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 6. A Touch Of Frost.



Autumns in Imladris were just as mild as in Lórien but much more flamboyant. Haldir
watched with fascination the green parks and gardens around the Last Homely House turn
multi-coloured. Birches were the first to start the change. They swapped their green
dresses for golden ones almost overnight. And as if it had been some sort of signal, the
parks and forests virtually erupted into fireworks of colours: the gold of poplars, the
red and orange of maples, the brown and maroon of oaks. Only pinewoods on the
mountainsides stoically remained green.

Days were still warm but by the end of October nights and mornings were already rather
cool, and the warm comfort of their bed became even more welcome for Gildor and Haldir.
Gildor was used by now to waking up next to the warm solidity of Haldir's body. So when
one early November morning he felt his lover shift and move away from him, he gave a
sleepy pout of protest. The next moment the familiar weight settled on top of him and
Haldir's lips brushed against his.

"Wake up, melethen," Haldir urged him softly. "It's your begetting day." [my love]

"Is it?" Gildor mumbled drowsily.

"Yes. I asked Glorfindel."

"Then it must be true."

"Happy begetting day, glinn-e-guren." [song of my heart]

Haldir dipped his head to give Gildor a proper kiss. A soft sigh escaped Gildor's lips as
he said goodbye to his hope to sleep his fill. He relaxed and let Haldir have his own way
with him. After a considerable while, when Haldir was once again lying beside Gildor
instead of on top of him, Gildor was about to return to his deserved rest but Haldir did
not allow him to do it.

"Wait a minute, do not fall asleep yet. I want to give you my present."

"Haven't you already?"

"No," Haldir smiled and sat up. "I wish I could say I am a gift in myself, but I'm afraid
it will not be quite true. So I have a real present for you."

He produced a leather pouch from under a pillow and gave it to Gildor. Gildor raised
himself on one elbow, opened the pouch and took out two broad curved silver plates. One
was engraved with a picture of a mallorn, the other – with the two trees of Valinor.

"What is it?" Gildor asked curiously.

"A bracelet."

Gildor put the plates together and, indeed, they formed a silver circle.

"They are not joined," he remarked, looking at Haldir in question.

"The halves must be riveted together right on your wrist. You won't be able to take it
off afterwards without breaking it," Haldir explained somewhat self-consciously.

He did not dare offer Gildor a silver ring because he was afraid it would be rejected.
But he wanted to give his lover something that he would wear permanently and that would
remind Gildor that he belonged to *him*. Haldir could not say for sure if Gildor
understood the implication of the gift. A faint smile played on Gildor's lips as he
studied the adornment. Haldir would give much to learn what thoughts were hidden behind
those fathomless eyes. Finally Gildor looked up at him.

"Thank you, Silfael. It's beautiful. I'll wear it for as long as I live." Then he sighed.
"Ah, but it means we have to get out of bed. I'll need a goldsmith's help to fix it."
[Moonbeam]

They had it done after breakfast and returned to their rooms again. Haldir prudently
locked the door behind them and was surprised that no one came to knock at it even once.
He could not help feeling grateful that the twins seemed to decide to allow Gildor and
him their privacy and did not try to claim the Vanya for themselves. Gildor was also
grateful for this token of goodwill, as he knew that it must have cost the twins
considerable effort to stay away. It was their habit to spend his begetting day together
with him if they were in Imladris at the time.

On Haldir's insistence, Gildor spent the afternoon wearing nothing but his new adornment.
Haldir told Gildor he looked irresistible, dressed like that, and strived to prove his
words assiduously. Elrond and Glorfindel happened to become unwitting witnesses to his
efforts.

It was a nice, sunny day and Glorfindel had dragged Elrond out of his study for a stroll
in the gardens. The path they were following at a leisurely pace took them past the
terrace of Gildor's suite. The terrace door to his bedroom was obviously open for the
audibility was fairly good, to say the least, and there was no mistaking the sounds of
passionate lovemaking.

"Valar, what is he doing to him to make him so vocal?" Elrond murmured, quickening his
steps.

Glorfindel chuckled. "Do you really wish to know?"

Elrond looked at him in shock. "No, of course I do not!"

At this moment came the last note of Gildor's love-song. "Haldir!"

"He leaves no doubt as to who is doing it to him, doesn't he?" Glorfindel smirked. "He
never cried out *my* name."

Elrond gave him a reproving look but Glorfindel pretended not to notice it.

"I think I should ask Thranduil if he was luckier than I."

"For the Valar's sake, Glorfindel! Do you really have to be so uncouth?"

Glorfindel laughed, amused by his friend's overdeveloped sense of propriety, but the
words Elrond said next sobered him.

"Gildor has changed so much that it worries me."

Glorfindel turned abruptly to look at him. "Have you had any vision?"

"No," Elrond shook his head. "It is simply that he is so uncharacteristically open these
days that it is almost frightening. He seems so vulnerable without his protective
demeanor of ice… " Elrond sighed. "He has given himself to Haldir completely, holding
nothing back. And if… anything happens, there will be nothing of him left for himself. I
am not sure he will be able to survive it."

Glorfindel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Do you know something I do not?"

Elrond shook his head again. "No. I simply have an uneasy feeling about it."

It was Glorfindel's turn to sigh, for Elrond's words were an echo of his own vague
misgivings.



Gildor was resting on his side with his back pressed to Haldir's chest. He knew he should
get up and wash: he was covered with a sheen of sweat and with his own and Haldir's
juices. Gildor wrinkled his nose but did not stir. He felt too lazy to move at the
moment. Haldir stroked back Gildor's mussed golden hair to be able to see his face. His
fingers brushed the earring piercing the delicate lobe.

"Your earring, was it a gift from someone?" he asked.

"Uh-huh." Gildor listened to the meaningful silence and smiled without opening his eyes.

"Are you jealous again, Silfael?"

"You wish," Haldir murmured.

Gildor laughed, unconvinced. "You *are* jealous. And groundlessly so, too. This is one of
the pair of earrings my father made for my mother as a wedding gift. When Glorfindel
returned to Middle-earth, he brought this one to me. My sister has the other one."

Haldir traced the outline of Gildor's ear with his finger and the Vanya could not
suppress a slight shiver of pleasure.

"Melethen?" Haldir called softly.

"Hm?"

"Why do you bear a Sindarin name?"

Gildor sighed. "Are you having a fit of curiosity, Haldir?"

"Perhaps." Haldir's fingers were caressing Gildor's neck and shoulder now. "Will you
answer or is it a top-secret?"

Gildor sighed again. "No, it's no secret. When I realized that I would have to stay in
Middle-earth and to live here the Valar know how long, I felt like I was to start my life
anew or, rather, to start a new life. It was not important in my new life that I was a
Prince of the Vanyarin Royal House or that Ingwë Ingweron was my grandfather. So I did
not want to shout about my origin from a treetop. I wanted to be just an Elf, like anyone
else."

Haldir smiled to himself - he did not believe Gildor could ever be "just an Elf". He let
his hand slide down Gildor's side to stroke his hip.

"Did you choose the name yourself?"

"No. Ereinion gave it to me."

Gildor's body started to react to Haldir's ministrations and he knew that if he did not
move at once, he would never get to the bath he needed so badly. He slid from under
Haldir's arm and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Haldir raised himself on one
elbow.

"Where are you going?"

"To wash." Gildor looked down at himself and made a face. "It all got dried and crusted."

Haldir watched him disappear into the bathroom and then lay down with a sigh. No matter
how close they had become, Haldir could feel that there was still some distance left
between them. The harder he tried to get full possession of Gildor, to make him his own,
to turn him into a part of himself, the stronger resistance he felt. Gildor would never
be just Gildor, the lover of Haldir. He always remained someone else: Gildor, the Ice
Blade or Gildor, a friend of the Balrog slayer or Gildor, a Vanyarin Prince. Haldir
wondered if he could ever feel Gildor's equal…



They did not show up for lunch but they did join the others in the Hall of Fire in the
evening and Gildor received his begetting day greetings and presents. There was dancing
and singing. On Glorfindel's request Gildor sang several songs he had brought from his
latest visit to Mirkwood.

They were beautiful songs, but after the third one Elladan inquired laughingly, "Do they
have merrier tunes in Mirkwood? Look, you've made our seneschal all melancholic and
lovesick."

Glorfindel ignored the quip. "Perhaps, you could treat us to a duet with Haldir?" he
suggested to Gildor. "Your Lórien performance was really good."

"You sang a duet? What song was it?" Lindir asked curiously.

"Bonding."

"An interesting choice," Elrohir murmured.

"Actually, it was your granny's choice," Gildor smirked. "I could not possibly refuse
her, could I?"

"Ha!" Elrohir looked openly skeptical but refrained from other comments.

"If you want a duet and a merry one too, I think I know what we can sing," Gildor said.
"Haldir has taught me a funny bragging song. It is sort of improvisation and one can
boast of anything one wishes."

Haldir took Lindir's lute. "You start this time," he told Gildor.

