Title: Caramel

Author: Talullah 
Author's email: talullahred@gmail.com
Author's website: www.secretstigma.net

Pairings: Erestor/Legolas; later mention of Erestor/Glorfindel.
Summary: Erestor tells his tale.  Set in Valinor.
Rating: NC-17.

Feedback: Concrit is highly appreciated.
Archive: My website, secretstigma.net; AFF; Of Elves and Men.  Others are 
welcomed, but please tell me where it is.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine; they belong to the estate of J.R.R.  
Tolkien and God knows who else.  No disrespect intended.  No profit made.  
Title from ‘Caramel’ by Suzanne Vega.

Author’s Notes: This story is set in the universe of ‘Contentment’ and 
‘Threadbare’, but I think it can stand alone as well.

My deepest thanks go to Larien Elengasse for the beta job, her patience and 
her friendship.

~~~~~~
Part I
Valinor, Fourth Age

They say happy people have no stories and truth be told, try as I may, I cannot 
recall one single story in all Elvendom with a happy ending.  If this is the 
result of a complete and true recording of the facts, then we are indeed a 
doomed people, but I would rather think that this is a mere skewing of the past 
to accommodate for our preference for drama.  I think this because I know at 
least one happy story: mine.

My presumption may make you smile, but I have no illusions about the 
importance of this string of events on the wider scheme of things.  It is just a 
small story of a dull councillor who chose to stay in the shadows.  If my name 
ever passes unto a history book it will certainly be as a simple reference 
related to the great Elrond Peredhel, my long time friend, or perhaps 
connected with Legolas of Mirkwood, one of the last great heroes of Middle-
earth, although I doubt I will be mentioned as more than a friend.

See, now I indulge in indolence as much as I can, but there was a time when I 
myself wrote history books and I know perfectly well that some things never 
change.  The love between two men, although not openly criticized, has never 
made its way through the books as something other than a great friendship; 
and if this is how they will see us, it is of no great consequence to me, for it is 
no lie either.

But on with my story.  When I arrived here in Valinor, I was not sure of what 
I would find.  I have helped rulers in their tasks for as long as I can remember, 
and in my mind I knew that this should not be so different from any other 
realm I had previously lived in or visited, except for the absence of the 
constant need to fight the forces of evil.  That, by itself, promised peace of a 
kind that dispensed armies, hard as it was to imagine, but I had no illusions 
that there would always be a dispute about a plot of land, a tax set too high, an 
imaginary offence to someone’s family.  To add to these matters there was a 
distinct possibility that many of those departed had been returned to life.  I 
trusted only that Námo would be wise and not let out of his care those who 
still sought contention.

But in my heart, an altogether different scenario rose, a child’s tale I had heard 
on my father’s knees long, long ago: a land of pure light.  No strife at all, just 
people living their little peaceful lives, side by side.  No need for countries or 
rulers or coin, just sun, sea, small cottages, the joy of meeting old friends and 
oblivion of all worldly troubles.

I laugh now at my innocence.  Once more, my mind had spoken wiser and 
truer than my heart, and upon reaching Valinor, I carefully wrapped my 
childhood dream in silks for remembrance on the harsher days.

Although there would still be some ships coming in the following years, mine 
was the last carrying people from Imladris and immediately I was faced with 
myriads of problems to solve, tensions to appease, and polite bowing whilst 
swallowing some large toads, nothing that an experienced diplomat such as 
myself had not faced before.

Elrond’s people wanted to be ruled by one they deemed wise and kind, not 
some stranger.  This would not have been a problem if Elrond had not been so 
tired of life and in need of a well deserved rest.  He tried to place his people 
under the leadership of Fingolfin, a kind a ruler as any, but the people rebelled 
and kept begging him to shield them under his protection, wrecking his 
dreams of peace.

I suppose Elrond’s hopes and wishes were as naïve as mine.  I suspect he had 
hoped to find one large happy family where every one was healed and loved.  
Instead, he found the same people we had heard from in the old tales.  His 
family, strangers with very complex motivations were welcoming enough but 
soon started to enlighten him on their expectations; Celebrían was less fraught 
with pain, but was still vaguely haunted by an inner shadow, something in her 
irreparably broken; his daughter was lost and his sons would not come.  I 
could see the disappointment in his eyes when our ship arrived and though I 
stood by his side and shook my head discreetly in answer to his mute 
question, he stood there to the end of the unloading.  No ship has arrived since 
then that he has not done the same.

Barely a week had passed since my arrival and I knew that my time to live 
carefree was yet to arrive.  Glorfindel and I tried to persuade Elrond to form a 
realm of sorts for his people, for many of those who had sailed before now 
wanted to join the more recent exiles.  After some insistence of ours, and 
Celebrían’s too, he allowed us to do it as long as he would not end up 
excessively tangled in political and administrative affairs.  It was no easy task 
for me and Glorfindel to keep to our words, but somehow we managed.

We pleaded with the Council of the Valar and they granted us land to the 
south.  Many of our kin frowned upon we upstarts, but there was care here 
these days, and none went further than some ill-disguised bitter words.  I went 
through all of this with an energy and hope that I had not had in a very long 
while.  I did not lie to myself about the causes for these bursts of happiness 
that pervaded me but I did not dwell on them either.  All that was Middle-
earth was to be left behind now; Valinor was the future and it should not feed 
off of the past.

I had arrived here obsessed with the idea that a new beginning was possible, 
but that hope seemed to dim somewhat under the constraints of reality, until 
one day I found myself in my exact former position.  I did not want this, not 
by far.  I had helped my former liege and our people out of friendship and a 
sense of duty and gratitude for all the good they had done me in the past, but I 
would not settle for my former role standing in the shadows, governing, as 
before.  Yet I could hardly break my word and leave my responsibilities to 
Elrond and Glorfindel.  And besides, where would I go, what would I do?  
The possibilities were such that I staggered under the mere contemplation, and 
yet they were fearful indeed.  Could I rise to my hopes and reinvent myself?

Time had passed and things had settled enough, but I could not find my way 
out.  Before, in Middle-earth, I had filled these duties whole-heartedly, in fact 
I would have hardly called them duties, but now they constrained me and thus 
became dull and frustrating.

And then one day Elrond returned from the harbours with two visitors: 
Legolas and Gimli, the Dwarf.  To say that I was stunned by the surprise is an 
understatement.  In my heart, I thanked Legolas for the happiness our last 
night together on Middle-earth had brought me, but I considered it a closed 
matter, a sweet memory of something gone wrong, an act of pity towards one 
for whom I still held some affection but was no longer bound to by love or 
duty.

But I was wrong.  My heart thumped wildly in my chest upon the sight of him 
and all I could do was to hold my breath and go through with the formal 
greetings until it was decent enough to escape under the excuse of finding 
accommodations for the guests, as if our aid could not see to that by 
themselves.

I closed myself in my room and leaned my head against the cool wall, trying 
to order my thoughts, but all I saw was his eyes set so heavily upon me.  I 
knew what his presence meant, but to my shame the sorrow that came with the 
demise of Estel was dampened by crazed feelings.  That he still could have 
affected me so was my own fault and I felt angry at myself for having made 
the terrible mistake of indulging that night; I felt angry at myself for not being 
able to regret it and for cherishing its memory so.

It is often said that wisdom is to learn from other’s mistakes and avoid them.  
I am not sure it is that simple, or maybe I am not as wise as everybody seems 
to think, but merely cleaver when it comes to stately business.  The fact is that 
I have often been wrong when it came to Legolas.

My last night with him was a mistake made out of pity.  See, as much as 
Legolas has hurt me it was never his doing, but mine.  I settled for less than 
what I wanted and felt hurt when that was exactly what I received.  I could 
never hate him for not loving me beyond a superficial tenderness; that would 
hardly be fair.  But, on the day he thought his feelings had grown to their full 
measure, it was simply too late for me to trust him.  Forgiving is indeed an 
altogether different business from forgetting.

So, after I had freed myself from a love that was too small and a life that was 
too empty I occupied myself with many things, but the void was never really 
filled.  When he came to me at the Havens I should have been indifferent, but 
I could not be.  After such a great love how could I feel nothing? No, I told 
myself that I felt compassion for him, for the effort he was making for me, for 
the pain he was feeling which I knew so well, and for making a fool of 
himself in front of his Dwarven friend and everybody else.  I knew how proud 
he was and what that must have cost him.  But did I really know him?  Would 
the Legolas I knew ever have gone to such lengths for me? I was weak.  
Instead of uprooting that weed from my heart once and for all, I watered it.

Now he was here.  Before dinner, my good old friend Glorfindel came to my 
rooms.  He had never truly overcome his dislike for Legolas and I knew what 
his presence meant.  Before he could utter a word I told him flatly, “I am not 
an innocent maiden, Glorfindel, and I can take care of myself.”

I did not mean for my tone to be so harsh.  He turned to the door, but I held 
him by the arm.  “I am sorry,” I said, contrite.  He shook his head dismissing 
the offence.  The dinner bell sounded before any thing more could be said and 
I followed him down for a meal and a dose of torment.

Legolas told us the news we all longed to hear of our loved ones left behind 
and of our former homes.  From their composed faces, I am sure he had 
already talked with Elrond and Celebrían, but we all longed to hear about the 
twins, and about Arwen, among other friends and acquaintances that had 
chosen to remain.

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee still lived with us, though perilously old 
and fragile.  When I saw Legolas and Gimli talking with them so 
affectionately, I reminded myself of why I had once loved him.  Legolas was a 
kind creature; he had taken the trouble of going to the Shire one last time for 
news before he headed home and finally sailed down the Anduin in his grey 
boat.

The night was a mixture of bittersweet moments.  A rare expression of 
unbridled joy lit Celebrían’s features when he assured us all that the twins had 
given him their word they would follow, only to be shattered by the 
realization that they awaited only the news of the death of their sister.

I remember distinctly at one point someone asking Legolas why he had built 
his own ship instead of coming in one of Círdan’s.  He smiled affectionately 
to Gimli.  “Dwarves are stubborn creatures and Gimli insisted that he had to 
build a boat to prove to us elves that dwarves can do more than stonework.”  
Watching his hosts’ incredulous expression, he laughed and continued, “Well, 
in truth we could have waited for some time at the Havens and come in one of 
Círdan’s ships, but these days there are so few passengers that several years 
can go by between ships coming, as you well know.”  Then, staring at me so 
obviously that several heads turned to follow his gaze, he added, “I had a deep 
longing to come here though, and could not wait for another day.”

I clutched my napkin and silently averted my eyes.  I did not want to play his 
games, not anymore, not this time.

The night went on, laughter and pain still mingling.  Legolas distributed letters 
and other tokens entrusted to him to a few, all the while searching for my 
eyes.  I felt I was being placed under siege and I fled, I confess.  I took refuge 
in my study; I dared not chance going to my room that he would search for me 
there, and I knew that he would inevitably come to me as soon as he found the 
chance.  He did not make me wait long.

“It has been a long time,” he said, approaching me with hesitant steps, the 
door left ajar behind him.

I tried to steel myself.  “No, not really.”   As I said the words I could see his 
face falling and I felt I had been cruel.  It broke my heart and I found myself 
trying to mend what I had done.  “I mean, what are a hundred years to us…” I 
continued.

He looked up at me and I could see the uncertainty spreading.  I did not know 
what to do with this diffident Legolas.  I knew all his moods by heart, what to 
do in every instance, but now, now I could not recognise this new game and 
my heart told me it was indeed no game.

He stepped closer and held me and I let him.  I longed for this touch so badly I 
felt it trickling through every inch of my body, tentative and soft as it was.

“I love you so much,” he said into my ear, holding me tighter, and then he 
tried to kiss me.  There is a name for the rush I felt coursing through me then: 
fear.  It was fear that made me pull back just before his lips touched mine and 
stand there, staring deep into his eyes in silence.  I wished I could trust him, 
but too much had passed between us.

“You once told me it could be simple between us,” he said, his lips so 
dangerously close to mine.  “And I think that you might still feel a little love 
for me.  Please give me a chance,” he pleaded, never letting go from my gaze.

He touched my lips with his and I almost allowed him to deepen the kiss, but 
at the last minute a warning resounded in my head: ‘It was never enough.’

I pushed him back slowly and braced myself for the damage that would 
inexorably come.

“Legolas…” I started, praying that my strength would not leave me.  He 
looked at me with such an expression of pain that I knew I could spare him 
my words, but it had to be said, both for his sake as mine.

“There is no point in us being together, and we both know that,” I said, and 
before he stopped me I added.  “I can see that you truly believe we could be 
happy together, but I do not.  This is my final word.”

“Maybe that is so, but know this Erestor: it will take more than this for me to 
give up on you.  I will woo you and you will reconsider.”   Oh, this Legolas I 
knew and quite well.  I could not suppress a smile.  He took me by surprise 
and kissed me again, this time with fervour, and then left the room.  He had 
always had a flair for drama.

I found myself tasting my lips and wondering what it would be like to be 
pursued by Legolas.  Not that I had never been courted before, quite the 
contrary, but this seemed more important to me – I had always been the one 
chasing Legolas, begging for love.  Even when we fell out and he asked me to 
return to him, it was far from courting, it was more like the stern reminding of 
the blind need that tied us together.

I went to my rooms and tried to sleep but I could feel his body lying next to 
me, and I ached to touch that ghost image made into flesh.   I tossed and 
turned until dawn arrived.  What I needed was a good ride, some exercise to 
drive these thoughts away and regain my focus.

I left my rooms quietly at sunrise and went to the stables.  Odd as it was, I was 
disappointed by not finding him there waiting for me.  Chiding myself, I 
prepared my mount and rode through the streets unto the forest and then down 
unto the sea following the shoreline.

I had not lived by the sea in many, many years, and now one of the great 
pleasures of living here was the possibility to take refuge in the salty breeze 
and the rustling of the waves.  The scattering of the light on the sand and the 
sea blinded me and cleared my mind on most days, but not today.

It was late in the morning when I returned.  Despite the long ride, I was still 
restless and after caring for my mount I headed to the training grounds, 
following a very old habit of mine, from those days in Eregion, when one 
could never be too ready for battle.  I have always known that my style is not 
well appreciated by many but I never cared enough for displays of artistry, 
when with careful positioning and a simple leap to the side I could have one 
orc dispatching another.  In this, the Silvan elves were much more 
understanding than my Noldor kin and it was one of the many reasons for 
which I loved so much living among them in those years I stayed with 
Legolas.

Legolas was there, to my disquiet.  I cannot imagine what reasons I should 
have to be surprised but I was.  I glimpsed Deluhathol with relief.  We often 
sparred together and a friendly rapport had grown between us along the many 
years of our acquaintance.  I nodded to him and he tossed me a long wooden 
sword, then we headed for the arena and started circling each other.  I should 
have been focusing on his movements but my eyes kept darting towards 
Legolas and my thoughts kept fleeing from the moment.  In turn, I could feel 
Legolas’s eyes upon me, making me slow, dragging me down with the weight 
of their stare.  Deluhathol took his chance and I barely caught his blow.

“You are not yourself today, Erestor,” my sparring partner said.  I only 
growled in reply.

His next jab at me was met with even more inattentiveness and my fingers 
were caught between our swords.  A cry escaped my lips.  Deluhathol bowed 
and apologised.  Before I could dismiss his apology there was Legolas at my 
side, grasping my hand anxiously in his.

“How is it? Does it hurt much? It does not look good,” he fired at me.

“It is nothing, I am fine,” I said, pulling my hand from him.  His solicitude 
was enraging.  I had to bite my tongue not to shout at him, “Who do you think 
you are to interfere in my life, now that I cannot stand the sight of you?”

I suppose he had not taken the time to study me as well as I had studied him, 
otherwise he would not have mistaken my dry tone for anything other than 
anger.  He insisted, “Erestor, it is starting to bruise already; it is hardly 
nothing.”

“I was fighting when you were but a pup suckling on your mother,” I snarled 
at him.

Deluhathol was looking to the side, embarrassed, but Legolas was relentless 
and oblivious or at least he pretended to be.  He reached once more for my 
hand.  “Please let me care for you,” he said.

I snapped.  To this day, I cannot recall having hated anyone as much as him in 
that moment.  “Leave me alone! I do not need your help, nor do I recall asking 
for it.”   With this bitter tirade, I left the training grounds holding my hand 
