking. Thinking about Erestor. In all the time he 
had known the Elf, and that had been quite some time, he had rarely seen 
the advisor show such strong emotion as he had this morning. Erestor had 
left the room in tears. It had taken Haldir by surprise. In a way, everyone 
took Erestor for granted. He was the epitome of efficiency, handling his 
tasks with such ease that most did not realize the burdens he took on 
everyday. But everyone had their limit, and between the emotional dramas 
played out these past few days and the added responsibility of running 
Imladris almost single-handedly, it was not surprising that a crack had 
appeared in Erestor's normally solid facade. 
      
      Haldir wondered if the advisor would be at the dining table, and 
was a bit surprised, as he and Lindir entered the room, to see Erestor 
seated in his customary place to the right of Lord Elrond. The twins, 
Elladan and Elrohir were the only other occupants at the table besides the 
two lords.
      
      "Marchwarden Haldir, Lindir," Lord Elrond acknowledged the two 
as they took their seat at the table. When each had made their reply, and it 
was apparent that no one else would be joining the group, Lord Elrond 
signaled the dining staff to begin serving. 
      
      With the morning's events so fresh in the minds of all present, an 
uncomfortable silence marked the beginning of the meal. It was broken 
only by the occasional request to pass the breadbasket or to voice the 
choice of dinner wine. Haldir, although on holiday, still represented 
Lothlórien, and felt obliged to make an effort to show his appreciation for 
the hospitality that was shown him. 
      
      "This is an excellent wine, Lord Elrond," he spoke, "Is it one that is 
made here in Imladris?"
      
      "I am glad you like it, Haldir," Lord Elrond returned, "It was 
pressed from a new variety of grapes we have been experimenting with. I 
am quite fond of it myself."
      
      Elladan had been watching the elder Elves with narrowed eyes. He 
and Elrohir knew nothing of the events that had taken place earlier, but his 
senses told him all was not well between the adults. Erestor's eyes were 
red and it looked as if he had been crying. Haldir, who was normally 
cheerful and full of delightful stories, was unusually quiet, and Lindir 
looked as if he had lost his best friend. His father had a scowl on his face, 
the kind usually directed towards the twins when they got into mischief, 
but both had been on their best behavior all morning. He leaned over and 
whispered in his brother's ear. They continued their whispered 
conversation until Erestor took notice.
      
      "Elladan, Elrohir," the advisor admonished the two, "It is not polite 
to tell secrets at the table. 
      
      "We were only wondering why your eyes are red, Erestor," said 
Elrohir. "It looks as if you have been crying. Is my father mad at you? Is 
that why he has a frown on his face?"
      
      "I am not mad at Erestor," Elrond told his sons. Then turning to the 
advisor he asked Erestor if he was feeling all right. 
      
      "I am fine, Elrond," Erestor replied in a clipped voice. "If my eyes 
are red it is because I did not rest well last night." 
      
      Silence reigned again for some time. Lindir was pushing his food 
around on his plate with his fork, his appetite all but gone. Erestor was 
doing the same, although he did take a bite now and then. Lord Elrond's 
face still held a fierce scowl and Elladan and Elrohir had started 
whispering again. Haldir shifted in his seat desperately trying to think of 
something to break the silence that would not sound trite.
      
      "Ada," Elladan piped up. "If you are not mad at Lord Erestor, are 
you mad at Haldir and Lindir?" You look awfully angry!"
      
      "No, Elladan," his father replied. "I am not mad at Lindir or 
Haldir." Elrond actually said this a bit louder than intended, and the 
gruffness in his voice made Elladan cringe.
      
      "If you are not mad at Erestor or Haldir or Lindir, are you mad at 
Lord Glorfindel?" Elladan asked, knowing that his Ada was mad at 
somebody.
      
      Lord Elrond was caught. He did not want to tell his son a lie, so he 
chose to keep quiet. He should have known better.
      
      "Are you mad at Lord Glorfindel, Ada?" Elrohir asked when his 
father did not answer Elladan. "Are you mad because Lord Glorfindel is 
not going to be a warrior anymore? 
      
      "What do you mean, Elrohir!" Elladan exclaimed. "Who told you 
that?"
      
      "I heard the maids talking about it in the laundry," Elrohir said 
smugly. "They said that Glorfindel was going to quit being a warrior and 
go away and that would be a shame because then he could not marry 
Lindir. They also said that Erestor was crying in his room and that was 
because he was in love with Haldir and Haldir did not love him back and 
the maids felt sorry for him because he was lonely. They also said…"
      
      "Elrohir!" Lord Elrond all but shouted. Startled, the young Elf 
stopped in the middle of his sentence. 
      
      "Yes, Ada?" He asked, a look of chagrin on his face.
      
      If Lord Elrond was not mad before, he was definitely angry now. 
Elrohir turned pale and sunk low in his seat. Elladan grasped his brother's 
hand for support. Both Elflings knew what that look on their Ada's face 
meant. One or both of them was in big trouble! 
      
      "I have told you many times before not to repeat the gossip you 
hear from the servants! You have no way of knowing if what they say is 
true and you could hurt someone's feelings if you tell tales."
      
      Lindir and Erestor both had been embarrassed by Elrohir's words 
and were looking downwards at their plates. Only Haldir showed no 
expression, but then Haldir had two younger brothers and was used to 
such outbursts. 
      
      "I am sorry, Ada," Elrohir said, his lower lip trembling slightly. "I 
promise not to do it again."
      
      "You and Elladan will stay in your room the rest of the afternoon," 
Elrond said to both of the twins. "Maybe this will teach you a lesson."
      
      "But Ada, I was not in the laundry room and I did not repeat 
gossip," Elladan protested.
      
      "No, Elladan, you did not, but perhaps if you are confined to your 
room with Elrohir you will not be tempted to do so in the future." 
      
      "But that is not fair," Elladan whined.
      
      "To your rooms, now!" Lord Elrond commanded. "No dessert!"
      
      The twins wasted no time exiting the table and scurrying from the 
dining hall. They did not agree with their father's punishment, but when he 
used that tone of voice they knew better than to disobey.
      
       "I apologize for my sons, Lord Elrond told the others at the table. 
If you do not mind I will return to my chambers. I have developed a 
splitting headache."
      
      When no one at the table objected, the Half-elf apologized for 
leaving early and rose from his chair and quickly left the dining hall.
      
      "Erestor," Haldir asked softly after Elrond had left, "are you in 
love with me?"
      
      Erestor gave the Marchwarden a frosty stare. "I am in love with no 
one Haldir, and even if I was it would be none of your business. You 
should learn a lesson from the twins and not listen to idle gossip!"
      
      "My apologies, Erestor," Haldir said with a smile. I did not mean 
to pry."
      
      "Yes you did, Haldir, otherwise you would not have asked that 
question," Erestor snapped. "If you two will excuse me, I do not care for 
dessert, and will take my leave. I have duties to attend to." 
      
      "Very well, Erestor," Haldir replied. "We will see you later at 
dinner. I hope you will be in a better mood."
      
      "Humph," was the advisors only reply as he too, rose from his 
chair and left.
      
      "Well, there is no point in staying here, Lindir," Haldir said, "it is 
obvious neither one of us cares for dessert. Why do we not make a trip 
back to the market and see if we can find your gift for Glorfindel. Time is 
getting short, and it would do us good to get away from here for a while."
      
      Lindir forced himself to look cheerful. "If that is what you truly 
wish, Haldir." The minstrel really just wanted to go back to his room. But 
he owed the Marchwarden for all his kindness, and it would be rude to 
turn him down.
      
      "To be honest, Lindir, I have not yet found a gift for the Elf whose 
name I drew. So if you are willing, I would enjoy your company. 
However, if you would prefer to wait for Glorfindel, we could go 
tomorrow."
      
      "We had best go today, Haldir," Lindir replied. "That way if I 
come up empty-handed, I will still have time tomorrow to look." 
      
      "Then let us go, my friend," Haldir said with a grin, and with the 
minstrel by his side, they set off for the market.

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~
      

 
Chapter 24: All For The Sake of Revenge


"Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."
					
					J.R.R. Tolkien


-The Prisoner

	He was not uncomfortable, for they had removed the ropes binding 
his ankles and wrists. In fact, he had free reign of the cell, the small space 
that was now his temporary home. There was a mattress for sleeping that 
was not too lumpy and the floor was clean swept, not damp and dank like 
those of the dungeons in Gondor. Even the food was palatable, for the tray 
they left for him had been laden with fresh fruit, warm bread, and a bowl 
of thick soup. But that was the way of Elves he thought bitterly. He had 
been given all he wanted when he lived in Lórien, a warm bed, plenty of 
food, education and training, but that is where it had stopped. There was 
no warmth behind the eyes that had gazed at him daily, nor in the words 
his kin had spoken. He hated them all, but mostly he hated the fair-haired 
Silvans, those like the Marchwarden.