Gildor nodded and after several accords of introduction he gave Haldir a once-over and
began singing.

"Anything you can wear - I can wear better.
In what you wear I look better than you."
"In my robe?" Haldir smirked.
"In your shirt."
"In my boots?"
"In your pants!"
"No, you can't!"
"Yes, I can!"

Now it was Haldir's turn.

"Anything you can do – I can do better.
I can do anything better than you."

Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow at Haldir's choice of a subject for bragging.

"Sing and dance?"
"Ride and fight!"
"Flirt and kiss?"
"And make love!"
"No, you can't!"
"Yes, I can and better than you."

Gildor gave a contemptuous puff.

"Anyone you can't kiss – I can kiss, I dare.
I can kiss anyone you dare not kiss."
"Celeborn?"
"Thranduil."
"Galadriel?" Haldir sang innocently.
Gildor narrowed his eyes. "Dirty move!"
Haldir shrugged. "Legolas?"
Gildor hesitated, threw a glance at Glorfindel and then gave in with a sigh. "No, I
can't."
"No, you can't!"

The game was over.

"I like it," Elrohir said cheerfully to his brother. "We can keep it going for hours."

"Anyone you can bed – I can bed quicker," Elladan challenged him at once. "I can bed
anyone quicker than you."

"No, you can't!" Elrohir argued heatedly.

"I have won!" Haldir told Gildor triumphantly.

"Actually, I *can* kiss Legolas and I can even manage to survive it, while you, Silfael,
cannot."

"Why do you think I cannot do it?" Haldir asked archly.

"To kiss *my* Legolas or to survive it?" Glorfindel inquired, looking genuinely
interested.

"Er… " Haldir hesitated: the Balrog slayer, even a joking one, was a threat to be taken
seriously.

"This is the first reason, Haldir," Gildor laughed. "Or rather, the second, because the
first one is Legolas's father. Besides, you should not disregard Legolas himself. He
won't suffer just anyone's kisses willingly."

"Just anyone's?! Well, thank you very much!" Haldir looked affronted.

Gildor laughed again, hooking an arm around Haldir's neck. "Come on, Silfael, you know
what I mean."

"And what about the elder prince?" Lindir asked nonchalantly. "Will he not defend his
brother's honour?"

"Aranaur?" Gildor chuckled. "I think Haldir knows a way to get round him. What do you
say, Haldir?"

Haldir smiled and said nothing. The twins were the only ones to notice a light shadow
pass over Lindir's face. Elrohir turned to his brother and raised an eyebrow in question.
Elladan gave a little shrug in response. When they looked at the minstrel again, though,
he was once again wearing his usual cheerful and innocent countenance.




When Arassuil, the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, had visited Imladris he had brought
disturbing news: the number of orcs coming to Eriador from the Misty Mountains was
constantly growing. Glorfindel had the borders of Imladris strengthened. The measures
were timely for there had been several skirmishes on the border since then. Guards for
the fourth patrol were chosen and started their training.

After Gildor's begetting day the twins left to meet Arassuil and to learn the latest
intelligence. They were due back soon, though, and on the day they were expected Gildor
offered Haldir to have a ride to the nearest human village.

"We shall meet the twins in the tavern and return together with them."

"How will they know we are coming to meet them?" Haldir asked.

"They *will* know," Gildor smiled.

They rode out after lunch. It was a frosty and bright December day. Their horses trotted
cheerfully through the forest and the two lovers talked and laughed, allowing themselves
to be carefree while still within the well-guarded borders of Imladris. Their warm breath
froze in cold air and garnished the fur on their hoods with rime. Gildor's cloak was
lined with red fox and the bright colour of the fur accentuated the radiant green of his
eyes. He looked strikingly young and exquisite and so very seductive that Haldir wished
he could drag him down from his horse and ravish him there and then. Gildor saw raw
desire in his lover's eyes and laughed, the low provocative sound sending a thrill
straight to Haldir's groin.

"You know what you are doing to me, don't you?" Haldir accused him hoarsely.

"Aye," Gildor purred and suddenly sent his stallion forward, shouting, "Race you to the
ford!"

Haldir followed at once but his horse was no match for Gildor's. When he finally caught
up with Gildor, the Vanya laughed again, this time triumphantly.

"I win!" But then he relented. "But you can kiss the winner as a consolation prize."

Once they left the valley, they became quiet and vigilant. However, they were lucky
enough to reach their destination without any incidents.

It was getting dark when they rode up to the tavern. They led their horses to the stable
and left them to the care of a stable boy. Then they entered the tavern. Gildor threw off
his hood and looked around. There was no sign of the twins yet.

"We'll have to wait," he told Haldir and headed for a vacant table in the corner.

Even before they took off their cloaks the old owner of the tavern was by their side.

"It's a joy to see you at my place again, my Lord," he told Gildor. "You haven't visited
us for a long time."

"I am glad to see you too, Artagir," Gildor smiled in response. "It's been - how long,
about five years?"

"Six, my Lord."

"You have not changed at all, Artagir. You look just as hale and hearty as I remember
you."

"Oh no, my Lord, it's you who don't change at all. And me – I'm getting older with each
passing year."

He waved to a young waitress to bring mulled wine to his guests. When the girl came to
their table, carrying two steaming mugs, Artagir winked at Gildor.

"Do you recognize my granddaughter Melina?"

Gildor turned to the blushing maiden and smiled. "Look at you, Melina! You were but a
child when I saw you last. And now you've become a pretty young lady."

Melina smiled shyly, put the mugs on the table, curtsied and ran away.

"We are to meet the young princes of Imladris here," Gildor told Artagir. "So till they
come we are going to enjoy your hospitality and your cuisine. And I can tell you that
this is going to be the first time my friend will try something cooked by a human. Try to
surprise him."

Artagir looked at Haldir. "I promise you'll enjoy your food, my Lord."

Haldir, who knew the Common Tongue well enough to follow the conversation, smiled and
nodded. When Artagir went to the kitchen to give orders, Haldir took a chance to look
around more attentively and to get a better idea of the humans. He found he was inclined
to agree with Gildor's description: they *were* hairy and did not look particularly
attractive. Well, with the exception of the owner's granddaughter, perhaps. She was sweet
enough, Haldir decided. The girl kept throwing rapt glances his way when she thought he
was not looking.

"You have made a conquest, Silfael," Gildor teased him.

Haldir gave him a smirk. "You might have failed to notice it, but this is the usual
impression I make on females."

"Of course, a paragon of virility that you are!" Gildor laughed.

They were brought their food and Haldir was surprised to find that it was really as good
as Artagir had promised. The substantial meal and the spiced wine made Haldir content and
lazy. He leaned back against the wall and watched his lover through half-lidded eyes.
Gildor, on the contrary, was in high spirits. He laughed and talked animatedly and looked
as happy and cheerful as an elfling, taken to his first summer fair. Haldir decided he
liked Gildor that way a lot: he did not have to strive to be up to Gildor's status and
his high standards. He could even allow himself to feel protective and patronizing
towards him.

Melina brought them two plates with small honey cakes and Gildor announced that they were
Silivren's favourite dainty and that he was going to the stable to give some to his
horse.

"There is no need to get out into the cold right now," Haldir remarked, amused. "Can it
not wait till it's time for us to return home?"

But Gildor would not wait. He jumped up, took a cake from his own plate and snatched one
from Haldir's. "Your horse will also like one."

And he was gone. Haldir smiled and closed his eyes, giving in to his drowsiness. He heard
the door open and close again in several moments but he felt too languid to have a look
and find if someone had come in or gone out. But he did not have a chance to relax for
long.

"My lord," he heard somebody addressing him in the Common Tongue. "My lord!"

He opened his eyes reluctantly. It was one of the two men he had noticed before at the
table next to theirs. The man looked anxious and troubled. Haldir raised an eyebrow in
question.

"My lord, I… I think you should go out and help," the man said urgently. "My friend… I
told him he shouldn't do it but he didn't listen. He is drunk and… You should hurry! He
went after your boy… "

"He is your friend?" Haldir asked calmly.

"Yes," the man admitted hesitantly.

"Then go out and save him yourself. Why should I bother and help him?"

The man was taken aback. He thought that perhaps the elf did not know their language well
enough to understand what he had been trying to tell him. But at this moment the door
swung open and Gildor came in, looking very much riled and not at all as harmless as he
had looked before.

The man gaped. "But… Nerda?"

Gildor turned his darkened eyes to him. "He is alive. At least, I think so."

The man rushed out to find his hapless friend.

"The idiot has ruined my evening," Gildor hissed in Sindarin, still indignant and angry.

Haldir chuckled. "He has spoiled nothing. Come here, raw dithen, and I'll show you."
[kitten]
He patted his thigh. Gildor's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not your pet, Haldir, so do not dare treat me like one."

‘Welcome back, Ice Blade,' Haldir thought, biting back a resentful retort.

Luckily, they did not have time for any argument for the door opened again let in the
laughing twins.