against my chest, furious at myself for having made such a beginner’s 
mistake, all the more in front of Legolas, and I became even more enraged for 
having lost my temper in such a revealing way.

I went to my rooms.  My hand was numb in some places and throbbing in pain 
in others.  I clumsily prepared a bowl of cold water and reclined in my bed, 
placing my hand in it and choosing to ignore temporarily the reek of sweat 
about me.

As the pain subsided and I managed to turn away the recurring images of what 
I should have said and done instead, I started to doze off.  I woke up with a 
soft knock on the door and a vague notion that I had skipped lunch and a 
meeting with Elrond and Glorfindel.

The door opened before I could answer.  Glorfindel was the only one who 
would do that; time and again, there he was by my side, sitting in a chair he 
had pulled next to the bed.

“Let me see,” he ordered, reaching for my hand.

I frowned as he examined my wrinkled and bruised hand.  “The news travel 
fast,” I quipped.

“As always.  You should have applied some salve there and massaged it a bit.  
I hear the Mirkwood brat was more than willing to help.”

“Glorfindel…” I warned, pulling my hand from his.

“I know, I know,” he appeased.  “Listen, I did not come here to irritate you.  
You manage to do a good job at that by yourself.”

“I do not know what you mean by that, and please, do not bother telling me.”   
I tried to dissipate the returning annoyance with a deep breath, before 
continuing.  “Why did you want to talk with Elrond and me? Can we have the 
meeting later?”

“There is no need for a formal meeting.  I already spoke to Elrond, while you 
rested.”   Glorfindel seemed worried; his serious tone immediately erased all 
other concerns from my mind.

He rose from the chair and went to my dresser, returning with some salve.  
We had been friends for so long we discarded formalities without a second 
thought.  When he had extended his silence for long enough to have me 
deeply concerned, he placed my hand on my lap and started talking.

“You know that I have been receiving letters from the north,” he said 
solemnly.

I assented with a nod.  When I arrived, I had learned that several people of 
Gondolin and of his House had been returned from Mandos and lived in a 
small community, far into the northwest.  Glorfindel had been there visiting, 
but in the end he had chosen to stay with us, saying we needed him more.  I 
was grateful and relieved by having someone to share the burden, but I was 
also terribly surprised.  During our very long friendship I had always heard 
him talking of his people with affection and longing and I had imagined he 
would prefer to join them.  Now I silently questioned his motives once more.

“They are asking me again to return there,” he continued.  “They say they 
would be happy with a mere visit, although they hope that once there I decide 
to stay.”

“And you are thinking about going.”   I finished for him.

Glorfindel nodded.

“I am glad you decided to go,” I said carefully, studying him.  “I think it is 
more than time for you to take care of your own life, and we now have 
everything more or less under control here.”

He snorted.  “Are you implying I am no longer needed?”

I played his game.  “Well, we could use one less mouth to feed…”

Glorfindel grinned, but gave up on the bantering and sat silently until our 
smiles faded.

I seized the opportunity.  “Why did you come here?” I asked.  Before he could 
interrupt, I continued, “Yes, I know you have lived long with us and that you 
feel responsible, but they are your people and no one would have blamed you 
if you had chosen to join them immediately.”

“I do not know,” he said, avoiding my eyes.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a lousy liar?”

“You, several times.”   He grinned at me, but I could see how troubled he was.  
He pursed his lips before uttering, “The truth is that I feel embarrassed and… 
unworthy.  Despite what they say, I failed them once and although there is 
nothing to suggest that this could happen again, I cannot take their trust so 
lightly.  Besides I was needed here.”

Glorfindel could be so difficult.  I sighed.  “Only you could think you failed 
them,” I said.  “You will see that for yourself as soon as you are with them 
again.”   I made an effort to finish the sentence.  “Where you belong.”

“I realise I am not being rational,” he said.  “My hesitation is bordering on 
cowardice, something that I never have displayed.  This is why I decided that I 
will go as soon as the twins arrive.”

I nodded.  It was the right decision, even if it pained me to separate from my 
closest friend.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, to my surprise.

“Why?” was all I could ask.

“The twins can take care of everything perfectly.”

“Yes, I know that, but why would you want a stranger there with you? And 
before you say it, I am a stranger to them.”

“So am I,” he answered and I thought I could hear traces if dejection in his 
voice.

I felt tempted to resort to jesting, but the sight of my dear friend so forlorn 
drove away that thought.  Instead, I tried to cheer him up.  “It will be an 
adventure,” I said.  “And before you have time to think about it, all the 
distance time may have carved will be gone, you will see.”

He smiled and jested, “Yes, you are right, o wise one.”   He patted my thigh 
and left me to my thoughts.

At dinner, Legolas manoeuvred well enough to sit by my side.  Thankfully, at 
my right was Glorfindel providing an easy distraction.  I wished that of all the 
old habits Elrond would have kept marked seating places, but Celebrían had 
insisted in relinquishing this particular formality among many others.

It was painfully annoying to endure his attempts to start a conversation.  
Elrond and even Glorfindel were more than happy to oblige him but it seemed 
that every question he asked ended with ‘Erestor’.

Blessedly Celebrían’s notion of informality included short meals, and dessert 
came soon enough.  I reached out to the fruit plate and took an apple; I tried to 
peel it but my hand was still hurting and the apple fell to the table.  Legolas, 
despite being deeply involved in his conversation with Gimli, Celebrían, and 
Elrond, turned immediately to me and caught the apple.

“Here, let me to do that for you,” he said, starting to peel it for me.

I sighed, exasperated.  “No, please do not.”  It came out louder than what I 
had intended.

He stopped his movements slowly, as if in disbelief, and I felt ashamed when 
even Celebrían, always so distracted these days, looked at me with surprise 
and incomprehension in her eyes.  I sat there in penitent silence, until some 
merciful soul, Gimli, I think, broke the awkward silence.

The next morning I was sitting at my desk, unable to concentrate on any work.  
The New Imladris, as many would call it, was not the infinite source of food 
some thought.  There was a pressing need for more wheat and there was only 
so much a land could offer.  I knew the solution should be somewhere under 
my gaze, but agriculture had never been my preference.  Instead, what ran 
through my mind were other thoughts: Glorfindel’s surprising request, 
Legolas’s unwarranted attentions and my mixed reactions.

I was lost in the contemplation of the many possibilities when Legolas 
decided to pay me a visit.

“How is your hand?” he asked.

“Fine,” I answered coldly.  I could not force myself to civility.

“I am sorry if I embarrassed you, but I do not think it is such a secret what we 
once were and what I want us to be again.  It is only natural that I should show 
that I care for someone I love.  No one will think less-”

“Legolas, just stay away,” I said tersely.

“You do not really mean that and you know it.”

His voice was soft and I felt it piercing through my heart.  Still, I could not 
bring myself to answer; there was nothing I could say that would not be 
hurtful and I felt tired of this new persona that seemed to inhabit me whenever 
Legolas was around.  He advanced and took my hand in his, examining it.

“I doubt you could write with it, the way it is.”

“I am managing well enough,” I lied.

“I could help you…”

“Legolas, you have one of the worse calligraphies I have ever seen.  Your 
tehtar seem to fly backwards and always land on the wrong tengwar and your 
silme are barely recognizable.”  Realising I had been once more harsh and 
offensive, I stopped myself and tried for a softer tone.  “If I need help, I am 
sure Lindir will be happy to oblige.”

“Fine,” he said, leaving the room.

I sat there feeling disappointed.  I had done what I wanted had I not? I had 
hurt him and chased him away and he was no longer there with his unrequited 
affections.  Why did I feel so empty then?

Try as I might I could not force myself to sit still and work.  First I paced the 
office, impatience and futility pervading my movements and then I gave up 
altogether and left.  I roamed around until I came across Glorfindel.  I needed 
something to occupy my thoughts and I started blabbering, asking questions, 
constructing scenarios and making plans for our trip.  He listened patiently, 
even with some enthusiasm on occasion, but in the end he simply said, “If you 
would prefer to go elsewhere, with someone else, I would understand.”

I sighed.  “No, and it is not open for discussion.”

Glorfindel shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”

Being pursued was not at all what I had expected.  I felt haunted by remorse 
for being so harsh with Legolas when he came to me the day after, with his 
hands conspicuously hidden behind his back.  With a brilliant smile, he pulled 
out what he had been hiding: flowers, white gardenias.

“A peace offering,” he said.

I knew how difficult it must have been for Legolas to take the first step, all the 
more when I had been the offending party, but I could not contain myself.

“Am I some silly maiden to be courted with flowers?” I asked in that cold, 
angry voice that followed Legolas all the time now.

His face transformed before my eyes, anger ensuing disappointment.  “I 
thought they would cheer your gloomy office, but I guess not.  You want 
gloominess; you want to be miserable all the time.  Maybe that is why you 
stayed with me for all those years, not because you had actually loved me, 
ever.”

He tossed the gardenias to a chair and left angrily.  Always true to himself, he 
made an effort not to slam the door, but it still made a loud noise.

For the next few days he kept his distance.  He was courteous, but reserved, 
whenever we met.  I was plain cold.  I could still feel his eyes chasing me, but 
when I turned to face him, he always averted them.  I should be glad but I was 
not.  I chided myself for my foolish indecision.

I doubt his behaviour was part of any orchestrated strategy; Legolas was 
simply incapable of deliberately manipulating another, but it was working.  
Against my better judgement I ended up talking to him.  I suppose I felt 
guilty.  One afternoon I found him in the stables.

“Are you trying to make me feel remorseful?” I asked, half a smile dancing on 
my lips instead of the apology I owed him.

“I thought you wanted to be left alone,” he said keeping his eyes on his horse.

“I do not want for us to be like this… we could be friends,” I offered 
tentatively.

“Erestor, I have no need or use for crumbs, and if you feel guilty it is because 
of something you have done, not because of anything I have done.”

“I thought you said you wanted to woo me, and I am quoting here.”

“This hardly implies being on the receiving end of your anger.  I know I 
deserve it, but that does not mean I want it or that I will take it.”

He mounted his horse and left without further ado.

I started kicking the hay on the ground, frustrated.  That had not gone for the 
best, not in the least.  The words he had said now and in our last encounter 
kept turning in my head.  What if he was right? What if I had accustomed 
myself so much to being unhappy, or numb at best, that I did not know how to 
be any different? Perhaps I was one of those individuals who can never find 
happiness because they refuse to acknowledge anything less than perfection 
and accept it as good and worthy.

And he was right in another thing: I was using him as an outlet for an anger I 
had not acknowledged before.  Knowing this all should have made me 
reconsider my position and feel ashamed for my behaviour, but what I felt was 
quite different from what my rational thought told me I should feel.

“What has the poor hay done to you?” I heard a familiar voice asking from 
behind me.

“Nothing.”  I shook my head and composed myself.

“You should not have given the poor lad false hopes.  It was cruel.”  I had 
never talked much with Gimli, although I had had more than one opportunity 
to witness his forthrightness.

“This is not of your concern,” I said to finish the conversation at once.  I could 
be blunt and rude too, if I wanted to be.

“My friends are of my concern.”  Yes, his persistence had quite a reputation, I 
remembered.

“I am not your friend,” I said, walking away.

He raised his voice to my back.  “You will miss more than what you could 
gain with this.”

He did not follow me to my office where I pretended to do some work until it 
was near dinner time, and Glorfindel came by.

“So, I hear that you finally had your princeling on the run,” he said 
nonchalantly, sitting in the corner of my desk.

I was startled.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, he is going away.  I thought you already knew that.  He told Elrond 
this afternoon.”

“No,” I mumbled, lowering my head to my unread papers.  It seemed wrong 
for Legolas to leave now, when everything was so incomplete.

“You were not expecting that he would stay around forever waiting on you.  
He has a life too.”  I nodded.  I really did not want to discuss this with 
Glorfindel, not now.

He continued.  “I cannot say that I blame you, but I feel sorry for him.”  

Elbereth! He was persistent, everyone was persistent.

“Oh, Glorfindel! Please!” I said, rising from my desk and walking briskly to 
the door.

“Be sure to wear something nice tonight,” I heard him say, with a tinge of 
sadness in his voice.  Surely I had not been so harsh with Legolas that even 
Glorfindel would take pity on him.

I went to my rooms, images of our last night together as lovers revolving in 
my head.  Could we repeat it? Could I go to Legolas, make my apology as he 
had made his once and then we would be happy forevermore? I doubted that.  
There was something hard and unyielding inside me that would not allow for 
that.

Still, at night I searched for his eyes.  The night went on and on.  Legolas was 
loved and admired; many wanted to show their appreciation.  I could barely 
keep an appearance of serenity, my fingers drumming on the tabletop, my foot 
tapping on the floor; I was impatience personified.

Late in the night he let his eyes meet mine for more than a few seconds.  He 
nodded almost imperceptibly and bid goodnight and a few more words to 
Elrond and Celebrían in appreciation for their hospitality.

I tried to follow him, trying to be discreet, though I doubt I succeeded.  I 
found him in one of the doors to the garden.

“You were leaving without telling me?” I asked softly, incredulous, as I 
followed him outside.

“I did not think it would concern you,” he said in a soft, low voice.

I felt that unease that came before anger surging again: there it was again that 
docile Legolas and I did not know what to say or do to him except being 
angry.  I made an effort to control myself and nodded silently.

“I know I have given you good motives to distrust me and I do not blame you 
for feeling angry, but I know you all too well, Erestor.  You never go to such 
lengths to mistreat those who have earned mere indifference from you.”

I bowed my head, ashamed but still unable to present an apology.

He greeted my silence with more words.  “I had not planned to stay here long 
because I wish to meet my grandfather again and our people.  In any case, I 
had hoped that I would be invited to return.”

“I am sure Elrond will not deny you his hospitality,” I said, but Legolas chose 
to ignore what I meant under my stubborn pride.

“No, he will not, but it is not his welcoming that I long for.”

I nodded once more, but still refused to tell him I would see him again.

He continued.  “I truly believed that there could still be something left for us.  
I cannot force myself to believe that you hate me so, but I will not be 
bothering you again.  If you ever should miss me or need me for any other 
matter, I will be around.  Just say the word.”  

He turned to return to the house and I tried to stop him.  “Legolas…”

He looked back to face me.  “I will see you again.”

Funny how our lives seemed to be nothing but a quick succession of 
goodbyes.  I could not sleep that night.  I watched him leave with Gimli at 
dawn.  He could have looked up, searching in the windows for me, but I am 
sure he did not.

Stubborn as I am, I tried to resume to my affairs without great thought to 
Legolas’s visit, but memories tinged with remorse and still so much of that 
unbidden resentment filled me.  I had the time to contemplate my motives and 
my actions but I refused to hear the part of me that said I had been wrong.

Unlike Middle-earth, where danger lurked at every corner, here the peoples 
were free to move as they please.  Not many did, however, content as they 
were in their new homes.  Still, we often had news.  Legolas had indeed 
visited his grandsire’s home and stayed there for a few months.  Then he and 
Gimli had returned to the north, to visit with Galadriel and Celeborn; New 
Imladris was on their way, but they had not stopped.  I kept telling myself that 
this should not be of consequence to me, but I could not drive the thought 
away from my mind.

Barely a year had passed when Elladan and Elrohir arrived, bringing with 
them a collective sigh of relief, tinged with grief for Arwen, now forever lost 
to us.  Despite all the pain, I think that everyone felt happy then, for the 
happiness the twins brought to their parents, even those who were not close to 
them.

Elladan and Elrohir had always been good youths and had grown up to be fine 
elves.  Now that there was no darkness to fight, they searched for other 
occupations and before we knew it, they were spending their days with 
Glorfindel and me, slowly taking our place whilst discovering their new 
adventure: a new way to being of use to others.  It seems they thought we 
were entitled to some rest and before long, we found ourselves with plenty of 
time on our hands.  Glorfindel started planning our trip to the north, this time 
concrete plans, not the abstract conjectures of before.

We both grew impatient, Glorfindel because he had always hated postponing 
action after taking a decision, and me because if I had felt useless and even 
more trapped in a way of life I no longer loved.  We finally left New Imladris 
and headed north.  Galadriel’s new home was on our way, and Celebrían 
asked us to take a letter for her parents.  The latest news declared that Legolas 
and Gimli were still with Galadriel, but when we arrived they had already left.  
I felt a curious mix of relief and disappointment that I quickly set aside.  We 
did not stay there for long.  The road called us, and once more we embarked 
on the voyage ahead.