	Oh, he knew Haldir o Lórien; the arrogant Elf epitomized those of 
his kind. Like him, Haldir was an orphan, but Haldir and his brother's 
were favored by the Lord and Lady and treated much better than their 
status required. The Half-elf knew, for he once held Haldir's younger 
brother in high regard. Rúmil had been one of the few that treated him 
kindly and overlooked his background, calling for the others to let the 
Half-elf join in play, taking up for him when he was taunted or pushed 
down. He had trusted Rúmil, confided in him, considered him a friend. 
When he reached his majority, his feelings for the silver-haired Elf 
changed from that of friendship to that of adulation, for Rúmil was all he 
could ever hope to be. 

	Not long after came the fateful day he decided to tell Rúmil how 
he felt about him. He waylaid the Elf after an archery practice and asked if 
he would walk with him in the woods. Rúmil had given him an odd look, 
but then smiled and agreed. As they walked, he had poured his heart out to 
the beautiful Elf, hoping against all hope that Rúmil felt the same. But 
Rúmil did not. In fact, Rúmil acted like he barely knew him. Rúmil had 
been kind and done his best to let him down gently, but it was the 
conversation he heard later that made him hate the Elf. The conversation 
Rúmil had with his older brother, Haldir. He could still remember every 
detail.

-Flashback to an earlier time - Lothlórien
	He was heading to the river to bathe in his favorite spot when he 
heard a familiar voice in conversation with another. He was prepared to 
leave, not wanting to intrude, when he heard Rúmil mention his name. As 
silently as he could he moved forward, keeping himself concealed until he 
was close enough to the two Elves to clearly hear what they were saying.

	"You are too young to enter into a relationship, Rúmil," Haldir 
scowled at his younger brother. "Who is this Elf of which you speak? Why 
have I never heard of him before?"

	"Rúmil laughed. "Do not worry older brother, I am not seeking a 
lover and Vand is not an Elf. He is Half-elven, one of the orphans that 
used to join my friends and I sometimes in our games. The others would 
make fun of him and I tried to treat him kindly to make up for it."

	"That is very considerate of you, Rúmil," Haldir replied, and I am 
proud of you for your concern. But there is a limit to what one should do 
out of pity for another. That you encouraged him enough to state his love 
for you worries me. Are you in love with this Vand Half-elven?" 

	"I told you I do not seek him as a lover!" Rúmil exclaimed, his 
exasperation with his older brother rising to the surface. He sighed and 
continued in a softer voice. "Haldir, I barely know him. He is someone I 
spoke to occasionally for he seemed lonely. He confided his troubles to 
me a few times, but that was a long time ago. I mean, it is not like we saw 
each other often. To be honest, the whole conversation was embarrassing. 
I tried not to hurt his feelings, but I know I did. But I swear to you, Haldir, 
I did nothing to warrant those feelings. His words and actions took me 
completely by surprise. To be honest, I did not even consider him my 
friend, just someone I knew and felt sorry for. No, that sounds too cruel. 
What I meant--what I mean, Haldir, is just that I barely know him. Now 
what should I do?"

	 "Stay away from him, Rúmil. If what you say is true, he has 
problems that he must work out on his own. You are too young to concern 
yourself with love. If he bothers you again, let me know." 

	The tears started then, tears of hurt, tears of rage. They rolled from 
his eyes and down his cheeks till he almost could not see. All Vand 
wanted was to get away from the Elf who broke his heart. Rúmil was just 
like the others, only worse. For Rúmil had pretended to be his friend, then 
scorned him behind his back, and Rúmil's brother Haldir was no better. 
Who was Haldir to say he had problems? The Elf had never even met him. 
How could he make such a judgement? Rúmil had been the one reason he 
stayed in this hateful city, and now that he had seen Rúmil's true character, 
he no longer wished to stick around. He made up his mind. He would 
leave tonight. If he could not find solace in the world of Elves, he would 
seek it in his father's world. He would make for Gondor, the Kingdom of 
the South. 

-Gondor

	It had been a long road and he went through much misery at first. 
But soon he discovered that Men had a taste for that which was rare and 
beautiful, and Elves were among that which met those requirements. He 
sought relationships then not for love, but for gain and he learned much 
about those called Secondborn, and he realized he held secrets of which 
most Men were not aware. Secrets that if told, would give him all he ever 
wanted. Secrets that would hurt the ones who hurt him, and it was with 
this knowledge that he began to formulate his plan. 

      "Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky…
      …One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
      In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie." (1)
						
      Vand knew the story well; how Sauron came to forge the One 
Ring, the Ring that controlled all others. Able to change his shape, he 
journeyed to Eregion and came amongst the Elves in fair disguise. He 
called himself Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, and he led the Elves to believe 
that with his help they could make their new home almost to the like of the 
one they had forsaken. But in Lindon, the High King Gil-galad and Master 
Elrond did not trust Annatar and they sent warning of him to their kin. 
Annatar negated the warning, saying they were jealous and did not wish 
for Eregion to become as beautiful and fair as Lindon and the Eregion 
Elves heeded his word and ignored the warning.
      
      Ost-in-Edhil was the home of Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the People of the 
Jewel-smiths, and it was they who were most enamored of the Lord of 
Gifts. And he taught them much, for he was once a student of Aulë, the 
great smith. With his help they crafted many Rings of great power, Rings 
they believed would be used to nurture and care for the land and its 
people. They trusted Annatar and as they learned from him, so he learned 
also from them. But later, he left Eregion and returned to Mordor and 
using all that he had learned, secretly forged a Ring of his own, one with 
power to rule the others. It was forged in the fires of Orodruin, later 
known as Mount Doom, and only in its fire could it ever be unmade. Alas, 
when he placed the Ring upon his finger the Elves felt its force and were 
aware of his presence. They knew then he could control them and they 
were wise and did not wear the Rings they had made. 
      
      His plans thwarted, Sauron demanded the Elves give him the 
Rings, claiming it was his hand that figured most in their making. When 
the Elves refused, he gathered his forces and waged war against them. But 
among the smiths of Ost-in-Edhil was one who surpassed all others, 
Celebrimbor, grandson of Fëanor. It was he who had crafted the last three 
of the Rings of Power; those not touched by Sauron's hand. These Rings 
the Elves hid, for they could slow the decay of time and although they 
could not be used while Sauron held the One, the Elves did not wish him 
to have them. Vilya, the Ring of Air and Narya, the Ring of Fire were 
given to High King Gil-galad, Nenya, the Ring of Water, to Lady 
Galadriel, and it was these Sauron wanted most of all, for besides his own, 
they were the most powerful.
      
      Dark times reigned and there was constant battle between Sauron 
and the Elves. Eregion was destroyed and Celebrimbor killed. Elrond 
Half-elven built a refuge hidden among cliffs, Imladris, a safe haven not 
only for Elves, but also for all the free peoples of Arda. But it was mostly 
Elves that fled there. 
      
      Through trickery, deceit and might, Sauron was able to obtain 
almost all of the Rings except the three he wanted most. Any intention of 
good he once harbored in his heart became lost in his quest for power. To 
that end he gave Elven-rings to the other races that peopled Middle Earth, 
seven to the Dwarf-lords and nine to Kings of Men. Because he had a 
hand in their making, he was able to control those that wielded the Rings 
so they and those under them turned to the darkness.
      
       The Dwarves, who were brought into being by the Vala Aulë, had 
his protection and could not be mastered. But the Rings fed their greed and 
in their lust for treasure they amassed huge mounds of jewels and riches 
under which they placed their Rings. Later the mounds fell to the great 
dragons; the Rings either consumed by dragon fire or seized once again by 
Sauron.
      
      Of the Kings of Men, six Rings were given to kings on Arda. They 
were weak and came swiftly under Sauron's influence; strengthening his 
powers and puissance. The other three he gave to Kings of the Edain. But 
Sauron was not satisfied. His goal was to rule all and for this he needed to 
defeat not only the free peoples, but also the Valar. He renamed himself 
Lord of the Earth and together with his fell minions set upon the good 
people of Middle Earth, and they feared him and called him the Dark 
Lord.
      