"Oh, that was spectacular!" Elladan exclaimed.

"And pretty fast!" Elrohir chorused.

"I hope he'll remember the lesson," Gildor muttered darkly.

Soon they were on their way back to Imladris. Gildor's mood became even blacker when he
heard the news the twins had brought. The bands of orcs this side of the Misty Mountains
continued growing in number and the Dúnedain had to fight almost constantly to keep them
away from human and hobbit settlements. The twins said they were soon going back to join
Arassuil and his men to help them in their fighting.



Gildor was very grim about the worsening of the situation. He slipped into his warlord
mode easily, and Haldir was able to get a very clear idea of what Erestor had meant by
saying that Gildor was a much more seasoned warrior than he. No matter how much Gildor
could have disliked it in the beginning, war craft had since long become his element. He
was a born leader and an experienced and efficient commander.

Gildor, in his turn, found to his own confusion that it was becoming difficult for him to
switch back to his "family" mode and to yield his dominant role to Haldir. He was more
and more inclined to regard his permanently submissive position in their bed as unfair
inequality. He had to make a conscious effort to do it again and again. But he was
willing to make the sacrifice for Haldir's sake.

In about a month after his own begetting day Gildor had a chance to return the favour and
to wake Haldir with a kiss on the morning of *his* begetting day.

"You'll have to get out of bed and out of the house to receive your present," Gildor told
him.

"I want *you* as my present," Haldir declared, unwilling to let his lover out of his
embrace.

Gildor chuckled. "I'll make a questionable gift, I'm afraid. But if you wish, you can
have me later, as a bonus."

Gildor took Haldir to the stables and led him to the stall, occupied by a perfectly white
stallion that looked very much like Gildor's horse.

"This is Gloss," Gildor said, rubbing the animal's nose. "He is Silivren's brother and a
son of Glorfindel's Asfaloth. We've been breeding this line for centuries, so now every
horse is perfection in itself. They are swift as the wind and very intelligent. Look at
him - isn't he a beauty?"

"He is," Haldir agreed, stroking the horse's gracefully bent neck.

"He is my gift to you, Silfael. He'll become a real friend and a faithful companion to
you."

Gildor talked to the horse softly, introducing Haldir to him as his new master. Gloss
listened, twitching his ears, then shifted from foot to foot and pushed Haldir's shoulder
with his nose. Gildor laughed.

"He thinks you should give him something tasty. He has a sweet tooth, just like his
father. And Asfaloth, as a true friend, shares Glorfindel's favourite weakness. Here,
give it to him."

Gildor pressed an apple into Haldir's palm and Haldir fed it to the horse. While Gloss
was crunching on the fruit cheerfully, Haldir curled his hand round Gildor's neck,
pulling him in for a kiss.

"This is a precious gift, meleth. Thank you."


Late in the evening, when Gildor and Haldir returned to their rooms after a little party
in Haldir's honour, Haldir pulled his lover into his arms.

"I would have my bonus now."

"Hm? And how do you want me?"

"The way Thranduil had you," Haldir said, watching Gildor' face.

It took Gildor a moment to understand what Haldir meant.

"You want me… bound?" Gildor was taken aback.

"Yes."

Gildor tried frantically to collect his scattered thoughts. To be always the one to
submit was bad enough, but now Haldir wanted him to give up the last dregs of control
that were yet left to him. It was… yes, it was a scary prospect. He would be entirely at
Haldir's mercy, absolutely helpless and so very vulnerable. He loved Haldir. But did he
trust him enough to surrender completely? Gildor did not want to answer this question; he
was not ready to answer it.

Haldir was looking at him, waiting for his decision or, rather, for his consent. Gildor
felt suddenly resentful: why would Haldir make him do something he was loath to do?
Surely his lover could see that he did not like the idea?

"You seemed to enjoy it with Thranduil," Haldir remarked as if reading his thoughts.

Gildor could not say if Haldir meant it as a rebuke or an accusation.

"I seemed to enjoy it with Thranduil," he repeated with a joyless smirk. "Will you fight
me then, to have it your way?"

Haldir's eye widened. "He *made* you…?"

Gildor did not answer. Haldir absorbed the information silently. When he looked at his
lover again, Gildor saw a stubborn expression in his eyes and knew that Haldir would not
change his mind.

"Will I *have* to fight you?" Haldir asked and then Gildor made a decision.

"No," he whispered, "you will not."

When Haldir fell asleep, satisfied and sated, Gildor lay staring blankly up at the canopy
of his bed. He felt tired and lost. He had not reached his climax as long as he remained
bound. He simply could not relax enough; he did not feel safe.

Gildor crept out of bed, slipped on his robe and went out onto the terrace, closing the
door behind him. It was snowing – the first snow of this winter. Gildor tilted his head
up and closed his eyes. Fluffy snowflakes touched his face softly and melted into tiny
droplets of water that ran down his cheeks.

Something was going wrong in his life, so very wrong…




Silivren – Glittering white
Gloss – Snow white

A/N: "Raw dithen" literally means "little lion" but it is the closest thing to "kitten"
one can get in Sindarin so I had to use this liberal translation.





Chapter 7. When the Road Forks.


Haldir received an unexpected and thus even more delightful gift for the Yule. On the
morning of the holiday, when the elves of the Last Homely House were finishing the
remaining preparations for the great seasonal ball, a large party of travelers entered
the spacious yard in front of the main building. They were a delegation from Gondor,
accompanied by a group of Lórien guards. The commander of the guards was none other than
Rúmil.

"Well, how is your life here, little brother?" Rúmil asked after a hearty hug he
exchanged with Haldir.

"Oh, fine!"

"Is Gildor going to marry you then?"

Haldir's smile wavered a little. "You expect too much too soon, Rúmil. Such things are
not done in a hurry."

Rúmil chuckled. "I see. What about your social position? Have you managed to achieve
anything or are you still a sword-bearer to your renowned lover?"

Haldir frowned. "I am going to lead my own patrol soon. I am training my guards at the
moment."

"Are you indeed?" Rúmil's eyes were sparkling with mischief. "It must be convenient to
have such an influential patron."

Rúmil saw at once that he must have unwittingly hit Haldir's sore spot. "I am only
teasing, silly," he hurried to say. "I am glad you are doing so well here. Honestly."

Haldir was able to smile again. "I know you are."

Rúmil told his brother that he had been sent by the Lord and the Lady to bring Yule gifts
to their grandsons and son-in-law. As it was no longer safe to travel alone, he had four
companions with him. They had met with the Gondorin party at a day's ride from Imladris.

The brothers spent the day together, talking and exchanging news. Rúmil saw Gildor only
once, at lunch. Watching his brother with his lover, Rúmil could tell that love was still
there. However, he could sense some slight change in their relations, a change that he
could not quite put his finger on. After lunch Gildor disappeared again and did not show
up even when it was time to go to the Hall of Fire for the Yule ball.


Elrond was talking to the head of the Gondorin delegation Golasgil while Golasgil's
younger companion Dervorin was studying the crowd of elves around him with barely
concealed curiosity. Suddenly Dervorin asked, "Are those your children?"

Elrond turned his head and saw his sons entering the Hall together with Gildor. All three
of them were flushed and laughing and looked as if they had been drinking or making some
mischief, or probably both. Elrond sighed. "Well, two of them are." He made a sign to the
Princes to come and to greet the guests.

"Oh no," Elladan muttered. "Formalities again! And on such a day."

Gildor smirked. "That's why I have cast off my title. I am sorry for you but you two must
go."

"Can you not go alone, El?" Elrohir asked hopefully. "After all, *you* are the Crown
Prince here."

"No way, brother." Elladan caught Elrohir's elbow in a tight grip. "You must come
together with me."

Elrohir snickered. "Can't say ‘no' to *that*."

"At times you are so dirty, Ro," Elladan chided affectionately. "But I won't have you any
other way."

Elrohir snickered again and the twins headed for the place where their father was waiting
for them impatiently. Gildor shook his head in amusement, then looked around, spotted
Haldir lounging against a column near the window and made his way to him.

"How come you are all alone and in such a place, too?" he asked Haldir, smiling.

"Well, it is little surprise as you abandoned me for other company," Haldir replied
testily. "Where have you been?"

Gildor shrugged. "I simply did not want to be in the way. I was sure you would want to
spend time with your brother. Where is he, by the way?"

"Getting acquainted with the attractions of Imladris."

Gildor followed the direction of Haldir's look and saw Rúmil talking to Lindir.

"Lindir has a soft spot for blonds and my brother – for musicians. I think they are
likely to reach an understanding. So, where did you say you were?"

"In the park." Gildor wrapped his arms around Haldir's waist, bringing his face close to
Haldir's. "Kiss me?"

Haldir could smell the sweet scent of wine on Gildor's lips. "Have you been drinking?"

Gildor shrugged again. "It's sort of tradition."

"To get drunk with the twins before a Yule party?"

