Title: My Heart's Desire: Part 2 – If You Go Away. 
Author: Ryo 
Author's Email: izumrud4u@yahoo.com 
Pairings: Haldir/Gidor, Glorfindel/Legolas 
Rating: NC-17 
Summary: Sometimes to find love is easier than to keep it safe. Sequel to "To Wait For 
You".
   

Chapter 12. By The Whim Of Fate.



Glorfindel and Gildor were sharing wine and a talk behind the curtain of Gildor's
favourite window-niche while the revelry of the Solstice ball went on around them.

"I wish I could go to Mirkwood with you," Glorfindel sighed.

Gildor looked at him in surprise. "What makes you think I'm going there?"

"Elrond is sending an envoy to Thranduil. I assumed it would be you."

"Well, you assumed wrong."

Now it was Glorfindel's turn to be surprised. "You are not going?"

"No."

"Why?"

Gildor raised his glass up to his eyes and looked at the candle light through the wine,
enjoying the rich colour.

"As we have fully established diplomatic relations with Mirkwood now, it is not likely
Thranduil will kick Erestor out of his kingdom. So this time our Chief Advisor will have
to do his work himself."

Glorfindel leaned back against the wall and scrutinized Gildor with narrowed eyes.

"This is the first time you refuse to go see Thranduil."

"I do not need an official cause to go see him, don't you think? I could have done it any
moment I wished."

"Exactly my thought. So why haven't you?"

Glorfindel could tell Gildor was not enjoying the topic but still the Vanya replied.

"Thranduil will not let me off until I have answered all his maddening questions. I will
have to tell him everything. He will make me look into my heart, searching for reasons
and motives, and I am not ready for that sort of quest yet."

"And when do you think you will be?"

"How do I know? Can we drop this subject for now, please?"

Gildor's testiness was an indication for Glorfindel that he must have touched a sore
spot.

"But you are not planning to shirk Legolas's majority ceremony, are you?" he asked after
a pause.

"No. I promised him I would come."

The silence that fell between them after that was broken by a sudden loud peal of
laughter as a boisterous company of young elves settled on a bench on the other side of
their curtain.

"Just get him!"

" ‘Everything that moves'?"

"Come on, Randir, admit it's a whopper!"

"He didn't strike me as licentious when he lived here."

"He was different then," Randir argued. "And now he is quite a rake. Actually, I know it…
firsthand."

"Did you bed him?" one of his friends asked incredulously.

"Well… yes."

The confession was followed by an outburst of surprised exclamations and eager questions.

Glorfindel threw a glance at Gildor. The Vanya was looking down at the wine he was
swirling in his glass. A faint smile was playing round his lips and for some reason this
smile worried Glorfindel more than a fit of Gildor's anger could possible have done. He
was about to step out and shoo the over-talkative company away when he heard Elladan's
voice.

"What is this all hubbub about?" the elder twin inquired.

"Randir is telling us about his exciting experience with a certain Marchwarden of
Lórien," one of the elves explained laughingly.

"Oh."

Glorfindel pulled the curtain away a little and Elladan caught the slight movement,
turned his head and met Glorfindel's significant look. The prince's eyes widened a little
and he mouthed a silent curse.

"Come on, Randir," he said then. "Such tales are better told over a bottle of miruvor."

And he led the company away to the tables with refreshments.

Glorfindel turned back to Gildor. His friend looked calm and unperturbed as if he had not
heard the conversation or had not understood who it was about; or simply did not care.
Even his lowered lashes did not flutter. Glorfindel was almost taken in by his cool
appearance when suddenly the glass in Gildor's hand burst and the wine ran down his
fingers and wrist, mingling with his blood. Glorfindel gasped and Gildor looked up at
him, his eyes dark and stormy.

"I want to kill them all, those elves he sleeps with," he admitted in a fierce whisper.
"Why can they have what I am denied?"

Glorfindel collected himself quickly.

"It would take you a lot of time and effort: they are too many," he muttered grumpily,
taking out a handkerchief and bandaging Gildor's hand. "Would it not be easier to kill
only one - the cause of your problems?"

"I think I am already close enough to being able to do it," Gildor smiled bitterly. Then
he jerked his hand away impatiently. "Look at me, Mallos," he said, his voice hoarse, his
eyes feverishly bright. "Look at me and tell me: do you want Legolas to go through the
same anguish? Is the pleasure you find in your meaningless trysts worth his tears and
heartbreak?"

Glorfindel stared at him, shaken to the core. He had never given much thought to the way
Legolas could react, should he learn of his means to assuage his desires. He simply
assumed that Legolas would *never* know. Now, seeing his friend bleed literally and
figuratively, he realized for the first time what a disaster it could be; how badly his
young lover could be hurt by something he himself thought so little of. Even if his, as
Gildor had rightfully called them, meaningless trysts cost Legolas only one single tear,
only one moment of pain – it was a too high price to pay for his fleeting pleasures.
Glorfindel knew for sure at that moment that he would never be able to cheat on Legolas
again; for nothing but cheating it was, no matter what he had preferred to call it.

Glorfindel raised his head to look Gildor in the face again.

"Ah. Now you understand," the Vanya smiled slightly, though his eyes glittered with
unshed tears.

Glorfindel swallowed hard. "I do. Come on, you must see a healer," he added then,
pointing at the blood-soaked handkerchief around Gildor's palm. "There may still be some
shards left."

Gildor nodded, hid his injured hand in the wide sleeve of his tunic and they left their
hiding place.


Gildor and the twins rode out of Imladris along with Erestor and his escort and traveled
with them as far as the Misty Mountains. Then they turned north in the direction of the
High Pass while Erestor's party took the Redhorn Pass, as they were to go to Mirkwood via
Lórien.



Haldir and Amarion rode slowly through the city gate, returning from their day's long
trip about the forest. Haldir had showed up at Amarion's doorstep at dawn, announcing
that he badly needed to get out of the city and that even more did he need his best
friend by his side. Amarion sighed and complied as he had done many times before, in
spite of his lover's open displeasure. So they spent the day in the forest and headed
back only when the golden daylight started to turn into blue twilight. They met Narmacil
halfway to their talans. The Noldo was wearing his uniform. Amarion looked at him in
surprise.

"You did not tell me you were on duty today."

"I was not initially," Narmacil replied coolly, obviously still angry with his lover.
"But the Lady wants us all present as the guard of honour: a delegation from Imladris has
arrived today."

Haldir froze on the spot, blood draining gradually from his face. The Noldo gave him a
smirk.

"Do not worry: *he* has not come."

"Who has, then? Glorfindel?" Amarion asked, drawing Narmacil's attention back to himself
and away from Haldir.

"No. It is Erestor this time. Would you excuse me now? I have to go or I shall be late."

Narmacil moved to leave but Amarion caught him by the arm, pulled him into a kiss and did
not let him go till he overcame Narmacil's resistance and got just as heartfelt a kiss in
return.

"Ah, true love, so sweet," Haldir murmured darkly as they resumed their way. The first
moment after he heard that Gildor had not come he was relieved but what he felt right now
was very much akin to disappointment. "Well, since your lover is busy, you might as well
join me at the Silver Goblet later tonight."

"No, thanks. I'd rather stay at home and wait for Narmacil's return."

"Come on," Haldir drawled. "There is no fun in sitting alone in an empty house. Besides I
want you badly by my side. Don't you see that I am dreadfully upset and in need of moral
support?"

Amarion smirked. "Why should I risk riling my lover again for your sake?"

"Because you are my best friend and you love me so much."

Amarion laughed and shook his head. "You are incorrigible. I'll meet you in an hour."


Haldir put his and Amarion's goblets on the barstand for the barmaid to refill.

"Shall I bring you some food?" the girl asked. "Or is it no-thanks-only-wine-for-me-
Alfirin again?"

"You know the drill so well, so why do you always have to ask?" Haldir gave her a sweet
smile.

Alfirin huffed at him angrily and poured wine into the goblets.

"Actually," she began but suddenly stopped, staring at something behind Haldir's back.
"Sweet Lady of the stars!" she murmured in admiration. "Who's that beauty? He is so…
exotic!"

Haldir looked over his shoulder. "Oh, that. That, my sweet, is Lord Elrond's Chief
Advisor. And stop gawking, girl, as if you have never seen a Noldo before."

"Well, not the like of this one."

Haldir turned around and leaned his elbow on the barstand, watching Erestor come up to
him unhurriedly. He had to admit that the Advisor did make a striking sight. He was
dressed in a tunic and tight leggings and this sort of clothes did him much more justice
than his usual long robes. The deep russet colour of his tunic complemented his pale
complexion and dark eyes. His loose raven hair streamed down his shoulders and back like
shimmering silk. Haldir raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down appraisingly: the
Advisor certainly seemed quite a different elf when away from his office.

Erestor stopped in front of Haldir and smiled.

"Haldir, it is a pleasure to see you again."

"I can say the same about you, Advisor," Haldir replied without altering his casual pose.
"Though I must admit I am surprised to see you here in this tavern. I thought you would
be feasted in the Lord's hall."

"Well, I am not," Erestor smiled again. "It is not an official visit. We just stopped
here on our way to Mirkwood. So I decided to take the chance and to say hello to my
Lórien friends."

"Indeed?" Haldir gave him a lazy smirk. "Who could they possibly be?"

"You, for one," Erestor replied, his voice acquiring mellow, sensual timbre. He leaned
against the barstand, mirroring Haldir's stance.

"I am flattered." Haldir brought his goblet up to his lips, still preserving their eye
contact.

"Would you like some wine, sir?" Alfirin asked Erestor and the Noldo nodded without
taking his eyes off Haldir's face.

"I told you I am your friend," he said. "And I told you my door is always open for you."

Alfirin put a filled glass in front of Erestor and he took a sip from it. Haldir watched
the tip of Erestor's tongue slowly swipe a droplet of wine from his lower lip.

"Aye, you did," he murmured softly.

"My offer still stands." Erestor looked deep into the Galadhel's eyes.

Haldir gazed back at him thoughtfully, contemplating whether to take the Noldo up on his
offer or not. He had come to the tavern to find company for the night and Erestor was a
perfect choice for a bedmate: he was beautiful and undoubtedly skillful. But for some
reason Haldir felt very bad about bedding him. He knew for certain Erestor would not keep
their tryst a secret and he had a feeling Gildor might be upset to hear about it. Though
why he was worried about that – Haldir had no idea.

From the corner of his eye Haldir saw a movement and turned his head to find Amarion by
his side. He looked back at Erestor and smiled.

"And I still prefer blonds," he said, hooking his arm around his friend's neck.

Erestor's pleasant countenance never wavered. "Who could have thought. It is so different
from what *we* heard in Imladris."

Haldir felt a sudden stab of pain in his heart and berated himself for it silently: he
should not be bothered any longer by Gildor's opinion of him. But he was. However, he
managed to preserve his calm appearance.

"Gossip is not a reliable source, Advisor. You of all people should know that. Would you
excuse us now? Something tells me that my friend here is eager to go home to play. Aren't
you, my pretty one?"

He pulled Amarion closer to himself so that their lips almost touched. Amarion tilted his
head back and to one side, avoiding Haldir's lips but he still played along.

"Yes," he muttered.

"See?" Haldir gave Erestor a little apologetic smile, his hand caressing Amarion's neck.
"But I am leaving you with a light heart because I know you will not stay alone for long.
A lot of people here find you… exotic."

He winked at Alfirin. The girl blushed and threw him a murderous look.

"So allow us to wish you a pleasant night, Advisor. Enjoy your stay in fair Lórien."

With that he sauntered away, pulling Amarion along with him. Erestor watched him go with
an amused smile and Haldir's fellow Geledhil did it with a sigh: it seemed it was one of
those rare nights when Haldir went to bed alone.