      Outside of Arda, in Númenor, dwelled the Edain, those whom 
lesser Men had once called Gods. They were friends of the Elves and had 
aligned with Gil-galad in the fight against the darkness. It was they, who 
in the past, were the only one of their kindred to fight on the side of the 
Valar and the Elves against the evil Morgoth; he who had once been 
Sauron's master. 
      
       For this the Valar gave them many gifts, long life and prosperity, 
and a home separate from Arda unto which only Valinor was fairer. But 
upon acceptance of these gifts, there was one condition, that the 
Númenoreans would not venture westwards toward Aman. From that 
place they were banned, and long did the Edain honor that condition, and 
any exploration they undertook was ever away from the West. 
      
       In all ways they prospered and grew, and when they saw the 
destruction that Sauron had wrought on Arda, they challenged him and he 
knew he was not strong enough to defeat them. So he surrendered and 
lived as hostage among them, but this too was part of his plan. After a 
while he gained the ear of the King and became his advisor and little by 
little began to sow seeds of discontent. He questioned the Valar and their 
gifts and the Númenorians listened to him and became jealous of the Elves 
and those who granted such gifts, believing their kind, too, should be privy 
to Valinor. They cursed the Valar and Sauron fed their anger and disquiet 
until finally, they joined him in an attack upon the Undying Lands.
      
       But that was their downfall and his, for in retaliation the Valar 
decimated Númenor and Sauron was caught in the chaos. His body was 
destroyed, but his spirit arose and returned to Arda, to Mordor. 
      
      In the Dark lord's absence, Gil-galad had increased his hold over 
much of the land where Sauron once held sway. Those Númenoreans who 
had remained faithful to the Valar and were able to escape the destruction 
of their kin fled in exile to Arda. Their leader was Elendil and together 
with his two sons, Isildur and Anárion, he established the realms of Arnor 
and Gondor. 
      
      Centuries passed. The nine Kings of Men to whom Sauron had 
given Rings faded and became wraiths, lost in a shadow world, specters 
that had no choice but to do as Sauron bid. Nazgûl they were named, 
Ringwraiths, harbingers of doom. Sauron once again called fell and foul 
together and gathered a great force. With this army and the Nazgûl under 
his control, he attacked Minas Ithil in Gondor, the city governed by 
Isildur. Isildur escaped and sought his father, Elendil. Anárion in Osgiliath 
held forth against Sauron for a while, but Sauron increased his strength 
and Anárion feared without help his kingdom would be taken. 
      
       Neither the Eldar nor the Dúnedain could withstand the might of 
Sauron alone. In a desperate move, Elendil and Gil-galad met and formed 
a host of Elves and Men known thereafter as the Last Alliance. After much 
trial the Alliance met the forces of Sauron on Dagorlad, the plain before 
the gates of Mordor. There they fought a great battle in which the Elves 
and Men were victorious and so they pressed on to Barad-dûr, Sauron's 
great fortress. There they laid siege against him for seven years. 
      
       During this time Anárion and many others fair and brave were 
killed. Finally, the siege forced Sauron's hand and he came out himself 
upon the field. Gil-galad and Elendil fell by his hand. Then Isildur, 
grasping his father's broken sword, smote the One Ring from Sauron's 
hand and he was destroyed. Or so many thought, for though weak his 
spirit survived and hid.
      
       Sometime before or during the War of the Last Alliance, the Elven 
King Gil-galad gave the Ring Vilya to Lord Elrond.  Of the third Ring 
nothing is known, it was either given to another or it passed from 
knowledge, of which occurrence, Vand was not sure. But all this was still 
a secret known only to the Elves. Of the One Ring, that which controlled 
the others, Isildur kept it for himself, in spite of the plea by Lord Elrond 
and others that it be destroyed.  And it became his bane, for he was 
ambushed by Orcs at Gladden Fields.  In an effort to save himself, he 
placed the Ring upon his finger and became invisible.  He jumped into the 
river hoping to swim away, but The One Ring slipped from his hand and 
fell into the water and was lost, and Isildur was revealed and shot dead. 
      
-Centuries Later
      
      When Vand arrived in Gondor from Lórien, the ravages of the 
Great War were still vastly evident. There was a shortage of food and 
supplies and people were hungry, and many were without homes. Of the 
Men who had left to fight, countless had not returned and never would, for 
they had died defending the freedom of those they loved. Sauron had left 
his mark upon the land and it would be centuries upon centuries before it 
was erased.
      
      Vand bade his time and worked on his plan of revenge. Certain 
men he befriended and once he had earned their trust, he began to confide 
in them that which hardened their hearts against the Elves. For the 
Secondborn were unaware of the Rings of Power created by the Elves, and 
Vand played this hand for all it was worth. From his lips he let known to a 
select group the mistake the Elves had made in trusting Annatar. When 
they realized that but for the Elves, war could have been prevented, they 
became enraged and wanted nothing more than revenge. All the hardship, 
all the loss of life and limb they blamed, with what they felt was righteous 
cause, on the Firstborn. In fact, it was all Vand could do to keep them 
from marching immediately against the Elven realms. It took all his 
knowledge and strength to make them bide their time, and in that time 
Vand taught them Elven ways and Elven fighting techniques. They 
strategized and formulated a battle plan, and that was to first take Imladris. 
From there they could effectively attack both Lothlórien and Greenwood 
the Great. Their goal was to eliminate the Elves, to sweep them from 
Arda. 
      
-End Flashback

/And but for one Balrog Slayer--By the horn, it would have worked! / 
Vand swore to himself. But he was not worried, for he had learned much 
during his stay in the city of Men. The Elves were soft and loath to kill 
one of their kin, even one who was only Half-elven. He need only wait 
and plan his escape. That his escape would be successful, he had no doubt. 
So until that opportunity came, he made himself as comfortable as he 
could. Let the Elves of Imladris think him mad, perhaps he was. But for 
the moment, he was content.
The Market - Imladris

      The Market as usual was bustling. They had sampled wares and 
seen and touched many lovely things, but neither had yet to make a 
purchase. Haldir had paid special attention to the potter's booth, but he did 
not see the dark-haired Elf from his last visit at the wheel. Instead another 
was seated there, and he was not nearly as interesting or seductive. Haldir 
thought Lindir might notice his furtive looks, but Lindir's thoughts seemed 
far away. The Elf had been somewhat melancholy and quiet ever since 
they left the dining hall. But when asked what troubled him, Lindir denied 
any problem, saying he felt fine.
      
      They had once again reached that place in the market where the 
farriers and smiths plied their craft. The sound of the many varied 
hammers striking against metal was almost deafening. They watched as a 
smith pulled a red-hot glowing bar of iron from the flame. He placed it 
against an anvil and in rhythmic strokes began to shape the metal with his 
great hammer. The white-hot iron threw off sparks as the bar began to 
spread out under the hammer strokes. When the smith had obtained the 
shape he wanted, he heated the iron again till it glowed yellow, then 
quickly quenched it in a bucket of oil, the heated metal sizzling as it met 
the cool liquid.
      
      They left the smith to his work and continued walking. Farther 
down were the jewel-smiths that worked with precious metals. Haldir 
watched entranced as a Dwarf with a braided beard carefully set a large 
blue stone into a silver setting. With a long smooth tool, he shaped a thin 
piece of metal around the sides of the stone, pressing the bezel down until 
it just touched the surface and held the gem in tightly. The pressure of the 
tool compressed the metal and burnished it to a lovely sheen. Other pieces 
crafted of silver were set out on a cloth of velvet on a shelf next to the 
Dwarf. There was one in the shape of a mallorn leaf that Haldir greatly 
admired, but when he asked the price, it was much more than he was 
willing to pay. Thanking the jewel-smith, they made their way to the next 
booth.
      
      This one was larger and contained three Elves who were immersed 
in their work. One stood in front of a brick oven and was placing items 
that appeared to be covered with colored powder into its interior. Each 
piece rested on points that projected upwards from little ceramic trivets. 
Another Elf stood at what appeared to be a large washtub on a stand. In 
the center of the tub was a metal arm that was attached to a shaft. At the 
end of the arm was an odd shaped porcelain bowl with a hole in its side. 
Attached to the bowl and adjacent to the hole was a cylindrical container 
filled with a plaster like substance. The jewel-smith was heating nuggets 
of a dull gray colored metal in the bowl with a hot flame. When the 
nuggets melted, they formed a shiny rolling liquid with a mirrored convex 
surface. While they watched, the smith released a pin that was holding the 
arm in place. The arm then spun around and around inside the tub, the 
motion causing the molten metal to draw into the cylinder. When the arm 
stopped moving, the smith grabbed a pair of large tongs and removed the 
cylinder, dumping it into a vat of water.
      