~~~~~~
Part II

In a few weeks, we arrived at our destination.  I suppose I expected to find 
something akin to New Imladris, the people busy building a newer, more 
splendorous version of their old home, or comfortably installed in the finished 
product, as in fact they had had more time than we did, but instead I found a 
simple, albeit large village.  The houses were small and of plain build, the 
streets were ample but unpaved, their sides lined with trees which gave the 
most pleasant shade for this hot, late summer.  They had chosen a large 
plateau for the location, and no fortifications were visible.  Even now that was 
baffling, so long had we needed protection.  Glorfindel made no comments as 
we rode by, but I could see his glances at me through the corner of my eye.  
There were few people on the streets, but he seemed to know each and every 
one of them.  They greeted him cheerfully and addressed me welcoming 
smiles.  We soon left the main street and made a series of turns until we 
stopped by a house no different from any other.

We dismounted and Glorfindel knocked on the door.  After a few moments an 
elf opened it.  He looked dishevelled and in one of his hands we could see 
what looked like a crumpled apron.

“Glorfindel!” he said, hugging him tightly.

After much mutual back patting Glorfindel chuckled and broke the embrace.  
“I take it you are glad to see me, although I am interrupting your cooking.”

The elf laughed.  “I think Glîrwen will be glad that you interrupted me.”

Glorfindel laughed again.  “And how is she?”

“Pregnant! Very much so,” he said with a wide grin.

Glorfindel grinned too.  “Good, good.”  He turned slightly to include me.  
“Egalmoth, this is my friend Erestor, the one I told you about.”  

Egalmoth extended his hand enthusiastically and took mine.  “Any friend of 
Glorfindel is my friend too.”

He dragged us inside the cool house, and led us to a small living room.  “I will 
be back in no time; I must take the animals to the back.”  We both moved to 
help him, but he waved his hand.  “No, no need for that.  You have travelled 
long and I am sure my girl will love to take care of them.”

We sat there enjoying the freshness of the room until Egalmoth returned from 
another door, holding a pitcher of what looked like cool ale in one hand and 
three mugs in the other.

“My girl?” Glorfindel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Egalmoth grinned and I think I detected a faint blush.  “Erm, well, she was 
born a few years after your last visit, so she is not really a girl now, but she is 
still young.  Oh well, she’s a baby,” he conceded to himself.

“And you have already another one in the oven?”

Egalmoth snorted at my scandalized, open jaw.  Glorfindel had always been 
witty, but not vulgar, and this had been a shock in some ways.  “Well, yes,” he 
replied.  “Glîrwen plans to supplant Nerdanel – and she wants me to help her 
with it,” he added with a wink.

I could not suppress a big laugh.  I was already starting to like my host, and 
this unknown side to Glorfindel.

“Why you did not mention it in your letter?” Glorfindel asked after the 
laughter subsided.

“We wanted to surprise you… and we feared you would flee at the mention of 
loud elflings running around,” he grinned.

The afternoon went on in this fashion.  Egalmoth took us to his kitchen where 
he continued with his cooking.  His daughter joined us soon, a quiet girl that 
could not keep her wide eyes off of Glorfindel.  The raunchy banter subsided 
a little but not too much, and in a way I was pleased to see that our relaxed 
ways did not disturb the girl greatly.  Eventually, the lady of the house arrived 
too, accompanied by her mother, at whose house she had been.  Both greeted 
Glorfindel effusively, with genuine delight.

Glorfindel asked after friends and acquaintances, and Egalmoth was more 
than happy to oblige him with the latest gossip.  As the afternoon progressed, 
several elves came by as the news of Glorfindel’s arrival spread through town.  
I suspect Egalmoth was overjoyed to see his tiny home so full, from the huge 
grin he sported as he filled mugs, patted backs, and kissed his wife whenever 
he had a chance.  I stayed quiet, mostly, smiling and greeting those introduced 
to me, watching this brand new world spread out right before my eyes.

My curiosity did not go unnoticed.  Egalmoth, in one of his brief pauses, 
approached me and observed, “I am betting you find us all a bit… erm… 
strange, so to speak.”

“I find you all lovely, very lively and warm,” I said truthfully.

“But not what you expected…” he insisted.

I snorted.  “Well, history books…”

It was his time to laugh.  “Yes, I suppose you were expecting a contingent of 
solemn, battle-ready elves.”

I laughed too.  “Not that bad, but yes, I was surprised by the informality, 
pleasantly, I might add.”

He patted my back as if I were just another of the old friends who filled his 
house.  “You will get used to it.”

Little did he know that I was already fascinated by my surroundings.  I kept 
watching.  One person was missing, one that I had longed to meet ever since 
Glorfindel had asked me on this trip: the legendary Ecthelion, my best friend’s 
best friend.  There were others missing, of course, I could hear their absence 
in the silence that followed Glorfindel’s questioning or someone’s tale.  But 
Ecthelion, I knew he had been reborn, Glorfindel himself had told me so.  I 
could think of a few motives to safely dismiss his absence but I was 
disappointed, I suppose.

Later on, after the impromptu party was over and the house tidied, Egalmoth 
lead us to a room in the back of the house.

“I apologise I cannot offer you better accommodations, but as you can see we 
live very simply now.”  He glanced at Glorfindel but I knew his speech was 
addressed to me.

“Please do not worry about that.  We will be very comfortable, I am sure,” I 
replied promptly.

“If you would prefer to stay in separate rooms something can be arranged 
tomorrow…” he added.  “Perhaps one of you can stay at my cousin’s home.”

I shrugged.  “I am fine as it is.”  Seeing his discomfit, I adopted his familiar 
manners, and seizing his arm I added, “Do not worry about us.  Your 
hospitality is lovely.  I am very comfortable.”

He nodded, visibly relaxing and then quipped, “I take then you two do not 
mind sharing a bed...”  He winked and sauntered off to fetch us some water as 
we were still covered by the dust of the road.  We washed briefly in silence; 
hair would have to be left for the morning, for now a good brushing would 
have to suffice.

We both were tired by the travelling and the excitement of the afternoon, and 
slipped into the big bed still silent, but despite my fatigue I could not fall 
asleep, trying to equate all I had seen in a coherent whole.  I would have liked 
to talk with Glorfindel, but he had quickly fallen into a deep slumber so after 
many few turns, I finally managed to sleep for a few hours.

The next morning, we woke up soon, rather, Glorfindel woke me up, as I was 
reluctant to abandon Irmo’s arms.  After a quick breakfast with Egalmoth’s 
family we went out to the back, to check upon our animals while we waited 
for Egalmoth to finish his business and join us in a walk through the village 
and surroundings.

“Glorfindel?” I called.

“Yes?” he replied, from behind his horse.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He stood silent for a moment, but then resumed, examining his mount’s 
hooves and replied, “If you cannot, I do not know who can.”

“What did Egalmoth mean exactly last night?”

“Elbereth!” was his muffled answer.

“I have filled your ears in the past with my love hassles, the least you could do 
is return the favour.”

“These seem to be fine,” he said, finally letting go of the poor beast’s hooves.

I snorted at his discomfit, but it was a short-lived laughter.  “I was hoping to 
witness a lover’s reunion today,” I started cautiously.

“And you did not,” he finished, dryly, taking a brush to the horse’s mane.

“Well, that is more than established, otherwise I doubt I would be here asking 
nosy questions,” I continued, somewhat irked by unsatisfied curiosity.

I took my horse back to his stall, trying to see Glorfindel’s face.  I had always 
been impressed by his reserve, that bordered on lack of interest regarding 
matters of the heart, or even of the groin, but if he did not want to speak; it 
was his right.  We had built a solid, deep friendship without ever forcing 
confessions out of the other or dwelling too much on the past.  We could 
continue this way indefinitely.

After a while he said, “Because I never told you anything about my love life, 
you were left wondering like all the others.”

He sighed and I remained silent, waiting for whatever he wanted to concede.

“Perhaps you think it was Ecthelion.”  I pursed my lips.  That was exactly 
what I thought, but then he added, “I know many did, their whispers did not 
fail to reach my ears.  But the plain, sad truth is that there was no one.”

I confess I felt sad for Glorfindel.  I stayed quiet, trying to order my thoughts.

“I do not mean to say that I never fell in love with someone, just that it did not 
grow into anything,” he added apologetically.  I felt sadder even, and nodded, 
but he did not see.

“Then I tried forcing myself to love someone else, but I think we both knew it 
was hollow.  I suppose I had many justifications for this, but they seem so thin 
now...”  The oddity of Glorfindel feeling sorry for himself stung me out of my 
dumbfounded silence.

“But you did love someone,” I tried to protest in his favour.

“Yes, an infatuation of sorts.  You would laugh…  I knew I had not the 
slightest chance with her.  And the other person, I did love, but…  I do not 
know why it was not what I thought it should be.”

I wanted to ask questions but it was best to leave him to talk at his own pace.

He continued.  “I know you will find this strange, but in a way I envy you and 
Legolas.”

“That is over and it was never a romantic love story,” I replied dryly.  Hurtful 
but true words.  “Anyway you never had any qualms about disapproving of 
our involvement,” I could not resist adding.

“Well, I did not approve.  You gave too much, and him too little, but I never 
doubted that you loved him and he you.  I just thought that you should do 
something to open his eyes, which you obviously did.  It is a pity that now you 
are the one in need of…”

“Maybe so, but I still do not see why you should envy something so 
imperfect.”