"No!" Gildor laughed. "To have a drink of mulled wine in the snow before a
Yule party. Will you kiss me now?"

"No," Haldir answered coolly.

"No? Why?" Gildor looked genuinely surprised.

"I do not see why I should," Haldir teased him.

"You do not? Well, I do!" Gildor laughed and pointed up.


The twins greeted the guests as it befitted princes, inquired after the health of Beren,
the current Steward of Gondor, and asked about the guests' first impression of the Last
Homely House. Their manners were impeccable and their father's furrowed brow gradually
smoothed over again. The Gondorin diplomats kept up the polite conversation the twins had
started. Golasgil said that the Steward was well and Dervorin admitted that it was his
first visit to an Elven realm and that he found both Imladris and her inhabitants
beautiful and fascinating.

"Is that your friend?" he asked then, nodding at the fair-haired couple by the column.

"You must be meaning Gildor," Elrohir smiled. "Yes, he is a good friend and that is his
lover by his side. Forgive them their lack of restraint," he said as Gildor wrapped his
arms around Haldir's body, clinging to him. "New lovers, you know. Oh, I hope you are not
shocked by the fact that they are both males?" He looked at the Men innocently.

Elrond frowned in concern again: the differences between the human and the elven ways of
love were not the safest subject to discuss with the mortals. To his relief, the envoys
assured them that they were not at all shocked.
Golasgil was an old diplomat and knew enough about the Elves and their oddities not to be
shocked. And Dervorin had been chosen for this mission for – among other things – his
liberal views and his own preferences in certain matters.

Dervorin kept watching the pair at the column furtively. The young elf was talking to his
silver-haired lover, who seemed to be displeased with him for some reason. Then the
youngster pointed up to the mistletoe hanging above their heads. The older elf laughed
and dipped his head to give his lover a traditional kiss. But they seemed to get carried
away in the process for the kiss lasted longer and longer. Finally, the silver-haired elf
pulled his lover into the window niche and drew the curtain to shield them away from the
hall.

Dervorin sighed, turned back to his companions… and met the knowing eyes of Elrohir. Or
was it Elladan?

"Gildor is a rare beauty, isn't he?" the twin asked softly.

"He is," Dervorin agreed carefully.

"I think you won't be surprised if I tell you that Haldir is very possessive of him."

"Haldir?"

"His lover."

"Ah. No, I'm not surprised."

The prince nodded. The message was passed and received.

Elrond found that the conversation was becoming too personal for his liking so he steered
it skillfully into another direction. By this moment the twins decided they had done
their duty to the full. They excused themselves and went away to plunge into the revelry.

Dervorin kept an eye on the curtained niche and after a while he saw Gildor and Haldir
appear from their hiding place, flushed and slightly disheveled. Gildor's lips were
bright and swollen and his lover looked very much pleased with himself. They moved around
the hall, talking to other elves, laughing and dancing an occasional dance together.
Devorin felt drawn to the golden-haired beauty and decided that to have him in his arms –
even if for only a dance – was a tempting idea. He waited till Gildor drifted away from
the group of Lórien elves his lover was talking to and made his way to him.

"May I ask you for a dance?" Gildor heard and turned to find the younger Gondorian by his
side.

He had no intention to dance with the Man and was about to tell him so, phrasing it as
politely as possible, of course, but he did not have a chance to do it. A familiar arm
snaked around his waist and he was pressed back against Haldir's powerful body.

"I'm afraid he promised this dance to me." Haldir deliberately said it in Sindarin, his
voice low and dark.

Gildor looked down, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Then he sighed and raised
his eyes again.

"He says… " he began explaining to Dervorin but the Man interrupted him.

"There is no need for translation. I can understand what he wants to say." The Gondorian
bowed slightly and left.

Gildor turned around to face Haldir.

"That was not very polite and was absolutely unnecessary," he told him, displeased. "You
are making me look infantile and incapable of taking care of myself."

"Oh, come!" Haldir laughed, feeling not at all repentant. "It is only a joke, a game. You
have nothing to fear: everyone here knows how great the clash between your appearance and
your personality is. Besides, I like it when you look so… "

"Weak?"

"So gentle. Come dance with me."

Haldir pulled Gildor onto the dancing floor. Gildor said no more but when the dance was
over, he disentangled himself from Haldir's arms and headed for the table with
refreshments. He poured himself a drink and sipped at his wine, not particularly in a
hurry to return to Haldir. He was watching the revelry around him when he suddenly
spotted Glorfindel talking to an elleth. The expression on Glorfindel's face made Gildor
look twice. He knew that sort of sparkle in his friend's eyes – it was a sign that
Glorfindel had a certain interest in the girl.

"Oh no," Gildor murmured. "I hope I am imagining things."

Elladan, who had happened to come up to Gildor at this very moment, chuckled. "If you
mean Glorfindel and Aduial, then you are not."

Gildor turned to him, surprised. "What are you talking about?"

Elladan shrugged. "Aduial is Glorfindel's current bed-mate. Didn't you know?
He sleeps only with ellith now. I would say he is trying to remain faithful to his
Mirkwood passion, at least in a way."

Gildor frowned. "I do not think that his dubious idea of fidelity will help him much if
Legolas catches the wind of it all."

"Can he?"

Gildor sighed. "Unfortunately, my long life has taught me always to expect the worst."

"Then I am afraid our seneschal is ruining our only chance for a friendly relationship
with Mirkwood. Do you think we are likely to find ourselves a Balrog slayer short one
day?"

"This is not funny, Elladan. I can see trouble ahead."

"And I can see trouble coming my way right now. Here is your guardian, dagnir-e-guilen.
I'd better be off of my own free will than be chased away by your formidable lover, like
the poor Gondorian was. What makes him so overbearing today?" [bane of my life]

Elladan ducked Gildor's half-hearted cuff on his head and sauntered away, laughing, just
as Haldir came up to Gildor. Haldir took the glass out of

Gildor's hand and put it on the nearby table.

"Come, our guests are asking you for a song."

"Me? Why? I am not the minstrel here."

"Because Lindir praised your talents to the skies to them. Besides, I thought that as
that young diplomat did not get a dance with you, we could humour him with a song from
you."

"Why are you so indulgent, all of a sudden?" Gildor asked suspiciously.

"Because he won't have to touch you to be able to listen to you singing. Come!"

They threaded their way to the group of Elves and Men, gathered around Lindir. Lindir
moved aside on the bench he was sitting upon to make room for Gildor and passed him his
lute. Haldir folded his arms and leaned against the wall by his lover's side.

"Well?" Gildor looked at the people around him expectantly. "What do you want me to
sing?"

"I thought, perhaps, you could sing "If you go away"," Lindir suggested with a shy smile.
"The song is amazing and you sing it beautifully."

"No!" Haldir snapped up suddenly. "I am fed up with everything Mirkwood. Aren't there any
good Lórien or Imladris songs? Sing something *I* can enjoy."

Everyone was taken aback by Haldir's outburst. The elves around them even drew slightly
away as if they were expecting Gildor to throw a tantrum at such unceremonious treatment
and were afraid to become unwitting victims of his wrath.

Gildor closed his eyes for a moment. ‘What the heck, Haldir!' he shot an angry thought at
his lover.

He managed to remain outwardly calm, though he felt heat creep up his face. Just like
Elladan, Gildor wondered why Haldir had turned so outrageously overbearing. He took
several deep slow breaths and then said quietly, "As I am here to perform for our guests,
I think we should ask what *they* would like to hear." He looked up at Haldir and added
even softer, "I can sing anything you want later and only for you."

Golasgil, an experienced diplomat that he was, asked Gildor to make the choice himself
and a compromise was found: Gildor did not sing the song that had raised the argument but
he chose one of Legolas's compositions, nevertheless.

Rúmil had watched the whole incident with no less amazement than the others. His brother
was behaving so provokingly that Rúmil could not help feeling that Haldir was flaunting
his dominant role in his relationship with Gildor on purpose. And Gildor let him! Rúmil
could be a rake and a joker but he was no fool. He shared Orophin's gift for reading
people's motives and he had a strong suspicion that his own presence on the scene was not
the least reason for Haldir's show of power. Suddenly Rúmil realized what had stricken
him as strange and different in Haldir and Gildor's relations. Long ago, Orophin had said
in a bout of black mood that there was no equality in love: it was always so that one
partner in a relationship loved while the other allowed the first to love him. When in
Lórien, it was definitely Haldir who did the loving part. Now, though, the roles seemed
to have changed.

Rúmil was never one to hesitate to voice his opinion. So when after finishing his song
Gildor slipped swiftly away, Rúmil approached Haldir.

"Your lover must truly be head over heels in love with you, little brother, to let you
boss him around so. But I am afraid you will have to pay for it sooner or later."

"Do not worry about me, Rúmil," Haldir laughed. "We have no argument about who wears the
breeches in our relationship."