      As they continued to watch, the smith removed a similar cylinder 
from another bucket of water. With a metal rod, he began scraping what 
was left of the white plaster from the inside. He pulled out what looked 
like a miniature tree made of dull metal with odd shaped leaves. He cut the 
leaves from the tree, and tossed the tree trunk into a box. Noticing his 
audience, he smiled and brought one of the leaves over for them to 
inspect. It was not a leaf, but a ring. At the base of the ring was a small 
nub, where he had cut the ring from the tree. Haldir asked why so much 
metal was wasted. The smith laughed. 
      
      "It is never wasted, my friend. It can be melted and used again. 
This dull metal is silver, but I would use the same procedure working with 
gold or mithril. The tree form is used to make channels in the mold, which 
allow the metal to flow. He picked up a similar tree that was made of wax. 
We carve the items we wish to make out of wax. To each item we attach a 
wax stem or branch. The stem is then attached to the wax trunk. Notice 
how all the branches point upwards. That is because metal cannot flow 
backwards. The base of the trunk was cone-shaped. So the whole piece 
looked like a small tree sitting on a cone.
      
      "We attach the cone of the wax tree to a round flat base. Then we 
place a hollow cylinder on top of the base making sure the tree is centered. 
Once that is done, we fill the cylinder with a special plaster. When it 
hardens, we pop off the base and place the cylinder in the oven. The heat 
causes the wax to vaporize, leaving the shape of the tree in the plaster. At 
the top of the cylinder, what originally was the base, is left a cone shaped 
depression. We fit that end of the cylinder next to the crucible in the 
casting machine. When we release the arm, the molten metal flows from 
the crucible into the mold, traveling up the trunk of the tree through the 
branches into the leaves. Of course, they are just empty channels as the 
wax is gone. That is how we cast items of metal.
      
      Lindir had been looking at some of the jewelry on display when a 
certain piece caught his eye. He asked the smith if he could see it, and the 
Elf picked it up and placed it in his hand. When Haldir saw it he smiled. 
"It is perfect, Lindir. I told you sometimes you see an item that just calls to 
you."
      
      "Oh, Haldir, I have found my gift for Glorfindel. You are right, it 
is something I think he will cherish."
      
       He asked the jewel-smith the price and was surprised that it was 
one he could afford. Coin was exchanged, and soon he had Glorfindel's 
gift enclosed in a wooden box in his pocket. Out of curiosity he asked the 
smith which of them had made the piece. The smith laughed. "Well, I cast 
the piece out of metal. My partner at the kiln decorated it with colored 
glass enamel and fired it to hardness, and my other partner whom you 
have not met, engraved the designs. So you could say we all three had a 
part in its making.
       
      "That is interesting to know, and I thank you." Lindir replied. "This 
is a special gift and its recipient will treasure it greatly."
      
      "That is always my aim," The jeweler replied with a smile, "and 
when it is met, I am happy. Enjoy the rest of your time at the market."
      
      "You can be assured that I will," the minstrel replied.
      
      Lindir was in a slightly better mood when they left the jeweler's 
stall. Haldir was glad, for he had begun to worry about the minstrel. Lindir 
had been brooding and remote during most of their time here and Haldir 
was glad to now see a smile on his face.
      
      "You have not found your gift yet, Haldir," Lindir told the 
Marchwarden. "Is there some place special you would like to look?"
      
      "I am not sure, Lindir. I have seen a few things that I think would 
be nice, but I am unable to make up my mind. I am tempted to think on 
them tonight and come back tomorrow. Do you wish to look some more or 
are you ready to leave?"
      
      "That is up to you, Haldir. I have found what I wanted and I have 
no other plans. I will leave it for you to decide."
      
      "In that case, why do we not head back to the market entrance. If I 
see something on the way I will stop and take a look."
      
      "That suits me fine, Haldir," Lindir replied. So they turned around 
and started a slow walk back towards the entrance. Lindir was still quiet, 
but he did reply to Haldir's conversation. They talked mostly about the 
different items on display, and were content to just take their time and 
stroll. Something caught Haldir's eye at a very busy stall, and he excused 
himself from Lindir's company to take a look. Lindir was standing by 
himself when he overheard two Elves' gossipy discourse.
      
      "Aye, Ganadir, I heard he resigned, and over that tall white-haired 
minstrel. I cannot for the life of me understand what he sees in the Elf. He 
does have a lovely voice, but aside from that he hardly says a word. Seems 
to be scared of his own shadow."
      
      The speaker emitted a derisive laugh, and his partner in 
conversation replied. "Well from what I have heard, he was a problem 
when he first came here. The Elf was almost mute, could not even 
remember what happened to him. He was in the healing house for weeks. 
Then they were going to put him to work in the stables when Lord Gildor 
came to visit and claimed he was his nephew. Then he received all kind of 
special treatment. But Lindir did not appreciate all his uncle did for him. 
Lord Gildor wished him to join his company and he refused. Refused his 
kin, and a noble at that! Seems he felt he was too good to be of the 
Wandering Elves. So Lord Elrond let him stay. You are right, he does 
have a beautiful voice, but he refused to join the Harper's Guild, he 
demanded instead to live in the manor. Can you imagine the nerve!"
      
      "I think he is a mouse. Glorfindel could do much better, but you 
know what they say about those silent ones; he must please the lord in 
bed. Otherwise, what else does he have to offer?"
      
      It took all Lindir had to stay where he was, although he pressed 
deeper into the crowd so the speakers could not see him. Some of what 
they said was not true, but much of it hit home. Was he really so selfish as 
they claimed? He had refused Lord Gildor's offer and had also refused to 
join the Harper's Guild, and he had run away when he did not get what he 
wanted. Ai, the Elves were right. He was a mouse. He was not a good 
match for Glorfindel. He was living a lie and he was ashamed.
      
      "I found my gift, Lindir," Haldir said from behind him. "If you are 
ready, we can head back now. I will leave it up to you, if you prefer to 
look some more, we can stay." 
      
      Lindir turned and looked up into Haldir's hazel eyes. "Haldir, I am 
very appreciative of everything you have done for me these past few days, 
but there are only a few more left till you will be leaving us to return to 
Lothlórien. I have been monopolizing all your time and I have placed my 
happiness before yours and I feel guilty for treating you this way. Please, 
if there is something you wish to do, tell me. Do not feel pressured that 
you have to spend your time with me."

      "By the stars, Lindir," Haldir replied, "Have some confidence in 
yourself. I enjoy your company. If you knew me better, you would know 
that I usually do what pleases me and right now it pleases me to be here 
with you." At this, the Marchwarden grasped Lindir by the shoulders and 
looked into the minstrel's blue eyes.

      "I am going to be candid with you, Lindir. You have qualities of 
which you are obviously not aware. To begin with, you are breathtakingly 
beautiful and do not look at the ground when I tell you that. You may not 
notice, but eyes follow you when you walk. Many appreciative glances 
come your way, but you never notice, because you do not wish to see. You 
have nothing to be ashamed of, mellonamin (2). When you cast aside your 
shyness, you are an intelligent conversationalist and we both know how 
skilled a warrior you are. You need to see yourself in the same light others 
do.

      "Do not underestimate Lords Elrond, Erestor, and Glorfindel. They 
each chose you as someone they could trust to work with and they are 
some of the most respected Elves on Arda. Erestor obviously values your 
work and you know Glorfindel does! Do not take his love lightly, for he 
has chosen you above all other Elves. Whether you realize it or not, you 
will be the envy of many for that choice. Garion, Tambor, and Tebring 
think the world of you, and while you may deny it, you are one of the most 
talented musicians in the Elven realms. Did you think your name was not 
known in Lothlórien? All there appreciate your skill.
      
      "You have many qualities of which you can be proud. Do not think 
yourself inferior, Lindir, for you are far from that. Cherish the good 
things; do not dwell on the past. Rise above what you believe to be your 
humble beginnings and hold your head up. Is not Lord Gildor your uncle? 
Whether you have parents here or no, matters not. They did not abandon 
you willingly. Be proud of them, and remember, one day you will meet 
them again in Valinor. What happened to you Lindir that makes you want 
to hide from the world? Do you not know that there are many who would 
give anything to have half of what you possess?"
      
      Lindir could only stare at his friend. Did Haldir not understand? 
Lindir was not like other Elves. No matter what he did, no matter how 
well he did it, he could never overcome his past. It mattered not that he 
had noble blood in his veins. *He* was not noble. His father had been 
overcome by humans, his mother raped and broken by the same, and 
Lindir had done *nothing *! He had watched them both die and not lifted a 
finger to prevent it!
      