“Do you not see it, Erestor? I never had the privilege of being loved that way, 
even if imperfectly.  There are things about before…” I stayed silent; this 
much revelation from Glorfindel after such a prolonged silence deserved some 
reflection.  

“Maybe we can talk of this on another occasion,” he added as we heard the 
kitchen door creaking and our host approaching.

Egalmoth took us for a complete tour of our surroundings.  I loved the clear 
air of the mountains and the way the light scattered everywhere.  We walked 
through the orderly streets of the village and circled through the vegetable 
gardens then through the orchards, until we reached the woods.  Egalmoth 
walked by my side, discoursing in a low, monotonous voice about trivial 
matters relating to the disposition of the village such as some passing soul, or 
a particularly impressive tree.  Glorfindel walked a few paces ahead or 
sometimes behind, occasionally emitting a sound of agreement to some 
remark, but remaining silent for most of the time, seemingly absorbed in his 
own thoughts.

As we neared the edge of the village, Egalmoth’s comments took on other 
colours. “From the little news that we receive here, and from our own scarce 
travels, we know that you have built in the south a home of great beauty and 
splendour,” he started.  I nodded.

“As do we know that in other dwellings our kin strove to recapture the art and 
ingenuity of the past… whereas we have not.  We live simpler than many of 
the Silvan, only not in trees.  I imagine you wonder why we have chosen so, 
do you not?”  Once more I assented silently.

Egalmoth paused for a while, returning to his trivial comments, this time 
regarding the cultures we passed.

“I am sure you suspect by now that the vast majority of our population has 
had a stay in Mandos’ Halls.”  Stunned by his awkward phrasing of such a 
delicate question I made a gesture to dismiss further comments.  Interested as 
I was about this place, I did not wish to revive painful memories for the sake 
of appeasing my curiosity.

Egalmoth smiled.  Under his bonhomie he had quite an acute mind, as was 
fitting for a former House leader and I was sure he understood more about my 
questions than what I had hinted.

“It was a long time ago, for most of us,” he continued.  “Do not worry; it does 
not bother me talking about that, although there is not much to say.  Different 
people remember it differently, although in my case I barely have any 
memories.  What I meant to say was that, naturally we were not all delivered 
here, at the same time.  Most of us were reborn in Tirion, grew up there, or 
rather should I say, came to remember oneself, and many of those reborn 
chose to stay there.  Others were never returned to us.”

“I see,” I said blandly, to fill the gap.

“When we decided we wanted to reconstruct our families, our lives, we 
searched for an adequate place and eventually found this here.”  He waved his 
arm.  “We were few and could not have built a place as grandiose as 
Gondolin.  Later, when others joined us, they seemed to like our simpler way 
of living and adopted it for themselves.  And thus we came to this living.  The 
people of my House live close to me but I am no more their lord, just a friend 
as you could see yesterday.  Naturally some of us are more inclined to lead 
than others but most decisions are arrived at by consensus.  Other things have 
changed too…  I married my former cook’s daughter.  Nobody cares these 
days, but I doubt it would have been well seen back then.  A lot of things have 
changed about us and most for the better.”

The sun was riding high in the sky and we had arrived at the edge of the 
woods.  Egalmoth lead us to the shade and we sat, enjoying the sounds and 
scents of the forest.

Glorfindel spoke at last, “See Erestor, what I meant when I said I was not 
needed here?”

Egalmoth moved to protest, but Glorfindel continued, “Well, at least not in the 
way as I was needed in New Imladris.”

I nodded.  “Yes, I can see it.”  I still felt puzzled by the differences between 
our peoples. I think that Glorfindel could see that.

“Erestor, you, like most in New Imladris, have seen the destruction of homes 
taking place, as we did, but you fled for your life and survived.  I am not sure 
how to explain this, but death gives us a new perspective on things.  Life 
becomes too precious to waste on things that before seemed so important.  In 
a way I forgot those lessons… there were no others like myself in Middle-
earth to remind me…”

“No, you did not,” I said.  It was true, at least to me.  Glorfindel had always 
been different from the others, detached from the pettiness of life.

Glorfindel shook his head, but offered no further comments.

We stayed there for a while, until distant noises of riders reached us.  

“That would be the hunting party,” Egalmoth said. “Ecthelion is with them, 
Glorfindel.”

“Yes,” was his dry answer, which further spurred my curiosity.  In the 
previous day, there had been several moments when I had not been close to 
Glorfindel, but when I was he had barely mentioned Ecthelion and had not 
asked for him to my knowledge.  I had expected more interest on Glorfindel’s 
part…  Was it possible that they had fallen out?

We rose and headed back to the town, curving our way towards the sounds.  
Glorfindel’s answer seemed to have tied our lips.  As we neared them, one 
rider covered his eyes from the sun, looking intently in our direction and then 
shouted, “Glorfindel?”

We stopped as the hunting party turned towards us and swiftly reached us.  
The rider hopped off of his horse and all but lifted my friend off his feet in a 
tight hug.  From all the descriptions I had read it could be none other than 
Ecthelion of the Fountain, covered in dust and grinning madly all the while.  
He finally let go of Glorfindel, and I saw my friend’s reserve melt a little, 
through it was but a small smile.  It was obvious that whatever it was that 
bothered Glorfindel had no weight on Ecthelion’s mind.

Ecthelion immediately showered him with questions, leaving little time for 
answers.  “When did you arrive?  It could not have been for more than two 
days.  Where are you staying?  With Egalmoth?  How long are you staying?”

Glorfindel started laughing.  “All right, all right.  Yesterday, yes, I do not 
know yet.”

Ecthelion laughed too.  “I am sorry I was not here yesterday to greet you.  
Please tell me you did not go to my house and hit your nose on the door…”

“No, I went straight to Egalmoth’s house,” Glorfindel answered.  Ecthelion 
raised an eyebrow but did not comment further.  Instead he turned to me.  
“And this would be…”

“My apologies, Erestor,” Glorfindel said turning to me.  “Meet Ecthelion of 
the Fountain.”  I bowed my head in salutation, but did not miss the glances 
exchanged between Glorfindel and Ecthelion as he nodded too.

“Ah, so this is the famous Erestor who Glorfindel could not help but 
mentioning every other sentence,” said Ecthelion, in jest.

‘Interesting,’ I thought to myself.  Despite the light tone, I was sure I had 
detected a hint of annoyance, but I tried to dismiss it. After all, Ecthelion 
might feel I had taken over his place in Glorfindel’s life.

Without further comments, he turned to Glorfindel and continued talking.  “I 
take it you have you seen Glîrwen?”

Glorfindel nodded.  “Yes.”

“She will soon give birth.  We should find you another place to stay,” 
Ecthelion continued.

“Yes, I thought my cousin would not mind taking at least one of them in,” 
said Egalmoth.  Then he added to me, “Not that we are not delighted to have 
you, but maybe the house will not be as comfortable with even less space and 
a crying baby.”

“Yes, that could be an idea,” said Ecthelion.

Before he continued on the subject, Glorfindel cut in.  “We will see.”

Ecthelion shrugged and continued as if he had not detected anything odd in 
Glorfindel’s circumspect manner.  “We went out for some rabbits; it is still 
too early for any thing else.  Perhaps you would like to join us later on when 
the hunt is better – assuming that you will stay until then.”

Ecthelion had placed a hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder as he spoke.  Both the 
gesture and his tone seemed excessively possessive to me.

“Perhaps,” replied Glorfindel, once again in a dry tone.

Ecthelion’s hand slid to the small of Glorfindel’s back.  “I am sure we will 
have fun.”

Glorfindel motioned with his head to Ecthelion’s companions.  “I am sure the 
young ones will want to proceed to their homes…”

“Nonsense!” came Ecthelion’s prompt reply.  “I am sure they are dying to be 
formally introduced to you.”

“Antfael, Berenind, come closer,” he called.  “These are Elemmakil’s boys.”

The youngsters nodded and shyly murmured the appropriate greetings.

Glorfindel smiled and moved forward, breaking the contact with Ecthelion. “I 
am glad to have made your acquaintance. I have not seen your father yet, 
though.”

“He is in Tirion,” Antfael said.

“We expect him within a month,” Berenind completed.

“Then your mother must be alone. I am sure you are eager to return to your 
home.”

Was it my impression, or was Glorfindel dispatching the group?  Unwittingly 
my eyes met Egalmoth’s who seemed to share my puzzlement.

“Very well then, we will meet later.”  Once more Ecthelion reached to touch 
Glorfindel before nodding toward Egalmoth and me.

Scenes like this repeated themselves over the following weeks, Ecthelion 
behaving so possessively towards Glorfindel that one would think they were 
lovers rather than friends, and Glorfindel twisting like an eel out of his grasp.

On more than one occasion, I was certain I was not the only one noticing their 
strange dance, but despite curiosity, I did not comment, not even with 
Egalmoth.  Similarly, Ecthelion’s coldness towards me did not abate after that 
first meeting.  I asked myself, not without a hint of amusement, how much of 
this frost came from the need to regain his former position in Glorfindel’s life 
as a friend and how much came from his obvious jealousy.  In all this, 
Ecthelion I could understand, at least; Glorfindel, on the other hand was a 
growing mystery.

While time slid by us, things changed slowly for me.  I made a few friends, 
became involved in the community and found interests that took me from 
Glorfindel’s company for hours, sometimes even days.  After our first meeting 
with Elemmakil’s boys, where they barely noticed me, dazed by the sight of 
two great heroes of our people, we had met again here and there.  The 
youngsters were curious about the world outside their community, especially 
Middle-earth which they would never visit, so they demanded stories from 
one who had witnessed first hand the many events that they only knew 
superficially from hearsay.  With them, they brought others.  Their parents did 
not seem to mind and some searched for me themselves to talk.  I became a 
preceptor of sorts, I guess, but I appreciated my new-found role. 
Simultaneously, I eagerly explored this new world, going out with the hunting 
parties, learning their lore as they learned from me, discovering fascinating 
parallel threads to the great tapestry of the Fall of Gondolin in their memories.

In addition, I had met Egalmoth’s famous cousin, Vëassë, who was the town’s 
smith. I had always wanted to learn the secrets of an art that evoked mythical 
names such as Mahtan and Fëanor and soon was spending numerous hours by 
his side at his forge.

I suspect that my activities delighted Ecthelion and sometimes I could not 
resist wiping his smug smile by remaining by Glorfindel’s side and making a 
show of mimicking his attentions to our common friend in the most 
ambiguous manner I could. Not that I disliked Ecthelion, despite his cold 
manner, but there was a mischievous side to me that I had kept in check for 
too long.  Besides, in a way I understood they needed to be pushed over 
whatever misconstruction had settled in.

Glorfindel behaved naturally on these occasions and never showed any signs 
of discomfort; actually it was with some measure of amusement in his voice 
that he whispered to me on more than one occasion, “Evil…” and this was the 
farthest his comments about the whole situation went, despite my regular 
attempts to probe him.

A few months went by in this manner and before we knew it, we were 
preparing to celebrate the harvests and Glîrwen was almost due her time.  One 
night while we prepared for bed, still in our common room at Egalmoth’s 
house, Glorfindel broached the subject I had been contemplating for some 
time.

“I decided I will be staying here for a while longer, Erestor.”

I nodded. I already knew it; it was plain in his manner that he loved living 
here.

“I am thinking about building a home for myself, preferably before winter, 
and if possible before Glîrwen has the baby.”

I could not resist poking him.  “I am sure you do not need to.  There is 
someone more than willing to take you in.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please.”

I shrugged. “It is true.”

Glorfindel turned his back and kept his silence as usual, while he searched in 
the chest of drawers for clothes for the night.  I let the subject rest once more, 
but one day soon Glorfindel would have to spit out what this whole game was 
about.

“How about you?” he asked.

“How about me?” I answered spitefully.

“Well, are you returning to New Imladris or do you plan on staying a while 
longer?”

“I do not know.” I said.  I planned on staying at least for the winter, but I was 
not sure this was the place I wanted to settle down.  As much as I liked it, it 
was not my home; on the other hand, returning to New Imladris was not 
something I craved.

“Anyway, you could stay with me while you decide,” Glorfindel offered.

I snorted.  “I am not up to being lynched, especially by former Balrog slayers.  
He already fumes every time our present accommodations are mentioned…”

“Erestor, please give it a rest.  I do not want to talk about that.”

I sighed.  Of course he did not; he never did.  “Fine,” I said, slipping into bed.

It became clear the next morning that Glorfindel had done more than think 
about building a house when Vëassë showed up for breakfast, talking about 
the wood he and the others had ready and how some of it had already been 
transported to the building location.

Glorfindel asked me to go along and there we met a few of our friends, 
including Elemmakil who had returned from his travel, ready for work.  I had 
almost laughed when Glorfindel had mentioned building a house before 
winter, but to my surprise, by the end of the day the basic structure was 
already up.  They had a long experience of building simple but comfortable 
wood houses and in the following days, Glorfindel’s house grew quickly.  
Ecthelion was conspicuously absent.  After insisting so many times that 
Glorfindel take residence in his house, I suppose he felt hurt.

We had but to finish some details when the day for the harvest fest came.  
Glorfindel had already moved some of his belongings to his new home and 
several of his friends had contributed pieces of furniture, so the house was 
fairly habitable and he decided that should be his first night in his new house.

After our conversation, the subject of my accommodations had been 
conveniently skirted around by both of us.  I knew I had to find some other 
place, under penalty of imposing on my hosts but I was not that eager about 
moving in with Glorfindel, and not because of Ecthelion: I felt I needed a 
space of my own, even if I hesitated in my choice of place.

By night fall, Glorfindel gathered the rest of his clothes and prepared to leave 
Egalmoth’s home. 

“Are you still refusing my hospitality?” he asked half serious, half jesting.

“Maybe in a few days,” I replied vaguely.  In the end, I knew it was the wisest 
choice, but I was not in a hurry.

“The door is always open.”

“Thank you, my friend,” I said, accompanying him to the door.