Glorfindel ran up the main staircase and walked briskly along the corridor, heading for
Erestor's room. The Advisor and his party had returned when Glorfindel was on the
training grounds and he had to finish his practice with his soldiers before he could go
and learn the news Erestor had brought. And collect his letter, of course. The one he had
been waiting for eagerly for these two months. Glorfindel smiled self-consciously: he had
been behaving like an elfling in the excitement of his first love. But he could not help
it. The young Sindarin prince had managed to awake in him the feelings he thought he
would never experience. He had come to believe that he was incapable of having them
because no one had ever been able to make him feel that way. But Legolas proved him to be
wrong. With a mere smile he managed to break the evil spell, and suddenly all the long
millennia of loneliness and longing, of sleepless nights and cold beds, of futile hopes
and dashed illusions molded into a feeling of such scorching power that Glorfindel knew
from the very first moment that it was the love of his life. Legolas made him feel
strikingly alive, vibrating with energy and young again. He thanked the Valar from the
very deep of his heart that his love was not unrequited.

‘Nine years,' he reminded himself as he walked up to Erestor's door. ‘Just nine years
more."

But these nine years seemed longer than nine centuries to him.

He knocked and entered without waiting for permission.

"Of course you can come in, seneschal. How kind of you to take the trouble to knock at
all before rushing in."

Glorfindel ignored the quip. "Have you got any letters for me?" he asked eagerly.

"No," Erestor replied. "But I do have some news, though. I think you should better sit
down."

"What is it?" Glorfindel demanded.

"Will you not take a seat?"

"Do not dance around it. Speak up!" Glorfindel exclaimed impatiently, a vague foreboding
stirring in his heart.

Erestor shrugged. "As you wish. It seems Legolas has learned that you were unfaithful to
him."

Glorfindel cursed dirtily and sank down onto a sofa. "How did he find out?"

"How do I know?" Erestor shrugged again. "I can only try and make a guess. Your liaisons
are not much of a secret in Imladris. And Thranduil has always been very well informed of
everything that comes about here or in Lórien. So… "

Glorfindel stared at him intently and silently.

"What?" Erestor asked, irritated. "For the Valar's sake, Glorfindel, do not look at me
like that! It was not I to let the cat out of the bag. It is enough that I had to
negotiate with Thranduil under such crappy conditions – and do you have any idea just
*how* furious he was? – so don't you try to lay the blame for your mucking things up on
me!"

Glorfindel sighed heavily and looked down on his clasped hands in his lap.

"Was Legolas mad at me?" he asked quietly.

"Mad? No," Erestor chuckled. "At least, not when he spoke with me. Actually, he was very
calm and sensible."

Glorfindel closed his eyes for a moment. "What did he say?"

"He asked me to tell you this: he was angry with you for your infidelity at first. But
then he realized that it had been stupid of him to expect you to remain faithful to him
all these years, for it would imply real attachment from your part. And to think that the
great and legendary Balrog slayer could really be interested in a Sindarin princeling
hardly out of the nursery *was* folly."

Glorfindel moaned, mortified.

"He also said," Erestor went on relentlessly, "that he is sensible enough not to fade
because of the disappointment; that he would take his father's advice and find someone
closer to himself in age and in place of residence."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Glorfindel exclaimed incredulously.

"I do not think so," Erestor replied calmly. "He is believed to be getting rather…
friendly with one of his brother's companions. I saw them together quite often for
myself. Perhaps, the young prince is going to invite him to his bed with time. If he has
not done so yet… "

"What?!" Glorfindel jumped up to his feet. He took several deep breaths to calm down.
"Anything else?"

"Yes," Erestor said in a carefully neutral tone. "King Thranduil has banned you from his
realm. You will not be permitted to cross the Mirkwood border under any pretext, so you'd
better not attempt it."

"We'll see about that," Glorfindel growled and stormed out of the room.

Erestor watched him go in amusement.

"Well," he murmured, "I can only congratulate Prince Legolas on his smart move. But then,
our dear Balrog slayer is touchingly predictable."



The peace and quiet of summer evening was disrupted by the fierce clashing of metal
against metal, cries and curses in the Black Tongue and in Sindarin. When the battle had
just begun, the elves were much outnumbered. But now there were just a few orcs left
still fighting, the rest lying dead or fleeing to their dens deeper in the mountains. It
was almost over.

Gildor feinted and cut with a swift motion the throat of the beast he had been fighting.
A spurt of dark blood hit him in the face, blinding him for a moment, and he saw a
movement on his left barely in time to catch the charging orc on his sword. He could not
stop the momentum though and as the dying creature pressed further on his blade, he was
forced to take a step back, then another... Suddenly he felt stones under his feet shift
and give way and he toppled over the edge of the cliff. He heard Elladan's horrified cry
and then he hit the rocky surface below, the body of his dead enemy falling atop of him
and knocking out what little air remained in his lungs after connecting with the hard
ground. The hilt of his own sword protruding from the orc's chest caught him in the solar
plexus and he blacked out.

Elladan scurried down the slope to the spot of Gildor's fall while Elrohir remained
behind to make sure that all the felled beasts were really dead.

"Gildor!" Elladan rolled the corpse of the orc off the Vanya and kneeled by his side,
checking for wounds and broken bones. "Gildor, please, speak to me!"

"Stop shaking me," Gildor wheezed out.

"You are alive!" Elladan breathed with relief.

"I am fine." Gildor struggled to sit up, moaning and cursing. Elladan tried to support
him but Gildor pushed his hands away. "I said I am fine!"

"You certainly do not look it," Elladan replied, unfazed. "Let Ro examine you." He nodded
at his twin who had just joined them.

"No need. I am… "

"Yes, I heard it: you are fine," Elrohir interrupted, swiftly running his hands over
Gildor's body, slightly touching here and there. "Fine, except for the concussion, two
broken ribs – the same ones you had had fractured by the way – and a lacerated wound in
your arm. It looks like you do need help so let me help you."

The initial shock had passed and Gildor started feeling all his major and minor pains and
aches. His head was reeling and he was afraid he could be sick any moment.

"Help me? Like what? Finish me off?" He inquired grumpily. "Well, be my guest."

"It is a bit early for that. What you need is a healer… "

"You are a healer."

"… and a safe place to rest and recuperate. You will not be able to make it across the
mountains to Imladris in your current state."

In spite of his nausea and spinning head Gildor understood at once where Elrohir was
steering it.

"No way!" He made to get up, anger giving him strength. But his vision suddenly went
black, his legs gave way under him and he slumped down, gasping and clutching at his
side. "I am not going there!" he rasped stubbornly.

Elrohir's patience was running thin.

"Now listen to me, Gildor Inglorion! Are you listening? Because I am not going to say it
twice. We have to move, whether you like it or not. First, I might be a healer but I am
short of medical supplies: we have not been home for I don't know how long. So we have to
get them somewhere. Second, we cannot stay here. You damn well know it is not safe. With
you crippled, we will not be able to fight well enough if we are attacked. And I will not
put my brother's life into jeopardy because of your asinine stubbornness and
overdeveloped pride. And last, you are not the only one in need of rest. So you *are*
going to Lórien even if I have to knock you on the head and bind you hand and foot."

"Easy, Ro," Elladan raised his hand in a placating gesture. "He is bleeding. Can you fix
that first before you knock him out?"

Elrohir took a deep breath, gave a silent nod and went to collect his medical kit from
his saddlebag.

"I almost could hear your grandma speaking," Gildor muttered. "I think I'm going to be
sick."

And he was.

"Valar," he wheezed. "Why couldn't I just be decently killed in battle instead of going
through this humiliation? To be pathetically weak, sick and miserable and, as if it is
not bad enough, to have to go *there* in such a state."

"You know," Elladan said, offering Gildor a flask of water to rinse his mouth, "we do not
have to go all the way to Caras Galadhon. We can just get as far as the border of Lórien
and stay at one of the talans patrol guards use. And Ro can get the stuff he needs from
the reserve stock they keep for a case of emergency."

Gildor looked at Elladan silently and the elder twin smiled. "Lórien has more than one
patrol, dagnir-e-guren. [bane of my heart] And even if it is *his* shift, I shall find a
way to get rid of him. If you do not want to see him, I promise you will not."

Gildor smiled too. "Thank you, mellonen vuil. Thank you." [my dear friend]


Elladan rode along the path, expecting to be hailed by Lórien's guardians any moment and
wondering whose patrol was on duty. When a tall figure stepped out of the shadows, he
cursed silently.

"Welcome to Lórien, my Lord," Orophin greeted him.

"Thank you," Elladan replied.

More elves emerged from the forest, looking clearly surprised to see him alone, without
his twin. Elladan gave them a quick scrutiny and turned back to Orophin.

"Where is your commander?"

"I am in command of this patrol, my Lord," Orophin answered with a little frown.

"Oh. And what happened to your brother?"

Orophin's frown deepened. "He is off duty after a double shift on the border."

"A double shift? What zeal. But then, overkill seems to be his way to do everything, as
we have been told."

Orophin heard Rúmil growl quietly by his side.

"Is your business with Haldir alone, my Lord?" Orophin asked, keeping his voice carefully
neutral. He wondered if Elladan had come to confront his younger brother. With the
Peredhel being their Lord and Lady's grandson and the Crown Prince of Imladris, Haldir
could find himself in a tight corner, should that happen. "Maybe *we* can be of any help
to you?"

"I have no wish whatsoever to meet your brother, Lieutenant. Actually, I am glad he is
not here for we shall be staying with you for several days."

"We?"

"You heard me correctly." Elladan smiled pleasantly.

"Dark flames of Mordor!" Rúmil muttered under his breath as two more riders appeared out
of the wood.

Orophin kept silent but he felt genuinely grateful that Lady Galadriel had made Haldir
stay off duty, for here came his brother's worst affliction. Ice Blade had once again
crossed the border of Lórien.


Chapter 13. By My Own Choice.



Mirkwood


"I know what your orders are, Captain. And I know you got them directly from your king. I
do not ask you to violate them. All I ask of you is to send one of your guards to deliver
my message to king Thranduil." Glorfindel's voice was urgent and insistent. "In the
meanwhile I shall stay with you and take your guard's place so that you will not be a
soldier short."

The commander of the Mirkwood patrol looked at the Imladris seneschal thoughtfully. He
had heard a lot about the legendary Balrog slayer, though he had seen him only once
before when Glorfindel came to Mirkwood with Gildor a decade ago. King Thranduil seemed
to be quite friendly to Glorfindel at that time. But then, the captain mused, their king
always was in a joyful mood when his fair lover came to visit him. Perhaps Glorfindel
should have brought Gildor with him this time too. The captain did not know what the
Imladris seneschal could have possibly done for king Thranduil to forbid him entrance
into his realm, but whatever it was, Glorfindel had probably come to make amends for it.
Judging by the way he looked and spoke, it was really important for him to see the king.
The Sindarin captain wished to help the renowned warrior and, besides, there was nothing
in his orders about not allowing Glorfindel to stay at the border of Mirkwood, only about
not allowing him inside. So the captain made his decision.

"Write your message, Lord Glorfindel," he said. "I shall do as you ask."


* * *


Elrond was not at all happy when Glorfindel marched into his study and announced that he
had to go away on private business.

"How long will it take you?" he asked, displeased.

"About a month, at the least."

"There seems to be an epidemic of personal problems in Imladris," Elrond grumbled. "It
has already cost me my Captain and now my seneschal has fallen prey to it too. I thought
you two were old and experienced enough to deal with any situation without making silly
blunders."

Glorfindel smiled a little self-consciously. "We may be experienced in war craft, but the
matters of love are still unknown terrain to us and we explore it by trial and error."

Elrond sighed and was silent for several moments, playing with the quill in his hands.

"Do you really have to take off in such a rush, Glorfindel?" he asked then. "I have a
feeling you are about to do exactly the thing you have been maneuvered into doing."

Glorfindel shrugged. "Even if it is so, I'd rather do what is expected of me. Actually, I
am prepared to do anything and everything to put things right. I do not want to repeat
Gildor's mistake and lose the only person I love because of not saying things that need
to be said."