      After the fëa of his parents had left this world and the men had 
loosed their hold on him, he had done everything they asked. He had done 
it because he was too much of a coward to die. He had begged for his life. 
Did not Gil-galad die for the sake of his kin? Would not Glorfindel or 
Haldir give their last breath to save those they loved and cared for? That 
was the way of Elves, and therein was Lindir's shame. He wore that 
dishonor like an iron collar around his neck. No matter what he did in this 
lifetime, it would never erase his guilt nor break that shackle. Oh, but he 
was a fool to think he deserved Glorfindel's love or Haldir's friendship, or 
any of that which he had acquired at Imladris. He had thought he could 
bury his past deep inside, that as long as he never spoke of it, it would 
cease to exist. But he *had* done those things, and he could not undo 
them. He would never sail to Valinor, for how could he ever face his 
parents. They knew the truth of his actions and Lindir knew if his friends 
ever found out, they would despise him forever. 

      Lindir felt the shame he had kept buried for so long come to the 
surface. He had tricked his friends. He had asked of them that which he 
could never give in return, honesty and trust, and he hated himself for his 
deceit. He did not deserve happiness. He was no better than the prisoner 
that sat in the cell under Imladris guard, for did they not share the same 
experience? And Glorfindel had called the prisoner scum, evil. Why 
would the Balrog Slayer think Lindir any different? 
      
      He could not stay here any longer. For the first time in his life, he 
would do the honorable thing. He would leave his kind and live the rest of 
his life in solitude. It would not atone for what he had done, but at least he 
would never have cause to repeat his actions, to hurt and deceive anyone 
else. 

      He looked at the kindly Marchwarden with regret. "You do not 
know the true me, Haldir. You do not know me at all. Nor does anyone 
else. You think these things about me, believe me honorable and 
trustworthy, but you have no idea what I have done in my past. I will 
never be the Elf you think I am; the Elf Glorfindel thinks I am. I have 
betrayed you, betrayed you all. I am sorry. There is nothing that I can do 
to make up for my transgression. I have been a fool, Haldir, a fool to think 
things could be different. Forgive me, mellonamin. Tell Glorfindel that I 
will always love him, but that he deserves better. I was a fool to think I 
could bind myself to him. Break it to him gently, Haldir and treat him 
kindly, for he is deserving of that. Again, I am sorry, but I am too much of 
a coward to tell him to his face that it is over, that I am leaving!"