Not much later, I went to the centre of town with Egalmoth and his family for 
the celebrations.  Several families were already there and a nice big fire was 
being lit.  A few elves tuned their instruments and the youths already gathered 
near them, eager to sing and dance.  Egalmoth’s daughter looked at her 
parents for permission and joined the others, quickly finding Antfael.  I could 
not help but smile and Glîrwen noticed.

“They grow up so quickly,” she sighed.

“Yes, but you will soon have your arms full again,” I replied.

She laughed. “True.”

As we wandered off to one of the large tables set with refreshments, I thought 
of Legolas.  Normally I was too busy doing something and without his 
immediate presence it was easy enough to shut out the thought of him, but at 
times like these I could not help wondering who would be by his side now, if 
anyone, and I felt a pang of loneliness.  I tried to brush aside these feelings, 
and for a while I succeeded, engaging in the banter.

We drank cider, ale, and wine and ate the fruits of the harvest.  By the time 
Glorfindel joined us, we had not started eating yet, but I had already drunk 
two nice glasses of ale.  So when Ecthelion arrived with his customary 
arrogance and put his arm around Glorfindel’s shoulders, exclaiming, “Ah, 
there you are,” as if there was no one else in the circle, I could not resist some 
mischief.

“Yes, there he is, but we were about to join the dance,” I said, wrapping my 
arm around Glorfindel’s waist.  I swear I could see Egalmoth biting his lips to 
contain his snickering.  I dragged Glorfindel to the circle and we joined hands 
with the others. He shouted about the music and the laughter, “I thought you 
hated dancing.”

“Blame it on the ale,” I replied with a wink.

We soon returned to the ale and our friends, and by the end of the night we 
were all tipsy.  Ecthelion had been sombre at first, but then we had engaged in 
a very indiscreet battle for Glorfindel.  I had not intended it to go very far, but 
the air of arrogance about Ecthelion, and Glorfindel’s response to our touches, 
in addition to the ale and the laughter all combined led us to some point where 
I did not want to stop without winning the game.

So, when Glorfindel swung his arm around me and kissed me so deep I was 
almost knocked off of my feet, I did not stop him.  I did not look at Ecthelion 
either.  I had forgotten him, as well as Egalmoth and everyone else.  Without 
exchanging words, we headed to his house.  The night was cold enough and 
the house far enough to dowse the fire, but we kissed so that it never wavered.

Inside, we headed straight to his bedroom.  I pushed him to the mattress as I 
fell on top of him in a mad kiss. We wrestled on the bed, friction burning 
every inch of exposed skin, until we were completely naked and he was lying 
on top of me, rubbing his shaft against mine. I fisted his hair and suffocated 
him in a kiss as I flipped us over.  He accommodated me and held me closer.  
Grinding against his hard, lean body, I moved lower, wanting nothing but to 
be inside, but I was not so lost to lust that I would try to penetrate him without 
a lubricant of some sort.  He sensed my hesitation and pushed me aside, his 
hand on my chest, sliding from under me until he could reach his bag on the 
floor by the side of the bed, from which he produced a jar of grease.

We wasted no time, our gestures concurrent to our mutual pleasure, frenzy 
overtaking care, and before long, I found my pleasure and he followed me 
soon, after a few last strokes.  I fell by his side, an arm draped over his sticky 
abdomen and we fell asleep.

I did not feel awkward, not for one minute.  I did not feel embarrassed by my 
hasty performance.  I did not feel sad that I had, for the first time since 
Legolas, slept with another, nor did I fear that my friendship with Glorfindel 
could be ruined.  We had from the other what we needed and there was no 
shame or harm in that.  I could say that we were drunk and that we both had 
been celibate for far too long but those would be nothing but weak excuses.  I 
willingly fell into Glorfindel’s bed, fully conscious of what I was doing.  I 
cannot say that it was my wisest choice to date, but nevertheless it would be 
demeaning to us both to call it by any other name.

So I woke up, deliciously sore, alive and tingling all over. I felt happy as I had 
not in a long time, and felt an intense surge of affection for my sleeping 
bedmate that soon changed into desire.  I brushed his hair aside and nibbled 
on his ear, enjoying his moan and the way his body adjusted to mine, my 
erection slipping between his buttocks.  Something hard pressed against my 
knee and with a chuckle, I extracted the grease jar from beneath the covers, 
giving it good use once more.  Glorfindel pushed back insistently, his eyes 
still closed but his hand already moving under the covers.  I covered it with 
my own, smearing grease on the back of his hand, but soon I let it go, to grasp 
his hip as I once more entered him.

Later on, I rose and dressed, enjoying that languid awareness of one’s body 
that comes after good sex.  I smiled back as I reached the door, and Glorfindel 
responded softly with a smile of his own.  I was glad he had decided to leave 
words for later.

I walked back to Egalmoth’s house and let myself in quietly.  It was still early, 
but on a normal day everyone would already be up.  I fell to my bed fully 
dressed and stayed there, trying not to think on what would come next, not 
before I fully enjoyed this feeling.  Legolas was the name that my lips 
whispered, but in that moment it did not seem to matter.  I was not angry for a 
change and I welcomed the thought of him.

All good things come to an end, though; no use in trying to swindle life’s 
simplest axiom.  Thus, the crystalline simplicity of my night with Glorfindel 
was soon shattered as he came by near lunchtime, assuming I would move 
into his house.  We had both lived more than long enough to know that neither 
the hunger of the previous night nor the sweetness of the morning made up 
more than mutual affection.  However, I could not read Glorfindel’s 
intentions, and I made no mistake in thinking that whatever it was that existed 
between him and Ecthelion had been solved by one night in another’s arms.

So, I made my choice.  “I will be by your house later on,” I said.  He left 
looking displeased and declined Egalmoth’s invitation to stay for lunch.

I went to his house much later, when the grey afternoon started fading into a 
cold night.  He opened the door and looked at my empty hands before letting 
me in without a single word.  Ecthelion was there and rose as if stung by the 
sight of me.  Despite his coldness, he had always addressed me with some sort 
of greeting, but this afternoon he plainly ignored my nod and promptly left.  I 
suppose that could be expected and it did not pain me too much.

“I cannot blame you,” Glorfindel started after he left.  “But I also cannot say 
that I regret it or that I do not want more.”

“I feel the same,” I said.

“Then why?” he asked, perplexed.

“Yes, why, Glorfindel?  Why do you play games with Ecthelion and why did I 
end up in the middle?”

“It is not like that.”  He paused.  “Well, he wants me, that is no secret.”

“And you want him too, even if you play the reluctant part so convincingly.”

He looked shocked, but he gulped down the first retort that had come to his 
lips and assented reluctantly.  “Yes, maybe.”

“Why, then?” I asked.  Glorfindel had been avoiding these questions for too 
long, but I was not doing this for altruistic reasons.

His lips twitched and he walked back and forth a few paces.  I sat on the arm 
of a chair, waiting.

“Do you see the way Ecthelion is around me?  Gentle, interested, even 
possessive?”

I nodded.

“Do you remember the conversation we had when we arrived here?”

Once again I nodded, wondering what would come of this. 

“There was something I omitted, or rather someone.”

I waited.

“Do you know I was a lot younger than Ecthelion?  I say was, because I am 
not anymore.  All in all, I have spent more time with the living than him.  
However, he does not acknowledge that.  In his mind, I am still the youth 
awed by his prowess in the battlefield and ridiculously infatuated with his 
beauty.”

I raised an eyebrow sceptically: that was far from what I had seen, but I stayed 
silent: he had more to say.

“And do you see how everyone is so nice and open, concerned with their own 
business?”  Glorfindel’s tone grew bitter.  “You do not know how it was 
before.  If you think people were uptight and prone to gossip in Eregion, think 
again.”

“But that is the past,” I said.  “Even last night Egalmoth-”

“The Egalmoth who is so understanding now, is the same that kindly let me 
know that my infatuation with Ecthelion was starting to show and that it was 
embarrassing for everybody around us,” Glorfindel cut brutally.

“So you are telling me that you have refused Ecthelion because of spite?” I 
asked.  “That is hardly like you, to harbour that kind of feeling.”

“What, Erestor?  Are you the only one who can be resentful?”

“I am not-” I started, but then sunk in the chair holding back the words.  I was.  
I had been.  Legolas…

He walked over and sat before me.  After a while he said, “Let us end this 
nonsense and be in peace,” and reached for my hand.

I did not repel him but I did not concede either.  “I do not understand,” I said.  
“You are not like this.  What happened to the kind, compassionate elf I have 
known for nearly all my life?”

He bowed his head.  “I do not know.  I did not think about it before I first met 
him here, but from that moment on it has been like this.  I know I mentioned 
Egalmoth, but believe me, I do not hold resentment against others.  Not even 
against Ecthelion, in the end.  I… I just cannot trust him.  Let it go, Erestor.”

We remained silent for a while.  “You could still move in.  I promise I will 
behave,” he said at last.

“Thank you, but no.  I have stood in the way long enough.”

He shook his head with a tinge of exasperation and I decided it was time to 
leave, but not without adding the most banal of common place sentiments, 
“You will never know unless you try.”

As I reached the door he replied, “You have not tried, Erestor, and you and 
Legolas are creatures of a new world.  I feel ancient but not wise, old and 
worn but not well lived.  I thought that you could understand.”

I stopped, but I had nothing else to say.  There is nothing easier than to point 
to other’s mistakes to cover for our own.

I still had the same problem, finding a place to stay, but even that was quickly 
solved: Vëassë offered me a room and I was able to move out of Egalmoth’s 
house one week before Glîrwen gave birth.

My next encounters with Glorfindel were uneventful.  We conversed amicably 
over neutral themes, ignored a couple of probing remarks from our mutual 
friends and kept to our silent understanding.  There would be no more banter 
full of double entendre, regardless of Ecthelion’s presence; there would not be 
dubious touching or other displays of excessive intimacy, or probing of his 
private life or mine.  Still, I did not feel that our friendship had diminished in 
anyway, and good as it had been, I did not long to be in his bed... not too 
much, at least.

I suppose that this would have been a good time to return to New Imladris as 
any other, but I chose to stay when spring came, and then on and on until 
several years had passed.  Vëassë and his wife became good friends; 
Egalmoth’s daughter marryed Elemmakil’s youngest; Glîrwen became 
pregnant again barely thirty years after her last child to general glee and 
scandal, and Glorfindel seemed to be closer to Ecthelion, as if a new 
equilibrium had been reachd between them, although I suspected it was still 
far from a full bloomed understanding.