Glorfindel found Gildor sitting on a windowsill behind a curtain in the farthest window
niche. Gildor was looking out into the garden, twirling his silver bracelet around his
wrist. Glorfindel pressed a glass of Mirkwood wine into his friend's hand.

"Here, have a drink."

Gildor nodded his thanks, accepting the liquor.

"Why are you hiding here?"

"I need some time for myself."

"Amid the celebration?"

Gildor shrugged noncommittally.

Glorfindel sighed and sat down on the windowsill to face his friend.

"You have not been looking particularly happy of late," he remarked. "What is going on?"

Gildor turned away to stare into the dark. "Nothing."

"I do not believe you."

Gildor gave him a scowl, which was not very impressive, though. Glorfindel simply looked
at him silently, waiting for him to speak. Gildor sighed and took a large swallow of
wine.

"Why did both of us have to fall for young lovers, Mallos?"

Glorfindel's lips twitched at the corners a little. "Must be a family trait. Is the age
difference what causes the problem then?"

Gildor sighed again. "I just cannot behave the way I look. I cannot pretend I am less old
or less experienced. I cannot throw to the wind all the millennia I've lived through. I
just cannot be someone different… I cannot give him the wide-eyed admiration he seems to
need. Sometimes I think he should have taken a young girl for a lover. Surely she would
have been better at that stuff," he finished in a low voice.

Glorfindel had suspected something of the kind. He understood why it could be
frustratingly difficult for Haldir to be Gildor's mate. Figuratively speaking, the young
Galadhel had to kill a dragon every day to prove to himself as much as to the world
around him that he was worth as much as his lover. Glorfindel was more than sure that
Gildor did not intend to make Haldir's life more difficult. Gildor would never ask of the
others something he would not ask of himself. The problem was that Gildor's standards
were absurdly high. He was always striving for perfection. An attempt to meet his
requirements better than himself could drive to frustration just anyone. But that was
Haldir's side of the problem. Glorfindel was sure there was Gildor's side of it as well
and he was determined to learn what made his friend unhappy.

"Is there anything else that is gnawing at you?" he asked.

"No." Gildor's answer was way too quick to be sincere.

"Liar."

Gildor cast him a dark look but kept silent, which in itself was as good as an admission
that Glorfindel had all the right to call him that.

"So, what is it?"

"I cannot discuss it with you."



"It's too personal," Gildor announced somewhat prudishly.

Glorfindel could not help chuckling at Gildor's so un-Gildor-like attitude. "The next
thing you'll do will be blushing, I expect." Then he became serious again. "You do not
have to voice your affliction if you find it so difficult to admit it aloud. I think I
know what it is."

"You do? Am I that transparent?" Gildor looked really troubled.

"Do not worry about your image: you are as fathomless as ever. I simply happen to know
you too long and too well. And I know that as you have always been the one to dominate in
all your relationships, you must find it extremely difficult to allow someone - oh, all
right, not just someone but even the one you love – to dominate you so thoroughly and so…
permanently?"
Gildor sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Did you tell him you want to exchange the roles from time to time?"

"No. I want him to make the decision himself when he is ready. If I ask him for it, he'll
do it because *I* want it and not because he wants it himself."

"And if he never does, what then?"

Gildor shrugged. "I cannot possibly make him do things he does not wish to do."

"What about you?" Glorfindel demanded. "Is what you feel not important?"
Gildor gave another evasive shrug.

"Naira, you will have to talk to him," Glorfindel said earnestly. "He cannot read your
thoughts. You will have to *tell* him what you want of him. You cannot keep it all to
yourself any longer. You will feel resentful with him and it will ruin your relations.
Besides, this pent up vexation of yours has already begun telling on you. You are more
snappish and your concentration is starting to waver. It can be dangerous in a battle.
You must do something about it."

Gildor did not have time to answer as the curtain was drawn aside at this moment and
Gildor saw his lover.

"There you are," Haldir said. "I've been looking for you. What are you doing here?" He
looked between Gildor and Glorfindel.

"Talking," Gildor replied.

"Talking? About what?"

"Old times." Gildor was aware that Haldir did not like it when he and Glorfindel talked
about people or things Haldir knew only from his history lessons. Surely enough, Haldir
lost all the interest to the subject at once.

"Come dance with me."

He pulled at Gildor's hand but the Vanya would not get up. "I do not want to dance right
now."

"Then let's go and have a drink."

Gildor looked dubiously at his lover who was definitely tipsy. "Haven't you had enough
already?"

Haldir laughed. "Not even half enough. Come?"

Gildor looked at his empty glass. "Oh, all right."

Gildor nodded to Glorfindel as Haldir pulled him away. Glorfindel saw that his friend had
once again put on a mask. And though it was not the Ice Blade guise he used to wear once,
it was a disturbing sign in itself. Glorfindel wondered for a moment if he should speak
to Haldir but then he discarded the thought for he knew that Gildor would not thank him
for meddling in his affairs.


When Gildor and Haldir returned to their rooms late that night, Haldir was even tipsier,
though not quite drunk. He was happy enough to yield the leading role in the foreplay to
Gildor who seemed to be strangely aggressive. Haldir gasped and moaned under Gildor's
demanding hands and lips. When he could take it no more, he made an attempt to roll them
over for the main deed but felt sudden resistance. Haldir looked up at Gildor in surprise
and saw an odd glint in his lover's eyes. Was something wrong? Haldir tried to make his
fogged brain function, though without much success. He frowned in irritation: he wanted
Gildor and wanted him now! Why was Gildor denying him that? Or was it some sort of game?
Did his lover want to be taken forcefully? Haldir was ready to oblige. He added more
strength to his impact and surely enough the strange light died out in Gildor's eyes, he
went pliant and allowed Haldir to reverse their positions and to press him into the
mattress. Haldir made a quick job of the preparation but when he hooked his arms under
Gildor's knees, Gildor stopped him.

"No, not like this."

Gildor rolled over onto his stomach, pushing a pillow under his hips, and pressed his
forehead into his crossed wrists. He did not want Haldir to see his face and he did not
want him to see how quickly his arousal was subsiding.
Any position was fine with Haldir as long as he could finally get access to the
delightful body that he knew would satisfy oh so blissfully the burning need in his
loins. As he kneeled between Gildor's spread legs, he thought that it was the best place
in Arda, the place he wished always to be in. Then he found the entrance to beatitude and
plunged into it wholeheartedly. His mind, dulled by alcohol and lust, failed to register
how uncharacteristically quiet and quiescent Gildor remained under him. It did not take
Haldir long to reach the release he was striving for.

As soon as Haldir rolled off him to collapse on the sheets by his side, Gildor slipped
out of bed swiftly and found refuge in the bathroom. He closed the door behind himself
and leaned heavily against it. He was shaking slightly. He earnestly hoped Haldir had not
noticed that he did not join him in his climax for Gildor found it shameful. Perhaps his
lover could even take it as an insult because Gildor had failed to give him the main
proof that he enjoyed their intimacy as much as Haldir did.

Gildor moved to splash some cold water in his face. He caught a glimpse of his pale
reflection in the mirror. There was an imprint of a mallorn tree on his forehead, left by
his bracelet. It looked like a brand. Gildor sighed. He knew it was mean of him but he
could not help feeling the bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue: he had believed
for a moment that Haldir would finally grant him a chance to have it *his* way. Gildor
shook his head. Haldir was the one who had had to sacrifice almost everything so that
they could be together. Would he grudge Haldir the only thing his lover asked of him in
return? No, he could not be so ungrateful. Gildor sighed again and returned to the
bedroom.

Haldir was fast asleep. Gildor contemplated returning to bed but he was sure slumber
would not claim him fast. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He could not
stand the confines of the room any longer. He slipped on a robe, deciding he would take a
stroll around the house.

As he was walking along the corridor, he suddenly remembered that Elrond kept a bottle of
dwarven brandy in his study. Gildor headed that way, deciding a good potion of that
poison could dull him to sleep.

Passing a junction with the passage leading to the Chamber of the Sword, he suddenly
heard soft sounds of music. Intrigued, he changed his route to find the source of it.
Soon he saw Lindir, sitting on a stone bench. The minstrel was plucking on the strings of
his lute, staring thoughtfully into the distance… or at the opposite wall where the
Mirkwood army was formed up for the fateful battle.

"Lindir," Gildor called.

The minstrel came to himself with a slight start and turned to the Vanya. His eyes looked
liquid in pale moonlight.

"What are you doing here alone?" Gildor asked him, coming closer. "I thought you would be
making a closer acquaintance with Rúmil."

A faint smile touched Lindir's lips. "I have discovered I do not like just *any* blond. I
prefer a golden tint."

"Oh." Gildor looked at the young elf attentively. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Lindir shook his head. "There is nothing to tell."

"Well, if you ever want an ear to pour your troubles into or a shoulder to cry upon, I'll
be glad to lend you any part of my body you can need. You know that, don't you?"

Lindir gave him another smile, which was more like his usual playful smiles. "Yes, you
have always been very kind to me."