      Haldir could not imagine what had come over Lindir. The younger 
Elf was acting so out of character, telling him things that did not make 
sense. Before Haldir was over his shock at the abrupt change in 
personality, Lindir had turned and fled into the crowd. Without hesitation, 
Haldir took off after him. 

~~~~~ TBC ~~~~~

Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. The verse excerpt is Tolkien's.
2. mellonamin - my friend

References used here were The Silmarillion, edited by Christopher Tolkien 
and Michael Martinez's article, Middle Earth Connections:  Lore of the 
Rings,--July 14, 2000.

I especially wish to thank Lalaith Nienóri, my beta, for her help and 
endless research and for suggesting the sub plot for Vand, the Half-elf.  
This would be a far less interesting story without her input!









Chapter 25: Lost and Found


      Haldir was worried. It was as if Lindir had just vanished. One 
minute he had been hot on his trail, and the next the trail was stone cold. 
Tracking an Elf like Lindir through the woods should have been simple, 
after all, Haldir was a Marchwarden! How could Lindir have eluded him 
so easily? There was not a blade of grass, bush, branch, or leaf disturbed 
that would indicate his passing. Even the trees were silent and could not or 
would not tell of the white-haired Elf's presence. Haldir had been 
searching now for over two hours and was ready to admit he needed help, 
most specifically Glorfindel's, but how was he to tell his long-time friend 
that Lindir had run again? And what had caused the minstrel to act the 
way he had? What deep dark secret did the Elf possess that made him 
think he would be cast aside by his friends if it were revealed?

      Haldir stamped his booted foot on the ground, turned and raised his 
hands in frustration. "Limlug naur! (1)" He felt such a fool. Lindir had run, 
only the Valar knew why, just when Glorfindel needed him the most. 
Making up his mind, Haldir ran as fast as he could back to The Last 
Homely House. He had to find the Seneschal before Lindir left Imladris 
proper.

      Glorfindel had only been in his room for a few moments when a 
breathless and wild-eyed Haldir burst through the door. "Glorfindel, it is 
Lindir," he managed to get out, "he has left, h-he is leaving Imladris!"

      Before he could finish the last of his sentence, the tall warrior had 
grasped Haldir's shoulders tightly with his large hands, shaking him in his 
effort to drag out more information.

      "When, Haldir… when did he leave? What happened?" Once 
Glorfindel was over his initial shock, he released his hands from the 
Marchwarden and hurriedly began strapping on his weapons. "Where last 
did you see him and which direction was he heading? Never mind, tell me 
on the way!"

      Haldir related his last conversation with Lindir, the minstrel's 
unexpected flight, and the efforts he had made to locate the Elf as they 
hurried down the hall and out of The Last Homely House, the wheels of 
Glorfindel's mind turning with each step they took.

      "I have already sent a guardian to the stable and one to the gates, if 
any have seen him they will let us know," the Marchwarden finished. 

      "To the stables, Haldir." Glorfindel commanded. "He is more than 
two hours ahead of us, we will never catch up with him on foot!" 

      No sooner had the words left his mouth than a guardian appeared 
leading Glorfindel's Asfaloth and Haldir's gray stallion. 

      "My Lord Glorfindel, Marchwarden Haldir," the sentry said with a 
slight bow, "Lindir must have doubled back and headed for the stables. He 
passed through the gate riding his brown mare over an hour ago heading 
towards the Ford. I have provided a fully provisioned pack for each of you 
and Garion is organizing a search party."

      Both Glorfindel and Haldir were already mounted and moving by 
the time the guardian finished speaking. "Tell Garion we ride for the 
Ford," Glorfindel yelled over his shoulder as he dug his knees into 
Asfaloth's side. Sensing his master's urgency the great white horse 
bunched his muscles and was soon flying down the path at a gallop, Haldir 
on his gray just a nose length behind.

      Though one part of his mind kept a lookout for the hoof prints left 
by Lindir's horse, the other was racing over reasons why Lindir would 
have run. What was it Haldir had said? That Lindir had done something in 
his past that would cause his friends to look at him in shame. Glorfindel 
could not think of any rumor or hint of such an action and he had known 
the minstrel since first he came to Imladris. Lindir had been but an Elfling 
then and a traumatized one at that. The poor child had never regained his 
memories of his parents' death. Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor, and a few 
guardians were the only ones who knew what truly happened and they had 
sworn never to reveal those facts. Lindir believed in his heart that Orcs 
had caused the tragedy and that was for the best.

      Bending low over Asfaloth's neck, the warrior urged his mount to 
go faster. Although Lindir was a trained guardian, it was never a good idea 
to travel outside of the borders alone. Orcs, Wargs, wolves and Men were 
among the dangers one could come across unexpectedly, and even if the 
woods were clear of these enemies, there were other ways to get hurt. The 
thought of Lindir lying injured and helpless only made Glorfindel more 
anxious and determined to find his lover.

      It was all Haldir could do to keep up with the warrior. His gray 
was a swift runner, bred for speed, as were all the horses of Lórien, but 
Asfaloth was one of a kind, the closest an Elven-bred stallion could come 
to the famed Mearas of Rohan. If the Seneschal kept up this maddening 
pace, he would not have the Marchwarden's protection when he arrived at 
the Bruinen crossing, but Haldir knew there was no point asking his friend 
to slow down. Glorfindel was on a quest and there would be no stopping 
him until he reached his goal, no reasoning with him either, the Lórien Elf 
thought with a grimace.

      As if reading Haldir's mind, Glorfindel urged Asfaloth to an even 
faster pace, leaving Haldir and his mount in the dust. A fleeting glimpse of 
the seneschal's golden hair and Asfaloth's white tail streaming in the wind 
was the last the Marchwarden saw of the pair as they passed from view 
around a bend in the road. Haldir knew he was not that far behind, so 
losing Glorfindel was not the problem. But Asfaloth was not only faster 
than the Marchwarden's gray, he also had much greater endurance. If this 
chase lasted long, Haldir would be forced to rest, and there would be no 
talking his friend into joining him. Glorfindel would stubbornly continue 
on his own. Haldir could only hope they would find Lindir soon.

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

      Lindir on the other hand was just as stubborn as his Balrog Slayer. 
It had been easy enough to elude Haldir, for the Marchwarden was not 
familiar with the woods of Imladris, and Lindir knew plenty places to 
hide. While Haldir was searching for his tracks, the minstrel had taken to 
the trees, knowing his woody friends would help him and not give away 
his whereabouts to a stranger. He had doubled back and headed away from 
the market to the barracks, where he had taken what supplies he needed 
then calmly walked to the stables. The lads who cared for the horses had 
no reason to stop him, so he was able to provision his mare and leave 
unmolested. The guardians at the gate were his friends, and although they 
thought it odd he was leaving Imladris unescorted, did not think it 
necessary to question his errand.

      He knew that Glorfindel would come after him, but he hoped he 
had enough of a head start to avoid meeting his former lover. For 
Glorfindel would not rest until he learned the truth, and that was 
something Lindir wished never to reveal. Sador would be his companion 
now for as long as he could keep her. The season's mildness ensured 
plenty of sweet grass for grazing so he would not have to worry about 
purchasing feed. For himself, he had his bow and could forage off the 
land. Crossing the Ford at this time of year would not be a problem, so he 
urged his mare to pick up speed. He wished to be as far from Imladris as 
he could before sunset so he would have time to find a sheltered and 
hidden spot to camp. The trees there would not be as friendly as those of 
home and he had Sador to consider. There would be time later to choose a 
destination, for now he would continue his trek west.

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

      Meneldîn hummed as she carried the tray down the stone steps. 
Although it was frightening to enter the part of Imladris where those of 
dangerous mind were housed, Meneldîn treasured this escape from the 
kitchen and the watchful eye of Eowidith. Not only would the guards be 
glad to see her, for her visit relieved their boredom, but she would be able 
to spend a few moments with her special friend, Cirith. 

      Cirith and Meneldîn had both been born in Imladris and their 
friendship started at an early age. It was only recently that their platonic 
relationship had changed into something different, when Meneldîn 
received her first kiss. She blushed as she thought of her friend and the 
way his eyes would light up when he saw her. So it was with some 
surprise that she approached the cell where the Half-elf waited for her tray 
to discover Cirith was not on duty. 

      Neither of the three guardians, Maethor, Hebor and Gelir, seated 
around the small table were of the group that had been here yesterday, but 
she had seen them often on the practice fields. They were playing a dice 
game that had become popular around the barracks, a game, which to her 
nana's chagrin, Cirith had taught her. It was a game not suited for ladies as 
it involved gambling. If their captain caught the sentries at it they would 
be reprimanded, but the likely-hood of that was slim, for rarely did he visit 
the cells. 

      Feeling disappointed, as she had been looking forward to speaking 
with her friend, she addressed the sentry closest to her. "Gelir, I have 
brought a luncheon tray for your prisoner, you had best deliver it while it 
is warm." 

      The guardian smiled, rose from his chair and took the tray from her 
hand. "It is always a pleasure to receive a gift from such a beautiful lady," 
he said with a grin. Meneldîn blushed and returned his smile. 

      "I can either wait here or return for the tray when the prisoner is 
finished," she replied, tilting her head in the direction of the Half-elf's cell.

      "That is up to you, my sweet," Gelir returned, shrugging his 
shoulders. "You are welcome to join us in our game, or you can return in 
an hour." Before she could answer, the others at the table began gesturing 
at the chair the guardian had vacated, begging her to sit and play. With a 
merry laugh she seated herself and waited for the dice to come her way. 

      Once Gelir had delivered the prisoner's lunch, he pulled another 
chair to the table and the game proceeded in earnest. They had played a 
few rounds, when Hebor placed three coins upon the table. "I think it is 
time we played for stakes," he stated. Meneldîn pouted, for she had no 
money with her. "That knocks me out," she said, "I have nothing to put 
up." 

      "I will wager against one of your sweet kisses," Hebor said, with a 
mirthful grin.

      "Aye, brother and you will have Cirith to face if you win!" 
Maethor, the Elf sitting next to him replied. "Meneldîn is already 
wondering why it is your ugly face sitting here instead of his. Turning to 
Meneldîn, he addressed the question that had been on her mind. "With 
Lord Glorfindel's resignation, the weekly schedules were not completed. 
Captain Naldor put us back on last month's duties. I am afraid your friend 
is back at the gate this week. Hebor, put your money away, as long as 
Meneldîn is here we play no stakes. When she leaves, then I will give you 
the opportunity to enrich my pockets."

      The game continued until Gelir, who was sitting closest to the cell, 
pushed back his chair and stretched. "I think it is time for you to return to 
the kitchens, my dear. Give me a minute and I will get your tray."

      Removing a ring of keys from a peg on the wall, Gelir unlocked 
the cell door and went inside, closing it behind him. Not a few moments 
later there was a crash, and the other two guards were on their feet. Before 
they could draw their weapons, Vand opened the door, his arm around 
Gelir's throat, the guard's own knife pressed against it. 

      "If you discard your weapons, he will come to no harm," Vand 
spoke in an even voice. The captured guard's face was white; his eyes 
wide open in shock. The two brothers still at the table looked at each 
other, then slowly let their weapons fall to the floor, raising their hands to 
show they were empty. Vand nodded his head at Meneldîn, 
"You…girl…pick up the weapons and put them over in that corner." 
Meneldîn was shaking with fright, but she hurriedly did that which the 
Half-elf asked. When she had finished, Vand stepped away from the door 
of the cell, gesturing to the other two guards and Meneldîn to step through 
it. When they had done so, he pulled the ring of keys from his belt and 
locked them in. 

      Once his comrades were imprisoned, Gelir's fright increased. The 
Half-elf was incredibly strong, and his grip around the guard's neck made 
it hard for him to breathe. As if in a dream he heard Vand's voice 
command him to strip. 

      "I cannot do so with your arm around my neck," Gelir replied.

      "You had best find a way," the former prisoner shot back.

      His hands shaking, Gelir managed to do as the Half-elf requested, 
until he was leaning against Vand in nothing but his loincloth, his uniform 
in a pile on the floor. Vand dragged Gelir over to the door of the cell, 
opened it with the key and pushed the guard through, slamming the door 
shut and locking it behind him. As quickly as he could he removed his 
clothes and donned Gelir's discarded uniform. Then taking his pick from 
the weapons in the corner, outfitted himself with bow, quiver and sword. 
His final action before he left was to pick up his old clothes and stuff them 
through the barred window of the cell door. "Do not want to offend the 
lady too long," he uttered with a smirk. Creeping cautiously up the stairs, 
he had soon exited the Last Homely House and in the blink of an eye, had 
vanished in the woods.

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

      Eowidith was fuming. She had sent Meneldîn on a simple errand 
that should not have taken more than an hour, but so far the Elf had not 
returned. She knew what ailed her helper, for that young guardian was 
always hanging around the kitchen making eyes at the maiden, but young 
love or not, this was the last straw. Turning to an Elf that was cutting up 
vegetables, Eowidith directed her to go to the lower floor and bring 
Meneldîn back. "Tell her, Galwen, one more lapse like this and she will 
spend next week mucking out the stables!" 

      Hardly any time had passed, when Eowidith sudden found a 
hysterical she-elf tugging at her arm. "The prisoner escaped and Meneldîn 
and the guards are locked in a cell," Galwen cried, "I cannot find the keys 
to let them out!"

      "Elbereth, child! What do you come to me for, 'tis the guards you 
must notify, hurry now, before we all end up with our throats cut!" 
Eowidith pushed the Elleth (2) out of the kitchen, mumbling under her 
breath about a spoiled dinner and a Balrog Slayer that should have stayed 
in the Halls of Mandos.

~~~~~~~~~~~

      It had been a long time since the warning bell was sounded at 
Imladris, but with the escape of the Half-elf, Commander Naldor felt it 
was warranted. The deep notes of the bell as the clapper hammered against 
its cast surface broadcast a message of doom throughout the valley. All 
that heard it stopped what they were doing and began to walk swiftly to 
the Last Homely House.

      Garion and the five Elves of the search party he commanded also 
heard the peals of the bell. Without hesitation, Garion turned the group 
around and headed back to Imladris, the safety of the Last Homely House 
and his Lord overriding that of one Elf. When they reached the gates, all 
were assigned to the frenzied search for the escaped prisoner.
      