Elrond nodded. "Go then. I only hope you will come back in one piece for I shall be truly
hard pressed to find a replacement for you."

"Thank you, my friend. Thank you."

During the whole journey to Mirkwood Glorfindel prayed for everything he had learned from
Erestor to be just Legolas's plan to remind him of what he had been risking with his
liaisons. Glorfindel had no idea what he would do should his beautiful prince really have
had a change of heart. The only thing he knew for sure was that he would do anything to
win Legolas back.

When he was stopped by the Mirkwood patrol and its captain informed him he was not
allowed into the woodland realm, Glorfindel understood to his dismay that Erestor's
report had been correct and things were really that bad. But Glorfindel was not one to
give in so easily. He was prepared to use every means to get to Legolas even if he had to
sneak into Thranduil's kingdom without permission.


* * *


Glorfindel watched anxiously as one of the Sindarin guards mounted and rode away, hoping
fervently that Thranduil would act rationally and he would not have to resort to extreme
measures.



Thranduil and his sons were finishing their lunch when Thranduil's steward entered the
room discretely, handed the king a small message and whispered something into his ear.
Thranduil nodded.

"Thank you, Lamdill. Tell Magor he will not be riding back tonight."

The steward bowed respectfully and left. Thranduil opened the message and then looked up.

"Your stray suitor has arrived, Legolas," he said.

Legolas sat up and Aranaur leaned back in his chair, grinning.

"Is he *here*?" Legolas asked in wide-eyed excitement.

"Not quite. He was stopped at the border," Thranduil replied calmly.

"Why?"

"Ada forbade to let him into our realm, remember?" Aranaur reminded his brother, amused.

"Ada?" Legolas looked at his father expectantly. "What will you do now?"

Thranduil chuckled. "What will you have me do, ion?"

"Allow him to come, of course!"

Aranaur snorted and Legolas threw him a dark look. "I mean, allow him to come here."

"All over the… "

Thranduil looked at his elder son warningly and Aranaur bit on his tongue to check the
comment.

Thranduil turned to Legolas again. "Do not be too hasty, Leafling. Let him stew in his
own juice for a while. Besides, he offered to take Magor's place while Magor delivered
his message to me." Thranduil winked at his sons. "I do not want to miss the chance to
have the renowned Balrog slayer serve as my patrol guard for a day or two."

"Ada, you are wicked," Legolas sighed with a smile.

"So I assume he has come alone?" Aranaur asked then, watching their father with shrewd
eyes.

Thranduil nodded and looked down at the strip of parchment he had been twirling between
his fingers.

"Oh." Legolas felt an instant pang of guilt for having forgotten in his excitement of
everything and everyone else. "Gildor has not come again? Why?"

"This is what I intend to find out," Thranduil answered, throwing the message on the
table.

There were only two words in it: "Legolas. Gildor."



The servant opened the door of Thranduil's study for Glorfindel and bowed respectfully.
Glorfindel took a deep breath and entered. The door closed softly behind him. Thranduil
was standing with his back to the window and Glorfindel could not see his face properly
because of the sunlight streaming into the room through the window panes. There was a
moment of silence and then, realizing that Thranduil would not be the one to start the
conversation, Glorfindel made the first move.

"Greetings, Thranduil," he said.

"I shall not say ‘welcome', Glorfindel, for that will be a lie," Thranduil replied.

Glorfindel sighed and nodded. "I understand your feelings."

"Oh? You think you do?"

Glorfindel winced slightly at the quiet fury in Thranduil's voice.

"You think you know how I feel about your playing with my son's heart? I strongly doubt
it. I was not overly happy about Legolas's choice from the very beginning. But Gildor
spoke for you and I decided to give you a chance because I thought he might know you
better than I. Well, you have failed him as well."

Glorfindel tried to remain calm, understanding that he was getting no more than he had
deserved.

"You have all the right to be angry with me, Thranduil," he said evenly. "But I swear
that I did not mean to hurt Legolas. Never. I love him more than my life."

"Indeed." Thranduil's voice was as cold as a mountain spring. "You love him that much and
you could not remain faithful to him for a mere fifteen years?"

"I do not love Legolas less because of the elves I bedded. Those trysts did not mean
anything to me. There was no love in that, only lust," Glorfindel tried to explain.
"Surely you should understand that. I do not think you remained chaste between Gildor's
visits. Not to mention the fact that you have a bonded mate."

"We shall not go into that," Thranduil cut him short. "The arrangements between my wife
and myself are none of your concern. As for Gildor, we never promised or expected
anything from each other. We always knew exactly where we stand with our relationship.
While you – you swore eternal love to my son and he *believed* you! This is why he takes
your behaviour as a betrayal and an insult and he has every right to do so."

Glorfindel closed his eyes for a moment. "Please, Thranduil, let me talk to Legolas," he
pleaded then. "Give me a chance to explain everything to him. If after that he still
cannot forgive me and does not want to see me, well… I shall not bother him again."

There was a long ominous pause. Glorfindel still could not discern the expression of
Thranduil's face and the king's silence made him grow more and more apprehensive. Finally
Thranduil spoke.

"Fine. I shall not prevent Legolas from meeting you if he decides he wants to hear what
you have to tell him. But I will surely not make him do that if he decides against it.
And you must give me your word of honour that if he refuses to see you, you will not try
to seek him out and will leave Mirkwood at once."

Glorfindel nodded, accepting Thranduil's conditions. "You have my word."

Thranduil left his place by the window, walked up to his desk and sat down in his chair.

"Now tell me about Gildor," he demanded, motioning for Glorfindel to take a seat opposite
himself.

And Glorfindel told him everything, including the reason for Gildor's refusal to go see
Thranduil. When Glorfindel finished, Thranduil was silent for a long time. Glorfindel
could tell he was genuinely upset.

"So he does not trust anyone now," Thranduil murmured, shaking his head. "Not even me… I
hope he still plans to be present at Legolas's majority ceremony?"

"Yes, he does," Glorfindel confirmed.

"Good. Well, Seneschal, remember what you promised me. I shall give my son a day to make
his decision. If he does not grant you an audience till tomorrow, you will leave without
further argument."

Thranduil called a servant and ordered him to take Glorfindel to one of guest rooms.


Glorfindel spent the day in anxious expectation, his hope fading by each passing hour.
Lunch was brought to him, then supper - and still no word from Legolas came. Twilights
outside his window gradually darkened into a starlit night and Glorfindel understood that
all was lost for him. He would have to leave next morning and to try to find a way to
survive the greatest loss of his second life.

He lay down on his bed and waited for the dawn, dully looking up at the ceiling above his
head. He almost slipped into fitful sleep when there came a sudden sharp knock and his
door opened. Glorfindel blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of drowsiness but when
he saw who his late night visitor was he jumped up, instantly wide awake.

"Legolas!"

The prince was dressed in a long robe and at that moment looked very much like his
father: beautiful, regal and unapproachable. Legolas let his eyes slide down from
Glorfindel's loose golden mane over the hard planes of his bare chest to the low-sitting
sleeping pants and back up again. Then he looked Glorfindel in the face, his own
countenance betraying nothing.

"You wanted to speak with me, Seneschal," he said. "Well, here I am. Speak."

Glorfindel took several tentative steps forward but did not dare come close enough to
Legolas to touch him. He had not decided upon the things he would say to Legolas when
they met, hoping that the right words would come to him when he needed them. But now,
looking at the young elf's dispassionate face, he suddenly felt tongue-tied. He had never
doubted the fact that Legolas still loved him, so he was prepared to face his fury,
resentment or indignation but he was not ready at all to see Legolas's utter
*indifference*. That baffled and frightened him.

"I am sorry, Legolas," he uttered finally.

"You have a sound reason to be," the prince replied dispassionately.

"I did not want to hurt you."

"But you did."

"I never meant for that to happen. I love you."

"Are you sure?" There was a trace of emotion in the prince's voice for the first time.
"Am I even close to what you love these days? They say you take only girls to your bed
now and I am no girl, Glorfindel."

"Of course you are not! Thank the Valar for that. I am afraid you confuse the reason with
the consequence, Legolas. I bedded ellith because they have *nothing* in common with you.
I thought that as it was so different, I could believe I remained faithful to you, even
if in a very peculiar way." [female elves]

Baffled, Legolas stared at Glorfindel, trying to perceive his logic. "This is a weird
idea of fidelity, Glorfindel," he said finally.

"I know." Glorfindel smiled guiltily.

Now that Legolas's mask of equanimity slipped off and he looked more like the young elf
he knew and loved, Glorfindel felt hopeful again.

"Please, Legolas," he pleaded, "try to understand. All those elves – I took pleasure in
them and gave pleasure in return, but there was no love in that. This is how I have lived
all my life. I shared my body but never my heart. *You* hold it in your hands, Glawar,
and no one else will ever have it, whether you keep it or throw it away. I love *you* and
only you. It was the constant thoughts of you that made my longing unbearable and forced
me to seek relief of some kind. For nothing more than seeking relief it was. I confess I
gave no thought to my actions and I bitterly regret my thoughtlessness now because it
cost you so much pain. I am sorry. If you would only give me a chance to earn your
forgiveness… " [Sunlight]

Legolas's eyes were no longer cold but something in the way the prince was looking at him
warned Glorfindel that his troubles were not over yet.

"I hope you understand that you will have to make up nicely to me?" Legolas inquired.

"I will," Glorfindel promised, almost swaying on his feet with relief. "In any way you
wish."

"Good."

Legolas walked up to the bed, shrugged off his robe and stretched out on the silk
coverlet in all the glory of his nakedness. Glorfindel gaped. It was the first time he
got a chance to see what was hidden beneath the prince's clothes. He marveled at the
sight, drinking in every inch of golden perfection, laid out in front of him.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" Glorfindel managed to bring out at last, his throat
suddenly dry.

"You said you love me, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Well, prove it."

Glorfindel's heart missed a beat. He started moving before he realized he was doing it.
But he managed to check the motion by the remnants of his willpower and stopped two steps
away from the bed and the golden temptation on it.

"We cannot do it, Legolas," he sighed, making no attempt to conceal his regret. "This is
not right. You are under age yet. Your father will have my hide for it."

"You said you would make up to me," Legolas reminded relentlessly. "In *any* way I wish.
Will you go back on your word now? Yet again?"

Glorfindel did not respond to Legolas's baiting though his body was screaming an eager
‘yes' to the prince's offer and only millennia of training allowed his will to bridle his
raging desire. He had messed up things once. Now he was determined to do everything
properly. Even if it meant saying ‘no' to something he would gladly face another Balrog
to get.

Legolas had no idea what inner struggle Glorfindel was going through. He could not even
guess what it cost the older elf to remain still and outwardly calm. He was puzzled and
disheartened by his lack of reaction.

"What is wrong, Glorfindel?" he asked, his voice betraying his confusion. "Do you not
like what you see? Am I not… Do you not find me desirable?"

It was the insecurity in Legolas's eyes that tipped the scales for Glorfindel.

"Oh, Legolas!"

He quickly crossed the remaining distance to the bed and slid into it next to his young
lover. He propped himself on one elbow, mirroring Legolas's pose.

"You are the most beautiful and the most desirable elf I have ever met, Glawar, " he
said, cupping the prince's cheek with his hand. "I love you. And Valar help me, I want
you so much that my heart can burst any moment."

Legolas laughed, relieved. "Are you sure it is your heart, Glorfindel? I always thought
that the heart is situated somewhat higher."

"Cheeky brat," Glorfindel growled in mock indignation. "You definitely take after your
father."

Legolas laughed again but his laughter changed abruptly into a startled gasp as
Glorfindel suddenly pushed him back and rolled over to lie fully on top of him.
Glorfindel grabbed Legolas's wrists and brought them swiftly over his head. He smiled,
looking down into the wide blue eyes, framed by almost ridiculously long thick lashes.
Then he dipped his head and captured Legolas's mouth. The prince sighed beneath his lips,
his own lips parting with only the slightest pressure. Glorfindel accepted the invitation
and deepened the kiss, adding more passion to it.