Gildor brushed Lindir's cheek with his fingers and resumed his way to Elrond's study. He
found a bottle with the brandy in the cabinet, poured a generous amount of it into a
glass and drained it in one gulp. It ran down his throat like liquid fire. Gildor thought
for a moment and then had another drink. He only hoped that this extreme sleeping-draught
would work.


When Haldir woke up the next morning, he thought at first that he was alone in the large
bed. But then he turned his head and saw that Gildor was there too, only his lover was
sleeping at a considerable distance away from him, at the very edge of their enormous
bed. Haldir stared at him, confused. Haldir's head ached mercilessly and for a while he
could not quite understand why he had that uneasy feeling. And then it dawned on him: for
the first time since his coming to Imladris Gildor and he did not wake up in each other's
arms.




Chapter 8. Less Than Enough.



When Haldir thought back on it afterwards, he was inclined to believe that things began
to go awry after the Yule. He noticed nothing amiss during the festivities. But then the
holiday was over, the Gondorin delegation departed for home as well as Rúmil and his
companions. The twins left with them, embarking on some fighting mission of theirs.

It was about that time that he started having a feeling that some sort of crack had
formed in his relationship with Gildor. Oh, there was nothing as definite as a quarrel or
even a minor disagreement; nothing to explain the uneasy feeling Haldir tended to have
more and more often when he was about Gildor. No, nothing definite, only that Gildor
seemed quieter and laughed less readily, and that the green of his eyes once again
resembled the green of an emerald more than that of young leaves.

And their lovemaking… Gildor was not actually unwilling… ‘Less enthusiastic' described it
better. Fire and spirit were gone from their coupling. It seemed to Haldir that it was
more about sex now than about love. Gildor just lay there and took it, allowing his lover
to do whatever it required to satisfy his desire. And even if one regarded their intimacy
solely as sex, Gildor was becoming a dull partner. Haldir had had much better sex in his
life. He wondered if Gildor was getting bored with him.

"You are not the first and you won't be the last. We've seen it before. He'll dump you
sooner or later."

The words were stuck in his memory like a painful thorn. The prospect of loosing Gildor
brought him to the verge of panic. He felt frightened and insecure, and it made him
aggressive. He demanded from Gildor more and more proof of his own significance to him.
Gildor's patience was infinite but Haldir rather thought that this patience was akin to
the one his lover could exhibit when pacifying a spoiled child. Haldir wished Gildor
would show less self-control and more feeling. Any reaction, even Gildor's renowned
wrath, would have been more welcome than his damned composure, because it would prove
that Gildor still cared for him enough to be affected by what he did or said. Gildor's
lack of emotion was driving Haldir mad and he started spending more time with his new
friends or on the training grounds with his guards. Their respect and deference were balm
for his wounds. In their company, away from Gildor's unsettling presence, he was able to
regain his self-assurance and once again to believe in his own worth. Haldir thought that
a couple of times he saw Glorfindel looking at him as though the Elda were about to give
him a piece of his mind. But as Glorfindel never actually spoke out, Haldir was not sure
it had not been just his imagination.

Gildor was driven almost to desperation by Haldir's caprices. He tried to be
understanding but his tolerance was wearing thin. To be treated like Haldir's property,
and in public too, was humiliating at the least. He wished he could send to Mordor his
intention to be wise and patient and give Haldir a good thrashing. But he doubted that a
sound kick, delivered to his lover's backside, would make their already strained
relations better. It was almost with relief that he found refuge in his office, where he
could relax, away from the source of his vexation.

Haldir asked himself more than once what he would do if Gildor told him he did not want
him any more. He was not able to come up with an answer, so he was caught entirely
unprepared when he had to meet with Gildor's refusal for the first time.

They had spent that day separately and Haldir had missed Gildor. So when Gildor appeared
out of the bathroom, dressed in a thin silk robe that clung to his body in the most
appealing way, Haldir caught his wrist and pulled him into his arms. Gildor flinched
visibly and extricated himself from Haldir's embrace, gently but resolutely.

"I cannot. I am sorry but… I cannot."

Haldir was shaken to the core. So that was it then…

"Why?" he asked in a suddenly hoarse voice.

Gildor looked away. "I have bruised my ribs," he explained reluctantly.

"Bruised your ribs?"

"Yes," Gildor hesitated as if picking up words carefully. "I… I was sparring with
Glorfindel and… well, I missed a blow."

Haldir was looking at him in disbelief. Could Gildor not think of a better pretext than
that? Some bruise would never be a hindrance if Gildor really wanted to make love.
Actually, it had been more than once that they both had sported bruises after a session
of passionate lovemaking, Gildor especially so, for his golden skin marked easily. If his
lover did not want him, could he not at any rate respect him enough to say so honestly,
without resorting to so obviously lame excuses? Damn, that hurt. Haldir knew he would not
be able to stay and pretend that nothing had happened. He grabbed his tunic and pulled it
on.

Gildor looked at him in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"I do not feel like sleeping yet. I'll just go out and have a drink somewhere. Do not
wait for me. Go to bed." And Haldir fled the room, fastening his belt as he went.

Gildor heard the door of their suite shut and sighed. It looked like it had not gone
well. He did not want to tell Haldir that, actually, it was worse than a bruise because
in this case he would have to explain things he would rather not explain. Glorfindel had
been right: his focus *was* failing him, and badly.


Glorfindel and he were sparring and he missed a blow that normally would have never
caught him by surprise. When he finally saw it coming, there was merely a couple of
seconds left before Glorfindel's weapon connected with his flesh. Glorfindel could not
stop his hand but, luckily for them both, he was an experienced swordsman and he was able
to turn his sword at the last moment so it hit Gildor with its flat side instead of the
sharp edge. The impact sent Gildor off his feet and left him gasping for air. They were
rather painful gasps, he had to admit.

Glorfindel dropped his sword and rushed to his side.

"Naira! Are you alive?" Glorfindel was ashen-white and his hands were shaking. "I could
have killed you! Valar, I could have killed you… "

For the sake of his badly shaken friend, Gildor tried to overcome his own shock. "You
have not killed me, Mallos. Calm down. I am all right. Not quite fine at the moment, but
all right."

Glorfindel took a deep breath. "You fool! See what I meant? The loss of focus can kill
you!"

"Yes, yes, I see," Gildor answered absentmindedly, touching his injured side gingerly.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Wash, rest," Gildor shrugged. The motion made him wince. "I do not think I can take more
beating today."

"It's not what I asked you about and you know that." Glorfindel helped Gildor rise. "You
should settle your problems, Naira, or they will settle themselves in a way you will not
like in the least."

"I know, I know. But right now I need to do something about my bruised side."

"Shall I take you to the House of Healing?" Glorfindel offered, his worry once again
flaring up.

"No, it is not that bad."

Glorfindel looked at his friend in doubt: Gildor was breathing carefully and slowly and
tried not to move his arm. "I think you should see a healer."

But Gildor shook his head stubbornly. "I'll be fine. It's not that bad."


However, it *was* that bad. After Haldir's abrupt departure Gildor tried to lie down. But
he could not keep still: he felt too restless. And every movement made his injured side
throb with pain. Finally he had to get up and search for a jar of pain-killing salve he
knew he had somewhere in the suite. He found it and applied the salve to the sore spot as
well as he could. Then he took a seat in an armchair by the window and sat, watching the
night.

When Haldir returned hours later, he found Gildor awake.

"You did not say you would be away for so long," Gildor remarked, trying not to sound
offended.

Haldir shrugged. "It did not look like I was of any use to you here."

"And I thought it was I who was of no use," Gildor objected quietly.

Haldir pretended he did not hear him and went on divesting himself of his clothes. "Why
are you not sleeping?" he asked. "I told you not to wait for me."

"A pain in my side has kept me awake," Gildor muttered.

"You mean your bruise?"

"That too."

Haldir frowned: he was not sure he quite understood what Gildor implied. "I can go and
fetch a healer if you wish," he offered then.

But Gildor shook his head. "There is no need to bother anyone. It is almost morning
anyway. I can wait a couple of hours more."

When Haldir woke up, Gildor was not in the room.


Gildor went to see Elrond about his injury, bracing himself for another lecture on how
the problems in his private life affected his whole existence. But Elrond said nothing on
the matter. He examined Gildor's side and announced that there was more than an angry
bruise: there was a rib fracture. Elrond was able to ease Gildor's pain and to cure the
swelling. Though the bruise was still visible, it was of a less vivid colour now. But
that was as much as Elrond could do on the spot.

"You must go easy on yourself for a while," he told Gildor. "Your body needs time to
recuperate. As far as I know, your patrol is due for the border duty in a couple of
days?"

Gildor nodded.

"If you mean to lead your guards yourself, you must not do any sword training till then.
Or any lovemaking, either. I shall examine you again when it is time for you to leave.
And if I find out that you have ignored my orders, you will stay in Imladris and be
confined to bed in the House of Healing. Is that understood?"