      Commander Naldor had personally informed Lord Elrond of the 
escape and his lord had directed Erestor to write messages that would be 
sent by messenger to Lothlórien and Greenwood, warning them of what 
had occurred. Commander Naldor also told them about Lindir. Both lords 
were beside themselves with worry for the community at large and for the 
white-haired Elf. The Commander had assigned extra protection for Lord 
Elrond and the twins, even though both felt that the Half-elf would most 
likely be determined to leave Imladris. 
      
      Later, alone with his lord in Elrond's study, Erestor voiced his 
concern over Lindir's solitude on the road and expressed his relief that 
Glorfindel and Haldir had gone after him. Lord Elrond, at the mention of 
his former Seneschal, said not a word, but pressed his lips together in a 
thin line. Erestor noticed the reaction and decided it was time to intervene.
      
      "You have been his friend for millennia," Erestor said calmly, "can 
you not forgive him now for his folly? Perhaps if he…."
      
      But Lord Elrond did not let Erestor finish. In a voice that could 
barely control his irritation, he answered his advisor. "When and *if* 
Glorfindel returns with Lindir, I will discuss this, for now there are more 
pressing matters upon which I must post my attention!" 
      
      "As you wish my Lord," Erestor nodded his head, feeling not a 
little bit sorry for his long time friend. He sighed, wishing Glorfindel good 
speed and great luck in his search.

~~~~~~~~~~~

	Lindir and Sador continued at a canter down the path leading to the 
Ford, when suddenly Sador's gait faltered and she immediately began to 
limp, directly thereafter coming to a complete halt. The minstrel jumped 
from her back and looked for the cause of the injury. "Elbereth," he 
exclaimed, realizing Sador's muscles had tied up causing extremely 
painful cramps. He sighed, then began to give the trembling mare a 
massage. This he continued for a few moments until the stiffness and 
cramping began to subside. Patting her neck and speaking words of 
comfort, he began to walk her around slowly. There was no way he would 
be able to ride the mare, she should in all rights be returned to the stable 
for care. But Lindir could not go back. He would have to find a place 
where they could both rest and be hidden from the road. Leading the mare 
into the woods, he began to seek such a location.

	He found it after about a twenty-minute walk. The trees hid a tiny 
clearing with enough space for him and Sador to rest comfortably. 
Brushing the mare down and giving her some water to drink, he once 
again massaged her sore muscles then covered her with a blanket. He 
would wait for half an hour, then walk her again.

	Sitting down in front of a large oak, Lindir folded his arms on top 
of his knees and rested his head upon them. Now that he had stopped his 
race to reach the Ford, his situation hit full force. Sobs wracked his slender 
frame as he cried his sorrow to Sador and the surrounding woods. Oh how 
he would miss his golden warrior, his taste, his touch, his love. No, Lindir 
thought, he did not deserve that love anymore, nor had he ever. Glorfindel 
was as lost to him as if he had never known the Elf. He cried until he had 
no tears left, until he was exhausted and empty inside. Then curling up 
besides a root, he watched his mare, waiting for the time to pass before he 
would walk her again. Melancholy and depressed beyond measure, he did 
not realize when sleep overtook him. Only the old oak at whose feet he 
sheltered acknowledged that the unhappy being beside him was for the 
moment, at rest and at peace. 

	Anor had moved behind the trees when Glorfindel commanded 
Asfaloth to stop. Sador's tracks had vanished and the warrior wondered 
why. Dismounting, he searched the surrounding area, looking for clues of 
Lindir's whereabouts. Hooves pounding against the dirt told him that 
Haldir was not far behind, and it was just moments later that the 
Marchwarden halted his gray and hopped from its back.

	"Any signs?" Haldir asked, walking over to where Glorfindel was 
examining the brush at the side of the road.

	"It looks as if they passed through here, Haldir," the Seneschal 
replied, pointing to a faint hoof impression in the soft dirt underneath a 
bush. "From the depth of these tracks, I think Sador has injured her back 
leg, possibly a stone bruise or a cramp. Stay here and wait for the search 
party, I am going in after Lindir. If I need your help, I will signal. If I am 
not back by the time Anor sets, you will know I have found trouble."

	Haldir nodded, then squeezed Glorfindel's shoulder. "I hope you 
find him, meldir (3)."

      Sky-blue eyes which moments before had mirrored despair now 
shone with hope as the blond paused at Haldir's words. "I will not stop 
until I do," Glorfindel whispered, "for I cannot live without him." 
Squeezing his friend's shoulder in return, he turned and entered the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~

	His soft leather boots made no sound as he moved, searching the 
ground for the U-shaped imprints of Sador's hooves. Lindir as an Elf and 
guardian left no trace of his passing, so although Glorfindel wished no 
harm to any being, he was thankful that Lindir's mare had given him a trail 
to follow. He could only hope he would come across his love before Anor 
set, for even Elven eyes would have difficulty seeing the faint marks in the 
darkness.

	Time passed slowly for the golden lord, his thoughts never straying 
from the white-haired Elf that had caught his heart. Memories of Lindir 
and their time spent together flashed before his eyes and he wondered 
again what caused the minstrel to run; what it was that Lindir feared. Only 
yesterday Lindir had assured him that nothing would come between them, 
now today as Glorfindel walked the woods he was wracked with doubt. 
Even if he did find the minstrel, would Lindir still want him? Now that he 
had opened his heart, would it be broken once again? He wanted to scream 
his frustration and misery to the world, but he kept silent, not wanting to 
alert his love if Lindir were near. 
	He had just begun to wonder if perhaps this trail was old, when he 
heard the soft nicker of a horse. Closing his eyes for a moment, he prayed 
to the Valar that he would find his love and that he would be all right. As 
quietly and stealthily as he could, he approached a dense patch of trees and 
foliage, just the place that an Elf who did not want to be found would 
choose for hiding.

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

	Years of training made Lindir alert to any disturbance in the forest, 
but in his saddened state, he almost missed the faint sound that was alien 
to the natural surrounding. When Sador nickered softly, he swiftly moved 
into a crouch, ears straining for the least noise or movement. Pulling his 
knife from his boot, he crept silently across the clearing towards the 
shelter of the trees on the other side.

 	A flash of gold from behind made him tense, then increase his 
speed, but before he could reach his stride, a heavy weight crashed into his 
back and pushed him forward to the ground. Glorfindel held on tight to his 
love as Lindir struggled to free himself, the ancient warrior crying Lindir's 
name as tears welled in his eyes.
      
      "Leave me be, Glorfindel, please. Let me go," Lindir whispered in 
between pants as he strove to free himself from the strong grasp of the 
Elda. But his effort was in vain; he could not dislodge the heavier and 
stronger Elf. 
      
      "Why, tell me… why…. Lindir? Glorfindel whispered back, tears 
flowing freely now that he had his lover in his arms. "Why do you wish to 
run from me? What have I done to deserve this?"
      
      Lindir, hearing his lover's plea, felt another dam burst inside. His 
body heaved with his sobs as he fought to catch his breath. The fight had 
left him, he had no choice but to tell the only one he had ever loved why it 
was their love could not be. 
      
      "I-I never wished to hurt you, Glorfindel," Lindir said. "If y-you 
release me I will tell you what you wish to hear." The minstrel's voice 
hitched at these words and Glorfindel took pity on him, loosening his grip. 
Lindir turned onto his back so he was facing his lover. He looked into the 
warrior's wet eyes and his heart bled at seeing Glorfindel's tear-stained 
cheeks. His resolve weakened, his courage almost failed him, but he could 
not hold his secret inside any longer. Taking a deep breath he closed his 
eyes and began his story.
      
       "I am not what I seem, Glorfindel. All these years I have called 
Imladris home and partaken of its hospitality. But I have given nothing in 
return but falsehood and dishonesty. You, who at an early stage in my life, 
I called benefactor, I betrayed most of all."
      
      Here Lindir paused, trying to find courage to go on. Glorfindel had 
not said a word once he had released the minstrel, only gazed at him with 
eyes filled with hurt. If Lindir could erase that look, he would give the 
world, but he knew his next words would cut deep. Words that once 
spoken would leave no doubt in the warrior's mind that Lindir was worse 
than evil.
      "At the time in my life that I needed someone the most, you found 
and comforted me. I was but an Elfling, hurting, bleeding inside, yet you 
took me in and gave to me so much of yourself. The days and weeks I 
spent in the healing halls found you always at my bedside, ever cheery and 
supportive, and I looked forward to your visit each and every day.
      
      "Lord Elrond healed my body, but you healed my spirit, at least as 
much as any could. And you were kind not to ask what I had been 
through, and I hid it deep inside, knowing that if I told, all I had gained 
would be lost.
      