The world began to spin around Legolas. It seemed to him his lover wanted to take his
breath out of his body and it felt like he had almost succeeded. Legolas started sliding
into the wondrous, heady, star-specked darkness, but Glorfindel suddenly let go of his
wrists, and raised himself on his elbows, tearing his mouth from Legolas's. Legolas
gasped for air and arched up, trying to recapture Glorfindel's lips, anxious for the
kissing to continue: it felt so good and so hard and so hungry. But Glorfindel wove his
fingers into Legolas's golden hair and held him in place, starting on a thorough,
intoxicating exploration of his young lover's body.


His lips trailed down Legolas's throat, pressing soft, moist kisses to every curve, every
angle and Legolas moaned helplessly in pleasure. Glorfindel moved down his body with
excruciating slowness, pressing here, stroking there, seeing what made the loudest cries
or the most helpless whimpers. If Glorfindel had harboured any dark doubts as to how
close Legolas and that friend of his brother's could have possibly become, now they were
dispersed by the look of pure wonder on Legolas's face and by the ingenuousness of his
responses. The prince was still his, his alone. Glorfindel was a little ashamed of the
relief that swept through his body just as his heart swelled up with love and gratitude.

By the time Glorfindel reached his stomach Legolas was dizzy with need, his body
thrumming with some unknown, potent, voracious sensation that made him crave more, more,
more. The taste of Legolas's skin, his soft moans and gasps spoke directly to
Glorfindel's loins and his own arousal throbbed painfully but he refused to be hurried.
He paused to press wet kisses to the soft of Legolas's belly and to dip his tongue in the
shallow cave of his navel. The trembling of Legolas's body increased, he was desperately
clutching at the sheets.

Finally Glorfindel had pity of him and took him into his mouth. Legolas cried out and
arched off the bed, tossing his head back. He ended up resting on his elbows, his hips
thrusting helplessly upwards. Glorfindel felt his own heat rise and spiral rapidly beyond
control at Legolas's rapture. It did not take the young prince long to reach his peak.
After several frenetic thrusts his spine bent in a perfect arch and he sprayed his
lover's mouth with liquid warmth. Then he fell back onto the bed, gasping for air and
trying to regain focus of reality. Glorfindel laid his cheek against Legolas's stomach,
feeling the gradually slowing intake of his breath.

"I… " Legolas began but his voice failed him and he had to try again. "I love you," he
finally managed to bring out, still dazed by his new experience.

"I love you too, Glawar," Glorfindel whispered against Legolas's flawless skin. Then he
slid up the bed to lie next to his young lover. "I love you more than my life, Legolas,
never doubt that."

He dipped his head and kissed the prince tenderly on the mouth. Legolas's eyes widened
slightly at the strange flavour of the kiss. Glorfindel chuckled at the wonder on his
face.

"Do you like your own taste?" he teased gently.

"I… " Legolas licked his lips thoughtfully. "I think I do. It was amazing… like… like…
No, I am too inarticulate right now." He gave Glorfindel a blissful sated smile. "I'd
better make a song about it. Later… "

He raised his hand and ran his fingers over his lover's broad chest, brushing over one of
his nipples unwittingly. Glorfindel hissed, his whole body tightening at the feel.
Legolas blinked up at him in surprise but then the reason for Glorfindel's reaction
dawned on him.

"Oh!"

He shot up so abruptly that Glorfindel, who was leaning over him, had to plop down on his
back to avoid collision. Legolas swiftly turned around and kneeled by his side, looking
down at him with guilty eyes.

"I am sorry, meleth, I should have remembered. Let me take care of *your* wants now."

"There is no need for that, Legolas," Glorfindel replied chivalrously, making a desperate
effort to will his raging arousal to subside.

"Liar," Legolas grinned, looking pointedly at the wet smear on the silk of Glorfindel's
sleeping pants.

He crawled forward to place himself between Glorfindel's legs, pushing his thighs wider
apart to make himself comfortable. Then he undid the cord on his lover's trousers, pulled
the fabric over his hips and looked down at the firm curve of flesh that eagerly sprang
free of the cloth. Legolas's lips parted softly around a breath of simple wonder.

"So all those legends are true," he murmured. "You *are* a mighty warrior."

Glorfindel half laughed, half moaned at his young lover's reverence. Legolas flashed a
quick smile at him and then his eyes returned to the object of his admiration. He raised
his hand and touched it tentatively. It felt like warm polished marble in a velvet
sheath. Glorfindel stifled a sharp groan as Legolas's fingers danced over his swollen
arousal. Legolas shot him a glance to make sure he was doing everything right, Glorfindel
gave him a weak smile of approval and the prince became bolder and more explorative. He
closed his hand around the proud column and gave it several experimental strokes.
Legolas's light touches were pure torture for Glorfindel. He was unable to stifle a moan
of frustration and Legolas immediately looked up with worried eyes.

"You are doing everything right, meleth," Glorfindel assured him. "Just grip it harder.
Like this."

He brought his own hand down to join Legolas's. Then he guided the prince's hand up and
down his shaft, setting the rhythm that he knew would propel him up to the peak of this
excruciating pleasure. Legolas easily adopted the pace and soon had his lover gasping and
groaning. The prince was drinking in the sight of Glorfindel in his impassioned state,
marveling at how beautiful he looked: his golden mane mussed up, his perfect face set in
concentration, his eyes flashing bright blue from under the heavy lids.

"Valar, I love you," Legolas breathed.

His husky avowal was the last straw for Glorfindel. He went rigid for a moment and then
cried out his climax, splattering his flat stomach with white, hot liquid, his entire
body shuddering, the hard lean muscles of his thighs tensing and untensing. Legolas
watched his lover coming undone at his hands and his heart swelled with happiness and
pride for having been able to give Glorfindel so much pleasure. He laughed softly with
relief, his anxiety finally gone completely. Glorfindel looked up at him, still
struggling to get the breath back into his lungs.

"He laughs!" he panted in mock indignation. "He has the insolence!"

"I am laughing because I am happy," Legolas explained with a smile.

Glorfindel wiped his stomach with a corner of the sheet, caught Legolas's hand and pulled
him down. Legolas slid along Glorfindel's body and lay atop of him, propping his chin on
his clasped hands. Glorfindel stroked Legolas's silky strands, while basking in the
afterglow of his own climax.

"You are mine now, you know that?" Legolas said suddenly. "Mine alone. And I do not share
with anyone."

"You will not have to, meleth," Glorfindel assured him softly.

"I might be able to do it one day," Legolas went on hesitantly, "when I am as experienced
as Ada and as confident of the strength of our bond as my parents are of theirs."

Glorfindel looked at him silently, marvelling at the fact that so young an elf could be
so wise.

"But not now. Not yet." Legolas searched his lover's face to see if he understood him.
"Do you think I alone can be enough for you till that time?" he asked then hopefully.

"Oh, Glawar, I do not deserve you," Glorfindel breathed. He caught Legolas's face between
his palms and bent forward, lifting his head off the pillow to press a kiss to his
prince's lips. "You will always be enough! It is you I love and no one else. I want to
bind myself to you one day."

"You do?" Legolas could not believe his ears.

"Yes," Glorfindel laughed softly. "I intend to do it as soon as your father gives his
consent. That is, if you want it too. Do you?"

"Oh… " Legolas thought his heart was about to burst from happiness. "I hoped you would
ask me that."

"Well, I shall ask you properly when the time comes. As we shall *properly* celebrate
your majority."

Glorfindel gave the prince a meaningful look and Legolas's face flushed at the innuendo
in the promise.

"And now… " Glorfindel pushed Legolas off himself and sat up. "Go back to your rooms,
Your Highness, and promise me that you will sleep in your own bed till you come of age.
That is, till I am here again."

"All right."

Legolas sighed, got out of bed and put on his robe. Glorfindel got up as well, adjusting
his sleeping garment. He took Legolas into his arms for a goodbye kiss.

"And will *I* be enough for *you*, Glawar?" he murmured against his lover's parted lips.

"Always," Legolas whispered back.



Next morning Glorfindel was ushered into Thranduil's study again. The woodland king rose
from behind his desk politely to greet him.

"So my son has decided to give you one more chance." It was a statement, not a question.

"I am grateful he has," Glorfindel replied sincerely.

"I believe there is no need to say that you cannot afford the luxury of disappointing him
a second time?"

"No need at all," Glorfindel confirmed.

Thranduil studied him for several moments, his eyes shrewd and sharp. But Glorfindel had
checked twice before his mirror that he sported no evidence of his nocturnal activities
so he did not waver under this scrutiny.

"I would never intentionally hurt him, Thranduil," he assured his lover's father
earnestly. "I told you I love him and I truly do. I want you to know that I intend to ask
Legolas's hand in marriage."

There was another pause. Thranduil's face remained unreadable.

"This sort of arrangement is way premature," he said finally.

"I am aware of that and prepared to wait," Glorfindel replied. "I simply want you to know
that I am serious about Legolas and my intentions are honourable."

Thranduil's lips curved up slightly. "Very well. I shall enter you into the list of
eligible mates for my younger son."

Glorfindel smiled. "Yes, do."

"I have a request to you, Glorfindel," Thranduil said then, changing the subject. "I
would like to send a letter to Gildor with you."

"I would gladly act as a messenger," Glorfindel answered. "But I can deliver your letter
only when Gildor comes to Imladris. Only the Valar know where he can be at the moment."

Thranduil nodded his agreement and walked around his massive desk to hand Glorfindel a
sealed parchment.

"Make sure Gildor comes here in nine years," he said.
Suddenly Glorfindel's eyes danced with mirth. "I shall make sure he is here in nine
years. But *you* make sure he comes, Majesty."

"Smartarse," Thranduil smirked.

They clasped each other's forearms in farewell.

"In nine years then, Thranduil."

"In nine years, Glorfindel."




Lórien


The Vanya appeared to be very different from what he had looked like when Orophin and his
brothers met him for the first time six years ago. Now he would not be recognized for
anyone else but for what he really was: a warrior. And a warrior freshly out of battle at
that. He still was in his armour; his clothes dirty, torn at places and smeared with
blood. He looked pallid and his ashen lips were pressed tightly. Judging by the stiff way
he was sitting in his saddle, Orophin would say the Vanya was in pain but he was doing a
good job concealing it. Well, no surprise there.

Gildor and Elrohir rode up to them and stopped by Elladan's side. Gildor met Orophin's
eyes for a moment, answering his greetings, his own eyes distant and bereft of any
emotion. Then his gaze swept over the semi-circle of wardens and suddenly got riveted to
one of them. Gildor looked the elf up and down slowly, as if trying to decide something
for himself. The young guard turned his head to throw an anxious glance at his commander
and when Gildor saw his profile, his eyes darkened and narrowed. Orophin noticed Mergil
fidgeting uneasily under the Vanya's heavy stare and wondered at the meaning of it all.

"We shall need to use your medical supplies," Elrohir said in the meantime. "Could you
send someone with us, Lieutenant, to show where you keep them?"

Orophin nodded and signed to one of his guards. "Hadron."

"No!" Gildor said suddenly, turning back to Orophin. "Him." He indicated Rúmil with his
chin.

Orophin's lips tightened at the Vanya's insulting manner. He was about to give him an
appropriate retort but Rúmil surprised him.

"It's all right," he said softly. "I'll go."

"What was that about?" Elladan asked Gildor quietly as they followed their guide off the
path and into the forest.

"It is safer with his brother," Gildor answered just as quietly, staring steadily ahead
of him. "I do not have to look at him and wonder if he slept with him or not."

Rúmil led them to a large mallorn and pointed up. "Our sleeping quarters are up there.
You are welcome to choose any place you like, as you are guests here. You can leave your
horses to me. I shall take them to the glade where we keep ours."

The princes g
even try to offer him help, aware that to do so in front of a stranger and Haldir's
brother at that would be an insult to Gildor's pride. So all three of them silently
endured the painful process of Gildor's dismounting.