Despite the initial bumps, life with the people of Gondolin was pleasant.  My 
stay with them reminded me of my father’s dream of Valinor, in a way, and I 
found a measure of satisfaction, if not that happiness I had ever longed for and 
that started to seem more unattainable than elusive.  On some occasions I 
thought of Legolas with resignation, but not bitterness.  And then came the 
news.


~~~~~~
Part III

Elemmakil was one of the few who regularly left our town in search of news 
and on other errands.  When he returned, we often gathered around him to 
hear the news, and so it was that after one of his trips, a small crowd had 
gathered at the main square trying to listen to the latest gossip from the 
outside world.  He had spoken for long when he added, “It is said that there is 
grief to the south, in Woods of Oromë.  The dwarf Gimli has passed and the 
Silvan and their prince mourn him.”

As he heard the news, Glorfindel exchanged a glance with me.  I stayed silent 
while the crowd dispersed, until only a few remained in the square.  
Glorfindel came closer.

“Gimli lived well.  I hope he had a good death,” he said.  “Now that he and 
the hobbits have passed away I hope death never touches this land and its 
people again.”

I shook my head.  “Death is ever present, but your hopes are mine.”

He lingered on.  “How do you think Legolas fares?” he asked at last.

“I suppose it is hard on him.”  Actually, this was a mild way of stating it: in all 
the years I had known Legolas, seldom had he kept such a close friendship 
with someone as with Gimli.  I feared he suffered mightily with the loss of his 
friend and my heart was heavy.

Glorfindel clasped my shoulder.  “I see that you worry, there is no need to 
pretend with me.”

I nodded.  From the corner of my eye I could see Ecthelion flashing ominous 
glances at us, but I did not care: he was Glorfindel’s problem.  I am not 
impulsive, not normally, but this time I let an incipient thought slip from my 
lips.  “I wonder if I should go…”

“Go where?” asked Elemmakil, who had approached us.

“To the south, to the Woods of Oromë,” answered Glorfindel promptly.

Oh, I knew what he wanted: words once proffered have a way of forcing us 
forward, committing us to action.

“Really?” asked a surprised Elemmakil. “I had no idea you were close to the- 
to Gimli.”

I stayed silent.  I doubt there was a soul in town who did not know of my 
private preferences and even of what happened with Glorfindel, but despite all 
the tolerance and goodwill I was not about to spill out my private life for the 
sake of making conversation. Glorfindel had, of course, to fill the void.

“He was not.  Erestor was Legolas’s friend.”  There had been the slightest 
hesitation before his choice of attribute, but it was enough.

“I see,” said Elemmakil discreetly.

Ecthelion had drawn closer and stood behind Glorfindel and slightly to the 
side, as his shadow.  I did not make any effort to include him in the 
conversation.

“So you would like to pay a visit to your… friend?” asked Elemmakil.  He 
was a good soul, but I cannot tell how much that little dragging irritated me.

Pursing my lips, I nodded.  “It is a thought.”

“I would go with you,” offered Glorfindel promptly.

“And so would I,” Elemmakil seconded. “I have never travelled so far into the 
south, and I long to see the Woods of Oromë.”

I could see Ecthelion chewing furiously on his cheeks and lips as he stood by 
Glorfindel’s side.  We had resumed to our minimal greetings sometime after 
that night, at Glorfindel’s insistence, but there was always tension between us.  
I am sure he loathed interfering with my business, but he must have felt 
cornered.

“If Elemmakil is going I do not see why you should go too, Glorfindel,” he 
said at last.

Glorfindel cast him a murderous glance.  “I am going with my friend,” he said 
adamantly.  “Besides, I want to stop in New Imladris.  It has been some time 
since we have been there.  Is it not so, Erestor?”

I nodded, but did not lose the opportunity to cast a warning about my plans.  
“Yes, it is an excellent idea to stop there on our way back.”  Somehow, a 
hypothetical thought was already shaping as a definitive plan.

Glorfindel looked back at Ecthelion. “You are free to come with us, if you 
wish to do so.”

I contained a snort.  Now that would be an interesting group: my best friend 
turned into a one time lover accompanying me to see my former lover who 
had never kept his preference, with his lover who profoundly disliked me for 
just reason. Ecthelion would never do it.

After a pause he said, “Well, it is not as if the roads are unsafe, there is really 
no need for such a large group, but I suppose a little travelling never hurt 
anyone, and we could all use a change of scenery.  A brief one, that is.”

Elemmakil was the only one who was not too stunned to react.  “Well said, 
my friend.  I am sure we will greatly benefit from this travel.  I only ask that 
we schedule it for at least one month from now.  My wife will kill me if I 
leave any earlier and even still I suppose she will not be too happy.”

And there it was, a full bloomed plan for a trip I was not entirely sure I should 
be making, although in my heart I yearned for nothing else.  All of a sudden, 
that pale, indifferent Legolas I had painted for so long in my memory was 
washed by the rain and came through in his true, bright colours.  Time enough 
has passed, I said to myself.  There will be no need for pain, confusion or 
anger.  I will not travel for atonement or a failed hope, I will just try to 
comfort someone for whom I still feel affection and always will.

That I felt a constant need to reassure myself of my feelings, and of labelling 
them as little more than compassion, should have told me something about 
their true nature, but even in my most honest moments, the most I conceded to 
myself was that there should be some closure to our story.  I have spent so 
much time of my life watching, trying to learn, but it has not done me any 
good that I can discern.

We set off precisely one month and half after our agreement – I could not help 
but count the days. It rained throughout the first stretch of our way, making 
the roads impossible.  To make matters worse, I had not ridden for sometime, 
and while Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Elemmakil felt more than ready to keep 
the same pace day after day, I cursed my lack of provision in this matter.  
Fortunately, by the time we reached the Calacyria the rain stopped as well as 
my discomfort.  As agreed, we decided to continue without a stop in Tirion.

As the weather improved so did our spirits, and we started having long, 
languid conversations about simple themes.  In these moments, Ecthelion and 
I almost engaged in normal behaviour towards one another.  In a way, this 
made me glad for Glorfindel’s sake.

As we continued our voyage, I had the opportunity to observe their 
relationship more closely than before.  That old feeling of amusement 
resurfaced now and then as I watched Ecthelion move to behave possessively 
and then stop himself short at a frigid glance from Glorfindel.  My friend, on 
the other hand, seemed much more comfortable by his side, many times 
indulging him with a discreet display of affection.  It was clear who held the 
reins there.  I could not help but recall his body, so pliant in my hands, and 
wonder if he would maintain his ascendant over Ecthelion in bed.  Though it 
had surprised me that Glorfindel, always so eager to take the lead in 
everything, preferred being taken, I had no doubt that this was indeed his first 
choice in bed.

My idle curiosity ended up being satisfied one night I was on watch with 
Elemmakil.  Despite the safety of our environment, we had never lost old 
habits, and it was always good a measure to have someone ensuring that wild 
animals would not invade our camp.  Thus, we had established night-long 
watching shifts, where I was with Elemmakil and Glorfindel with Ecthelion.  
Elemmakil at first had joked about the arrangements, but Ecthelion’s 
narrowing of eyes let little doubt as to what he thought of the jokes or the 
alternatives.  That night, Elemmakil and I had, as usual, walked out from the 
camp in a spiral, and were about to chose watching points for the night when I 
realised I had not brought my pack with nourishment for the night.  It was a 
trivial mistake, as many others derived from my distraction of late, so with a 
sigh of resignation I went back for my pack while Elemmakil waited.

We had not left for long, so I did not take care to announce myself, nor did I 
try to thread lightly in fear of waking them.  I cannot say that I was guided by 
a conscious, malicious thought, but when I reached the last line of trees before 
the clearing and saw them by the fire, I did not turn back as quickly as I 
should have.  Ecthelion lay on his back and Glorfindel sat astride him.  They 
moved in unison; I could see every muscle in Glorfindel’s body tensing, 
glimmering under that soft firelight and Ecthelion thrusting upwards into him, 
as he fisted the bedroll underneath him.  He let the fabric go and reached one 
hand to Glorfindel’s hip and the other to the base of his neck, as if to pull him 
down into a kiss.  Glorfindel swatted his hands, grabbed his wrists and pinned 
them down above Ecthelion’s head, leaning for the kiss.  Ecthelion’s moan 
was audible even from this far.

With a supreme effort, I turned and left, painfully hard.  By the time I reached 
Elemmakil, my groin still throbbed and ached and in a rather abrupt way, I 
told him we should take our places for the night.

He snorted.  “The absence of a pack and your circumspect manner lead me to 
believe you found an unexpected sight…”

Against my will, I chortled too.  “I will see by sunrise,” I said, leaving for my 
station.

In my watch, images of the scene I had witnessed insisted on flooding my 
mind and my hand searched blindly for my groin.  If I was going to indulge in 
this act of carnality, I knew I should be quick about it, under penalty of 
neglecting my duty, but shortly after I obtained my release new images 
assaulted me.  There they were again, the two lovers by the fire, the blond 
leaning over the dark-haired, but something about them was different.  The 
dark one was not as bulky and the blond’s hair was not golden, but paler as 
the soft yellow of a rising August moon.  I was pulled into this waking dream 
where suddenly I was under the blond and his features blended with 
Legolas’s.  A wave of contrariety rolled through me but I decided to indulge 
all the same, letting myself know that it was normal that I should think of 
Legolas in such a situation, as we had been lovers for so many years.  It meant 
nothing.

He haunted my thoughts for the rest of the night.  Hard as I tried, I could not 
recall why we had been driven apart.  I knew the reasons, of course, but it all 
seemed so small now, devoid of meaning, and I wondered about what would 
become of us after this meeting.  Morning sobered me up and I dismissed the 
folly of the night as the product of prolonged celibacy.

We travelled fast, now that the roads were not muddy, and soon we 
approached the crossroads that would lead to New Imladris.  Glorfindel had 
more than once shown a desire to visit there, but I insisted we go strait to the 
Woods of Oromë.  Thus, after another week of riding, we saw the imposing 
mass creating a shadow on the horizon.  As we approached, the forest rose 
before us like an insurmountable wall, but we soon penetrated it.

I had lived long enough among the Silvan elves to know what to search for, 
even if I had hoped that here in this blessed land their caution had abated 
somewhat.  My hopes were emptied.  It was not long before I saw the first 
signs that the forest was watched by careful guardians.  We spoke less and 
less as we rode deeper into the wood.  I suspect my companions expected to 
find some friendly border patrol at one point, but we rode for days, diving 
deeper and deeper into the forest without finding anyone.  We could sense a 
vague presence around us, but whether it was an illusion caused by our 
expectations or a real presence we did not know.  It was merely a matter of 
time.

One dawn, Elemmakil and I awoke surrounded by a patrol.  There were no 
signs of Ecthelion and Glorfindel, who were supposed to be watching.  I was 
disappointed that I did not find any familiar faces, although I knew I was 
hoping in vain.  The vast majority of the Silvan people I had known still 
resided in Middle-earth with Thranduil.  We introduced ourselves and stated 
our business, our gazes darting around for our friends.  Soon another group of 
Silvan elves joined us, bringing Ecthelion and Glorfindel unbound, but 
unarmed.  The guardians of the forest were circumspect, but in the end agreed 
to lead us to the court, after our many assurances that we would be welcomed.  
I sincerely hoped that those words proved to be true, not in the sense of what 
is basic hospitality, but that Legolas would truly welcome my presence, which 
I had started doubting along the way as the images of our last encounter 
assaulted me.

We lead our mounts, as our escort was on foot, and because we suspected we 
would not be allowed to mount in any case.  Before four days had passed, we 
started seeing some scattered telain.  The further we walked, the more 
glimpses of Oropher’s people we saw, but we felt we were being lead in 
circles.  I suppose that for such a cautious people we were lucky we had not 
been blindfolded or worse, summarily returned home.

When we finally arrived to a place where the dwellings were denser, we were 
led to something I would call a guesthouse, for lack of a better word.  All that 
time, we had been treated with courtesy and reserve as our status had not yet 
been decided upon, and this did not change as we were visited and 
interviewed by elves of growing rank until someone finally decided that 
Prince Legolas would probably be the best elf to identify at least me and 
Glorfindel.  My sigh of relief was pitifully loud.

We waited.  I counted the minutes impatiently as the afternoon waned, 
wondering whether the elf had gone on his errands before delivering my 
message, or if Legolas was in no hurry to meet us.  We had just been served a 
simple dinner when he came by, followed by the captain.  I rose from my 
chair and stood in the middle of the room, staring at him.  “Legolas…”

He looked paler and thinner and hesitant.  My heart broke.  I stepped forward, 
he did too, and before thoughts could get in the way, we were holding each 
other, softly at first then tighter and tighter until I could not tell where he 
began and I ended.  We parted, mild embarrassment spreading like a cobweb 
between us, and Legolas nodded to Glorfindel behind me.  The appropriate 
greetings and introductions were made and many apologies for the tortuous 
arrival too.  Decorum could be voracious in its need for attention.

Our eyes met.  “I came as soon as I knew you were here,” he said, after all the 
mandatory words had taken place.  I smiled.  I could not even be annoyed at 
the officer.

“It is rather late,” he added, “but if you are willing to go through the trouble, 
we can take you to proper quarters at my grandfather’s home.  If you would 
rather rest this night here, we will provide for the change in the morning.”

A chorus of the appropriate protests rose and my friends declined Legolas’s 
proposition but in the end, Glorfindel had to interfere, following his natural 
penchant.  “I assure you that this house leaves nothing to be desired and we 
will spend a splendid evening here, but we would not suffer any aggravation if 
you were to steal Erestor from our company for this night.  I am sure you have 
much to discuss.”

For once, I was glad Glorfindel had decided to meddle.  As much as I wanted 
to, I could have not made such a request myself without a good dose of 
awkwardness ensuing.  Legolas immediately agreed and I did too.  As we left, 
I had the rare pleasure of witnessing Ecthelion grinning with satisfaction in 
the near vicinity of me.

We walked in silence, the Silvan captain close behind us, and the need to 
compose my thoughts inhibiting me from speech.  I suppose it was the same 
for him.  At the palace he had humbly called his grandfather’s home, he asked 
a passing servant to prepare a room for me and to take there water for a bath.  
Then he led me to the kitchens and found me a meal of sorts.  We kept 
exchanging warm glances, full of meaning, but the spell of silence had not 
been broken yet.

When he led me to the room assigned to me the boy had not finished yet.  He 
left saying he would be back in after I was done, if I agreed.  It was mere 
formality, but I was reluctant in parting from him, from that delighting, warm 
feeling that had overcome us.

I sunk in the warm water, letting the grime from the road dissolve and 
wondering what I would tell Legolas.  While on the road, I had imagined 
numerous variations of our reencounter, in all of which I was this 
magnanimous figure that would soothe a desolate Legolas with the affection 
and chastity of a kind, although somewhat detached older brother.  How 
condescending of me…  Legolas had others to fill that role and he was 
obviously not fading from grief in the absence of my comfort.  It was time to 
confront the truth, which had been completely bared in our embrace: I was 
there for myself.

I washed and dried myself with absent gestures, struggling for some 
understanding, but I was far from having achieved it when I heard the soft 