Gildor nodded again. He could see that the Lord of Imladris was serious about his threat.
And though Elrond did not say a word about how or why Gildor had got his injury, it was
obvious that he was not in the least happy about it all.

To stay away from the training grounds was not much of a problem. In fact, Gildor was
quite content to sit in his office and catch up on the paper work he had neglected for a
while. Refraining from lovemaking though was a different matter. Gildor knew Haldir would
not be overjoyed at being turned down again. He was right, of course…


Haldir looked down at his lover with stormy eyes. "You can not or you do not want to?"

Gildor felt his own irritation stir. "I'm telling you I can not! I am to go on patrol in
three days. I must get well before then."

Haldir looked skeptically at the pale bruise on Gildor's ribs. "As you say."

And he rolled away to his side of the bed. He did not make any more attempts to touch
Gildor that night; nor the following nights either.

They spent the last evening before Gildor's patrol in the Hall of Fire. They came there
together and stayed close to each other, but they hardly spoke to one another and when
they did, it was not with much warmth.

Glorfindel was watching them in concern. Erestor followed the direction of his worried
looks.

"It seems we are having a dormant volcano here, which is about to erupt," he remarked
nonchalantly.

Glorfindel turned to him and his eyes narrowed. "Do not dare poke your nose into the
crater to speed the process."

Erestor laughed scornfully. "There is no need to. They are doing a very good job of
ruining their relationship themselves."

Glorfindel looked at him suspiciously. "Why do I have this feeling that my warning has
come too late and that you have already meddled with their affairs in some way?"

Erestor shrugged. "I have no idea why." But he thought it wise to change the topic. "Are
you going to send any letters to Mirkwood? The courier and his guards are leaving
tomorrow."

Glorfindel frowned. "Why do I learn about it only now?"

Erestor gave him a sarcastic smile. "Because you, my dear Glorfindel, never bothered to
ask."


Gildor was looking at the sculptured muscles of Haldir's back from his side of the bed.
He wished he could reach out and touch him. He missed the security and comfort of his
lover's embrace, the feeling of being skin to skin with him. If going against Elrond's
orders had meant only making their coupling painful for him, Gildor would not have
hesitated for a moment. But he could not run the risk of being restrained from his
patrol. Still, he could not bear the strain between Haldir and himself any longer,
either. It made him feel cold and sick and unhappy.

"Haldir," he called softly. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," Haldir answered without turning over. "I am simply tired. It has been a long day.
You'd better go to sleep too. You have to get up early tomorrow."

Gildor suppressed a sigh. "Good night, Silfael."

"Good night."

When Gildor finally succumbed to slumber, Haldir rolled carefully over and moved
stealthily closer to him. For a long time he lay there, watching Gildor sleep.

Next morning Gildor received Elrond's permission to leave and rode away, leading his
patrol to the border. It was the first time that he left without Haldir. But the Galadhel
had his own guards now to take care of, to train and to command.


Imladris felt different without Gildor. Of course they had been spending much time
separately of late but that was different. Gildor could be locked up in his office for
the whole day, but Haldir knew that he was near, that he could go and see him any moment
he wished and that he would find Gildor at night waiting for him in his bed…

Haldir missed him, perhaps more so because of their current estrangement. And he worried
for Gildor's safety. Fear for his lover clawed at his heart and haunted his sleep. He
dreamt almost nightly of orc swords and arrows piercing Gildor's body and he was not
there to save him. The dread was driving Haldir out of his mind. He thought that if this
was how it was going to be every time Gildor went on patrol without him, he would rather
be one of Gildor's guards and stay close to him than command his own patrol and spend in
agony every day his lover was away.


On the morning Gildor was due back Haldir rose before dawn. He simply could not stay in
bed. He wandered downstairs and came out into the yard in time to see Glorfindel's patrol
leave to relieve Gildor's. Haldir wished the time would fly faster for he was aware that
he had several hours to wait yet. Haldir headed for the kitchens where he knew he could
find some hot tea and freshly baked buns. The cook was generous enough to add some cheese
and honey to his impromptu breakfast.

Haldir had his meal unhurriedly and then went outside again. One moment the yard was
quiet and empty and the next – it was suddenly filled with commotion. Haldir watched with
astonishment as the Lord of Imladris rushed out of the House of Healing almost at a run,
followed closely by two of his healers. Then Haldir heard the urgent staccato of hooves
on the stones of the pavement and a white horse galloped into the yard, carrying two
riders. Haldir's heart missed a beat: it was Gildor supporting one of the twins in his
arms. The prince was covered in blood and unconscious. Gildor stopped the horse by
Elrond's side and handed down his charge carefully. Elrond took his wounded son into his
arms and hurried inside with him. Gildor dismounted but did not follow them. He stroked
Silivren's neck, talking to him quietly and gratefully. The horse put his head onto
Gildor's shoulder, his sides still heaving after a long and fast run. Then Gildor pushed
the stallion gently away and he walked in the direction of the stables.

Still, Gildor stayed where he was. It was obvious that he was waiting for something or
someone. Haldir started walking towards him. Gildor caught the movement out of the corner
of his eye and turned his head. Their eyes met over the distance. Gildor's face
brightened a little but before he could say or do something one more rider dashed through
the gates. The other twin. He was covered in blood too, looked white like death and did
not seem quite sane. He practically tumbled down from his horse and cast a frantic look
around.

Gildor moved to him swiftly. "El."

Elladan clung to him like to a solid rock amidst a stormy sea. "Where is he?"

Gildor took him by the arm and pulled him along to the House of Healing. Before they
entered, Gildor threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Haldir. Haldir followed them
inside. Apparently, Gildor's patrol had not been as uneventful as Haldir had prayed for
it to be.

When they found the room where Elrond was examining his younger son, Elrohir's clothes
had been already cut off him and the blood and dirt had been washed off his body. His
wound was not bleeding any more but he still remained unconscious.

"Ro!"

Elladan rushed forward but Gildor caught him by the arm, holding him back. "Don't, El.
You'll only be in the way."

Elladan did not seem to hear him; he was struggling to get free and Gildor pulled him
into his arms.

"Look at me, El," he demanded gently. "Look at me!"

Elladan met Gildor's eyes and gradually his look became more rational. Gildor kept their
eye contact.

"He will be all right. Your father is taking care of him. Ro will be fine. Do you hear
me?"

Elladan's lips were white and trembling but he nodded. He pressed his forehead to
Gildor's shoulder.

"Valar," he whispered. "Do not let him die!"

"He won't die, El!" Gildor said firmly but threw an anxious glance over Elladan's
shoulder at Elrond.

Finally, Elrond turned to them. Seeing the expression on his face, Gildor was able to
breathe freely again. Obviously, the worst was over.

"The wound is not mortal," Elrond said. "He has lost blood but he will live."

Elladan pushed himself away from Gildor's chest and hurried to his brother's side. He
kneeled by the bed and took Elrohir's hand gently.

"Oh Ro," he kissed his twin's cold fingers. "Open your eyes, melethen, look at me." [my
love]

"Do not make him wake up, Elladan," Elrond ordered. "He is in healing sleep. He needs
rest. And so do you."

Elrond exchanged a glance with Gildor and the Vanya nodded. He came to Elladan and pulled
him up.

"Let's go, El. I'll take you to your rooms."

"But he'll want me near when he awakes!" Elladan protested.

"When he awakes you will be near. But you must wash and change your clothes. Come, gilen
vorn, let me take care of you." [my dark star]

He wrapped an arm around Elladan's waist, urging him to move. Reluctantly, Elladan
allowed Gildor to lead him away. As they passed Haldir, who had been a silent witness to
the whole scene, Gildor gave him a quick apologetic smile. ‘I'll join you later,
Silfael.'

Gildor brought Elladan to the twins' suite, drew a hot bath, peeled Elladan's clothes off
him and put him into the steaming water. Elladan underwent all the ministrations as if in
trance. But as the heat began seeping through his skin, Elladan felt as though a tightly
wound spring suddenly uncoiled inside him. Shivers started wracking his body and he
sobbed in aftershock. Gildor knelt by the tub and collected the young elf into his arms,
ignoring the water soaking his clothes.

"Hush, El. It's all right now. He will be fine. You heard your father: Elrohir will
live."

Elladan was clutching at Gildor's tunic desperately. "I… I wouldn't be able to live
without him! When I saw him fall... Valar! I died a thousand deaths at once... "

"I know, pen neth, I know." Gildor was rocking him gently in his arms. "You will not have
to live without him. Ro is safe now. He is safe." [young one]

Finally Elladan was able to overcome his fit of weakness. He took one last shuddering
breath and pulled away, looking at Gildor with liquid grateful eyes.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for me."

"Oh, pen neth, you do not have to thank me for that." Gildor smiled and ran his fingers
through Elladan's disheveled tresses. "I love you and Ro like my own children."

"Like your children? Ew!" Elladan made a face.

Gildor laughed. "All right, like my younger brothers. Is that better?"

"Much. I love having brothers."