"Shall I bring down a rope-ladder for you?" Rúmil asked, still playing the role of a
hospitable host.

Gildor shot him a quick glance and then looked at Elrohir.

"I need to bathe first," he said.

"It is hardly a good idea in your current state," Elrohir replied, his voice full of
concern.

"I am filthy and stink of orc blood. And I need to wash off the slime before you stitch
my arm."

"He has a point," Elladan seconded Gildor, coming up to stand behind the Vanya and urging
him gently back to lean against his shoulder. "I shall help him. There is sure to be some
spring around, isn't there?" he asked Rúmil then.

"There is a hot spring a short distance from here," the guardian pointed with his hand.

"All right," Elrohir conceded. "But do not let him soak and be careful with his ribs."

Rúmil watched them with acute interest. After all, it was why he had agreed to show them
around in the first place: he wanted to find out if the rumours about Gildor's
relationship with the princes were true and if it could have really been the reason for
his brother's broken heart. He was surprised to see how easily Gildor submitted to the
twins' bossy care. The familiarity of their interaction spoke volumes. He hoped his
little brother had not had to witness what he was witnessing now. Rúmil was brought out
of his musings by Elladan's question.

"Do you have any clothes to spare?"

"Yes," Rúmil replied. "But they are very plain and hardly fit for princes."

The barb was unexpected and unasked for and Gildor heard Elladan draw an angry breath. He
touched his hand soothingly and the elder twin refrained from a retort.

"As long as they are clean, they will do," Elrohir said in a level voice. "Where do you
keep your reserve stock?"

"On one of the flets up this mallorn."

"Very well." Elrohir turned to Elladan and Gildor. "Rúmil and I will go up and find some
clean clothes for you. I shall bring them down so you could go wash and change. And in
the meantime I shall have a look at the medical supplies and see what I can borrow."

When Elrohir and Rúmil disappeared in the boughs of the giant tree, Gildor turned to face
Elladan.

"You should forgive him his hostility, El. He is Haldir's brother. It is only natural he
has taken his side and probably blames me for everything."

"I do not see why you should be the one at fault," Elladan grumbled.

"See: you have also taken a side." Gildor gave him a faint smile.

Elladan raised an eyebrow. "Is it a reproach I hear?"

Before Gildor could answer there came a warning of ‘look out' and a bundle landed at
their feet.

"There is soap and a towel inside," Elrohir called from above. "Do not be gone for too
long."


When his brother and Gildor left, Elrohir turned back to Rúmil.

"Now let me have a look at your medical supplies."

Rúmil indicated a smaller chest. Elrohir took it, put it on a larger trunk and kneeled in
front of it to inspect its contents.

"I'll need a needle and a thread," he murmured. "Here they are. Some clean bandages…
good, these will do. Now the herbs… "

He was pleased to see that he could find in the box all the necessary components for the
pain-killing potion he wanted to make for Gildor.

"Have you any honey?" he asked then.

"Honey?" Rúmil raised an eyebrow.

Elrohir smiled. "The mixture will have a foul taste. I want to sweeten it a little."

Rúmil pursed his lips contemptuously. "Cannot he take a few drops of a bitter drink?

Elrohir's smile faded. He stared at the Galadhel for a moment as if deciding whether to
answer or not.

"Of course he can," he replied then evenly. "He can take that and a lot more. But the
fact that he *can* do it does not necessarily imply that he has to take it the hard way."

That was a sentiment Rúmil heartily disagreed with.

"It would be only just if he paid with a little pain of his own for the suffering he
caused other people," he muttered darkly.

Those were fighting words and Elrohir felt his irritation stir. But he did not want to
get involved in something that would result in nothing else but heated and fruitless
argument. He looked up at the Galadhel, his expression carefully guarded.

"If I were you, I would not presume to make judgements of things I had only partial
knowledge of," he said dispassionately and returned to his inspection of the medical
chest, leaving Rúmil to seethe.

"Is there any lemon-balm oil? It helps to fight off exhaustion and stress and it's
exactly what Gildor needs right now."

"I do not give a damn for what he needs," Rúmil hissed.

That did it for Elrohir. He regarded the guardian with narrowed eyes.

"I bet you do not," he said, his voice vaguely sarcastic. "It must be in the family."

Elrohir's quip finally gave Rúmil a chance to voice all his resentment and righteous
anger.

"And why should we care about him? He has broken my brother's heart!"

Elrohir rose to his feet to face the infuriated Galadhel.

"Oh yes? How so?" he inquired with polite interest. "It was your brother who left."

"But why did he do it?" Rúmil argued passionately.

"This is a good question indeed," Elrohir agreed, his cool tone a sharp contrast to
Rúmil's heated one. "We would also wish to know the answer to that as your brother never
took the trouble to give any explanations."

"Of course you would blame Haldir for everything," Rúmil defended his sibling. "But if
your Vanyarin friend loved him that much, why did he let him go? If he so wanted him by
his side, he should have gone after him and tried to bring him back, shouldn't he?"

Elrohir looked at him for a long moment before answering. "As a matter of fact he did,"
he said then slowly. "Shall I tell you *what* he saw when he overtook him?"

The prince's face was deceptively calm and he spoke in a neutral tone but Rúmil suddenly
felt that he did not want to hear what Elrohir was about to say.

"Gildor found his inconsolable lover shoving down the throat of his fellow guard,"
Elrohir hissed, allowing his anger to permeate his voice for the first time. "And they
were hardly out of the valley of Imladris. So do not tell me what he should or should not
have done."

Rúmil stared at him, stunned, feeling as if the ground had been cut from under his feet.
"How do you know? Did Gildor tell you that?" he asked then, hoping it could still be just
a hostile insinuation.

"No." Elrohir smiled coldly, once again his composed self. "He did not tell anyone about
that."

"Then how…?"

Some indefinable emotion flickered in Elrohir's eyes.

"He talked in his sleep," he said dispassionately.



With the help of Elrohir's potion Gildor slept through what remained of the night and
through the following day as well. He stirred only in the evening, awakened by a mouth-
watering smell. He blinked away the remnants of drowsiness and found Elladan squatting by
his side with a bowl of steaming stew in his hands. The elder twin grinned down at him.

"Hungry?"

Gildor sat up, wincing slightly, and moved to lean against the mallorn trunk.

"How are you feeling?" Elrohir asked him.

"Better."

The twins sat down cross-legged on both sides of Gildor to share the meal. Gildor heard
the muted murmur of voices, turned his head that way and saw the Lórien wardens talking
quietly over their supper on a nearby flet.

"So, do our hosts mind our presence here?" Gildor asked.

"Oh no," Elrohir assured him with a slight smile. "They have been very courteous."

"And very cautious," Elladan muttered under his breath.

Gildor looked from one to the other. "Have I missed something?"

"No," the twins said together.

Elrohir had told his brother about his confrontation with Rúmil but they did not want to
let Gildor into the incident not to upset him.

"Hm." Gildor regarded them suspiciously.

"Grandmother knows we are here," Elrohir informed him to prevent further inquiries.

Gildor noticed the swift change of the subject but let it pass. Whatever the twins tried
to keep from him, they were doing it for a reason. He did not feel up to facing any more
problems at the moment.

"Of course she knows," he sighed in response to Elrohir's remark.

"She asked why we stopped at the border. Will you farspeak with her?"

"No. *You* brought me here. *You* carry on all the negotiations."

"She invites us to the city."

"No," Gildor reacted at once. "I will not go there. But I do not see any reason why you
should not. I could wait for you here."

It was the twins' turn to disagree.

"Either we ride to the city together or we all stay here," Elladan said firmly.

Gildor sighed. "This is blackmail, El. It will not work with me."

"This is no blackmail," Elladan argued.

"Besides I have already told her we are all staying here," Elrohir added.

"You have? So what was the point of telling me about her invitation then?" Gildor pressed
his head back against the trunk, dull pain throbbing in his temples.

Elrohir shrugged. "I just wanted to be on the safe side. What if you change your mind and
wish to go there after all?"

"No way." Gildor closed his eyes.

"That is why I told her we would stay at the border and why grandfather is coming to meet
us."

Gildor's eyes flew open again. "Celeborn is coming here?"

The twins nodded.

Gildor hesitated. "I hope he is coming… "

"… alone," the princes assured him together.

"Good. I shall be glad to see him."

Rúmil watched from his flet as the twins woke Gildor up and made him eat. But the Vanya
did not stay awake for long, soon falling into healing sleep again. The princes sat at
the edge of their platform with their legs dangling on the outer side, talking quietly.
Suddenly Gildor started moaning and tossing in his sleep. Elladan was instantly by his
side. He slid down onto the bedroll next to him and gathered Gildor into his arms.

"It's all right, I'm here. I have you. It's all right."

The Vanya clung to him with all his body, moaning in pain.

"Careful with his ribs, El," Elrohir said anxiously, kneeling by the bedroll.

"I cannot soothe him. It hasn't been that bad for a long time," Elladan complained
softly. "Come join us, Ro, I need your help."

Elrohir lay down, spooning behind Gildor, and between the two of them the Vanya gradually
calmed down and relaxed. The trembling of his body subsided and his breathing became even
again. Soon the twins fell asleep as well, their entwined hands resting comfortably on
Gildor's hip.



The unexpected and unannounced arrival of their Lord caused more agitation among the
patrol guards than a massive orc attack. But Lord Celeborn assured them that his visit
was neither emergency nor inspection. He had come just to see his grandsons and his old
friend.

Celeborn brought a change of clothes of better fitting sizes for the trio, some cookies
and sweets from Arwen and a flagon of wine. They shared a meal and exchanged news and
then Gildor urged the twins to go and spend some time together while they had a chance.
He told them he would be quite safe in the company of the Lord of the Wood so they did
not have to guard him so closely. The twins conceded and left, heading for the hot
spring.

"So you have your own bodyguards now?" Celeborn said jokingly. "Do they guard you from
dangers or dangers from you?"

Gildor smiled. "They are very protective of me and my interests. They are very loyal
friends, Celeborn, and I am grateful I have them."

"They love you," Celeborn said simply. "They always did."

"Believe me I return the feeling wholeheartedly."

Celeborn looked at him thoughtfully. Though Lórien was a much more closed and secluded
place than Imladris or Mirkwood, gossip had no trouble finding way into the Golden Wood.
So Celeborn was aware what kind of rumours concerning Gildor and his grandsons circulated
the elven realms. He had never given them much thought though, recognizing them for what
they were: nothing more than hearsay. But now he could see what had given cause to all
the idle talk. Even from what little time he had to watch the twins and Gildor, he saw
that they had become very close. Elladan and Elrohir treated Gildor as if he were their
third twin. And what was even more surprising – Gildor accepted the role. He endured the
twins' fierce protectiveness without argument. But Celeborn was inclined to think it was
not because Gildor enjoyed it too much but because he simply had neither wish nor vigour
to argue.

The Vanya was strikingly changed. There was nothing left of the roguish and flirtatious
Gildor Celeborn had known, the Gildor who wore his seductiveness as casually as everyday
clothes. Gildor's inner light was dimmed now. Celeborn thought that even when they had
met for the first time many millennia ago, when Gildor was Nairalindë yet and his kith
and kin had just sailed back to Valinor – even then the Vanya did not look so lost, so
dejected, so lifeless.

"Gildor, what happened between you and Haldir?" Celeborn asked tentatively.

Gildor shrugged. "There was some attraction, then it was over so he left. End of the
story."

"But why was it over? Why did he leave?" Celeborn insisted.

"You should ask *him*. I expect he would know the reasons better."

"He did not say anything about that to anyone."

"Well, I can hardly help here: he never told me anything either."

Celeborn could see quite plainly that Gildor did not enjoy the way their conversation was
steering, but still he decided to take it a little further.

"He is unhappy, Gildor. Everything Haldir does now he does to fight off his unhappiness."