knock on the door.  I bid him come in.  I had put on clothes for the night, 
thinking that we were not so estranged that I should receive him fully dressed, 
but now I felt fidgety and strange.

I invited him to sit, but he did not take the chair but rather the space next to 
me on the bed.  We talked.  I cannot recall the words said; I keep only a vague 
idea of the themes and of the feeling.  He told me about his travelling with 
Gimli, of Ithilien, Estel’s reign, of his boat and of his new home and I told 
him about the building of New Imladris, and the mountains of the north, my 
work in the forge, and of the simplicity of life there.  I am not sure how, but 
we were holding hands and his fingers mingled with mine felt warm and 
strong and integral to my own.  And we talked more, in low voices, our 
murmurs extending through the night.  The candles had burned to the holders, 
I felt sleepy and dawn crept in when we kissed, chastely as two boys.  He 
leaned his forehead on mine.

“I take it that all is forgiven or do I presume too much?” he asked.

I did not answer immediately and he parted from me, avoiding my eyes.  “You 
came because of Gimli, have you not?” he asked laden with sadness.

The voice that reasoned with me for so long, claiming this trip as one of pity 
and residual guilt, was nowhere to be found and I shook my head.  I kissed 
him, a kiss like the first, soft and tender.  He touched my face, I touched his, 
and we fell to the mattress.  We kissed for long, until we slept, curled into 
each other.  There had been desire, of course, but it had paled in comparison 
with the overwhelming sweetness of our joining and I had happily 
relinquished it.

I woke first, and for a long time I lay on my elbow, observing his sleep, 
touching him softly.  My rambling mind had come to no significant progress.  
I could not equate the pieces of the past, the day we had come together when I 
knew he loved another, the first time we had parted and how it had felt like 
living death, the last time we had parted and how it felt like emerging from 
darkness at last, or the rancour I had once held for him.  He had hurt me and I 
him so many times…  There should be nothing left but ashes now, but I could 
not bear the thought of leaving his side again.  Questions paraded themselves 
in my ears: could it really be so simple?  Was surrendering all it took?  Did I 
want to try again?  Something inside screamed ‘Yes’ to each and every one of 
them, over and over.

As the tinge of arousal I had felt upon awakening bloomed into a veritably 
revealing state, I rose from the bed.  In a way, I suppose I was unwilling to 
disturb the sweet entendre of the previous night.  The movement woke 
Legolas and he searched for me with sleepy eyes, stretching on the bedcover.  
He smiled as he saw me by the window, my sleeping trousers ridiculously 
lifted in the front, and I moved to a less conspicuous position.

It seemed that the morning had taken the words from us again, but they were 
not needed.  He lay there, looking at me, for a few moments, but then he 
turned and crawled out from the bed, approaching me.  As he enclosed me in 
his arms the world sang aloud, and I turned to face him, feeling every inch of 
him in me.  I could have drowned in his scent.

An uncontrollable shiver coursed through me when he whispered in my ear, “I 
want to take complete possession of you.”

I do not know who kissed first, but I recall it as the epitome of bliss.  A new 
wave of that feeling of dissolving into him submerged me as we kissed deeper 
and deeper, until I was out of breath and Legolas was panting, lying atop me 
on the bed.  For the second time in our lives, I felt that he truly loved me, that 
I was his deepest heart’s desire and he was mine, as he had always been, no 
matter how much I had denied it.

There were so many needs to be fulfilled…  Before I knew it, my sleeping 
pants were pooling by my ankles and a semi-dressed Legolas knelt by the bed, 
between my knees, taking me deep in his mouth.  The room was warm but my 
skin crawled with goose flesh.  I wanted to touch his face, bury my hands in 
his hair as his head bobbed, but I could not loosen my grasp on the bedcovers, 
so painful this pleasure was.  I shuddered and gasped, and before I could come 
deep in his throat, he let go.  I sat there, my heart racing madly and my breath 
catching, watching as he hastily divested himself from those irksome clothes.

I ached for release but I ached more for him.  He stood before me, his hard 
cock just before my eyes, his hands hanging by his hips wavering in uncertain 
movements, and I took hold of them, pulled him closer and he fell on me.  My 
skin burned to touch his and we rolled on the bed, arms and legs tangled while 
eager, hungry hands clasped flesh everywhere, glided over taut backs, filled 
with hard, muscled buttocks, and found their way, familiar and yet new, to the 
pleasure of touching another.

Our mouths, so tender before, now ravaged one another and then moved to all 
the places they had learned in another life.  I could not taste enough of him.  I 
pinned him to the mattress and leaned to start an ever familiar route from his 
mouth to his cock.  He moved to kiss me, our heads bumped and we laughed.  
I loved his laughter; I had missed beyond measure, beyond years of denial.  
He lay back with a sigh as I buried my nose in the crook of his neck where his 
scent was stronger, that unique mix of forest and soap, and something sweet 
all of his own, not acid as sweat, but rather warm.  “Caramel,” I whispered to 
his ear and he shuddered.

I kissed his lips lightly and moved to devour the nubs that were his nipples.  
He raised his hands to my hair and I could not resist a quick dip to his armpit, 
for more of his scent before moving lower and lower.  I buried my nose in his 
curls where the scent was muskier and grasped him firmly in my hand before 
my mouth took over and the hand settled lower, rolling softly his testes while 
with the other I stroked myself.  His whimpers above me were reason enough 
to push further my act of adoration, but as my fingers sought entrance in his 
body, his grasp on my hair become stronger and he pulled me up for a messy 
kiss, saliva and his fluids spreading on my chin and his.

He turned me to my stomach and covered me with his body, holding my 
wrists in his hands.  He murmured to the back of my neck, “Please,” and the 
faint sound travelled through my body in an irrepressible jerk.  I was so ready 
for him I pushed back against his rod, slick and saliva was all that was needed.  
He growled and pushed deeper, and our dance began.  Amidst my gasps and 
his panting, he whispered sweet little nothings, and even more than the day 
before, I felt all frontiers between us had disappeared and I could not tell us 
apart.

His pace was fast from the beginning, and soon his slamming thrusts were 
harder and his grip on my cock stronger and we were both on the edge.  
Suddenly, he stopped, panting in my ear, his weight held on his shuddering 
arms.  He was trying to gain control of himself to make this last but I begged, 
“Do not stop,” with what breath I had left.

“But…” he tried.

“Move!”

He pushed in deeper than I thought was possible, and let more of his weight 
fall on my body, taking complete possession of me as he had promised.  A 
few more deep, harsh movements and he tensed and cried out into my hair.  I 
was too close as well, and his hand stroking me under our weight and the feel 
of him still in me, barely moving, was enough to bring me over soon.

We lay there in the sweat-drenched sheets even after our panting subsided, our 
soiled hands wrapped together.  Eventually he took some of his weight off me 
and I moaned in protest.  His thumb ran on my palm lazily, almost tickling.

“You have calluses now,” he said.  Then he kissed my shoulder.  “You seem 
broader too.”

I nodded and mumbled, “The forge.”  Vëassë’s forge had indeed done more 
for my shoulders, arms and chest than all the sparring in the world would ever 
had.  He bit softly and I sighed, happy.

With an effort I carefully extracted myself from underneath his body, and lay 
facing him.  I wanted to see him too.  A pang of jealousy bit me as I noticed a 
clear line around his hips dividing his body in two halves, the honeyed torso 
and the paler hips and legs.  How many had seen what was mine, I wondered 
as I ran my finger over it, discarding the thought that I had been the one to 
relinquish it.

He caught my hand in his and said, “It is hotter and sunnier here in the south,” 
as a simple explanation.

I said nothing.  The sight of his growing erection took all anonymous elves 
from my mind at once.  I became alienated from the passing of time in his 
arms as we kissed, and wrestled, laughed and made love over and over – 
nothing but him mattered.  Of course this could not last.  A knock on the door 
became more insistent until we had no choice but to acknowledge it.

Legolas slipped into his leggings and went to the call.  It would have been 
better if I had done it, but it was a futile effort to try to deceive any help of the 
house.  We had been summoned by Oropher.

Legolas smiled reassuringly as we dressed, but we both suspected this would 
not be an easy interview.  He led me to the main hall where we found 
Glorfindel, Ecthelion, and Elemmakil.  Oropher entered shortly after, and 
Legolas proceeded to introduce us.

Oropher nodded to our greetings and, in a tone that denied his every word, he 
said, “Any guests of my grandson are welcomed in this realm.”  The emphasis 
he put on the word guests was uncomfortable, to say the least.

We thanked him for his hospitality, as it was due, and again he made a point 
of showing his dislike for our presence, by asking in a rather rude tone, “How 
long are you planning to stay?”

I looked at my companions, discomfited.  We had not discussed that, but I 
expected none of them wanted to stay for long, and especially not with that 
welcoming.

Legolas immediately answered for us, “You must stay until Midsummer, at 
least and celebrate with us.”  I inwardly cringed.  Two months in a place were 
we were clearly unwelcome were too much.  My companions looked as 
unwilling to stay as I did, but I could not just turn back and leave Legolas 
again.

I tried an uncompromising reply.  “I am sure it will be a pleasure to partake in 
the celebrations of the Silvan people.”

Oropher let an awkward pause occur and then stroke again.  “I was not aware 
any of the Noldor had any great love towards us… I confess I am surprised by 
this visit.”  His eyes were set on me.  I wondered how much gossip had come 
to his ears and what exactly had Legolas told him.

“Grandfather…” Legolas protested, embarrassed.

“Yes, Legolas,” Oropher replied, ignoring Legolas’s indignation, “go and take 
care of your guests.”  He left the room with a simple nod to us.

Legolas looked at me and then to them, and said, “I am sorry.”

I felt I owed an apology to them too, because in the end, the idea to come here 
had been mine, even if, from the beginning, they had known of the Silvan 
reserve and of Oropher’s policy to keep as much distance as possible from the 
Noldor, since he had once more taken ruling over his people.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” said Glorfindel, and Elemmakil 
seconded him immediately.

Legolas nodded and inhaled deeply.  “Well, then, I think it is time to show 
you around.”

As we moved to the door, Glorfindel raised an inquisitive eyebrow to me and 
I could not help but to grin and wink.  All would be well.

And so we visited.  Legolas showed us all that there was to see; the forest had 
many lovely views, rivulets and ponds to swim and wade in, and paths to walk 
or ride.  One afternoon he took me to see Gimli’s grave.  Days passed and I 
fell deeper and deeper in love with him, as I did not think it would be possible 
again.  At night, we were guests at Oropher’s table and despite his initial 
reaction, he was courteous and even friendly towards our group, excepting 
me.  His queen, however, more than amply compensated for that lack of 
warmth.  One night Legolas confided that she was happy for us.  As he had 
opened that door, I questioned further.

“Your grandfather, however, is not…”

“I was still young at the Last Alliance,” Legolas said, conciliatory.  “He still 
thinks I am a naïve elfling.  For many years after he was returned to life, he 
gathered all news he could about his family… and what he heard about you 
was probably not very accurate…”

I nodded.  It was understandable, but it created unnecessary tension for 
Legolas, and I resented Oropher for that.

“I noticed that you and Ecthelion are not close,” he said unexpectedly, taking 
his arm from under my neck.

“No,” I confirmed with a laugh.  Ecthelion had finally stopped seeing me as a 
threat, now that I was with Legolas, but that had only served to reduce the 
measure of his animosity.

“And why would that be?”  Legolas did not share my laughter and gazed at 
me intently.

I frowned.  The antagonism between Ecthelion and me was normally accepted 
without question and I had not given much thought to what Legolas would 
think about it.  It had been careless of me.

Legolas sat up.  “Something happened between you and Glorfindel, did it 
not?”

I shrugged.  I did not want to keep secrets from him but he had no right to ask 
such questions.

He sat at the edge of the bed, turning his back to me.  “Did it start here or in 
Middle-earth?”

“Here.”  There was no point in lying.

“Were you going to tell me?”

I reached for him but he did not lie back in bed, so I embraced him from 
behind and rested my chin on his shoulder.  “It was just a night and a long 
time ago,” I said.

“Was he the reason you turned me down when I-”

“No!” I interrupted.

He asked no further questions.  After a while, he placed his hand over mine.  
“I should be going now.”

I held him in place.  Ever since my first night under Oropher’s roof, we had 
spent the nights in my room or on some occasions in his.  I could not let him 
go like that.

“You never say that you love me,” he said, still not looking at me.  “And you 
never speak of what will happen after Midsummer.”

“I would not be here if I did not love you, Legolas,” I said, shocked, 
understanding that Legolas was suffering from much more than a mild 
jealousy attack: he had gone from taking me for granted to fearing for my 
constancy.  I kissed his hair and held him tighter, hoping that his doubts might 
be quickly subdued by tenderness.

“And what will happen when your friends leave?” he insisted.

“I do not know,” I said.

I had thought about it, on more than one occasion.  If Legolas asked me to 
stay with him, I would – Legolas was the grandson of the king of this people – 
his place was with them and it would have not crossed my mind to challenge 
that.  Still, the thought did not please me too much.  The forest was beautiful 
and gradually the people had opened up to us, but there was a vague feeling of 
oppression there and I had grown accustomed to the openness of the north.  
Besides, I had no wish to impose my presence on Oropher anymore than 
necessary, and the whole situation was too reminiscent of the time I had lived 
as Legolas’s silent companion in Mirkwood.  None of that should matter if I 
could be by his side, but I was past the age for romantic ideals, and I feared 
that in the long run my discomfort would bring friction between us.  On the 
other hand, he had never mentioned it either and I had no idea if he would 
consider somewhere else or even if he wanted to live permanently with me.

“There was no one else for me,” he said, cutting the silence and my rambling 
thoughts.

“Legolas…”  I was touched by this confession.  I forced him to face me and 
kissed him.  How I could have thought a few weeks before that he was 
nothing more than an old friend was beyond my ability to understand.

“Do you want me to stay with you after the others leave?” I asked.

“Do you want to?” he replied.

“I want to be with you,” I replied carefully.  “Come here,” I said, pulling him 
down with me and bringing the covers over us.  We snuggled, our bodies 
fitting perfectly as they always did.

“I want to see you smile,” I said, smiling myself as I brushed his hair from his 
eyes.

“I do not feel like smiling,” he replied petulantly and we grinned at each other.  
We kissed and nestled closer and slept.  Details could be left for another day.

Midsummer came swiftly.  Oropher extended his hospitality, good-naturedly, 
and my companions accepted it, even if a little reluctantly in Elemmakil’s 
case, to prove that no hard feelings were kept.  I knew they would leave soon, 
though, before autumn came.

My decision was made: I would be wherever Legolas was, despite the past, 
despite Oropher’s manifest dislike of me and our attachment.  We would find 
a way to weather life’s vicissitudes.  There were some details to be solved, 
such as a last trip to the north to gather some of my belongings and the works 
I was most proud of, and to say goodbye to my friends before I settled in 
Oropher’s realm.  Also, I missed my friends in New Imladris and I had been 
looking forward to a chance to see them.  The subtle but intense jealousy 
Legolas had been showing for Glorfindel discouraged me from mentioning it, 
though.  I had thought of inviting him to come along, but I had postponed that 
decision for when it would be inevitable.

One late afternoon we were walking back from the woods to the palace in 
content silence after a pleasant day, when Elemmakil spoke:  “Erestor, I have 