      "But others asked and guessed and I let them think that which was 
not true. After my parents' death, Glorfindel, I did lose my senses for a 
while. It was then you found me, and a glorious being you seemed. Your 
hair shone golden in the sun and your eyes were like an endless summer 
sky. I could have gazed forever in their depths. You were my savior; my 
hero and I worshipped you. But you, like everyone else I played false."
      
      Here Lindir paused again. His ocean blue eyes gazed into the same 
sky-blue ones that he remembered on that long ago day. Only this time, 
they brought no comfort, only pain. Pain because he knew this was the last 
time Glorfindel would look at him as a friend, much less a lover.
      
      Other memories surfaced. The cold look on a bearded face of one 
that watched as an Elf fought desperately for his life. The rock hard grip 
around Lindir's chest as he struggled to free himself, just as he had 
struggled with his lover only moments ago. His adar's shock as the red 
river of life poured from his body, his last whisper of love to his only son, 
all this flashed in never-ending play behind his eyes. Then the scene 
switched to his Nana and the hurt the cruel men inflicted on her body. 
Scenes not understood at his tender age, but grasped years later. They had 
made him watch, and he saw the light fade from her face just as it had 
from his adar's. 
      
      He should have struggled harder, longer, should have bit and 
stomped and scratched, done anything to remove the vile arms that held 
him. But he did not, only watched and screamed for the Valar to show 
mercy. But that was just the beginning of his crime. When the light had 
died from both his parents and the Men had released him from their hold, 
he did not fall upon the knife and travel to the place where his loved ones 
beckoned. Nay, he was selfish and he pleaded instead for the Men to save 
him, aye, he begged for his life. He deserted his parents, left them calling 
for him as they made their way to the place where the wronged resided. 
Left them childless… and for what? To beg succor from the very souls 
who ruthlessly maimed and murdered them, the two Elves that had cared 
for him more than life itself, the two Elves who had died trying to protect 
him.
      
      He had done as the Men bade. With blistered hands he had turned 
the earth aside to dig the grave that would be his parents' final resting-
place. He had endured the taunts and evil lurks, the filthy hands that 
touched him everywhere. Endured it all to see one more glimpse of the sun 
and the green growing of the trees. And when the hole was deep enough to 
cover those dear ones that had given him life, he was the first to cast the 
dark earth over them. 
      
      It was at that moment through his tears he saw her, the ghostly 
outline of his Nana as she opened her arms and begged him to come with 
her. With tears streaming down her cheeks she called his name over and 
over, pleading to Lindir with her eyes and voice. Oh how he longed to feel 
her warm embrace, to have her hold him next to her heart and whisper 
sweet words of endearment. But his feet would not move, his wish for life 
too strong, and so he broke her heart. With his own so burdened with 
sorrow he could barely stand, he watched as the ghostly image of his adar 
gave him one last longing glance, then turned his Nana around and led her 
away, their sorrowful images fading into the trees. He never saw them 
again except in dreams. Coming out of his reverie, he looked once again at 
the beautiful face of his love. 
      
       "M-my parents were not murdered by Orcs as I led everyone to 
believe, Glorfindel," Lindir burst out suddenly, "*I* killed them!" And in 
a softer voice, "I killed them."
      
      And with that he jumped to his feet and ran. Glorfindel followed, 
but the injury to his thigh would not allow him the speed he needed to 
catch the younger Elf. Still he ran, on and on till he thought his chest 
would burst from the effort. And just when he thought he could not run 
anymore, the Valar granted him a gift, for Lindir's boot caught on a root 
and the white-haired Elf went down on his knees. Glorfindel pushed with 
all he had and in a maddening dive managed to catch Lindir by the ankle 
before he could re-gain his footing. With the strength of years of practice 
with the sword, the Elda pinned Lindir to the ground once more. 
      
      It was a moment before he could speak, but when he did, his voice 
was soft. "No, Lindir, you are wrong. I saw your parents die and it was not 
you that killed them."
      
      "You were there!" Lindir exclaimed in disbelief. "You were there 
and did naught to stop it?"
      
      Glorfindel turned the minstrel so they were face to face, but still 
kept a tight hold on him. "Nay, meleth (4), I was not there when it 
happened. Did you truly believe that after finding one so young, lost, 
abandoned and abused, that I would make no effort to find the cause? 
Once you were settled comfortably and sedated I led a party of Elves on a 
search. It took us long, but we found the grave where your parents were 
buried. When we unearthed the bodies we saw the cause of their death. No 
Elfling could have caused those hurts, even if he had a mind to.
      
      "We brought them back to Imladris, Lindir, where they were given 
an Elven burial. You were heavily sedated and too weak to attend. We 
thought the trauma of seeing your parents die had left you in a weakened 
state, not just your body, Lindir, but your mind. So we hid our findings 
from you when you awakened, waiting for a better time to tell you."
      
      "But you *never* did, Glorfindel," Lindir said, once more 
expressing disbelief they could have kept such important information from 
him. "Why?"
      
      Glorfindel struggled with the question and for a long time did not 
speak. "There is more to the story, Lindir, but I swore an oath that I would 
not reveal it to you. I wish I could tell you, but I cannot."
      
      "Cannot, Glorfindel, or will not!" Lindir snapped his eyes ablaze. 
"I was worried that my lies would cause you pain and now I find you have 
secrets that are just as dark. Let me up," he cried, trying to pry the 
warrior's hands from his arms. 
      
      Glorfindel moved to a sitting position and pulled Lindir up with 
him, however he still did not release him from his hold. "Everything I 
have done *to* you and *for* you has been for your own good. I love you 
Lindir that is not a lie. What I withhold from you, I do only because it 
would hurt you to know the truth."
      
      "Oh, and what gives you the power to determine that, Glorfindel!" 
Lindir almost spat in the other's face. "Hurt? You wish to know about 
hurt? I did watch my parent's die. You wondered once why I had such 
hatred of Men? So would you, meldir, if you were pulled from your 
father's arms by a filthy group of Edain--cutthroats, thieves. Twenty 
against one it was, and my adar could not take them all. He died when the 
leader's sword pierced his heart, and I watched his blood flow till there 
was none left in his body. Yes, Glorfindel, I watched as the last words 
from his lips were for his wife and son. He died knowing what his wife 
would face next, and I watched *for* him as each one took my mother, 
watched while her lips that kissed me so tenderly were ravaged by 
those…animals. Watched and screamed as they killed her with their 
passion, watched until she no longer drew breath. What could you 
withhold from me, gwador, worse than that!"
      
      "Glorfindel's eyes went wide with shock as he listened to Lindir. 
"You knew!" he whispered, "You knew all along! That which we swore to 
keep secret, which we thought would send you over the edge, you already 
knew!"
      
      "Does that shock you, Glorfindel? That I watched and did 
nothing?" Lindir asked. "You talk of more, well I will tell you…more. 
You are right, Glorfindel, it was Men that took the life from my parents' 
bodies, but it was I that killed their hearts! It was I who begged for life 
while they pleaded with me to leave Arda, to enter into Mandos' Halls. I 
broke their hearts into tiny pieces. They will be reborn and live in Valinor, 
but I… I can never face them again!"
      
      Lindir tried again to free himself from Glorfindel's grasp, not 
wanting to see the hatred that he knew would show in the Elda's eyes. But 
Glorfindel held him fast, and to his surprise, kissed the tears away from 
his eyes. 
      
      "Lindir, my love… Lindir, you were so young. I myself would 
have chosen as you did in that situation. Do you truly think your parents 
would have wished for you to die, parents as caring as yours? No love, in 
your shock your mind conjured a vision that you wished to see, that of 
your mother begging you to stay with her, because you did not want her to 
be gone. I have been to Mandos' Halls. None return from there the way 
you pictured your mother, nor linger between this life and death the way 
you describe. I speak the truth, my love, from experience. Yes, you have 
lived with a lie all your life, Lindir, but it is your vision that is false, not 
you. You did nothing wrong, Lindir. *You* were wronged."
      
      "Y-you do not hate me?" Lindir asked hesitantly, "knowing that 
which I did?"
      
      "Lindir, look into my eyes and see the truth," Glorfindel 
commanded. And Lindir looked, and he saw.

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

	Haldir heard them before they appeared, two muddied bedraggled 
Elves leaning against each other with love shining in their eyes, followed 
by a sleepy and somewhat bored mare. Thanking the Valar that they were 
safe, he rushed over and swept them both into his arms. 


Elven words and phrases used in this chapter

1. Limlug naur! - Dragon fire!
2. elleth - female Elf, Elf maid
3. meldir - friend
4. meleth - love