Gildor felt as if he were driven into a corner. Each word caused him almost physical
pain. He could not think of Haldir, let alone speak about him: it was too painful for him
and too depressing. He desperately wanted this talk over.

"It was his choice," he said in a distant voice.

"But maybe he regrets it now," Celeborn argued.

Gildor could hear his heart start hammering inside his head.

"I… I do not want to speak about it any more," he managed to bring out. He felt like he
was suffocating and had to fight for breath.

Celeborn was taken aback by Gildor's violent reaction to the subject. It almost looked
like a panic attack. Whatever had happened between Gildor and Haldir, it had been
serious…



Haldir and his hunting party returned to Caras Galadhon late in the evening so he went
straight to his home and to his bed. When Amarion knocked at his door around noon the
next day, Haldir had not been out yet.

"So how was your hunting?" Amarion inquired after a greeting. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

Haldir shrugged. "I believe I did. What is new here?"

"Well… " Amarion paused. "Lord Celeborn left for the border two days ago."

"What?" Haldir was instantly alert.

"He went to meet your patrol and he went alone."

"Has anything happened?" Haldir asked, alarmed.

"I have no idea," Amarion replied with a sigh. "We have had no word of trouble at the
border so it is not likely to be the reason for his abrupt departure. Besides he would
not have left alone, should that have been the case. I think you should talk to the Lady.
Perhaps she will agree to explain everything to you."

Haldir found Amarion's advice sensible and hurried to the Lady's talan. She was glad to
see him.

"You are back, Haldir," she greeted him with a smile. "Was your hunt a success?"

"Yes, my Lady, thank you," Haldir answered, anxious to be through with pleasantries.

Galadriel sensed his worry. "What is troubling you, pen neth?" she asked, concerned.
[young one]

"My Lady, I have heard Lord Celeborn left the city some days ago. Has anything happened
at the border?"

"Oh no, Haldir, do not worry. Everything is fine."

"Then maybe my patrol committed some blunder…?"

"That neither," Galadriel assured him. "Our grandsons came to Lórien and Lord Celeborn
went to meet them, that is all."

"Oh."

Haldir swiftly processed the information. If the twins were in Lórien, Gildor had come
too. But if Lord Celeborn went to meet them at the border, it meant they did not want to
come to Caras Galadhon. There could be only one reason for that – Gildor did not want to
see *him*. It was only to be expected and it did not come as any surprise but still
Haldir was hurt by the realization. Gildor hated him… Gildor's unwillingness to take the
risk of running into him in Caras Galadhon was a solid proof to that. Valar, that did
hurt… It seemed to Haldir he once again had a poisoned bolt in his chest. He took several
careful breaths, waiting for the pain to subside. He knew his feelings were irrational
but he could not help it. He started to turn to leave but then abruptly remembered his
good manners.

"Forgive me, My Lady. I… I need to go now… "

"Haldir," Galadriel began saying but the young elf gathered the shreds of his composure
around himself like a cloak, closing his mind from her.

"Please, My Lady, I cannot talk right now. Do I have your permission to leave?"

Galadriel looked at him with compassion. "Yes, hênen, go. You have my permission." [my
child]

Haldir made a hurried exit but once outside the Lady's chamber, he slackened his pace. He
walked stairs and bridges slowly, not paying much heed to where his feet were taking him.
All he could think of at that moment was that Gildor was in Lórien. Haldir had not
expected him to cross the border of the Golden Wood in the foreseeable future and the
news that Gildor was so close excited and tormented him. He longed to see him again, to
hear his voice. Haldir preferred to forget that the words Gildor was likely to greet him
with could hardly be friendly. The mere prospect of meeting Gildor again deprived him of
his ability to think rationally. But to be frank, he did not want to think at all; or be
rational either… Acting on impulse, Haldir headed for the stables and soon his white
stallion was taking him to the border.



Gildor felt sick and tired of being confined to the talan so he informed Elrohir he was
getting down to stretch his legs. Elrohir thought it was still too early for him to do
that, but he knew Gildor would not listen to his protests so he did not argue. They
decided they would walk to the hot spring and have a bathe. All four of them climbed down
to the ground but they did not get far. Suddenly Gildor felt it: the familiar touch of
Haldir's presence. It enveloped him like a tender comforting embrace, filling all his
being with warmth and light. Gildor almost moaned at the blissful sensation. But then he
remembered and came abruptly to his senses, gasping for air and tugging at his collar.

"Gildor, what is it?" Elladan asked, alarmed, while Elrohir pushed Gildor's shaking hands
away and quickly opened the upper buttons of his shirt.

Gildor took a deep breath, pulling himself together. "I am leaving," he said. "Now."

"Why? What happened?" Celeborn inquired, concerned.

"He is here."

"Who?"

The Lord still felt at a loss but the twins knew.

"Haldir," Elladan stated.

Gildor nodded. "I am leaving."

"Gildor, wait," Celeborn tried to stop him but the Vanya was already singing out a call
for his horse.

"I'll wait for you outside the border," he told the twins.

"No." Elladan was adamant. "We have come here together and we shall leave together."

"I shall fetch our bags," Elrohir offered. "And you get the horses, El."

"Forgive us for taking off like this, Celeborn," Gildor apologized, when the twins were
gone.

The Lord of the Wood shook his head slightly. "Why are you running away, meldir?"
[friend]

Gildor looked away, his face pale, his eyes clouded. "I do not have enough strength or
courage to face him at the moment. I cannot allow myself to fall to pieces in front of
him. My pride is the only thing left to me, Celeborn."

"You are making a mistake," Celeborn said urgently. "You *must* talk with Haldir."

Gildor shook his head. At this moment the twins were back.

"You are not strong enough yet," Celeborn tried another approach. "How will you make it
over the mountains?"

"Do not worry, meldir." Gildor gave him a pale smile. "I shall manage. I always do."

"Goodbye, iaurada." The twins embraced their grandfather quickly. [Granddad]

Then all three of them mounted and took off at a gallop.

The wardens watched the trio's abrupt speedy departure with bewilderment. They received
yet another surprise when a short time later they saw their Captain appear unexpectedly
out of the wood.

"What is he doing here?" Rúmil asked his elder brother anxiously.

"I cannot say for sure," Orophin murmured, "but I think I can guess."

Haldir threw a quick glance around, then dismounted and approached Celeborn.

"My Lord," he bowed respectfully. "I am sorry I have turned up here so suddenly but I
have come… "

"…a little late, Haldir," Celeborn sighed. "They have left, though not too long ago. I do
not think they have gone very far yet."

He looked at Haldir steadily and the young Galadhel wondered if the Lord could really
mean what he thought he did. At this moment Rúmil came up to them.

"Excuse me, my Lord," he addressed Celeborn. "May I have a word with my brother, please?"

"Of course," Celeborn smiled.

Rúmil pulled Haldir behind a tree.

"What are you doing?" he asked in an angry whisper, bringing his face close to Haldir's.
"Do you want to make a fool of yourself?"

"What are you talking about?" Haldir pushed his brother out of his personal space.

"Why have you come?"

Haldir frowned and kept silent.

"Haldir, please, listen to me," Rúmil pleaded. "I do not want you to get even more hurt.
Why do you think he left? I am sure he did it because *you* were coming here. He rode off
at such speed that one would think all the Nine were after him."

A faint smile touched Haldir's lips. "Gildor would never run from the Nine."

"For pity's sake, Haldir!" Rúmil exclaimed in exasperation. "Do you understand at all
what I am telling you? It is too late for second thoughts. You cannot have him."

A stubborn expression appeared on Haldir's face. "Why?"

"Because if you planned to go back to him one day, you should not have let Mergil put his
hands – or rather his mouth – on you when you were so close to Imladris."

"What?!" Haldir gasped, shocked.

"Gildor went after you and saw you with Mergil… on his knees."

"Oh no... " Haldir looked at his brother in horror.

He remembered that back then in that glade he had felt Gildor's presence but he had
thought that his imagination conjured the illusion for him. Now he knew the reason…
Suddenly something else Rúmil had told him registered with him.

"He went after me?" he whispered in disbelief, the implication of Gildor's act sinking in
slowly.

Rúmil sighed. "He will not do that again."

"Why not?" Haldir looked at his sibling, his eyes bright with renewed hope.

"Haldir, wake up!" Rúmil shook him slightly by the shoulders. "You left him. He started a
new life. He does not want you any more."

"You do not know that," Haldir argued obstinately.

Rúmil shook his head at his stubbornness. "He is with the princes now, tôren. Elrohir
told me so himself and in not unclear terms." [my brother]

Haldir fell silent. The younger twin would not have made that up. The tender sprout of
Haldir's hope withered and died.

"I think I'll take a walk," he said quietly. "I need to be alone for some time."

Rúmil watched with a heavy heart as his younger brother strode away.

Haldir climbed one of the tallest mellyrn, from the top of which he knew he would be able
to see the foothills beyond the forest. He looked west and his breath hitched in his
throat: three riders were making their way towards the mountains, two dark-haired ones
flanking one golden-haired.

‘Gildor, please!' he sent out a desperate thought, though he did not know himself what he
was begging for.

The fair rider stiffened and started to turn his head but checked his motion halfway. It
was one of the twins who turned. He wheeled his horse round and scanned the trees as if
he knew that someone was watching them. Then his brother called over his shoulder and he
resumed his way.

Haldir followed with his eyes the bright beacon of Gildor's golden head for as long as he
could make it out in the distance.



Chapter 14. A Turn Of The Road.


My memories of those years are vague. After I fled Lórien I did not come near it again,
always keeping a safe distance between myself and the one who still held my heart. I
thought there were two things likely to happen if we met: either I would kill him, or
crumple and beg him to come back to me. I liked neither of the alternatives. So I stayed
away and struggled through my days, which differed little from one another. Joy was gone
from my life, and light and happiness… Life was gone from my life. I do not know why I
lingered in Arda and did not leave for Valinor. No, this is not so – I do know: I did not
want to return home as a miserable loser. What I told Celeborn was true: my pride was the
only thing left to me. Oh, I know what they say about it – that pride goes before a fall.
But I did not care then. So I lingered and waited for said fall. I should have known that
there were people who would not let me die in peace. One of them lived in Mirkwood…


* * *



Haldir looked about glumly. Everywhere around him elves were laughing, singing and
dancing. He sighed.

"I really do not know why I have come here."

"To have a drink, to pick up a bedmate?" Amarion offered laughingly.

Haldir gave him a scowl. "I hate weddings," he muttered.

"Since when?"

Haldir did not reply. "This is so stupid," he grumbled a few minutes later, watching a
covey of ellith line up behind the bride to try and catch her bouquet.

Amarion laughed again. "You are simply envious, that's all."

Haldir turned to him. "Envious? I?"

"Yes, you. Envious, because others have something you do not have."

Haldir pursed his lips. "And what can that be?"

"Love."

"But I have it."

Amarion shook his head. "What you have is different, Haldir. I am not speaking about sex
now - I am speaking of love, true love."

Haldir looked at his flushed, slightly tipsy, crowned with flowers friend and smiled.

"So am I, Mari," he said under his breath, so softly that Amarion did not hear.

There came a sudden many-voiced gasp and a bunch of flowers landed at Haldir's feet.

"Oops," Amarion laughed. "It seems you are going to be the next, my friend."

"What would you like for your wedding present, Haldir?" Narmacil joined his lover's
teasing, coming up to them.

Haldir looked down at the bouquet with something akin to shock and then nudged it
cautiously with the toe of his boot closer to Amarion.

"Do Lórien a favour, Mari, take it. There will be no more bondings here if you wait for
mine. Ah, this all is so ridiculous… I really hate weddings."

"Well, I hope you like begetting day celebrations better," Haldir heard Orophin's voice
and turned his head to find his brother by his side. "Because you are going to attend one
very soon."

Haldir raise an eyebrow in surprise. "I am? And whose begetting day is that?"

"Prince Legolas's."

"What?" Haldir looked at him, still baffled. "Why should I…?"