Gildor shook his head in amusement. "You have fully recovered as I see. So I trust you
can take a bath on your own."

While Elladan washed, Gildor ordered some food to be brought to the House of Healing for
he was sure that Elladan would want to return to his brother's side at once. He was
right. When they came back to Elrohir's ward, the younger twin was still sleeping.
Elladan immediately took a seat by his brother's bed to wait for his awakening.

"How is he?" Gildor asked Elrond quietly.

"Not too well at the moment, but he will soon recover," the Peredhel answered. "You
should have some rest too, Gildor," he said then, looking at his friend in concern.

Gildor was still in his patrol uniform, which was covered with dirt and blood and now was
sodden too. His face was drawn and pale and dark crescents were starting to show under
his eyes.

"Go and have some sleep."

Gildor nodded and left the House of Healing. But he did not retire to his rooms before he
saw his patrol return safely and he had a talk with his second in command. Arvegil
assured him that he had filled Glorfindel in on everything that happened.

"Thank you, Arvegil," Gildor smiled wearily. "I truly do not know what I would do without
you."

"Neither do I, Captain," Arvegil laughed. "That is why I am still in your patrol instead
of leading my own."

When Gildor finally got to his suite, Haldir was waiting for him there.

"You look awful," he informed him.

Gildor gave him a lopsided smirk. "Well, thanks. How very kind of you to point that out."

Haldir chuckled but then became serious again. "What happened?"

Gildor sighed. "They were ambushed right at the border of Imladris. By the time we got to
them Elladan's horse had been killed under him and Elrohir had received his wound. We
took down the whole band but it was too close. I do not like the signs: orcs are becoming
too many and too impertinent."

Gildor let down his brave façade and suddenly looked dead tired. Haldir's heart ached to
see him so worn out.

"I think you could use a bath," he said.

Gildor nodded. "Cannot agree more."

"It is waiting for you," Haldir smiled. "It is already the third one, I believe."

Gildor sighed. "Had things to do. Thanks for your concern."

Haldir shrugged. "I like taking care of you."

Gildor mumbled something in response but his voice was muffled by the tunic he was
pulling over his head.

"If you promise not to fall asleep in the water, I shall go and fetch you something to
eat," Haldir said.

"Promise." Gildor headed for the bathroom, peeling off his shirt as he went.

When Haldir returned, he found Gildor in bed and fast asleep. He put the tray with food
on the table, came up to the bed and pulled the coverlet down carefully. Gildor was
sleeping naked, as was his habit. Haldir breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his
lover sported no injuries worse than several bruises. He wrapped Gildor in the blanket
again, got into the bed beside him and gathered him in his arms. Gildor murmured his
pleasure in his sleep and snuggled closer to Haldir's body. Haldir settled his chin atop
Gildor's golden hair and gave a sigh of contentment. His lover was in his arms, safe and
sound. Life was once again like it should be.


Only it did not remain like it should be for long. When Haldir started paying attention
to it, he discovered that Gildor did not try to stay by his side as much as he used to.
While Elrohir was recuperating from his wound, Gildor spent much time by his bed, talking
to him and his brother, telling them stories, making them laugh. But even when the
younger twin fully recovered, things did not change much: the trio sparred on the
trainings grounds, took rides in the forest; they even managed to find some occupation
for themselves in the library. What else they could be doing and where was anyone's
guess.

Evenings were no better. Gildor would play chess with Glorfindel and they would banter
and talk over the game. Half of the time Haldir was not able to understand what they were
speaking about for they seemed to have their own language, communicating in half-phrases
and allusions, smiles and looks.

Or Gildor would sit in a window niche with Lindir, singing, reading music or talking
quietly. Watching these conversations, Haldir asked himself if he was being paranoid or
if there once had really been something between his lover and the Imladris minstrel.
There was that special gentleness in Gildor's attitude towards the young musician and
Lindir blushed every time he looked in Gildor's eyes longer than for several moments.
Haldir wondered what Gildor could possibly talk to the minstrel about in such an urgent
and caring manner.

All in all, Haldir felt terribly left out, even neglected. But when he tried to complain
about it to Gildor, he earned a sudden severe retort.

"You may fail to realize it but I had a life even before you came into the picture,"
Gildor told him. "Usually my world goes far beyond the four posts of my bed. There are
things I must do, want to do and like to do and people I love and enjoy spending time
with. Give me some breathing space, Haldir. I can not forever stay chained to you."

That came as bitter shock. So he was no longer enough for Gildor…

From the very first moment Haldir had set his eyes on Gildor he knew that his chances to
win the Vanya's heart were scant. By the time Gildor decided to let Haldir into his life,
Haldir was willing to accept and to be content with what little Gildor was prepared to
offer him and for as long as Gildor chose to give it. He knew Gildor cared for him,
though he never said he loved him. Perhaps, Haldir mused, the Vanya was cautious with the
words because they would mean attachment and commitment and he wanted nothing of that. Or
maybe Gildor simply did not want to say things he did not mean. After all, Gildor never
lied willingly… Haldir was aware all along that there would come a moment when Gildor
would wish to move on. However, the foreknowledge did not spare him shock and pain now,
when his worst fears seemed to start taking real shapes.

Being not enough was something Haldir had never had experienced before. Gildor's recent
attitude towards him was making him feel somehow lesser… He thought with longing of the
time when he had been absolutely comfortable in his own skin. He felt so insecure now …
And he did not know what to do: to stay by Gildor's side till the very last and leave
when his lover asked him to or to start packing right away and try to save what he could
of his heart…

"What can you offer him that he has not had before?"

Haldir had nothing to offer, only his love. But was it enough for Gildor any longer?



It was a warm spring day and Gildor was on the training grounds with the twins, teaching
them a cunning twist with which one could escape from an opponent's grip even when
pressed to the ground. Elladan had already taken his turn at it and was now sitting
cross-legged on the grass, giving playful advice to his twin, who had Gildor's wrists in
a lock above his head, pressing the Vanya down with his body.

"Now watch me," Gildor told Elrohir, both of them ignoring Elladan's comments.

With a quick movement he slipped from Elrohir's lock and reversed their positions so that
now he was lying atop of the younger twin.

"My, that was fast!" Elrohir grinned up at him.

"Have you got it?" Gildor asked.

"I think so."

"Then try to repeat it."

Elrohir did not move, though.

"Ro, do it!" Gildor commanded.

"No," the younger twin drawled wickedly. "I'm enjoying my current position too much."

Gildor gave a sigh of frustration, which suddenly hitched in his throat when Elrohir
opened his legs, allowing the weight of Gildor's body to come to rest firmly against his.
Elrohir's eyes were sparkling with mischief as he looked up into Gildor's startled face.

Gildor was the first to sense it: Elrohir's skin was rapidly warming up. All of a sudden
the young elf went pliant and yielding under him and Gildor could feel the pounding of
Elrohir's heart against his own bare chest. Their bodies pressed tighter into each other
of their own accord. They stared at each other in shock. Then Elrohir's lips parted
around a silent gasp and Gildor was up in one fast cat-like motion.

"I think that's enough for today," he muttered, heading for the house.

It all took only several moments and Elladan looked at his twin in surprise. "What
happened?"

Elrohir sat up slowly. "He reacted to me," he said quietly.

Elladan waved it away. "In such a position anyone would."

Elrohir shook his head. "No, El, it was different. For a moment he really wanted me.
*Me*. I saw it in his eyes."

The twins stared at each other silently.

Gildor was almost running, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil. What had been happening
to him? How could he have done such an abominable thing? How could he have fallen so low
as to desire one of the twins? Gildor's face contorted in self-loathing: it had an
incestuous tinge to it. What had he been thinking? Had he been about to cheat on Haldir
in the broad daylight and with one of his Lord's sons, at that? He felt bitterly ashamed
and disgusted with himself.

He hardly registered where his feet were taking him and soon was brought to an abrupt
stop against someone's firm body. He instantly knew who it was. Gildor raised his head
reluctantly. By the look on Haldir's face he could tell that Haldir had witnessed the
whole embarrassing scene. Unconsciously Gildor took a step back, out of Haldir's arms.

"You have never shown that twist to me," Haldir said, his tone carefully neutral.

"I have never had any wish to throw you off," Gildor retorted.

"I wonder why? You seemed to enjoy being on top. Or was it being on top of Elrohir that
you enjoyed?" Haldir felt jealous and hurt and it made him spiteful.

Gildor's eyes flashed with fury. "Back off, Haldir," he growled. "You do not own me and I
do not have to answer to you."

And he stormed away. Haldir watched him go, shaken. He had seen guilt in Gildor's eyes a
moment before it was replaced by anger. It looked like his guess had been accurate.

"He'll dump you sooner or later and will go back to *them*. He always does."

Was he too blind or too stubborn to see what was so obvious to the others? Were Gildor
and he not meant to be after all? Haldir was a fighter by nature and he could and would
fight but… was there anything to fight for? Haldir wished he knew the answers.