already talked with Glorfindel and Ecthelion and we are thinking about 
leaving soon, in fact, next week.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, avoiding an immediate answer.  This was not 
unexpected.

Legolas slowed his pace further and looked at me.  I stayed silent.  I did not 
want to have a private conversation in front of them.  Legolas, however, 
seemed to disagree.  “Are you planning on returning north?” he asked.

“I have my things there,” I said.  I could feel how the others hastened to 
distance themselves from us.

“Do you really need them?” he asked neutrally.

“I can survive without them… but…”  I could not read him, and I did not 
want to hurt his feelings, but I was falling quickly into what we used to be, 
and this time it had to be different for both our sakes.

“I want to go up north and spend the winter there, and I want to stop by New 
Imladris first.  I would like you to come with me,” I said, before things could 
settle in their old mould.

“I would like that,” he said calmly, placing his hand on my shoulder.  So 
things could, in truth, be simple.

I doubt Oropher was pleased, but he made an effort to contain himself and we 
left the forest within a week, my friends ahead and Legolas by my side.  This 
time the road seemed shorter, as we already knew it, and we soon came across 
the way to New Imladris.  Upon arriving, we were warmly welcomed.  There 
was an improvised banquet in the gardens and almost everyone came by to 
greet us.  Our closest friends hardly left our side and there was laughing and 
drinking and singing on through the night.  When dawn came, we had lost 
track of the ale imbibed and the songs sung.

We slept through most of the day, but at dinner the twins made a point of 
telling us of all the changes they had started to implement in our absence, 
promising visits in the following days.  Glorfindel and I exchanged smiles: 
despite their age and accomplishments they still appreciated our approval, and 
it was touching that they should care so for us.

New Imladris, unlike the settlement of the people of Gondolin, which lay to 
the interior, had been built in the steep mountain slopes facing the sea and 
after a strip of forest, a shallow beach met the sea.  Glorfindel and I had, on 
more than one occasion, wished for a seaport, but the only place remotely 
adequate was a few miles south of the town.  We had several other priorities 
and the project seemed to raise little interest in a people that had for centuries 
been confined inland.

Now the twins had decided it was time to do it and there was already a large, 
well-paved road that shortened the travelling time significantly.  They had 
also started the foundations of the port, and on more than one occasion, they 
hinted at us that help would be welcomed.  Glorfindel had replied without 
hesitation that his place was in the north but I had stayed silent.  True, the 
project was interesting, but I had no desire to return to anything that remotely 
resembled my former functions.  I was enjoying freedom for the first time in 
my life. Still, I had always loathed closing a door too soon, and time had 
proven me right more than once.

So, after three lovely weeks we prepared to leave again, much to everyone’s 
discontentment.  Elrond asked us to stay for the winter but we all had our own 
motives calling us from the north.  The journey was uneventful and soon we 
arrived to what, in my mind, I had started calling home.  I would miss it.

Elemmakil, eager to be back in his wife’s arms, disappeared into the first side 
street to our left, with a simple, “Later.”  We continued down the main street.  
I was bracing myself for the embarrassment of asking Vëassë to take another 
in, especially giving the circumstances of our relationship, when Glorfindel 
said, “You can stay at my house, together, if you want.”

I was tired and cold, so my only answer was an inquisitive eyebrow 
movement.

“I am moving to live with Ecthelion,” he added.

Now I was surprised.  After all this time of living together in separate houses I 
was not expecting them to change their arrangements.  Ecthelion positively 
beamed at Glorfindel.

“Congratulations,” Legolas said, and I seconded him.

“Oh, I am not so sure those are in order,” Glorfindel teased with a loving 
glance at Ecthelion, who punched him lightly on the arm, the scowl not hiding 
his smile.

“I will be by your house later, then,” I said.  “First I will drop by Vëassë’s and 
greet him and explain the situation.  I owe him that much.”

Glorfindel and Ecthelion nodded, and Legolas and I knocked on Vëassë’s 
door.  He hugged me and patted Legolas’s arm as if he had already adopted 
him.  His wife brought us hot stew and fresh bread and we talked for long.  
They were two kind and giving souls, and I believe that they were happy for 
us.  Vëassë said that his home and his forge would always be open for me and 
whomever I chose to bring and they even offered to help us with anything we 
needed for our temporary home.

The winter rolled by with the snow and the gatherings by night in eachother’s 
houses, and all the merryment that came with too much free time.  Then came 
spring with its waters and muddy roads, and then came summer, ripeness 
everywhere.  I suppose that if we had our hearts set on it, we could have 
travelled south sooner, but almost a full year had passed when I decided it was 
time to talk of this with Legolas.  For my part, I loved my life there, but I 
could not understand him.  I expected that he would be impatient to return to 
his own.

“When do you think we should head south?” I asked on one hot night, when 
we were sitting in the porch, stargazing.  He growled in answer.

“Your grandfather is probably wondering what kept you…” I insisted.

“I know,” he said.

“And?...”

He faced me, and to my surprise, asked, “Do you really want to live in his 
court?”

“I am not sure,” I stammered, trying to avoid the obvious truth.

“I think we both know that you prefer it here or in New Imladris.”

I nodded.  “True.  And yourself?”

“I like it here, but it is not my home.”

“I understand.”  I squeezed his shoulder.

“No, I do not think you do,” he replied pensively.  “Do you know what I did 
in my grandfather’s court?”  Without waiting for my answer he said, 
“Nothing.”

“In Mirkwood, I was my father’s right hand, as you well know.  Here I am an 
elfling to some, an untouchable hero for others.”

“Not here,” I said.  It was true; everyone in town liked him and except for the 
youngsters, few were too dazed by his feats, being themselves the stuff of 
legend.

“Yes, not here,” he agreed, “but there is not a place for me here, either.”

“There could be,” I tried.

“There could,” he agreed, but I knew nothing was agreed upon.  He wanted to 
leave, but where?

“How do we stand, then?” I asked.

“I do not know.  Do you ever feel lost, Erestor?”

I nodded.  I had not felt lost for a while, but I could understand.  I had felt lost 
for a long time, living by his side unhappy, feeling unloved, wanting to leave, 
hanging on to fear and some dim hope to stay.  I was afraid of changes, and 
yet changes had brought satisfaction and then happiness to me in measures I 
thought were out of my reach.  I suppose it is never possible to start over 
freshly: the past lingers and shapes us and even the kindest hearts carry the 
memories of past hurts, if not the rancour.  I feared that Legolas wanted this, 
as I had wanted it myself.  I did not tell him to give it up, for what are we 
without hope?  If only our hopes were wise…

In the end, we travelled south just after the harvests.  I wanted to stay and 
help, and Legolas was far from objecting.  We stopped in Tirion, but our 
sojourn was short.  I suppose I was hoping to gain time or to find a magic 
solution but we could not avoid the inexorable call of the south.  We agreed to 
stop in Imladris once more, and perhaps spend some time there, after sending 
news to Oropher.

And so we spent another winter away from the Woods of Oromë.  Wanting it 
or not, we would have to choose soon; but while before moving there had 
seemed a necessary sacrifice for Legolas’s sake, now that I knew his true 
feelings I hoped we could find an alternative that could please us both.

This was a private mater, of course, but I longed to talk to someone.  
Unfortunately, I was on my own.  I did not wish to discuss it with Legolas 
without having a concrete idea, Glorfindel was far away, and even if he was 
my closest friend, it would be a betrayal to Legolas to discuss this with him, 
or with Elrond.  One thing I did know: if by spring I saw no alternative, I 
would do my best to make Oropher and his people see that Legolas was no 
more a child, but a tried warrior and ruler... although I doubted I would 
succeed where he had failed himself.  People see what they want to see, no 
secret in that.

The greatest problem I found was occupation.  I had no shortage of ideas on 
how to live a good, full life.  I had my books still in New Imladris and a few 
more I had acquired in the north, I knew a craft, there were other things I 
wanted to learn and do.  But Legolas... as he had said, he felt lost.  What he 
had done his whole life was needed no more.

Ideas crossed my mind: we could lead a nomad life, exploring Aman, visiting 
our friends, but I felt too tired for that and I think his travelling days were over 
too; we could settle in a place that was neutral ground for both – Tirion could 
be a good choice, but we both had began anew too many times and none of us 
had liked the place.  I never considered staying in New Imladris as a serious 
alternative though: the past hung heavily over us there.  Our clumsy past had 
been motive for gossip too many times, and, selfishly, I feared that sooner or 
later I would find myself once more spending full days locked in an office.  
Legolas would still have to find a place for himself and I doubt he would have 
felt comfortable living there for longer than a visit.  For once in my life, I 
could not devise a solution and frustration and impotence consumed me as 
spring raced towards us.

If Legolas shared my concerns, he did not say.  He teased me about my 
sullenness, sometimes asked if I had any regrets, but those I did not and a kiss 
or two silenced the doubts.  He often went to the incipient port with Elrohir; 
sometimes I joined them but the day-long journey and overnight stay on the 
cold, hard ground did not appeal that much to me.

“Do you still long for the sea that much?” I asked him one night, after one 
such trips.

He smiled.  “It was never the sea that I longed for,” he said, “but yes, I love it 
deeply.”

“You do not have to cross half Aman to see it, you know?” I teased.

He chuckled.  “Yes, I know, but I like it there, I like it very much.”

“I take it that Gimli made a sailor out of you.”

He smiled.  “Not quite, but I came to love the sea almost as much as the 
forest.”

Not that I did not enjoy conversing with my loved one, but my hand had 
become impatient and was roaming somewhere near his waistband.  He 
stopped it with his own.  “I have had a preposterous idea brewing for some 
time now,” he said.

“Something that works for my benefit?” I asked salaciously as I tried to free 
my hand from his grip.

He grinned but did not let my exploring continue.  “I should hope so...” he 
said, turning more serious.  “You have always said you loved the sea,” he 
continued.

“True,” I admitted.

“And if you could live by it?”  He looked strangely expectant.

“That would be wonderful, but as we both know that is not very likely to 
happen.”

“Elrohir and Elladan need someone to take over the port and take care of it,” 
he said, gazing at me, with a hopeful expression.

“You are not...” I could barely grasp the idea.  “You are not thinking that you 
could be a...”

“I would not call it captain of the port, that would be a bit presumptuous of 
me, but why not?”

“Because you are a prince of blood!  What would your grandfather think?”  I 
sat in the bed, gazing incredulously at him.

“So is Círdan, although I do not presume to compare myself to him,” he 
replied, sitting up slowly.

“But that is different,” I said.

The expression of hope in his face had become one of disappointment and 
annoyance. “I thought you had said you loved the simpler ways of the north or 
was all that talk destined to impress me?”

“What?” I asked.  I could not understand.  “Why this?” I insisted.

“Why not?  Think about it.  When was I ever stuck in a palace doing nothing 
all day?  And you?  Do you really think you will be this satisfied living here 
and there in other peoples’ houses forever?”

He had a point, but it was such a strange notion to me.  “Well... this is just so 
sudden.”

“Will you at least consider it?” he pleaded.

I nodded.  Despite the shock, I was already considering it.  My brain revolved 
feverishly around possibilities, obstacles, scenarios.  After a while, Legolas 
quit trying to divert my attention to other activities.  “I should have saved this 
talk for later,” he said, slightly irked, but mostly amused.  Eventually he fell 
asleep, while I tossed and turned until I gave up the bed altogether and sat by 
the window until morning came.

He woke up in a very good mood, bustling around the room, whistling an old 
tune and winking frequently with a mischievous grin.  He left the room for 
breakfast, not waiting for me, and disappeared for the rest of the day.  I spent 
the day thinking.  I liked Legolas’s idea, odd as it was.  It seduced me with its 
boldness and its promise.  I could not gather good enough motives to decline 
it.  So, when we were alone later that night and he asked me, “So?” I nodded 
and peace flooded me as my assent dissolved months of fruitless worrying.

We were left with the cumbersome task of proposing ourselves for the job, but 
after the initial shock, Elladan and Elrohir started considering the idea as 
attractive as ourselves.  Not all was easy, though.  Building a boat and sailing 
it had taught Legolas much about the sea but not all.  Even if it had, our power 
against nature is always limited, and on two times the construction of the port 
was severely delayed by Ossë’s mischief.  Two elves were too few to keep a 
port running, and it was at first difficult to find other volunteers.  Eventually 
that was solved too.  Elrohir had many times travelled to Tirion and the rebuilt 
Alqualondë in search of knowledge to carry his project through, and one day 
he returned with a Teleri bride.  Some of her kin came with her and joined us 
at the port.  We had traders, travellers, lighthouse keepers, fishermen, whale 
hunters and more movement than any of us had ever expected.

After a while, when our presence was not constantly needed, we built a house 
for ourselves in the stretch of beach behind the hill that stretched into the sea, 
sheltering the harbour.  Legolas hunts at times in the forest that spreads behind 
us.

As for Oropher, he was displeased to the point of losing composure, as it 
might have been expected, when we visited with the announcement but after a 
few months of cold silence, he sent a sombre, yet amicable enough letter.  
Deep down, I suppose he still expects Legolas to one day return permanently 
to the forest but we have been happy here, in yet another new start.

I have said that mine is a happy story, but in truth some bits of it have been 
less than that.  I do not dwell on pain anymore, though – I have no time or 
taste for it.  The times I was hurt at my lover’s hands cannot be erased from 
my mind but they mean little to me these days.  I was another; he was another.  
Now there is nothing to forgive, only large days to bathe in the white-blue 
light.

I suppose what lead me to push him away so vigorously was fear.  It is the 
only explanation I can find for such a strong, visceral reaction.  If I feared yet 
another failure, another betrayal of love by him or myself, or if I simply feared 
not being worthy, I cannot tell, and I cannot dwell on it any longer.  Now life 
is beginning anew and the past cannot be afforded.

So these days, I live for simple pleasures in our tiny cottage by the sea.  
Despite our mistakes, I think we have earned it, its minute garden on the front, 
the vegetable patches on the back fenced by tall sunflowers, the surrounding 
woods and the perfect bliss.  We work in the garden, and read, and walk in the 
dunes.  He spends his mornings in the port and comes home happy.  Often we 
go sailing, just for the pleasure of having the wind hissing in our ears.  Once 
more in my life I have taken administrative work, but now it is far from being 
a burden.  I am building a small forge, slowly; its growth prides me but I am 
in no hurry.  From time to time, we visit Elrond’s home.  Our days are plain; 
the small hassles of daily life never linger.  There seems to be no enmity left 
between anyone.

Glorfindel comes by with Ecthelion on the few times they visit Imladris, and 
despite the residual tension that will always be between us, we spend a 
pleasant day or two together.  I am glad to see that he has loosened the reins 
on Ecthelion: they deserve more than a perpetual game.

Sometimes I still find it baffling, this happiness, this simplicity.  And 
sometimes the thought of the long road we travelled to arrive here 
overwhelms me.  Legolas pretends he does not notice my swirls of emotion 
when on some quiet morning I rise hastily from our quilt on the sand and run 
to the sea.  The tepid waters relieve my soul of the heaviness that comes with 
the past and I turn back to the shore and smile.