"A Lórien delegation will go to Mirkwood for the occasion. Lord Celeborn has appointed
you the commander of the guard."

"Me? But… I cannot! Don't you understand? *He* is sure to be there… "

Orophin just shrugged. "This is the Lord's order."

"I shall talk to him," Haldir decided. "I shall talk to him and ask him to send someone
else."

Orophin shrugged again. "You can always try."



Haldir felt somewhat apprehensive, crossing the border of Mirkwood. He was not sure what
kind of welcome he was likely to get from the king. Would Thranduil regard him as the
rival who had first taken his lover away from him and then abandoned him after a short
time? Or would he look at him as at some minor adventure Gildor had had between their
reunions? It was with an uneasy feeling that he rode into the spacious yard in front of
Thranduil's grand palace.

But he soon found that he should not have worried. Thranduil greeted him just like any
other member of their delegation. His eyes did not linger on Haldir longer than
politeness or protocol required. Haldir realized with a considerable amount of vexation
that Thranduil did not think him a real threat. No, no threat at all… But then, Haldir
mused sullenly, he had always known he was no match for the woodland king. Well, at any
rate it did not look like Thranduil was planning any revenge…

The Lórien elves were the first to come to Mirkwood and Haldir waited with trepidation
for the arrival of the Imladris delegation. He wanted to see Gildor, he was longing,
dying to see him, though he was aware that he was likely to be left thoroughly bruised
after the encounter, both literally and figuratively speaking. Their meeting was
inevitable now and Haldir was looking forward to it, at the same time resigning himself
to paying the price for this poignant and precarious pleasure.

The Imladris party arrived a day later, and as soon as they rode into the yard, Haldir
discovered that neither Gildor nor the princes were among them. He saw Glorfindel and
Lindir and recognized some guards he had been acquainted with. Haldir kept back and
watched as Glorfindel jumped off his horse and all but ran to meet prince Legolas, who
flew down the main staircase and threw himself on the Balrog slayer's neck. Glorfindel
swirled him around and gave him a hearty kiss, earning approving laughter and applause
from the onlookers. A short time later king Thranduil appeared to welcome the newly
arrived guests and then the Imladris party was shown to their quarters.

Haldir did not make any attempt to approach Glorfindel as he saw that the Elda had eyes
only for his prince. Neither did he try to talk to the guards he knew, for all of them
were from Gildor's patrol and he doubted he would get a warm welcome there. So he
remained clueless as to where Gildor was and why he had not come until later that day he
happened upon Lindir in one of the halls of the palace.

"Lindir!" he called the minstrel and was relieved to see the young elf smile at him in
his usual open and charming manner.

"Haldir! I did not know you are here. It is so nice to meet you again."

"You too, Lindir. So I see the princes have kept their word – you are in Mirkwood."

Lindir smiled again, this time a little dreamily. "Aye, I am in Mirkwood."

"And the princes themselves, where are they?" Haldir asked casually.

Lindir shrugged. "I do not know. Somewhere in the wilds."

"Won't they come here?"

Lindir's clear blue eyes studied Haldir's face. "Of course they will," the minstrel
answered then. "Gildor will not miss Legolas's majority day. He shall come, Haldir."

Haldir sighed, dropping all the pretence of nonchalance. "How has he been all these
years, Lindir?"

It was the minstrel's turn to sigh. "I really do not know what to answer to your
question. I do not see him much: he is rarely at home. And when he is, he is not
interested in music. He is not merry company these days, Haldir. He does not sing any
more, nor does he dance… He talks very little and mostly about battle. I do not… "

Suddenly Lindir fell silent, looking over Haldir's shoulder with wistful eyes. Haldir
turned around. Thranduil was crossing the hall, talking to his elder son. Both the king
and the prince smiled politely at them and disappeared around the corner. Haldir turned
back to Lindir. The minstrel had that distant, out-of-this-world look Haldir had seen him
have when a new song was starting to sound in Lindir's heart. No one had the right to
stand between a minstrel and his inspiration so Haldir said goodbye to Lindir, leaving
him to his dreams and to the music, born of them.


Haldir's anxiety kept on building up. Rúmil watched his younger brother fidget and worry
till he could stand it no longer.

"Why are you so nervous, Haldir?" he asked with a sigh. "It's not like anything depends
upon your meeting with Gildor."

Haldir shrugged, not looking at Rúmil.

"Besides," the elder Galadhel went on, "Thranduil's palace is large enough to avoid any
unwanted encounter if you are so loath to see him. It is unlikely *he* would try to seek
*you* out."

Haldir scowled at him half-heartedly. "Well, thank you, that helps."

"What are you afraid of, little brother?" Rúmil baited him. "If he wanted to kill you, he
would have done it long ago when he walked in on you and Mergil."

Haldir gave him a joyless smirk. "No, I am not afraid of that."

"Then what?" Rúmil pressed.

Haldir sighed and looked away. "I am not sure I can stand to see him with another," he
admitted quietly.

"You mean you are… jealous?"

Haldir did not answer and Rúmil sighed. "So you still care about him? Haldir, you are
being irrational. Why did you leave him then?"

"I thought I would be better off without him," Haldir admitted unhappily.

"And now you do not think so?"

Haldir shook his head. "It was such a stupid thing to do," he murmured.

Rúmil canted his head to one side. "Haldir, forgive me a silly question but… you did not
expect him to remain forever faithful to you after you left him, did you?"

Haldir gave an evasive shrug. "Actually, I did not think he was faithful to me *before* I
left," he admitted after a pause.

"Oh," Rúmil stared at his brother for along moment. "I see… And was he not…?"

Haldir sighed. "I do not know… I am not sure any more. But it is like you said: it is too
late for second thoughts now."

"Do you… do you want to get him back?" Rúmil asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"Do you think you can?"

"No."

"Oh little brother, what a mess… " Rúmil looked at Haldir with compassion. "What are you
going to do?"

"I do not know. I am not sure I can do anything… "

"But are you going to…?"

"For pity's sake, Rúmil, I do not know!" Haldir exclaimed in exasperation. "Leave me be
for now. Please."

"All right, tôren," Rúmil complied. "Just remember: whatever happens, I'll be there for
you." [my brother]

He gave Haldir a warm hug.

"I know," Haldir smiled. "Thank you."


The longer he had to wait, the more restless Haldir felt. He could not stay in one place
for long so he wandered the halls of the spacious palace and its premises. In the morning
of the celebration day he woke up early and decided to take a stroll in the park. He went
out of the house just in time to see Gildor and the twins ride into the front yard.
Haldir stopped still, avidly drinking in the sight of his former lover.

Gildor was clad in black leather and his hair was plaited into a single tight rope. An
errant golden strand escaped the braid and danced in the breeze, caressing Gildor's
cheek, and the Vanya pushed it back from his face impatiently. He was pale and there were
dark shadows under his eyes. He looked… older. Now Haldir would not mistake him for an
elfling hardly past his majority. But he still was breathtakingly beautiful and Haldir's
heart wept for what he had lost.


They had been riding hard to be in time for the celebration and Gildor felt weary.

"If I do not manage to get a nap, I shall fall asleep right at the ceremony," he
complained as they dismounted.

"That makes two of us," Elladan sighed.

"Three," Elrohir corrected him.

Grooms ran up to them to take their horses. Gildor turned his head and - saw Haldir. His
heart stopped. He was so unready to find Haldir in Mirkwood that it took him several
moments to realize that he was seeing the Galadhel in the flesh and not just an illusion
created by his weary mind. His heart came painfully alive then and sped up, pounding
against his ribs with the force of a hammer. He schooled his features as well as he
could, frantically trying to conceal his shock and to collect his scattered wits. If the
twins were saying anything to him, he did not hear because of the blood roaring in his
ears.

‘Breathe,' he told himself. ‘Move.'

He willed himself to put one foot in front of the other and walked past Haldir on wooden
legs.

Haldir stood rooted to the ground, stunned by the way Gildor looked at him or, rather,
*through* him as if he were made of glass or just were not there at all. He had seen
profound shock in Gildor's eyes the first moment the Vanya recognized him. Obviously, his
presence in Mirkwood was not a pleasant surprise for Gildor. But after the initial jolt
the Vanya was quickly able to regain his self-control, becoming cold and aloof, and did
not spare him a second glance. Haldir braced himself for an attack from Gildor's
watchdogs but though the twins eyed him suspiciously, they passed him without saying a
word, following Gildor up the grand staircase. As Thranduil hurried out of the doors to
meet them, Haldir wondered with dark sarcasm how the Mirkwood king and the Imladris
princes were going to share Gildor between them.

Gildor stopped in front of Thranduil to give him a proper formal greeting but Thranduil
pulled him into his arms without ceremony and gave him a warm hug.

"I am sorry," he murmured into Gildor's ear. "I did not have a chance to warn you he is
here."

"I am fine," Gildor answered just as quietly.

"No, you are not. Whom are you trying to fool?" Thranduil pulled back a little to look
Gildor in the face.

The Vanya gave him a faint smile. Thranduil tucked a stray lock of Gildor's golden hair
behind his ear and the gentle brush of Thranduil's fingers over the sensitive tip sent a
slight shiver down Gildor's spine. His eyes widened at the almost forgotten feeling and
his own reaction to it. No one had touched him as a lover for years and he sincerely
believed he was dead to that sort of sensations. Thranduil seemed to read his mind.

"My poor friend, did you really believe you were dead? You should have come to me
sooner."

He dipped his head and, startling Gildor even more, captured his mouth in a gentle kiss.
Gildor closed his eyes, savouring the warm tingle that spread through his body. He sighed
slightly and the soft puff of his breath washed over Thranduil's lips as the king pulled
away, breaking the brief contact. Gildor was able to relax a little and to smile again.

"Oh, Your Majesty," he murmured, "what a violation of etiquette."

"To Mordor with etiquette," Thranduil grinned at him. "I am a king, I can afford it."

"But I still want to observe some formalities and to introduce my companions to you."

He turned to the twins, who were waiting politely at some distance away, and motioned for
them to come closer.

"Thranduil, these are my loyal friends, princes Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond
of Imladris."

The twins bowed and Thranduil smiled.

"Welcome to Mirkwood, young princes. I hope you will enjoy your stay in my realm."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Elladan replied civilly. "We are sure we shall."

By this time both Aranaur and Legolas were by their father's side and Thranduil went on
with the introductions.

"And these are my sons: Aranaur and Legolas."

The two pairs of princes smiled at each other.

"We have heard a lot about you, prince Legolas," Elrohir said, still smiling. "Our
seneschal has been talking of no one else for years, praising you to the sky."

"Have I said a single word of lie?" Glorfindel inquired, joining them at this moment.

"No. We can see that your praise was just," Elladan admitted as Legolas shifted backwards
and moulded into the welcoming circle of Glorfindel's arms.

"We know less about you, prince Aranaur," Elladan continued. "The more pleasure it will
give us to get to know you better."

The princes of Imladris and the crown prince of Mirkwood looked each other up and down
appraisingly and decided that they liked what they saw.

Haldir watched the scene unfolding in front of him and found it harder and harder to
witness with each passing moment. It hurt with a physical pang to see someone else touch
Gildor, stroke his hair, kiss him. He asked himself if Rúmil could be right and he had
been stupid enough to believe deep in his heart all this time that Gildor still belonged
to him. It was one thing to assume Gildor could have taken other lovers but it was quite
different to see with his own eyes that the Vanya *had* started a new life or, rather,
gone back to the old one. It was quite obvious that the twins were not going to compete
with Thranduil: the king put his claim on Gildor and the princes stepped aside with a
bow.

The merry group of elves at the top of the grand stairs looked like a large family and
Haldir acutely felt he was an odd elf out. He turned around and walked away, seeking the
quiet and solitude the alleys of the park could offer. He did not notice the thoughtful
look Thranduil followed him with.

Thranduil led his guests inside, saying he would show them to their rooms himself.
Aranaur took his younger brother away for Legolas had a long day before him and there
were still preparations to be finished. As the rest of them walked along the corridor,
Elladan asked nonchalantly, "For how long have you been here, Glorfindel?"

"Two days."

"I see. So… prince Legolas – is he still a virgin?"

"For pity's sake, Elladan, keep your voice down!" Glorfindel hissed at him, throwing a
worried glance at Thranduil who was walking with Gildor ahead of them.

"Hmm… What do you think, Ro: is it a ‘yes' or a ‘no'?"

"I would say it's a ‘no'," Elrohir murmured, amused.

To Glorfindel's relief they reached the divide in the hall at this moment and he pointed
to the left. "My room is that way. I have brought festive attires for you. You will find
them in your chamber. I shall meet you later."

And he walked briskly away.

"Thank you, Seneschal," Elladan called after him, laughing.

Finally they reached their destination and Thranduil opened the door for the twins.

"This is your suite. I hope you will find everything to your liking."

They looked hesitantly at Gildor and Thranduil smiled.

"Do not worry, he is *my* charge now and I can promise he will be safe with me."

"I shall not be far away," Gildor added. "Just next door."

Gildor resumed his way and Elrohir entered the suite. Elladan lingered on the threshold
for a moment longer.

"If he falls asleep, do not leave him alone," he told Thranduil. "His dreams are troubled
nowadays."

Thranduil nodded in understanding and Elladan followed his brother into their rooms. He
found Elrohir in the bedchamber staring at the vast bed with a contented expression on
his face.

"Ah, the comforts of civilization," the younger twin sighed blissfully. "First a bath,
then a bed," he decided.

Elladan put a shoulder to the doorframe and folded his arms, enjoying the sight of his
twin in his state of joyous anticipation.

"Hmm… A bath and a bed sound good," he purred. "And I would say this rug looks promising
too."

Elrohir turned around. "No," he said sternly though one corner of his mouth was twitching
ever so slightly. "I have had my fill of hard surfaces. It is either the bed or nothing
at all."

"As you wish, meleth." Elladan pushed himself away from the door and advanced on his
brother slowly, dangerously. "Whatever you wish, however you wish… " [love]

Elrohir's pulse sped up at the hungered look on his twin's face.

"Bath, El," he reminded in a suddenly hoarse voice. "Bath first."

"…and wherever you wish… "


Gildor was standing in the middle of the front chamber of the royal suite, looking lost
and even apprehensive as if he had never shared it with Thranduil before. Thranduil
wondered what new fears lurked in the dark corners of Gildor's heart. He walked up to his
friend and took him in his arms, pressing his cheek to Gildor's temple.

"I hoped I would hear you laugh again," he sighed.

"Sorry," Gildor murmured.

"I am glad you have finally come."

"So am I… But please, do not ask me anything… It… all is over anyway and I do not want to
talk about it."

Thranduil was silent and Gildor pulled back to get a look at his face.

"Promise me that you will not ask me any questions," he insisted. "And that you will not
attempt anything even if you think it is for my own good."

"All right," Thranduil gave in.

"No, say it!"

"I promise."

"Good." Gildor notably relaxed in Thranduil's arms. "I missed you… "


Thranduil understood soon enough what exactly Elladan had meant, speaking of Gildor's
troubled dreams. The Vanya fell asleep the moment his head touched a pillow. Thranduil
went out into the front chamber, but hardly half an hour later Gildor's scream brought
him back at a run. He found Gildor sitting in the bed, his eyes wild, his chest heaving.

"Gildor? What is it?"

It took Gildor a couple of moments to recognize him.

"Thranduil?" The Vanya looked terribly disoriented.

"What happened?" Thranduil came up to the bed and sat down on the mattress, taking
Gildor's hand in his.

"Nothing." Gildor was finally able to collect his wits and to remember where he was.
"Just a nightmare."

Thranduil sighed, moved to lean against the headboard and pulled Gildor to rest against
his broad chest.

"Try to fall asleep again. I shall stay with you."

Gradually Gildor relaxed in his arms and his breathing became even again as slumber
claimed him.

‘No, my friend,' Thranduil thought compassionately, ‘nothing is over yet.'

Soon the Mirkwood ruler began to wonder how he was going to combine keeping vigil by his
friend's side and seeing to the things that required his personal presence. He got help
from an unexpected corner. Glorfindel knocked at his door with a message that Legolas
needed his father and offered Thranduil to change him by Gildor's side. However, it was
not the Imladris seneschal but the Imladris princes that Thranduil found in his suite
when he returned. He was glad to see that all three of his guests looked well rested.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

The twins nodded but Gildor shook his head.

"Did you not like the food?" Thranduil frowned.

Gildor smiled a little apologetically. "Do not blame your cook. I am simply not hungry. I
might as well wait till the feast."

"Well, then get ready. It is time to start dressing."

"Start dressing… " Gildor's eyes widened a little. "I have completely forgotten!" He
turned to the twins. "What about our clothes? Have they brought anything for us?"

"Well, they have brought something for *us*," Elrohir replied. "I am not sure about you,
though."

"Even if they have," Thrunduil interjected, "you will not need it. Come here."

He led Gildor into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe and took out a robe.

"What is it?" Gildor asked in surprise.

"Your attire for tonight. Put it on and let us see how you will look in it." He gave the
garment to Gildor and produced a pair of boots from the wardrobe. "These go with your
robe. And put this on too." He opened a casket on the table in front of the mirror.

"You seem to have it all thoroughly planned," Gildor remarked, suspicion lacing through
his tone.

"Of course I have," Thranduil laughed. "Today is a special day, isn't it? I want
everything to be perfect."

"Including me." Gildor started having an uneasy feeling.

"Yes. Come on, try it on."

Thranduil left him to dress and joined the twins in the front room. Elladan and Elrohir
exchanged a curious look, waiting to see what was Thranduil's intent. They heard
indistinct muttering from the bedchamber and then an indignant gasp.

"Thranduil! You cannot expect me to wear this!"

Thranduil grinned. "Please, mellonen, do me a favour and put on everything I gave you. I
deserve at least to see the result of my efforts." He gave a wink to the intrigued twins.
[my friend]

There came more of dark muttering and then the bedroom door opened and Gildor marched in.
He stopped in front of the three elves and placed his fists upon his hips.

"Well?" he demanded angrily. "What do you call this?"

For a moment neither of the twins could speak. Then Elladan cleared his throat nervously
and Elrohir gave a lopsided smile.

"Sweet Elbereth!" they breathed together.

Thranduil looked Gildor up and down slowly, pleased satisfaction lighting his eyes and
curving his lips.

"I would say you look… very nice."

The soft green silk of the robe hugged Gildor's upper body and streamed down in elegant
folds, surging enticingly around his legs. A provocatively low neckline revealed a
breathtaking view of his well-toned chest. A mithril choker encircled his neck, with a
drop-shaped emerald falling directly over the hollow at the throat. The long sleeves were
slanted from the elbow to the wrist, opening to the eye the wide bands of mithril
bracelets. The fine material clung to Gildor's body lovingly, outlining its alluring
contours, while the rich colour of the fabric accented the brightness of his furious
gaze.

"I… I think you look… presentable," Elrohir offered tentatively, still impressed by
Gildor's outfit.

"Hm? And how about this?" Gildor pulled up the skirt of his robe indignantly to
demonstrate the grey suede boots that climbed his long legs up to mid-thigh. Their wide
tops were gathered with silver buckles.

"Oh… " Elladan swallowed. "It is a shame no one will see that."

"You think so?"

Gildor let go of the hem of the robe and twirled around so that Elladan could see that
the skirt had high slits on both sides, and as the flaps flew apart, Gildor's suede-clad
legs were displayed in full splendour.

"I look like a whore!" Gildor stared at Thranduil accusingly.

Thranduil laughed, unfazed by his anger. "You look like a royal consort, and a very
beautiful one at that."

"If this is your idea of what a royal consort should look like, I am genuinely grateful I
am not one. And I am certainly *not* going anywhere dressed or rather undressed like
this. They all will be ogling at me, wondering how I look without this on."

"They might be," Thranduil admitted laughingly. "And I believe not a few of them will be
fiercely jealous of me."

He winked at Gildor. The Vanya frowned and bit on his lip, and Thranduil rose to his
feet, came up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "Please, meldiren, do as I ask and
let them think what they will."

Gildor shook his head doubtfully. "For the Valar's sake, Thranduil! It is Legolas's
majority day. I cannot wear such a provocative attire for his ceremony."

"Are you afraid you will outshine the main star of the occasion?" Thranduil teased.

"Your guests will be shocked," Gildor sighed.

"They will be shocked all right," Thranduil confirmed with a smirk. "But since when are
you worried about shocking someone? As far as I remember you actually enjoyed doing just
that."

"I am changed now," Gildor said quietly.

"Aye, you are," Thranduil agreed, "but surely not that much? Please, Gildor, trust me,"
he asked then, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "You will see that it is worthwhile."

"I really do not see why I should comply with some fishy schemes of yours," Gildor
grumbled but Thranduil's smile widened, as he already knew that Gildor would give in.

The Vanya turned his head and gave himself a sour once-over in the mirror. "I look like a
royal whore… Well, at any rate against the background I shall provide Legolas's purity
and innocence will shine brighter than the light of Eärendil."

Legolas did shine like the brightest star, his smile illuminating any place he entered.
His elation seemed to be contagious and wherever he went that day, he left in his wake
smiling faces and hearts filled with joy.

The robe he had put on for the ceremony was in the colours of Mirkwood: green and brown.
He wore no decorations - his youth and his happiness were his best adornments. His eyes
were gleaming with hopeful expectation and he was breathtaking in his young blossoming
beauty.

Aranaur could not help smiling at his brother's eagerness and excitement as they walked
along the corridor to join their father. When they met Thranduil and Gildor at the
juncture, Aranaur gave a long whistle at the sight of the Vanya.

"This *is* a surprise, Ada. So this was what you discussed in such detail with the Chief
Seamstress?"

"You look really seductive, Gildor," Legolas offered his opinion.

The elder prince burst into laughter. "Oh, Gildor, you should be flattered by a
compliment from such an expert."

Legolas made a face at him. "We shall see who is more of an expert in a couple of
decades."

"Stop teasing your little brother, Aranaur," Thranduil said, hiding a smile.

"Ada!" Legolas exclaimed in mock indignation. "I am no longer his *little* brother! I am
an adult now."
"Yes," Thranduil agreed, a faint tinge of sadness colouring his voice. "You are all
grown-up now, ion. All of a sudden… " [son]

Gildor raised an eyebrow at his melancholic tone and Thranduil gave him a quick smile and
an apologetic shrug.

As they came closer to the grand hall where the ceremony was to be held, Gildor's stomach
churned in apprehension. Thranduil threw a side-glance at his friend and saw that colour
was draining from his face gradually. He took his hand and squeezed the cold fingers
reassuringly. As the major-domo opened the tall doors of the hall for them, Gildor made
to move away but Thranduil tightened his hold on the Vanya's hand.

"Where are you going?"

"King Thranduil," a herald announced in the hall.

"I do not think I should enter with you, Thranduil," Gildor said uneasily. "I am not a
member of your family. I shall come in through another door."

"Prince Aranaur. "

"Oh no, I am not taking any chances with you," Thranduil smirked. "What if you chicken
out at the last moment and do not show up at all?"

"Prince Legolas."

"Don't be ridiculous, Thranduil." Gildor tried nervously to extricate his hand from
Thranduil's grip.

Thranduil made a sign to the herald.

"Lord Gildor of Imladris."

"No way out now," Thranduil grinned. "You have to enter with us."

"Damn you, Thranduil!" Gildor jerked his hand free. "Must you always have your own way?"

"Yes, if I think my way is the right one," Thranduil replied, unabashed, entering the
grand hall.

"You will pay for this," Gildor muttered darkly as he followed the royal family inside.

Thranduil's lips tilted into a half smile at the familiar threat of vengeance.